#also ‘women’s jeans’ whatever this SUCKS

[dumpsterfireofsubtext]

When will they stop making women’s jeans with teeny tiny dainty little lady finger pockets that you can only get one knuckle deep in.

[bluemoon-fever]

The First Time

pairing: ari levinson x fem!reader

summary: it's your first time with ari.

word count: 1.87k

prompt: ari levinson + "Tell me your favorite way to cum so I can satisfy you the way you deserve."

warnings: fluff, light angst(?), allusions to anxiety/low self-esteem, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation kink, D/s undertones, soft!dom!ari, size kink, aftercare, pet names, creampie, choking, MINORS DNI

a/n: this is my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 for their Cum Together: Community Revival Extravaganza. this is my first work in a minute (i have WIPs, but i'm still trying to figure out how i want things to go). i'm exciting to see what everyone thinks and i hope you enjoy! (also this isn't edited and don't steal or repost this)

You feel utterly ridiculous. You’ve washed your hands for what felt like ten minutes, trying to hide the clamminess of your hands. After your fifteenth cleanse, you dry your hands and resign to the fact that your nervousness would not subside until you got this over it. Ugh, fine, you muttered under your breath as you succumb to your nerves.

Before you go out, you give yourself a once-over in the mirror. You had your hair perfectly curled for your date tonight. The cute blouse and jeans that fit your hips and ass perfectly was in the hamper. You wore a short, pink silk nightie with matching lacy panties. You recently bought them for tonight and hoped they would work in your favor. You looked beautiful, but why did that not calm your nerves? Why was it not enough?

You felt bad for leaving Ari waiting, and he was so understanding. When you told him you needed to freshen up a bit, he softly kissed your forehead and lips before telling you to do whatever you need to do. It helped quell your anxieties a little, but as you got closer to the impending moment, your anxiety heightened.

You whispered to yourself in the mirror.

You got this! It’s just sex. If it doesn’t work out, it won’t be in the end of the world. You tried to rationalize despite every cell in your brain feeding into irrationality and fear. You hadn’t been this nervous to have sex since your first time, so for you to be an adult and panicking over doing it with your new boyfriend felt extra silly.

It had been a while since your last encounter… a long while. After the end of your only serious relationship, it had been hard to let anyone new in until Ari Levinson waltzed into your life. Even though he was patient, he was persistent. You wanted him, and he wanted you. But you were so scared of being hurt and alone again. 

He worked to prove to you that he wouldn’t do that. He showed you that he wanted you, wanted to cherish and take care of you. Pretty soon, you were falling for him and he claimed himself for you. He was waiting for you to do the same, and for Ari, he would wait however long he needed. You were worth it to him.

And so you let Ari Levinson into your life, and you’ve been the happiest you’ve ever been. For the duration of your time together, you and Ari had only made out and cuddled. He spent the night at your place and you at his, but there was no sex. He never pressured you, which you were grateful for, but you were scared to begin. You weren’t the most experienced. The sex you had with your ex was decent, but you didn’t want that. You had desires, some you were scared of sharing with Ari, but you knew you could trust him. He wouldn’t judge you for that, but you were worried. What if you weren’t good enough? What if it was so bad he left you?

Ari didn’t seem like the type to leave you because the sex sucked, but looking at him, you couldn’t help but feel out of his league. He was sex on legs, undeniably handsome. You’ve seen the way women and men alike look at him, hell you look at him the same way. Could you even keep up?

Before you could go further in your spiral, a soft knock brought you back to reality. “Babe, is everything alright in there?”

“Yeah! I’m about to come out!” Holy shit. It was now or never. You fluffed up your hair, quickly gargled some mouthwash, and gave yourself a last minute pep talk. You are a goddess. You got this! If you can survive half the things you have, you can have sex with your boyfriend.

You walked out of bathroom, but instead of inching towards Ari, you leaned against the doorframe, trying to look like the gorgeous actresses from the movies. Ari was laying across your bed, still fully dressed. He licked his lips as he eyed your form, looking like a predator about to devour his prey. Your body warmed under his gaze and a wetness begin to pool in your panties. 

“You like?” you ask in a sultry tone. Ari nodded and rose up. He towered over you, and though you hadn’t said it, you loved that his body was bigger than his. His arms traveled up your body before he grabbed your head in his hands and pulled your mouth into his. Immediately, he began to dominate you with his mouth. Your tongue attempted to fight for dominance, but Ari easily overpowered you. You could feel him guide you away from the bed and towards the mirror hanging above your dresser. Before you know it, he abruptly pulls away from you and spins you around to where your back is pressed firmly against his chest and growing bulge.

In the mirror, you see how swollen your lips are. Your face was red with passion and so was Ari’s. He wrapped his arms around your center and began caressing your body. “Honey,” he begins. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“Nothing,” you stutter, failing to hide your true feelings. Despite experiencing the most amazing kiss of your life, your mind was still running a mile a minute. Ari shakes his head, and you immediately tense. “I’m sorry!”

“Baby, your mind has been running a mile a minute since we got back to your place. There’s no need to apologize, but just tell me what’s going on,” he says as he begins to pepper kisses on your shoulder and up your neck. Your eyes roll back slightly as he begins his light assault, but when you’re quiet longer than he cares for, he stops. You whine, and he gives a stern look.

“I’m just… nervous. That’s it,” you tell him. You look down at your freshly pedicured feet. “I just want to be good for you.”

At that moment, Ari grabs your chin and pulls his lips into yours. The kiss is passionate like the one previously, but there’s a tenderness in this. It’s intimate like the ones you have during your late night cuddle sessions, but there’s an underlying hint of desire when you feel him nip at the bottom lip. Your toes curl, and the wetness in between your thighs grows.

“You are always good for me. You’re perfect for me.” He parts from you, turning your chin back to your reflection. “Look at you. I am so lucky you’re my girl.”

Before you can retort his statement, you gives a light slap to your ass, making you jump. “And don’t question it.”

“Ari,” you begin, locking eyes with him in the mirror. “It’s been a while-“

“I know, baby.”

“I wasn’t done.” He smiles at the little fire building inside of you. “And I’m worried about tonight. But if we can, I do want to try some things.” Your timidness returns, and something in Ari blooms. 

“We can do whatever you want tonight, baby. Can I you do something for me?” he asks. You nod fervently. “Tell me your favorite way to cum so I can satisfy you the way you deserve.”

The sounds of your and Ari’s blended moans fill the air. You lost track of how many times Ari made you come, but all you know is that you were thoroughly fucked out. He had made you cum with his hands, mouth, and cock so many times. You begged to let him suck you off, but he refused. Tonight was all about you.

“Alright, baby. Can you give me one more?” he asks softly as if he hadn’t tore you apart and used your body all night. He kisses his way up your torso, pressing open mouth kisses on your breasts and neck.

“No, I can’t,” you pant. Ari chuckles at your whines. They were the prettiest sounds he ever heard. “Please, no more.”

“Are you sure, sweetness?” he asks as he strokes his cock. His fingers slip between your folds and tease your entrance. He watches as they attempt to clamp down around nothing. “Because she wants some more.”

Ari lines himself up and slides into your channel. He bottoms you out but freezes, wanting you to feel him everywhere. You squeeze around him and cry out. You knew he was big, but you were shocked that he was able to work himself in. He fit deliciously around you. Ari wraps his arm around your neck, something you had asked excitedly him to do. You learned (and prayed for) that Ari was more dominate in the bedroom. And while he had been able to pull the sweetest sounds from your body and take control, you knew he was holding back from his true form.

“Just cum for me one last time, baby. I know you can do it. Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asks giving you a sly smile. While you had disclosed you wanted to try this with a partner, Ari more than obliged at feeding into your desires. He was more excited than you expected. Despite your pleas, you give a small nod.

He begins working into a steady rhythm, starting slow. Before you know it, his pace quickens. He pulls all the way out before he slams back into you. You cry, nearly yell, out as he begins his brutal, relentless pace. His hold around your neck tightens, and you feel yourself growing slicker.

“My pretty girl,” he says. You preen at his words, loving his praises especially when he has so much control over you. “You have no idea how addicted I am to you. Everything about you.”

He picks up the pace, and his hands move to pick up your legs and change your position. You feel him reaching into you deeper and you know you don’t have much longer until you’re about cum.

“Ari, Ari, Ari!” you cry out. “I’m about to c-cum!”

“Cum for me, baby,” he orders. Your toes curl into the sheets, and you let out a scream as your earth-shattering orgasm washes over you. As Ari fucks you through your high, you feel his pace slow and pretty soon he’s roaring as he cums into you. 

When Ari comes down from his high, he sees he fucked you to sleep. He looks down at the mixing of your juices together and smiles. He could never get enough of this. He pulls out softly, missing the feel of you around him. He grabs a towel and cleans you up softly, careful not to wake you even though you whine from the feel through your sleep. Then, he climbs into bed, pulling your smaller body into his chest before pressing a soft kiss to your head and joining you to sleep. You sleep entwined with him, the sounds of your soft breaths lulling him to sleep with a smile on his face that you were his and he was yours.

feedback is much appreciated!

[lizzieisright]

She looks like fun

dom!reader x sub!Abby

Summary: During the patrol you find a pretty pleated skirt. In Abby's size.

Tags: okay, here we go fingering, oral, strap usage, strap sucking, Abby wears a skirt and a collar for sexy purposes, scene negotiation, safewords (traffic lights), aftercare, Abby and R are switches.

wc: 6.5k (it's a huge bitch, but 1.5k is a sfw part in the beginning)

a/n: listen I love when girls wear short pleated skirts, and Abby is not an exception.

MINORS DON'T INTERACT I'll hunt you for sport 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It’s rare to find something worthy when you’re out on the patrol, and you try to contain your disappointment every time - mostly because you hate losing and you and Abby have a rivalry going on who can bring more cool shit for the other. It’s romantic and sappy and also it drives you both crazy since you’re competitive. (people said hate sex was hot - have you tried sex after your super competitive partner loses to you? The best thing ever). So usually you won’t be happy at the end of your patrol.

But today you manage to get into a store that hasn’t been raided yet, so you start taking everything you see - people need clothes all the time, and it’s valuable. You put a mark on your map so others can go there later to take the rest and you go to women’s section, not feeling optimistic: the fabric is worse, the sizes are fucked, and even if you find something nice it tends to not last long.

But then you see it. 

On the rack next to jeans there’s a rack with skirts - and why the fuck you’d stop to look at them? - but the skirts are pleated skirts. Short pleated skirts that cover ass just enough to be socially acceptable. 

You can’t stop looking at them - you’ve seen before how nice they flow and how absolutely delicious girls look in them. 

But it’s so not Abby’s style. 

But she’ll look so good in one of these skirts.

She will probably tell you to go fuck yourself if you show it to her. 

You pack it in your backpack anyway. 

“Found something?” Abby asks as she comes inside the shop. “Oh wow. This is nice.”

“Choose whatever you want, my treat.” You say with a cocky smirk and Abby rolls her eyes.

“It doesn’t count.” 

“You’re being unfair.” You whine as Abby makes her way to you. 

“No, I’m not.” Abby murmurs. “This store is a public service, where is your personal touch?”

“You’ll talk shit just to keep your score, huh?” You smirk and Abby gives you a peck on your lips before diving into the racks to find something for herself.

The skirt gets a buddy in the form of a tight cropped white t-shirt and you don’t tell Abby about it. 

The week passes and you still don’t talk about that damn skirt even though you can’t stop thinking about Abby wearing it: how it would hug her round butt and how her thick thighs would be so shamelessly out for you. You think about how cute she’d look walking around your shared space, the skirt bouncing and almost showing you everything. You think about the possibility of Abby not wearing any underwear under it, and how hot it would be to lift the skirt up and touch her and make her moan. You think about Abby all sprawled out with your head under that skirt, making a mess out of it. 

Abby is not an idiot, so she notices the change in your mood for the last few days. She knows something is on your mind, so she catches you off guard, with her fingers buried deep inside you. 

“Come on baby, tell me what’s been bothering you.” Abby murmurs into your ear while her fingers relentlessly hit the spot that makes you see stars.

“Shit- what?” You ask, totally lost in your pleasure. 

“You’re keeping something from me. So share.” Abby kisses your neck and you try really hard not to cum, but your thighs start to shake.

“Fuck- the fucking skirt-”

And you see Abby in that skirt, all cute and shy, and you spasm around real Abby’s fingers, cumming with a groan. Abby is too distracted with watching you go through your orgasm, still fucking you, and you both forget about the topic. 

Until you’re calmed down and Abby is satisfied with how fucked out you are. Then she remembers.

“Skirt?”

Shit, you think. Now you’ll have to explain it to Abby who definitely will tell you to fuck off. 

“I took a skirt from that store we found. It’s a pleated skirt, a cute one.”

“So? You want to wear it?” 

“I want you to wear it.”

Abby is silent, and you expect it, so you already drop the subject in your head, letting it go. But Abby is not letting it go.

“You want me to wear a skirt?”

“If you want to, obviously. I think you'll be so hot in it. But I know it’s not your style.”

“It’s really not.” Abby chuckles. “So that’s why you’ve been so spacey lately? Thinking about me in a skirt?”

“Yeah. Can’t stop thinking about your pretty butt in it.” You kiss Abby’s neck and flip her on her back. “You’d look so cute.” You kiss Abby’s abs as you make your way down. “I’d run my hands under your pretty little skirt and you’ll just take it like a good girl, yeah?”

This shift is always beautiful: she just fucked your brains out, but a couple of words and your head between her legs makes Abby go pliant and soft, her big blue eyes giving you a Bambi. 

“Holy fuck.” Abby sighs and you smile into her pussy. “I’ll wear it for you.”

The hungry monster inside you roars and claws at your chest. 

Abby walks funny the next day.

You don’t actually expect Abby to wear it - after all, what is said under horny subby fog can’t be held accountable. Abby is really not a girly girl - fuck, it’d be easier to make you wear a skirt (after getting shot and stabbed repeatedly, mind you), and you understand that Abby might not be comfortable with this idea. 

But you leave the skirt and the t-shirt on the bed one day to give her the choice. When you come back, it's gone. 

Next time the skirt topic comes up when you're taking a bath together - a rare luxury, so you enjoy every second of feeling Abby's warm skin against yours.

"Do you still want me to wear a skirt?" If you were relaxed a second ago, now you're suddenly alert. 

"Only if you want it too." You kiss her shoulder. 

"And if I wear it..?" Abby gives you space to finish the phrase for her. 

"I'll fuck you on every surface in this apartment." Abby laughs, but you know what she wants to know. "Yeah, I want it to be a scene." You take a second. "Do you want me to plan it?"

"Yeah."

You freeze for a second, not really believing your luck - Abby doesn't ask for a scene plan unless she wants to do it, and right now it means she will wear a skirt for you. 

"Fuck baby, you're going to wear it for me?" You ask excitedly, squeezing her in your arms. "With a t-shirt too?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't let it get into your head." 

"We have a few free days next week, right? Is it okay?"

"Yes, you horndog." Abby laughs and you bite her gently. 

So you spend the next days planning what you would do with Abby, writing a short list of kinks so she could veto whatever she doesn't want to happen or add something she wants to happen (the ropes last time? Her idea). She still won't know in which order everything will happen or where exactly, or even when in some cases, to save the magic of the moment, but in order to feel safe with each other, you write your lists every time, unless you both get spontaneously in the mood and have to negotiate on the fly. 

You pass your list to Abby and as she reads it, her face warms up in a pretty red colour, just like apples in the garden. 

"Okay." Abby smiles at you. "This sounds good. But I pulled my shoulder today, so I won't be able to get on my hands and knees."

"Fuck, I'll give a massage later." You say, worried. "Okay, that's fine, no doggy." 

"We can do that one, when you push the pillow under me?"

You swallow in horny, the pictures flying through your head, as you scribble it down on your list. 

"Fuck yes. Are you going to be fine like this? You still put your arms up." 

"It's not that bad." Abby shrugs. "I want to add something." 

You nod eagerly, always ready to give Abby whatever she wants. Abby walks away to go through her backpack and comes back to you, giving you a piece of small leather belt. It's too small for any human, and just as your brain starts to catch up, Abby drops the bomb on you.

"Collar me."

You blink a few times, not believing your ears.

"I'll fucking destroy you, Abs." You say, your voice low and dark. 

You had this talk before, and Abby was honestly weirded out by the ritual of collaring, so you decided not to add it, especially since you weren't in a 24/7 dynamic and not in fixed roles either. And you know Abby doesn't mean putting this collar as the collar, but it is still so hot. The whole thing is not done by the book or by rules, but you really don't care: whatever Abby wants, Abby gets. 

"I will want to tug on it." You tell her, honestly, and Abby thinks for a second.  

