#as much as i may call him my ‘’baby boy’’ lmao

[sceletaflores]

Being a professional masseur for players and taking care of our boy art.

Hes just so sad and so pretty that you just giving head to make him feel better 😔

Plot twist: he falls in love with you because duh? Hot+sex=you being promoted pookie, you are now the donaldsons elite employes!!!!!!

Baby, show me where it hurts...

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you never intended on becoming a "celebrity" massage therapist. you just wanted to be a massage therapist, the whole celebrity thing just sort of happened, you blame cali for that. but the novelty of your job wore off long ago, you hardly blink at the clients on your table nowadays. that is until tashi duncan calls you and absolutely fucks everything up

— or: art donaldson needs a massage therapist…

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, oral (m!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), p in v, fingering (fem!receiving), angst? maybe? could this be considered angst?, slight age gap, no tashi duncan erasure because i don't stand for that, cheating but not really cause tashi knows, she always knows, she is an all seeing eye, and she kind of orchestrates it, SOOOOO much plot, like way too much i'm sorry, art being sad and tired, art also being kinda pathetic a little bit, unprofessional massages, no use of y/n.

word count: 10k+ (someone stop me....pls still read this lmao)

author's note: this ask was blessedly placed in my inbox and it was all i’ve thought about since. this is my first big fic since my mike schmidt days so hopefully i'm not rusty! i've seen this damn cursed hell movie ten times, so hopefully i do it justice. i'm also still struggling sooo much with art and tashi as characters so please bear with me if they aren't movie accurate i'm trying my best. okay. thank you. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

You don't get starstruck often, not anymore at least. The clients that find their way onto your table are just that in your eyes, clients. You don't see them as big time "celebrities”. Just men and women who need your professional help.

That being said, you almost dropped your phone the first time the Tashi Duncan called you.

It was a normal work day for you, spent buried in paperwork and training a new secretary. You're folding the steam room towels on your lunch break when your phone rings. No caller ID, you answer it anyways.

"Hello, you've reached Lush Retreat Med Spa," you rattle off into your phone, placing it between your ear and shoulder to continue folding. "How can we help you?"

"This is Tashi Duncan calling for Art Donaldson, we've heard great things about you and were hoping to schedule an appointment."

The towel drops from your hands, your mouth falling open in shock. You reach up to tightly grip your phone, not wanting to embarrass yourself by dropping your phone with Tashi fucking Duncan on the end of the line.

Of course you know who she is, but doesn't everyone? The tennis prodigy from Stanford who was on top of the world when a tragic knee injury stole everything from her in a single second. You absolutely idolized her when you were in high school and playing tennis competitively. You watched all the recorded matches you could get your hands on, wore your DUNCANATOR shirts to practice constantly, only bought the tennis rackets she used. You had her fucking posters plastered on the walls of your old bedroom for Christ's sake.

That was until you, ironically, shattered your wrist in a car accident and had to hang up the racket and pleated skirts forever. Just like her.

Now, Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson are California royalty. An unfairly beautiful couple living what seems to be the dream. You'd never kept up much with Art's career like you did Tashi's, but you follow them both on Instagram and you see his face on billboards all over the city almost daily so you can assume it was fruitful. It may help him that he's extremely easy on the eyes, or "super fucking hot!" in your coworkers words.

"Hello?" Her voice ringing out from the tiny speaker ripped you out of your thoughts and back into reality.

"Y-yes, sorry," you cringe internally at yourself, stuttering over your words like a loser. You force yourself to sound professional when you speak again, "We'd love to help you any way we can. Do you have a certain time and date in mind already?"

"We're not home right now, we were thinking next Thursday. Around four." There's no question mark on the end of her sentence, you know that she isn't asking you, she's telling you. You don't even bother to check the schedule before you're answering.

"We will be free that day. I'll go ahead and put you in our system." you rush over to the front desk computer and open the calendar, thankfully you are actually free for Thursday. "I'm assuming you know our location?" you ask as you type in the appointment details, ignoring how your fingers shake ever so slightly as you type Tashi into the slot.

"Actually," Tashi's voice has a different tone to it when she speaks again, it’s something you can’t quite place, your fingers slow down slightly as you listen, "we wanted to make this a home visit."

You stop typing completely, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at your computer screen. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Donaldson but we don't do at home appointments…per our policy." you reply meekly, almost surprised that you're denying her.

"Duncan, actually,” she corrects you nonchalantly, you don’t have time to unpack that before she’s speaking again. “We did read that on your website, but we'd hope you might make an exception. You wouldn't need to bring much. We have our own table." Her tone isn't harsh or impolite, just firm and certain, like she knows you'll give in to her.

You do.

"Well," you bite your lip as you wrestle internally with yourself, torn between what you want to do and what you should do. "Okay, we can do that for you."

"Great. I'll send you the address. See you then." She hangs up without saying goodbye.

You plant your phone next to you and stare at the filled out appointment slot taking up your computer screen, processing what just happened. You're going to Tashi Duncan's house. To give her hot pro-tennis player husband a massage. In their house.

"What the fuck."

SIX DAYS LATER...

The walk up to The Donaldson's huge mansion on a mountain has your stomach turning in on itself. All week you were a ball of nervous energy just floating around your office, trying to find anything to distract you from your upcoming appointment. Now that it's here, you feel you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

You hardly got any sleep last night, tossing and turning in your bed for hours before you gave up, barging into your building's gym to try and sweat your nerves out. When that didn't work you just retreated back to your apartment and got ready.

You try not to think about why it took you so long to get ready, longer than most work mornings. Taking more time in the shower, more time doing your hair, more time doing your makeup.

You even choose an outfit you'd hardly ever wear in front of regular clientele. A matching white polo set, a skirt in place of shorts. You tell yourself that you just want to look good, who wants to look like a mess in front of Tashi Duncan?

Your hands white-knuckle the steering wheel of your car on the drive over. You couldn’t even play any music, the noise in your head already too loud as it was, only cranking up the AC and silently following the crisp voice of your GPS reading off the directions Tashi sent you.

The closer you get to the door the more you want to turn and run down the insanely long driveway, get back in your car and haul ass home without ever looking back.

You don't because you're a professional, or at least that's what you keep telling yourself.

Your hand shakes as you ring their doorbell, hearing it echo back at you from the inside. You only wait a few seconds before the large door swings open and there she is.

Tashi Duncan is every bit as beautiful in person as she is splashed across the pages of magazines and blown up twenty feet on billboards. She looks so effortlessly classy in her Ralph Lauren sweater and flowy black dress pants.

Your name falls from her lips, and all the blood rushes to your ears. Her silky voice wraps around each syllable with an enticing heat that makes you weak in the knees. You feel sixteen years old all over again, standing at the woman who basically molded you into who you are today. It's a dizzying sensation, the rush of nostalgia and emotions flooding in like an avalanche. The memories you have locked away in your brain of the countless late night practices, the hundreds of hours spent on the court, the trophies and ribbons littering your moms basement collecting dust, the refusal to give up and pushing your body past its own limits because you wanted to be just like her. You wanted to be Tashi Duncan, and when you catch yourself nervously rubbing your thumb over the scar spanning your right wrist, you guess in some sick twisted way that you kind of are.

"So glad you could make it," she greets breezily, stepping to the side to let you in. “We were worried you’d get lost.”

The house is, of course, beautiful on the inside. Tall ceilings, big fireplace, a beautiful staircase leading to the second floor. There’s toys strewn messily along the living room floor, the TV mounted on the wall is paused on ESPN.

You hope you don’t look as crazy as you feel taking in the space, taking in the fact that Tashi is standing right in front of you. 

“No, the directions were very helpful,” your voice only slightly wavers as you respond, you count that as a win, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Donalds–uh–Duncan.” You cringe at your fumble, but try to power through by extending Tashi your hand.

She watches you for a second, sharp eyes flicking over your body quickly like she’s inspecting you. It makes your cheeks feel warm as you struggle to not squirm underneath her gaze. Finally, she takes your hand in hers and gives it a firm shake. You ignore the way her touch makes your palm burn.

“Art should already be in the massage room, it’s in the pool house,” Tashi says, gesturing to the huge windows in the living room showing off a lavish underground pool with a smaller building situated next to it, “I have to take a phone call here in a few minutes so I trust you’ll find your way there.”

You nod slowly, adjusting the strap of your supply bag on your shoulder. Tashi doesn't even pause walking further into the house as she speaks to you, heels clicking with each step as she makes her way to the large staircase in the middle of the room. There’s still no question marks tacked on to the end of her sentences, just like over the phone. 

“It’s just through that door, first room on the left. I told him to leave the door open for you.” She continues, reaching the stairs and making her way up slowly. She tosses her head over her shoulder to make eye contact with you again. “He’s been complaining about his shoulder acting up. The right one, it’s what needs the most attention. He serves with that arm, we need it at a hundred.” she fires off casually, like she’s recited this information before.

You go to speak but her phone ringing cuts you off, echoing off the house's crisp white walls. “Thank you for coming to see us, it was nice meeting you.” Tashi says politely, giving you one final once over before she’s answering her phone and disappearing up the stairs.

“It was nice meeting you too…” you trail off quietly, fully caught off guard by whatever the hell that was. Out of every single time you’d fantasized about what meeting Tashi Duncan would be like, none of them were quite like this. At least it’s over you figure, and you even managed to not make a complete fool of yourself.

You hold onto that tiny win as you walk through the living room doors and outside, making your way to the pool house like Tashi instructed. The entrance is unlocked as you step inside, thankfully you spot the cracked door a little ways in front of you. 

The sound of your footsteps are loud as you make your way down the short hallway, tennis shoes making small thump sounds against the concrete floor. You pause for just a second outside the cracked door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open and stepping inside. The room is empty, the only things inside are some shelves lined with various essential oils and lotions, and an expensive looking massage table in the center. You muse over the fact that their table looks a little better than the ones in your own spa, no wonder they wanted a home visit.

The room is well lit as you walk around, dim in a way that promotes relaxation. The soft, ambient lighting bathes the room in a gentle, golden glow, complemented by the flicker of aromatic candles placed strategically around the space. You wonder who lit them, Tashi? Or maybe Art? You let out a small laugh at the idea of Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson fawning over the room before you showed up, setting up candles and mood lighting to make it feel nicer, less clinical.

You’re probably just reading too much into it. You always urge clients to ask for anything that will make them feel more comfortable, apparently Art just likes eucalyptus sage candles and mood lighting. It has nothing to do with you. 

Your name being said from somewhere behind you rips you out of your own mind. You whirl around, and find yourself face to face with six time Grand Slam Champion, Tashi Duncan’s super hot husband, Art Donaldson. And he’s only wearing a fucking towel.

“Hello,” he greets with a kind smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “it’s nice to finally meet you, thank you so much for taking the time to come out here.” 

Art is already worlds different from Tashi, or that’s what you’re inferring after spending less than five minutes with each of them. It’s still extremely apparent, Tashi has an almost overpowering presence to her, everything about her commands respect and she knows that. She uses that to her advantage, she likes it like that.

The man standing in front of you is nothing like that. The Art Donaldson in front of you doesn’t seem like some big shot tennis player with more impressive stats than you could wrap your head around. You’ve come to know that a few pro-sports guys like to swing their dicks around, bragging about their booming careers non-stop during a session. Yet everything about Art is unassuming as he stands in the doorway like he’s trying to make himself look smaller. 

“Hi, Mr. Donaldson,” you’re not sure if it's appropriate to offer a man wearing a towel dangerously low on his hips your hand, you decide against it. “It’s no trouble really, I’m happy to help.”

“Please, call me Art.” The tone of his voice makes you want to shiver, smooth and warm like honey. 

You try your best not to stare, but it’s so hard to ignore the toned expanse of Art’s body when it’s right there. He’s all broad shoulders, firm pecs, sculpted legs, with a cut Adonis belt. He’s like a marble statue, made in Michelangelo's perfect image.

Your eyes trail back up his body, lingering on his chest before rising up to his face. You’re mortified to see he’s staring right back at you, effectively catching you in the act. Your cheeks burn as you tear your gaze away, looking at anything and everything other than him. In your panic, you don’t notice the way his eyes rake over you in the same way.

“Okay, Art,” you say a little breathlessly, tightening your grip on the strap of your bag. “It’s nice to meet you. Mrs. Duncan let me know about your major problem areas, I’ll be sure to focus on them.” Involuntarily bringing up Tashi has your stomach clenching up in guilt, you just got done ogling her husband's body. You hope he takes the silent cue you're giving him to get on the damn table so you can start the massage and get the hell out of here.

Art nods silently, walking over to the table and moving to lie down on his stomach. You busy yourself with prepping your oils, taking them out of your bag and setting them on a small side table next to the massage bed uncapped for easy access. You can’t help but sneak glances at the rippling muscle of Art’s back as he shifts, his skin looks soft and is littered with freckles. You don’t miss the hiss he lets out when he lays his weight on his shoulder.

You usually don’t speak much during appointments, only engaging in conversation when your client initiates it, but you feel the need to fill the silence between you and Art. The quiet atmosphere makes everything seem far too intimate, and sure on some level it always is, but this feels different.

“How’d you hurt it? Your shoulder. If you don’t mind me asking.” you ask once he’s settled, placing your fingertips to the middle of his right shoulder, feeling around for any tension. Art tenses slightly at your touch, taking a sharp breath. You guess you should have warned him, you open your mouth to apologize but he lets out a small breath and relaxes onto the table again.

Art sighs, his voice tinged with weariness. "It was, uh, during a match. I overextended trying to return a serve. Haven't been able to move it properly since."

You nod, hands starting to move in slow, deliberate circles across the muscle. “That sounds about right. Most people don’t realize how brutal tennis is to the body, injuries are common,” you pointedly try to ignore the flashbacks of your wrist failing to swing a racket properly after you healed from your accident, flashbacks of watching as the bone pierced through your skin. “Sounds like you might need to take it easy for a while.” you continue, trying to keep the conversation light.

Art chuckled, though it was devoid of real humor. "Yeah, I’ve been playing a lot lately. Guess I pushed myself too hard." He winces slightly as you work on a particularly tight knot, shoulder tensing under your hands. 

You pause, your hands stilling momentarily as you catch the underlying tension in Art's voice. "The season’s almost over, maybe it's time to give yourself a break, take some time to rest and recuperate." you remark softly, your tone gentle yet concerned.

Art's gaze flickers to yours, a flicker of vulnerability shining through. "I wish I could," he admits, his voice heavy, "But it's hard to step away, especially when it feels like it's all I have that’s still keeping everything together."

Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his words. He’s completely silent afterwards, you wonder if he’s regretting telling you something like that, like maybe it just fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. Without a word, you continue to knead away the tension in his muscles, offering a silent gesture of support.

As you continue to work, hands skillfully moving over Art’s shoulder, you can’t help but notice the weariness in Art's demeanor. His presence feels heavy, almost broken, as if the physical pain was just a small part of what he was carrying. You feel a pang of sympathy for him. You can feel the weight of struggles pressing down on him, the way his shoulders sag slightly even under your careful touch.

“I can feel the tension here," you say gently, applying a little more pressure,  "Just try to relax.” 

With each knead and press, you remind yourself of your role. You’re here to help him heal, and that was all that mattered. But as your hands move over his warm skin, you can’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what you had anticipated, something that made your heart race with both excitement and anxiety. You were so worried about meeting Tashi you completely forgot about Art. It’s a different story now as your hands explore the smooth planes of his back to the steady sound of his breathing.

"You're really good at this," Art says after a while, his voice a bit lighter. 

You smile, a genuine one, the first real smile you’ve had since you got here. “Thanks. I’d hope so after all this time.”

Art lets out a small chuckle muffled by the table, it makes your stomach flutter. “How did you get into this? Massage therapy seems interesting.”

You laugh but it’s a bitter sound, moving your hands down to focus lower on Art’s shoulder. You try not to think about your tennis career, even after all this time you struggle with the memories despite all the good it brought you. “That’s a long story.” you mutter under your breath, even to your own ears you sound resentful.

“I’ve got time.” It’s a simple reply, but it’s so honest. Like Art’s genuinely interested in you, in getting to know you. It makes you feel dizzy.

“I, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth, working your hands harder over Art’s back. “I actually used to play tennis. When I was in high school.”

Art makes an interested noise, shifting under your hands as he moves his head to lay on the side of the table so he could look up at you. “No shit?” he looks more shocked than anything. 

You nod, humming in confirmation as you finally move onto his other shoulder. “Yup, I was pretty serious about it back then, until I got injured.” You don’t meet Art’s gaze, but you can see how his face falls in your peripheral vision. You kind of want to laugh at how ironic this moment is, you wonder if Art’s thinking about Tashi’s knee. You know he was at the match, you’ve seen the blurry footage of Tashi Duncan’s fall from grace, watched Art vault over the net to get to her.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it.

“It’s okay, wasn't like it was my fault or anything,” you say, finally meeting his eyes with a rueful smile and raising your right wrist to show him your scar. “I got hit by a drunk driver coming home late from practice one night. Nasty fracture, bone went straight through.” You hope your voice is coming out as nonchalant as you’re trying to make it sound.

Art's eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in your scar, a mixture of shock and sympathy evident on his face. "Wow, that's...terrible," he murmurs, his voice tinged with compassion.

You shrug, the memories still vivid despite the passage of time. "It was tough, it was awful actually. All the physical therapy in the world couldn’t get a racket back in my hand,” you confess softly, fingers tracing the outline of the scar absentmindedly again. “But it also forced me to reevaluate things, in a way. It made me realize that life doesn't always go according to plan.” You see Tashi’s knee buckling in your mind's eye. “When I finally realized that I could take all the hate and all the anger I was feeling and channel it into something good, something like massage therapy, I never looked back."

You immediately regret over-sharing, feeling silly telling Art your sob story, but when you meet his eye again, he has an odd look on his face. His expression is soft as he looks up at you through long lashes, understanding and empathy swimming in the blue of his eyes.

"Well, silver linings, huh?" he says after a few seconds, there’s traces of a smile playing on his lips. You let out a small laugh, nodding your head slightly.

"Yeah," you agree, a small smile on your lips. "Silver linings." 

As the conversation fades into a comfortable silence, you and Art find yourselves locked in a silent exchange, your eyes meeting and holding a depth of something you can’t quite pick up on. In that moment, the world around you seems to blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in a shared moment of vulnerability. There's a subtle shift in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has formed between you, as if you've uncovered a piece of each other.

The shrill ringing of your phone’s alarm pierces through the moment, both you and Art jump at the sudden sound. It’s like a cold bucket of water pouring over your head, washing away whatever just happened between the two of you. The session’s over, you’re done. 

“Okay,” you say a little too loudly, taking your hands off Art's back like his skin could burn you any second. “Looks like we’re all done.” You try to smile but it feels fake, forced, so you turn your back to Art and start capping your oils to shove them back in your bag.

Art’s voice breaks the silence as you pack up, sounding a little less confident than it did earlier. “Uh, my neck has been bothering me too, recently,” he says offhandedly as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “I think I may have slept on it wrong.”

You stop what you’re doing, turning to face Art again, silently cursing him for not just letting you leave. “Do you want me to take a look before I go?” You pray he says no. You should know it won’t be that easy, not with your shit luck.

“If you don’t mind?” His tone is so hopeful and his eyes are so big that your feet are walking towards him before your mind can catch up. 

“Not at all,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. You step closer, practically between his slightly spread legs, feeling the warmth of his skin even before you touch him. Your fingers brush against his neck, and he shivers slightly, the muscles tight and knotted beneath your touch.

"Just relax," you murmur, trying to maintain any shred of professional demeanor. As you work, you can't help but notice the way his breath hitches, the tension in his body melting away under your skilled hands. The room feels smaller, the air heavier with each passing second.

He closes his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "That feels amazing," he whispers, and you swallow hard, trying to focus solely on the task at hand. As you work, the intimacy of the moment isn't lost on you, and you can't help but wonder if he feels it too.

Minutes tick by like hours as you work the tense muscle of Art’s neck. You're acutely aware of every sigh, every shift in his body, every subtle reaction to your touch. You finally pull away when you think it’s been enough time, eager to get out of this damn house before you do something you’ll regret.

You didn’t notice how close you really were to Art until you pulled back only to be met with his face mere inches away from yours. Startled by the sudden proximity, you freeze, caught off guard by the intensity of Art's gaze. His eyes, dark and searching, seem to hold a silent question, a silent invitation.

Now, Art’s body is one thing, it’s objectively perfect. He’s a professional athlete, of course it’s perfect. It has to be perfect. It’s his damn face that gets you.

He’s beautiful, beyond beautiful. He looks like he should be splayed across canvas hanging in the Louvre. The dim lighting in the room illuminates his face beautifully, his golden hair haloing around his head makes him look ethereal. Each of his features look as if they were handcrafted by a master sculptor, each contour and line a testament to perfection. His chiseled jawline speaks of strength and determination, while his lips, soft and inviting, seem to beckon you closer with every breath. His eyes are deep pools of ocean blue, though this close you can see a small splash of brown in his left eye you didn’t notice before, swirling with emotions that stir something deep within you. 

Something more shocking than Art’s beauty, is how fucking tired he looks. Lines of exhaustion are etched along his face, subtle but undeniable. The weariness in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent plea for respite from the relentless demands of tennis. And yet, even amidst the exhaustion, there's a flicker of longing. He’s staring at you like he needs you, eyes wide and yearning. His chest rising and failing a little more harshly than it did before, each exhale coming out ragged and sharp.

“Art…” you whisper, heart threatening to beat out of your chest. He’s so warm, the heat emitting off of him makes you want to lean into it. You want to crawl on top of his powerful thighs and bury your face in his chest and never leave. Your hands flex where they’re draped over Art’s neck.

It happens in slow motion, Art’s hand trails up the skin of your thigh as your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted. You’re rearing back with a sharp breath, dropping your hands from his neck and taking a couple steps back. 

“It was really nice to- uh to meet you, Art.” you say frantically, swinging your bag firmly over your shoulder and rushing to the door. Art’s still sitting on the table, silently watching you panic. He doesn’t try to stop you. “I hope your shoulder feels better,” is all you say before bursting out the door and speed walking out of the pool house. 

Your heart's racing as you walk through the backyard, hands shaking even through the death grip you have on the strap of your bag. What the hell was that? What the hell was that? Did Art Donaldson just make a pass at you? You must be imagining things. 

The thought rattles around in your mind, refusing to be dismissed. His words, his tone—they seemed to linger in the air, haunting you with their implications. The way he touched you, like he couldn’t help himself. But no, it couldn't be. He was married to Tashi, and besides, he was just being polite, right? You try to convince yourself of that as you make your way back to the house.

As you walk inside, still slightly shaken up, Tashi’s the first thing you see. She’s sitting in the living room, laptop open on the coffee table in front of her. 

“Hey,” she says, sitting up straighter on the coach, “how was it?”

You swallow, urging yourself to calm down. “It was great, he should be seeing some improvement over the next few days.”

Tashi nods her head, seemingly pleased though it doesn’t show on her face. “Could this be a weekly thing, these appointments. He could really use them.” 

No question marks. Motherfucker.

You flounder, stomach dropping. “Weekly? As in every Thursday?”

Tashi’s brow raises, eyes looking over you inquisitively. “Yes, preferably all home visits.”She stands from the couch, taking a couple steps towards you. “We read on your website you take permanent clients, is that not the case anymore.”

You shake your head, eyes wide as they follow her while she walks. “N-no, Mrs. Duncan we do. We could pencil you in if you’re willing to pay monthly for the time slot. Would you like to talk to some of my other employees to work out a rotating schedule?”

Tashi stops a few feet away from you, hands in her pockets. “Actually, we were hoping you’d be the one coming down. The only one.” You blink, her words slam over you like a ton of bricks. Just you, in a room with a half-naked Art. Every single Thursday. That can’t happen, not after what just went down between the two of you.

You can practically hear the warning bells blaring in your mind, urging you to refuse, to put an end to this before it spirals out of control. Yet, there's another voice, quieter but no less insistent, whispering seductive promises of what could be if you were to stay.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you grapple with the conflicting desires warring within you. Tashi's expectant gaze weighs heavily on you, waiting for your response, and you know that whatever decision you make will irrevocably alter the course of things between you and Art. With a shaky breath, you steel yourself, the weight of your choice settling like a stone in your stomach.

