#‘sliding over her like little invisible tongues’

[chimivx]

home;run -> fem!reader x mlb!mingyu, mlb!vernon, mlb!dk

College didn't work out, so you're stuck with the next best thing. Living with your superstar brother, traveling with his championship winning team, haunted by your past and heavily influenced by your present.

wc; {part four} 5.9k warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; peese n lurv. <3

Cheers had an awful remix of a fairly popular song blasting from the speakers invisible in the room. Four walls, dark grey walls, confined you, Mingyu, his two teammates and their wives along with fifty other people within them.

Arriving here shortly after you found your seat at the dinner table again with tears brimming your eyes, you accepted Mingyu’s hand over your knee and begged him to get you out of the hotbox and into a car, into the bar, and he did. Waltzing inside with his hand around the back of your neck and his friends behind you, the bartenders cheered at your appearance and the first round was on the house.

Shot after shot, glass after glass, you danced with the five of them first, keeping up with the terrible beat the bar thought was good enough to play. The crowd on the dance floor and all within Cheers differed from the one in the restaurant, most bar crowds did. People were calmer, chiller, they greeted you and your group like you were old friends, not internet glorified household names. Drinks were bought for you, handed to you from strangers with gleaming smiles, handed to Mingyu and Hoshi and Minghao though they wouldn’t sip them but slide them into their girls hands, your hands. 

Mingyu kept a hand around your waist, pressing you to his front while your bodies moved to the music, getting lost in the occasional kiss that tasted sticky sweet after the rounds of pink starburst shots. Whispering in your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin, he talked you up, wound you up, persuaded your hips to move in a way that drew more attention than you were looking for. Not a thing bothered you, the room was wavey, people took pictures of you, with you, Daya ogled your boyfriend over her husbands shoulder, but then when they spun he shot you a wink while Mingyu’s face was buried in your neck.

That was weird.

Slinging an arm around Mingyu’s back you dug your fingers into his curls and lifted his head, a wicked grin on his glistening lips. Poking your tongue out between yours, you close the air between you and inhale all of him, every push of his lips, every lap of his tongue, every groan from his chest. Mingyu was your boyfriend, you were his girlfriend. Daya and Hoshi were married, they had a baby. You were used to people looking at you, people looking at Mingyu, but they were always strangers. Too many times today had Daya shamelessly mentioned your boyfriend or looked at him like he was her prey.

“Take me home,” you said to Mingyu after the slowest pull away from him, your lips parting with resistance. “Can we leave?”

He smirked, his forehead pressed to yours while your bodies rocked. “Little bit longer, baby. You want me already?” You nodded and he pushed out a laugh. “How bad?”

Enough to get him out of this place and away from Daya, to get you away from Hoshi. Did they even know the other was flirting with the two of you behind their backs?

“Bad,” you whispered against his lips and he laughed again. “Please, can we leave?”

His name was said behind you, either Hoshi or Minghao, you couldn’t make out who it was. Mingyu lifted his head, watched as one of his friends spoke without words, then smiled and nodded. Placing his hands to your hips he moved you off of him and gestured toward the bar.

“The girls are buyin’ shots, go with them,” he said. Stumbling backward, you lowered your brows. Mingyu pointed behind you, his smile giving you enough comfort to trust him. “I’ll be right back, go with the girls. I promise, then we’ll leave.”

“Okay,” you whispered, walking backward, watching him take Minghao by the neck of his shirt, all three of them laughing with one another as they weaved through the crowd to the darker side of the bar. Turning once they disappeared behind several heads and bodies, you pushed past people trying to say things to you and followed the glow of the lights from the bar, Halle and Daya leaning over the glass chatting away with the bartender with dark wavy hair touching his shoulders.

“Party girl!” Daya shouted over her shoulder as she glanced your way, her face lighting up but her eyes remaining the same. Dark, sharp, on watch. “C’mere, you want more of that pink shit?” Wedging yourself between the girls, both of them smelling like money, you nodded and sunk into Daya’s hold as she swung her arm around your shoulder. Acrylic coffin shaped fingernails dug into your bare shoulder. “Yeah, you like the pink shit, don’t you?” Looking up at her she had her nose inches from yours.

“Be right back,” the bartender said after Halle confirmed the order with him.

Daya and her almond shaped eyes, a color so deep yet swirling with a lighter shade that added that extra spark, gazed down at you, the woman a few inches taller than you especially in her heels. Her long, slender nose was positioned perfectly in the center of her bronzed face, striking features that complimented and contrasted perfectly with the softness of her wideset, fuller lips.

Oh shit, she was pretty.

“I do like the… the pink shit,” you muttered and she smiled, her teeth a bright white, insanely straight. “Do you like the pink shit?”

She narrowed her eyes and came closer to you. “Depends who’s asking.”

Nerves flooded your veins. “Okay,” you breathed, laughing it off, wiggling around in her hold to glance at Halle who rocked to the beat of the music. “Where’d they go?” Her and her warm eyes looked over to you, her gaze less intense than Daya’s. Halle was pretty too, it was clear why she and Minghao had been together for years. She wore the same unbothered energy her husband did. “The guys?” you asked after she questioned you with a look.

“Oh, someone they know is here,” she said quickly, waving her hand in the direction they walked off in as if to tell you to ignore it. “They were suffocating anyway, we have to be stuck here all month with them, we girls need to stick together.” The bartender came back and slid several shots full of sparkling pink in front of the three of you. “This rounds on me, ladies.”

With Daya’s arm still around you, you looked back at her. “Where’s your kids?” you asked, shifting your gaze between them both as they took one of the shots.

Daya licked her lips and smacked the glass down on the bar. “Who knows.”

“We have nannies,” Halle scoffed, shooting a glare at her friend. “They’re asleep at the hotel, in good hands.”

A smirk pricked your lips. “You have a baby and you don’t care about her?” The way Daya looked at you made you want to laugh aloud, but you kept it within you. Halle’s eyes shot open so wide she had to turn away for a few seconds.

“Yes I do,” Daya said, a little harshly. “Take your shots, princess, I know you can drink more than this.” Giving her a smile that made her hand tighten on your shoulder, you took each shot like it was nothing, three of them right in a row, faster than Halle or Daya. “There we go,” she snickered, waving the bartender down to your end. “More of whatever the fuck this was.”

Blurrier, louder, more exciting. With each round the atmosphere in the bar fueled the energy within you, it pulled you back onto the dance floor with the girls, the three of you holding hands dancing and singing along to the music you once hated but now adored. You invited other girls into your circle, dancing with them while they opened their phone cameras and snapped selfies and videos, talking to you like they knew you, because they did. Boys tried to talk to you too, and you entertained it, but never let get any further than dancing beside you. Your boy was here somewhere, with someone, doing who knows what. 

The second your brain remembered him you wanted nothing else. His hands, his lips, his body, his everything.

Whirling around in a circle, searching each corner, each group of people bobbing up and down in the lights, you found him by the hall to the bathrooms lounging in one of the booths with Hoshi and Minghao sitting on the seats in the other. Mingyu had a leg stretched over the cushion and his back pressed to the wall with his head knocked back. The three spoke close together, their heads nodding a bit, their eyes telling stories you weren’t sure you wanted to know about.

The three buttons undone on his shirt called to you. His hair pushed back from his forehead pulled you in. Wandering away from your group on the dance floor you followed the siren call that was simply his energy, his aura, his appearance. He clocked you halfway, a devilish smirk lighting up his lips as he watched you sway.

“Hey baby,” he said once your knees hit the booth cushion. Crawling over his leg and onto his lap, you straddled his waist and moved with him as he placed both feet to the floor and his back to the booth. Sliding your arms around his neck you pressed your chest to his and locked your lips together, not wasting any time and working them over his cheek, across his jaw, and down his neck. “See, she likes me now,” he said to Hoshi and Minghao, the three of them sharing a knowing laugh, one that didn’t bother you in the moment. Hands moving to your waist, Mingyu held you still over his lap, stopping you from grinding on top of him like you were beginning to. “Yeah, we’re out of here soon,” he said to his friends that left for their own wives amidst a conversation you couldn’t keep up with, too drunk on warm, smooth, golden skin to care.

