#Dom Lena

[natalievoncatte]

Kara Zor El Danvers lived in a world of limitless sensation.

Thanks to her cousin, the world knew of her x-ray vision, but her eyesight went far beyond that. She could focus her attention and observe the mechanisms of the cell, or look skyward and see things so vast that they were invisible to the human eye. (She learned in her youth not to tell people that the entire solar system was, from time to time, engulfed in the digestive tract of a space whale so huge that its body was too big for humans to perceive) She could see colors lost to human vision and watch particles scatter off the atmosphere.

He sense of smell was beyond acute; had she the impulse, she could have tracked her family by scent. Her hearing was both gift and curse, as was her sense of taste, which she indulged with abandon thanks to her vastly more efficient digestive system and metabolism.

What most people never thought about was her touch. Kara could shake someone’s hand and read their fingerprint like braille. She was sensitive to the most minute changes in temperature or texture, and at times it could be just as overwhelming and overstimulating as her other senses. Kara learned to embrace it- she was a tactile girl from a race that disdained physical contact, even among lovers.

They had no idea what they were missing.

The first time Kara laid her hands on Lena Luthor was just after she’d arrested the fall of a multi-ton helicopter and dragged it from gravity’s grasp to bring it to rest on the roof of LuthorCorp. She’d checked the pilot first and…

Kara had eidetic memory. Perfect recall. It was another cursed gift, one born of the interaction of perfect healing with her alien brain. She would never forget seeing Lena for the first time. It was hers and hers alone.

Other humans could see Lena’s dark hair and soft pale skin, see the variation between her eyes, one a little more blue than green. They didn’t see what Kara saw; a thousand colors sparkling in those eyes like impossible gems, the heat bloom on her skin following the flush in her cheeks. The thundering of her heart in her chest beat a tempo in Kara’s ears, and then Kara touched her.

It was a simple gesture. No skin to skin, just a hand on Lena’s shoulder to steady her and ask her if she was okay, but beneath it Kara could sense her pulse and her body heat and was dimly aware of the electrical conduction of her nervous system.

It was heady, intoxicating. Even her scent- not the perfume covering it but the scent of *her*, her real scent, shot through with acidic fear, was intoxicating. Kara breathed it in and it exploded in her chest, making her feel a million miles tall.

The meeting was brief. Kara had to deal with annoying robots. There were always robots.

Later, Lena was there again and this time Kara was meeting her. Kara forgot that as she walked in with Kal… Clark. For those first few steps she wasn’t Supergirl or Cat Grant’s Assistant, she was herself, the person she only was around her closest friends who knew her secret. The one who walked tall, shoulders back, with nothing to hide.

Again, Lena was overwhelming. Kara was all but stunned by her, stammering and blushing. She didn’t know if there was love at first sight but first touch, just maybe. Lena’s hand was soft and warm, her grip firm, and Kara didn’t know why, then, that it sent such a jolt through her.

It was not the last time they touched.

Some thugs heaved Lena off her balcony, sending her screaming towards her death. Kara was there -she wouldn’t have had to hear it all over the phone- and caught her. It was a flawless rescue, scooping her from the air. Lena, terrified, clung to her for dear life.

Something happened on the way up. There was a brief, searing moment when Lena’s fear faded and she pressed in tight to her savior. Kara was acutely aware of the bare skin on the inside of Lena’s knee, the feeling of her soft calf against the back of her hand and the pull of Lena’s arms around her neck.

That night, Kara began to have feelings. Imaginings. Feeling silken smooth legs sliding under her palms, delicate hands clutched in hers, fingers laced. Wet skin slick on wet skin and clenching muscles, gossamer curls winding across her flesh in a symphony of pure feeling, hot breath on her skin. Teeth on her neck.

It felt weird, it felt wrong, it felt… predatory. Kara was scared of what she wanted, and how she wanted it- feral, with the wild abandon of an apex predator. Kryptonians were above such things. They were a race of stoic scientists who mastered and abandoned animal lusts and replaced them with cold technology Would she betray her heritage this way, too? She’d failed to keep Kal Kryptonian. What if she lost herself, too?

There were other touches. Soft hands on shoulders and lingering palms resting on arms. Lena hugged Kara and sheltered in her arms, drawing Kara around her like armor, and Kara let herself revel in it. She needed to protect Lena like she needed to breathe air.

Then came another. The Daxamite. The enemy, the lover, the jerk. He gave her touches too. Touches she was supposed to enjoy, supposed to want. Everyone told her so, even Alex who despised and suspected him at first.

She enjoyed it for what it was, and hated it for what it wasn’t.

Then he was gone and she was left again to longing. She tried to abandon the Danvers and Become Kryptonian, but she’d failed. Lena Luthor had gloriously corrupted her and she knew in the deepest hidden parts of her heart that whoever she was, she wasn’t the model Kryptonian youth, promised to the science council. She was Alex Danvers’s sister and Eliza Danvers’s daughter and Clark Kent’s cousin, losing herself in friendship and potstickers and guilt.

In the dark, Kara wept because she knew if she could change it all, if she could go back, save her world and her people, something of great value would be lost.

There was something between them, something terrible, something festering between every touch and it gnawed at Kara more and more with every lingering moment. Joy was shot through with terror when Lena would crowd in close to her, the pair of them giggling wine-drunk like the children they’d never been allowed to be. Children of tragedy, daughters of tarnished fathers, inheritors of legacies too heavy to carry alone.

More and more Lena and Kara let each other press close, each under the other’s shoulder, bearing the weight the weight as one. As one in every way except the one that mattered, until Kara’s heart hurt so much that she remembered those first days on Earth when she’d wished the green fireball had taken her pod too.

Then came the worst thing: the truth.

Kara wanted nothing more than to touch her, to feel skin on skin. She knew if she could hold Lena she could make it better, if she could come just shy of kissing the crown of her head and tell her how impossibly sorry she was that Lena would see, that she would feel and understand.

Instead there was only a wall of ice crusted with poison that shot red hot rancid agony through her veins, like a hot knife flensing her skin as her lungs crushed themselves. It felt like she was dying and she wanted it.

It felt like that the entire time. Every argument, every fight. Kara just wanted to scream. Scream at Lena at Mount Norquay with the ultimate weapon aimed at her heart, scream at her on balconies and rooftops and in fraught rescues where Lena shoved her away. Please just let me hold you one more time.

And then, one day, Lena came back. Kara was doing something meaningless -even with the world at stake she still had to write puff pieces for her asshole new boss- and was pacing around her apartment looking for the will to be human when it felt so pointless, and then she heard the staccato of Lena’s racing heart and pulled open her door.

It was explosive. Kara froze, stunned as if struck. It was like seeing Lena for the first time again, as she stood there with tear-wet cheeks in a winter coat with her arms and shoulders folded in fear, and Kara hated that she was afraid. She watched the invisible spectrum dance across Lena’s skin and was lost in her sea-sapphire eyes all over again and dared not even think the prayer on her tongue, a plea that came to her in Kryptonian first.

“I’m sorry,” Lena began, “I was wrong.”

Kara only heard the pain and knew she had to make it stop. Instinct drove her, the instinct she wasn’t supposed to answer. She embraced Lena with the utmost care, needing only to make it better, to make her precious Lena’s hurting stop.

Despite her photographic memory she would never recall who crossed the Rubicon. Maybe it was both of them at once. Lena touched Kara as she never had before, answering the intensity of Kara’s consuming attention in a way she’d always shied from before. Every flash of boldness from Lena drove Kara more feral and she sucked in a sharp breath as she left a hand print pressed in her door, thinking oh oh Rao I don’t want to hurt her, but if Lena was afraid she didn’t show it.

It all just sort of happened on instinct, like they both just knew what to do. Kara heaved her Lena into the air with a shocking display of strength, quivering with joy. Catching her wasn’t enough, she wanted to scoop Lena up and carry her off like a conquering hero, and she was, this was really happening.

They spoke only once, Kara asking the question. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

Kara exerted every ounce of control she had, schooling every movement, commanding every brush of her fingers and movement of her hands. She let herself drink the sensations, etching a record of every facet of these moments that would endure until the end of her days. She’d never felt as alive as when she felt Lena’s body arch under her hands and the buzz in her throat as she cried Kara’s name.

The humans called it becoming one flesh. Kara thought that was silly. Now, she understood.

Lena answered her tenfold, answering Kara’s burning questions with her hands and lips and teeth, almost shocking Kara with her intensity.

To her surprise it was the after she loved most, feeling Lena’s soft, delicate, vulnerable body cradled in her arms, and when Lena sobbed into her shoulder, Kara wept with her and murmured all the promises again and again and again.

Later, after struggles and losses and a strange sense that it was all finally over, the great battles won, the great miracles all performed, Kara formed the metal and crushed the gems into being with her own hands, and would never forget the trembling in Lena’s hands as she circled the bracelet around her wrist.

[god-has-entered-my-body]

thinking thoughts about academic rivals! matty x girlie and their dynamic. their competitiveness bleeding into every other aspect of their lives x

you seem him at a party. your party, walking around and pouring himself drinks like he fucking owns the place, wrapping his arm around your housemate and whispering something into her ear that makes her blush. you dont know what possesses you to stalk over to them and grab matty by his arm, dragging him to the other end of the kitchen.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you spit at him, earning yourself a cocky smirk and a hand around your waist, infuriating you even more. "Just tell me you missed me baby, s'not that hard." despite your hatred for him, and his for you, you cant ignore that feeling between your legs when he pulls you close to him, his breath hot against your skin.

Mattys condescending chuckle when you force him into the coat closet only makes you hotter, your face red and body on fire. "am i turning you on? christ, thats embarrassing for you." he comments, shaking his head and setting his drink on the shelf. He towers over you, making you feel small under his gaze. You hate to admit that you love it.

You lower your hand and grab him through his trousers, making him groan with pleasure. "Doesn't seem like you're doing much better, are you matthew?"

in the blink of an eye your pushed up against the jackets, lips pressed against matty's with his hand gripping your hair harshly, guiding the kiss with brute force. you moan against him, his dominant hand dancing down your body and up your skirt, teeth clashing against teeth as you gasp for air.

Matty pants into your mouth, the alcohol in your system clouds your judgement as your legs spread wider, accommodating his wide frame. His fingers inch higher with each pathetic whine of his name, your voice broken and begging when he finally grazes your clit.

"Fuck, please- o-oh my god-" you moan, this mouth on your neck and knees barely holding you up anymore. His fingers feel like magic, dipping into your core as you shake and whine against him, cursing yourself for letting this happen in the first place.

"Not so smart with your cunt stuffed full of my fingers, are you? Cant believe i let you run your mouth when all i have to do to keep you quiet is this." Matty crooks his fingers and you swear you could cum on the spot.

Matty doesnt let up, not even for one second, his fingers hitting every spot inside of you to the point you see stars. "Got you so stupid for me baby, can't believe youre so fucking easy, god." Matty groans, his eyes staring into yours as you come undone on his fingers, your legs going limp underneath you.

He holds you as you cum, shaking and pleading, whimpers of his name rolling off your tongue with jarring ease.

Embarrassment floods your body once you see him licking your slick off his fingers, winking at you with a growing smirk. You scoff, running your hand through your hair and shushing another one of Matty's comments.

"You tell anyone about this Healy, i'll fucking kill you myself." you threaten him, trying to stifle your giggle at his eye roll. This was a one time thing, nothing more.

You spare him a glance on your way out, your breath hitching at the way he licks his lips at you, hands resting in his pockets while he watches you leave.

-

[cult-of-the-eye]

dyhardelley 🤝 daisirelias

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 6: Mouthfeel

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

TW: awkwardness, some minor nudity, mentions of suicide (not graphic), Simone is a bitch in this chapter, slightly mentions of smoking and drugs, language, mentions of past criminal activity, slight cliffhanger.

Sorry about the late update y'all! I had a rough day yesterday and just didn't have the time to finish editing. Please enjoy! 🥰

Jake’s warm jacket draped over my shoulders as we walked up the beach house steps in silence. Neither of us really knew what to say at this point. What do you say following a near-death experience and a mutual trauma dump? With each step, I left a puddle of water behind me and mentally cursed myself for being stupid enough to jump into the ocean wearing the only pair of jeans I had in that old bag.

I swung the door open and did my best to ignore the fact that Jake was now not only fully aware of my raging mommy issues but was also stepping into the threshold of where those issues were mostly forged. Glass crunched beneath my feet. Right… There’s also that. “Uh, don’t fall. There’s glass everywhere down here.”

“Yeah, looks like you had quite the rager,” Jake mused quietly. “Need help cleaning it up?”

“No,” I replied, laying his jacket over the back of the couch. “I never clean up while I’m here. She can hire someone to do it when she comes back.”

He nodded, slowly moving through the living room and taking in the sight. “Looks like no one has been here for months.”

“Yeah, we moved around a lot for her business stuff. She doesn’t come here much anymore. Guess it wasn’t as fun without a kid to throw in the ocean.”

Jake chuckled at my poor attempt to ease the tension and kicked the empty bottles of booze. “Think you broke my bender record for the most amount of alcohol consumed.”

“Shut up.”

He looked at me, eyeing my still trembling, soaked form. “You should get changed.”

I nodded. “A great idea. Sadly I don’t exactly have a ton of spare clothes on hand.”

He replied with a barely restrained grin, “We’re both adults. A little nudity never hurt anyone.”

“You’re funny,” I responded, grabbing my bag from the kitchen counter to search my options. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. “Fuck.”

Jake clicked his tongue. “Looks like we’re in for an interesting night.”

With a sigh, I turned to face him. “No one’s forcing you to stay.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “But it’s a bit dark out now, and I’d hate to get caught wandering these dangerous streets at night.”

“Well, we both know how easy it’d be for you to get your ass kicked.”

“Absolutely. So, what’s the plan?” His smile grew unbearably wider as he raised a brow, drawing his eyes down the length of my body. “You wanna go first, or should I?”

I scoffed. “Do you really think I’m that easy?”

“If you were easy, I would’ve fucked you months ago, princess.” Jake took a step forward, relying on the play he always seemed to. Close the distance and force them into a corner to let the lack of space do all the work. And just like every time he’d tried it before, Jake was met with my body’s solid, unflinching mass.

“Really?” I asked quietly, deliberately keeping eye contact with him. “How many times have you tried this move?”

“A lot,” he admitted. “Though I’m not exactly complaining about how you respond to it.”

I set a hand on his chest and shoved him back. “Here’s the deal, I don’t have any dry clothes, and you don’t have any dry clothes. There’s a dryer in the upstairs bathroom. So you are going to shower because you smell like an old woman scrubbed you down with shitty ocean febreeze.”

“Not going to join me?” He asked flirtatiously.

“No. I will set up the bedroom for the two of us to sleep in. SLEEP in, no funny business.”

“I’d hardly call it funny-”

“Jake.”

He raised his hands with a smirk. “Alright, alright.”

I shook my head. “When you’re done, wrap a towel around your ass, and you can get in bed while I put our clothes in the dryer and shower. If you so much as try and peek, I’ll toss you in the ocean.”

“I kinda like it when you boss me around,” Jake replied with a wink. “Gonna give me a quick tour, or should I just start opening doors?”

Though his comment made my heart skip a beat, I rolled my eyes at him and led the way up the stairs and into my old room. I kept my head down as I showed him to the bathroom, trying as best I could not to let the belongings that had once been mine drag me back down. “Leave your clothes by the door, and I’ll grab them and put them in the dryer.”

He looked around the small bathroom, carefully snooping through the slightly dusty scene. “Last chance to join me. We could save some water.”

“Leave your shit by the door,” I replied, closing the bathroom door behind me as I set the bed.

The shower turned on after a minute or two of silence, allowing me a few minutes to breathe. I stood in the middle of the room, shivering slightly as I stared at the bare walls and the dusty surfaces that held one or two small trinkets. Nothing here was important… None of it was even real. The picture frames were empty, the ribbons and trophies held no memories of joy or any feelings of accomplishment, and none of the small trinkets I’d collected in my time here meant anything. 

This room was a tomb, a cage, a place haunted by the sons of a child and the endless stream of voices telling her she was not enough. I could practically see her bent over the desk by the window, desperately studying and afraid to look out the window. Afraid to watch the world and everyone in it pass by. You are enough, I wanted to tell her. You were always enough. But I knew she couldn’t hear me. I knew the past was set in stone. All her suffering and all her doubts and fears they’d already happened.

My hand settled against my shoulder, settled against the chilled skin marred by the hideous scar. I smoothed my fingers over it for a moment before snapping myself out of pity and regret of the past. Then, stripping the bed of its dust-covered blankets and sheets, I beat them out as best I could before putting it all back together. It smelt terrible, but it’d have to do. I shoved a few pillows in the middle, dividing the bed in half as the shower stopped.

Jake emerged from the bathroom with a towel hanging lowly on his hips, and his exposed chest glistened with leftover water. His arms were covered with dark tattoos, ones I didn’t get to look at closely before he leaned against the doorframe with a smile. “Left or right?”

“What?” I asked, quickly looking away from his chest to finish the bed.

I could practically feel Jake’s joy as he chuckled. “Do you prefer to sleep on the left or right?”

“I don’t really care either way,” I insisted.

He walked across the room and sat down on the left side, bouncing on the bed slightly before throwing his legs up and lounging back on the pillows. “I’ll take the left then.”

His smirk was unbearable as I turned and headed toward the bathroom. “Don’t fuck up the pillows.”

I tossed his wet clothes in the small dryer before stripping myself and adding my own to the machine. My whole body ached from swimming, and my head pounded. The hot water was a quick blessing, one that ran out quickly. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as the cold water stung my back. “Holy fucking shit!”

There was a soft knock at the door. “You alright in there?”

“You used all the hot water, asshole!” I hollered.

Jake chuckled. “Oops.”

“I swear to god I’m going to kill you.”

“That’d be pretty fucked up, considering I just spent my night saving your ass.” There was a pause before he spoke again, “Want me to join you? I’m sure we can find a way to heat the place up.”

“Open that door, and I’ll shove my foot all the way up your ass!”

His laugh, muffled by the door, still sent a shiver up my spine. No, I insisted. It’s just from the water. “Well, enjoy your cold shower then.”

“Dickhead.”

I was shivering when I’d rinsed the salty stench of the water off myself. I wrapped myself in a towel and turned the light off, quickly moving to my side of the bed and getting beneath the covers while Jake smiled at me over the pillows between us. He held his head up in his hand, resting on his elbow to watch me. “You know you’d be a lot warmer if we were closer. You know, body heat and all.”

I rolled my eyes and glared over at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I’m just saying, it’s awfully cold.”

“You’re always welcome to warm yourself up downstairs with all the glass.”

Jake laughed, the movement shaking the bed slightly as he moved to settle down first the night. “Fine, I’ll keep my warm body on my side then.”

“Go to sleep.”

He was quiet for all of twenty seconds before he spoke again, “Can I ask you something?”

I groaned quietly, glaring at him even harder over the pillows barricading between us. “What part about “go to sleep” do you not get?”

“Come on, princess, indulge me a little.”

“I think I’ve indulged you more than enough.”

Jake smiled at me, the moonlight casting across the side of his face and making that dumb grin of his glow. “I’m insatiable, what can I say?”

“What do you want to ask?”

“You told me about your mom. About what happened back then.” Anxiety consumed every inch of me as I kept breathing in and out.

“And?”

“You never told me why you were out there tonight.”

My jaw clenched as I thought about what to say. Why had I gone out there tonight? Why had I chosen to leap off a boat into the fucking ocean? “I…” I sighed. “I was pretty shitfaced.”

Jake saw straight through the deflection. “Were you… Was this some kind of… attempt?”

That fear I’d seen in his eyes as he leaned over the side of the boat and begged me to take his hand was back, shining brighter now as it looked like he held back tears. “No,” I whispered, reaching over the barricade to squeeze his hand. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

His eyes closed tightly as he squeezed my hand back. “Good. That’s good.”

Was that why he was still here? Did he think I’d jump back in the water the second he was gone? Clearing my throat, I pulled my hand back and settled into the covers, trying to regain a sense of separation from him. “No more questions til we’re both back in New York.”

“Oh?” He chuckled. “Will I get more than four next time?”

“Maybe,” I answered. “If you shut up and go to sleep.”

“Keep talkin like that, and I’ll be up all night, princess.”

I rolled my eyes before closing them tightly. “Stop calling me that.”

“Not a chance.”

“God, you’re annoying,” I teased with a smile.

Jake laughed. “It’s all part of my charm.”

*

Jake tossed and turned for a while before settling on his back, blinking the sleep from his eyes to stare at an unfamiliar ceiling. The ceiling of Lena Harrow’s old bedroom. The night’s events returned to him like a freight train as he quickly turned to look over the pillows where Lena had been sleeping. For a moment, he was worried she’d be gone, worried she’d wanted until he was asleep to sneak back out onto the water. That all melted away at the sight of her bare back glowing in the morning light.

Her red hair pooled over the pillow she buried her head into, and the bed shifted ever so slightly with each deep breath she took. Jake sighed before his eyes wandered down the smooth skin exposed to him. Her spine was decorated with a large tattoo, a snake shedding its dark, dull skin to reveal new pearlescent scales. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers along the gorgeous piece of art and trace the lines of her tattoo as well.

The same sensations he felt the day before rose to the surface. God, she’s perfect. Everything about her spoke to him, drawing him in like no one he’d ever known. She shifted slightly, making a soft noise that sent a wave of heat through him like damn lightning. He slid out from beneath the covers, careful to not jostle the bed and wake her up, though it was tempting just to see how she’d react to seeing his bare ass. If last night told him anything, she’d enjoy what she saw, just like she had when he exited the bathroom.

The room was void of the life and attitude that he knew Lena to have. The walls were painted a dull white, probably some pretentious name like eggshell or cream of some bullshit. There were no posters or pictures, no artwork, only photos of generic art that looked like it belonged in a hotel rather than a room. Trophies and ribbons hung from a few shelves, all for competitions he couldn’t imagine Lena enjoying. Mathematics, spelling, science, music… It wasn’t her. That was the point, though, wasn’t it? “I wasn’t like this back then.” He hadn’t known what she meant then, but he sure as hell did now. If this was the mold she’d been forced into as a kid, it was likely a hard thing to break out of. Jake looked back towards her, still sleeping beneath the covers, and felt sad. 

He didn’t get the normal childhood that other kids did. When he was younger, he hated them because of it. Hated everyone he came in contact with that had parents show up at recitals or parent-teacher conferences. Seeing this… Seeing how she had lived, been treated, and been put through for the first time, Jake considered that maybe she’d been right that night in the hall. Maybe he wasn’t the only one that had it bad. A dead mom was better than one that hated who you were so much she threw you in the ocean.

Jake had done his best to help the redhead out after the boat, but this situation was uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to act or what to say… and he really didn’t want to fuck this up. Lena’s trust and faith in him made him feel good. It made him think that maybe, just maybe, he could be the guy she thought he was, the guy Simone always wanted him to be. Dependable, honest, hardworking, selfless… Everything he felt he’d lacked.

Lena shifted again with another soft noise that made his mind go blank. If that’s how she sounds while she’s sleeping, just imagine how- He shut the thought down quickly and slipped into the bathroom to check on his clothes and to get some distance from her beautiful, naked, unholy sounds. His underwear and pants had dried nicely, but the shirt he’d worn along with Lena’s things was still damp. Jake restarted the machine and dressed as much as possible before quietly heading downstairs.

*

Waking up in the stiff musty bed felt like waking up years ago. It was unsettling how I lay there for a moment, waiting for her to come pounding on my door or even just waltz inside, uninvited to scold me for not getting out of bed fast enough. What was more unsettling was the silence. I turned, rolling face first to a wall of pillows that barred me from the other side of the bed. What the fuck? I peeked over at the unmade half of the bed, the used pillow, and the towel on the floor. It was then that I realized I hadn’t been dreaming about the insane events that occurred last night. I’d gotten drunk, drove a boat, and jumped into the ocean. Crazier than that was that Jake had found me… found me and stayed the night.

I couldn’t help but smile a bit as I recalled the way he snored loudly beside me, the way his feet and arms would ignore the pillows between us to seek out the person in bed beside him. Whether it was intentional or not, I didn’t know, but I wagered it’d be amusing as hell to find out. The room was empty. Jake must’ve grabbed his things and left before I woke up. I sighed, stretching the sleep from my limbs before making my way to the dryer to pull on the newly dried, still-warm clothes inside. My eyes were still heavy from sleep, and my head was pounding from the fun hangover I knew would be haunting me today.

I put my shoes back on and went downstairs to find some kind of medication or food before heading back to New York. Glass crunched beneath my feet as I turned toward the kitchen and stopped in my tracks. Jake was there, looking through cabinets and examining the boxes of expired food that no doubt was still inside. Just like last night, my eyes went to his tattoos. I couldn’t make out what most of them were from here, but I admired them nonetheless… them and the lean muscle of his exposed back and chest as he moved.

“Gonna stand there and stare at me all morning?” He asked, blue eyes flashing with that self-assured smug attitude of his.