"I...I'll do it," you finally say, the words leaving your lips before you can stop them. "I'll make sure to pencil you in for weekly sessions, Mrs. Duncan."

Tashi's lips curve up slightly, satisfied, but beneath the surface you can sense the tension thrumming through the air. You've made your choice, for better or for worse, and now you can only hope that it won't lead to the downfall of everything you've worked so hard to build.

“Wonderful,” she says, gesturing for you to follow her to the front door. You trail behind her like a loyal pet, silently allowing her to drag you wherever she pleases. “Thank you again for coming out, and please,” she pauses with her hand on the doorknob, turning to meet your eye, “call me Tashi.”

"Thank you, Tashi," you murmur softly, the weight of her name feeling foreign on your tongue when you’re actually saying it to her for the first time. "I'll make sure to arrange everything at the office."

Tashi's smile widens, though there's a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "I look forward to seeing you, then," she says, her tone laced with a hint of anticipation. "And please, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to reach out."

With a final nod, Tashi opens the front door, the outside world beckoning beyond its threshold. You take a hesitant step forward, the weight of your decision pressing down on your shoulders like a heavy burden. As you step out into the cool evening air, you can't shake the feeling that you've just crossed a line from which there may be no turning back. But for now, all you can do is steel your nerves and hope that you haven't made a huge mistake.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Your sessions with Art continue on. The guilt settling deep in your stomach each time you set foot in the Donaldson/Duncan house also continues. It worsens each time the two of you are alone in that damned massage room. Technically you’ve done nothing wrong, but you know deep in the back of your mind that what you’re doing isn’t normal. Each meeting is a strange mixture of tension and familiarity. When you arrive, Tashi always greets you warmly, her trust in you unwavering. It feels like a dagger each time, twisting deeper and deeper into your conscience. 

Neither of you talk about it, what happened during your session, and Art doesn’t treat you any differently. He still goes out of his way to make polite conversation, asking you about your life, about your business, he even brings up old anecdotes you told him offhandedly. He doesn’t talk about tennis, and he has to know you can keep up in conversation with it since you told him about your history with it, you just assume he doesn’t want to. 

That makes sense, you always think back to the first time he met you. How he brushed off any conversation about his career, how his demeanor changed when he spoke about it. How drained he looked. There was a sadness in his eyes, a weight he carried that seemed to go beyond just a few standard aches and pains. You remember how it struck you then, and it strikes you still, each time you see him.

His shoulder is getting better, you can tell. He can lay on it, or raise it above his head, without wincing. That makes your heart swell, knowing that despite how weird and kind of fucked up everything is, he’s healing. 

The familiar sound of your timer ringing pulls you out of your thoughts. You’re shocked at how fast this appointment flew by, but you could tell as soon as you walked into the massage room to find Art already sitting on the table waiting for you, that something about this session feels different. It’s silly to call it “sensing a bad vibe”, but that’s exactly what you felt entering the room's threshold. 

Art didn’t speak much as you worked, just laying on the table silently after saying hello and asking you about your week. The silence is definitely odd, Art’s not a chatterbox by any means, but he usually keeps some form of conversation flowing. After a while, you start to think it might be something you did, like maybe he’s mad at you. It sounds so stupid in your head, like you’re some poor high school girl getting hung up over a fucking guy giving you the silent treatment.

The only thing more stupid than that is how much it’s actually affecting you. Art has you over analyzing everything you’ve said or done over the last couple visits, you dread that maybe he just came to his senses after all this time. That he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and remembered he has a beautiful wife, and that he doesn’t really want you.

“Alright,” you say softly, stepping away from the table, “All done.” As you turn off the timer and gather your thoughts, you can't shake the feeling that something is off. You force yourself to bury it, Art doesn’t owe you an explanation, he doesn’t owe you anything. You aren’t his.

You glance over at him as he slowly sits up, his expression unreadable. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. You offer a small smile in return, trying to squash all the ugly feelings mixing in your stomach. You turn to busy yourself with packing up, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu.

Art’s voice cuts through the silence, sounding weary. “Are we still pretending it didn’t happen?”

It catches you off guard, making you drop the bottle in your hands back onto the table loudly. Your heart races as you turn back to face him, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, demanding a response you’re not sure you’re ready to give.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I...I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I was hoping we could just…forget about it.”

Art’s eyes search yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. “I don’t think I can,” he confesses, his voice tinged with sadness.

The same feelings from that day rush back in your mind, flooding all your senses. It's as if time folds in on itself, bringing you right back to that moment where everything changed. You feel panic clawing its way up your body, fight or flight response waging a war inside of you.

You chose flight, shoving the last bottle in your bag and making a break for the door. Ready to run just like you did back then, run and come back next week with your tail between your legs desperately trying to forget that this ever happened, again. Art’s voice stops you just as you have your hand on the doorknob.

“Please…” he whispers, he sounds so broken, so vulnerable. “Please, don’t run.”

You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the repressed feelings, or your shitty back bone, but whatever it is makes you pause, hand falling off the doorknob to lay limp at your side. You turn back to face him, the raw need in his eyes mirrored by your own emotions. It tugs at your heart, making it impossible to leave. You feel a surge of guilt and hesitation, but the longing in his gaze holds you captive. Slowly, you make your way towards him, taking small slow steps like you could still leave at any minute, but you know you won’t.

You walk until you’re crowding him, standing between his spread legs just like you did all those sessions ago. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, like he thought you’d turn around and slam the door on him instead. Which is what you should do, you should walk out that door right now and never step foot in their house again. 

Art whispers your name, his voice a soft caress that sends sparks zapping down your spine. You're close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face, warm and intimate. You inhale, like you’re trying to absorb his words, his essence, his everything. 

His hand takes yours, bringing it up to his chest. He presses it firmly against his pec, right on top of his heart. You can feel the rapid, uneven thumping beneath your palm. His thumb caresses your wrist gently, making goosebumps pebble over your skin.

It’s easy to get lost in Art’s eyes, so you’re shocked to notice something that very quickly grabs your attention. Art’s towel is tented obscenely, hard cock straining against the thick material. You swallow roughly at the sight, feeling the need to touch, to take, to help.

Your knees hit the floor before you fully realize the entire gravity of what you’re doing. You don’t care about any of that anyway, not right now. 

Right now Art Donaldson is swiping his thumb across the scar on your wrist with his big sparkly eyes desperately looking into yours, unashamedly begging for you to touch him. 

Who are you to deny him?

Your hands find the knot of his towel and yank it roughly, ripping it off Art's hips and tossing it aside. His hard cock springs out, slapping up against his stomach enticingly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, pleased to see he’s perfect all over. 

Art’s cock is long, and thick. He’s big, but in an exciting way, not in an intimidating way. He’s already steadily drooling pre-cum from his soft pink tip, already so hard and you haven’t even touched him yet. You reach up, tracing your finger along the length of him lightly. Art inhales, his eyes fluttering closed as you touch him for the first time. The anticipation in the room is palpable, a heady mix of desire and need that seems to swirl around you both.

You circle your hand around the base of his cock, stroking up and up until your hand bumps into the head, where you start to rub your thumb back and forth gently, spreading the wetness from his pre-cum before sliding your hand back down. Slowly, you lean in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth, savoring the taste of him as he groans deeply, hands gripping the massage table tightly.

“Shit,” he grits out, casting his gaze to the ceiling, chest already heaving raggedly. 

You slide the warmth of your mouth down the shaft of his cock, moaning at the heady taste of him, skin soft and velvety on your tongue. 

“Fuck, your mouth…” Art whispers above you, his words trailing off into a string of breathy moans. You hum in response, working his cock faster to draw out more of those noises. Hollowing your cheeks, you sink down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slippery slurping sounds. Art’s hand lets go of the table, coming up to cup your cheek in a move way too intimate for what the two of you are doing.

You chance a look up, and your heart skips several beats at what you see. Art’s already staring down at you, his face twisted up in pleasure. His pale cheeks are flushed, brows drawn together tightly, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. All that is enough to make you feel ten feet tall, but that’s not what makes you pause.

It’s his eyes, the way Art’s looking at you.

The look in his eyes is…worshipful. Reverent. Like you’re a celestial being, a divine grace walking among mortals. Not some girl on her knees for a married man in his house’s private fucking massage room.

Yet the longer you hold his gaze, while still working your mouth over his hard cock, you feel something strange stirring inside you. Art’s eyes holding such a longing reverence so intense, it was starting to elevate you to a pedestal of adoration. Of devotion.

Right now Art’s like the sun, burning so brightly you feel you need to look away before he consumes you, but you don’t.

“Please,” Art begs desperately, voice so soft you barely even hear it. There’s tears welling in his eyes, his red rimmed and so so tired looking eyes. It breaks your heart, how could such a wonderful man be reduced to this?

You pull off Art’s cock, hand still pumping firmly over him. He whines at the loss of your mouth, hips bucking up to chase after the warm heat. His tip bumps over your lips as he moves, trailing a thin line of pre-cum across them.

Without breaking eye contact, you speak.

“You’re so good, Art.” 

It’s those four words whispered against the tip of Art's leaking cock that has him coming with a hitched breath and a soft cry. A few bursts of his warm come land over your parted lips before you take the head of his cock back in your mouth to greedily swallow down the rest. 

"Thank you, fuck, thank you...!" Art grates out as his body trembles above you, hand squeezing yours so hard it borders on painful. You know you’re never coming back from this, but you still  squeeze back as hard as you can all the same.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Maybe this is just your life now, fucking the husband of the woman you worshiped like a God for years on end. It’s like you can’t stop, like you’re an addict or something. No matter how disgusting and shameful you feel every time you get home from Art’s appointments, you can’t help but give into him. It’s a twisted dance, a cycle of pleasure and regret that you can’t seem to break. One look into his sad, kicked puppy eyes and you crack. You’ve convinced yourself it's just you reveling in the feeling of being truly wanted for the first time. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. It’s the way he makes you feel alive, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

Art wants you. He needs you. He’s made that more than clear every single visit since you dropped down on your knees for him. The guilt gnaws at you, a constant reminder that you can't escape. Yet, every time you see him, every time he reaches out to you with that desperate need in his eyes, you find yourself powerless to resist. 

You’ve never kissed, not on the lips. Art’s certainly tried, lips seeking yours out as your oiled up fist slips up and down his cock, as you sit on his lap and grind against him until he’s dirtying his towel. You just turn your head every time, letting him trail kisses along your jaw and neck instead somehow feels less real. Kissing Art will make it feel real, you know it will. So you don’t.

Funnily enough, you think things are going well. Maybe even as well as getting a married man off every Thursday can go. You can see a change in Art, in his behavior and the way he holds himself. He smiles more, he laughs more, it’s like he’s giving more of himself to you each time you meet with him. It’s exhilarating, the way your presence has this effect on him, almost as if you’re breathing new life into him.

Art’s newfound lightness is infectious. You find yourself looking forward to Thursdays with an anticipation that borders on impatience. The way he looks at you, the tender touches that linger just a bit longer, the conversations that flow more freely–it all feels like a dream you’re afraid to wake up from. 

You should have known it was too good to be true, that this little world you created in your head was just the calm before the storm.

Everything about this session was normal to start. It’s a little less intense since Art’s shoulder is doing better, now you have free reign over the rest of his body. Greedy hands free to glide over the planes and planes of muscle you’ve become familiar with.

As you work on his lower back, your hands moving in practiced, soothing motions, you notice a subtle rigidity in his muscles. “Everything alright?” you ask, keeping your tone light.

Art hesitates before answering. “Yeah, just…a lot on my mind.”

You frown, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Art stays quiet, still laying silently on the table face down. You stare at the back of his head, like if you stare hard enough you’ll be able to tell what he’s thinking. Taking his silence as not wanting to talk, you continue on. You don’t want to pressure him to confide with you, not when he already has a wife for that.

As your hands continue to move over Art's tense shoulders, he lets out a deep sigh, breaking the silence. "I need you,”  he whispers softly, his voice filled with an unexpected vulnerability. He shifts on the table, leaning up to look you in the eye; his own eyes are watery, lashes clumped together with unshed tears. “It's not just the massages. I need you in my life, no more of this half-assed bullshit. I need all of you.”

You feel your whole world turn upside down in a single second, the distinct feeling of your heart lurching out of your chest and your stomach dropping to your feet. It’s like the walls of the room start moving in on you, caging you in. It makes your chest feel tight, breath coming out in short jagged rasps. Panic grips you, and you violently rip your hands off Art’s body, stumbling back from the massage table.

 "I-I'm sorry, I can't," you stammer, voice choked with emotion, as you turn to flee from the room, not even bothering to grab your stuff. But before you could escape, Art was right behind you, reaching out to catch your wrist, his grip gentle yet firm. "Please don't go, please," he begs, his eyes pleading with you to stay and talk. You wrench your hand free and run out of the room. 

You think you hear Art calling out your name through all the static rushing through your ears, but you’re not sure, and you don’t look back to check. Your feet pound against the tile as you run out of the pool house feeling like you’re about to throw up, or pass out. Art’s confession is the only thing running through your mind. The only thing that’s still clear through your dizzying panic.

You finally start to breathe again when you burst into the house, leaning back against the cool glass of the door to try and relax before you start to spiral. The silence inside is almost oppressive, the only sound the rapid thudding of your heart in your ears. You close your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, to find some semblance of control.

Your name being said grabs your attention, and you open your eyes to find Tashi at the top of the stairs.

“Is everything okay? I heard the door slam.” Her expression is a mix of concern and confusion as she takes a few steps down. You push yourself off the door, you need to leave as soon as possible, before Tashi can reach you and coerce you into staying. 

“Everything's fine!” Your voice sounds shaky despite your best efforts to calm yourself, you’re basically speed walking to the door. “I just, I got a phone call, and I need to leave. Right now. I’m so sorry.”

You don’t even wait for her to reply before you’re yanking the door open and rushing outside. You hope to God that she doesn’t follow you outside. She doesn’t.

You walk, arms wrapped around yourself tightly in a feeble attempt to stop shaking. There are tears burning your eyes and making everything in front of you blurry. The wind whips your hair around your face, stinging your cheeks as you walk further away from the house.

Each step feels heavier, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to make sense of the storm inside you. The chaotic weather seems to mock your turmoil, perfectly matching the chaos you feel. You struggle to piece together what just happened, the intensity of Art’s words echoing in your mind.

“I need you.”

His voice had been so raw, so vulnerable, and it scared you. You weren’t ready for that kind of emotion, that kind of responsibility, that kind of guilt. The weight of it had sent you running, and now you’re left grappling with the aftermath.

Fuck.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX HOURS LATER…

The drive home was a blur. Rain and wind beating against the windshield nearly the whole time. You’d laugh at how ironic it was, like God’s punishing you with shitty weather, but you’re too busy fighting tears to find the humor in it. 

The dread didn’t set in until you got home, stumbling through the front door on shaky legs until you reached your kitchen where you promptly emptied everything in your stomach into your trash. After you force yourself into the shower to wash the rain, and guilt, off of your skin. You scrub yourself raw, skin pink and sensitive to the touch, like that will somehow erase all that you’ve done.

When you finally step out, the bathroom mirror is fogged, a ghostly reflection staring back at you through the mist. You avoid its gaze, wrapping yourself in a towel and padding through your room to collapse onto your bed. The silence of the house presses in on you, letting your thoughts consume you. 

Art’s words play on a loop inside your head, the look on his face burned to the forefront of your mind. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, rocking you with its intensity. Running away had seemed like the only option at the time, a knee-jerk reaction to the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to engulf you. 

You know you didn’t run from Art because you don’t want him, you ran because there’s nothing you want more. In the aftermath, running felt less like a choice and more like an instinctual response to the storm of emotions threatening to consume you whole since the first day you met him. Every step away from Art was a battle against the gravitational pull of your desires, a struggle against the overwhelming urge to surrender to what you both shared.

The truth is crystal clear: you didn't run from Art because you're devoid of feelings for him. You ran precisely because your heart beats in synchrony with his, because the depth of your longing for him is as boundless as the universe itself. 

Your phone pings from the dresser, you ignore it. A second later, it pings again, and again, and again. You furrow your brows, glaring at your nightstand until you reach over and pick up your phone. It’s an unknown number, but you know who it is.

UNKNOWN NUMBER I need to see you.  Please, I can send a car. It's Art. Tashi isn’t home tonight.

Maybe you’re the worst person in the world, but all the fight leaves your body the second you read Art’s texts. You need to see him as much as he needs to see you. Your fingers type out a response before you can think twice.

Art okay.

You send him your address, jumping out of bed to throw on the first things you see. A black SUV was waiting for you as soon as you got downstairs, just as promised. You climbed in after getting confirmation from the driver, and sat in the backseat quietly as you went down the familiar streets. 

As the house comes into view, you can see the front door’s light is still on, waiting for you. You barely wait for the car to stop before you’re opening the car door and stepping outside. The rain immediately drenches you, seeping through your thin sleep clothes. You take two steps before the front door swings open and Art comes rushing out into the rain. He’s only wearing sleep pants, his bare feet smack wetly on the concrete as he runs to you.

Art stops short of you, hesitating, like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. You want him to touch you so bad you’re scared it might kill you. The air between you feels charged, every drop of rain a tiny spark. Finally, Art reaches out, his hand trembling as he brushes a soaked strand of hair from your face. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you step closer, collapsing into his arms. The rain continues to fall around you, but at this moment, it’s just the two of you.

"Art," you breathe, your voice trembling. "What are we doing?"

He gazes into your eyes, the raw emotion in his expression mirroring your own. "I don't know," he admits, his hands gently sliding down to your shoulders. "But I can't let you go. Not now." His words hang between you, a fragile thread of honesty that binds you together. You can feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as his words sink in. The honesty in his gaze, the desperation in his touch—it all overwhelms you, leaving you breathless. The only thing you can think of, the only thing that feels right, is kissing him. So you do.

You lean closer, your heart pounding in your chest, and gently cup his face in your hands. His eyes widen for a moment, a flicker of surprise mingling with the intensity of his emotions. Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, your lips meet his.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative and sweet, a question and an answer all at once. His lips are cold and slightly trembling, matching the fluttering in your chest. You can taste the salt of your tears mingling with the sweetness of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

Gradually, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and fervent, a silent expression of everything words can’t convey. Art’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his fingers threading through your hair. The heat between you intensifies, both your breath coming faster, mingling as the kiss grows hungrier.

Art’s heartbeat echoes against your chest, you can feel his grip on you getting tighter like he's scared of letting you go. Your hands slide down to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles as you press closer, your bodies molding together. His tongue flicks against your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them eagerly, welcoming him in. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of desperation and passion that makes your head spin. A soft moan escapes your lips, and he responds with a low growl, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you impossibly closer. 

“Art,” you say in between kisses, panting into his slick, open mouth. “I need you to fuck me.”

You can feel Art’s whole body shiver, groaning unabashedly into your mouth like he’s dying for it. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to finally admit that.”

The two of you tear through the house, all tangled limbs and bumbling steps, you trail water all over the floor. Somewhere in the chaos you drop your phone and keys on the large kitchen island. Art refuses to let go of you to walk properly, blindly leading the way so he can keep kissing you breathless.

Art only stops kissing you when you finally make it to his bedroom, pulling away to wrestle the now soaked sleep pants off his legs. You follow by example and peel your shirt off, skin damp and cold but you could care less, not when Art’s pants are pooling at his ankles and he’s throwing his boxers carelessly over his shoulder.

“God,” he breathes out, shaking his head like he can’t believe you're giving him this, “You’re so beautiful.”

The raw honesty in his tone has your cheeks burning, you cast your gaze to the floor instinctually, feeling too overwhelmed by his charged gaze raking over you. You can hear his feet softly padding against the floor, making his way closer. You watch his feet come to a complete stop in front of you, he takes a hold of your chin gently forcing you to look up at him. 

His eyes, intense and unwavering, lock onto yours. “You’re fucking perfect.”

With a gentle push, Art lowers you onto the bed, his weight a comforting presence above you. He tilts your head back and kisses you breathless, one big hand sliding lower and lower on your stomach till he’s got his hand down the front of your shorts, he groans when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. You’d almost forgotten you hadn’t worn any underwear. His hand so close to your aching center has your breath hitching as you kiss, hips bucking up towards his palm.

You reach for his cock, an angry shade red and leaking steadily, but he catches your wrist before you can touch. You meet his eyes confused, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s been about me the whole time, baby. Let me fix that,” he whispers.

You nod your head wordlessly. You wouldn’t dream of denying him, not right now. He smiles, pecking your lips again before he starts to kiss his way downwards. He explores your body with his mouth with such care it has you shaking under every brush his lips. He kisses all down your jaw and neck, taking extra time on your chest to map out the skin of your breasts with his tongue. He circles your right nipple with the tip of his tongue a few times over before he takes it in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth gently. It has your back arching into his mouth, hands scrambling for a purchase on the silk sheets. One long finger slides around your entrance and dips inside, shallow, then deeper, stretching you slowly, carefully, while his other hand rubs your clit with light, gentle touches. “Is this good?” Art asks quietly, voice tinged slightly with insecurity, like you’re not completely unraveling because of him.

“God yes! Yes – fuck! – Art,” you mewl loudly, hips grinding down roughly onto his finger, desperate to take in more of him. You can feel him smile against your skin, pulling off to blow cool air over your hard nipple and repeating it all over again on your left. His finger slides through the wetness collecting in your hole, spreading it to your throbbing clit. He finally sinks a single finger into the warm, tight, heat of your cunt.

Art pulls away from your chest to kiss his way down your stomach, sliding lower and lower on the huge king size mattress, he doesn’t stop the rhythm of his fingers as he peels your shorts down your legs, tossing them aside. A guttural groan leaves his lips at the sight of your slick cunt parting over his fingers, taking them so well. He pitches forward like he can’t help himself, like his lips are magnetically drawn to your cunt, and presses a small kiss to your clit. 

“Fuck!” You squeal and writhe as his finger fucks in and out of you, hands tangling in his messy hair, cheeks flushing at the sound of your leaking cunt squelching against his wrist with each thrust. Art's lips tighten over your clit, sucking for a brief second before he moves back to start laving his tongue over your cunt in careful, slightly clumsy, strokes. The sounds he's making, almost filthy slurping, accompanied by little moans now and then send small vibrations through you that shock your system, making you fist his hair even tighter. 

Art’s lewd noises fill the air, mixing with your own moans to fill the room. His eyes stay closed for the most part, fluttering open every couple seconds to watch you fall apart. Your thighs shake uncontrollably around his head when you make eye contact, threatening to clamp around his ears and keep him there.

A sob tears from your throat when he adds another finger, then he curls them inside you and pulls back and god, shit, shit, fuck, fuck me, god, Art, please fuck me.

“Fuck me Art please fuck me I need it so bad please-” you ramble nonsensically, pulling at Art’s hair desperately. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, but you don’t want to come on his tongue, or on his fingers, you want to come with him inside you.

Art lets you drag him up, the bottom half of his face is slick and shiny, drenched in your wetness. He makes his way up your body quickly, hands gripping tightly to your hips, not hesitating to kiss you even as your juices decorate his lips. You kiss back desperately, tasting yourself on his tongue. The head of his cock bumping against your twitching, empty hole has you whining. 

“Fuck me, Art,” you breath hotly, hips canting up needily. “No condom, I’m on the pill. I want you to come inside me. Please, I need it.”

Slowly, he starts to sink in. Feeding you inch by inch torturously slow. He kisses you the whole time, greedily swallowing the moans flowing out of your mouth as he stretches your cunt on his thick cock. You grab at his shoulders like a lifeline, kissing back with everything you have.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he says through gritted teeth, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. “So fucking perfect for me, such a perfect pussy for my cock.”

“Move.” Is all you can manage to squeak out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders.

Art starts to move, thrusts slow and gentle, like he’s easing you into it. You’re grateful for it, you’ve never taken anyone as big as him. Slowly, his thrusts speed up, cut hips smacking against the fat of your ass a little rougher than before. You revel in it, pushing your ass back greedily for more more more. From this angle, the thick head of his cock drags against your g-spot perfectly every time he plunges back into your dripping cunt.

