#and how technically they had even less privacy than I first thought
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Watery's sauna
#alan wake 2#my screenshots#watery#nsft in tags#i genuinely realised there was a window in here for the first time when I took this photo#and all i could think about was my ahti/norman fic where Ahti jerks Norman off in the sauna#and how technically they had even less privacy than I first thought#🤣
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any thoughts on the new post that staff went scorched earth on which is now making the rounds abt tumblr live? it basically screenshots all the tos and claims if you've ever opened the app (or in some rbs, unsnoozed live) tumblr has gotten your data. on the one hand i feel like this is fearmongering, but on the other its true that MOST sites have your data as is so its pretty standard. you seem pretty knowledgeable abt data gathering so i was wondering abt your take
This is going to be pretty unkind but watching tumblr users interact with staff and live is a great primer on how conspiracy theories happen.
Nobody on this fucking website knows how to read a ToS, nobody on this website knows how anything fucking works (sorry, this is not a dig at you but how would tumblr "get" your data from you clicking or unclicking live; the only data that tumblr has on you is the data that you have put on tumblr what data do people think that clicking the "new" button is scooping up that is anything beyond interactions or posts or IP addresses which are the things that tumblr already has information about like you do not introduce new information into the tumblr ecosystem by clicking a button you haven't installed anything you haven't changed permissions on your browser if everyone is so goddamned scared about live stealing their data i strongly recommend they stop using anything but public internet through an anonymizer and making sure location data is shut off on all of their devices and anyone who is flipping their shit about the type of data that live is collecting but who is using chrome on any device needs to chill the fuck out about live and flip the fuck out about google)
this is like that post about twitter's content policy that circulated the other day or that post about deviantart's content policy that circulated ten fucking years ago nobody knows how to read legal documents and nobody knows how to read technical documentation and this comes together into unholy matrimony on the no reading comprehension at all moral panic website
live never violated the GDPR it was just rolled out in the US first but the entire userbase decided that because it hadn't been rolled out simultaneously in the EU and the US that it was SO UNSPEAKABLY PRIVACY VIOLATEY THAT THE EU HAD BANNED IT FOR ITS CRIMES with, like, nothing whatsoever backing that up because, again, even at its most intrusive Live collects about as much data as Twitter or Yelp, both of which are *capable* of meeting GDPR standards with that level of data collection (even if musk sometimes makes decisions that violate GDPR).
Live is significantly less intrusive than any facebook product, than Amazon, and than any Google product. If you use youtube logged in, don't worry about live, the horse is out of the barn and tumblr is the least of your worries *regardless* of live. If you regularly use Google as a search engine please god learn how to evaluate and compare risks across platforms because Live is like a coughing baby compared to about a dozen things that most highly online people interact with every single day.
If you don't want to use live don't use live. Clicking the button doesn't magically transfer your secret FBI file to tumblr and even agreeing to the ToS doesn't share anything that tumblr doesn't already have if you don't continue to interact - if you don't interact with live after agreeing to the ToS it's not collecting any data except your non-interaction.
For everyone who is losing it over Live just turn off your goddamned location on your fucking cellphone and turn off your location on your goddamned computers and that's it, you're good, you're fine, relax. If your response to "turn off your location" is "but I need it for _____" then don't worry about Live, whatever "_____" is was already collecting and selling your data.
Do you use an activity tracker? Congrats, you have much, much bigger privacy issues to worry about than tumblr live.
Okay but also I yelled about that post and the very many ways in which it was incorrect in January.
And I happened to take an archive of the page at that time because I'm a paranoid motherfucker.
And if you want my guess as to why staff went "scorched earth" on that post it's probably because if you scroll down to the bottom of the page on the archive, OP calls on everyone looking at the post to send a kind fuck you to the CEO then tagged his tumblr.
If you look at the other posts that went scorched earth in relation to tumblr staff they were also posts that very pointedly directed a lot of ire at a single staff member.
I don't think that any individual tumblr staff members are above criticism and I don't think that staff as a whole is above criticism but part of learning to read a ToS is understanding that someone can be shitty and vague and use TERF talking points and skirt the line and be technically okay under the ToS while someone can have a legitimate gripe about another user being horrible and manage to violate the ToS by accidentally spinning up a harassment campaign or suicide baiting someone.
Shitty people like nazis and terfs thrive on being edge cases. They are very good at finding a boundary and standing juuuuuuuuust on this side of it and going "la la la I'm not violating the ToS, you can't stop me!" and that blows and it leads to a lot of people encountering a lot of shitty stuff on a lot of websites but personally I'm pretty glad that there's a lot of gray area because when you cut out gray area that's when you see things like It's Going Down getting banned as extremist content alongside white supremacists. Please continue to report nazis and terfs, and when possible go deep into their pages to report because a pattern of behavior is more likely to get recognized as hate speech than a single post that gets reported a hundred times. Please block as many people who it's harmful for you to interact with as possible because it's clear that staff is not going to do the kind of work protecting users that users would like staff to do.
However I just can't get angry on behalf of a blogger who got nuked for saying "Hey everyone who hates this feature that we all hate please go tell the CEO to fuck himself at this URL specifically" - that is an extremely clear violation of the ToS because it is absolutely targeted harassment.
So now tumblr-the-userbase is going off on its merry conspiracy way skipping through fields and lacking reading comprehension and saying "users are getting banned for reporting the crimes of tumblr live and its gdpr violations" and ignoring the fact that the post was nuked because the last line was saying "hey everyone, let's all individually tell the CEO to fuck off in messages sent directly to him that are certainly not going to include any threats, exaggerations, gore, etc. etc. etc."
If I were to make a post that had 50k notes and the last line was "and while you're at it, please send tumblr-user-ms-demeanor a personalized message telling them why they're a terrible person so they know what we think of them" it would absolutely be reasonable to say that was harassing that user. And that post did it with the CEO. Who is not above criticism (and I have my criticisms! I don't think he really gets tumblr and that's a problem!), but jesus fucking christ don't tag the goddamned CEO or any other staff member in a call to action asking users to send them messages saying "fuck off" this is literally the stupidest thing I've ever seen a tumblr conspiracy theory coalesce around.
Anyway thank you for giving me a place to vent i've been getting more and more pissed about this for three days. Everyone feel free to kindly tell tumblr user ms demeanor to fuck off.
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Helmet
W.C.- 1,7 k
prompt 8. -Loving you was a hazard, so I got my heart a helmet. prompt 11. -Oh I’m down on my hands and knees, begging you please. prompt 13. -I’m feeling so tired, really falling apart.
A/n: this started out as a song blurb, but it became too long. anyways if you want to request there's a prompt list linked in the masterlist :)
-----------------
You knew it was risky to date the ‘fuckgirl’ of the team, but as she flashed you that cheesy loving smile, all those worries slipped to the back of your head. She was no longer the hot girl that your teammates told you to stay away from, she was just your Leah.
Your Leah that would kiss you oh so tenderly, your Leah who would look you in the eyes and tell you she loved you, your Leah who had you convinced that she’d changed. Your Leah who wasn’t yours.
When you notice the first signs of your declining relationship, you outright chose to ignore them. To this day you can’t understand why you did what you did, maybe you had inherited the same naivety as your mother, maybe you were just too in love with the blonde.
Either way, it didn’t matter, not when she wasn’t yours to love.
When Leah started password protecting all her devices like she had done in the earliest stages of your relationship, you should have packed your bags and left. But you didn’t listen to that gut feeling that told you something was up, now you know to always trust your gut.
Then came the secrecy, the one that made you feel so stupid and like you were a stranger in your own relationship. Leah would leave you at random points during the day, claiming that the physio needed her to come in for a ‘quick session’, technically she wasn’t wrong it was just a different type of session than you thought.
After that most of the sweet, intimate moments began to wither away. You no longer got a kiss goodbye nor did you get to do something as simple as hold her hand. And when you finally did get an intimate moment with her, it was like she didn’t mean her actions. She didn’t mean the kiss she would press so feather light to your lips, the kiss that once meant so much.
Leah was slipping through your fingers, and the worst thing was that there was nothing you could do about it.
But it was really when she started to come home with gifts after her every outing that the pattern truly emerged. It was eerily similar to how it had been when your father had been having an affair with his secretary. You feel so incredibly stupid when all the puzzle pieces finally fall into place, of course history has to repeat itself. I mean it was just your luck.
No matter how disgusting you feel at the thought of invading Leah’s privacy, it was essential for you to get your proof.
So when Leah decides to take a shower at your place after another ‘session’ with the physio, you take the opportunity to look through her phone.
It only takes you two tries to get it unlocked, the woman having the audacity to have it as your birthday. It takes even less time to find the proof you need, the overly suggestive comments between her and one of the assistant physios telling you everything you needed to know about their less than appropriate activities.
By the time Leah exits the bathroom in one of your fluffy towels, you’ve already screenshotted it and sent it to your phone, the naked photos on her phone so revolting that you have to keep yourself from throwing up all over your expensive rug.
“What are you doing with my phone?” Leah questions carefully, her wet hair splayed over her strong shoulders and dripping onto your floor.
“What in the fuck does it look like I’m doing Leah fucking Williamson?” You shoot back at her, the usually overconfident woman retreating back at your tone.
“It looks like you’re invading my privacy.” You can’t help the scoff that escapes your lips, Leah always finding a way to flip all the blame onto you.
“I can’t believe you, I’m not even sure why I’m surprised. Of course that’s what I get for dating a fuck girl.” The offended look that appears on Leah’s face only makes you chuckle harder, the mask of finding the whole situation funny hiding the hurt you felt at her betrayal.
“Baby, I promise it’s not what it seems like. We’re only friends.” Leah hurries the words out, trying her hardest to make you believe them.
“Oh it’s not what it seems like, IT’S NOT WHAT IT SEEMS LIKE!? ‘I had fun last night, we should do it again sometime;)’ or maybe ‘Be careful, I think Y/n’s on to us.’ that does not sound like something I’d say to a friend.” The firmness in your voice worries center back, never having heard it sound like that.
“Baby please, I didn’t mean it-”
“You’re pathetic and a FUCKING HAZARD TO LOVE Leah Williamson! I mean, I knew the whole ‘love’ thing would be risky, but god damn it Leah loving you is a hazard and I really should’ve gotten my heart a helmet while I had the chance.” You finish off your rant, moving towards your own door fully intent on leaving her there in your apartment.
Just as you pass her on the way to your door, Leah grabs hold of your hand tightly, willing you not to go out the door.
The blonde soon found herself on her knees in front of you, your frame towering over her.
“Baby, I’m down on my hands and knees begging you to not go. I love you so much and that girl was a mistake. I promise, just please give me another chance.” Her desperate voice rings out through the apartment, and the slight chuckle that escapes your mouth is enough for the tears to start streaming down her face.
“Get up. GET UP I SAID! I’m not going to accept any of your pathetic attempts to get me to forgive you. You knew exactly how I felt about cheaters yet you went and cheated on me, congratu-fucking-lations Leah, you lost me the second you started sleeping with that tramp. Now I’m going to give you four days to get your shit out of my apartment or else I’m burning it, you understand?” Leah nods her head frantically, her wet tears landing on your cheeks where you wipe them away.
Continuing on your way to the door, Leah’s choked up voice stops you in your tracks for the last time.
“Where are you going?” Sighing, you respond as quickly as you could, hand on the doorknob.
“I’m staying with a friend, don’t contact me and don’t try to find out who I’m staying with. I have proof of your affair so don’t even try to test me.” And with that, you’re out the door, leaving Leah to pick up the pieces of her heart she herself broke.
The rain soaks through your hoodie and all the way down through to your socks. Just great, of course the weather had to match your mood.
The alkaline water falling from the sky mixes with the tears falling down the vicinity of your face and paints a painstakingly beautiful portrayal of how it feels to love someone even after they’ve wronged you. How it feels to be betrayed the way you were.
Arriving at the house where your favorite lives, you can’t help but feel completely defeated when they open the door, the fight no longer in you at all.
“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Beth asks you as she swings the door open, seeing your slumped over form, despair written all over your face.
“She fucking cheated on me” You cry, Beth holding your rain soaked sobbing body in her arms.
As Viv appears around the corner she looks questioningly at Beth, but the woman holding you just gestures to the upstairs area. Viv gets the hint quickly and disappears up the stairs to get you some dry clothing, your current ones plastered to your skin like a second skin.
“I loved her so much and she cheated on me. Why’d she cheat on me Bethy? Am I really that hard to love properly?” The sobbed words feels like a stab in the heart for the older woman, she knew she should’ve told you exactly why Leah was bad news.
“Shhh shhhh, it has nothing to do with you sweetie. Leah’s bad news and she’s truly stupid for doing that to you.” Viv rejoins you, patting your shoulder awkwardly while trying to help Beth console you. It only gets her a glare, and she makes the motion of going to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
“I’m feeling so tired Bethy, she’s really succeeded in making me fall apart this time.” Beth leads you over to the bathroom and hands you the dry clothes to put on, the comforting smell of them leaving you to think about how Leah’s used to be equally as comforting.
Back at your apartment, Leah sits slumped over on the shiny hardwood floor, tears streaming down her face. The realization that she just destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to her came like a punch in the gut.
She’d never loved someone like you before, having been hurt the same way she just hurt you so many times before. Leah can’t help but think back on the beautiful times you had together, the feeling of being so incredibly loved, something she’d never felt from a romantic partner before.
She had gotten scared of her own emotions and she had hurt you in the process, if she could she would go back and stop herself from ever texting that girl back.
Like a wise woman once said, you never know what you’ve got until you’ve lost it.
At the same time, you’re laying with your head in your best friend's lap and your feet in your other one’s. Tears slip down your cheeks and color the older woman’s pant leg a darker version of its earlier shade.
Yeah, the next time your friends warn you about someone, you’re sure as hell going to take their advice.
#woso#lionesses#woso x reader#arsenal wfc#leah williamson#leah williamson x reader#song prompt blurb
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Public Relations
Leah Williamson x Reader
Word Count: 2.6k
[WOSO Masterlist]
Being a public figure meant not having an ounce of privacy in your life.
You’re more than proud of the part you played in the 2019 World Cup and subsequent international matches, but there’s no denying how much you treasure the moments you could keep your personal life more… personal.
That’s why when you and Leah first started dating, neither of you were in a hurry to publicize it.
Technically you guys were in the same circles before you even got together. Same sport aside, you actually first became friends with Keira. You had become friends with Keira when your national teammates went over to Man City during Covid. After one too many video calls with Rose, Sam, and Abby in which Keira had the unfortunate act of being caught in the background, it seemed almost inevitable that you became friends. The two of you just clicked.
So yeah, you were already somewhat in the same orbit. Now how did Keira tie into you and Leah getting together?
Well let’s just say after a night out spent with her best friend, Leah woke up with a pounding head, a sinking feeling she did something stupid, and a returned DM.
[I think you’re pretty good looking yourself too]
Leah’s drunken initiation didn’t disappoint. It didn’t take too long for your flirty messages to turn into something genuine, and before you knew it, the two of you had been dating for almost a year.
Dating Leah has been nothing but bliss. The distance sometimes wreaked havoc on your sleep schedule and wallet, but Leah was worth the late night wake up calls and frequent flights overseas.
The two of you had just started talking about being a little bit more public with your relationship, ready to stop hiding as much. On your last trip out to see Leah, you even posted a picture of you at her game. Leah has always loved the sight of you in her clothes, so your surprise appearance, dressed only in her jersey and clothes you stole from her apartment only set to light her heart ablaze.
While you were taking the soft coming out approach for the public, you didn’t think you were hiding much from your teammates. You never shied away from taking Leah’s calls in front of them. Hell, if memory serves right, some of them have even almost walked in on you as the two of you were… let’s just say having a less than family friendly call. These were the people you thought of as family, the first people you told anything to. You were sure they were already well aware of your affections for the English defender.
Turns out you were wrong.
It all began with the end of an international window.
You’re chilling in the locker room, basking in the joy of another successful game while scrolling through your phone. It’s easy to ignore the numerous notifications of congratulations. You’d reply to them all eventually, but there’s only one text thread you’re seeking out.
While you were on the field, Leah’s been blowing up your phone with her play-by-play reactions. Seeing her live reactions as the game was progressing, despite the late hour in England, only made your heart flutter. You smile at the texts, sending a quick heart back before making a mental note to call Leah after she’s gotten a couple hours of sleep.
When you tune back into the noise around you, you catch the end of some plans to go out on the night.
“So what do you say? Let’s go out, party, maybe get some cute girls’ numbers?”
You look up to see Sonnett wiggling her eyebrows at you. The smile on your face is genuine, a bubbling laugh coming out to accompany it. “I’d be down to go out, but I think Leah might be upset if I follow through on that last part.”
“Who?”
Your head tilts at the confusion clear in Sonny’s voice. “Uh, my girlfriend?”
It’s almost as if your words bring about a halt to everyone’s celebrations. The locker room goes strangely quiet as everyone stares at you weirdly.
You blink, confused by the sudden lack of noise. “What?”
Kelley’s the first one who seems to get her bearings back together. “What-- who-- girlfriend? Since when have you been in a relationship?”
“Leah Williamson,” you start, not even having the chance to answer the second question before the room erupts.
“The England captain?!”
“No way!”
“Since when?”
“I call BS! There’s no way you could’ve hid something as big as this!”
You’re a bit insulted at their lack of faith in you, but you choose to give them all the benefit of the doubt. Everyone’s busy in their own ways, maybe if you just explain it well you would jog their memories. “Why do you think I went to England during the offseason?”
Your team still looks unconvinced, each of them exchanging skeptical looks with one another.
“I literally have an instagram post with me wearing her jersey at one of her games.”
Kristie taps at her chin before snapping her fingers. “Wait, that Arsenal pic from last February?”
You nod, thinking that this is it. The post would 100% be enough to convince your teammates. After all, you were wearing Leah’s jersey. Not to mention, the [(S)he likes my American smile] caption that pretty much spoke for itself.
Only Sonnett doesn’t seem to think so, shaking her head in disbelief. “Nah, this is fake news. No way you have a girlfriend. Let alone bagged Williamson. Like c’mon, choose someone more believable.”
Rose sends you a knowing look but doesn’t jump in to help you. Leave it up to the only person in the locker room who’s more than aware of your relationship to the English captain to not say anything. If anything, she looks amused at your inability to convince the others of your relationship with Leah. Fucking Rosemary.
“Hey don’t worry about it.” Sonnett's smirk has you doing everything but ‘not worry’ about it. “I’m sure the great Leah Williamson wouldn’t mind you sliding into her DMs. After all, who could say no to a face like yours?”
The defender leaps away when you lunge for her with a murderous expression plastered on your face.
---
Rose is the first to meet you when the game ends. You’re both sweaty as hell, legs bruised all around and sore. All you have to do is take one look at the grin on her face to know you’re not going to like whatever’s about to come out of her mouth.
“A little birdy told me you have a visitor.”
You narrow your eyes at her. “One word and I will ‘accidentally’ tell Sof about your drunken confession.”
Rose’s cheeks instantly flame red.
“What was it you said? Something about her--”
The midfielder shoves hard on your shoulders, nearly knocking you over but efficiently cutting you off. It’s not a secret how much Rose likes Sofia. Sofia’s honestly the only person on the team who isn’t aware of the younger girl’s crush on her. You’re half tempted to lock them in a room together to speed up their coupling, but you’re not that evil.
“Anyways, tell the little birdy to mind her own business too unless she’d like me to tell Luce some cool secrets of hers as well.”
Your friends love playing dirty, but so do you.
Leah’s not hard to spot. She looks beautiful dressed in your blue Reign jersey, a matching beanie on her head.
“Hey stranger.”
“Hi, you’re wearing the wrong jersey,” you grin, taking a minute to appreciate your last name on Leah’s back before you’re eagerly pulling her in for a hug.
She pulls away with a snort, rolling her eyes at you. “I’m wearing your club jersey, what more do you want from me?”
