#and truly no one's done anything!! to make me feel annoying!! it's just me questioning myself bc i tend to impulsively post memes

[tvrningout]

if i'm honest, i'm having a bout of " am i being annoying? " so i might just see myself out till tomorrow. i hate to do that bc i really wanna get my drafts queued, but i also don't think it's good for me to force myself to do something if i'm feeling off. maybe i'll surprise myself and come back and write? but i'm not gonna stress about it too much -- or at least try not to :' )

please take care of yourselves and remember it's alright to take a break when you need one <3 in general ofc, but especially on this silly lil website bc this is a hobby -- not a job!!

[romanreignseater]

A Phone Call Away.

Roman Reigns x Black Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; oral (female receiving)

“Now that Roman is on a hiatus from the ring, you would think that would stop the busy nature of this man… but boy were you wrong.”

A/N: Is your girl back or WHATTTT?!??! Heyyyy y’all, I missed you guys so much and I missed writing for you guys. Thanks to all of those who checked up on me (I promise those messages didn’t go unseen). I truly appreciate all the love still shown on my stories but I am back and better than ever. School has been really tough for me and I nearly dropped out, but BITCH I pulled through. I’m moving onto my junior year this fall and I couldn’t be happier. To express my happiness, I wrote this about the ONLY Tribal Chief. Mr. Roman Reigns. Hope you enjoy 😘😘😘!!

——————————————————————————

GIF: @rashyford

Roman Reigns… or as you like to call him Joe. You’re doting husband and father to your three kids. A man with a multitude of talents, charms, and good looks. You won the lottery with this man and he feels the same about you. Joe has never had a problem making anything happen for you or your kids. Yet, he can seem oblivious to all of you.. and you know why?! It’s because of that damn phone.

Yeah, Joe’s an amazing and caring man. But that phone stays strapped to his ear while attending to you or the kids.

The kids want him to open a Caprisun, he’s on that phone. You want him to take out the trash, he’s on that phone. You want him to change the baby’s diaper, you guessed it… he’s on that phone.

Although these tasks do get done, he never makes eye contact with any of you and seemingly gets annoyed anytime one of you walk up to him. So you weren’t surprised seeing your 5 year old daughter come up to you with an attitude as you were breast feeding.

“Baby girl what happened?!” You questioned as she crossed her little arms and huffed out a deep breath making the strands of her hair on her forehead rise into the air fall back down.

“Papa’s till on the phone.” My god did that little girl look like a spitting image of Joe whenever he caught an attitude. Your baby is one hundred and ten percent a daddy’s girl so to see him not give her the attention she wants made you upset.

“Listen baby okay, mommy’s gonna put your baby brother to sleep and I’ll deal with papa for you. Go upstairs and play with your big sister.” She gave you a sweet little smile and nodded her head in agreement. You watched as she ran up the stairs eager to play dolls with her big sister.

Once your baby boy wasn’t latched on anymore, you went upstairs to place him on the bed you shared with Joe. You placed a pillow fort around him to keep him safe and turned on the baby monitor. You checked on the girls quickly and made your way back downstairs.

You find Joe in the living room with the dogs surrounding him as he watched the NBA Draft. You could overhear him talking about WWE can further the Bloodline story even more before his return. Now assuming he’s talking to Hunter, you placed your hands on his shoulders and began slowing massaging before he turned around to face you as he gave a small smile.

You make your way around the couch and sat next to him. His eyes still glued to the TV as he placed one of his hands on your thigh, caressing it ever so gently. “Joe… you think you c—.”

“Shush.”

Joe lifts up the hand that was on your thigh and placed in on your mouth in order to motion him telling you to be quiet. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you couldn’t believe he just shushed you.

After you could his meals, massage his back after a match, wash his laundry, and pushed out his big headed kids.. he had the audacity to shush you.

Two can play at that game.

Knowing how much Joe can’t resist you, you can’t believe you didn’t think of this earlier to get this man off the phone. As Joe moves his finger away from your lips and places it on his own thigh now, you lean back into the headrest of the couch and spread open your legs.

Joe doesn’t take much notice until he hears you fumbling with your pants. He turns his head slightly as witnesses you bare from the waist down and your perfect pink magic spread before his eyes.

You giggled as Joe completely disregarded the draft completely and stared in awe. You lifted up slightly to take the hand that was once on your thigh and placed his hand near your dripping cunt.

On command, Joe automatically makes his thumb prominent and places it on your beating clit, rubbing in a circular motion. You drop your head back and moan as he continues to play with your pussy with his thumb. Dragging your essence up and down your slit. He soon seems to be losing memory of his call and he begins spitting out “yeah’s” and “mhmmm’s” to Hunter giving the most vague answers to his suggestions and questions.

Joe bites his lip as he looks you in your eyes, giving him the cheesiest grin knowing you’ve basically won the battle. “Yeah, I totally understand.” He says into his phone once more before he puts it on speaker and then mute and places his phone on your stomach.

The heat of his phone makes you hiss slightly and then you begin to hiss more as his tongue comes into contact with your drooling heat. He begins eating you out like a true champ. He nuzzled his face deep into your wet heat and flicked your clit with his thumb. Your back began arching off the sofa as you were beginning to reach your climax.

But a loud voice parades inside your mind as you try to enjoy yourself. “Roman, Joe. You there?!” Joe looked up at you and it was almost like his eyes were telling you something. You watched as his hand that was holding your thigh open, comes near his phone as he presses the mute button once more.

You quickly shut your mouth as Joe removes his mouth from you but keeps the assault on your little clit going. “Yeah I’m here. Umm… what’s gonna happen with my wiseman??!” You watched intently as he pressed the mute button again and goes back to town. He takes his tongue deep into you as Hunter is on the phone blabbing about what’s gonna happen with Paul.

Just as he was wrapping his summary of the wiseman’s future, your legs began to shake and sputter as you finally reached your climax. Your legs clamp around his head and breathing heavy. You let out one deep breath as Joe removes your thighs from around his head and looks as you with a devilish smile as you essence coated his entire beard.

He picks his phone up again and removes it from mute. “Yeah, that was a great convo. We got a lot done, but listen boss man duty calls I gotta get into daddy mode. Mama’s had enough for today.”

You shook her head in agreement as Hunter expressed his understanding. They bid each other farewell and Joe threw his phone behind him. You laid with her legs still spread open, pussy on display for his viewing pleasure staring a hole into his eyes. He lifted his brow at you as if to question what the next move was.

“Ummm if you want more of this sir, you’re gonna have to get myself off your face and go play with your baby girl cause you really upset her today baby.” He hung his head low as he understood the damage he’s caused by focusing on his phone too much.

“Alright I will baby.” He playfully closed your legs for you and you giggled as he placed a blanket over you. He stood up and as he went to walk away, he bent down to whisper in your ear.

“Just know when you want that part two, I’m a phone call away.” He reached for his phone and waved in your face as he chuckled on his way up the stairs.

That man crazy as hell..

——————————————————————————

THE END.

Not gonna yieeee… I’m happy to be writing again 😂. Shout out to @thesamoanqueen @mzv11 & @msbigredmachine your stories really motivated me to get back into writing and it helped me realize writing isn’t dead 🫶🏾🫶🏾!! (Jey fic next, cause that’s my baby, YEETTTT!!!)

Hope you all enjoyed 💕💕💕!!

MY TAG SQUAD: @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @nayys-world @mzv11 @babybatlover @vogueyonce @harlem11680 @seeingstarks @thewarlordsworld @alyyaanna @southerngirl41 @christinabae @pitlissa22 @thealliasylum @fame-ass-ers @iluvthebloodline @jeyusos-girl @ah-fin3sse @solosikoasgf @msbigredmachine @rollinsland @angelicflower2020 @theogsamoanqueen @saintsvenust

*If you want to be added to my tag list, don’t be afraid to let me know!!

[marril96]

Anything for Her

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: set in 1.05. You take Agatha's side when everyone turns against her.

Things have been feeling wrong since the moment you entered the cabin, and everything had turned up to eleven once the trial started and you and the rest of your makeshift coven started messing with the Ouija board.

Truly, seriously messing with it, not counting Agatha's shenanigans in pretending to be possessed by the ghost of Mrs. Hart. Sharon. Whatever the woman's name was, may she rest in peace.

Agatha had always been like that in all the years you'd known her. Masking her true feelings. Hiding behind humor for it hurt less if she put on a silly face and twisted her voice into an accent so different from her own. If she made it into a joke, people couldn't hurt her. If it was funny, she was laughing instead of crying out the tears that were always there, always threatening to spill against her wishes. For if she cried then, she could tell herself it was from the humor rather than the hurt.

A part of you was annoyed that she was pulling that shit again amidst such a serious situation. This was her trial. She should focus instead of making light of it.

But still, you understood why she did it. You felt for her.

There was nothing she could ever do that would make you hate her. Not a single thing. Annoy you to the Moon and back? Make you wish you could blast her with your magic without dying at her hands — not to hurt her, but to show her, loud and clear, she needed to cut her shit? Make you stomp your feet like her rabbit did when he was upset? Absolutely. All that and more. But hate her?

You just didn't have it in you. Not after years of pining for her.

It didn't take long for the shitstorm to escalate. One moment you were sitting around the board, going along with what you thought was another prank; not by Agatha, but rather by someone — probably Jen — trying to scare her after the stunt she'd pulled, and the next there was a loud noise and yelling and your hands shot up to your ears in a desperate attempt to shut out the chaos.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, threatening to break free. This was the real deal. The ghost, aptly proclaiming itself death, was angry. It wanted to scare, it wanted to hurt, it wanted to—

"Punish Agatha!" Jen yelled out loud, in response to Alice's question.

The noise instantly quieted. Lights stopped flickering. The tension, pressing so hard against every inch of your body, making you tremble like a frightened child, dissipated.

"Meaning, we need to…" Alice muttered, uncertain.

"Yup", Jen said, confident as ever, because of course she was. "It's how we pass the trial."

On the ground, bare and exposed, vulnerable, Agatha frowned. "Uh, I don't think so."

"And after everything she's done," Jen continued, needlessly cruel, "the lies, the cheating, the complete and utter lack of humanity."

"No. There has to be another way," Teen said.

"Right," Agatha said. "Yes."

"We could tie her up," Lilia suggested, making you flinch. You expected this kind of shit from Jen, but Lilia? The older woman never hid her dislike for Agatha, but she was always a class act. What had gotten into her?

"You're not serious," Teen protested.

Agatha was mortified. "I can't—"

"Humiliation would work, too," Alice said, shrugging.

"I mean, or we could just slit her throat," Rio said in her usual morbidly gleeful way, pointing her knife directly at Agatha.

Agatha sighed. "When people ask me why I don't have female friends…"

This was ridiculous. No, it was fucking insane. You couldn't believe your ears. Were they possessed? They had to have been. Something had to have gone wrong for this entire coven, save for Teen, turning against the one who's brought them all here in the first place.

Agatha was no saint, far from it, but she didn't deserve this. Not after what she'd done for these witches. She was kind to Lilia after her hallucination. She'd given Jen the confidence boost she'd needed. She'd made Alice realize her mother had been protecting her all along. Those weren't the actions — words — of a monster.

She could feel and protect and love all the same as they all did. All they needed to do was understand her.

Not a single one of them even tried.

At the very least Rio had an excuse. She was just… Rio. A long time ago, in a moment of vulnerability, of trust that didn't come easily to someone who'd been betrayed so many times by people she should have been able to trust, Agatha had confided in you about her ex. You understood why she was the way she was.

What was the others' excuse?

Shoving Rio away, you stepped in front of Agatha and spread your arms out, shielding her with your body. "You are not touching her."

Jen snorted. "Seriously?"

"Do I look like I'm fucking with you?" you spat, making damn sure your tone was as clear as a moonlit sky. If they wanted to hurt your friend, they would have to go through you first.

Agatha's mother had betrayed her. The coven she was born into had betrayed her. And now her second, found coven had done the same.

You weren't going to add to that tragic list.

Once upon a time, before she'd confided in you about her son and Rio, you'd told her she could trust you. That you were her friend.

You meant every single word.

"You hurt her," you said, "and I hurt you."

"Look at Agatha's little guard dog," Jen said snidely. "You've been defending her from the start."

"And you've been talking shit about her from the start, so I guess that evens out," you said.

She frowned, then went on the offensive, hitting exactly where it hurt the most. "She's never gonna be with you. You know that, right?"

You smoothed your face into a neutral expression; too late, for everyone already saw the flash of pain, of hurt on your face as soon as the words left her mouth. You swallowed, hard. Your throat burned.

You and Agatha were friends. Nothing less, and nothing more. Truth be told, you never considered yourself worthy of being anything more. She was an exceptional witch — an exceptional person. One of the best in her craft. Powerful, and charming, and confident; everything you could only ever dream of becoming. The most beautiful woman you'd ever laid your eyes on.

How could you not develop feelings for her?

"That's all this little display of bravado is about, right?" Jen said, smirking. "Everyone knows you're in love with her. You're not exactly trying to hide it."

You actually were, but clearly it was a poor attempt.

Lowering a hand, you splayed your fingers out. Sparks crackled between them, your magic begging for release. Begging for a target for your emotions were all over the place and you wanted — needed — to hurt someone and make them pay for doing this to you.

Make them pay for wanting to harm the woman you loved.

"Well, Jen," you said, not bothering to hide the threat from your voice. Making it clear it was there, "once this is all said and done, I'll still be in love with her, and you'll be dead. So, clearly, only one of us wins."

Jen was taken aback. "You would kill a sister witch for her?"

"I would kill three sister witches for her." You glared at her, then at Lilia, and finally at Alice.

Rio grinned, enjoying the show. The little shit stirrer.

"You're just like her," Jen spat.

You smiled. "Thank you."

"But we were getting along, weren't we?" Teen said, desperately trying to lower the tensions. "We were clicking. There was unity."

"Familiars don't get a vote," Jen said coldly.

You exchanged a quick glance with Agatha. It's gonna be okay, you said without a single word leaving your mouth. I got your back. I'm not gonna leave you.

She gave a small smile that told you, I know. Then, a nod. Thank you.

Jen grabbed a rope and held it up. You raised your hand, not backing down, your magic crackling, ready to hit its target.

You weren't kidding; you would kill for Agatha. You would hurt for her. You would maim for her. You would do anything to protect her.

You didn't need to be with her to have her back. Friendship was enough. Having her in your life was enough. She didn't deserve this kind of treatment. She wasn't a monster. She was just in pain. If you could ease some of it, you were more than down with that.

All of a sudden everyone turned, baffled. Agatha was gone.

The lights shut off.

Whoever the ghost was, they weren't done with you yet.

But you were ready for them. You were ready to fight for the woman you loved.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @werewolfvpire @depresseddemon22 @alsoknownasmel

[sp-ud]

And while I'm on my Mouthwashing analysis arc, I had some realizations about how I think Daisuke's character plays into the message Mouthwashing is trying to tell about the cycle of rape culture, inaction, and how workplace environments are a key part of why the cycle is in place.

So my realization started with me complaining about how people often go "If Daisuke had known what happened to Anya he would have-" because we don't truly know what he would have done. Then I realized, actually maybe that's the point of Daisuke in Mouthwashing.

What I mean by that is he's the youngest of the crew, not only that but he literally has no other real job experience. He's incredibly new to all of this, he doesn't know the culture and is looking at those around him, his superiors, for direction and guidance. He's a young adult who still has starry eyes and is trying his best to live up to the expectations everyone around him has even though he feels personally directionless and unsure where he wants to go in life.

Things I think a lot of Mouthwashing's audience can relate to those aspects of Daisuke, or at least significant parts of him. And I think that is the key to understanding Daisuke's purpose in a story like Mouthwashing, to be someone likeable that the audience can see themselves reflected in.

Bringing this back to how I think this plays into the message of Mouthwashing. I think the fact that we ultimately don't know what Daisuke would do if he learned that Jimmy raped Anya is important.

Because we can't 100% say that he would do anything. Because his actions within the story honestly indicate it could go either way in my opinion. Specifically what he does when Anya has locked herself in the medical room.

On one hand, we have the fact that despite him having a better relationship with Swansea and being unsure if drugging him is okay or not, he still goes with it as it's what Jimmy, the current acting captain, is saying to do. He questions it but he doesn't protest or take a different action. He deferred to the highest authority in the situation, even though he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, even though it involved tricking his mentor who he clearly looks up to more than he does Jimmy.

But on the other hand, we also see him directly going against what Swansea told him about not going near that vent because he could get hurt, for Anya's sake. Willing to ignore what he was instructed to do just to have a chance at saving Anya. And even after he was hurt he still kept going, he still pulled himself up and unlocked the door.

So, if Anya had told him, what would he have done? Would he have risked his own standing and possibly even his safety with the higher authority figures for her sake? For doing what's right? Or would he be scared? Perhaps see the others inaction and follow their example even if he felt it wasn't the right thing to do?

What would you have done? What will you do if a co-worker/friend confides in you that someone else you know, perhaps even a higher up, sexually assaulted them?

And that's why even though what prompted me thinking about Daisuke's role was me being annoyed at people who focus on "What Daisuke would have done if knew?", I now see it differently. As people reflecting what they hope they'd do if in a similar situation on to Daisuke, and I think that's the point of his character in Mouthwashing and why we aren't given an indication of a clear answer.