“Mingyu,” you whispered, finding his lips.

“Isla,” he whispered back, big hands smoothing over your exposed thighs, mini skirt riding higher than it should be right now. “Having fun?” He caught your lips in a quick kiss.

“Yes,” you breathed within the shared air.

He half smirked, sliding his hands over the curve of your ass. “You like it here? Seems like you do.” 

“I do,” you nodded, “No one’s bothering me now.”

Mingyu curled his brow. “Us? Or, other people?”

“Other people,” you said without a second thought and kissed him. He let it go on for a minute or so, pulling away when your tongue drug along his teeth. 

“You don’t like other people talking to you?” he asked, tightening his grip on your hips that longed to move. The music, the intoxication, his body, you wanted something, you wanted him.

“Not while I’m trying to do this.” Wiggling your hips, or trying to, he laughed, then he released his hold and let you have your way with him. Grinding down on his length half hard in his pants, you sighed and caught him in a sloppy kiss. He took his hands to the back of your neck, pressing his thumbs into the sides creating some sort of pressure to make you groan. You weren’t sure how long you spent lost in him, enough to build up pressure within you.

“Let me ask you a question, baby,” he said and you whined.

“No, just kiss me.”

“No, no,” he snickered, yanking you backward, wrapping a hand around the bun in your hair. “Hang on.” Trying to lean forward, tongue lolling out from your lips, he smiled and shook his head. “Tonight at dinner,” he said, pausing, taking a second to study your face. “Maybe it’s my mind playing tricks on me, I’m nervous, even more now that you’re mine…”

Your heart beat steadily between your lungs. “Tell me. What happened?”

Mingyu pulled his lips between his teeth and blinked a few times. Releasing a breath through a laugh, he asked, “What’s the thing with Hansol?” Your stomach did a cartwheel, every shot in your system making itself known. “I just… I wanna make sure you’re okay, you were looking at him, he was looking at you…”

A gulp betrayed you, one Mingyu picked up on. “He was looking at me?”

Maintaining face, Mingyu analyzed yours. “Yeah, he was, he couldn’t stop.” You tried your best to withhold every emotion this made you feel. He was looking at you, too. When? When you weren’t looking at him? Which was when? You barely drank at dinner, you wouldn’t have missed it. “And then, it made me think of what happened at practice today, so…”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you whispered. Attempting to lean forward, he held you back.

“So you do know him,” he said.

“I- Yeah,” you shrugged, “He went to Nasara at the same time as me.”

He was quiet, then his smile grew. “Of course he did.”

“Leave it alone,” you said, trying to kiss him again.

“No, c’mon,” he laughed, taking his other hand to your waist where it had been, holding you down. “Tell me, baby. What did my baseball player loving girlfriend do with him in college?”

Whining, wriggling in his grasp, you said, “I don’t want to talk about him.” Pausing, you played back his words and pouted. “And I am not a baseball player lover.”

“Oh, baby,” he smirked. “I beg to differ.” All of your defense fell. Dropping your hands into your lap you sat back on his thighs and slouched your shoulders. “You guys were friends?”

“Mingyu, stop,” you whispered without much fight left in you. Even a shake of your head, the pleading of your eyes wouldn’t shut him up. He stared back at you, his eyes taking in every microexpression.

“What,” he began, and his eyes narrowed, like your thoughts were plastered onto your forehead. “Did you guys sleep together or something?” Your throat tightened. Every limb on your body felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds.

“Gyu- We- Just, leave it alone.”

Weak.

His face lit up with something you’ve never seen before. “Ohhoho… Okay, sure.” Wrapping his arms around your back he moved off the cushion of the booth, relishing in how you clung to him for balance before he got you on your feet. His hands held onto you with a power that both excited you and frightened you. You’ve never experienced jealous Mingyu. “We’re out of here.”

It went by in a blur, him moving you from the bar to the hotel and up into his room where the clothes you wore hit the floor in seconds. In the dark his hands were on you, touching you, squeezing you, pleasuring you, making you feel so good, too good, and he still wore all his clothes. Face buried in your chest, lips wrapping around the delicate skin leaving purple marks in their wake while his fingers worked within you, drawing you to the edge too many times and he still wore all his clothes.

You didn’t have any extra breath to give him, to ask him to take them off, you couldn’t say anything but his name, which was what he wanted. His other hand clamped to your jaw, fingers pressing into your cheeks so tight your lips stayed parted for him to kiss, nip at, spit into. He worked you dumb, your world entirely too blurry, too fuzzy to tell him to slow down, but you didn’t want him to. 

It was Mingyu. All him. You couldn’t think about anything else.

Just the way he wanted you.

It wasn’t until his head was between your thighs that you could finally utter something other than Mingyu. “Inside, Gyu,” you whispered, fingers clawing at his curls so tight he was groaning against you. “Please, please, need you in me.”

Letting go of your thighs he stood with a smile and took his hands to his belt buckle after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Smiling down at you, eyes heavy and full of lust, he asked, “Condom?”

Unable to move, you blinked up at him and tried to shake your head. “I don’ care.”

“Oh, my pretty girl,” he groaned, shoving his pants to the floor, kicking them away. Grabbing your ankles he pulled you closer and sunk into you, a delicious moan pouring from both of you. “Never let me hit it raw,” he groaned, taking his time with a few strokes. “Who’s fuckin’ you, baby?”

Clawing at the sheets, you writhed beneath him and choked out, “You, Mingyu, you are.” He pushed your knees backward and laid over top of you, pistoling his hips into yours.

“Say it again.”

Lips caressed your cheek, stirring you awake.

Deja vu.

The sun, the curtains, the bedding, the nakedness, the sore body, the hangover.

Except now Mingyu was crouched beside you dressed for training.

“Hi,” he whispered, his cheeks full of joy. Taking a breath, you couldn’t do anything but blink at him. “I got you a coffee already,” he said, resting his chin on the mattress. Taking a hand to your cheek he drug his thumb beneath your bottom lashes. “Come today. I want you in the stands.” A smile found his lips. “Our first season together, I wanna start it right.” He waited for you to answer but recognized he wasn’t going to get one. “Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll see you in a bit, I’ll have a car waiting for you.”

He left so fast you didn’t even hear the door close. You couldn’t put two senses together.

Another day, another hangover.

You felt like dogshit.

Taking your time to sit up, knowing this time you really felt like you could be sick, when you peeled the sheets back and caught a glimpse of your body you groaned and flopped back onto the pillows. He made a mess of you. Hickeys littered your chest, hopefully not your neck, and the insides of your thighs. You’re certain the tiny blue marks in a rounded line on your hips were from his fingers, he had you flipped every which way last night you supposed.

You barely remembered it.

But you remembered Vernon.

The way he looked at you, how he brushed you away, when you told you he loved you.

As in past tense.

It brought you a brand new physical pain you’ve never experienced, one lodged between your lungs, pulling on your heart. A hole punched there, a wound so big you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do about it. You could drink it away, have Mingyu fuck it away, but clearly it’d come right back when neither of those things were happening.

“Did you even read any of the messages I sent you at the end of last year?”

Every single one.

He was the first to message you, the first to call you, to try to get a hold of you while you cried in DK’s backseat. For days he sent little anecdotes of care, asking you if you were alright, hoping and wishing that you were safe, that you weren’t being too hard on yourself. He sent a long text the day after the dinner ITZ and ATZ shared, and he was angry. He found out you were with DK, that you left school, but he wasn’t angry with you. He was angry with Yeji, the president, for keeping your absence a weird secret from everyone, not telling anybody that you were leaving, that you withdrew from school completely.