"Yeah, okay. Traffic lights, then." 

You nod and add "collaring" in your messy handwriting. 

You know Abby will wear this skirt, it's not a surprise, but you're still not prepared when you walk into the kitchen. 

Abby is standing there, and you trail her bare legs up until you see the edge of the skirt and holy fuck. Holy fuck she looks good in it, her trained perky ass making the folds of the skirt to look especially delicious. You lick your lips as your fingers twitch, because you want to lift it already and get a look at her pretty little pussy. 

And your eyes go up and you see this tight t-shirt that shows all the muscles in Abby's back and shoulders and you want to bite her and mark her. 

"Wow, princess." You sigh and make your way to her, squeezing her waist. Abby jumps, surprised, but relaxes against you. "You look so fucking pretty." 

"Thank you."

"Give me a twirl, will you?" You step away to give her space.

Abby is clearly embarrassed, but she does the cutest twirl in the world and yes, you can see her ass. And she is not wearing underwear, just as you told her. 

"Beautiful." You murmur and run your hand up her thigh, lifting the skirt just a little. "You wanna watch something? I brought this from the library."

You show her the dvd and Abby is still tethered to reality, so she reads the summary carefully. 

"Sounds okay. Not like the last time." 

"Fuck you, baby." You pinch her side in revenge. "Let's go."

It seems so normal. It seems like any other day off, you and Abby sitting on the couch, but even as you pretend to watch the movie, you see how twitchy Abby is getting. 

She plays with the ham of her skirt and it's so fucking cute - but then she smooths the fabric and you feel like you're going to explode: Abby enjoys wearing it. Abby likes it in a way that a girl who was forced to grow up in a horrible fucking world would enjoy doing normal girly things. 

Maybe Abby is not not so girly after all. 

Your heart feels tender right now and you can't help but to put your hand on her thigh, drawing little circles on her sensitive skin. 

"Do you like it?"

"A little predictable, but still better." Abby shrugs and squeaks when you squeeze her thigh. "Yeah." She is shy now. "I feel pretty." 

"You are pretty, princess." You whisper in her ear, making her shudder.

But you don't do anything else. You keep watching the movie, caressing Abby's thigh and pretend not to notice the change in her breathing. Then Abby starts shifting a little and you look down to see her nipples perked up. The fabric is rubbing against her sensitive skin and you just wait, because in a minute you feel how Abby tries to press her thighs together, thinking she is sneaky. 

You chuckle and move your hand under the skirt, slowly parting her folds. Abby tries to keep her whimper to herself, but you feel how wet she is. 

"What's got you so worked up, pretty girl?" You ask innocently while you brush your thumb over Abby's clit. 

"Nothing." Abby breathes out and you chuckle. 

"Really?" You wonder and pick up the speed, flicking Abby's clit until she presses her thighs together.

It's such a pretty sight: your hand under Abby's skirt, squeezed by her warm thighs, her knees pressed together. Abby is biting her lip and you watch her while your fingers tease her relentlessly. She looks desperate and helpless, and you live for it.

"Were you thinking exactly about this? How good I will make you feel under your pretty skirt?" You gently bite Abby's neck and she joists. "But we are watching a movie, princess, and I'm really interested in it. So you will give a narration while I play with your pretty pussy." You can't give less fucks about this movie, but making life harder for Abby is your favourite game.

"Yes, ma'am." Abby is not fully in the subspace yet, so she feels a little shy, but she crumbles completely when your eyes meet. 

You slide down to the floor and make Abby put her feet by her sides for better access. The skirt falls between her legs and covers her cunt, and you lean back to look at her. Abby is blushing and frowning in desperation, her nipples are perking through the t-shirt and her plushy thighs are open so shamelessly for you. 

"You stop talking, I stop touching you." You warn Abby and she nods. "Now lift your shirt up." 

Abby does as she told and now this is a sight, her small tits squeezed by the t-shirt, her abs flexing as she breathes deeply. Abby already looks ruined and you haven't done anything yet.

"What is happening there?" You ask routinely and lift Abby's skirt up, revealing her soaked little cunt. You spread her lips open and circle her clit with your thumb. 

"She is- she is at work again." Abby sighs and you hum, encouraging her. "She is talking to the cigarette selling woman." It sounds like Abby is relieved when she finishes her line and you laugh to yourself: your poor baby is trying to be good for you.

You leave her clit alone and push two fingers in slowly, watching her body react to you as beautiful as always. Abby freezes and instead of watching the movie, watches your fingers disappear in her.

"I'll take them out." You threaten and Abby snaps back into watching. 

"There's this creepy guy," Abby swallows hard when you start slowly pumping your fingers in and out. "And she has an idea- fuck." You just curled your fingers and Abby stops watching again, but quickly opens her eyes.

"What's the idea?" 

"She wants the sell- ah, fuck - selling lady and the- the-" You pick up the speed of your fingers and Abby clutches to your shoulders. You reach with your free hand and pinch her nipple, and Abby twitches in response, her pussy clenches on you. "Fuck, it feels so good, ma'am."

"And I'm yet to hear about her idea." You say with a hint of a threat, but your thrusts only get rougher. 

"She is playing matchmaker, ohmygod!" Abby whimpers and in reward you lick the long strip from your fingers buried in her pussy to her neglected clit. You suck on it and Abby lets out a shriek as her knees are closing up above your head. "Fuck, oh god- I can't-" 

You keep sucking on her clit until she is shaking and moaning, but then you move away and take out your fingers. 

"Is she still playing matchmaker?" You ask sternly.  Abby blinks and checks the screen. 

"No."

"That's what I fucking thought." You knead Abby's thighs a little painfully and keep her legs open for you. "Keep talking, princess."

Abby nods feverishly and swallows. Such a pretty fucking sight, you think as you look up to her: Abby's mouth is open and she really tries so hard to watch this stupid movie, but you push your fingers inside again and all her efforts go to waste as she twitches and blinks very fast in a attempt to not close her eyes.

"She is telling the selling lady that the creepy g- fuck-" Abby sobs when you put your mouth back on her. You play with her clit and suck on it again, making Abby buck her hips into your face. "The- the creepy guy is in- ma'am! - is in love with her!" 

You push Abby's legs together and up, almost folding her in half and push your tongue alongside your fingers, getting drunk on her taste. Abby is a smart girl, so she holds herself under her knees to help you and moans when she feels your tongue and your fingers inside.  Abby always tastes and feels like heaven, and you never want to leave her pussy alone. 

"Ma'am I'm gonna cum." Abby whimpers and you get rough, every push of your fingers is moving Abby's whole body with the sheer force of it, because Abby is not behaving.

"Is her idea working?" You suck on her clit again and Abby whines and sobs while forcing herself to look at the screen.

"Y-yes!" Abby shouts and cums on your fingers, sucking them in on every spasm. You pick up the pace and Abby tries to fight you off, but you slap her hand away and fuck her through her orgasm until her thighs are shaking uncontrollably. Abby is whimpering on every exhale, her abs are twitching, and you smile wolfishly.

"You did so good, princess." You let Abby's legs go gently and fix her skirt, smoothing the fabric. Abby looks at you with pleading eyes and your heart swells, so you straighten up and kiss her slowly and delicately. Abby relaxes and caresses your neck, chasing your mouth, and you can’t help yourself as you pinch her nipples playfully. 

“You want your collar?” You ask softly and Abby nods eagerly. “Show me how good your throat is first.”

Bratty Abby is fun, and you like the back and forth of it, but good girl Abby makes you feral: you just told her what you want and she is already opening her mouth for you, sticking her tongue out.

“Good fucking girl.” You growl and push your fingers down her throat. 

You fuck Abby’s throat until she is gurgling and her eyes roll back into her skull: you know she likes it, likes to relax her throat and let you use her as you wish. Abby is not even gagging now, so used to it, but you can feel how her throat clenches on you sometimes. Abby looks so cute like this, her tits out, her eyes closed and her thighs pressed together under the skirt as it spreads so prettily around her hips. 

“Beautiful.” You murmur and clean up her spit from her chin. Abby smiles at you, clearly pleased from praise, and you kiss her again as a reward. Abby likes kisses, especially if she is needy, as if it keeps her tethered to you. "Show me your neck, princess."

Abby straightens up and proudly shows you her neck - she is so cute you can't help your giggle. You take out the small belt and Abby looks at you with wide eyes as if you’re her god. 

"Mine." You tell her when you tighten the collar around her neck. "You're mine." 

"Yours, ma'am." Abby answers in a small voice and you see how any rational thought leaves Abby’s head as her eyes get cloudy. "Can I touch it, ma'am?"

"Go ahead." You nod and watch her strong fingers that leave bruises on your thighs brush over the leather with such care. "We're not done, princess." 

Abby nods and you tug on her collar until she stands up on her shaking legs and follows you to the bedroom. There's enough space for your fingers to fit in under the collar, but you're still careful with it: it's a new thing and you don't want to hurt Abby in a way she doesn't want to be hurt. 

You lead Abby to the bed, but instead of getting her to lie down, you sit on the bed and tug on her collar to get her down on her knees. Abby slowly sits on her thighs and fixes the skirt again, and you just can't. She is so fucking cute in it, and you can see the curve of her hips in the mirror, her waist looks tiny and the dips along her spine are so fucking hot. 

You caress Abby's cheekbone with your thumb, adoring her, and she blooms. Abby likes subbing because she's loved so fully at her weakest and most vulnerable like she's never been before - she's literally on her knees, with a collar around her neck and in a skirt and you look at her like she is divine.

"Is your throat good enough for my cock too, princess?"  You ask with a teasing smirk, palming your strap through the fabric of your pants. 

"Yes ma'am. I'll be so good for you." Abby pleads and grabs at your thighs before she remembers herself. 

"Too eager for your own good, huh?" You weave your fingers through her hair at the back, right under the braid, holding her head up. "Come on, get to work."

Abby tugs your pants down and you can see in the mirror how she presses her thighs together when she sees your strap, and that won't do. 

"Spread your legs and arch your back, I wanna see how wet you're gonna get." 

Abby does exactly as she is told, even lifting herself up a little so she could reach your lap, and you see her skirt covering everything. It's a downside, but Abby is smart, so she pushes the skirt to the front just enough for it to go up and your grip in her hair tightens from how sexy she looks. The edge of the skirt is now reaching to the middle of her ass and you see her wet pussy glisten; the contrast of her waist to hips ratio makes her ass look even better, and you feel like you're gonna cum just from watching Abby getting wet. 

"Fucking beautiful." You growl and Abby even shakes her ass a little to make it jiggle. "Focus, princess." You tell her sternly, and Abby arches into you even more. 

You tug Abby's head back and she opens her mouth automatically, so you push your cock inside just a little - Abby wraps her lips around the head and you let go of her hair, letting her run the show and have fun. Abby leaves wet open mouthed kisses along the length of your strap and you hum in approval, petting her head. She is blushing and her freckles look so pretty on her pink cheeks, her eyelashes flatter when she closes her eyes and licks the whole length of your strap. The movements cause the harness to move against your clit and your breathing gets heavier - you didn't expect it to happen, you must've put the harness in a different way - and Abby notices how tense are your thighs under her hands. She makes eye contact with you to check in, and you smile at her. 

"You're doing so good princess, you might make me cum if you keep it up."

Abby whimpers when she hears it - it's very rare for you to even allow her to touch you when you dom her, let alone make you cum, but Abby wants to. She always wants to please you in any way she's allowed to. 

"Please let me make you cum, ma'am." Abby begs, looking at you with her big doe eyes. 

"You can try, princess." You chuckle, not very sure that she can, but Abby seems determined. 

Abby lifts up a little again and lowers her head on your cock, taking as much as she can while she still can breathe, and when she comes back up, the harness grinds against your clit, making you hiss. Abby wiggles in excitement and starts to bob her head up and down, getting dizzy from hearing your panting and hissing above her.

"Just like that, babygirl." You pant and put your hand on Abby's head, slightly pushing the strap deeper. "You can take it, right?" You coo and Abby moans in agreement. "Good girl. Relax for me."

You hold Abby's head by her braid and push your strap deeper and deeper while Abby's eyes roll back into her skull. There is something so comforting about having her throat stuffed Abby can't help herself but to go absolutely slack while you fuck her throat, grunting and panting as your own pleasure builds up. 

"Ride your fingers, princess, I know you want to." 

Fucking hell, you think as you watch Abby pump her fingers in and out in the mirror, her thighs and ass look so delicious with the skirt on. Abby moans and whimpers as you fuck her throat and she fucks herself, and you know you're not going to last long. 

Your grip tightens in her hair and Abby whimpers, and you can see in the mirror how rough she is being with herself, desperate to cum. 

"Fuck-" You whimper and buck your hips up to get more friction and the same time as Abby swallows you down, and the pressure ticks you off right away. 

Your thighs shake and your hips buck, chasing the aftershocks of your orgasm while Abby watches you with wide eyes, her own fingers forgotten. She is not even breathing, absolutely mesmerised by your reactions - she made you cum, she made you cum without even touching you. 

You pant, still twitching from your orgasm, but you find the strength to move Abby away from the strap despite her whining. 

"Come here." You tug on her collar again to make her move and Abby straddles you. "Holy fuck." You whisper when you look at her. "My best girl." You kiss Abby's shoulder and she giggles.

"Thank you, ma'am." 

You smile at her and then lie down on the bed, tugging on Abby's hips so she would move. Abby is bright red - for some reason she is still so shy when you make her sit on your face - but she moves up, until her thighs are by the sides of your face. Abby can't even look at you, her eyelashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

“Look at me.” You tell her and Abby steals a glance at you, which is not what you wanted. “I said look at me.”

And Abby looks, tries her hardest to maintain eye contact with you as you push her down on your face, burying yourself in her soaked pussy. 

Abby whines when you suck on her sensitive clit since she's been close after fucking herself earlier. You don't waste any time and eat her out messily, getting her wetness all over your face as you devour her, fucking her with your tongue, rubbing and sucking her clit, while Abby writhes on top of you. 

“Oh god-” She sobs and you grab a handful of her hips, pulling her skirt up so you can see her. “I'm gonna-”

And that is exactly your cue to stop, leaving Abby panting and whimpering on top of you. You watch her pretty clit throb from being so close to orgasm and smirk. 

Abby is confused and there's a tiniest hint of hurt on her face: she did such a good job and you are not letting her cum?

You chuckle and signal her to move. 

“Lie down on your stomach.” You tell her and while Abby does as she is told, you fix your harness and grab a pillow to put it under Abby's hips. 

Seeing Abby's fat thighs pressed together with her wet glistening hole between them makes you want to ruin her. The sight of your strong, dangerous girlfriend all shy and pretty and in this damn skirt makes you froth at your mouth like a fucking dog. Abby makes you feel like the most unhinged obsessed creep and the way she welcomes your dark side - as you think of it - is why you would die for her at any moment. 

You can't help the possessive bite you leave on her neck, practically growling into her ear.

“You're mine.” You tell her and Abby nods, shows her neck with a collar on it. 

“Yours.” She whispers and bucks her hips into you, presenting herself for you. 

You line your strap up and push inside, feeling how tight Abby is from being so close to an orgasm. 

“It's a pity you can't see yourself, princess.” You tell her as you watch the head of your strap slowly disappear in her hole. “You're close, aren't you?”

“Please, ma'am.” Abby whimpers and you part her ass cheeks to give yourself a show. 

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.” Abby says and you smile. 

“You can do better than that.”

You're not usually the “beg me” type, but now you want Abby to be desperate. You keep pushing extremely slowly, teasing Abby and moving away when she bucks her hips. 

“Please, I need you.” Abby starts shyly and oh, what a great idea it is. “Ma'am, I need you, please fuck me, only you can make me feel good, please-”

You push all the way in in one go and Abby moans loudly.

“Good fucking girl.” You growl and pick a hard pace right away, slamming into Abby so hard her ass jiggles. Abby sobs and her back tenses: she feels you so deep and she is so tight in this position, and she is so fucking close. You knead her ass through the skirt and just watch your strap disappear in Abby, fucking her mercilessly. 

“Ma’am-” Abby whimpers and holds the pillow under her head for dear life, trying to hold off her orgasm. “Can I-” Abby doesn't get to finish her sentence as your next thrust knocks the air out of her. 

“Cum, babygirl.” You tell her gently while you thrust into Abby's tight little pussy with force, grabbing her hips for stability. 

Abby coils and lifts her ass as her orgasm rips through her body like an electric shock, and you chuckle, satisfied, your movements slowing down. You're not stopping, still moving inside her, and Abby squeezes her thighs together under you, whimpering. 

“Relax, princess, and let me have you.” You murmur into her ear and continue fucking her slowly, watching your strap come out of her covered in her cum. 