To have us acknowledge that no, in reality, it can be hard to do what's right. That sometimes we will play into these toxic and harmful cultures even if we know it's wrong. And sometimes we might do it without even realizing it.

But that doesn't make anyone a bad person. Because we do want to do what's right, we don't want to be compliant in this cycle anymore. And acknowledging that it will be hard isn't saying that we shouldn't even try, it's just acknowledging that it'll be hard.

Daisuke represents the hope that things can improve while not ignoring the uncertainty many people have if it's even possible for things to get better.

[rizsu]

+ love, ‘su: he's so crazyyyy!!! can't take him anywhere lol XD ── tw. mentions of murder (not u)

yuta’s been acting weird, but you can’t put your finger on it. you’ve this aching gut feeling that something’s off with him, but he hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

he’s still acts like your loving boyfriend who refuses to sleep unless his arms are wrapped around you. each time the thought of yuta suddenly changing crosses you, a pang of guilt hits you.

you don’t want to doubt him, but it’s getting difficult to not suspect him. he’s no longer punctual — you can’t predict his timing anymore. even the hour he returns home is now a guessing game.

what happened to him? something’s weird — no, not just weird. it’s terrifying. physically it’s your yuta but is it really? why are his eyes unfocused all the time? is something or someone bothering him?

questions after questions swirl through yet there isn’t an answer that can satisfy you. you need yuta to speak, but he dances around the questions, refusing to give in.

the more you pry the more he gets annoyed. he doesn’t show it, but his firm answer never fails to stop you.

“baby, i said nothing. is. wrong.” he’d insist, warmingly smiling at you before he follows up with a question. “don’t you trust me?”

like usual, you’d remain silent, unable to drag it on. the conversations continued to run in circles. soon you gave up.

you can’t shake off the feeling, nor can you make him talk. as unfortunate as it is, it’s better to go with the flow. it’d be meaningless to anger him with butting in his business.

as for yuta, it pains him that he’s acting so cold, but that’s the only way to get you to stop. he loves you — worships you — but it’ll be detrimental if you were to find out that he isn’t your sweet boy.

you shower him with praises everyday, he can’t imagine what life would be like if he loses you. you’ve always said his hands are your favourite, which is why he bought multiple pairs of gloves. he can’t have the hands you adore be tainted. it’s a bit sloppy to cover his traces, but it’ll do.

after all, he’s not skilled in killing humans yet. his expertise is knowing how to murder curses, but maybe he can transfer those skills to humans too.

truth be told, this has been going on for some time. if he were to recall correctly, it’s been approximately twenty-three days since his first killing. he didn’t plan for it to happen — heavens, no! it just… did.

yuta’s self control is something worthy to be jealous of, but he lost every ounce of it that night. he gifted you a new dress, one that’s perfect to be dolled up in an expensive club that’s part casino. so said, so done.

you were his woman, ever so beautiful, but like moths to a flame, you attracted unnecessary attention. the amount of men that attempted to whisk you away exceeded the number ten. he couldn’t keep count on his fingers anymore. of course, you never hesitated to reject them. you even went as far as to slip in “i’m here with my boyfriend” whenever they approached.

but they were filthy flies. flies aren’t able to read the room, nor can they handle rejection. they’ll always come back to the meal — even if all they got was a whiff of the scent. flies are known to be pesky, greedy animals. unless you see them to their death, they’ll never leave.

the night played out smoothly, but yuta’s annoyance wasn’t soothed. he wanted to relieve it physically. he needed absolute dominance over something — something that’ll be easy to register a power imbalance with. what’s better than to overpower one of the flies? they’d be drunk and yuta happened to have held his alcohol, so he’s quite sober.

once he’s assured you were in deep sleep, he quietly left to set his plan in motion. he never thought that he’d feel ‘the hunter and the prey’ emotions against a human, but here he is. life is truly unpredictable. it’s unfortunate the random fly that was singled out couldn’t predict his murder.

a death by asphyxiation. the easiest way to kill someone if it’s your first time. yuta didn’t bother to clean up, simply opting for dragging the body in a back alley. there’s been a number of violent crimes the past week, he was sure it’ll be played off as one of those crimes. in that way, he won’t ever be suspected, and he was correct.

however, yuta, too, fell to greed. the adrenaline rush, the feeling of seeing someone struggle, the continuance of the life of someone being his decision to make — he wanted more. he couldn’t settle for just one. with long eyes that yearned for more than he should’ve, yuta’s killings didn’t stop. it soon became a pattern: every two weeks he’d kill someone — it didn’t matter who, as long as they did something he deemed wrong. yuta believed he acted on justice, but he knew he was just as wrong.

he became a vigilante to some, and a serial killer to others. regardless of what the public viewed him as, it caused unrest. the only time he stopped was the day you refused to go out in fear of the increase of murders in your city. your pain is his pain, he couldn’t bear to watch you cower in fear at the thought of becoming the next addition to the kill count.

the stop only lasted for one scheduled killing. he returned to his usual activities, becoming more and more skilled. with each murder he became braver — sometimes taking a limb off depending on if he liked the person or not.

but every secret was bound to be revealed, and his almost got caught when you found a patch of blood on his sweatpants.

“yuta, did you injure yourself and didn’t tell me?” you asked him with a disappointed tone, holding up his sweatpants to show the blood.

his heart stopped, a sick feeling in his stomach bubbled up. he didn’t injure himself, but he injured (killed) someone else. it’s not like he can say that and hope you bypass it.

“oh — i, i did,” he answered, nervously laughing. “i accidentally dropped the knife on my leg, sorry baby.”

it was a half-assed excuse, but since you trust him, you’ll believe it.

“then you should’ve told me!” you pouted, jokingly thinking that he didn’t trust you.

“sorry, sorry. but next time, don’t wash my clothes. i’ll do it.” it was a sudden demand, subtly killing the mood.

your eyebrows furrowed. you found it weird, but didn’t question it. yuta knew how absurd he sounded, but he can’t have you connecting the dots. sooner or later you would’ve realised his lies.

however, even without the clothes, you still found holes in his behaviour. you kept quiet about it until you couldn’t, but that resulted in him redirecting the conversation.

you’re too smart for your own good, if you were to cast aside your trust in him and realise your worries aren’t insane, you’d leave yuta in a heartbeat. he can’t have that. he won’t settle for it. heavens know what he’d resort to just to keep you in his arms.

yuta’s your sweet boy, and he’ll continue to be. if it meant giving up the killings, he’d do it. it won’t be too hard to find a replacement to satisfy his needs. but, would he need to give it up? if you find out, can’t he keep you tied down with him? he’s the hunter, after all.

[baby-yongbok]

Yes, Mistress

Demon!Seo Changbin x Demon Lord!Afab!Reader

✮ Genre - Explicit (non-idol) - Sub!Changbin x Dom!Reader [MDNI] ✮ WC: 3k

✮ Summary: Needy and lovestruck Changbin will do anything to be the center of attention for his mistress. ✮ CW: This is a monster fucker fic [I know, I didn't see it coming either], Unprotected sex, Anal sex, creampie, light degradation, Changbin is big like really. (I think that's all)

✮ A/N: Okay, so, I tried to finish a different Changbin fic I had to end Binnie Birthday Week but it just wasn't doing it for me so I wrote this in 6 hours. Don't ask me how I came up with it or anything I don't know the answer to any of your questions 😭So here's my first monster fucker fic (Does this fall into that category? I think it does) Enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✧ Masterlist ✧

“You’re staring.” You whisper to the entity beside you. He’s been eyeing you for at least an hour. You’ve gotten good at ignoring him but the persistent heat of his pitch black gaze can get a bit heavy. “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

Your bright eyes catch his dark ones and he shrinks a bit. He knows better than to say something like that. He knows not to play around but Changbin can be a bit of a tease. You suppose it’s all in the fun of being a hell dweller, they’re entitled to some entertainment but not when it comes to you. Not when it comes to, Mistress.

“Why would you make me nervous?” You sit up straighter in your chair, pushing your hair to the side to give him a good look at the sigil etched dark into your skin. You’ve acquired ownership of Changbin and a few other demons through the lordship of your father. They fear him of course, but you? You’re different. They’ve learned that you’re more than a bright eyed princess, you’re ruthless, and that’s what excites them. “I make you nervous, never the other way around.”

“Yes, mistress.” Changbin mutters, eyeing you like a lovesick puppy. “I’m sorry for staring it’s just that I -”

“Want attention?” You stand from your seat abruptly and the fiend watches closely. There’s no hint of anxiety or fear from him but you can smell it. You’ve grown familiar with the scent, it keeps you up at night. It drives you insane and paints a smile on your face, something like the one you have now while Changbin digs his blackened claws into the dense wood of the table in front of him. 

“You want me to give you attention? You’re jealous that I’ve been calling on Minho more?” He nods, gulping heavily as his midnight pupils beg for you. “What can you give me? What are you offering me, hound?”

“Whatever you need, my mistress.” He stands before you and you glare, you can hear the remnant thumping of his damned heart as he realizes what he’s done. No one stands before you without a summons. “I’m sorry.”

He kneels promptly, Bowing his head towards your bare feet. You take this opportunity to look him over, his pitch black hair shines in the light of your common room and his ashened fingers are digging into the hardwood below him and great anticipation. 

There’s a reason that you’ve been overlooking Changbin’s willingness to serve, you like him too much. He’s an annoying love sick imp who you have an undeniable attraction to. He’s the only one of your legion that is casually allowed in your common room. He’s the only one that you allow to dine with you on nights like tonight and he’s the only one who can make you feel like you’re one of them. 

You want him, so much so that he pulls your demonic nature to the forefront and you can’t have that, though it is nice to indulge every now and then. 

“You’re so needy that you’ve forgotten your place, hm?” You step towards him and he keeps his gaze cast to your feet. “Need I remind you who’s in charge?”

You raise a foot to his chest, pushing him back forcefully. He extends his arms behind him to break the fall and you furrow your brows down at him. “Oh, you’ve truly forgotten.” You push him again and he falls backwards. 

“Mistress, I’m -” You shush him, watching as his dark pants grow an impressive tent. “You’re so in love with me, aren’t you?” 

He grunts, the tent stiffening at your inquiry. “You were told that I am to be obeyed. You were told to serve me at all costs no matter the consequence. My father told you that I am your owner and you’ve made the honor to serve me your reason to breathe, haven’t you?”

“Yes, mistress. I do love you.” The sound of fabric splitting at the seams echoes through the room, you watch as his thick cock fights to free itself of its confinement. “You’re everything.”

“I know I am.” You press the ball of your foot down between his pecs, the muscles bulge and strain under your touch. Changbin watches as you let your dusk colored toes run over his stomach. He’s soft and strong under your touch and it takes so much control for both of you to stay in line. “You want to serve me?

“Yes, please.” His dark eyes nearly glow in the dim light, his smoky claws have marked your floors with proof of his wavering restraint and his raven hair is nearly smoking with a revenant flame. 

Your foot stops at the hilt of his cock just as his useless pants give way to his arousal. He grunts at the bite of cool air that meets his throbbing length, his eyes snap shut in a desperate attempt at taming himself. “I’m sorry, Mistress.” He blinks up at you, sincerity glazing the pitch black.

“Don’t be sorry, my sweet.” You circle the hilt of his cock with your big toe, knocking the head of it as you make your rounds. The sounds that leak from him make you want to make some of your own. “How about you use this pretty dick to serve me, hm? How about we try a little something?”

You press your foot to his length, he moans at the contact. It’s high pitched and begging for more, begging for you. “Yes, whatever you’d like. Anything, mistress, I’m yours.”

He throbs under the slight pressure of your foot and your pussy drips at the feeling. You’ve been growing wet since he started staring so you’re certain that you’re a puddle by now. 

“I’m wet.” You state simply but it’s anything but simple to Changbin. “Let’s see if you can still eat pussy correctly, then we’ll try a little something, yeah?” He nods, mumbling confirmations that you don’t care to listen to as you rid yourself of your underwear. 

Strings of sticky arousal pull from your cunt to the soaked gusset of the fabric. The sight of it makes Changbin’s cock dribble with arousal. If he weren’t so thick you lick it up for him. You’d swallow his cock so perfectly that he just might get his soul back, but that’s a quest for another day.

“Eyes on me, fiend.” You position yourself over him, lifting your skirt so that you can watch his gaze flick between your pretty brown eyes and your sopping cunt. “Eat.” You lower yourself onto him and he’s tasting you before you can take a breath. 

His long tongue slips and glides through your folds with expert precision. He laps at every soaked corner and flicks your swollen clit just how you’ve taught him. Growls rip through the both of you followed by panting moans spilling over your parted lips. 

“Fuck, Changbin.” You lift your skirt higher to watch him. His nose rests on your public mound, tickling the hair that you’ve carefully shaped as he shakes his head back and forth with your clit snug between his blushed lips. You throw your head back, animalistic wails ripping from your chest as he sucks on the sensitive nub. This is why you can’t fuck Changbin, he ruins you. 

“‘M gonna fucking cum. Gonna cum gonna cum, swallow my fucking cum.” He hums against you, continuing his blissful attack on your cunt until you’re writhing on top of him. His nails dig into the supple flesh of your thighs, leaving marks for the others to see when you summon them for a night. He might not be the only one allowed to fuck you but he know’s that he’s the best. He wants to be the best.

“Release.” You order in a breathy moan and he licks up your cunt one more time before pulling 

back. You’re panting over him, eyes shut with the faintest hint of a grin. “Sit up.” He moves swiftly, grabbing you by your thighs and sitting straight up with you positioned in his lap. Your wet cunt is sitting right over his throbbing length and he has to hold his breath to control himself.

“I want you to fuck me.” You lace your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a heated kiss. It’s a clash of hungry tongues fighting for dominance and sharp teeth biting at the plump flesh of the others lips. It’s a battle that you’ll always win. “Fuck my ass.”

“Mistress.” Changbin groans against your lips but you silence him with another kiss. You suck his skilled tongue into your mouth. Twirling the muscle with your own before falling back into a makeout. “I’ll fuck your ass.” He mumbles as you break the kiss. 

“Do you think you’ll fit?” You rock yourself over him and he melts. His claws sink into you, and his frame swells under your magnetic touch. You take his hand and bring it back to grip your ass, he grabs at the flesh leaving a harsh spank on your cheek before he brings his finger between them to rim your tiny hole. 

“Fuck.” Changbin’s cock twitches against you as he presses into the tight ring of muscle. “It’ll be so tight, gonna stretch you out.” You sigh a moan and he follows. 

“Let’s see if you’re right.” You move, hovering over his daunting length. He runs the tip of his dick through your folds to collect your sweet slick before he positions his swollen tip. You lower yourself down onto him, hissing at the brutal stretch. “Ah- my god, Changbin.”

“‘S too fucking tight, not gon - Holy hell, you won’t. You can’t” Only the head of his throbbing length has breaches your hole. Your legs are shaky and unstable the more you try to take. He’s barely a quarter in and you swear that you can feel him in your stomach. “Come here.” 

Changbin’s hands find your waist and he lifts you up just enough for the very tip of him to stay in place. “I’ll fuck up into you, is that okay?” You agree, supporting your weight with steady hands on his shoulders. The gesture is useless since Changbin is strong enough to hold your weight times any given number but you keep your hands planted anyway.

You inhale deeply and he takes it as his cue to push up into you. You scream into the air on your exhale, It ends in a moan as more of him sinks into you. Your cunt clenches at the fullness and your sticky arousal trails back to give him just enough lubrication to aid him. 

“You’re so fucking big, Bin.” He groans, bucking his hips up slightly to feel more of you. “I wanna feel you in my fucking guts. You’re gonna fill me up, gonna fuck me better than anyone else aren’t you?” You struck a chord, it’s obvious with the way that he growls beneath you. 

“Fuck yes, I fuck you better than anyone.” He moves you down, controlling you by your waist as he bucks up into you. You feel the delicious burn of the stretch as more of his cock sinks in. “My mistress, I’m hers. I fuck her tight tiny hole like no one else.”

His head is thrown back, his dark eyes are shut and his mouth is parted in a silent moan. You’re almost an exact mirror of him except you’re anything but quiet. You’re moaning, panting, growling, screaming. Every sound known to man and beyond is vibrating through you at the delicious stretch of his cock. 

“Mine.” He mumbles, pushing into you further. He’s fucked out, soul snatched and hypnotized by the thought of you and all that you encompass. This is what you live for. This is what it feels like to have these pretty fiends wrapped around your finger. This is euphoria.

“Shit, Changbin. Changbin you’re fucking deep so fucking- holy fuck.” You’re damn near limp in his arms once he bottoms out. He holds you against his strong chest, his arms wrap around your middle and he bucks up into you little by little. 

You have no idea what spot he’s hitting. You have no idea how there could possibly be room for him this deep inside you. None of this makes sense but the pleasure coating your nerve endings doesn’t care for it to. “Fuck me, fuck me, now.”

He lifts you up on demand, helping you bounce on his cock at a pace that would be boring if you weren’t stretched to your limit. Tears stream down your pretty red cheeks, your tongue lulls out of your mouth as you pant cross eyed and fuck out in his arms. “So pretty.” He whispers, moving you on his cock like his favorite fuck toy. 

“My clit, please. Touch my pussy.” Changbin maneuvers himself, one arm wraps around you to keep you bouncing on his cock while his free hand rubs at your swollen bud. You cry out above him, tears streaming and screams echoing as he holds you still to fuck up into your pretty tight hole. 

