#‘sliding over her like little invisible tongues’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-delusion-corner · 4 months

Text

𝔚𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔰 - 𝔐. 𝔉

𝔖𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔟𝔬𝔶𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔐𝔢𝔤𝔲𝔪𝔦 𝔦𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢𝔡, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔞 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔧𝔬𝔟 𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔫 𝔲𝔭

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: 𝔒𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔰𝔢𝔵 (𝔐𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤) , 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔧𝔬𝔟, 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔧𝔬𝔟, 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔭𝔢𝔱 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰, 𝔐𝔢𝔤𝔰 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢

𝔚𝔠: 2k

"I promise! A blowjob will feel so good, i'd be gentle with you!"

You cooed, your fingertips drawing invisible patterns into your boyfriend's clothed chest. The rain was pounding on his dorm window and the air was dreary at the school, everyone had chosen to stay in for their day off, including you and Megumi. And you'd had the idea of sucking him off for the first time, but he wasn't so sure.

"i...i don't know, we're in the dorms...that's...not even slightly weird to you?"

"No! It's only Yuji who's next door and he's not the brightest egg in the basket!"

Megumi gave out a light chuckle as he turned his blue eyes to look at you, running a gentle hand over the knots in your hair. He thought on it for a moment, and he definitely would like to feel what it's like to get a blowjob...and for it to be you doing it...definitely turned him on. He groaned, looking up at the ceiling as he rubbed his hand over his face.

"You know what? fine, fine. You can...give me...a blowjob"

You squealed at your proposition gaining agreement, shooting upright on his dorm bed and giving him a soft grin. You bit the hairband on your wrist and held it between your teeth as you fondled your hair back, pulling it into a messy ponytail and securing it with the band. Megumi sighed as he watched, it's not that he didn't want this...the thought of your lips wrapped around his cock made him shift in the confinement of his pants. He was just scared of getting caught.

"Relax! You'll love it i promise"

Reassuring him with simple words, you shifted your thighs over his lap, settling down comfortably and hooking your knees by his hips. He stayed silent for a moment, running his hands up and down the flesh of your thighs before rolling his eyes and nodding. His fingers of his right hand threaded into your tied hair and urged your head forward, sealing your lips in a gentle kiss.

Passionately wrapping you arms around the boy's neck you pushed your chest forward, slowly and sensually moulding her lips to the thin line of his, pressing baby kisses into his mouth. Your hand slid up the back of his head, kneading into his fluffy hair and gripping it, pushing his head deeper into a kiss with yours as he ran his hand up the back of your thigh, giving your ass a slight squeeze on its journey up to your hip.

Pushing your tongue out of your lips, you teased it along his bottom lip, wetting the flesh and co-ercing him to open his mouth to fill it with the muscle. He groaned, tilting back slightly and opening his jaw, allowing entry to your eager tongue as you pushed a bit of it into his mouth. You both made small o shapes with your plush lips, battling between tongues as they darted slowly in and out of each others mouths. You grunted softly into his mouth, sliding your free hand down to hold onto his wrapped around your hip.

With a gentle movement, you began to drive your hips slowly into his lap, grinding your clothed lower region over his covered cock. He caught on immediately, practically growling into your mouth as his fingers squeezed into the flesh of your hip, aiding you in your act of dry humping on his lap.

At the clothed friction beginning to welcome itself between the 2 of you, simultaneous low whimpers were passed back and forth like saliva. The way your hips rotated to grind into his lap, giving him the stimulation to his cock that he'd need to get hard, he got a little needy, forcing your body to rub deeper into his semi hard crotch.

You pulled your lips from his, opening your mouth and licking up the saliva string between you as you shared a heavy breath, smiling into each others eyes before reconnecting the sloppy tongue battle with a level of intimacy that hit both of you in the stomach.

Weaving your hand out of his hair you dragged it down his clothed chest, slipping a little further back on his lap as you found the cold metal buckle of his belt. With a skilled hand you unhooked the clasp and loosened it off, pulling your lips from his again with a pink tinted face.

"Lay back pretty boy, and relax f'me okay?"

His feminine eyes met yours with a lustful look, as he rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip to remove the spit you'd left in place. You dragged your wet lips down his neck, pushing him to lean back further onto his headboard as you sucked at a spot of skin by his collarbone, bringing the blood to the skin. You teethed at the flesh softly, nipping it as you kissed down, leaving the area to form a little bruise of love.

You looked up at him as both of your hands met his crotch, undoing the button of his pants and slipping his belt out of the loops. He was panting, breathing heavily, groaning ever so slightly in a lewd manner when you shuffled off of his lap, moving down the bed to line your pretty face up with his crotch.

Both hands dug into his pants, pulling the tight waistband down to his thigh, easing some of the pressure off of his hardening cock. A smirk appeared on your face at the bulge in his boxers, gently bringing a hand to palm his semi hard length.

"Getting hard for me so easily, good boy."

He huffed, a blush spreading across his face in heat as he looked away at the submissive nickname. He didn't watch as you pulled his boxers away from him, sliding them down his thighs. But he heard the gasp that left you when his hardened length sprung free from his slacks, slapping up promptly onto his stomach.

"You never told me you were this big"

The sound of your voice came out in a soft growl as you gently ran your thumb over the slit at his tip, spreading the beading precum across his cock head. He groaned, clamping his hand over his mouth as he looked at you over his fingers.

"You...never really... asked...and i...don't brag..?"

In response, you fluttered your eyelids at him as you dragged your hand down the side of his hardened length, leaning over and spitting on the tip, earning a small gasp of shock from him as you rubbed your spit loosely up and down his shaft to the base. Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, you gave him a few experimental pumps to gauge his reaction, immediately noting his hitched breath and slightly gaping eyes.

"Sensitive?"

As embarrassed as he was, he nodded his head meekly as you shook your head and chuckled, pumping his cock with a firm grip, up and down the firmed skin. His breaths came out heavy and almost exaggerated as he looked between your face and your movement, before settling on looking up with the slightest lip bite.

Twisting your hand only at the base you leaned forward, dragging your tongue across the slit of his tip, dragging it down the side of his cock before kissing your route back up. Your tongue circled around his pink tip, lapping up dots of his precum before wrapping your lips around the tip, giving it a slight suck in with your cheeks.

"F-fuck..what the..."

You moaned onto the tip, shutting him up from his unfinished groan before pushing your head down, taking his length into your mouth as much as you could, the head tickling the back of your throat and creating a slight gag. Using your right hand to pump the unattended area, you slowly bobbed your head up and down, sucking in with your cheeks as his chest began to heave, lewd and low groans huffing out of his mouth.

You groaned like a slut as soon as a tight hand pulled the stray strands away from your face, keeping them from getting in your mouth and hindering your vision of your boy's flustered face. Your mouth sucked in as you took him in and out of your mouth, your hand stroking the base of his length, occasionally leaving it for air to fondle and squeeze the balls, hitching his breath every single time.

"Don't- Ah...stop, keep fuckin' going"

His voice was laced with a lustful desire, tone dripping with need and want when he prodded your head forward, forcing you take his cock deep into your mouth, obtaining a gag and an eye rollback from your salivating figure. The corners of your mouth slightly burnt at the girth stretching the walls, tears poking and brimming in your eyes as you followed the wordless ask to suck him off more desperately.

Both hands pumped the end of his shaft vigorously, a firm grip making him writhe and slightly curl his back off of the bed in the shape of an arch bridge. Tears ran down your face as you bobbed your head back and forth more rapidly, his tip smacking the back of your throat each time you took him in.

You dragged your mouth off and licked down the side, continuing to roll him around in your fingers, before kissing up and down the veiny length. Megumi's reaction was one to be called priceless, his sweaty forehead leeching onto his hair, mouth open and blush spread across his cheeks.

His groans had increased in volume, his sensitive tip throbbing as your plump lips took him back into your mouth. His hand dug into the knotty back of your hair, moaning as he coerced your head to swallow down more of him.

He nearly died when you gagged, looking uo through teary eyes as you took him in at new depth, choked sounds coming from your throat as saliva dripped down your chin. His grip tightened on both your hair and the bed, his head rolling back to the headboard a bit before shaky words were spoke.

"M'close..fuck m'close..." You grinned around his cock, swallowing the throbbing length down more, at an aggravated tempo, rolling his base around with your hand. A moan erupted from you, sending a vibration through the veins, earning a divine whimper from the black haired boy.

A gentle hand of yours slid up his thigh, finger tips probing at his heavy balls, feeling the load that was begging to be released. A light slap to the left sack had him groaning, forcing your head down and holding you there, deep throated. A series of shaky breaths escaped him, followed by a loud groaning whine.

Hot, salty liquid spilled down your throat, gagging noises escaping as you pulled back, mouth filled with his sticky seed. A string of white dripped from your mouth, still connected to his twitching and aching pink tip.

The boy couldn't even utter a word as you gulped back, ingesting every last bit of cum that he'd disposed into you. You smiled as you let go of his now soft length, straightening up and crawling up the bed.

"You did s'good baby" You cooed, making Megumi blush, before you enveloped his lips into a soft kiss, allowing him to taste his salty and bitter seed.

The aftermath kiss was gentle and sweet, hot and panty breaths coming out of his mouth into yours as his shaky body rode downwards from his high. His hand gently rubbed at your back, in a way feeling like a non verbal thank you for what you'd just done, or the newfound pleasure you'd just given him.

He coughed out a little as the kiss disconnected, fluttering eyelashes darting between your eyes and your pink flicked cheeks.

"...can we...can we do that again sometime?"

You laughed. "Of course we can Megs."

Hm. Maybe Megumi is gonna start to enjoy intimacy...maybe he's gonna like it a whole fucking lot.

A/n: hey guyssss, so I'm sorry if this is a bit clunky or choppy, I started it a while ago and then it's now half 3 in the morning when I've written the ending. Hope yall horny fucks enjoy anyway 🥰

©𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓡𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓡𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓭 - 𝓣𝓱𝓮-𝓓𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷-𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓻

>𝓡𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭!

>𝓓𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽, 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴.

(っ◔◡◔)っ - 𝓐𝓫𝓲

652 notes · View notes

luxaofhesperides · 11 months

Text

Dancing in the rain ; requested by @wandixx!

He hadn’t been expecting the Signal to chase after him. It is, after all, well after midnight, and he had seen the vigilante out earlier during the day.

Maybe the Bats are understaffed tonight, he muses as he leaps over the rooftops, a wild grin on his face. Being on the other side of a chase is a lot of fun, he’s discovering. He can see why Selina enjoys it so much.

Though, it probably has to do more with who’s chasing her than it is the chase itself.

But Danny’s become a bit of an adrenaline junkie after a few years of being a hero, fighting ghosts and governments. He’s not a hero anymore, especially not in Gotham, but being Catwoman’s partner in crime is way more fun than being responsible for everyone’s safety.

It’s like he’s doing anything bad, either. Selina can steal whatever she wants; if they couldn’t protect things against her, then should they really have it? Danny doesn’t focus on jewelry or gems. No, he takes ghost artifacts or items contaminated with ectoplasm back to the realms where they won’t cause problems to any humans. There are enough ecto-contaminated people in this world, solely from Amity Park. Best not to let that number grow.

So here he is, leaping over rain-slicked rooftops and only using a little bit of flying to keep ahead, holding a cursed pocket watch that a ghost had requested he return to them, with the Signal chasing after him, disappearing into shadows and popping up unexpectedly.

“Stray! Get back here!” Signal yells, and Danny takes a moment to spin on his heel to face the vigilante to stick his tongue out at him, then backflips away.

“I didn’t even steal anything important!” he returns, tossing the pocketwatch in the air ahead, then jumps up to catch it and scales his way up to the roof of the next building.

“Seriously,” Signal says, suddenly in front of him. “Stop running and we can talk this out.”

“Woah!” Danny tries to get around him, trips over his own feet, and crashes into the Signal’s chest.

“Careful, there.” He looks up to see the Signal’s smile, and he absolutely can not be blamed for having his half dead heart skip a beat. He’s in the arms of a hero who’s smiling at him so sweetly, what’s a guy to do? “Ready to talk now?”

Danny goes intangible for a moment, smoothly sliding out of the Signa’s grip. “Nope,” he grins, starting up the chase once again.

The rain isn’t very strong, and the drops feel cool against his face as he runs, getting a little more air with each jump as he uses more of his flight to keep ahead. He can hear the Signal chasing after him again, heavy footsteps that start and stop unpredictably as he travels between shadows.

Just to be safe, Danny stashes the pocket watch inside his chest, leaving his hands free to grab onto the rough brick of the walls and scale them up, aiming to go higher and higher. Maybe if he finds a good building, he can dramatically fall off the edge and fly away invisibly.

“Got you!”

The Signal pops up out of the wall and grabs Danny, who yelps and tries to pull his arms away. The Signal is too strong, and his tight grip on Danny’s wrists is warm against the chill of the rain.

They stand there for a moment, just staring at each other as they try to catch their breath. And then, “Is that any way to treat a guy?” Danny jokes, trying one last time to pull his wrists free.

“It is when it’s you,” the Signal replies. “Man, you sure know how to run.”

“I’ll be sure to put that on my resume for my next heist.”

“Seriously, can we talk?”

Danny eyes him curiously. The other Bats mostly tried to take back whatever it is he’d stolen that night, occasionally trying to get information from him. None of them had outright asked to have a chat with him. The Signal at least has some manners, compared to the rest of him. There’s no harm in sticking around for one conversation.

It helps that the Signal is cute, especially when he had saved Danny a few weeks ago.

Sue him, he’s a bit soft on the Signal. Wouldn’t anyone be with their favorite hero?

“Alright,” Danny says, relaxing. “Go ahead. Talk.”

“Great! Okay, um.” The Signal bites his lip and Danny should really look away, but his eyes are fixed to his mouth. He doesn’t speak for a solid minute, during which Danny really begins to feel the chill of the rain. “Can I get less comments from the peanut gallery?” he says suddenly.

“What?” Danny laughs, confused.

The Signal sighs. “My comms are on. The others are being annoying. If they wanted to ask you questions, they should have caught you first.”

“Oh, protecting me from the big bad Bats? My hero,” Danny says sweetly, pretending to swoon. Except, the Signal follows his movements, releasing his wrists to catch him by the waist, holding him steady. Danny’s breath hitches, and from how close they are, he has no doubt that the Signal heard it. They freeze for a moment, then the Signal dips him like some fainting Victorian maiden.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind sweeping you up in my arms.” The smirk on his face only lasts a moment before he grimace and says, “I shouldn’t have said that on open comms. Man, they’re annoying. It’s not my fault I know how to flirt.”

Danny…

Well. Danny short circuits for a moment, running the words over his mind again, then blushes so hard he’s sure there’s steam coming off his cheeks. “You’re flirting?” he squeaks. “With me?”

“Flirting,” a new voice confirms, making them both jump, stumbling against each other as Black Bat hops down onto their rooftop. “Both shy and silly. I’m better.”

“You can’t even ask out Spoiler,” the Signal retaliates.

“She can’t even WHAT?” Spoiler yells as she also vaults herself over the alley below to join them. “You want to ask me out?”

Though she doesn’t say anything, Danny can practically feel Black Bat’s glare through her mask. The Signal winces, then says, “Oops.”

“Man, you can keep yourself busy, clearly Sig doesn’t need backup,” Spoiler says. “I need to go on a date with Black Bat. The rest of you suckers are on your own!” And then she grabs Black Bat’s hand and grapples away.

There’s a beat of silence, then Danny and the Signal share a glance and start laughing.

“Well,” Danny says, “Good for them! Good for them.”

“They’re probably just going to Bat Burger.”