“I know, but don’t you think you’d look more fabulous in my US jersey?”
“Don’t push it.” But the sparkle in her eye tells you it wouldn’t take too much for it to happen. Leah may be fiercely loyal to her Lionesses, but she did love you quite a lot.
By the time she’s set to leave, you’re heavily debating whether or not you should book a last minute ticket to go with her. It’s only Leah stealing your phone and her reminders of how much you love your own club that stops you from following through. There’s lots of tears and kisses when you drop her off, heart already aching before she’s even through the airport doors.
Leah waits to make an instagram post until she’s already back home, but you can’t help but still feel the little flutter in your heart at the picture she chooses.
Taken the night of the game, she’s still wearing your jersey, though your name and number are partially obscured. You’re not visible in it, but she’s sticking out her tongue at you and throwing out her signature hand gesture over her shoulder.
[I like your American smile 💙]
---
It seems as if Leah’s visit to Seattle is more than enough to convince your teammates of your relationship, but the general public still remains steadfast in their beliefs of your “lovely friendship��. You wanted to laugh when you read the countless [friendship goals!!] and [imagine visiting your best friend on the opposite side of the world] comments on Leah’s post. To you, it seemed like a further stretch for you and Leah to be best friends than lovers, but then again, they said the same thing about Kristie and Sam before they posted a picture of them making out with each other.
When you slyly suggest doing the same, Leah correctly calls you out for just wanting to make out with her, not that she has any objections to doing so. In the end, the two of you agree to just table the discussion until you’re reunited again. With the US going over to England for a friendly in just a little over a month, the two of you are set to meet up again soon anyways, so waiting a little longer wouldn’t be too much of a burden.
When you first arrive in London, you’re instantly herded to the hotel, no pit stops, no detours to see your girlfriend. Megan’s sure to poke fun at your pout while you’re in the car together.
Leah’s nothing if not professional, so it would have been hard to convince her to house you on that first night anyways. Still, you can’t help but sulk in your hotel room. Leah texts back a picture of Georgia guarding her door.
[G says you’ll see me over her dead body]
You know you could take the midfielder. But it’s the sentiment that counts.
By the time the actual game rolls around, you’ve been training like crazy, not having enough downtime to miss your girlfriend much. Before the game starts, the two of you still send each other good luck texts. You’ve sent one before the other’s games since you started dating, and although you’re pitted against each other tonight, neither of you wanted to break the streak yet.
When Hemp scores the first goal not even ten minutes in, you know it’s going to be a long game.
It’s a constant back and forth.
Sophia scores.
Then Georgia.
You don’t get too much time on the ball. Millie’s been marking you close all game. You’ve been forced to pass the ball almost instantly every time it makes it to your feet, and you wouldn’t be a striker if it wasn’t starting to get on your nerves.
But then suddenly it’s as if all of the stars align. When Andi pokes the ball out, you’re there to receive it. The second you have it, you’re making a break for it. With your blood pumping in your ears, you dodge white shirts, Mary’s yellow one set in sight.
From the corner of your eye you see Lucy streaking towards you. You don’t even have enough time to divert before she’s sliding.
It’s a good tackle, but your momentum keeps you going. The ball soars out of bounds while you go flying over Lucy’s outstretched legs.
You land hard, sliding a few feet before staying down. You rest your head on the grass, all the noise sounding like a faint ringing in your ears. It doesn’t take long before a hand is resting between your shoulder blades, rubbing softly. You don’t have to raise your head to know it’s Leah.
“I just need a second,” you wheeze out, trying to pull some air back into your lungs.
Your girlfriend hums in response, but doesn’t leave your side.
When you finally make it to your feet nearly a minute later, Leah hasn’t moved an inch, only taking a step back when you give her hand a light squeeze. Lucy gives you an apologetic pat, the whistle sounds again, and just like that, the game’s back on.
The closer the game gets to half-time, the more antsy you get. Player after player sends in more than a couple shots towards goal, but nothing seems to go through.
And then it happens.
Trinity rockets the ball right past Earps.
You’re the first to reach her, screaming right into her face. “Let’s fucking go!”
The twenty year old accepts your hug with vigor, letting out a surprised yelp when you lift her into the air.
When the game ends in a 2-2 tie, you know it’s a well deserved draw.
You carefully make your way around the field, shaking hands and hugging where necessary, all the while keeping an eye out for your girlfriend. It’s only minutes but feels more like a lifetime before you make your way over to her. Leah gives you a toothy grin, brushing a stray piece of hair off your face when you reach her.
“Hi baby.”
“Hi,” you breathe out, not caring how you practically melt into Leah when she gets her arms around you.
The blonde chuckles, arms briefly tightening before she’s leaning back to give you an appreciative once-over. “Nice job today. You played great. Definitely gave our backline a run for our money.”
“Thanks babe. I guess you did a fine job too.” Your grin betrays your amusement.
Leah rolls her eyes at you, a hint of a smile on her lips. “So do you want me to strip right now, or?” Leah puts her hands on the hem of her jersey, giving you an expectant look.
You know exactly what she’s asking for, but you decide to play coy. “Oh, now you want to wear my jersey? I dunno, I might give it to Keira.”
You pretend to scan the field for Leah’s best friend, but your girlfriend doesn’t even bother humoring you. Leah narrows her eyes. “Guess I’ll be going home alone tonight then.”
Though mostly likely empty, her threat still has you quickly scrambling to pull your jersey off, practically knocking Leah over by how hard you shove your jersey into her hands.
Later that night, you and Leah post the same picture. You’re in England white and she’s in US blue, your arm wrapped around her waist. You’re laughing at something Sanchez said off to the side while Leah’s looking at you with a look that can only be described as lovestruck.
The English captain’s caption is a cute and simple heart.
Yours on the other hand--
[History will say we’re roommates 👯]
kmewis19: they’re lesbians, stacey
lavellerose: moms
keirawalsh: moms
sophsssmith: my otp right here
leahwilliamsonn: don’t be getting all sentimental now 🙄
lavellerose: lmao someone’s in the doghouse
.
Safe to say, everyone gets the message.
#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson imagine#uswnt x reader#uswnt imagine#woso x reader#woso imagine#Ace writes
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Her Grace's Handmaid Pt.7
(Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader x Sandor Clegane Smut: Praise Kink, Oral {m receiving}, Breeding Kink, Fluff. )
AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340
The Wedding itself was rushed.
They received Lord and Lady Stark's blessing to use the Winterfell sept to perform the ceremony, and Septon Chayle was more than willing to help once he was convinced neither you nor Sandor were being forced against your will.
Which wasn't technically true, but honestly it just seemed easier to go with it than fight against it. If it had to be anyone, you thought as you entered the great sept decorated with carved masks of The Seven, at least it was him.
Sandor's house was too new to have a cloak to slip over your back, and even if they had it would have been in the Westerlands. Instead they used his regular riding cloak, which was warm and woolen.
The king presided over the ceremony, along with Cersei who looked as if someone was sticking a knife between her ribs to keep her there. Prince Joffery had insisted upon coming out of morbid curiosity. Perhaps he thought they would drag you into the sept kicking and screaming. Princess Marcella tailed her older brother, convinced the wedding would be a romantic affair.
"One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever"
The kiss was a surprisingly soft one, his whiskers prickled your cheeks, but his lips found your almost out of instinct. They were warm and insistent. When he pulled away, you wished he hadn't.
"Congratulations, you two" Chayle nodded, gathering his official looking robes around him. "I wish you both a long and happy life together."
"Thank you, Septon." You nodded politely. Sandor didn't even acknowledge him as he left, looking to the royals with hard eyes that begged the question of "now what?"
"Well now" Robert grumbled, "That's that settled then. Right?"
"Yes, Your grace." You curtseyed meekly, tucking your small hand it to Sandor's gloved one.
"We should give you a minute." Cersei breathed, "Come darlings, the Starks are feasting us tonight we should get ready."
The matriarch led the royal family out of the sept, the door closing with an echoing clang.
"Are you okay?" You whispered, squeezing his hand slightly. "You haven't said anything."
"Fine" He nodded, "You?"
"Good." You confirmed. "You don't think they expect us to..." You led off into the open air.
Sandor grunted, "No one's going to force you to fuck me, if that's what your worried about."
"Hey" you snapped at him, pulling his arm with surprising strength so he was facing you. "First of all, No one could force me to do anything I don't want to do if they tried. Secondly, it's less the act of fucking you I'm worried about and more the complete lack of privacy."
"Oh" Sandor's brow arched, "Now she's worried about privacy. If you had thought of that before, we wouldn't be here."
You knew he was just teasing you from his tone, and you bumped him with your hip slightly. "Fuck you."
The sept door opened slightly, drawing you attention as the queen slipped through the crack.
"Your Grace" you breathed, "Are you-"
"I'm fine." She nodded, "Robert is satisfied. it seems we are off the hook for now."
She eyed the two of you together with a strange glow behind her eyes.
"Have you two...?" she tried to find the words, "I have arranged for a room below to be made up for you. I know it's not much of a wedding, but for the marriage to be legal you will have to-"
"We figured." Sandor grunted, seeming almost embarrassed.
"Sweetling," Cersei eyed you, "would you give me a minute with your husband? Alone?"
"Oh" You blinked, "I- Of course Your Grace. I'll be outside."
The pair of them watched you go before Cersei turned to The Hound with a cold look. She wanted to blame him, yet couldn't.
She wanted to punish him for getting close to you, even if it wasn't his fault.
But it would do her no good to make an enemy of him.
"Clegane, I want you to know how grateful I am for your cooperation in this."
Sandor didn't respond, not bothering to point out he didn't really have a choice in it.
"However, if the rush of things I know some details have been overlooked." Cersei continued, "How well do you know your new wife?"
"Well enough." Sandor shrugged.
"She's special, you know" Cersei impressed upon him. "As loyal as any pet and as sweet as can be. And so trusting."
Sandor's attention was on her, but Cersei couldn't tell if her words were making any impact, which was frustrating.
"If you plan to rape her tonight, I will make sure you never leave this wretched castle alive."
Sandor swallowed at this, caught fully off guard but trying hard not to show it.
"I hadn't made any such plans, Your Grace" He said stiffly, "but the night is still young."
Cersei's face twisted in rage at his implication, wanting nothing more than to have his ugly head mounted on the castle gates.
------
The room was tucked away in the lower levels of Winterfell. You had expected it to be cold, but instead it was pleasantly warm compared to the temperatures above ground.
The chamber itself was mostly empty. These rooms hadn't been used in years; the steward had assured you as you were led down the stairs by torchlight. Sandor had to duck to enter the doorway, finding you sitting on the large bed waiting for him.
"You'd think they'd have let you finish early, all things considered" You joked, moving to help him settle in. You had been sent down earlier, but mostly because queen had not yet figured out what to do with you.
You carefully helped him remove his plate armor bit by bit, until he sighed from the weight being lifted off of him.
He hadn't spoken much; he never spoke much. But particularly now it was worrying, mostly because all you wanted was to talk your nervousness away.
"Sandor?" Your hand moved from his arm to his face, "Please, talk to me. Say something, anything, if only to make me less nervous about all of this."
Sandor sighed, "Okay, what do you want to talk about?"
"Well." You began, "Do you want to do this tonight?"
He stopped at the question and looked at you.
"Because it's okay if you don't." You assured him, "We've been around each other for over a month and you've never tried to...Well I just thought it you wanted to, you'd have tried by now."
He considered this a moment, sitting on a spare chair to get more on your level with his legs spread out lazily. You moved closer to him as his large hands guided you between them.
"You think I haven't thought about it?" He confessed, "You think all those days you spent following me around, those nights you spent sleeping in the stables I didn't imagine dragging your foolish ass into my tent and fucking that kicked puppy look off your face?"
You flushed at this, leaning against his thigh hesitantly as if to ask permission before his hands gripped your waist and pulled you up to straddle his lap. Your toes barely scrapped the floor on either side of him.
"When you let the queen fuck you so the whole camp could hear, do you really think I was the only one who wasn't imagining making you moan like that?" He leaned forward, face less than an inch from yours. "You think when that fat fuck of a king said told us we'd be getting married, a part of me didn't say 'Fucking Finally'?"
Brushing your nose against his cheek, you felt your body begin to quiver on his lap.
"Sandor" You breathed against his ear, "Gods, hold me."
He obeyed, wrapping his arms around you to press your body to his tightly. You breathed in his scent of leather and smoke, hands crawling up and down his back and shoulders to memorize every ridge and groove of his muscled body.
Slowly, you began rocking your hips against his. Grind yourself against him until you felt a hardness so long it almost frightened you grow under the fabric of his trousers.
He was so warm; his body was like a furnace. Radiating heat that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket as his hands stationed themselves on the swell of your hips and guided your movements.
"Sweetling" His voice was a growl, so different from the way Cersei's sweet voice taunted you. This was a rumble, deep and heavy, "Fuck, keep doing that, and we won't even make it to the bed."
You whined but stopped obediently, allowing his hands to peel you off his lap and standing you on your own two feet.
"Good Girl." He smirked, eyes scanning you like a search light. "You have two choices, either you strip for me yourself, or I tear those clothes off of you. Your choice."
Gods did you want the second one, but you only had three dresses to your name so instead you began to strip at an achingly slow pace, tightening the spring both in both your bodies and knowing it would make it feel that much better when it snapped.
"That's it, nice and slow" Sandor's hand slowly cupped his hardening cock through his pants as he took in the sight of your body, the other hand working to take off his belt and loosen his strings. "Now, come here."
You obeyed, instinctively getting on your knees as you settled between his thighs. You purred hungrily, rubbing your face along the inside of his thigh and nestling your mouth over the imprint of his cock but waiting patiently for him to give permission to fully take him.
A growl formed in his throat like rolling thunder, his hand finding your hair and struggling not to press you down harder.
"Please," You whimpered, trying to seem as appealing as possible.
Sandor chuckled darkly at that. "Please what?"
"Please let me take your cock out." You persisted, "We've waited long enough for each other. Please don't tease me, Sandor."
The sound of your voice whining out his name, begging for him, made the Hound harder than he's ever been.
"Whatever you want."
That was all the permission you needed, quickly clawing past his small clothes and slipping the large, warm head of his cock down your throat.
You reveled at that sounds you managed to coax out of him, having caught him off guard and unprepared for how eager you'd become. His grip on your hair had become painful, so you gently urged it down to the back of your neck, allowing him to scruff you like one does a pup and guide your head up and down.
"Gods" He choked out as you took his deeper.
You knew he was too long for you to take fully, and so pumped the remainder of his length with your hand, allowing your other hand to wander between your legs.
The way your moans vibrated around him almost sent the hound over the edge, knuckled white from gripping the arm of the chair her found himself unexpectedly trapped in.
"Fuck, Fuck!" Sandor didn't usually finish quickly, but the look in your eyes as you swallowed his load told him that had been exactly what you wanted.
Breathing heavily, he tried to catch his breath as you climbed back onto his lap, cunt down drenched and dripping from touching yourself for him.
"Darling" You cooed into his ears, "I haven't worn you out too quickly, have I?"
"Fuck that." Sandor growled, grip tightening around you. "You're not getting off that easily, you evil little minx."
"Good" You grinned, kissing a line up his neck along the scared half of his face, "Because I'm not stopping until we're both half dead and sure you've fucked an heir into me."
Sandor rumbled, snatching you off his lap and throwing you over his shoulder. You laughed at this, kicking your legs eagerly as he delivered you onto the bed and pinned you under his weight.
"Your precious twins told me what a sweet girl you are." He taunted you, pinning your wrists by your head. "How trusting and innocent"
He ducked his head down to take a nipple into his mouth. The heat of his tongue and the gentle pressure of his teeth making your back arch and press your breast firmer against his face. Your moans came in sharp, quick gasps as one hand released your wrist in favor of massaging the other breast with rough, calloused palms. Your freed hand flew to his hair, gripping it tightly as you cried out.
"Do they know?" He pressed, scrapping his teeth over your tit before switching to the other side, "What an eager little slut you are? How happy you were to hop into bed with me?"
You wanted to shake your head, but in truth you weren't sure if he was actually expecting an answer. Instead, you tried to move your mind away from them and onto your husband.
"I don't want to talk about them" You confessed, "Oh fuck, just like that, Darling."
Sandor hummed thoughtfully at this.
"You don't want to think of them?"
"No."
"No?" Sandor, shifted upwards and turned his attention from your breasts to your neck, sucking so hard it would surely bruise. He rubbed the length of his cock up and down your slit teasingly.
"Then how about I fuck you so hard, you forget their names? Would you like that, sweetling?"
Your moan came out as a growl as you clawed at his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on top of you.
"Answer me."
"Yes" you begged, "Gods, Sandor I can't take much more waiting."
And you didn't have to. Sandor's knees began to push your legs apart as he lifted up enough to strip off his shirt and trousers.
He was large, larger than you had previously taken and your hesitance must have shown on your face, because instead of crawling back on top of you like he planned, he instead rolled over so you were on top straddling him.
The tip went in easy enough, but his cock grew girthier as you slid down, and by halfway you found yourself panting.
"Easy" He hushed you, "Go slowly."
You nodded, carefully bouncing on what you could take so far. It was far more filling than any you'd taken before, and it was as if something inside of you shifted with each little bit you took.
"Fuck' You whimpered; eye twisted closed in focus "I'm not sure it'll fit."
Rough fingers found your clit, shocking your eyes open as it rolled and pressed against the sensitive bundle.
"Ah" You gasped, instinctively rolling your hips and rocking to the tempo. "Oh Gods,"
"That's it" Sandor breathed, watching as a bit more of his length sank deeper into your cunt, "just relax and take it like I know you can."
Your core began to tighten as his fingers pressed harder and his other hand began to guide you in sliding up and down the length of his cock, taking it a little deeper each time.
"Good girl, sweet girl" Sandor's breath was getting heavier, closing his eyes to focus and to push his release off as long as possible. "Just like that, fuck."
After thinking you had grown accustomed to his size, you bounced a little harder and cried out in shock. Sandor's cock filled you to the hilt, your hips pressed together as close as possible.
"Sh, sh." Sandor wrapped one arm around your waist and one round your shoulders, shifting into a sitting position while still buried deep inside of you. "Breathe, just breathe."
"Fuck" You gripped his broad shoulders, "it's. deep" you spoke between gasps.
"Do you want to stop?"
"No." You shook your head. "No, I just need a minute."
Sandor didn't protest, instead focusing on the shifting and pulsing walls wrapped around his cock, desperately attempting to accommodate him.
"Look at me." He breathed.
You obeyed, leaning back to face him fully.
It was a level of intimacy you had never experienced before, or even thought possible. Him being buried so deeply inside of you as you straddled his hips. Chest to chest, both breathing heavily.
You looked him in the eye, frowning for a moment before reaching up to brush away the shaggy hair that hung over the scarred half of his face.
"There you are" You whispered playfully, trying to break the tension enough to relax.
"Gods" Sandor breathed, "You look beautiful like this."
Entwining your fingers behind his neck, you rocked your hips slowly, not allowing his length to withdraw entirely before rocking back as before.
This time you kept him nestled deep inside of you as you panted and ground against him. The friction reached your clit, sending lightening through your hips and urging you forward.
Sandor groaned, feeling you clench around him as you chased your high. Your hands tangled in his hair and pressed his face to yours, catching his lips and exploring each other's mouths with curious tongues and eager lips.
"Fuck" you squealed into his ear, locking your arms around his neck. "I'm so close. So close, please. Gods, ah"
Your words came as nearly incoherent ramblings, hips bucking and grinding against him desperately until a flood of pleasure filled you.
It wasn't like with Cersei, or with Jaime. They had been fast, and brutal. Their pleasure came like a bolt of lightning hitting the back of the skull.
This pleasure came like a flash flood, filling you quickly and lingering as your muscles spasmed and tenses in an unknown rhythm. It ebbed away slowly but left you warm and glowing.
