#i don't know exactly why i decided to post it but

[smdevisp]

Dark Triad isn't a triad?

This post is a spontaneous idea about Dark Triad, Fuuta's friends and himself.

There were a lot of posts about Dark Triad, it's referring to some elements of nature and other theories, and they all are interesting. I prefer to look at it in a simpler way, just a quick overview of my thoughts on these alliance.

First of all, I'm interested in these handsome guys who definitely don't have gambling addiction. Who are they?

It's known that character's closest ones have eyes, and Fuuta follows this rule too. No one in DT has eyes, their appearance is average, nothing special, just some fantasy costumes. It shows that Fuuta doesn't know these people in real life, so he can't know exactly how they look. They are just anons for him who also seek 'justice' and share his ideas. Some of them are depicted several times, probably it means that these persons Fuuta has memorized (but still doesn't have any clue about their appearance).

And everyone thinks that the pink-haired guy is Rumerie. Of course, Rumerie has played part in that 'game', it was claimed by creators (they said that one graffiti in Backdraft is a mix of Pazuzu and Rumerie). But in fact, these three guys are not linked to the DT. They are Fuuta's real friends (groupmates?), with whom he spends time in the game centre.

It's a speculation about their possible identities.

The logic is simple. When the game centre is shown up, Fuuta appears with red color, which is his inverted profile pic (first it's shown as cyan, and then it turns to red).

So, I just inverted original pfps of the guys from his university.

But for the blue one I have two variants: one that is showed above, and another one, the person who blames Fuuta for what he did to Killcheroy.

So, as it shown on the pics, people from Dark Triad have D_T in their nickname while others (and Fuuta) don't. MuscleMan, Yuta, Onizuka don't have one, and Avyxs, Rumerie, Ryuu (?), Kim (DT is written in Japanese) have. There also other people with DT, at least one named AAA.

Arguments, that those guys aren't Dark Triad:

Except those people who are shown to be Fuuta's 'game' allies, those guys have faces. They are his friends from the university, and he spends time with them.

When Fuuta reads comments on the Internet, those guys are minding their business. They don't write comments, so they don't participate in the bullying. Some of them appear later to comment on his post about harassment (because they are studying at the same university).

Fuuta is bored at the gaming centre. He tries to position himself far away from them just to check comments on Twitter. This detail can mean that his phone addiction contributed negatively to his relationship with his friends, making him distanced, and death of Mahou-chan also shook his mental state. As it's seen in the very beginning of Jihen Joutou, Fuuta doesn't even have the eyebags, but in Milgram he appears with huge ones.

And now we're returning to the title.

Dark Triad isn't a triad?

I think someone has already done that but I'll repeat.

Dark Triad isn't a triad. Triad has meaning 'three', which is Fuuta's prisoner number, and there are more than three people in DT alliance. So why it is called Dark Triad?

Possible reference to The Dark Triad theory, and now it's really about number 3.

TDT is a psychological theory about three types of personality: Machiavellianism, narcissism, and psychopathy. Let's take on closer examination and decide whether it correlates with Fuuta or not.

Machiavellianism: exploitation of others, indifference to morality, self-interest.

Narcissism: pride, egoism, lack of empathy, grandiosity, dominance.

Psychopathy: antisocial behaviour, impulsivity, egoism, lack of emotions and empathy, pathologic lie.

Fuuta inherited some of these traits. His actions are mostly oriented on his own profit, and sometimes he is hypocritical. People who have traits of Dark Triad have problems in interpersonal relationship due to their harsh behaviour. They lack honesty, kindness, mercy for others, they show antisocial behaviour; they also can have traits of neuroticism (fear, anxiety, envy, jealousy, loneliness, other negative states), irresponsibility.

DT has different forms, such as Dark Tetrade (+ sadism), Vulnerable Dark Triad. And the last here is interesting, because it mostly has the same description as classic DT, except the stimuli. Impulsivity of DT individuals is caused by external stimuli, while VDT individuals mostly rely on their own thoughts and feelings, they are introverts. Also VDT includes BPD.

Out of these I can say that Fuuta is 100% not a psychopath. This personality type doesn't actually fit any character in the cast. But psychopathy also includes using means of self-stimuli, such as gambling, addictions, search for risks. That's the only trait that can be related to Fuuta because he probably had problems with gambling before.

In fact, psychopathy is mostly about lack of empathy. These people experience distorted emotions, they can easily commit a crime impulsively and don't feel any regrets. They are unable to communicate with other people, they are hypocrites and pathological liars. This is not about Fuuta, because he is an average person.

He shows some of narcissistic traits, such as egoism, will of superiority, self-interest. Fuuta is described as kind-hearted, coward person, but his concept of 'bad' people and justice is distorted. He is unable to take the responsibility for his actions, preferring to blame someone else, not himself. And yet he seeks admiration from others, he wants to be a 'hero'.

Machiavellianism implies person thinking of other people as of tools. Fuuta, in fact, doesn't think so. He only calls Kazui a possible weapon due to his physical strength but he doesn't use it for his sake.

In fact, he shows mostly neurotic behaviour (strong reaction to stress, him thinking he can't do anything to improve his life).