The messages to follow were of shorter stature, and they came less frequently. Each one, between the lines, you could feel what he was feeling. Sometimes he’d call you, or try to, without it accompanying a message, hoping that maybe you’d pick up if he rang. He constantly wished you well with each text, encouraged you to do better, that he knew you would be okay, that DK would help, that you should do whatever he tells you and follow your big brother's advice.

The last one he ever sent, right around Christmas, a week before the first story of you and Mingyu erupted, he shared some words that would forever strangle you completely. Mentions of you meaning the world to him, or something, and him saying he hopes he’ll see you soon, that you’re his best friend and he has so much to tell you.

It haunts you, that message.

You should’ve answered it. That should’ve been the moment you called him.

But Mingyu had just bought you diamond earrings for Christmas. You opened them Christmas morning with both your families watching, the group of you lounging in the living room of the Kim’s mountain cabin surrounded by mile high trees, snow, and mugs of hot chocolate, the place fit to house several families at once.

You should’ve answered it.

“That’s all you got?!” you shouted, your voice echoing onto the field over Vernons head from where you sat behind home plate. Leaning against the barricade you watched him swing, just missing the ball. Dropping the bat to the dirt he flashed you a look over his shoulder, his smile teasing his lips, and started to unstrap his gloves. His coach gathered the things on the mound and began straightening up the field.

“I told you to heckle, not to be mean,” he breathed, making a face.

You pouted and he laughed. “Did I hurt your feelings, Nonie?”

“Ew,” he spat. “Don’t call me that. My little cousins call me that.” Lifting his hands over his head he stretched and groaned, leaning side to side. 

“Fine,” you sighed. His eyes shut, his brows flatlining above them. Leaving your seat you wandered through the stands and hopped into the dugout, taking yourself out onto the field to meet him where he stood. “Where’s it hurt?”

Vernon brought his arms to his side slowly, looking at you like he was trying to keep his discomfort hidden. “Everywhere,” he whispered, and you let out a laugh together. Reaching for his arms you unstrapped everything else he had on him, and he watched, quietly.

“Come on,” you said, shoving his gear into your arms. Dropping to the ground you picked up his bat and nodded your head. “Where do these go?” Massaging his own elbows he took in the sight of you carrying all of his things and took a deep breath.

“Uh,” he stammered, “Locker room. My bags are in there.”

“Okay, let’s go,” you said, and started for the dugout and the stairs that awaited you there.

“Hansol,” his coach called out, stopping you both. The man eyed you, then Vernon. “Good work today, I’ll see you here same time tomorrow.”

Vernon nodded once. “Same time tomorrow.” When he turned to you he furrowed his brows and held up a finger, stopping your thoughts that longed to come out of your mouth. “You leave him alone,” he said, passing by you.

“You need a break,” you said, following him down into the dugout and through the door into the locker room. Showers lined one wall, double stacked lockers lined the other. It was a smaller space, definitely smaller than the locker rooms at Lions Stadium in Iloa, but it was good enough for Vernon and his team.

He took to his locker and pulled it open, waving you to his side. “I don’t,” he said with a smile, taking some of his things from your arms. “I’m fine.” Gloves, gear, straps, buckles, it all went into his locker. The only thing left in your hands was his bat, a sleek black with a silver V etched into the top in a stunning font.

“You just told me everything hurts,” you said, stepping closer to him, leaning against the cool metal of the Nasara blue lockers. He copied you, thinning his lips, facing you. A few inches lived between the two of you. “You wanted me to break your hand-”

“It was a joke, Iya, I just-”

You closed the space, your middle touching his, the tips of your toes meeting. “I don’t find it very funny.” He dropped his gaze down, looking between you. “What are they working you like this for? Where’s your team? Why are you alone?”

Vernon nibbled his bottom lip and hit you with a subtle shrug before he met your eyes. “I dunno, I was… I was hoping it was, yanno, good things, but Coach has me doing the same stuff over and over. He won’t even tell me why we’re doing what we’re doing, I think I’m,” his voice trailed off as his eyebrows scrunched together, “Think I’m not doing as well as I thought I was.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, reaching for one of his hands, toying with the roughness of his fingers, his palm. He looked down at it and tried to smile. “He just told you you did great.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “To keep me coming back.” When he met your eyes, his gaze shattered your heart. “This is the part where guys start to give up. I’m a senior, well over the age a lot of guys in the MLB were when they were drafted and signed, if it doesn’t happen soon, I…”

“It will,” you whispered. Letting go of his hand you drug your fingers up his arm and gently dug your fingers into his muscle. His eyes fluttered shut with the quietest groan. The muscle was hard, full of knots, you could only imagine what the rest of him felt like. “Come here,” you whispered, moving him to the wide bench along the length of the lockers. “Sit down.” Placing him on the edge, you straddled the bench behind him, your thighs framing his hips. “You can keep talking to me, just let me do this.”

“Do wha- Oh my god,” he groaned the second your thumbs dug into his shoulders. A breathless laugh tumbled from your lips. “I don’t think I- Oh, god.” His head tipped backward. “Is this what they teach you in- in class?”

Popping your brows, working your fingers harder, deeper into the tissue, you said, “Kinda. On days when I can pay attention.” He groaned, lips shut, the sound emitting deep from his chest. Sucking in a deep breath, ignoring the way every groan made your heart feel, you took your hands down his knotty back and worked them there over his sleeveless shirt. “Did you know, these muscles back here, if you don’t take care of them, they could cost you your career?”

Vernon took a breath between grunts and shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “That’s your job, the therapist tells me what to- fuck, tells me what to work on- H’mygod.”

Leaning forward, pressing your chest to his back, you whispered in his ear and a shiver ran down his spine, one you could feel in the tips of your fingers. “That feel good?”

“Jesus,” he mumbled. “Don’t say that right now.”

You smiled. “Why not?”

“Because,” he pushed from his lips fast. “Just keep… Keep going.”

“But, does it-”

“Yes, Iya,” he hissed. “It feels good.”

You wished you were in front of him, in both places at once, you wanted to see his face, wanted to see what he looked like while he groaned and melted into your touch. Taking your hands all over his back, taking your time in places tighter than others, his exhausted self didn’t hold back, he told you what was good, what needed more, where he needed you, where he wanted you. Your heart pounded in your chest, you prayed he couldn’t feel it with how he leaned against you now, your fingers rubbing into his neck, toward his jaw. He rested his head on your shoulder, his eyes closed, his breath hitching in his chest with every sound that came out of him.

“Noisy boy,” you whispered, slowing your fingers that were starting to get achey. Keeping them on his shoulders, he blinked open his eyes and turned his head to look at you, his entire being relaxed, sleepy. Your thighs hugged his body, his waist, he fit perfectly between your legs.

“You’re good at that, I can’t help it,” he whispered. He must’ve realized how he was sitting, splayed back on you like you held onto his consciousness through your ministrations of his body, because he tried to sit up, his body moving slow, heavy. 

You kept him in place, holding him back, keeping him pressed to you. Giving you a look, his brows showing the slightest bit of pure curiosity, you took a breath and slid your hands down his chest keeping your eyes locked on his. Placing them right over his heart, you paused, and waited.

Then you felt it.

His heart beat in time with yours, racing faster than it should be for what you were just doing to him. Shifting, trying to move, Vernon hummed his disapproval of what you were feeling. The smallest smile graced your lips.

“No,” he whispered, smiling with you. “You started it, I felt yours first.”

Flickering your eyes to his parted lips, you held your breath and looked back at his hooded gaze. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Please,” he whispered.

Taking a hand to his curls, leaving the other over his heart, you dipped your chin down and altered the relationship you shared with him forever. His lips, soft, a little shy, met yours and he sucked in a breath, his heart beating quicker, heavier. A single breath between parted lips was like a switch flipped, in seconds his energy came back and he was pulling you off the bench and onto his lap, helping you straddle his waist comfortably on the wood beneath him.