“And are you going to be treating me to a burger any time soon? I should be compensated for this conversation, you know.”

“Please, if I was taking you out on a date, it wouldn’t be to Bat Burger. I’d take you out dancing.”

It sounds like a date his dad would take his mom on. It sounds nice. Danny smiles and leans in closer to the Signal, taking hold of one of his hands. With the other, he puts Signal’s hand on his waist, then brings his own up to the Signal’s shoulder.

“Why not dance with me now?”

Danny leads them in a few clumsy turns of a waltz, silently thanking Sam for forcing him to take a few ballroom dance lessons with her. The Signal seems a little dazed, following his lead, and when he lightly squeezes Danny’s waist, he shivers.

Catwoman should be done with Batman soon. They had agreed to meet up at the newly opened Vintage Boutique in Diamond District, and he intends to beat her there.

Reluctantly, Danny pulls away from the Signal with one final spin, and hops up onto the edge of the roof. “If you can find me during the day,” he says, “Then I’ll dance with you again. See you around, Signal!”

And with that, Danny hops backwards off the roof, free-falling towards the ground before he lets gravity lose hold of him and slips into invisibility, flying up just as the Signal peers over the edge, searching for him.

Unable to help himself, Danny floats closer until he can give the Signal a quick kiss on the cheek, then flies off, grinning wildly.

He certainly can’t wait to see the Signal again.

Maybe if he hired a few guys to pretend to rough him up while Signal’s out patrolling…

Well, either way, this cat is already half dead so he can jump straight to satisfaction bringing him back. And, hopefully, back into Signal’s arms again when they won’t be interrupted by other Bats.

He’s already looking forward to it.

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #stray!danny #first time writing stray danny but i love him :) i think selina can make him worse :)#duke really worked overtime just to have a chance to flirt w danny #he heard that stray and catwoman would be out that night and suited up immediately like. dont worry guys i got stray :) yall can go now :)#thank you for the prompt!!#prompt fill #my writing

1K notes · View notes

on-leatheredwings · 5 months

Text

Second Chances 18+

Yandere! Older! Damian Wayne / AFAB Reader

> romantic, 18+ > tw/cw: dub-con, manipulation into sex, gaslighting(?) > request: Can we get damian gaslighting and manipulating a fem reader into sex when she tries to leave him please :? Like the typical "we've never talked about (insert issue) you know I wouldn't keep doing it if I knew it was upsetting you" and "let me make it up to you" > a/n: this reader is captain fix-a-hoe i can't > word count: 2187 > damian wayne is 21

You crane your neck away, but he takes it as an invitation.

“Damian, I…” you struggle.

His hands slide forward underneath your arms, kneading your chest. It does feel good, you regret to admit.

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, trying to inch away but his hands drag you back once more. Not by force, just by suggestion. By pulling the invisible strings that play your body like a fiddle, and it seems this morning Damian wants it to play his favorite song. You shrugged on your flimsiest robe on your way out of bed this morning, and nothing else. So here you were, paying the consequences.

“Mm, maybe later, Damian. I have–” you gasp at a wandering digit “–to run errands today.”

You hear a huff, feel an exhale hit the shell of your ear.

“Errands? Where? With who?”

The questions, absolutely dripping with disdain and suspicion, make something in you snap.

“Oh, that’s it– I want to break up!” you cry out, throwing your hands up. You bound out of his hold, whirling around.

Damian flinches backward as if struck. He had snuck up behind you in the kitchen, peppering kisses along the column of your neck. A sweet gesture, but too little, too late. Fuck waiting until you were better prepared – better scripted – to break up with Damian. You just can’t take it anymore.

Damian stares at you in disbelief.

“You... What?”

You sigh, annoyed at the squeeze of your heart at his dismayed expression. Life as Damian’s girlfriend had been great at first. Like, really great.

Despite his surly exterior and sharp tongue, Damian proved to be nothing less than devoted, adoring, and awfully caring. He was giving and generous. During dates and every minute besides, he was a perfect gentleman. None of your exes had ever opened doors for you. Or pulled your chairs out. Or guided you gently through a crowd of paparazzi with a protective hand on the small of your back.

Maybe it was his unique rich kid training that made him the perfect lover for you: the presence of a British butler in his developmental years paired with the strict assassin upbringing. Or maybe, as your friends claimed, you simply had standards below sea level and were lucky enough to fall for a man who could throw money around without blinking.

You didn’t listen to them, didn’t question your good fortune. You had been glad Damian was in your life. You had been.

“I want to break up,” you say, nearly a whimper. You look away from his shell shocked face. He must have seen this coming, right? How could he not see this coming? You two seemed to barely be getting along these days.

You recall green eyes narrowing after a glance over your outfit. “... I never liked her,” from a sneered lip, when you mention you’re going to your friend’s birthday party. The guilt tripping that occurred once you got home. The unsaid accusations of entirely untrue infidelity. You recall many more instances identical to that. How draining it all was. How you rarely seemed to go anywhere without hesitation, a niggling feeling bidding you to see how Damian felt about it first.

Without missing a beat, Damian’s jaw hardens. He folds his arms.

“You want to break up,” he responds in a clipped voice. “Why.”

‘Why,’ he asks. Though it was hardly a question. He was demanding you answer for yourself. Answer for your crime of daring to maintain agency in your life. How dare you dump him? You narrow your eyes.

“You… you isolate me,” you say, folding your arms and mirroring his stance. You wish you could get angrier. Damian could really bitch out in an argument when he wanted to. Fights felt more balanced if you decided to get angry too. If you didn’t let him kick you around. But any lingering fury has simmered into hurt at this point. Decayed into you prematurely grieving a good thing gone bad.

“You accuse me of things. You don’t trust me! Or worse, you do trust me, and still want to monopolize me because I’m something you own. I… That’s not good,” you blurt.

Damian isn’t moved. He taps his foot, and your eye twitches. “Is that all?” he says.

Perhaps you did have enough anger, after all. Before you can curse him out, Damian takes a step forward, like a piece on a chess board.

“If I had known I would have stopped. Immediately,” Damian presses, not looking very apologetic or thoughtful. He instead looks determined. He seems entirely like his old self, at the very beginning of your then-tenuous friendship. That was three years ago, and you liked to believe he had grown a lot since.

You roll your eyes. “Okay. Good to know,” you return flatly, unsure what he expects you to do with that information.

Another step, and he grasps your arm. Had it been anyone besides him, you would’ve felt fear. But Damian – for all his faults – could never hurt you. Even if he already has, you think drily.

His grip trails down to your hand, and brings it to his chest, above his heart. Your own heart skips a beat at the gesture. “I would have. You’re everything to me.” His heart beats under your palm. It beats for you, he always liked to say.

You cringe. Not at his words, but because of how they’re said. Damian wields them like a weapon. And they’re effective. You already feel guilt begin to fester.

You swat your hand away, scoffing and shaking your head. “It feels like half of the time, you say that to make me feel like shit. It’s… it’s manipulative.”

“Manipulative? So every time I’ve said I… care for you, you felt manipulated?” He looks at you, in a pitiful expression crossed between crestfallen and offended. You sigh, exhausted. That’s not what I meant, you want to interject, but he continues. “I feel… very deeply. For you.”

Even now, sharing his feelings was hard for him. You feel proud that he’s trying. You feel angry that he’s trying. You feel angry that you’re the bad guy. The croak in his voice makes you want to reach for him, but...

“Feelings… feelings aren’t enough,” you say mournfully. You hug yourself, because you need one. And giving one wasn’t his place anymore.

You two stand in silence in his kitchen, which you’ve shared together for a year now. You glance around. You spy your colorful cooking sets, the couple's aprons that hang beside the pantry, the photos of you two at Wayne family holiday parties stuck to the fridge, and other paraphernalia.

You haven’t even left yet, but already you can see the ghost of you that will haunt this house. The hollow chill of guilt sweeps through your body, but you ignore it. You instead tread to one of the kitchen barstools under Damian’s watchful eye and settle on the seat.

“I’ll… I’ll stay at a friend’s,” you say, fighting admirably to keep your voice from cracking. “And I’ll have all my stuff packed within a week.” And you can keep the cat, you want to jest, but you luckily were born blessed with the skill of reading the room. Damian blanches, as if realizing, finally, what you were saying.

“You’re leaving.” God, his utter shock was not making things easier on you.

“We fight all the time now, Damian,” you reason, almost pleading with him. Why was he making this so hard? The entire situation seems so … undignified. ‘Unlike him,’ is what most people would say. But no, this is entirely like Damian. Always deceptively more delicate than what meets the eye. Always trusting you to hold his heart gently. Not rend it to pieces. Guilt swirls once more, while Damian’s shock yields to insistence.

“We fight because we’re in love,” he asserts, confessing. You are in awe of his cheeks flushing - what a pure display to be had during a break up. “People fight when they’re in love. Sometimes.” You frown, knowing he’s referring to his father’s failed relationships. What great role models, you scoff inwardly. You had zero desire to emulate that dysfunction.

“... Don’t you?” he says, a desperate lilt in his voice. You bristle. “... Love me?” And the way he says it breaks something in you.

You respond, the words like ash on your tongue, “Of course I... I do love you, Damian. But–”

“I love you, too,” he says quickly. “... so please, don’t leave.” You start to get up from your seat, unable to withstand anymore of this, when Damian falls to his knees in front of you.

You fill with mortification that Damian may start begging. And you don’t know if you can withstand that. He’s Damian Wayne. He who does not beg.

“... Please,” he begins, as if the word was physically taxing. For him, it probably was. Damian bows his head, dots kisses on the expanse of your thighs. Each kiss is loosening your resolve. Each a balm over bitter wounds.

“You haven’t given me a fair chance to correct myself. That… that’s not fair. That’s cruelty,” he whispers, along with other such mutterings that drive knives into your heart.

How heartless you were being. Were you going to give up on him so easily? Had he not shown he could change? The guilt swarms into an evil, dark monster. One you know you cannot defeat. You throw back your head, trembling from his butterfly kisses.

“Let me… let me make it up to you,” he says after he finds you writhing under his lips. You don’t know what to say, mesmerized by the need in his eyes and the promise in his words. “I can be better. I will be better.”

No, your mind begs you to say.

Yet looking into those green eyes, lost in its dark forest, you can’t deny him.

“... Okay,” you condone. Your okay is barely audible, weak and helpless like pollen in the wind. But it’s enough for him. It’s going to be enough for you, too. It’s okay. He’s going to change. He knows if he doesn’t, you’ll leave. You’ll leave.

You sate yourself with these thoughts, numb to Damian’s continued affection. You finally do realize he’s still licking at you, when a pair of hands gently separate your knees.

“Damian!” you exclaim, snapping your knees shut. Your robe flutters with the action as you look at him with disbelief. “D-Damian,” you say. His eyes flutter open at the calling of his name. You sharply inhale at the lustful glaze over his pretty eyes.

“Let me show you how deeply I feel for you,” he requests.

But you know this is … strange. Maybe even wrong, if the uncertainty in your gut meant anything. You had just agreed to mend your relationship. You didn’t need the throes of an orgasm to complicate and muddle your feelings.

“... Please.” His voice mutters into your thigh. You’re so close you feel the vibration of the sound, and your skin prickles over with goosebumps. That’s the third ‘please’ he’s said within the hour. It's usually three a day. “Unless," Damian says, brows pinched, "you do not want me anymore.” The look on his face makes you feel sick.

You don’t know how you can ever leave him in good conscience. Damian’s grown, yes, but he’s still that confused, frustrated boy from when you met. Still searching for acceptance and belonging.

“Yes,�� you blurt. “I want you, but–”

“Then, ‘but’ nothing. You are mine.” You fill with heat, from irritation as well as arousal. It’s not as though you’d stopped being attracted to him, after all.

“I–” am not yours, you begin to combat, when Damian licks a hot stripe up your cunt that makes your mind blue screen.

“And of course, it goes back the same way. I am yours.”

Damian lowers his head, wasting no time in suckling on your clitoris. He knows exactly how you like it, after all. Your hands leave your side and find his hair. You pull on short raven locks, enough that it’s probably painful, but Damian doesn’t protest.

Damian hikes your legs onto his shoulders, and he’s off to work as if you hadn’t been about to break up with him just ten minutes ago. You feel whiplash. It’s all back to normal. You’re together. He’s between your legs. And despite his administrations feeling great, amazing – it also somehow feels like punishment.

He may need you, but you need him as well. Only he can make you feel like this. Only he has ever made you feel like this. The heavy tongue that’s probing into you, the hands whose thumbs draw circles on your skin – they’re his. The pressure building in your body, the pleasure being wrought from you – he causes it. The devotion, safety, security and love you have in your life – it’s due to him.

When you eventually finish in his mouth, you come with a whimper, eagerly being lapped up by the boy before you. He's right. You do belong to him.

And a growing part of your mind is having a hard time finding that so wrong.

#yandere batfam #yandere damian wayne x reader #yandere fic #tw dubcon #mine

809 notes · View notes

coeurify · 1 year

Note

so many fics have the reader getting mad at ellie for getting into a fight with someone that flirted with you, but what if instead the reader gets turned on and y’all fuck all night 🤭🤭 (i would be so turned on if someone punched someone for me BYEEE)

ohhh anon i get you.. of course everyone in Jackson knew Ellie had a temper, one that was usually not tested. Many residents had been subjected to dirty looks or an awfully mouthy response from the woman many a times. So people chose to be careful around her, not exactly wanting to deal with a twenty-something-year old who had a mouth worse than a sailor. It was oh so much worse when it came to you. No one could say shit about you if she was around. Or not around. Somehow, like a second-sense or something, she always knew. Hell, El had nearly punched Seth once for just hearing he called you a name, but Jesse pulled her back.

This particular time however, on the wooden porch on the main street of Jackson.. Jesse wasn’t around to pull Ellie back, and no one had warned a particularly flirty new girl to stay away from you. Well… it didn’t end well. In fact it ended with the new girl on her ass, hand cupping a nose that bled crimson all over the wooden floor, screeching like a banshee at your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend who stood above her with her eyebrows pinched together, cheek bruised from a long patrol. Ellie was not in the mood to deal with anyone, and fists always seemed to come before words with her.. so this girl calling you “hot,” and offering you a drink at the Tipsy Bison.. just did not slide for the auburn haired girl. That fist had wasted no time in connecting with her stupid fucking nose, right there in front of ten or more older residents who looked on in a mixture of concern and expectance. Really that girl brought it on herself.

You followed every movement from that moment, irises pulled by an invisible string to watch Ellie make the rash decision, one you should pull her back from.. maybe even yell a little at her for making a scene. But instead of any anger creeping up your body, you feel something a little heavier. As Ellie pulls back her slightly reddened knuckles, muttering swears under her breath.. you feel absolutely anything but anger. Sure, maybe a little embarrassment from the old women who make disgusted faces as the woman below Ellie whines in pain, but definitely not anger. Something swirled low in your belly as green eyes searched for your own

Your lips part lightly, unsure of what to say, especially when the hand that had just taken the woman down moves to wrap around your arm, tightening enough to grab your attention away from where you had began to stare at the puddle of dripping blood collecting on the porch. Ellie dragged you away from the scene, stomping like someone throwing a fit.

“The fucking nerve on that— that girl, calling you.. calling my girl hot.. who does she think she is?” Ellie scoffed, looking over at your still glazed over eyes as you stumble along with her. The possessive tone in her voice only made this creeping sensation on your skin worse. The lack of a response has Ellie frowning, “Shit.. babe did are you mad? I just couldn’t hel-”

“No.. no,” you cut her off quickly, tongue swiping over your lip as you finally conjure up words— stepping onto the dirt trail that led to your Jackson home. “I’m not upset. Honestly, i think it was kinda hot,” you admit slowly, nose crinkling lightly in embarrassment.