So, does TDTT in fact have something with Dark Triad?

Probably, yes. It could be linked to Dark Triad members or to Fuuta in some traits, mostly neurotic and narcissistic. The question is, why this alliance is called Dark Triad, because in fact it's not about three people. Three is Fuuta's number, and also it's a number of people bullied in Jihen Joutou. And even if trying to link Dark Triad to those victims, it's impossible (because they simply don't have such traits).

I would like to see some thoughts on these too, because implying Dark Triad theory of personalities seems interesting to me.

Also, in Kim's nickname DT is written as ダークトライアド (daaku toraiado), which is also Japanese title of TDTT.

[pensbridge]

This is a thought I had before that I'm rethinking a bit since they decided to drop the trailer yesterday (bless! Oops buried this in my drafts and never got around to finishing til now)

Warning: Long post! (I'm sorry or you're welcome)

I've been trying to stay away from spoilers, so I could be totally off base here, but

Thinking about how Colin will react to Whistledown

I've already talked about Colin having to be needed, but surely there will be layers...

Colin has that line in ep. 1, where he talks about ruining LW and how she ruined his family, yeah after she rips him a new one in the paper - it's a clear deflection. This was never going to be about Marina, or his family. This is about Penelope seeing through the very real facade of Colin, and the fact that he'll believe she thinks those things of him. Because he's insecure if he'll be good enough for her. He needs to be needed, but also I assume Colin will be hurt at the deceit and mindblown at what it means when he puts the pieces together. Replaying certain moments/events, as well as oh, that's why that was so weird. moments that make him feel pain about the sincerity of their romantic relationship right ahead of their nuptials. Because up until the carriage, Colin thought Penelope couldn't see through him. That him trying to be someone else was working. That he was concealing his obvious feelings well. (And he was right; when Penelope "is this a ploy for attention" Whistledown couldn't see him foaming at the mouth and about to pass out on dance floors to know that something had changed.) The carriage was his moment of admission to everything he's been hiding from himself. And she's Whistledown! She's the one who first pointed out those things about him. She even said "does Mr. Bridgerton even know, himself?". He is going to be hurt for what he perceives is her looking down on him. He is going to feel betrayed, because it will seem like a joke he wasn't in on about himself. He's probably going to cry from that, because it will all feel unreal (maybe even like their relationship is fake and she was playing him; he's still insecure about how he's perceived and fearful of getting hurt, especially with Penelope). And the carriage will probably feel meaningless to what he believes her to view it as. like: "what do you mean you saw me pretending all this time for weeks?" Colin was on a different timeline in his feelings and when they sprung into action, they really sprung to all feel like it happened all at once for him. For Colin, it was like they spent all this time together now, he saw her for who she really is - to be less concerned for how she appears to him - and it was like something had really changed between them. And then, to know that Penelope's got an inside edition to how exactly he is maybe feeling, before he fully knows himself.. It's like he gave a full speech on that part of himself (how he portrays himself), and she already had an idea!

It's a complicated scenario, because on one hand there's this conflict between them of the secrecy and certain level of deception (Penelope having this information he's unaware to when they're supposed to be getting married), but on the other side of it Penelope sees him and knows him better than he knows himself (and I don't even think she's aware of it) - it's really the soulmatism aspect of them.

But the carriage won't be ruined. Because Colin and Pen at the core are meant to fall for each other due to seeing the sum of all their parts. Colin now sees Pen, which as I was saying before was not possible without Penelope dropping her crush veil and acting unnaturally around him. Like, right now, he's sure he loves her, because the pieces clicked in the past few weeks. Pieces clicked that he's not even fully aware how or why they come together, and there's a subconscious feeling to the things that can't be explained. I mean, when he goes to see Penelope outside her house and she's like "Whistledown did not want to seem suspicious;" (girl, wtf ), that's a piece to Penelope that he doesn't have the answers to, but he senses. It's all going to make sense once he has time to process and be privy to the hidden pieces of why they are compatible. But, sometimes things just fall perfectly into place without the why.

And he still doesn't know about her feelings prior to the carriage. Like, he thinks, "we both got closer over the past few weeks and we fell for each other through that" (he knows Penelope has always been a constant and that his feelings go back far deeper although he can't pinpoint an exact moment, but up until she reveals it, he's not gonna think she feels that (he probably thought they both fell through the kiss); like they were just good friends and somehow those moments in the past weeks have awakened something in them that neither has realized until this moment).

But that obviously won't last for long. Same as a fight (most likely) won't extend into this long drawn out thing of actual opposition.

And back to the Marina vs Pen debate, the answer to the difference is as simple as this: he didn't love her; he loves Pen! There's nothing more complicated about it; it wasn't real and that goes beyond just the willing deceit of Marina. I could talk about the rose- colored glasses romance/love idealization trope and how that's important to the development (*cough how the change to the show makes sense*), but the crowd isn't ready for that. [I love Marina, therefore her slander will not be allowed here]. But I'll just say the illusion of someone vs knowing someone is going to be the biggest difference [and the greatest catalyst (more on that later)] for how this plays out. Despite not knowing the Whistledown secret, Colin knows Penelope.