“I thought you went home,” I deflected, moving to join him in the kitchen. “Why are you shirtless?”

Jake’s eyes shifted to look down at my chest, not unusual for him, though the way his lips curled into even more of a shit-eating grin should’ve been a warning. “Were you wanting me to peel it off your back or what?” I looked down at the t-shirt I’d grabbed from the dryer, his t-shirt. “I’m not opposed, of course, but there are far easier ways to ask me to strip you.”

I ignored how my face heated up at his words and shook my head. “I was still half asleep when I got dressed.” I turned back toward the stairs, pulling the shirt over my head and tossing it behind me. My shirt was stuck in the very back of the machine when I pulled it out and hissed, “Traitor.”

Jake was waiting in the living room, his shirt back on as his eyes scanned over the words of a book he’d found. He glanced up at me. “You could’ve kept mine, you know. We could’ve switched. 

“I think it would’ve been a bit of a tight fit on your end.”

“I could just walk around shirtless more. You seem to enjoy that.”

I scoffed and moved around the room, quickly packing what little I’d brought back into the bag I had brought. The tension in the air seemed to grow as the silence was weighed down by all that had been said between us. I cleared my throat. “Sorry, there’s not anything to eat here. I would’ve offered to make you shitty eggs or something.”

Jake chuckled, closing the book and setting it down where he’d found it. “As great as shitty eggs sound, I was thinking we could stop by a diner. It’s not far, and it’s usually not too busy.”

“Grumpy’s?”

“Yeah,” he smiled a bit, “I keep forgetting you lived here too.”

“It’s easy to forget,” I replied, nodding toward the door. “We can take the bike. I’ve gotta get going in a bit if I want to get back to the city before dark.”

“You’re leaving today?”

“Yeah,” I pulled my phone out of my bag and played the beginning of the thirty messages everyone had left me.

“Lena, you’d better fill that gas tank up before bringing my bike back!” Dom.

“Hey, fucking bitch, call me - us, I said US! Put that shoe down, Prue, I swear to God!” Quinn and Prue.

“Call me darling. You don’t have to talk. I just wanna know you’re safe,” Ozzy said.

“Lee,” Peter’s voice made a new wave of guilt hit me. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. Is everything okay?”

“Hey, shithead! Break another of those racks, and I will break your face! Sorry bout that, Lena,” Patrick said clearer into the speaker. “I know that was a lot… just call someone. Please. We’re starting to get worried.”

Jake looked at his feet as I closed the phone and shoved it back into my pocket. “Sounds like you’ll have a hell of a welcome home party.”

“More like a welcome home mob,” I replied.

“A mob is better than nothing,” he said quietly.

“Yeah.” I held his jacket out to him. “Here.”

He looked at it for a minute before shaking his head. “You wear it. It’s cold out today.”

“If it’s that cold, you’ll freeze without it.”

“I’m not the one that almost got hypothermia last night,” he responded with a winning grin. “Wear it.” 

I rolled my eyes and put it on. “Fine then.”

Locking the door behind me, the chilled gust of wind made me grateful that Jake had insisted I wear his jacket. I’d never openly tell him that; glancing back at the already too-smug look on his face, I shook my head. Nope. Never telling him that. He nodded toward the bike. “So this wasn’t the first time you stole a bike?”

“Nope,” I answered, pulling the keys out. “Dom freak out after I left?”

Jake shrugged. “Eh, he was more frustrated than anything.”

I nodded. “Yeah, well, considering how many times I’ve stolen this bike, I can’t blame him.”

“How many times have you stolen this bike?”

“Fifteen, maybe more.”

He whistled. “Damn, you’re kind of a criminal.”

I laughed and shrugged. “At least I’m a cute criminal, though.”

Jake laughed. “So, how are we doing this?”

“You ever been on a bike before?”

“Once,” he replied. “Wasn’t on it for long before Simone pulled me off, though.”

Swinging my leg over the side, I held the helmet out to him with a smile. “Newbies get the helmet.” He scoffed but put it on anyway. “Now, you just get on and hold on.”

His taller frame settled in behind me, keeping a vast distance between us. I laughed and took hold of them, placing them around my waist. “You’re gonna want to hold onto me.”

“I’ll take your word for it, princess.”

The bike came alive beneath us, and as we started to drive, I could feel a part of Jake come alive too. He laughed behind me, bright and full and childlike. It was a side to him I didn’t even know existed, but I enjoyed it, no matter how short-lived. Grumpy’s wasn’t far from my mom’s house, and Jake seemed to be almost disappointed by that as I found a place to park on the sidewalk, and we got off the bike. He pulled the helmet off and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Next time I steal the bike, I’ll be sure to invite you.”

“Sounds like fun,” He replied, holding the helmet.

I set it down on the seat and clipped my bag to the front. “You’re buying.”

“Am I?”

“Think of it as payment for all the cigarettes you bummed off me.”

He shrugged. “I guess that’s only fair.”

We sat across from one another in a booth close to the windows so I could keep an eye on my things. Jake ordered waffles while I ordered pancakes, which led us to a quick debate on which was better, but once we’d grown quiet, that same awkwardness and tension settled over the table. Fuck it. “So, last night was kind of crazy.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “It was.”

“I…” I looked up and met his gaze. “I’m sorry for putting that all on you. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

Jake’s brows furrowed slightly. “I don’t mind. I was the one that asked.”

“Would you have asked if you hadn’t had to pull me out of the ocean?”

“Eventually,” he assured me. “Don’t apologize for that. Not to me.”

I smiled, “Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you-”

“You would have been okay,” Jake interrupted. “I don’t… Let’s not talk about that.”

Right, his mom… I mentally cursed myself. “Okay, sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

I rolled my eyes and smirked. “Sorry.”

Another minute of silence passed between us before Jake spoke again, “I’m not gonna tell anyone if you were worried about that.”

“Not even Simone?”

“No, not even her. Though if you were looking for someone to help with that kind of thing, she’d be willing.”

I shook my head, playing with my fingers beneath the table. “I’m sure she would.”

Jake frowned. “She’s good at helping with stuff like that. I know I’ve said it before, but it’s true. When I moved in with her family, she was all I had. She basically raised me.”

“Alright, let’s make a rule. No more talking about Simone. I understand she’s a big part of your life and that you’re, you know, whatever, but my opinion isn’t going to change, and I have a feeling our friendship isn’t going to last long if we’re constantly fighting over our opinions of Simone.”

“That’s fair,” he answered as the server placed our plates in front of us. “I’m still gonna argue with you about waffles, though.”

“Fair,” I replied. “But if you’re planning on getting into a debate over breakfast foods with me, prepare to lose.”

He cut into his waffle. “You’re that confident?”

“Absolutely,” I said, stuffing my mouth full of pancakes and making an exaggerated sound.

The longer I spent around Jake, the more I enjoyed his company. He didn’t make any faces or comments about how messily I ate; no matter how curious he was about my past here, he kept it to himself. Though he was undoubtedly an asshole, Jake wasn’t too bad. I finished my pancakes, and he finished his waffles, so the two of us just sat there talking about stupid stuff before the door opened, and Jake’s eyes darted toward it with a sigh. “There you are!”

“Simone,” he replied, shifting in his seat to make room for her. 

She slid in beside him, not even looking over at me while she frowned at him as she set his phone down. “You left this at the house. I’ve been worried!”

“Sorry, I got a bit sidetracked,” he said, glancing over at me. Simone finally turned her head, and her mouth fell open slightly. Then, with wide eyes, she composed herself.

“Lena,” Simone said with a taut smile. Her eyes were wider than usual as they fixated on the black jacket, Jake’s jacket, that hugged my shoulders and encased me in the smokey and woodsy scent. “I didn’t know you were in Cape Cod.”

I smiled, somewhat gladdened that Jake hadn’t told her. “Yeah, it was a last-minute trip.”

She hummed, her eyes shifting to Jake, whose face had drained of his usual charismatic glow and was now replaced with a nervous look that made his whole face seem tight and tense. “So this is what you got up to last night.”

“Simone,” Jake started with a sigh as she sat beside him.

“It’s fine,” she answered with a broader smile that didn’t even try to reach her eyes. “I’m sure it was something significant that kept you from coming home last night.”

Tilting my head to the side, I shrugged. “That’s on me, actually. My bike broke down by the beach, and Jake happened to see me. He offered to help, which took much longer than it should have.”

Her eyes practically drank up the lie as she pursed her lips. “Sounds like you were fortunate Jake was around.”

“I was,” I answered, looking back over at Jake. He knew the truth, and that was what mattered, so I shoved down the part of me that worried that truth would be exposed to Simone’s all too eager ears the second I left them alone.

Jake watched Simone closely as she ordered, his forehead creasing when she’d gotten a beer over coffee or water. He could tell something was off with her, and though it was pretty obvious even to me, Jake seemed to pick up on it more than I could just from the small things she said and did. My stomach churned uncomfortably at the sight of them. Was this what it had looked like to everyone else? I wondered, darker memories simmering just below the surface. Was it this obvious that something was wrong between us? 

“So, what brings you to the Cape?” Simone asked as she settled into her seat beside Jake.

“It’s a personal matter,” I answered without hesitation and without apology. “Not really something I’d feel comfortable burdening a coworker with.” The message was clear. Move on.

She looked far too smug about the response as she nodded. “I understand personal matters can be quite difficult to navigate. But we’re always available should you need someone to help you find your way around. Jake and I grew up here, after all.”

I smiled, trying my best not to laugh at her apparent scramble to find a foothold that would tether me to her and force me to rely on her as Jake and so many others at 22West did. “I���m not staying, but thanks for the offer.”

Jake watched her as she took a long drink of her beer, worry solidifying on his features. “You’re leaving so soon?”

“Oh, I’ve been here for days,” I answered.

“Really? Where have you been staying?” Jake nudged her slightly, an apparent attempt to dissuade her from pressing questions, one that failed as she giggled softly. “Sorry, it’s just I know how difficult finding a decent hotel can be around here. I wouldn’t want you to have trouble sleeping because the bed is too lumpy or the place reeks of dead fish.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to worry, though,” I adjusted the jacket on my shoulders, “I slept just fine.”

How her face dropped for a moment told me everything I needed to know about her and Jake’s relationship. If I wasn’t sure before, I was now. Not only was Simone like my mother, she was like him too. A cold spike of rage coursed through my veins as I looked over at Jake’s timid and almost childlike behavior before meeting her eyes again. This time I let my polite mask drop. This time I let Simone have exactly what she wanted, a look into my thoughts. I know what you are. 

Her smile faltered as we stared one another down for a short moment. Then, she fixed her mask. “That’s good. There’s nothing better than a good night’s sleep.”

“I can think of a few things,” I replied, carefully pulling out my dwindling pack of cigarettes. “Like one last smoke.” I nodded toward the door. “Want to join me?”

He looked uncertain, looking at Simone for that ever-so-subtle nod before joining me. “Sure.”

The fresh air made the heavy weight of Simone’s gaze burning holes into my skull feel somewhat lessened as I leaned against the wall beside Jake and lit the cigarette, taking a quick drag before holding it out to him. “Sorry, you’re in the doghouse because of me.”

Jake shrugged, slowly regaining his usual attitude and demeanor. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to being on Simone’s nerves.”

“I can imagine.”

“She’s not usually like this,” he assured me quietly. “Ever since her ex came to visit a while back, she’s been… off.”

She’d get no sympathy from me, but for Jake’s sake, I shrugged him off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve dealt with far worse people.”

Jake handed the cigarette back to me with a sad look. “She reminds you of your mom, doesn’t she?”

“A little,” I replied. “More so someone else that makes my mother look like a saint.”

He tilted his head carefully. “Who?”

I smirked. “You used up your questions last night.”

“Do you always have to make getting to know you so difficult?” He questioned with a smile.

“Of course. If I didn’t, you’d get bored.”

“I don’t think I’d ever get bored of you,” he replied, softer than before, with a gleam of something in his eyes… something nervous and unnamed. 

I could see Simone watching us closely from the corner of my eye like a predator watching over the prey she’d long staked her claim to. Jake wasn’t a game and certainly wasn’t anyone to claim. I pulled the cigarette from between Jake’s lips and took one last drag of it, closing my eyes to savor the smokey taste that filled my mouth as I exhaled. “Well, time for me to head out.” I placed what remained between Jake’s lips and slid past the window, making deliberate eye contact with Simone, waving at her as I walked towards Dom’s bike.

“Try not to wreck it,” Jake said, standing up from his comfortable position against the wall. “It’d suck to get back to the city and hear you’d been beaten to death by angry bikers.”

With a smirk, I swung my leg over and straddled the bike. “Or it’d be super badass coming back and hearing about how I beat the shit out of 20 angry bikers.”

He laughed, and his eyes softened. “See you at work, Lana.”

“See you then, Jerk.” I pulled the helmet over my head and started the bike, revving the engine before flipping Jake off and speeding down the street. He stood on the curb for a minute before turning and walking into the diner to face Simone.

I let the light rush of adrenaline wash over me as I drove. The engine roaring replaced the sound of the ocean. The smell of Jake on his jacket replaced the bitter tang of salt. The wind forced anything left of Cape Cod off me and left it where it belonged. Fuck the cape. I repeated to myself.

*

He sat back down across from Simone with a sigh, folding his hands on the table and watching her quietly eat the simple breakfast platter she’d ordered. Watching Simone drink anything other than wine made him feel weird, but seeing her do so this early in the morning was just concerning. “You hate beer.”

Simone smiled, chuckling as she examined the bottle in her hand. “I do.”

“How was the rest of the night with your mom?”

“You’d know the answer if you’d bothered to come back last night.”

“Simone,” Jake sighed. He felt guilty about not calling to let her know what had happened, but he hadn’t been able to think straight until this morning. It was something he found happened often when Lena was involved. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” She shook her head. “Sorry is something you say when you forget to bring wine or dessert. You just disappeared, Jake. Sorry, it doesn’t cut it this time.”

“It’s personal okay,” Jake replied flippantly.

“Personal?” Simone hissed. “More personal than all I’ve done and sacrificed for you?”

Jake ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not my shit, Simone. It’s not my place to share it with you.”

Her pale eyes stared back at him with a downturned face of disappointment that he was familiar with. “Was she any good?”

“Jesus,” he scoffed. “I didn’t sleep with her.” Of course, technically, he did, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Simone that.

“Let’s not play games, Jake,” she said while taking a drink. “We both know how you are, especially with new coworkers.”

Whether she meant it as a dig towards his short relationship with Tess or not didn’t matter, it hurt all the same. He leaned over the table a bit more. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

She watched him for a minute before she finally sighed. “Good.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. I didn’t really have time to think about it.”

“What happened?”

This was the moment he’d dreaded. Jake didn’t want to lie to Simone. It was one of their oldest rules, one that Simone mainly took seriously. But if he told her what happened last night, she’d no doubt try to help. It was just who she was, and that’d put a swift and bitter end to the friendship he’d just reestablished with a girl who was more like him than he thought. “It’s just like she said. I helped her out, lost track of time, and ended up crashing on her couch.” Her bed. The bed that made it impossible to smell anything but her.

“And where was she staying?”

“Simone-”

“The least you could do is tell me where you were. I-”

“Simone!” He interrupted. “Lena’s shit isn’t our problem. I helped her out. That’s it. Do you not trust me?”

She reached across the take and took hold of his hand. “Of course I do. You know I do. The one I don’t trust is her.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, I know you two don’t get along, but she hasn’t been anything but nice to everyone.”

“Nice is not a word I’d use to describe that girl.” Simone shook her head. “I read her file. Howard’s old system was actually useful for once.” She leaned in closer. “Lena Harrow is dangerous, Jake. Did you know she had a criminal record? Fighting, drugs, stealing, arson.”

With all he’d learned about her in just one night, Jake felt the list of crimes was relatively small compared to what he’d been picturing. Lena had a dark past; there was no denying that. “I’m not saying I know everything about her, but-”

“No buts. Just… Don’t sleep with her, and don’t get too attached,” Simone’s face softened, and large tears began to well in her eyes as she spoke. “I care about you, Jake. And I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

He held her hand. “I know. I promise I’ll be careful, Simone.”

*

I pulled up to the warehouse, parked the bike next to all the others, and knocked on the side door. A large man, lovingly known among Dom’s gang as Fluffy, opened the door and smiled down at me. “Dom in?”

“He’s at Nana’s,” Fluffy replied.

“Thanks!”

Weaving through the heavy foot traffic of the city, I squeezed through Nana’s door and offered the elderly woman a smile, one she met with a scowl. She quickly rolled up one of the newspapers and stalked from behind the counter toward me. The swats were too quick to dodge as she cursed in Arabic. “You worried us!” She shouted. “Stealing that bike and riding off, no phone calls, no notes!”

“I’m sorry, Nana!” I shrieked, rubbing my arm where she’d hit me. 

She pulled me into a tight hug and squeezed hard. “You never do that again! You understand me!”

I hugged her back. “I promise, Nana.”

When she finally pulled back, she shooed me toward the corner. “He’s in his seat.”

Dom always commandeered the booth in the very back of the restaurant. Said it was good for business even though everyone knew dealing beneath Nana’s roof was against the rules. He ate the food in front of him, wordlessly offering me the seat across from him. I slid his keys across the table. “It’s got a full tank.”

“Good,” he said, putting them back in his pocket. “Did it give you any problems?”

“No.”

Dom looked at me for a moment before he sighed and asked, “You feel better?”

With a shrug, I answered, “I guess.”

“I’m sorry about the jacket.”

“Dom, that was-” He held up a hand to stop me.

“I know it’s not the only reason you did it, but the last straw to set you off. My guy did it, and I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I’d offer to replace it, but we both know it was one of a kind.”

I sighed. “I don’t blame you for what happened, but thanks.”

He took a few more bites before asking, “How was Cape Cod?”

“Shit, as always.” I smiled. “But I guess it was better than the last few times.”

“That got anything to do with the tough guy?”

“What?” I looked at him with wide eyes and a, hopefully, slight blush. “How did you-”

“He mentioned having to pack for a trip to The Cape. It wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.” Dom smiled a bit. “I was just glad you’d have a familiar face around.” After a minute, he reached over and held my hand. “I’ve gotta tell you something, but promise you’re not gonna freak out and steal my shit again, okay?”

Dom was rarely this cautious about what he said, and it put me on edge instantly. “Okay.”

He squeezed my hand as he spoke. “One of my guys saw a familiar car driving through.”

“Familiar car?” I asked before the realization hit me, along with the memories of that engine roaring and the tires squealing beneath every movement. “Dom…”

“Relax,” he ordered quickly. “I’m looking into it. You’ll be the first to know if there’s anything to worry about. I promise.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

Dom waited to pull back until my breaths had evened out. “You should head to Ozzy’s. Those two have been worried.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Dom.”

“No problem, kid, just don’t steal my bike again.”

“No promises.”

“Get the fuck outta here.”

Nana filled my arms with to-go boxes, and I made my way to the bar. The security team grabbed a box from my arms and greeted me quickly. I set one down and tapped the bar, making sure the two bartenders knew it was for them before heading into Ozzy’s office. He sat with his back turned to me, looking down at a stack of papers. Finally, I knocked on the wall. “Hey.”

He turned and jumped up, pulling me into a big hug. “Thank Jesus! You’re not allowed to do that ever again!”

“I breathed in the comforting smell of Ozzy’s smoke and sighed. “Sorry, Oz.”

“Don’t be,” he insisted. “Just pick up the phone next time.”

My dad’s ruined jacket sat on the desk on top of a pile of things. It made me sad looking down at the remains of such a big part of my life. “I didn’t mean to ignore your calls. I just… It’s been a long week.”

He smiled. “I know, darling. But it’s okay now. You’re home, where we can all take care of each other.”

“Does Pete know?”

“No.” Ozzy shook his head. “I figured it’d be best, all things considered, to not tell him you’d run off.”

“Good. He needs to focus on getting better.”

Ozzy nodded in agreeance. “Patrick and I discussed what we wanted to do next week when he gets out of the hospital. He’s been asking to meet your coworkers for a while now.”

I groaned. “You’re not going to suggest what I think you are, right?”

“Between the three of us, we have enough to take him to 22West. So he’d get to meet your coworkers and have a high-end meal. It’s a win for everyone.”

“Fine,” I huffed. “I guess I owe you two this since I was gone.”

Patrick appeared in the doorway, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “This mean I need to get a suit?”

“Yes,” I answered. “It’s a pretty high-end place.”

“Say no more, sis. I’m on it.”

Ozzy smiled. “I think I have something that would work.”

“No hats.”

“Damn.”

*

I took the next few days off to readjust to the city and calm my nerves about returning to the restaurant. It was little more than a paranoid feeling that I’d return to Maddie back in the kitchen or, worse, my mother waiting in the front room for me. When I did go back, these feelings were quickly depleted as Scott looked up from prep and scoffed. “Bout fuckin time. Go get something to eat and then get to prepping.”

“Yes, Chef,” I answered, nodding to Isaac. “It’s good to be back.”

“Yeah yeah, hurry it up, Red!”

Changing into my shirt, I stared at my empty locker for a moment, quietly mourning the space dads jacket used to fill up. My fingers ran over the open air as I turned to smack right into someone’s chest. Jake’s familiar laugh made me look up with a smile. “Miss me that much?”

I rolled my eyes and took a step back. “There goes my good day.” He squeezed past me and opened his locker, looking at the leather jacket I’d stuffed inside. “I took the liberty of returning your jacket.”

“How’d you know my combination?”

“Sasha.”

“Right,” Jake chuckled, holding the jacket in his hands for a second before holding it out to me. “Why don’t you keep it for a while?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I’ve got another one.”

I smiled, turning toward the door. “So do I. Keep your jacket, Jake.”

The second I walked into the front room and toward the long table filled with people eating the family dinner, Sasha jumped up and wrapped me up in a big hug. He demanded to hear about my criminal history as Will set a plate in front of me. From across the table, Simone smiled as Jake slid into the seat next to her. The two of us held one another’s gaze for a moment before Howard broke the stiff silence. “Lena, welcome back. How was your vacation?”

“Oh, it was a hoot,” I answered.

He hummed, “So you found a place with the worst bed and drank all week?”

I laughed and nodded. “You know me, Howard, always the party animal.”

Howard nodded, sliding a small piece of paper across the table to me with a more careful smile. “Today, we’ve been gifted with a spectacular vintage.”

The paper unfolded, and a cold wave washed over me as I traced my mother’s handwriting. Leave a tip for the cleaners next time. I practically scoffed at the simple message before I tore the paper up and stuffed it into my pocket. Jake looked at me from across the table but said nothing as we ate the family dinner and drank the fancy wine.

Being tossed into the throws of a busy night of service felt exhilarating after the long break I’d taken. The kitchen was finally back to its normal flow as all traces of Maddie’s visit were washed away by Scott’s powerful voice and creative mind. As soon as things slowed down, I nodded at Santos. “Need some help with those dishes?”

He laughed. “Does it matter what I say?”

“Nope!” I smiled back. “Give me one second, and I’ll hop in and help.”

I wiped my hands down and shrugged my cook’s coat off, hanging it off the railing as I slid out the kitchen door and behind the bar. Nicky smirked at me as he cleaned some glasses. The restaurant was basically empty. Servers stood by the bar waiting for the last few tables to begin vacating, and Jake made one last drink for the only person sitting at the bar. I stepped behind him and smiled, gently tapping his shoulder. “You’re it.”

He looked at me with a scoff. “Pretty sure that’s cheating.”

“Pretty sure I don’t care,” I replied. 

“You know I’m just going to tag you once I’m finished with this drink, right?”

“You can try,” I egged on, sneaking back into the kitchen and sliding beside Santos to help wash the last dishes. 

Isaac was back to telling the whole kitchen his crazy stories bringing the entire kitchen to a loud clamor of laughter and comments. Because of the noise, I didn’t hear the steps as they settled in behind me until it was too late. Jake leaned over my shoulder and smirked, tapping my nose with his finger. “You’re it.”

He ducked away before I could splash him with dishwater. “I’m gonna tag you with this nasty wet hand!”

“Lookin forward to it, princess!” He yelled as he climbed the stairs toward the locker room.

Isaac leaned on the counter beside me, wiggling his eyebrows. “Princess?”

I splashed him. “Fuck off!”

Once the dishes had been put on the rack, the kitchen grew empty, and Santos and I walked upstairs to change. I smiled when I opened my locker and saw Jake’s jacket stuffed inside. Sneaky asshole. I shrugged it on, having forgotten to grab my own before returning his. One more night of wearing it wouldn’t kill me, and I’d gotten rather fond of how it smelled and felt around my shoulders.

Everyone was crowding around the bar when I got downstairs, everyone but Simone and Howard, of course. Howard smiled at me while Simone took one look at me, the jacket, and turned her face away. Jealousy didn’t look good on her. From behind the bar, Jake’s eyes ran down my outfit, and he smiled. I ignored how it made my stomach flip and how I wanted to make him smile again. 

“What are we talking about?” I asked, sliding into the seat beside Ari.