With your hands on his jaw you kept his head tipped upward, not wanting to waste a second without his lips on yours. Your body melted into his with his arms around your back, his fingertips pressing you closer, holding you tight, yet ever so gently. The way you responded to one another, your bodies, your breath, it was unlike anything you’ve ever shared with anyone else. In just a few heated kisses a warmth filled your being, tangled with your veins, your heart, pooling in your center telling you that this was it.

It was Vernon. This was it, everything you’d ever need.

As much as it terrified you, you'd never felt more sure about anything, god, you felt like you could cry, like so much was pent up within you, so many things you’ve teased him with, teased each other with, but deep down knew was horrifically true.

Without thinking you rolled your hips against him and felt him smile into your kiss. Hands with a mind of their own, they scrambled for the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head, two blushing smiles meeting in the middle all over again once it hit the floor. Kissing you, long and slow, his hands took their time dropping the hoodie from your shoulders, the grey cotton meeting his shirt where it was dropped. Lips ghosting each other, he brushed his nose over yours, shivering as your fingers danced down his bare chest and tugged at the strap of the shorts he wore that made it so painfully obvious what he wanted.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a whisper, his smile never seeming to leave his face.

Rolling your hips a bit, you smirked as a breath corrupted his lungs. “Finishing what you started,” you whispered, and kissed the tip of his nose. “Can I take these off?”

Vernon breathed through a laugh. “Yeah, you’ve seen it before.”

“Right,” you giggled and tugged at the elastic. “Can I taste it?”

His hips pushed up beneath you as another breath shot through him. “You, fu- Iya, hang on,” he rambled on as you giggled and worked him out of his shorts. “If you- If you do, I won’t be able to- fuck.” Straddling his waist again you wrapped a hand around the bottom of his length, smiling as you gave him a good squeeze.

Leaning into him you caught his lips in a kiss. “You grower,” you teased, and he tried to laugh with you. “Holy shit, V. Can I…”

Steadying his breath, or trying to, he narrowed his eyes. “Can you, what?” he asked, tilting his chin just to brush his lips over yours, not even to kiss you. “What do you want?”

“You.”

“You have me.”

Kissing him, a soft whine was muffled by his lips, his tongue slipping between your lips this time. Moving off of him, your lips the last thing to leave him, he watched you where he sat, chest rising with each breath he took. Fingers finding the zipper of your mini skirt, Vernon reached forward and shook his head, wrapping his arms around your waist, slotting you between his legs. Looking up at you, he took you out of your skirt, then pushed up the hem of your tank, pressing kisses to the skin above the thin stretch of lace waiting for him beneath the denim.

“That skirt makes me crazy by the way,” he whispered, both of you laughing. Pressing his nose to your skin, his fingers curled over the lace and pushed it down your thighs, his lips worshiping this unexplored part of your body. Big brown eyes gazed up at you and you couldn’t take anymore. With a smile you leapt on top of him, tangling your fingers in his hair, engulfing his lips with yours. Reaching between your bodies you wrapped a hand around him and parted from him to rise to your knees, but his hands latched onto your shoulders, both worry and disappointment in his eyes. “Iya, Iya, wait,” he whispered, mentally kicking himself. “Are we not gonna… Do you want me to… I don’t- I don’t have anything here, or on me.”

You admired his worry, you smiled at him, reassuring him with a kiss. “I’ve seen you make double plays,” you whispered and his eyes softened. “I trust your sense of timing.” Before he could say anything else, protest about your safety like you knew he would want to, like you’ve been doing to him for weeks, the hypocrite, you kissed him, and you sunk down on him, moaning into his mouth at the stretch and how his hands gripping onto your hips in a hurry, his fingers digging into your skin.

Neither of you moved, for several seconds, maybe minutes, you held onto one another, pressed chest to chest, sharing nothing but the laziest kisses and labored breaths. He was the first to move, flipping you over to your back, the wood cold against your skin making you gasp.

“No, come on,” you whispered, half a laugh coming out with it. “Let me take care of you.”

Vernon smiled, pressing his lips to your cheek and down your jaw. With the slowest push of his hips your jaw fell open and he caught your parted lips in a kiss. “You already did that,” he whispered, lowering himself on top of you, “My turn.”

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[crookedfivefingers]

“Impossibly thick, I was.”

Doctor Who . Titan Comics

The Thirteenth Doctor | Read: 201/204

[darlingdaisyfarm]

. 𖥔 but you belong to me (Bill x Ford x fem!reader) ˖

tags: nsfw (mdni), rough sex, triangle bill, mind fuck, p in v, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, overstim, can this be considered as threesome?, billford, bill x reader too, because bill is obsessed with ford and reader

Ford's fingers slide your panties to the side, his thumb teasing your clit. And that’s when you feel it. His presence, slipping into your mind, into your reality. Bill, his voice fills the entire room, he’s watching everything, his creepy laugh echoing in your skull. But then there’s more, what feels like phantom fingers, Bill’s will, twisting reality, adding another layer to the sensation. 

You feel the weight of Bill's presence even before he starts talking. You gasp, feeling both Ford’s physical touch and Bill’s mental invasion. “Awww, baby, I see you squirming, so cute, so innocent, acting like you’re not dying to be fucked right now.”

You swear you feel something like ghostly fingers tracing the inside of your thighs. “You feel that, doll? That’s all me. That little pussy is practically begging for it, isn’t it?” his words curl around your mind, suffocating. “I could make you scream without even laying a single finger on you, doll. Or I could let Sixer here think he’s doing all the work. What do you want, hm? To beg? To cry?” his voice teases you from inside. “come on, you want this, don't you? How about I help make it a little more fun?”

Meanwhile Ford pulls your thighs apart, running his fingers over your skin, “Don’t listen to him, keep your eyes on me.” he whispers, leaning closer to your core.

You can’t. You physically can’t, because Bill’sthere, not touching but everywhere. His voice enters your thoughts, making every brush of Ford’s lips against your skin send electric sparks throughout your whole body. “Touch her more, Sixer, don’t hold back now, you know I don’t like when you do.”

Ford doesn’t stop, as if obeying. His hands are shaking why, Sixer? as they hold your hips, his breath against your soaking pussy, lips dragging down your inner thighs, closer. “Focus on me. Please, I’m right here.”

Your legs tremble and the second his tongue presses against your swollen clit, Bill sends a pulse through your head, flipping the world upside down. The bed disappears, replaced with something dark, flickering lights, shadows, but you still feel Ford’s mouth on you, licking, sucking, groaning into you.

Phantom touches everywhere. Invisible fingers tracing up your inner thighs, circling your wrists, grabbing at your ankles. You cry out, body arching into Ford’s mouth, but there’s something more, something that feels like Bill as you hear his voice in your head, mocking, amused. “Yeah, yeah, good girl, keep whining like that.”

You squirm under Ford’s touch, but your mind’s caught between his soft movements and Bill’s invasion into your senses. He’s twisting reality around you, making you feel as if hands holding you down are Ford’s, maybe, or maybe Bill’s invisible force, pressing down on you while Ford’s tongue fucks you deeper. 

You gasp, hips jerking against Ford’s face, his wet, eager tongue running all over your slit. But it’s Bill who makes these sensations stronger. He pounds your mind with dirty thoughts, makes every flick of Ford’s tongue feel like it’s not just Ford anymore, but something darker, more chaotic, controlling you from the inside. 

“Can he make you scream like I can, doll? you look pathetic like this, so fucking adorable.”

Ford growls in frustration what happened, Fordsy? not getting enough attention?, he drags his tongue up your clit again, sucking it into his mouth while his fingers finally slide inside you, curling, stretching, fucking into you. Your eyes widening, you swear you’re loosing your mind and your fingers clutch at the sheets. You can barely get the words out, because it feels like Bill’s fingers are already inside you too, teasing where Ford can’t reach. It’s like your body is betraying you and you can’t even tell what’s real anymore.