“Shit! Right there, don’t stop,” you slur breathlessly, feeling the familiar warmth swirling through your stomach as he fucks you.

“I love you.” Art confesses against your lips, his breath hot and erratic. His sweaty forehead pressed to yours as he pounds in and out of you, the motion both relentless and tender. His eyes are wide open now, so blue and so big and so honest as they bore into yours so intensely it’s suffocating.

It’s soon, it’s way too soon. You’ve barely known each other for a couple months, but you can't deny the warmth spreading through your chest, mingling with the heat of the moment, making everything feel both overwhelming and perfect.

Now that you're here, with Art’s cock fitting so perfectly in the wet heat of your cunt, you can’t believe it took you this long. You love Art. You’ve been in love with Art since the first time he spoke to you. Since the first time he touched you like you were the solution to all his problems.

Art must take your stunned silence as rejection, head falling to rest on your shoulder dejectedly, but his hips don’t slow their rhythm. If anything he speeds up, hips thrusting against you desperately.

“Please, please say it back,” he begs, voice thick with emotion, “Say it back, I need to hear you say it. Please,”

You surge up, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you can, ankles locking together across his back. Art couldn’t pull out of you if he wanted to, judging from the long whine he lets out, he doesn’t mind.

“I love you, Art” You whisper back, barely audible over the lewd slap of his hips stinging your ass. Art groans so loudly you can feel it reverberating off the sensitive skin of your neck.

Hips speeding up even faster, Art turns his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. This kiss is different than any of the other ones you’ve shared tonight, full of so much emotion and unspoken words. You swear you feel your heart grow three sizes, almost full and threatening to break out of your chest.

“I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna fucking come,” he breathes between kisses. You can only moan in response, right on the brink of your own orgasm. His hips start to lose their rhythm as he chases it, fucking into you faster and harder.

Art’s cock gives a final twitch inside you before his hips are stilling and he’s coming with a broken moan, unloading everything he has into you. You’re right behind him, vision whiting out as you come, thighs shaking where they’re draped around his hips. 

Art collapses onto you, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from the high of your orgasm’s. You lay like that for a while, heaving and sweaty wrapped up in each other's arms. You feel something slot into place, something that you’ve been missing.

Art’s soft voice pierces through the afterglow, “Will you hold me?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, circling your arms around his shoulders.

…

When you wake up hours later you’re beyond thirsty, dehydrated from all the crying, and maybe from the sex. Art’s head is laying across your bare chest, tousled hair tickling your jaw and arms snug around your waist. He looks so peaceful, eyes closed with his long lashes fanning over his cheeks. The sound of his steady breathing is almost enough to lull you right back to sleep. You smile softly, running your hands through his hair slowly. Savoring how at peace he looks, so different from the battered, broken man you met.

You slip out of his arms as carefully as possible, not wanting to wake him. Rolling out of bed to search half-assedly for your clothes in the darkness. You can’t find your shirt, only your underwear and shorts. You notice a red shirt strewn over the dresser next to the bed, illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the blinds. You pick it up without thinking, it's soft in your hands, the fabric thin and worn down. You toss it on before padding out of the bedroom.

You get a little lost in your thoughts as you make your way to the kitchen, Art loves you.

The thought has you biting back a giddy smile. Art loves you and you love him too. It sounds fucking crazy, but you know it’s true. Your life is so completely fucked, you don’t know if you care.

Art loves you.

Your smile doesn’t leave your lips as you turn the corner, arms wrapped around yourself tightly, the warmth of Art's affection lingering like a gentle caress.

“He smiles more.”

The soft voice ringing out from your left makes you stop in your tracks. You turn, and there in the kitchen illuminated by the soft glow of the ceiling light, like an angel, is Tashi Duncan. 

Tashi looks at you from her spot across the room with an impassive look on her face, she’s got your keys in one hand, fiddling with them boredly. When you don't reply she speaks again, "He's playing better, won the last three tournaments he was in." She says casually, setting her half full wine glass down on the island.

You don't need to ask her who "he" is.

You're silent for a few more beats as she stares at you expectantly, silently urging you to say something. You rack your brain for a response, caught like a deer in headlights under Tashi's gaze.

"What?" you softly mutter, words cutting through the air weakly.

Tashi sighs in exasperation, like you're a child who doesn't understand the simple question she's asking. She raises her wine glass back to her lips, draining the rest of it before setting it down once more and making her way over to you.

You know you should flee, make a break for the door before she reaches you. Running away from the woman whose husband you’re fucking - whose husband you just got done fucking, and who told you he loved you - while she pays you seems like the easiest thing to do in the moment, but you don't.

You find yourself glued to the spot as Tashi's commanding presence looms over you, until she's all you can see. Until her expensive smelling perfume is all you can breathe, until she's towering over you, miles of soft skin on display in a classy black nightie.

She stares down at you, her face completely unreadable. It feels like hours as her brown eyes burn into yours, your heart must be beating a thousand beats per second.

When Tashi finally moves, it’s her hand you see rising up in your peripheral vision. At first you think she's going to hit you, get you back for sleeping with her husband, for falling in love with her husband. You tense up, bracing for the slap, it would be the least of what you deserve, but it never comes.

Instead, Tashi's hand finds its way up to the side of your face, cupping your cheek gently. You can feel the chilled metal of her wedding band make contact with your warm skin.

You feel like you might pass out staring into the eyes of Tashi Duncan. Everything you ever wanted in high school flashing rapidly right before your eyes.

If Art Donaldson is the sun, Tashi is the moon. Her light draws you in and keeps you looking at her, and never wanting to look away.

Her thumb slides across your bottom lip, the same lip that’s kissed her husband. Ever so slightly, she pushes the tip of her thumb into your parted lips, far enough to touch your bottom teeth. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening in shock, your pulse is fluttering wildly. You distantly wonder if she can feel it on the inside of her wrist.

“I’m his coach, I need to be hard on him or he fails. I refuse to let him fail,” she says softly, tone casual like she’s not brushing the tip of your tongue with her fingers. “But I’m not stupid, I know what he needs. Someone sweet, someone gentle, someone who looks at him and doesn’t see tennis.”

You couldn’t answer her if you wanted to, but you wouldn’t trust yourself to speak anyway. You feel far away and floaty the longer her fingers sit in your mouth, your brain feels like molasses.

“I can’t give him what he needs. I’m not that kind of person,” Tashi says, eyes roaming your face languidly, like she’s window shopping your features. Her voice is nearly a whisper the next time she speaks, “but you are. You could be that for him.”

Your heart drops, the haze surrounding your brain rips away so violently, like someone took a leaf blower to it. Her words make everything start to fall into place, the at home visits, the “exclusive deal”, the weird ass run-ins you’ve had with her over the weeks. 

This was never about the goddamn massages.

For a few seconds you both stay like that. Standing inches away from each other in the half-lit kitchen of her and Art's house. For a second, you think you can see the tiniest smile playing on her lips before she drops her hand from you completely.

"There’s a car waiting for you outside,” she says, still close enough that you can feel her breath fan over your face, “See you next Thursday."

Tashi turns on her heels and leaves you alone, disappearing down the long hallway leading to her and Art's bedroom. You watch the whole time she goes, until she completely fades into the shadows. Your lip still tingling from her touch.

There’s only one thing on your mind as you incredulously stare down the now empty hall…

These people are so fucking weird.

[atsumulogy]

WHEN YOUR CO-WORKER CALLS HIMSELF YOUR “WORK HUSBAND”

synopsis: how he reacts to your co-worker calling himself your “work husband”

featuring: miya atsumu, oikawa tooru, & iwaizumi hajime. fem!reader.

content warning(s): jealousy, possessive boys, weird co-worker, suggestive at iwa’s part 😵 sorry my hands slipped lmao. also grammar mistakes … have mercy i wrote this kinda half asleep + use of wife

naia’s footnote: yk that work wife thing? yeah, that but with a twist with the hq men 🤭 jealous scenarios are my guilty pleasure LOL i wrote this when i was supposed to be doing smth actually productive 😓‼️also i got carried away w atsumu’s haha

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! rb’s & likes are appreciated

#01 — WHEN COMING AS YOUR PLUS ONE IN YOUR OFFICE’S FANCY EVENT, MIYA ATSUMU didn’t want to admit it but he kind of expected to be fawned over by your female colleagues — not that he wanted them to! It’s just … expected, seeing how absolutely hot your husband is (the expensive suit and tie and all). What he did not expect was being introduced to your … what was it? Ahh, yes, “work husband”.

The absolute audacity and sheer nerve of this bastard to call himself that in front of him, the actual husband on the documents and in your heart.

Work husband. He scoffs silently, face scrunching up in irritation, poking his cheeks with his tongue instead of making a fuss in this exclusive event where lots of important people are present. As much as he cares for obliterating this man in front of him, he cares more about you and didn’t want to cause you any issues with your workplace.

(Though, if this ugly scrub touches your arm again and joke about Atsumu being the side chick, he wasn’t so sure that he wouldn’t cause a scene.)

Besides, the 24 karat gold necklace hanging around your neck with his initials attached to the chains and the elegant ring on your finger makes it painfully clear that your self-proclaimed work husband has no chance against the Miya Atsumu.

BONUS:

Atsumu may have acted mature about the situation while in the event, but behind closed doors he was whining and grumbling about that annoyin’ scrub.

“— like I still can’t believe he had the guts to say that in front of me!” He scoffs, face scrunching up again, his mouth forming a scowl. “Work husband… tsk, i’m yer only husband! hell, i’ll be yer work husband, house husband, and every other fuckin’ husband title there is!”

Instead of informing your husband that it doesn’t work like that, you nod to every word he said every time he looks at your eyes to back him up on his rant.

“Yes baby, I know. Now why don’t we get you a trophy with all those husband titles, hm?” You jokingly offered, patting his fluffy blonde hair.

Next week a package arrived carrying a shiny gold trophy with the words “Miya Y/n’s only house husband, work husband, and everything else in between” customized on the front <3

#02 — OIKAWA TOORU SCOFFED AFTER SOME IRRELEVANT, MEDIOCRE, UGLY MAN introduced himself as your “work husband”, somewhat offended because someone dared crown themselves a self-proclaimed title as your work husband — like that bastard is even worthy enough to be breathing the same air as you!

He recognizes this man to be the man you ranted to him about that was inappropriately acting like he’s close with you and many other women of your office.

Wanting to do you and the other women of your office a favor, he decided to humble him.

“Last time I checked, there was no side piece. And if there were to be a side piece — which will never happen by the way! — my wife would pick someone better looking than you. As you can see she has great taste, since she married me and only me. But you should know that by now, hm? Our wedding was even on the news!” showing the ring on his finger, wiggling it even to show emphasis, his tone and his (threatening) smile was friendly, but you all know that it was anything but that.

Oikawa Tooru is an intimidating opponent, both in and out of the court.

#03 — NEVER IN HIS 25 YEARS OF LIVING HAS IWAIZUMI HAJIME met a more annoying and repulsive person such as the man in front of him that cockily and casually called himself as your “work husband”.

You felt his beefy arms tighten around your waist, he leans in to you closely, his hot breath heating up your ears as he asked you with low voice, however still (purposely) loud enough for the guy in front of you two to hear. “Baby, do you even know him?”

You nodded, “He’s just some guy in the finance department who’s really weird, Hajime. I don’t even remember his name. Sato? Aoki?”

The man before you deflated, his cocky stance nowhere to be seen as he scoffs defensively, “It’s Nakamura —”

“— Yeah, sure, well my wife and I have somewhere else to be now. So goodbye Ishikawa-san.” He purposely used a different name — politely even, to mock him and push his buttons.

“It’s Nakamu —”

“Bye Sato-kun!” You played along with your husband’s petty antics, waving him off before locking your arms around Hajime’s before snuggling close to him as you two walked away. The both of you bursting out laughing once you guys think the guy was far away enough to not hear you two.

“Have you seen his face! He deserved that humbling experience!” You snorted, Hajime rolling his eyes as he remembers the guy.

“Okay but who even is he really? Is he always so flirtatious with you? What even is a work husband? Last time I checked, I’m the one who gave you that new last name of yours.” He grumbled, irritated at the thought of that bastard flirting with you at work when your husband wasn’t there.

“Aw, babe, you know that you’re the only one for me.” you patted his cheeks affectionately, smiling at him while giggling.

He does. He knows it, a bit too well at times. So he sighs and he lets it go. Because he knows that at the end of the day, he’s the one you come home to, he’s the one you cling onto while watching your favorite shows, he’s the one that rests his free hand on your thighs whenever you two go for a drive.

And tonight, he’s the one that will lay you down on the bed and touch you, talk to you, and feel you in ways that only he can do.

© ATSUMULOGY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ANY FORM OF PLAGIARISM OF ANY OF MY CONTENT WILL NOT BE TOLERATED.

[rainylana]

“I don’t like dresses, Eddie.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: some sweet fluff at the trailer with eddie. reader is six months pregnant, so much fluff it may actually kill you, so sweet and precious, smut, vaginal fingering, decrophylia, mentions of max’s death and the battle with vecna, eddie’s self doubt of being a good provider, maybe some language, eddie and reader purposely call their baby by different genders it’s not an error lmao. enjoy!! requests always open just have a lot of works in progress i’m trying to get out there!! also! please let me know if the “read more” tag is working!!

My feet are huge, Eddie.” You said matter of factly, staring at your bare, swollen feet. “I can barely fit into shoes anymore.”

Eddie chuckled, stirring the instant ramen as he put it back in the microwave. “I’ll buy you a size up.”

“But they’re so…so big! I’m so big!” You exclaim, hugging your pregnant belly. “I’m so fat!”

“Y/n,” Eddie said, giving you a pointed look. “What I tell you about that? Stop being so negative about the way you look. It’s not good for you. You’re hot.”

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, fiddling with your fingers. “You have to admit it though.” You argued. “My feet are huge.”

He rolled his eyes, sticking out his socked foot dramatically. “Well, what about mine! They’re twice the size of yours!”

You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. “I guess so. You’ve got man feet.”

He scoffed. “I am a man, baby.” The thirty second timer of his soup went off, but he paid no mind, making his way over to you. He got on his knees in front of you, grabbing your foot and kissing your freshly painted, hot pink, big toe. “I love you and your big feet, baby.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering at the sweet gesture.

“And,” He pointed at your belly. “I love this baby, too.” He kissed your six month pregnant stomach, patting it lightly. “Hi, baby Munson! Can you hear me? It’s daddy! Daddy’s here!”

You watched him caress your belly, tapping it, humming a new song he was working on, telling it about his work day. You could watch it all day long. You couldn’t wait to meet your baby. You and Eddie had decided to wait to see what the gender was, but it was getting to be harder than what you anticipated.

“God, I’m so excited.” Eddie sighed happily, resting his cheek on your thigh. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Him. Eddie was sure it was a boy.

You? You didn’t care which, as long as she was happy and healthy.

“I know.” You said quietly, your hand over his that laid above your navel. “Only three more months.”

He practically squealed, gathering himself off the ground to sit beside you. He grabbed you by the shoulders softly, turning you around so your back was to him. You sighed happily when he began massaging your shoulders, his thumbs working circles into your sore muscles.

“Oh, god.” You moaned, eyes closed in relief.

“Careful, darlin’.” He smirked, leaning into your ear. “Last time you said that you got pregnant.”

You hadn’t meant to get knocked up. That was the last thing you both had wanted, at the time, anyways. Now, it was the only thing you wanted more than anything in the entire universe. The two year mark of vecna was approaching, and after two years of the trauma you both endured, healed injuries and broken souls, the loss of your dear friend, Max, you both could finally say that you were traveling down hill now. You missed Max. You knew she’d be so happy to hear about the both of you becoming parents.

You remembered the day you had taken the pregnancy test. All 14 of them. You’d blown half of your paycheck on them, needing to be sure. You’d cried on the bathroom floor where he had found you that evening. You didn’t need to say anything, yet you did, watching as he stared at the positive pregnancy tests on the counter. “I’m pregnant.” You had spoken over a tearful whisper.

It was one of his most shameful moments, but Eddie had left you that night on your own, not able to process the idea of becoming a father. Wayne had smacked him upside the head when he showed up to his trailer, confessing the news. “Boy, get your ass outta my house and back you yer’ girl.” His uncle had said.

“Feel good, baby?” Eddie said, kissing your clothed shoulder as he rubbed up and down your spine, going back up to the base of your neck.

“Mmm.” You hummed in response. “Me and baby are happy.”

He smirked, eyes starting to droop with tiredness from his long work day. “I hope so.”

You opened your eyes then, noticing the self doubt in his voice that you came to recognize early on in your relationship. Next month will be four years. You craned your neck to try and see him. “I am, Eddie.” You lifted your hand up to grab his, resting them against your shoulder. “So will the baby.”

He squeezed your fingers. “I should get you a better house. We need a safer neighborhood for him.”

“We’ll protect her.” You didn’t let go of his hand, spinning yourself against the leather cushion to face him. “And I love this house. It’s our home.”

“I could buy you pretty dresses.” He frowned, pulling at the string of your pajama pants.

“I don’t like dresses, Eddie.” You laughed, gathering his face in your hands and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “God, you’re so cute. You’re so good to me.”

His cheeks flushed red under your touch, placing his hand on your fuzzy pj’s. “You’re good to me, baby. My two babies. I love you both so much.” The heat of the precious moment took him over and he found his lips on yours in seconds. Hot, plump and pink and all over each other’s, his thick palm coming up to hold your cheek.

He kissed you like you were the only woman left in the world, a hunger behind each swipe of his tongue that begged to be fed. You opened your mouth and accepted, teeth scrapping teeth in a make out session that was just plain dirty. He was always so paranoid about having sex at first, wondering if it would hurt the baby. You were too, until your doctor assured you there was no danger at risk.

“Let me feel you, baby.” He said hotly against your wet mouth, hand traveling down your cheek to your shoulder, down your arm and to your hip. “Let me make my girl feel good.”

You whined when his hand cupped your mound with a full palm, breaking apart the kiss in surprise. He rubbed you over your pajama’s, your body leaning into him, rocking against his hand to gain some more friction that just wasn’t doing the job.

You grabbed his hand, pulling down your pants to your knees, placing him back down to your bare pussy. You found his mouth again, his fingers running up your slick with a full swipe, collecting your wetness that made his hand sticky.

“You want me to touch you, honey?” He gently gathered you close, leaning you back to you could lay on the leather sofa. “Tell me what you want, pretty baby.”

The teasing made you hot and lightheaded, the throbbing between your legs created a burning sensation that ached to be cooled. “Please, Eddie,” You arched into his hand. “Touch me. Fuck me with your fingers.”

He practically groaned, the strain in his boxers rubbing against your thigh. He leaned down and placed a full, deep kiss on your lips, entering two fingers into your cunt. He plunged them deep inside, curling them in one go, before pulling out and repeating the movement.

The sudden sensation had you crying out, back arched and mouth ajar. Eddie hovered over your stomach, one hand inside you, the other holding himself up so he didn’t put pressure on your belly. He lifted his chin at you, eyes dark and sparking with a mischievous glare. “Yeah?”

You sobbed, writhing underneath as he finger fucked your pussy, a third ring finger now plunging in and out of you. The sound of your squelching arousal filled his ears, his pre cum darkening a patch of his jeans. It wasn’t the first time he’d cum in his pants just from fingering you.

“Oh, God,” Your legs were split apart, cunt on full display for him. He looked down, watching as his fingers disappeared in and out of you. Your face was best red, sweat fell down your cheeks and tears fell down your sticky skin.

“I’m so close, Eddie.” You shook underneath him.

“Mhmm.” He nodded, his thumb lazily swiping at your clit, not enough to make the coil in your belly snap. “You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? You want me to make you cum all over my fingers?”

“Yes, yes!” You reeled your head back and pleaded to him, to god.

Eddie leaned down, spit on your puffy, red and swollen clit, and wrapped his plump lips around your sexual nerve, puckering and sucking like his life depending on it. It wasn’t long then, and you were squeezing his fingers and shaking, convulsing underneath him.

He fingered you through your orgasm, admiring your beauty as laid there and cried.

[l3monlem0n]

Some Murder Drones Episode 7 screenshots I thought were interesting and my thoughts on them :>

SPOILER WARNING!!!! is spoilering

Nori, despite being a middle aged woman with a child, appears to be an Otaku or otherwise likes "edgy" and "scene" stuff, as well as listening to nightcore, very much like her daughter. Good for her tbh you're never too old to have fun

She also has a photo of Khan and what I can only assume is baby Uzi, though it appears to have blue eyes, but maybe it's just the lighting. Still very cute she has a pic of her husband

As well as all the previously mentioned Otaku stuff, she also drew herself as an anime character. She has a skinsona. Phenomenal (pos)

Nothing much here, just Uzi coughing up blood. Girl got the goop (gore) inside of her already

Lab Space. Apparently the Church was just down there and not even the humans know why. The canonicity of this is questionable; it could just be a joke

OT, as per google, stands for "Occupational Therapy". Makes sense for the context, and makes the bottom text funnier

"Fun Time To Universe Big Crunch: 87". The Big Crunch is a hypothetical way the Universe could end, where the universe folds on itself and shrinks into a single point. 87 "what" I don't know. If it's months, that 7 years and 3 months

Honestly the Murder Drones lore is super confusing. I think what this is trying to say is that every other Zombie Drone is doing poorly, (Except for Yeva), they are trying to reactivate 002 (Nori) via the USB. I'm not sure what this means. Maybe they only got the results they wanted from the two of them, and are trying again with Nori since she was the only other one that worked (also why they got Yeva when she failed; this may all be referring to how the episode opened up) Also, the date says SER. As revealed in the episode Cabin Fever, Copper-9 has months that Earth does not. SER most likely stands for Seramorris, the month revealed in that episode

Looks like the "bad event" wasn't the first one. Certainly was the last one though lol

Just a good pic of ghost/hologram V with the scary stuff. Might use this as a wallpaper

You can literally see the hole in his neck where N bit him in...

...And it's to the point his HEAD FALLS OFF. (including because I didn't notice the first time around)

Yup, the idea that Uzi became the Admin for N and V is completely true. I wonder what would've happened if she didn't, since Cyn didn't react whatsoever

friggin bug (very pos)

You would not believe how difficult it was to get a good pic of this (I'm using snipping tool lmao). Always a pleasure to see Uzi's doodles. Things her gun can do (upper right):

NOT judge her

Forced prom date (?)

Allows her to say she had friends before she frickin murdered them with sci-fi machinery

The cut off text at the bottom: Plan B: Normal gun + Shoot really fast

This is while Tessa is looking for something in the lockers. Claws, chains, magnets, Wings, and scribbled "HELP". Looks like the lockers were all specifically to hold the infected worker drones. Oof

We are in the future now baby. We have rererererereCAPTCHA. Funnily enough, it still couldn't stop a robot

There is a message board where someone who doesn't like robots is talking. They also are scared. Also no one else is using this system, which is unsurprising. "Ur aight ;)" Wait is the winky face intentional foreshadowing? Or unintentional?

We get the names of a bunch of other Worker Drones. Unfortunately for all 029 fans, her name was not visible. (also can someone tell me what "JWEB" could be short for?) And Yeva is said to have a patch. That may be the crucible thing idk

Cyn (which I will be calling this version Skyn [Skin + Cyn]) apparently took of the space suit just to give Doll the Withered Foxy jumpscare. Honestly really terrifying. If this photo was teased before release I think the fandom would've exploded

Just N being a good boy :3

The MDs, Cyn's pets. Nori refers to them as "Nerfed" so the "Entity" can ensure control, and says they were made to destroy other hosts. I don't know why Cyn would want them dead, but I'm not the loremaster here. YouTube line is there because I couldn't be bothered after the Railgun image

Probably already confirmed, but doubly confirmed that a symptom of the Solver is giving Drones organic insides. A Worker Drone body with a rib cage and guts. I wonder what would happen if the infection continued uninterrupted (also R.I.P. Doll I loved you :frown:)

I'm sure everyone noticed, but when Uzi tried to manipulate Tessa, the ERROR noticed appeared. Already hinting Tessa is not all she says she is

Apparently the Solver can create Black Hole Saws. Interesting development (Blackhole Blitz)

I know most people (I think) see this as a joke and N just being a bit of goofball. But honestly, I think he did it intentionally to shock Cynuzi and give Nori a chance. In the Pilot, he licked V's sword to surprise her too, which means he isn't unfamiliar with doing something weird and surprising for the advantage

Skyn eating Doll's core. R.I.P. Doll again. Seriously, was that Doll in Core Form like Nori was? Or was Nori a fringe case because she was "Exorcised" and this is just a regular core? Questions, questions. Also yeah the Solver also gives you a Core. Fun

This tag makes me think that this body is Cyn's actual body. Not longer a hologram, but her actual body from the mansion. The reason Tessa gave N, J, and V their names was because that was the first letter of their Serial Designation (she's very uncreative). However, Cyn's tag was slightly faded, which meant her SD couldn't be seen, so Tessa gave her the name "Cyn" after her P/N, even though the other 3 already have the same P/N as Cyn (Tessa, again, is very uncreative)...