Abby genuinely tries to relax, but she is sensitive right now and your cock drags along her walls so slowly it drives her crazy. She likes feeling so stuffed, so full of you, but now she wants to cum again. 

“Ma'am, please go faster.” Abby asks you and you chuckle. 

“You're so impatient.” You tsk and slap her ass cheek lightly, watching it jiggle. “You're gonna cum like this or not at all, understood?”

“Yes ma'am.” Abby says, humbled, but her voice breaks in a moan when you push inside to the hilt. “Fuck.”

You smile and pull out just to push back and Abby clutches to the pillow, her whole body feels like she is on fire. You don't make it easier as your lips travel over her sensitive back, every touch of your hot tongue makes her tighten around your strap and moan pathetically. 

Abby is so close and so, so fucking far away from her orgasm and you know it, so you continue thrusting into her slowly until Abby starts to squirm and misbehave as she pushes back, chasing your strap. 

“Stop it.” You tell her sternly and push her lower back into the bed to stop her from moving. 

“Ma'am, please!” Abby whines.

You tug on her collar quite roughly and press your lips to her ear. 

“Such a brat.” You growl and slam into Abby roughly, making her squeal. “Turn on your side.” 

And that's how Abby ends up being fucked roughly from behind while you squeeze her throat and play with her clit relentlessly, bringing her to the edge immediately. Your pelvis hits her ass at every thrust and Abby whines and whimpers, her eyes rolled back, her head absolutely empty. Abby feels like she doesn’t exist anymore, only your hands and your voice and your cock do - and she feels so fucking good. 

“Ma’am-” Abby moans frantically. “It feels so good, you feel so good, thankyouthankyouthankyou” Is all you can hear between Abby’s sobs. You smile darkly and fuck her harder until she shrieks and cums again. 

But you don’t stop. You keep fucking Abby through her orgasm, you keep fucking her when she whines from being too sensitive, you keep fucking her even when she tries to move your hand away from her clit.

“Ma’am, it’s too much- I can’t-”

“You can take it.” You pant into her ear. “You wanted to cum so much before, so keep cumming.”  

And Abby does, with another sob. She cums again, and again, until it becomes too much for real, and her face is wet with tears. She feels like overstimulation now hurts more than pleases, and maybe you’re right, she has another one in her, but Abby feels exhausted. 

“Yellow.” Abby sniffles, and you stop moving right away, carefully letting go of her tit, but not removing the strap yet in case it will hurt Abby.

“Too much?” You ask her gently and Abby nods. “Does something hurt?” You ask her with such care in your voice Abby wants to cry, because she feels like she could’ve gone longer and now she’s disappointed you. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Abby sniffles, and you get more alert than ever.

“Abby? Can I hug you?” Abby nods and you carefully wrap your arms around her and bury your face in her neck. “Talk to me, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Did I say something?”

“No- It’s just- It started to hurt and I’m tired- fuck, I’m sorry.” 

“Baby, why are you saying sorry? It’s okay, you did good by using the safeword.”

“I just feel like I could go longer, I should not have stopped you.” Abby admits and sniffles again, ashamed - her emotions skyrocket in subspace.

“I don’t want you to push your limits to please me. How about we stop now, get clean and then cuddle and talk, if you want? How does it sound?”

“We can continue, I just need a moment.” Abby pleads as her guilt grows.

“I don't think we should, sweets.” That pet name makes Abby squeeze her eyes: you only use it when she is not allowed to argue. “It's okay. You're okay. You didn't do anything wrong.” You kiss her shoulder and Abby's head gets a little clearer. “Thank you for telling me, you did so well.”

This makes Abby feel a little better; she nods and squeezes your hand in return. You carefully remove the strap while Abby winces and then you help her get up and go to the bathroom, to shower. 

You take her clothes and collar off, and Abby doesn’t look at you, still beating herself up, but you won’t have it. So when you two get into the shower and water starts to wash the sweat and cum off both of you, you take her face in your hands and kiss her cheeks, her nose, her eyes and forehead, everywhere really. Just small gentle kisses, until Abby smiles and looks at you bashfully.

“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” You tell her honestly and Abby blushes, but her mood seems to go up. 

You wash both of you gently, carefully going over Abby’s crotch, and she relaxes under your arms. You dry both of you after and help Abby change into her pjs. She gets under the blankets and you kiss her forehead before going to the kitchen and getting some food for both of you. 

When you return with two plates and a big cup, Abby looks sleepily at you, seemingly calm. But you know her, you know how guilt can eat her alive, so you keep being alert. 

��Drink this first.” You give Abby warm water with honey and she drinks it, scrunching her nose from the sweetness of it. Then you eat in comfortable silence, both noticing with surprise how hungry you were - which should not be a surprise by now, really. You finish your food and clean up so you can cuddle Abby and sooth her. Abby gets on top of you and you caress her hair and shoulders absentmindedly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Abby sounds more sober now too. “I just-” She huffs, annoyed at herself. “I dunno how to explain. I could've gone longer.” 

“I don't want to hurt you. Not in a way you don't enjoy.” You remind her. Abby loves you so much she is scared to fuck everything up, and it led to some problems before, when she put your needs above hers. You talked about it, but sometimes, especially if Abby subs, she slips and does it again. This is exactly why you have a “sweets” rule: to stop her before she hurts both of you with her sacrifices. 

“I just feel like I'm..weak.” Abby admits and you chuckle. 

“You're not. You're a grownup who can tell their limits, and I'm so happy you did.” You say kindly. “I trust you. You were so good for me today, including using the safeword.” You kiss the top of Abby's head and she hugs you tighter. “I'm sorry I didn't check in with you.”

Abby nods and looks up to you. 

“We both agreed to this, right? We literally fucked around and found out.” You chuckle and reach out to grab the honey water for Abby. 

“I know you hate it, but your throat needs it.”

Abby groans and drinks it, absolutely despising the honey: this is the only drawback of getting her throat fucked.

“Did you like the skirt?” Abby asks playfully. 

“Yes. You looked so good in it, god. I got a little crazy.” You kiss her honey lips and Abby smiles into your mouth. 

“Well, next time it's your turn.” She says seriously and you laugh. 

“If you promise to not rip it apart.” 

[klausysworld]

Sinful

Klaus had become, to an extent, addicted to sex.

The amount of time he had spent indulging in his deepest fantasies over the course of a thousand years was unbelievable.

He had learned how to please himself and others.

He was able to tell what people liked or wanted just by their body language. He was able to tell what their darkest desires were.

Some girls were shyer with what they wanted, they would make him work for it and tease him. Klaus learned to enjoy the chase, the game of catching the girl and finally unraveling all those dirty little thoughts and playing with his new toy until she was all tired out and used.

Klaus often could't help himself but ruin women whenever they let him. The knowledge that they were his to break and claim turned him on enough and it was so easy for a man like him to push their limits and get whatever he wanted from them.

Girls would fall to their knees for him. The image of legs spreading was permanently engraved into his mind and the sweet scent of sex always span through his head.

As the centuries past by, woman had gotten a lot friskier. Much more forward and confident which made Klaus's desires much easier achieved. Especially in recent years, it meant he had been partaking in many more types of play.

From being in sex dungeons where he was able to literally use woman as personal fuck dolls to having someone restrain him and use him in return. There was very little Klaus would ever not do. There was also very little Klaus had not done aalready.

It was because of this, all this experience that he knew a girl like Y/n when he saw one.

She had been eyeing him as though he were nothing more than a piece of meat for her to sink her teeth into and as he trailed his eyes over her, he found himself doing the same back.

Y/n was what Klaus would call 'sex on a stick'.

She was gorgeous, flawless actually.

Legs long and toned, ass firm and round, waist tight and slender, breasts ample and tender, neck utterly delicious and biteable attached to a borderline angelic face.

But Klaus knew that she was no angel. No this girl was surely hand carved by the devil himself, utterly sinful.

Her eyes were dark under the dimly lit club lights. Admittedly Klaus had come there hoping to find someone to satisfy his needs but he hadn’t expected to be graced with a seductresses presence.

He looked right at her, soaking up the feeling of her attention. There was something daring about her gaze as though she were taunting him, testing to see if he would come over to her. Klaus didn’t bite the bait very often, he preferred for his women to come to him however he also knew how quickly someone like her could be snatched up.

Especially when he glanced around the club and noticed the other eyes she had on her.

He wouldn’t risk the opportunity to taste a treasure like her.

However when he moved to sit beside her, she pulled herself up and walked away from him. Klaus’s eyes narrowed in both annoyance and intrigue at the challenge as he followed her.

His hands slid up her hips and abdomen as she began to move along with the crowd in the centre of the room, the dance floor. Her body moved so smoothly that he could only imagine how well she could ride a man, how good her thrusts were. As her skin began to shine with heat, he pulled her closer to his body so that her squeezable ass could grind against his hard cock through his jeans.

Her head leant backwards until the back of it rest against her shoulder and he was presented with the site of such a delicious looking neck. Her hot breath tickled his ear in a way that sent shivers along his spine and made his hips press forward again.

His lips began to latch onto her skin, sucking and nipping up her throat slowly. A little giggle vibrated through her body as she kissed his ear teasingly and pulled her neck away from his mouth. A low growl left his chest and his hands gripped her body in need and possession.

She shifted round in his hold to face him. He pulled her right up close, squishing her breasts against him and sliding his hands down to her ass.

Klaus leaned forward so his face hovered just over hers. The music made it difficult for her to hear him but she watched as his lips moved. Eventually he spoke up, “I want you” he told her firmly and she laughed.

“You and everybody else” she answered, a taunting smile on her lips as she moved backwards but he wouldn’t let her get away from him. She was far too good to lose.

Klaus rolled his eyes and tugged her back to him, “Come on sweetheart” he hissed into her ear, his hands squeezing the firm flesh of her ass before kneading it. Y/n took slight amusement in her ability to have men all over her in the matter of seconds. Especially a man like him.

Someone like Klaus would get what he wanted, Y/n wasn’t a fool to that and she saw no bother in dragging it out too long but still, it was fun to watch the desperation set in.

She could feel how hard he was, how badly his body wanted her. Naturally she rubbed herself against him, allowing him that slight satisfaction to make his grip tighten further.

Y/n let out a little moan as the pain of how aggressively he held onto her ass, the mere idea of the things this man would do to her was enough to make her want him too.

Klaus responded to her display of pleasure and smacked her ass harshly to hear her breathy moan beside his ear. He breathed in the rich scent of her blood that pumped just below her silk-like skin.

The music vibrated through both their bodies as Y/n continued to move against him and welcome his eager hands as they groped and grabbed at everything she had to offer. Klaus slid his hand up to her throat and squeezed until he heard a sound of approval making his lips pull into a cruel smirk. He knew she was going to be something special.

Y/n could feel the delightful buzz of alcohol fuel her confidence as she brought her hand to cup his cock through his trousers. She caressed him firmly, enjoying how his hips ground back against her touch and his head tilted back in pleasure. Slight amusement made her lips twitch to a smirk as she squeezed his erection.

It took every ounce of control left in Klaus not to fuck her in front of all those people. Not to push her down onto her knees and fuck that perfect face until her vocal cords stopped working.

Fortunately for him Y/n could read his thoughts very well and slid her hands back up his body. She cupped his neck in her hands and smiled at him, her red lips curling enticingly.

"I hear there's a nice hotel a few streets over" she whispered, eyes shining with desire. Klaus nodded faintly, holding onto her hips as she lead them out of the club.

The cool air soothed his boiling body for a moment and he was able to think a little clearer. He pulled her flush against him making her squeal and stop walking, placing her hand on his chest and giving him a questioning look. Klaus, however, didn't have anything to say. He just desperately wanted to see her face in the moonlight, to feel her right there and then. Her hand felt like pure sin as he leant into it. Everything about her was sinful. And he loved it.

Y/n could see everything flashing through his eyes and slowly continued to guide him towards the block of hotels. Klaus was barely aware that his feet were moving as he felt all along her curves, stroking and squeezing as much as he could. Eventually they got into the building and after almost losing it and nearly taking her against the elevator wall, they got into a room.

Klaus finally let the animal in him out to play when they got inside. Her body was handled roughly as he threw her onto the bed and pinned her down with him on top of her.

Y/n laughed softly and ran her fingers through his hair as his lips and teeth attacked her jaw and neck. She laid back willingly and pet the beast that was so desperate to ravish her.

Her feet shifted to kick her heels off before she lifted one to press against her crotch, offering something for his throbbing cock to grind against. The contrast between his roughness and her softness stirred so much within him. Klaus couldn't help but tear the dress right off her body.

Y/n rolled her eyes to herself, wondering what she'd wear when she left in the morning but pushing the thought away when his big warm hands cupped her tits. His palms rolled over her nipples, before the heat of his mouth tugged at them.

"Fuck" she whispered breathily, her hand pushing his head encouragingly. Klaus had his eyes closed so she wouldn't see the wolf behind him as his tongue flicked over the hardened bud before switching to the other. His find could only imagine how gorgeous she would look with his cum splatted all over her tits. His hands squeezed them painfully as he pulled off her nipple with a loud 'pop'.

"I want to fuck these" He murmured, a growl to his voice that send a wave of warmth between her legs. Her hand lifted his chin, nails denting his skin as she pulled him up to kiss her lips at last.

They both moaned in unison as their tongues danced and played tauntingly at the other. Her fingers worked his clothes off his body, wanting him bare for her to touch and admire.

He pulled away from their passion as her hand tugged at his cock, he hadn't known himself to get quite so hard before. To the point where it pained him, he had to restrain himself from jerking himself off right then just to soothe himself. He knew if she tried to tease him that he wouldn't be able to help but cum. She knew it too.

Her hand stroked him firmly, once, twice, three times before he came with a loud guttural moan. Her humour filled laugh made his gut twist with humiliation but he couldn't overthink it. All he could think about was her.

"I hope you have more left in you" she teased and his skin blushed red as his wolf raged under the surface. He could see that she expected him to get embarrassed and defensive so he tried especially hard not to. Instead he simply rolled his eyes and pulled her against him again. His lips moulded back against hers and his hands caressed down to her hips.

"Don't mock me yet sweetheart, you won't last much longer than I" he muttered, brushing his fingertips over the soaked lips of her pussy. Her moans were like heaven and hell twisted together and he lusted for more of them.

The pad of his thumb caressed her clit slowly to begin with, teasing and spreading her wetness before a finger sunk into her. Y/n's eyes went back into her head and her teeth bit into her lip as she rolled her hips to feet his touch. The tightness of her cunt made his cock twitch again while his fingers worked her up.

"You like this sweetheart?" He murmured as his knuckles bent inside her and he stretched her with a second finger. Y/n nodded with a moan, bucking her hips to feel the delightful friction against her clit. "Your pussy feels so soft" He mumbled, more to himself than her but she still her heard him.

A breathless laugh left her as he pumped three fingers inside her, his eyes locked onto the way her cunt wept for him and the way her clit pulses with need. His thoughts blurred together as his hand sped him, effectively fucking her until her nails clawed at the sheets as her walls spasmed around his fingers. His breathing was as heavy as hers as he lifted his fingers to his lips and licked her fresh orgasm off of his skin.

Y/n was looking up at the ceiling, panting as she calmed down only for his hot tongue to press against her cunt. She cried out in pleasure, legs spreading for him to fully indulge himself between them.

He lapped at her like a man starved, his tongue curling passionately until the familiar taste of her cum filled his mouth again.

Y/n pushed him onto his back, kissing his lips deeply and forcing a groan out of him. Her hands caressed up his body to his chest. He grunted and his back arched when she sat on his cock, her pussy swallowing it whole.

"Fuck- angel!" he moaned and Y/n let out a soft laugh as she slowly rocked her hips, getting familiar with the feel of his dick inside her.

"Don't call me that" she whispered and he grunted, bucking his hips up in time with hers so that smack of their skin could be heard.

"Why not, angel?" he muttered, a little amused until his eyes locked onto hers.

Y/n's eyes were entirely black when he looked into them, in response his went gold against his will and a choked groan left him as she bounced faster on top his cock.

"Because I'm not an angel" she told him, her voice much lower and almost smoky as her words sunk in.

Klaus had no time to react before her teeth were in his throat.

An ironic turn of events for the hybrid as the demon fed on his soul.

Klaus's mind was a haze for the following hours though he was vaguely aware of what he was doing and the pleasure she was giving him.

The feel of her wicked tongue wrapped around the head of his cock was burned into his memory. Her pussy took him time after time again until they were both trembling with overstimulation.

Eventually they both passed out.

He woke a while later, when the sun was high in the sky.

He was laid beneath the covers with Y/n tucked to his chest. Visions of her true form flashed through his head and a slight feeling of fear mixed with the prominent intrigue he felt.