When Sandor realized you were cumming, he allowed himself to release deeply inside of you, flooding your womb with his seed and a heat that filled your stomach.
As the flood ebbed away, the two of you sat there, still connected and not wanting to separate.
"I want to stay like this." you begged him in a whisper he couldn't bear to deny. "Please."
Nodding, he pulled the blanket that had fallen half off the bed over the two of you as you leaned on his chest, your chin resting on his shoulder. Neither of you spoke, only lulling each other into sleep with gentle touches and heavy breathing.
#sandor clegane x reader#sandor clegane imagine#cersei lannister x reader#cersei lannister imagine#sandor clegane smut#asoiaf fanfic#asoiaf smut#game of thrones smut#game of thrones fanfiction#game of throne imagine#Her Grace's Handmaiden
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Ménage à Trois
for the ever patient @motley-baby who asked for a sequel to the Two Buck Special
John 'Bucky' Egan x Diane Shelby x Gale 'Buck' Cleven
cw: polyamory, throuple, m/m/f threesome, vaginal fingering, semi-public sex, blowjobs, train sex(technically), p in v sex, anal sex, mirror sex, cuck kink, breeding kink, period typical attitudes, closeted gays, bisexuality, size difference, interracial couples, cum eating, handjobs, mentions of past sex escapades
(yes even i am surprised at how i wrote that much smut!)
She’d missed this.
Bucky’s arm wrapped around her with his hand tracing idle patterns on her shoulder as the lazed about in bed. Best pillow she’s ever had even if he is leaner and new scars marred his body.
God, Di’s never letting him go again.
“I missed two of your birthdays, almost thought I’d miss a third one.” He brushed her still damp hair from her face with his free hand and held her chin between his fingers with his thumb brushing the beauty mark she’s hated since she was a kid. But he loves it along with her mismatched eyes that made her stand out as if her tanned skin and mixed blood already didn’t do the trick.
“You were in a prison camp run by Nazis, the fact that you came back at all is equal to more than three birthday gifts, love.” she leans up to kiss him tenderly, not caring they’ve just woke and she used to complain about his morning breath before he was shot down.
The young witch needs him like she needs air, more than that as she tries and fails to get him to take things further. Doesn’t even allow her to suck or even rub his morning wood as he continues talking about her missed birthdays.
“Still, your future husband needs to make up for that. I promised to give you a gift as great as the one you gave me for mine.” He pulls back enough for her to see that glint in his perfect blue eyes that tells her exactly what he has in mind.
Not jewels or serenades or even flowers.
He wants to share her with Buck again. To make up for the birthdays they didn’t celebrate. And to celebrate a change in their relationship.
“My bed at the Townhouse is much bigger and Buck’s never been to London.” Diane points out. Not that this bed wasn’t big enough for the three of them, the heiress just wants to privacy to truly let go.
Besides, she had a great mirror where the two fucked like animals and got even more turned on by the depraved image in front of them. She’s wet at the thought of how their ménage à trois would look like.
Maybe after Di can ask Buck if Marjorie Spencer would like to make it their ménage à trois into a ménage à quatre.
They wouldn’t just be friends, even if Buck marries Marge and Di marries Bucky, it won’t change the fact that Marge will have to share him Bucky and Diane at some point.
She would understand if Marge decided against it, God knows Diane had a possessive streak she inherited from her mother. Strange enough it did not affect her budding relationship with Buck and knowing she shares John with him.
“Ah, yes, how could I forget the Mirror, gonna look like those Italian paintings your mom has.” He grinned at the thought of desecrating the small gallery her mother has there. “Me and Buck fucking the daylights out of you, covering and filling you with cum and then fucking you some more in the big old tub.”
“How soon can we leave?” Di asks knowing this will be the best trip to London she’s ever had. He could ask her to have Buck’s bastard and she’d say yes at this point.
“Leave that to me, princess.”
They can’t leave this place fast enough.
While John’s her fiancé and lover officially, it was not exactly a secret that Buck Cleven had been seen being less than proper with his best friend’s girl.
Hadn’t been intentional, just them missing Bucky and a few kisses turning to Di and Gale fucking against the same tree she and Bucky fucked that first night to stave off the loneliness.
“There’s a family friend that has two wives and the three of them love each other like this. Nothing to be ashamed of, just not as understood.” Diane had said as they had laid there in the little room when it happened again, and again, because no one else loved and missed Bucky like they did.
They hadn’t wanted to admit it, but they came to be more than just friends, not close like he and John were, but Diane’s place in his was almost equal to that of Marge, his future wife. Gale had not worked up the courage to say the words out loud, but the witch knew he too had fallen in love with her during these three months without Bucky.
John hadn’t cared about it, spoke of it as something that was bound to happen and said that was his intention from the moment, he suggested that threesome on his birthday.
We have an arrangement; he and Di had told those bold enough to ask why Gale was sporting the same marks Bucky wore with pride a month or so after his return. If they knew how they cut the middleman some nights at the Stalag, they’d be killed with a firing squad.
What would Marge react to the two other people joining their marriage? Would she be as understanding ---and enthusiastic--- about it like Diane, or would she call the police on them? Hell, Bucky and Diane would already be facing issues ‘cause her mother is Mexican, homosexuality was illegal and even their medals wouldn’t protect them.
He is broken out of those thoughts by his two lovers demanding his attention as John locks the cabin door behind him.
“Gonna be a long trip, isn’t it?” They would be taking a first-class cabin to London courtesy of Diane’s endless money, the three of them alone and Bucky with that shit eating grin of his.
The time at the camp had made all of them miserable and missing that release sex gave them. His times with his best friend and lover had yet to happen in a bed and not a cramped bottom bunk with a hand clamped over his mouth and another rubbing him out, but Bucky wanted it to be in a bed fit for a king.
“You wanted to take the scenic route, John. Maybe Lady Di wanted to see the inside of plane again.” Gale takes the plush seat across from them wishing they had just flown there instead of the two hour train ride.
“But we couldn’t have had the fun we just had in that cab, wouldn’t we?” Diane tossed her things carelessly away and for extra measure sat on Buck’s lap as easily as she did with Bucky.
Diane wore a short dress, risqué lingerie and been cooking by the time John had taken Gale’s hand and guided it to the wet spot in Di’s underwear while the cab driver remained unaware of what went on in the backseat. The coat over her lap had given them a semblance of privacy, but a lack of privacy was something that turned John on as well as Diane wearing nothing but his sheepskin.
Bucky’s hand had pulled his fiancée satin panties to the side and invited him to finger fuck her all the way to the station. She’d been sat between them, almost on John’s lap and held John’s hand for dear life as kept her mask of the pretty and posh Lady Di.
She’d called him Buck and her other hand rubbed Bucky’s dick over his trousers in tandem to the pace Gale fucked her.
Then once they boarded the train and Bucky sucked their girl’s cum from his fingers, he remembered Marge and how illegal their love and lust for each other was.
But he has no time to keep thinking of Marge’s hypothetical reactions when John orders Di to strip off her panties for her bad behavior and hand them over to him. Just like that first time they shared her, he takes a good whiff of the ruined satin.
Bucky used to joke about it back at the camp, how he could kill for her cum soaked panties at how desperate he was for her. He used to write the dirtiest things to her, mumbling under his breath what he wrote to himself and she’d write back, throwing around her name and money to make sure he and Buck got every tiny luxury she could send them.
She’d sent naughty photographs, a small can of Vaseline and an almost obvious blessing for the Buckies to do what they pleased. That last one had been more obvious than all the things they hid their letters to coordinate their escapes.
The Germans had once poured over those letters. The Kraut reading them turned red like the swastika on his uniform from just reading and only came with the conclusion that they were simply two degenerates writing to each other. John had looked very proud of himself as he pointed out his favorite lines as the soldier's smoking gun disappeared in the filth it came packed in.
Now Gale found his place in their relationship as if he always belonged there.
“No, we wouldn’t have.” The blond agrees as he begins to tease John by kissing their girl like he kissed Bucky when they were finally alone.
The last man he had imagined having a cuck kink was larger than life John. If those less than platonic and fraternal feelings and desires between them had surprised Gale, he had assumed nothing else would.
And then Buck learned John Clarence Egan gets turned on by seeing him flirt, fondle and fuck his sexy little witch.
“Di’s been a bad girl, Gale, told me not once has she sucked your soul through your cock like she does to me.” Bucky clarifies what his punishments have been about.
John had waxed poetically about the skill Di had when it came to giving head. Hardly spilled a drop, sometimes emptied his load back into his mouth and made him feel like she’d taken his soul out through his cock.
From then on, the men who heard of that particular letter assumed Di’s witch nickname came because the posh English nurse was that good of a slut.
“Hasn’t let me, didn’t even fuck my mouth on your birthday like you wanted him to and won’t let me now.” The Englishwoman breaks away and trails her manicured hand down his chest and to the appendage she’s wanted in her mouth since they met apparently.
“Didn’t know if you wanted me to fuck your girl’s face while you were in the Stalag.” They had fucked in various positions, he’d eaten her out again because the last time he’d been with a woman was her two and a half years ago, but because John loved the way she gave head Gale had abstained fearing he wouldn’t appreciate him fucking his girl’s face while he was still imprisoned.
“Like you even needed to ask, Buck, after everything we went through together and how well that vaseline served us those nights. Di is as much yours as she is mine.” His blue eyes are dark, hands itching to reach between his legs and enjoy the show he’s now authorized. “On your knees, Miss Shelby.”
The witch complies immediately with a “Yes, daddy.”
Gale doesn’t help her undo the fastenings on his uniform, watches John who watches her expertly undo them and release the cock that’s been inside her more than it had been inside Marge at this point. They had joked about needing to train him to call out the right name when Marjorie Spencer becomes Marjorie Cleven.
What would be worse, calling her Diane or calling her John, Buck asks himself as Diane shows him why their John loves her mouth so much.
He calls her Diane, Di, love, sweetheart as his hands thread themselves in her dark hair while he looks straight at Bucky who’s hand works furiously at his cock as John praises their girl for her stellar work.
“Go on, princess, give daddy a taste.” Bucky stops Di from swallowing and the sight of Diane kissing his cum down John’s throat had Gale hoping Diane’s money is enough to keep their tryst from banning them from ever using a train.
Somehow, they make it to the London townhouse without fucking the daylights out Diane.
It is as grand as he remembers, though London looks almost as if the war didn’t touch it as every repair went into place.
The eyes in Tommy Shelby’s portrait with his wife still makes his skin crawl, but now that he’s come back from hell to steal away his little girl, John smiles at the painting in the foyer and proceeds to desecrate the house with their new lover.
He kisses Diane who leads the way and turns to take Buck’s hand and kisses him like he’s been dying to do since they got off the train.
“The staff won’t tell.” Di assures Gale who is hesitant to relax under the watchful eyes of the man they learned was a feared gangster from the English prisoners.
Doesn’t care about things like that. Only cares that Di is careful with what she does so it won’t reflect badly on her. Which was why Bucky was going to marry her as soon as the ring is done.
Besides with all the fucking they’ll be doing here, whether it’s his or Gale’s the baby has to be born on the right side of the blanket.
“Hasn’t even fucked me and already he’s thinking about the two of you breeding me.” The witch laughs as she reveals what he’s thinking to their lover.
Gale almost stutters in response, man was as smooth as butter and yet when faced with the prospect one of the Egan kids could be a blonde cherub taking after the wrong Buck, he clammed up.
“Don’t worry, Gale, I take precautions. How do you think I didn’t receive you and Bucky with Rosemary Gail Egan?” Di reveals the name they came up with when they both got serious about each other and the cards showed they’d have two girls. Their firstborn would be named Rosemary after Rosemary Clooney and Gale Cleven.
“Besides, we’ll be married anyways even if Di’s tonics fail.” Bucky reassured his lover this was no issue. This seems to relax Buck as they get settled and have dinner together in the big empty house.
He doesn’t have much at home and Wisconsin isn’t anywhere close to London or the country house older than America she lives in, but he’ll give her the fucking moon if she wants it.
Bucky just wants a nice life with a bed big enough for three…or four if Marge wants in on the fun.
He’s a simple man with simple pleasures and right now he wants to fuck his two favorite people in front of a mirror straight from Versailles in a house owned by a gangster turned politician.
Dinner cannot end fast enough for him. But it does and before they know it the door is locked and all three are in various states of undress.
“We should get one of these for our place,” Di gestures to the gilded mirror placed directly in front of the bed.
If Mr. Shelby knew why his little girl displayed it that way, he was a wise man to ignore it.
“Haven’t married you yet and you’re already decorating our house, sweetheart.” Bucky finds the fancy lubricant she had in her drawer where she hides all the naughty things that made him forget she had told him Buck would be shot down on that next mission.
He had tried to forget everything, focus on the pleasure and forget the world was crashing down outside the fancy townhouse. To do that ritual of theirs where he comes inside her and Di drinks the tonic only when he is back home in her arms.
When he was shot down part of him hoped that she’d have more than just than the locket and his sheepskin to remember him by. His witch took it as a sign he’d come back, told him so when she confessed feeling disappointed when there was no baby.
John’s never wanted everything with a woman and now he’s gonna have it all and even some more with his Lady Di. Princess Di and Buck, his wife and their husband.
The tall and dark-haired man wants to fuck Gale and see the show of him ass fucking Buck while Buck fucks Di at the pace John sets for them.
Maybe even let the blond fuck their firstborn into the English Heiress. Di would come around to the idea eventually, loves Buck as much as she loves him. It would be the closest the Bucks could ever get to having a child between the two of them.
The results from tonight would be seen in nine months when the world sees whether their firstborn daughter takes after Bucky or Buck. Either way Rosemary Gail would be theirs.
It feels too good, Gale moving in tandem with John’s thrusts and fucking Diane like his life depended on it. They had never done it like this, in this angle and with a girl holding the bed railing for dear life as her pussy milks the blond’s dick.
The image in the mirror makes it all hotter as it fogs up from the heat it witnesses. God would strike them down for this, but where the fuck was he when the Nazis got their hands on him and all those innocents in Europe?
He didn’t believe in witchcraft and now he barely believed in God, but he believes in Di and Gale and that if this was wrong it wouldn’t feel so right.
When the first act is over, they lay together, tangled like a braid with Bucky in the middle because he’s big enough to hold the two of them to his chest. They had to spoon to fit all three of them that time years ago, here they have all the space to fit another person.
Maybe Di can romance Marge and make that a reality. Once Di and Bucky had fucked one of the many girls back at the base who’d kill to fuck him and the sight of his girl fucking another woman was almost as good as the sight of Gale ruining her pussy. Another blond in their bed would even things out.
“You’re the last man I could ever suspect of being into this.” The blond kissed him without any lingering shame as John prepared him for the most forbidden pleasure in the country.
“Men?” Bucky asked knowing it surprised others when the virile ladies man proved to be as queer as any of them. As if God’s gift to women couldn’t also be God’s gift to man.
“No, knew that from the moment you named me Buck,” Gale laughed and then clarified for his lovers, “Never thought you’d be into cuckolding.”
“Full of surprises, that one.” Di smiled, reached out to caress Buck as she assured him of his not-so-secret worry, “Marge will come around and our bed will be big enough to fit four when she does. Rosemary is John’s, so you have one less thing to worry about.”
“I love you.” Gale kissed John and then leaned over him to kiss Diane as the three of them try to forget the world wouldn’t care to even try to understand there was nothing wrong with love like theirs.
But at least Marjorie Cleven would and that is all that matters.
#diane shelby#dianecore#bucky x oc#buck x bucky#bucky x oc x buck#bucky egan x oc#buck cleven x oc#smut#masters of the air fanfiction#mota fanfic#mota oc#its only a paper moon#john egan x gale cleven#john egan x oc x gale cleven#masters of the air
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Maura never compromised quality in anything.
Except humans.
They were all imperfect. They all required compromise.
Garret hadn't been able to stand up to his family for her. And there was the whole murder thing too.
Edward hadn't been able to stand up for his family for her.
Ian was a criminal, but he'd have been perfect if he could stay in one place longer than two weeks.
Dennis had made her compromise her morals. And tried to kill her. No one was perfect, but still.
When it came to pearls and silks and jewelry, Maura never compromised. When it came to hiring staff, she never compromised on their qualifications, no matter how socially awkward they were.
When it came to people Maura let in her heart, she compromised.
There were her birth parents, for example. A mobster who looked at her like she was a sunset. A doctor that loved a mass murderer. Biological parents that loved her fiercely and remotely.
And Cailin. Not that she was a criminal or perfect, she was just... a teenager. And that required compromise. But Maura did love her too. She was smart - the Martin genes, Maura assumed - and when she was thoughtful she always managed to dismantle Maura's misconceptions of selfish teenagers.
And then there was her adopted family too. Constance - Maura had longed to feel loved by her, but she'd known she hadn't deserved it. Finding the circumstances of her birth revealed part of the reasons, but Maura had taken what little she could get until Jane called them both on their bullshit.
And Arthur. Maura lied for him. He was a weak, reclusive, cheat. But she loved him too.
And then... her other family. The Rizzolis.
Maura liked privacy and social rules, things that calmed her. The Rizzolis never knocked, never asked if they could come over.
Except Jane. Even though it had been years, Jane usually knocked if she hadn't asked Maura if she could come over, or if she hadn't driven Maura home, the assumption being she would be invited inside. Jane knew her so well she could usually diffuse whatever other social situation was upsetting her - like any of the other people on her list.
Maura still had to compromise with Jane. She had to make guesses at work. She had to do delicate technical work with Jane breathing down her neck. But the intent coming from Jane wasn't entirely selfish when this happened. It was Jane trying to encourage her, trying to be supportive, usually realising when she wasn't and excusing herself.
Maura didn't have to make herself smaller to fit in beside Jane. She didn't have to trim off parts of her personality and discard them to talk to her. She could just exist without compromise. She could sleep soundly with her head on Jane's chest.
Maura looked for certain things in a partner, the first and foremost being sexual attraction. But that had steered her wrong in the past, so perhaps that was all she would have to compromise.
Jane stirred beneath Maura's cheek, and Jane's fingers brushed through Maura's hair a moment later, Jane's chest rising as she yawned. The moments like these were always perfect. They made Maura feel cherished and loved. She'd marry Jane, if she could, have this every morning even if she had to swear an oath of chastity for the rest of her days. There was no sex in the world that felt as good as waking in Jane's warm embrace. There was no better co-parent she could ever find.
But Jane's fatal flaw was her relentless rejection of anything that wasn't pure heterosexuality. So Maura made the compromise, and once more took what she could get.
Jane hadn't realised Maura was awake, and her fingers roamed gently over Maura's back. She could feel the longing and regret in Jane's touch, and it made her want to weep.
But Jane was the person who taught her not to accept less from the people in her life, so reluctantly she raised her head and looked Jane in the eyes.
"I would like a civil union. For tax purposes. I'm not going to find anyone I love more than you, and I'm sick of trying to pretend I ever will."
Jane looked as though Maura had hit her.
"But we're not - I'm not -"
"We don't have to be. It can just be like this. I don't want or need anything other than what we already have, I just want you to know. That you're the person in my life. I don't think it's romantic or sexual, but I feel like - you know the Greek myth where people were created with four legs and arms and two heads, and Zeus got mad and split them in half, destined humans to seek forever for their other half? I'm done looking."
"What if I fall in love with someone else?"
"Why didn't you go be with Casey?" Maura asked. "The truth."
"I couldn't leave you. Not for him. Not for anyone." Jane looked away as though she was ashamed. "What does it mean?"
"I think it means we are each other's primary relationship. Even with Jack, I never felt like I was home until you were here."
"And we don't have to... hook up or anything?" Jane whispered.
Maura chuckled. Jane was nothing if not predictable. "We don't, Jane. You've fulfilled all the rest of my criteria for a partner. Not the society and education criteria I used to have - that left me with people like Garret and Edward. Not the criteria for attraction, because I had that with Dennis and Brad and Giovanni, and see how they worked out? My criteria have changed, and I would only consider committing myself to someone who doesn't care about my fortune - you don't. Someone who doesn't care about my gang affiliations - you don't. Someone who stands up for me, someone who puts me first, some who protects me from danger. Someone who sees all of me and cherishes all of me, not just the parts they like."