Skilled fingers flick and circle your clit as you fall apart in tandem. You claw unique shapes and freeform sigils into his back as he summons the pleasure in your body to take over each and every burning inch of flesh he wishes desperately to devour.

“Cum, cum, cum.” You chant with sprinkles of his name here and there. He presses firmer circles into your clit at the warning. You look up at him with tear stained cheeks and blown pupils and he stares back at you with a shimmering darkness behind drooping lids. “Please let me make you cum, Mistress.”

He’s out of breath when he pleads to you and you’re barely breathing as still and cry out in his hold. He fucks into you slowly as you come undone. The hand that was once on your clit is carving lines into the hardwood as he tries to control his own orgasm. He helps you ride through yours, guiding you to grind on his cock until you’re finally breathing again. 

Your eyes flutter open to the most beautiful image of a fucked out hellwalker that you could imagine. He’s practically drooling as he watches you. His shirt is ripped from the swelling of his frame, his hair is a tousled mess from the mindless raking of your fingers and his kiss bitten lips are quietly whispering lost prayers for him to keep his composure. 

“You’re so good to me.” You run your hands through his hair and he sighs at the contact, blinking up at you. “I’ll reward you with my cunt, use me to cum.” His eyes get darker, if that's even possible, he sits up straighter against you and you moan at the way your holes clench. 

“Use me and fill me with your cum, I can take it, don’t worry.” You coo at him and he keens. His arms circle you again, squeezing you tight against him as he fucks into you slowly. 

“Thank you.” He whispers, fucking into you faster and faster by the second as he chants fucked out ‘thank yous’ into the air. “You’re so fucking tiny. So small in my arms I could fuck you for days, for years. Can I please? Can I please have my mistress forever? I’ve already given myself to you, I’m yours, all yours.”

He’s in his head, he’s so caught up in his mumbling that he barely processes your screaming. He’s too lost in his deep need for you to realize that he’s simply manhandling you in his hold. He’s moving you over him like a toy that he’s determined to break. “I’m yours all yours.”

A grunt that can only be recognized as inhuman erupts from him as he falls apart. Ropes of heavy, thick cum paint your walls and you find yourself coming undone again at the feeling of it. You moan into the air like a woman possessed as you squirt all over his stomach, your arousal pools and drips down with the cum that escapes your tiny hole where Changbin still has you plugged and full. 

You pant against each other, skin glistening with sweat as the air around you evaporates. He’s still holding you, nails digging into your sides and marking you yet again. His back is no better, there are traces of you on almost every inch of him and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You gather all of your strength to pull yourself away from Changbin. He helps you, guiding you up and off of his cock. You moan as you slowly start to feel empty with each inch of him that escapes. Once you’re free of his cock his cum spills from your gaping hole. He gawks at the sight, cock twitching at the way your hole clenches around nothing. 

You waver a bit as you try to stand but he keeps you steady, holding you by your hips as you stand over him. He blinks up at you, his hazy gaze meeting yours. “Did I serve you well, mistress?”

You offer him a lazy smile. “Hm, I think you could’ve done better.” He freezes, eyes growing wide and that delicious smell of anxiety is rolling off of him in an instant. 

“I’m sorry.” You pet his head, combing the messy hair with your fingers. “Don’t be sorry just make it up to me.” 

“Of course, anything.” You take an unstable step towards him, relying on his strength to keep you steady. “Clean me up.” 

His eyes flick down to your messy cunt, the mix of your and his arousal is slick against your skin and he holds back a moan at the sight. He knows that you’re fucking with him, you’re using him and it’s just what he wanted. This is the attention he was hoping for. 

“Yes, mistress.”

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[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [CHOICELESS HOPE] ❞ — six. picket fence dream.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summary: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless. content warnings: canon divergent. emotional cheating (not on reader). angst. right person wrong time. it's confession time. no use of y/n. word count: 2k+ a/n: you might hate or love me let's see which is it

      Rossi doesn’t usually come to his apartment, especially with no warning on a Sunday, especially at 7AM, so when Hotch sees his less than pleased expression through the peep hole he knows it’s bad.

      “A crying drunk mumbling fucking mess. Porca miseria!” Dave wastes no time, the words finally free after hours of keeping them in.

      “Good morning to you too, Dave.”

      “Don’t. You know what you did.” Yes, Hotch knew. But he definitely didn’t expect this as the consequence. Still, he couldn’t even feign ignorance.

      “So, you took her ho—” Rossi’s eyes are piercing enough to interrupt him and force an exhale. “Thanks.”

      He is truly grateful, he is not usually one to act out like a child, much less one to leave people he cares about behind like that. You brought up his best and his worst. Much of his strength and thinking power went towards controlling himself. The rest got messy.

      “What are you going to do?”

      “Well, I’ll apologize tomo—”

      “Aaron!”

      “I don’t know. I just don’t. And Beth will be over with coffee in a bit.”

      Aaron watches his much too annoyed closest friend pour himself a sip of scotch, drinking it all in a mouthful.

      “You are throwing away a second chance people don’t normally get. Do you even know why?”

      Of course he knows why. There are many many whys.

      Jack needed the stability only someone out of this godforsaken job could give, and he adored Beth.

      Haley wasn’t an agent and he lost her, being with you was accepting the fact you could leave with him for a case and simply not come back. Essentially getting his son, his baby boy, a step mom that could be taken from him the same way as his mother.

      Beth gave Jack a bigger chance of not losing again.

      It gave him a bigger chance to rebuild his picket fence dream home.

      It was logical. It was the right choice.

      The feeling in the pit of his stomach and the bitter taste on his tongue shows disagreement with that every time he ponders though. And it’s hard to make the right choice when his body and soul begs him not to.

      Before he can even muster enough will power to argument his way out, Dave comes at him with more questions to shake his belief system to the core. “Is this about Haley? About Jack? Or are you really just incapable of letting yourself be happy?”

      Ouch.

      Rossi doesn’t pull any punches, Aaron knows that, it’s why they get along well, no sugarcoating. Doesn’t make it less annoying to deal with it so early in the morning. Especially after the hell night he had trying to sleep and being plagued by thoughts and worries of you.

      “If anything was to happen it would’ve happened before I met Beth.”

      “How could it when you are both idiots?” Aaron simply sighs, not having a good enough rebuttal to that.

      It was a true, he was an idiot, he could’ve gone after you when he got divorced, or after his grief got less painful. But back then he was angry, feeling abandoned by you when he would’ve never done the same to you.

      He begged you to not forget him, to call him. He waited, he called. It was all fruitless as you made your decision to take him out of your life already.

      Now it all seemed too complicated and to act on those feelings would complicate it even more.

      Aaron is saved by the bell, if anyone could consider hearing the knock on his door he knew to be Beth’s, one of the reasons of his internal conflict, being saved.

      At least Rossi leaves him alone for the time being, excusing himself as soon as the brunette enters the apartment with a quick peck to Aaron’s lips. Surely enough, Hotch has to tell her later that morning that no, Dave has nothing against her, he was just moody from being awake too early.

      Luckily most of the day is spent around Jack and what the wanted to do, making it more about spending time with his boy than a date, so he doesn’t have to focus too hard on being a good partner and on not thinking about you. But it’s all he thinks about when Beth leaves at night and he realizes morning come he will have to see you.

      Your eyes don’t meet his for even one second as Garcia presents the case and he knows it then how truly he fucked up. You aren’t angry. You look tired, not your face, not your eye bags. In fact you look as beautiful and put together as you always do, but in the glimpses he catches of your eyes as you talk to someone else, he sees it. And it breaks his heart. You are exhausted, not because of the job.

      Because of him. And the worst thing is, he can’t even leave you alone, being the Unit Chief meant having to talk to his team, it meant to lead. He sighs to himself as everybody gets out of the briefing room and he wants to brush his fingers against yours lightly like old times and make you smile, but most of all Aaron just wants to tell you how sorry he is that this is happening again.

      He can’t do that, knowing right now it would only make things worse, so he just gets up from his chair, grabs his go-bag from his office and follows the motion until everyone is in the jet. There he does his best to suppress what is going on his mind to focus on the case.

      Galena is a beautiful small town, quite romantic even, too bad it is now suffering with the abduction of two children, the case and the BAU disturbing its peace.

      And that disturbance goes well into the night, when no one is able to work anymore and Hotch has to call it a day, figuring out on the spot that Garcia had to book them in pairs, his key card the same number as yours.

      Hotch can imagine Garcia had someone influence her on the chosen pairs, Rossi was practically glowing with childish glee as everyone got their cards.

      Both you and him are too prideful and professional to make a scene asking to switch with someone. You were stuck with him until the case is resolved.

      The two single beds as you enter the room are a relief, but the distance between them aren’t nearly enough in comparison to how faraway from him you wished to be.

      “Just like the old days, huh?” He’s the first to speak, trying to break the tension as he spread the files of the case on the only desk available.

      “Don’t do that,” you reply quickly, your tone as tired as your eyes have been since the first time he saw you today.

      You drop your bag on the floor close to your bed, the loud noise startles Aaron, but you don’t care, body aching and ready for rest.

��     “That what?”

      “Talking. Don’t talk to me,” you clarify. Another loud noise, your body dropping on the bed without ceremony. Eyes closed and focused on pretending he wasn’t there.

      He stays quiet for awhile and you think he might respect your request, so you relax in the clean sheets welcoming the slumber.

      Unfortunately for the two of you, now you are annoyed. So annoyed his shuffling around papers make your skin crawl.

      Just like the old days.

      The complete audacity to begin with that as if he didn’t abandon you drunk just two days before.

      You sigh deeply, putting a pillow over your face to try and muffle his annoying overwhelming presence.

      It doesn’t work.

      “God, please, breathe louder, I don’t think Japan has heard you yet,” you shoot at him, immediately sitting up and catching him working the case files.

      “You want me to stop breathing too, is that it?” He doesn’t look up from the papers, annoyed at the childish antics you’re pulling, which irritates you even more.

      “If you could be so kind to, yes!” Your voice is pure sarcasm and venom, reminding him of just how stubborn and strong-willed you can be.

      Just as he stops his writing, pen left to the desk, you get up in a hurry, attempting to go to the bathroom and ready to slam the door behind you. Hotch is quicker, getting up from his chair and grabbing your wrist to stop you from avoiding him even more.

      It doesn’t hurt. His grip is gentle and you know you can easily get away from it. But you don’t.

      “Hey, I’m sorry.” You nod at his apology, but he knows that won’t be all, so Aaron lets your wrist slip from his fingers and waits for the arguing he’s been avoiding to start.

      One beat.

      Two.

      Three beats pass before your mouth moves in sync with your drowning mind, “what exactly are you sorry about?”

      Right to the jugular from the start. He obviously instantly thinks of the easy answer: Everything. But that’s not the answer you’re looking for. Beyond that, he knows it would be unfair for both of you to gloss over the situation once again.

      You know Aaron isn’t stalling but actually thinking by the way his index and thumb rub together, his lips tightly pursued. Your stomach feels like it’s twirling, nervousness making an appearance now that this was about to happen. The talk. The admissions.

      Both of you are aware now shouldn’t be the time to talk it all over, there is a case to work, a hard day to rest from, but this is 10 years in the making. The flight response was already drained, only fight left.

      “I’m sorry for overstepping and turning our friendship into something confusing and uncomfortable,” he says slowly but firmly, but even so Aaron regrets his choice of words, more regret when he catches you rolling your eyes.

      “Confusing and uncomfortable, sure,” you reply with the same sarcasm you displayed earlier, your arms now crossed defensively over your chest, “I hope that’s not the best you’ve got.”

      “I’m trying here and I would appreciate a little less sarcasm.” His eyes are as piercing as his tone, you scoff at the manifestation of frustration, as if he had grounds for that right now.

      Your feet have a mind of their own and you start pacing around the room, “Hotchner, I changed my whole life around ten years ago for the sake of your comfort.” That wasn’t untrue, although it had a lot to do with your comfort as well, but he needed to be reminded of your sacrifices. “And the first opportunity you had to be a dick to me you not only took it but doubled down on it!”

      Hotch knows you are speaking about the gala and before he can control his tongue like he would in a time like this, " I got jealous! It took over me.”

      It’s good that he doesn’t expect that to stop you or take your breath away because if anything, you’re angrier now.

      “You have a girlfriend! You have no right to be jealous of me! You were married, Hotch! And I never did something like that to you.”

      “You left! I love you and you left,” he notices his mistake and quickly tries to recover, “I loved you. You’re back and I don’t know what’s the right thing to do.”

      He sits at the edge of his chosen bed, elbows to his knees, hands to his face and you finally stop on your heels, not knowing how to react to the confession you both have been denying yourselves from speaking out loud.

      You swallow dry, sitting on the edge of your bed, right in front of him.

      “I loveーI loved you too.” Your hands find home on his knees and his drop to hold them.

      “l don’t know what to do. I want to do the right thing.” He sounds pained and you have to fight that desperate lover girl in your mind begging you to tell him to choose you.

      “I can’t help you with that,” it’s what you actually end up saying, “I’m sorry.”

      “I’m sorry too.”

[bandgie]

After Everything

virgin!hueningkai x fem!reader

part 1 here | part 2 here

synopsis: You thought coming to terms with how you feel about Kai was going to be the hardest. But how he feels about you is a whole other animal itself.

warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, PIV, no protection (bad), loss of virginity (m!), handjob, nipple play (f!), over stimulation (m!), cock warming (if you squint), slight mentions of pregnancy, emotions, insecurities, kinda angsty, possessive reader, happy ending, idk man

5.2 words (fuck im sorry)

If there was one thing you could count on Yeonjun for, it was his stubbornness. Ever since the little show you and Kai put on for him, he's been consistent in asking for a part two. 

Yeonjun caught you in the cafeteria on campus. He’s wearing a flowy white button-down, sharp clavicle and lean arms on show. It would’ve been truly delightful to see him like this, but you just can't muster the ability to be attracted to him.

"Just one more time! One more, that's all I ask. You don't even have to fuck me. I'll even pay you..." You tune out Yeonjun's begging. It's a little difficult considering he's sitting right next to you, not letting you get a bite of your overcooked pizza in. But there's so many thoughts swirling in your head that it's not possible to pay attention anyway.

You’d done something you promised yourself you'd never do with Kai.

You went to his dorm.

Consistently.

Going to someone's place gives you an insight of who they are. He had a nice roommate, a decent space, and privacy. You told yourself it was convenient to have fun at a house rather than finding a secluded area. 

Wanting that alone time meant something. You didn't want to tease him like this anymore, you didn't want someone to see how he could fall apart at the mere feel of your lips.

He was yours to tease, to touch. No one else should have the privilege of getting a taste of that, no matter how they beg.

"Are you even listening to me?" Yeonjun accuses. 

It takes a couple of blinks for you to focus your attention on him. "If I said no, would you stop bothering me?" He laughs and crosses his legs, "Nope."

You sigh, giving up on your half eaten dinner. Yeonjun is quick to catch your annoyed expression, deciding to take another route.

"You like him huh?"

You turn your head to make eye contact, "Like who?" Yeonjun gives you a sly smile and shrugs, "You know who. I don't know why you're playing dumb."

"I'm not playing dumb," you say defensively. "You're the dumb one." 

Yeonjun chuckles at your little outburst. "No you are. You're blowing me off for Kai. Blowing me off, I'm almost offended. Like, I know you've been distant, but it's not the 'I found someone better and I don't need you anymore' distant. It's the 'I'm head over heels for someone like a loyal dog' kinda distant."

"I'm not a dog!" You yell. A few nearby people look at you weirdly, but you shake them off.

"So you're loyal then," Yeonjun muses. He shrugs again and leans back when you don't say anything. "It's written all over your face babes. Puppy love. With Huening Kai no less, who would've thought. The very same boy you used to slap around, give swirlies in the toilet back in middle school, who you made eat my cum, may I remind you."

You wince at the memories, guilt eating at you from the distant past. You excused your actions by youthful stupidity, by the irrational joy you got when seeing his tears. Even now, you like tasting them. But hurting him isn't how you want to continue. 

"Kai doesn't mean shit," you lie. It's so obvious though. You wouldn't believe it yourself. Yeonjun only makes you feel worse when he keeps smiling like an idiot. 

"Oh, he doesn't mean shit?" He questions. 

You meekly nod.

"Then it shouldn't matter that he's out with some girl then right?"

You sit up straighter and look wide-eyed at Yeonjun, "What?"

Yeonjun picks at his teeth like he's bored, but he has the most amused expression. "Just came back from a bar with Soobin before I saw you. Saw Kai and some chick there, she was chatting him up. Not that it matters though right?"

There's no time wasted when you grab your things. Your bag aggressively slings on your shoulder, almost hitting Yeonjun in the face. "What bar?"

"I thought you said he didn't mean shit?" He teases.

"For fucks sake Yeonjun what bar!" 

Yeonjun glances uneasily at the onlookers giving you dirty looks, but you couldn't care less. You can feel your heart pounding in your ears, the tightening in your chest. You think you might cry out of frustration if he keeps playing with you.

"I'll only tell you if you promise-"

"Yes!" You rise to your feet, seething. "You wanna see me get fucked? Done. Just tell me what bar."

-

Beomgyu's Bar is for college students only. The sun has barely begun to set, so there's not many people in the building. It doesn't take long to spot Kai's black hair peeking from one of the booths. He's with the same girl from the library you recognize. She obviously did her hair nicely, as if she wanted to impress him.