It's funny how similar they really are. They're both over-romanticizers. They're idealistic and they both idealized someone and had the pedestal knocked down. We already saw Pen's moment for this, the vital poor declaration moment at the ball. Now, I'm thinking Colin is going to have to battle this idea. He loves her, we know this! We also know that Colin can be impulsive for all of it's good and bad qualities. He is going to have to fight this idea where he acts towards his deepest insecurities. He's sitting outside the bedroom, so it looks promising (lol)! He's angry, but he's ruminating and he's internalizing all of that confusion and fear (I know they'll fight ofc, but for the little moments like that..). He thinks love is a thunderbolt in the sky, not that he fell for her like that, but that love is grand, fairytale-ish; he is a true romantic. His proposal shows as much for his his gestures of grandiosity. He's over the moon about the engagement and he's in a happy bubble after the swift timeline of the realization of their feelings. He'll have to break this idea. Because Colin didn't know love before Penelope. In the conflict of the Whistledown reveal, he'll see that love isn't always this gradiose thing. But that it's moments, being fully understanding of one another, wanting the person, seeing them, and (very important for his development) having them see you. Because that's what REAL love is. He'll actually see the real her and the full picture. Thus, we can actually get the real love confession where he says it. His perfect love idea will be shattered, but the end point will be sweet and more worthwhile than actually not knowing someone. They'll have a deep, dork bond, full love connection for life!

[yourbigendergremlet-temp]

Since someone asked, i decided im going to tell my change from biggot to queer

So when i was little, i didn't really know what being queer meant, i guess at some point i learned that "gay" meant a man loving a man or a woman loving a woman.

My exposure to the lgbt+ community was non existant and my family tried to shelter me from it i guess.

I don't remember the order of events ckearly but i remember once i was in sundayschool. They were talking abiut how being gay is a sin, and i remember speciifically one of the girls saying "my liittle sister thinks she is gay so im trying to show her that she's not" and that stands out to me still, that girl meant well i know, but she just didn't understand that being queer isn't a bad thing.

Either way when i did hear those terms "gay" ot was always with "bad" and i guess that was just what i understood.

(I also remember once when i was very little in school the teacher talked about a 'man' who believe that he was a girl so much that he was able to give birth, but that can't happen, she descrived it in a way that seemed absurd, as if the person was insane from what i remember, and only recently i remembered that and am wondering if that person was a transwoman, and if my primary school teacher was being transphobic)

In secondary school was when i started getting more exposed to queer identities. I hung out with my friends and i remember one time one of them said she was looking at a female character because she had a crush in her and i told her why that was wrong, that "its a fictional character!" And "she's the same gender as you!"

And my friend said "oh so youre homophobic, thats fine" and the bell went and we went to different lessons. I didn't know what the term homophobic meant, but the tone that my friend said that in, i could tell i made a mistake.

Even though i wasn't that big of a biggot, i still feel unenending shame about that exchange.

Things are blurry from there, but i started to learn more about the lgbt+ community because of my friends, one of them came out to us through a note basically saing they were nonbinary and bisexual. I didn't know the labels but they described the experience.

From there i learned other labels, polyamory from another friend, etc. I remember there were still some labels that i felt sceptical of, that they made no sense, but i was still learning. Also paired with the fact that i have a highly religious and strict family so exploring this kind of thing even as an ally was impossible.

In these times i decided i would start trying to figure my sexuality out. Ive made posts about my sexuality and gender already, but it was around this time where i actually discovered the label bigender. It was a digital drawing of a character in the flag colours (the blue, purple, pink one) and i asked them what the flag meant, they explained it to me, and while i found it cool, i wouldn't realise i was bigender until quite a few years later.

Also there was a kid who was genderfluid at school, and i remember finding that so cool, huh, i wonder why....

So through those years i was an ally to my friends. I tried the label aromantic for a slight while but shed that really quickly, and remained as the cishet ally to my friend group who were all changing and steadily coming out as different labels. I even joked that "i am the last straight one in the group"

And i don't remember exactly how it happened, but one day i was standing in front of my mirror doing my hair, and i guess whatever thoughts i was having recalled me to that twitter post with the bigender drawing, and i had actually decided to consider it. I searched about it here on tumblr for about a week or two and while i was trying my hardest not to think it was true, it just glued itself to me, and i relised quickly that i was bigender.

It took me a while to come to terms with it, but the rest is history

-----

I was not really a biggot rather than just a misinformed and sheltered kid under an extremely religious household, and this post was more of just me discovering lgbt+ people and labels, but i hope this was somewhat interesting to look at.