His body was heavy, too heavy for him to get up and he truly had to wonder what she had done to him and what she planned to do.

When she woke, she behaved as though it were a normal one-night stand. She smirked at him as he watched her get changed from the bed. Before she left she came to his side and stroked the side of his face, her touch so hot that it sizzled his skin,

"Don't worry Niklaus, your strength will restore" she whispered and his brows pulled together when she uttered his name though his heart sped up at her following sentence; "When I feel that you're ready, I'll find you again." She warned him as she kissed his lips and left.

[mayajadewrites]

could've been you - shouta aizawa x fem! reader, hawks x fem! reader

chapter eleven

this chapter is all about this sexy ass man so we're all gonna stare at this beautiful photo of him thank u

✦ story synopsis: You're the new teacher at UA with a rocky past with one of their beloved teachers, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead. You'd rather never see him again but alas, such is life. You also meet Keigo, aka Hawks, who is the opposite of Aizawa. Smiley, golden retriever energy.

✦ chapter content warnings: unprotected sex

✦ relationships: aizawa x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader

ao3

TAG LIST:

@come-away-with-me87, @kxshdoll, @evilsanzu, @friendly-neighborhood-turtle, @lili-pond,

@the-unhinged-raccoon @falling4fandoms @cherry-cosmoz @kkgraham @big-denki-energy @aphrodite-xoxo @keiweeny @minminroie @skazewrld @crimsonsaki

You took an everything shower, making sure to scrub every crevice of your body. You applied your sweetest smelling lotion - notes of vanilla.

You take a deep breath as you look in the mirror. You almost didn't recognize the woman in front of you. You're finally, finally giving Shouta a chance to prove himself.

Just 24 hours ago, you were tangled in the sheets with Keigo.

But that is the past. The past that needs to stay in the past.

Keigo is younger than you, not too much but enough to where you feel as though you're from two different worlds.

He has fans. You're not used to women fawning over a man you were with - a man they would take in 2 seconds if they could.

"Tch." You suck your teeth as you turn to your closet to sift through your clothes.

"Shouta's favorite color is black." You tap your chin with your index finger. You pull out a black, off the shoulder crop top with long, mesh sleeves. Your tits look phenomenal, honestly. They're pushed up and the shimmer from your lotion hits the lighting perfectly.

You grab black washed ripped jeans and your favorite pair of simple black heels before you put on your makeup. Your hair was loosely curled as you ran your fingers through the ends with oil.

7:55 PM.

You heard a knock at your door. You were skeptical, since it wasn't 8 yet. Did Keigo come back?

You look through the door hole and see Shouta with his hair pulled back in a bun, dressed in all black. He had a giant bouquet of red roses - had to be at least 5 dozen.

"You clean up nice." Your eyes ran up and down his body as you opened the door.

"You still stink." Shouta smirked as he walked into your place. He handed you the flowers for you to put in a vase.

"You're 5 minutes early, sir."

Shouta didn't answer you, he just sat down on the couch and pulled his phone out. "So whatever you need to do in the next 5 minutes, do it."

You spray your favorite perfume on your skin before taking one last look in the mirror.

"Ready."

-

Shouta opened the passenger door of his car, a black sedan. Practical.

The inside was very clean though, which you appreciated.

"Where are we going?" You turn him, crossing your ankles.

"You'll see."

He started to drive, his eyes every now and again finding their way to you. You look down at his large, veiny hands. You wanted to touch them. You wanted them to touch you.

He must've felt the same, because the next thing you knew his hand was wrapped around your thick thigh. He squeezed the sides gently, smirking at the plushness of your skin.

You look out the window as his hand caresses your leg, always coming back to your thigh. You bit your bottom lip, hoping he didn't notice how flustered he was making you already.

He picked out a cute sushi restaurant - the inside looked beautiful with twinkly lights and waterfalls.

When he let you out of the car, he took your hand gently and lead you to the door. You felt his hand squeeze yours, as if to make sure you're actually there.

You were led to your table, in a more secluded part of the restaurant.

"It's so pretty in here." You look around.

"You don't remember what you said about this place, do you?"

You shook your head.

"We were on patrol one day, and this place just opened. You said you wanted to try it when you had money to, since we had just become pro heroes."

"How do you remember that?" You cross your legs under the table.

"I remember everything." His eyes stay on you as he sips his miso soup.

You felt bold, so you dragged your foot down his leg gently under the table. You watched him almost spit out his soup, which made you laugh.

"Feeling brave, hm?" Shouta kept his eyes on you.

You nod, continuing to rub his leg with your foot. You tilt your head to the side as you take a sip of your water, your lips wrapping around the straw.

Shouta turned his head to look at a fish tank, trying to get his mind off of the fact that he wanted to take you on the table right then and there.

The rest of dinner was filled with sexual innuendos, reminiscing on memories, good memories, and more sexual innuendos.

Your pussy was already soaked thinking about what will happen when you get home.

-

"Well, here we are." Shouta deliberately went past your door to his as his hand squeezed yours. You smiled as he put his key in the door, turning it quickly. You take a few steps in before you bend down to take your heels off.

"Let me help." Shouta kneeled down to the floor, his chocolate eyes boring into yours. He unbuckled your heel, sliding it off your foot slowly. You let out a breath from being let go from the tight heel, your foot finally being able to relax. Shouta kissed your ankle once before moving onto your other foot.

You watched from above as Shouta took your other heel off, his hands dragging up your legs to your hips as he stood up.

Your eyes were filled with lust as you leaned into Shouta's body, your hands pressing against his muscular chest.

"Are you still feeling brave?" He purred.

That's it.

You pressed your lips against his gently, gripping his shirt in your hand with a fist. Shouta grabbed your face with both of his hands, making sure you stay close to him.

You tilt your head as you kiss him, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks as he slips his tongue in your mouth. A breathy moan escapes your throat against his lips - a sound that was filled with lust and need.

"Should we move to the bed?" Shouta's words sounded like music to your ears. You nod as he lifts you up by your hips, planting his large hands on your ass. His lips find yours again as you wrap your legs around his waist. He lifted you like it was nothing.

Once you were back in his room, he gently laid you down on his bad, your hair pooling around his pillows. He was hovering over you, his arms caging you in. He unbuttoned his shirt, which was so unintentionally sexy. You followed his lead and took your shirt off, your tits bouncing when they released from the fabric.

"No bra?" Shouta kissed your lips again as he threw his shirt to the floor. "Dirty girl."

"Bras hurt." You wrap your hand around his wrist with your dainty hand, bringing his large hand to your breast. "Touch me, Shouta."

His movements were timid at first as he stared at your beautiful, supple chest. Your tits are huge, in a way that makes Shouta want to bury his face in them. His fingertips grazed the skin on your nipple, goosebumps immediately forming. You bit your lips with anticipation as he finally took a handful of your breast in his head, squeezing it gently.

"God, Shouta. Your touch is like fire." You throw your head back as he massages your breasts. His eyes flicker to yours as he lowers his head to your chest, his mouth wrapping around the nipple on the other breast.

You gasp as he starts sucking on your sensitive nub, his other hand kneading your tit. "Fuck." You press your head to the back of his head as his mouth let go of your nipple with a 'pop'. He kissed the valley in between your breasts as he made his way to your soft stomach, kissing right above your belly button, them to the top of your jeans.

You were getting impatient. Your pussy was throbbing with need, but Shouta liked to take his time. He knew you were getting fussy, too.

"Impatient one, hm?" Shouta smirked as he undid the button to your jeans.

"Shouta, please." You pout. "I need you inside of me."

"Inside of you... is that right?" He grabbed your belt loops, pulling your pants down to reveal your black thong.

"Yes." You nod, reaching for his pants. He did most of the work in taking them off, but hey, you tried. You were too full of lust to truly assist him.

He slowly pulled his boxer briefs off, his long, fat cock springing against his abdomen.

This man is ripped and he never shows it. What a shame.

But you get to be the one to see him.

Truly see him.

You watch his cock with amazement - you've never really thought about how big Shouta is - but you had a feeling he wouldn't be on the small side. A few pieces of his hair fell out of his bun to frame his face as he pulled your thong off of you. He tore the fabric so easily that they ripped right there.

"You're too strong for your own good, Eraserhead." You smirked as you looked at your broken pair of panties. "You owe me a new pair."

"I'll buy you as many panties as you want. I'm keeping these though." Shouta leaned into your neck, placing kisses marks on your skin. He sucked on your sensitive spot - his tongue swirling around the new bruise.

The cold air of Shouta's room hit your pussy as he kissed you. He was so close to you, but not enough. You wanted to feel him, all of him.

"Do you have condoms?" You felt your pussy clench around nothing.

"I don't. And I prefer not to use them." Shouta removed himself from your neck to look at you. "Did you use them with the bird?"

You nod, bringing your hand to the back of his head.

"Once I'm inside you, you're mine. Ok?" Shouta kissed your lips roughly, his cheeks a shade of pinkish-red.

"Yours?"

"You heard me. That means no more bird. That means there's no reason to use condoms. I'm clean, you're clean."

You watched Shouta's movements, trying to decipher if he's joking or not. But there was no sense of softness in his eyes.

"I want to fuck you when I want." Shouta kissed your lips. "Wherever I want." He placed a hot kiss on your neck again. "I want to feel all of you, got it?"

You nod. "I'm yours, Shouta."

Those were the words that ignited something in Shouta Aizawa. You felt his fat tip rub against your slits, coating them with his pre-cum.

You spread your legs to give Shouta a better view. He used one hand to guide his cock inside of you, his other hand on your plush hip.

You felt his tip slide inside of you, a cry leaving your lips.

"Shhh, it's just the tip baby." He slowly pushed himself inside you, finally going past the tip. Your pussy clenched against him as he watched his cock disappear inside of you. "So tight, fuck." He slid the rest of him inside of you, watching your eyes roll back.

Shouta brought his hand to your face, caressing your cheek as he established his rhythm. Your tits bounced with his movements, the sound of his balls hitting your skin filling the room.

Your back arched as he leaned down to your neck, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pounded into your plush walls.

"Fuck, baby." Shouta's moans were sinful. You could feel your pussy clenching his cock tightly, the coil in your stomach tightening. "You're so wet, so tight, damn."

The sound of your wet pussy was all Shouta could hear. He started to pound into you faster, his hands squeezing your hips roughly. His fingertips left marks on your skin.

"I've dreamt about this pussy, did you know that?"

A whimper left your lips, the coil tightening again. You turn your head to the side as you feel your orgasm approaching. Shouta took notice, bringing his thumb to your swollen clit. Your body twitched at his touch, bringing your euphoria that much closer.

"Shouta I'm gonna come." You moaned his name, tangling your fingers in his raven hair.

"I didn't say you could." He rubbed circles on your clit, using your own arousal to coat the nub.

"P-please."

"No." He slammed his entire length into you as he rubbed your clit, the sound of his cock pounding into you making your ears ring.

You couldn't hold it anymore.

"Shouta, please."

"Daddy."

"D-Daddy, please."

He moved his hand from your aching clit, bringing his lips to yours as he thrusted into you. You took that as an okay, so you let yourself free. The coil broke, your body involuntarily squirming. "Shouta." You moaned when you wrapped your arms around his neck, his skin sweaty. His face was in your neck, biting the skin as his pace became sporadic. You felt his muscular chest against yours, your fingertips dragging along his back - which is also very muscular. You dig your nails into his skin as he reaches places you never thought anyone could.

"Where should I come?" His voice was so low you almost couldn't hear him.

With lust on your mind, there was only one answer.

"Inside." You let out a breathy moan.

"Trying to trap me already?" He smirked. "Don't worry baby, this cock is yours forever whether you like it or not."

"I'm on the pill."

Shouta pushed himself into you one last time before he released himself inside of you, his white juices covering your walls. He was at the hilt of his cock - a ring of a white substance around his member.

You whimpered when his cock retreated from you. From the sudden loss of him. Shouta kissed your swollen lips before going to the bathroom to grab towels. He helped clean your body up, kissing your forehead when he was done.

You both stared at each other in that moment. Lost in each other's presence, in this moment. You couldn't help but kiss Shouta's lips again and again, savoring this moment.

"Yours." You kissed his lips once more as he wrapped his arms around your naked body.

"Mine." He pressed his cheek to the top of your head as you laid your head on his chest, drifting off to sleep.

[gtsdreamer2]

   You were deep in the Amazon rainforest. A recent graduate with your mycology doctorate, you were researching a special species of mushroom that only was said to grow deep in the jungle and only during the twenty four hours of the full moon during the autumn months. According to ancient texts found in the indigenous people's temples, the mushroom was used in fertility rituals and to signify a bountiful harvest during these months before the cold winter. You were curious about the cultural significance as well as the medicinal properties of this rare shroom. You didn't know what it looked like, only that it wasn't foraged for by the locals anymore and that it should look like a mushroom that you don't know.

   Hours of searching later, you begin to grow tired and wonder if you should give up and wait until the next full moon. The sun is starting to set when you finally spot something different. It's a mushroom you've never seen before, which is remarkable seeing as how you've seen them all. The cap is a pinky flesh color with an even pinker button on top. You giggle to yourself as you remark that it looks like a tit with a firm nipple poking out of it.

   Kneeling down, you take out your notebook and a pencil and begin to sketch it. 'I'm just drawing a boob.' You think to yourself. You stare in awe at this shroom as the sun continues to set. Taking your pencil, you poke the nipple-esque protrusion. Immediately this mushroom expells a giant cloud of spores right in your face. You gasp in surprise, sucking into your lungs an ample amount of the potent plume.

   You hack and cough, but its way too late for that, they're already lodged deep within you and entering your blood stream. Your eyes dialate and your body grows hot. You stand and lean against a tree, trying to catch your breath. You can feel your heatbeat in every nerve. Your cells are responding in a way they never have to the new foreign agent that has begun to take over you. Your heatbeat concentrates in your breasts as you feel your nipples grow almost painfully erect. Then you feel your breasts start to press against your soft white cotton top. You can feel the belts on your corset tighten to try and contain whatever is happening to you. Suddenly you shoot up four inches in height.

   Your sudden growth spurt elicits an a forced maon from your mouth. "Mmmph!" You cry out as a second wave hits you. The belts on your corset snap and suddenly you're six foot five with the seams of your jeans splitting. You feel your feet break free from your hiking boots as your toes sink into the damp rainforest earth.

   'This is starting to feel really good.' You think to yourself as you start to regain a semblance of your normal senses. Doing a body check, you can tell that you've grown. Your breasts have at least doubled in size and are now very hot and sensitive to the touch. You can feel a hunger deep in your womb as if ovulating on steroids.

   You attempt to sit down on the cool jungle floor, your now massive ass shredding the back of your jeans as you squat down. You pick up your pad and pen and continue to make notes about the shroom.

   'It is clear that this is how the Amazon women in the lore of this land gained their stature, and I can clearly feel why this particular fungus was revered for its fertility-inducing properties. I feel so full of life, yet I also feel the need to be bred full of babies.' Looking back at your notes, you are in shock that you actually wrote that down.

   You wonder to yourself how potent the flesh of the shroom might be, considering what just inhaling some of the spores had done to you. As the sun began to set, you walk back over to the shroom and delicately pluck it out of the ground before greedily shoving the whole thing into your mouth, quickly swallowing it without so much as trying to find out what it tastes like. Again the euphoria strikes your body. You feel its effects ten fold as you quickly gain four feet in height and explode out of your inadequate top. Sitting back down on the remainder of your ruined clothes, you bask in the feeling of your massive body and heightened strength and senses. You close your eyes and listen to the jungle around you, lamenting that you ate the only specimen that you had found on your journey, and now the only evidence was what it had done to you. When you open your eyes, the realize that the moon has peaked through the canopy. Your dialated eyes can see the jungle floor quite clearly now, and shimmering all across the damp dense expanse before you, you can see dozens more of the mushroom glowing against the moon, as if drinking in its power. 'It would have been so much easier to find at night.' You chastise yourself as you stand up again. You leave your ruined clothes behind as you pick up your foraging Satchel and start to delicately pick as many of the shrooms as you can carry, trying your best to put them in containers without them expelling more spores. 'This will be so great for my research.' You think to yourself. 'And it'll make a great snack for the walk back'. You giggle to yourself as you pop another three into your mouth.

[sscieloz]

i would die for richgirl!aeri x studentathlete!reader okay? i have re-read it about 3 times today it’s so cute ajdjakfkakdkskdkkdn yn being an accidental sugar baby is everything to mr

now that I've lurked around my notes for a bit, I realized I actually have a few prompts for that lol, so why not share them right ˆˆ anyways:

richgirl!aeri x studentathlete!reader pt. 2

pt.1 | pt.2

Giselle was needy; her hands were often found on your waist or brushing your neck, not quite teasing— just touching your skin affectionately. You were hers, after all. She ached when you weren’t within her reach.