“M-more, please—! so good. . .” moans falls from your lips.

“She’s so wet, Sixer, she’s fucking drenched for you,” Cipher’s sick voice hums inside Ford’s head too.

“Fuck off.” Ford wants to say, but instead he talks to you: “Ignore him. I’m right here, don’t listen to him.” he mutters, pulling away from you for a second before starting to devour you again, tongue swirling around your clit while his fingers drive into you, pressing against that gummy spot and you’re falling apart. But Bill’s mocking laughter fills your ears.

Your body jerks away because it’s just too much, too much sensations they overwhelm you, but Ford’s rough hands pull you back, grabbing your hips as he yanks you closer to his mouth, fingers pumping into you faster, deeper, his tongue pressing against your throbbing clit, sucking. You can’t control the way your legs shake, the way your pussy clenches around his fingers. Ford’s groans are muffled, vibrating through your cunt and it makes your body twitch, thighs squeezing around his head, but he’s not giving in. You taste too damn good.

And Bill’s there. Watching. You scream as Ford's tongue makes you see stars, but it’s Bill who twists your mind to make it feel like there are more hands, more mouths, fingers digging into your skin, phantom lips brushing your neck, your thighs, everything. 

“That’s it, whimper like that. Ford’s doing all the hard work, but we both know who’s really in control, right?” Bill laughs and your vision blurry with how fast Ford’s moving his fingers, shoving them deep into your dripping pussy, creating these filthy squelching sounds, but Bill is flooding your mind, until you’re whimpering, shuddering, begging for more.

Ford's mouth is still working you over, he swirls his tongue on your tortured clit as his fingers curling inside, knuckle deep, drawing you closer to orgasm because you feel oh so fucking good your toes curl. But Bill’s voice is right there, crawling through your head like an infection.

Your body shakes, every nerve alive as Ford’s groan vibrates against your pussy. “I said, focus on me,” he whispers in a serious tone, plunging his fingers a little bit rougher into your wet cunt, reaching deeper. "Just me."

“Aww, isn’t that cute? you really think she’s with you, Fordsy? she’s already halfway gone, look at her, all fucked out.”

Stanford isn’t letting Bill win this. Not tonight.

Without a word, Ford grabs your thighs, pulling you closer to his body. His gaze lingers on you, on your face, your eyes stare into his, confused. Ford rarely feels this emotion, but right now he's angry, not at you. He's angry at himself for letting this happen, for messing with this demon and dragging you, the most precious thing he have, into this fucked up mess. Although he promised himself that there wouldn’t even be a hint of Bill in your life. Then how did he let such shit happen. . .?

“You're so thoughtful, Sixer. That's why I like you, even when she's lying all wet and needy under you, you still think about me. Isn't it true love?”

“F-fuck you,” Ford mutters under his breath and you give him a bleary look, your eyelashes fluttering. 

“Look at you two— pathetic. . . so desperate to feel me, aren’t you just two sick weirdos?” Bill mocks.

You don’t get time to say something as Ford slides his cock between your folds, slapping his leaking tip against your clit couple of times and then he slams into you in one swift move. You cry out, head tilting back. “You’re so tight, honey, even after I prepared you, mmhm, fucking perfect,” Ford groans, poor man can’t get enough of your wetness and tightness, as he punctuates each thrust with a hungry moan. His cock hitting so deep you can’t help but cry out, a mix of pleasure and shock. 

“Fordfordfordford—“ you repeat over and over again, mind too dumb to form anything else than just his name, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close to the kiss.

Bill’s laugh cuts through the air like static, he’s everywhere, inside your head, inside your body, like he’s fucking you from the inside out, dragging every ounce of pleasure from your soul without even needing to touch you. “That’s right, doll. Let him fuck you, such a good little toy.”

Ford's face turns serious as he watches you become boneless, when you look at him through these beautiful tears of pleasure, but he doesn’t let you time to adjust, driving into you without mercy.

“Ouch, Fordsy, so rough. What made you that mad?” 

Ford is trying to drown out Bill’s voice, trying to lose himself in you. “Shut up,” he pants, his forehead presses to yours, eyes squeezed shut. “Just shut up.” but you can hear the way his voice trembles, his mind isn’t entirely here either. Bill got him, too.

“You really think you’re the one making her feel good?”

Ford leans down, pressing you into the mattress, his weight crushing into you, hands grabbing at your thighs to spread you open wider, forcing you to take him deeper. He buries himself as far as he can, because he wants, needs, to make sure only he can fuck you like that, only he can reach that deep inside your body till his tip rubs against your cervix. He groans into your neck. “You’re mine— not his. Mine.” 

There’s Bill again. “Does this cunt feel good, Sixer?” 

“Goddammit, Bill—” Ford hisses, but even as he protests, his movements quicken, his cock drilling into you repeatedly, so needy, he’s just as lost in it as you are. His thumb circles your clit to bring his lovely girl more pleasure, but it’s like Bill’s controlling the pace, dragging it out, making it impossible for you to think straight.

Ford grits his teeth, thrusting harder, making the bed shake beneath you. His hands are on your thighs, his cock driving into you with desperate, determined thrusts. “Ignore him, he’s nothing,” he whispers into your ear, but it sounds like he’s telling that to himself more than all. Ford kisses the side of your neck, groaning your name, his hips never stopping, pounding into you in deep, relentless thrusts while you hold onto him, feeling how hot his body is.

But how can you ignore Bill, when he’s slipping into your thoughts like he belongs there, his influence wrapping around your mind like an invisible hand on your throat?

Your legs tremble, body arching under him, Ford moves even deeper, rearranging your insides and you scream. “Ahh—! ahhn, damn— Ford, Ford! sl-slow down”

His cock throbs inside you, kissing your cervix, he hates being that rough, but he can’t help himself, trying to claim you, mark you, keep you away from Bill. 

Ford kisses you, hungrily, so damn messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth and all you can do is cling to him, your body shaking as he pounds into you, his cock pulses, grinding into that spot inside you that makes you claw at his back, nails dragging down his skin as your mind goes hazy from the pleasure.

But Bill’s not backing down. “Fucking pathetic, Sixer. Look at her, she’s still thinking about me while you’re fucking her. Can’t even keep her focused, can you?” that makes Ford’s grip on you only tighten, fingers digging into your skin as he slams into you harder, trying to get you back to reality when he sees your eyes rolling, you’re whining pathetically, your mind nothing but a fog. Ford wishes he can fuck you so deep and good that there’s no room for Bill in your head. And his too.

Ford presses closer as if he could block Bill out just by being inside you. His hands gripping so hard you know there’ll be bruises tomorrow, but right now, you’re too lost in the way Ford’s cock feels deliciously good inside you, filling you just in the way you always wished. “He can’t have you, you’re mine, honey, mine—” Ford stutters. “fucking look at me, sweetheart.” his hand wraps around your throat, not tight, but enough to pin you down, keep you in place as he slams into you, hips snapping forward with punishing thrusts that make tears roll down your cheeks.

But Bill’s presence won’t leave. His voice is like a knife in the back of your mind and Ford feels it too, but before you know it, he’s flipping you over, pulling you onto all fours. He slams into you from behind, his cock stretching you wide, what has you gasping, barely able to hold yourself up. He continues to fuck you into oblivion, thrusting into you so hard, desperate to claim you, to own you in the way only he can and all you do is moan into the sheets, your body trembling beneath him, your body so damn hot you feel you gonna explode. 

Ford grips your waist, pulling you back against him and you hear him moaning, “Fuck. . . haahhn, you feel so g-good, please, baby, pleasee,” Ford doesn’t know what he’s begging for, but he’s grinding into you, hitting that spot again and again, what feels like he’s splitting you apart, but Bill just laughs at that. Sixer, you’re always so needy

“Oh, you should see yourself right now, doll! bent over like a perfect little toy, drooling all over Sixer’s cock, what a show!”