Ellie’s mouth fell open.. because truthfully she had never gotten that response from one of her.. bursts. “Hot?” she repeated, gaining a little head nod from you. Her cheeks flush, one corner of her lip poking up like she may smile, “Get inside.”

You wasted no time in clambering up the steps to the door, and by the time the door is open.. Ellie is already all over you.

#sorry this is short…. wasnt feeling full smut rn #rins reqs ❀.#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams fanfic

608 notes · View notes

sunshine-and-moonshine · 5 months

Text

Broken Hallelujah

Requested: No

Warnings: Female!Reader (Female genitalia and use of the word girl), Nun!Reader, Succubus!Valeria, fingering, the sapphic yearning of a nun and a succubus. Idk man, it’s actually pretty tame because everytime I thought about this idea my brain went fuzzy.

She was here again.

You could feel it, the fiery lustful stare that bore into your closed eyes. The almost non existent press of her body against yours, like she was floating just above you. You opened your eyes, once more expecting to see the brief flash of black hair and curved horns, hear the flap of leathery wings. But none of that this time, unusual for her. She liked having you know that she was there, a living ghost that haunted your steps. Ice cold fingers trailing down the spokes of your spine, breathe hot like burning coals on the back of your neck as you laced your fingers together and prayed. Prayed for forgiveness from your sins, from the wet and wanton heat that dripped between your thighs, praying for salvation after fucking yourself to the sound of demonic giggles and the feel of ghost-like touches.

Praying for forgiveness for never asking for protection instead. Unable to even think the words, unwilling to think them. Because you knew deep in your heart, in your bones, in your soul.

You didn’t want her gone.

You liked having her around. Liked her touches, her voice, her heat. You liked the little glimpses you could get of her, lingering in your shadow, the silhouette of her fingers entangling with hers. For the first time in a very long time, you felt full. Full of warmth and want and devoid of the pain and loneliness that had often plagued your heart. Those feelings were what drove you towards your faith. The idea that even when scorned by the people around you, there was someone that loved you. Even if just one person that you could never see or feel or hear, someone cared. Cared enough to die for you, take you into their arms some day when your time was up.

But she was none of those things. She was solid, though not always visible. But you knew she was there. You didn’t have to have faith when you knew the facts of her. When she, at times, felt more real than you or the people around you did.

“Mi Sol.” The wind whispered, curling in your ear and sending heat running down your spine. Sinful pleasure unlike anything else.

“Mi Luna.” You whispered back, shuddering when you felt something akin to claws running down your back, the scratch of them burning pleasantly. You couldn’t help but imagine those same nails running over your belly, along your breasts, against your throat. Leaving trails of blood in their wake.

Temptation. As sweet as it was sinful.

You shuddered in the sudden absence of her warmth, a pitiful whine catching in your throat, choking you like the noose the devil wrapped around your throat when he sent his demoness to haunt your shadow.

You forced a breath, fingers shaking when you reached for the veil placed on your nightstand. Black fabric just within reach before it was suddenly thrown across the room, concealed in a corner too dark to be seen by the light of your candle.

“Mi sol.” She growled again, more insistent, and you could feel her breath like fire against the crook of your neck, her plush lips dragging up to wrap around your lobe, wet tongue sliding along your flesh. “Mía. Mía. Mía.”

“Mi Luna.” You whimper, thighs twitching when your nightgown seems to lift all on its own, invisible fingers ghosting along the band of your underwear, the tips dipping under the elastic to trail over the curve of your belly, petting down the soft hairs that lay there.

“What is it you want, Mi Sol?” She asks, sharpened teeth pricking at your skin, sure to draw blood if you moved even slightly. “You have to tell me. You have to say it.”

“I can’t.” Is your weak reply, one that earns you a sharp bite to the meat of your shoulder, forcing a heavy cry from your lips.

“You have to say it, Mi Sol.” She hisses, warm fingers sliding lower, combing through the thick patch of curls between your legs before descending even lower, just barely out of reach of that bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex. “You have to say it or I can’t give you what you want.”

“I can’t.” You try to persist, swiftly punished with a hard pinch to your aching clit that had you crying out with pain, hips jerking forward.

“You can.” She says, and you could practically hear the condescending sneer she must be wearing on her face. “And you will.”

It was the last thing she said before ripping your underwear from you, calloused fingertips immediately zeroing in on your twitching hole, rubbing around it in loose circles, playing with the wetness that laid there while her other hand moved to cup your breast, weighing it in her hand before giving it a firm squeeze that had you shaking.

“So beautiful, Mi Sol.” She hummed, thumbing at your hardened pearl for only a moment before stopping, almost pulling her whole hand away when your whole body twitched and you tried to reach for her invisible fingers. “So beautiful, and all mine to do with as I please.”

The words made you choke, as did the slick fingers she shoved into your mouth, the taste of your own essence staining your tastebuds, pressing down on your tongue under you obediently started to lap at them, arousal making your cheeks warm.

“Beautiful girl. Prettiest thing I’ve ever met in my long life.” Valeria whispered, raking her nails down your breast before pressing her fingers into the divots between your ribs, feeling the reverberation of your rapid heartbeat, the heat of your skin through the cloth. “Gorgeous thing.”

You whimpered, head tilting back to let your moans flow free, thighs twitching and jerking when she pulled her fingers from your mouth to press them against your tight hole, two fingers, too fast and too quickly, the stretch burning without the proper foreplay beforehand.

“Say it.” She huffed, prying her fingers apart inside your slick walls, cool air tickling your insides.

“Mi Luna.” You whine, shaking your head, red hole contracting around her, begging for her to ease up on her harsh attentions.

“Yes, Mi Sol?” She says, an encouraging coo as she closes her fingers again, curling them to stroke at that little spot inside you that had you drooling. A reward, motivation to keep going.

“I want you.” You say, voice breaking on a sob when she growled, fingers going rougher and faster, her other hand clawing at the bodice of your gown desperately. “I-I only want you, Mi Luna. You’re all I need, please please please please-”

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, rough and uncaring, sweeping you out to the murky sea, leaving you shivering and shaken. Disorienting you so much that you didn’t even notice her putting you on your back or tearing your nightgown off for better access to your body. Only coming to when she crawled above you, no longer invisible. Beautiful and proud, wings outstretched above you, eyes glowing in the dim light. Hunger shining in them, building dread in your belly.

“Did you think we were done?” She chuckled, quirking a brow in disbelief.

Your only response was to gulp, biting down on your already swollen bottom lip.

It would seem you really did make a deal with a devil. Not that you could find it in yourself to regret it.

#cod #call of duty #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #Female!reader

124 notes · View notes

henneseyhoe · 1 year

Text

I Think She Like Me.

Oc x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: smuttt, masterbation, gay shit, smoking, sexual confusion.

Summary:your girl crush wants you more than you thought.

Ps. This is my first girlxgirl smut so please give feedback and advice if y’all can! Also some of this is unedited but it’s late so I’ll do it later Lmfao.

✮✮✮✮

Raven.

Look at her. She was so. Damn. Fine. The way she applied pink tinted gloss to her already two toned pink lips had my thighs clenching, wishing she was in between them instead to halt them from closing, my very own honey flooding her tongue as she made it her mission to lick up every drop that spilled from this pussy, which she claimed belonged to her.

Just gawking at her like this made me confused. I was confused looking at her and her beauty, but something in me said I didn’t have to understand to admire, and I was fine with doing that without dissecting my feelings towards her, or any other woman for that matter.

“You got a staring problem” I hear from besides me, making me look back down at the assignment papers I was really supposed to be focused on. I heard Marlo sigh. “I’ve been talking for five minutes and all you can do is stare across the room! Who you thinkin’ bout’, shordy? Me?” My bestfriend teased, poking at my stomach. I chuckle and swat his hand away, pulling my crop top down to cover the place he poked.

Marlo wasn’t a fan of being ignored, especially by me. He demanded attention all the time like the extra drama king he was. You’d think he wouldn’t want any more attention with how racially ambiguous and confusing he looked as a whole, but I stood corrected.

“Cut it out. I’m just…thinking of ideas”

“What kind?”

I glare at him, getting ready to say something smart, per usual. “The kind that’ll get us both an A, nigga” He kisses his teeth, us both laughing because he knew he wasn’t gonna do any work that was helpful anyway. He was never any help during these group assignments, but I was use to it after two years of friendship. If it didn’t have anything to do with the frat he pledged to, or girls, he wasn’t interested.

“You know you ain’t shit for not helping me”

“Ain’t shiiiit?” He held his chest, gasping. “I provide the supplies, mamas. Ion need to help if I’m spending money”

“Yeah, yo ass need to buy us an A so I don’t have to work either” I shook my head, and he shrugs.

“Speaking of buying A’s, here comes bird chest and her AyE kAy aYes” he joked, making fun of the group of girls walking towards us, specifically pointing his insult at his ex, Alicia, and her new C cup titties.

I kept my giggles to a minimum and lowered my gaze to avoid any unnecessary looks from any of the girls that’d have my heart ready to jump out from my throat and onto the table in front of me. Obviously that was unsuccessful, Raven greeting me with a soft spoken “Y/N” while walking by me with a sultry sway, her dropping a paper besides my hand and sliding it into my main view before she made her way out of the cafeteria with the rest of her friends.

“Well damn, I’m invisible?” Marlo grumbled, his eyes following Raven just as intensely as mine. It was obvious we were both looking at her ass sitting up in that skirt. I took it upon myself to control my urges and turned away first to avoid any questions, picking up the flyer in front of me. Reading the paper that was just given, my eyes skimmed over the words to get the gist of what was going on, but before I could even finish, the paper was snatched out of my hand by Marlo, a devious smile on his face.

“Ouuu! Y’all havin a sleepover, how cute is that? A bunch of girls in ya’ girly little bras and laced panties, braiding each other hair and painting toes all night” his tone got more perverted as he went on, a disgusted groan leaving my mouth.

“You’re a pervert” I say, snatching the paper away and reading the rest of it. He laughs and peaks over my shoulder to read the rest of the paper. “It’s at Raven’s house? Matter fact, I think imma come” He smirks, but I shoved the paper back in his face before he could settle on that idea. “No boys allowed! Have fun beating your dick to the thought tonight though” Getting up from my seat, I excuse myself from the conversation by walking away. Marlo sucks his teeth and stands from his seat, walking the opposite direction of me.

✮✮✮✮

“Aye! Raven!” Marlo shouted, the girl stopping dead in her tracks. Letting out a sigh, she turns to him, a sassed hand placed on her hip. She could smell the bullshit a mile away. “Why do you always find me? What now, Marlo?” She asks, having no time for his daily shenanigans he always attempts to pull her into for some odd reason.

“You ain’t call me last night. Wassup wit’ that?”

“I gotta talk to you everyday now?”

His lip arched up and he looked at her up and down. “Ian askin’ you to cupcake wit’ a nigga, I’m just wondering why you ain’t call”

“Cause I didn’t have to…” she shrugs, looking around, waiting for the perfect time to exit. Marlo chuckles with no humor. “That’s how you act after you put the pussy on somebody?” He boldly mentions. Raven took all disrespect to him even approaching her, but talking about them fucking in public? A big no-no.

Raven squints, ready to bite his head off for mentioning their little “moment” together. “I told you not to tell nobody, and yet here you are, talking about it freely”

“I didn’t tell nobody, but why you don’t want nobody to know we fucked? It ain’t even that deep”

“It is! I don’t need everybody knowing who getting this pussy, and you not about to have my name out here” she huffs, frustrated that she even had to explain that to him. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucked wit’ ya’ ass! Y’all niggas chat more than women” she fussed.

Marlo kisses his teeth, waving her off. “Man, cut the bullshit. You probably got a nigga and don’t want word to get around”

Raven laughs, shaking her head. “Ain’t nobody worried bout no nigga, irritating ass. Now lemme get to my class ‘fo you make me late” Her accent became more pronounced the more irritant she got.

she turns to walk away, but Marlo was stubborn and was planning on bussin her down again by the end of the day, so he pulls her right back to place. With undeniable anger, Raven jerks away from him, her hot head traits popping out like never before. Too bad for her, Marlo was also quick to get loud.

They argued. Back and forth. Marlo’s Brooklyn accent over lapped with Raven’s Creole one, a loud, hot mix of cajun and tajin that would have never lasted in a relationship.

“You know what- I got sum fa’ you!” Raven said, her hand held up to the boys face. He immediately stopped talking, his head tilted and his eyes in a squint. “Whatchu got for me, ma? Huh?” He asks, his tone threatening, but Raven was unfazed.

“You’ll see when I’m fuckin’ ya’ friend” She smiles. Her statement was both a threat, and a promise, and Raven was a woman to always keep her word.

“…Excuse me?”

“You heard me” She stepped closer. Marlo only had one friend that Raven knew, and he knew that friend wasn’t on no freak shit like that. Or so he thought.

“That sleepover tomorrow night? I’m gonna fuck your best friend”. Marlo stood there, unimpressed with the threat. “Okay. You have fun with that, Raven” and with that, she walked away, leaving a salty Marlo in her dust.

✮✮✮✮

“Listen up, ladies! First task of Raven’s super summertime slumber party, we gotta take our shots. And no pretending, I’m willing to smell breath after this to make sure!” Raven announced, the girls laughing and taking their shots as soon as they were served to them. Everyone was packing into the kitchen to get their own drinks of choice, downing them with small “eck”s and “yuck”s leaving their mouths.

I shivered as I took my shot, patron being my choice of liquid death.

“Oh, you got balls” I heard from behind me as I finished my drink. I cleared my burning throat and turned, Raven giving me a soft smile as she took a small sip of her drink.

I paused, looking around to make sure she was talking to me. “Yeah, you” She confirms.

“No chaser?” She asks, grabbing at the punch bowl on the table next to her and pouring herself a little more of whatever spiked drink she had in her red solo cup.

“Yeah, no. I don’t do chasers” I answer, my energy becoming more reserved like I wasn’t just shaking my ass to the yinyang twins a few minutes ago.

“You like the taste of it without a chaser?” leaning closer to me, I feel her hand brush against my lower back, softly pushing me aside to grab a piece of chocolate that was offered out for everyone to take as they please. I nod, watching her take a bite of the Hershey kiss, then lick her lips to rid them of the droplets of alcohol and chocolate that didn’t make it into her mouth. I could only hope she knew what else she could do with that damn tongue.

“What else do you like? The smooth or the burning feeling?”

“Both..I like how it feels going down” I answer, and she smirks.

“I like how it feel going down too”

She hums, eyes trailing down my body. It was like she was only using the conversation as a way to freely steal glances. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was checking me out. “..Nice top by the way” Darting her eyes back up to mine, she takes another sip of her drink, then simply walks away.

‘What the fuck?’ I questioned myself. If I didn’t have my thighs clenched so tightly right now, I probably would have already had dampened my panties by now.

✮✮✮✮

Minutes later and there was music blasting, dancing, card games, but most importantly, and my favorite part, a blunt rotation. The blunt was passed around more than twenty times by now between me, Raven, and five other girls who decided to partake.

“I think I’m feelin it!” Tinesha gasps, smiling to herself. I chuckle at her reaction and take a strong pull from the blunt, passing it to Raven right after. She happily takes the blunt from me, her soft fingers caressing mine simultaneously to her taking the spliff from me.

I attempted to ignore all over her subtle, yet not so subtle movements and comments towards me. I felt like I was tripping for even thinking she was coming onto me. Maybe it was the shots and this blunt.