She smiled. “Tattoos. “

Sasha pointed at Jake’s arm. “We were just mocking Jakey’s shitty mermaid.”

I looked at the bartender’s modest mermaid tattoo on his inner arm. “Hey, that looks kind of like mine.”

“You’ve got a mermaid tattoo?” Jake asked with a smirk. “Show it to me.”

“No!”

Heather leaned in closer. “Ooohhh, I know what that means!”

Sasha and Ari cooed in my ears. “Where’s it at?”

“I bet it’s right over her pu-”

“I’m not telling any of you vultures!”

“Well, I know it’s not on your back,” Jake said smoothly, his smile never faltering.

I scoffed. “What happened to no peeking?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was always gonna peek, princess.”

Sasha nearly spat his drink out, wide eyes moving back and forth between the two of us. “Did Jakey finally take your flower, lovely Tiger Bitch?”

“No,” I replied, shoving him.

“Did get a pretty sweet view of you naked, though.”

“Bullshit!” I shoved a finger in his face. “If you’d have seen me naked, then you’d know exactly where the mermaid is.”

He lifted his chin up, smug and eating up all the attention. “Maybe I do.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t waste time demanding to see it.” I leaned back in my seat and smiled. “Shame, it’s in a good spot too.”

The cogs in his brain were practically visible as he thought about every possible location before leaning on the bar. “Ass?”

“Nope.”

“One of your boobs, then?”

“No,” I laughed. “And even if it was, you’d never get to see it.”

“Never say never.”

Sasha gagged. “If the two of you could just do the nasty already and quit the dirty talk, we would all appreciate it!”

Scott shook his head as he downed the last of his drink and stood. “Dinner, whose in?”

“I’m picking tonight!” Ari cheered over his shoulder, making the man wince.

“Great, everyone, prep your stomachs for some shitty Italian or something.” Ari punched him in the shoulder, and everyone laughed as we headed out the door.

*

As he walked beside Lena, Jake couldn’t shake the warning Simone had given him a few days ago in the diner or the looks she gave him each time he interacted with Lena. The redhead wearing his jacket laughed beside him at something Sasha had said from the front of the group. “Hey,” Jake said, pulling her lively green eyes to his. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ready for our question game already?” She teased with a smirk.

He couldn’t help but smile as well. “I was actually wondering something a bit more serious.”

“Oh?” She asked, tilting her head. “Well, I guess I could give you a freebie just this once.”

“How generous.”

She nudged him. “What’s on your mind?”

How was he supposed to start this? “I… I may have heard a few things about you that I wanted to ask about.”

“Well, there’s a good chance I’ll have answers. What did you hear?” She asked. 

“I heard you have a pretty extensive criminal record.”

Lena didn’t even bat an eye as she nodded. “Yeah, I do. Was there a particular crime you were curious about?”

Jake shrugged. “I guess I was just wondering how much of it was true.”

“Oh,” she said with a laugh. “Well, that’s easy then! I’ve got a lot of charges under my belt for fighting. It was all illegal rings, though, so no assault or anything crazy. Stealing was another big one. I don’t even know how many times I got busted for that.” She shook her head. “I was kind of shit at it.” She hummed quietly, trying to remember. “Oh, there’s drugs, obviously. Just buying, no distribution or smuggling or anything.”

“Any arson?” He asked.

She scoffed. “Okay, that one wasn’t on me! Some assholes were harassing Quinn at the club she works at, so she called me and Prue and Patrick to help walk her home. She didn’t tell us she’d dumped gasoline all over the sidewalk until after she lit the damn thing on fire to try and scare them. Bitch almost took off my eyebrows. Anyway, the cops showed up and arrested all of us. My dad and Ozzy were fucking pissed.”

Jake looked at her with furrowed brows. How the hell did she do this? Lena looked up at him and poked his forehead. “You do that more, and you’ll hurt yourself. What’s up?”

“Why are you so honest?” He asked.

“You asked,” she answered. “Did you want me to lie?”

“No,” Jake shook his head and chuckled. “I just… You’re just something else.”

She leaned closer to him and smiled. “Something good, I hope.”

Jake looked down at her and quietly agreed. She was something good. That night he watched her closely, trying to see what Simone did. Trying to figure out why she was so against him getting closer to the redhead, but the more he looked, the more he liked what he saw. As she tapped his shoulder and whispered another playful, “You’re it.” Jake threw all his notions of not knowing who Lena was out the window. He knew exactly who she was, and he trusted her.

*

I walked in the front door, quickly readjusting the straps of my dress before giving the hostess my name and telling her I was waiting for the rest of my party. Nicky spotted me from the bar and smiled. “Hey, Red, I thought today was your day off.”

“It is,” I answered, taking a seat at the bar. “I’m here as a guest tonight.”

“A guest,” he swooned. “Moving up in the world, are we?”

Jake returned from the back, pausing when he saw me. “The hell are you doin’ here?”

“Our little Red is a guest tonight,” Nicky said with a smile.

“A guest?” Jake pressed as he refilled the ice.

I scoffed. “I could be a guest.”

“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Nicky asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No one,” I answered. “I’m here for a family dinner.”

Jake laughed at that. “Family dinner? I’m dyin’ to see what your family comes in lookin like.”

I nodded. “Me too. I told them it was upscale, but Ozzy’s version of that makes him look like an old victorian count and Patrick.” I winced. “Patrick is going to show up in something fucking hideous. So, I guess I should apologize in advance for you guys having to look at them all night.”

“Well, I don’t know about Nicky, but their outfits won’t bother me.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be too busy looking at yours.” He winked.

I turned my head away from Jake’s smile, an attempt to hide the blush that no doubt dusted my face with red. However, the sight waiting for me at the front was one that made me do a double take. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

[foxgirlknot]

got a second comment on thurible being like "lol wow imagining Lena as a dom is super fun and interesting" and .... have we been reading about the same character

[forcebookish]

everyone involved in making "x has a mommy kink," "y has a foot kink," etc. regularly used ao3 tags instead of just "mommy kink," "foot kink," etc., a pox on you and your ilk

[chaotic-super]

Kara's Little Book of Fantasies - 3

Looking at Kara and the state she is in is enough to bring a blush to Lena’s cheeks despite the fact that she’s the one responsible for her vulnerable position.

She is currently naked and tied onto her forearms and knees beneath her desk in her office, nothing but a footstool for her mistress as she works.

Blood red heels dig into her skin, pinning her with so little force that one would wonder why the girl of steel is so inclined to be humiliated and used in such a way, as nothing more than a lifeless piece of furniture, deemed useful until well worn.

It is not the pressure of her mistresses shoes or the wind blowing in from the balcony brushing her nipples that bring her focus, it’s the rope that has been bound between her legs, positioned from a second rope around her waist to thread down and press. Hard.

It is positioned perfectly, bound off as tight as humanly possible to leave her quivering with every slight movement as the jute tightens further against her aching clit. The pressure of it everything and nothing all at once.

Every few seconds, her legs involuntarily shift, making her moan into her gag, her mistresses panties stuffed inside her mouth and between her teeth, so they sit on her tongue, forcing her to taste her. Lena knows she would never disobey her and spit them out, but it pleasures her to see the strip of duct tape across her mouth, taking away her choice.

The muffles sounds of her bound pet makes her drip into her expensive skirt, her pussy glistening from how turned on she is seeing Kara in such a state. She shall have to relieve herself soon, or better yet, have her pet relieve her.

She does actually have work to do, some boring spreadsheets and some paperwork that she has been putting off in favour of spending time with a special someone. Her hands flick through the boring documents, her eyes flickering across the pages, searching for something interesting but the pages are void of anything so much as in the ball park of interesting.

Her footstool squirms beneath her, making it impossible to focus, try as she might. Still she forces her mind to read the words before her, sometimes going over the lines multiple times until she can clearly state that she understands it.

It takes a while to get through the stack, not that she minds in the slightest, every minute longer it takes is an extra minute of delicious torment for her Babygirl to endure, to relish, to crave.

As she reaches the last page of her pile, she uses the toe of her shoe to tap insistently against the rope holding Kara’s delicious cunt hostage, forcing the material against her clit with each precise thump.

When the moans increase their volume she uses it as the perfect moment for a reminder, her pet should know better than to interrupt her after all.

“Quiet.”

The strict order is delivered with the heeled foot changing directions to dig into her pert ass cheek with a harsh stab as the other foot is used to tuck beneath the rope just beneath where it attaches to a second piece of rope attached around her hips, tugging upwards to wedge the rope further up into her sore little clit.

The extra pressure makes her cry out once more, leaving Lena with no other options than to punish her for being disobedient.

They both know that Lena did it on purpose, loving her role as mistress and her ever inventive punishments.

“If you think that I will let you get away with this insolence then you are sadly mistaken, little girl. When I tell you to be quiet, I expect you to listen, and I expect you to listen well.”

Kara’s cheeks flame red with a mixture of arousal and disappointment at disappointing her mistress, even if in her heart, she knows that this is just an act Lena is putting on as an excuse to punish her, just because she can.

Lena pushes her chair back, recoiling away from the body hidden beneath her desk. “I hope you’re ready to suffer all pretty for me.”

Kara is never ready, never has been and most likely, never will be, still she will enjoy every second of it and accept everything thrown at her with open arms. Or as open as she can get them with rope entwined around her.

Lena stands out of her chair and kneels down beside her to untie her ankles so she can stand. She helps her up, keenly aware that Kara might struggle after being under there a while. She is never going to be able to think of anything else when she is sat here trying to do her important CEO work.

With a little bit of help and support, Kara is brought to her feet, the crotch rope still tormenting her as Lena guides her to the window, each step a punishment in itself.

With a hand in her hair, she is guided to exactly where Lena wants her, the corner, right by the window. She pauses a few inches away from it, her breath fogging up the glass from how close she is.

All of a sudden, Lena’s front hits her back with force, sending her smacking into the window, the hand in her hair tugging her head back so she doesn’t hit her face. Her nipples cry at the cold sensation that bombards them in a ruthless endeavour.

Only once her body has settled does Lena push her face against the glass, turned to the side and pinned with a palm to the opposite side of her head. “You’re in for it, pretty girl.”

Then the pressure is gone, and her back is cold from her mistress’ absence. She tries to see where she is from her position, peering from the corner of her eye but not daring to move a muscle.

She feels her before she sees her. Or rather she feels the rope twist around her ankles once again, strapping them together again so she can’t move away from the window for fear of falling.

“I want you to look out and watch the city you spend so much time protecting and pray that nobody can see you, a god brought to helplessness by her own wicked needs.”

Kara has been looking for the right word all evening and now Lena has offered it up to her on a  silver platter. Helpless.

Ever since Lena had so carefully strapped the collar around her neck, double checking that it isn’t too tight before sliding open a tiny mechanism on the front to expose a tiny piece of kryptonite, weakening her just the right amount.

Lena had spent weeks calculating the exact amount of kryptonite she would need and designed the perfect collar for her. It’s plain and simple, light blue leather with a simple D ring and the mechanism. Lena measured her neck to fit it to her and immediately upon completion she set the ground rule that she and she alone can put the collar on Kara.

She loves the feeling of possessing her, of controlling the woman that should be uncontrollable, every woman likes to have her ego stroked every once in a while, or every night as the girl of steel arrives home to call her Mistress.

Kara is now left helpless. Unable to move or to shift Lena’s words from her head. If anyone looks up at the lit office for long enough, they will surely be able to make out her naked form tied before the window. Sure, they won’t be able to see her close enough to make out her identity, but the threat is enough to get her going.

Her slick is dripping around the rope, her quivering legs not helping as her clit is abused so good. Her jaw is starting to ache around the panties and the taste has long since disappeared, but the sentiment is still there, sending heat right to her core.

Kara lets herself get lost in the sexiness of the situation, the feeling of being so completely owned and at the mercy of Lena’s every desire is everything she has ever wished it to be. Every entry that she wrote in her diary was a way of experiencing this feeling and now she gets it for real. It’s overpowering.

Her train of thought is halted swiftly when Lena is pressed against her back again, this time naked as they day she was born, save for one thing that Kara is happy to feel. An old friend has come to say hello.

Lena grips her strap on dildo at the base, whipping it against Kara’s ass cheeks in a sort of spank. “You’ve been a bad girl, I think it’s time you faced the consequences to your actions, don’t you?”

The rapid nod of Kara’s head is ignored, no matter her answer, Lena is in charge and anything short of her safe word or signal will be ignored in favour of Lena’s own wants and desires.

What Lena desires now is to fuck her little pet, to ram her full until she has pretty little tears running down her pretty little face. She rips the duct tape off her mouth with a swift jerk, then plucks the panties out of her mouth before tossing them aside and grabbing Kara but her chin.

Her lips are quivering from how aroused she is, and her eyes have long since rolled into the back of her head, unable to focus her eyes because of the mess of sensations hitting her vulnerable body. Usually everything would be a dull pressure but now, it’s fireworks against her skin.

She might be addicted to the way it feels, to the way Lena makes her feel.

Lena wastes no time after she removed the choking hazard. “Now it’s time for you to make a noise for me, no words though. You make a single noise that even resembles a word, and I will stop everything, and you won’t be allowed to have my cock inside that greedy pussy of yours for a week.”

It’s delivered with a sharp slap to her ass, reddening the flesh and leaving a fresh flame in its wake. The moan it elicits from Kara is one of pure filth. It’s loud, drawn out and full of flooding arousal.

Lena takes that as her cue and unties the rope around her waist so she can access her molten core and slides the head of her cock into Kara’s tight pussy. Kara tries to open her legs and make room for her so she can draw it in further but the ropes around her ankles make her efforts for naught.

Having her legs pressed in such a way makes the dildo feel huge even though it is her trust ol’ faithful. Her walls stretch around it marvellously as Lena presses in further and further in an insistent shove.

She can actually feel it opening her up and reaching the very depths of her pussy, hitting spots that she didn’t even know she had and making her feel things she didn’t know she could feel.

She gets barely ten seconds to accommodate the dick fully before Lena is hammering into her. A hand back into her hair to pin her in place, not that she could go anywhere anyway.

“You’re going to come around your mistress’ cock like the good pet I know you can be.” Lena pants into her ear, filling her harshly and pushing her fingers onto Kara’s tortured clit to bring her higher than she’s ever been.

Kara can’t stop the whimpers and moans that fall from her mouth in time with Lena’s thrusts and she can’t string together any sentences in this state, making it immensely easy to follow the orders that would leave her in a terrible situation if broken.

Each sharp thrust pushes her closer and closer to the edge and her knees start to give out. Lena grips her waist and lowers them down to the floor so they are both kneeling, and she can keep thrusting into her with vigour.

Kara’s head is brought back to rest against Lena’s shoulder. “Look out of the window for me, Babygirl. Look at the city that you protect and think about what they would say if they saw you now.”

Kara tries, she really does but her orgasm washes over her and there’s nothing she can do but ride it out, eyes clenched with the rest of her body. Her pussy still gripping the dildo, trying to keep it inside her for longer.

Lena gives her a moment to come back to reality, her hips slowing until she reaches a full stop, and the dildo is pulled from her centre. “You did such a good job for me, baby. You’re such a good girl.”

It’s time for soft Lena now so kisses are scattered across the side of her face and neck and the knots are being untied to free her arms and then her legs, the ropes tossed away, along with the strap on from around her waist.

She is quickly embraced again, held in Lena’s soothing arms as she comes down from her high. “I’ve got you.”

The next thing to go is the collar. It is unfastened and the mechanism deactivated so the kryptonite is covered once again with lead. Her strength and power ebbs back into her, making her feel more refreshed than ever.

“How do you feel?”

“Good, the kryptonite didn’t hurt, it just made me weak, just like you thought.” Kara twists her head around so she can look into the beautiful eyes of her girlfriend.

Lena smiles softly at her. “I’m glad, I was worried about long term exposure, but everything went well, don’t you think?”

“It went perfectly, extraordinarily hot. I liked being your footstool.”

“I like having you as my footstool, although it is very hard to concentrate on work with you squirming at my feet so next time we’ll do it at home.”

Kara chuckles, tired through to her bones. “I did a good job then.”

“You did.”

Read Parts 1 and 2 here

Read 2 extra parts early on Patreon

[msmsmsms8]

🔥🥵🎀👌👈

11. Lena Oberdorf

+18 SMUT.

I'm still having a big writers block. I'm sorry for not posting, I promise i'm trying my best to get over it. Hope this one is not that bad cause i don't feel great about it.

You walk out of the bathroom wrapped up in a fluffy white towel, your damp hair framing your face and completing the look. You’d put on Lena’s favorite lotion, the one that smells of jasmine and coconut; you are on a mission tonight and you intend to entice Lena into giving you what you want.

Lena is sitting on the bed, propped against the headboard with a book in her lap. The tip of her tongue is peeking out as she reads, and you have to try hard not to giggle at the look of sheer concentration on your girlfriend’s face. Lena looks up when you walk in and her features immediately take on an expression of silent awe. You walk with purpose, crawling up onto the bed until you are kneeling next to Lena and grinning mischievously.

“You’re too cute, baby.” You say, taking your girlfriend’s chin between two fingers and tilting her face forward for a soft kiss.

“Why, thank you.” The brunette replies against your lips. “You look like a snack.”

“Oh yeah?” you say, innocently tucking a strand of brown hair between Lena’s ear and smiling.

Lena nods slowly, claiming you’re lips again more fully. Her tongue flicks out to lick at your bottom lip and the kiss deepens. Somewhere between two strokes of Lena’s tongue, you drop your towel and your nipples pebble against the cool air of the room, effectively earning yourself a groan of appreciation from your girlfriend. Lena’s book has fallen from her lap, long forgotten, and her hands are now busy with mapping every single inch of your body.

You lie down on the bed, pulling Lena down with you so that the brunette is hovering over you. Soft, plush lips are tracing every curve, line, and edge of your torso, from the arch of your throat to the swell of your ample breasts. And you let out a breathy whine.

“Lena… I want…” you are now struggling to form coherent speech because Lena has started devouring the more sensitive skin on the side of your breasts. “I want…”

Lena lifts her head to give you a chance to speak, one eyebrow quirked up inquisitively. “What do you want, love? Tell me.”

“Can we use the strap tonight?” you ask sheepishly as the corner of your lips curls up into a smile.

“Yeah, sure,” Lena says, but just as she is about to get off the bed to retrieve the toy in the bottom drawer, you pull her back by her sleeve.

“I want to try something different if that’s okay with you.”

Lena cocks her head to the side like a puppy waiting for instructions and you almost melt at your girlfriend’s eagerness to please. You can almost see the cogs turning in your head.

“I love what we do in bed, you know that, right?” You say and Lena nods, clearly not knowing where the conversation is aiming. ‘I just… I want you to be rough tonight.”

“Okay?”

Lena is slowly processing your request. You know that your girlfriend is the softest human being in every area of their life together, sex included, so it is a big request to make. Your sex life is far from boring, quite the opposite actually; you both often discuss new things and make lists of what you both want to try and what each of you is open to experimenting with. You both have acquired a small collection of toys over three years of relationship, among which are dildos, handcuffs, vibrators, and even a plug.

Recently, you suggested buying a harness and a strap-on and you both have been experimenting with that too. Lena wears the strap most of the time, although she has been on the receiving hand on a few occasions too, but you are the one who enjoys penetration the most so Lena is always more than happy to deliver. As adventurous as you both are in the bedroom, Lena is always soft and gentle for you when she is on top, and well, you sort of have a kink for power dynamics and rough sex.

“For real, baby,” you say, taking your girlfriend’s hand in yours and squeezing softly to prove your point. “I want you to take me with the strap and fuck me like you mean it… please?”

You feel your own cheeks flush when you say the words, but you are relatively pleased with yourself when you see Lena swallow hard, her adorable face turning a darker shade of pink.

“Anything for you, my love. I don’t want to hurt you, though…”

“I trust you.  If something doesn’t feel good I’ll tell you to stop, okay?” you stroke Lena’s cheek reassuringly.

“Yeah, okay.” Lena nods and gives a small smile before walking to the other side of the room to retrieve the harness and the strap.

She strips from her clothes, giving you a good eyeful of her tan skin, taut stomach, and small perky breasts. They bounce slightly when Lena bends to take her pants and underwear off and you lick your lips at the sight of her bare center. Lena slips into the harness, fastening it around her hips and butt before sliding your favorite dildo through the ring, it’s blue and six inches long, thick enough to fill you up nicely but small enough that it doesn’t hurt.

Lena comes back to bed afterward, crawling back to rest between your spread legs and picking up where she left off. She nips at your chest, sucking here and licking there, working each of your nipples into stiff peaks. You give a breathy whine at your girlfriend’s renewed enthusiasm and feel yourself grow wet at the prospect of being taken by Lena.

Lena continues her journey downwards, encouraged by your hands in her hair. She bites at the tender flesh in the crook of your hips and you are keen when your girlfriend’s lips, usually so gentle, start sucking aggressive bruises above your pelvis. You feel the tip of Lena’s regal nose tickle the short patch of curly hair there before her mouth descends to kiss and lick at the inside of your thighs.

You groan when Lena finally makes contact with your already dripping cunt, enveloping it in the warmth of her tongue and devouring you whole. It isn’t long before Lena has your clit swollen and throbbing between her greedy lips; when she slips two fingers in and starts pumping fast and hard, you go flying over the edge before you can even voice your pleasure.

“Oh fuck…” you pants when Lena comes back up, looking smug with a shiny glaze all over her lips and chin.

Lena kisses you and you taste yourself in her mouth, salty and delicious mixed with the taste of Lena’s mouth.

“Please, get in me. Fuck me, baby.” You groan, begging against your girlfriend’s lips.

“Do you need lube?” Lena asks, sitting back on her heels and rubbing the shaft of the toy between your soaked folds.

“I don’t think so,” you say, winking. “Please, Lena..”

Before you finish begging, Lena has pushed the strap all the way in, sheathing herself inside of your heat. You yelp at the sudden intrusion but quickly go limp, readying yourself.

“Are you sure about this?” Lena asks upon seeing the momentary tension in your jaw as you accommodate the stretch.

“I’m fucking sure.” you bite your lip and wrap your calves around Lena’s waist, digging your heels into Lena’s ass cheeks to pull her closer. Your hands find purchase in the bed sheets and then Lena pulls out almost all the way before plunging back in, setting a fast rhythm that has you reeling with the overwhelming sensations. The toy keeps hitting a deep spot inside of you and it hurts just the right amount, you can both hear the dildo bottoming out with each thrust.

Lena’s hips are pumping roughly but her eyes remain alert as she checks your face every now and then for any trace of discomfort; she finds none, only pure bliss. Your mouth hangs open in ecstasy, taking in every inch Lena gives you and reveling in the obscene sounds of your bodies colliding in the middle of your wetness.

“Oh god, yes!” you cry out, throwing your head back into the pillows. “Harder, baby!”

Lena complies and soon loses herself in the act, too. Something is captivating in the sight of the toy splitting you open over and over, and your breasts bouncing in rhythm with Lena’s thrusts. Lena shifts your legs so that they rest against her shoulders and finds herself saying things she’s only ever heard in porn.

“You like that?” She groans, her nails sinking into your calves as she drives her hips into you harder. “Fuck, that’s it, take it!”

Lena cringes internally at the words that flow out of her mouth but finds relief in the fact that you seem to like it, judging by the long answering whine she gets. Lena leans over you, effectively folding you in half and you cry out as the new angle brings more friction to your g-spot.

Lena’s lips latch onto your neck to suck bruises where the skin is pulled taut by your moans. She can feel every cry that rumbles up your throat before it is even released into the stifling air of the bedroom. Sweat is starting to bead at your hairline and between your breasts and Lena, too, can feel herself growing hot with the exertion. your feet make a thudding sound when they repeatedly hit the headboard.

“Oh god, oh Lena..” you cry out, and Lene can feel your walls start to clench around the shaft.

Lena pulls out immediately, leaving you empty and confused and breathing heavily. “What are you..?” you ask, your voice raw and used.

“Turn around.” Lena orders, with an unfamiliar cold edge to her voice.

You obey with an eager whine, rolling over onto your belly, and you yelp in surprise when Lena pulls you back by your ankles so you end up bent over the edge of the bed. Lena stands behind you and takes a moment to enjoy the voluptuous curves on display, stroking them and taking her sweet time. You are panting heavily, your face pressed into the mattress as you wait for Lena to fill you again. You know this is all a strategy to delay your orgasm, you and Lena are no strangers to edging.

You yelp when Lena enters you again in one swift motion, her thighs smacking against your ass. “Still good?” Lena asks, because of course the fear of potentially hurting you has never left her.

When you nod, Lena takes hold of your hips and retreats before slamming back in just as fast as before. It takes a little additional effort from her to work you back up to where you were just moments ago; Lena can feel your body coiling and tensing underneath her and your rising whimpers are muffled into the bed sheets.

When you reach back for one of Lena’s hands and settle it on your throat, pressing slightly, Lena doesn’t know what to do with herself, because this is new. She lets you regulate the pressure on your windpipe and watches in awe as your back muscles ripple with each thrust. Lena wraps her free hand underneath your hips to rub your clit and this is your undoing.