She did also love to tease, though. Whenever you were having lunch with her friend group in the massive cafeteria, she’d manage to slip a finger under your panties. Somedays you’d make it easier for her, wearing a short skirt and opening your legs at the mere brush of her long knuckles, allowing her to caress your folds as she continued her conversation with the girls, ever so casually.

On other days, though, when you were not in the mood for it, Giselle would huff, sending you annoyed glances as she unbuttoned your jeans with one hand, not even sparing you a glance as she fingered you just the same. Your sweet cunt was hers, and she’d take it whenever she pleased.

That being said, she needed you constantly. Which meant heavy make-out sessions in the hallways, pulling you from your classes so you’d eat her out in the restrooms, demanding you’d always stay somewhere she could see you… Giselle was demanding, but you didn’t mind. You knew how sweet and caring she could also be, whenever you were alone, and you’d never ask her to change her personality. She loved your calm, collected and quiet nature, so you loved her as she was just the same. You’d never ask her to change.

In fact, you couldn’t deny her possessiveness made you aroused, too. To be taken care of and adored by her, not only whenever you fucked, but with the smallest gestures, too. It made you melt, unable to deny her of whatever she wanted to take from you. You felt wanted, she made you feel wanted.

For that reason, you didn’t actually mind being her trophy pet. She was able to maintain her popular mean-girl image around campus as she pleased, for all you could care.

You end up spending even more time with her closest friends: Karina, Ningning and Winter. When they weren’t sending judgmental glares to anyone who crossed their way, they were actually very funny to be around. They cared about each other and were a tight-knit unit, you quickly noticed. The queen bees of your University, indeed.

Usually, you’d engaje on their playful banter, joking around and giggling as they joked. However, being beautiful, spoiled women, they knew nothing about limits, and would sometimes push your buttons too much. Whenever that happened, you were quick to whine to your girlfriend, making sure they’d stop it. Similar to when you were at one of their go-to cafes, right after you had lost an important game. “Come on, Y/n,” Karina said, poking your ribs as soon as she saw the pout on your face. “Don’t be boring like that just because your team fucking sucks.” “Yeah.” Minjeong agreed, focused on her milkshake. She didn't even spare you a glance, as she added. “I mean, don't you practice like every day and shit? Why are you all still so bad… This way, our University will never win any cool prizes.” Even though their words were harsh, you knew by their tone that they didn’t really mean it; they just liked to mess with you, as they did to everyone. You, however, were not having it. The defeat was still too recent for you to play it cool, so you shrank in your seat, turning away from them as you hid your face against your girlfriend’s neck. “Gigi, will you have your friends stop it, please?” You asked, voice cracking, even though you were trying your best not to cry. You’d rather not deal with them, so naturally, your Giselle would handle it— just like she did with anything else that bothered you. “Girls, shut the fuck up.” She commanded, tone imposing as she pulled you closer by the waist. You didn’t look at them, aware of the three girls rolling their eyes and muttering about how pussy whipped Giselle has become. They did stay silent, though, quickly diverting the topic to something else. And you felt the coziest as Giselle’s hands squeezed your waist, offering you reassurance.

She still loves to doll you up, too. There’s not a day when you’re not walking around campus with at least one piece of clothing she’d gotten you, lavish and stylish. You pretend not to notice the little whispers and glares whenever you pass by, reminding yourself that people will always find a reason to talk.

Since it makes Giselle happy, though, you gladly keep wearing her gifts, even if the looks you receive constantly leave you with the urge to run to the nearest bathroom, locking yourself until the end of the classes.

It’s one of the things pisses her off the most about you, too: you frequently forget to take a jacket or a hoodie to class, and it infuriates her to see you wearing Jinni’s when you meet at the cafeteria. “You look so much better wearing my jackets, though.” She murmured, hands finding their way into the insides of your shirt, in attempts to keep herself warm, too. “Come on, baby, take that ugly thing off… I can’t have you wearing that. Ning will let you use hers, instead. She’s never cold anyway.” You try to reason with her, but Ning is already handing her jacket to you, cursing Giselle under her breath. So you only shrug, sending Jinni an apologetic glance as you do as told. You just can’t help it— you’d do anything within reach to have Giselle give you that bright smile of hers.

Speaking of your friend, Giselle has come to terms with Jinni’s presence in your life. She no longer sends the younger girl death glares, or uses her influence around campus to have her benched in games. If only, Giselle’s become friendly, which terrifies Jinni even more. “She’s a menace, Y/n, I’m telling you. And she creeps me out, I’m sorry.” Jinni had told you, someday during practice break. Her words made you laugh, as you shove her playfully.

It was Karina’s idea, actually. Although Giselle knows not to trust her friend’s advice too much; Karina is down bad for any pretty girl near her radar. “Just be a little nice to her, or whatever.” The blonde girl had told Giselle, while critically examining her own nails. “Then have her keep an eye on Y/n for you. It’s not like you can be around her during practice, anyway. This way, you’ll know what’s going on.”

After that, Giselle has been an absolute sweetheart towards your friend, which warms up your heart. She waits patiently for you to go fetch her something, and then her attitude changes; her posture becomes straighter and her stare lacks the usual warmth it has, whenever you’re around. Jinni talks without much effort, blurting around any updates of unpleasant events that had happened during your previous practices, ones you refused to tell Giselle because you knew she’d make someone pay for things that are, usually, accidents. It has become part of her routine, to look out for you even when you refuse her help.

Her favorite thing is to wear your jersey during games. It pleases her deeply to have anyone know who their University’s star-player belongs to— As if she doesn’t make it a well-known fact, in your daily life.

Loves fucking you in the locker rooms, too, making you scream so all of your teammates are aware she owns you. She gets off having people trying to have a peek of you two fucking, too, although she’d never allow it.

At last, your relationship might not be completely understandable to those who are not close to either of you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way ˆˆ.

[romana-after-dark]

Guard Dog

Riader!Joel Miler x Dark!fem!reader

Masterlist : Taglist

Summary: Joel attempts to raid the wrong house, and having the Joel Miller on his knees before awakens something in you... and in him.

Content and Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT Dub con on Joel (Is it non con? idk. Idk how im supossed to tag this but it's no where near the violence of tww someone help), references to non con from Joel to other women, gun sucking, fem domme, dark!reader but Joel is also dark soooooo, subby Joel, dead bodies, Nick reference (if you read TWW you know lol), multiple orgasms, overstim, dumbification?

AN 1: This essentially came of two thoughts, me thinking hmmmm how to write raider!Joel in a new way? 2. I want to avenge Little One. Joel did her so dirty and is still doing her so dirty in the dark timeline addition, lowkey wanted someone to get revenge for her. Plus, subby Joel is always a win for Fen and Maura lol

AN 2: Shout outs to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @toxicanonymity for talking me through this idea, esp Toxi for letting me use the gun blowjob bit lololol if you like that concept, I encourage everyone to check out toxi's raider joel Or maybe Jake's part in the chasing series

***********************

Whoever it was, they had chosen to raid the wrong fucking house.

Yes, you were a single woman. Yes you lived alone. But no, you were not helpless, far from it, actually. Whoever it was is lucky they had made it past the set of boobytraps thus far. Actually, it sounded like a few of them had been taken out as it was.

*

Joel watched in relief as the arrow went through Nick’s skull. Relief it wasn’t him. He never liked Nick that much anyway, real creepy guy. In fact, he didn’t like any of the men that this house had gotten either. It was exhausting, trying to lead a group of dumbasses and whatever the fuck was in here it wasn’t worth it, so Joel attempted to make his exit. Thing was, leaving was proving just as hard as entering was. Whoever lived here didn’t want anyone living to tell the tail. Stepping over the dead bodies of a few of his men, Joel had narrowly dodged more arrows, spikes, darts; the whole lot, until some secret fucking door opened up like a goddamn scooby-doo house and there you were, gun to his forhead.

“Joel fucking Miller, I’ll be damned.”

Joel narrowed his eyes. He didn’t recognize you, but you knew him. That wasn’t surprising, he’d gained a bit of a reputation from raiders, fireflies and regular people. “Who the hell are you?”

You tell him your name, first name at least, and make quick work of taking out the gun in his hand. “Armed with anything else, Miller?” He said he wasn’t, but you knew that was a lie. “Don’t believe that for a second.”

“Then why the hell did you ask?” His texan drawl was prominent, especially when he was worked up.

“More fun to mess with you.” Keeping the gun pressed up to his temple, you press your body against his in turn as you pat him down for more weapons. It didn’t hurt that he was handsome.

“JESUS!” Joel jumped as you grabbed at his ass. “Watch your fucking hands.”

You can’t help but giggle; he thinks he's in charge. “You could be hiding weapons anywhere-” He tenses as you slip your hand between his buttcheeks as much as his jeans allow. “-Can’t be too careful.”

Joel was a brutal man, you heard stories of his rage and carelessness for human life, including women. There’d been many such stories of him forcing himself on women, kidnapping and trafficking… maybe he needed a taste of his own medicine? You take your time on his top half, feeling up every muscle, every bit of pudge, every dip on his broad body. Then, onto the lower. Without hindrance, you grope at his crotch and are very impressed by the size of him; and amused by the way he’s already semi-hard. Men are so easy, it’s funny sometimes. 

“This make you excited, Miller? Or does it scare you to be at a woman’s mercy for once? Maybe a little bit of both?” 

Joel didn’t look at you, lips pursed in a hard line.

You continue, moving the gun to his pants as you kneel before him to check lower. “I bet this is more your speed isn’t it? Having a pretty woman on her knees?”

The scoff above you doesn’t go unnoticed. “Mighty full of ourselves, aren’t we?”

After taking a knife and a gun that were strapped to his ankle, you stand up, satisfied with your work and the ever-growing bulge in his pants. “I own a mirror, Miller. I know what I got going on.” Degrading won’t work on you. With a nudge, you press him towards your room. 

“Yuh gonna kill me?” There was no fear in his voice when he asked. This was a man prepared for death whenever it came.

“We’ll see. Gonna have a little fun with you first.”

*

Having Joel Miller on his knees for you was a goddamn treat. He looked so good like this, so submissive even if his bratty little face wanted to put on a show. 

“It’s natural, you know.” With a glance down, you let him know that you are referencing his half-hard cock. “The adrenaline.” You squat in front of him. “How many girl came when you forced yourself on them? How many felt their bodies betray them? Did you laugh at them for getting wet?”

“I didn’t-”

“It’s humiliating, isn’t it?” Your gun was still out, knowing physically he could probably overpower you still. You weren’t weak by any means, but you also were aware he had far more upper body strength, muscles bulging through the seem of his shirt sleeves. The cool end of the gun prodded at his face as he tried to keep calm; the bob of his adam's apple and subtle rise of his chest was giving away his nerves. It was exhilarating, having a man that many feared, the cause of death of so many men, someone of damn-near legendary status and his knees for you… You couldn’t help the reaction the thrill had in pooling in your stomach. It was natural, wasn’t it? That’s what you told Joel. 

Using the gun, you move his face around a bit to really take in his features. Strong nose, curly salt and pepper hair, soft brown eyes and lips you just really wanted to make whimper.

“Your quite handsome, you know that?”

An ironic chuckle. “I have a mirror too, sweetheart.”

You can’t help smiling at him as you straighten back up. “Take off your shirt.”

He rolled his eyes but did as he was told.

“Obedient thing, aren’t you? Bet I could train you, bet that’s what you need, isn’t it?” You slip your hand in your pants, feeling up your own wet cunt as the thrill of power elevates things. “Tired of having to decide, having to lead…” Maybe the adrenaline was getting to you, but you suddenly wish you had a dick to make him suck. You don’t, so you settle for the next best thing. You tap his lips witht he barrel of the gun. “Open.”

Joel hesitates, a slight spark of fear in his pretty eyes as he keeps his lips tightly closed, and that just won't do. You slap his cheek with the gun, and as grunts in pain the seal of his lips pops open.

“Ah-mph” His cry of pain was quickly muffled by the gun being shoved in his mouth. 

“Suck on it, cowboy. Act like you fucking enjoy it.”

You don’t think he needs to act. Joel sucks on your gun like he would a dick and you furiously finger yourself to his rhythm. As he closes his eyes, you can hear a low groan emitting from his throat and his hands twitching at his side. 

“Touch yourself, go ahead.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, his right hand flying to the seam of his pants and palming at his full erection.

 “Good boy, good fucking boy” You praise. “Just an obedient little dog pretending to be a lone wolf. Is that it? You just want someone to tell you what to do, huh?” You release the gun from his mouth and can’t help but grin as his lips chase it.

“Y-yes.” Joel admits, face strained in tension as he kept touching himself. Must hurt, being constrained like that.

“Take it out. Eyes on me.” You guide his face to look up at you with the tip of your gun. “Look in my eyes as you do it.”

As he released himself, Joel did indeed look up at you; he looked up at you as if you made the stars in the sky. 

Once his cock was out, all 9 or so inches, you take off your sleep shorts and straddle over him but not yet putting it in. “I don’t think I need this gun anymore… but I think you like it.” When you sink down on him, gun pressed to his ribs as a firm reminder of who was in charge, you hold your breath in order to hear the simple whimpers and guttural groans that Joel tried so hard to hide.

“This is where you belong, isn’t it?” You goad him, eliciting a quiet ‘yes’ from his lips. “Under me, belong to me.”

You are speared on him, his dick spreading you open and stretching you unlike anything you had felt before and you loved it. Every chance you had, you felt his muscles, reveling in the fact such a physically strong man was so mental weak for you and only you.

“Can I cum? Please?” Joel begged for you, pleaded ever, lips quivering even as you kissed him.

“Almost there, baby, almost- mmmm- almost there. You can cum after me, okay?”

Joel nodded quick, tiny nods and hesitantly moved a hand to your hips. He looked up at you bouncing on his cock for permission, and when you nod back he goes to thumb at your clit. 

“OH GOD!” You shout, breathless, slick all over your thighs and his pants, his touch sending you over the edge. You cum hard, walls pulsing all around him and he doesn’t ask again before spilling his seed inside you, filling you to the brim.

Your body relaxes, but then Joel throws you to the ground causing you to drop your gun and for a moment you thought he bested you, got you distracted; until he dove right into your cunt with no regard for the lost gun. He didn’t care about beating you, he cared about tasting you. As he desperately licked his cum out of your dripping hole, you tugging at his curls, Joel humped the floor as if he hadn’t just gotten released. You pull him close, riding out another orgasm on his face. When you cum a third time, you have to push him back, the overstimulation from the desperate man’s tongue, lips and beard being too much. When you do, he looks up at you with wide eyes as if he had done something wrong, but you pull up and into a kiss before laying him down on the floor to kiss him some more.

“Not sure if I wanna let go of you, cowboy…” You tease, playing with his hair but keeping him firmly pressed to the ground. “Might have to keep you around, but my little guard dog, how about that?”

Joel’s eyes were glossy, his face so fucked out you weren’t sure he was fully cognizant. “Baby boy too tired to speak? That’s okay, I’ll take care of you too. You be the arms; I’ll be the brains. You won’t have to have a single thought outside me again, okay?”

***********

Part 2 here

LOWKEY NERVOUS BC THIS IS SUCH A DIFFERENT JOEL AND HE DOESNT DO A LOT OF TALKING?!?!?!?!?!??! UNSURE HOW I FEEL

Anyway I do hope to write more maybe? so if you wanna be tagged comment below! I liek the idea of having a joel I can kinda just write stuff about whenever instead of a story and an arch and characters to balance. This is just more casual. and i dont gotta go nuts keepingup with posting like my other stories. Im think a v joel tess kinda vibe where she's clearly leading him

I was supossed to be working on the next part to my Javi P x reader x Santi AU buuuutttttttttttt I couldnt get this idea out of my head. So. here you all go! I'll try and work on that, the dark! TF boys, TWW, and the Will Miller story lol its kinda a lot rn

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[sixpennydame]

Hey hey hey bestie, I’m here for #24 with Jean.

ありがとうございます✨

Dee, my lovely, it's all your doing that I'm having a Jean moment to begin with! 楽しんでください！

Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)

Cowboy!Jean x Fem!Reader

C/W: Slightly dom!reader, face sitting, NSFW, Minors Do Not Interact!!

You loved to hate Jean.

He was, without a doubt, the cockiest bronc rider on the pro rodeo circuit. And as much as you hated to admit it, it was for good reason. Jean almost made it look effortless; as the wild horse bounded out of the chute, kicking and bucking, Jean would hold on tight, leaning back and anchoring his feet into the stirrups. He would ride it out, the full eight seconds, every time. He knew he was the best, and he had no problem telling (and showing) everyone. It infuriated you.