As if it was a date.

Anger boils in you, but you can't will yourself to move. Now that you're actually here, you don't know what to do. Should you go over there and make your presence known? Steal Kai away like last time? Should you just watch and see how things unfold?

That feeling of helplessness settles in your chest, and you feel the unfamiliar sting of tears in your eyes.

This was a dumb idea. You have no right being here, concerned about who Kai’s with. Not after how you've treated him, how you've talked down to him. Still, you can't stop staring at him from across the room.

Kai must feel your gaze because his head turns from the girl he's talking with to you instead. He recognizes you immediately even under the strobing lights. Your eyes widen at the attention, and you scramble for the exit. 

He jumps to his feet to follow you instantly, ignoring how his companion tries  to pull him back down by the sleeve.

"Where are you going?" She asks. "Do you wanna leave? We can go back to my place and-"

"I'm so sorry Anitta but I really need to do something," Kai doesn't even look her in the eyes. He focuses on freeing himself from her grip.

"Now? It can't wait?"

"No," He deadpans. "Can you please let go?"

"But Hyuka-"

"Don't call me that!" Kai surprises himself with the outburst. Not many people call him that nickname, only you've been consistent with the title since elementary. Strangely, it just sounds wrong when someone else says it. 

The sternness in his voice makes Anitta loosen her grip just enough for Kai to run away. There's no protesting as Kai runs out of the bar, his goal set on finding you.

You left merely a minute ago, you shouldn't have gone far. Kai spots you in the parking lot, looking in your bag for your keys. He doesn't know why you were there, or what to say, but what he does know is that he needs to be with you.

Within a few long strides, Kai reaches you. 

He doesn't need to say anything for you to know he's there, you can feel the warmth of his body behind you. With shaky breaths, you slowly turn to face him. You try to discreetly wipe your tears before you fully face him, sniffing. 

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend?" You hate yourself for being snarky, but what else are you supposed to do? Fall to your knees and ask for forgiveness? Tell him that you can actually be a decent human being despite the decade of torture?

Kai doesn't let your sarcastic words get to him - he’s used to them. Still, you can see a twinge of pain in his eyes. "You know that's not true," His voice is barely above a whisper. As if he might scare you away if he talks too loudly. 

"Isn't it?" Your voice rises. You don’t share his concern for volume. "At a bar of all places! So what,you get a taste of pussy and think you can get it all?"

Kai looks like his eyes might bulge from their sockets at your crudeness. He shakes his head feverishly, "No! It's nothing like that. She offered to go out-"

You put your hand up, silencing him. "I don't wanna hear it. It's better to have a slut like me to learn how to fuck than go with a good girl. I made it really easy for you didn't I? Here I was, thinking I was being too much of a bitch to you when really-"

"Stop!" Kai finally raises his voice. Your voice dies in your throat. Never has Kai commanded, let alone yelled, at you. There's a certain determination in his eyes that you've never seen before. It makes your heart speed, your legs tremble.

"Stop calling yourself that," Kai speaks softer this time. "Calling yourself...names. I never even thought those things about you. Ever. I mean, I do think about you, but not like that."

Despite being angry a second ago, your chest flutters at his confession. "...You think about me?"

As if realizing what he said, Kai blushes. It takes a moment before he nods, eyes finding the asphalt beneath his feet. "Yes. A lot actually."

You're still hesitant about it though, "Because I'm a bitch to you?"

Kai's head snaps up and he shakes it again, "No! Not at all..." He trails off for a moment, as if reconsidering what he said. The pause makes your heart clench. You should have known. Years of bullying would always stick no matter how much you sucked his dick.

"Well, you are...mean to me," he confirms. "But it's more than that. I kind of want you to do that to me. It's weird, and I honestly think there's something wrong with me. I just wanna be your dog sometimes."

Now it's your eyes that widen, a small laugh escaping into the air. 

Since being with Kai more, you've caught on that he tends to say outlandish things. You would pretend that it was stupid and make fun of him for it, but you've always thought it was cute. 

"Sorry," he gives you a sideways smile. "But it's true. Whether you treat me like a cat or a dog, I just wanna be with you. Yes, you gave me a hard time growing up. And yes...a part of me is still scared of the next thing you'll have me do."

You open your mouth to reassure him that it won't happen again, but he beats you to it.

"But I'd do it. I'd do it again even if it meant brushing my teeth for hours. If it meant having to buy new underwear all the time because of the stains. None of it matters to me except you."

"Hyuka..." You can taste your tears on your lips. You don't deserve this, him. Yet here he is, using his shaky hands to wipe your tears.

"I'm serious. If you don't want me to see her again I won't. Just tell me what to do-"

"No," you choke back on your sobs. "Hyuka how can you still want me after everything I've done to you? I'm a horrible person. I've made you do horrible things. I've treated you horribly. Even now, I ruined your date and made it all about me."

Kai's warm touch is soothing to your wrecked state. You can hear cars pulling up and people walking. If they're watching you and Kai, he must not care to notice. His gentle grasp on you stays, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"You're not a horrible person, and you didn't ruin anything. I've been trying to find an excuse to leave anyway. You saved me if anything," Kai admits. 

Your hands clasp over his, your thumb stroking the back of his hand. You both stand in silence, letting your breathing even out. Kai is patient as ever, softly humming under his breath.

That's another habit you've picked up on. You can sometimes hear him sing in the shower, when he's choosing a movie to put on for background noise.

"Oh wow," Kai sounds in awe. You blink a few times to see him looking up, and you mimic his movement. The sun has nearly fully settled, giving the sky a beautiful blue hue.

"It's the blue hour," he says mindlessly. "Isn't it beautiful?."

Your gaze settles on Kai's features. His strong jawline, the little bump in his nose, his full bottom lip. "Yeah," you agree, eyes fixed to his face. "It is."

"Hyuka," you call him after a second. His eyes move away from the sight, but the look of awe never leaves as he looks at you. "I'm sorry." You can feel your tears build up again. "I know it's not enough, and I don't think there's anything I can do to make up for what I did. But I'm so sorry. I wish I could blame it on the fact that I was stupid, that I was drunk. But I can't, and I won't. I'm selfish, I'm mean, I'm messed up. There must be something wrong with me too because I still want you after everything."

"There's nothing wrong with you," he whispers. Kai tenderly kisses your tears away, licking his lips. "Or maybe there is, we can be messed up together."

You giggle at him, playfully smacking his chest. "That's such a loser thing to say."

Kai laughs with you, pearly whites glistening in the setting sun, "I was hoping you'd think I was a lover."

You shake your head, still keeping the smile on your face. "So now what?" You question. "Do we kiss or something?"

Kai only shrugs, "I'll do whatever you want to do."

"We should go back to my place," you reason quickly. "It's getting cold out here."

-

His lips are on yours the second you closed the door to your apartment. Kissing Kai is nothing like anything you've experienced before. He’s shaky, messy, uncoordinated, and you love every second of it. You wonder why you never kissed him before. 

You lead him towards your room, both of you tripping and slipping off your shoes. Hushed giggles filled the air as you finally opened your bedroom door.

It’s then that Kai decides to have some decency, "You don't have roommates?"

His lips are swollen and flushed from kissing. Your eyes catch how his hair points in all directions from the previous makeout session in the car. 

You roll your eyes and slam your door closed loudly. "What about it? Take off your pants and get on the bed."

Kai is quick to listen to your directions, fumbling with his belt as you lead him to the bed. 

His hands tremble from anxiousness, struggling to unclasp himself. You take pity on him and sit him on the edge of the bed, falling to your knees. 

"You don't need to rush, Hyuka," you soothingly tell him. Your hands run up and down his thighs, trying to get them to relax. "We can take things slow. Plus I've already seen your dick. A little too late to be shy about showing me that, hm?"

Kai gives you an apologetic smile and nods, "Yeah sorry." You hear him take a deep breath and slowly let it out. Once he's calmed down enough he looks down at you and nods again, a sign to keep going. 

Carefully, you remove his belt and toss it on the ground. You maintain eye contact when you unbutton the top of his pants, moving down to lower his zipper. Kai keeps his eyes trained on yours, a habit you had taught him whenever you gave him head. 

He lifts his hips upwards so you can pool his pants around his ankles. You eye the tent in his boxers, licking your bottom lip. 

"This all for me?" You tease, using your hands to play with his waistband. When he doesn't answer, you pull back on the elastic on his underwear and let it go. The snap sound echoes in your room, and Kai jolts from the slight stinging sensation. 

"Yes! Yes it's all for you." His voice is whiny, eager to be pleased. 

Maybe you should go easier on him, you had a heart to heart with him less than an hour ago. Still, a part of you feels like you've been going too easy on him in the bedroom. Here he is, expecting pleasure from you the moment you bring him to your place. 

You've made Kai quite the whore. 

This is his first time fucking, and that knowledge alone makes you back off from your usual antics. With a smile on your face, you shimmer his boxers off. You can see his ears turn red when you coo at the sight of his hard cock. 

"It's so hard. I can't believe it's like this when I haven't even touched you. Thought you'd get tired of me." You speak mindlessly. 

"I always get like this when I think of you," Kai confesses in a small voice. Your chest blooms with butterflies, returning his blush. "And I'd never get tired of you," he quickly adds. "Never."

To show your gratitude for his words, you grasp his cock in one hand while you place your other hand on his thigh. You stroke him gently, moving to engulf his tip in skin before dragging it down. Kai hums gratefully and grips the sheets. 

It doesn't take long to hear the slick from his pre-cum. Your whole body starts following his strokes as if you're riding him.  Saliva starts to pool in your mouth from watching your hand get all the attention. Still, the emptiness in your throat isn't enough to stop. You love seeing his face twist in pleasure, the way his neck looks when his head is thrown back. 

Unconsciously, you begin to bounce on air. You pussy clenches around nothing, dripping with arousal. You're neglecting yourself from what you crave, what you need. It's been a long time since your pussy has been stuffed. Excluding Kai's tongue and your fingers, there hasn't been much action going on. You couldn't picture yourself sleeping with anyone so long as you were seeing Kai.

Now you’ve been given his dick on a platter, his tip an angry red with bulging veins. Experimentally, you bring your hand upwards to rub the head of his cock. Kai writhes in overstimulation, his hips jerking backwards to escape your touch. 

You hum, understanding. "Sensitive huh? You think you can take my pussy next?"

There's a little spark of panic in his eyes, but determination overpowers it. "I can take it." Kai fidgets with the blankets nervously, "I dunno if I'll be any good."

You take your hand off his length and rise to your feet. "You don't need to be good, Hyuka. Just lie there like a good boy and I'll do all the work." Your fingers grasp the hem on your shirt and you lift the material over your head. 

Kai has seen your boobs before. You've let him place his dick between them and use it like a fleshlight. He never gets bored of the sight though, and his dick jumps again in excitement. 

You throw the blouse in the same direction of his belt. Teasingly, you cup yourself and massage your breasts. "Your turn."

Kai hesitates in taking off his shirt, but seeing you playing with your tits encourages him to do so. He doesn't try to think about how you're staring at him as he tucks his arms in the holes and lifts the shirt over his head. 

To praise him, you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra. 

You take a few steps closer to Kai so his face is in your chest. He looks up at you as you place a nipple in his mouth, needing some type of stimulation. He obeys, sticking his tongue out to taste your skin. 

His lips suck on your bud, moving his hands to wrap around your bare torso. 

Kai's tongue flicks against your nipple, making you moan. He switches from one boob to the next, unsure of which one to pay attention to. Kai settles for taking his time on each one. 

He notes how you whine when he sucks harshly, how you arch your back further into him when he captures your nipples between his teeth. Kai watches as your skin turns purple from his bruising, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. 

Your legs begin to tremble from the feeling. You keep a grasp on the back of his head to keep him close. The desire between your legs grows stronger. Your patience wears thin as you start undoing your jeans. 

Kai backs away to let you get fully undressed. He kicks his pants off from his ankles and helps you shimmy out of your underwear. 

Both of you are completely nude, exposed. It's a whole new sense of vulnerability. Before, clothes were a way to establish power. You would keep Kai either mostly clothed or naked from down under. It gave you a sense of superiority over him, but that's the last thing, if at all, that you want to feel from him now. 

Instead, you want to feel his body on yours. His hot skin kissing your own. You might always want to take charge in the bedroom, but you don't think you could ever look down on him ever again. 

How did you ever do it in the first place?

You place yourself on his lap, pushing him down by his chest to lay him on the bed. His chest rises and falls rapidly, mouth slightly open to catch his breath. You shush quietly, an attempt to calm him down once again. "It's okay, Hyuka. I'm right here."

Some seconds pass before you place yourself above his hips. You hover over him, knees either side of his waist. Your hand reaches down to grab the base of his cock, angling it towards your entrance. Kai's hands are still fisting the sheets, but you tell him that it's okay to grab you instead.

He listens and takes ahold on your hips, sinking into the bed further. 

To let Kai get used to the feeling, you run the tip on his cock over your pussy lips, letting your arousal gather. The warmth of your sexes makes both of you moan. 

"It's so warm," he notices. You giggle and look up at him, "It's even warmer inside."

Rather than looking nervous, Kai smiles back at you expectantly. 

You take that as a green light to take him in. Slowly, you push the head of his dick inside. The crown spreads you slightly, and you have to bite your bottom lip from moaning too loudly. Kai whimpers at the first feel of your pussy, his grip tightening on you for a second. 

You sink on him a few more inches before moving back up, letting your cunt adjust to his size. There's slight pain on your part, but you're so wet that it's far too easy to slide back down. The ache only mixes with the pleasure each time you take him deeper.

Kai seems to appreciate you taking your time. His hips stay on the bed obediently, taking in the feeling of your walls gushing around him. It's not until you sit on him fully, your ass to his thighs, that he cries out. He swears he sees white from the tight pleasure, the way his cock fits snug in you.

Perfect.

With trembling thighs, you let yourself settle on Kai's girth. He's stretching you out fully, and you swear you can feel him deep in your stomach. The depth makes you twitch and squeeze around him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

You trail your hands upwards so they rest on his shoulders. "This okay?"

Kai opens his mouth only to moan in response. He's babbling nonsense, but he's nodding rapidly. You can make out a few yes's and a string of curses, making you laugh. Experimentally, you rock your hips on him. The movement makes him whimper, his hands falling further down to grip your ass. 

You set the pace, lifting yourself a few inches up before dropping back down. The feel of his cock dragging inside of you sends shivers down your spine. There's nothing you wish more than to bury yourself deep in his cock, spasming around him. You think you could cum from just squeezing him, but Kai is practically drooling for how you're riding him.

It doesn't take long for the pace to pick up. Especially with how his fingers are digging into the flesh of your ass, itching to pick you up himself just to slam you back down. His hips start thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. 

Your breasts bounce from the force, a series of moans leaving your lips from every thrust. Neither of you care about how loud your thrusts are, skin on skin. If anything, that sound mixed with the wet slapping spurns you on more. Kai picks his head up to watch where you both connect and his dick disappears inside you, imprinting the image into his mind .

The sight alone makes Kia's balls tense. You're so warm, wet, and tight for him that he can feel his release getting closer. Thinking about finishing inside of you is beyond what Kai could have ever wished for. Making you his in any way possible, painting you in his skin in the most vulnerable way. 

It's then that Kai realizes you both have missed a crucial step. 

"Condom!" He chokes out. "C-condom. We didn't...we didn't..." Kai stutters from the power of his orgasm. It hits him so suddenly, his eyes sting from tears. It's embarrassing to cum so quickly, yet how could he not? You just feel too good.

If you heard Kai, you paid no attention to it. Instead, you help him ride out his high. You can feel his cum bury itself deep inside you, hoping to get you pregnant. He came a lot though, as expected from a virgin. Some of it slips out and drips down onto your bed. Not that you mind - it's kind of cute. 

Your hips slow when Kai's moans settle down. He seems to like you rocking on him gently, milking him for every drop. Kai blinks up at you as a few tears fall, making you clench around him.

"I didn't mean to," he sobs. His hands trails up back to your waist as he cries. "I'm s-sorry. I really didn't-"

You shut him up by leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his lips. His cries muffle, but he soon starts kissing you back. Kai presses you closer to him at your taste, finding solace in your touch. You pull away gently, watching how he chases after your lips blindly.

"There's nothing to be sorry about Hyuka," you console. Your hands trail up and down his chest lovingly. "I wanted you to, I liked it."

"Y-You did?" he sniffs.

Nodding, you tell him, "I did. So you don't have to feel bad. We can take care of it in the morning." Kai nods at you, though his eyes still look unsure. 

You decide that you won't have the opportunity to cum tonight, lifting yourself off him. 

Kai's touch surprises you when he keeps you still on his softening cock. "But...you didn't..." He looks up at you shyly, pressing his cock deeper to get his point across. 

You mewl at the feeling, tensing for a moment. "It's okay. We don't have to, I know you're tired."

Despite his sleepy eyes, Kai shakes his head. "I'm not. Use me. I can still be good for you."

Kai gently thrusts his hips upwards, not as deep but still enough to make a whole new warmth of gush leave your pussy. There's no way in hell you can deny yourself from pleasure any longer. Even if his dick isn't as hard, you can still use him, like he offered.

Kai hisses from how feverishly you begin to bounce on his cock. He's still so sensitive, but your need to cum outweighs the care for his own pain. He needs to see how you cum around his dick. Even if you rub him raw, fuck him for hours on end, the feeling of your cunt dripping with your cum around him is all he can think about.