You’re panting like a dog, barely able to breathe with how fast Ford’s fucking you, euphoria overwhelming your brain, the slap of skin against skin loud in the room. 

“C’mon, baby, don’t you wish it was me fucking you? my energy pulsing through that tight little cunt of yours, id fill you up so fucking full, you’d be shaking, just begging for more, i can feel how much you want it. All that innocence in your pretty little head? Gone, fucking ruined.”

Ford hears it too and grabs your shoulders, pulling you up against his chest, one arm wrapping around you like he’s trying to shield you from Bill’s gaze, keeping you close, possessive. Your pleasure building higher with every dirty word Bill throws at you, the way he mocks you and Ford. . . it’s so fucked up, you shouldn't get that damn wet from it.

“She’s all yours, huh? Funny, she’s about to cum and it won’t be because of you, IQ.”

“Fuck, no!” Ford snaps. “You’re mine, he’s not touching you, honey, focus on me, baby, dammit—“ he grunts loudly nearly into your face as he’s trying to make you look at him.

But Bill only gets crueler. “Aww, you hear that? he thinks he owns you, thinks he’s in control. But look at her, Sixer, she’s soaking your cock just from the sound of my voice. You can feel it, her cunt squeezing every time I talk, pathetic, isn’t it? she’s fucking pathetic.”

“Fo-Ford—! ahhnnn, I’m so close!” hearing your voice, Ford slips his hand down to rub your clit, while pressing sweet kisses on your neck, whispering what a good girl you are and begging you to cum on his cock, trying to get your mind onto something else than this demon.

But Bill isn’t done. Not even close.

“Ohhhh, you like that, baby? like when he fucks you hard like that? i bet you’re imagining what it would feel like if I were the one splitting you open instead. God, I’d tear that sweet cunt apart, fill you up so full, you’d be dripping all over the floor. You’d be fucking ruined, doll.”

Ford’s fingers digs into your skin, he’s trying so hard to pretend Bill isn’t here. “That's it, there’s my good girl, i love you s-so, fuck, so much, sweetheart,” he groans into your ear in such needy tone as if it’s the only thing keeping him from losing it completely.

If not Ford holding you, you’d surely fall because your body shaking so hard you can’t control yourself, these absolutely pornographic moans you make because your brain just melts as Ford’s cock keeps slamming into you. Your pussy clenches tight around him, you’re so wet, so fucking soaked, that the sound of him fucking you hard is so obscene, filling the room with the wet slap of his cock driving deep inside you, again and again. 

“Close, baby? Let go. Cum for him. Show him how fucking easy it is to break you.”

As if obeying Bill's words, Ford’s finger moves faster on your clit, cock pounding into you relentlessly.

“Good fucking girl. Cum for me.” now you have no idea who says that, but your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking in Ford’s embrace, your cunt tightens hard around his cock and you cry out, mind spinning and empty, nothing fills it except Ford’s groans and Bill’s degradation. However Ford doesn’t stop moving even now as he pulls you deeper onto his cock and that’s when pleasure becomes painfully too much to handle. “Mine. . .” Ford tries to block out Bill’s voice with his own. 

But Cipher’s words sounds in both your heads. “Look at him, baby, he can’t get enough of you, can’t blame him, I’d fuck you too, but this, this is better, isn’t it?“ Bill is so caring he doesn’t forget about his lovely Sixer. “Is that all you’ve got, Fordsy?”

“Get out of my head, you b-bastard,” Ford growls, but the way his voice sounds, he’s losing it. His thrusts are so sloppy and desperate, as he tries to reclaim control, but Bill’s grip is stronger.

“Not until I’ve had my fun.” Bill whispers.

Ford’s lips hover against your ear. “Tell me. . . hngh, tell me he’s not in your head right now.” but there’s a tremor in his voice, because he knows it’s useless to fight it. Bill’s everywhere, in your thoughts, in your body, pulling every thread and Ford’s just as tangled in it as you are.

Ford tries to fuck image of Bill out of your head, out of your body, but it’s impossible, because now, that’s where he belongs. You feel both of them, in your mind, in your body, you’re both mess of moans and whines, so damn loud, but Bill adores it, it's been so long since he's heard his beloved Sixer whine like a bitch.

Ford’s hands on your your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he drives himself deep inside you from behind, your body arching into the sheets with each powerful thrust, you’re so lost in it, the overwhelming sensation, but then you feel Ford falter for a second. 

He thinks. “Fuck, he’s watching, isn’t he. . . Bill’s��� he’s seeing this through me.“ Ford knows Bill like the back of his six-fingered hand, which is why he ends up being right. Cipher’s gaze burning through Ford’s perspective, he’s seeing every fucking inch of you, the way you arch for him. There's not much Ford can do about it, only trying to cover you from the all-seeing eye. But Ford is fucked up, just like Bill. He can’t help himself because the thought of Bill watching only drives him into you deeper. The way you’re taking him, yeah, Bill is getting a front-row seat. This angle, this view, Bill is seeing you like this, watching your ass bounce, watching your pussy swallow Ford’s cock. That’s why Bill got so quiet now?

"He’s— fuckk, he’s probably loving every second of it. You look so beautiful, darling." Ford’s voice breaks into a moan. "but he’s not the one fucking you, he can’t feel this— nghn, can’t feel how tight you are, how wet you are for me, oh god—!”

Pleasure tightening in your belly again, your legs shaking and suddenly you feel like you can’t breathe anymore, can’t focus on anything, your heart beats so hard. You’re close, so fucking close and it’s like Bill knows. “Go on, doll, cum,” his voice a hypnotic command. “let me hear you scream again.”

"F-Ford, I'm—"

“Yes, yes, cum for me, be a good girl and finish on my cock again, please,” Ford’s cock twitching at the feeling of your little hole squeezing him.

The pressure in your core snaps as you cum, muscles clenching hard around Ford's length, you’re shaking and trembling again, the sensation too much, too overwhelming and you’re such a damn mess, all sheets are covered in your juices, saliva and tears. Your vision goes white as you cry out, pulsing around him and Ford's name falls from your lips in broken gasps.

Ford’s thrusts stutter and you feel him start to pull out, he’s about to spill himself on your back, just like always, but then Bill's voice is heard again. “Oh, no, no, no! That’s not how this ends, Sixer.”

You hear Ford’s sharp gasp and then his hips slam forward one last time, burying his cock deep inside you again, Bill’s controlling him. You barely have time to process it before Ford groans, his dick twitching, filling you up with his cum, hot and thick. “Ohhh, fuck—! fuck, I— I didn’t— Shit, Bill, you—“ it’s like his body doesn’t belong him, Ford still moving inside you, much slower as he pumps you full of cum, until some of it starts leaking out.

Bill’s laugh fills the room. “Oh, look at that. Isn’t this just fucking perfect? Look how deep I’ve got him in you, doll. Can you feel it? Feel him throbbing inside you? That’s all me. Bet you love it! You’d let me do it again, wouldn’t you?”

[woso-dreamzzz]

The King

Patri Guijarro x Putellas!Reader

Summary: Patri think you're the king of Barcelona

There was barely a few minutes between you and Alexia.

You were older by five minutes but Alexia was taller and the one that everyone assumed was older.

She was La Reina and you were La Princessa, at least to the fans.

She was midfield. You were leftback. She weaved through opposition lines, scoring goals and securing assists while you were a rock at the back, part of Barcelona’s brick wall.

You and your sister practically did everything together regardless of whether or not the two of you were having another one of your petty arguments.

“La Reina!” Patri cheers as Alexia’s corner ball comes in and is neatly turned into the net by you,” La Reina and…”

You turn to look at her, jogging backwards on your way to celebrate with your sister.

“And…” Her throat is suddenly dry as you grin at her.