As a barrel racer, you often saw him at the same rodeos, a gaggle of women always waiting for him. He'd take pictures of them and sign autographs - an arrogant smile on his face as one woman unbuttoned her shirt for him to sign her breasts.

God, you hated him.

But you also loved to fuck him.

The first time, the two of you were drunk and horny after both winning in your respective events. A group of you had ended up at a honky tonk joint in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and as he spun you around the dance floor, he pulled you close, his hand moving down to the small of your back as he asked to go back to your hotel room.

It just never stopped after that.

There's a knock at your door and you open it to see him there, an arm leaning on the door frame.

"Hey," is all he says before he saunters inside. The moment the door clicks closed, you're grabbing him by the shirt and pinning him to the wall. His hands start to unbutton your blouse as yours move down to his muscular ass that’s squeezed into his tight Wrangler jeans.

Clothes fly off and you push him onto the bed. "Please...sit on my face," he begs. His voice is soft and needy, and as you straddle his shoulders, moving slowly towards his face, he whimpers.

You hover just above his mouth and feel the heat of his breath on your intimate parts. "You want this?"

"Fuck yes," he responds, "I wanna taste you...wanna make you feel good." His rough hands wrap around your waist, resting at your hip bones, but he doesn't dare push you down on him because he knows..

..you're in control.

You lower onto his face and he immediately drags his tongue along your vulva. He’s precise - he knows your body by now and knows exactly the way to move to make you feel good. But that doesn’t mean you just sit there. You begin to slowly grind your hips back and forth and moans of pleasure from both of you fill the room. His hands grab at your breasts desperately as your hips move faster, then in a circular motion. The new movement causes his tongue to flirt around your clit, but when he finally latches on it, you stop. He sucks on your clit, switching between light and hard suction, and it causes you to grab onto his hair. You know that his cock is rock hard behind you, and a part of your wants so badly to reach back and touch him, but you and he both know that this is how the game is played.

Your pleasure is first and foremost.

Jean continues to suck on your clit and lap at your pussy until your legs start to shake and your climax washes over you. When you move back, his face is covered with your juices. “Shit, I love how you taste.” His hands move up and down your thighs. “What else do you want?”

You move further down and start rubbing your pussy on his cock, causing him to take in a deep breath. “Depends…is that the best you can do tonight?”

“My wild girl…I’ll let you do whatever you want. Use me all night long, if that’s what you want.”

You love it, watching Jean moan and writhe beneath you as you fuck him. Within the four walls of your hotel room, the cocky, arrogant bastard becomes your slave, willing to do whatever you want, for as long as you want it. You sit up and put your hands on his pecs, feeling his muscles tense, his body coated in a layer of sweat, his eyes watching your body as his cock disappears inside you again and again. He knows you won’t stop until he’s given you everything.

And both of you know this won’t be the last ride.

—//—

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[nytehavyn-circle]

Met Gala 2024

Open starter

The only reason Tolaas came to events like this, at any time, was because of Terran Nytefyer. And only because of Terran. As it was, Terran was personally called and asked to come not only to donate (if he would, please?) but also to give a talk on... Tolaas wasn't certain.

Even though no one knew what Terran was, or how old he was - he'd managed to keep this hidden for centuries by inserting himself into the right circles and reading money to the right people - Terran was still very well known in certain circles for his massively large donations to fundraisers, and for his own fundraisers and talks he'd give.

Whatever reason Terran was here for, Tolaas couldn't care less. Oh, he loved Terran closer than a brother, and usually got himself involved - of his own free will - in whatever Terran had planned. But he absolutely despised high upper class, hoity-toity, fancy-schmancy get togethers like this. Even though he knew Terran did gatherings of this sort because of a kind nature, he also knew most of the people did this out of selfishness and a need to be seen by the public as "doing something worthwhile while having money." At least that was his belief, and his scanning of peoples' auras, and sending out em;pathic feelers in this building proved his theory correct. At least with some people.

Tolaas refused to get all dressed up in some outlandish costume. Some of the people here looked downright ridiculous. Tolaas was dressed in pressed black jeans, black leather cowboy boots, button up black silk shirt (he only owned, like, 3 silk shirts - he always felt like he was just slipping around inside the fabric), black suit jacket with a western cut around the shoulders, a bolo tie, and his black Stetson.

As Terran wandered off in his own costume to mingle with the famous people and the people buttering up the celebrities in hopes of garnering more money, Tolaas looked around for a place to get the hell out of the way and away from all these people. And get away from the damned cameras and press. Tolaas hated having his picture taken by the general public, or be filmed by the press. He hated having his image plastered all over the news when he was hunting down particularly large ShadowDemons that were causing destruction and chaos in public places. Thankfully, he was rarely, if ever, recognized because no one, including the press, could get a clear picture of his face. He was usually in the middle of a battle, and moving too fast (especially while saving people) for anyone to get a clear picture. And when the fight was over, Tolaas would disappear back into the Shadows.

Besides, plenty of people wore cowboy attire. Nothing special.

He relaxed his tense shoulders a bit when he spotted the bar. "All right," he whispered approvingly to himself. He moved up to the bar, asked for a whiskey - Jack, if they had it - on the rocks, and tossed some money onto the bartop and told the bartender to leave the bottle.

It was only after the first glass and halfway through the second that he was finally able to relax just enough to turn around and watch people milling around, rubbing elbows, sucking up to each other, all trying to be seen.

He grabbed the bottle, his glass, and moved around the room. He moved with grace, between people, around people, almost as if he was gliding through water. And he wasn't being noticed. Nobody in celebrity circles came up to talk to him, inquire about what he was wearing, or anything else. He wasn't a celebrity. He wasn't known. He preferred that in gatherings like this.

He was here because Terran asked him to be, and that was it.

Tolaas did, however, enjoy looking at how some of the outfits fit on the women. He admired boobs, butts, and lips as he moved through the crowds, trying to find a "quiet" spot somewhere in the building, out of the way.

[lucifers-favorite-sluts]

What are 2 qualities you like about women and 2 you hate?

Ehhh I mean it's a little bit of a broad group so it's hard to say but I'll try and generalize.

I think I like that women are generally more empathetic and caring. I also think that they have by far superior ranges of fashion. I mean I'm a white tee blue jeans kinda guy so it's whatever but it's crazy to see all the contraptions that women will wear. If only they could figure out pockets.

Two things I dislike. Women often conflate being emotional and emotionally intelligent. You're not emotionally intelligent cause you cry all the time lol. And the thing I despise is women that hate on other women like bro that's your people. Idk periods suck and thank the gods I was born a man.

[delinqunts]

meet  finn graves,  a  twenty4  year  old,  who  has  been  in  cloyne  for  twenty4 years.  they  are  a  budtender  at  growing green,  known  for  being  intuitive  and  reckless.  they  are  often  heard  humming  along  to  church  by  t-pain & teddy verseti.  residents  would  describe  them  as  the ditzy genius. 

study.

full  name  :  finnegan  joseph  graves.

nickname(s) /  alias(es)  :  finn,  fj,  graves,  shithead,  dumbass

age  /  dob  :  twenty  four  /  april 13  ‘00

hometown  :  cloyne,  ontario

current  location  :  cloyne,  ontario

ethnicity  :  white

nationality  :  canadian

gender  :  cis  man

pronouns  :  he  /  him

orientation  :  bisexual  ,  demiromantic.

religion  :  atheist

labels  :  the  ditsy genius,  the  miscreant,  the  comic relief

tropes  :  the classic anti - hero, badass adorable, beware the nice ones, blessed with suck, cluster f - bomb, fan of the past, good is not soft, hates being alone, hypocritical humor, badass bookworm, cannot talk to women, deadpan snarker, determinator, guilt complex, motor mouth, the stoner, endearingly dorky, big  brother  instinct

face  claim  :  rudy  pankow

language(s)  spoken  :  english, american sign language.

speech  :  overall  charming,  despite  the  overuse  of  slang  and  cuss  words.  conversationally, he's  not  the  most  well - spoken  person  out  there,  in  fact  he  often  resorts  to  nervous  speech  tics  such  as  repetitive  statements  to  soothe  anxieties,  or  fluctuations  in  the  pitch  of  his  voice  when  he's  not  being  completely  honest.  when  angered,  he  tends  to  yell  at  high  volume  and  makes  little  to  no  sense. when it comes to sharing knowledge or explaining a concept to other people, he becomes very articulate and invested in his speech style.

hair  :  blonde  with  his  brunette  roots  coming  through,  but  he  keeps  it  natural  without  styling  it  too  much.  it's  naturally  wavy  and  he  gets  away  with  not  combing  or  styling  it.  

eyes  :  big  ,  blue  puppy  dog  eyes  that  change  with  every  emotion  he  has.  a  true  window  to  his  soul  because  he  can  never  hide  the  way  he's  feeling. 

height  :  six  feet  zero  inches.

build  :  more  lean  than  broad.

tattoos  :  a pop culture inspired  patchwork  sleeve on  his  left  arm.

piercings  :  none.

scars  :  none.

clothing  style  :  comfort  over  style.  a  whole  lot  of  whatever  shirt  he  grabs  in  the  morning  paired  with  bottoms  that  reflect  the  temperature  outside  —  usually  shorts  but  he'll  throw  on  some  sweatpants,  rarely  wears  jeans.  he  always  wears  the  same  tattered  ottawa senators  hat  he  got  in  his  teens.

usual  expression  :  he’s  endearing  ,  with  a  face  that  tells  people  they  can  approach.  he's  very  expressive  when  listening  to  others,  often  responding  with  his  face  before  words,  never  one  to  interrupt  another  while  they  speak  (  unless  they're  a  dumbass  ).

distinguishing  characteristics  :  a  sharp  jawline  and  soft  blue  eyes.

exterior   :   finn  is  kindness  and  he's  passion,  but  he's  also  anger  and  insecurity.  he's  the  kind  of  guy  who'll  get  his  hands  dirty  and  his  fists  bloody  for  the  people  he  loves  —  hell,  even  the  people  without  a  voice.  he'll  go  out  of  his  way  to  make  you  smile  or  laugh.  it's  been  seen  around  cloyne,  finn  helping  the  older  people  carry their groceries to their car,  or  doing tasks around his neighbors' yards.  always one to strike up a conversation with the elderly ladies that pinch his cheeks, and subtly flirt with the blonde hair, blue eyed graves boy. yet,  he's  also  known  for  his  volume  and  disregard  for  the  people  around  him,  often  prompted  with  reminders  to  respect  the  others  around  him.

i  .  e  .  the  unpredictable  friend,  pacey  witter  in  dawson's  creek,  i'm  trying  to  be  good  life's  just  not  letting  me,  the  golden  retriever  boyfriend,  the  punk  with  a  heart  of  gold.

interior   :   endless  battles  with  a  lot  of  pressure  &  weight  –  because  of  the  expectations   he  feels  the  need  to  live  up  to.  everything  he's  worked  for,  between  all  the  slip  ups,  has  to  mean  something.  anything.  but  those  moments  of  failure  are  also  expected  —  that's  just  that  one graves  kid,  don't  you  know  him around town  ?  he  often  loses  himself  in  his  self - sacrificial  journey,  ignoring  his  own  wants  and  needs  for  the  sake  of  being  good  in  their  eyes.  he'll  sooner  end  a  friendship  than  share  his  vulnerabilities  —  they're  just  weaknesses,  after  all.

i  .  e  .  atlas  personified  –  holding  the  weight  of  the  world  solely  on  his  own  shoulders,  stiles stilinski in teen wolf,  desperate  for  recognition.

wanted connections.

dad : to be sent to the main, but a single dad who works two jobs who loves his kids—

triplet siblings : to be sent to the main, but i decided i'm making finn a triplet and nobody can stop me ! this is canada !

best friend / platonic soulmate : to be sent to the main, but also am open to anyone taking this connection. they would be between 23 - 25 and have been in cloyne their whole lives. very much based on my boys scott and stiles in teen wolf, and shawn and cory in boy meets world. just two dumb bffs always getting up to no good, but platonically in love with each other. means well. annoying as fuck !

the ex : finn had one long relationship. i'm talking from like all of high school and up until about two years ago. very much a story of two young people experiencing first love together, thinking they'd grow old together, but then learning that they weren't each others soulmate and having to come to terms with that. lost of fights and heartbreak, but in the end it was an amicable decision. finn has a soft spot for this person to this day.

the close friends : just a group of friends for finn to fuck around with ! they all share a brain cell, go out on the weekends together, friend - holiday dinners, game nights, etc.

the rivals : a few people that finn just DESPISES and the feeling is truly mutual, literally for any reason too. we can discuss.

the slow burn : give me angst, give me drama, give me insecurity. two friends that have fallen for each other in recent months and aren't quite sure how to navigate it. finn was in a relationship for approximately eight years, give me fears that he's still in love with them and couldn't possibly feel the same about them. give me pining. give me—

coworkers, adult friends, mentors, sibling - like, childhood friends, ex - friendships, new friends, friends with benefits, drinking / party buddies, literally anything bring me all the plots.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 9: The places I fear

When I pass the elevator on my way to Rhoda’s apartment, I press the button and wait for it to open.

Wentin’s not in there.

I take the stairs anyway.

—

I remember when all the adults in my life were a pair of pants and some shoes. 

I mean, there were legs and feet in them, but mostly what I saw were those pieces of clothing walking around. Sometimes it was a skirt or a dress, but in the late seventies and early eighties a lot of women were wearing jeans already. And sometimes an adult would bend down and become a full person for me.

It was during this time that I first stepped over the threshold of an elevator and realized there was a very deep crack there that went down a long way.

And I felt like I was so small I could easily fall through it.

LIke, I knew it didn’t make any sort of sense. I could see that my foot was bigger than the crack. But I also didn’t know. Deep, deep down in my sense of reflexes and instincts, the assessment my brain had was that I was way smaller than I should be and that I should look out for dangers related to my vulnerable size. And that crack was definitely one of those dangers.

Also, there was a monster down there that would eat me if I fell through. Obviously.

So, the first time I encountered it, I balked. And my parents had to urge me to cross it quickly before the doors closed. And eventually, patience failing them, they helped me jump over it, each holding my hands.

And then they talked to me about it, but I was too distracted by the feeling of going up. Which was also alarming in another way, because it felt like I was being pushed down harder, toward the floor, under which was the monster that would eat me.

I silently suffered.

I know I could talk then, because I would blab on and on about my latest dinosaur toys if I ever had one in my hands. But stuff like this, I just couldn’t get out. Not even when grilled by an adult.

But also? That under-the-elevator monster? I grew to want to fight it.

I was safe at home with my dinosaurs, pretending that I was a dinosaur, when I thought about that monster and realized as a dinosaur I could eat it if I wanted to. I could be big enough to do that.

Eventually.

I did get used to elevators as I got older, though. I overcame that fear pretty quick, and then I was secretly proud I could handle the machines. But, in college, before my chronic fatigue had set in, I started going up and down stairs for the exercise, and the solitude.

Nobody else used the stairs. They so rarely do.

—

Going down the stairs takes longer than the elevator. Not because I’m still physically disabled and naturally that slow. I know that if I wanted to I could rush down and get there at approximately the same time, maybe before. Especially with that creaky old lift to compete with.

In fact, with whatever magic it is that I have as a draconic magical girl faerie princess, I could probably literally glide down the stairs as if in a dream. And that’s without shedding my camouflage. Though trying and failing would suck, I don’t think I’d get that hurt.

This human guise feels like an illusion. I can feel my wings against my back and my tail wrapped around me, even if when I run my hands over my hips there’s nothing but fabric and skin and the contours of a somewhat fat woman.

But because I’m reluctant and scared and thinking, I’m taking my time.

—

My first encounter with girl things was when I was four, obviously, when my sister was born.

I didn’t think much of them, because, back in 1978 there weren’t actually many gendered toys for infants. I had a doll named Joey that peed, that was a birthday present when I was 2 years old. My sister got it, with a fresh set of clothes, as a hand-me-down from me almost immediately, even though she was too young for it when she was born. I didn’t care. I wanted her to have it. And she was dressed in the same kinds of animal themed onesies I saw myself wearing in my baby photos. My mom pointed this out to me.

But, one of my aunts gave her a dress with a matching one for Joey. It was the kind of thing that could be adjusted as she grew, too, so she could be put in it for church every Sunday for at least a little while. And Joey wore that dress for the rest of our childhood, even though Emelie, my sister, kept calling him Joey and a boy, because I’d insisted on doing that too. My parents had called him Joey to me, so that’s what he was.

He was not anatomically correct for a cis boy, though, so ever since I learned what trans people were I’ve been thinking of him as a gender non-conforming trans boy. A trans boy who still liked dresses.