(This has been in my drafts for a few days now cuz i forgot about it D:)

[damnation-if]

hey guys, i just wanted to thank everyone so so so much for all the support i received yesterday. waking up this morning was literally overwhelming with how many kind people chose to help me out and i'm eternally grateful. having two more weeks of security in the place i'm staying is literally. a lifesaver and i can't thank you all enough <3

in some hopefully cool news we are fast approaching 2000 followers! i mentioned it a little in the tags of my last post but i've been making tentative plans for ideas on what to do as a celebration... i Had been thinking about doing a side game and submitting it to the orifice game jam (the theme is. very appropriate for this game after all XD) but apparently game jam entries get uploaded by other people to a kind of database where despite it being an unranked jam everyone is pretty critical with their ratings and that's not really my vibe for a silly side-game that assumes some familiarity with the characters already for a follower celebration i guess.

so i suppose i'll just have to make an orifice-themed side game outside of the jam LMAO 😏

i have a decent idea of what i want to do with it... now that i'm not doing the game jam i might expand it just a Leetol cos i'd like to finally use polls on here and maybe give you guys some things to vote on about it lmfao. but we'll see how it goes! thank you all again <3

[fly-sky-high-scug-game]

Not to generalize fans but it's been a reoccurring theme on my dash to see artists I follow either being poked fun of or "criticized" for their rw art or character interpretations and it has me like

?????

[defiant-firefly]

In terms of what I've been up to lately, I'm planning on massively overhauling my bedroom (I still live with my parents and with the way the economy is going, I seriously doubt that's gonna change any time soon) because these meds have made me more aware of just how badly I need a space that suits me. I have big ideas, and hopefully this treatment stuff will help me realise them, even if it takes for fucking ever. Like, the skills I'd need to learn for this would be quite numerous I would say so yeah it's a difficult project, but a big one I can gradually work on over time with other stuff I wanna do so maybe I'll get somewhere with it. Literally, after we moved here years ago, we put wall paper on one wall and I had plans to paint the rest of the room but I did one wall, and an unfinished pegasus onto it and we did nothing else to it. Same with the rest of the house honesly. Only room that got finished was the paint in the kitchen. After all this time, the exact same off-white walls everywhere and the grey carpets have kinda killed it for all of us I think, but now that I have an actual emotional requirement for a room that's comfy, cosy, and very much me, I'm gonna see if I can change that.

Dad also says if I actually go ahead with my little dream project of putting a train track high up on the wall that goes all around the room, and it actually looks good (cause I don't do things by halves okay I will take the idea and run marathons with it), he'll let me put another one in the living room themed on the ocean. It pissed mum off because it's not something you're supposed to have in a living room, and she doesn't want any guests assuming the worst, but she's wrong. An ocean themed model railway around the room would be unique, interesting, fun, and loved by everyone worth the time of day, in my humble, totally unbiased opinion.

Speaking of mum, she's gained an interest in making the garden look nice. We were gonna work on a pond and stuff together but she's kinda just doing her own thing so I'm gonna get a bunch of Diglett and Dugtrio garden ornaments and gradually hide them around the place until she notices. She won't stop me! She's used to my shit! But I'm wondering how much I can get away with before she notices the Diglett takeover lmao

[94erz]

At this point I think I have to accept we’re not getting anything until Indigo actually comes out or very close to, sometime after the 21st. One part of me has reached the whatever stage while the other part of me is still like, what the fuck?!

Do I get it? Not really. But I haven’t been able to make sense of a lot of shit that’s been happening since the summer. I don’t think they do either given how last minute everything has been.

I hope someone makes a documentary years after BTS disband that does an insane deep dive into them that includes this era because I would be fascinated to know what the game plan was. Since we’ll never know from the company and I don’t see any of the members doing a tell-all. Even though I would live for that, a book or otherwise. Specifically from Namjoon’s perspective ‘cause I think if anyone would write a good book it’d be him.

[fantabulisticity]

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT I HAVE DRAMAAAAAAAA

So, you know how I JUST FUCKING BARELY signed a lease at a new apartment? Today I walked into the kitchen to (nicely) ask my landlord to get her shit out of the washer so I could do laundry (her sheets have been in there for 3 days), and I saw THIS SHIT on the counter

The note reads:

Everyone -- IMPORTANT

I have severe damage in roof. May be needing to have house temp severely lowered this winter. Don't know if could be mold.

Contractors are months (year) out although am working with a no-longer-contractor and have talked to one of the best known roofing contractors in [town].

[Below paragraph is underlined]

I am closing the house down and will be sending lease termination notices. Obviously you could leave earlier.

Dec. 20 will be last day.

[Scribbled out] Ridge vent has been leaking maybe since installed 10+ years ago.

HOLY SHIT. I GOT OUT JUST IN TIME.

Idk if y'all remember the fucking FIGHTING about fixing the leaking roof with my last landlord, but this time the leak is so bad we're all getting kicked out altogether.

I am SO FUCKING GLAD I already found a place. Fucking hell.

[danzafila]

> tries to take charge of her mental health

> ends up w/ a $200 er bill for her troubles

womp womp

[mashkaroom]

from just the first episode i thought wednesday was kind of tropey and i didn’t really like what it did with the addams family canon BUT it’s just unbelievable how 100% perfectly they captured my 5th grade escapist fantasies. being a hypercompetent morbid weirdo who went to a boarding school whose whole aesthetic, theme, and curriculum was centered around death and danger and who was also a successful novelist and solved mysteries was so exactly what i dreamed about that i’m enjoying watching it just because it scratches that old itch with surgical precision

[benevolentslut]

.