Tears once again prick his eyes, and your hips rock faster upon seeing them. Kai's length is so hot and slippery in you, you can feel your orgasm approaching you quickly. The warmth in your belly builds, chills covering your body.

Still being the obedient boy he is, Kai doesn't stop fucking up into you. Not even when the tears fall down his cheeks or the moans are tumbling uncontrollably from his lips again. You swear you see his eyes go crossed from the overstimulation, spurring you on further. 

No matter how nice you'll be with Kai, no matter how much love you'll give him, seeing him cry will always be your favorite sight.

The building of heat in your stomach finally bursts, flooding your orgasm on Kai's cock. You twitch and moan when you cum, clenching harshly on Kia's abused dick. Kai rocks his hips against you to ride out your high, mimicking how you did for him.

You steady yourself on his shoulder before collapsing on him chest to chest. Both of you breathe raggedly, sweaty bodies mingling with each other. You both pay no mind, opting to stay still instead. 

Nobody makes a move to pull Kai out of you. Not that you wanted to, it felt rather nice to have him inside. 

Silence falls over you two as you steady your breaths. It's as though the world stopped moving. All you can feel is Kai's embrace as he wraps his arms around you. You snuggle closer to him, planting a brief kiss on his chest.

"How are you feeling?" You ask, lifting your head up to see him.

Kaipeers up at you, looking thoughtful. "I feel...thirsty."

You adjust yourself so that you're supporting yourself on the palm of your hands, preparing to get up. "I can get some water-"

"No. You stay here, I can get it." Kai easily lifts you off his dick, both of you whining at the loss of contact. He sets you beside him and sits up, grabbing his clothes that he hastily puts on. 

He gives you one last look before slipping out of your room. You take this brief time to collect your thoughts, your feelings. 

Or so you try until your phone goes off. You sit up to search for the device on the floor, spotting it near your pants. You crawl off the bed, legs aching from being in one position for so long. Once the phone is in your hand, you climb back in bed and open your notification. 

Yeonjun: i expect my compensation within the next few weeks

You groan, hating yourself for agreeing to his terms. There's no time to think about responding when Kai walks in with two glasses of water and a towel he must've found. 

You shut your phone off and welcome your new lover back in bed. You'll have to worry about your promise to Yeonjun another time.

a/n: and thats a wrap! thank you so much for reading this little series and I hope you enjoyed it! I did *slightly* hint at an epilogue, but we'll see if I actually do it. huge thanks to @then-make-me for editing and revising!! this was defo a chore im sure! thank you so much!

[thatfandomslut]

The Plastic and the Art Freak

Janis Imi'ike x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Trigger Warnings: smut, MDNI. Top!Janis, Sub!Reader. Fingering, oral, heated make-out (all R receiving), & closeted reader.

Request: 1.1k

Can you do a Top!Janis Imi'ike x bottom!plastic!fem!reader smut. Where the reader runs into the Janitors closet after the reader broke up with her bf (bc she's a closeted lesbian 😗) and finds Janis is there also and Janis is basically being snarky and shit bc of the reader going along with Regina and the shit she did to Janis. And Janis eventually gets all up in her face and eventually the reader kisses Janis and that leads to more...

Mean Girls requests are open.

Discord | Roleplay

(Y/n) ignored Harry calling to her, wanting to know why she was ending it. Everyone had gathered around them, and (Y/n) felt uncomfortable. Walking away, her pace continued to grow as she rounded the corner, slipping into the janitor's closet. She sighed in relief, finally feeling peace fill her until she looked around and made eye contact with Janis, who was eating chips and sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor. (Y/n) wanted to curse when she saw Janis Imi'ike of all people in the same small room as her. Turning to leave, (Y/n) hoped that Harry was gone and the crowd died down.

"What's the matter, princess? Scared to breathe the same air of a lowly art freak?" Janis questioned, standing up to throw away her trash. When she moved, (Y/n) began to realize how small the space around them was. Shaking her head, her hand twitched on the door handle, narrowing her eyes over at the girl who wore a cocky smirk on her lips. She knew what she was doing. "Don't let me stop you from leaving. Regina is probably worried sick about the whereabouts of one of her most loyal henchwomen. You can't leave her worried, can you? After all, you're just like Gretchen and Karen, you follow everything she does all the time."

By the time Janis was done, their faces were close together, and (Y/n)'s face was red with anger. But instead of yelling back at Janis, she kissed her deeply. This was something that Janis automatically reciprocated as she pulled (Y/n) close. (Y/n) deepened the kiss, her hands making their way into her hair easily. This was something that (Y/n) thought about practically every day, kissing the girl in her art class who stands up for the little guy, always says what's on her mind, and looks hot while she is painting the most radical art projects. In truth, despite how Regina says they should hate Janis, (Y/n) has always liked and admired her.

Janis could say the same for (Y/n). Even though she was annoyed that (Y/n) followed alongside anything Regina said they must do, she knew that (Y/n) wasn't like the other Plastics. She guessed she was more annoyed over the fact that (Y/n) dropped Janis when Regina did. Right now, though, with their lips smashing together and their teeth clashing as they kissed, it felt like none of that mattered anymore. The only that truly mattered to Janis at that moment was the girl she was kissing as her hands slipped under her shirt to hold her waist before they traveled to (Y/n)'s pants.

"Do it, fuck me, Janis," (Y/n) whispered on Janis's lips, allowing them a moment to catch their breath as they made eye contact. Janis nodded softly before smirking as she kissed (Y/n) again. Her hands slipped into the girl's shorts and automatically, (Y/n) gasped out in pleasure. Janis knew all of the ways to push her buttons the right way. (Y/n) moaned softly on Janis's lips until Janis pulled away to press kisses down her jawline and neck. Her body felt like it was coming undone in all the right ways. "Fuck, Janis, you feel so good."

Janis's ego was boosted by (Y/n)'s words as she slipped a finger into (Y/n), smirking when she moaned her name. Admittedly, the two have been into each other for years despite all of the drama. This was just the first time either one of them had done anything about it. Janis brought (Y/n) closer to her climax, but didn't let her reach it yet. "I want you to beg me to let you cum." Janis demanded, her lips by (Y/n)'s ear, nipping at her earlobe. (Y/n) shuddered in pleasure at the feeling. She felt like she could collapse in Janis's hands as her legs shook.

"Please, Janis, you're making me feel so good. Please, let me cum." She cried out, her eyes fluttering close as her head fell back. Janis sped up but still didn't allow her to cum. (Y/n) felt as though she could cry. "Please, Janis, please. I'm yours, I'm all yours. Let me cum, please."

Janis's lips twitched with satisfaction as she finally allowed (Y/n) to climax. As (Y/n) came, Janis pulled the girl's shorts down, cleaning her up with her tongue. (Y/n) cried out to Janis, her hands tangling into her hair again as she felt herself coming up to her second orgasm in seconds. "Don't be shy, baby, cum again." And (Y/n) unraveled again and Janis continued to drink her up like she was water. (Y/n) felt weak in the knees as she caught her breath while Janis pulled her shorts back up. (Y/n) didn't object to Janis kissing her, allowing her to taste herself on Janis's tongue.

As the two mellowed out, (Y/n) looked at Janis for a long moment. "When we were in eighth grade, the reason I stopped talking to you… I shouldn't have done it, but it was because I was crushing on you. When Regina kissed you, I thought I was going to die. Instead of just being normal, I stopped talking to you, and that was my fault. I'm sorry, Janis." (Y/n) apologized as her chest still heaved and her lips remained swollen. She needed to get that out. She needed Janis to know why everything went down the way they did between them. She had been carrying that guilt for so long, and she knew she needed to apologize. Because Janis was right, she always did everything Janis wanted and stood beside her throughout everything.

Janis licked her lips, still enjoying the taste of (Y/n) on them. "It's okay, all is forgiven." She said honestly, taking (Y/n)'s hand. "I think the reason it hurt so much is because I had a crush on you, too," Janis admitted as the two took their time to process the information they shared.

"I'm not out yet," (Y/n) said sadly, not wanting Janis to be upset with her. She was worried about coming out. Not just because of Regina, but because she was worried about the world. She felt like she needed the time to come out when she was ready, and that time wasn't today or tomorrow. She didn't want to disappoint Janis, but this was information that she felt that Janis deserved to know.

Janis smiled softly, cupping the girl's cheeks and pressing a kiss onto her lips. "I know, it's okay. There isn't a specific timeline you need to follow." Janis said as she reassured (Y/n) that it was okay to not be out. "And, I'll be here to support you no matter what." Janis hugged her and (Y/n) accepted and returned the hug. (Y/n) felt safe in Janis's arms and in that moment, everything felt right.

[simplyafountainpen]

Red Looks Good On Us

{𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼}: Demon!M!Reader x Grell Sutcliff

{𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷}: (Y/n) was particularly rude today, and as much as Grell loved it, it seems like her adorable little girl would need some punishment for that naughty mouth of his~

{𝓣𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓼}: Sub!Top!Reader, Power Bottom!Grell, Demon!Reader, feminization (of reader), punishment, bondage, impact play, Mistress title, praise, Reader wears makeup, Grell's privates referred to as cock and pussy, (y/n) is the "Mourning Dove Demon"

"But belooovvveeddd!!-"

You sighed as you pushed your Master, Alois Trancy, behind you. Today was supposed to be a simple outing with the boy, a little walk through the city and perhaps even through a park to get him out of that stuffy office of his. He had been swamped with work recently, and even if he didn't want to, it had to be done.

For weeks you watched as his patience grow smaller until he'd snap at the slightest inconvenience. It grew annoying, and finally out of control when he decided it would be a great idea to throw an entire piping hot tea set at you and Claude. You quickly ushered him out of the house as the other demon cleaned the mess - also to allow him to calm down and not rip the child to shreds. He still needs the child's soul, after all.

It had been peaceful for a time, until you and the boy ran into a certain red head. You stuffed the boy behind you, ignoring his small noise of questioning, and stared into those chartreuse phosphorescent eyes of hers.

"Grell. I will not be abandoning my duties for you. What ever are you even doing here?" You grumbled. The both of you stared at each other, Grell biting her lips while you could feel the veins budging in your forehead. You had no time for this.

"Well, beloved, I saw you from across the street and I just simply had to say hello to the most scrumptious looking man in my life, right?~" Again, you grumbled.

"Now isn't the time you damned succubus, off with you." You waved her off with a hand, turning back to a less than pleased Alois only to feel her hands on your shoulders, causing you to growl.

"Now now dearest, is that anyway to treat the woman you loovvee?~" You shrugged her hands off, again turning to Alois with a mumble, asking him to go the opposite way as a fly seemed to be buzzing in your ear.

"Oh come now darling, don't walk away!! Let me join you at least!! I'm so very bored and haven't a thing to do for hours!!~" You turned to her.

"What of the paperwork I know for a fact you're putting off right now?" A smirk now laid on your face, and the woman sputtered. Alois chuckled at her face in your grip. Both immediately - but silently - noted that you seemed to puff up in accomplishment.

A fact about you was that you were a being of irony. A demon, yet you were based off a dove. A mourning dove, to be precise. Grell huffed and folded her arms. She leaned closer to your face, noses almost touching.

"Mmm... you're no fun around this brat." Grell mused. Her painted lips were creased into a pout. She stood up strait, looking you in the eye.

"Well then perhaps you should be off then? I certainly wouldn't bat an eye." You leaned even closer, foreheads touching. Both of you continued in silence, until Alois coughed into his elbow. You grunted, backing up quickly and turning back to the boy in question. You sent one more cynical smile her way, accompanied by a wave, and went off with your Master.

Grell stood there for a moment more. She knew you wouldn't truly belittle her or do anything truly physically damaging considering your... relationship, but she still couldn't help but shiver at how dismissive you were. And though she understood why you wouldn't stop to chat - you being under a contract, she couldn't help but feel slightly peeved at how quickly you brushed her off! No long winded insults, no pushing her, no attention, why, you could make a girl feel neglected like this!

She smiled with a dark chuckle. Oh, you'd be paying when you got home that night, she'd make sure of it.~

·:¨༺ ♱✮¨:·ᨐฅ ᨐᵐᵉᵒʷ·:¨✮♱ ༻¨:·˚─── ⋆⋅⛥⋅⋆ ──

You entered the house quietly, a greeting and apology on your lips for how you treated Grell, only to be met by silence and no lights. Immediately you began lighting candles and flicking on lamps to fill the room with light. In doing this, you noted that the lights in the bedroom were on and abandoned your current mission, walking over to the closed door with light pouring from beneath it.

"Grell? Honey? Are you in there?" You knocked gently on the door, pressing an ear to the wood before gently opening it.

"I want to apologize for my... statements... today." Instead of a sleeping or a - hells forbid - working Grell, you found your girlfriend in nothing but her underwear and corset, a satin robe hanging scantily off her shoulders. She looked back at you with a smile, glasses glinting in the light of the many candles lit in the room, speaking of:

The room itself was dimly lit with said candles on holders and on the floor, rose petals delicately strewed throughout the room. On the vanity were a few open makeup boxes, all the makeup being red of course. The bedsheets had been changed to Grell's favorite scarlet ones, and carmine satin ribbons dangled from the headboard and footboard.

The most damning thing, however, was the set of blood red lacey thigh-highs, panties, and bra neatly folded at the foot of the bed.

You didn't notice her stand, but rather heard the door being closed behind you, Grell's fingers making their way around your shoulders, feeling her breath against her neck.

"Oh, so you wish to apologize, is that it?" You felt her lips against your neck, your sensitive skin picking up on the kiss mark left behind. Her hands trailed downward, crossing your chest and fliting over your sensitive nipples, making you suck in a quick breath. Not being able to find your voice, you nodded.

"Well, I think I know of one way you can make it up to me.~" She was by your ear now, lips lightly pressing against it for a moment. You shivered, eyes closing. She giggled.

"You you want to make it up to me, pretty girl?~" You clenched your teeth and turned away, her hands wrapping around your waist and meeting right above your hardened cock. She looked at you for a moment and sighed. Hearing this, you whipped your head around and nodded rapidly, to which she simply walked around you, now facing you with her hands on your ass. One left its perch and took your chin, forcing you to look at her again.

"I want a verbal answer, darling. You're free to say no, you know." Your eyes widened, then you took one of your own hands and placed behind hers, moving both to your cheek and nuzzling into them.

"I do..." Grell immediately smiled, grabbing your face and slamming her lips on yours. She overpowered you easily, tongue invading your mouth with you putting up no resistance. She turned you around and pushed you back onto the bed, forcing you to sit and then sitting in your lap. One of her hands rested on your shoulder, the other making its home around your neck. You whimpered into the kiss and she smiled, breaking it off.

You looked up through tear-laced lashes and she pecked you on the head, getting down on her knees. She began to remove your clothes, starting with your shoes and socks, kissing and nipping up you leg until she made it to your waist. Her fingers made quick work of your belt and the buttons on your pants, you lifting yourself up slightly to make it easier to slip them down your legs. Before you could sit back down, she slipped her finger into the waistline of your drawers, tutting. Wordlessly, she unbuttoned them and drew them down with your pants. You gasped as the cold air of the room hit your now exposed cock, whining. Grell planted a quick kiss to your inner-thigh and continued.

Your waistcoat was removed slowly, the woman above you massaging you shoulders and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Languidly, she removed the rest of your layers, ghosting her painted nails over skin. Tears layered themselves in your eyes and she kissed them away, cooing at your nakedness. Then, she grabbed the laced thigh-highs and unfolded them, taking one and gently unrolling it, she grabbed one of your legs and slowly pushed the fabric up, fixing and smoothing it out, then doing the same for the other. She grabbed you by the waist, forcing you to stand. Grell then grabbed the panties and lightly bit your neck.

"Lift one of those pretty legs for me dearest, would you?" She whispered into your ear. You nodded, lifting you left leg, and she quickly pushed them up, running her hand over your ass and the small of your back while she slipped you through one hole of the panties. You both then did the same on your right side, and she gave you a quick kiss as a reward. You were then sat back down as she ran her hands over your chest, twisting your hardened nipples, causing you to moan.

She continued to play with your chest, making sure your skin was sensitive to the slightest touch. Grell hummed at her work, grabbing the bra and lifting one of your arms, sliding it into place.

"You know," she said as she slipped the other in and clasped the back, "I got the smallest size for you, darling. And look at this! You can't even fill it out!~" The lace brushed against your skin, forcing a few pants and moans from you. Another kiss was pressed to your temple as Grell helped you up, walking you over to the vanity and sitting you down.

"We're not quite done yet my dear, just a couple more touches and you'll be perfect.~ Don't you want to be perfect for me, dearest?~" You nodded rapidly, but Grell clicked her tongue. More tears filled you waterline as you gasped, quickly correcting your mistake.

"Y-yes. I do want to be perfect for you, M-mistress." Grell stared at you as those whispered words left your lips. Taking a strand of hair between her fingers, she twirled it around.

"Mistress hmm? I quite like that..~" She smiled at you and sat back in your lap, turning around and hovering a hand over a small box filled with red lipsticks, all different shades. The reaper choose a slightly lighter shade compared to your current attire, softly applying it to your lips, humming a turn you didn't recognize. Then it was an eyeshadow, mascara, then a blush, the soft brush tickling over your skin.