"That's how I feel about you," Jane said lowly. "Someone who doesn't see me as broken, someone who doesn't mind my crazy family and my awful hours at work. Someone who makes up reasons for me to hold them so I don't have to admit that I need to be held. I just - I never saw myself with a woman. Or without a - a relationship with sex in it."
"We can try sometime," Maura said, "but it's not as important to me as having the relationship we already have. I'll never expect it from you, and I'll never be hurt that you don't want it for me."
"We can revisit that, can't we?" Jane asked. "If anything changes. You're gorgeous; you should be with someone attracted to you. Someone who desires you."
"I get to decide who I deserve," Maura said sternly. "And I had no choice. The only choice I've made is to tell you."
"What if things change if we don't work together? You once said we were situational friends - work friends."
"If I called from the airport -"
"I'd come get you."
"What if it was a time-sensitive child abduction case?"
"I'd come get you," Jane reiterated, and as far as Maura could tell she meant it. Not that she'd call her away from a case where a life was at stake, but she'd always known Jane would put her first.
"How are we going to explain it?"
Maura sighed. The concept that love like this could exist without a sexual element - there were clearly romantic elements, the way Jane always opened doors for her, the way Jane held an umbrella over her, the way Jane looked at her when she thought she wasn't looking, the way Jane looked at her even when Maura was looking - was relatively new to her.
"They used to call it a Boston Marriage, although now I believe it's called a queerplatonic relationship."
"That would make us queer," Jane said, her nose scrunching. Maura shrugged, liking the way her chest moved against Jane's.
"I've been considering myself heteroflexible for a while. If I weren't asking you this, I'd be dating women instead. I'd just rather be - with you. In whatever context you'd take me."
"Okay," Jane said, and Maura smiled. "I mean. Not okay, not just yet. I mean, okay, I'll think about it. I'm not opposed but this is all new to me. You've been thinking about this for a while."
"I have," Maura admitted. She let her head drop back to Jane's chest, and it didn't feel like a compromise at all when Jane's hand threaded through her hair again, Jane's steady heartbeat lulling her back to sleep.
#rizzoli and isles#rizzles#rizzoli & isles#maura isles#jane rizzoli#rizzles ficlet#rizzles fanfic#queerplatonic rizzles#queerplatonic
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Lunar Conjunction (August)
M Cambion x M Werewolf Reader
Wordcount: 5929
Content Warnings: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex (Reader Tops), Knotting, Transformation, Scars, Eye Injury (Old), Prosthetic Hand
Sheesh, these characters have existed in one form or another for more than a literal decade now. I wrote this as an anniversary present for Mason last year, so it’s full mushy - but it seems fitting for these two to be the first ones I post here.
One day I’ll make the unfinished project they originated from, but it’s unlikely that it’ll be anytime soon. I just can't resist revisiting my dearly beloved gay immortal steampunk werewolves every so often.
Looking out at the empty planetarium is almost eerie, with how devoid of other signs of life it is in the otherwise populated museum housing it.
Though, it’s made less unsettling knowing it is only this empty because you've bought out every other ticket for the rest of the evening. Normally you would avoid such a flagrant, wasteful show of your wealth, but in this case, you only had your beloved's happiness in mind.
After a full day of city sightseeing, you wanted to ensure he would be relaxed enough to truly be able to focus on this experience - to really drink it in. Something that simply wouldn’t have been possible for someone of his disposition in a theatre packed full of people.
…And, perhaps a bit selfishly, you wanted to have the privacy to watch his reaction to something this precious, completely unimpeded by the presence of random strangers.
"Oh, what a grand room this is…" August wanders down the aisle between rows of seats ahead of you, looking around at the open space in the middle when he arrives there. “Some sort of theatre?”
True to his inquisitive nature, he’s been trying to piece together what you’ve had planned since you mentioned you had a specific activity scheduled this evening, whereas the itinerary has been loose for the rest of the day.
"Very spacious in the middle. If it weren’t for the seats, it almost resembles a ballroom…" His voice trails off with a hint of suspicion as he glances back at you.
“Do not fret," You chuckle. "I would not dream of asking you to ballroom dance again."
"I would hope not, not after last time." He turns to face you and his eyes glint mischievously before his expression softens. "Though, I don't think I would decline, when it's just the two of us to ourselves like this…"
Reassured he won't have to stumble through stiff and jerky ballroom dancing, August defaults to what he does best.
"So, not a ballroom, not an average theatre as it lacks a stage… I would think it must be some sort of playhouse, but there is no stage."
"No, neither of those. Though it is technically a sort of theatre."
“Hmm… And for what function would the floor be made of glass, exactly?” He strokes his chin in thought, the way he often does when he’s deep in analysis, his hooves making light clicks against the surface as he wanders. “It seems a strange choice for purely aesthetic reasons…”
“You will see very shortly.” You say, stealing a glance from the pocketwatch in your breast pocket.
Right on time.
As if checking urged the minute hand to finally lurch forward, the overhead lights click off in unison.
Spooked at the sudden darkness, August reaches for your hand, slightly hesitantly in his lack of vision, whispering your name softly for reassurance.
"Everything is okay. The darkness is part of the experience." You give his hand a squeeze.
"O-oho- You haven't brought me here for anything untoward, have you?"
"Hmh. No, though now that you have put the thought in my head, it sounds like an excellent plan for a later date."
Before he can make the playful response you are anticipating, the ethereal, electronic music starts filling the room, signaling the start of the presentation.
Typically during shows like this, there is an announcer reading off a script of helpful information about the cosmos. You had suggested they take an extended break when you unofficially reserved the planetarium for the time slot.
You're sure they're skilled in their own right, but August could surely run circles around them, just based on the limitless time he now has to devote to his precious interests. Moreover, you knew that the majority of August's enjoyment of this would be bubbling over with information to share with you.
The glass wall wakes up from its dormant, translucent state, now shifting between deep,velvety dark blues and cold violets. Astronomical bodies of various sizes dot the space- Stars, planets, comets - a reflection of all of Hearth's cosmos moving in a slow arc around you, spinning gently on an axis as it does around the actual planet, impossibly far above you.
“Oh…!”
The reflected light of a shimmering asterism passes over his face as he looks up in awe, making his golden eyes almost sparkle like stars themselves in the night against the indigo-hued shadow of the theatre.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? It is called a planetarium."
"Planetarium, planetarium…" August repeats, committing the word to memory. "I- I've never seen a place quite like this before... It is almost beyond comprehension, just how glorious it is. It's like an orrery, but an illusion across the entire room?"
"An interesting comparison. I suppose it is simply a large, intangible orrery - at least in principle."
"But however does it work? It must be magical in nature, surely!"
"Thread-based illusion, cast upon a Ley grid within the glass."
"How marvelous!" August gushes. "I never would've thought to apply Thread to Ley in such a manner… But now I have quite a few experiments to try when we get home, hah-"
He looks down for a moment to cradle his chin in thought, then recoils.
"Ah-!" August yelps in astonishment, seeing that the projection extends over the glass surface of the floor as well, producing a weightless effect. "That's why the floor is made of glass!"
His hand clutches your arm for stability. Even with your firm constitution, the illusion is tricking your body into feeling the sensation of floating weightless, out in space - or at least, what it might feel like, so you’re sure it’s having a similar effect on him. You place a supportive hand on the small of his back, in case the sudden impression of free floating makes him unbalanced.
Soon, your protective hold has let August relax, and he’s become completely enthralled
“There’s the Elven Diadems, northern and southern; and there’s Rowena seated on her throne, then the Chained Prophetess is over there…”
His eyes sweep the artificial sky, looking for something specific.
“Ah, there they are. The Warg and the Hunter’s Hound.”
“One of your personal favorites, if I recall.” Your hand squeezes the dip of his side affectionately.
“Yes. They were my favorites before as well, but now they seem to have a lot more of a meaning, coincidentally…” He chuckles, leaning into your touch. “Oh, look at that!-”
You continue listening to him gush about the various heavenly bodies for quite a while, completely smitten by his passion for the subject, as you always are.
Eventually, his voice grows hushed, his commentary spacing out until eventually you’re watching in silence. After a while just taking in the splendid view together, you realize that the end of your allotted time is drawing near.
“It will be time to depart, soon.”
He blinks, seemingly startled out of his awe-struck trance by the deep timbre of your voice. He’s had the tendency to falter at loud, booming voices for as long as you’ve known him, and while you’ve made a lot of effort to soften your voice over time, the ingrained projection needed for your orders to be heard over the tumult of battle is hard to fully tamp down, even after all this time not needing to use it.
“Have you enjoyed it?”
“I… I have. Everything that you’ve shown me today has been so new and bright and… simply stunning… I’ve had a wonderful time.”
He is being genuine in his appreciation, but even the small mask of a smile can't hide the streak of melancholy in him - not from you.
"What is vexing you?"
“It’s just… It’s all a bit…”
His voice wavers slightly before his thought fades into nothing.You patiently wait for him to continue, but when he struggles to find his words, you offer the next word for him.
“Overwhelming?”
He nods in affirmation, looking more guilty than anything else as a set of tears streak down his cheeks, brows furrowed and soft lips pouting.
“Take a deep breath, and then another.” You direct, and he complies. You use a calloused hand to wipe away his tears, then graze over the golden smattering of freckles on his cheek, then finally to gently tuck a strand of loose golden hair behind one of his gracefully pointed ears. “Good. Now, tell me what is haunting that lovely mind of yours.”
“I could have gone my whole life without ever encountering something of this nature if even the slightest thing had been different. How many other precious things are out there that I’m completely unaware of? That I’ll never discover- That I don’t even know exist to look for? Let alone things that are truly unknowable to us in the first place… Must I always be in the dark about something or another? It… It’s a terrible, hungry thought.”
You wrap your arms protectively around him and draw a hand across his back in soothing strokes.
Living one’s entire life on Rowena Isle was as an insulating experience for him as it was for you, after all. The culture shock when you started to learn what the rest of the world beyond the sea had to offer was a truly harrowing experience, so of course it would be for him, as well…
“My apologies, beloved. I did not consider how taxing all of these new experiences at once would be for your psyche. I should not have rushed the process.”
“N-No, you needn’t apologize! You've done nothing but try to share something very special with me, and I am truly thankful.” August sputters, his hands finding the fabric of your shirt and clutching close to you for comfort. His bright eyes turn up to gaze at you once again, still glassy with emotion but at least no longer spilling with tears. “Everything you've shown me on this trip has been so amazing! I don't regret it at all, even if I was uncomfortable at times. I’m simply… not expressing myself well, is all…”
“Still, perhaps it would have been more wise to introduce them to you at a slower pace. It was never meant to bring you to tears; at least no ones of sorrow.”
“It is… not a bad sorrow.”
You allow him the time to gather his thoughts, holding him secure in your arms.
“It’s true that it’s all new and… and the ramifications are so frightening to me, and yet… There is something about that which is so absolutely marvelous.”
The familiar spark of curiosity is clear in his voice once more.
“Oh, is it?” You realize you haven't given your lover enough credit.
He may be of a gentle and timid disposition, but he is by no means a fragile soul, and he's proven that to you time and again. To be that stunned by something so foreign and immediately bounce back with renewed interest and vigor - that is the August that you know.
“Yes. For the longest time I thought the stars were completely out of reach to someone like me, and yet- in this room someone has managed to capture their very essence and hang them on the walls.” He lets out a shuddering sigh that morphs into a bewildered laugh. “I am a small speck in this dark endless sky, but it means there will never be a shortage of new, bright things to come to know- to grow to love.”
"You undervalue yourself. You are worth every star in the sky to me."
“Whether I am worthy or not is… debatable. More importantly, though I am small, I am not alone.” He says, voice barely louder than a breath, and his slender, soft fingers graze up the sides of your face, affection clear in his touch. "You are here with me."
“That I am. There is no place I would rather be.”
“It’s such a shame it was a short visit.” August sighs again, this one much lighter, as he hugs you tightly. “I think I could stay here in the dark with you for days on end.”
You can’t help but feel validated that your idea to bring him here was so successful in the end.
“I will build you one at home, if you would so like.” You whisper into his ear.
He looks up at you and his eyes grow wide - they might as well be twinkling in reverence.
You feel his body press flush against your solid trunk, guiding your head downward with his gentle hands at the back of your neck, to press loving kisses to your lips.
“I will take this as a glowing endorsement.” You chuckle low between each peck.
Clearly swept up in the emotion, it doesn’t take long for the kisses to deepen, his fingernails lightly digging into your neck. He groans a soft, sweet noise of desire against your mouth.
It takes all of your self control to not sweep him off his feet and start groping him right here. He seems to be thinking much the same, the way he’s rubbing his torso against yours.
He says your name, the quirk of a naughty smile on his face.
“You know I only have one thing to offer you in return.” Signs of lust creep into his excited expression, his desperate grip, his breathless voice; but most of all, the thick, pheromonal scent hitting your nose. “Will you have it?
“I would take you right here, if I were a more reckless man.” You growl deeply, feeling the words rumble out from your chest. “But the evening grows short, my love; The moon is almost seated in her throne. We’ll need to get back to the hotel first, lest some poor museum worker get the shock of their life.”
“Hhm-” August huffs an affirmative laugh against your lips.
Luckily, you had the foresight to book a hotel only a brisk walk away. The nagging pull of the nearly risen full moon is still able to be squashed down - you've been doing this a very long time, after all. So, despite your skin itching and muscles straining, you're at least able to keep yourself restrained - for now.
You're barely inside the privacy of your hotel room until your mouth has found his, and your hands have found his body, creeping up under his buttoned shirt to feel the soft skin of his sides. Your fingers clench against his flesh, threatening to elongate into savage claws.
Neither of you bothers with flipping the light switch; not only is it not needed given the fact that you both have the ability to see in darkness, but because the room you booked has a glass ceiling designed for stargazing, letting more than enough late dusky light into the room to see what you’re doing. The convenient view of the night sky was a major contributing factor in your decision, and it provides more than enough lighting for this.
"Mmn." August hums in appreciation of the pressure in your grip and places both of his palms on your chest, feeling your hard muscle through the knit of the sweater you wear.
Those dexterous hands of his move to the hem and pull it up, a lilt of amusement in his voice against your lips as he continues.
"Firstly- I enjoy the look of this sweater on you far too much to see it torn to shreds."
You pull the garment up over your head, tossing it to the nearby wardrobe. August shifts his hands’ attention to unfastening the shell buttons on the crisp white shirt underneath.
As soon as he's gotten your shirt open, he lets out a pleased sigh, lovingly appreciating the carved lines of your chest and torso with his hands. He traces his fingers along scars old and relatively new, causing your nerves to prickle from the dulled, numb sensation of the various pinkened streaks on your flesh. The sensation clashes loudly with how eager your skin is to change, itching to sprout fur.
"And we can't forget this." August's hands raise to the sides of your face, gently hooking under the strap of your eyepatch and smoothly raising it off your face. He tosses it onto the wardrobe with your sweater. Fingers gently touch the scars around your ruined eye as well, softly kissing your cheekbone, before trailing down your jawline to your mouth, slowly speaking how much he adores you through tender action.
His tongue sweeps yours and you feel his attention shift to unbuttoning your trousers. Even the graze of indirect pressure on your groin is almost unbearable, every nerve ending in the area lit up and overly sensitive. Before he can fully unfasten the fly, you interrupt him.
"Undress." You break the kiss and command with a growl, through quickly sharpening teeth. You release your hold on him to allow him to do so. "I do not trust they will stay whole if the task is left to me."
August says nothing in response but moves out of your grasp, towards the bed, turning to face you when he gets there. He smiles coyly, unbuttoning his own shirt now, much more leisurely than he had yours. You watch with intense interest as more of his bronze skin is gradually revealed, barely keeping yourself together. The cold light from above glints off the metal ring of the collar on his neck.
He lets the dress shirt slip from his shoulders and fall to the floor, then continues working at the many buttons of his well-tailored, high-waisted trousers.
You're barely hanging on as you watch - between the pull of the imminently rising moon and the strong sense of desire for your partner pooling in your core.
After a torturously extended period undoing them, they crumple in a pool at August's hooves, along with what's left of your composure when you take in the sight of him, completely bare save for the collar around his neck and the strappy black underwear he's wearing. He looks at you expectantly and beckons you with a flick of his finger, a bulge of arousal clear through the minimal fabric left covering him.
You stalk forward, not yet creeping on all fours, but certainly more predatory in stance than is the norm for your normally immaculate posture. You seize him by the hips and forcibly move him backwards onto the bed. You stand at the foot of it, looming over him.
August lets out a huff of air from the impact, but it's quickly replaced by small noises of pleasure as you lean over to kiss and drag your teeth down his chest, down to his soft stomach and along his cut line. You grip the back of his legs possessively and press his flesh harder against your mouth - hard enough to leave marks, but not nearly hard enough to break his skin.
Your teeth snag on one of the straps at his leg, and you rend it in two, the stretchy fabric retracting with a snap against the soft fat of his thigh, causing August to yelp. The noise incites you further, and you completely obliterate the remainder of the garment without a second thought, fiercely ripping it from his body, the sound of tearing fabric making your skin tingle and pupils constrict. He’s rendered nude, nothing left providing him any cover save for the shapely, warm gold ombre of fuzz framing his cock and thighs.
“C-Careful.” August breathes, more of a feeble request than a command as he looks warily down his torso at you, the threat of your pointed teeth dangerously close to his delicate, now very exposed dick. Given its engorged state and the needy, familiar expression of excitement on his face, you take the statement as a friendly reminder more than one of true concern.
You draw yourself up, pulling one of August’s legs up with you with ease, hooking his calf over your well-built shoulder. He’s held aloft, his upper back and forearms the only points of contact with the bed. His loose golden hair tumbles downward around his face, pulled by gravity.
With his leg secured in your thick palm and the weight of his body stable, you rummage through the pocket of your trousers until your hand finds a familiar glass vial.
One of the unexpected benefits of having so many magically-inflicted scars is the salve you use on them to reduce the lingering pain of mana burn also doubles as an excellent personal lubricant - it differs slightly from the silky, floral scented formula you typically use in the bedroom that August is so fond of, but it’s far from the first time you’ve used this as a replacement in a pinch, and it’s not drawn any complaints so far.
After popping the top off the vial, you smear the oily substance onto the cold metal of your prosthetic hand. You don’t use it for this every time, but it keeps things interesting when you do; moreover, with your state as it is, you feel it’s the safer option to avoid any unfortunate slips of your restraint that would result in a sharp claw in such a critically vulnerable area.
August helpfully opens his unsecured leg wider, watching you prep your hand in obvious want. Once you’ve sufficiently slickened your fingers, you recork the vial and toss it aside.
You take an indulgent moment to tease your finger at the base of his spaded tail, relishing in the small noises of mixed pleasure and ticklishness he makes, and the way his body squirms at the sensation. Then, two smooth, slick metal fingertips easily sink into his entrance, drawing a gasp from him. You can feel the tremor run down his body through his legs from the sudden shock of the unwarmed metal.
“Yes-” He sighs in appreciation and presses back against your encroaching touch as best he can despite his awkward positioning, immediately seeking more.
You draw your fingers out and press them back in, getting deeper with each repetition. Working him open, you spread them apart and swivel them, set on touching every little space of his inner walls.
It only takes a bit of stroking and stretching his insides for him to be relaxed and whining in need, likely due to the sheer amount of training you've done with him over time.
He groans pitifully, wriggling his hips to try and get your now thoroughly warmed fingers even deeper, to no avail. Knowing him, if he had any ounce of leverage in this situation he’d be trying to climb on top to ride you by now.