You are sent hurtling into ecstasy, your body arching like a bow under Lena’s strokes as you scream into the mattress. You release Lena’s hand from your throat and Lena slows down her thrusts, circling your hips in the way she knows will make you shudder. your body finally settles, sagging limply into the bed after what feels like an eternity. Your spine is glistening with sweat and your cunt spasms when Lena pulls out carefully. Lena gets rid of the harness, leaving it on the floor to be cleaned later.

“Hey, you okay?” Lena asks, slightly worried because you still haven't moved.

A distant, muffled Mm-hm Is the only answer she gets from you. Lena rolls you over gently and sits beside you on the bed, waiting for you to come back from your high.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, that was amazing.” you sigh, flashing Lena a dreamy smile before opening your eyes.

“Oh, good. So you liked it?”

“I loved it. What about you?”

“It was really hot, seeing you enjoy it the way you did.”

Lena lies down on the bed and wraps an arm around your waist to bring you closer.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, lifting yourself onto your knees and shooting Lena a look.

“Huh?”

“Come here.”

You make Lena sit on the edge of the bed and in gratitude for her service, you make her come twice with your mouth before you both finally call it a night.

[sleepynoons]

Underneath the Surface

As an attendant for the first Harbinger, Il Capitano, you work to maintain his household in Snezhnaya, though you can still only admire him from afar. But that distant reverence changes completely when you are offered another role that goes beyond your day-to-day and allows you to share a bond with him that no one else knows the true nature of. This is a dream come true, of course, but what happens when the dream ends? When will it end? And what will you do after it ends?

ooc!capitano x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+

word count: ~4,600

cw: power imbalance + unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, sadism/masochism, pain kink, knife kink, praise kink, predator/prey, ownership + master, use of other sharp objects (claws), temperature play, graphic descriptions of blood/injuries/bruises/pain/etc., sensory deprivation (blindfold), mentions of death + murder

notes: ok i know everyone is head over heels for capitano because big looming man + the mask and cape stay on during sex ikik i get it, but what if our captain had... a dark, serious, + slightly twisted personality? bc i imagine, in canon, for someone so committed to his work and the tsaritsa, his sense of justice and overpowering physical strength could prevent him from making rash decisions like being in a relationship with another... anyway, my take on capitano! tysssssm to @staraxiaa for beta-reading and letting me yap away in our discord <33 lena, could not have churned this out any earlier if it were not for your enthusiasm and hypnosis. ily queen. anyway, hope y'all enjoy!

THE HALLS are still, silent aside from the occasional clanking of metal weaponry. All of the soldiers and attendants are holding their breaths, anticipating for what is to come. You, too, wait, immobile, on the edge of your chair in front of the vanity. You avoid your reflection in the mirror, but appearances are of utmost importance, so you busy yourself by repeatedly smoothing the pleats of your silk nightgown. 

It has been two long months since you have fallen back into this routine: waking before sunrise, dressing with your finest gowns and lingerie, and awaiting his instruction throughout the day. Of course, you still behave in an appropriate manner befitting of his grace when he is not around, but there is no need to impress. Not many are aware of the nature of your agreement with him, anyway.  

A soldier’s call can be heard from outside your window, a signal of his grace’s arrival from the accompanying blare of a horn. You suck in a sharp breath, pursing your lips as you hold, before exhaling completely. You have half an hour.

Making your way around his chamber, you go about your final checks. He has always been particular with the way things should be, his sense of justice and discipline underlying and interweaving with every aspect of his own life. You blow away specks of dust from his bookshelves, tie the chiffon of the bed canopy curtains to their posts, and return your makeup on the vanity back to a pouch, not before dabbing on a bit more powder and curling your eyelashes once more.

The half hour passes quickly, and you rush to stand by the door as you hear the heavy thuds of his boots approach. You bow your head and curtsy as he steps in. It is important that you do not look at him until he permits. He does not greet you, simply strides over to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, heading to his closet farther beyond.

You sigh with relief. He did not take you immediately.

The next step of the routine is to wait for him to change. Beyond the door, you hear the faint rustle of heavy fabric hitting the floor, silver and bronze embossings clicking against sharp nails, and the occasional low grunt. You would assist him if you could, but no one has seen him without his fur coat and mask. You consider yourself lucky to have seen him without his cloak, but you, too, have never witnessed his visage. It is strange, though. As per your contract, you are supposed to help him with such tasks. Shrugging, you figure there is no need to hypothesize. You would never dare to act like you understand his grace and how he thinks and acts.

If he still does not speak to you when he returns, the burden falls on you to initiate.

You watch as the door handle twists before the door swings open. Instinctively, you lower your gaze and nod your head once in greeting. Pausing a beat, you give him a chance to speak if he wants. But he does not.

“Your grace,” you say.

He walks over to you, standing in front of where you sit on the edge of his bed. A gloved hand rests on the crown of your head – firm, cold. It traces the shape of your skull, sliding down to your ear, sharp metal claws scraping against the cartilage and the tender skin of your neck. He continues along the path of your jawline before holding your chin between his index finger and thumb. You are still looking downwards, only able to see up to his clothed forearm. Holding you steady, he appraises you and the effort you put into yourself. You try to relax under his gaze, not as an act of defiance or resistance but rather as a demonstration of your trust and loyalty in him. His grace knows best, after all. His criticism is guidance, only out of best interest for you, his praise gospel, miraculous stories to pass down for generations.

He hums. It is a deep, satisfied rumble.

“Well done,” he praises, releasing his hold. “I am relieved to be back.”

It is not often that his grace is content. He is rarely appeased with his own efforts. Naturally, you feel a sense of giddiness, a shiver of delight threatening to shake up your still frame. You even notice an urge of want for him, hoping that he would pay just a little more attention to the way you did your hair or the new perfume you are wearing or how the color of the night gown compliments the curves and rolls of your body. A stroke of luck, you think, to keep your dangerous emotions at bay. You must reflect on tonight and emulate what went well going forward.

Before you can relay your gratitude to your captain, he continues to speak. “I would like to try something different tonight.”

He pulls a wide silk scarf out from his pocket and wraps the navy fabric around your head, thereby obscuring your vision. The lack of light in the room, along with the dark shade of the blindfold, make it impossible for you to see anything beyond the faint silhouette of your hands as you stretch them out in front of you to test the opacity of the silk. But this is nothing out of the ordinary.

You startle as he splays his palm on your back and slides an arm underneath your legs. He picks you up, as if you are but a mere feather, and repositions you so that you are lying down on the bed.

“It will hurt. Will you be able to take it?” he asks. Void of his usual assertiveness, he is shedding his role of a Harbinger, melting into a simple person who wants his desires fulfilled. He is speaking to you with caution and respect, fulfilling his end of his contract, as your master, your owner, to ensure that tonight’s experience will be pleasurable for you as well. However, you know the power and strength he holds beyond the walls of his bedroom will never fully escape your conscience. It is your obligation to protect yourself from dire harm, but you cannot deny him the opportunity to experiment, in fear of retaliation and punishment.

You reply, “How painful?”

The bed dips beside your hip, and you feel the leather of his glove rub into your thigh.

“I will use my gloves and a knife.”

Scared or excited, you cannot tell. At his words, you become acutely sensitive towards the feel of his gloved hand as he continues to glide it up and down your leg. You can almost taste the steely, icy sting of his claws digging into the fat of your thigh, breaking the skin just enough for beaded crimson to trickle, not enough to scar permanently.

“Your grace, is this a punishment?”

“Not at all.” His hand travels farther up and pushes the lace trim of your nightgown aside to reveal your underwear underneath. He pulls at the ribbons at the side, slowly untying the thong, as he chuckles, “It is a reward, for your effort and time.”

The praise is doing wonders to you. You feel dizzy, light, and hot in the head, and the pulsing in your core intensifies, your hole fluttering and throbbing in tandem with the escalating rate of your heartbeat. Even though you cannot see, you can almost sense him smiling, perhaps at the wetness that is spotting your underwear or possibly even the state of your whole being, showing his understanding of and command over your body.

The latter seems likely as he presses his claws into your skin, as if to counter and neutralize your raging internal inferno. The cold shocks the nerves at the juncture where your hip connects to your leg, where the ribbon of your panties used to be tied at.

“I will start easy,” he explains. To demonstrate, he curls his fingers and pushes, channeling all of the pressure into the tips of his claws and persists until they shallowly latch into your skin. You squirm, jump, and whimper at the pain. It hurts more than you had expected, though you really had no point of comparison in the first place. You continue to shudder as he holds his fingers in place, probably gauging your reaction.

“Th-that is alright,” you manage to stammer. The pinch may be harsh, but it does not draw blood or bring tears to your eyes, simply a scraping of the surface of your skin. You can withstand a little more, you reassure yourself. This is your reward. Without a word, he moves his hands back down to your thighs and scratches your right.

The motion is fast, clean. In fact, your body and mind do not react to the two long, slanted cuts he leaves, the blood only spilling milliseconds after the damage has been done. The pain comes even later. At first, you feel nothing, and even the thin streams of blood flowing out of the wounds only leave a wet sensation on your otherwise untainted legs. But then, the stinging comes, akin to that of an unexpected paper cut. Except, with each passing second, it gets worse, as if the paper cut is being pulled along and extended, and your leg strains against his hold to move, to distract itself from the harm inflicted. Crimson is sure to be leaking from the full length of the cuts, and at the back of your throat, you can almost taste the coppery scent of oxidizing iron.

When he moves to repeat the same onto your other leg, you bite the inside of your cheek to prepare for the incoming pain. Part of your role is to adapt quickly, and in this case, you have to sense and react to his grace’s next steps immediately. The chiseled points of his nails cut through your skin like a large kitchen knife slicing through even the toughest of ingredients – precise, swift, ignorant of any and all resistance.

You have never gone this long with just pain, let alone be deprived of one of your senses. Nights with his grace are inevitably bound to be painful, but in his own way, he softens the blows and plows of his roughness and aggression by pleasuring your body.

Your first morning after, you woke up unable to feel anything past your waist. Throughout the night, to show you just exactly what you were getting yourself into, he forced you to reach peak after peak after peak as a test of your endurance, stamina, loyalty. Though, you were more shocked to see the purpling bruises encircling your ankles and wrists, as if his grace had used cuffs on you. But he had not. Those bruises were entirely inflicted by his tight hold on you, shackling you down as you thrashed and kicked and instinctively attempted to escape, serving the same purpose in chaining your life and mercy to his will.

One’s ideals – justice – will always come at the cost of another’s freedom – autonomy.

But you are not opposed to such limitations. Out of all of the Harbingers, you are endlessly grateful that it is his grace who is your leader. Even though he may not be your direct master beyond the clauses of your contract, he is dutiful and considerate towards those who swear an oath to his name. You come from a family of Fatui soldiers, some of the best and the brightest, many trained under the watchful supervision of his grace, so from birth, you have been taught to idolize him. But to have your idol recognize you? Speak to you? Bed you? Unheard of, and to this day, you are not sure why he chooses you, time and time again. You cannot even fathom how he knows of you – a simple, one-of-several attendants who maintain his mansion of a home under the instruction of the head butler.

The nature of your contract with him is simple. (His grace often comments how he much prefers the dealings of the Liyuen people, how quick they are to draw up agreements and negotiations, compared to the conniving nature of some of his colleagues.) Whenever he returns, you shall take care of his personal desires and wants, as he will with yours. You are to fully commit yourself to him, trust in his intuition to know how to treat you accordingly, and he expects you to reciprocate, to satisfy him to the best of your abilities.

Your role is not as physically taxing as it is mentally laborious. His grace is rarely home – you recently heard he has a surge of dealings in Natlan that require his attention –, so your body is not under constant stress. However, when you are with him, you behave as if every night together is a performance review, a test of your memory, if you remember how to overcome your instincts to hold your body still enough in place, if you remember the way he gravitates towards elegant silk dresses and kimonos, if you remember that he will never apologize but will wrap gauze around your wounds when you are asleep.

You know you are expendable. As soon as you fail to satisfy him, he could – will – discard and replace you. While he has never outright pressured you, you know his grace is assessing you as well. But you cannot help but wonder – hope – that there is something about you – something so intrinsic and bespoke about you – that explains why, even in your failings, he will not let you go. You are sure there are faults that lie in you that you cannot see, that he will see. Yet, because you have not been let go, you wonder if he is alright with slight imperfections because it is no one other than you.

Regardless, you must not be too full of yourself. That is a cardinal sin with respect to his grace’s values. The strong become the weak as soon as they overestimate themselves, he would often preach.

You are brought back by a building pressure at your ankles. You raise your head to look down, to no avail. But you can feel his gloves, now slightly warm from being in contact with your body, wrapping themselves around your protruding bones, tighter and tighter, the chains locking with finality. There is a buzz in your toes from the constriction of circulation, and you bite on your lower lip to prevent yourself from whining at the bruising grip he has on you. You count beats in your head, seconds not true to time, muddled by the exhilarated racing of your heart, foolishly trying to distract yourself by examining his grace’s behavior instead. How long will he hold for? How long does it take to leave stubborn bruises that will remain for at least three days? Is it supposed to hurt this much?

But all of those questions and concerns do not matter anymore as soon as he speaks. “I was right in choosing you.”

As if his affirmation was not enough, he releases your legs and moves up the bed to embrace you. Winding his arms around you, he lifts you a margin off the bed so that your chests touch, your silk against his thick black wool. One of his hands then comes up to cradle the back of your head, gently brushing and patting you, almost like he is lulling you to sleep. You melt, and you have never felt such a strong urge to wrap him in your own arms.

Perhaps you can be a bit greedy tonight? Throwing caution to the wind, you mumble, “Y-your grace, may I…?”

His approving hum makes your heart trill with joy. To avoid any mishaps, you place your hands on his arms, following their sturdy build until you reach his shoulders. From here, your fingertips can brush against his flowing black hair. It is coarse and thick, and you muster all of your willpower to resist the urge to run your hands through the locks.

As if reading your mind, he says, “You can touch my hair, if you so wish.”

“That was not my intention,” you reply, fighting the smile threatening to bloom on your face. 

He insists by leaning closer to you, so that you are forced to feel the front, shorter strands of his hair poke at your exposed clavicles. You can even argue that you can feel his breath from here, but then again, does his grace breathe? Is he man or monster? (Benefactor or foe?)

“I shall resume.” And he proceeds to grab you at the waist, gripping you as tightly as he did to your ankles, and you feel the same pressure building within you. But you can hold on longer, after all. This is a reward.

He pushes the silk dress all the way up to your neck and exposes your upper body. As your body tenses in response to the cold, he pokes at the goosebumps appearing on your skin, as well as uses the tip of a nail to trace your areolae, centimeters away from your perked nipples. He circles them for two eight-counts, slow and drawling, before suddenly pinching and tugging at them. You yelp – an unintended mistake – and arch your back. He is still clothed, and the metal buttons and chains of his blazer dig into your skin for the briefest of moments, eliciting another wave of shudders from you.

And the worst of the pain comes. He gives one last pinch to your nipples before moving his hands to your sides where your rib cage lies right underneath. He rubs his thumbs over the bump of each bone, gliding his fingers back and forth, perpendicular to the way your bones curve inwards to protect your insides. You do not know this, but he is searching, identifying where he will lay his wreckage next, between which ribs to leave his trace. Then, he curls his claws into you, a bone or two below your breasts, and sinks them into you, slowly wounding you parallel to the slanted direction of your cage.

It is unbearable. There is no way to prevent yourself from screaming and sobbing. Tears drench the blindfold within seconds, and you can only distract yourself by tightening your embrace around his neck and digging your own nails into your forearms to somehow transfer the pain elsewhere, overwhelm your brain so that it cannot perceive the full extent of the damage being done to your chest. Otherwise, you can only hope that his grace is understanding and allows you to wail at the gashes he is leaving.

And what about appearances? Surely, your body will be marred from tonight and may not ever fully erase the signs of tonight’s activities.

You freeze. Your blood chills. Physical pain dims and recedes to the back of your mind.

Appearances… do matter. If you dared to come up with any reason as to why his grace has chosen you, it would only be sensible to conclude that it is because of the way you look, no? Prior to your first night together, you had never interacted with him before – he did not even present the contract for this partnership to you – the head butler did! Therefore, there is no possibility that his grace knows you well, aside from direct reports from the head butler and, perhaps, passing comments from your family. And he would definitely not choose you for your talents, as you have none.

In fact, the only reason you are in the castle is quite simple. Though you are not disowned by your family, you are not treated as one of them. You were sickly throughout childhood, meaning you could not start training early enough. Even if you had enrolled later on, you would have never been sufficient enough in your capabilities to reach the high official ranks that your family has held onto for decades. Lacking the combat prowess your other siblings, parents, and ancestors have, you will never be able to fulfill your lineage’s mission to the Tsaritsa. Therefore, you had to find other ways to serve the Fatui, and your search led you to his grace’s household.

There is nothing to your person besides a family crest that does not want to claim you and a corporeal weak to the natural winds and storms of Snezhnaya. And, truly, the only thing you have all to yourself is this body of yours, something you can willingly choose to offer as long as it cooperates with you.

Is this it? After he scars and carves and rips you open, not even this anatomy of yours will be yours ever again. Is he to leave his mark on you forever, only to end this arrangement soon after?

Your wails are no longer because of your flesh being torn apart by cold, ruthless hands, hands that know the feel and taste and rotting warmth of blood. Instead, these wails are ones afraid of a future without these hands, these nails that are now also stained with your blood and skin and tears. When he cleans these gloves later, you can only hope the alcohol does not eradicate all of your traces.

He does not stop until the gashes reach the ends of your rib cage. 

Taking deep breaths from your mouth, you gasp for air as he pulls away and sits back on his heels to examine your state – spent, covered in spit and blood and cold sweat, many things but your usual demureness.

You are incapable of keeping up such a ruse. You are too exhausted and tortured to even feign obedience. Though, if his grace asked, you would try for him, despite knowing you would barely be able to put on a show. Because for him, you would, without a beat of doubt or hesitation, take on any role if he asked you of it, as long as you can share a private bond with him, one that no else knows the intimate details of. 

You hear shuffling, a pocket being pulled open – good, blood stains thread quite stubbornly –, and a quick flick of something clicking into place.

“This will be the last thing I do to you tonight. Raise your arm.”

You do as he says, barely feeling your forearms and beyond. He catches your hand and turns it over so that your palm is facing the ceiling.

The smooth, cool surface is recognizable, even to someone who has not fought in years. He places the flat side of the blade against your skin, letting it soak and adjust to your broiling heat. Once it is warm enough, he makes quick work, making short cuts in various directions around your wrist, over the spot where you take your pulse. As he works, he turns your wrist around as needed. The cuts always sting a bit at first before the sensation of the next being made takes over. You miserably think how you will never be able to marry with the way his grace is etching himself into you.

It does not take long, given how skilled he is.

But the routine has been disrupted, and when he sets your arm down, you are not sure what to do next. Usually, you would be unconscious by now. But you are wide awake, body thrumming and pulsing, sending signals to all the places where your nerves are exposed.

Again, you think back to the same question. Is this supposed to be my reward?

“You will now rest.” His grace’s voice commands, leaving no space for argument.

So you ask, instead of objecting. “And my body?”

“We will leave it as is. I need them to mark.” He enunciates with finality. You are unable to probe further, unable to even get a glimpse of what he means beyond his statements.

You manage to croak, “My apologies, your grace, for failing to restrain myself this evening.”

He only places his hand on the crown of your head, soft smooths and pats, like at the very beginning of tonight, before everything that has since occurred. 

Perhaps, what you long for, whether that be his touch or his coldness or his grace himself, is salvation. Someone who can bestow you with a responsibility so you can make yourself useful, find value in your being beyond a last name and damaged flesh. Despite tonight, you still want his grace to be with you, even if that means he devours you whole by the morning. Because you are already indebted to him for your employment. And you now owe him more than ever for permitting you to invade the confines of his space, to be surrounded by everything that is his, to feel him. To be something special is what you deeply, most greedily covet, and you are fearful that, in the near future, you will not be the only person who can say they have seen the captain without his coat on. Because without his grace, what will you become? Who are you? What are you?

Rather than relieve your body of strain through arousal and pleasure, tonight, he provides tepid comfort through the slow tempo of his hand against your head, an intangible poultice against your physical wounds. Inside, you realize that, all along, the reward has been his grace’s direct kindness and generosity towards you. And you tell yourself to enjoy these last remnants of his undivided attention, and fall asleep. 

In the morning, you do as planned. Wake early. Bathe in scorching hot water even though it could rot your untended wounds. Dress in a burgundy long-sleeved gown. Prepare your hair and makeup. Pray that this dawn is not the last sunrise you will share with him.

Before you leave the bedroom to greet his grace, who is no doubt already working in his office, you sigh, filled with a deep sense of shame, disappointment, and mourning, though these words are futile in fully grasping all that festers within you.

But the walls of this bedroom know something you do not. And they think you ought to know, as they watch you leave with palpable dejection.

They have seen their owner evolve and age over time. Yet, they have only seen him exhilarated barely a few times – and rarely excited and riled up by the same thing more than twice.

The walls see, hear, smell everything about their owner.

Last night, amidst your cries, his grace was huffing with exertion, pouring effort and energy into your body. His eyes widened, pupils dilated, at the way your body struggled under his hold, yet you only held him closer. Mouth gaped in awe at how you screeched from the pain yet did not fight back even as an animalistic instinct to survive. He was practically leaking bloodlust, or more specifically, a strong urge to claim, overwhelm, overpower you. And he did so, purposely not leaving you bandages on the night table as always so that the wounds would stay intact. These cuts and gashes and tears shall never disappear from your body, and you will never forget the pain he has inflicted upon you. He has engraved himself into you because, while his righteousness and loyalty to the Tsaritsa come first, he will still return to you when he can. And he does not want you to forget that, even if this reminder comes in the form of garish wounds and the delicate traces of a bracelet in your skin.

The walls know why his grace chooses you. What you really should know is how much of an abnormality you really are. And his grace adores that about you.

[daphwritesworld]

Hiii can you write something about Alessia and reader being rivals and are playing for separate National Teams Like reader plays as an Example for Germany (you don't have to do Germany but would be cool) and they get into an Argument but it ends up in sex

Please dom Alessia

(this is my first time requesting something so my explaining is really baddd)

a/n: hii!! thank you for requesting ! and no your totally fine. i’m pretty sure i understand exactly what you meant from your description :D

A.Russo x Rival!Reader

content: pussy eating (technically both receiving), fingering (r receiving), dom/sub relationship, Germany! player reader, bratty! reader, top!Alessia, bottom!reader

warnings: some impact play mentioned but not in detail, orgasm denial, overstimulation, 69ing, dom!lessi deserves her own warning tbh , enemies-2-fucking like animals, semi public for like a smidge

synopsis: You run your mouth in the locker room so Alessia walks you like a dog…your own fault really.

word count: 1.9k

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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It’s the 2022 UEFA WOMEN’S EURO FINALS. You’re the last one left in Germany’s locker room, the final score ringing up to 2 v 1. You’d scored your teams only goal for the night, but still you were the one to take the loss the hardest. Your team knew to leave you alone when you got like this— all in your head and self blaming.

As your untying your last cleat you hear the door reopen behind you. You’re left clad in just your shorts, sports bra, and socks now that you throw the shoe off towards the floor. “I told you I don’t want to go to the fucking bar, Lena!” Your voice barks out across the room.

“Oh so feisty, aren’t you, love?” The familiar accent rings out from behind you. You swear you can hear the smirk in her voice as she says it, anger boiling up inside you as you clench your fists.

“What are you doing here, Russo? Came to gloat about a game you didn’t even score in? Give Walsh and Kelly my respects, considering they at least earned it,” you whip around. A little caught off guard at how close she is, but it doesn’t stop you from letting the fury spit out of your mouth like venom on your tongue.

“You must still be mad you missed that goal when you shot wide. Could’ve at least tied us up, you know. Was it me tackling you or the fact i kept stealing the ball that got into that thick head of yours? Seems like i’m the only one who can get through that thing,” she flicks a finger onto your forehead as she ends her little rant. A small smile sitting devilishly pretty on her lips as she does so.

You go push at her chest, puffing out a huff of hot air through your angrily scrunched up nostrils. She lets your fists come down one time, then she’s grabbing your wrists and pinning them down onto the lockers behind you. You’re stuck struggling between her warm body and the freezing cold surface that she’s got you pressed up against.

“I’m not one of your little punching bags, Y/L/N. You put your hands on me again, and I promise you it’ll be the last time. I’m not gonna deal with your little tantrums like your team does. Be a big girl and take the heat, or i’ll treat you the way brats deserve to be treated,” Her body is flush against yours as she says it, a threatening gaze shooting out to meet yours.

“You don’t scare me, Russo. You’re like a puppy dog who’s never had its tail stepped on. So wide eyed and bushy tailed—“ you yank one of your hands from her grasp as you point a finger towards her chest and start moving it forwards, “like a little bitc—“ you’re cut off as she flips your body around, face pressing into the cold lockers now as you feel her hand on the back of your neck keeping you in place.