...and for some reason, Cyn or the Solver, which ever theory you subscribe to, decided to wear Tessa as a skin suit for some twisted reason. It did help her with the Captcha. Also scary because this doesn't have the right proportions for an adult (unless Cyn really forced that skin on), which leads me to believe that this is a Younger Tessa, and she faked having an older voice. Maybe I shouldn't call her my wife... I'm sure Eldritch J is still available :^)

(Seriously, the eyes are burnt out, leaving two eye holes over the visor, so she gives herself two X eyes so it looks better. Also yeah we found out what that thing on the "It Came From Copper-9" poster came from. It really was Cyn or Skyn)

Just a frame of the final...frame... for coolness. I'm probably also going to use this for a background. Also, this is definitely Copper-9. You can see the ring and ringless moon together on the right. Uzi somehow got sent to orbit after falling in the meat hole

Well that was all for now. This series has consumed me entirely, body and soul, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Goodbye and goodnight

[shirefantasies]

Hey! Recently finished LotR for the first time and just wanted to thank you for sharing so much amazing writing with the fandom!

I was wondering, after reading the how many children they’d like hcs, if you’d be comfortable writing some characters(personally requesting Legolas and Eowyn, but whoever you’d wish of course!) meeting their(/them and their partner’s if they already have children ofc) firstborn!

Either way! Tysm for reading and have an amazing day!!

Forgot I had one more finished draft lmao sorry everyone🤙🏻 here's one more post

Bro OF COURSE I love doing parent AU stuff!!! This is such a cute imagine omg. Also thanks for the kind words & welcome to the fandom 🥰 consider this part 2 of the pregnancy headcanons~

Warnings: some descriptions/mentions of childbirth/labor pain/blood (not too graphic though!)

LoTR Characters Meeting Your First Child Together (Wife!Reader)

Aragorn

Concern paints your husband's handsome features, furrowing his dark brow and glittering deeply in his blue eyes at your sudden, frantic motions. You are too quiet, too focused. Hiding something, perhaps? "What troubles you?" Aragorn asks, moving to your side, a hand caressing your shoulder as he breathes your name. Eyes widening, you start for a moment before deflating in a sigh. "I think the baby is coming. But I did not wish to worry you until I was certain, until I had more prepared and-" Saying your name, this time a little more firmly and a lot more lovingly, Aragorn takes your hand. "Worry me? Cast all your worries upon me. I am your husband. My heart is yours, and my service. Come, we will go to the healing halls at once."

~

Aragorn smooths your hair, wincing as you cry out and calmly whispering encouragement. He quiets you down as the pain and stress wash over you in nearly blinding waves, your body writhing with each push. Hours pass like this, Aragorn your one anchor until finally, blessedly, your body can fall limp against your sickbed and pant and sigh in relief, the babe proclaimed healthy and taken to be soothed and cleaned. "What a marvel. Truly you prove strength beyond measure every day. Beyond that, I simply love you more every day," he adds with a smile. Leaning up to kiss him, you fix your husband with tired eyes, loving gaze broken only by the midwives' calls. "My king," they say, "a son was born to you! The prince of Gondor!" "A son," you repeat, finally breaking back into a grin as you accept your little boy. Aragorn looks down upon him too with as wide a smile, greeting him in Elvish. "My son," he says, "how loved you are, and how blessed are we your parents. May you grow strong, healthy, happy, our little gift."

Legolas

Even as far as you had gotten, an unspoken fear had crept up between you and your husband until the very day of your labor, but your twins held fast. Such a thought echoed through your mind as much as you could bear to will it between the waves of pain. They held fast, and so would you, your husband at your side stroking your head and holding your hand, whispering calming words in the language of his people. Through tears, you smiled at the beautiful sound, at Legolas's constant reminders that you are strong, you are the most amazing gift the prince has born witness to in hundreds of years. He reminded you to look into his eyes as you were urged to push harder, your hips burning like never before...

~

"A son. A son and a daughter,” Legolas breathed, pulling you and both your twins into a gentle embrace. “And my wife. What more could I desire? Nothing. Nothing indeed.” You feel moisture, realize a tear has slid from Legolas’s eye to your hand, and reaching up you dry his eye before bringing your hand down to stroke the side of his face. You can feel the bags of exhaustion circling your eyes and your whole body aches, but all you can do is smile, smile until your face is just as sore; with your aching pleasure glowing throughout you nuzzle the babe in your arms, your son. “Our dreams are finally reality, Legolas. I would ask for no more either.”

Boromir

"What for it? What can I do?" Boromir is less calm than you expected at your sudden pain, the downward rush you can only assume is the baby coming. Not that you have told him that already. "Let us go to the healers." You try to steady your breathing, praying your water will hold out and break only upon entry to the home of the dear friend you'd selected to aid in your birth. Grateful are you for the grasp of your husband’s hand and the strength with which his arm raises you, tugging you against him for support, even if you feel his heart racing like mad when your hand falls against his chest.

~

For hours you toiled, your body rent and torn in creative horror as Boromir tried his best with jokes and sweet words to keep your wits about you… for far shorter hours than usual in your friend’s words. “I find that hard to believe,” you panted as she cleaned the child. “No, truly that was quite amazing,” your friend shot back, stepping back your way with a bundle in her hands, “We’ve had them take twenty hours before. Five is quite fast I daresay.” Every orifice in your body cried out with pain, so all you could do was incline your head until you raised it again, saw the child in her outstretched arms and felt your lips part in amazement. Eyes still closed, your child groped for you, stilling a bit in satisfaction upon your acceptance, feeling the weight fall and rest gently upon your chest. “Impatient little man and with some fire too! He fought against cleaning quite well.” “Little man?” Boromir’s head snapped so rapidly up to your friend and back to your baby you thought he might snap something. “We have a son?” “Indeed you do, you old dog, you,” she grinned. “It’s a boy!” He shouted gleefully, one hand resting firmly between your son’s and the other cupping your cheek and yanking your lips to smash against his. When Boromir pulled away, he laughed aloud, hearty and triumphant. “Bless him and bless you for giving him to me! I never knew I could be this happy, love!” Your smile widened to match his grin. Suddenly your pain didn’t seem quite so bad.

Gimli

“Push! Push!” “Am I not?!” You reply, uncaring of the raise of your voice or the vice of your hand about your husband’s. For his part and quite in spite of himself, Gimli must laugh, for such was the fire that stole his heart some time ago and the fire from which your newest love was forged- though not without some trouble first. Chip off the ol’ block, indeed! “That’s it, that’s it,” the healer encouraged, “yer doin’ great, lassie!” “Doesn’t feel like it!” Even as he winces in pain by your iron grip, Gimli chuckles again.

~

“A healthy little lad!” Six more hours have passed, but finally he’s in hand and you won’t give him up for anything. Except Gimli- he is the only one to survive your death glares when he reaches for your son, and pushing some hair off his shoulder he gently extends his arms further when you acquiesce. His lips part in an o of endearment and shock at your son, crying moments ago but now laying peacefully in his father's arms. Breaking into a wide smile, Gimli stares down with moist eyes and it is like time is frozen. “My son,” he half-declares, half-sobs. His gaze tears from the babe after a minute or two only to meet yours and bring a wide, triumphant smile to his face. "And most importantly, son of the fairest this earth has yet set forth, she who gave herself that he should be here. You did wonderful, my love. Thank you." "Thank you for being his father," you reply, "and for loving me through it all, even when I was quite ugly about it." "Ah..." Gimli replies diplomatically, "you were in a great deal of pain." Of course he forgives you, he worships the ground you walk on, after all, and you have just gifted him the honor of a son, a little flame all his own! And who, the dwarf suspects with another smile, shall look a lot like his father too!

Frodo

Frodo walked you all the way to the bed and laid you down by himself before he would finally relinquish any care of you to the midwife, despite the fact that he had selected her. You knew it was borne of no distrust of her, however, only a sign of the immense care in his heart he felt for you and the sum of all the kindnesses done upon Frodo in his most difficult years. When you love someone, after all, you carry them up a mountain. You lay them down and take their hand and kiss their forehead, telling them you will never leave them in their greatest pain. Just as your husband now did, just as he spoke upon cradling you close, grip only tightening as you cried out in pain.

~

"You're doing so well," Frodo encouraged during your last pushes, stroking your sweat-beaded forehead, "This is almost over." Indeed it was, for minutes later your final whimper broke Frodo's heart, sending spikes of dread shooting down his spine until a new set of cries stopped them cold. "She's here," the midwife tells you, standing up and fetching the cloths she'd dunked earlier. "A girl," Frodo breathes, "A little girl!" "Our little girl," you agree, reaching out to accept the tiny babe. Frodo's heart melts at her now-calmed face, the way her tiny eyelids flutter and the spray of tiny dark curls already visible on her head. "Hello there," he whispers, "my beautiful little girl. Never did I think my heart could give any more, and yet here it is, doubly taken."

Sam

"What's wrong? You look a little peaky. Here, why don't we-" "Sam, I'm fine. I just think I twisted my- hngh!" Crumpling in half with a grunt of pain you cannot even complete your sentence. Sam is rushing to your side, taking your hand and leading you back to your shared bedroom. "Shh, shh, it's going to be ok, you'll see. I'll get the midwife and she'll know everything to do, alright?" Sam's green eyes are warm as ever, his tone the sweetest and most soothing thing you've ever heard and ever will. Despite the waves of pain and the gush you begin to feel soaking the sheets around you, you find yourself nodding and willing up a faint smile.

~

"You're a strong lass, aren't you?" The midwife remarks as Sam returns to the room with more boiled water, looking at you with wonder in her pale blue eyes. Panting, you manage to reply that you suppose so with a faint smile of amusement before being wracked with the pain of another contraction. The only thing that keeps you going is the way your husband is there, leaving only to help you both before tumbling back against the bedframe to grip your hand, never once losing his smile even as you crushed the life out of him. It feels like a lifetime and yet no time before cries fill the room, your head immediately whipping to Sam's and meeting the tears spiling from his kind, loving eyes. "You did it," he whispers your name with awe, kissing your head, then your cheeks sweetly and softly again and again until the midwife is ready with your bundle of joy. "She's beautiful," the older hobbit comments, handing your baby off to you and beaming as you pull your daughter into your chest, loosening her swaddle enough to see her peaceful face. "Lovely," Sam replies, tone even more awed now despite its faint sob, "she looks like her mother. Her mother who worked so hard. Look, she has your hair." "She sure does," you agree, "but I hope she got your eyes." "Nah," he shook his head, "that can be the next one. I love that she's the spitting image. You've earned it after all that, I fear." You laugh at that, still smiling down at your daughter's face, which is still red and calming from her cries of alarm. "That I have. But the only reason I could at all was because of you, Sam." Tears falling anew, he shakes his head one more time. "The thanks are all yours. I knew you could do it all along. It's 'cause of you we have our little beauty."

Merry

"Come on, come on, that's it," Merry coaxed, lowering you down into the squatting position you'd asked for. Inside he was screaming bloody murder, but it was no good letting you know that, not when he had a duty to do and the most important one at that. No indeed, courage was far beyond necessary. Just as he'd had on the battlefield, he was to have with you. For you. Merry only could thank his lucky stars that you began your labor at home while he was there. Once you'd gotten settled, he reluctantly began to pull away his hand from yours, face falling at the way your fingers trembled. "I'm just going to get help. I'll come right back for you." "I know," you whispered with a smile, and just as it had been broken Merry's heart was up and skipping beats.

~

What a good sport the midwife was, for she had been in the middle of her afternoon tea when Merry found her, but never had he seen a napkin thrown down so fast. She rushed with him back to you and found you there still squatting and wincing, this time with sweat beading upon your brow. For hours there you remained, flanked on both sides by husband and midwife, until suddenly your skirts were lifted even further and the lady was calling "He's out!" You cried out in pain and relief and Merry just laughed and gave a big smile before remembering you, looking down at you with great concern. At that, you gave a chuckle of your own. "Sounds like we have a son, Merry." "We have a-" "Certainly you do and quite a big one! Here, you can hold him if you like, but not after the missus has a turn," the midwife cut in, laying your son in your arms. Merry's jaw positively dropped at the sight of him, and he leaned down to speak at once. "Hello there, little one. It's me, your dad. You remember the sound of my voice, don't you?"

Pippin

“Pippin, it’s time.” “Time? Time for what?” You loved your sweet, wonderful, clueless husband, but now was simply not the time. “The baby is coming! Get my supplies, please.” Your command came out as more of a whimper, your face twisting into a grimace at the feeling of moisture trickling down your leg. Water’s broken, then. Pippin caught sight of this, paled, and tore off down the hall, a crash sounding and a handful of stomps before he emerged again, bag slung over his shoulder and a pile of rags in one hand. "You know, for your..." "Yes, I know," you nodded, smiling in faint amusement as he took hold of your arm, barely giving you any time to straddle the rags at all.

~

"Push!" "What am I doing, then?" Your reply shattered Pippin, for it dripped with no sarcasm, only broken tears as you struggled with the pains of labor. The midwife shed a tear of her own, promising you did well, but this went on for hours until suddenly, finally, cries pierced the room's tense air and a massive smile spread across Pippin's face. "You did it!" A loud, triumphant laugh. "You did it, my love!" "She sure did," the midwife agreed, handing the babe off to another older hobbit and chuckling at the way Pippin's open hands followed them. "Don't worry your head off, he's just getting cleaned up." "He? It's a boy! Love, it's a-" "I heard," you grinned, "A little mini-Pippin. Just what I always wanted." "Are- are you joking?" "No," you shook your head, accepting your son with open, grabbing hands, "Not at all. Oh, look, he really does look just like you, too! Oh, Pippin!" Another little Pippin. This time hopefully not one who'll make the same mistakes. No. No, he won't, because he'll have the big one to guide him. And you, oh, his lovely wife... "Pip, are you crying?" "Of course I am," he replied in a quiet, awe-filled voice, leaning to press his curly head to yours, "Our son. Yours and mine. What a glorious gift you've given me. I'm going to work every day to pay you back."

Faramir

Faramir would have given anything to escape the meeting he had become entrenched in, the droning on about some law or another that- Slam! A messenger came bursting in through the door, one of the young page boys whom Faramir had sent notes off with. Rather than pass a message, though, the young man strode right over to his seat and leaned in to whisper to him. Feeling his face contort in shock, then a smile, Faramir rose from the chair at once. “My apologies, gentleman, but my wife has gone into labor. I will review all notes taken at my earliest convenience.” So it seemed the twins inherited their mother’s sense of humor.

~

Watching you strain and hearing your ragged breaths, listening to every cry of pain, stabbed Faramir in the heart with a hurt of his own. He never let go of your hand for a moment, though, despite the ache in those muscles as well. For hours he whispered you words of encouragement, reminding you that you were his hero and that you were doing great, even if it didn’t feel such. And finally your grip was tightening one final time, one final cry of pain as the second twin was born. First your daughter had come. “A girl!” Faramir breathed. “We have a daughter.” And with that last push Faramir himself caught your son. “A son as well. Two beautiful children.” Tears welled up in his eyes, which quickly turned to you as your son was cut free, lifted from his arms, and cleaned. Thumb stroking over the back of your hand, Faramir leaned over, head resting against yours. His stubble tickled your face as he shifted to press a kiss to your cheek. “We got the most difficult one out of our way first, hm?” You joked. Breaking into a tearful grin at your words, Faramir nodded.

Eomer

He should never have agreed to ride out on that patrol, but the others were pushing harder than usual and Eomer knew they trusted him. Trust went far in the Riddermark. Hence his shouts of frustration upon returning to a herald rushing his way and telling him that you had gone into labor. Luckily only about an hour and a half back. He had plenty of time. Running to the halls of healing and all but throwing open the great doors, Eomer barreled in and was met with your smile, then your cry for him, to which he ran to your side and took your hand at once.

~

"It's a boy," he panted hours later, hand aching from your grip and mind fatigued by pained screams, "our son is here." How in this world could you have endured it all if it drained even a bystander so? What a warrior you were. And what a warrior your son would be! Taking in the cleaned babe being placed in your arms, the enamored smile upon his beloved wife's face, the great rush of joy finally overtook him, all pain and exhaustion melting away for a brief moment. "Our son is here!" He called out again, this time louder, more triumphant, and when you spoke it also in your softer tone Eomer pulled you gently by the back of your head into a kiss that spoke volumes, every year of your love story thus far and all of them to come.

Eowyn

The pains of birth were no stranger to your wife; in fact, Eowyn recognized them before you did, cutting into your panic that something was going wrong with the reassurance that things were going quite right. “Our baby is coming,” she told you with a small smile that quickly faded back down when your knees buckled. She was prepared for this, very prepared. Having been forced into work as a nurse for so long had some benefits, after all, and very quickly your things were in hand, your body settled into the most comfortable position possible, and your wife rolling up her sleeves and pulling back her hair to get to work. Her own child would not be the first she had delivered, simply her favorite by far. Spikes of pressure fought their way up Eowyn’s chest, but just like in the heat of battle they spurred her on and she got to work with renewed courage.

~

“You are doing so well, my love, there we are,” your wife coaxed, “almost done, in fact! Our little one is almost here!” “Really?” You smile widely before your next wince and Eowyn can see her words have encouraged you. You pushed with all you had, and crying out finally forced the head, then finally the whole of your child, out into the world. Eowyn cut the baby free quickly as she could, all her focus tied down to making sure she heard breath before she let herself truly look. At the first call of little lungs she sighed and collapsed down upon her knees, hugging the baby to her chest. “Healthy, perfectly healthy.” Hurriedly cleaning your child, Eowyn saw that you had delivered a girl. “You’ve birthed a healthy girl. We have a daughter, my love!” Hearing you sob, she hurried quickly over to your side. “We both did,” you told her, reaching out to caress your daughter’s reddened cheeks, “Both her mothers birthed her. Where would I be, after all, without you?” It was Eowyn’s turn for tears to fall at your words, smiling as she was when you pulled her close and kissed the crown of her golden head.

Haldir

Long, difficult months had led to the moment of your doubling over with the first pains of birth, hobbling out to where you could find a hand to lead you to the midwives. You were half-knelt at the side of a bed, gripping its post for dear life, when your husband burst in. “Your patrol,” you inquired between waves of pain. “Safely in the hands of another,” Haldir responded, hand groping for one of yours, hastily taking it, “and no, they blame neither of us. Nothing but the pain of death could have separated me from your side.” A smile crossed your face, but moments later another wave of pain split your smile into a cry of agony. “The little ones are coming very rapidly,” one of the midwives told you, “your labor will not be long, at the very least.” At that, you heard Haldir exhale in relief. After such difficultly carrying them, your struggles with the twins would soon abate. Soon they would be in your arms.

~

True to her word, the midwife saw you through every push of labor in just under three hours’ time, one of the fastest she had seen in her many years. Haldir’s grip upon your hand never faltered until the very moment one of the twins was placed wrapped up in his arms. The other held by you, exhausted, shocked, but joyous, tears of relief and celebration flowing. “Two daughters. Two fair and healthy little souls all our own,” Haldir remarked, his voice barely above a whisper and a stunned smile upon his lips as he glanced back your way. The moment your eyes met, tears fell from his, too, and you both let out another exhale in relief; shifting the little one in his arms, Haldir grasped your hand. Smiling up at your husband, despite every strain of pain and exhaustion upon your body, all you could feel was the glow of utter triumph and bliss. “I have said it countless times, I am sure, but you my fair maids have my sword, my word, my heart, my everything,” Haldir told you, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your head, then that of the baby girl in your arms.

Galadriel

How Galadriel managed to remain so calm amidst your heaving breaths and calls of alarm, amidst a healer and midwives forgetting their place and trying to move her from your side, surrounded by bodies and screams and heat and fluid so serene, you would never understand. The way you’d doubled over in the middle of your wife’s vision, failing to smother the choked cry that escaped your lips, and she’d simply risen from the water with wide eyes and a nod, taking your hand. Had she let go? Not as you could recall, though memories blended and faded through great waving curtains of pain. Your strength is beyond admirable, my love. Head swiveling to meet your wife’s intense blue gaze, you smiled faintly. Comparable only to your beauty, her voice teased in your mind. Smile growing, the rush of joy gave you strength for another push…

~

“A daughter,” Galadriel breathes your name, joy permeating every faint crack of her so even voice, “you have borne us a daughter!” You see her extend a hand, accept a cloth you assume shall dry your little one off, but the midwife swipes your newborn for a moment and your wife dabs your tears, then the sweat clinging to your forehead. Setting the small piece of white fabric on the table by your head, Galadriel lets her hand drop down to trace the curve of your cheek, the ring you placed upon her finger some years back on your wedding day sliding over it with a pleasant cool. Your daughter, clean and swaddled, is placed in your arms, and beaming down upon you, your wife takes your hand. “A beautiful gift unlike any this world has seen,” she speaks out loud this time, though it is a whisper, “and surely with a heart as strong as her mother’s.”

Arwen

Pain rushed to you so rapidly it was as though you were stabbed. Crumpling and crying out was how your wife found you, rushing in with skirts held at her sides and dropped just as quickly so Arwen’s hands could close around both of yours, words of worry followed by encouragement whispered between you. Her father was the greatest healer you knew, thus he was to aid in his grandchild’s birth, the first of his family. Elrond was calm when through the veil of your pain you saw your wife bring him into the room, brows faintly furrowed as he pulled back his sleeves. Your hearing practically faded- or was it simply your memory?- as he began giving quiet but firm commands to another elf that followed.

~

Vision blurred with tears, you fell back against the downy pillow, breathing ragged. Much as Lord Elrond could do for you, the pain was still great. "The cord is severed!" You heard him announce and your head snapped back up to see your son in his grandfather's arms, hear him wail as breath filled his lungs. "Our little boy," Arwen grips your arm, grinning down at you, "He is here! Go on, Ada, keep us waiting no longer." Shaking his head at her teasing, Elrond gave you a wide, tearful smile as he lowered your son. Smoothing his dark hair, Arwen gazed down at him with loving eyes before leaning over to you, kissing your lips with such love and joy both of you were smiling into it. "My dearest love, he is so beautiful. Just like his mother."

Elrond

"My lord, your wife-" Lindir needn't say more. Elrond is already gathering up his robes and abandoning entirely the parapet on which he stood, regretting leaving you for a moment even if you had insisted he take some time while you rest. Hurrying down the staircase to your shared room, Elrond finds you sitting bolt upright in bed, brows furrowed and hand resting upon your middle. "I must get to the-" "No," calm as he is, Elrond seems to have developed a habit of interruptions, he thinks, "the midwife will come to you. Lindir?" "Sending for her now, my lord." At Elrond's side, you whimper. All too well does he remember this anguish; nodding, he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Lie still. You will be well."

~

Thank the Valar for healing magic; soon your screams melt into whispers shared between you and your husband and winces become faint, tired smiles. Elrond feels the strain of each push upon you, but marvels at your strength, the midwife all but telling you to slow down. "I beg your pardon," you reply, gritting your teeth, "but I must be free of this!" And free you are, for not long later cries fill the air and tears of relief and joy spill down your cheeks. Elrond caresses your face and meets your eyes with a tearful smile; never does this moment stale, in fact nothing in this world can compare. As soon as the bundle is placed in your hands, you hold your newborn out between you, Elrond taking hold and reaching out his other hand, which your daughter grasps. "She looks just like her mother," he tells you with a smile. "But hopefully she inherited her father's wisdom," you tease back with a tired grin.