Instead, he whimpers and resigns himself to his fate, wrapping the hand that’s not stabilizing himself on the bed around his cock and beginning to stroke himself.
"Oh, is that how it is? We have just barely gotten started." You huff, critical. "You are in for a very long night if you cum this early, August."
"Nnh-" He trembles at hearing his actual name from your lips and looks up at you with pleading, glassy eyes, his breathing already to the point of panting. Precum dribbles down onto his stomach. "It'll be- Mmngh- be a long night either way…"
“Just look at you. Greedy.” You chide in a low growl and press a particularly hard prod against the fleshy bulb inside of him. “Absolutely lecherous, as is usual.”
“Mmhm-” After an open-mouthed, full body shudder, he smiles, complicit and smug, and bucks his hips forward into his hand. "I think- ahh- you quite enjoy it."
His adorable ears flick, turning more canine as his arousal heightens. It becomes difficult for him to resist shifting form in response to strong emotions, rather than him being bound to the pull of every full moon, as you are. Despite this, he's never been the best at practicing self-restraint…
“Indeed,” A smirk forms on your own face, as a lustful groan builds in your chest, watching the sight of him pleasuring himself while your fingers plunge inside of him with the same goal. “You must truly want a planetarium all to yourself.”
Your words are just barely intelligible at this point as your grasp of speech unwinds. It’s usually the last thing to go, and given the full claws on your hand now digging into the flesh of August’s leg and the restlessness coiled in your body ready to snap- the itching, burning rippling through your veins, up to the surface of your skin - your full change could happen at literally any moment, now.
“I do- I want everything you have to give!” He cries needily, his now pronounced fangs a flash white between his dampened lips. ”Give me everything!”
You make an affirmative noise somewhere between a grunt and a growl, in place of what would normally be a ‘Very well’ from you.
You pull out your fingers, making August whimper weakly in protest, and hastily push aside your already partially removed trousers and the soft fabric beneath, freeing the heavy girth that’s been straining against its confinement since you set foot back in private.
Once your hips align with your target, you push your cock inside of his prepared hole - he does deserve it, after all.
“Uungh!” August groans loudly in pleasure at your intrusion stretching him, letting his full voice out. He’s come a long way from the timid, excessively shy person that wouldn’t make so much as a peep the first time you had sex. “Nnngh-”
You cradle the arch of his spine, firmly keeping up the leverage taut as you begin to pump inside of him. As soon as you start a modest rhythm, his hand completely forgets its task - both of his palms move to the bed at his sides, balling fists in the sheets.
Painted nails lengthen into a long pair of glossy claws of his own. You can hear the sound of tearing fabric where they pierce the mattress.
It’s difficult to start slow. He’s so soft and welcoming, and warmer by the second. His ass pulls you in as much as you’re pushing into it. The pressure of his walls is sublime, squeezing tighter around you every time he clenches - a small pocket of personal hellfire.
Wisps of blue have cropped up in the darkness, casting ghostly, flickering cold light below.
“S-Spirits, that’s so good!” He moans, his brow knit in effort, and sweat starts to visibly bead on his forehead. His voice echoes slightly now, in the ethereal way it does when his demonic nature asserts itself. “More, more!”
Appeasing his request, you pick up the pace and force of your thrusts, increasing in intensity until the wet sound of your flesh slapping against his pervades the room.
Your senses are so heightened from being close to your change that you can feel every minute sensation in a concentrated manner. The way he feels, the sounds, the sight of him, his thick, pheromone laden smell, the consuming heat of his body- The rising level of your excitement is seemingly the last straw, pushing your restraint to finally snap.
You’re unable to resist the urge any longer, now being under the light of a risen full moon. Your body starts to transform in totality. The pain of the situation is mercifully lessened to nagging discomfort by just how many moons of this you’ve endured.
Silvery grey fur sprouts on the back of your hands first, then runs up the skin on your limbs before spreading out over your body, the itching finally assuaged. Your muscles swell and twist, your joints snapping from the pressure. Your spine extends into a full, bushy grey tail, and your ears stretch and raise, two furry, perked triangles. Your nose and mouth grows and splits into a fully lupine maw - long and full of razor sharp fangs, frothed slobber already dribbling from your pulled lips from being so worked up. Your bulk nearly doubles as you reach your fully monstrous werewolf size - everywhere - shredded off what was left of your clothes that hadn’t managed to be disrobed.
You can feel the inside of August’s body tighten around your thickened, elongated cock, the organ filling him further to make room for its mass. You’re stopped from plunging to the hilt by the quickly swelling bundle of flesh at the base of your phallus. It grinds wet against the tense ring of muscle at August’s entrance.
“Aaangh- B-Big-!” August throws his head back, all attempts at eloquence abandoned as he grunts and gasps, trying to adjust to the sudden change in girth inside of him. His forked tongue hangs out of his parted mouth, the shock of blue complimenting his tan skin beautifully. “Al-Always S-So big- Mnngh!”
A growl escapes your chest through your bared newly minted fangs, so aroused and driven on by primal lust that you’re unable to slow your pace even slightly. Your clawed mitts grip him tighter, and your robust, furry quads thrust your throbbing cock into him harder and faster, as deep as the tighter fit and the sudden spherical flare will allow.
Your mechanical claw moves from the small of his back to the crook of his knee on his free leg and pushes upwards, spreading his legs open as far as possible, trying to facilitate cramming your knot inside him.
After a few more ragged pumps into him, you can feel some progress. August’s hole stretches in small increments, taking more of the swollen bump bit by bit. Deep growls escape your throat with each savage thrust.
With a particularly strong jerk of your hips, the resistance finally yields. Your fat, over-swollen knot pushes past the fleshy ring with a pop, quickly sucked up into August’s body.
“O-Oh- Nnngh-”
You’ve barely been moving a few moments before your lover tenses below you and his hole contracts around you as hard as it can, preventing you from pulling out of him.
"Aa-anngh-!" August's body is wracked by tremors below you, his voice broken by intensity as he cries out, and his claws puncturing the bedding. He hits his peak fast, cum streaking out of the tip of his swollen head.
Because of the steep angle you're holding him at, his spunk lands on his own face and hair, some even getting into his open mouth where his tongue lulls out. Given his dreamy, blissed out expression, and the frantic heaves of his chest, he doesn't seem to mind much at all.
He watches you with the same glazed, reverent expression, keeping himself clenched and you tied to him as you continue. You thrust ferociously with a primal lust, despite the lack of room to draw out.
The tight squeeze feels divine - every slope of August’s inner walls bearing down and rubbing you in a sweet embrace. You chase down the building feeling of pressure in your lower spine, still growling low. Your movements become harried and wild, and finally, your balls tense up. The growls in your chest turn into a full blown snarl as you spout a fountain’s worth of cum inside of him, continuing the movement of your hips as you empty your load.
After the spasms subside, you use the increased amount of lubricant to draw yourself out of him, an overflow of your own seed filtering out in absence of your cock.
“Aaah-” August groans breathlessly, wincing at the lack of fullness as he holds his undoubtedly sore abdomen. “U-Uh?”
He lets out a noise of surprise as you use your grip on his knee to flip him over, shoving him farther up the bed, so that he’s chest down, on his knees- his round, perfect ass propped in the air.
“N-Not finished, huh?” He pants breathily, lust rising in his voice again. “Go ahead, use me as you see fit- Nngh-!”
He’s cut off as you grab his hips and sink your still rock hard cock into him to the hilt once more, the force knocking the air out of him.
You continue to wildly rut into him, filling him with more rounds of cum, then repeat several times over. You carry on long after he passes out and the gathered wisps have extinguished themselves, using his limp body for relief far into the wee hours of the morning. Eventually you fully exhaust yourself, and pull out of him one last time before collapsing to sleep beside him.
Some hours later, you wake to golden morning light beginning to filter in from the glass ceiling, a man once more in the warm rays of the sun.
You sit up and roll one of your shoulders tentatively, your weary bones creaking with your movements. In your stirring, you notice your lover is also awake, watching you groggily from his position laying on his back next to you.
“How do you fare this morning?” Your brow knits in slight concern, always worried that despite him assuring you otherwise, that one day you will physically hurt him beyond repair. “Sore, I assume.”
“A little sore, yes. And quite sticky…” He laughs, noticing your look of concern and countering it with a loving smile of his own, reaching out to grab your hand. He places a light kiss onto your hardened knuckles. “Moreso hungry. Absolutely ravenous.”
“We shall have to fix that, then. I have a few places in mind for breakfast, but it seems whichever is the closest one is in order.” You shift your weight to rise out of the bed, when you feel his palm catch your forearm.
“Wait,” August says softly, pulling you back before you can leave the bed. “Lay with me a bit longer, if you would.”
“... Of course, my beloved.” You settle back against the headboard, shifting to hold him in your arms, his warm skin soft against yours. You could never fail to oblige him. “We can have something delivered, if you prefer.”
After sorting out the food order, a few minutes of tired quiet pass. August sighs a contented, thoughtful sigh, his body still limp and relaxed as he draws a hand slowly across the soft hair on your chest.
“Mmm, now, that is the sound you make when having a particularly poignant thought.“ A husky, affectionate chuckle rumbles in your chest. “Just what topic has you pondering this deeply so early, my dear?”
“Oh, nothing too philosophical, truly. Mulling over all the things I experienced on this trip.” He laughs lightly in response. “Everything is so new, but most of the things weren’t so different from those at home; just some minor permutation on the same idea. Even that beautiful glass room that holds the night sky - the planetarium - is still the same night sky I’ve seen while stargazing so many times before, just seen through a different lens.”
“That is true. Living long enough reveals that very few things are completely original. Especially when home is particularly stuck in its old ways… so much of the outside world has taken and improved upon what is there.”
“Yes. But how beautiful it is, that there is still a vast unknown that remains to be found in things that are so familiar, just by turning them in the light.”
“You know,” You say and lay soft, venerative kisses on his face and neck, drawing a sweetly affectionate, drawn out hum from him. “Perhaps you should take up poetry - I think you are simply a natural.”
“Perhaps I will consider it…”
>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI
#nine of words#exophillia#gay exophilia#mlm exophilia#male monster#male reader#werewolf reader#monster romance#monster lover#werewolf#cambion reader#oc: august#oc: ambrose#series: unnamed thousand year WIP#oneshots
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Free Fall
#FFF210 The Sand Ocean @flashfictionfridayofficial
Couple of things before you hit that delicious read more with the story beneath.
It's under a read more because it's a canon part of a larger story that doesn't come out until next year (and I technically haven't announced yet).
And yes, it does, (again technically) contain spoilers for said thing. (Small ones like who lives and how) So if you hate spoilers but like indie novels about pirates, maybe give this one a miss.
Finally, It's a completely self-contained piece of flash fiction but, much like my short sotries from nopoodles.wordpress.com it can (and in this case has) also be turned into a longer piece.
Anyway 932 words here we come!
Nat had got used to the swash of the sea against the sides of the ship, had got used to the sensation of constant sway. But when the crew had agreed to head to The Dry Sea Pirate Port, they had all warned Nat that it would be a wild experience compared to the rest of their time on board.
Nat wasn’t foolish enough to point out that their experience on the ship didn’t exactly count as simple or easy. Prisoner held for ransom didn’t exactly make for ‘tame’.
Still, they had slipped into a safety line and made their way up the rigging. If nothing else, it would at least give them some semblance of privacy, more than they could expect to find elsewhere on a ship like this one.
“When you said ‘Dry Sea’, I’ll admit, this wasn’t exactly what I imagined.”
“What did you picture?” the rigger, Kajal asked, settling next to Nat on the crossbar of the sail.
Kajal had no issues staying upright, even with the blistering wind blasting them both from behind, filling the white sails below them to puffy clouds. The deck below seemed tiny from up here, even Bear and Aleksei turning to miniature versions. Nat, on the other hand, clung tight to the crossbar with their hands. “I don’t know,” they sighed. “Just… I can’t say I would ever have even imagined the ship would somehow be able to sail right through sand like it’s an ocean of its own.”
This was the most obvious venture into the Unknown World that Nat had managed thus far. They had grown up at the origin point of most modern oceanic maps – the Endrish navy had expanded further into the seas than most others. At least most other map making societies. Maybe they were just pushy about their own map designs.
Still, nobody else dared travel into such unchartered space as these but for pirates. Nat’s first experience of the Unknown World had probably been the Siren’s Waters, but Nat couldn’t have begun to explain where they were. Their first experience of semi-chartered Unknown World was the Pirate Port in Shenai. The place Nat’s world had seemed to settle into this version of normal.
Normal. A laughable concept. Particularly here where the sand parted in front of the bow of the ship, completely akin to both a ship through the swell and somehow like the few times Nat had seen a field ploughed. That was a comparison they had never thought to make before. But, then again, Nat spent most of their time aboard looking back over what had passed.
The sand itself glittered gold, almost blinding with the level of sun at this time of day. Maybe it was always like this. Always bright. Always this dry heat that seemed to steal all the moisture from one’s mouth.
“It’s the Dry Sea,” Kajal said.
“Thank you for the clarity.” Nat’s voice was dry.
Kajal gasped. “I can’t believe it’s already affecting you.”
In the distance a sparkling something surfaced from the sand, dipping back underneath like a whale or a dolphin but far larger than either. That was definitely something that ate ships like these. And Nat doubted they’d be able to convince it with clever words to leave them and the rest of the ship alone.
“If I was less afraid of falling, I’d push you.”
“You’re wearing a safety line. Falling isn’t a problem.”
You’re. Nat pulled their attention away from the horizon, away from that blistering sand, and to Kajal, relieved to find the rigger sporting their own safety line, one clearly designed specifically to fit their body in a more comfortable way than the rope harness Nat had wriggled into.
“I’m sure having my chest bruised before I meet the Pirate Lord of the Dry Sea would be incredibly helpful, but I think I’ll avoid it if I can.”
Kajal snickered. “A fair point.”
Ahead of them, a palace loomed out of the sand, seeming to float impossibly over the landscape, held up only by wavering heat lines. Nat knew better than to believe their eyes in this situation. They’d read enough stories – fictional and factual – to know that hot weather mirages were a thing. Still, there were heat mirages and then there was the fact that Nat was physically on a ship heading through the sand like it was water with its own currents. And they had thought sirens would be the weirdest thing they’d come across on this voyage.
“I should get ready,” they sighed.
Kajal shrugged, shoulder shifting close enough to disturb the fabric of Nat’s shirt. “If you want.”
“I think you’re a bad influence.”
Kajal gasped again, lifting a hand to almost cover their mouth. An obvious mockery of Nat’s typical dandified tendencies. “How could you say such a thing?”
Nat laughed hard enough that their seat unsteadied. Their heart leapt into their throat at that feeling of freefall, cut short only by their desperate clinging to the crossbar below them.
Kajal threw a steadying arm around them, hand catching against the still tender and sensitive line of scars decorating their way down Nat’s arm. Their flinched enough from that gentle and unintentional contact that their hastily aborted fall took over.
They found themself swinging wildly across the deck, safety line wrapped around their torso contracting, crushing their ribs in an iron grip.
A hand steadied them and spun them around to face the owner. He looked somehow both less and more imposing upside down. “We’ll be there in less than an hour.”
“Thank you Aleksei.”
© Will Soulsby-McCreath, feel absolutely free to reblog but you need my active written permission to share it anywhere else (and I'm not currently giving that)
#fff210#flash fiction friday#flash fiction friday 210#not that kind of dandy#pirate project#flash fiction
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"You're gonna have all the time in the world to say my name, princess,"
They were dating now - so yes, she would, in fact, have all the time in the world to say the Oni's name in such ways. He couldn't help but wonder if she'd do so simply to see just what it would do to him. Not right in the moment they were in now, of course, that'd be counterproductive to what they wanted to do. It wasn't like they COULDN'T do things where they were, his large frame would make a fairly decent camouflage for her, or the way she'd been upon his lap. However, he believed that she deserved a proper first time, not a spur-of-the-moment brought on by their bodies getting heated far too quickly despite their location time.
"Mine is yours in the same way, Ayaka, ya have me... all of me, I'm yours."
The Yokai could tell she was struggling more than a little bit with trying to formulate a response to anything he said, or did. So he was relaxing his teasing touches for now. After all, they'd both essentially agreed to moving somewhere more private. Preferably somewhere that nobody would come across them, or see them. No, their... deeper intimacy should be for them, and them alone to witness. He wanted to see her, to touch her, and to taste her properly - behind closed doors where no prying eyes could see them.
"I understand... holdin' back for me is just as difficult. Your scent is addictive and while I do want more I know we can't, not here anyway."
He'd gently caress her cheek again, his expression soft, yet still fairly flushed in his own right. Her noises, the way she felt, the damn near dry-humping of his lap. The feeling of her hand rubbing against his clothed erection. All of those things were well beyond what he'd thought would happen between them, even with their feelings out in the open. He wouldn't know of how she viewed him, though it was doubtful he'd readily agree to many of her descriptors. He wouldn't argue with her, no, that wasn't anything he even wanted to think of doing with her. He'd much rather kiss and hold her more, and trail his claws over her soft skin. Make her mumble, moan, or perhaps, even cry his name out.
"I know that... waitin' is gonna be hard for both of us, but I give ya my word that once we've talked? Gotten everythin' on the table out in the open between us? Yeah, I'm gonna have no issues continuin' if ya still want to."
Given how wet she was, the patch on his pants had gotten slightly larger, he didn't mind though. He was the one who pulled her onto his lap the second time, his pants could get washed without an issue, they tended to dry pretty fast too, so there'd be no intimate residue left upon them whenever he donned them next. He'd listen as she spoke once more, agreeing with his sentiment that their first time together was far better suited for somewhere private. He did wonder, if she would think less of him knowing that unlike her he was not pure in that sense, even though it wasn't technically by his own choice. He supposed he'd have to talk to her about that, and a sinking feeling hit the pit of his stomach due to that realization. In the end, he decided that it could wait for them to be in the privacy of the estate.
As she got up, albeit not without a small amount of struggling, he'd get up as well. Fetching her forgotten book from the grass whilst doing so. It would be awkward for him to attempt to fix himself inside his pants, so he'd just hope nobody looked too closely. It was a good thing he wore loose fitting pants, for sure.
Making it to the Estate was easy, despite the struggles both of them faced on the way. At least the walk hadn't been too long, they'd merely been just beyond the gate beneath a tree. He'd smile and take the tea as it was offered to him.
"Thank ya, Ayaka. As for... that question."
He'd chuckle, shifting in his seat briefly to try and get a bit more comfortable. As he mulled over her question, he'd take a small drink of his own tea, the scent of the drink doing little to disguise the one coming from her, but he was doing his best to not focus on that at the moment.
"Oni make love the same as humans do. It's... just that well - I'm bigger, I guess? So... it might be a bit different than with a human."
He'd sigh before setting his cup down on the table, he was doing his best not to visibly shake, but what he needed to tell her frightened him to an intense degree. He was afraid she'd think of him as filthy, damaged, or... worse.
"I need to tell ya somethin' Ayaka, and - after I'm done if ya want me to leave... that's fine."
His voice had taken such a serious tone as he spoke, before he said the last two words. She'd know he was afraid, not of her, but of her reaction to what he was about to tell her. What caused his ex and him to break up and the depression he fell into thereafter. It had been years now, of course, but... his fear of being abandoned now? By her? It made his heart begin to hammer inside his chest quite a bit. He was petrified.
"My ex... used me, then humiliated me once they got what they wanted from me. That's why... I was so shocked that my body reacted so positively to what we were doin'."
He'd truly never done those things with his ex though. Not the kissing, not the sensual touches, not any of it. He'd take a deep breath before looking at his lap, expecting her to tell him to get out. To leave and never come back for withholding such information from her.
Deep inside he knew. He KNEW she wouldn't do such a thing to him but that fear was wedged so deep inside his body that even though he knew... she wasn't like his ex. She was a beautiful, absolutely perfect young woman, and she deserved to know the truth about what happened to him those years ago.