Weed smoke surrounded all of us, the taste of herb and alcohol parading my tongue. I blew smoke into the air and smiled, the girls around me cheering me on.

I felt my body relax in the couch as the minutes ticked by, the heat of Raven’s body next to me giving me a sort of comfort as I tried to find calm in my current space. I could physically hear my heartbeat in my ears now, and I was thinking about how bold I had to be to actually come to this sleepover, but it must’ve looked like I was geeking instead of panicking.

“You feelin it yet?” Raven asks, her leg making its way over mine. I felt her run her freshly done toes up my shin, her touch sending sparkling tingles through me. It was like my brain went into panic mode, my first thought being to jump up. Was she really coming onto me?

“We should go change for tonight!” I declared suddenly, the girls attention falling onto me. If I were them I’d look at me like I was crazy, but seeing that the weed was louder than a frat house, nobody saw a problem with my sudden urge to end the night. “Ouuu, yes! I bought us all these cute onesies to wear tonight for pictures” one of the girls exclaimed, standing up and running off to the living room to grab the clothing.

“I actually need to take another shower, so imma take this outfit change as an excuse” Tinesha spoke up, one other girl agreeing. A shower is just what I needed to cool me down. “I’ll take one too” I said, wiping my sweaty hands in my jean shorts. “I guess I’m taking a shower too” Raven says, smiling.

✮✮✮✮

Like I said before, a shower is just what I needed. The bathroom was huge, and the shower alone was bigger than any I’ve ever been in before. The water was hot, just how I liked it, and the water pressure was enough to send me to heaven. It honestly almost did when I was rinsing off with the detachable shower head and accidentally put it too low, the water grazing my clit ever so slightly, but it was still enough to make me let out a stifled moan as my knees buckled.

I had to quickly get out of there before I started something.

Wrapping a towel around my body, I grabbed the clothes that was given to me and exited out of the fogged up bathroom, walking through the long hallways of this house that was quite literally made for a princess. The house was huge, no doubt. Five bedrooms, a bathroom in each, outdoor pool, basement AND attic, even a kitchenette to compliment it all. I’d love to live in some big ass castle like this, but obviously it wouldn’t fall into my lap easily, and I wasn’t born with a silver spoon. Raven though? Born a heiress to both her parents fortune. Her mother was an accountant, and her father a successful realtor. She had it made.

I knew because I may have done some snooping on a few girls upon deciding whether I wanted to pledge AKA or not.

‘Damn, does this place end?’ I asked myself as I picked a random room to change in, assuming not all of them could have been occupied. Twisting the door handle, I walk in, but immediately stop in my tracks once I realized it was occupied, specifically by Raven.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I’ll go to another room-“

“No, come in! I don’t bite, I promise” she smiles, holding the towel up to her body.

“Y-..you sure?”

“Yeah! The rest of the rooms are occupied too so you might as well” I nervously chuckle. “All of them?

“All five, baby” She confirms, giggling.

I clear my throat and hesitantly walk into the room, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. “Close the door, silly. I don’t want just anybody seeing my goodies” she says, flipping her 26 inch bundles off of her shoulders.

I slowly close the door behind me with my foot, my arms clutching my clothes close to me. I had never been alone with her before, or any woman like this. Not this close, not this naked. I felt hot, and not in the heated way.

Easily slipping off her towel as if she wasn’t naked underneath it, she begins moisturizing her body with what I presumed to be oil. My hands fly up to my face at lightning speed and my clothes fell to the floor, a light gasp leaving my mouth at how it happened so quickly. I couldn’t tell if she was being promiscuous or if she was just that comfortable with me. Something told me it wasn’t the second option.

I heard her let out a shallow sigh, like she was tired of my reactions. “Raven I-“

“I want you to look….” She interrupts and I tilt my head, my hands still covering my eyes.

“What?”

“I said, I want you to look. You want to anyway. Cmon..” she pried. my breath was shaky as I slowly let my hands down, the girl continuing with her previous actions.

I had never been this open with women before, it shocked me how she was so free. Just last year I was convincing myself that I was straight. I was wrong. I don’t know what I am, but looking at the scene in front of me, it definitely ain’t that.

She rubbed oil over her torso and arms, her hands smoothing over her collar bones before making their way down to her titties. Round, brown, perky, pretty. She had tits models would die for. Her nipples were hard, standing at attention as her fingers caressed over them, her plump lips letting a moan slip right passed them. The touching was constant, her hands never leaving her body with her left hand sliding towards her freshly waxed pussy.

You could immediately see the glow and sheen the oil gave her lips as she used her entire hand to spread the oil over her before taking her middle finger and sliding it between her lips for a split second, a smirk growing on her face as I watched in almost a controlled state, not missing a beat.

“You wanna watch?” She asked. I didn’t even have to answer before she climbed into the bed and laid on her back, her ass slightly hanging off the bed with her legs spread wide, giving me a clear show of everything she had. Umber on the outside, rose pink on the inside. I couldn’t even help the jumping of my clit, my slick coating between my thighs as it had no barrier to stop it.

Ravens fingers danced around her slim body, one of her hands still working on tweaking her nipples as the other did as it pleased with her pussy, a singular finger playing with her pink button. She rubbed in circular motions with her jaw slack, breathy sighs leaving her mouth and moans following after. She could feel my urge to fall to my knees, but she gave me no permission.

Her juices her slowly pushed out of her as she clenched around nothing at all, her fingers tracing down to spread a little of what was urging to touch the sheets under her. She only rubbed faster from this point on. Her toes curled, and her moans picking up. her hips bucked upwards, and her legs shook. She came so gracefully with a constant lull of her head, her fringes falling into her face once she picked her head back up and looked at me.

“You like me…don’t you, Y/N?” She spoke suddenly, controlling her breathing.

“…yeah” I answer, nodding.

“So..can I make you cum tonight?”

“Yes, please” She smiles.

“Come lick me up and I’ll make you cum as many times as you want then”

✮✮✮✮

304 notes · View notes

sweetestofchaos · 11 days

Text

Safe Place | B.C

After a hard few weeks, Chan just wants to breath a little easier and he can only do that with you.

p. bang chan x black fem!reader

r. pg-16

w. depictions of exhaustion - use of noona - reader is older than chan - terms of endearment - fluff - super soft

wc. 1.7k

a/n. hello everyone. it's been a while since i wrote for any members of stray kids. chan is such an important person to me because i see a lot of myself in him. the man needs to sit his ass down somewhere and rest, so this is me, giving him what he needs. i hope you enjoy. also, please excuse any mistakes, like i said it's been a while

Chan is tired and not the ‘I need to sleep it off’ kind of tired. His mind is restless, the member’s voices and their endless Channie hyung echo in his ears. His body is heavy, invisible boulders cling to his shoulders and weigh him down. He feels everything and nothing all at once.

It’s dark out, well past midnight by the time he leaves the JYP building. He bows his head in thanks to the driver as he steps into the back of the SUV and tosses his bag onto the empty seat beside him. Chan tells the driver his destination as he buckles his seatbelt and the man selects it from the few programmed addresses. Soft music, maybe a lofi playlist flouts around the small space and Chan’s eyes slip shut with a deep sigh. He rests his head against the window and feels every turn the truck takes, he knows this route by heart. Fifteen minutes go by and the car rolls to a stop. Chan blinks his eyes and covers his mouth as he yawns. Again he bows his head in thanks and grabs his bag before he exits the SUV.

Chan waits for the SUV to pull off before he walks in the opposite direction two blocks down. His bag hangs off his back, thumping against the small of his back with each step. Street lights cast a soft glow in the night and Chan yawns again, his eyes watering slightly. Shaking his head, Chan turns the corner and hikes the bag higher up on his shoulder as he walks up the path that leads to the front door of an apartment complex. Reaching into his hoodie pocket, Chan grabs a black mask and quickly puts it over the lower half of his face before he walks through the doors.

Making his way to the elevator, Chan’s fingers tap against his thigh as he waits for the doors to open. Just a few more moments and he will be able to be human for the first time in a few days. The doors open and Chan steps into the elevator, pulling his phone from his back pocket as the doors slide shut. He pulls up his messages and tapes on the smiling face next to the contact name homegirl. He starts to type out a message and stops when he sees the time on his phone, it’s half past one in the morning. Chan clicks his tongue and shoves his phone back into his back pocket.

The elevator ride is quick and silent, there is no music for which Chan is thankful for. He steps out onto the fourth floor and walks down the familiar hall to the last door on the right. Standing in front of the door Chan keys in the secret code that he knows by heart and pushes open the door. The sound of nails faintly clicking on the tiled floor catches Chan’s attention as he toes off his sneakers and kicks them to the side. As he locks the door behind himself and walks farther into the apartment a shadow grows larger on the wall and Chan smiles softly as the long furry body of Ginger, a Salukis dog comes into view. Ginger takes slow steps, sniffing the air as she turns her head towards Chan.

“Come ‘here girl. Come here, Ginger.”

Chan calls the dog sweetly and crouches down with his hand outstretched so the dog can find him. Ginger was born blind and she is the sweetest dog that he has ever meant. Ginger knocks into his hand and Chan coos as he pets the dog and gives a few kisses to her head. Another shadow grows on the wall and Chan’s eyes roll upward when a pair of baby blue sock covered feet come into sight. Bare legs are exposed up until mid thigh that is covered by a pair of pale tan sleep shorts that have moons and stars on them. As he trails his eyes farther up, there is a soft tummy that isn’t covered by three inches of the matching spaghetti strap shirt and Chan smiles as his eyes lock onto the woman’s standing before him.

The sleep set looks cute on the woman, the tan complements her melanated skin and the way her skin glistens in the soft light that spills from the oven in the kitchen stove makes her look like a dream. Giving Ginger one last pet, Chan rises to his feet and shuffles over, the bag on his back slipping down into the crook of his arm. Vanilla, coconut and musk invade Chan’s nose and his mind fizzles to a gentle quiet as the woman takes the bag from him. Her hand wraps around his fingers and he shuffles along, letting the woman lead him farther into the apartment.

“Go to bed Ginger,” the woman’s voice is sleepy and sweet as she speaks to the dog and Chan wishes that she would speak to him with that same voice.

As the woman sets his bag on one of the chairs in front of her island bar, Chan feels his heart start to pick up as he is led to the bedroom. The room is the same as it was when he visited two weeks ago. The bedding is new, the white and grey now replaced with a blue lavender, which Chan recalls being one of the woman’s favorite colors. The warmth around his hand vanishes and Chan shivers, feeling colder than ever as he stands in the room covered by his hoodie. The woman moves around the room, grabbing a pair of boxers and sleep pants from a dresser along with a silk scarf.

Chan’s eyes flick up to the woman’s face and he notices that she is wearing a light green durag in place of her normal black cheetah print bonet.

“You changed your hair?”

“I did.”

The woman steps into Chan’s space and reaches up towards his face. Her manicured nails lightly tickle his skin as her fingers graze his eyebrows, temples, cheeks and jaw. Chan melts into the touch, his body leaning forward just slightly to apply more pressure.

“Change outta those clothes and come lay down. I’ll wrap your hair.”

In the blink of an eye the woman is no longer in front of Chan and he frowns as vanilla musk lingers around him. Shaking his head, Chan undresses, stripping himself of all his clothing before he slips on the fresh pair of boxers and black sleep pants. Grabbing his dirty clothes, Chan places them on top of the small pile on the floor and heads out the room. He needs to wash his face and use the toilet. From the hall Chan sees the light in the bathroom is on and his bare feet paddle on the tiled floor, slapping gently.

In the bathroom the woman is filling a bowl with warm water mixed with makeup remover. Chan smiles and clears his throat. The woman glances at him in the mirror and offers a smile before she turns around with the bowl in her hands.

“Let me wash your face.”

Chan leans against the sink and the woman stands between his legs. Chan rests his hands on her hips, his thumbs rubbing the soft, plushie skin gently as he self soothes. The woman’s touches are light but firm. She wipes the smudged eyeliner, washes away the thin layer of concealer and dabs at the remains of some tinted lip balm. She swipes a toner pad across Chan’s face and pats in a serum before she rubs in a face moisturizer to finish the shortened nighttime routine.

“I’ll wait for you in bed, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Chan tightens his hold on her hips as she moves back and she giggles, sharing a sleepy smile with Chan. Leaning forward she presses her lips to his and Chan sighs into the kiss. He pulls her closer, their middles pressing into each other’s and his fingers indenting into her skin. Fingers weave into the back of his hair and Chan groans as a warm tongue massages his bottom lip.

“Go to the bathroom baby.”

She pulls away, slipping through Chan’s fingers like smoke and he inhales deeply. He can still feel her pressed against him if he tries hard enough. Forcing himself to step away from the sink, Chan uses the bathroom, watches his hands and brushes his teeth before he hurries back to the bedroom. She is already in bed, sitting up with the scarf resting in her lap. Chan crawls into bed and sits beside her silently. He closes his eyes as her fingers thread through his hair and massage his scalp before she carefully wraps his hair for the night. His bonnet must be in the dirty wash now that he thinks about it.

They lay in bed together on their sides staring at each other. Chan admires the way her eyes sparkle in the darkness, the way she offers comfort with the smallest gestures and very little words. She shifts, now laying on her back and Chan slides closer, resting his head on top of her chest, above her heart. Fingers rub at the nape of his neck, a kind pressure that makes his shoulders relax and his breathing come easier.

“Do you want to talk?”

Chan shakes his head, burying his face into the plushness of her breasts. He snakes one hand under the shirt and cups the mound of flesh in his palm. He squeezes it lightly, the weight settling him as the warmth seeps into his veins. He doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to think. He just wants to be…that’s all he needs. Here and now, in this bed, held in her arms, Chan is just him.

“Rest baby.”

Chan’s eyes close at the gentle command and every tension bleeds out in an invisible wave as sleep pulls him under. Vanilla, coconut and musk comfort his senses, the body heat from underneath him soothes the aches he feels and the rhythmic beating of her heart quiets the never ending thoughts that keep him so productive throughout the day.

“I love you,” Chan’s voice is fleeting, being pulled between sweet dreams and the nightmare of life.

“I love you too. Get some rest.”

“Right-” Chan yawns loudly and snuggles farther into the woman’s soul, “thank you, noona.”

#bang chan fic #bang chan fluff #bang chan x black!reader #divider by adornedwithlight #soc chan #fic: safe place

33 notes · View notes

aspiring-house-husband · 1 year

Text

the goddess aphrodite does not approve of your relationship. that would be a little more threatening than it is, but she’s your mother, so you’re allowed to disobey her a little bit.

you’ve taken a shining to this mortal prince, Psyche. He’s gorgeous. stunningly so. the two of you courted for a few months a while back- you dropped your bow and arrow in the long grasses and ran with him, barefoot and basking in the wind across the rolling hills. you laid your head on his chest in the fields and lifted a wing to shade you both when the sun came out from behind a cloud. you were in love with him, and he with you. you should know, you were the god of romantic love. you could recognize it when you saw it.

your mother could too. and she gave psyche some stupid quest to win your hand. he performed admirably, of course, and by your pleading request your mother even granted him a palace to live in while he competed. but he could not see you for the sixty days and sixty nights it would take for him to complete her chores, or he would fail.

and honestly, for a goddess, you’d think your mother would be a little more creative.

when she turned her back, and moved to other matters, you would fly down to psyche’s palace. you’d slip in the window of his bedroom once you knew he was asleep, and you’d pull the bedsheets from his body. he slept nude, like he knew you were coming. like he knew the sight you’d want to see.

you would lay your bow and arrow by the bedside and position yourself between his legs, you would prep him with sloppy tongue and loving lips.

then, when he stood proud for you, you’d sit up and sink your hole over him, satisfying yourself of your need of his touch. you could not visit him, you could not see his loving expression as he held you, but you could still have him satisfy you. you bounced over him, moaned and whined, you pressed your palms down to his hips to keep yourself steady.

and when he let out a soft moan and turned his head, you quickly went invisible. you froze, speared deep on his cock and squeezing around him, not moving nor making noise. his eyes opened, and he lifted an arm to the still-visible dent in the mattress left by your knee so that he could slide his fingers up your thigh. he found your hipbone, and you took his hand to guide him first to your chest, and he made sure to pop your nipple between his knuckles before he moved on and cupped your jaw.