I don’t know if the doll still even exists.

My parents didn’t comment much on incongruities like that. At least, not in our early childhood. My sister and I were allowed to mix up gender stuff pretty much as we wanted, so long as it was during play. Not for church, though.

I didn’t really get my internalized misogyny until I started kindergarten. My classmates laid it on thick in the schoolyard. There was only one way to be cool, and that was to be a boy and to like boy things. And I could roll with that. I really liked Starblazers, for instance. And when I tried to sing the theme song, the boys would try to join in, because it was cool.

So, why did I get so heavily bullied from first grade on?

I sure didn’t know at the time. And nobody had any answers besides, “They must have a worse home life than you. They’re jealous.”

Well, the bullies knew.

They called me retarded, a nerd, a gaylord, and a girl. None of which fit me in my mind at the time.

I had a sister, so I knew what a girl was, and I wasn’t that. Even though I already was sort of wishing that I was.

I had no idea what a gaylord was. The word didn’t make any sense, and when I asked what it was they’d just say, “You!”

Nerd came later, around fifth and sixth grade, and it was genuinely my fault. I made the mistake of self identifying as a nerd, after having seen Revenge of the Nerds, and it stuck as an insult. The way it didn’t fit for me was as an insult. I liked things. And apparently, that was uncool or something. What?

Retarded was the earliest insult, and came at me apparently because I’d been held back a year in Kindergarten. Or something like that. But I could see I was just as smart as any other kid in the school, if not smarter (we all thought in terms of smartness back then - no one had dismantled it yet). And I had no idea why I had been held back and got to experience Kindergarten twice. I barely ever even remembered the second year of it. I just got to have fun playing with more kids before homework started being assigned in first grade, and it blurred into the first year as sort of one big year of Kindergarten in my head.

I make that sound like I knew what homework was and had been anticipating it. That’s not how it worked.

I mean that the memories that stuck in my head were the firsts. When looking back, I remember the first few days or months of Kindergarten, and then I remember homework.

And if bullying was the first layer of Hell, homework was the second. Chores the third.

But, still, reflecting on the bullying. Looking back at old photos and home movies and videos, I have since seen some of the things the bullies were probably picking up on to classify me as a target.

I wore clothes with dinosaurs on them through third grade. And after that, I’d discovered dragons, and I went full bore on dragons in a way I’d never done with anything else. To the point that everyone was confused by it. Claiming that I was a dragon magically hidden in the body of a boy probably didn’t help.

Then, also, I never walked or moved right for a boy. I never noticed it myself. Looking at my mom and sister, they had mannerisms that confused me and I thought I’d never figure out or have. It turns out I was already doing them myself, and just didn’t realize it.

A lot of trans girls and women discover that, looking back, they moved like women (or like how society thinks women move) before they knew what they were.

And, when a lot of cis boys and men see that they see it as gay. And because of homophobia, gay is bad.

Which further confused me, when “gaylord” turned into “fag” and “gay” and much, much later, “queer”. Because if anything, if I ever daydreamt about having a partner or getting married, it was with a girl. And if I was supposed to be a boy, that meant I was straight.

But, yeah, I’m gay. Really, really gay. For women. Or female dragons. Or, something. All dragons are female, biologically, apparently, though putting it that way is distinctly rude to Joel, Anurak, and other dragons who are otherwise male. All dragons can lay eggs, according to Chapman, but our reproductive biology is weird. In any case, my sense of attraction is all screwed up and strange now and I don’t fully understand it. At least, not while mating season seems so far off, and all I feel is growing affection and attachment more to humans and Artists than to other dragons.

And I know Rhoda is very important to me.

I feel like I want to see things the way she does, even if I maybe disagree with her sometimes. I want to see where she’s coming from, and what she sees when she looks out at the world, so that I can more easily walk beside her while she gets where she’s going. And maybe help her get there, if she wants the help.

And from everything I’ve observed of humans, while pretending and trying to be human, I understand that’s life partner talk. Marriage thinking.

And it’s super early in our friendship or just getting to know each other, but damn my emotions soar when I think like that.

Same as when I think about Chapman, too.

And when I was a kid, hiding in my corner of the schoolyard, hunched over and anticipating attacks from the other kids, daydreaming about a better world, having a life partner who understood me and who would stick up for me was definitely part of that better world. But having two, if that’s what’s possibly in store for me, would have blown my little mind.

Having two partners while living fully out as a dragon, being able to actually breathe fire, while also being such a girl? Well, despite my physical dysphoria at the time, I would have protested that it was impossible. And that last idea, of being a girl, would have seen me shaking my head and walking away.

I didn’t start roleplaying as a girl online until much, much later.

But there was a book. Or a series of books. They weren’t super special, but they were kind of cute and I liked them.

They were my sister’s books, Meg and Mog, by Jan Pieńkowski.

Meg was a witch who was always trying to cast a useful spell to solve a problem she maybe didn’t need to use magic for, and it would go wrong.

Mog was her cat.

These were little picture books, and I think they were made into a T.V. show that no one I’ve ever met remembers.

I think they fell out of popularity fairly quick. The art was cute but not especially exceptional. Basically stick figures.

But, my sister identified with Mog really fast, and started pretending she was a cat. Maybe as a way of playing the same kind of make believe she thought I was playing when I said I was a dragon. But, lots of other girls had a cat phase.

Anyway, that sort of made me feel like Meg was left for me, though I didn’t feel free to identify as her at the time.

The name stuck in my head.

I expanded it to Meghan in my celtic mythology phase in late high school, and started writing stories about Meghan as some kind of unlikely hero. Meghan the Dragon.

They were supposed to be like forgotten Irish myths, but what I tried to write was very unlikely for that.

When I first created my Tumblr blog, well into adulthood, it was in the hopes of maybe turning those stories into a series of children’s books. And by that point, I was also wishing very much that I could be Meghan.

It’s been a long road of hiding, hesitation, and half started projects that fizzled on the vine. Or whatever malapropism fits best.

It was all malapropisms, metaphorically speaking. Nothing fit right. Not for the longest time.

And even as an adult, I’ve been assaulted on the sidewalk for carrying myself the way I do, even dressed in a T-shirt and jeans and trying to walk as stiffly and masculine as possible. Full beer cans and apples thrown at me from speeding cars.

It never stopped.

Shit. In a way, Säure is continuing the tradition of picking on Meg.

With how screwed up I am about my identity and my orientation, and how I just always seem to be the target of bullies, and being the focus of Säure in particular now, I’m having a hard time seeing what Rhoda sees in me.

But I’m going to have to let go of that doubt and confusion in order to actually listen to her about it. Or just trust her.

And maybe it’s done anyway. Maybe she still wants nothing to do with me and is just being nice now.

—

There’s her door.

I watch my body knock on it, screaming just a little on the inside.

And then I wait.

—

Probably the most embarrassing thing I ever did, or the one that just keeps haunting me, was at the end of high school. Back in 1993.

I kind of sort of had a senior prom date. I��m not going to name her in my story, because I don't want to mortally embarrass her. If she reads this, she’ll recognize the story well enough, she doesn’t need to see a real or a fake name associated with it.

But anyway, for that year, we’d basically just started walking home together. We went the same way for several blocks, and we had a shared interest in celtic music and Irish mythology, and we seemed friendly enough to each other to start talking about it all. And then we agreed to go on a date prom night, without actually going to prom.

I was regularly wearing a wool trench coat at the time, even late into the spring. It might have been in part to hide my body, which I’d hated since I could remember. But also, the way it swayed and blew in the wind behind me kind of felt like having wings.

I was known for it, and apparently she wanted to show off her own cloak, which I’d never seen before.

It was given to her by her grandfather, and was gorgeous with a mantel and everything. Sort of a dark green-gray. I loved it.

But something about the way that she brought me to her house, and the way both she and her mother expressed themselves while bringing it out and insisting that I try it on, I got the impression that she was giving it to me.

It didn’t make sense to me, exactly, but here I was being offered a thing I would definitely absolutely really love that was obviously way too precious and meaningful to her. But, my brain interpreted it as if I was being given this cloak for some reason.

And I don’t remember exactly what I said anymore. But it was something that included “thank you” and expressing surprise that the cloak could now be mine.

She wanted to see it on me, yes, but she was just showing me the cloak. Like, this was her big thing that we had in common. Big impressive dramatic wool outerwear.

And my utterly oblivious slapstick grade misread of the situation has been a wound in my side ever since.

Even now.

The two of them acted so awkward about it. But also, it was done when the cloak went back in the closet, and we moved on.

Well, the date moved on, but I never really did.

I also kind of still wish I got to have that cloak. And that’s part of why the self inflicted emotional wound still feels fresh. I’m so embarrassed and mortified by my own feelings sometimes.

Later, similar but smaller misunderstandings like that would play a role in losing every job I tried to hold.

If I were to try to name a place where my fear of misunderstanding now lies, it would be in my heart.

I sure hope Wentin isn’t in my heart.

—

Rhoda opens the door.

She seems to sigh in relief, but she also looks tired, worn out, and sad. And a little shaky. She’s been crying hard.

Selfishly, I feel like I could use a good cry too, actually. I don’t think I cry at all anymore.

“Meghan,” she says. “Before you come in, I need a rule. I didn’t have it before, but I need it now.”

“Okay,” I say.

“I need this home of mine to be a sanctuary, a place of rest,” she says. “It’s awfully tempting to use it as a place of planning and scheming. But I can’t have that here anymore. I need it as a way to get away from all that. So, no planning or scheming beyond this door. OK? Though, I do reserve the right to make specific exceptions. Got it?”

That seems very understandable to me, though I’m trying to figure out whether she means all planning and scheme, like even making plans for dinner, or what? There’s probably a line.

She’ll make the exceptions. That’s what she just said. I just have to follow her lead. It’s her home. Got it.

In the past, I think I would have continued panicking. Somewhere along the line, I’ve learned some things.

“Yes,” I say.

She almost smiles, but it’s more like just a cessation of stress, and she says, “Come on in, then. I’ll get more tea fired up. And then maybe, after a couple more things I gotta say, we might make our first exception to that whole scheming rule.”

But it’s right then that I start feeling that fucking itch on the back of my neck again!

I’ve got to molt, and it’s just going to dominate the whole night until it’s done.

[crispy0nion]

takes a deep breath. ik it hasn't even been a day but we need to talk about the umbrella academy season 4. obviously spoilers ahead. and a long, long fucking post full of complaints.

this season got me shinji chairing so hard. what the fuck. six episodes that last barely an hour each and all for THAT ending? don't get me wrong, the ending itself is... not the worst possible outcome, ig, but like. plot holes so big i can fit five's ego in there and still have spare space.

yeah, let's start from there. what the fuck was that? a half-assed five/lila romance was the last thing we needed. call me a hater, tell me i don't know how to appreciate complex stories, idc. that sucked ass. not only is it creepy in so many ways, but it also brought absolutely NOTHING to the story. "oh but if that didn't happen then five wouldn't have accidentally wandered into the station's coffee shop and met himself" I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!!!! IT COULD'VE HAPPENED IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS!!!!!! AND FIVE KNOWS BETTER THAN TO THROW HANDS WITH HIS BROTHER OVER A GIRL WHILE THE REST OF THEIR SIBLINGS ARE FIGHTING THE DAMN BLOB OF DEATH!!!

moving on ig. i don't like how allison's past actions seemed to be simply forgotten. i know they acknowledge it a couple times and that it's been six years, but lord almighty she assaulted luther, got him killed, and betrayed her entire family for a father that never cared about any of them. i don't think i could forgive that so easily (i'm looking at you klaus).

about the plot holes. first off, i would've appreciated even just a slight explanation of what the fuck reginald and abigail are? are they aliens? are they robots? are they alien robots? also, side note, what the fuck did reginald even do to grace atp? did he create a robot in the image of a human lady or did he turn the human lady into a robot???? and back to abigail for a moment: ?????????? and also the obsidian hotel????? AMERICA EXPLAIN. EXPLAIN

more plot holes: the solution to the cleanse problem. five said that the only way to fix the timelines is to let the cleanse happen, aka absorb them, so that the marigold inside them is destroyed since that's what split the timelines, no? and they made a big deal out of lila leaving because they needed all of the marigold holders to partake in this. except that YOU EIGHT IDIOTS ARE NOT ALL THE OCTOBER 1ST KIDS IN THE WORLD. THERE'S MORE, THAT WAS LIKE 43 WOMEN WHO GAVE BIRTH YOU DUMB FUCKING CUNTS. WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER 35 KIDS. uhm. sorry about that. moving on.

did not like how jennifer's character was treated at all. no time to develop, no time to get us to know her. straight to the blob of death without even explaining what was going on. how did the durango end up in her body? who even created that anyways? how did she end up in a damn fucking giant squid? why was she talking about the cleanse? what the fuck? listen im sure the comics explain this and ik this show is supposed to be a bit... confusing and nonsensical, but this is info you can't just leave out. feels like lazy writing.

and how the fuck did the cleanse cult even know that this nonesense that a kid coming out of a squid was blabbering about was connected to them having dreams of other timelines? how the fuck did jean and gene know? what?

yk what, im also gonna throw in some more personal points of view in here. i did not understand a single thing about the timeline/universe/whatever they ended up in at the end of s3. is it a new universe? if so, why is everything the same and WHY is the timeline still fucked? and where's the academy in this timeline? does it not exist? why? why and how is abigail still alive? was she even dead in s1, on the moon? or was that a cryo capsule? if so, why keep her there?

and there's more folks! why did the timeline train not stop at lila and five's stop? that was random and never explained, and feels like lazy writing, again. or like an excuse to get a specific two people to mingle just to create an unnecessary and unwanted love triangle? perchance?

lastly, how can claire and lila and diego's children still exist if their parents were erased from existence? and since they still exist but their parents never did, how does it work? do lila's parents just look after these random kids? without reason? wouldn't not having existing parents at all create legal problems?

overall, i have a lot of issues with this season. it feels extremely rushed, and honestly quite boring in comparison to the other three. and the lack of explanations makes it so hard to enjoy because i'm busy being confused. im not so mad about the ending, i kinda saw it coming (my choice was between they all die or they get stuck in a loop), and I don't think it's necessarily a bad ending for a story like this one. i am a bit sad, yes, and i will miss these characters and regret the fact that they didn't get the lives they deserved, but i think it's an ok ending. not the best, but ok. but the rest of the season? ass. yet another show absolutely ruined by netflix's inability to see past money and actually produce a good ending instead of rushing things. peace ✌️

[amostimprobabledream]

Ignite Me (Homelander x Reader) - Part Six

Hi all. Sorry this chapter took me so long, I couldn’t get my original idea to work so I had to go back to the drawing board. Plus I haven’t really watched The Boys since I finished Season 3 so I haven’t been as into it as I was when I first started. Hopefully this doesn’t come as a let-down after waiting a few months.

Also small TW: Someone (not Homelander) attempts to kiss Reader against her will. Just as a heads-up. The bar was a blur of colour and light. Music thudded so loud through the room that you could feel it in your ribcage. You smacked your lips, still sticky with sugar that dusted the rim of your last cocktail, swaying to a song you didn't know the words to. In other words, you were drunk as fuck. "Heyyy!" a similarly-drunk Casey came prancing back up to you and the others you're with, bearing a tray of drinks that wobbled dangerously at her drunken gait. Her cleavage also wobbled in her tight red dress, which was probably why it had taken her such a short time to get served. "Shots!" "Shots, shots, shots!" you cheered, grabbing one with clumsy fingers. Across from you, a hand appeared in your field of vision, instantly irritating you, because it belongs to a man - a man who didn't clean his fingernails. Steve took a shot, and you knew he's trying to make eye contact with you again, so you purposefully looked towards Casey and clinked tiny plastic glasses against hers in a cheers. To be honest, you don't know why Steve was here. Casey only seemed to be vaguely acquainted with him, a friend of hers called Danesha or Danika or something (it’s hard to hear much over the music) brought him along and you wondered why neither the woman who brought him or Steve seemed to notice or care how out of place he was with a group of women he barely knows. His low-effort outfit of a polo-neck t-shirt and baggy jeans looks weird against all your clubbing outfits and he bobbed around on the fringes of the group, head jerking awkwardly to whatever song was on. Foam from the beer he was drinking clung to the scraggly beard he had. The thing was, you knew what Steve wanted. He's been staring at both Casey, you and some other girls for most of the night (you knew you guys looked good, but come on) and he kept trying to get you to dance with him despite the fact he had A) No rhythm and B) a shit taste in songs. He even offered to buy you a drink, his hot, gross breath wafting over your ear, but you pretended not to understand him under the volume of the music. His staring, his presence, his ultimate passivity in how he's tossing out a few cliche gestures and now they haven't worked he's just standing there in a group of dancing, chatting girls like a useless appendage, pissed you off. You don't want him here because tonight was meant to be all about the girls, not tolerating some random guy just because he got dumped and he's sooo sad because it still hurts. You wanna know what hurts? you thought savagely, one of the most lucid thoughts you've had since you left Casey's apartment. Getting fucking shot. Fucking Steve.