"The things we did... under the tree, I'd never done any of 'em with my ex. You're... you're the first person I've ever kissed, touched, or been touched by like that before."
He'd screw his eyes shut now, too afraid to look up at her face and see the disappointment that might be reflected in her eyes.
“I could say it over and over again.”
A low groan is the response he would receive to those words, enticing her to respond much more boldly than before. Something within her mind stopped her from making another move. Would she truly want to spice things up outside, knowing the two of them could get too caught up in the moment and observed by one or more passerby. The idea of it weighed on her mind, and it made her realise that he deserved far better than that. Vulnerability was a key factor when making love with someone, and that was something nobody could argue with.
“My body is yours… Archons,”
It was clear that she was having a hard time with getting herself to calm down without thinking about all those touches. This was a long awaited moment in her lifetime, so holding herself back felt like an impossibility. For him, she would do anything. The dedication he shows to countless others, day in and day out, is deserved back tenfold. The loosely lipped woman almost asked for him to keep going, but she knew there would be nothing more they could do that wouldn’t go beyond downright sex.
In the depths of her wildest dreams, Kamisato Ayaka was quite the deviant. Many different fantasies played a part in these late night scenes, including a shift in that well-mannered and mousey personality of hers. Holding no particular essence of her usually reserved personality while becoming mush to his touch would urge that promiscuous energy to come out and make itself known more obviously. Playing this game with him was so difficult, with nowhere to dance around the animalistic pride that settled in their interactions.
“H—holding back just feels so hard.”
When she spoke, her voice held a huskier ring, her fingers digging into his skin in an attempt to make a home in that position. The tension had outdone itself, drawing them into a place they hadn’t imagined they would reach. All those memories of her whining out his name at night, with her hips rutting against the soft material of her pillow suddenly dissipated, alongside that unfiltered need that seemed to seep through the cracks of her futile efforts to keep herself still. Did he have any idea just how star-strikingly beautiful he was? Did he understand just how much of a cosy nest he had created for himself in her heart, with an impatient gnawing voice in her head to bring him home, haunting her whenever she wasn’t busying herself with other tasks? Sun-kissed skin, with a fiery passion glazed over his eyes, brimming with loving lust that stirred from within… he’s so perfect, well and truly. How could anybody want to push this Archon-sculpted Oni away?
He made a point as he spoke. Neither of them truly wanted to go all the way out in the open, especially when it was their first time exploring another person’s body so delicately. Plus, if she wanted to make him feel good, it would be much better suited in a place where they could freely express that looming desire. Even at the suggestion that there be a period where the two of them cool down before allowing anything more to happen left her clenching around nothing, a weeping response from her pent-up core.
One thing she had picked up from time spent with him was just how often she locked herself in that bubble. There was no held interest in possessing many other social links whenever her heart was close to his, and she would likely find herself enjoying their small getaways together quite the enamouring way to discover more about him. Itto was not necessarily reserved, but a lot of the time, learning about people would come alongside an experience of some kind, whether it be in relation to a hobby, through work, or even travelling. The hope would be to learn something new about him everyday, determined to keep going with this unending determination. He was too precious not to try for.
“I don’t want you to have to subject yourself to a first time outdoors, either…”
With every sensical notion brought her way, there was a loosened response, her mind’s logical pattern finally crawling out from the dark tunnel it had been subjected to live in while her natural reactions cursed that body of hers. If they had been in a more private place to begin with, she highly doubted she would have wanted to stop as willingly as she had here, and that scared her. Was it natural to possess such a strong desire toward another, or would this register her a bad person? As long as her beloved oni did not think so, all choices shared between them would remain secret to the outside world.
“We can’t have you struggling to walk back to the Estate now, can we?”
The following kiss would have her squeak in surprise, but it communicated all that it needed to. The intention to solidify a union in such an affectionately drawn out manner, their lips working together to showcase that deeply seated love. Ayaka knew that, although the Kamisato Estate had its busier days, there would be minimal staff around the place. With nobody home, there was very little to upkeep, and that had been her hope from the beginning. Once that kiss had been broken, she worked herself up, struggling to stand momentarily, stumbling around before finding her balance. She knew that there would be a lot to talk about before anything further happened, but the buildup was driving her to insanity.
A small, awkward smile graces her face as she pours Itto a cup of lavender tea within the confines of a private room. Under strict instruction, they were not to be disturbed under any circumstance except for an emergency. This way, everything that needed to be discussed could be freely expressed without any restrictions. Supposedly, this would also give the two of them a break from the heavy tension that had built up over the time spent under the tree, and yet, she could still feel her juices teasing her inner thighs. Ignoring the feeling would be challenging, an attempt at the very least would be made to push it all aside for this conversation.
“S-so… how does an oni make love?”
The question felt so silly to ask, but any differences between her knowledge of how humans did it and how an oni would go about it will be of great importance to know about. Her palm shamelessly remembered just how much bigger he felt — no, she needed to focus now. Her eyes would hold that same needy essence, and she wished that she could turn her bodily reactions off. To shut her brain off, she simply took a sip of tea, awaiting for her sweet oni to speak.
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This post… started out as a way to post a little clip from an old Daniel Kitson radio show, because I had something happen in real life recently that somewhat mirrored an awkward situation there, and I thought of responding the way they did on the radio show, which I thought would be funny. But the post got a little out of hand as I explained the real-life event (I mean… technically I guess the radio show was also real life, but they feel like fictional characters), so it’s turned into one of those “here’s a story from my life” posts, with a bit from the radio show at the end. That’s what’s behind this link.
I often forget to say things like this, please let me know if you ever wish I’d post more warnings about anything I post about, but trigger warning in this one for a bit of talk about people losing too much weight on purpose. Not a significant part of the story, but it’s in there.
So, I have this friend from New Zealand. In previous posts in which I’ve written stories from my life, I’ve given people I know pseudonyms for privacy (even though that’s a bit silly, no one would know even if I used their real names), and I’ve named them after comedians. I’m going to name my friend in this story David, because he’s a Kiwi, and he has what I can only describe as “David Correos energy”. One of the most wild and excitable people I’ve ever met. Recently got diagnosed with ADHD and everyone’s reaction was “Wait, you weren’t diagnosed with that before?” Great guy. No control over anything.
I first met him in 2013, when he moved up to Canada to train for a year as part of his goal to quality for the 2014 Commonwealth Games, with the goal of using that as a step on the road to the 2016 Olympics. He’d kind of outgrown the scene in New Zealand, needed to challenge himself with new training partners, so picked a different country. He chose Canada for a few reasons – we have a bigger community in this sport than they have in NZ, but smaller and less intense than somewhere like the US, and therefore easier for a guy who’s not from there to just walk into a room and start training with them than it would be it would be in the US. He got a year-long Visa, found a temporary job in Canada, messaged my friend and I who ran the team here, and joined our room.
He was a lot of fun, and quickly became friends with my friends and I from the team. His girlfriend moved up to Canada with him, and even though she wasn’t an athlete, she hung out with the team and we became friends with her too.
That year, I was training with a university team in a city about five hours away, so I was between my home city and that other place throughout the year. I saw my friends, as well as David and his girlfriend, whenever I went home. David and I got along well, started keeping in touch even when I was in the other city. This led to me getting permission from my university coach to bring David into that room sometimes, so he could train with my university teammates, get even more variety of partners. So he’d sometimes go with me to that other city, sleep on my couch, train in the room.
Also during that year, he had to travel to various Pacific Islands to compete in various Commonwealth Games qualifiers (he was competing as an NZ athlete, so he had to beat all the other people from Oceania to be their representative at the Games). He won them all, and got his spot. In July 2014, he came with me to the other city for the last few weeks before he flew to Glasgow for the Commonwealth Games, and would then fly from Glasgow back to NZ, being done with his year in Canada. It was sad to say goodbye to him, but we really enjoyed those few weeks.
For three weeks, he slept on my couch, while training for the Games. He was cutting a lot of weight for the tournament. Honestly, it was a lot of weight even by the standards of how much most people cut for international tournaments, it was fucking dangerous and I do not condone it, and as a coach I would never let an athlete of mine do it. But I wasn't his coach, and it, wasn't my decision, and I did understand why he was doing it. He cut almost twenty kilos in a few months. It’s what he had to do, because all the other categories were taken by people he couldn’t beat – the only category he had a chance of winning was twenty kilos lower than what he weighed naturally. So he did it. He made that cut for every qualifier, and then for the Games. It wasn’t a smart idea, but it did work. I can't say I blame him. People will do a lot for a dream. And besides, I've done my share of stupid dangerous weight cutting too, even if never as much as that.
Anyway, the point is that he was a bit miserable for those few weeks, since he had his food and water so severely restricted, but we made it fun anyway. We’d get home from practice and then lie on my living room floor late into the night because he didn’t have the energy to do anything else at such a late stage in the weight cut, talking and watching videos on my laptop. He showed me funny things from New Zealand. We watched those deck commercials over and over and they made me laugh too hard. We bonded over Flight of the Conchords, of course, the one NZ thing I was a fan of before I met him.
That was the first time I ever saw Tim Minchin. I still remember David saying “I have to show you something!”, and he grabbed my laptop and brought up this video. I watched it, and I remember my first reaction was – this orange-haired man gets it. Please show more of him. I would like to see more from the orange-haired man who gets it. We ended up watching all his videos together, and for years after that, every once in a while I’d have a night of watching Tim Minchin videos on my own. I still do that sometimes.
The 2014 soccer World Cup was going on at the time. David was obsessed with it, even though NZ were not in it (maybe they were at one stage, I don’t know, they weren’t in it by the time he was staying with me). This was the only time, before I got really into British TV in 2020, that I had an idea of how popular soccer is outside of North America. I was vaguely aware, before, that outside of here, soccer – the thing I know as a game little kids play and then usually grow out of and no one is serious about it – is actually a wildly popular sport and also called football. But I didn’t really know that until I lived with a Kiwi during the World Cup, and he could not stop talking about it, despite having no connection to the teams. And despite the fact that, you know, he was training in his own sport, for his own major international tournament. He still managed to find time to care a lot about people he doesn’t know playing a sport he doesn’t play. On the night of the finals, he convinced me to go with him to a pub to watch the game, by agreeing to pay for my drinks. He wasn’t even able to drink, because he was cutting weight. He paid money to have to watch his friend drink alcohol that he wasn’t allowed to have, just so he could watch that game in a pub.
On one of his last nights in the country, my university hosted a big tournament. David didn’t compete, because it was too close to the start of the Commonwealth Games and he didn’t want to risk getting hurt. I did compete, and had one of the worst tournaments of my fucking life. Lost all three matches, quite badly, at least one to a girl I should have beaten. Afterward, my team had rented a whole bar downtown to have a big party for all the athletes from across the country who’d come to town for the tournament. David and I went together. I got very drunk, because I'd had a terrible day. He was sober, and still happy to hang out with me all night, and then stay up watching stupid things online at my place afterward, and it cheered me up a lot. He was a good friend.
A couple of days later, he flew out to Glasgow for the Commonwealth Games. A couple of days after that, I woke up at 5 AM to watch his match on the livestream. He lost it, and was out of the tournament, and that’s how fast a whole year of work toward something can dissipate. I gave it some time before I messaged him to see if he was okay, and of course it was rough day, but he was all right. He was already refocusing on the next goal.
My friends and I kept in touch with David and his girlfriend over the next couple of years. He stayed on that road to the Olympics that he’d started, and he got there. Managed to qualify for the Rio Olympics in 2016. He also proposed to his girlfriend, and some of my Canadian friends and I planned a trip to New Zealand for his wedding in fall 2016. Big year for him, that was.
His Olympic story was heartbreaking. He made it all the way there. He qualified, which took years of work (okay... to be honest, he was an alternate, but the guy who beat him got caught for steroids so David got to go in his place). He cut the weight, again. He flew to Rio. His name was on the draw sheet. He walked in the opening ceremonies. He got all the team gear, and even swiped a couple of extra official New Zealand Olympic Team shirts, which he game to my best friend and I when he saw us at his wedding. I still wear mine all the time, I love it.
Anyway, he did all that, and then the day before he was supposed to compete, he did some light training in a practice area, he fell the wrong way on a knee that he’d injured before, and aggravated the injury again. His knee popped out, immediately from what I’d heard, and he couldn’t get up. His teammate had to help him up the stairs and out of the room. He couldn’t walk. If he’d been able to do anything on that knee – anything at all – he’d still have competed. It was the fucking Olympics. He just wanted to be able to say he’d competed in the Olympics, even if he lost quickly due to his injury. But he couldn’t walk well enough to even go out there. He had to pull out of the tournament the day before competing.
He was devastated, of course. My friends and I heard all this from his girlfriend, who had gone to Rio with him and was messaging us as it happened. I remember struggling with whether to message him, I didn’t know if I’d just make it worse. I ended up going with a “So sorry, hope you’re okay, I’m here if you want to talk” message, and he took me up on that, seeming grateful for the chance to talk about it. There wasn’t much to say. It was just a fucking awful situation.
Two months later, my friends and I flew to New Zealand. We spent two weeks there. David’s girlfriend was Australian, and the plan was for them to live in Australia after being married, but the wedding was in New Zealand. David’s wedding was a few days into the trip, and then we spent a week and a half with ten people (me, David, his new wife, three of my friends who’d traveled with me from Canada, and a mix of Kiwis and Aussies who were their friends from down under) in an 11-seater van, traveling all around the South Island. It was incredible and beautiful and an amazing experience, and it nearly fucking killed me. By the end, I was sleeping in the van because I could not handle one more second of the hostels that were full of people, I could not handle going that long without alone time. It was really, really hard for me to spend so much time constantly around people. But God, the country was beautiful. We did horse riding tours. We hiked in amazing places. We saw seals and penguins. We saw oceans and mountains. David’s bachelor party was at a cabin in the middle of nowhere and we had a massive bonfire and it was one of the most fun nights of my life. I loved the whole trip, except the parts where I was having a breakdown from lack of downtime and too many people I didn’t know. I loved it and I hated it but I’m very glad I went. And it was good to see David again. I’d missed him.
Oh, also, while we were on this trip, one of my friends from Canada got along with Australian woman who was also on the 11-seater van adventure, and they ended up keeping in touch and beginning a relationship. A few years later, they got married, and now he lives with her in Australia. Which is great and I’m very glad he’s happy and everything, but also, fuck Australia for taking my friends away.
We stayed in touch with David and his girlfriend-turned-fiance-turned-wife, both before and after his wedding. They had a kid about a year after they were married, and of course all my friends in Ottawa were excited to see pictures. We had a big group chat with David and his wife and some of their Kiwi and Aussie friends that we’d met on that trip, and our friends in Canada that they’d been friends with when they were here, and once every couple of months or so we’d do a big video call with anyone from that group who wanted to join.
They came up to Canada for my friend’s wedding, when he married the Aussie friend of David’s Aussie wife. At my friend’s bachelor party, David sat down on the couch with me, while quite drunk, and admitted that he’s been a father for a year, and he’s not sure he’s cut out for it. It’s so much harder than he’d expected, he hadn’t been ready for how much is life would change, he loves his son so much but it’s so very hard. I’d never heard him say that before, I don’t know if he had said it to anyone else. It felt like something he needed to get out and he didn���t know who to talk to about it. I don’t even remember what I said to him. I tried to comforting and a good listener and whatever I could.
A year or so later they had another kid. And sometime after that, I started losing touch with them. When the pandemic happened, I kind of shut down. I stopped reading the group chat with David and the other Kiwis/Aussies. Their video chats got more frequent in the early days of the pandemic, and I joined on the first couple of them, but then I stopped doing them altogether. I was just struggling too much with losing my sport and everything, and I dealt with it by throwing myself hard into distractions (British comedy) and trying to bury my head and forget that the rest of my life had ever existed.
In the last year or so, I’ve been trying to slowly get back to stuff, including getting my friendships back. I’ve been seeing the people I know here again, but didn’t resume contact with David. I did, however, hear about him from my friends who were still talking to him and his wife. And my friend who moved to Australia to marry their friend lives fairly near them (they all live in Australia now), sees them regularly, and sometimes talks to my friends and I in Canada about how they’re doing.
What I started hearing earlier this year was that they’re not doing well. That David and his wife were fighting a lot, mostly stemming from issues with how to parent and how to run a household. A few months ago, I heard they separated. I wanted to reach out to David, especially since I don’t know how many friends he has who are not also close with his wife. He’s not from Australia, so his friends out there are people he knows through her. My Canadian friends know her at least as well as they know him, because she hung out with them at a lot when they were in our city. I’m in the slightly different position, in that I know her, but not as well. Because I was living in that other city for a lot of the time, I saw him through the sport, but not her so much. My friend told me he’s been talking to David’s wife a lot, as she clearly needs someone to vent to about their relationship problems, but the fact that he’s talking to her means he can’t really be there for David in the same way. He said he thinks David is struggling with not having anyone to talk to about the relationship problems, because everyone’s kind of on “her side”.
I thought I’d like to help David, give him someone to talk to if he needs it. I do like his wife. I think she may well be objectively “right” in whatever’s going on there. But if he needs someone who knows him better than they know her, I’m that, or at least I used to be. But it’s been so long since I’ve been in touch with him, I didn’t know how to bridge that.
Last night, I finally did. I was out with some friends, we got talking about David, I said I wish I’d reached out to him, they told me that from what they’re hearing he could really use someone to talk to, so I just messaged him. Said I know it’s been a while, but I was thinking of him and I miss him, what’s up? He replied almost immediately, saying he misses me too, and all of Canada, and he’s doing terrible, how am I? It took about three messages for him to say… well, not to trauma dump or anything, but me and [wife] separated a while ago and it’s been rough.
And I realized… I don’t know what to say to that. I mean, I know how to do the “being a friend” thing and asking him how he is and what happened and how he’s dealing with it. But I don’t know how to specifically respond to that specific message. What do you say when someone tells you they’ve had a breakup, and you knew that already, but not because you heard it from him? Oh… right, yes, I heard about that. Heard you had a breakup. What’s up? Doesn’t that seem like a weird thing to say?
Anyway… that’s what this whole post was leading up to. This story that got wildly out of hand, because it was meant to just be a way to say I thought of a thing from an old radio show last night and that made me laugh. I was trying to work out what to say in response to David, whether to tell him I already knew or not, and it came into my head that what I should say is “Oh yeah, I heard about that, could I use it to segway into my next song?” Because that is apparently the appropriate response to having someone suddenly tell you about their breakup, as determined by Mr. Gavin Osborn.
Finding it difficult to work out what to say to David last night gives me even more appreciation for what fucking awkward position Gavin Osborn was in. I mean, at least I was just chatting over Messenger, so I had some time to think about my answer before writing it. I wasn’t in a phone call, having to say something immediately, and that phone call wasn’t live on the radio. What are you supposed to say to that? Besides, of course, “Oh yeah, I heard about that, can I use it to segway into my song?”
Okay, the context is: it’s April 25, 2007. Steve Hall and Daniel Kitson are in Melbourne for the Melbourne International Comedy Festival, and they are on the radio together, from 2 AM to 6 AM. Steve Hall has been broken up with quite recently (by a woman they did not name, but I’m almost sure it’s Danielle Ward, I’ve heard her say enough about an unnamed ex-boyfriend on Isy Suttie’s podcast to know the stories match up, I know too much about these people), and is having something of a breakdown about that. Daniel Kitson is going between making fun of him, and sometimes holding back a bit because it sounds like such a genuine breakdown that even someone who could get as vicious as 00s-era Kitson is taking pity on him. At one point, Steve requested that listeners call in if they want to sleep with him, and he was not joking. I mean, he was kind of almost joking. But clearly not actually joking.
Gavin Osborn has called in from England, because Daniel Kitson asked him to do that so he could sing a song on the air. Kitson and Osborn chatted for a bit, and then while Kitson was trying to figure out the technical aspects of having Gavin’s song played, Steve Hall decided to join the conversation.