“good morning, my love, my Eros,” he breathed, eyes seeing through you but full of fondness regardless. “still, still until i fall asleep again. I’ll win you soon.”

you did as asked. you kissed his knuckles before lowering his hand to the mattress, and kept his cock inside you while his breathing slowly fell to the cadence of sleep again. only then could you return visible again, and lean down to kiss his forehead before beginning to ride him again. waiting inside you all this time, it did not take long for him to cum, and you followed him easily, splattering across his chest while his dripped from you. you pulled yourself up on shakey legs to press a kiss first to his forehead, then his lips. you slid your bow and arrow around your shoulders, and after pulling your wings through the skinny window, took off into the night.

he’ll see you again soon.

#og #story #prince #monster #angel #ancient greece #historical #c0ckwarming #somno

315 notes · View notes

captain-hawks · 6 months

Note

Congrats on the 1k! For the event I was wondering if you could do “Levi Ackerman”, “motor oil” and “black”?

(thank you!!)

levi ackerman x f!reader

— in which you’re an elementary school teacher, levi’s niece is your student, and yet somehow you can’t help but find yourself gasping under his steady touch in the dark supply closet of your classroom time and time again.

c: 18+ only, fingering, praise kink

It’s a familiar dance—impatient hands blazing well-trodden, invisible paths. Firm presses of fingertips, the scraping of nails. Plush lips and nipping teeth and tongues and saliva and quiet, muffled moans buried behind a warm, calloused palm.

—husky words rasped against the shell of your ear, gray eyes boring into yours—framed by mussed, inky black locks of hair. The smell of motor oil and leather and something vaguely citrus, all relentlessly curling through your senses with each gasping inhale he pulls from you as his hands slide up your thigh.

Levi Ackerman may very well be the death of you.

“I like this dress,” he murmurs, taking a fistful of the soft, cotton material in one hand, bunching the skirt up as he trails his thumb along the waistband of your panties.

It’s dark in the cramped supply closet of your classroom, but Levi doesn’t need to see to know where to touch you, to know exactly how much pressure to use as he drags a finger over you swollen clit—just enough to make you gasp into his mouth as he kisses you hard.

The shouts and laughter out in the schoolyard are hardly audible behind the closed door, a quiet hum of background noise broken up by the steady ticking of the clock on the wall beside your desk. The sounds are a reminder—that recess will end soon. It will end and a little girl will run into the room with wide eyes and shout, “Uncle Levi!”

And he’ll shoot one last meaningful glance in your direction as he brushes a hand over the rumpled visitor’s pass stuck to his jacket, taking his niece out of school early for one reason or another yet again.

But for now, it’s just the two of you, his name a near-silent plea on your kiss-swollen lips as he pushes your thighs further apart and tugs your panties aside, slipping a finger inside of you.

You couldn’t stand him at first when he began showing up for Mikasa more often than not, filling in when her parents couldn’t. His motorcycle was so loud you could hear it from the parking lot all the way in your classroom, and despite the gentle way he lit up for the tiny human in your care, you couldn’t say the same for his clipped, reserved demeanor otherwise.

Like he had better things to do than endure the cheery attitude of the second grade teacher wearing a bright dress covered in sunflowers.

(He’d outright shuddered when you’d asked him if he wanted to stick around once while the students took turns observing the class’ caterpillars, stalking off as he clicked his tongue against his teeth and muttered something about “sanitary classrooms” under his breath.)

Well, until a private meeting about a structured teaching plan for Mikasa—one that she was not present for—somehow went from a biting, quasi-argument of sarcastic remarks to his mouth over yours with your back up against the chalkboard.

(“You drive me crazy,” he panted, eyes alight with a mixture of intrigue and defeat, chalk streaked across his fingertips.

Eyebrow raised, you laughed, “Got a thing for teachers?”

His eyes trailed over your form, something unreadable in his expression.

“Just you,” he exhaled softly.

Far softer than you’d ever thought him capable of.)

There’s a tattoo on Levi’s collarbone, one that you’ve only seen teases of when the neck of his shirt falls victim to your wandering hands. Like now, when white cotton strains against the grip of your fingers while you buck into his touch, wet cunt spasming around the two digits curled inside of you.

You’re not really sure what to call this arrangement, the one where neither of you acts like this happened once the door to the closet shuts behind you afterward with a click (but if there’s one thing you are certain of, it’s that Levi has suddenly found far more excuses to be the one picking Mikasa up as of late).

And it’s the looming, liminal space of uncertainty that makes you do a double take at his next words, ones he murmurs against your throat—

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart leaps in your chest, a clumsy, fumbling thing. But you can’t even bring yourself to come up with a coherent response, not when he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you even harder, reducing you to a trembling mess as he drives you to the brink of an orgasm.

“I—“

“Come for me,” he rasps.

It’s stupid, how easily those three words send a tidal wave of heat right between your thighs.

“Levi.”

“Don’t hide your face,” he breathes out just as you go to drop your forehead against his shoulder, face contorting in ecstasy. “Let me watch.”

Every nerve ending in your body is filled with liquid fire, your limbs strung so tightly you can hardly breathe.

It’s dark in the closet, but your eyes have adjusted enough to catch the glint in his as he stares at you. The slight curve of his lips as you meet his gaze, soundlessly moaning into the scant space between your mouths.

“Good girl,” he whispers, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

You nearly sob as you reach your climax, walls rapidly clenching on the slick, steady thrust of Levi’s fingers as he massages your engorged, aching clit and kisses you so fervently you nearly come again right there on the spot.

Your fingers find their way into his hair as his tongue slides along yours, and when he groans lewdly into the kiss, you have half a mind to reach down and—

—but the sound of the recess bell shakes you both from your stupor, unapologetically so.

He’s breathing hard as his forehand falls against yours, one hand coming up to trace the curve of your jaw.

“Dinner?”

You grin. “I’m not getting on the back of your motorcycle though.”

He tugs at the hem of your dress, the upturn of his mouth mirroring your own. “Not in this dress, you’re not.”

—

There’s a bouquet of sunflowers waiting on your desk the next morning.

#attack on titan #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #snk #aot #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi aot #levi ackerman x you #dee writes

93 notes · View notes

separatist-apologist · 9 months

Text

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

Gwyn didn’t know what, exactly, woke her. A warming in her blood, a flare of light in her dreams. Something just at the periphery of her waking mind screamed suddenly, the sound of it echoing when her eyes flew open. Blinking against the dark, Gwyn tried to recall the person who had been lingering there. Had it been a woman? She took a deep breath, the exhale of air taking the remnant of memory with it.

Someone had called for her. She knew it with a certainty she couldn’t shake that someone had been there—someone who didn’t belong, someone who had used magic to press in only to be forced back out.

Gwyn swallowed, rolling to her back and just out of Azriel’s slackened embrace.

Azriel.

For a moment she’d forgotten why he was there or what they’d been doing. Her mate, lost in what seemed to be a peaceful sleep. His shadows hadn’t returned though the drawn curtains kept any light from illuminating his beautiful face. It was tempting to touch him—to give in to the clawing urge in her chest.

Quiet as a mouse, Gwyn slipped from the bed instead. Let him sleep for once, she reasoned as she dressed quickly. Azriel didn’t stir when she left the room, closing the door behind her. She barely remembered falling asleep—they’d tumbled right back into each other the moment he’d finished, his tongue sliding over her thighs before he’d flipped her to her stomach, taking her again and again.

She felt sore—she should have felt spent. Instead Gwyn merely wanted. It was enough to make her teeth ache, her mind begging her to go wake him up. She knew he’d be delighted if she did, pulling her against him with a sleepy smile reserved only for her. Unaware of what was happening between them, that the insatiable desire he felt wasn’t merely his own masculine urges but a mating bond desperate for acceptance.

It was a problem for another time—maybe another century. Gwyn was confronted with a different problem the moment she lit a candle in their dark, shared common room. What had once been a neat, tidy space was a wreck, torn apart by invisible hands long gone. Cushions were tossed to the floor books upended and strewn about with loose pages carpeting the stone floor. And on the table where Gwyn’s research had once lain…

“No!” she hissed, looking toward the closed door. Had they locked it? Had they even remembered to? She could see it was unlatched, though if it had been magic or merely luck that allowed the would-be thief into their room, Gwyn couldn’t say.

It didn’t occur to her to go wake Azriel. Gwyn merely shoved on her boots, grabbed her most lethal dagger, and stalked out into the dark. It was Cassian’s training that made her stop for a moment, that caused Gwyn to take a deep breath of air.

The room smelled like sex, cut with the stale scent of herself and Azriel’s time there. And just beneath all of it was something decidedly feminine . Something akin to vanilla and coconut, something warm and sweet and perhaps a little scared, too. Maybe that was Gwyn’s fear she was smelling—she couldn’t be sure.

Take a breath, Berdara, Cassian’s voice whispered in her mind.

You’re the predator, not the prey.

That wasn’t Cassian—that was Catrin.

Her sister was right. Gwyn had nothing to be afraid of, though she wasn’t sure why she thought that. Only that there was a rightness to the feeling as she slid into the hall, careful and quiet as any of Azriel’s shadows. Whoever had come knew what they’d been looking for and to Gwyn, there was really only one person it could be, scent be damned.

Eris Vanserra.

Perhaps he’d sent some trembling servant to do his dirty work. Maybe that was just how he smelled and Gwyn hadn’t noticed before, too distracted by Azriel. She’d been in this palace for days and no one had disturbed her and now her cipher was gone just as Eris arrived? How he’d found out she was researching Koschei didn’t matter—all that mattered was she got her research back before he went back to Autumn and used it all against her, her home, and potentially the rest of the world.

If only she knew where to find him. Surely he was in some fine room similar to hers? Somewhere in the wing she now stalked down, somewhere close enough he could slip in unheard, get what he needed, and slip back out. Gwyn’s heart pounded, clogging her ability to hear clearly as she surveyed the dark. Azriel could ask his shadows, she reasoned, some of her anger starting to fade into panic.

Just wake him.

Wasn’t he trying to teach her she didn’t need to do everything herself? She could…she could just ask. And he’d do it for no other reason than she’d requested it and he cared about her. It was habit to want to do things alone but she knew better.

Gwyn turned abruptly and had made it two steps when she saw a figure stumbling toward her. The smell of salt and copper flooded her senses, raising the hair on the back of her neck.

“Wait,” a familiar voice managed, rough and hoarse as though they’d been screaming.

Gwyn yielded a step toward them. “Kai?” she whispered.

“Please,” he managed, collapsing to the ground before she could reach him. His face connected loudly with the cool ground beneath them, head bouncing as he exhaled. Gwyn reached for his shoulders, surprised not to find hardened muscle beneath his threadbare clothes but jutting bone. Turning him, she could see the sharp contours of his cheeks, the curve of his jaw with his skin stretched over top too tautly to truly look mortal.

He looked hollowed out and half dead and the smell of him was worse. “Where have you been?”

“My mother,” he managed, eyes fixated not on her face but at the ceiling. “My mother, she…”

“Shh,” Gwyn whispered, pulling his head into her lap as she sat on the floor. “Tell me later. We need to get you help—”

“You need to run,” he whispered, urgency lacing his words. “Run, run now before…”

Cold wound its way up Gwyn’s spine at the sound of steps behind them, soft and ominous as they made their way toward them. Someone was coming. Kai’s breathing quickened and he twisted from her grasp, those dull eyes of his that had once bothered her so filled with so much terror. He knew what was coming for them—had experienced something so horrible that Gwyn couldn’t bring herself to turn and look.

It wasn’t fear making her cold, but the presence itself. Something more than shadow—something old and terrible, something ancient and evil. It would consume them both, would take whatever was left of Kai before it consumed her, too. Gwyn remembered the screaming in her head—could hear a voice she almost recognized pulled back up by the rising panic.

Use the light! That woman’s voice demanded—not Catrin, or Emerie, or Nesta, though it felt like Nesta.

All Gwyn knew was she had a second to act—to pull out the burning heat that had always flickered along her fingers and drive the cold back. Flame erupted erratically, engulfing her with raw power unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It was as if her blood recognized the creature coming toward them and had awoken from its own ancient slumbering to fight this cosmic battle.

The heat was unbearable even to Gwyn who could weather it, could withstand it. She didn’t know how to settle the flames that rose higher and higher, smoke curling like shadows as nearby curtains began to smolder. Somewhere in the hall, Kai had gone silent, shielded by the wall of flame that was now Gwyn.

She dared to twist her body, to look at the recoiling cold slithering further and further away. Darkness slithered from the figure, draping them in a dark so ancient and old that she thought even the High Lord of Night himself would have shuddered to touch.

But there, atop the figure's head, laid a crown of darkest adamantine. So sharp it seemed to slice against her vision—nine peaked daggers glinting brutally. She’d thought for a moment it was retreating and she’d managed to scrape out an accidental victory. But the creature paused far enough from the dark she only just make it out, standing in a stairway as it waited.

And waited.

Gwyn knew she’d burn out before dawn, her body trembling from the rush of power so foreign to her that Gwyn had no idea how she’d called it or how to extinguish it.

Take your time, that darkness seemed to whisper, tendrils creeping forward to test the strength of her wall before recoiling with furious pain. I have time.

Gwyn took a breath.

Predator, not prey.

She didn’t dare look behind her to see where Kai had gone. Something told her he was dead—and it hadn’t been her who had killed him, though perhaps that was merely wishful thinking. Gwyn rose on unsteady legs, a newborn fawn staring down a lion. Those sharpened spikes seemed to grin somehow, the darkness yawning wide with an ancient, ugly laugh.

Your kind never changes.

Whatever that meant.

Gwyn took a step backwards, slamming into the chest of an unfamiliar body. It wasn’t Azriel’s fingers that curled over the tops of her arms, nor was it Azriel’s magic intertwining with her own.

“You called,” Eris Vanserra whispered, wreathed in the same red hot flames currently emanating from her own frame. “What have you done?”

“That wasn’t me,” she whispered, knowing he wasn’t asking about the magic. Gwyn had always known her family hailed from some courtier in the Autumn Court, had guessed the flickering flames belonged to them. There wasn’t enough worth mentioning to anyone, nor a well of power that might ever get the attention of the powerful nobility.

Until now.

“Hold your breath,” Eris ordered, wrapping scalding arms around her frame.

NO! The darkness roared, but Eris pulled a crackling hearth and cool, autumn wind around them, shattering the protective magic that ought to have kept them trapped in order to make their escape. It was too late. One moment Gwyn was certain they were going to die and the next they were outside beneath a blanket of stars.

Safe.

“Put it out!” Eris ordered, the magic in his words immediately banking her flames. Gwyn’s legs collapsed beneath her, her body sinking into the loamy, damp earth below. They weren’t in Montesere any longer—the stars above were different, the horizon near lilac from the earlier rising sun.

“Where are we?” she breathed, curling her fingers into mossy.