“You need to learn some fucking manners, baby. It’s a good thing we’ve got plenty of time to teach you some,” She says right against your back. Her breath tickling your nape as the tiny hairs there stand up straight.

It’s a blur from there to her hotel room. She threw her hoodie over your head before dragging you out of there, putting you into her car before speeding off into the night. Now she’s got you spread wide open, legs out as she devours on your cunt.

Your wrists are handcuffed to the railing on her headboard and a blindfold covers your tear drenched eyes. You’ve got red marks on your ass from her spanking lesson from the first 20 minutes inside her luxury room. The plush Egyptian cotton percale sheets soothing the burn on your cheeks.

Her hands keep your hips pinned down as her tongue slides down to your hole, it twitches under her ministrations. Begging for her to pay it some attention after all the orgasms she’s denied you. It’s at least been three so far. She pulls away at the slightest hint you might be close, leaving you to shake and cry out even harder than the last time.

The mean words that have been tumbling from your mouth now turning into whines and whimpers of “Please!” and “M’sorry Less!”

You can’t see it, but she’s smirking up at you. You feel the vibrations from her laugh though, as it courses up through to your clit. A ragged moan rips out of your mouth at the feeling, sending you into a fit of pleasure.

“L-Lessi! I-I’ll do anything. Just please le-lemme cum!” you’ve got a majority of the blindfold covered in one big wet spot now from all the tears it’s absorbed. Your wrists are red from pulling at your restraints, and Alessia is finally starting to think she’s breaking you down enough to reward you. You’re being so sweet now, saying please and thank you. And who could resist that little pout on your lips as you cry? It’s absolutely fucking addictive. Or at least it is to Alessia, as she takes out her phone and snaps a quick picture to remember this moment.

Her hands come down to softly start taking the handcuffs off, her lips following suit as they litter little kisses along the red lines surrounding them. When she’s done enough of that to her liking she moves to the piece of silk tied around your face, undoing the knot as she peels if off your wet little cheeks. You look up her with those submissive teary eyes and she can’t help the groan that comes out of her throat.

The need to see you like this— so broken, has been overtaking her ever since the first time she played against you. Every game after that one the tension grew, on and off pitch. Until now, where it’s finally bubbled over and taken the forefront of both your minds. That tough girl exterior you put up is completely gone as she has you begging for her touch, a nice little slut ready for her unraveling.

She’s got you right where she’s wanted you, underneath her and at her mercy. She lowers herself down, prying one of your legs up as she lifts it over her shoulder and leans down towards your neck, making you whine from the stretch she forces you into in this position. Your thigh burns but it’s soon forgotten about as her fingers start playing with your folds.

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, Lessi! It’s yours.”

She chuckles at your obedience. So, so different from the same girl she was arguing with her in the locker room not even two hours ago. So she finally decides to play nice and sinks two of her fingers into your pussy. She goes slow, letting you get use to her before going at the pace she prefers.

“Such a pretty pussy on such a pretty girl. Too bad your attitude is so fucking nasty,” it’s rasped out into your ear as you start trying to push your hips into her fingers. Your head pulls back from her shoulder, her teeth pulling your earlobe as you move away. You whimper out at that, eyes looking up into hers pleading for some relief.

“Don’t worry, you can cum this time. Such a desperate whore, aren’t you?” She says it as she speeds her fingers up, her thumb coming to rub tight circles on your clit as her fingers work you up. They’re so much thicker and longer than yours— reaching spots you can only dream of touching by yourself. She’s got you so fucked out you don’t even know what color the wallpaper is.

All you see, taste, hear, and smell is her. You’re drowning in the cocktail of Alessia Russo. The woman who drives you crazy every time you have to be opposite of her on the pitch. You two attract like flies to honey. Sweet, but deadly. It’s always rough and a good game when you two are against each other, but holy fuck you never knew you could feel so good. You two came together in a moment of pure adrenaline, your tension finally boiling over as the emotions from the game did as well.

You both know this is just the beginning. A long list of mistakes you’ll make every time you seem to cross paths now. Like a ritual— no matter who wins or loses. You’ll seek out this form of retribution after a game.

“Alessia! I-I’m go-gonna-“ you can’t even get it out as your mind starts to shatter. You’re drooling out of the corner of your mouth as she fucks every coherent thought out of your brain.

“Go ahead, love. Cum on my fingers for me. Make a mess— just like that. Good fucking girl,” and just like that your eyes snap shut as they roll into the back of your skull. Your back arches off the expensive sheets, as your pussy starts shooting liquid out into Alessia’s palm. You cover your face, cheeks heating up with embarrassment at the squirt staining her sheets below you.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t even know I could do that— I swear!!”

Alessia moans out loud at that, her hands coming up to rip yours away from your eyes. A hungry lust crawling back inside of them. “Are you saying, i’m the first person to make you squirt?”

Your cheeks somehow go even redder as you bite your lip, avoiding her gaze as you shake your head yes in confirmation. The next thing to know you’re on your back. Alessia hovering over you as she climbs up your body. When her thighs make it to your head she quickly turns over, smirk covering her face as she looks down at you from upside down, “Then let’s see what else I can be the first to do to you.”

Your eyes go wide as you realize what she’s about to do. Holy fuck Alessia is going to 69 with you. How the fuck does she know you've never done this?? You have no clue, but before you have time to open your mouth and ask her, she’s sinking her pussy down onto your face. Your tongue seeks out her taste on instinct, your nose bumping into her clit as your eyes rollback.

She moans into your cunt once again, fingertips lightly drawing across your thighs as they shake from the overstimulation.

You know you’re going to falling asleep here, and that your teammates are going to interrogate the fuck out of you tomorrow morning, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when she feels this good and tastes so divine. Hell no! You’re staying right here, consequences and teasing be damned. You’re determined to learn the complete complexity of her lessons, and ace the next test she decides to give you…in whatever shape or form that way be in. Lord help your neighbors, and the poor arsenal teammate who roomed under Alessia. They sure as hell have a good story for the group chat tomorrow.

For now, she is desperately trying to drown out the straight up porn pouring in from upstairs. She tried the radio, the tv, and now a combo of both with two pillows sandwiching her head between them. Praying that you two will be tired after this round…you weren’t.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Beautiful Stranger

You Thought That You Were the Boss Tonight, but I Can Put Up One Good Fight (3)

Mommy!Wanda x Beefy!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friend has invited you out to a party and has also told you to try and bring your new girlfriend.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Alcohol and drug consumption, W eats R out, R uses a strap on W, W is called Mommy, R is called Daddy, Dom/sub dynamics

A/N: Here you go have a party scene

September 13, 2023

“Hey! Y/N!” You hear your best friend, Yelena, call as she catches up to you in the quad. 

“Hey Lena, what’s up?” We were headed to the same class; English.  

“There’s a party this weekend that Stark is throwing. Are you finally going to come or are you babysitting again?” She asks as the two of you walk and you huff, rolling your eyes.

“Not this weekend Lena, the boys are going to their dads and it’s a bit more than babysitting at this point. I told you that.” Lena laughs.

“I’m messing with you. If they won’t be there this weekend you should convince this hot milf you’re banging to join us.” You punch Lena giving her a dead arm as she hisses in pain. “Fuck jeez I can’t even joke with you about it.” 

“Yes because you know I actually like her Lena. It’s not just about banging the hot mom next door.” You remind her and she smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“I know, so convince her so we can all meet her.” You roll your eyes.

“I doubt she’ll want to Lena. I’m sure her party days are over and done with, besides she can’t even drink.” You mention off handedly.

“Why not?”

“She’s pre-“ You stop yourself realizing you didn’t mention before that Wanda is currently pregnant and you’re banging her. Let's just add that to your list of kinks as Lena’s eyes widen. “Don’t. Lena. Fuck. Stop! Don’t look at me like that!” She has this shit eating smirk on her face. 

“Look at you like what detka? Like you’re totally into older milf’s who are also pregnant and that’s why none of us could ever dream of getting you off? Did I forget anything?” You don’t dare tell Lena that she calls you Daddy when the two of you fuck. 

“That’s it I’m gonna murder you and I’ll make it look like a goddamn accident Lena.” You say through gritted teeth.

“Fine, fine! I give! I won’t mention it, but if she says no at least let me meet her? I do actually care if she’s treating you right and not just using you.”

“She would never Lena...she’s incredibly sweet and kind and caring and loving and....” Lena starts making gagging noises. “Why do I even bother?” You start walking ahead of her. As she scrambles to catch back up and apologize, but, you decide to ignore her.

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“Hey Wands?” You ask as she makes dinner, the boys occupied in the living room by TV and video games. 

“Yes pretty girl?” She flicks her eyes to you as she prepares vegetables for a roast she’s making.

“I got invited to a party on Friday,” Wanda nods, listening as you speak, but concentrating on the vegetables she’s cutting. “and my best friend Lena said since the boys are going to Vis’s this weekend that we should both go...I know it’s a college party and I’m sure you have no intent in partying with any of us, but my friends want to meet this mysterious woman I always talk about,” You feel your face heat up, “I told Lena you probably wouldn’t want to go, so if you don’t want to that’s fine and we can-“

“Is it important to you?” She cuts me off.

“I mean you meeting my friends is important, but it doesn’t have to be the party Lena said-“

“Then we can go to the party.” She cut you off again, but you're surprised by her answer so much that you can’t even be mad. 

“You want to meet my friends?” You ask, tilting your head, eyebrows knit in confusion as Wanda stops what she’s doing, moving around the island to stand between your legs, resting her arms on your shoulders.

“Of course I do sweet girl. I want to be a part of your life. Every part of it and that includes meeting your friends even if it’s some college party and I haven’t partied since I was your age sweet girl.” She kisses you tenderly and the boys make noises at us. 

“Go back to your show boys. Mommy’s busy.” Wanda gives them a look and the boys giggle. We had told them yesterday morning about us after what had happened the previous night. You laugh with the boys and eventually so does Wanda.

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Wanda wears a green off the shoulder frilled and layered dress that falls to her mid thigh. You look her over and before she can even say anything as she looks herself over in the mirror You come up behind her, wrapping your arms just under her belly which the dress hides nicely as she decided she didn’t want your friends other than Lena you told her you had accidentally let it slip. Wanda wasn’t mad thankfully. 

“You look amazing beautiful girl.” You kiss her neck, her hair is flowing in waves over her shoulders and her make-up is impeccable. 

“You think so?” 

“I know so. I’m looking at you and it kind of makes me wanna skip the party and just fuck you all night with my cock.” You whisper in her ear. 

“Mmmm don’t threaten me with a good time.” She turns around, kissing you gently, not wanting to smudge her lipstick. You see her look over your outfit, you have decided to wear black skinny jeans, a white crop top and a cropped leather jacket that just barely falls past your tits. Your hair is down and straightened and you've got your knee high lace-up boots that have these little chains hanging off them. 

“Mmmm pretty girl Mommy wants you so bad.” She bites her lip as she looks you over. You pull her chin up to meet your eyes. 

“Behave yourself and you can ride Daddy’s cock until you see stars when we get home.” She simple nods and smiles. “Good girl. Grab your purse and let’s go.”

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You hold Wanda’s hand as you get inside, music blaring people drinking and doing drugs. You're offered a joint by some girl. You think she’s in your language class or maybe networking either way you smile, taking a long drag as you feel Wanda’s hand squeeze yours, pulling your attention to her. You're reminded that you've never smoked in front of her. It’s something you tend not to do, but when it’s offered you usually take it. 

You hand it back to the girl and give a quick thank you as you find your group of friends in Stark’s basement where there are pool tables that people are playing at including your friends except for Lena. 

“Hey guys!” You speak cheerfully as you see the three of them playing a game of pool. Peter, MJ, and Kate all look at you and smile as you hug each of them asking Kate where Lena is, who is currently grabbing drinks and shots for all of you. You nod and introduce Wanda to them,

“Guys this is Wanda. We’ve been kind of seeing each other all summer. Well not exactly all summer, but we met at the beginning of summer when I moved in.” You start rambling and Wanda stops you by squeezing your hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you all. I know Y/N here has told me you guys always invited her out, but she’s been turning you down because of me and I feel bad about taking up all her time, but she’s been a big help, She wraps her arms around your arm and You can feel her belly and her tits against you. You wanna melt into a puddle from the feeling as the conversation goes on without you.

“Okay who is ready for some drinks!?” Yelena calls out and Wanda snaps her head at the voice.

“Yel?” Wanda asks and Lena is looking at Wanda wide eyed.

“Oh hey Wands so you’re the one taking up my best friend's time!” Yelena walks over hugging Wanda like they’re old friends. 

“Am I...am I missing something?” You ask, dumbfounded.

“Well if you had ever said her name I would have known you were dating Tasha’s best friend! Wow! This is crazy!” You punch Yelena once again giving her a dead arm. “Ah! Stop doing that! It hurts!” Yelena hissed, shaking her arm trying to get feeling back as quickly as she could. 

“Tasha as in your big sister Nat? Natty? Natty bear?” Kate asks listing off literally every nickname we’ve ever given to her older sister.

“Yes! That Tasha!” You say and huff.

“Pretty girl it’s okay. Everything is fine.” Wanda reassures me as You lean your forehead against her temple,

“I need a drink...” You whimper to Wanda. 

“Go have one it’s okay if you drink. Just because I can’t doesn’t mean you need to stop yourself.” You smile and pull her in for a kiss. You go over to the table that Lena put the drinks down at noticing she still brought over six shots and six beers, well bottoms up. You take one shot after the other of the vodka Lena had brought the clear liquid burning and setting your stomach a blaze then popped the top on the beer bottle, using the table to take off the top as you start drinking it, looking back as Yelena and Wanda talk the others getting involved. 

You smiled though it was a turn of events. You weren't expecting your girlfriend to be getting along with all of your friends just fine and it didn’t matter that she’s ten years older than us, or that she has kids, or that she’s pregnant. She’s just Wanda right now. You move back over, feeling the buzz start from drinking and smoking, wrapping myself around Wanda from behind; kissing her neck. The other four were playing pool, talking with us in between turns and eventually we played a round of cut throat so we could all get involved. 

A few hours later you were floating in the clouds. All giggling from drinking. Wanda says the goodbyes for you two and how nice it was to meet everyone, taking your keys as the two of you approach the car, “I’m driving sweetie, go get in your passenger princess spot.” Wanda teases, making you giggle. 

“Jokes on you beautiful I like being passenger princess.” You tell her. “I hate driving sometimes. This is so much better.” You get comfy in your seat, closing your eyes after you've buckled in. As she starts driving you two home, she puts her hand on your thigh as you connect your phone to Bluetooth, putting on, Dove Cameron’s album Alchemical: Volume 1, skipping to the song Sand.

“I love hearing you sing pretty girl.” Wanda says squeezing your thigh, keeping her eyes on the road. You had your eyes on her the whole time you sang and she knew it.

“I’m not a great singer.”

“But you sing with your heart. So it’s beautiful.” Wanda assures me, making me smile. 

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By the time the two of you got home you were feeling better. Though you still took the water from Wanda that she grabbed from the fridge. You sat up on the counter while you drank it as Wanda grabbed something small to reheat from earlier in the week. You watched her practically dance around the kitchen, humming a tune from the music you had playing in the car. She was absolutely beautiful.

“Wands?” You call out. When she looks over at you, your arms are outstretched, hands reaching for her. She smiled walking over to you and settling between your legs. Her arms wrapped around your waist and your own wrapped around her shoulders. 

“Is this what you need, sweet girl?” Wanda's voice is muffled against your chest. You give her a small ‘Mmm’ into her hair. “I love you being Daddy, but it's okay when you need to be all soft like this. I still love you like this.” You knew how needy you could be at times, especially when you'd been drinking. You kiss the top of her head and take a moment to just breathe her in and cherish the moment.

“I know. I just prefer it. I can be myself with you Wands and it's all I've ever given you.” She looks up at you with a smile, getting up on her tiptoes to kiss you.

“Good.” You smile into the kiss. You try to lick her lip, to keep going, but she stops you. “Ah. Food first then we can have our fun.” You subconsciously let out a whine in displeasure. Wanda smirks, whispering in your ear, “Behave and do as Mommy says sweet girl.” You felt your eyes roll back as your stomach flipped. 

Wanda had such an effect on you, sober or not. Usually you were able to overpower her; take the situation and flip it, but it was obvious to you that she wanted to win at some point. So you listened to her, even letting her feed you. You knew it made her happy. The smile on her face was as wide as ever. You knew Wanda loved being a mom, loved taking care of those around her.

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“F-fuck…” You moaned out as Wanda's tongue buried it's way inside of you. She'd already had you cum once, but you were even more needy than either of you had anticipated. You never let others touch you, but Wanda made you feel like you were on fire. Your hand tangled in her hair, hips rocking against her face as you moaned out, “Fuck…cumming…ahhh…” You bit your lip, feeling her tongue lap inside of you as you came down from your high.

Wanda crawled back up, after cleaNing you with her tongue. She leaned down to kiss you, tasting yourself on her lips. A moan slipped past your lips before flipping the two of you over carefully. 

“My turn to make you feel good Mommy.” You leaned back down, kissing her. “I promised you my cock didn't I?” You saw Wanda's eyes light up, she'd been waiting for it. As you got up to put the strap on you looked over her body. Letting your eyes rake over her form, admiring it as you crawled up between her legs. “You are so fucking beautiful. I swear no one could even come close to you.” You told her as you slowly slid inside of her. A quiet moan slipped out as you leaned over her. “Look at Daddy while she fucks you.” Wanda's eyes locked with yours as you started your thrusts. 

Slow and steady at first listening to every little noise she made because of you. Watching her body move beneath you. Everything about it was beautiful, perfect. Nothing to you was better than this. Nothing was better than what you two had built over the summer. Nothing was better than the family you've found.

[prttykittes]

staying anon for this bec i feel disgusting indulging in this.

i’m big on dark/dddne stuff and yet I feel terrible reading it so i’m kinda glad i found somewhere i can kindof have a place to express more extreme stuff.

anyways big sis beidou wants to be your first so right when you turn 18 she takes your virginity :3

or dad zhongli sees that your bf is not what he thinks a BF should be like to he takes him out and makes you his. i mean this is more of a possessiveness than actual NSFW. i dont know😭

Stoner kazuha roofies you (with prior consent tho w this one)

Diluc gives you too much to drink so he fucks you instead.

i have so much more.. and if i ever do come back i’ll be “:3 anon”

do what you want w any of these 💕

Woahh:0, there's alot so I tried my best to do everything blog, I won't shame anyone for liking these things kind of stuff!!<3

ෆ Big!sis Beidou, Stoner!Kazuha, dad!zhongli, diluc X Afab!Reader [you/your]

— Synopsis:: multiple characters x reader, yeah

CW. Incest(father/child, Sister/slibing), smokes, weed, roofies, consent(Kazuha), dubcon(for everyone else), possessive sex(zhongli), drunk sex(Diluc), age gaps, fingering, Dom!characters x Sub!reader, reader wears pants in kazuha's part

A/N :: Multiple sexy characters :4— written by a minor

[MASTERLIST] — ╰⁠(⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)⁠╯ works in link!

BIG SIS! Beidou ! — She was so happy for you! It was your birthday! She got off her boat and went to your parents house! She saw you, you were still gorgeous as ever! She tears up, she was with for 18 years, her lovely slibing.... Oh how she dreamed about this day, she wants to be your first. So she's going to take you to her boat since you had always wanted to go on the water with her! She would spent time with you on there, just you and her. She celebrated your birthday, then she asked if you wanted to go on a ride. You said yes, now your both on her boat but instead of familial love it was filled with romantical love. She was half she was your first, she at first toying with your nipples. She went lower, she can hear you breathing heavily. Your eyes are hazy, your mind cloudy. Her hand was your sex, she rubbed it. She sees your lovely juices on her fingers, she can't wait to claim you as hers. Her sweet, lovely slibing all hers!

STONER!Kazhu— The smell of weed brunt your nose, he was smiling at you. His hand on his chin, his eyes were slightly red. He had his eyes on you, you sat down next to him. "{Yourname}" he says, you tilt your head in confusion. He gets up, his legs slightly trembling, he wraps his arms around you. "Can I?" He said, you knew what he had wanted to do. You never went this far in your friendship with him! You did have dreams and did wish for him to like you, you also had sexual dreams about him. You can't believe what your going to do with him, he smiles. He grabs some pills, he was going to roofie you but instead of doing it without consent. He has your consent, you close your eyes and take it. You gulp and your head feels weird, your eyes become hazy. He smiles and gently lies you on the bed. He is on-top of you, he lays soft and gentle bites on your neck. He continues to do while his kisses gets lower, you close your eyes and let yourself into the pleasure. He toys with your chest, rolling your nipples between his fingers. He pulls down your pants and touches your sex through your underwear. His finger going up and down, pressing on it. "Your so cute..." He mutters, he take soff your underwear and Lena's down and licks at your sex. He smiles when your sex twitches. He coats his fingers in your pre-cum, then he prods his finger at your hole. His fingers scissor your virgin hole, making you more open for dick. You can feel his clothed dick against your leg while he continues to finger you, after some minutes. He stops and and pulls down his pants so his underwear shows and he slides his underwear down and his dick jumps up. He aims his cock at your hole, your hole clenches around nothing as you anxiously wait for it. He grabs a condom and enters you, his hard dick inside of you. He moves once you get used of his size. The motion is lazy and tried but it still feels good. Your virgin hole is not a Virgin anymore!!!

DAD!ZHONGLI !— He doesn't deserve his sweet baby! He stares at you and your boyfriend, he isn't a boyfriend. His boyfriend ideals for you are something like him!! He angrily glares and judges your boyfriend from afar. He can't believe that you chose someone that is trash, he gets so mad that he gets rid of your boyfriend... Oh I wonder how he got so bloody and why he is covered in blood.. don't worry it's not his!!don't worry baby, no need to worry about anything~ he comforts you after you find out your boyfriend is dead, shhh.... You still have him, your daddy is always here for you!! He won't leave you, he is going to make you his, not like you weren't his from the start! His kisses start form your temple to near your lips, his hands on your thigh to inner thighs. You sniff as you lean into his touch, just enjoy his touches. he slips his hand into your pajamas pants, touching your underwear. He continues to kiss your neck, wanting to mark you with his kisses and his touches. His fingers touch your sex and he slips his hand into your underwear, he smiles as he can feel your sex being wet. He pleasures you with his touches, he can't wait to claim you for his own. Emptying his seed inside of you!

DILUC !— He watches you, you weren't this drink from the start but you know... Things change, he continues to give you more. You were worried about the drinks because you wouldn't have enough to pay but you don't care anymore. Your drunken state, it exitces him but it's only with you. He gives you two more drinks and you drink it up fast like you want to please him... Your flustered face makes him want to kiss you and fuck your face but he can't bring himself to do so~ you let out hiccups and you lay your head on the table. He cleans the empty cups and gives you one more, you grab it weakly as you managed to drink it. You rant to him about annoying people and troubles in your life, he smiles as he listens to you. Your face still on the table, your hands are in a fist but then it goes limp. He hears soft snores from you, he walks around and rubs your hips. He blows in your ear, you still don't wake up. Your body is asleep and he could take advantage of it. He groans while he moves you over to more of a comfortable spot. He takes off your lower clothing and slides down your underwear. He sticks his finger in a cup as it is soaked with the alcohol, he pushes inside of you. Your loose and not tight, your whole body being loose. He kisses your forehead and continues to finger your hole, he lets out a grunt. His dick is really hard, he pulls out his cock and aims it at your hole. He can't wait anymore, he spits on his palm and rubs it on his dick. It's unsanitary but whatever because he is going to be inside of you!! His dick enters you, he lets out a groan, he moves his hips. It feels so good, he should do this more often to you until he gains courage to ask you out!!

[adascore]

Fouled Dreams | L. Oberdorf

pairings: lena oberdorf x dutch!reader (+ plays for bayern) / netherlands national team x reader / german national team x dutch!reader

warnings: netherlands losing. crying. swearing. changed some things about the match, but the result is the same. fouls. mentions of bruising and swelling.

author’s: been obsessed with her lately so just had to write something. writing about nations league losses have become my thing I fear :(

masterlist

•••••••

February, 2024

They'd know beforehand that this situation could happen, yet when both their teams lost in the semifinals, it was hard to grasp the reality that one needed to beat the other in order to go to the Olympics in Paris.

Herself and Lena had played plenty of times against each other, with both their respective clubs and national teams.

However, this felt different.

Their previous international meetings had merely been friendlies in preparations for other competitive events like the World Cup a year prior.

This was for a spot at the Olympics.

Y/N had been at the previous edition in Tokyo with the Dutch team, where they had stranded in the quarterfinals against the United States on penalties.

Lena had never played at the Olympic Games, something she greatly wanted to achieve with her German teammates.

Both teams also wanted to redeem themselves after disappointing World Cup exits.

There were many things at stake.

Of course, headlines and articles had been made about how the couple was going to go head-to-head in a very important match for both sides.