I just think this is an amazing exchange. What an amazing thing to say to someone, live on the radio: hello, nice to talk to you, the promoter of a gig you did dumped me. Imagine you’re Gavin Osborn, the most easygoing and affable guy in the world, and you’ve called into a radio station because your friend Daniel wants you to sing a song, and then the 100 balls of self-loathing stacked on top of each other under a trench coat that’s sitting next to him says that to you, and you have to decide what to say back. And what an amazing decision of how to reply. Oh yeah, I heard about that, can I use it to sing my song? There’s a break up in it. So it’s like your anecdote.
Anyway, I did not say that to my friend, I just said sorry to hear it, and now we're talking, and I'm really glad I finally did it. He told me he'd been wanting to message me too, as it's been so long. The point of this story is, reach out to your friends if you want to, the time that's passed probably matters less than you think, they'll probably be happy to hear from you, the initial awkwardness of "It's been a while" is worth it. And if you know someone's having a hard time, be there to talk about it if they want to. Just... maybe not live on the radio. That might not be the appropriate setting for it.
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Inventory - Daryl Dixon
Request: you can write anything tbh! just something small and sweet, if you don’t mind :) (daryl anon)
A/N: This is honestly just random established relationship fluff or something.
The Walking Dead Masterlist
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You weren’t entirely sure that you liked Alexandria. It felt like someone had captured the old world in a time capsule and you were viewing all the things that you had forgotten about. Shower pressure and hot water and actual running water weren’t things that you took for granted and you’d practically cried in the bathroom when the toilet flushed but all the other parts felt uncomfortable. Like clothing that didn’t fit you anymore. You weren’t Daryl, waiting with his hand on a gun for the moment everything went to shit, but you certainly weren’t about to done a cardigan and act like a soccer mom getting ready for a bake sale either. You would let Carol handle the assimilating and gossip. Or at least the former, the latter, you couldn’t escape.
“I wouldn’t’ve pegged him as your type.” Olivia mentioned, hellbent on making inventory a gossip session.
“What?” You looked away from the open garage door to where Olivia was stacking cans of corn and writing down their number in her composition book.
“Daryl. I noticed you watch him a lot...is that like, you guys got a thing going on or you just looking?” She asked.
You paused in your rearranging of cans to look back out the garage door again. Daryl was across the street talking to Aaron and Michonne and you tried to formulate an answer that made sense for Olivia and for you. She hadn’t technically asked if you were ‘together’ (that ominous word that felt so weighty when you said it to yourself) but she was definitely asking for a definition. Were you more than friends, absolutely. That wasn’t even something you needed to think about. You certainly weren’t sharing beds with your friends the way you did with Daryl. But he’d never given any definition to your togetherness and somehow, even defining it felt like such an archaic thing. Another piece of the old world pulled from the time capsule.
“I mean...” you shrugged, “both I guess?” There was a thing, for lack of a more concrete term, but you also liked looking at him a whole lot. You’d been enjoying looking at him for a while now and sometimes on the road you’d thought, if something happened, who would you look for in a crowd. It wasn’t just that you liked the view, it was that feeling of something that anchored you into the moment, made your head a little less dizzy, made all this more bearable.
“I guess he’s not bad looking.” Olivia laughed a little, her cheeks reddening at the thought and you wanted to agree. He most certainly was not bad looking. And you had told him so plenty of times, in the privacy of your own room. “He doesn’t seem very...” she paused, looking over at you as if she had caught herself speaking out of turn.
Small talk and social etiquettes felt like something you’d left behind too, far too used to being direct with people. It almost felt odd for her to be so unforthcoming.
“Friendly?” You asked. She didn’t need to say it for you to know what she was thinking. It seemed to be a consensus throughout Alexandria. The community had differing opinions about all of you but the one thing they all agreed on was Daryl’s lack of acceptable behavior. He wasn’t particularly friendly with any of them (aside from Aaron maybe) and he acted more like a caged animal than someone who was grateful for shelter and protection.
“Uh, yeah.” Olivia nodded, pink cheeks staining darker, “I mean, I’m sure he talks to you, of course...it’s just, I’ve never found him to be particularly...warm.”
Warm, you felt like the word echoed in your mind once she said it. You’d never really spent too much time thinking about the way you would describe Daryl, he was just, himself, and that was it. You didn’t linger on what he was, what you expected him to be. Even if you didn’t ever think of yourselves as ‘together’ you knew exactly what you were.
You thought about offering up a defense for him, explaining that he was warm. He was being wrapped in a blanket on a cold night or feeling the sun on your shoulders in the early morning. It wasn’t something you considered often, that you felt like you needed to name, but you knew it right away. The words came on the tip of your tongue, like you’d been waiting to think them. But you didn’t get the chance.
Daryl came up the driveway while you were staring at him and the softest of smiles graced your features as you watched him, giving a small wave. Maybe you wouldn’t have thought about it if you hadn’t been talking to Olivia but, as Daryl held your gaze the whole up the drive, you were reminded of when you might’ve categorised his behaviour as more shy than reserved. Now it felt like he held back because he chose to, deciding what parts of himself other people got to see. When you’d first known him it was more a defense mechanism than an ordinary occurrence, and he’d never been comfortable meeting your eye.
“Did you come to help with inventory?” You teased, already hearing the grumbled response in your mind before he said it.
“Just passing by,” he replied, glancing over to the far corner where Olivia was still sitting, notebook open in her lap. “Morning.”
You wondered if she was scrutinising the interaction. Trying to see for herself what you saw in Daryl, as if that was possible.
“I’ll go check to make sure we’ve got all the dry foods from upstairs.” Olivia announced, standing from her spot and bumping her chair back against the sorting table. It rattled but nothing fell over and she went so quickly out of the room she looked like she was power-walking.
“What’s a matter with her?” Daryl asked, taking your water bottle from the ground by your chair and unscrewing the cap so he could drink some.
“She was asking about you, weren’t your ears burning?” You joked.
He glanced down at you, unamused, before finally taking the bait, “why’s she asking?”
“Said I stare at you all the time.”
“So quit staring.” He capped the water bottle and set it back in its place before fiddling with different cans on the shelves, pulling them off and reading the labels.
“Easier said then done,” you replied, grabbing your notebook off the shelf in front of you, “besides, I don’t wanna forget what you look like.”
“Why? You going somewhere?”
You scrunched your nose at his words and shook your head, “no, but you are right…saw you talking to Aaron.”
“Think ya watch me just ta spy on what I’m doing.”
“I’m right though, you two are headed out?” You asked.
“Don’t make it something it ain’t…I’ll be back in a few days time.”
Daryl was good at coming back when he left, you knew it from experience. He’d come back when he’d left with Merle, he’d come back when he’d left to find Beth, when he went off on his own to hunt he always came back. As sure as you were that he would leave, you were just as sure he would find his way back again. It wasn’t something you had to think about or reassure yourself of but sometimes it was easier to give in to that worst case scenario that sat in the back of your mind.
“I know,” you said it like you were promising him, “but that’s a few days without seeing you…who am I supposed to look for?”
Daryl set down the can of beets he was looking at and walked the short distance back to you. His hand wrapped around the end of your ponytail and he gave a gentle tug, guiding your head all the way back so you were looking straight up at him. You thought it was probably a good thing Olivia wasn’t here, she’d seemed scandalised enough at his presence in the room, you could imagine all the things she’s knock over if she saw him now, one hand holding your ponytail and the other on your neck as he leaned down and kissed you.
It was a softer kiss than the hold implied and you considered the juxtaposition of Daryl’s softness and roughness your favorite thing about him. It’d taken a while, to see the soft bits, but now you saw them all the time. How he kissed you so comfortably, like he’d always been doing it. His tongue brushing your bottom lip almost teasingly but he pulled away before you could do more, standing back up straight and dropping his hands. He gripped the back of your folding chair and you leaned against his hand, feeling them press into the skin between your shoulder blades, bare from your tank top. You kept your head tilted back, a little more comfortably though.
“When do you leave?” You asked, half expecting him to tell you he was headed to the gate now. Your brain still felt a little dizzy from the kiss but that was a normal occurrence.
“Tomorrow morning.” He replied, letting go of the chair to run his knuckles along your spine. “Shouldn’t be longer than a day or two.”
There was a quieter bumping noise and a soft curse as Olivia peeked back into the doorway, a few boxes of pasta haphazardly held in her arms. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s alright,” you replied but truthfully you were just being nice. Because Daryl had already retracted his hand you felt goosebumps on your skin in his absence, as if your body was trying to chase the sensation of him.
“Ya need help?” He asked, motioning to the boxes as she dropped them onto the sorting table.
“Would you mind? I’ve got another laundry basket full of them to bring down here and I dropped like five on the staircase.” She explained, following after him to point them out.
Daryl disappeared through the door, Olivia right behind him, and you went back to organising the latter half of the alphabetically arranged cans. Olivia tended to be more loose-lipped than her other Alexandria counterparts and you couldn’t help imagining her asking him questions, trying to dig out some part of a person under the cold exterior he’d given off while he was here. Searching for the warmth she thought was lacking. They weren’t gone long, Olivia’s chipper voice carrying down the stairs.
Daryl came through first, laundry basket piled high and the slightest hint of a glare as his eyes met yours, as if you’d somehow put him up to the task of helping.
“You can set them on the sorting table,” Olivia instructed, “I’ll go through them once I’m finished the canned goods.”
Setting them down, Daryl just nodded in agreement. You stopped from saying you’d see him tonight, in case that information was somehow on a need to know basis. But he was obviously being less purposefully withdrawn than you’d thought because he took another sip from your water bottle before telling you the exact thing you’d been too reserved to say.
“I’ll see ya tonight,” he promised, putting your water bottle back and giving your ponytail a playful tug before leaving back down the driveway.
You watched after him until he turned the corner and was out of eyesight.
“I can see why you like him so much…” Olivia finally said, getting your attention as you looked back at her.
“What?” You asked, wondering if he’d said something to her that changed her mind.
Her cheeks tinged pink again and she looked down at her notebook, “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything…just, you know, wanted to bring those boxes in.”
You nodded, prompting her to continue.
“I saw him kissing you…” she let out an airy sigh, “I’d be staring at somebody all day if they kissed me like that.”
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Midam week day six: SECRET
By now, Adam knew many secrets of the universe.
In the beginning of their acquaintance, Michael had been very cagey (pun fully intended), but even an archangel can only entertain himself for so many centuries without spilling some gossip about the work behind the scenes, or the time before time.
So Adam was very aware of which archangel had fumbled the construction of what star, causing the first supernova, and who had always complained about what particular law of physics.
He knew how the universe worked, down to the smallest parts in existence. Knew what made an angel tick, and what separated them from the archangels.
He knew how God worked, in all the ways that Michael knew it. Not that it was relevant anymore – God's power had been released into the world when Jack had stepped down from the position. Sometimes, you could still find remnants of it, pieces that had clearly been part of something bigger before. But mostly, it had fused with the energy around it, becoming a natural part of the world.
All that was a secret too, Adam supposed, though he tended to forget that not everyone knew God had been a bitch and had been dethroned for throwing a tamper tantrum. (Only to be replaced by a three year old who had been less prone to such tantrums, and who had been wise enough to abolish the position entirely.)
So at times, Adam would make a comment, a totally innocuous one in his opinion, and his co-workers would look at him like he'd grown a second head.
This was a difficulty Adam hadn't really foreseen when thinking about getting a 'little job': That he had apparently forgotten how to interact with normal people. Or rather, he technically knew how, but he was so used to only ever talking to Michael that it was hard to re-adjust.
Sometimes, Adam would forget that they weren't alone, and talked out loud to Michael. His co-workers probably thought he was talking to himself. But it got so bad that he sometimes forgot someone else was talking to him because Michael was making a funny face, or commenting from the sidelines. Not so great when you're currently talking to your boss or a customer, and suddenly ignore them.
The thing was, pretending to be a regular human was hard, and so it came as no surprise that Adam had trouble actually holding down a job. Which might also have something to do with him playing hooky all the damn time to go sight-seeing, or just chill in his bed. Both of which were Michael's fault, because he kept instigating these things.
Technically, they didn't even need a job. Turned out Michael could just get them everything they needed, including money, though Adam was a little reluctant to rely on him like that. It felt like cheating. Besides, having a job made Adam go out into the world instead of just staying inside his little bubble of archangels (yeah, several, at least sometimes) and the cashier at the grocery store around the corner.
So what if the people at his job (and possibly also the cashier) thought he was weird? Or if he couldn't keep a job for more than a month? At least he was trying.
JENNA NEEDS TO STOP HAVING PHONE CALLS DURING WORK. SHE'LL GET FIRED, Michael said one day while Adam stocked some shelves.
Huh? While Adam had noticed that his co-worker Jenna always seemed to be mysteriously absent when she was needed, he hadn't known what it was she was doing. How do you know she's on the phone?
I CAN HEAR HER.
Right. An archangel's senses was far better than those of a human. Still, it was impressive that Michael could hear a conversation that Adam hadn't even been aware of.
Michael groaned. SHE'S BREAKING UP WITH HER BOYFRIEND. AGAIN.
Again?
THIS IS THE THIRD TIME THIS WEEK. I WANT TO SAY IT'S ALWAYS THE SAME ONE, BUT I'M NOT ACTUALLY SURE.
Adam laughed, then ducked his head when a customer looked at him weirdly.
You know this is a breach of privacy, right? You really shouldn't be listening in on them.
WELL I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING WHILE YOU'RE WORKING.
Adam sighed. Michael, we talked about this. If you want to go somewhere else while I'm here-
NO. Michael wasn't using a projection right now, but Adam could feel him pouting. YOU'D JUST GET TIRED AND HUNGRY AND CRANKY.
Excuse me! While Adam was pretty sure that yeah, he would get all these things, that didn't mean Michael had to put it like that. You wouldn't even be here to suffer me being like that, so what's your point?
MY POINT IS THAT NOT ONLY DO I NOT WANT TO EXPERIENCE THAT MYSELF, I ALSO DON'T WANT YOU TO GO THROUGH THAT.
Awww, babe-
BECAUSE YOU WOULD BLAME ME FOR AT LEAST A YEAR IF I LET THAT HAPPEN. There was smugness radiating off Michael.
Ugh. You're a baby. Adam, remembering what he was supposed to be doing, put the last items on the shelf, a little more forcefully than necessary. Just as he started leaving the aisle, he spotted Jenna coming back
ASK HER HOW HER EX-BOYFRIEND DAVE IS, Michael urged him.
No, shut up, that's creepy.
HATE IT TO BREAK IT TO YOU, BUT SHE ALREADY THINKS YOU'RE A CREEP.
… She does?
YEAH, SHE WAS TELLING DAVE ALL ABOUT IT. AND LAST WEEK, SHE COMPLAINED ABOUT YOU TO HER FRIEND ALLISON, WHO APPARENTLY TOLD HER TO 'SNITCH ON YOU' TO THE MANAGER IF YOU EVER DID ANYTHING WRONG.
Oh! Was that why the manager had called him to his office on Thursday? Adam narrowed his eyes, then put on a smile when Jenna noticed him.
“Hey Jenna! How's Dave?” Adam asked cheerfully.
Her face fell immediately, eyes almost bugging out of her head. While she was still gaping, obviously unable to form an answer, Adam turned away and walked off. Let her think he was a creep or whatever.
At least he was able to keep a boyfriend. For several hundreds of years, no less.
Adam grinned. Maybe he should rub that in her face, actually.
If he already had a reputation as a weirdo, he might as well go all out.
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Though Crowley's reaction was subtle, the resulting effect on Aziraphale was substantial. He immediately began to second-guess his decision to go down there and then subsequently berated himself mentally for second-guessing. He had chosen to do this - all of it, from taking up the position of Supreme Archangel to descending into Hell on his own and demanding a meeting with no prior preparation or warning. Whether or not any of his choices were mistakes, the least he could do was take responsibility for his actions and own up to them. That was what was expected of someone in a position as high as his.
Furthermore, however he felt about making those choices, he had to at least seem certain about them or his reliability and competency in his new role could have been called into question. The unforeseen difficulty was that while Aziraphale had enough faith in himself to convince Heaven and all its angels of his self-confidence, the new Prince of Hell was an entirely different matter. How was he supposed to fool a being who, after 6,000 years, quite possibly knew him better than he even knew himself?
He took a deep breath and attempted to calm himself with practical reasoning. Crowley may have known him uncomfortably well, but Aziraphale was just as familiar with Crowley. At least, he thought he was. The new development of his promotion to Prince was a bit of an unexpected shock, but if he could just understand the motive behind that little act, perhaps everything else would all make sense.
Whatever he may have thought, though, Crowley still had the decency to oblige him with some privacy before criticizing Aziraphale's actions as 'hardly seeming professional'. The angel appreciated that, but the way the demon had viciously intimidated his fellows who had blocked his path to the door was still on his mind. Thus it took a moment for him to reorganize his thoughts enough to properly allow Crowley's words to sink in and then begin to formulate a reply.
"Technically, I did announce myself," he countered, drawing himself up with the intention of letting the demon know that he would not be as easily daunted by him as his subordinates had been beyond the door. "I just did it once I was here. As Supreme Archangel, I wasn't aware I was required to give prior notice in order to pay a visit. After all, human offices are subject to surprise audits and inspections all the time. And, seeing as I'm sure you couldn't possibly have anything to hide from me or Heaven, I didn't think you would have reason to object."
He inclined his head ever so slightly as he looked upon his friend like he could tell what else had changed in him from his new appearance alone. Aziraphale hated the way they were keeping up the cold, business-like attitude even when it was just them by themselves. It was possible Crowley was just behaving in such a way to get back at him for having returned to Heaven, but even if that were true, the angel had to admit that the demon addressing him by no less than his full title had stung a bit. It was also possible that, even though it seemed like they were alone, others could have still been watching or listening to their exchange somehow. He faltered, his careful irises sweeping the immediate vicinity for any hint of what might have worked as a camera or recording device.
"...As for what I have to discuss with you, there are a number of things, the first of which are the circumstances of your promotion." Finding nothing he could tell was amiss after a brief scan of the entire room, he settled his serious gaze back on those yellow, serpentine eyes. Even if he hadn't been able to find anything, perhaps Crowley would be able to signal to him somehow if there was something - or someone - they needed to be wary of while navigating their conversation.
"Didn't you mention having been asked back to Hell not long ago and that you had turned them down?" he asked. "What...what changed since then?"
There was, of course, the obvious answer of his decision to take up the Metatron's offer. However, Aziraphale needed to hear from Crowley himself whether or not that change had been the one to instigate the demon's own.
Aziraphale couldn't bring himself to believe the rumors. Not long after his ascendance back into Heaven as Supreme Archangel, there was word that a new demon had replaced Beelzebub as Prince of Hell down Below. This in itself was to be expected; after all, Heaven had filled their new vacancy, so why wouldn't Hell?
But it was who was said to have filled the vacancy that Aziraphale had trouble wrapping his mind around. Dagon had been his first guess, or maybe even Shax. But the Serpent of Eden? After all he'd said about not needing to rejoin Hell; not wanting to?
There was nothing for it. The angel had to go down to see for himself. He was certain it was the only way he would be able to reconcile himself to the idea. Being Head Archangel meant he had the right to go wherever he pleased. In fact, he was expected to meet with the new Prince in order to encourage future relations between Heaven and Hell.
Whatever he had imagined in order to brace himself, however, did not sufficiently prepare Aziraphale for the sight that met him when he got there. Atop the throne that Beelzebub had once occupied lounged a familiar redhead. Familiar despite the addition of shining, scattered snake scales and unusually long, sharp nails.
Those features combined with the slitted snake pupils and enlarged yellow irises hiding any glimpse of white sclera gave Crowley an overall more demonic appearance than Aziraphale had ever thought he could manifest. Looking at him then, it was difficult to even recall he had ever even been an angel at all.