“The Middle,” he replied, running a hand through copper colored hair. Whirling around, Eris crouched to look at her. “Where is your mother?”

“Dead.”

“Dead,” he repeated, amber eyes glazed as he took this in. “I could guess your father.”

“He was Spring Court. It’s my grandfather…is…is it—”

“Not mine,” he snapped, though she thought she detected relief in his words. “You belong to my mother…and she belongs to the Vanserras. Which means you do, too.”

“I—” Gwyn swallowed. Her mother had never shared her lineage and Gwyn had never cared enough to ask. A quarter nymph, and now nobility on the Lady of Autumn’s side. “But the magic—”

“The Vanserra’s were so inbred our family tree was more of a bush. Our magic was waning and my father was in trouble. Your power, my power…our power comes from my mothers line.”

“I have to go back,” Gwyn breathed, trying to push herself up. “I need—”

“Are you insane?” he hissed, grabbing her by the shoulders when she managed to rise to her feet. “That thing was about to devour you like it did the prince. You need to stay exactly where you are.”

“Azriel—”

“Is a battle honed warrior capable of handling himself,” Eris insisted. Gwyn reached for her dagger the same moment Eris grabbed her wrist. She managed to slice him sharply against the cheek before he slammed her against a twisting tree behind her, the force of it enough to knock the blade from her hand. “You’re coming to the Forest House.”

“I belong to the Night Court,” she whispered, twisting in his grasp for all the good it did.

“You belong to the Vanserras,” he replied, his face all but carved of stone. “My father will be waiting to see you.”

“Eris,” she whispered, knowing full well her words would mean nothing to him. “Eris, please don’t do this.”

Something like pity flared in his gaze. “Time to go.”

Maybe, she reasoned, it would have been better to be consumed quickly than to be sent into the prison that was Autumn.

“You can’t hold me indefinitely,” Gwyn threatened.

“Don’t take it so personally. This is merely politics and you’re a convenient pawn.”

And with another rush of cool autumn wind, Gwyn and Eris left the Middle.

Straight for the heart of Autumn.

#shorter than usual but azriels pov just didnt make sense here #and id argue it isnt necessary OR interesting #gwynriel

68 notes · View notes

lena-in-a-red-dress · 1 year

Text

Baby Kal El AU

Lena and Kara are married. They do things married folks do. Like sex.

----

Lena twists her wrists experimentally. Kara had come to her not long after dropping Kal off with Alex, Lena’s favorite rope looped in her hands. It’s been a long time since they’ve had time to do this. Months, maybe longer. Life gets busy with a ten year old.

Unable to help the smile that grew to match Kara’s suggestive grin, Lena had put her book aside and slipped her hands through the loops of rope, clasping Kara’s hands as she allowed herself to be drawn to their bedroom.

Now here she is, wrists bound to the headboard and completely naked. The mirror over their bed had been a splurge– a small secret normally hidden by a swath of fabric artfully draped below it. Kara had uncovered it as soon as Lena’s wrists had been satisfactorily restrained, allowing Lena to see every tantalizing inch of her bare skin as Kara removed Lena’s robe.

As Lena studies her nude form in the mirror above, she nearly misses Kara’s approach until the bed dips around her. Kara looms over her, eclipsing her view of the mirror with a knowing grin.

“Enjoying the view?”

Lena lifts her head from the pillow to press a kiss to her wife’s lips. “You know I do.” Lena smirks against Kara’s mouth. “Untie me, and I’ll show you how much.”

It’s a game they like to play– Lena tries to talk her way out of her bonds, only to be all too happy when Kara resists.

“I don’t think so,” Kara returns in a low voice. Settling her slightly onto her hips, she frees her arms of her weight to run her hands down Lena’s forearms until their palms meet and she laces her fingers through Lena’s. “Wouldn’t want you to bump anything, would we?”

The reminder of the bandage on her cheek makes Lena’s lips twist a little bit. It’s still relatively fresh, both the wound and their attempts to navigate a new way through Kal’s powers. But Kara’s tender kiss against the bandage protecting the burn saves the mood.

“I know normally you like it rough,” Kara continues. “But I don’t want to do that tonight.”

She holds Lena’s gaze, her blue eyes almost smoldering with desire.

“Tonight, I want to show you just how careful I can be.”

And oh, does Kara show her. With fingers, tongue and toys Kara shows her, taking Lena to the brink of orgasm with gentle ministrations, only to back off just before Lena hits the point of no return. It’s not frustrating, at first, but tantalizing. Lena feels every minute movement against her, practically miniscule… Because Kara is right– Lena likes it rough. Even without the games they like to play, Lena needs pressure and sharp motions that will bring her to climax as quickly as possible.

Tonight, Kara has all the time in the world.

So Lena languishes, lavished with refined attention. Lena’s temperature lifts by degrees, but after hours pass with no relief, those degrees add up until Lena is flushed and beginning to sweat. Her breath quickens as Kara breathes a sigh of icy mist across her clit– Lena’s vagina tightens on Kara’s two fingers inside her, searching still for that elusive plunge over the edge. But in the next moment Kara’s warm tongue laves over her chilled clit, easing the sensation from sharp to smooth, languid.

“Goddammit, Kara,” Lena hisses.

“Would you like me to stop?” Kara asks innocently from between her legs.

Lena glares at the back of her wife’s head in the mirror overhead. “If you stop I’m divorcing you.”

When Kara breaks out the strap-on, Lena almost cries with relief. Surely, she thinks, this means she’ll get past that invisible line Kara has been dancing on all night. But when Kara slides the head just inside, she pauses, waiting for Lena to settle. Only then does she gently thrust her hips forward, sliding the full length inside Lena seemingly inch by inch.

Rationally, Lena understands the demonstration for what it is. Every ounce of Kara’s fine motor control has been on fine display tonight with every touch. But while Kara thinks Lena needs this, Lena knows better.

She’s never once worried about Kara’s control. She still doesn’t.

But Kara does.

It’s Kara who needs this.

“Jesus fuck!, Kara!” Lena huffs as Kara withdraws just shy of bottoming out.

Kara only smiles, reaching up to tuck a strand of sweat-slick hair behind Lena’s ear. “You’ve been such a good girl,” she croons. Lena moans, almost ashamed of the thready gasp of need at the end. “You’ve been trying so hard… do you think you’re ready?”

“Kara, if you don’t– nngh!” Lena’s voice breaks into a keen as Kara presses her fingers hard against Lena’s clit at the exact moment she thrusts her hips sharply into Lena’s.

Lena orgasms immediately. After so long on the razor’s edge it floods her hot and bright, ears roaring until all she can hear is her own breathless grunting as her walls clench hard around the shaft inside her. Just as she starts to come down, Kara thrusts again, repeating the same press against Lena’s clit, which sends Lena spiraling over the edge once more.

This time Lena’s back arches with a gasp, ropes snapping tight as she yanks involuntarily against her bonds. Her hands curl into fists, even as she pants her wife’s name.

“K-Kara–!”

“I’ve got you,” Kara murmurs against her neck. “I’ve got you.”

#supercorp #smut #kal el au #bc the discord was rioting #sharing here so i can keep track of it #and also have something to link over to the discord #enjoy!

182 notes · View notes

baohanhanesel · 10 months

Text

Valeria Garza x Obsessed Reader.

You saw her standing in an alleyway, with numerous armed men all around her. From a glance alone you could tell she was someone important. Powerful, even. The look in her eyes spoke authority and you admired that. You just had to talk to this woman. What would a woman like that enjoy, you thought. Where would she hangout in her free time if she had any?

You were a passerby for her. An unimportant detail in the crowd. You were a civilian, and you were invisible to big people like her. But that was fine with your case, that only made it easier to steal glances to her side. She was already used to having the eyes on her, that much was obvious.

The first time you got to talk was all thanks to you getting a job in a bar you noticed she was a regular in. You asked her what she'd like, and was lucky enough to hear her voice so close to you. She was powerful even while she was sitting down in a bar with the exhaustion clear in her posture. You loved the little details about her. How she'd always grab her tequila with a full hand and when it was close to finishing, she'd only use three fingers for the lightweight. Those three fingers would leave a faint fingerprint on her glass. And whenever she left for the night, you'd touch on the fingerprints with the tip of your fingers before wiping it clean. You needed more. This alone wouldn't satisfy you. You had to figure out where she lived, her full name, her hometown, her favourite scent, her interests, her anything and everything.

You did your research well. Valeria Garza, was the name you had fallen for. You would occasionally find yourself muttering it when you are walking back to your house from the grocery store. Her name sounded so beautiful on your tongue.

You kept searching, following her like a shadow in the crowd. It wasn't long enough that you found out she was the El Sin Nombre. Judging from that information you found out about her past. That she was a local and which shop she got her tattoos in.

In another night shift you were cleaning around. The cloth in your hand wiping the counter in front of you when she entered the bar. This was unusual. She normally wouldn't come in the third time in a week. You knew because you paid attention. You were curious, but you'd play it cool and dumb. You were happy to see her after all. When she sat down on the bar stool, she glanced at you. She noticed you. She sat on the bar stool closest to you when there was someone else on the other corner of the counter. Oh, she had chosen you? You'd serve her in a golden plate.

"The usual," She told you. You didn't think twice to pour her a tequila and slide it to her side on the counter. She eyed you at first. Was she getting suspicious of you? Did she notice you? That would mean she paid attention to you... You couldn't help but wonder what she'd do to you if she caught you obsessing over her. Maybe she'd get rid of you? ... All of a sudden you didn't want to think. But if she wanted you to die, you would. For her? Anything was possible.

That night she left a bit late for her usual. Exactly forty-two minutes late. You couldn't help but think about it. Maybe she took a liking to you too?

You kept it going for months.

It was getting unbearable to not be able to touch her or possess anything about her. All you had was her name that you could take with you. So you decided, you'd make a mistake. You'd make yourself known and throw away the invisibility you've been taking advantage of. You started thinking about what you'd do. Maybe you would make a sound when you were next to her house so her men saw you? No, there was a chance that they'd murder you before she saw you. That plan was off the list. Maybe you'd look at her longer in the bar? Maybe you'd bump into her? Oh, you could mess a deal she had and get her pissed. You loved to see her power and she had always shown it better when she was enraged anyways. Seeing as that rage is directed towards you? That would be Christmas. That's it. You knew what to do.

"Eres una cosita tonta," She glared at you. Her patience was running thin. "You think I wouldn't notice?" She caught you snapping a photo of her in the crowd not once but thrice yesterday. Your plan had worked so well that right now you were probably in the basement of one of her safe houses. You were tied down to the chair you were sitting on. Even if there were no ropes, you'd still sit there like this but Valeria probably wouldn't believe that. "SPEAK!" She yells at you. She could have better things to do right now. "What was your intention" she pushes. After not getting anything out of you but silence, she pulls out her gun and aims it at your head. To her surprise, you look the furthest thing away from scared. This only makes you more suspicious, but you just can't help yourself with her being so powerful you just can't help but stare.

"You either confess or--"

"I love you."

Valeria is dumbfounded for a moment until you start talking like as if you do not have a gun pointed at you while you are tied down on a chair. She just stares at you while you speak. While you confess.

"I saw you one day while you were leading a deal. After that? I just knew we had to talk! So I kept my eye on you. I did it quietly, you never noticed. Even if you did you never got suspicious. You were unreachable. And I wanted to reach you. I got a job in a bar where you were a regular. I took photos of your tattoos and found the tattoo artist's shop you had them made in! I found your house and it didn't take long to find out your occupation."

You weren't shutting up and good lord as each minute passed Valeria stopped seeing a nuisance on that chair but herself. Your obsession and your strong will was reminding her of herself. So all these months you had made her your little plaything and she didn't know? You had found out her everything. You had gotten so close to her and goodness she didn't even bat an eye until now. Until you knowingly got caught.

"-- and after that I decided to make a mistake. I grew so bored always watching you from the sidelines... If I'd make a mistake you'd notice me!" You had confessed everything in the span of twenty minutes. Valeria had listened to every word you spoke without missing a beat.

Your obsession with her... She couldn't help but laugh. You were such a sneaky cunning little snake. She could feel her cheeks getting numb because of the heat rushing into them. You caught her off guard. And that, made you more than special in her eyes.

Not long after the gun is out of sight and Valeria is helping you out of the safehouse she is so sure you know the way out of. She will keep an eye on you. Someone so obsessed with her... So sneaky that she didn't even notice. She is starting to get obsessed herself.

"How long?" She asked you. Curious about the amount of time you were left alone in your headspace only thinking about her.

"Ten months." You looked at her face and smiled.

That smile. You were a true snake.

At that moment Valeria just knew you were the one for her. You were such a sneaky little thing... She was your plaything and you knew it. You have been playing her like a doll. Valeria saw power when she looked at you. She wanted you. She wanted to know everything about you. What was your name? What did you like to do in your free time... Where was your hometown? She wouldn't ask you, no. She had to make the game fair. She'd take you out on dinner first, and would start her research after.

Part two is out! And a plate of art on the side?

#cod modern warfare #cod #call of duty #valeria x reader #valeria garza #valeria cod #gn reader #x reader

86 notes · View notes

trappezoider · 1 year

Text

Happy Christmas

The snow crunches pleasantly under Sebastian’s boot. He looks ahead of him, picture fogging up from every interval of his hot breath, and smiles. He’s finally home. The snow still clings to him when he gets inside the house. The smell of ham and cinnamon enters his nostrils. “Uncle Sebastian! Look!” “What is it, Abigail?” Abigail’s soft, brown curls jump from excitement as she presents him a toy horse, led white, with tiny specks on its rump. They’re almost a replica of her freckles scattered around her nose. It neighs once, twice and stares at Sebastian with its bright emerald eyes. “Very good! Now show me what it can do," he says.

The horse spins around and goes into a wild gallop around the air. Abigail is clapping her little hands together in delight, giggling as it passes her.

"You're spoiling them," Sebastian hears.

Anne leans over the countertop, smearing a huge piece of ham in a syrupy amber glaze. Sebastian chuckles at her, and after taking off his robes, slides over next to her, giving her a peck on the cheek. He grabs an apple from the basket. It tastes funny. Not like an apple at all.

"Christmas is only once a year," he says and the apple is gone. Sebastian loves Christmas. He would have Christmas forever if he could.

"You say that every year."

"Do I?"

"You do."

Anne finishes the glazing with a light dusting of chives and shoves the whole thing in the oven, into the blazing fire. It chars into a black lump of coal.

"Uncle! Look at mine!" Simon squeals, voice high-pitched and deafening. He clings to Sebastian's mint school blazer and shows him the exact same horse as Abigail did.

Abigail is by the fire, staring into the flames. She looks like she's about to jump in.

"Very good!" Sebastian says, staring at her.

"Simon, I've told you to keep it down, haven't I?" Anne chides.

Simon's face distorts. It looks exactly like Anne's. Like mother, like son, like…

"Anne," Sebastian says and kneels in front of Simon. "Don't listen to your mama. It's alright if you're loud. You can scream."

"Please don't, Sebastian. You know how much Solomon hates it when they scream," the adult Anne sighs and she's rolling a pin over a lump of dough. It stretches into a perfect, cream-coloured square. Sebastian wants to grab it and throw it into a wall but his body doesn't let him.

"Happy Christmas!"

Sebastian whips his head towards the door. His breath leaves him.

Ominis stands there, snowflakes stuck to his long lashes and perfectly pomaded hair. He leaves his topper and cloak on the hanger, over Sebastian's robes. He's clad in a wine red suit. It hugs and drapes over the contours of his body in a way that makes Sebastian's legs buckle. Has he always looked this beautiful?