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[itsnevercasual]

Look Into His Angel Eyes

pairing: harry styles x zoologist!youtuber!reader

summary: harry takes his niece to the san diego zoo, and you just so happen to take care of the animal she’s obsessed with. koalas.

warnings: zero knowledge of zoology LMAO, not edited, a few curse words

—

harry had expected a lot more fuss when he went to a very famous, very popular zoo. he expected at least someone — one person! — to notice him or recognize him.

nobody had even given him a second glass.

those kids movies were right. change your har (put on a beanie) and wear sunglasses (because even if it was a little chilly, it was bright), and you were a whole different person!

well, until gemma’s little girl, rosie, who was usually a gem and the best kid ever, started crying. over what, you may ask?

she demanded they find the koalas.

granted, she was only five, but.. he was still worried people would see him and recognize him.

when he had graciously offered to drive rosie to san diego to go to the zoo because gemma simply didn’t have the time, he forgot it was a public, normal people zoo.

so, he asked someone where the koalas were (and then four more people after that on the way there, all of which informed him that he better hurry if he wanted to catch the koala talk, which was supposedly a big hit for some reason), and made his way to the other side of the zoo.

who the hell made this place so big?

—

you’d been living in san diego for five years, since you were eighteen. you’d been working with the koalas at the san diego zoo for that same amount of time.

18 and fresh out of high school, you moved far, far away from your horrible hometown and even more horrible people, and went to san diego to both go to college for zoology and work your dream job.

well, technically, it was an internship at first, but still!

like most little girls, you were obsessed with animals. however, instead of dogs or some other basic animal (though, koalas are still pretty basic, you suppose), you were obsessed with koalas. and then, it never went away.

your mother tried anything to talk you out of it, into a safer career path, she’d say. more secure.

well, fuck secure because you were about to go talk to little kids who were just like you when you were younger and feed a baby koala.

you had also started a successful side career as a youtuber. you made regular videos like vlogs and hauls and whatnot, and also educational videos about koalas. some of your vlogs were at work, such as today.

“so.. we have jess here to record as i do a koala talk. and.. it is officially 1:30, so let’s go!” you exclaim, handing your coworker, jess, the camera.

you pushed open the door (more like gate) and walked out. there was a fairly large crowd today, including the cutest little girl with a pink dress on right in the front row.

you set the crate (don’t yell, it’s a big crate. and it’s simply to take them from their exhibit to the talk area, which is a distance of maybe 50 feet) down on the wooden table.

the talk area was pretty much their enclosure, but instead of a glass wall, it was open and the kids could see better.

you opened the crate and slowly coaxed the bears out. you’d only brought two today. mila, and her baby charlotte (you always called her charlie, though).

once they were out and climbing on the branches, you turned to the crowd.

“hi, guys! my name is y/n, and i’m basically in charge of the koalas here! who here has been to one of my talks before?”

a few hands raise.

“good! well, today, we have a new guest… who remembers what was happening with mila last talk? was anyone there?”

one little boy raised his hand.

“yes, the.. little boy in a blue shirt?”

“jackson!” he told you.

“jackson, sorry. what was going on with mila? for everyone who doesn’t know, mila is that big one right there.”

“she was— she had a baby in her tummy.”

“she did!” you respond enthusiastically. “and a few months ago.. four months ago, actually, she had her baby! who wants to meet her?”

all the little kids screamed me! me! me!

you laughed, “alright, let me grab her.”

you walked over to mila, petting her head as you slowly took charlie away.

“hey, mila.. can i take her real quick?” you ask as if she can hear you, before speaking to the crowd. “mila and i have a special bond, if you ask me. she had her baby right around the time i had mine. so we are both new mothers,” you laugh. “but, anyway! i’ve been with mila since she got here, so she really trusts me. which is why i can easily just..”

you grabbed charlie off of mila, and put her on her shoulder like you did your baby.

“so, everyone, this is charlotte, but i call her charlie! now, i have a very special job for one of you.. but i need someone who will be very careful, because charlie is still a delicate baby.. can anyone hold her for me while i feed her?”

and finally, the adorable little girl interacted. she started jumping and raised her hand.

you walked over to the fence separating you from the crowd, crouching to be eye level with her. “and who might you be?”

“rosie!” she responded. and oh, she had a baby voice and she was british.

“rosie! well, do you think you can hold her for me?”

“yes! yes, please!”

“alright, we’ll get you and dad back here—“

“ehm.. uncle..” her uncle, not father, responded in a british accent.

“oh, sorry! you and your uncle back here. and what’s your name, rosie’s uncle?”

he hesitated, before— “harry.”

your brain slowly put two and two together as you glanced at his tattoos.

harry styles.

“oh, i see,” you respond, “well, let’s get you guys back here!”

you opened the gate they were thankfully standing right in front of, and they walked into the talking area before you shut the gate.

you led rosie to the center, crouching down to her again.

“alright, we’re gonna do this in a funny way. can you stick out your arm for me?”

she did.

“i’m gonna put charlie on your arm, alright? she’s gonna wrap herself around it, and her claws might scratch you, but it’s fine, yeah?”

“yes, ma’am!”

“aw, you’re so polite. alright.. charlie incoming!”

you slowly adjusted charlie to curl around rosie’s arm.

“it tickles!” she squeals with a laugh.

“yeah?” both you and harry — harry styles — respond at the same time.

“alright, i’m gonna grab her bottle! stay here!”

you ran over to grab it, and while you were shaking it so it was ready, you felt something wrap around your leg.

“hi, mila!” you exclaim to the koala wrapped around you.

you carefully walk back over.

“i’m gonna feed her for a minute, and then i’ll let you and your uncle try, yeah?”

“okay!”

you started feeding charlie as you spoke again.

“so, the reason we feed charlie instead of having her feed from her momma, who is clinging to my leg, is because charlie was born a little early and needs a little more nutrients!”

you talked a little more about koalas and their behavior before rosie wanted to feed her. and after a few minutes of that, you glanced to harry.

“you wanna give it a go?”

“sure, why not,” he shrugs.

“charlie seems pretty cozy.. so, i’ll give you mila. she’s a little heavy, though.”

you bent over and took mila off your leg, handing her over to harry.

“hold her like a baby on your hip.. it’s kinda like a.. odd hug! a koala hug, if you will. i’ll grab her bottle.”

you ran over, and when harry began feeding her after you returned, he asked a question.

“so.. why do y’feed mila? i know charlie’s a baby and all, but..”

“that’s a very good question! so, mila is getting a little old, and she was also brought to us injured. that, paired with giving birth four months ago, we just have to give her some more electrolytes… her bottle is actually just white gatorade. we tried green, but she hates it. she’s very picky.”

“well, that’s cause y’gave her green.”

“hey! who has the degree here? yeah, shush.”

“yes, ma’am,” he laughed.

—

once the talk was over, you told rosie and harry to stay back.

you let charlie and mila climb about the branches while you spoke to them.

“i just want to make sure you both are alright with being in a video.. also, you need to wash your hands.. jess should be back with the sanitizer soon.”

“can i ask what video?”

“oh! right, sorry. i’m a youtuber, and i sometimes film my talks to publish and whatnot. i’ll blur your faces, of course. i blur everyone in the crowd’s faces for privacy reasons, but i figured you’d be.. more.. concerned about that than most.”

“you know?”

“i mean.. voice is a giveaway.. i also follow gemma’s instagram, so i recognized rosie,” you shrug. “but anyways, you’re good with the video?”

“yeah, of course.”

you then turned to rosie to answer her bajillion questions about koalas until jess came back with the hand sanitizer.

“so, just use a lot of this, and you’ll be good,” you explain, putting a few pumps into each of their hands.

once they were all clean of koala germs, you told them they were free to go.

rosie ran forward, but harry lingered.

“thank you,”

“oh, yeah. of course. i figured you wouldn’t want koala germs—“

“no, i mean thanks for giving rosie that opportunity.”

“oh! of course. i love seeing little kids who love them as much as me.”

“she’s bloody obsessed with the things.”

“mm, yeah. they’re easy to love. word of advice, don’t shoot her love for them down. it doesn’t exactly work. i mean.. look at me,” you laugh.

“i will keep that in mind,” he smilez. “what was your name again?”

“y/n.. y/n l/n.”

—

a/n: enjoy

[boba-beom]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ well hidden | KANG TAEHYUN NSFW

・❥・ pairing: taehyun x noona!reader

・❥・ genre: tiny fluff, pure smut | one shot

・❥・wc: 2.6k

・❥・ warning(s): established relationship, reader is down bad for taehyun lmao, taehyun and his noona kink, reader is older than tyun, public(?) scene, dom!taehyun, pet names (sweet cheeks, baby, good girl, my noona, babe), taehyun gets called big boy 🤭, exhibitionism kink, heavy petting, praise & degradation 🤭, oral (both receiving), he's a lil rough with throat fucking, fingering (f receiving), taehyun ‘mean’ tease, unprotected sex (always stay safe guys), multiple orgasms, surprise breeding kink oop, lowercase intended, not proofread

・❥・ a/n: I think this is my first official full taehyun smut, so enjoy because this is the first of many noona!reader thoughts I have omg

・❥・ summary: going on a vacation with your smoking hot boyfriend can be relaxing, but asks if you're down to have more fun on an empty beach. or so you think.

it's late noon, the sky turning a soft amber shade in the sky, clouds entertaining your eyes, and though the sun may be beginning to set, you and taehyun still decide to soak up the last few minutes of the sun.

you shuffle on your beach towel from your back to lay on your front, tilting your shades lower on your nose to watch your hot boyfriend walk towards you from the ocean. his hair hangs wet over his forehead with droplets falling onto his broad shoulders and down his muscly chest, trailing down his abs and to the band of his swim shorts until he approaches you with a mischievous expression across his face.

"still checking me out even though we've been dating for god knows how long now?" he picks up a towel beside up and ruffles it against his hair, triggering the pulse between your thighs because he just looks that good, and throws it over to hang on his shoulder.

"it's called admiring, baby." you chuckle.

he sits beside you, observing the way your cleavage is on display and pressed against the beach blanket beneath you, just for him to see on this majorly sparse beach. you had an inkling that your boyfriend had something in mind, he always did, and you were just waiting for him to tell you what he's been thinking about.

the moment taehyun's fingers lightly skim down your back, tracing your spine as you let out a comforting hum. your eyes close as your breath picks up in the tiniest bit and as soon as his fingers reach the string on your bikini bottom you feel him tug on it ever so slightly. you feel him closer in proximity despite having your eyes shut, sensing his warmth radiating from his body.

"how about we have some fun, hm noona?" he whispers erotically in your ear before laying kiss from your jaw and down the back of your neck until he places both of his hands on your hips, lightly squeezing your sides and beginning to massage the area as you let out another hum, borderline moan.

"taehyun, someone could see us though." you whine, as if you cared that much, but for the sake of decency you wanted to be sure it was just the two of you.

"c'mon, why would it matter? I know you're into that anyway." he chuckles as he resumes kissing and nipping at your neck. he groans against your skin as he turns you onto your back and he situates himself between your legs, feeling his semi-erection against your thigh.

"but what if-"

"noona, do you want me to fuck you or no?" he holds your chin to look up at him, his grip a little too tight but you loved it.

nodding your head at him with your doe eyes as you look up, he tightens his grip a little more as you whine.

"words, yn, I need to hear it from you."

"taehyun, baby, please use me. fuck me, use me all you like. I want you so bad." he smirks in satisfaction after hearing your needy whines, letting go of his hold on your chin before returning with his trail of kisses.

this time it felt like your skin was gradually getting a little hot after each kiss, burning up after each one. he reaches one of his hands up to massage one boob and the other occupied by his tongue dragging along the hem of your bikini.

his hot trail of spoiling you with his love continued until his face reached your navel, watching you starting to heave out of sensitivity. taehyun didn't hesitate to pull on the string of your bikini bottom until it had completely untied, leaving the loose material over your clothed core.

"you're always such a good girl for me, aren't you?" his voice lower than before, and you reply with an excessive nod. "my pretty noona wants to get fucked on this beach so bad, bet you want someone to watch me fuck you until your legs are shaking non-stop."

you feel yourself clench around nothing, wanting his hand to take away the loose material covering the area where you were desperate for him to touch you.

"you know I can be good for you, just please touch me." you beg, grazing your hand along his broad shoulders and up to rest by his neck, fingers occasionally playing with the beaded necklace, knowing it's one of his sensitive areas.

the pulse in your ears were almost deafening if it wasn't for the gentle waves alternating between washing up closer to you and pulling back. to your luck, he pulled away your bikini bottoms, teasingly gliding his middle finger from your clit down to your leaking hole.

"I can't wait to taste you," he groans from the slick gathering between his fingers and separating his digits to find a thin string of your arousal hanging in between.

"do it then." you look down at him as he raises a brow, amused at your tone.

taehyun gets comfortable between your legs, thighs over his shoulders and threading his arms around your legs with his hands resting on your inner thighs. you prop yourself on your elbows to watch his head dip between your legs, knowing just how wet you've become just from his simple touches.

you anticipate his tongue as your eyes steady at the back of his pale-coloured, damp hair, but instead you feel a cool breeze. the breeze around you wasn't as strong as the chill you feel against your core, until you realise taehyun's blowing over your wet cunt.

you whine, squirming with the littlest movement possible until you feel him dip his tongue between your drenched folds and sliding up to lap up at your clit. your chest heaves heavily above him, having your hands grope your boobs through your bikini top and taehyun lowers himself so he could look up at you. but the change in angle only came to aid in your pleasure once he enters his tongue into your cunt, his nose bumping against your clit.

taehyun loves when your hands roam around your body. he watches the way the nylon material of your bathing suit wrinkles as you squeeze your boobs.

"untie it, I wanna see all of you." he lift his head higher, placing his lips against your inner thigh thinking he would kiss the area, but he bites and sucks a couple of times before licking them after.

if there's one thing you knew about your boyfriend, it was that he was obsessed with you. he's more obsessed over the fact that you're older than him. something about him pleasing an older woman boosts his ego and makes his head fuzzy.

after you untie your top piece, he reaches up to set them aside, next to your undone bikini bottoms. he loves seeing you bare just for him; it has his dick hardening against the beach blanket knowing that he wants to shove his cock inside you and hear you scream.

"babyy, come fuck me good." you hold eye contact with his lustful gaze, taking in the way you're playing with your boobs and rolling your hard nipples between your fingers.

there was no point in making you wait when that's exactly what he was planning to do. rail you on an empty beach while the sun sets.

"you're such a whore for me, noona." you pulse again from his harsh nickname, but you know you are. only for him. always for him.

you stay in your position, elbows hurting from digging into the sand and not realising how far back you were squirming while your boyfriend was working his tongue on you. you scan down taehyun's body again, from his hazy eyes looking down at you, his lips glistening from your wet cunt and his saliva, his chest sheen from a light layer of sweat, his core engaging while me moves over your chest, and his bulge begging to come out of his swim shorts— the material clinging on to the outline of his erection.

"suck it. then I'll fuck you so good until someone hears you. maybe I won't stop and they can watch me treat my noona so well." his voice was raspier and he lets out a light gasp once you pull the band of his swim shorts down, watching his rock hard cock fling up and hit his abdomen.

the tip was glistening from beads of precum gathered at the top before leaking to the underside and about to drip until you stick out your tongue and catching the salty bead, kitten licking the mushroom tip while hearing your boyfriend's breath shaking in the smallest way.

"fuck, noona. wanna fuck your throat so bad." he groans, a hand on his hip and the other guiding your head lower onto his cock.

you whine as he slips more of himself past your lips, his length filling your mouth and the head touching your uvula and causing you to gag.

"come on, don't you want to be fucked like a slut?" he grits his teeth as he experiments a couple of shallow thrusts into your mouth, nothing but noises with your mouth full of cock. "sorry, I didn't hear you?" he snickers.

you grab onto the top of his thigh, clawing onto his skin with your freshly manicured soft gel nails, grazing his skin and leaving behind pinkish lines on his tanned leg.

your mouth is just so wet and warm, engulfed around his length as your tongue sweeps side to side on the underside of his cock. taehyun loves it. he loves that his noona has her mouth full of his cock, whimpering around and sending vibrations down his length.

"mmh, yeah that's my sweet girl, hollow your cheeks." he looks down at you, watching you tightly shut your eyes as you hollow in your cheeks, making him moan from the suction but not yet nearing his orgasm.

you concentrate on your breathing through your nose, as you work on his dick, saliva building up and making a mess around your lips and down your chin. you were going at your own pace until you felt a pair of hands holding your head still, opening your eyes and watching taehyun slip his dick out between your puffy lips.

"I think my noona deserves a good fuck, what'cha think sweet cheeks?" your chest heaves lightly, mouth still slightly open and he takes ahold of his shaft, tapping the tip of his head against your cheek.

"wan' you to fuck me so so good baby." you plead with your shaky tone, gradually opening your legs as he stands up before kneeling between you.

"you just can't keep your legs closed huh?" he kisses your knee while his other hand continues to jerk himself a little more, "but thanks for making it easier for me babe."

he leans down, pressing his tip against your sopping core and doesn't pause before thrusting all the way in, filling you up with the girth of his length hugged by your gummy walls. a soft moan leaves your lips, throwing your head back against the sand and your hands back to playing with your boobs, because you know he loves it when you do that.

one of taehyun's hands are planted on your waist and he leans on his other arm beside your head, holding himself up as his hips snap at a steady but fast pace.

"oh my god, baby, yes, ugh— right there." you whine, feeling his one hand push one of your legs closer to your chest and hitting you at a delicious angle.

"mhm, that's right noona, scream for me." he pants against your jaw, quiet grunts leaving his throat before kissing that sweet spot just below your ear.

you loved the feeling of taehyun fucking you out in the open, and the thought of someone possibly seeing you has you clenching tightly around him, your stomach feeling tighter by the second.

"taehyun, I'm gonna— oh fuck— I'm coming—" you almost scream against his ear, feeling his lips form a smile against your skin, but his hips never stopped.

"hang on a little longer noona, I'm almost close. you can do that for me right?" he whispers against your cheek, voice breathy as his hand gropes your boobs, playing with your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

although you feel your second high coming and overstimulation building up the sensitivity, you nod your head and let taehyun fuck your abused pussy until he cums.

your boyfriend pulls out slowly, hearing you whine from the loss inside you, but he turns you around, "on fours for me." he grabs a handful of your ass, before smacking it and hearing you almost let out a cry. it wasn't long until he plunged into your cunt again, going twice as fast and just as hard you feel your boobs jiggling.

"ah shit, tae- taehyun, too much baby. I'm gonna cum again." you cry out, your fingers curled and gripping tightly onto the frayed edges of the blanket.

taehyun kiss behind your neck again, nipping and trapping your skin between his teeth until his lips travel to your shoulders and the middle of your back. you feel tingly from the sensation thinking you could hold out a little while longer, but you feel his hand come around and circling his two fingers over your clit in a speed that was capable of bringing you over the edge.

in all honesty, he loved that you were breaking apart because of his dick. because of him.

your core felt like it was tightening up again, clenching around him but in sync with his dick twitching against your walls and his airy moans behind you.

"god noona, you feel so good. wanna fill you up, gonna carry my babies, yeah?" he usually speak through gritted teeth when he's close, but he lets himself moan just for you to hear. after all, he knows how much of a whore you are for him being vocal.

"yes baby, fill me up. gimme your big load big boy— ah—." you moan at a higher pitch, feeling your second wave of orgasm washing over you as you feel your thighs shudder beneath you.

your boyfriend lets out his staccato moans as his thick load shoots against your walls, slightly bucking his hips with every release. his head slightly going hazy from the grip your pussy still has around him, but he tries to steady his breath as he unloads his last few spurts of cum into your full cunt.

"shit baby," he catches his breath, "let me stay inside you for a little while, gonna make sure we get a baby out of this."

you chuckle breathlessly under him, his hands roaming around your hips and caressing you so lovingly. littering your bare back in wet kisses and playfully nipping some place.

"what if I don't get pregnant from this tae?" you turn your head to look up at him, watching him plant a kiss to your temple.

"then I'm gonna have to fuck you more... several rounds until we successfully have a baby in your tummy." his hand runs down your torso and cradles your lower stomach as he thinks about how beautiful and round your stomach would be one day, carrying his child. "but I'm gonna make you my wife first."

you giggle at his comment, and then some more from his ticklish kisses as he whispers more about how excited he is to start his life with you.

though, a pair of eyes were fixed on your bare backs from a distance, the guy's brows lightly scrunched and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as two dimples appear prominent, one on either cheek.

he steadies his breath as he looks down at his spent dick, cum on his lower abdomen and his fist which is slowing down his motions.

"fuck." he whispers under his breath.

・❥・ taglist: @ahnneyong @prodsh00ky @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @ttyunz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @vatterie @hyuntaena @ja4hyvn @yunkiwii @aprilisque @bb-eilish @ericyjun @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @kyrkitten @day6andetcetera @dainsleif-when-playable @txt-yaomi @robin-obsessed

・❥・for this fic: @gbgbsoob @tyunkus @ggwnitie

© BOBA-BEOM ; do not repost, alter, translate, or claim as yours on here or any other platform.

[theosconfessions]

Love is Embarrassing

The Final Choice- For Real

i know ive been saying this since the dawn of time but you guys. i appreciate every single one of you who have participated in scars bachelorette challenge. we've been on this since december and its so crazy to me that its over... or should i say the bc is over. the story is not. she bonded so much with all of them and she had such high romance bars with all of them by the end.but eugene won ..not only because he got her pregnant [which lmao i knew it was coming .she was def gonna get pregnant by someone.. its not a kline bc without that happening] but because he never stopping showing up for our girl. shed get home from dates and eugene was hanging out waiting to play some games with her. including the lame llama one she loves. they just have a really special connection. elia- they bonded from the jump i mean not only sexually but he was the only contestant to call her out on her bullshit. which i loved.and its what the klines need more of @fl0ptrait thank you for creating such a doll for scar to meet and fuck haha! he was always right there fighting for her xena- was a fucking CHARMER. like that girl knew how to speak to scar to make her swoon and swoon easy. i think she had the quickest romance jump from the beginning of this challenge. i think while her interest may have wained in the end of the challenge bc lets face it scar threw some curveballs she really really did want to romance the shit out of scar .. and i was here for it @bubblepopsims luxor- what can i say this guy surprised me on the first solo one on one date. partly bc scar freaked him out to begin with haha! but also because of how suave he can be. like he was calm through the whole thing but making his intentions known once he got to know her. HOWEVER this isnt the last time we're seeing luxor and he will be in the stephens continued thank you to the lovely @simvanie eugene- THIS BOY... mannnn he never gave up on her and lets face it if the baby were elias hed be like i mean thats okay. still pick me though to be your husband haha! theyre not married YET they will be but these two just mesh.and i think they always have . scar was just too blind to see if way back then.and it too this challenge to make it known to her what a catch eugene was @duusheen many cute babes to come bonus shots under the cut of their reactions.. i dont know when my next bc will be or if i will do one but man you guys made this such a great experience. the stephens continued will be picking back up as well as finnies globetrotter and his part of the stephens soon <3

[weebsinstash]

I just have to say I'm absolutely loving your yandere Thragg & Nolan stuff! Keep it up & I hope you have a nice day!! ♡

Thank you! And, also, gonna be using this post to talk about more yandere Thragg stuff because I was refreshing my knowledge on the comics and my YTShorts feeds are now filled with Invincible lore recommendations and, jesus I forgot how fucking nasty this man is

first off I'm using this image to just help kind of visualize how much of a unit this man is. Like. He's probably something crazy like 6'6 at the very shortest, maybe like 6'8, 6'9. But. Um. He's scary. He's tough. Viltrumites get tougher the longer they're alive and he's, not THE oldest Viltrumite but, maybe he's in like the top 10? But I think there's only something like an odd, less than 50 number of pure blooded Viltrumites left anyways lmao

Which is then my transition to "dealing with yandad Thragg as his child could be an absolute nightmare especially if you don't have powers"

Dying on my hill of "even if you do have powers he's super fucking possessive over who you're choosing as a mate or even just dating" because there's layers of 1. He has his own massive ego and your actions reflect on him and anyone you bring into the family will benefit from his lineage and achievements and he's defensive about who reaps those bounties or may even be suspicious of political intentions 2. If he hypothetically does let you date he needs to pre approve them first and I'm sure you can imagine how that goes and 3. .... you're his widdle baby, can't you spend more time with dad :( shut up about finding love, why can't you crush skulls with him? "Child why can't we go slaughter alien civilizations together like we used to 😩"

The last paragraph made me think of "Thragg with a child Reader who's actually a really spunky tough kid and he like is so proud of you and you guys have like An Actually Good Relationship (for Thragg's capacity to love anyways) but as you get older you start having ideological differences and you want more freedom but he just wants you to be Daddys Favorite Little Killing Machine for the rest of your life". Like you're just giving Thragg the cold shoulder because he won't let you leave the planet without his personal escort anymore and meanwhile here's thragg hovering over you with his arms crossed, internally scowl-pouting as he remembers The Good Old Days when you were like 6 and ran up to him, "Dad, Dad, look!! this is a note from my teacher praising me for how well I beat up another student! She says I'm 'extremely proficient at bludgeoning'! Did I do a good job?" "You did an EXCELLENT job. It says here the boy needed medical attention." "Yeah, he had to be sent to the hospital! His legs were totally bent the wrong ways! He shouldnt have tried to steal my toy!" "Fine work; you should never allow anyone to take what is yours. We shall feast tonight in celebration." And he pet your hair and you flew up to his chest height to give him a crushing hug. And nowadays you're like. The Viltrumite equivalent of being in your early adult years and everything is extremely cold and impersonal and you call him nothing other than Grand Regent and he "maybe" just wants his eager confident prideful Affectionate child back because all he has now is. A child that hates him and will barely make eye contact with him and will never accept his praise or medals for your achievements.