Prior to their arrivals at the stadium, they hadn't seen each other for a few weeks. Lena played for Wolfsburg, while Y/N was a striker for Bayern Munich.

Although, Lena's upcoming transfer to Bayern would assure they would only have to miss each other during international breaks.

The young footballers had gotten together about a year prior, all credit to Lynn, Dom and Jill who had played matchmakers.

The distance was difficult at first, but they eventually found a nice balance. It sounded cliche, but communication really is the key to a good relationship.

Y/N was strolling around the pitch with her teammates when the German team appeared in the tunnel.

She didn't notice her girlfriend at first, too occupied in a conversation with Andries and Sherida.

It was Lynn, who so ''sweetly'' screamed for her best friend to ''get her ass over here'' that got her to excuse herself from the discussion with her captain and coach.

''Echte uitslover jij, waar was je nou weer over aan het lullen met hen?'' (''You're a real teacher's pet, what were you bullshitting about this time with them?'') Lynn teased her as she approached her, Lena, Jule and Lea.

Y/N sarcastically smiled at her fellow Dutchwoman. ''Jouw dikke kop!'' (''Your big head!'') She retorted, with Lynn playfully giving her a shove afterwards.

Her eyes lit up once she spotted Lena. Despite the tension of the upcoming match, seeing her face brought a sense of comfort amidst the nerves.

''Hey, everyone.'' Y/N moved to embrace Lea and Jule first, their proximity making them the easiest targets for her initial greetings. She let out an awkward chuckle as she made eye contact with her girlfriend again, but went in for the hug as well.

''Missed you.'' Lena whispered softly, her arms wrapping around her partner's waist in a comforting hold.

''Missed you too.'' Y/N replied, her voice equally gentle.

Their embrace was brief, acutely aware of the prying eyes of the photographers stationed around the field. It wasn't that they were afraid of showing public displays of affection, it was more the discomfort that came with the knowledge that every moment captured on camera would be scrutinized and analyzed by the media and fans alike.

They were far from being a secret- their relationship was an open secret among their teammates and the wider football community. Yet, the constant surveillance felt suffocating at times. So, when they could help it, they kept the PDA to a minimum, opting for subtle gestures and fleeting touches that spoke volumes in their own right.

''My mum and dad are coming tonight.'' Y/N said to Lena, the pair quickly disassociated to their own small bubble.

The German grinned. ''Yeah? That's nice, haven't seen them in a while.'' She replied, her tone warm and genuine.

Y/N nodded, a sense of anticipation building within her at the thought of her parents' arrival. She had a good relationship with her family, they'd been supportive of her love of football from the moment she started and went to almost every game if they could.

''My mum did make a small sign for you, cause she thought you might get upset with her.'' She playfully rolled her eyes at the recalling of her mother sending her a picture of the small poster that said 'Go Lena!'.

Lena chuckled at the mention of her girlfriend's mother's thoughtful gesture, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. ''That's very sweet, I can't wait to see it in person.''

''She's probably gonna want to take a picture of you with it, so you're warned beforehand.'' Y/N laughed, knowing her mother wanted photos of everything and everyone.

''I'll be sure to smile extra wide for the camera then, like this.'' Lena pretended to grin very big, showing off her teeth.

Y/N burst into laughter at her exaggerated pose, her eyes crinkling with amusement. ''Perfect, Obi! Exactly what she wants for a heartwarming photo.'' She teased, mimicking Lena's antics.

''Hey, you two,'' Lynn interrupted their moment, the entire group staring at the couple, ''the loser sleeps on the couch or what?'' The Dutch defender laughed.

Her national teammate mockingly rolled her eyes. ''Lynno, we don't even live in the same place. Idioot dat je bent.'' (''Idiot you are.'') Y/N responded.

Lynn chuckled in response, waving off her friend's playful insult with a dismissive gesture. ''Details, details,'' she replied, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, ''just make sure you've got that couch ready, wherever it may be.''

''I'm sure she has chosen a nice place.'' Lena retorted, chiming in on the banter.

Y/N's mouth gaped dramatically, and her eyes widened, exaggerating her reaction to the playful exchange. ''Actually, since you like breaking ankles, you can just sleep on the floor.''

Lena raised an eyebrow in mock surprise at her girlfriend's response, which drew another round of laughter from the group. ''Oh, I see how it is,'' she teased, ''floor it is, then. I'll bring my sleeping bag.'' She accepted.

She threw her arm around Lena at the feigned sadness over having to bring a sleeping bag, her pout being too cute to not fawn over.

It was a nice moment to have with the group, temporarily forgetting an important match would have to be played a few hours later.

There was a mixed atmosphere in the tunnel as both teams started gathering in a line, familiarizing themselves with their small mascots, who were all looking up at the players with wide-eyed excitement.

The Netherlands' usual captain, Sherida Spitse, had been forced to withdraw from the starting lineup due to a last-minute injury sustained during the warm-up. In her absence, Y/N found herself unexpectedly thrust into the role of captain for the crucial match.

As she entered the tunnel, the weight of the captain's armband felt both familiar and foreign at the same time. While she had stepped into the role of captain before, it had always been in moments of crisis, when Sherida was substituted during a match and Y/N was hastily given the band by one of their teammates.

It was not only a great moment for her, it would be one for her family as well. Though they weren't particularly patriotic, knowing that their daughter had been chosen by the entire Dutch team to lead them out for such an important match filled them with a sense of pride and honor.

Her usual spot in the line would be at the back, next to Lena. It had become almost routine for them to have a small chat before their matches, even when they were with Bayern and Wolfsburg, they were always the last players to enter the stadium.

Y/N held the pennant in her hands tight as she approached her girlfriend, careful to not make a big deal out of it since they were already filming the players as they waited for the officials to walk out.

A small pat on her arm was enough to grab Lena's attention, the German turning her head before a small, but nervous, smile broke out on her face once she noticed who it was.

''Hey, Captain.'' She grinned, her eyes briefly glancing towards where the armband was comfortably wrapped around her partner's bicep.

Y/N smirked once she noticed, but didn't say anything about it. ''Hi,'' she softly said, ''good match, alright? And please, don't break my ankles.'' She teased.

''No promises.'' Lena chuckled, playfully raising her eyebrow.

They shared a final glance before the striker made her way to the front of the line-up, only to be stopped by Dominique. ''Ze gaat sowieso je enkel breken.'' (''No doubt she's going to break your ankle.'') The Dutch defender said, a mischievous look in her eyes.

''Ik weet het.'' (''I know.'') Y/N sighed.

''Dom was right.'' The captain muttered under her breath as she was yet again taking to the ground by one of the German defenders.

It hadn't even been close to half-time yet and the Bayern Munich player had been assaulted from all sides. Funny enough, none of the challenges had been made by Lena- so far at least.

Danielle helped her get up from the ground, quickly checking in. ''I'm fine, Daan.'' Y/N reassured the older player, wiping her knees clean.

The first half proved to be eventful, yet no goals had been made by either side. The goalkeepers were making amazing saves, but both teams had also missed serious chances at scoring the opening goal.

Despite being deployed in Sherida's position as a defensive midfielder, Y/N managed to make an impact in the attacking third. She found herself with two golden opportunities to break the deadlock, however, luck was not on her side as both strikes rattled off the woodwork, denying her the chance to put her team ahead.

The opening minute of the second half was marked by a somewhat surprising moment:

Lena fouled Y/N.

The referee blew the whistle, signaling the late challenge made by the midfielder. Y/N, with a dramatic flair, collapsed to the ground, clutching her leg in feigned agony.

Recognizing the playful nature of the moment, Lena quickly understood that she was only hamming it up for the sake of a breather for her teammates and to ruin the Germans' momentum. However, she still bent down beside her girlfriend.

''You shouldn't go into acting anytime soon.'' Lena chuckled, briefly letting her hand caress over the part that 'allegedly' hurt so bad.

The captain let out a small smile. ''That's mean, you should get a yellow card for descent.''

The midfielder's eyes sparked with amusement as she helped her back up to her feet. ''Maybe later.'' She quipped, playfully nudging her girlfriend's shoulder before they resumed their positions on the field.

It didn't take too long for the fun to be over as Klara put in the first goal of the night, which had been assisted by Lena. About 10 minutes later, another Bayern teammate put one in the back of the net as Lea also got herself on the scoresheet.

As the game wore on, Y/N became increasingly determined to make a difference on the field. However, despite her best efforts, none of her attempts seemed to find the back of the net. Her teammates were not clinical enough, or the shots were deflected by the German defenders.

The more attacks she created, the more aggressive the fouls of the German grew on her.

They seemed determined to shut down Y/N's advances by any means necessary, resorting to increasingly rough challenges to disrupt her rhythm.

She managed to keep the ball from Nüsken, and send a pass to Esmee when a German player made a reckless tackle from behind, catching her off guard. The force of the challenge sent her crashing to the ground, a sharp pain shooting through her ankle.

A wave of concern washed over the stadium and the Dutch team as they watched their most vital player of the evening being abruptly taken out by Giulia.

People close to her rushed to her side, including Giulia who didn't have the intention to actually hurt her Bayern teammate. The referee swiftly intervened, issuing a yellow card.

''Shit, I'm sorry- didn't time it well.'' The midfielder apologized immediately, knowing right away it wasn't a great or necessary challenge.

Y/N made a gesture with her hand, which translated to ''it's okay, just give me space now,'' which Giulia understood, the pair having a great relationship at Bayern.

Lynn was the first of her teammates to reach her, shouting profanities at Giulia and the referee for letting the fouls on her best friend get to the point where she needed the medical team.

''Alles goed, meid?'' (''Everything okay, girlie?'') The Wolfsburg defender asked, concern etched on her face.

''Ik denk dat me enkel er elk moment gaat afvallen.'' (''I think my ankle is going to fall off at any moment.'') She sarcastically replied, rolling her eyes.

Lynn chuckled at her friend's attempt at humor, though the worry still lingered in her eyes. ''Ik hoop van niet, we hebben die nog nodig.'' (''I hope it doesn't, we still need it.'').

Meanwhile, the medical team arrived, quickly assessing Y/N's ankle to determine the extent of the injury. The other players quickly backed off so the staff could work in peace.

Lena noticed her club teammate's concerned expression and approached her quietly. ''How's she doing?'' She asked softly, her eyes flickering toward Y/N, whose ankle was covered in bruises.

Lynn sighed, her hand smoothing down her hair. ''I think she's trying to make it out as if she isn't bothered by it, but it's obvious it hurts- look at it, completely blue.'' The Dutchwoman motioned towards where one of the physios was icing her foot.

The midfielder nodded. ''I hope it's nothing too serious.'' She observed the way her partner was hissing at the way the staff was assessing her ankle, visibly agitated by the pain. She wished she could do more to help, but all she could do for now was offer her support from the sidelines.

The Dutch team held their breath as Y/N gingerly tested her weight on her injured ankle, her expression a mix of determination and discomfort. Every eye on the sideline was fixed on her, silently praying that she would be able to continue.

''As soon as the match is done, you're coming with us to the medical room. I'm surprised you can walk still.'' Their physiotherapist ordered her, glancing down at her iced and taped up ankle.

Andries sent her a thumbs up, asking if she was okay to continue. However, Y/N knew they had used up all their substitutes so there would be no use in forfeiting the game, so she confirmed with a nod that she would carry on.

She could walk on her own to the side of the pitch, though there was a limp in her step. The striker carefully jogged onto the grass as the referee gave her permission to join the match again.

A few tense minutes later, the shrill sound of the referee's whistle pierced the air, signaling the end of the match.

Amidst the disappointment of the Dutch team, the German players erupted into jubilant celebrations. They hugged each other tightly, their faces beaming with joy and relief as they reveled in their hard-earned victory.

The Oranje Leeuwinnen on the pitch dejectedly gave each other hugs and consolations, most with tears in their eyes.

Y/N had lowered herself onto the ice-cold grass, the throbbing pain in her ankle too much to bear. She winced as she cautiously propped herself up against the turf.

She suddenly felt two pairs of arms slip beneath hers, lifting her gently off the ground. Startled, she looked up to see Esmee and Kerstin, their expressions filled with concern as they looked at their captain.

''Kom op, meid,'' (''Come on, girl,') Kerstin gently said, ''je was echt een beest op dat middenveld.'' (''You really were a beast in the midfield.'') The Manchester City player chuckled, trying to lighten up the somber mood.

Esmee nodded in agreement, her grip firm yet gentle as she supported Y/N's weight. The two youngsters guided her towards the waiting medical staff, who had been watching the scene unfold from the sidelines.

Some of their teammates and staff patted their heads and ruffled their hair as they walked across the pitch, offering words of sweet nothingness.

With a reassuring nod from the physiotherapist, Esmee and Kerstin carefully lowered her onto the stretcher, ensuring she was comfortable before the medical team began to carry her inside the stadium for further examination.

The injured player could hear the applause from the bystanders, but it wasn't much solace as the pain and disappointment hit her like a truck. Unable to hold back her emotions any longer, Y/N felt a sob escape her lips, the sound muffled by her hands as she covered her face.

The staff of the Dutch team carrying the stretcher watched with downcast eyes, feeling for the young player who had literally given her body and soul this match.

After what seemed like an eternity of navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the stadium, they finally reached the treatment room. With practiced efficiency, they set to work assessing Y/N's injury, carefully removing her shoe and sock to examine her blue ankle.

As the physiotherapists administered treatment, taping up her ankle and applying ice packs to reduce the swelling, the striker remained silent, lost in her thoughts and emotions.

Once her ankle was securely taped and she was given the green light to proceed, Y/N wasted no time in making her way back to the pitch. The pain was barely noticeable anymore as she walked with quickness in her strides, simply wanting to be with her team.

Surprisingly, the German and Dutch players were still exchanging handshakes with one another, acknowledging each other's efforts or catching up with teammates.

The Dutch captain delicately walked onto the pitch again going for the officials who stood in the center of the big field. On her way there, she shook hands or gave hugs with either her national teammates or club teammates, each of them praising her performance of the night- though the striker didn't feel deserving of it.

With a firm handshake and a nod of acknowledgment, she greeted the officials. One of them had asked about her injury, but the player assured her that she was alright. With a suppressed smile, she turned away from them.

''Y/N…'' She heard a voice next to her, immediately recognizing whose it was.

The Dutch striker tried to beam the best she could, a strained grin plastered on her face. ''Hey.''

Lena hesitantly motioned for a hug, not confident in how to handle the situation. Her girlfriend nodded, opening her arms, and welcoming each other in an embrace in the center of the pitch.

''I know it doesn't look like I am, but I am very happy for you and the girls.'' Y/N mumbled into Lena's neck, her voice thick with emotion as she fought to hold back her tears.

The German midfielder brushed her fingers gently through her hair, a soft sigh escaping her lips. ''Danke,'' (''Thank you,'') she whispered in response, her voice quiet but filled with gratitude. ''I know you're happy for us, you don't need to say it.''

Their embrace lingered for a moment longer, each reluctant to let go. But eventually, they pulled back, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange.

''How's your ankle?'' Lena asked, discreetly peeking at her girlfriend's taped up ankle.

The Dutchwoman shrugged her shoulders. ''It's just very bruised, that's it,'' she dismissed, ''you played really well- nice assist, by the way.'' Y/N changed the subject, not wanting to linger on the topic of her physical well-being.

Lena's cheeks flushed at the compliment. ''Thank you. I meant to score, though.''

The German glanced around the stadium, scanning the crowd. ''Where are your parents sitting?'' She asked.

Y/N pointed towards a section of the stands where her parents were seated, their faces alight with pride and excitement as they waved to them from the crowd. The couple happily waved back at them, Lena lightly chuckling at the poster that her girlfriend's father hastily pulled out of his wife's bag, motioning it around for Lena to see.

''They're so sweet.'' She remarked, her voice filled with affection as she glanced back at Y/N. But as Lena turned her gaze back to her girlfriend, she noticed a sudden shift in her demeanor.

As Y/N watched her family in the stands, a flood of emotions washed over her. She felt a lump form in her throat as she took in the sight of them, their smiles radiating nothing but support for their daughter and her national team. However, it was once she glanced down at the fans around them, downed in orange decorations and clothing, that her true feelings about the outcome of the match came to the surface. The sea of orange seemed to mock her, a painful reminder of the missed opportunities and shattered dreams that had taken place tonight.

The team had fought tooth and nail to simply make it out of the group stages, the late drama at the match against Belgium had filled the squad with newfound confidence and resilience. They'd come so close to their ticket to the Olympics, it was practically in their hands before it had been taken away from them and ripped in millions of pieces.

She couldn't help but feel a sense of profound loss. The weight of the defeat lied heavily on her, feeling somewhat the most responsible for the defeat, as if she had been the only player on her team. Deep down, Y/N knew this was far from the truth- football was a team effort, and their loss was a collective outcome. But the pressure she had felt was immense, spurred on by the absence of key players like Jill, Victoria, and Vivianne.

In the eyes of the Dutch media, Y/N had been hailed as the team's ''saving angel,'' a title that now felt like a heavy burden on her shoulders. She had been the one to step up in critical moments, delivering crucial assists and last-minute goals that had propelled the Netherlands to victory in the past. But tonight, she couldn't replicate that success- something she feared she would be crucified for by the fans and pundits.

Lena's heart ached at the sight of her girlfriend's distress, the lines of worry etched into her brow as she struggled to maintain her composure.

With a gentle touch, she reached out to Y/N, her fingers lightly brushing against her arm as she offered silent support. Lena understood right away what she was thinking as she watched her observe the crowd, it's what she had felt at the World Cup, it's what she had felt when Wolfsburg were knocked out of the Champions League.

Utter and complete disappointment.

''Hey,'' Lena murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she sought to break through the walls of self-doubt that surrounded Y/N, ''it's okay, you did well.'' She comforted as she pulled her into another embrace, her arms caressing the Dutchwoman's back.

Y/N buried her face against Lena's shoulder, her tears soaking into the fabric of her jersey as she clung to her girlfriend's warmth. ''I wanted it so badly,'' she admitted, ''and I played so fucking bad, missed so many sitters.''

It was frustrating for Lena to hear, especially since her partner was easily one of the best players on the field tonight, and was the sole reason the Netherlands were still in the game the entire match. ''Do you know how hard you made it for us? You kept taking the ball from me.'' She tried to convince her, her voice resolute.

Y/N sniffled, her breath hitching as she struggled to hold back her tears. ''But I could have- I should have done so much better.'' She lamented, her voice muffled against Lena's shoulder.

Lena pulled back slightly, cupping Y/N's face in her hands so she could look into her eyes. ''You did everything you could,'' the midfielder reassured her, her gaze unwavering, ''you were playing out of your position the entire time, you were constantly creating chances for yourself and for your teammates, you were my player of the match- and I'm not just saying that,'' she interrupted herself before her girlfriend could, ''you're a phenomenal player, and I was so proud watching you tonight.''

Y/N's eyes widened with surprise and disbelief at Lena's words. She had been so consumed by her own self-criticism that she hadn't realized how much her partner valued and appreciated her efforts on the field.

She wrapped her arms around her, giving a swift peck on the cheek. ''Love you.''

''Love you too.'' Lena reciprocated, landing a kiss on her girlfriend's cheek as well.

The Dutchwoman glanced to her side, seeing the German team starting to form a huddle with one another. ''Obi,'' she caught Lena's attention, signaling towards her teammates, ''go and celebrate, we'll talk tomorrow, alright?''

As Lena hesitated, Y/N gave her an encouraging smile. ''Seriously, go join them, you're going to Olympics, have fun with them. I'm gonna be mad if you don't.''

''Okay, but we face time tomorrow?'' The young midfielder asked, needing the reassurance.

Y/N chuckled softly, touched by her partner's concern. ''We will. Now go, and party- oh my God.''

With a final nod of understanding, Lena gave her girlfriend's hand a gentle squeeze before reluctantly turning to join the German team in their huddle.

As Y/N watched her disappear into the celebratory chaos, a bittersweet smile touched her lips. She could see her own team waiting for her, already standing in a circle.

She took the spot next to her best friend, as Lynn made space for her to join.

A slight grimace crossed her face as the entire team listened to Andries, prompting the defender next to her to furrow her eyebrows. ''Je enkel?'' (''Your ankle?'') She asked.

With a wry smile, Y/N shook her head. ''Nee, de rugpijn die ik ga hebben na het slapen op de grond.'' (''No, the back pain I'll be having after sleeping on the floor.'') She responded, a teasing smirk on her face.

lena requests are always welcome!

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 5: Fuck The Cape

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

TW: depictions of near drowning, memories of parental abuse & neglect, smoking, drinking, fights (not graphic), unhealthy coping mechanisms, panic attacks, general stress, I know nothing about cameras or photography, emotional vulnerability.

“I can’t do it!" I cried out as the waves tossed against me. The sun was still high in the sky, blinding slivers of light reflecting off of the moving water and shining into my eyes as I desperately tried to stay above water.

The boat only a few movements away bobbed on the surface, groaning with each shift of the waves. "You either sink or swim, Lena." The voice was soft and nurturing, but the words were anything but. "And Glovers don't sink."

Water crashed over my head, forcing me beneath the surface for a moment before I managed to push myself back to the top. I freedom sucked in as much air as I could, wide eyes looking at the half-shaded figure lounging on the boat. "Mom please!"

With a sigh, she shook her head as she stood. "Sink or swim."

The roar of the engine ripped along the surface of the water as the boat eased further and further away from me, back toward the shore. My heavy breaths did little the warm the cold that settled in my limbs as they moved, struggling to keep me afloat. With hot tears blurring my vision I forced myself to swim forward.

Salty. Sweet. Bitter. The water hit my tongue each time my heavy limbs splashed above the water. Each time it was a different taste, a different sensation that filled my brain with a moment of distraction. The taste, however potent, did little to help keep me from sinking as the fatigue finally set in. My eyes burned each time I forced my head to breach the surface, taking in as many sharp breaths of the frozen air as I could before sinking deeper and deeper into the ever-darkening water.

Sink or swim.

With one last push of my arms, I forced myself above the water and fumbled for the ledge of the buoy. My frozen fingers curled around the even colder surface as I tugged myself closer to the bright red material. It swayed with the waves, chaotic and violent but I held on. The sun began to set over the sparkling horizon and as night fell I could only wait and pray she would come back for me soon.

Sink or swim.

"Lena?" Howard called on the other end of the phone. "Are you still there?" The red buoy caught the light as I stared across the shimmering water, stuck in echoes of the waves and the cries of the birds, everything that held the bitter memories of a girl lost to this sea.

"Yeah… Yeah, I'm still here." I sighed, tearing my eyes away from the ocean and forcing my breaths in and out. Just breathe. "Sorry, I… got distracted."

Howard made a noise of acknowledgment. "Perfectly understandable. I take it you found somewhere nice and secluded to rest and maybe have some fun?"

My eyes shifted once again to that damn red buoy. "Secluded is definitely a fitting word. Sorry, again, for giving you such short notice."

"Don't worry about it," he insisted. "I'm well versed in keeping the restaurant afloat through sudden changes."

A sharp tingle ran through my limbs, forcing them to recall the numb heaviness of fatigue that had stemmed from keeping me afloat on those damn waves. "Still, I'm sure Scott won't be too happy about it."

"Scott will understand. Enjoy your vacation, Lena, you've earned it."

"Yeah... I will," I lied. "Thanks again, Howard."

"See you in a few days."

I squeezed the closed phone in my hands trying to stave off the numbness before it spread to my legs. God, I was so stupid. I knew what Cape fucking Cod held… I knew what would happen when I got here and yet I came anyway. I always did. At this point, it was some sick and twisted ritual that forced me to face the past and move on. Except the last part never happened. Instead of sorting my shit out and moving on, I spent my time either avoiding it all with booze and drugs and fights or by stupidly diving headfirst into the worst of it all and reopening every damn wound I worked so hard to mend. I'm so fucking stupid, I told myself again as I walked back towards the house. This is fucking stupid! 

The beach house was exactly how I left it, covered in broken glass and empty bottles of whatever booze she left lying around before she left. I walked over the glass, intentionally stepping down harder to ensure it’d shatter into even smaller more difficult pieces to clean up, and made my way to the kitchen. There was nothing to eat, never was, but there was always plenty of wine and whisky and right now that was all I needed. Pulling a bottle off the counter I sat down on the floor, looking out across the floor of glittering glass and dust, I flipped my phone open and dialed the number without sparing a second glance.

Ring. Ring. Ring. “Hello?” My breath caught in my throat as tears began to fill my eyes. “Just kiddin, you’ve reached Jack Harrow leave a message after the beep or whatever.” Beep.