Maybe you wouldn't be feeling so hostile towards this wet dishrag of a man if it wasn't for anything else. The whispers and staring that had followed you around for weeks, maybe even over a month by now. How you still felt exhausted so quickly and suddenly these days, the scar from the gunshot wound on your stomach, that fucking interview you'd essentially been tricked into giving...you just had no patience  left, and definitely not when you were trying so hard to forget all of it. Forget about him. You wouldn't speak the name - didn't even want to think it - so you swallowed down the shot in your hand without stopping to ask what it was first. You learn the minute it hit you tongue, the sharp, acrid bitterness filling your mouth. You gagged. Fucking tequila! You scrambled to grab a lime, realising belatedly you forgot to do salt, and sucked on it frantically, the tart sourness of the fruit a cleansing balm of the shot. Casey cackled as everyone else chokes - she actually likes tequila and drinks it for fun. You'd forgotten that about her. She grabbed your hand. "Let's dance!" she bellowed at you, her lipgloss all smudged, and dragged you into a sea of bodies twisting beneath candy-coloured lights. Eager to get away from Steve, you followed her lead, even though you're not exactly some amazing dancer yourself, when you're this fucked up it hardly matters. Your eyes lazily scanned the faces around you, looking to see if you can find any guys you thought were cute. It's been a while since you've had sex and even if picking up randoms from a bar wasn't usually your style, maybe that's exactly what you needed right now. But try as you might, you can't see anybody that makes you feel anything. Your heart beats on steadily, unmoved by the people on display, and you sighed, wondering if you're getting too old for this or if you're being picky or something. You can't even remember the last time somebody genuinely made your heart skip a beat- Yes you can. “I love this song!!” Casey screamed at you over the music, her hair falling out of the updo she’d put it in earlier but in a way that looked artfully messy, and your face lights up when you recognise the tune, an old favourite from your college days. “Me too!” you yelled back. Funny how some booze robbed you of your inability to make any sort of meaningful observations, but that wasn’t really what’s required of you right now. It doesn’t matter. Nothing seemed to matter as you twisted and turned beneath the strobe lights, a machine sending out plumes of dry ice, hiding the dancefloor that’s soaked in people’s spilled drinks by now. You watched as the people around you flash red, yellow, green, blue…something so normal made mesmerising with just a few tricks of the light (and copious amounts of liquid courage, it had to be said). The other girls pushed their way through the crowd to join you, squealing, the lights twinkling on their jewellery or the glitter on their eyelids. And right on Danesha’s heels was fucking Steve. It's like tasting something slightly off in an otherwise good meal, contaminating every other bite. He’s looking at you again, that vaguely dead eyed expression that sent your teeth on edge, so you turned your back to him. He seemed impervious to reading body language or your annoyed expressions, but not having to look at him was at least something. “Oh my god, Lucy, what are you doing?!” Danesha suddenly shrieked. You all turned to look at Lucy, one of Casey’s friends, who had somehow crossed the dancefloor without any of you noticing and had climbed on one of the tables, dancing around on it like a thing possessed. You’re kind of impressed she somehow hadn’t knocked over all of the glasses and bottles covering the surface. She had her arms thrown above her head, bracelets sliding down her skinny wrists, blonde hair twisting back and forth along with her movements. A security guard rushed over, nearly colliding with you, yelling at her to get down or he’d throw her out, and as the oblivious crowd around you start jumping up and down to an R’n’B song that just started, you realised something- You’re going to puke. You bolted for it, feeling the hot, sickly feeling rising in your throat, the roof of your mouth tingling. You raced towards the ladies, but skidded to a halt – the queue was so long you doubted you’d make it even if they let you pass to get to the sinks, so you did the only over thing you could think of and ran outside where the smokers went. The tequila tasted even worse on the way back up as you bent over a trashcan outside and vomited it back up, throat burning with it and your eyes stinging. You blinked hard several times because you didn’t want it to fuck up your eyeliner. You made a mental note that in future, when Casey gives you a mysterious shot, at least ask what it is first. You still had your drink from before in your hand and took a cautious swig from it to wash the horrible taste out of your mouth, spitting it out into the trashcan too. It’s not water but it’s an improvement, at least. “Hey.” You stiffened. You didn’t need to turn around to know who the voice belonged to. Your fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle as you turned your head to see Steve standing a few feet behind you, hands in his pockets. “What?” you said, flatly, because you weren’t interested in small talk. He looked slightly surprised at your response, blinking and swaying a little. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay or if you wanted him to get Casey or someone, of course. He’s only interested in what he wants. “So like…you’re so hot.” Steve said and if you weren’t already so done with him, you might have laughed at what a pathetic attempt at a pickup line that was. “And I was thinking like…we should-“ “No.” you interrupted. Steve stared at you. “What?” “There is no ‘we’. Whatever you were about to ask, I’m not interested.” You said, and it’s a relief to get it out in the open. Whatever he wanted, he wasn’t getting it from you. “I’m going back inside now.” “Hey, you don’t even know what I was gonna say!” Steve protested in a whiny voice, blocking the doorway. “Don’t be like that.” “I don’t even know what you’re doing here.” You blurted out, anger rising in you like someone turned up a thermostat inside you. “It was meant to just be us girls and here you are, expecting us all to feel bad for you because you got dumped or something and ruining it for all of us. It’s so creepy how you’re hovering around acting like if you buy us drinks or whatever it means you’ll get something out of it later. That’s not how it works. Now get out of my fucking way.” God, it felt good to say that, seeing that stunned look on his face like he couldn’t believe his ears. You’re so sick of holding back everything you want to say, every moment of every day, of feeling like you’re constantly walking over a landmine and if you don’t consider everything you do carefully, it’ll all be blown to smithereens. You’ve been swallowing venom for so long it’s great to spit it out. “You’re a bitch!” Steve spluttered in astonishment, clearly aiming to sound scornful but he sounded so affronted that it’s impossible to take him seriously – if he had pearls to clutch, he would. “You got that right.” You said, feeling a vindictive smirk on your face. “Now move.” You’ve wasted quite enough time on this douchebag as it was, and you went to push past him when he suddenly grabbed at your arm. “Wait, just calm down.” Steve said, slurring slightly. “Get the hell off me.” You hissed at him. You wrenched your arm free, stumbling backwards and when you right yourself, Steve’s face was suddenly looming over you like a satellite dish, his lips puckered grotesquely. Ugh! “I said get away!” You swung your hand to hit him, outrage flooding your brain and overriding any shred of common sense, but the hand you instinctively flung up was still clutching the bottle from earlier and there’s a loud, dull thunk as it collided with the side of Steve’s face. The bottle doesn’t break or shatter dramatically, but either way you get your desired outcome – Steve getting the fuck away from you, clutching his face and moaning loudly, a strange, bovine noise that made you think of a cow getting stuck. “My eye! My eye! You bitch, you fucking cunt!” he shouted, staggering on the spot, a spot just below his eyebrow already starting to swell. You know you should be feeling something right now – shocked or guilty or something, but there’s nothing there. Just a cold sense of satisfaction in having your kneejerk dislike of Steve vindicated. “You’re fucking pathetic.” You said, like a queen issuing a royal decree, before tossing your makeshift weapon aside and walking back into the bar. Inside, you only have to walk a few steps before a bouncer passed you, carrying a semi-conscious Lucy over one gigantic shoulder, Danesha and the other girls following him like a row of duckling and loudly talking, though you can’t tell if they’re upset about being kicked out or just trying to rouse Lucy. Casey came rushing up to you. “There you are! Come on, we should go – Lucy’s absolutely out of it, so we’re going to take her back to Christa’s place to sober her up. Do you wanna crash there too? She doesn’t mind.” You considered it as you followed Casey out, ducking and weaving past the people still dancing the night away, but after puking up your last drink and braining Steve in the face, you decided that you know when to fold. “No, I’ll get a taxi back to mine. I’m tired and I don’t want to sleep on the floor.” You said. You debated telling her about Steve, but knowing Casey she’d probably go looking for him and try to fight him and as much as you love her for that, you’d say you’ve taken care if things. Anyway, you don’t want to ruin her night any further. Maybe you’ll tell her about it later when you’ve both sobered up. Outside the club, there are plenty of taxis waiting and after the bouncer deposits Lucy in one of them (which was pretty nice of him – you’ve known bouncers who would probably leave someone that drunk lying on the floor so long as they weren’t in the bar), Casey turned to you and gave you a hug. “Sure you don’t want to come with us?” “I’m sure.” You replied – you wanted to go home and sleep. “Okay. Talk tomorrow, text me when you get home!” she ordered you. “Don’t forget!” “You’re the one who never remembers to text.” You snorted as you climbed into the back of the taxi. “See you later.” The taxi pulls away from the curb and after giving your address, you slump back against the seat, your eyes sliding shut despite yourself. He’ll wake you up when you get to your destination, for sure. Outside the taxi, the city parties on. ~ Elsewhere… "Stupid bitch..." Steve, forgotten by the group of people he'd arrived at the bar with, even Danisha, who'd brought him, stumbles home through the brightly lit night of the city. The night is beginning to wind down now, most of the partiers tiring of their alcohol-induced fun and retreating home or joining a stranger to spend the rest of the night with. Steve doesn't want to return home, but to say his night has been ruined was an understatement - his throbbing face was testament enough to that. Just who the fuck did you think you were, anyway? He’s a nice guy and he's just been dumped! Was it so much to ask he get to hang out with a group of hotties for a night? But you’d looked at him like he was shit on your boots, like you were so fucking special. And Danika had made it seem he'd for sure get laid, she insisted he was a great guy and his ex was crazy for breaking up with him, yet all he got was fucking smashed in the face! This petulant internal monologue continues on and on. He may have even been inclined to continue going to bars in hopes of guilting some woman into letting him go home with her, throwing himself on her sense of pity as if impaling himself on a sword. But he doesn't have the cash, and besides which, his face is sore and throbbing, a bruise already forming beneath his eyebrow. By the morning it will be there, the only souvenir of tonight and not one he was hoping to walk away with. He turns into the mouth of an alleyway that’s a handy shortcut home - Steve grimaces as a waft of garbage reached his nose, no doubt collection day’s tomorrow morning, so it's not a pleasant trip, but it takes him further away from the noise and bright lights that seem to be mocking him, everybody else having fun while all he got was attacked. Can he sue for assault or whatever it was? GBA or something? When Steve rounds the next corner, where some lurid graffiti art that always catches his eye and made him stare at it as he passed, he's unprepared to be intercepted. He stops, squinting. A figure stands in the middle of the alley. Thanks to the bright lighting of a billboard across the street, light floods the street and the man's features are in shadow. Steve squints, confused - the posture wasn't one of any mugger he's ever seen before. He can already tell this guy’s strong, he’s taller and bulkier than Steve is, even in silhouette. The man stands there, legs apart, shoulders thrown back and hands behind his back. But Steve spots something - an American flag, dangling behind the man, lit up by the fluorescent glow. “…No way…” Steve mutters under his breath, drunk as he is – even someone blackout drunk would recognise the person standing in front of him. But why’s he here? Homelander says nothing to explain himself, why Vought’s golden boy would be standing in a filthy alleyway like he’s staring down enemy gunfire. He steps closer silently, the flag swaying hypnotically behind him. Steve finds himself staggering backwards until his jacket brushes brick wall, which is crazy. He’s an innocent citizen, why is he instinctively drawing away from Homelander? Unless…maybe it’s not him at all? Maybe it’s just some guy on a bachelor party in a Homelander outfit or something? His uniform is a popular choice, they’re easy to get into and instantly recognisable, no need to have multiple conversations explaining your outfit at a costume party with such an iconic Supe’s wardrobe readily available. It’s a useful disguise in case you wanna rob somebody, too. Convinced of his theory, Steve yells: “Hey, man! What do you want?!” And then his stomach turns to ice, as in the gloom of the alleyway, two pinpricks of red flare in the darkness, like the eyes of a crocodile. It's him. A hand shoots out, grasping Steve by the throat and lifting him off the ground as easily as most people might pick up a bag of washing. Steve chokes, flounders, Homelander’s thumb digging into the vulnerable flesh beneath his jaw. His movements feel so slow and sluggish and Homelander tilts his head in consideration, his jaw clenched. Steve splutters for air, the grip on his throat like a vice. His fingers claw pointlessly at Homelander’s glove, legs weakly kicking. He tries to speak but all that comes out is an incoherent gurgle. “Please…” Homelander’s lips draw back in a snarl. In that moment he looks less a man and more like a beast. Steve’s panic-stricken eyes meet glowing scarlet ones, tears leaking from them instinctively. Homelander finally speaks; “She’s right. You are fucking pathetic.” And the fist clenches and the bones in Steve’s neck pop like twigs, the flesh giving way beneath his superhuman grip like it’s nothing more than paper. Steve's body jerks and a final, rattling gurgle leaves his mouth. Then he falls still, head slumping. Homelander drops the body, where it collapses before the graffiti in a crumpled heap, piss staining the front of his ill-fitting jeans, glassy eyes staring at nothing. Homelander wipes his hand on the thigh of his suit, like he just touched something filthy. He sniffs once, rolls his shoulders. A blink later, a casual lift into the sky, and he’s gone.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Heya! I just wanna first say I REALLY like your writing and it's so so cool to see some TD stuff on tumblr TwT the community is so small still so you are doing gods work here!!

I'm interested in a TD match up (possibly OM too if ur up to it!! either way idm<33)

- Name: Jay (nicknames: Bread, bug, jäyssi)

- pronouns: They/them

- sexuality: still figurin it out but I lean more towards men but also sometimes find women attractive too, non binary ppl are always a yes

- Zodiac/mbti: Cancer, ISFP-T

- appearance: 165cm tall, brunette ass lenght hair I usually just slick back using my headphones as a hairband. Always wearing noise cancelling headphones and prefer a more alternative style, almost also teetering to a 90's jock vibes :P small round sunglasses my beloved. Big love to suede leather bomber jackets and ripped jeans.

- Personality: Very empathetic, more of a listener than talker (unless it comes to my interests in which case I yap!!) Can come off as a bit monotone (I have alexithymia which causes emotions to be hard for me). I'm told I'm super approachable and comforting ^^" I get very excited over the little things and can be quite optimistic. I react quite badly to rejection or even the smallest failures.

- likes and dislikes: I LOVE snails, dandelions(my fav flower<33), anything mango flavored winter, art, everything and anything fluffy and listenin to music! I DISLIKE almost all fruits, summer, blood/gore (hemofobia), cooking (cooking anxiety), worded instructions.

- hobbies: I draw/paint digitally and traditionally. I always carry a sketchbook around everywhere :] I also really like going on easy hikes on forest trails as well as amateur photography!!

- extra info: I have autism/ADD so social stuff might suck and I can be very slow at times when it comes to learning stuff.

(If you're not currently doing matchups, please feel free to ignore this <3)

Hi Jay! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took a while. I hope you like your matchups!

In Tokyo Debunker, I match you with...

You and Towa make a good combination since you’re both good listeners and talkative at different times. When one of you is talking, the other is listening intently.

You like dandelions? Oh, Towa’s perfect for you! He’s always bringing you dandelions whenever he visits and plants them nearby so he has a constant supply.

I see him as someone who’s a fan of summer as well. He likes the feeling of the sun on his skin and enjoys going on walks through the Jabberwock fields with you.

He thinks it’s really cute that you have a fondness for fluffy things. There are plenty of those around Jabberwock and he’ll happily show them to you, as long as you show him some affection as well. His hair’s pretty fluffy after all…

Towa also thinks it’s really cute that you get so excited over little things. He thinks that sort of enthusiasm is much needed in the world and it’s lovely being around you.

In Obey Me, I match you with...

Simeon was first drawn to you because of your comforting presence. And the more time he spent with you, the more he fell for you.

Much like Towa, Simeon thinks it’s sweet how excited you get over little things. He feels he doesn’t have to hide his own excitement when he’s around you.

He’s a very creative person himself so he loves sitting by you when you paint or draw. He likes being around the creative process since it makes him feel inspired as well.

I can definitely see him as someone who likes photography and would really enjoy going on walks with you where you each take a camera and compare photos when you get back.

Simeon’s pretty good in the kitchen himself so as long as you don’t mind the company, he’d love to join you. If you prefer cooking by yourself, he’ll happily just have some of whatever delicious food you’ve whipped up.