Like imagine being a notoriously powerful Viltrumite and you're actually widely accepted but him being controlling of you throughout your childhood eventually gave you a complex. Thragg summons you to like praise you for like, subjugating a nearby galaxy, and asks what you would like for a reward, and you just coolly reply some shit like "There's nothing you could offer that I want, Grand Regent" like you hate him so much you don't even want gifts from this man

AND THE DELICIOUS DRAMA OF, imagine if he finds out that while you hate him and want nothing to do with him, maybe you've become extremely attached to Nolan or some other older father figure in his place

THE SHIT THAT GOES DOWN IF THRAGG EVER HEARS YOU CALL NOLAN OR ANYONE ELSE "DAD" like the cosmic level beef that goes on, the BLOODSHED. Jesus. Imagine being on Earth and you've got Dad Nolan or he's like declared himself your dad/mentor and he sees you bonding with another human male who's a father figure and you call that man dad, like. That man is going missing and Uncle Sam is erasing his existence from the records just, gone.

Side note actually, idea for something yandere viltrumites do with a viltrumite/hybrid reader: loving to bear hug you super hard? Like almost painfully but they won't break anything. Just. Imagine yandad Nolan or Thragg or Mark with like, a lil sibling/ child/ age regressed Reader or whatever and you're having like, hugging contests to see who can hug the hardest, and play wrestling shit idk. Imagine the infamously grumpy genocidal Thragg and then here's his like 4 year old wanting to play wrestle and trying to pin him and you're no match for him of course but like it's not, real, he's "gently" deflecting you or breaking your hold but still actually praising you in that, Thragg dad way, "your stance is too weak to take down an opponent of my size, but you're improving" " your siblings usually tire by now; you seem to have more endurance than most of my other children your age. Excellent" and then your little baby mouth gives him a kiss on the cheek and he has to go subjugate another planet to feel manly again.

I feel like yandad Thragg and Nolan are unironically those characters that are like, they could be in the middle of a war zone and they're easily winning and you go upstairs to see what they're thinking about, surely they're thinking about something serious, and it's just "I need to hurry this up and get back to my child" or "I wonder what my little warrior is doing right now" like straight up like the father from Father I Don't Want This Marriage

Yandere Thragg and Nolan are all "oh it's part of the Viltrum way to mate and procreate and boost our numbers" and Reader comes along "hey dad this is my new boyfriend--" and suddenly they turn into like, Christian fundamentalists. "Um actually that Viltrumite male is even older than I am 🤓 you are still so young and should be enjoying the fruits of your youth 🤓 you are too young to have children"

I feel like though like if you ever did manage to sneak off and get pregnant or get someone else pregnant that, specifically Nolan would adore his new grand baby and would do anything for this chubby cutie 🥺❤️ also imagine the horror if he's not even your blood dad, just obsessive self proclaimed stalker yandere shit, but you can't run away from him and he's finds you and your baby and instantly declares himself grandpa, like. Now you have to worry about protecting yourself and your baby from "PawPaw"

So like. Future spoilers I guess? Not super significant in my opinion, but, there's a period of time where there's like a truce of sorts between Earth and Viltrum, right, to keep it vague and less spoiler heavy. Imagine being like, Nolan's kid, or adopted kid, or like, neighbor who turned out to be a hybrid that he yoinked into his house or whatever, and like, after there's been some fighting, Thragg is impressed with your strength and potential and seems to be scouting you out a little. Now you've got TWO older Viltrumite males trying to father you, "my apologies Grand Regent but I was just about to take this one out to teach them how to fly better" "that is unnecessary; i shall be the one to tutor the youngling" meanwhile you're just like uhhhhh I'm not actually a big fan of how EITHER of you treat me-"

bruhhhh all hell breaks loose when you finally lose it and fly straight off the planet to try and start a new life elsewhere without them cuz then these two are TEAMING UP and they're feeding into each other, "I bet they were convinced to leave by that one male, the one who we had to warn before" "and that's why you're weak Nolan. I wanted to kill him but you didn't want to hurt the youth's feelings, and now what's happened? They're probably eloping as we speak" "no, I won't make the same mistake twice. He'll die a slow death"

You're on like some alien planet surrounded by like simple little ewoks or some shit who treat you like a water god because you dug a well for them or something and here comes Thragg and Nolan touchdown slamming onto the planet's surface and leaving craters behind, scaring the birds, the animals, your new little cute alien friends huddling behind you for protection, and you're getting SCOLDED SCOLDED. like one minute your new little like moogle friend is teaching you how to bake some kind of bread and the next minute, "AND JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOURE DOING HERE" and you're jumping to see two pissed pissed PISSED Viltrumites

"O-oh, uh, I thought I made it clear when I left--"

"The only thing that you've made clear is that you're too unpredictable and naive to be left alone"

"What were you THINKING?! You could've gotten lost, hurt, captured, or worse! And leaving Viltrum for, what?! Are these your pets? We can enslave a few and take them with us if you like em so much"

"If you EVER leave without my permission as Grand Regent again I'll reduce whatever backwater rock you stumble off to into nothing more than rubble floating through the stars, is that understood?"

"..."

"Answer him!"

'*sigh* yes, sirs"

"That's FATHER to you"

" - and Dad!"

[ohmtoff]

Shots, shots, shots (Part 2)

Nick Sturniolo x Masc!OC

read part 1

Summary: Nick is most definitely not having fun at a frat party Madi dragged him to, but this boy who’s staring at him hungrily may help him to have a good time (or: a very cliche and very self-indulgent fic of Nick getting it on with a frat bro)

WC: 5.5k

Contains: college!AU, frat bro!oc, anal sex, bottom!nick, top!oc, making out, blow job, rimming, fingering, dirty talk, slight spanking, light dom/sub, slight slut shaming

Disclaimer: read part 1 for background. will contain grammar mistakes, english is not my first language

a/n: well. this was a beast to write LMAO. so sorry for the long wait, i've just been rlly demotivated to write and my draft was just so so long that i often got overwhelmed and just didnt revise it altogether😭 anyways hope it isn't too long and hope you enjoyyy

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“Welcome to my room, also known as the room of the president of this shithole.” Evan plops himself down in the rolling chair at his desk, turning to face Nick on the bed. “Does that make this the shithole headquarters? Shoes off please.”

Nick groans, hiding his face in his hands, peeking out from in between his fingers in embarrassment, pulling off his shoes and throwing them over to Evan who arranges them neatly next to his at the door. “Please, don’t. I didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t lie baby. You meant every word."

The objection from before comes out sharply. “I thought I told you not to call me baby.”

Evan pouts, jutting out his lower lip and widening his eyes in a silent plea. “But I rather like the nickname on you. Very fitting. And becoming.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Evan pauses, lost in a moment of thought before turning his gaze back towards Nick, his brows drawn together. “How about we make a deal…” The other boy starts slowly, choosing his words carefully. “…if I can make you like being called baby by the end of the night, I get to keep calling you baby.”

“And if you can’t? What do I get in return?”

“I stop calling you baby.”

“That hardly seems fair.” Now it’s Nick’s turn to pout. “That doesn’t seem like much of a prize for winning.” Time to have a little fun.  He continues, slyly. “How about if I win, then I get to call you princess?” Evan visibly blanches, and Nick’s inner self laughs as he watches the color drain from the other boy’s face. Priceless. “What?” Nick goes wide-eyed, blinking with a faux innocence. “You need to be able to take what you dish out too, Evan.”

The other boy laughs. “Fair enough. Deal.” Nick quivers as Evan’s eyes darken, one side of his mouth quirked up in a perceptive smile. “But I’ll just have you know, I never lose.”

Okay, a bit conceited, but undeniably also hot.

Evan paces over, plopping down next to him on the bed, and in one swift motion, pulls him over into his lap. Nick holds his breath as the other boy stares at him, tracing over every inch of his face with his eyes. He lets out a little gasp as Evan presses his thumb into the corner of his mouth, pulling down a bit so he can taste the other boy. And he hopes his lips are luscious enough from his watermelon lip balm as Evan starts running his thumb along his bottom lip, Nick’s tongue darting out to wet his lips unconsciously, brushing against the other boy’s finger. A low groan rises from Evan, and Nick takes in delightedly seeing the other boy’s pupils dilate with arousal. “Fuck, Nick. You’re really pretty, you know that?”

“Of course I do.” The words come out with a lot more bravado than he feels as Evan’s other hand tightens on his waist, his thumb rubbing small circles over his skin. Nick had expected everything to happen fast and hard so the way the other boy is studying him so intently is a bit disconcerting, the attention bringing out a sudden shyness from him, unsure of what he should do or say. Evan trails his hand down to his neck, splaying his fingers out against Nick’s skin, thumb running along his jaw.

“Beautiful.” The word comes out drawn-out, Evan breathing all his longing into it, and Nick’s eyes automatically close, letting it run through him as the other boy presses down on the pulse point of his neck, feeling the blood rushing to his head. His breath hitches as Evan starts at his collarbones, searing open-mouthed kisses into his skin, the tip of the other boy’s tongue forming small circles as he moves upwards, Evan’s lips soft against his skin. Evan goes slow, a bit too slow for his taste, and his impatience tears a needy whine from his throat, tugging on the other boy’s hair for emphasis, making Evan let out a low throaty chuckle against his neck. “Be patient, baby.”

Nick doesn’t have the energy to object, breathing heavily as the other boy finally reaches his mouth, Evan’s hand cupping his face, fingers spread over his cheek tilting his head, and Nick moans into the kiss as Evan catches his lower lip first, gently nibbling. God. And the other boy’s mouth is moving over his, tasting like drunken mistakes, and Nick can’t tell whether it’s him moaning or Evan anymore as the other boy deepens the kiss, his tongue hot and heavy in his mouth. The pleasure mounts, and Nick whines, desperately trying to find some relief as he feels himself getting hard, grinding onto Evan’s lap as the other boy runs his tongue over his.

Evan breaks off their kiss first, nuzzling into his neck, murmuring. “So needy baby, and we’re not even close to done.” Then fuck me already. “If you’re really that desperate already, you’re welcome to ride my thighs as we make out.” The noise of indignance from Nick makes the other boy laugh.

“I thought we came upstairs to fuck.” Nick hisses, halfway affronted that Evan hasn’t even made a move to take off his clothes, his cock starting to feel uncomfortably restrained in his jeans.

“Don’t worry, you’re definitely going to get fucked baby.” Evan grins at him cheekily. “But I enjoy playing with my food before eating it.” The analogy makes Nick flushes, the thought of the other boy eating him out very appealing right now. 

Nick lets the other boy lift him up slightly, Evan’s hands taking the chance to squeeze his ass, rearranging him so he has the other boy’s thigh squarely between his legs, the feeling of Evan’s tensing underneath him making his cock twitch. Evan steadies him with hands on his waist, his own hands resting on Evan’s shoulders as he starts moving, feeling the friction of Evan’s body against him building his excitement. Nick whines when the other boy makes no move to do anything as he starts falling into a rhythm. Don’t just stop. Evan seems to understand without him saying anything further, mouth curving into a half-smile. “I like to watch sometimes. Pretty things deserve to be admired.”

The words only deepen his arousal, making it pool in his stomach as he moves, closing his eyes and letting the feeling overtake him. Nick moans as he feels Evan’s lips on him, kittenish licks against his sensitive skin as he rolls his hips against the other boy, slow and hard. “Mmm, your thighs are actually quite nice though.”

Nick inhales as Evan scrapes his teeth against his skin, the rough feeling a sharp contrast from his previous kisses, murmuring. “I don’t know whether I should take that as a compliment or be insulted that you sound surprised about it.”

“It’s not like I would kn-“ His words are cut off abruptly as Evan slides his hand fully underneath his shirt, brushing his thumb over his nipple, drawing out another low moan as Evan pinches it, rolling his nipple between his thumb and index finger.

“But yes. Lots and lots of squats. And playing soccer for the school team.”

“Are you any good?”

“Yeah," Evan’s breath is hot against his ear, teasingly sweet, the whisper making a thrill run through him. “Added plus if you like it, baby.”

“I-I d-do.” Nick curses himself for stammering, the other boy choosing that exact instant to start nibbling on his earlobe again, a particularly sensitive spot for him. Evan’s throaty moan into his ear almost physically hurts, the hand cupping his ass and squeezing not helping matters.

“God, fuck. Vou meter em você ate você gritar meu nome.”

Nick doesn’t understand what it means, but the low growl into his ear makes him aroused anyway, the urge to be fucked getting stronger by the minute. “Don’t know what the fuck you just said, but it sounded hot.”

“I said I’m gonna fuck you until you scream my name.” Nick gasps as Evan bites down a bit hard at the base of his neck, surely leaving a mark on his skin for tomorrow. And he doesn’t think he minds, the thought of everyone knowing about this making him curl up on the inside with embarrassment that somehow only serves to heighten his arousal. But maybe it doesn’t even matter if Evan leaves any marks as half the room had seen them go upstairs together. 

“Then do it.” His sharp demand just makes the other boy shake his head, the amusement at his frustration evident on Evan’s features. The other boy leans backwards languidly, resting with his elbows on the bed, stopping to just stare at him. The silence goes on for too long, and Nick can feel himself getting flushed as Evan does nothing but rake his gaze over him. “What?”

The other boy comes closer slowly, taking his goddamn time, and Nick feels as if his audacity may have gotten him into trouble, Evan looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. He doesn’t move as the other boy gets closer, the feeling of Evan’s fingers on his lips again, nail digging in at the corner of his mouth, dipping in ever so slightly. And Nick parts his lips, mewling as the other boy slips them in, automatically sucking, the anticipation of possibly having Evan’s fingers curling deliciously in his ass making him eager and hungry. The fingers pressing down on his tongue, sliding further back makes him nearly gag, and Evan strokes his cheek in response, murmuring an apology, pulling his fingers out slightly as Nick continues to slick them with saliva.

“Pretty mouth, sharp tongue.” He makes a noise of displeasure when Evan takes out his fingers. “I bet you look beautiful sucking cock.” The bold statement makes him flush, makes him remember his earlier thoughts, his eyes flicking downwards to stare again at the other boy’s tattoo, somehow forgotten and like a distant memory.

It ripples when he breathes.

Evan’s amused laugh makes him feel embarrassed, caught staring a few beats too long. “Do you like it?” The other boy’s fingers run through his hair, ruffling it, his thumb brushing Nick’s cheek. “Does it turn you on?” Nick doesn’t know what to say. “I’ll tell you a secret.” Evan’s breath on his ear. “If it turns you on, it means you really like get railed in bed baby. Especially by me.” The slow grin spreads over the other boy’s face as Evan watches his eyes widen, his mouth gaping, utterly speechless.

Evan’s eyes narrow, his voice low and silky, no longer playful and amused, and Nick finds it difficult to swallow as he sees Evan slowly unbuckling his belt, counting the belt holes one by one as the the other boy pulls at the end excruciatingly slowly. One. Two. Three. Four. And he’s waiting, his body coiled tightly, the tenseness making him almost shiver as he watches, the top button and the zipper that comes down slowly.

The red of Evan’s boxers are showing now, the sharp edge against the other boy’s skin. “I want you on your knees.” The words are demanding, suffocating, and Nick finds the other boy isn’t the only one that wants him on his knees, the prospect of having more than just fingers in his mouth making him dizzy. He gets up obediently, waiting what seems like forever for Evan to part his legs, and the other boy pats his inner thigh, motioning for him. “Come, baby.” Nick bites his lower lip, wanting to retort, but Evan’s head is tilted dangerously, his expression calculating, and the words leave no room for argument, short and clipped.

He drops to his knees, Evan’s hand at the back of his neck guiding him closer, his other hand pulling down the waistband of his boxers so that his cock spills out, the full barrel of the other boy’s gun tattoo coming into view, and Nick isn’t sure which is hotter, the desire for Evan to fuck his brains out overwhelming him. At least I know it does point to his cock. And maybe on a good day, he’d find this arrogant, but right now, he just wants his mouth to be filled.

“Can you show me how good you are at sucking cock baby?” The other boy cradles his cheek, his thumb caressing his jawline, and it feels soft, the light touch making him want to please, nodding his head. Evan’s fingers tighten in his hair as he goes down, slowly wrapping his mouth around just the tip, gaze turned upwards to stare at the other boy prettily, knowing the effect it has. Two can play at this game. Evan doesn’t disappoint, a low moan drawn out of him as Nick moves down slowly, getting used to the feeling of the other boy’s length in his mouth, too long since the last time he’s sucked cock.

But judging by the noises the other boy is making, he sure hasn’t forgotten how to.

Nick sucks harder, hollowing out his cheeks, attempting to go down as far as he can, feeling the tip in the back of his throat, thankful that he doesn’t have much of a gag reflex. He goes slow, wanting to savor the feeling of fullness in his mouth, letting his lips slide along the other boy’s cock, wetting it with his tongue, running it along the vein down the side, imagining Evan filling his ass. His eyelids fluttering in pleasure as he feels Evan tugging on his hair lightly, urging him to go faster, ignoring the spit that dribbles out as he half gags on the other boy’s cock. He’s always given messy blowjobs anyway. But Evan’s thumb wipes at the corner of his mouth, smearing a trail across his cheek, a dirtiness that feels all too enthralling.

“Baby, you look so pretty like this.” The breathy compliment only encourages him further, his head bobbing up and down at a quickened pace. And he’s given up trying to be coy, concentrating instead on Evan’s tattoo as he moves up and down, remembering his shameless display of behavior from earlier in the night, licking all the way down trying to get in the other boy’s pants. Trying to get here, with Evan’s cock shoved in his mouth. Nick moans as the other boy gets a little too impatient, the hand at the back of his head now pushing him down firmly, his hips rolling upwards to meet Nick’s mouth.

“Fuck, fuck.”

He knows what the swears mean, and Nick tries eagerly to make it happen, his hands bracing themselves on Evan’s ass, waiting for his chance to taste the other.

Evan pulls out of his mouth and Nick can’t hide his disappointment, a whine coming out unwittingly. That whine was replaced with a gasp as the other boy leans down and kisses him. Nick is swallowed up by Evan completely, taking out all the air in his lungs. They’re both panting heavily when Evan stops, his hand caressing Nick’s cheek, a nice, even, slow touch that feels both heavy and light all at the same time.

“I want to come in you.” Evan kisses the tip of his nose, a soft peck that makes Nick’s the butterflies in his stomach fly up into his chest, the action and words making him feel two entirely different things. The other boy doesn’t wait for him to respond, getting up and squatting down to sweep him up bridal style, one arm cradled under his knees, the other at his back, the change making him let out a squeak of surprise.

He wraps his arms around the other boy’s neck instinctively, the twinge of soreness in his knees only noticeable now that he isn’t on the floor anymore.  Evan deposits him on the bed gently, his head settling on the pillow, suddenly feeling small as the other boy looms over him, Evan making quick work of pulling off his pants, his boxers, and Nick stares as the expanse of skin comes into view, the other boy fully naked.

Evan pauses for a second, hesitant, before asking, his voice catching in his throat. “Can I undress you baby?”

He nods, not daring to make a sound, holding his breath as Evan starts from the bottom, unbuttoning his pants, and Nick lifts his butt upwards slightly so the other boy can pull them off, his boxers coming off right after, his cock still hard, hissing as the cold-ish air hits his skin. And then the tank top is being pulled over his head, his arms stretched upwards. He moans as the other boy starts planting kisses over his body, starting from his neck and trailing downwards to his cock, a groan of need vibrating in the back of his throat as Evan kisses the tip, bucking his hips up for more, hands pressing in a burning warmth over the skin of his inner thighs.

“Baby.” Evan says it almost reverently, as if Nick is everything, and he feels every syllable down to his toes and tips of his fingers as Evan continues. “You’re so beautiful. And fuckable.” And it’s the way the other boy says it, the tone a mix between waiting to worship and use him, that gets him off, and Nick thinks that maybe he’s in trouble. “Get on your hands and knees for me. Facing that way.”

Nick does, facing the closed door to Evan’s room in anticipation. He can hear the other boy shifting on the bed behind him, feeling Evan’s hand on his ass, one hand squeezing lightly. The sound of a drawer opening, the other boy rummaging around for a few moments. “Fuck.” The tone isn’t encouraging, and Nick glances back, trying to get a glimpse of Evan. “I ran out of condoms.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Nick groans as he falls over on to the bed on his back, looking up to stare with wide-eyed disappointment at Evan, who’s running his hand through his black hair, the frustration knotting his brows together as he stares down at his phone. “No, I’m not, but just lemme text Nate. He’ll just steal some from his roommate.” Nick nearly gets his head taken off as the other boy throws a few things at him. “In the meantime, pick your favorite flavor.”

“My what?” Nick looks down at the colorful bottles presented to him. “Oh my god, who the fuck needs this much lube?”

Evan laughs. “I like to provide options baby.”

Nick stares at the other boy, aghast. “Why don’t you just use plain old lube.”

“Mmm.” Evan leans down to kiss him, his teeth catching Nick’s bottom lip in a small bite. “Because I want to eat you out until your legs shake so hard you can’t keep yourself up.” The other boy ends with statement with a kiss on his forehead. “So pick.”

Nick bites his bottom lip so a pathetic whine won’t come out his mouth. “Fine, strawberry.”

There’s a knock on the door, the sound of Nate’s voice making its way through from the other side. “You’re the fucking worst, Evan. I was talking to that hot AKA girl I told you about and I was so close to kissing her. But yeah, leaving the box out here like you asked, you ingrate.”

“Sorry, man.” Evan laughs his friend’s outrage.

Evan strides to the door, opening it just a crack and crouching down to sneak his hand out before retrieving the box, closing the door firmly behind him.

Nick eyes the other boy, not quite trusting Evan quite so much now. After all, Evan quite literally just had to phone-a-friend to get condoms. “Aren’t you going to lock the door?” The other boy grins at him, the smile spreading across his face in unrestrained delight. “Why? Does it bother you? Scared someone will walk in?”

“No.” Nick raises his voice defensively, not willing to admit any sign of weakness. “Just thought it might be best since, you know, like a quarter of the school is downstairs partying.”