[iiboronii]

organic chemistry will have you acting like you're invincible to various hazardous chemicals

[heavenbarnes]

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

-

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

-

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

-

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

-

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

-

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

[aghoststolemystories]

I hope I grow out of my father's eyes. I hope one day I look in the mirror and no longer catch a glimpse of everything he thought about me.

[martiansodas-blog]

too pretty to think.

when art started to slip, it almost felt like falling asleep…

a. donaldson x reader

word count: 2,216

contents: dumbification, body worship, face sitting, multiple orgasms, cuming untouched, brief mommy kink, subspace, nicknames and pet names, this is freak nasty.

Xx

The first time 

You and Art have been going steady for 6 months and you loved every second of it. the two of you mostly hung out at your place, it's a tad cleaner than his dorm and he never bothered with things like decorations. It was a haven for the both of you. So when your Blackberry buzzed with a message asking,

“r u home?” 

It was hardly out of the ordinary.

“yeah. just changed clothes”

“can i come over?”

“of course”

Donaldson is a man who never knows when to quit. Let's rephrase: He’ll only quit when instructed to. 

He treats his body like a machine. He eats what his nutritionist tells him to, he pushes his body to the limit, and he rarely turns in a paper late. 

When you opened your front door your boyfriend was in chaotic ruins. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks were stained. He stared at the floor with his calloused hands in his pockets.

“Oh my gosh, what happened?? What’s wrong?”

Your tone had urgency as you ushered him inside. Once the door is closed he pulls you in for a hug. You don’t dare speak, just hug back. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. 

It’s obvious he’s trying to hold himself together, but stroking his back caused him to break.

“Aw, baby,” 

You sway him from side to side. 

“Shh, it’s ok. I’m here.”

After a few minutes, Art regained control of his breathing. You put him at arm's length—your voice just above a whisper. 

“Would you like to come lay down with me? We don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to, let's just get you comfortable.”

Art sniffles and nods his head—your poor baby. 

You held his hand and led the way to your room. You sat on your bed with your back against the wall so he could lay between your legs. He often takes this position when you guys are watching movies so it will add a level of comfort for him. 

Art takes some deep breaths as you run your nails through his hair. 

“We got a new coach and he- he’s so intense. I don’t know. I’ve been berated by coaches since I was 13. Why the hell is this one affecting me differently?” 

You twist one of his curls in your fingers. 

“Everything's just so much right now. Schoolwork, post-graduation plans, sponsorships… There's so much going on all the time. I- I can’t do it.” 

Your heart broke for him. 

“I’m so sorry, Artie. I wish I could take it all away from you.”

You rubbed his arms and back for who knows how long. It could have been hours. You didn’t care. You’d cancel your week's agenda if that’s what he needed. You weren’t getting up until he felt better. 

You analyzed his words.

“It’s not that you’re unable to make decisions, and it’s not that you make bad decisions. It’s just that decisions are constant unrelenting work… is that an accurate assessment?”

He nodded and sighed into your shirt like you were the one person in the world who understood him. 

“...And a good boy like you should never have to work.” 

Art froze. 

Well, that’s new. 

You decided to test the waters further and put on your most sultry voice. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll think for you.” 

He let out a sound that can only be described as a mewl. His body curled into a semi-circle. 

You swept some hair out of his eyes, they seemed to get droopier.

I don't know what exactly is transpiring he’s responding to it.

“Let your thoughts go. You don’t need them.” 

Eyes are fully closed now.

“Can you unclench your jaw for me? That’s it.”

He does as he's told, falling deeper into whatever hollow you're creating. He bites back a smile but his blush is evident. So easy to get him to blush. One of his cutest attributes.

Next step is Moving your handsome boy to lay on his stomach so you can rub his shoulders. You hear him sigh while the tension is worked out of his muscles and watch him relax under your hands. 

Walking him through some deep breaths while you place dozens of soft, light kisses on his neck. 

You want to make him understand what a privilege it is to have him.

Rubbing his thighs and calves, slowly melting away the stress of the day. Kisses on the backs of his knees while he laughs and tells you to stop that and that it tickles.

Helping him turn over to lie on his back and climbing carefully on top to straddle him.

You toy with the hem of his shirt. 

“Can I take this off?”

He looks up at you. mouth open and nods. 

It causes you to giggle. 

“Thank you.” 

Once that’s out of the way your hands wander up to his chest while trailing more impossibly light kisses down his Adam's apple. Massaging his chest, squeezing and grabbing and just feeling his skin. 

Kissing his collarbones, trailing your tongue along the dip where they meet under his neck. Slowly working that boy up with teasing touches that only get more and more unbearable.

Slowly returning to his lips to kiss him again while you reach down to trail your fingertips over his cock. He pants and whines so sweetly into your mouth while you play with his cock. You're not even trying to make him cum-- not yet. 

I could do this all day. 

Letting him drift in a fuzzy-headed space while you work your fingers soft and slow over his pants. Doesn't need to worry about anything but your hands on his body. You're right here to keep him safe and make him feel good.

“There's nothing I love more than watching my brilliant, polite, well-spoken boyfriend turn mindless.” 