Surely this was some sort of a trick. An illusion, perhaps; something to throw the newest Archangel off his game upon his first visit to Hell in his new position. After all, it was no secret by now that both respective offices knew that Crowley and Aziraphale had been in league with each other for millenia.
Perhaps this was some diabolical prank Hell had cooked up and Heaven hadn't opposed it if only to repay Aziraphale back for the trouble he'd caused them in the past. Just because the Metatron had promoted him didn't mean there weren't still some among the rest of the heavenly host who resented him. Yes, that must have been it.
Aziraphale cleared his tight, dry throat. "Supreme Archangel Aziraphale here on official business to meet with the newly-appointed Prince of Hell," he announced, trying not to choke on his own words. It was with no small amount of difficulty that he forced himself to look Crowley - or what resembled Crowley - in the eyes. "I...don't suppose you have an office where we can discuss our matters privately, Your Highness...?"
((Response to the Prince of Hell prompt
- aziracrow-omens))
@aziracrow-omens { it won't let me tag you }
Of course Crowley had not only known that he would, sooner or later, be seeing Aziraphale again. That had, after all, been the entire point of what he'd done.
He just hadn't expected it to go this way.
He thought there would be a planned meeting, that he would have time to prepare. Not that the Supreme Archangel would just march right into hell and request an audience with him without warning. There was, perhaps, a brief widening of yellow eyes, maybe a slight pursing of his lips, but nothing beyond that to betray his surprise.
Wordlessly, Crowley rose and, gesturing for Aziraphale to follow, led the way towards a door in the back of the room. Most demons stepped aside without prompting, clearing a path; those that didn't were met with a hiss and a baring of fangs that cowed them easily. Inside, Crowley was warring with himself---he'd chosen this, yes, and he'd known when he chose it that it would come with a certain amount of...theatrics to really sell the idea to hell that he was serious. But something about Aziraphale seeing him like this, leaning so heavily into this role, made him feel absolutely wretched.
The door was closed behind them, a quick snap of the prince's fingers ensuring it was locked and that their words would not be heard by any nosy demons who might be crowding outside or pressing their ears to it. Only then did Crowley turn to actually face Aziraphale, though his guard had not yet lowered.
"Showing up in hell unannounced, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale? Hardly seems professional. You must have something terribly important you wanted to discuss with me."
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Meeting in the Middle
Pairing: Sakusa x reader
Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Misogyny, Controlling Behavior, Degradation, Non-Con/Rape, Spanking
Summary: Sakusa shows you that he’s more than capable of meeting you in the middle and listening to you for a change. But be careful of what you ask for.
A/N: This is for the Poly Wives Angst Collab~ RIP us and our never ending collabs we create for ourselves.
If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be dating one of Japan’s most eligible bachelors, a professional athlete fawned over by media and fans nation-wide, the epitome of the strong and silent type, you would have laughed in their faces. What is this? Some silly fairytale? The childish checklist of “things I want in a boyfriend” you’d written in middle school?
But life has a funny way of working and you find yourself in an obnoxiously lavish and rowdy nightclub, made only more crazy by the surprising appearance of some VIPs.
It seems like volleyball has somehow become Japan’s national sport overnight and although you aren’t necessarily the biggest follower of anything remotely athletic, even you know exactly who the rambunctious trio catching everyone’s eyes are.
You can’t deny there’s more than just a bit of appeal in the way their button up shirts cling to toned muscles, but you’ve never been one for crowds and you stray to the emptier corners of the establishment to avoid being swept by the crowd of excited fans. But when Atsumu cheesily winks and flirts as he signs scandalously bared skin of female fans, you mockingly gag, only to whirl in embarrassment when you hear an amused snort from behind you.
“Not a fan of Miya Atsumu?”
Staring wide-eyed and slack jawed when someone asks you a question is very rude and you want to answer. But you don’t trust yourself with basic human speech when Sakusa Kiyoomi is staring at you expectantly. So you shake your head side to side instead, heat rising to your face at the small upward curve of his lips.
“Neither am I.”
Atsumu never lets the two of you live down how he’s the one who technically brought you together, even if it was at the cost of his pride. (You chuckle when you remember his loud squawking when Sakusa recounts the dialogue exchanged at your first meeting.) But even months later, even after Sakusa has officially introduced you to the rest of the MSBY team, even after they’ve accepted you as part of their cozy and rowdy family, you can’t stop feeling impostor syndrome.
Dating Sakusa still feels unreal and you can’t help but feel like you’re living someone else’s life, stuck in a rose-tinted dream, playing dress-up and make believe as you parade around in clothing far more luxurious than you’re used to, whisked around on your lover’s strong arm as you follow him around the world from match to match. And as lovely as it is, you long to truly make this relationship your own, to feel the rawness and grittiness of love and life, to experience the charm and comfort of being true to yourself and knowing Sakusa loves you just as you are.
But your desire to be with him, to call him your own trumps your own wishes and you find yourself quickly backing down everytime you suggest something that he’s quick to turn down, desperate to appease and please him even at the price of your own desires.
He’s never outrightly rude about his preferences, never raises his voice. But somehow that makes the judgement and disdain in his dark eyes that much more apparent. You remember a rough day of work you had, the relief you had felt about being able to swiftly swap your constrictive work apparel for a pair of worn-in shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Your outfit would certainly not win any fashion awards, but you blissfully sigh at how comfortable you are as you call a local pizza shop, ordering delivery self-indulgently.
You could feel yourself becoming one with the couch you’re lounging on, the television playing in the background. But even in the hazy in-between of sleep and alertness, your eyes snap open when the door opens and you lazily smile as your boyfriend enters your shared apartment, returning from another grueling practice.
“You look like you’ve had better days.”
Your smile slips, anxiety flooding through you as you self-consciously curl in on yourself while his lips purse, eyes scrutinizing your sloppy appearance.
“Umm, yeah...tough day at work-”
“Maybe you should freshen up with me. You might feel better in a...real outfit.”
You know better than to think that it’s really a suggestion, cursing yourself, humiliation coursing through you when you think of how foolish you were to get so comfortable so quickly. You’ve seen the caliber of the women who lust over your boyfriend unabashedly despite his long-time relationship with you. You need to try harder. You need to be better.
Self-deprecation rips you to shreds as you painstakingly groom yourself, donning a dress you know Sakusa loves, applying a full face of makeup and a spritz of his favorite scent. And despite how exhausted you are, how much you’d rather be slumped on the couch, gorging on a slice of pizza, it’s all worth it when you see the appreciative look in his gaze as his eyes rake over your figure.
But worry gnaws at you once more as the doorbell rings and his eyebrow raises questioningly at the interruption. It’s a painful walk of shame as you plaster on a fake smile, tipping the delivery boy, the usually tantalizing smell of cheese and grease only making you nauseous as you bring the box to the dining table.
“What is that?”
“Dinner…”
Your voice trails off and you feel so small, so pathetic as Sakusa’s face borders disgust as he observes the offensive item.
“You didn’t cook?”
The disappointment in his voice has you spewing excuses and apologies, your heart shattering when he merely waves off your ramble, telling you he’d order a salad from elsewhere and to enjoy your meal.
You never order pizza again and a steaming hot plate of freshly cooked food is always waiting for Sakusa when he returns home while you patiently wait for him with a painted face and impeccable outfits.
Your friends and family tell you how grateful you should be, how envious they are as they oggle your latest high-end designer pieces, cooing over how picture perfect the two of you always are, staring wide-eyed at your gorgeous home, not a speck of dust or object out of place. Who would have thought that you would be the epitome of the ideal housewife in such a short time?
Yes, you wonder. Who would have thought? Certainly not you.
If only they knew how deep down the deception goes, how lost you are in this pretend world you’re stuck in. And your heart twists and turns when your friends share about the little and big spats that happen behind closed doors, giggling and sighing in an understanding you’re not part of when they playfully complain about how much work love is.
But it’s always worth it in the end because the good always outweighs the bad if you’ve found the right person (not to mention the makeup sex is a bonus). Or so they say, but you wouldn’t know what any of that feels like. Sakusa doesn’t leave room for any arguments, any disagreements, any hint of anything less than a perfect relationship.
Even in the privacy of your bedroom, you feel like you’re in a cheesy porno, dressed in the prettiest white slip dress decorated with dainty lace and a string of pearls around your neck. You feel like a doll as you’re positioned on the bed, eyes demurely looking down, letting Sakusa do as he pleases while he guides you, calloused hands roaming over your skin. You’re sure he means for it to be pleasurable and intimate, and you can’t deny that he knows your most sensitive areas, shuddering when he grazes over your hardening nipples. But there’s a coldness to his movements, a calculating aspect in the way he examines you, dark eyes scrutinizing every inch of you as if they’re looking for a blemish, a reason to lecture you on not taking care of yourself.
Yet as predictable and standoffish as he is, he does know how to pleasure you and you writhe underneath him, moaning, lower lips dripping in your own arousal. But you whimper when he growls at you to stop moaning so loudly, to stop acting like a slut.
“I’m dating a lady, not a whore.”
The words cut you, pain and emptiness mixing with the rising pleasure, muddling into a confusing and overwhelming mess insides of you. You don’t trust yourself to speak, hot tears pricking at your eyes, unsure whether a moan or harsh words would slip past your lips. But you know that neither will work in your favor, so like always, you hold your tongue, doing whatever you can to keep your lover happy. You close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the tightening knot inside of you, submitting to the waves of pleasure that crash over you as you cum, fingers tangling in the rumpled sheets, back arching in ecstasy.
Only when Sakusa is asleep, his back turned to you, the two of you cleaned and freshened up, do you let your tears stream down your face, feeling more alone than ever in your shared bed.
You hold out longer than you should, much longer than you should, in the hopes that things will improve, that Sakusa will loosen up, reveal his true self to you, let you reveal your true self to him. It’s just early dating jitters, early relationship issues. Things will get better.
Except it’s months later and things aren’t better. If anything, they’re worse and you can feel the weight of his expectations and the stress of perpetually living by a prewritten script crushing you.
It’s time to put an end to this charade.
It’s just another uneventful night and you idly stare up at the ceiling as you wait for Sakusa to join you in bed. Your heart is racing, throat feeling dry and choked up as he slips under the covers. You’re terrified, of Sakusa’s reaction, of ending everything, of starting from scratch. But you know it’s the right decision and when he finally settles in beside you, you begin to speak.
There’s only the sound of your trembling voice as you quietly tell him how you’ve felt all along, how everything has felt so prim, proper, fake, how everyday just feels like another session of rehearsing your lines, making sure you meet whatever standard he’s set for you. You want passion, real love, fights, laughter. You just want to be yourself. You just want to be with someone who loves you exactly the way you are.
“Kiyoomi, maybe we should break up. I don’t think we’re right for each other. I don’t think I’m what you want. I don’t think I’ll ever be what you want.”
“You’re right. Despite how much time, work, money, and patience I’ve spent to better you, you haven’t changed at all.”
You’re left reeling from the matter of fact harshness of his words, the slight exasperation in his tone, as if this is all your fault, as if you’re just a bothersome misbehaving pet.
“Prim and proper? Passion? Fights? So you’re tired of manners? Tired of being a respectable woman? You just want to fight and fuck like animals?”
You open your mouth to protest, anger licking at the open wounds his verbal assault leaves behind. But before you can retort, the air is ripped out of your lungs in a stunned yelp as your body is swiftly flipped over, your face shoved into the mattress until it’s a struggle to breathe, fabric and cushion all you can taste.
Your arms flail as you struggle to breathe, nails clawing at the sheets, arms trying to push yourself up against. But it’s no use against Sakusa’s strength and just as specks of black begin to enter your vision, fingers tangle with your roots and you gasp as your head is harshly jerked up, neck bending painfully back, jaw forced open from the strange position.
You whimper, tears beginning to blur your sight as a calloused hand turns your face until you’re staring at a condescending impassive countenance.
“If you want to be treated like a slut that badly, I’ll be a good boyfriend and give you exactly what you want. Ass up. Now.”
There’s no room for disobedience and spurred on by fear and pain, you listen, awkwardly shuffling into position, shame heating your face at how exposed you feel. But it’s only the start and you scream as a heavy strike lands on your bare ass, more and more blows raining down upon you, until you’re sobbing for mercy, agonized cries forced from your mouth, thighs trembling at having to support yourself through the torture.
Your upper body slumps in relief when the hits finally stop, but you flinch when fingers methodically prod at your entrance. You instinctively try to lurch forward, away from the touch, but it’s no use and you clench your eyes in humiliation at the sloppy wet sounds betraying your arousal.
“This is the wettest I’ve ever seen you. You really do like being used and treated like a bitch.”
You wish you could deny it. You wish you had the spirit to talk back, maybe even spit on that handsome face. But all you can think of is how full you feel as Sakusa’s cock slams balls deep inside your dripping hole, how deep he is inside of you from this angle, how overwhelmingly pleasurable the mix of pain and lust is as he uses you like you’re nothing more than a warm breathing sex doll.
All you can do is lewdly moan and take it, tears slipping down your face, drool seeping into the ruined sheets, eyes rolled back in your head. The coil in your stomach tightens and tightens no matter how hard you try and hold it at bay, desperately trying not to cum, not to inadvertently admit your body’s betrayal as it succumbs to every thrust. But it’s too much, the unfamiliarity of this brutal pace, the overpowering sensation of his tip reaching new depths inside of you, and you shatter to pieces, pussy convulsing, body twitching, pleasure like you’ve never felt before surging through you.
All through it Sakusa continues his relentless rhythm, a sneer marring his flawless face as he watches you suffer through your orgasm, writhing underneath him. It’s disgusting how much you love this, pathetic, pitiful, and yet he’s harder than he’s ever been, more turned on than he ever thought possible. And all it takes is a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you, a strong hand holding you still and tight to him as his groin presses against your ass, not an inch of space between the two of you as he paints your insides white.
Maybe you had a point all along. You’re absolutely filthy and wrecked and he grimaces at the tear, sweat, and sex stained mess he touches as he shoves your exhausted body away from him. Yet there’s a certain appeal to your disheveled appearance, how ruined you are because of him.
How beautifully you break.
Well if you have no desire to improve yourself, he can learn to meet you in the middle, learn to let you be the low-life whore you have no desire to move up from. After all, that’s what you said love is, right?
Accepting each other’s differences.
#yandere haikyuu#yandere sakusa#haikyuu smut#sakusa x reader#haikyuu x reader#sakusa smut#tw: yandere#tw: noncon
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cody in most of bush league: no homo
cody ten minutes after accepting he's gay: im gonna make an honest man out of ben
if youre feeling it i would die to see their wedding/marriage shenanigans
olgsecond asked: Hi! For the Bush League snippets, if you have any thoughts on the boys' wedding. What a chaos would Cody's siblings + Anakin make on the wedding?
zzqueen126 asked:
Helloo, snippet request! Could you write a small bit about their wedding? Also i nearly cried over the snippet about meg, it was incrediblly written tho
byrningembers asked:
Oh my God, Ben's POV of the locker scene hurts so much 😭😭😭 I know you're wrapping up the snippets shortly, so may I request any scenes you have in mind for the wedding?
They get a VERY nice wedding! Set post-Coda, some talk about getting up to spiciness, but no spiciness in the fic.
~~~~~~~~~
Neither one of them really had a place that felt like home to their names. Cody had moved far too often for that, and, while Ben had moved around less, he’d never really felt like a part of the communities where they’d lived.
The situation left them with wide open options for where to set up a wedding. They considered the ballpark; Ben teasing him about saying their vows on the pitcher’s mound, and, well, the idea wasn’t without appeal.
But, in the end, they both agreed they’d like something smaller. More private.
So much of their lives were, by necessity, in public.
A small wedding, private, with some friends and such family members as they both wanted to see, fitted better as a choice.
#
In the end, they decided to go somewhere for the ceremony, after handling all the legalities in the courthouse. Technically, it meant they were legally married for a few weeks before the actual ceremony.
“We’ll have two wedding nights,” Ben had said, grinning, when they got back from the courthouse, all but racing to the bedroom, ignoring the champagne and strawberries they’d set aside earlier.
The first was enough fun Cody’d hardly deny him a second.
#
The official wedding took place in an entirely different hemisphere. Someplace hot and sunny with sprawling beaches and the ocean acting as a witness, as well. They had the money to get their guests there, to pay for privacy and serenity.
They couldn’t pay for the weather - which looked threatening - so he just hoped that the storms would hold out until after the ceremony, anyway. He figured he wouldn’t care about how much it rained and stormed when they were in bed together, anyway.
He did feel slightly bad for their guests, but, honestly, there were indoor pools. They’d find some way to entertain themselves, he was sure.
#
Cody’d worried mostly about his parents before the ceremony. There’d been an itching concern that they’d - somehow - show up and--
He didn’t know, exactly. Cause some kind of scene. Protest that he couldn’t marry Ben, maybe. They had security set up, just in case, but neither one of them made an appearance, leaving him and his siblings in peace.
He’d worried about Qui-Gon, too, but for the opposite reason.
At first, he hadn’t known if Ben would even want Qui-Gon there. They spoke little, these days. But Ben had said it did matter to him, and then Qui-Gon had never sent back an RSVP and--
Well. Boil and Waxer had said they didn’t mind going a little out of their way to swing by the farm. To make sure Qui-Gon made it onto a plane. If Ben wanted him there, he’d be there. Cody could do that much, at least.
#
The rest of their family behaved better.
All of his siblings stood with him during the service, Meg in a dress full of gold accents, her hair a little longer than it had been, curling around her face. Anakin even made it, bringing the--well. The woman he’d eloped with some time ago.
As Cody understood it, she’d been one of his TAs at school.
She was roundly pregnant, but that entire situation was beyond Cody’s control. She seemed sweet enough, anyway.
They invited a few other close family friends. Guys they’d played with over the years who they’d stayed close to, starting with Quin - who Ben picked as best man - and Kit from their first team, and including Satine - it seemed only fair after all the help she’d given them with Meg and Boba - and Ahsoka, a friend of Anakin’s who’d become close to family herself after she moved to their city for her college.
It felt--right, for them to all be there as they stood on the sand, the sun setting behind them, exchanging vows and rings. And it felt perfect when they pulled one another close at the end of all the words and promises, and kissed to wild cheering.
#
The reception passed in something of a blur. Cody definitely remembered drinking some champagne and he probably ate a few bites, but he barely recalled it, afterwards.
He noted, as the evening passed, that Rex and Ahsoka - who’d not met before - seemed to hit it off. They’d been sat at the same table by chance, and he caught Rex laughing - loud and surprised - at something she said while they were eating.
Quin dragged Cody’s attention away from that when he stood up to give his best man’s speech - Rex had that honor for Cody - already wearing a wide, unrepentant grin. “I knew these two,” he started, as Waxer, Boil, and Bly all stood, rushing out into the hall for something, “back when they first met, and I guess I can tell you all now that they’ve been like this all along.”
Cody glanced at Ben, who looked just as befuddled when Cody’s brothers wheeled in some kind of portable screen, placing it at the door as Quin went on, “But you don’t have to take my word for it. You see, I’ve got proof.”
There was a wash of laughter through the room as Quin held up his phone, still grinning. He went on, turning in a slow circle around the room, “They’d known each other, oh, three days when I came home to find them curled up like puppies on the couch. And, yes, Cody there told me to delete the photo I took. And I did--but…”
He finished his turn, grinning directly at Cody, and finished, “Not before I emailed myself a copy, of course.”
And he clicked a button, and--
Cody’s chest ached, sharp and sweet, when the screen sprang to life. He’d never seen the picture, only been able to imagine it, when he’d sometimes thought of it over the years. He’d regretted allowing his fear to control him, regretted the loss of that picture.
“As you can see,” Quin went on, as Cody stared at the image, himself sprawled back, Ben stretched over him, his hair long and his face shaved, looking so content, “they were both babies. Look at those cheeks.”
And, after he finished, after the speeches were done, Cody went and found Quin, and pulled him into a hug, and Quin said, sounding smug, still, “You’re welcome, man.”
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