"Oh look at you!~ Such a pretty girl!~ Why, I don't think I could even tell you were demon if I didn't know better. I might even dare to call you an angel.~" Her hand was under your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. Your hands griped the arms of the chair beneath you, nearly splintering the wood. Your breathing became heavy as Grell leaned closer, lips caressing over yours.

"What do we say?~" She whispered, and you whispered in kind.

"Thank you Mistress."

With wild abandon, she smashed her lips onto yours, hands tangling in your hair and yours flew to her hips. Grells tongue forced its way down your throat, your eyes rolling back from the sensation. She broke the kiss, staring at your fucked out expression.

"Look at how sensitive you are.~ My good little girl." You whined, drool slipping from your lips as you felt her grind down onto your cock. Her hand began to stoke it through the lace panties, making you whine louder. The tip of your cock peaked from the top, pre bubbling from the tip and onto the lace trim.

"Already ruining your panties? Tut tut darling." Grell mused. She grabbed your upper arms and dragged you up, doing all but throwing you onto the bed. She gripped your hair in her hands, resting against the headboard. One of her painted nails ran over your lips, inserting her thumb into your mouth. Her other hand went down to her own panties, rubbing herself through the fabric at the sight of your disheveled form. Her manicured hand pulled her painties down till the rested beneath her balls, revealing her hardened cock, budging and red.

"Open wide, dear.~" Her thumb slipped from your lips, and her cock was rammed down your throat, effectively gagging you.

"MHMP?!?" "Hehe, look at how well your taking me, pretty.~" Grell's hand traced your throat, squeezing it lightly to feel her length poking out.

"Go on then," she pat your head, tangling her hands in your hair, "Show Mistress what this darling throat of yours can do.~"

You groaned, sucking her down and hollowing your cheeks, dragging your tongue up and down the side of her sex. Your lipstick stained the base as you bobbed up and down, breathing through your nose. Grell's hands landed on the sides of your face as you sucked, nails digging and nearly piercing your skin. Without warning she took control, slamming you up and down her cock, the tip touching the back of your throat and your drool slicking up her entire shaft, making it shine.

Grell continued, your lipstick smearing across her girth as the mascara she had applied ran down your face. She then shoved you all the way down, blocking your airflow. To add to it, she gripped one hand around your neck, making the dark spots in your vision grow faster. Your shaky hands gripped her thighs, eyes rolling all the way back as your throat constricted more, spit running down your chin. She held you for a moment longer, your shaking about to cease, moaning at how tight your throat had gotten. Just a second before your fully passed out - which would be a feat - she pulled you off, your head falling onto the sheets. Your tongue lolled out and drool pooled below you, breathing heavy. Grell quickly began stroking, slick noises filling your ears, and thick white ropes covered your face, some getting into your panting mouth. You whined and Grell chuckled breathily, taking some cum onto her fingers and tasting it.

"You make everything sweeter dear. I suppose white is also a good look on you, isn't it, dove?~" You cooed at the nickname, shoving your head into her thigh, which now had your spit on it. You kissed and sucked at her skin, pupils blown out.

"Oh? Is my dove okay?" Her voice had tilt of merriment to it as she lifted you, switching your places so that now you were against the headboard and she was kneeling on the bed. You cooed again, muttering nothings under your breath as you allowed her to wrap you wrists in the silk attacked to the bed. She tied small yet firm knots, tugging to ensure you could still escape if need be. The reaper pat you on the head, giggling when you nuzzled into her touch with hair puffed up.

"Dove, it's time. Are you ready to finally make it up to me?" you gave a mumbled reply. Grell smirked.

She fully slipped of her panties to reveal a already slicked up cunt, glistening with lube, strawberry scented. She positioned herself above you, spitting on your cock and rubbing it in good, she lined up the head with her hole, before giving you a quick peck on the lips.

"Good girl.~"

She slammed herself onto you, both of you letting loud moans from the feeling. Her hands gripped your shoulders, nails finally tearing into your skin, you hissing at the dull pain. She bounced up and down, walls clamping down on you with such force that you began to cry, the tears that had been welling up spilling over your lash line.

"O-oh dove - NGH - so p-pretty!~ Even w-ith your makeup all - UGH - ruined!!~" Grell complemented, her hips meeting yours with squelching noises. You were no longer comprehensible, borderline animalistic with the bird-like chirps and coo's you released. Your hands tugged fruitlessly on their binds, desperately clawing out towards Grell. Her thighs slapped on yours, her chest pressed to you still sensitive one, compelling a high-pitched keen to escape your throat, which only caused Grell to coo at you more.

She stopped bouncing and grinded on your cock, walls sucking you in and squeezing, your noises never ending, flowing freely from you lips. Grell pressed her head into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin softly and sucking hickies harshly onto your jugular, biting at it even.

You mewled and wailed at the attention, makeup nearly completely washed away by sweat, drool, and tears. Your head was rolled back as she continued to grind you into her, eyes showing nothing but the whites and jaw fully relaxed. After a moment of her slowing down, the stillness, she suddenly picked herself up and rammed you all the way back in, tip to hilt, in one quick movement. Grell's bouncing was much more aggressive than before, your arms reached back and grabbed onto the headboard. Your teeth grind together, and with heavy breaths you released the loudest whine yet.

"Are y-you about to cum, dove?" Grell groaned. Your nodded quickly, and she gave you a kiss on your cheek. "T-then cum for m-me dove!! CUM FOR M-ME!!-" You screamed, cumming hard into the warmth of her cunt. You gasped, sobbing, trying to catch your breath as Grell came in kind, cum painting your chest. She leaned against you, breathing hard and smiling. Her hands immediately went to your hair, tracing shapes in your scalp, giving you time to slow your breathing.

"Are you awake, dear?" You mumbled something, nothing of substance though. Grell smiled at you, before pulling you out of her. You huffed, watching your seed leak from her lightly gaping hole.

"Alright alright hold on..." She untied your wrists and rubbed them to sooth the dull ache she knew would be there - no matter how much you would deny it - and smiled at you.

"I'll go get snacks, water, towels, etc., etc. dear. You just wait right here." She booped you on your nose and you snorted. Grell then laid you down on the sheet and slipped on a pair of slippers, walking out of the room to the kitchen, though you couldn't help but watch the trails of white that flowed down her legs.

You snuggled deeper into the fabric of the sheets, beginning to nod off. All you wanted was for her to return and hold you. Eventually she did, holding a tray filled with aforementioned snacks, water, towels and set it down, leaving for a moment to grab new sheets and popping by the vanity to grab a few makeup wipes. She gave you some water before she began to wipe the streaked makeup off your face.

"You did wonderfully dear, I can assure you you've apologized fully." You giggled and she smiled, leaning in so the bridges of your noses were touching.

"I love you, Mistress." Grell chuckled.

"And I love you, Dove."

·:¨༺ ♱✮¨:·ᨐฅ ᨐᵐᵉᵒʷ·:¨✮♱ ༻¨:·˚─── ⋆⋅⛥⋅⋆ ──

"What are those dark spots on your neck, (Y/n)?" You turned to the sound of Alois's voice, sharply keeping your gaze right above the eyes lest you end up like Hannah.

"Whatever do you mean, your Highness?" You asked, and he pointed to a specific part of your jugular, and after you ran a hand over the bruise, your eyes widened.

"It's nothing, your Highness I promise, nothing that should concern you anyway..." Though that only made the blonde pout and start whining childishly.

"Well now I simply must know!! What is it??" You looked over to Claude who only shrugged with the tiniest of smirks on his face, that bastard.

You were going to kill him one day, if you didn't die of embarrassment first, anyway.

{𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼}: This is a bit longer than the last one. If you could not tell at this point, I adore Black Butler. Thank you for reading.

-🖋️

All publishings on this account belong to @fountain-pen-anon. I do not authorize my fics being altered, translated, stolen or published/reposted to other sites, thank you.

© fountain-pen-anon - all rights reserved

[shootingstarwritings]

First Impressions

Coming home from another exhausting day, Lydia threw herself onto her couch and screamed into a cushion.

“Hey Lyd,” her husband Carlos said as he came into the living room. Chewing on some leftover chocolate cake from the fridge, he sat down on the other side of the sofa, taking one more bite and swallowing before asking, “��nother rough day?” The crumbs were probably all over the living room by now… to Lydia's immense chagrin.

“The hell do you think?” said Lydia, the pillow muffling her voice. She looked up and glared at her annoying beloved. “More asshole clients not interested in my business proposals for like the 12th time this week, motherfuckers that lose any and all interest as soon as they hear my voice over the phone, and every smug prick that landed a deal just telling me, ‘Just work hard, this is a meritocracy! Nobody thinks less of you cuz you’re a woman.’” She made sure to put on her ‘bro-voice’ as she regurgitated the same garbage everyone of her male peers that managed to keep getting sales said to her.

“Damn, I’m sorry honey.” Carlos shifted over and began to massage her back. Lydia let out a low moan as Carlos worked his magical hands once more. The knots in her back slowly untangled and her head began to clear. It was so difficult to think with all the stress causing her head to turn all soupy. “I just wish there was something I could do.”

“... There is something I’ve been thinking about.”

“Oh?”

“You’re on vacation starting tomorrow, right? Three weeks?”

“Yeah…?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” Carlos continued asking, but Lydia insisted nothing was wrong. She also had to make sure that she would get out of work after just a few more days. All she needed to do was meet with a few more clients and they could enjoy the summer together.

Carlos still seemed incredulous, but eventually he relented and walked back to his office. “You’re the best, honey,” said Lydia before he shut the door behind him. Carlos looked over his shoulder and beamed at her with a loving glint in his eyes. Because of his job as a programmer and debugger, most of his work could be done at home. The rest of his time was spent taking care of some errands that Lydia was either too tired or simply hated doing (mainly cooking and taking care of any bugs or spiders). 

It also made it convenient whenever Lydia needed to take a break from herself, without his knowledge of course.

The rest of the day was spent recuperating from the day’s stress. A few rhythm game rounds and a scalding hot shower was enough for Lydia to regain her upbeat and chipper personality. Around midnight, the two of them cuddled in the bed.

They had been married for months, but somehow holding each other beneath the sheets never got old. In fact, it somehow got more personal and intimate with the passing months. Light kisses on skin, stroke and caressing flesh that smelled like home, and the faint yet steady heartbeat never failed to relax Lydia’s mind and allow her to comfortably slip into a lengthy slumber.

Tonight was the sole exception.

“Mind if I’m the big spoon this time?” Lydia whispered to a half-asleep Carlos. Opening just one tired eye, Carlos just mumbled something and nodded before flipping over. Lightly tittering to herself, Lydia wrapped her arms around Carlos and squeezed him tight. She rubbed her face against his back and took a whiff. Chestnuts--the scent of his favorite conditioner. Lydia was truly glad she had introduced such a world of bathroom supplies to him.

“You’re the perfect man,” Lydia muttered, her voice muffled as she buried her face into the space between his neck and shoulder. “You won’t remember, but I almost feel bad for doing this.”

Carlos was barely even able to let out a questioning hum before Lydia’s body began to slip inside of him. Carlos let out a gasp as his body tightened in response to the sensual penetration. It wasn’t too dissimilar to the first time Lydia had pegged him. “Huh—! Whu—! Oh…WOAH!" 

Lydia didn’t stop her possession. She thrust into Carlos, her petite yet rotund form slipping into Carlos’s thinner and hairier body. Carlos let out muffled moans as she shoved his face into a pillow with her free arm. He could do nothing as Lydia humped her hips further into his own fatter and hairier hips. His legs kicked and convulsed on the bed as he could hardly struggle. 

“I love you, Carlos,” Lydia whispered, licking his sweaty neck. “I just need to borrow you for a few…” She nibbled on his ear lobe. Most of her legs had already melted into his. Not too long afterward, she pushed her chest into his own. She giggled at the sound of Carlos’ long, drawn-out moans as her boobs became replaced with his pectorals. “It’s nice being a man from time to time. So big and hairy…” she muttered to him.

Carlos’ continued to moan, breathing deeply as Lydia fucked herself into him. Soon, she was comfortable enough to drop her free arm and force it into his own. “Haah…! Haaahh… you’re a kinky one, Lyd…” he said in between fast, tense moans.

“I know, baby,” she said, half her head already phasing through his wider back. “I know.” As the last of Lydia melded into Carlos, he let out a long moan and collapsed onto his back. His hips thrust into the air over and over as Lydia acclimated herself inside of him. Each limb was dangerously full.

“HAAAH! H-Holy shit… I-I’m… I’m--!” Then, with one last hump, Carlos’ cock exploded all over his boxers. “Ahh… Ahh… J-Just… Just do whatever you want, babe…” he said in between labored pants as he lost consciousness. Although it felt like a completely new experience, it was truly the third or fourth time this had happened. And just like the previous times, Carlos would believe that it was just a strange and hazy dream from a mind that needed to be a little more open to experimenting in the bedroom.

At least, that was what Lydia would tell him.

Speaking of…

Lydia let out a moan as she felt her borrowed muscles and the familiar weight of Carlos’ body. She stretched her toned and hairy limbs with a little giggle. It wasn’t fair that Carlos always got to feel like that whenever he woke up. It was part of the reason why Lydia would always rub up against him in the morning. She just couldn’t get enough of the muscle and hair. However, as the giddiness of yet another successful possession began to wear off, Lydia found herself yawning and slowly drifting off to sleep. Taking over another’s body always took quite a bit of energy, for both the possessor and the host body.

Tomorrow was a new day for Lydia.

“Great, glad to hear it!” Lydia said with Carlos’ deep and friendly voice as she spoke to her fourth client.

“And I’ll follow this meeting up with an email with more details of the deal. Mm-hmm, mm-hmm,” she said, giving Carlos’ cock a nice and firm stroke. None of her clients had any idea that the man they were speaking to was Lydia’s husband. Being able to roleplay and pass off as her husband to these strangers, knowing that she was able to fool these sexist pigs that would’ve sneered and turned up their noses at just the sound of her voice, light up Lydia’s borrowed loins. “Thank you so much for your time and have a great day!” Lydia forced Carlos to say before hanging up.

She threw Carlos’ head back and let out a loud, unbecoming moan as her borrowed cock grew to full mast in her grip. She threw an arm back and took a whiff of Carlos’ natural musk. “Mmm, Carlos. Just another day of me inside and we can get our vacation started. I just have a few more clients to talk to.” She chuckled as she flexed a bit more in her husband’s body. Lydia was already done with all the clients in her schedule. She had some privacy for the rest of the day…

“Oh, Carlos…!” she said as she began to explore her husband’s body once more.

[kissitbttr]

can’t stop thinking about simon falling for harley quinn reader typa beat

it’s a slow burn for sure, definitely not love at first right because he hates her guts the first time price introduced her during debrief session. she's fucking deranged. has murdered countless of innocent people before and not to mention shoplifting?? like why would price think it'd be a good idea to have her as a temporary addition to tf141? this woman is a criminal. he hates how cheery and giddy she is, always waving her hand to greet the team, acting like she hadn’t done some very questionable things, dropping offhanded comments that makes him choke in his own spit, parading herself in short black and red outfits that barely covers her ass and chest EVEN during the mission. it annoys him to the fucking bone.

but then as time slowly goes by, he begins to warm up to her existence. he’s starting to care about her well-being, putting a mental note on what she likes and dislikes, stealing glances at her way to see if she’s comfortable ever so often. he notices how she carries a red lipstick wherever she goes. black if she’s not feeling herself. his lips often twitches into a small smile whenever she does something cute to him and always always making sure she's okay during every single mission. ‘you okay, love?’ or ‘tell me if something’s bothering you, yeah?’ is what he always says. sometimes when the team has to split up, he’d be the first one to say ‘she’s with me’ and it makes her heart warms.

he's amazed at how well she handles rifles, all while looking and acting pretty. (he finds her adorable overtime too but he'd die before admitting that to her). when he lent her his signature AAC Honey Badger, he was impressed by how smoothly she used it, but nothing beats the way she kills enemies with her pink oversized mallet.

‘i can kill them in five, boys ! just give me a sec’ is what she says in a cheerful tone with a giggle after price had notified that there’s too much guards for them to handle. before price could even protest, she already loaded up her gun and walk towards where the guards are. it was something ghost had never found so attractive before but the way she said it? the confidence? her strutting like she owns the shit? considered him rock hard at that point.

before she goes, she tells the boys to wait while she does her thing. but not before sending a wink to ghost’s direction. she has a spot for him, she makes sure he knows that.

the team watch her gracefully killing the enemies through the cameras. small splash of blood painted her face as she smiles up at the camera to give the boys a small wave. she then jumps to one of the guard and put them in a headlock, suffocating him with her thighs to crack his neck in one swift motion (oh he’d do anything to let her do that to him)

‘fucking hell… look at this lass go’ soap tsked, others agreed. especially simon. this is the first time he had found a woman looking incredibly sexy and sophisticated while blowing someone's head off. it’s almost impossible a woman like her actually exists.

so the moment he hears her being held captured by the enemies, his blood runs cold. ghost. goes fucking. BALLISTIC. like 100% feral, no one could stop this man from tearing down the whole fucking sky to save her. so he makes up a plan to save her with the team. from there, add this scene while we're on it. safe to say she was truly moved by it.