"Uncle Ominis!" the twins screech. Abigail withdraws her hand out of the fire and runs into his spread out arms. Simon follows her, and Ominis presses their tiny little backs into a tight embrace. Sebastian loves how his nose scrunches up from how hard he squeezes them.

"Happy Christmas!" Anne yells and offers him and Sebastian a glass of wine each. She doesn't have one herself. Sebastian notices how round and swollen her belly suddenly is.

Ominis' wand locks on Sebastian. He comes closer until their chests are pressed together, flush and warm against one another. The wine glasses break, shatter into tiny fragments between them. Sebastian doesn't feel it. The wine stain is invisible on Ominis' red suit.

"I love you," Sebastian hears and it's his own mouth saying it. "Will you stay with me this summer?"

Ominis smiles. He's looking straight at Sebastian. He leans in to kiss him, and Sebastian can smell cinnamon on his breath.

Their lips push against one another, ardently, feverishly. Sebastian's legs do give out. Ominis' tongue is slippery - it's soft and warm inside him, and it feels like it's all that Ominis has morphed into. The glass cracks between them with each movement and press of their bodies.

And then the shards sink into Sebastian's skin.

His eyes fly open.

He's in his bed, in his soaked through jammies, his blanket half on its way to the floor. It's already light outside; he can see the dust dancing by the window above the kitchen nook, where Anne had just finished glazing the ham. The birds are screaming their love songs. He's alone.

Tears start rolling out onto his cheeks. He brings his knees to his chest and an ugly, core cracking wail escapes past his throat and spills into his hands.

Sebastian wants to go back to sleep.

#sebinis #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis x sebastian #sebastian sallow #sebastian x ominis #gauntlow #ominis #sebastian #harry potter #angst #hurt #no comfort #only pain

69 notes · View notes

mamiya-a · 1 month

Text

Playing dangerous - Mother Miranda/reader

Warning for explicit content.

Chapter 6: Admiration

Summary:

Admiration can be dangerous. If not contained it shapes into devotion and later on - worship. It's what Miranda does , it's what she has always done.

You enjoy the softness of the lips that press against yours. Maybe a little bit too much. Their gentle nature had disappeared with time, as that passionate kissing started a while ago, and now you feel roughly claimed by them over and over again. You don't mind it when they descend down to your chin and begin to place uncalculated nips on your skin.

A few bites along your jaw make your body tense, one tender kiss below your ear manages to relax you though and you perceive it as a warning before you feel sharp teeth connecting with your neck.

You groan quietly, unsure if you should focus on that feeling or the hands that are firmly holding your waist, two thumbs lazily shaping circles on the sides of your stomach, adding pressure to the burning feeling in your abdomen.

Your eyes move down, as they were regarding the ceiling till now, and your gaze fixes on the woman on top of you, her face is hidden in your neck , busy delivering tons of love bites there. However you recognise the colour and texture of her golden hair, you could never mistake it.

You moan out her name , the sound of it rolls off your tongue perfectly, and she moves to bite on your shoulder, her force is almost unbearable. Her answer if she likes it or not is vaguely enough, so you repeat your actions. This time she releases your skin from her piercing teeth and instead drags her long, wet tongue along your neck , tasting sweet blood in the process. She loves it.

You don't seem to be tied up , yet you're unable to move your hands ,or any part of your body in that regard. It's like she's holding you down with an invisible force. You're not mad because all you can do is whimper and take everything she's giving you ,but because you cannot touch her the way she's touching you.

You find yourself craving for her , as your back sinks into the mattress. She's careful, she's strong and she's the one in control, so naturally you allow yourself to try and do the only thing that can possibly force her to switch sides. You beg.

Surprisingly enough she listens and obeys. Your fingers twitch as you try to move your hands up again and finally - you wrap them around her body. Your back shift and you manage to sit up , with the woman calmly placed in your lap. You shove your head in the crook of her neck , nose tracing along her tender skin. You close your eyes , breathing in her sweet scent.

She chuckles playfully when you flip her over so now you're on top of her. Both of you decide not to waste any time and crash your lips together again. Kissing her feels right, like you two belong to eachother, like the curves of her lips are specifically made for yours.

She is in fact disappointed when you suddenly part away from her , leaving her heated lips aching for more of yours. But you have other plans. You straighten your back and give her a smirk, enjoying the confusion written on her face.

Then you widen your eyes as you miss to notice her hand coming up , behind your head, and firmly grabbing the hair on your nape. She pulls back roughly, licking her lips at your now fully exposed neck. Her mouth parts , ready to devour your skin like a predator.

You take the advantage of her upper body ascending, which you use to push her shoulders and pin her back down to the mattress. She grunts as you sit right on top of her stomach, limiting the freedom of her movements. Though her eyebrows furrow in frustration, she can't help the daring smile urging on her face.

You return her gesture, while your fingers slip under the straps of her nightgown, and you slowly, almost painfully, slide them down her shoulders until you've had completely bared her chest.

You gently brush away the locks of hair that are distracting you, making them fall behind her shoulders. Her breasts are nicely shaped , round and soft, they fit perfectly in your palms when you grab them. And she bites her lower lip as your thumbs begin to brush against and tease her nipples , her back slightly arched to give you more access.

You're too invested in admiring her chest to acknowledge the fingertips running down your stomach. The feeling is nice , the slow scratching from her nails on your skin. Even when she fully drags them with enough force to gather flesh underneath them. She does it with no care for your now bleeding abdomen.

The coldness of the ring on her left hand burns you right before she shoves it deep in your abdomen, ripping apart skin , muscles and you're almost certain - organs. You don't mind the pain , you care bare with it , as long as it's from her.

You press yourself against her completely, while clenching your jaw. Her body is warm, at least that distracts you from the feeling of her hand traveling up your body , from the inside. You can feel her fingers clearing a path of vital organs.

Thich blood drips on top of her. She doesn't care. You beg her to stop. She doesn't listen. And then you realise she's going to kill you, right as her hand rips apart your lungs and you begin to cough, liquid with metallic taste filling your mouth.

"It hurts ,stop..."- you whisper out , blood rolling down from the corners of your mouth , she only chuckles , her fingers wrapped around your fast beating heart - "you're hurting me!"

"I enjoy it."- how can her eyes sparkle in a moment like that?

"Stop it, it's killing me!" - you manage to scream right before she squeezes your heart and you feel your body weak , completely at her mercy, your eyes lift to take a look at her face and you find her smiling from ear to ear. At that moment you decide to give up , positioning your head on her bare chest ,you whisper slowly before closing your eyes - "you're killing me , Miranda"

The woman demolishes your heart with one final, firm squeeze, allowing darkness to take you completely.

*****

You wake up flushed and sweaty, panting and awfully embarrassed. You try your best to ignore the blood rushing through your cheeks and the throbbing feeling between your thighs. You don't even want to think about how much this dream turned you on.

It's inappropriate. To have these lewd thoughts about Miranda. Your boss , who is rude and mean , who is a mother , who is much older than you, who is.... a woman. You've never felt so... attracted to a person from the same gender before.

Admiration. You like to think of it as admiration, as she is truly a gorgeous woman. She might be the most beautiful lady you've ever seen. She is just so-

No, it's wrong. All of this. God , how can you dream about such things when you have a boyfriend, for which you almost forgot about..., but you feel guilty, and ashamed.

Especially when you notice you're not in your room but instead in Miranda's. You're glad that she's not here with you at least.

Her bed is massive and unbelievably soft , it feels like lying on a literal cloud. Her scent is all over it , it creaks from the sheets, from the pillows , from the blankets. The sweet smell of her perfume fills your nose and you resist the urge to loose yourself to it.

One weird thing about her bed is that it's covored in feathers. Not a lot , but spread around the covers mindlessly, black and long , soft to the touch - you note after testing them with your fingers.

She must have a down pillow that is possible torn...or maybe she owns birds. They would make cute pets. You decide to ask her about it later.

For now the more important question in your head is - how and why exactly are you in her room, waking up in her bed?

As you try to remember what exactly happened last night you grab your head , suddenly feeling an approaching headache. You groan in both pain and annoyance. This family will end you.

You can recall memories from going down in that awful basement, Miranda screaming at you, threatening you, hurting you...then you vaguely remember having a fight with Eveline - over what you're not sure.

Running....and then - nothing. Darkness, that's the memory. And yet , it doesn't explain how you ended up in Miranda's bedroom.

The door creaks as you open it and you grit your teeth at the dull sound, it's early, even if Miranda was up, as she's obviously not in her room, her kids are probably still asleep.

You walk quietly down the hall to your own room and as soon as you get in, you head to the bathroom, feeling terribly dirty. The warm water calms your nerves and manages to purify your mind and body.

You emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and brushing your teeth, wet strands of hair clinging to your shoulders as you make your way to your bed, leaving wet footprints on the floor.

Guilt creeps its way into your heart as you check your phone and see several unread messages from your boyfriend , asking you out to see each other. You sigh, feeling even more terrible, telling him you're busy.

Even if you see that he was active a few minutes ago - he does not answer.

You resist the urge to call him, knowing he most likely won't pick up. You wished it was easier, this impractical relationship between you was getting worse and worse as time went on.

You want it to be like before, when you were both happy...if that happiness even existed at all.

*****

The mansion feels different, somehow more cozy and bright. Maybe it's because of the new curtains you noticed on the windows ,or because of the change in the paintings, you can't tell if their position is different or if they are completely new painted faces, but you find them comforting.

Just as you guessed the girls are nowhere to be seen downstairs. It makes you feel a little more comfortable, due to the fact that you want to talk to Miranda alone, and the woman is enough of a challenge on her own.

Passing by her office, you notice that the door is open and the room is empty, she's not in the living room neither, it's too early for her to be busy with God knows what kind of work in that creepy basement, so you decide to look for her in one of her other rooms favorite places.

And right in the kitchen you find her, her tall figure is leaning over the counter, and her eyes are focused on a colorful book open in her hands, one of her fingers neatly traces the writing along the lines.

You realize it's a recipe book, and she looks ready for baking, one of her favourite hobbies after...her other interests, whatever they are. Her blonde hair is tied up high so it doesn't get in her way, and her normally sophisticated clothes are now down to a simple, homely outfit.

It takes her a little time to notice you, or rather to pay attention to you, because your room entering isn't exactly difficult to notice, especially for her. You hate the way she looks at you , from beneath her eyelashes , as if you are someone she admires.

"Morning" - and you specifically detest the way she speaks to you, her voice is either harsh and demanding or melancholic and gentle as it is now. And you hate how much you're loving it.

"Good morning, Miranda" - it feels weird to look at her without cringing or making a grimace, as every detail of her face reminds you of your dream, you force yourself to quickly snap out of these throughs - "hey , i wanted to talk with you about-"

"Can't it wait?" - she closes the recipe book and shoves it away , safely in a upper drawer. Then she opens another and pulls out a large , transparent bowl - "I'm in the middle of baking, as you can see" - she wasn't, in fact she was just starting - "and if you're not planning on helping, darling-"

"Oh i can help" - you quickly cut her off , surprising both of you. You didn't let her finish because you knew she was going to kick you out of her beloved kitchen, so you decided to act rapidly and suggest help , hoping she can finish faster and listen to your ranting - "No worries."

As she gives you a slight smile , unsure if she's actually willing to accept your help or not, you can feel your body growing weird. As the reason stands right in front of you. Since when does she call you darling?

"Fine then" - she tosses the bowl to you, while turning on her heel to open the fridge and take out a few things from there - "we're making cookies"

She puts various products on the counter in front of you, you can distinguish butter, flour, eggs, sugar, salt...preparing everything she needs for the recipe.

Miranda guides you by telling you to firstly place the butter in the bowl. Then she measures exactly how much sugar she has to add. She gets mad when she can't perfectly match the 200 grams she needs.

"Does it have to be that precise?" - you laugh at her and the pouting of her lips.

"I'm keen on perfecting" - her response makes you chuckle even more.

She grabs a wooden spoon and stirs the mixture until it's smooth and soft, then the woman tells you to add an egg, and as you do so she pours a small spoonful of vanilla into the bowl, the sweet aroma of it fills the kitchen with a pleasant smell.

She then adds flour and salt to the mix. You allow her to wrap her hands around your waist and swiftly move you to a side in order to grab something from a drawer you were limiting the access to. She could just ask you to move or simply order you to pass the baking powder , but you find no reason to complain about her gentle touch and tender fingers.

"Now what?" - you ask , as the mix in the bowl is finally ready, after lots of stirring to make it this soft and well put together.

"You have to knead the dough until it's nice and smooth" - she explains while washing her hands and along with them the many used utensils.

"Right..."

You have no idea how to do that. You try your best , rolling and smashing it around but it's form stays the same and you grunt in frustration. Your body tenses. You hate to do something poorly, you're not a perfectionist like Miranda yet you still get angry when you can't achieve something by the first try.

Speaking of that evil woman you can't help but feel exposed by her awful staring. Her dark, blue eyes burn hoes in your inexperienced hands as she watches you struggle. You give her a sharp look, she grins. You huff, turning the dough around, getting angry when it sticks to the kitchen counter.

She laughs at you. The audacity-

"Something funny?" - you snap at her , both of you deciding to not pay lots of attention to your insolent tone.

"You're doing it wrong, darling"

"Oh well then , please, show me" - you grow angry and hit the counter with your palm , smashing some of the dough in the process - "I'd be delighted to know how's the right way to do it"

The corners of Miranda's lips curl up and she stands behind you, you try to move away in order to give her space but she doesn't see you as an obstacle, her body presses into yours and pushes you forward until your hips hit the end of the counter and her hands trail around either side of your body , grabbing the dough in her thin fingers.

She sprinkles a handful of flour on the surface of the furniture, then gently spreads the dough over it. Well, she obviously didn't tell you to do that.

Due to the difference in your height, it is uncomfortable for her to stand above you, so you are not annoyed when she puts her chin on your shoulder, as her chest presses completely to your back.

The movements of her hands, of her nimble, dexterous fingers seem to hold you in a chokehold, making you remember the feeling of those same hands on your heated body from your dream, it's unreal how weak she makes your knees feel.

And then she grabs your hands in hers, in order to show you how to knea the dough correctly. She's so gentle with her touch it makes your mind foggy. And you can't help the burning feeling in your cheeks as she continues to guide your movements.

Her white knuckles are on full display, moving along her popping out from beneath pale skin veins , and rapid digits , that work together with yours. The dough shapes nicely under your combined hands and soon it's rolled in a perfect rectangle , no thicker than two centimetres.

The only thing you don't seem to enjoy is the shiny ring on her left hand. No matter how much you pretend to ignore it, it spins before your eyes like a bewitching firefly. You hate it.

"Focus , girl" - she warns you, pulling you out of your trance like state, and you fail to realise she has been giving you instructions till now - "I don't plan on repeating myself"

"Sorry..." - if you had to list the things she used to distract you with, you would start with her warm breath wandering tenderly around your neck.

She mumbles something under her breath and pulls away from you, leaving you slightly disappointed. You can clearly recognise the tensed anger in her body by her hurried movements as she cuts round shapes from the dough.

"What kind of jam do you like?" - she asks , freshly done with putting the cookies in the oven.

"What kinds do you have?"

"Any. Name your favourite" - part of you forgot how filthy rich that woman is. Of course she's going to have every jam on the market, it was stupid to even ask.

"I suppose... raspberry is fine?" - you sound like you're asking a question rather than answering one but she seems pleased. Not so long after that she places a filled jar with fresh raspberry jam on the counter, making you smile , for what reason exactly you're not sure.