Art whined and bucked his hips up to meet your hand.

“I need to be in you so bad. Please.”

Who are you to refuse him?

“Don't worry baby, I’ll give you what you want.” 

You slid off him and he reached for you, like he couldn’t stand you being an inch away for any amount of time. You chuckled and took off your bottoms and underwear, he copied. 

You hopped back on top of him, which made him break out into a smile. His girl was about to take care of him. 

You grabbed his cock and started stroking him. 

“I don’t know if I’m wet enough, Artie.”

“Sitonmyface.” He begged all in one breath. 

You bit your lip so as not to laugh at him. It wasn’t in a mean way, no no! He was just so excited about it. It’s adorable and flattering all at the same time.

“Are you sure? We’ve never done that before.”

We haven’t done a lot of this before. 

He shamelessly nodded. Grabbing your waist with both hands and shifting your body up before you could protest. 

“I don’t want to crush you.”

At this point, he was panting. A dog seconds away from getting a treat. 

“You won’t.” 

Art has eaten you out before, and it’s been wonderful. But this? This is a new kind of ecstasy. 

His tongue reaches new trenches. 

And that fucking nose. It bumped your clit every time. You were gasping and making noises you didn’t know were possible. His mouth is memorizing your folds. He's getting off on your arousal.  His tip is red and hurting, but can barely care when a taste crafted just for him is on his lips. 

“Shit. Just like that.” 

Your thighs trapped his face, your breath hitched with every thrust, and your walls clenched around his tongue. 

“Oh god, oh god,” 

Truthfully, Art didn't know which of you came first. 

The only thing he knew was your body. 

You shuffled down and kissed all over his face which was covered in your release. 

“You made mommy feel so good.”

He smiled up at you. He was so proud that he could do that for you. Like it was his purpose in life. And oh did he love that nickname. It made him feel all soft, like when you recall a fond memory. 

“Do you want Mommy to sit on your cock?” 

He whimpered and nodded. 

You lined yourself up with him and sank. It was so easy due to both of your juices, you had to concentrate on lowering slowly so he didn’t bottom out too fast. 

The two of you moaned in unison. It was almost tantric. Even though the focus here is on Art, it’s impossible not to feel the same pleasure. It wasn’t just your sexualities that were aligned but your souls. The love you felt for each other was palpable. 

It didn’t take long for him to bottom out. But it wasn’t enough. You ground your hips into him, causing his voice to raise an octave. 

“Oh fuck. Hnnn! Fuck, feels so good, please.”

He was babbling nonsense, unable to create cohesive thoughts or keep any sounds in. 

You remove his hands clutching the sheets and replace them with your own. To bring him back to earth. 

When he couldn’t get enough he bucked his hips up into yours. Moving aimlessly, mindlessly. You held his hips down to the mattress and bounced on his dick. The sounds of his cock hitting your weeping entrance were insanely beautiful and sinful to listen to. 

“Such a good boy.” 

His dick jumped inside of you at that. Seemingly of its own volition. 

You shifted to pepper kisses on his jawline. The new position forced his cock to rub all kinds of new places. You nearly collapsed onto him from the shock. Heavy exhales leave your mouth. Your pussy suffocates his cock. 

“My good boy. Just a dumb little thing for me to use isn't that right.”

Art came on the spot. No warning. His skin flushed and curls were damp on his forehead. Words were coiled at his throat, coming out as broken sobs, wanting more. 

You rode him until it was clear he'd finished. 

“Did you cum for me, baby?”

“Yes. I'm sorry I should’ve said something I couldn't help it. Felt too good, I didn’t -“

“Shh sweetheart, you did nothing wrong. You can cum in me as many times as you like. That's what I’m here for. That’s what this,” you clenched around him, “is for.” 

“Fuck.” his breath quivering. He arched his back, sensitive little thing. 

“I love it when you spill yourself into me. it’s so warm in here now.” 

You placed his hand on your lower stomach, your womb. 

“Can we go again please?”

“Are you sure? I don't want to push you.”

He shuffled so you were both sitting up. causing you to gasp. His erection never left, and it’s ever so prevalent right now. 

“Please! Wanna keep myself buried here forever.” 

It was hard to remain the level-headed one after hearing that. 

“You make me so wet when you say that, Artie.” 

There's drool coming from his mouth as he watches you talk. Nothing behind those eyes.

“So wet and needy.” 

You soften your voice, and when you talk it’s into his mouth. 

“You gonna let me take you again?”

He groaned and nodded, then ferociously kissed you. He wrapped his strong arms around your torso and immediately disliked how much fabric was between the two of you. He ripped your t-shirt and sports bra off in nearly one motion. Sighing when he felt skin on skin.

“I’m going to play with you until there's nothing in that head except my name.”

And you did. You fucked him till his brain turned to mush. Till it felt so good he thought he was going crazy, till he couldn’t even hear how loud he was being. Just blissed out being pulled back into your cunt. 

What an honor, to have such an obedient, adoring boy like him. 

You let him stay like that, floaty and sweet until he fell asleep to whispered praises. 

“My good boy. You did such a good job for me.”

A kiss to his forehead. 