‘oh… you were actually going to save me?’ she asks giving him her puppy dog eyes,

he grumbled while nodding sheepishly, his grip around the rifle tighten. ‘yeah.. and it was a pretty damn good plan too’

‘i’m sorry... well, i can go back in again if you still want to do it..’ her voice coming out soft and tender,

he smiles softly underneath the mask. even with dried up blood decorating her nose and the corner of her lips, he still finds her beautiful,

mentally ill but beautiful.

‘no—no that’s okay. ‘m just glad you’re safe, sweetheart’

he finds being with her is easy. just as easy as breathing. his once cold heart now softened because of her. and it is reserved only for her

-

i’m a firm believer that ghost is into batshit crazy women he can’t fix

[g00d--m0urning]

Unnamed Pt. 1 (Daryl Dixon x AFAB!reader)

Part two

This is my first time writing in a long ass time, so please, feel free to leave criticism.

word count: 3208

Summary: ex-cop!Reader's world is rocked thrice over when Daryl Dixon breaks up with them, they discover their pregnant and the world goes to shit in the span of a few months. A/N: this is gender neutral, no other pronouns but you/your used. Reader is obviously AFAB since they get pregnant. Also this first part is hella slow. Basically just getting background out of the way. No y/n used. (No smut, angst? IDFK)

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Being a cop whilst dating a criminal is… well, interesting, to say the least. And in both of your defenses, Daryl’s not, like, a murder or anything, just petty theft and trespassing and the occasional assault charge (they never go further than a slight fine, it’s a small town in Georgia, nobody gives two fucks). The problem is the eldest Dixon--Merle, the GD bane of your existence--the dumbass is constantly dragging Daryl into his shit (drugs, to be clear) and the youngest refuses to stop riding along with him. No matter how hard you try, therefore, it's a constant point in arguments; much like this one.

“You can tell him no!” you shout exasperatedly, for probably the millionth time tonight.

The ‘him’ in question is Merle Dixon, and the needed ‘no’ is Daryl refusing to ride along to one of his drug crusades. You weren’t even supposed to know about this run, Daryl kept that part of his life separate, per your request, keeping from having to turn either Dixon in, as your academy oath swore. However, the FBI had gotten wind of this trade--something about some cartel being included--and they started sniffing around in search of making a bust and you really didn’t need your boyfriend in federal prison for being associated with that.

“Nah, I can’t!” Daryl shouts right back, smacking his hand against the shitty, peeling folding table he calls a dining table.

This has been going on for probably almost an hour now; you push, he pulls and it just turns into a vicious circle. It had started as an earnest plea, asking him kindly not to go on this run and he just scoffed, continuing to scarf down the three-day-old leftovers you heated up. Now it’s this screaming match, one you’re both tired of. You go to open your mouth to ask why, but he raises a hand, cutting you off like he can read your mind (he can’t, you’ve just had this same argument so many times, you can predict the exact words to come out of each other’s mouth).

“He’s family, been there for me mah whole life,” he hasn’t, he’s been in and out of jail his whole life, but ok. “Least I can do ‘s be there for a simple run, done it a thousand times.”

You just groan in response, pinching the bridge of your nose as you pace, just trying to figure out what to say. How to change his mind. There’s a simple answer, you can’t; if there’s one thing you learnt almost immediately in this relationship is that once the Dixon mind is made up, it’s made up.

“What?” he barks, clearly annoyed by your annoyance.

“Nothing, D.” you mutter, shaking your head at this whole situation.

He huffs at that, knowing it’s not ‘nothing,’ but not wanting to know what it truly is, it’d just stoke the fire. Being the pouty baby he is, Daryl plops into a folding chair, the old hinges creaking at the intense weight add, crossing his arms over his chest. If you weren’t so mad, you’d find the scowl on his face and the way his muscles bulge attractive. A loaded silence falls over the two of you; the neighbor’s dog barks at something, presumably the car that can be heard driving across the old gravel road, a door slams, and cicadas chirp, having come back to enjoy the southern summer heat.

“You know what? No--” you set your hands on the table, putting a stop to your pacing as you look over at Daryl, something indiscernible clouding your face.

“What’re ya--” he starts, sitting up in the chair, cutting himself off as you butt in before he can finish.

“It’s not nothing, Dixon. This--” a quick gesture to the air between the two of you, “isn’t ‘nothing.’ You insisting on going on your idiot brother’s crusades isn’t ‘nothing.’ And I get that he’s family, I do, but you shouldn’t have to throw your life away to repay whatever debt you think you owe him for sticking around!”

You’re the one to get cut off this time, being silenced as he scoffs, abruptly standing up from his chair, anger evident on his face, maybe even a hint of betrayal if you looked real close.

“Fuck that’s supposed ta’ mean?” he asks, brows furrowing as he steps closer to you.

“What’s what supposed to mean?” you ask back, confused by his sudden reaction. You didn’t think you said anything wrong, just expressed a very correct opinion.

“Ya think ‘m throwing mah life away?--ain’t like I got much ahead of me, right? Not like you do, right?” he puts extra emphasis on that last right, rounding the table to stand in front of you.

Another constant topic brought up in arguments--him thinking he’s got no life ahead of him other than ending up dead or deadbeat like his parents and you, having been dealt a much better card of hands in life, having much more planned for you. No matter how much you tried to convince him he could do so much more than be a lackey for his shithead brother, he denies and you guys end up ignoring each other for days until one of you cracks.

“Well, newsflash, all of us ain’t got some shiny future waitin’ for us. Some of us got a life being a ‘lackey’ or whateva you said, fancy pants. And ‘m sorry if that ain’t good enough for ya.’” he states, invading your space inch by inch as he mocks your words.

“That’s not--that’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant!” you stammer, panic slowly beginning to boil beneath the anger. If you thought he, or his family situation, or anything about him, wasn’t good enough for him you wouldn’t have put in the almost two years being his friend and another two and a half dating his stubborn ass. He continues his encroachment until you’re toe to toe,

“Sure as hell sounded like it’s whatcha meant,” he snarls, rubbing at the scruff he has yet to shave before straightening his posture, looking away for a moment. He sucks at his teeth, huffing before he looks straight at you, something you can’t make out clouding his face, “I think you should leave.”

Your face falls, tears slowly welling in your eyes as the words leave his mouth. He’s not kidding, nor was it some sort of freudian slip, he wants you out. It seems different this time, too; not some enraged get out that gets resolved with rough make up sex, or the more tearful one that usually ends with sobbing in each other's arms.

This, this is different. He doesn’t look angry, there’s no tears clawing their way through his stubborn ducts, he’s just… blank. No emotion, other than that stubborn Dixon resolution. This feels like a breakup.

“Fine, I’ll leave.” you huff, taking in a shaky breath as you turn on your heel to make the short trek to the front door. Shoes are haphazardly shoved on, the tongue stuck under your foot and laces shoved in, and your phone and keys shoved into a pocket as you head out the door, slamming the screen door shut behind you.

You don’t bother looking back, not wanting to risk the tears falling, until you hear the broken door of the Dixon trailer jimmied shut. A few tears slip from your eyes, angrily swiping at the wet streaks before continuing down the ‘driveway’ to your car.

Maybe if you stayed inside another minute you could’ve seen the tears glassing over Daryl’s eyes. Or maybe if you stayed outside another minute you would’ve heard the sound of another hole being punched into the wall of the Dixon trailer that continues out of sight as you drive away.

A few days pass by, no contact between you two, letting each other cool down; at least you thought. It’s about a week before you try talking to him the first time, having stopped by the car shop he works at to bring him lunch (a BLT from the greasy dinner, the one next to the even greasier motel near the edge of town). The only response you got was a sideways glare before he huffed and returned to fixing the neighbor’s old pick up, leaving you to put his sandwich on his toolbox and walk back to the station.

Another three days pass before you try again, approaching him in the rundown bar, but again, he ignores you, turning away and slipping into the crowd Merle had gathered. You don’t want to be desperate, but you try calling him a few times, no response to all four calls. As a week turns to two and two to three, your attempts become less and less often.

Around week four is when you got the letter; your application to attend the new agent training for the FBI has been approved. Holy-fucking-shit. You read the letter over and over until the words turn to blurry specks you can no longer decipher and that’s when the nausea kicks in, heaving into the bushes by your mailbox. You write it off as stress sickness, between your breakup and now this; I mean, it’s a big deal, going from beat cop in bumfuck Georgia to a possible FBI agent in Virginia.

You wait on the decision, debating if you want to uproot the life you’ve set up here, getting sick a few more times in the process. You try calling Daryl after a few days of thinking to no avail as he doesn’t answer; that helps you make your decision, handing in your badge the next day and spending the last few days of the week packing your stuff into a u-haul.

You stand on the last step of your shitty porch, staring at the even shittier two room house you’ve called home for the last five years, tears welling in your eyes as you think back to the memories. They’re not all good, not all bad either, and the longer you stand there the more you regret your decision, so you wipe away the few tears that slipped down your cheeks and turn away.

Away from the house, down the step and down the uneven pavement you call a driveway and to your car. You open the door of your baby (a lovely ‘69 Chevy Impala you got from an old lady a few years back), taking one more look back before sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the car: starting your new life.

Settling into your new apartment in Virginia wasn’t as hard as you thought it was going to be; honestly it was a breeze. The whole move was a breath of fresh air, it's nice being in a city where you don’t have to worry about everyone knowing everything about you. The only bad part is you still feel like crap--physically, not mentally, or not really--you’ll have to find a doctor soon anyway, the FBI academy requires your health records and you do not remember the last time you had your shots.

It’s about a week before the academy starts, so you decide it’s time to get to the hospital and get everything checked out. The doctor you booked with seems nice enough when you get there, going through a routine checkup: reflexes, blood pressure, weight, shot records and updates, all that lovely medical stuff.

“So, dear, I’m all done, unless you have any concerns of your own?” the doctor asks, tapping a manicured nail against her desktop as she looks up at you through thin framed glasses.

“Uh, yeah, actually, these past few weeks I’ve felt pretty nauseous. I don’t think it’s anything, just the stress from my move and all, but I wanted to make sure before I started work.” you tell her, a faint blush painting your cheeks under her gaze; normally you could never admit something like that, not without it getting out and people forming all sorts of conspiracies.

“Hm… Well, you’re healthy as a horse, so you’re probably not sick. It most likely is the stress.” she tells you, standing up, her heels tapping as she moves in front of you, red painted lips pursing in a thin line, “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

“W-what? No. No, there’s absolutely no way I could be preg--” you stammer, trailing off as you think back to about two months ago. You and Daryl had been drunk off your asses, desperate, sloppy..

“Here, the bathrooms down the hall and to the left.” she hands you a pregnancy test with a chuckle, clearly oblivious to your inner panic. “And don’t worry, this kind of thing happens all the time.”

You have to hold back the urge to glare at her when you get up from the chair, annoying hospital paper crinkling beneath you. How can she just play this off like it’s nothing? It’s not nothing, you could be pregnant! This could fuck everything up, you can’t attend FBI academy whilst pregnant.

Squatting awkwardly over the toilet so you can piss on the stick while simultaneously managing not to miss the bowl, you hum to yourself as you actively avoid meeting your own gaze in the awkwardly placed full length mirror. You finish, quickly tossing the pee-stick into the sink and deal with the rest of your business before pacing the bathroom as you wait the longest three minutes of your life.

Your phone is in and out of your pocket, continually checking the time until three minutes have finally passed; thank god. You grab a paper towel, reach in the sink and grab the test, trying to find the courage to look at the results. Before you can psych yourself out you look, your heart sinking as you stare at the two pink lines glaring up at you.

You feel sick, you are sick, apparently; there’s a full ass human growing in you. As you gag over the toilet the doctor knocks on the door, slowly pushing it open. An apparent sympathetic expression reading her brows as she moves to gently rub your back. She sits with you until your stomach is emptied, the only thing falling into the toilet being tears.

“It’ll be ok, honey, it will. No matter what you decide.” she tells you as you both exit the bathroom, having spent a good ten minutes sitting on the floor dreading the future. You haven’t a clue what she means by ‘no matter what you decide’ until she passes you a pamphlet for an abortion clinic, offering you a pity smile as you leave the room.

The rest of the day is a blur, between swinging moods between rage and depression it’s hard to keep track of when what happened. You can’t go back to Georgia, you don’t want to go back to Georgia, but what’s going to happen? You know absolutely nobody and your plans have been utterly fucked. So, what? Get rid of the kid? Maybe? No. Maybe… No. Just get a job, raise a kid, yep, sure; this has to be the worst thing ever.

Surprisingly the next month of pregnancy isn’t horrible, you snagged a desk job at the local police department, and you’ve been setting roots down. The doctor--Lillian, you learn, the doctor from before--has been a big help, a friend, you’d consider her; she has a kid of her own with her wife and has been coaching you through your first trimester of growing an unnamed fetus growing within you.

You’re sitting pretty in your OB/GYN’s office, waiting for her to come in and do your four month ultrasound and tell you the gender, which you hope is some because if you have to listen to anymore of the incessant drone of the news anchor you might go insane.

Finally she walks in, all chipper smiles and pink gloves as she wheels the ultrasound machine in behind her. The gel is cold, making you hiss as it’s smeared across your stomach, the tech chuckling at the reaction.

“Do you have any names picked out yet?” she asks, getting the machine all kicked up and ready. She tuts playfully, as you shake your head no, waving a hand through the air. “Well, no pressure, I had a friend who didn’t pick a name until her kid was crowning.”

You cringe at that, finding it to be way too much information; if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that you’re getting a c-section. Natural birth seems scary as shit.

“Are you excited to find out the gender?” is the next question asked as she drags the transducer across your stomach, trying to pinpoint the child. You shake your head again, a ‘yes’ this time.

“Yeah, I am. I don’t have a preference, but I figured knowing the gender would take a little stress off, knowing what to buy and all.” you tell her, pulling a chuckle from both of you. She nods in agreement, cheering quietly as she finally finds the baby.

“In that case, I am happy to tell you that you are having a…” she moves the wand around a little more, squealing happily, seemingly having found the right angle, “girl, it’s a girl! Congrats!” she beams, reaching around to press the print button on the machine.

A sigh leaves your lips as you stare up at the black and white blob that is your baby; a baby girl apparently. Wow. You smile as she hands you the pictures, ‘Congratulations’ scrawled on the bottom of the film.

You can’t seem to find words as the doctor hands you a paper towel to wipe the excess gel off, her head wiggling as she celebrates on your behalf. She busies herself with cleaning everything up as you pull your pants pack on properly, ready to leave the room before something catches your attention.

There’s a red banner rolling at the bottom of the TV, words flashing ‘breaking news.’ You tap the doctor’s shoulder, asking her to turn the volume up on the TV. Her face falls at the sight, nodding as she clicks the volume up several notches.

“Breaking news, multiple reports of a virus outbreak have been recorded in the last several hours. There has been little comment from the government--Wait, one moment please,” is the only thing you manage to hear before a loud and annoying blare emits from the TV, “This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill,” and back to the news guy.

“This just in, cities are going on lockdown, soldiers invading hospitals and the government is advising everybody to stay in their homes. Do not try leaving your city, stay at home or indoors. There has been an outbreak. I repeat--” what the fuck? You listen to the spiel again, trying to wrap your head around what he’s saying.

A nurse rushes in, ushering you out of the room and out the front door, bidding you good luck. There’s already panic starting in the streets; people are flooding stores and cars jamming the streets.

You know how you said being pregnant was the worst thing ever? Scratch that.

[fizzybin]

Let go

Warnings: mention's of self harm and suicide, not being able to handle emotions, hypnosis, vox is a slight asshole (what's new?), fantasy of being an a mere object as an escape

Angst??

Wc: 1.3k

Inspired by @hazbinfallinginaspiral Be a doll au

a/n: I really love this AU it's honestly one of my favorites, and the creator of this AU is a wonderful writer so please check him out! (ʰᵒᵖᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵐʸ ᵃⁿᵒⁿ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᶦ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ)

slightly proof read</3

Exhaustion seeped into your bones, leaving you drained and weary. You were so done, done with the constant turmoil of your emotions, done with the self-inflicted pain that seemed to be a never-ending cycle. You were done with feeling everything so intensely, wishing for just a moment of emptiness. Your friends would come to you, complaining about feeling numb and empty, and you would nod along, offering supportive words and trying to cheer them up. But deep down, all you could think was how much you wished you were like them, free from the overwhelming weight of emotions. It felt as if a dark fog had settled over your mind and heart, making it hard to see through the haze.

Living with constant and overwhelming emotions was a never-ending battle. Every day, every hour, every moment was filled with intense feelings that you couldn't control. When sadness overtook you, it felt like you wanted to end your life. And when anger consumed you, it felt like you could do anything, even kill someone. The anxiety was crippling, making every breath feel like a struggle. And when happiness did manage to break through, it was so intense that it almost scared you. It was exhausting, and god forbid your emotions mixed together.

This place was supposed to be hell, but it didn't feel like the fire and brimstone you had imagined. It was a different kind of hell, one that seemed almost bearable yet still suffocating. Was this punishment truly deserved by anyone? The question echoed in my mind as you tried to make sense of things.

You were abruptly pulled out of your thoughts by the loud slam of Vox's office door. His heavy footsteps echoed through the monitor room as he made his way to his desk, shooting you an irritable glance as he sat down. You remained silent and stayed on the couch where you had been sitting. The sound of his keyboard clicking filled the tense silence, punctuated by occasional frustrated sighs and mutters.

You went back into your thought’s noticing he didn’t need or want anything from you. You were trying to think of a way you didn’t have to feel anything, but you couldn’t think of anything.