“Hey pops,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “It’s Lena… I… I just wanted to hear your voice, you know that sentimental shit or whatever. Pete’s coming home next week. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s looking better than he has in years and I hope this is the thing that actually works for him, ya know? He deserves to get better and to live the rest of his life. Oz has the bar pretty much under control, though I think he misses having you around to mess with. Patrick’s doing right by the place, hasn’t changed a thing. I… I started working at 22West.” I laughed, imagining the slew of phrases he’d say to lovingly mock me. “I know, I know… I missed it. Well, the cooking part at least. Feeling like I was part of some top-notch kitchen and getting to watching rich people blow thousands of dollars on a chicken thigh or some wine. Everyone’s been nice, you’d like them.” After a minute of silence, I couldn’t help the soft sobs that worked their way out of my throat. “Daddy I… I… your jacket got ripped up. It was all my fault and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Dad.”

The machine beeped again, cutting off the rest of my sobs and pleas for forgiveness. I curled up on the floor and pressed the phone harder to my ear, listening to the ringing again and to his deep voice and quiet chuckle. “Hello? Just kiddin, you’ve reached Jack Harrow leave a message after the beep or whatever.”

Beep.

*

Cape fucking Cod. Jake hated the cape more than he hated anything, even Howard or Etienne. He hated the little shops and the ugly blue-chipping color that almost every building seemed to be painted. He hated how everyone would smile and wave as they recognized him and Simone making their way toward her mom's house. Why did I even fucking come back here? He asked himself scowling at everyone they passed by. Simone laughed ahead of him, catching up with someone she knew or something. 

Jake watched her for a second and sighed. Simone asked him. That’s why he came. She told him she needed him around to support her while she dealt with her mom being her mom. It wasn’t that big of a deal… and he owed her that much at least after everything she did for him back then and still did for him now. If Simone needed him Jake would be there, no matter what.

“Moms pulling out all the stops,” Simone said falling into step beside him. “Cooking our favorite meal and all that good stuff.”

“Yippie,” Jake mumbled, pulling out the last of his cigarettes from the pack and getting ready to light it before Simone ripped it from between his lips with a sigh.

“Can you go just one day without smoking like a damn chimney?”

Jake clenched his jaw and tensely smiled at her. “Sure.”

She stopped walking and dug a small piece of paper out of her bag, holding it out to him. “I’m going to go get things settled at the house. You head to the store and pick up the wine and dessert for tonight?”

“I’m on it,” he assured her, separating from her to head off toward the small store he knew was just around the corner.

“And Jake!” She called after him, causing him to turn and look at her. “Thank you… for coming with me.”

Jake smiled, “No problem.”

The second Simone was out of sight Jake returned to his displeased scowling. Everything in this town reminded him of the childhood he couldn’t wait to get away from. Every street and person that walked along it contributed to the heavyweight that settled in his chest, growing tighter and tighter the longer he stayed here and breathed the thick salty air. As he turned the corner the weight on his chest lifted for a minute at the sight of that familiar red hair. No fucking way.

Lena walked down the sidewalk toward the small store with her head down and dark sunglasses covering her eyes. She looked like shit. Tired and dressed in clothes that looked old and tattered compared to what she normally wore. What made him narrow his eyes were the bruises that she hadn’t even bothered trying to conceal on her jaw and hands. When she walked into the store Jake smirked and made his way across the street. Maybe this trip would be good for something after all.

*

I said thank you to the young clerk and walked out of the store, holding my new pack of cigarettes in one hand and my lighter in the other. "Hey, can I bum one of those?" 

"Damn it!" I hissed startled, turning to find Jake standing next to me, smirking like he’d just won the damn lottery. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He reached over and grabbed a cigarette out of my pack and scoffed. "It's a small town, princess. You want anonymity, you're gonna have to find it somewhere else."

I chose to ignore the new nickname as my head throbbed and I growled out, "Did you follow me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, " he replied, holding his hand out to me waiting for my lighter. "Simone has family here, our trip has been planned for weeks."

"So it's a coincidence then?"

"Yep." He nodded to my lighter. “Gonna help me out or?”

I handed it to him and turned to keep walking. Jake followed, of course, happily puffing smoke along the way. “Stop following me.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “But I’ve got so many questions!”

“I’m not answering questions today Jake. So, just I don’t know go do whatever the fuck you’re here to do.”

“Just one question, since I’m such a good friend,” he offered.

“Will it get you to leave me the fuck alone?”

He laughed. “Maybe.”

“Fine.”

“What are you doing in Cape Cod?” As we walked side by side I could see his eyes looking me up and down, likely focusing on how shitty I looked.

Fuck it. “I used to live around here during the summers with my mom.”

Jake stopped, pulling me with him. “No shit, really? Simone and I lived here. Just up the hill over there.”

“Great for you,” I replied pulling my arm free of his grasp. “Now, excuse me I have things to do.”

“If you lived here how come we never ran into each other?” Jake continued to follow me with his pestering questions.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “You got your question, Jake, now fuck off.”

He didn’t listen, of course, he didn’t. “Think I woulda remembered a girl like you around here.”

A girl like me… he wouldn’t have recognized the little girl I was back then. I hardly did. “I wasn’t like this back then.”

“No?” He hummed. “Were you fat or something?”

“No.” Fucking asshole.

“What then?”

"You really don't want to come with me," I warned him, choosing to stray as far from the topic as I could. "It's not your scene."

He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked. "I'm up to try anything once."

With a poorly concealed smirk, I nodded. “Alright then, come on tough guy.”

The old gym made Jake’s eyes narrow, but he didn’t stop following behind me until we reached the basement door and the burly man that stood in front of it. He nodded to Jake. “He with you?”

“Yup,” I replied looking back at him over my shoulder. “Unless he wants to leave?”

“And miss out on all this fun mystery shit, nah,” he replied with a quirked brow. A challenge.

The big man gave us both some garbled warning before moving to the side and letting us descend the dark stairs into the brightly lit basement filled with a crowd of people cheering and shouting at the two fighters in the middle of the room. It was hardly professional, but I didn’t need it to be.

Jake looked around curiously, though I could see a shred of doubt in the way his eyebrows creased. “You don’t have to stay.”

He looked down at me with narrow eyes. “You fight people in your free time?”

“Not always,” I answered. “Just when there’s a lot of shit I need to work through. Having something to punch usually helps. It’s an old habit of mine, not exactly healthy but it works.” I set my bag down on one of the shitty tables they set up off to the side of all the action. “Like I said, you don’t have to stay.”

I was expecting him to make some excuse to save face and hurry out of there while he still could, but Jake surprised me again, sitting down next to my things. “You think I’m just gonna leave you here to get the shit beat out of you?”

“I’m not gonna get the shit beat out of me,” I assured him with a smile. “I am rather good at this.”

“Yeah, those bruises you’re sporting sure instill a lot of confidence.”

“I gotta give them a few hits or no one will fight me.”

Jake chuckled, settling further into the seat. “Well, when you need help limping home I’ll be here.”

Wrapping my hands I rolled my eyes. “I should just take my frustration out on you instead.”

He opened his arms, making room in his lap. “I’m definitely down for that.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Suit yourself,” he replied. “At least my offer won’t give you any new bruises.” He paused. “Scratch that, at least my offer won’t give you any bruises you won’t enjoy getting.”

Once my hands were properly wrapped I turned. “Try not to get your ass kicked while we’re here? I know it’ll be a real challenge for you.”

*

Jake hadn’t expected, well, this. Most girls he knew would spend bad days drinking wine and watching some shitty movie or shopping to take the edge off. Lena Harrow was not like most people, he’d quickly discovered. Watching her move in the shitty ring, dodging hits and landing even more was a surreal experience. Sweat glistened on her body, making her face practically glow in this brutal way that made him question a few things about himself. The satisfaction and pride that swelled in his gut at the sight of her taking down opponent after opponent was something he wasn’t expecting either.

Lena wasn’t much to him, a friend maybe but that was still a relatively new thing, and even that was forged in his underlying desire to get her to accept the mutual attraction and act on it. Jake tried to remind himself in the moments when Lena treated him like a friend that it wasn’t real, that she was just another back waiter, cook, or whatever, that he wanted to fuck. She wasn’t Simone. She didn't know him and he didn't know her. Lena was something else, though, something that Jake was more afraid of than he’d ever let on.

As her third opponent hit the floor she turned, her tired eyes gleaming and a bright smile on her face. She was beautiful, even covered in sweat and blood and lit up by the shitty basement lights. She was beautiful and Jake fucking hated it.

*

I sucked in a sharp breath, wincing at the sting of the alcohol-soaked rag that Jake lightly pressed to my scratched-up knuckles.

"So, Hurricane Harrow? That another one of your boxing names?"

I shook my head, carefully undoing the rest of the wrap with my free hand. "It's more of a term… My dad's family comes from a long line of boxers. People would chant Hurricane Harrow when one of them got so mad in the ring that they stopped caring about rules and just went for blood." Jake was quiet, his blue eyes watching me with shockingly clear concern. "When my dad started teaching me how to fight he told me I had demons in me. He said the fire and rage they gave me was useful in a fight, but I needed to control it or it'd consume me."

"Harrows seek out fights like damn bloodhounds," my dad said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I know you're gonna keep this goin til you can't move, so the least I can do is show ya how to be good at it."

I looked at him through my one good eye. "You're serious? You're gonna let me fight?"

Dad smiled. "I'm gonna teach ya, never said I'd encourage your little alleyway brawls. There's a catch though."

"Course there is."

"You keep those demons in check for me, yeah?" He grinned, ruffling my hair. "Last thing I want is to end up lookin like you."

"You're such an asshole!" I shrieked with a laugh, shoving his hand away and sorely standing up. "You're on pops."

Jake pressed the cloth down a little harder, but even then he was being so gentle I’d almost forgotten it was him here and not someone else, like Peter or Patrick. “Everyones got demons Lena, not just you.”

"My brother doesn’t… not like me at least." I smiled a little, the bitter feeling making my chest tighten. "Peter has always been kind and good… Everything I'm not. He never fought out of anger, but out of passion. He loved the sport… And he was just so fucking nice about it. Why? Why did I have to be the one with all the anger?" It was a question I’d asked a lot, one that I already knew the answer to, but Jake answered it anyway.

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “But if it’s any consolation I kinda liked seeing that side of you.”

I looked up at him and laughed nervously. “Oh?”

Jake nodded, continuing his careful cleaning of my hands. “It was badass.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled, wincing when he rubbed a particularly sore spot.

"And hot."

"Shut up."

After a beat or two Jake said, “Your dad would be proud of you, Lena."

Clenching my jaw to keep the ugly noises trapped in my throat I nodded and wipe a tear from my eye before it could fall. “Thanks, Jake. I’m… oddly glad you decided to follow me.”

He smiled. “I’m great company, I know.”

“Your confidence is truly an inspiration,” I said, kicking his shin lightly. “Come on, I’ll buy you dinner as a thank you.”

He helped me up and fell into step beside me as we made our way out of the locker room and down the street, leaving the coppery tang of blood and the grunts of blows landing far behind us. This was something new, having someone around me while I was living it up at rock bottom. It felt both nice and unsettling. What was even worse was the fact that Jake didn’t judge me. He didn’t say anything or give me a judgmental look no matter how many cigarettes I smoked or glasses of whisky I ordered. Jake just stayed. He talked about his childhood here, or lack thereof, and spoke about how much he hated the stupid town. Jake hated Cape Cod almost as much as I did and I liked it.

We sat down outside, ordering a simple plate of cheeseburgers and french fries both of us insisting that fish was fucking disgusting. While we waited for our food Jake took another cigarette out of my bag and stole my lighter. “Are you planning on reimbursing me for my cigarettes?”

“Fuck no,” he replied inhaling the smoke.

“Oh, so you’re stealing from me then?”

Those blue eyes sparkled. “Says the girl that stole a drug dealer's motorcycle.”

“Touche.”

The food got brought out to our table and I instantly took hold of the large burger before looking up at Jake, who looked at me curiously. "I'm not gonna eat this all dainty like," I warned.

Jake shrugged with a roguish smile. "By all means, chow down, princess."

"Stop calling me that,” I grumbled.

"Nah," he said, blowing smoke across the table before dropping the rest of his cigarette to the ground and snuffing it out with his boot. "I like the way it sounds. And you clearly enjoy it."

"Ass."

I took a big bite of my burger, maintaining eye contact with the smirking Jake as he did the same. The two of us tried hard not to laugh and spit our food out. Jake managed to chew his faster, wiping the condiments from the corner of his mouth as he chuckled. “That was impressive.”

With a little bow, I swallowed my food and laughed. “Never seen a girl almost choke on a cheeseburger before?”

“No, that was definitely a first.”

“I aim to please,” I replied digging back into my food.

Jake finished his food first and had quietly taken up smoking as the wind began to grow colder the more the sun started to set. “So, seriously, how come I never saw you around here when we were younger?”

Part of me didn’t want to answer, but the other part looked at his totally idiotically handsome face and the sincerity that had taken to his features. I shrugged. “I don’t know. My mom and I never really stayed long and we mostly kept to ourselves. I wasn’t exactly the same as I am now.”

“I mean I figured the boobs and ass weren’t as noticeable then,” he teased with a smirk. “But that hair is hard to miss.”

“Believe it or not I used to hate my hair. I’d always wear a hood or a hat just to try and blend in a bit.” I sighed. “Even dyed it one year. It was horrible and I regretted it instantly! I was a lot less cool than I am now.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Jake insisted.

“It’s true!” I laughed. “I was a geek that spent all day inside practicing the piano or cello or ballet. I didn’t really do much during the summers with my mom.”

He nodded, an odd look shining in his eyes. “Think we woulda been friends back then?”

“Depends, were you nearly as annoying then as you are now?”

Jake laughed, loud and full, and the sound made me feel something deep in my chest, something I never felt out here. “Oh, I was just as annoying.”

“Then I think we would’ve been quite the pair.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jake leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on the table. “Can I get one last question?”

I sighed, exaggerating with a smile. “I guess.”

“Why’d you run?”

The image of my dad's jacket torn apart and hanging in my hands was seared into my memory as I bit my lip and looked anywhere but Jake’s face. “That fucking leather jacket. It was my dad's. Was… the last thing he gave me. I’d been sitting with him in that fucking hospital for days when he just held it out to me and told me to look after it for him for a minute.” I chuckled a bit. “He was convinced one of the nurses was going to try and steal it. I… I put it on when I went down to the cafeteria to get us some food and when I got back…” Blinking the tears from my eyes I shook my head. “He was gone.”

���I’m sorry,” Jake said. “I figured it meant something to you, but I didn’t know it was like that.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “I was the one that was supposed to look after it and I didn’t.”

He shook his head and reached across the table to take hold of one of my hands. “It wasn’t your fault either. If anything let's blame the idiot that tore it up.”

Jake’s phone ringing broke the quiet moment between us as we both pulled away from each other and he reached into his pocket to answer. “Hey… No, I know… Alright chill out, I’m on my way… I said I’m on my way Simone, Jesus.”

I stood up and placed the tip on the table. “Duty calls.”

“Yeah,” he sighed following my lead. “You gonna be okay?”

“I’m a big girl Jake,” I replied with a tense smile. “I’ll be fine.”

He nodded, but I could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe me. “Well, if you end up needing anything call me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

“Yeah, you do,” he replied with a grin. “I put it in your phone back at the gym.”

Scoffing I started walking. “What an invasion of my privacy.”

He laughed and shrugged. “Try not to get too fucked up out there.”

“You too, tough guy.”

The quietness of the house usually never bothered me, but as I downed my fourth shot of tequila it suddenly grew almost unbearable. I was used to being alone… at least I had been, but now. I wanted to go home. I wanted to sleep in my own bed or even in the uncomfortable cot next to Peter. But I couldn’t go home, not when the only thing keeping me from falling apart was booze and cigarettes. I couldn’t. If I did I’d go straight to Dom and I’d fuck all my progress up. I’d fuck everything up.

Out the window, the red buoy seemed to glow in the orange light. The numbness in my hands slowly started to return as I twirled my phone in my hand and considered calling Jake. He was busy no doubt, with Simone and whatever it was they came here for. He’s busy, I told myself setting the phone down on the counter and committing to the idiotic idea that had settled into my head after the second shot. I almost slipped on the shards of glass as I made my way out the front door, and just started walking. I forced myself to breathe deeply, even though the air smelt rancid the closer I got to the ocean.

Driving a boat drunk is not something I’d recommend, but somehow I made it past the red buoy and managed to stop the damn thing in the perfect spot. Staring out across the shimmering water I could feel the panic rising in my chest, could feel it but idiotically didn’t even try to stop and think. No more thinking. I stepped off the edge and plunged into the cold water. No more thinking.

*

Jake couldn’t get out of that house fast enough. He’d forgotten to get the wine and dessert, which made Simone almost unbearable through dinner. Her mom was sweet like she always was, but it made Jake feel uncomfortable, reminding him too much of what little he remembered of his mom. He excused himself, holding his camera up and telling them he was going to get some shots of the beach before the sunset.

So there he was, walking along the beach next to the docks, taking pictures of the ocean and the sand. He aimed the lens out onto the water, focusing on an empty boat and snapping the picture before his brain registered the name neatly painted on the side. Harrow. A pit settled in his stomach as he pulled his camera away from his eyes for a moment before looking again.

He looked around the boat for a moment before he zoomed out a way. The camera lens focused on the floating red buoy and Jake felt his chest tighten at the sight of Lena, swimming sluggishly behind it. “Lena?”

She disappeared under the water for a minute too long and Jake could hardly breathe as his feet moved quickly toward the boat at the dock, the one he’d used to dare kids to take for joyrides because the idiot owners always left the keys in it. He hopped in and looked back out at the water as Lena’s red hair resurfaced and her pale hands gripped onto the buoy for dear life as the waves crashed over her. “LENA!”

God fucking damn it! He cursed, turning the engine on and hauling ass out onto the water toward her. The boat cutting through the water echoed distantly in his ears as that hideous fucking fear consumed him just like it did when he was a kid. He could hear the police quietly whispering about his mom as he sat on the stairs of his old home and waited. He could recall the sad smile on Simone’s face as she tucked him into his new bed for the first time and curled up beside him stroking his hair while he cried. At that moment he remembered what it felt like when he’d first tried to drown himself. The breathlessness. The pressure.

His mom walked into the ocean and didn’t come back. He’d be fucking damned if Lena was going to do the same.

*

Every inch of my body shook as I clung to that damn buoy. What the fuck was I thinking? Who the hell just jumps into the fucking ocean to try and prove some stupid point to a mother that’s not even here?! I could hear the water around me, the engine of some boat or another driving past, but everything was muffled as the panic began to overtake everything else. “Sink or swim.” I’d sunk. Sunk and fully settled into everything she said I would be. “You’re going to regret this, little one. Not now, maybe not even in a few years, but one day, when you’ve accomplished nothing in your life you’ll regret this moment.”

“LENA!” Jake’s muffled voice echoed in my ears as my head was pushed below the water again. “Lena give me your fucking hand!”

Jake? I turned my head the second I came back up to find him leaning over the edge of some boat, reaching out for me. His blue eyes were wide and full of fear. “J-J-Ja-ake?”

“If you don’t give me your hand right now I swear to fucking god I’m going to drag you by the hair into this boat Lena!” He reached out to me more as his voice turned desperate, pleading, “Just give me your hand.”

Shaking I reached out to him and numbly latched onto his arm as he pulled me up into the boat. Jake shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around my front before pulling me into his arms and rubbing my cold skin. As my breaths quickened and the memories of all the other times I’d failed replayed over and over again in my head as I mumbled.

He didn’t know what I was talking about and honestly, he probably didn’t care. Jake just held onto me tight, whispering to me, “I’ve got you. It’s okay, I’ve got you. Just breathe. Please just breathe.”

By the time my panic attack had settled the sun was gone and the stars filled the sky. Jake and I sat in the boat, looking up at the sky, neither of us sure where to start. “My mom died out here. In this water.”

I turned my head and looked at him. Though his face remained stoic I could see the pain in his eyes as he looked up at the sky. “I’m… I’m sorry… I didn’t know that.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine, most people don’t.”

His mom died… drown and yet he’d come to get me. He must’ve been so angry, so scared… I shook my head. “It’s not fine. You had to come out here and drag me out of the water your mom died in. I can’t even imagine how terrifying that must have been.” Jake’s face only twitched into a moment of fearful sorrow. I leaned further into him. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

“Why were you out here?” He asked, voice cracking slightly. “Why the fuck were you out in the middle of the fucking ocean?”

I could have given him whatever answer I wanted. Jake didn’t know the truth and he didn’t have to. No one did. The longer I sat there, covered in his leather jacket and being warmed by his body heat the more difficult it was to keep the truth inside. Eventually, I sighed and the words began to slip out, “I was never good at the piano or the cello or ballet. No matter how many hours I spent practicing… no matter how badly my fingers bled or my feet ached from the effort I put into the stupid things it was never enough.” I tapped on my leg for a minute, working up the courage to continue through the lump in my throat. “My mom insisted I wasn’t trying hard enough. Glovers are hard workers with talent and determination and in her head, I lacked both. To her, I was just lazy. So… when I’d keep getting the notes wrong or messing up the routine she’d plop me in a boat, drive out past the buoy and tell me to get in the water.” Jake was watching me closely now, I could feel the heat of his eyes, but I didn’t have the heart to look at him. “I’d swim for hours before she’d start the boat and tell me to sink or swim. She’d leave me there to swim back to shore myself. I never could… I’d always end up hanging off that stupid buoy until one of the neighbors came and got me. She wouldn’t even let me back in the house when I got back so I’d have to stay with the old couple across the street for the night.”

“That's… That’s fucked up.” He mumbled.

“Yeah,” I wiped the tears from my eyes and glanced back at him. “After a while, I went to live with my dad and brother. She signed over custody without a fight and told him good luck.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake said, his tone low and unsure. He clearly wasn’t expecting all this and sure as hell didn’t know how to respond to any of it. “What is it about this fucking place that makes everything just shit?”

I laughed softly and shook my head. “I don’t know. But, hey, at least we turned out only marginally fucked up.”

Jake laughed at that. “I fucking hate it here.”

“Me too,” I replied. “It’s probably the worst place in the world.”

“And yet neither of us seems to be able to stay away.” He sighed. “Maybe we’re more fucked up than we think.”

"Let's make each other a promise then," I said, holding my pinky out to him. He visibly bit back a snarky remark about the "childish" action. "To never come back here again."

The blue of his eyes sparkled as he thought about the offer for a minute before he nodded, reaching out to link his pinky with mine. "Yeah, okay."

"Fuck the cape," I said, my pinky squeezing his.

Jake smiled. "Fuck the cape."

*

I stood in the aisle of the store, looking at the condiments blankly while I tried to kill time. Mom was in another meeting, like always, and I'd been practicing for hours before I decided it was time for a break. So there I was, standing in the shitty store staring at condiments.

"Hey, pass me a thing of mustard?" A voice asked from beside me.

"Sure," I replied, bored.

The boy smiled crookedly as I handed the mustard to him. His ocean-blue eyes sparkled in the fluorescent lights and his dark hair was sticking up in several places. "Thanks."

"No problem."

He tilted his head. "You new around here? I don't think I've seen you before."

"Not new," I said. "But no, you probably haven't seen me."

He was about to ask another question when a blonde girl rounded the corner and gave him a scolding face. "There you are! You can't just wander off!"

"I didn't wander off." He rolled his eyes. "I was getting the mustard."

I silently excused myself from their argument, tucking my red hair deeper under my hood and making my way past them toward the front door. I needed to practice some more anyway, not stand around some store with arguing strangers.

[sytoran]

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟑

you and natasha were star-crossed lovers, separated by galaxies and timelines. like any other shakesperean tragedy, you and natasha's tale comes to an end... or does it?

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: this is the 3rd installment to the goddess!nat universe! please read the other parts first if you haven't already. this part contains major angst and smut. i have spent ungodly hours on this chapter.

word count: 4.5k (i am impressed with myself)

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

Previously… 

No one escapes the consequences of their actions. Not even the Goddess of Lust, who had formed romantic relationships with a mortal. SHIELD’s decision to forbid the two of you from ever seeing each other again tears apart all the ‘what-ifs’ of a bright future.

Now…

Natasha doesn’t know how many hours she’s been crying in the bathtub.

After the finality of SHIELD’s crushing decision had truly weighed itself upon Natasha’s burdened shoulders, the mere thought of what she would have to do to you shook her to the bone.

Which is why she crashed at her sister’s place: to cry her problems away in a bathtub made of priceless gold, alongside a fine bottle of Pinot Grigio.

“Jesus, Nat, you’re gonna die of hypothermia if you stay in there a second longer.” Yelena says, kicking open the bathroom door with a tray of smoked salmon appetizers in hand.

“Take one,” Yelena says absentmindedly, sitting herself on the edge of the bathtub next to Natasha’s partially-submerged form. “Food helps with everything.”

Natasha doesn’t respond, only looking up at her sister through glassy eyes. Empty eyes. She felt raw and numb at the same time, but the contrasting emotions were merely child’s play in comparison to the storm that raged within her weary mind.

Yelena looks at her unamusedly, before folding her arms. “Talk to me,” she stated firmly, and it wasn’t a request.  The blonde sister was the Goddess of War, after all, she could be as intimidating and ruthless as she wanted to be.