“You know I love you so much.”

Tucked under the covers.

“So good for me, honey. You're okay. I'm proud of you. You're all mine, and I'm all yours.”

You raked your nails along his back.

“Relax, It'll all be there for you tomorrow. But for right now, all you need to be is my good, sweet boy. And you are.”

You moved off the bed which concerned Art. 

“Are you leaving?” 

He looked like he could cry. You cradled his face. 

“No baby boy, of course not. I’m only getting you some water. I’ll be right back” 

You spoke to him like a child bedridden with a cold. It was clear the comedown was something intense and never experienced before. He needed you next to him right now.

“Alright lovely, I know you’re tired but have a few drinks of this for me.”

You guided the water bottle into his mouth till you were satisfied with the amount he got in his system. 

“Rest now. I’ll cuddle you.” 

The blonde fell asleep immediately in your embrace and you hoped it wouldn't be the last time you took his thoughts away.

[lxkeee]

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE

PART TWO

pairing: Lucifer x fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fanfiction

notes: lmaoo sorry it took awhileee I'm actually a very busy college student while simultaneously having so much brainrot for this man so... Be patient omfg, I just posted part one a two days ago 😭 also, don't mind the warnings too much as it doesn't specifically for this specific chapter but it can be future parts of the story. So yes, hand holding before marriage will happen between Lucifer and [y/n]

warnings: none except hand holding before marriage lmao.

PART ONE | PART THREE

The princess of hell along with her girlfriend was just settling in the guest room heaven provided for them temporarily as they had an important meeting with them.

Charlie and Vaggie stopped talking as their was a knock on their door, “Who do you think is it?” Charlie asked and Vaggie shrugged and Charlie decided to open the door.

There stood a rather tall female angel with three pairs of wings and a golden halo on her head, the short white dress accompanied by gold compliments the woman's figure beautifully.

Safe to say both Charlie and Vaggie were mesmerized, the woman before them was drop dead gorgeous. Though, Vaggie was still cautious, despite a former angel, she doesn't know who this woman is as some seraphim angels tend to not show themselves to the lower ranking aside from Sera.

“Are you Princess Charlotte? The daughter of Lucifer?” the woman asked with her [e/c] eyes sparkling in excitement, the woman quickly placed her hands over her mouth in embarrassment, “Oh! Sorry for the intrusion, I forgot to introduce myself,” she says with a small smile before giving the two girls a curt bow, “My name is [y/n], a seraphim. It's a pleasure to meet you two.”

Charlie gave her a big grin, giving the woman a curt bow. The princess of hell decided to trust her as she couldn't sense any bad intentions from the older woman and to her, the name [y/n] sounded awfully familiar, she just forgot where she had heard it before. “It is so nice to meet you, I am Charlotte but you can call me Charlie.” Charlie said and [y/n] just grinned as Vaggie decided to just watch the two, still cautious. The older woman's eyes landed on Vaggie and she gave her a grin, “And who might you be?” she asked her and Vaggie just glared at her before avoiding her gaze, “Vaggie.”

[Y/n] just grins, her eyes analyzing the gray haired woman before letting out a small hum before shifting her gaze to the princess. [Y/n]'s heart ached a little to see how much the girl looked exactly like her father. [Y/n] misses him, she wished she did something that could have prevented his fall. Regrets always comes last. She took a deep breath then once more wore a bright smile on her face. Charlie noticed the shift of her mood but decided not to question it.

“So Charlie, I came here as I was curious what your plan for hell is about.” [y/n] says softly, she wasn't there during the meeting Lucifer requested for hell and this time, she promised to be there for his daughter instead. Charlie's eyes sparkled excitedly, excited that an angel aside from that bitch ass Adam would finally listen to her. “Really?!” The princess asked excitedly and [y/n] can only let out a soft chuckle, “Of course, why don't we take a walk while you tell me about it? Your friend can join us too.”

Charlie calmed down and gave the older woman a smile, “Vaggie here is actually my girlfriend.” she says, expecting the older woman to judge her but she was surprised when [Y/n] just ruffled her hair. “My apologies, I didn't know.”

The younger girls were surprised, that an angel didn't show any disgust to their relationship and she even looked like she approved.

“Now then, how about that walk?”

“And that's what I'm planning, I wished for my people to find redemption and join heaven.” Charlie explained softly, taking a bite of her strawberry cheesecake. Both [y/n] and Charlie sat in a rather peaceful cafe in heaven, angelic sigils circling around them as [y/n] casted them for their privacy. [Y/n] can only smile as she listens to the younger girl who rambles about her plans for her people, [y/n] can't help but remember how similar Charlie is to her father, oh heavens... She missed him so much.

Vaggie didn't join them unfortunately, she said that she wanted to rest a little bit in the guest room.

[y/n] gracefully placed down the cup of coffee she was sipping and gently wiping her lips with a napkin, “That is truly admirable Charlie, to see you have so much hope for your people really reminds me of your father. I really hope it will come to life.” the compliment was almost enough for Charlie to burst into tears, to hear someone praise her plans and believe in it, it felt like a mother praising her.