You look glorious in that moment, jogging backwards, so self-assured as Alexia jumps onto your back.

“And El Rey!” Patri finishes off and somehow your smile widens.

“No more La Princessa?” You tease and Patri just nods.

“Er…yeah,” She says lamely,” La Reina and El Rey. The Putellas sisters.”

“I like it,” Alexia says, still on your back as she ruffles your hair,” My little sister, El Rey.”

“I’m older than you!”

“But I’m taller!”

Alexia laughs as she slides off your back, a kiss pressed atop your head before she moves back to her position.

You shake your head fondly at her before turning to Patri.

“It’s nice for you to upgrade me,” You tease as the match ends,” El Rey. I like that.”

“I..er…” Patri doesn’t want to admit to making a mistake, to being so overtaken by your beauty that she’d gotten tongue-tied. “I thought it was time.”

“Well thanks,” You say, bumping her hip with yours,” I’m going be milk this so much.”

And milk it you did.

So did the club.

La Reina and El Rey.

The superstar sisters of Barcelona.

People called out ‘El Rey’ just as much as ‘La Reina’ and you’d taken your new moniker better than when Alexia first took hers.

You sister was also taking your new nickname better than when she first took hers.

“Ale,” You groan as she tugs you away,” They were fans!”

“They were trying to get in your pants!” Alexia shoots back and Patri’s glad, for once, about how protective your sister is over you. “I won’t let them!”

“Let them. Ale, I’m-“

“They only want to sleep with the famous El Rey! They don’t want you for you! I won’t let you sleep with someone who doesn’t want you for you!”

“As nice as that is, Ale-“

“No! I won’t! Don’t argue with me!”

“I’m not going to argue,” You say, meeting Patri’s eyes,” Trust me. I’ll only sleep and date people who want me for me. Not El Rey.”

“Good!”

You watch your sister flounce away.

“So, how long are we going to wait?” Patri asks,” To tell her, I mean?”

You grin, sidling up closer to Patri so you can speak directly in her ear over the roar of the crowd. “I was waiting for her to catch on. She seems to be fighting invisible suitors though, can’t see what’s directly in front of her.”

You lace your fingers with Patri’s and you know all of the fans recording this will just write it off as being close friends. You’d always been the more physically affectionate of the Putellas sisters. Alexia showed her affection through slight violence, she always had. When you were younger, she used to tug on your pigtails and squeeze your face or give you a swift little tap on the head.

It wasn’t to be mean and it was never true aggression. It was just Alexia’s way of expressing her love for you.

In contrast, you were full of affection. You gave out hugs liberally as a child and loved holding hands. Kisses were a bit more withheld but only slightly. Family got your kisses and close friends.

It was probably why Alexia hadn’t noticed you and Patri yet.

That evening when she’d bestowed your new nickname, you’d asked her out, suddenly emboldened by the way she got so flustered around you. Despite the way that she’d tried to hide it, you’d noticed it immediately.

Noticed Patri immediately.

Nearly four months later and you were still going strong and Alexia still refused to see what was right in front of her.

You’d like to say it was because you were hiding it, that you and Patri were being so secretive and sneaky. But you weren’t.

Everyone else had caught on from practically the moment you’d gotten together.

Already, you’d been on four separate double dates with Mapi and Ingrid, a further two with Marta and Caro and one with Alexia and Olga, though your sister had thought it was just you and Patri tagging along. Olga had gotten the message loud and clear though and congratulated you in the toilets.

“Yeah, well Alexia’s always thought that you had a stream of potential girlfriends following after you,” Patri says as your sister signs one of your shirts for the fans with narrowed eyes,” But then again, everyone wants to date El Rey.”

You bump your hip against hers. “But only one person gets to.”

[the-delusion-corner]

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

[luxaofhesperides]

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!]

[on-leatheredwings]

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.

[yameoto]

stoner!ali x cheerleader!reader. everybody says to stay away from the miller dyke in the muddy jeans and flannel over her hoodie, walking around with a perpetual cig in her mouth, lighter in her pocket. some of them are scared of her. as if they don’t give her shit for just existing. it’s been happening for so long she couldn’t give a fuck, anymore. she ditches half the time, anyways. as far as most people go, she’s invisible.

you, though. you’re curious. you’re supposed to be watching your boyfriend’s football practice, like a good, supportive girlfriend. but really, you’re watching the local burn out toke it up under the bleachers. entranced by the smoke pouring from her lips, the sheen over her eyes, the upwards angle of her jaw as she takes a lazy drag.

when you first approach her, alison’s wary. because what does a pretty little cheerleader like you want to do with a social outcast like her?

“you know what? to hell with it.” ali snorts, and then you’re crammed in the shotgun of her pickup truck and hightailing it out of the school parking lot. pulls over, some halfway deep in the forest, and for a second you think oh, fuck. the rumours are true. this bitch is crazy. except, then she just pulls out a tightly-packed joint and offers it up, grin lopsided. at your expression, her eyebrows shoot upwards.

“don’t tell me i’m takin’ your pot virginity, sweetheart.” then, at your ensuing, flushed silence “oh, shit. i am, aren’t i?”

“well, you don’t have to sound so smug about it.” you snap, snatching the thing out of her hand as she whistles lowly.

“your daddy gonna get me trouble for this?” ugh. she’s so snarky. you almost regret getting in the car with her, cuffing shoulder with a scoff, as she just throws her head back and laughs, deep and throaty and it sparks something burning in your gut. her eyes are on you, posture opening up as she settles into this new, new dynamic. you struggle to flick the lighter thrice before you finally succeed. your warning glare is enough for her no to comment, hands raised in mock submission.

it takes approximately seven minutes of hotboxing, before you’re throwing yourself in her lap. her hazy eyes widen when you straddle her. fist her collar and seize her in the sloppiest kiss of your life. her lips part, speechless, and it’s when your tongue slips it’s way into her pliant mouth that she pushes you back.

“don’t you got a boyfriend?” she croaks, like it matters. her voice is all hoarse, fingers twitching like she’s itching to yank you back, despite being the one to push you away.

you do have a boyfriend. he’s the quarterback. how cliché could you get? nobody’s going anywhere in this town, anyways.

“yeah,” you gasp, hands tugging on her collar again, impatient, lungs burning, eyes glassy. “got a problem with that?”

there’s a war in her eyes, for a split second, before she grunts, and then her hands seize your ass under that tight little skirt of yours and pulls you even flusher against her lap. your boyfriend’s a dickhead to her, anyways. what better vengeance than fucking his girl in the middle of his precious football game?

so, she does. fingers sliding up and dragging away panties with deft precision, for how stoned she is. mutters, “jesus, you’re the hottest piece of ass til’ the next county.“ in your ear as she stretches you wide open with her fingers, free hand groping your ass as she nuzzles between your tits like she’s starved. the windows are already fogged up, which means—when your legs kick high on either side of her body, and she jerks her fingers the same time her teeth tug at your nips—she could give less of a shit when you splatter all over her car window. moaning so fucking loudly, because you’re in the middle of the woods in alison miller’s pickup truck and your pretty pussy has never been treated quite so good before.

(when the clarity sets in, and the high starts to fade. you’re collapsed against her sweaty, shirtless form, and you peel a stray hockey jersey off the back of the seat, elbow knocking against discarded cigarette packs and empty beer bottles. a poorly concealed bong.

“do you clean, ever?” you grumble, into ali’s collar. a low rumble comes in her chest, amused, as she plucks your soaked panties and dangles them up in the light.

“hey, i didn’t expect to be gettin’ cheerleader pussy, today.”

you swat her hand down with a hiss. and she ducks away, laughing that stupid, raspy, butterfly-inducing laugh. maybe the millers aren’t so bad.)

[coeurify]

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.

[sweetestofchaos]

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.”

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

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.

[henneseyhoe]

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”

✮✮✮✮

[aspiring-house-husband]

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. 