The kitchen grows with silence as you wait for the cookies to bake. You play with your fingers nervously while staring at Miranda , wondering if now it's a good time to talk to her. You're alone, after all, with plenty of time to kill.

You call out for her before speaking , to make sure she listens.

"What exactly... happened last night?" - only by trying to remember a headache approaches you with a sickening pain.

"You blacked out, that's it" - she answers simply, though she doesn't look very bothered by that topic you just can't miss the tiny shine of guilt in her eyes.

"For what reason?" - her lips stitch as she drags a nails along the counter surface.

"I believe you managed to fall down the stairs" - she then adds, quietly, making it more believable- "at least what's where i found you."

"Did I?" - you ask confused, not remember stairs at all.

"I don't consider you blind, darling. And I'm pretty sure you know how to use a mirror" - she points to a small one on the kitchen wall- "why not take a look here?"

She taps on your forehead and for some reason - it hurts you awfully bad, sending a shock wave through your body.

The bruise on your forehead doesn't stand large when you look at it in your reflection. It's not even as noticeable as Miranda makes it out to be. But what worries you is its colour - pitch black. Bruises don't look like that.

And...if you had really fallen down the stairs, shouldn't you have had painful marks on your body, and not just on your forehead, even if you had fallen on your head?

"After your incident I carried you to bed" - she explains, as if automatically, cutting you off before you can ask her for more details. But what? She carried you to bed? Even Miranda looks shocked of herself and quickly adds - "after i made sure you were okay, no need to thank me."

You tilt your head , caughting her gaze for just a second before she clears her throat and moves to look at the cookies, purposely ignoring you. Huh?

"Why in your room, Miranda?" - she's suffering from her own mistakes right now , and you're loving it. To have the chance to actually success in embarrassing her gives you the feeling of power over her cold nature.

"Mine was just ...closer" - this might be the first thing she says to you, without sounding entirely sure about. You grin at her.

"Where did you sleep then?" - she couldn't possibly allow herself to curl next to you, despicable the large bed she owns.

"I didn't" - she looks too serious to be saying that. It makes you giggle.

"Yeah right, am i to believe you just stared at me all night like a...a creepy vampire of some sort?"

"Perhaps" - she does not know how to take a joke , as her tone grows cold and serious again, killing the mood. Well your mood , since hers hasn't changed much.

"I was-"

"The cookies are done."

Your eyes shift to the oven and you find yourself enjoying the golden colour they have acquired. Miranda is a good cook , you have no doubt that the cookies will taste amazing. You wait impatiently for her to take them out of the oven.

But she never does. Instead of turning to the left, where the already cooling stove is , she heads to the right - towards you. Your breath hitches as she grips the counter with two careful hands, on either side of your body, locking you an inescapable cage.

"What are you..."

"It there's something i hate more than being awaken in the middle of the night" - she presses herself to you almost completely, forcing you to move backwards and you shiver when you acknowledge there's no space left between your body and hers , she stands tall above you and you have to lift your head to look at her , you wouldn't mind if it wasn't for her own hand guiding your chin up - "is being awaken in the middle of the night by my daughter crying."

Your heart is beating fast, threatening to jump out of your chest at any given moment. You're mad because you know Miranda can feel it, feel your fear. Though you can only wish to be scared at a moment like that. Your mind occupied by far more different feeling.

Admiration is dangerous, it can easily shapes into devotion and from there - to worship. Miranda knows this very well , it's what she does , it's what she has always done.

"In case you've failed to realise" - she whispers, awfully close to your ear, her voice is anything but gentle , yet you can't pretend her hot breath does not effect you - "I'm demanding an explanation."

"I had a fight with Eveline..." - you confess, trying hard not to look in her eyes , or her whole face on that matter.

"Over what exactly?"

"That's the thing!" - you squirm around, trying to escape her, ignoring the slight press from her leg to yours, a warning - "I can't remember, maybe it has something to do with my black out"

You know you sound unconvincing, yet you try to your best to get an explanation for both of you. Miranda, plays along, humming in approval. And just as her lips part to say another thing, you stop her by grabbing her by the waist and pushing her back as hard as you can. She's as solid as a rock and you miserably fail.

However now ,you're definitely experiencing fear. Not from Miranda, but from the little girl with golden hair you caught to pass by the kitchen with the corner of your eye. You can't allow Eva to get the wrong idea of the situation.

Even though when you think about it , you can't find anything that sits right with Miranda's actions.

"Let go , let me go" - you push her back again, your fingers sinking into her waist with little to no care , and to your surprise she takes a step back. You then lean to whisper, trying to convince her completely - "your daughter is right there, please"

She releases you before you can add another word to your sentence. She doesn't bother to check for any noisy girls behind her. Instead she works on taking the cookies out of the oven , placing the jam on them and shoving them quickly in your arms.

"Go, apologies" - she urges you out of the kitchen,both of you walking to totally different paths - she goes straight to her office while you...walk slowly to the living room.

*****

The two girls are sitting comfortably on the large sofa in the living room, engrossed in some movie on the television. You walk calmly, trying not to startle them in any way, while you think about exactly how to apologize to Eveline...or more precisely, for what, since you have no idea what you two were fighting about.

When you put the cookies on the table in front of them, the black-haired girl raises her head, her gaze is piercing. And almost instantly followed by her sister's. They look at you as if you are a sinner, a foreigner in their house.

You quickly understand that your little problem with Eveline has spread not only to Miranda but also to Eva, which both didn't like you very much anyway. Caught under their sharp eyes, you feel like a rabbit being chased by wolves.

"Eveline, can i have a talk with you?" - you decide to be straight forward, no need to be scared of children.

"Talk now" - she orders. You swallow hard, the girl is not looking at you anymore, yet her sister's gaze does not leave you, keeping you under her strict watch.

"Look i.. I'm sorry for what i said" - you have no idea what you actually said - "i do regret it..."

Lying is wrong, but much easier than real talk and excuses. Eveline takes the bait.

"You called me crazy!" - her sister gasps and places her palm on the black haired girl's shoulder, while she points accusingly at you.

"How dare you?" - Eva looks very disappointed, you can even say mad.

"I'm really sorr-"

"Do you know how offensive that is?" - Eva continues to defend her sister.

"I know, i know" - you begin to apologise again - "can't we just forgive and forget?"

Eveline, who has been quiet for the meantime, looks at the direction of the cookies and lifts an eyebrow.

"Are those for us?" - her tiny finger points at them and you grab the bowl , offering some to both girls. You wait nervously for them to taste them, to rate them , to decide your fate.

You're definitely lucky because when the two girls look at each other, they both can't help but smile. They love the cookies . You secretly send thanks to Miranda for this.

"You're forgiven" - Eveline assures you as she goes for another cookie , making you sigh in relief - "but do not forget what i said to you - you do not belong here , and now...i truly can't help you.

*****

Even if Miranda tries to keep you in her house with fake proximity, even if her kids were well-behaved for the rest of the day, even if the nightmares were replaced by...a different kind of dream, you don't feel happy at all , in fact you feel scared and disconnected from the family.

The urge to stay calm and put in this mansion dies with every passing minute. While the wish to leave grows.

For your own good and health. You can find another job, it won't pay as nearly as good as that one but... you just can't. You can't hold the fact that you don't remember anything from last night buried in yourself anymore.

And you're sure you didn't just blacked out from nothing. It has never happened to you before.

Everytime you try to bring back memories your head starts to hurt like crazy , you feel cursed , you feel sick , you feel like a walking corpse.

Waiting in front of death's door, demanding mercy.

However this time you do not wait for answer, you step into Miranda's office before her ringing voice can invite you in , hoping you won't regret such a decision later.

"You should have knocked" - she's too busy reading her spread around the desk documents to even lift her head to greet you - "don't make me take you back to make your entrance proper."

Gosh , she's such a mom.

"Didn't feel like knocking" - you have no idea where's this bravery to talk back to her is coming from , but you're not mad at all - "if you desire so badly to be left alone, you might just lock your door"

At your suggestion, she lifts an eyebrow, looking at you from behind her eyelashes, still not moving her head, only her gaze.

"I see that morning attitude is coming back to you" - you can't decide if she likes or hates it - "close the door and say what you need"

The door slams almost instantly. Miranda shakes her head, strongly suppressing the urge to hit you with something from her desk, something heavy.

"When are you going to pay me?" - money , all you need is money.

Miranda idly looks at the calendar on her wall. It looks chronically unused. Not only is the date wrong, but even the month. She doesn't seem to care.

"By the end of next week" - She gets a notification on her open computer, one look at the screen makes her grimace.

"Fine" - you say , taking a deep breath which causes your nostrils to flare - "one more week and I'm leaving. You'll pay what you owe me and then I'm out of here"

Miranda scoffs.

"You can't"

"I can't?" - You don't realize when you've moved to her desk, or how your hands now rest roughly on its surface. Being so close, you can easily observe out the slight furrowing of her brows, as she is already getting annoyed -"I don't feel good here , I don't feel sane around you or your children, i told you-"

"Yes, and i gave you pills" - she tries to stay calm , though her hands are already forming into fists.

"Your fucking pills don't work!" - you can't help but scream at her , she tilts her head with a smile , trying to be as still as possible - "and I don't think that black out from yesterday happened for no reason"

You've spent enough time, lost in through, to reach the conclusion that Miranda might have tried to drug you.

"How dare you" - she lets out a whisper, low enough for it to not fully reach your ears , then she leans back in her chair - "You're a fool"

"Call me whatever you want , but next week I'm leaving" - you point a threatening finger to her face - "and you cannot make me stay here another day"

Normally you like it when she chuckles, but as she does it now, the desire to wipe the smile off her face forms quickly in your heart, traveling at drastic speed to your hand , which fingers tremble, trying to compose themselves.

"And you're definitely more than a fool to believe that you can actually leave."

"Excuse me?" - you feel your mouth going dry.

"Perhaps you have forgotten about the contract you signed , not so long ago" - she leans down, the sound of a drawer opening echoes through the room, and then she rises, placing a piece of paper on the desk in front of you - "I don't mind reminding you about it"

You follow her thin finger along the text of the paper, and swallow, actually able to taste anger from your tensed body, when it stops at a specific sentence , which had failed to caught your attention the first time you saw thay document.

"You agreed to work for me for at least a year" -she explains for you, the contract does not say exactly a year, nor specific months, but a large number of days, Miranda just rounds it to a year. She then moves her finger lower and you shiver as she taps on the text there - "your signature"

"Can't i cancel the contract?" - your voice is trembling, as you stare at the white paper , containing your voluntarily given signature, oh how foolish you were.

"Of course you can" - she smiles, adding fake empathy to her tone - "However you don't have the money for that darling, you'll end up owing more debt than you already do.

You try to fight back, but your tongue tangles and you can only make a low, squeaky sound in your defense, looking so pathetic that her smile evaporates.

"Stay here and work for me" - she drags the contract away from you and you tense up , it's like she's locking your free will in a cage , as she puts the paper back in her drawer - "get your money and then go wherever you want , feel free to sue me, try and put me in prison if you wish, but for now you'll stay put and obey me, understand?"

"You..." - bitch. You want to scream at her , to rip that stupid paper to shreds and run away. Prison is definitely not enough for her , though you doubt she can even end up in such place , rich people like Miranda never do, she'll win no matter what , you have no choice but to play her game - "I hate you."

"I'm sure you do" - there's a proud smirk on her face and she brushes a hand over the base of her neck and collarbone, making her silver necklace rustle around -"I'm also guessing you'd like to try and choke me to death with your bare hands. That's okay, you're not the first person to think of that"

She says it like it's nothing, too calmly. Before you can gather your thoughts and talk back to her, the door to her office opens and she leans to one side, poking her head out from behind your body, which is still towering over her desk, to see clearly who's in the doorway.

"Eva, love,how many times have I told you to knock before entering?"

You watch carefully as the irritation in Miranda's eyes turns to solicitude for her daughter. The girl is more than capable of bringing her soft side on clear view.

"Sorry..." - Eva urges to apologise, her gaze falling upon you. She's confused as why you are in her mother's office. You feel out of place.

"Do you need anything?" - Miranda stands up, moving swiftly past you , in order to get to Eva. She tenderly pats her head and her face shines up with the large smile she puts on.

The little girl explains she's struggling with a few questions from the things Miranda makes them study and she , as the smart woman she is, is more than happy to help her younger daughter.

The door closes behind them , as they leave you completely alone in the office. You waste no time in moving behind Miranda's desk, rapidly opening every drawing, in search for that contact.

It doesn't take you long to find it , nor to squeeze it deep in your pocket. Miranda gets another notification from her laptop, you don't pay it much attention.

You're busy thinking about something else. Miranda is an intelligent woman, she has certainly made copies, you wonder if the contract she showed you isn't one of them. Leaving you alone in the room, which holds the key to your freedom sounds too easy.

So you dive in another hunt for documents. Yet another notification from the laptop disturbs you, and another. After a few more you get fed up and stand up to look who's so fiercely demanding Miranda's attention.

The laptop is unlocked and surprisingly open to a a texting chat. You raise an eyebrow while reading the messages.

You're ignoring me again.

I hate it when you do that.

The first two are from early this morning, while the others following them are freshly new.

It's my fault, I'm sorry.

Stop ignoring me.

Just respond, please.

Please, Miranda.

I miss you.

Your lips part to release one silent, quick gasp. Then you look up to see who's texting Miranda so eagerly. There's no picture to the contract, only a name. Mia Winters.

"Mia..."- you whisper-"Who the hell is Mia?"

Your curiosity is massive. This might be the most interesting thing Miranda can reveal of herself. And you're so ready to use it against her , if you can , of course.

You notice that she has been mostly ignoring the other woman. Not responding to her for quite some time , a few months to be precise. But as you scroll up the chat, diving into old messages, you can't help but raise your eyebrows in disbelief.

Their chats can't even be called conversations. All all they discuss is where and when to meet. It is periodic and you quickly realise their relationship is more of an affair rather than something else.

You scroll a bit more and you're forced to pause. As you see rather provocative pictures Miranda has sent to the unknown woman. Their number is greater than it should be. She is not naked in any of them, but the revealing clothes she is wearing , the angles and poses in which she was photographed herself certainly awaken a familiar warmth in your body, or more precisely in between your legs.

Curse that woman for being so damn alluring.

As if enchanted by the photos, you can't seem to stop looking at them. Almost feeling like this Mia person herself, due to her messages mainly being praises and encouragements to Miranda.

Then a video pops up. It's old, probably from last year, you cannot see much from it , as it's taken somewhere severely dark. You click it.

You can't recognise even her silhouette in such darkness. However you quickly notice it's not supposed to be for watching, but instead for hearing and enjoying sound. As soon as you hear the first, weak , and quiet whimper from the video - you scroll down immediately to the end of the chat and back away from the laptop. Your cheeks are on literal fire.

That kind of intimacy is not meant for you. Though you never imagined Miranda in such light.

The door opens, causing you to move away from her desk. You both decide not to discuss why she found you behind it and not in your original spot.

"Have you decided?" - she asks , already taking her seat in the comfortable chair behind the wooden desk. One glance at the laptop's screen prompts her to turn it off, ignoring the messages. Part of you really wanted to see how she would respond.

"On what?"

"Are you sane enough to stay here , darling?" - you aren't , but you'll manage, maybe long enough to think of a revenge plan to use against Miranda.

"One year?" - you try to make her at least that information is certain.

"At least a year , yes." - she assures you.

"Fine" - you cross your arms in front of your chest-"I'll play by your rules Miranda."

One year in hell - and then you'll be free.

#mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #re8 village #fanfic #resident evil 8 #reader x mother miranda #missing miranda hours #i love her #babysitter au

11 notes · View notes