“Mmm, but doesn’t the possibility of getting caught turn you on baby?” Evan tilts his chin up, staring down at him teasingly, the dangerous look lighting the arousal in his groin again, feeling his cock respond even if his mind doesn’t want to admit it. “The thought that someone could walk in and see me fucking you from behind. Or on your back while I’m plowing into you. Or you bouncing on my dick. ” Evan’s eyes narrow, Nick’s dilated pupils making him more than a little excited, anticipation curling in his stomach again. 

“Not really.”

“Hmmm, I thought you’d be the type that is into that sort of thing.” Evan smiles at him, all too innocently. “Maybe you will be the next time I fuck you.” Nick squeals as the other boy brings his hands up underneath his ass where he’s sitting, pushing him upwards, back into position on his hands and knees. “Don’t worry, we have plenty of time to find out if you do like it baby.” Nick moans, feeling Evan’s hands on his waist, fingers digging into his hips, spreading his ass with his hands, his thumbs digging into his skin, the slight puff of hot breath against his asshole making him automatically clench. “And it’s okay, people know what my door being closed means.”

He hears the sound of the cap being opened, the splutter of lube being squeezed out, and he hisses at the cold feeling, Evan rubbing his thumb in circles over his asshole, the feeling him pressing inwards slightly making him tense. And the other boy spreads his cheeks again, blowing, the cold making the goosebumps rise up on his skin, a shiver run through him.

Nick moans, exhaling a huge breath, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as he feels Evan’s tongue against him, lapping, licking at his asshole, smearing the lube around, the wetness spreading to the inside of his thighs. The gasp is ripped from him as he feels the other boy dip his tongue in, the heated feeling making him push his ass backwards, desperately craving more. Nick mewls as Evan alternates between pushing his tongue in and light sucks, the other boy’s nose pressed up against his skin. Fuck. And his thighs are already starting to quiver, his legs feeling weak as Evan tongue fucks him, his moans muffled and lost in the other boy’s bedsheets, his face pressed into the bed, all his effort spent trying to keep his ass nice and high up in the air for Evan, the smell of citrus on the sheets filling his nose, reminding him of the smell in the other boy’s hair.

His noises only encourage Evan, and Nick lets out a pant of desire when the other reaches around to fist his cock, the slow stroking motion making the arousal build, Evan’s thumb smearing the precum over the tip. “Fuck, Evan, please.” Nick is only half aware of the other boy, the sound of his wanton moans filling the room, flooding his mind. “P-Please, please. Get in me.” His voice is shaky, his words garbled and only half-formed, dropping from his lips like small spurts of begging before ending in breathless moans. Rinse and repeat. He feels the loss as Evan stops his ministrations, the growl about to come out, but before he can protest, he feels Evan’s finger, slicked and probing at his hole, the first digit sliding in easily as Nick dissolves into a needy moan, Evan pumping into him far too slowly.

More.

He whines, and Evan chuckles, words low and sweet. “You’re so needy baby.” Nick doesn’t even gasp as the second finger goes in, the feeling of being filled every so slightly, Evan’s fingers slick against the inside of his walls as they move in and out. The gasp only comes as the other boy stretches him out, fingers spreading apart to scissor him open, a slow and steady stretch that makes Nick whimper with want to be filled with more. “So needy and beautiful for me, on your hands and knees. More?” The other boy doesn’t wait for his response, eliciting a sharp cry from Nick as a third finger is inserted, a feeling of fullness finally overcoming him, his hole clenching around Evan’s fingers as they go in. His legs are finally starting to give out, his thighs trembling even more as Evan runs his fingers in between his legs, and the other boy finally finds the sweet spot, Nick crying out as Evan brushes against it, curling his fingers deep into his ass, releasing the tension in his body that he isn’t even aware that he’s holding. He scrabbles at the sheets, digging his fingers in, moaning brokenly. “Oh, oh, oh, theretherethere, please, oh god.”

And he’s on the brink, the repeated pleasure as Evan thrusts his fingers in sending him into a dizzy spiral, the need to release hitting him hard and fast. “Shi-Evan, ‘m gonna come, want you in me so bad, please, please– Ev, c’mon, fuck me.”

It happens so fast that Nick nearly doesn’t realize, only the sound of the condom packaging ripping, the noise seemingly too loud, drowning out everything else in his head, and his low whimper at being denied his release provoking a guttural groan from Evan.

Nick groans as he feels Evan’s tip push into him. The latter continues to push himself in gently, knowing he’s big and Nick needs to take his time to fully get used to his girth. Nick can feel himself being stretched out even further, panting heavily at the feeling of the biggest cock he’s ever had.

“That’s it,” Evan praises, “that’s my baby,” he coos, Nick’s high-pitched moan falling out of his mouth involuntarily as he forces himself to relax and not clench too much, letting Evan fill him nicely. He feels incredibly full when Evan snaps his dick in before letting go, letting Nick dictate the rhythm and rock back onto his dick. “Perfect,” Evan grunts, enjoying the view of Nick’s ass rippling as it bounces on his hips. The sound of Nick’s desperate and wet moans accompanied with the slap, slap, slap of his ass hitting the other’s hips filling the room.

It was when Nick falls into a sex-drunk state, begging and moaning as he moves without an ounce of rhythm, just pure desperation that Evan grabs his hips and arches his back even more, angling his ass even higher into the air. Nick lets out a helpless whimper as Evan thrusts straight back into him, hands angrily grabbing Nick’s hips as he gives no time to wait, just jackhammers into Nick who is desperate for that sweet relief, a string of curse words and interrupted moans loudly falling out his lips as Evan takes him roughly, quickly.

“You love it, don’t you?,” Evan grits out, thrusts stuttering and brutal as Nick knows he’s about to come, “love being bent over, thick ass in the air,” he grunts, slapping Nick’s ass with a force than means there’ll be a handprint there for days, making the other squeal. “You love being a slut for me, huh?”

“I’m – I’m – please!- ” The brunette sobs, Evan nailing him on his prostate at every thrust.

“F-fuck, Nick. I’m close.”

It’s Evan’s awed wonder and pure arousal breathed into his name that does him in, making his body tense and his hole to tighten. Nick hears Evan let off a barrage of swearing, the thrusts into him becoming more forceful, the bed creaking with his brutal pounding, Evan’s grip on his waist tightening hard enough that Nick’s sure he’ll leave bruises blooming tomorrow as a reminder of tonight. And at first he thinks he’s chasing the high, but it’s the high chasing him as the spring coiling tightly finally releases.

He comes hard and fast, his mouth open in a silent scream as he falls limp, his legs fully giving way, his body continuing to ride out whatever Evan gives him, the other boy’s final few thrusts only extending his ebbing pleasure. Nick weakly cries out when he feels Evan come inside him, pulsating against his walls. Evan presses his front to Nick’s back as he groans, his thighs shaking from exertion and the earth-shattering orgasm.  

Nick winces when the other boy finally does pull out, feeling hollow as Evan brushes his lips against his ass, peppering kisses against his skin as he lets Nick sink into the bed. He feels sated, still riding the high from his orgasm, and he lets out a slight groan of protest as Evan wraps his arms around him, pulling him in to spoon, the stickiness uncomfortable against his ass. He lets the other boy do it anyway, the warm breath against the back of his neck comforting as they cuddle.

It was when he was seconds away from closing his eyes that he has the daunting realization that he wasn’t supposed to be there. He maneuvers his upper body slightly, using his arms as leverage to pry himself from Evan’s grasp, rolling himself over to face the other boy, grimacing as his ass complains. Well, that’s gonna hurt in the morning. He’s not quite sure what to say, how to respond to the other boy, who seems to be half-asleep already as well, eyes blinking slowly, gaze unfocused as he searches Nick’s face.

“Well,” Nick coughs, feeling the regret starting to seep into him at letting this beautiful stranger fuck him into the best sex he’s had in months--maybe ever. The realization that he’s likely just another weekend hookup. “Uhh, this was good.” He wants to kick himself immediately after saying it, the words feeling unwieldy and awkward in his mouth. “I mean, this was great.” The greatest I’ve ever had. “But I think I’ve got to get going now. I mean, Madi’s probably wondering where I am and stuff, and it’s getting kind of late.” Nick feels himself babbling in his panicked state, but the words make Evan’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide-awake, an incredulous look on the other boy’s face.

“What the fuck are you talking about.”

Nick chews on his lower lip, suddenly acutely aware that he’s still naked, the thought of the few agonizing minutes pulling on all his clothes before he can sneak out of Evan’s room making the feeling of dread pool in his stomach. “I mean, I’m going to leave now? That’s what you want right? Just to fuck?”

“God, no.” Evan sits up, back ramrod straight, staring at him with an intensity that pins Nick down, unmoving. “First off, Madi is not going to miss you in the slightest.” The other boy pauses. “No offense, I’m sure you two have a great friendship, but I’m pretty sure she’s still occupied trying to get her tongue to touch a pledge’s tonsils right now.” Evan knits his eyebrows together in dismay. “And second, the only place you’re going right now is into the bathroom with me so we can shower, and I can clean you off.”

“Wait, you don’t want me to leave?” Nick asks hesitantly, the hope blooming in his chest.

The other boy gives him a confused look. “Wait, what did you think this is?”

“Uhhh, a one-night stand?”

The sharp bark of laughter from Evan startles him, seemingly out of character for the situation at hand. “Oh shit, wow. I guess Madi’s plan was to just… bring you here and hope we hit it off. It worked, of course.” Evan shakes his head, amused. “Madi’s been trying to set me up with you for months. Actually, before you even broke up with your ex-boyfriend I think. She spent the whole last semester ranting to me about how she hated your ex’s guts.” Evan’s eyes darken. “Something about not treating you right.” Nick gapes at him as Evan shakes his head. “She told me she’d drag you out tonight to meet me, but I guess she didn’t exactly tell you.”

“Oh.” Nick can feel his cheeks heating up, the warm fuzzy feeling entering his veins with an exhilaration he doesn’t expect. “So this wasn’t a one-time thing?”

“No, baby.” Evan sighs, pulling him into a hug, planting a kiss on his forehead before dragging him down into an embrace on the bed. “I’ll fuck you forever. Let me treat you dinner tomorrow? Maybe also a blowjob afterwards.”

Ugh, how romantic.

Maybe Nick doesn’t quite mind being called baby after all.

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tags: @taycherouz08 @piecesofreeses @ameerahsblog @nicksbf @thenickgirl

[hijackalx]

*SOME DURGE QUEST SPOILERS*

***NONCON AND DRUG USE MENTIONS***

GORTASH SFW HEADCANONS:

ok to start i think when he was a prisoner his hair got rlly long and unkept and he hateddd it so the minute he escaped he chopped that shit off himself and thats why its so unruly lol (*EDIT he always cuts his own hair is what im sayin)

this man is such a taurus like everything about him screams taurus. has a taurus stellium fosho

would listen to superheaven

hes also sooo jenny by studio killers, disco man by remi wolf, happiness by the 1975 coded with Durge 😩😩

with durge hes also giving bf that ur dad hates but like thats canon. i think he likes that hes able to influence durge to the point that they rebel lol. the type of boy u run away with when ur younger

probably BLASTED jet black heart by 5SOS on repeat when Durge disappeared LMFAOO

also i kind of feel like the fearless buff to his clothing is more an insight to his character rather than him needing magic to not be fearful bcz he literally got the shit beat out of him everyday and lived in HELL how can he not be desensitized to everything at that point 😭😭😭 it does not get much worse than that my boy

hes so thique like hes just a big boned dude. tiddies SO fat too EUGH + thick shoulders/arms. he feels so warm and safe i just know it i just KNOW it gurl

also idk if it was supposed to happen but in my latest playthrough during the fight with him he dropped his bow and just started beating the shit out of us 😭😭😭😭 all hands baby like WHAT 😭😭 so i like to think thats his preferred method of fighting idk if thats canon tho i feel like i seen somebody talking abt that before but mightve just been another hc

occasionally does drugs. likes the ones that make him feel really elated (idk what theyre called in bg3 its some kind of dust or something) ALSO HC THAT HE WAS ON SOMETHING WHEN HE WROTE RHAT FUCKED UP NOTE TO FRANC (WAS THAG HIS NAME U GUYS KNOW THE NOTE) HE WAS OBVIOJSLY TRIPPING BALLSSSSS

lots of body hair…… everywhere……. straight and black body hair. that is so sexy to me let me smell the pheromones in your armpits king LMFAO (i think theres something wrong with me)

going off of rhat yes i think he smells good (DIVINE, even) as a woman that is feral and in heat all the time. but to normal ppl he may smell kind of weird. not STINKY stinky but like when u dont shower and ur natural scent starts to mix with the perfume/cologne ur wearing SORRY 😭😭😭 im trying to be realistic here. or maybe like when u wake up and didnt shower the night before and u can still smell the perfume/cologne u put on yesterday. basically what im saying is he might need to shower

hes just so masculine it drives me crazy I LOVE MEN !!!!!!!!!! I LOVE EEENERM. ME E WN

love language:

giving = lowkey getting acts of service vibes here but u didnt hear it from me 🤫🤐 gift giving too. tav is just his widdle babie and he wants to make sure theyre the happiest they can be 🥺😩

receiving = acts of service LMAO give and get back type of shit

relationship wise i think he is the most doting and sweetest person. like tav will never have to worry abt anything ever again bcz he will handle everything. takes care of them cuz they are his king/queen 😌

GORTASH NSFW HEADCANONS:

yeah going off that last hc he is sweet outside the bedroom but a menace in it. its just the way he is. its probably exhausting too 😩 like if u ask him to be gentler/less intense he will try for a while but probably wont enjoy it as much. he doesnt like to hold back.

i WILL say tho ☝🏻🤨 i think when he gets close to finishing he gets a little more soft/loving. he just has to get his badness out first yall its fine

HIGH libido wants to smash all the time. he also (POSSIBLE NONCON MENTION !!!!!!!) thinks that since ur his u should be willing to give it up whenever he wants it. (NONCON MENTION OVER) i think in the bedroom he sees u as a servant even if ur considered his equal normally. like hes a chosen of bane he has to feel like he has control over u in SOME way

can be selfish depending on his mood. sometimes he doesnt see u as anything other than a toy (lowkey hard for me to admit but i NEVA LIE GIRLS !!!!! 🙅🙅🙅) like can be such a fucking asshole about it too

BUT !!! when he is feeling generous he is soooo generous. EUGH like he will make sure u enjoy urself!!!! probably multiple times !!!!!!!!!!!!

dont know why nobody else has said he has a daddy kink. so obvious like call him daddy ms thing he will nut so hard. oh corruption kink too. like can u imagine Durge being so innocent when they first met cuz they were never allowed to get close to anybody and hes just sooo into it HELLO i got to write that fic NEOW

omg breeding kink too give him heirs. will fuck the shitttt out of u in a mating press. probably comes a lot too almost impossible not to get pregnant with him LMAO

likes to pick u up and fuck u. manhandling king. also will do the faerun equivalent to coke and wants u to do it w him then fuck nasty afterwards

i feel like he doesnt last an extremely long time. 15-20 mins is THE MOST youre getting out of him lol he just gets very excited (which is lowkey kind of cute??)

do i even have to say that this man is packing schmeat. heavy dick. heavy balls. allow me to bear some of that weight for u my liege 🤲🏻🧎

ORIN BONUS ????:

mostly nsfw

ok i didnt originally plan to add orin but listen….. gortash is a charismatic guy….. imagine orin was into him too LISTEN ! like shes jealous asf of Durge in that sense too not just bcz of them being bhaal’s fav. like when i think abt them i just am getting a vibe okay. this trio……..

every time she sees gortash and Durge acting close and doing all their yucky lovesick shit she just gets soooo mad. now imagine she shifts into Durge to get gortash to fuck her. yeah… yall seeing the vision? would he ever find out ?? imagine that was why he hates orin so much?? he doesnt want to tell Durge (cuz thats cheating hes not a cheater duh 🙄 plus hes scared theyll be mad at him) and thats why his explanations as to why he hates orin are so vague

[onboardsorasora]

omg deaged daniel has my heart:(( he’ll feel so much more comfortable I bet once he gets to talk to his mom:((((

he does!! ok this is literally spiralling lmao!

De-Aged Daniel | De-Aged Daniel Pt2 | Part 4

Max watched as Little Daniel watched him through his lashes as he made his calls. His sticky red ring pop was always close to his lips and Max could see how stained his tongue already was.

“Do you like ring pops?” Max asked kindly, Little Daniel makes eye contact for a moment before looking at Max’s shoulder again and nods. “I like them too, I love the green flavour.”

“‘Shell likes the green one.” Little Daniel offered softly. 

“All the more red ones for you!” Max smiled when Little Daniel grinned. 

“Ok so I ordered the pizza, would you like to play with the cats while I make another phonecall?”

“Your phone’s weird like the one’s in the movies.” Little Daniel mumbled. And Max figured that must be true, an iphone wasn’t exactly the current tech in 1994.

“It is, I’m still learning it too. May I lift you up Daniel?” 

Little Daniel nodded softly and Max lifted him onto his hip. He walked the few steps into the living room and placed the boy gently on the couch. Jimmy was the first to be curious. Little Daniel looked at him dubiously before reaching his hand out slowly to pet the cat.

Max watched them out of the corner of his eyes while he scrolled through his contacts. Grace picked up after three rings, and Max hoped it wasn’t very late in Perth.

“Max, lovely to hear from you!” Grace’s voice was a balm, Max felt completely out of his depth.

“Hey Grace, unfortunately this isn’t a social call.”

“What’s happened?” Her voice was immediately tense and Max kicked himself, he could have handled that better.

“Nothing terrible. I’m gonna show you.” After hearing her noise of agreement he changed the call to a facetime. She looked at him with worried brown eyes, Max flipped the camera to show Little Daniel stiltedly petting Jimmy’s head. His ring pop clutched tightly in his other fist.

“Oh.” Her gasp was sharp. Max watched her eyes grow soft and yearning. 

“Blake said he’s been stressed lately, it happened not twenty minutes ago.”

“So its temporary then.” She spoke to herself, eyes still staring at the little boy who was her miniature in every way. “He likes the show Lamb Chops, and The Wiggles. Don’t let him choose the pizza, he likes the pictures but he doesn’t like the peppers or olives. He’ll eat pepperoni or hawaiian.” 

Max groaned because Little Daniel absolutely chose the pizza and there were all sorts of peppers and olives. 

“Do you still have the epi pen?” She asked quietly.

“I do.” 

“Good. You may need it.”

“Pistachios, hazelnuts, peanuts. I remember.” Max smiled. 

Grace made that ‘oh honey’ face that Daniel sometimes did when he thought Max was going to be in over his head a little. “Some kinds of grass, milk, ice cream, air fresheners, may make him puke–”

“How did you let him move to Italy on his own??” Max laughed when Grace snorted. He had no idea Daniel had been allergic to so many things.

“He grew out of most of it. And he was very convincing.” She smiled, before biting her lip. “Can I talk to him?”

“Of course!” Max crossed the room quickly and flipped the camera back to the front facing one. “Daniel, I have someone who would like to speak with you, is this ok?”

Little Daniel looked up from where Jimmy was trying to climb onto his small lap and nodded softly. Max sat beside him and brought his phone to Daniel’s face.

“Mum!” Little Daniel screamed, scaring Jimmy a little. He scooted forward on the couch to get closer to the phone, Max brought to phone to him. “That's my Mummy!”

“Danny my baby, are you being good for Max?”

Little Daniel gasped, his mouth dropping open. He nodded quickly, his head bobbled like a toy. “Uh huh! Mum are you coming to get me?”

Grace sniffled and covered her mouth with a palm. “Soon my baby. It’ll take a little bit so be good for Max ok? He’ll take care of you until we get there.”

“Ok! I promise!” Little Daniel chirped, he nodded again like a bobble head. 

“That’s my baby. I love you Danny Wanny.”

“I love you more Mummy Wummy!” Little Daniel grinned and looked up at Max when the screen when dark. Max bit his lip, not expecting the cute aggression that took hold of him.

“Do you want to watch The Wiggles?” Max asked instead, smiling with Little Daniel nodded happily.

[mangekyuou]

Hi there~

I just finished reading your rules and you're a UNI STUDENT? Lmao me too, I'm majoring in English literature 🙃 yeah i know it's an old-man choice 😭 but at least I enjoy it~

So can i request a NSFW alphabet for my boy Benn?

I don't see a lot of content for him and he's sooo sooooo handsomeee and attractive.

I hope you have a nice day~

⟡    ֺ   𓂂  nsfw alphabet  ,  benn beckman.

✸     cw(s)! . . .  nsfw. gn!reader. me being a beckman stan. not proofread. minors DNI.

✸     notes! . . .  hi !! that's so cool you're majoring in english literature !! i was always interested in literature, but i could just never sit down and read or try to analyze anything. it was never my strong suit lol. so kudos to you !! thank you for requesting !! <33

!! i would also like to say that i don't really do nsfw alphabets, but i have made an exception for this one and the other one in my drafts bcuz i didn't state it earlier. PLUS i'm a beckman and shanks stan lmaooo

A — AFTERCARE. [ what they’re like after sex. ]

aftercare is truly his favorite part. he takes his time carefully getting you all cleaned up and comfortable. benn is definitely a cuddlebug :>. he loves cuddling with you after sex. there's nothing better than laying down next to you, wrapping his strong arms around you, pulling you into his chest, kissing your head, and falling into the world of dreams.

B — BODY PART. [ their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s. ]

he hasn't thought much about himself. he doesn't even really have an answer at first. but he thinks his arms are nice. all the more strength to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

benn loves ALL of you. don't ask him to pick a favorite part of you. he refuses to give you one answer, no matter how much you beg him. unless you start to pout, his ultimate weakness. he loves your thighs. he's a thigh and ass guy. nine times out of ten, you know he's in the mood just by how long he's touching your thighs

C — CUM. [ anything to do with cum. ]

he loves filling you to the brim with his cum, watching it slowly leak out of you only to use his thick fingers or his dick to stuff it back inside. all with a "be a good baby and hold it for me, yeah?"

D — DIRTY SECRET. [ self-explanatory. ]

nothing runs through his mind like you in a maid outfit since you wore one as punishment for losing a card game. the red-haired pirates are so damn cruel. the image has never left his head, and along with it came his dirty thoughts

the thought of you bending over to better reach a spot to dust, the short skirt of your tight uniform riding up to show off your ass. the thought of your purposely spilling something on him to get him out of his clothes. the thought of you on your knees in front of him, eagerly awaiting his next command, asking him how you may be of assistance. fuck he needs you in a maid outfit so bad

E — EXPERIENCE. [ how experience are they? do they know what they’re doing? ]

benn has been around the block many of times. he has plenty of experience. i wouldn't call him a hoe...but he's had quite a few lovers in the past. mostly one night stands. he knows what he's doing and how to pleasure you

F — FAVORITE POSITION. [ self-explanatory. ]

he's a pretty classic man. he loves the cowgirl(boy) position. there's nothing that makes him cum harder than you riding him to your heart's content. oh and please do wear a cowboy hat, treat him like cattle, call him a few names, he's putty in your hands. when he comes, put your hat over his pretty face

G — GOOFY. [ are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? ]

benn is very talkative in the bedroom. he's always talking, whether it's praising you or his favorite teasing you. hell, there are even some moments where he's so unserious. telling you about some stupid shit that happened on the red force that day, while kissing down your chest. or when he's settled deep inside of you, not moving, and will stop to have a full-on conversation. like what are you doing ??