[captain-hawks]

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.

[storiesofmyhead]

Pogues - A Rafe Cameron Story

Summary: Rafe and Cassiopia have always had a complicated relationship. A big age gap of 3 years starting at age 16 and 19, Rafe constantly hurting her friends, and in the end her. But hurting he was never what he wanted to do, all he wanted to do was protect her. Put yourself in Cassi's shoes as you live through 4 seasons of The Outer Banks and a rough relationship with the one and only Rafe Cameron.

Also find on Wattpad! @CloveMadden

Season 1

Episode 1, Episode 2

Word count: 1541

"We're the pogues. And our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time.'

Sitting on the top of a vacant house, John B - a longtime friend of hers - was playing with fate as he balanced next to her, a beer is his hand.

"That's what a- three-story fall to the deck?" Pope said sarcastically. "I'd give you about a one in three chance of survival." He squinted looking up into the sun.

"Hm," John B licks his finger before lifting it up to the sky. "Show I do it?" He jokingly asks.

"Ya, you should jump." Pope answers, holding his drill up to the sky towards John B like a gun. "I'll shoot you on the way down."

"You gonna shoot me." John B plays along holding his finger up like a gun, playfully shotting down at Pope.

"Yep."

Shaking her head, Cassiopia looks down hearing Kie's footsteps come out of the house. "They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers." She throws her hands up, annoyed at the insensitivity towards the sea creatures and sea life.

"Of course, they are why wouldn't they?" Pope says as if it's the most obvious thing.

"Used to be a turtle habitat but, who cares about the turtles, I guess." She rolls her eyes, walking out onto the dec. More annoyed than she was before.

"I can't have cold towels." JJ jokes as Kie looks up at the three.

"Can you please not kill yourself?" Kie asks sarcastically, squinting her eyes up at him as Cassiopia, or Cass/Cassi for short, laughed at his antics.

"Don't you drop that beer," JJ threatens. "I'm not giving you another one."

Though despite JJ's threat, John B still managed to drop it not even 30 seconds after the warning, whining as he watches it smash on the ground, Casi slapping his leg, "You idiot," as she laughs shaking her head.

"Of course you did. Like right when I said." JJ shakes his head in disbelief as John B dramatically mourns his lost drink.

"Casi! Casi, where the fuck are you!" a familiar voice yelled from behind the house, near the road.

Rolling her eyes she stands, balancing her way to the other side of the house where none other than Rafe Camerom stood. His tongue pushing his cheek out, a clear sign of his annoyance, as he scowled his eyes searching the house.

All the pogues go silent, watching as Cassi slides down the roof until she was invisible, hidden by the other side of house.

Rafe's eyes widen, his body moving towards the house at a quick pace as he watches her climb down the house. "What the fuck are you doing up there?" He scolds. "That's so fucking dangerous. What were you thinking? You could've gotten hurt." His hands grab at her waist lifting her up away from the side of the house until she was safely on the ground.

"I'm fine, Rafe." She breaths out, annoyed at his concern. Well, it wasn't his concern she was annoyed about. She loved that he cared for her and knew he only wanted her to be safe, but sometimes he was a little overprotective. But it was everything she did that concerned him, he was always annoyed when he found her hanging out with the pogues doing some stupid or dangerous shit. And it wasn't just the fact that she was hanging out with the pogues, it was the fact that she wasn't hanging out with him and maybe because she picked the pogues over him.

"How many times have I told you, not to go some stupid shit with those pogues," he spit, saying the word pogue as if it was venom.

"Those pogues, are my friends." She scowled at him, now re-thinking her plans with him.

Huffing, he throws his head back running his fingers through his hair. "Ok. I'm sorry." He says looking back down at the girl in front of him. Her lips out in a pout, her arms crossed as she avoids eye contact.

"Baby-" His eyes catching the on-looking eyes and ears of the pogue's that try to catch their conversation. "Cassi, I'm sorry. Ok? I didn't mean to hurt you; I was just worried." He watches her eyes move from the ground up to him, before glancing back at her friend that try to eavesdrop.

"I forgive you. I know you just want what's best for me." She smiles up at him, his eyes showing true compassion and love as he gives her a small smile back.

"I wish I could kiss you right now. Just to show you how much I love you." He slightly shakes his head, breathing out, his eyes fluttering.

Giggling she grabs his hand and pulls him towards his truck that waits for them parked on the side of the road. Shaking his head, he allows her to pull him as they reach the passenger seat. Opening the door for her, he waits until she sat comfortably in the seat before closing the door and walking to the other side.

'And that's my friend, Cassi. Well, her real name's Cassiopia but we call her Cass or Cassi for short. She's a pogue through and through, but she has this weird relationship with the Camerons. After her dad died, I guess they took her in for a while until her mom came back and then she went back to full pogue. But no matter what Rafe Cameron never left her and refused to believe that she was even a 'dirty pogue' as he likes to call it. Don't really know their deal, but they're close. And ya. That's my crew.'

Gasping, Cassi shoots up breathing heavily now awake thanks to the loud thunder and rain that hit the house. Moaning softly Rafe sits up next to her, his arms wrapping around her waist and his head falling on her shoulder as he digs it into the junction between her neck and shoulder. Placing soft kisses down her neck and collarbone he asks, "What's wrong baby?"

"Nothing," She mutters, slightly shaking her head. "Just the thunder. It's loud. Go back to sleep."

"I can't sleep knowing that you're awake." He mutters, placing a kiss on her lips. "C'mere." He opens his arms pulling her on top of him. "I'll keep you safe, I won't let anything hurt you. I promise." He says placing one more kiss on her head as his hand covers the ear that isn't laying on his chest.

Listening to his heartbeat and his soft breaths, she allows it to lull her back to sleep. The raging storm outside long forgotten.

Moaning, Cassi turns over in the bed to lay on her stomach, pushing her head deeper into the pillow. Trying to block the bright light beams that had tried to wake her up in the first place.

"Cassi, stop moving." She hears Rafe groan from beside her. the arm that once held her close to his side, now laid under her. his grip tight as he rolls her on top of him as if she weighs nothing, which to him, she didn't.

"Mmm, Rafe." She hums, placing kisses on his bare chest moving up to his neck and jaw.

Eyes fluttering open, he smirks at her lifting his hand up to grip her chin and connect their lips. "My pretty girl." He says the rasp in his voice signaling that he just woke up.

Giggling softly, she places a few more kisses on his lips, sitting up to now straddle his hips. He reaches up to push her messy hair behind her ears, smiling tiredly up at her. "You're so fucking pretty. Oh, the things I want to do to you."

Bitting her lips she runs her hands up and down his torso, tracing his abs. His own hands falling to lay comfortably on her hips. "Ya? What do you want to do to me? Hm?"

"Oh," he chuckles, pulling her hips harder into his. "You feel that baby? Feel what you do to me?" He pouts, his bottom lip jutted out.

Leaning down she places another kiss on his lips before they’re interrupted by Rafe’s voice calling up the stairs.

“Sarah!” 

Groaning Rafe rolls his eyes, Cassi swinging her leg up and off of him, jumping off the bed. “No, baby~ Come back~” He whines, his hands reaching out to her.

“You're such a baby.” She giggles, opening his closet and grabbing one of his shirts out of it. 

Turning around she watched him sit up, placing a pillow on his lap, his eyes looking her up and down. The sight of her only wearing a pair of spandex and his shirt that stopped just above her knees, left barely anything to the imagination. 

"Are you hungry? I can makeeeee~" She drawls out as she tries to think of something, since the power was still out.

"Can I have you." His eyebrows lift up, his lips pulling up into a smirk.

Rolling her eyes, "How about yogurt and fruit." She sends him a smile.

"Ok." He smiles back. "I'll be right down."

"Got it." She answers happily before walking out of the room and down the stairs.

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@carolina6677

[separatist-apologist]

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.