Hot-headed at times, sure, but so paradoxically calculative and strategic at other times Natasha felt like she could get whiplash. Despite all of the finicky situations the older sister had found herself drowning in, Yelena was always there for her, fiercely protective with a passion like no other.

This was no different, with Yelena being the hand to pull her out of the water. Physically and metaphorically. 

Natasha inhaled shakily, then exhaled and felt a whole lot worse than before. Impulsively, she snatched one of the smoked salmon appetizers off the plate and stuffed it in her mouth, feeling her eyes well up as she does so.

“Damn, this human fucked you up this bad?” The blonde said quizically, with an air of sarcastic wit on the surface but a layer of genuine concern underneath only Natasha would be able to decipher. 

"... I've fallen in love with her." The Goddess says softly, faraway, like she was floating with the wind and time itself. Detached from reality, or perhaps running away from it.

Yelena stayed silent. For once, the Goddess of War was at a loss. 

“I’ve fallen in love with her,” Natasha says again, with slightly more conviction. She looks to her blonde sister, and Yelena’s heart nearly shatters at the sight of the sheer hurt on Natasha’s face. So broken, so agonized, everything that she did not deserve to be.

“But that doesn’t even matter, alright? She gave me her heart, Lena, and I’m going to have to break it. I’m gonna break so many– Fuck, I’m gonna have to break every single promise I’ve ever made to her, like she’s some kind of toy.” Natasha chokes out. “And I don’t, I fucking don’t– understand why it was us, why I lead her on and why I let it happen. I’m fucking stupid, and now it’s blown up in my face. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I-”

“You’ve never deserved it,” Yelena interrupts, placing a hand over her sisters’. Is that how you’re supposed to comfort someone? Yelena doesn’t know. Anyways, she’s trying. “Nat, I know you’re the Goddess of Lust, and your reputation precedes you, but, you, of all people, deserve love.”

You deserve love… what a fucking lie that was.

“Don’t try that on me,” Natasha snaps, her walls snapping back up in record timing. Her self-destructive defence builds like armour, and soon she’s standing up. 

“I’ve done some fucked up shit in the past, and I’m very aware of it. I thought I’d moved past it, but now those demons have caught up to me, and I can’t do jackshit but watch the love of my life slip away from my fingers. I don’t deserve love, it just happened to find me and I played along because I thought it could last.”

Natasha’s chest heaves at the impact of the outburst. She stares at Yelena, who remains painfully impassive. Arms folded, jaw working on the stupid fucking smoked salmon.

Fuck, she wanted to hurt someone. Make them feel her pain. Let it consume them like it’s consuming her, let it choke them and–

“Is that what you really think, Nat? That you were simply playing a game with Y/N L/N? Because I assure you, I haven’t seen much but I know damn well that those two months with her pure, unfiltered, undying, devotion.”

Yelena’s words puncture a hole into her conscience, injecting venom with it. Each syllable, each emphasis, cuts her. Because Natasha knows that it’s true, but she can’t accept it or she’ll never be able to let you go.

So all she does is give Yelena the best death stare she can muster, and stalk out of her bathroom like her clothes aren’t dripping with bubbly water. (Yes, she had gone into the bathtub with all her clothes on. Depression waited for no man, or Goddess.)

She shakes her head, forcing the stray thoughts to dissipate, and fixes up her appearance with wordless magic.

My palace. Natasha visualizes the place, closing her eyes, and when she opens them again, she’s standing right outside the door.

Apprehensively, she puts her hand on the handle to the huge, sparkling door. You would be waiting on the other side, waiting for Natasha to come home. 

Waiting for Natasha to break your heart.

She pushes the door open before she can cower and hide, before she can run away and curse every sentient being in existence. 

It was time for her mortal demise.

—

It was time for Natasha to see the fruits of your hard work.

You wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, huffing heavily but proud nonetheless. You step back to admire the absolute feast you had prepared for your girlfriend.

The fancy dining table was adorned with a checkered tablecloth and ornate with all kinds of things, expensive plates and cutlery already set up, just for two.

It was no secret that Natasha loved your home-cooked meals, despite being able to eat whatever she wanted, as a Goddess with a private chef. She had sworn you put something magical into your food.

You’ll never forget the moan she let out the first time she ate your perfected medium-rare New York Strip.

Which is exactly why you’ve spent over an hour cooking up a banquet of all kinds of food for the Goddess, an array of cuisines from all around the world. As much as you loved the hot sex you had with Natasha, you were an absolute sucker for the domesticity of life with her, how simple and perfect it was.

As if on cue, you hear the front door open, which was not too far away from the dining hall. 

Your heart physically leaps, unbridled excitement adorning your features. Natasha had taken longer than she normally would, and you could barely contain the anticipation thrumming in your bones.

That is, until you see Natasha standing in the hallway defeatedly, shoulders sagged and eyes lowered. Like all the life had been sapped out of her.

Fuck, you had never seen her like this. Natasha was the embodiment of undying energy, always with a smile on her face, or her expression schooled into composure, or her eyes fluttering in a state of lust. Not like this. 

Never like this.

“Darling?” you ask, hushed. You take one step towards her, tentatively. The head of red hair looks up to you, and Natasha’s biting her lip like she’s stopping the words from falling out of her mouth, like she’ll start crying if you say one word more.

“I-” Natasha tries, her voice hoarse and choked. The rest of her sentence dies in her throat, as she shakes her head and strides past you quickly, like she can’t burn any longer under your gaze.

Your hand drops in complete loss as Natasha simply walks past you, shoulders brushing like a ghost of what used to be warm hugs and sweet kisses. You chase after her before you know it, yelling her name as the Goddess speeds up.

Natasha blinks back tears furiously, striding through the dining hall as the servants scatter like mice. She hardly registers the feast prepared on the ornate table, vision blurring with each desperate cry of her name you let out.

“Natasha? What’s the matter? Talk to me, please!” 

You sprint faster, dodging your way through the hallways and up the wide set of stairs. The Goddess is within arm’s reach, now, and you extend your arm to grab onto hers, so you can spin her around and ask what on earth is going–

And the Goddess simply teleports away at the last second, the fleeting touch of her warm skin dissipating into thin air.

“Fuck!” you yell, eyes darting in frustration. Why was Natasha acting like this? Had you done something? Forget her birthday? No, that was December 3rd. Forget the anniversary of your first meeting? Nope, that was January 24th. What on earth had you done? Or had she done something? You–

No, okay, calm down. Slow down. The rational voice in your head speaks up. Where would Natasha have gone? What was a significant place she would escape to, in times of distress?

After a moment of contemplation, you find your answer, and sooner than later you’re sprinting up the long flight of spiral staircases to the Astronomy Tower. 

—

Natasha’s thankful for the dome-shaped glass ceiling the tower has, doing what it can to block out the cold. The sky is absolutely breathtaking, a heart-wrenching contrast to her inner turmoil.

It’s a dark blue and a soft pink, with millions of little bright planets splashing across the canvas like silver sequins. The view of the galaxy from the land of the Gods had always been the greatest, after all. 

The Goddess stands, unmoving and breathing lightly. She doesn’t feel the least bit better, but at least she’s calmed down in the slightest.

She’s bought some time by teleporting up here. Her hands were clammy, but no matter how many times she wipes them down on her dress it doesn’t change a thing. She can’t change a thing, not for anything, not for you.

“Natasha?” you ask, weakly, heaving at having sprinted up so many flights of stairs. 

At the sight of you, the Goddess feels the tears spring back into her eyes again. Stupid. She wants to say sorry. Stroke your face and kiss your lips, maybe. Well, not maybe, because she can’t. Because it’s the last– nope, she can’t say it.

“Nat, can you….. fuck, I need to work out more. Can you tell me what’s going on, please? I made- I made a New York Strip, if you’re hungry–”

The Goddess walks up to you, cradling the side of your face in her hands. Oh, fuck it. Tender, sweet, delicate. You’ve never seen her face like this before, so soft yet so broken.

“What—”

You’re cut off when Natasha leans into your space, eyelids fluttering shut. And for once, this wasn’t preordained or predetermined. You didn’t have to calculate the next move. You didn’t have to fix a destiny. 

Natasha’s lips meet yours in a grand, cruel, beautiful, broken kiss.

It feels so right, tongues interlocking like cogs on a machine, quavering breaths escaping from the sides of her mouth. You let her in, you drink her up. All other thoughts shut down.

Natasha kisses you with a hyena’s jaw, swearing she could never get enough, never satiate her desires for you, even if everything else is wrong. You’re stealing her every breath, every kiss, every sigh — she needed more.

She slides her hand down your torso, hands already finding the hem of your pants. But then you push her away – for the first time, for that last time – you push her away, and step back, and your head is spinning.

“I deserve to know,” you breathe heavily, and Natasha’s heart cracks. “You’re scaring me, Nat, okay? First you brush past me all soulless, and then you make me chase after you, and then you kiss me so- so sadly, and now you wanna fuck? It doesn’t make sense, not at all. I wanna know, I deserve to know, I–”

“You deserve everything,” Natasha interrupts, eyes transfixed on you now, and they look kaleidoscopic, just like the galaxy that hung above your heads. “You deserve everything, but I can’t give you what you need, and that’s why this is the last time we’re ever seeing each other again.”

Silence ensues.

You take a good moment to actually mentally digest what Natasha had just said. “...What?” 

“This is the last time we’re ever seeing each other again,” she repeats, firmer. You let out a bark of laughter in disbelief, half-joking, but Natasha’ stony face makes your face drop.

“Are you… breaking up with me?” you whisper, scared to say it loud, like doing so would make it less true. Natasha feels her heart clench, and her hands shake because you’ve never sounded so small, so vulnerable.

“No, I’m not– I had to, Y/N, darling,” Natasha says, trying to reason, clasping your hands in hers, shaking her head desparately, like it would stop her eyes from welling up. “I’m a Goddess, and you’re a mortal. I love you, please. But we can’t do this, we can’t-”

“Is it me?” you ask, softly, troubled. Eyes locking Natasha’s magnificent green eyes, one’s that you’ve fallen in love with a thousand times. Ones that you were still in love with.

“No,” Natasha says immediately, her knuckles whitening. “It’s not you. Definitely not.”

“Then who is it?” you follow up, eyes narrowing, head tilted. “Who’s the one tearing us apart?”

It was them, Natasha wants to scream out, until her lungs burned and her chest heaved and she ran out of tears. You’re the best fucking thing that’s happened in my life, and I’m a damned fool if I ever let you go, but this isn’t in my hands anymore. She wanted to curse the higher beings for centuries, taint their names with bitter words, but she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth.

You grow more hopeless as the silence stretches on. 

No, you’re the villain. Natasha’s voice says in her head. This was what had come to bite her back, this was her karma. You’re paying for everything you’ve ever done wrong, for all the hearts you’ve broken and never mended. It’s your turn to face the music, your turn to go through suffering. What a shame, isn’t it? That she’s the one who’s so hurt because of you. Y/N L/N. Only person to blame is yourself.

…Only person to blame is yourself.

“It’s me,” Natasha finally says, a shell of a woman who once was, and the Goddess swears she hears your heart smash into smithereens, the glass pieces against the floor you trod on.

“No, what are you saying, Nat?” you ask, confused, tearing up, visibly shaking. “You’re- we’re together. We’re doing good. We’re doing so fucking good, please don’t–”

“I’m the Goddess of Lust, and you’re an attorney from earth. We were never gonna work out. I wasn’t made to have long-lasting, committed relationships. Just… lustful nights,” the falsehood of the words that fell out of Natasha’s mouth wasn’t her own. It tasted bitter on her tongue, but it was like medicine and it was the right thing to do.

You needed a villain. Someone to hate. Someone to blame it all on.

And Natasha happened to be a very good one.

“We were a time-ticking bomb, Y/N, separated by galaxies you could never even fathom.” she continues. “We were never meant to be. I realise how wrong I am for this, because it was never real–”

“It was real to me!” You yell out, voice cracking, tears in your eyes. 

Natasha is stunned by the sheer volume of your words, so ferocious and so determined and fuck, she was pathetic. “It was fucking real to me, alright? It was the realest thing I’ve ever had in my entire life. It was so fucking real, Nat, so you don’t get to just pretend you never fell in love!”

Love.

“Love?” Natasha asks, letting out an amused huff of disbelief. “Love doesn’t exist, not in my world, Y/N L/N. It had to end at some point, you know that. You have your responsibilities, I have mine. We’re over, alright?”

You stand there, feet rooted on the ground, face fallen and ashen and grey. This was a dream. This was a dream, and you’d wake up next to the real Natasha later, the one with sweet smiles and peanut butter cookies, and everything would be alright.

“I’ve said what I had to say,” the Goddess says, and she has to regulate her breathing so she won’t choke on her words and swallow them back. She had to escape before she fell to her knees and begged you for forgiveness. “I’m leaving, now.”

She turns, and you grab her arm. “You’re staying.” you state, non-negotiable. A commanding tone. One that Natasha had grown to love.

This time, she scoffs, wrenching herself out of your grasp. “Fucking make me, then.”

Just like that, a lever between the two of you was flicked, and the sexual tension you’d been trying to avoid since just now is nearly suffocating.

“We’re not gonna do this right now,” You growl, looking up at the ceiling with a clenched jaw. Teetering on the edge of precipice was your raging impulse, to either punch a hole in the wall or shove your hand up Natasha’s skimpy dress.

The Goddess tilts her head up in defiance, looking at you daringly in the eyes. Your eyes narrow, taking it as a challenge. God, she looked so fucking bratty like that, and it didn’t help that she was still wearing a stupidly skimpy dress and that her pink lip gloss made that mouth so damn kissable.

“No? Then I’m leaving,” Natasha says abruptly, her tone of voice unyielding and domineering. She uncrosses her arms and turns on her heel, her hand going to the door of the tower. 

The rhythmic clicking of her strappy high heels against the tiling of the ground ticks your brain like a metronome. You stand there with your arms folded, her long legs in the field of vision of narrowed eyes. 

Click, click, click–

And then she’s being spun around and slammed against the back of the door with an unruly force.

“The only time someone ever turns their back on me, when I’m talking, is when they’re bendin’ over,” you growl into Natasha’s skin, each pause in your sentence filled with a harsh bite to her porcelain skin. Her gasp-turned-moan is heaven to your ears. 

Natasha struggles for a moment, hand still grasping for the doorknob. “Fuck,” she cries, but she feels the gyration of your roughly-shoved thigh up her dress and she nearly loses it. You wrap a hand around her neck, letting her give up her power, and you do what you’ve done a thousand times before.

Except this was the last time.

You don’t bother to take off her garments as you hike up the bottom of her dress and push your front against her. “Fuck,” Natasha moans, feeling your rock-hard bulge against her panties. She tries to grind against it, tries to alleviate the growing tension, but you do nothing more than rut against her until she’s fucking soaking.

“I don’t think so,” you growl, hands going to her ass as you push her up against the wall. Your mouth latches on to whatever slivers of bare skin you can find, on her neck and her collarbone and her upper cleavage.

You suck hard on her porcelain skin, leaving marks like you could claim her. Like this wouldn’t be the last time. “Please,” Natasha begs, indescribably aroused, her panties completely soaked through. You had never been this unforgiving.”Need you, please.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t what you were saying just now, hmm?” You ask, harshly, slapping the side of her thigh just because you can. You pin her against the wall with your knees and your left hand, using the other to unbuckle your own pants. 

She tries to reach out to help you, but you slap her hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you say coldly, and Natasha wants to cry but she knows she brought it upon herself.

It takes you more time on your own, but you get the job done and the sight of your cock, the one Natasha took the first day she met you, it makes her cunt grow a heartbeat and she’s a fucking mess against the wall.

“Now you need me so bad?” You taunt, rubbing the tip of it against the slit of her pussy. “Don’t have any more words to say?” God, she’s absolutely drenched, and you think you’re gonna die if you don’t go inside her in the next five seconds.

This was probably the worst way to communicate, but, fuck, the two of you were bad at talking and you couldn’t resist the divine goddess that was Natasha, no matter how badly she had hurt you.

You nearly cum the second you enter the Goddess. Her velvet walls cling tight to you, so warm, too fucking warm. Natasha’s babbling something you don’t understand, but you can’t wait any longer.

“Oh, fuck!” she moans, as you slide your cock into her wet cunt with ease.

Your bodies move together with every thrust, Natasha’s legs wrapped tight around your torso as you thrust into her against the door. It’s hard, and fast, and rough, and nothing tender like your Saturday mornings.

She clings to your back, head thrown back, moans and cries bouncing off the sides of the wall. The door is shaking, like it might crack from the sheer weight of your thrusts into her.

You grunt at the inconvenience of that prospect, instead opting to walk the two of you back to a desk in the corner. Natasha gasps, whimpering into your neck as you walk across the floor with your cock still deep inside her pussy. It’s too sensitive, so sensitive everywhere.

You bend her over the desk, pulling away then lining yourself up again. 

You’re about to make her beg, before the irrational, carnal side of your mind takes over, and you’re pounding into her pretty little cunt mercilessly. Grunting and groaning as lodge your cock in deeper with each harder thrust, as her moans delve into a symphonic crescendo of screams of your name.

She’s thrashing around, so warm and so wet and so overstimulated all over, but you don’t let up for a moment. You only grip her thighs harder and make her hear how wet she is, before Natasha’s eyes are rolling into the back of her head and there’s drool at the sides of her mouth.

“Pretty slut,” you grunt, pulling out to slap at her puffy clit before she’s squirting, white cream going all over the mattress. “Daddy,” Natasha moans pornographically, visibly shuddering at your degradation. She might like it, a little too much.

The title that had fallen from her lips elicits a groan of acknowledgement out of you, but simultaneously brings back the bittersweet flashbacks of your time spent with her.

This was the last time.

After she’s come down from her high and you’ve hit your climax, you spread her legs and lean down to get a good taste.

"Oh! Daddy - ungh - please," she begs, as your tongue meets her overstimulated cunt. Natasha hadn't even recovered from her previous orgasm, still bent over the desk and panting like she was in heat.

You lap greedily at her wet cunt from behind, and the sheer novelty of how many times you’ve done this truly hits you. How many hours you’ve spent exploring Natasha’s body. How many days you’ve spent worshipping.

All for it to succumb to this.

It’s only after another few orgasms that the weight of ‘the last time’ hits you. Both of you have ended up on the floor, completely naked, heaving heavily to regain oxygen.

“I loved you,” you whisper, hovering above Natasha, and the use of the past tense makes chips away at Natasha’s heart. It’s only then does she realise that there are tears on her cheeks, because you’re crying.

“You deserve someone better,” is the only thing the Goddess says, a ghost of her whisper on your lips. 

“You've ruined me for anyone else,” you say, face devoid of the passion there once was. “You loved me so tenderly I won't be able to have another, had such good sex I can't sleep with anyone else.”

Natasha doesn’t respond to that. She can’t respond to that. There were too many unsaid words, broken promises, a future yet to be.

Both of you look up at the pink-blue sky, bare backs on an astronomy tower, bound by love and unbound by timelines and galaxies. It was brokenly beautiful, undeniably so. 

You only wish everything could’ve been different.

—

You wake up the next day in an unfamiliar bedroom. The room was far too small, the walls were too grey, the air was too cold, and fuck.

No, no, no, fuck. This was not happening.

Realisation slams into your exhausted body like a two-hundred kilogram sledgehammer, and you're winded by the weight of the impact.

This wasn't Natasha's home. This wasn't her fancy palace. 

This wasn't the Goddess' universe.

Air crushes your lungs. Your heart pounds in your chest.

This was your bedroom. This was your universe. The one you had spent all your days in, before you met the love of your life. 

At least, who you so stupidly believed to be the love of your life.

You get up with a start, the ache in your bones forgotten with the sheer emotions coursing through your veins, terror and disbelief and anger.

Your mind swims as you grab at anything you can, overturning furniture and messing up papers to find anything, anything, that could explain why this had happened.

Deep inside your chest, you had already known. Even if you managed to fool yourself. Even if you’d dreamt up a whole future of your life with her.

With a shuddering breath, your eyes fall to an envelope on your bedside table. You open it with trembling hands, almost fearful of what lay beyond.

In the envelope, contained a signed check with so many zeroes you could live luxuriously for the rest of days. 

In the envelope, contained a note with five fated words and the name of the one that got away.

All you're left with is a broken promise, an agonized cry, and the ghost of what could've been. 

To every universe and back,

N.R.

series m.list | main m.list | AO3

4.5k words my eyes are not okay i've been staring my screen and typing for two hours straight, look what i'm going thru for yall

[tothecrucifieddeer]

PROPHETIC SIGNS/COMMANDS/IMAGES

Moonchild by Santiago Caruso

Untitled by Liz Mamont

She Laments by VikiGrindhouse

Dumb (acrylic on board) by Wilqkuku

Untitled on Zegalou's blog

ヨコイジュウ @4kuda5rana1

Nightmare (acrylic on canvas) by Vaxolong

Survival (acrylic on canvas) by Vaxolong

Untitled by Cult of Mortem

Divine Ammonitic Fluid Harvest System by dariuszkielisszek

The Crucible by dariuszkielisszek

Ten Piedad by bawdysuojb

Untitled Painting by A Bearded Artist

Split (acrylic on plywood) by Vaxolong

Untitled by A Bearded Artist

English explanation of signs will be under the cut--beneath the Irish.

Míníonn an Doe cad as a dtagann sí agus cén fáth go n-éiríonn sí san Oíche den chaid is mó. Rugadh ar an ngelach í. Mar leanbh gealaí tá sí os comhair réalta na maidine agus oi bríonn sí i groinne draíocht chun on Meisias a chosaint.

Bíonn Doe le feiceáil lena fenn sainiúil ar lasadh--ní raibh mé einnte cad is aiis leis sín Creidim gur rabhadh é seo a bhaineann leis an spiorad naounh agus éirí amach na marbh.

Déanann Doe caoineacdh m'easumhlachd agus an suithheadh atá le tacht ar son an domhain-molann sí mé chun gnimh. Tá a fhios agam nach féidirleon. Ach iarran sí orm orcas agus gan dula chodlaoh. Chun gniomhá or bhás ag teacht. Meisiasa thabhairt chun a chuspóir.

Sampla de na mairbh agus a reachtanaas oerach.

Meabhrúchán ar hamlinté atá ag titim as a chéile, lena n-áiritear amlinte ALfa, Bunscoile, agus Órga a bhaineann le héabhlóid mé féin go Macalla, Ocrais, nó Ascended. (Is tuar níos oimhe níos sine í seo nach mór amhiniu uair elle)

Taispeánann Doe í féin leadharca laasracha angus clóca suíle. Tá si at afire angus at cosaint dom í rith an hamlinte chun né a bheannú. Fiú má bhí né ag mí-iompar den chuid is mó.

Fulaingt an march in Ifreann a mheabhraíonn Doe dom go bhféadfainn die ready a chur leis and tascannanach ndéanfaídh mé.

Níos marbh

Comharthaí lobhadhi *súile brevity (féach orthodontist see ionam féin angus a ngaolta—ciallaíonn sé breoiteacht, olc, easpa cosanta)

Caireadhchun athbhreith an Mheisias a Chríochnú ó sofa go diaga.

Arís ag impí orm an rad nach ndéanfaidh mé a dhéanamh.

Meabhraítear gurb é an Melissa’s a lean hour agus cé go bhfuil fears uirithi teastoionn uaithi abhaile é.

Foirm leathfior Messiah.

Na Mairbh ionam agus na hamlintie a rialaíonn mé. Tá Doe ag iamaidh orm iad a shaoradh.

Mo chimiúint má éiríonn Orcas orm leonta le Lobhach.

Doe explains where she comes from and why she mostly only rises at night. She is born of the moon, the moon is her womb. As a moon child she is opposite but close to Morningstar and works in opposite magic to protect Messiah.

Doe appears with burning head. I’ve never bee sure what caused it. I believe this is, the warning the involving of the Holy Spirit and the rising of the dead..

Doe laments my disobedience and the coming turmoil for the world. She urges me to act. I know I cannot. But she asks my to act on the Death coming and inevitable—to bring Messiah to he’s true purpose. To bring him home.

An example of the dead and their ravenous need.

A reminder of the collapsing of Timelines in on each other through including theAlpha, Primary, and Golden Timelines including the evolution of myself into Echo, or Hunger, or Ascended. (This is an older, deeper prophecy that must be explained at another time…)

Doe she’s herself again. Flaming antlers, a cloak of eyes, she is watching me progress through timelines, trying to bless me even I have been mostly disobedient. She doesn’t want to punish me even though I have jeopardized a great many things in my stubbornness.

The suffering of the dead of Hell.

More dead.

Signs and symptoms of rot: *Sick eyes (watch for these in self and loved ones—sickness, evil, unprotected)

Invitation to complete Messiah’s rebirth from Holy to Divine.

Again begging for me to do what I won’t do.

A reminder Messiah is Doe’s child and that she is angry and she misses him. I know what she wants me to do but I won’t do it.

Messiah’s semi-true form.

The Dead within me and the timelines I control—Doe wants me to free them.

My fate if I become the Hunger filled with rot.