H — HAIR. [ how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? ]

it's wild and grey. his pubes are a little wavy. he doesn't particularly care much about shaving. now if you ask him to trim up a little, he will definitely do so and will make it a habit

I — INTIMACY. [ how are they in the moment, the romantic aspect? ]

benn is a very romantic man. there is not a single time when he doesn't make you seem like the luckiest person in the world. he puts his ALL into loving and cherishing you. he takes his time with you. worshipping your body from head to toe, not missing an inch. bringing you to your high again and again, singing praises to you, how well you're doing, how much he loves you

J — JACK OFF. [ masturbation headcanon. ]

benn doesn't jack off as much as he did when he was younger. the times when he is in the mood, you are usually not too far and more than happy to help. however for the few times, you aren't around, he's sitting slouched in a chair in your shared room, his hair all over his face, he was anything but his usual calm and collected self. shallow breaths and low whispers of your name leave his lips, as he desperately tries to reach his high, imagining his hand as yours

K — KINK. [ one or more of their kinks. ]

he definitely has a praise kink. even before the two of you got together, you likely picked up on his praise kink. he loves the effect it has on you. role play, he's a freaky old man. as i said earlier, he loves the thought of you in a maid outfit, this definitely extends to other things. sexy secretary, sexy nurse, you name it. HE'S WAY INTO HIS ROLE. especially if you're taking a dominant role ?? WHEW

L — LOCATION. [ favorite places to do it. ]

he's not all that into public sex. does not want anyone else to see you, other than that one time. he prefers to keep your sexy times in the bedroom. nothing beats your bed

M — MOTIVATION. [ what turns them on, gets them going? ]

it doesn't take much to get him going. you could just wrap your arms around his waist from behind, and kiss up his shoulder, and he's all yours for the evening. or when you smack his ass and run down the hall. he swears he hates it, but who is he kidding? when he does catch up to you, you're in for it

N — NO. [ something they wouldn’t do, turn offs. ]

anything that could possibly hurt you. nope. never. nada. zilch. he can't do it. he couldn't do humiliation either. anything that is not making you feel amazing and beautiful, he's not doing

O — ORAL. [ preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc. ]

definitely a giver and is the fucking best at it. he prides himself on his ability to make you cum multiple times with his mouth alone. he could spend hours between your legs if you'd let him. hooking his strong arms around your legs, you're not going anywhere until he's had his fill. but you'll be a good baby and take it, won't you?

running your hands through his grey locks only encourages him further. your moans and breaths are a melody he'd never get tired of hearing

he does love seeing your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock. he loves when you take your time, licking up a stride up his shaft, the tip of your tongue circling the blushing red head of his tip, before slowly taking him into your mouth. eye contact the entire time !! he loves that shit

P — PACE. [ are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc. ]

benn is definitely more on the slow and sensual side. he wants you to feel him, every inch of him enter you as he fills you to the brim every time he thrusts into you. and he wants to feel all of you, as he closes his eyes and stuffs his face into your shoulder, alternating between leaving open-mouth kisses and love bites

Q — QUICKIE. [ their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc. ]

he's not a quickie guy. maybe when he was younger but quickies don't satisfy him anymore. it doesn't give him the chance to fuck you properly

R — RISK. [ are they game to experiment, do they take the risks, etc. ]

he'll experiment for you. he'll willing to try some things at least once if you'd like to try them. however, it's not likely to suggest something. he knows what he likes and what he doesn't, he's not sure that's really going to change at this point

S — STAMINA. [ how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last? ]

benn can go for a few rounds, which are not usually his plan. he usually plans for one long round. but the cuddle session after the first round a lot of the time turns into another around. he's not complaining though. give him a little smoke break and he's back at it

T — TOY. [ do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves? ]

he doesn't have a problem with toys, he just doesn't really use them. he prefers using his own equipment if you catch my drift. but he definitely doesn't mind using them on you if you asked

U — UNFAIR. [ how much they like to tease? ]

now he doesn't see it as teasing. but it's definitely teasing. his teasing is very playful. the way he just walks up to you at the poker table and whispers what he's going to do to you tonight if you win...and he expects you to sit there and be calm. you better win.

or when you sit in his lap and his large calloused hands caress your thighs, inching closer and closer to your core. he notices the way you take in a sharp breath, only to stop touching you altogether. he knows exactly what he's doing and what effect he has on you

V — VOLUME. [ how loud they are, what sounds they make. ]

benn is not quiet by any means. he's very talkative in the bedroom. always teasing you or giving you praise. he is an occasional groaner. groaning your name and swears into your ear

W — WILD CARD. [ random headcanon. ]

shanks has definitely watched you and benn fuck before. it was one time and it'll never happen again. now the captain of the red haired pirates did nothing wrong, at first. the next day, roo had asked shanks where he disappeared off to and he made a joke saying "watching the taming of a stubborn bull", earning a laugh from you. he is no longer allowed to watch

X — X-RAY. [ what’s going on under those clothes. ]

listen to me and listen to me well. definitely a shower, not a grower. 7-8 inches, slightly curved to the right and upwards. uncut. above average girth. a few veins, but there's one very prominent long vein that stretches from the underside of his dick all the way around to the top. slightly darker than the rest of his body BUT there are lighter patches of skin on and around his tip

Y — YEARNING. [ how high is their sex drive? ]

don't really see his drive being that high. definitely lower than average. but hey, he's not gonna say no to some sweet lovemaking.

Z — ZZZ. [ how quickly they fall asleep afterwards? ]

aftercare is literally his favorite part, so you bet it's going to be a while before he actually falls asleep. he has to get you all cleaned up and comfortable. finally, he pulls you in for cuddles. he waits until you're asleep before falling asleep himself

© MANGEKYUOU  —  do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[biggesttmntfanintheworld]

Hello May I Request a Rottmnt Fluff And Gn Reader like The Boys are a little bit sad for Whatever reason and Reader comforts them with Cuddles (also this is my First time Requesting Something so sorry if it makes no sense)

it makes sense don't worry! btw idk if this is what you asked for but this is what I came up with im so sorry if its not

1 request down like 8 more to go (im going to go crazy but its fine tho)

sad! rottmnt x gn! reader fluff

raph

he accidentally ripped his favorite teddy bear while sleeping

he was absolutely distraught

hes never been this sad before

he called you at 3am SOBBING

you came over at like 3:12am(on a school night)

he hugged you SO HARD crying about his teddy bear:((

you were scratching under his chin (i think he would like that??) as he was pouting like a baby with tears streaming down his face

you guys were now cuddling his face buried in your chest you can hear him trying not to cry again(I FEEL SO BAD BRO)

you lifted his head up to look at you and you started kissing all over his face and he started giggling like a little girl(goofy)

after your kiss attack all over his face

"i love you so much babe"

"i love you too raphie"

(forget school bruh)

leo

he got banned from run of the mill(its like his 87th time getting banned)

saying he was sad was an understatement

he. was. DISTRAUGHTTT.

it was his favorite pizza place...

AND HE WAS BANNED???(again)

and all he said was that huesos forehead is as big as the moon

he NEEDED your cuddles

so he portal sworded to your room crying

you were laying on your bed and you hear someone crying and you knew who it was

your himbo boyfriend(IM SORRY LMAO)

he jumped on you

"hey you ok?"

"i got banned from run of the mill"

you were trying so hard to hold in your laughter

"oh really?"

"yeah"

he was hugging you so hard

his face was in your stomach

you just started scratching his head

he started giggling like an idiot

"i love you mi vida"

"i love you to neon leon"

donnie

the purple game 2 got canceled...

THE PURPLE GAME 2 GOT WHATTTTTTT??????

YOUR JOKING RIGHT??

PLEASE TELL HIM YOUR JOKING

HES SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SAD BRO

he's going through the seven stages of grief in 7 seconds

he would be so devastated

he would lock himself in his lab for days

he won't even go out for flavorless juice or pizza

his "dum dum" brothers need to call you bc of this

"hey donnie?" you knock

no response

"donnie its me 'name'"

the labs doors open

you walk in and hes not there?

weird

you go into his room and there he is just laying on his bed

you walk up to him

"hey"

no response

"HEY"

"what."

"whats wrong?"

"the purple game 2 got canceled"

"oh"

he's trying so hard not to cry for the 5th time today

you jump up on his bed and you put his head on your lap

he signs

and he looks up at you with his cute doe eyes(i love his eyes man)

"you know i love you right?"

"yes i know. i love you to"

mikey

he broke his skateboard in half

he was so sad:((

he was sobbing for like an hour

not even a hug from his brothers could calm him down

but yours can

he called you crying abt his skateboard

you came over as fast as you could

he was in his room and as SOON as he saw you he RAN into you arms

he was sobbing in your chest

you both walked back to his bed him still sobbing on your chest

you guys are now cuddling him STILL on your chest but not sobbing any more just reduced to some sniffles now

"i love you so much babe"

"i love you too"

IM DONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANON

BYE BYE NOWW

[blubun0309]

I was thinking about Dandy's 'IMBI' fanfic suddenly, when a thought hit me: Why are the brother's given the senses that they are? Why is Mikey sight, Raph hearing, and Donnie touch?

I think it's subjective, and you can interpret it in any way you deem right, I just wanna put my two cents in. Of course, there's no way of me knowing if this is accurate to Dandy's vision or not, but let me know your own thoughts!

Let's go in order, shall we?

MIKEY

I think Mikey may have been the most difficult to crack, simply because I had no idea what it could represent for his and Leo's relationship. But then I realized, it's not about him and Leo, it's about him and everyone else.

Mikey's the youngest, he's the "baby", the little one, the happy go lucky 'everything's gonna be okay!' guy. His personality paired with his age makes his family baby him or chalk up his reactions to certain situations as him being naive.

But not Leo. Leo treated him like an equal, he's the annoying older brother Mikey looks up to and admires and wants to be like. To Mikey, Leo is his badass, awesome big brother, the only one who he feels doesn't baby him.

So with Leo out of the picture, who's gonna believe him when he says he's seeing the ghost of his presumably dead brother? No one. Because he's "naive".

And they don't believe him, so he and Leo have to PROVE that Leo's alive. And only THEN do they believe it. And, as happy as he is that they can now work on fixing Leo, it still hurts. Because they don't trust him, even though he's so strong as so capable and always razzes his tazz in the coolest ways, they don't trust him, because he's young and "in denial".

Also, Mikey and Leo are probably the most chaotic duo, so them being together so much due to everything previously stated is SO fun. Their interactions are immaculate.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think Raph and Donnie are fully at fault here. Considering Leo's circumstances, Mikey was very reckless during the car chase scene, and it made Leo's situation get worse a bit. However, they need Mikey. And Mikey and Leo have an undeniable advantage with Leo being able to walk through walls and warn them for any danger through Mikey. They want a second chance, to make things right, but Donnie and Raph still said no.

I don't blame anyone though, because it's more that their circumstance is difficult and no one knows what to do, what is right or wrong.

Mikey was given that second chance, though. His brother's recognized they needed him. They wanted to bench only Leo, but that blue boy wasn't staying behind no matter what lmao. Which leads us to...

RAPH

Raph's was a bit tricky but also incredibly obvious (I don't know how that works, just roll with it).

Raph and Leo aren't the best at communicating. They end up yelling at each other most of the time. Even with the curse, they still argued through Mikey.

And Leo breaking his promise to Raph on staying behind made Raph even MORE upset. Leo could have dissapeared, he could've been GONE forever, all because he was reckless and followed them despite promising he wouldn't.

But, Raph has to admit, without Leo, they would've been SO lost in that cave, and it was ultimately a good thing that he joined them, but it was still so scary. Who knows what could have gone wrong. He isn't mad at Leo, per se, he's just mad at the circumstances. He wants to keep Leo safe, because Leo is his brother. He's almost lost Leo TWICE, he wasn't going to risk actually losing him again. He didn't WANT to risk it. It's hard to keep Leo, hell, all his brother's safe when what's safe and what's right don't align.

As the eldest, he has to make that call, and it scares him. Leo keeps putting his own well-being down, he keeps putting himself in danger for them, and it scares Raph. It scares all of them.

Raph is frustrated, he lashes out, he hurts his brother's feelings when he only wants to keep him safe. He cares so much for Leo, and he wants what's best for him more than anything, but when Leo doesn't cooperate, it frustrates him.

They have a well needed talk about it, though, and it's very beautiful. Because Leo had just had a talk with Mikey about the exact same thing, about putting oneself in danger without thinking of the consequences, and he understands how Raph feels about it now. Regardless, Raph says he's proud of him, for doing the right thing, and he is.

Raph wants Leo to understand his perspective, how he feels, and once Leo does, it makes things so much easier.

DONNIE

Donnie's is pretty straight forward and DEFINITELY the easiest to understand (at least for me) but, basically...yeah it's because Donnie doesn't like touch, but I have more!

But yes, Donnie is touch repulsed. The best indicator of such is in the movie when Raph has to make it clear that he wasn't giving a hug, it was a rescue. There's more examples but you get the gist. However, there are plenty of times in the show when Donnie is shown being physically affectionate, which leads me to believe it's something that depends on his feelings during any given moment. If he feels like it, he'll be affectionate. And, you know, having his brother almost die and now be a ghost of sorts...yeah, he's not feeling great. Which is why I LOVE him being given touch. Throughout this whole fic, Leo is HEAVILY touch-starved. Bro's a GHOST, of course he is. And now Donnie is placed in a position in which he is quite literally his touch-starved brother's ONLY source of physical affection.

He and Leo had been very distant up until that point due to being unable to, you know, interact at all, and adding the fact that Donnie, in an emotionally bad state, doesn’t like physical affection when it's sudden or in general, it's incredibly interesting to give Donnie the one sense that he's uncomfortable with. He feels bad, because Leo wants to FEEL him and hug him, but he's not in a mental state to reciprocate. He shuts down when he's stressed. That scene where he shakes off Leo's hand after threatening the fire element. Augh, chills, literal chills.

Also. I dunno, but if my ghost brother who I've only known is a ghost for a little while, was suddenly able to touch me without me being able to see it coming...yeah I would be pretty freaked out too.

Also, I think the scene where Raph hugs Donnie is very interesting, because to Leo, it means that Donnie is okay with physical touch, as long as it's not HIM. Now, both feel bad. Donnie for not being able to reciprocate Leo's...(I don't want to say 'adances' because it sound weird but I've got nothing else), and Leo for, in his mind, being 'selfish' for wanting Donnie's affection.

This whole time, Leo was gone for Donnie. Mikey could see him, Raph could hear him, but him and Leo had no way of communicating by themselves.

Which makes that scene where they finally communicate and hug SO much more impactful. When Leo hugs him first, it showed Donnie that Leo wasn't gone, he was here, with him, and he wasn't mad at him. And then Leo got a hug back, he finally, FINALLY got one after two weeks of not being able to touch anything or anyone.

And now, Donnie isn't uncomfortable with Leo's touch. Because now he not only understands that Leo desperately needs affection and he's his only way of getting it, but also Leo isn't gone. He's here, and Donnie will hold him if it means he won't dissapear again. Gosh, I love me some Disaster Twins.

I think IMBI does an incredible job at really laying out all the brother's feelings and relationships with each other in such a beautiful way. Oh my god I love fanfiction.

[nebulousbrainsoup]

Hard hours, you say? 😈

I am usually not so bold with requests. And it's quite early. ㅋㅋㅋㅋ But they got me acting up with this comeback. Specifically, Mr. Song Mingi. Just so damn disrespectful. I can't even function. 🫨

Anywhoooo. Pretty please, may I request crossing paths with sharp shooter Mingi at a bar?

You're the best and I hope all goes smoothly with your health appointments. *hugs* 🫰🏿⛰️💜

no YOU'RE the best noona 🥺 💛 the health appointments are health appointmenting in true us healthcare fashion 🤪 but I just got the first scan scheduled so there's progress!! hugs 🫂 🫰🏼sorry this took forever, my body decided it needed more than 4 hours of sleep lmaO

ANYWAY mingi has also been wrecking the absolute HELL out of me too, and he knows what he's doing to us. all the outfits??? the energy his bringing??? and i've been having so so many thoughts about the body roll in the mv like. sir that was FOUL. got me thinkin about those hips 😵‍💫 plus the "You could be my doll" line in Dune????? hello????? let's add him to the EVOLVEverse crew, shall we?

lil bit of crack at the end sorry i HAD to

masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee? | divs from @cafekitsune

smut & warnings below the cut, 18+ enjoy & minors don't touch :)

tags/warnings: fem!reader, outlaw!mingi, sharpshooter!mingi, ft. 2ho, pwp, no use of y/n, language as always, mild alcohol use, gun (singular), i know he's our soft boy but he's quite ominous, use of pet names (doll, baby, slut), slight dom!mingi, i'm on my big dick mingi agenda, semi-public sex (empty bar), oral (f!receiving), fingering, slight overstim, unprotected sex (crowd booing), lil bit of objectification & degradation, unedited

The first thing that caught your eye was whatever was spray painted over the WANTED posters outside; some amalgamation of an 'X' and a 'Z' covering the faces of Night City's infamous rebels. You scoffed, shaking your head softly. They'd be fixed in the morning, so why waste the paint?

The second thing that set you on edge was the music. Usually, on a Friday night, your favorite bar was packed to the brim with people, catching end of week drinks with coworkers, meeting with dates they'd never see again, or partying with friends. The music was barely audible inside on the slowest of weekends, much less outside the main doors. Anxiety roiled in your gut, but you continued on your path, cautiously pushing past them.

Only one man stood in the otherwise empty tavern, his eyes snapping up from the drink he was making to zero in on you, and your heart leapt into your throat. There was something dangerous about his gaze and that familiar silhouette, and you froze in place as your brain scrambled to piece the puzzle together. His lips twitched up in a smirk and, once he had put the finishing touches on his drink, he shifted to the side, revealing the WANTED poster hanging behind the bar and the rifle strapped to his back.

Fuck. You were so screwed. You took a step backward, ready to turn on your heel and bolt, forgetting you ever saw Song Mingi or knew the location of this little bar. He turned back to you, seemingly sensing your want to flee, and narrowed his eyes.

"I wouldn't," he muttered, and your feet rooted to the spot.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you stared back at him, the silence stretching to an uncomfortable level, until you finally found your voice to break it.

"W-What did you do to them?"

He tilted his head. "To who?"

"The..." you trailed off motioning around the empty bar. "Everyone. There had to be people here."

He nodded, sipping his cocktail, completely unbothered. "There were." You blinked at him, annoyance building, and gestured for him to continue. He sighed, slinging the rifle off of his back and setting it on the bartop. "When you bring one of these into a packed place like this, folks tend to scatter."

"And you let them?" He nodded. "Aren't they going to call the cops on you or something?"

Mingi snorted a laugh, downing his drink before making his way around the bar to stand in front of you. "Do I look worried to you, doll?"

You swallowed thickly, shaking your head. "C-Can I go too, then?"

He took a step back, eyes raking over you, and you felt heat flush through your body. "You could always stay for a drink. That's what you came for, isn't it?" Despite your mind's protests, you nodded. "Then have a drink with me, and tell me what a pretty thing like you is doing frequenting a place like this."

---

This was wrong, so unbelievably wrong. You should have never come in here. But you had, and now here you were, the hand of a wanted criminal resting on your thigh as your eyes darting frantically between his own and his lips. Maybe you could blame your impressive lack of restraint on the adrenaline drop you were facing, or the fact that none of this really felt real, anyway. Whether he sensed or saw your internal struggle, you weren't sure, but Mingi's hand shifted off of your thigh, catching your chin between his fingers.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You didn't know what came over you, but in an instant, you had tugged him in, slotting his lips against your own. He groaned lowly, tongue quickly swiping over your lower lip and slotting against your own as you let out a sigh. He stood from his stool and dragged you up with him, pressing your back against the bar so he could slot one of his thick thighs between your own. You whined, letting your head roll back, and once your lips parted, he let out a soft chuckle.

"Well, that's not what I was expecting, but I can't say I'm complaining."

Immediately, you wanted to wipe the proud grin off of his face, but before you could snap back at him, his lips were on yours once more.

---

Your moans echoed off of the vaulted ceilings, the music once again barely audible underneath them. Mingi was on his knees in front of you, his tongue working magic over your core and two of his thick fingers pumping in and out of you, the slick sounds adding to the symphony echoing around you. You tugged at his hair, the unending pleasure beginning to become too much as you neared your second climax, halfway between tugging him closer and pushing him away.

"M-Mingi," you whimpered, and he groaned against you, eyes blinking open slowly. "I can't, 's too quick, ha!" You jolted, grasping at the bar under you as he sucked at your clit again, another of his fingers prodding at your hole.

"One more for me, doll," he purred, slowing his pace to press inside of you. "Gotta make sure you can take my cock.

"'S too much, Mingi," you muttered halfheartedly, his name turning into a needy moan as his mouth returned to you, tongue soothing the sting of the stretch his fingers brought.

He allowed you a moment to adjust, his lips pressing a kiss to your clit and pulling a quiet sigh from you. This was a sight he could get used to, he thought, your blissed out face above him and your thighs tossed over his shoulders. His cock twitched in his too tight pants, and he groaned against you, the sensation sending your hips bucking toward him, and within moments he had picked back up his relentless pace.

---

The bliss when he finally pressed his thick cock into you was like nothing you'd ever experienced. Your lips were parted in a silent scream, only stilted, broken noises of pleasure leaving you. He chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest and felt through your back as he leaned over you, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck. The bar had proven slightly too high for even his tall stature, so he'd spun you around, bending you over a nearby table. Initially, you had protested, offering to brace yourself where you had already been standing if it meant getting his dick in you sooner, but as quickly as your thighs had begun shaking, you were glad he had taken the lead.

"S-So much," you gasped out, melting underneath him.

"Now you see why I needed to prep you so much? I don't like breaking my toys on the first use, baby." The whine that left you as he pressed in further, his words amplifying your pleasure, pulled another chuckle from him, and he ran a soothing hand over your spine. "Think about how full you're gonna feel here in a minute."

You squirmed, hips canting back toward his own, and the hand on your back shoved you into the table. "Mingi, need more. Need all of you."

"You sure you can take it, doll? You're only a little over halfway there."

You let out a frustrated groan and wiggled your hips again, twisting as well as you could to face him. "Yes, dammit. Split me open if you have to, just give me your cock."

He sneered, the hand on your back snapping up to your shoulder, clamping down to yank you back on his cock as he slammed his hips into your own. A scream ripped from your throat and you grasped at the edge of the table, your breath coming in ragged bursts and your vision going white for a moment. When it cleared again, he was running his thumb soothingly over the nape of your neck, shushing you quietly.

"See why I wanted you to be patient, baby? Hurts when you're not ready for it, huh?"

You groaned, body going lax against the table. "Hurts s' good, Min. Wanna... More," you babbled, eyes slipping shut. "Ruin me."

He clicked his tongue, smile audible. "Cock drunk for me already, huh? What a good little slut. Take what I give you nicely then, okay?"

You nodded eagerly, and at your confirmation, he set into a brutal pace. You clawed at the table frantically for anything to ground yourself against as he bent over you, lips pressed to your ear. Every grunt and growl had shivers lighting down your spine, your walls fluttering around him as heat coiled in your gut.

He had brought you to two climaxes already, watched you beg and moan for him, and from the moment he was sheathed in your tight heat, Mingi knew he wouldn't last long. He told you as much when he braced himself over you, breathing the words into your ear as he nipped at the lobe. You whimpered, shifting under him to reach for your swollen clit and letting him drape one of your knees over his arm for better access. The shift in angle had you crying out as his cockhead began to drag over your sweet spot, your pleasure amplifying tenfold.

He had no warning before you were clamping down on him hard, your orgasm triggering his own, his hips stilling with how tightly your walls gripped him. A broken groan fell from his lips as your cunt milked him for all he was worth, your own whimpers melding with it, body going limp and eyes sliding shut. When you both came back into your bodies, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and slowly pulled out of you. You bit back a pitiful noise at the loss of his warmth, slowly propping yourself up on your forearms as he reached for something to clean you both with.

For the second time that night, your heart jumped into your throat as your eyes fell on the two men standing by the doors, still rattling shut behind them. Just beyond it, you could see the familiar outline of a car, its roof topped with a light bar. The taller of them had an unimpressed look focused on your companion, while the shorter of the two was staring, wide-eyed, at you spread out on the table, his ears flushing and eyes turning to the floor the moment you caught him looking. Scrambling to put yourself back together, you opened your mouth to speak, but the taller one beat you to it, clearing his throat. Mingi spun, eyes wide for a moment as he took in the two cops, before he broke out into a grin.

"Perfect timing. Yunho, Jongho, this is... Shit, what did you say your name was?"

Your eyes went wide as the two newcomers groaned, rolling their eyes heartily. "Seriously? You're the worst," the younger one sighed, pushing the doors open and making his way back out to the car. Shaking his head, the other one quickly followed.

"See? No need to worry about the cops."

You blinked, glancing rapidly between Mingi and the door. "What the fuck?"

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