Though, she was able to stop her tears as she realizes something. Reminds me of your father. [Y/n] and her dad knew each other.

Then Charlie remembers, the stories her dad told her about heaven and the stories he told her about his closest angel friend—the only one who believed in him. She remembers thinking that she felt her dad loved that angel in one way or another, with how fondly he spoke of her—with so much adoration.

“I remember now, you were my father's best friend!” Charlie gasped, a hand over her mouth and [y/n] can only chuckle, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Were? I still think of him as my best friend.” She chuckles softly, “Though, I don't blame him if he doesn't think the same way as I wasn't able to help him back then.” she continues sadly and Charlie had to wave her arms around to stop her, “Nonono, my father doesn't think like that. You're still his best friend.” Charlie reassured the older woman.

“Really now? How is he these days? I haven't heard from him after so many eons.” [y/n] asked softly with a slight chuckle and Charlie can only sigh with a small smile on her face, “Well... He's still how he usually is. Kind, trying his best for me, and lately he had an obsession with making rubber ducks.” she says with a small giggle making the older woman chuckle, “Thay sounds like him, though surprised that he still loved ducks. He used to ramble to me about random duck facts when he was still here. He was such a dork, I truly missed him.” [y/n] says with a chuckle, a longing look in her eyes.

Charlie was able to put two and two together, her father and this woman loved each other and she can only assume they didn't confess in the fear of ruining their friendship. Charlie loves her parents but a part of her is hoping in a different universe, her father and [y/n] are happy together.

Charlie decided not to mention it to the woman and just continued hanging out with the older woman. “I am sure he misses you too.”

“The meeting will start in a few hours and Charlie?” [y/n] says softly before summoning a wax sealed white envelope out of thin air, gold sparkling from where the envelope is as it slowly falls into her hands. Charlie looked at her in curiosity, “Can I ask you a favor?” [y/n] asked her hesitantly and Charlie just nodded, “Of course!”

“Can I ask you a favor of delivering this letter to Lucifer?” She asked and gently extended her hand towards the younger girl in which the girl accepted the letter and placed it in her chest pocket. “Of course! My father would be delighted to hear from you.”

“Thank you, Charlie. I appreciate it dearly.” [y/n] smiled softly as she stood up from her seat, extending her hand to help the hell princess up from her seat. “Now, let me walk you back to your room so you can get ready for your meeting.”

Now the princess of hell wishes the other angels were just as understanding as [y/n]. Even though the meeting didn't go as planned, she felt reassured as both Emily and [y/n] were there in the court room.

“What are we even talkin' about? Some crack-whore who fucked up already? He blew his shot, like the cocks in his mouth. This discussion is senseless and petty.” Lute sneers with an annoyed glare, putting on her mask. Though, Charlie can feel her patience thinning, her eyes glaring at the angels.

The other angels looking down on the scene happening below, [y/n] looking worried for her while glaring at Adam and Lute. “There's no question to be posed, he's unholy, case closed. Did you forget that 'Hell is forever'?” Adam and Lute sang mockingly and [y/n] could feel her anger starting to boil. She always hated Adam, that egoistical prick, she looked up at Sera as if asking her to stop this nonsense.

“A man only lives once, we'll see you in one month. Gotta say, I can't wait to—” Adam sang and [y/n] noticed Sera getting worried, “Adam.” Sera says sternly but it seems the man was too busy to hear her, “Come down and exterminate you!”

At that moment, loud ringing was only what [y/n] heard as she was shocked to hear him say that. Exterminate...? Don't tell me...? [Y/n] asked herself before glaring at Sera, the other angels were also shocked by the reveal.

“Wait!” Emily exclaimed, shocked by the reveal and Adam just noticed his slip up, “Shit.”

“What are you saying? Let me get this straight, you go down there and kill those poor souls?” Emily asked, horrified as she slowly flies down towards Charlie, holding her hand, “You didn't know?” Charlie asked and Emily shook her head. “Whoops!” Adam says, not a care in the world, “Guess the cat's out of the bag.” Lute says with a smirk, “What's the big deal?” Adam asked with a condescending smirk and [y/n] wished she could go down there and punch him.

“Sera, tell me that you didn't know...” both Emily and [y/n] asked simultaneously, though, Sera was just looking at Emily. [Y/n] was pissed at this whole revelation, human souls are killed in heaven by the hands that are supposed to be pure holiness. To think about blood staining those hands, fills her with disgust.

The whole courtroom was a mess, [y/n] doesn't remember what exactly happened. The reveal that Vaggie was an angel didn't surprise her, she can sense the girl's angelic blood but the reveal that Sera was the one who ordered for the extermination to happen, filled her with rage.

“Charlie! Don't lose hope! We will find a way to help you!” Emily says as we watched Vaggie and Charlie be sucked by a portal back to hell, “Don't give up! We'll find a way!” [y/n] added, making sure the two girls heard. Sera glared at her and [y/n] glared back.

That's what Charlie last saw, Emily looking worried and disappointed but what worried her was Sera and [y/n] started arguing, angelic powers starting to spark between them and that was the last thing she saw as she returned back in hell. Thankfully, the letter was safe in her pocket.