“Doll?” Vox's voice broke through your thoughts once again. Your eyes widened as a light bulb seemed to go off above your head. That was it - a doll. Dolls don't feel emotions, they simply exist and are content with being used whenever their owner decides to play with them. And Vox, with his hypnotic powers, could easily give you what you were searching for. After all, he already owned your soul and treated you like a prized possession. Surely, he wouldn't mind having you as his own living doll.

Vox snapped his fingers trying to get you to listen to him “are you even listing to me?? I just asked you to go get me coffee damnit.” he sounded more annoyed but you were still sitting on the couch thinking of your idea of just being a doll

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sharpness in Vox's voice. Slowly, you rose from the couch, your mind still swirling with thoughts of becoming his doll. As you made your way to the door, a plan began to form in your mind. If you could convince Vox to use his powers on you, perhaps you could finally find the peace you had been yearning for.

Returning with a steaming mug of coffee, you handed it to Vox and watched as he took a sip, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. This was your chance. Taking a deep breath, you spoke up.

As you approached Vox's desk. He was hunched over his work, completely engrossed in whatever task he was focused on. you cleared your throat and spoke his name, the words tumbling out a bit louder than you intended. He snapped his head up, dark eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at you over the rim of his mug. "What?" he snapped back, taking another sip of his coffee before setting it down with a thud on the table.

“i- well I've been thinking…” You said slowly hoping to say what you were thinking of clearly “I…well you always tell me I'm too emotional and stuff…and I know I am-” vox cut you off before you could continue

“…if this is another apology just shut up already I dont want to hear it, Im busy so if your not preposing something be quiet and make yourself useful.”

You paused, feeling a surge of frustration at Vox's dismissive attitude. Gathering your thoughts, you straightened your posture and locked eyes with him, determination shining through the depths of your gaze. "No, this isn't an apology," you stated firmly, your voice unwavering. "I'm proposing something. I want you to use your powers on me." Vox raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your unexpected request. "Explain," he commanded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. Taking a deep breath “I dont want to feel my emotions anymore…do you think you could use your hypnosis and take them away…? make me like a doll almost? Just like I already do what you want…I just dont want the emotion’s that come with it”

Vox just looked at you, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he sighed “so let me get this right…you want to be a mindless doll? no emotions, no thoughts. Just completely obedient?” you nodded “yes..”

“I can work with that”

He stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as he moved. He walked towards you, standing right in front of you, and you couldn't help but notice his intense gaze. It was as if he was analyzing every aspect of your being, trying to understand your motive.

"Are you sure about this?" he finally asked, his voice low and authoritative.

You nodded again, your eyes steady as you met his. "I'm sure," you replied, your voice barely audible.

He drew in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with determination. You couldn't help but notice the fire in his eyes, the unyielding confidence that radiated from them. As he reached out to grip your chin, you felt a shiver run down your spine. He commanded your attention, silently communicating through the tap of his finger on the left side of his screen. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. The once familiar red in his eyes had transformed into a mesmerizing swirl of black, drawing you under his command

"You will become nothing more than a lifeless puppet, devoid of all emotion and thought. Your existence will revolve solely around my every command. You are utterly powerless without me, and every command I give is your entire purpose for existence."

Your mind began to blur, the world around you becoming hazy and indistinct. Vox's words echoed in your ears, sinking deep into the core of your being. It felt as though a heavy fog was descending upon your consciousness, shrouding your thoughts and emotions in a thick veil of nothingness. The last remnants of your turbulent feelings slipped away, leaving behind a vast emptiness that seemed to stretch into eternity.

As Vox continued to exert his hypnotic power over you, a sense of calm washed over your once tumultuous soul. It was a strange sensation, this newfound peace that settled within you. You could no longer feel the weight of your emotions bearing down on you, nor the constant turmoil that had plagued your every waking moment. Instead, there was only stillness, a profound silence that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

You stood there before Vox, a blank canvas awaiting his every brushstroke. Your eyes reflected nothing but obedience, your mind devoid of any resistance.

“Good Doll, Just let go”

[pursuitseternal]

✨⚔️Chapter 3–“Little Huntress:” update to “Love Me, Hate Me” ⚔️✨Enemies to lovers retelling

Astarion x Tav (Katja) | M chapter | 3.8 K

🎨 by @dafna-winchester

Summary: After being bitten, Katja spends a restless night, learning for once that monsters are sometimes made… not born. One wayfairing stranger makes her confront these feelings, forcing her to question that straighter and narrow view of the Gur… much to Astarion’s delight.

CW: Act 1 spoilers, Astarion’s trauma rears its head, corruption kink incoming, Gandrel scene retelling

Previous ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Katja tossed and turned and then tossed some more.

Blood replenished, but her stomach curled in on itself with hate and disgust. At least, yeah, that’s what she thought it was. Sitting up in her dark tent, legs tangled in her bedroll, she stared at her wrist in the dim light of dawn. Those fang marks stared right back at her, angry, red circles ringed in darker flesh from the ice of his bite.

It… wasn’t supposed to feel that good, was it? She flopped herself back down on her other side. Or maybe it was, maybe it was supposed to pull her under his spell, weaken her constitution to make her hot and wet and dripping with the need for his cool touch on her cheek and between her…

“Fuck,” she hissed to herself, kicking her covers off completely. It was no use, she would be miserable tomorrow with no sleep.

Maybe just some fresh air? Just a walk to clear her head… the rest of the revelry had shut down long ago, the fires smoldering. With everyone so drunk, no one stayed awake to stoke it, she realized.

Dangerous. Katja groaned, taking on the responsibility that, once again, no one else noticed. She grabbed some grass, some sticks, poking and feeding the fire until it was strong again. Strong enough to keep the scary monsters away.

“I might have one good eye,” a warm, jovial voice spoke from behind her, “but I can see you got to fire-tending before me.”

Wyll stood calmly behind her, his face turned into that casual, confident grin. It made Katja’s heart steady, even as it made her wrist sting with pain and shame. “Well, I figure if you want something done right… ��� She reached far enough over for another log from the pile, the cuff of her sleeve creeping up to reveal those angry, red circles.

Fang marks.

Any monster hunter worth his salt would recognize them.

And Wyll was worth… a lot of salt.

“Katja,” he whispered, watching as she gruffly pulled her sleeve back over the bite wounds. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” came her reply. For once, her cold, distant, grumpy nature worked in her favor and hid the lie. “You should see the other guy,” she made her lips laugh.

“I bet he looks sated, happy, and stronger,” Wyll jested back, folding his arms over his chest. “I may have just joined your party, but I can see the tragic charm of your… friend.”

“He’s not my friend,” she interrupted with vehemence, standing and squaring her shoulders, ready to argue.

But Wyll just laughed, warm and rolling, holding his hands up in surrender. “Easy, Barbarian,” he spoke in jovial tones. “I’m not judging. I might have killed my fair share of monsters and fiends, but never a vampire. Those are harder to find outside their hunting grounds. They don’t make themselves as… dramatically obvious as our companion.”

“Dramatically obvious? You mean loud and annoying,” Katja rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t resist glancing at his rose and scarlet tent where he was trancing.

“At the very least, he might be a menace and an egomaniac with a flair for the dramatic and a penchant for bloodshed, but Astarion isn’t soulless, heartless, or of the infernal persuasion.” Wyll trailed off, a distant look in his one good eye. “You’re not beholding your soul to anything truly evil…”

Katja scowled. “How can you say that?” she scoffed, grinding her own booted toe in the dirt and ash. “Aren’t you the Blade of Frontiers, the best monster hunter on the Sword Coast? You should be appalled at me… tell me I’ll be banished from Selûne’s light just for thinking all the depraved… impure… unholy…”

“Ah, ta, ta,” Wyll stopped her, frantically waving his arms. “I’m a Warlock, not a Priest. I don’t need your confession, by Balduran’s beard.” He shifted uncomfortable on his feet for a moment, and Katja wanted nothing more than to be divinely smitten right then and there.

“Gods… I don’t know what to do,” she sighed, her scarred face looking into the night sky, a canvas for her inner turmoil. “He told me if I let him feed, I can have the head of his Master as a bounty for my tribe. I’ll be Chief Hunter for sure, but…” That face grimaced with something other than pain.

“Katja,” Wyll spoke softly, assuringly. “I’ll be the first to admit ignorance on the ways of the Gur, but I do know one thing about battles— the enemy of my enemy is my….” He gave a flourish with his hand, waiting for her to finish the tried and true phrase.

Katja just waited, dark eyes wide and waiting on his wisdom. “What?” she asked, a few beats of silence later.

“Seriously?” Wyll’s face broke into a goodhumored and skeptical grin. “Friend. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“Astarion is not… my friend,” Katja’s hackles bristled at the mere insinuation. Again.

“It’s a phrase? Like, choosing the lesser of two evils?”

“Why would I want a lesser evil?” Katha shook her braided head. “I want the no-evil-option.”

Wyll gave a heavy sigh. “What I mean is… maybe Astarion isn’t as he appears at first. Some monsters are born…. Others are made.”

That made her pause, her little nose scrunching, her blonde head tilting. Her dark eyes darted to Astarion trancing on his bedroll in front of his tent. Even from here, she could see the little rise and fall of his chest, taking sleepy breaths he technically didn’t need. His fingers curled into that shape Elves did. His pointed ears twitched in his reverie, whatever he relived in his meditations clearly affected him. His jaw clenched, and those breaths came faster and more frantic.

She hadn’t even noticed that Wyll had withdrawn to sit by the fire, or that her feet had led her closer to observe Astarion in his rest. He muttered to himself, names and grunts that sounded half-formed in his throat. If she crouched… yes, if she crouched she could hear names— Dal… Petras… Violet… Cazador. That last one was a snarl on his lips as his eyes flashed open. His breath was too quick, his eyes dark and dilated with rage, and… were those tears pooling in the corner of his eyes?

Unsure what came over her, but she reached out to soothe that pain. Katja pressed a hand to his own, only to get a face full of fangs and death-cold breath as he pinned her under him in the dirt.

“What are you doing?” he snarled, his thighs trapping her waist, his hands grabbed tight on her wrist and the other now on her throat. But in two blinks of his eyes, he released her. Her hands and throat at least. He raised himself up, a smirk on his sweaty face as he kept her pinned beneath his legs.

“And here I thought I was the nightcrawler that slipped into beds to seduce the sleeping…” he purred, but his voice seemed a little tight, less velvety than his usual simpering tones. “What’s wrong, darling? Come for a cuddle?”

“Get off me. I was just trying to help,” she snarled, pushing on his belly and thrashing beneath him.

“Oh, I bet you were,” he leaned down again, “in fact I can think of something very hard you could help me with… maybe a few times….”

Katja stared at him, neither angry nor submissive. Just those dark eyes boring up into his face as she stilled. “What was your nightmare about?”

Astarion froze for the splittest second. Then he breathed a laugh. “I wasn’t having a…”

“Who’s Dal and Petra’s and Violet?” she interrupted.

A reluctant groan, and he slipped off her, settling with one knee bent into his chest, his head tilted back to look into the stars. “My siblings,” he muttered after a moment. “Not… not my literal siblings, mind you, the other six spawn Cazador sired.” For that moment, as the moonlight bathed his pale skin, making his silver hair glow as if it were kissed by the stars, Katja’s heart stopped. He could have been any ordinary seductive Elf, with his mouth shut and his eyes closed.

Sitting up, she waited for more. But he didn’t offer anything, not yet.

“Why were you crying and thrashing and…”

“Alright, enough, you intrusive vagrant,” Astarion leveled his crimson glare at her, unamused… well maybe a little amused. “Cazador would send me and my six siblings into the city to bring him victims, we… couldn’t say no, compelled by him and his every dark whim. I had to lure his prey back to the palace by every means necessary, most especially with the gifts I was given…” He gestured dramatically the whole length of his body, from shimmering grey hair, to his bare chest, to the tips of his unclad toes. “If we failed, or disobeyed, or resisted, he would torture us… or even compel us to torture ourselves.”

His hand gripped around hers like a vice, pulling her closer as he twisted around. “You were too busy hating my undead guts to probably notice, but here…” As he turned, he placed her hand on the back of his shoulder. Rises and ridges, jagged and rough script circled in scars across his whole back.

“Moonmaiden’s light…” Katja whispered in shock.

“More like Cazador’s sadism,” Astarion scoffed in derision. “It’s a poem, composed and carved in my flesh one night, punishment for nothing more than the fact I existed.”

Katja couldn’t help herself, her fingers running over the weird shapes and whorls of his cool flesh. “Reason enough for nightmares…” she murmured.

Astarion turned once more, his finger tracing down her own jagged line in her cheek’s flesh. “Well, you told me of your scars,” he shrugged, almost gently, “I figured maybe I could do the same, since we do have our little… understanding now.” That look of vague kindness shifted, twisting back into that smirk of suave seduction. “And… I might have noticed that you didn’t stab me in the back, given the opportunity.”

“Don’t hold your blood-stinking breath, vampire,” Katja scowled in that little way of hers. “Just because I’m not killing you doesn’t mean I like you.”

“I’d be offended if you did like me, or if you stopped having murderous thoughts about me,” he crooned.

Katja grinned, turning her head and brushing her hands together to hide it as she stood. “Night,” she bid politely. Too politely.

His hand gripped hers roughly from her side. His thumb tracing over the fresh mark. “I think that tortuous nightmare left me… strained,” he purred, voice smooth as Cormyran silk. “You wouldn't mind soothing me a bit more with one last nibble, would you?”

Katja clenched her teeth, begrudgingly sitting back down on his bedroll. Their bodies decently far apart, she judged with a satisfied smile.

His bite was no less painful this time… nor less pleasurable. She tried to hide the way her back arched, concealing that tiniest clench of her thighs and her cunt. But more unnerving was how he just… stared at her.

He only took a few polite swallows before his tongue jutted out to lick the puncture wounds closed. “Finished?” she sniped at him, pulling her wrist away with white hot hostility.

Astarion just smiled and licked his lips, dabbing a finger at the bloodied corner of his mouth. “For now, my little treat,” he replied, a voice of silken seduction and venom all at once. “Don’t forget to say your prayers before you sleep,” he called, that sadistic lilt in his honeyed voice.

And Katja grumbled as she slapped her tent flap closed behind her. “Moonmaiden, deliver me…” came her prayer.

As she wrapped her hand around those icy wounds in her wrist, she ignored the needling thoughts in her brain… Did she really want to be delivered from this… from him?

The next morning was filled with acrid bog stink and rot. Katja could sense it, the Hag’s lands rife with dark magic meant to eat you alive. No way in the nine hells would she let some Hag offer her a cure. Gods…. If she thought about it long enough, she realized this was one story she could never tell to her tribe.

If she ever saw them again, that was.

It was just one monster after another… infecting her, helping her, possibly curing her… fucking and feeding from her….

With that though, Astarion turned his head, smirking over his shoulder. Fuck, Katja wondered, was he listiening through the tadpole?

A nice solid glower only made him scowl in return before focusing back on the road ahead. Katja took that as a victory. She’d show him she wouldn’t cow to all his demands; she might agree to make him stay strong with the boon of her blood, but he wouldn’t order her or control her… or dominate her…

Oh, that last one made her shiver just a little. Swallowing, she forced away the ghosts of his touch on her body and the memory of his mouth on her skin. Focus on finding the Hag, she reminded herself. Focus on the vapors of the bog and that stink of powdered iron vine…

Powdered iron vine? She froze in her tracks and squinted up the hill. “Astarion,” she hissed.

“Yes darling?” he turned and walked backwards, hands gripped into the straps of his pack, “I thought you were pretending I didn’t exist, too ashamed of your lover of a Vampire Sp—”

Katja lurched forward and clapped her palm over his sneering, ignorant mouth.

“What the hells do you think…” he muttered and hissed under her grip.

“Ah, stranger,” a warm voice bid them as a traveler approached them. “Forgive the aroma… Powdered…”

“Iron vine, yes,” Katja interrupted as she awkwardly released Astarion’s mouth, lips that now gaped in disgusted surprise. “Kushti divvus,” she greeted, guessing which dialect of her people he might speak.

Another Gur.

Apparently she guessed correctly as he eased his stance. This Gur was stocky, built for the hunt and the glory of their people. Surely he was the best of his tribe, and by the necklaces and strands of bone trophies and beads on his belt, he always got his quarry. Forcing a smile, she made every sinew in her body follow suit. If he suspected the monster she kept as company… Well, there would go her only chance to use him for Cazador’s head, for her own pride and promotion and future. A prize like that would serve her far more than some weather beaten old coot.

“A fellow child of Selûne here?” the stranger grinned, hands on his hips as his weathered, tanned face grinning wider.

Katja grunted, careful to show deference to an elder. “The scent of iron vine is not unfamiliar to a younger hunter,” she bowed her head. About to reach her hand out in greeting, her gaze caught the fleeting sight of those infernal bite marks. Shame seared through her, and she stuck it in her pocket. “Are you hunting so far out from tribe lands?”

Astarion’s honey voice took that tone that jeered with all the snark in his undead soul. “Pfft, is every Gur a monster hunter? How quaint you have more purpose than just vagrant cutthroats…”

Katja shot him a look, one that was supposed to do as much damage as her axe, one he wasn’t supposed to just blow off with that well-practiced, easy smirk of his. “Ignore the Elf,” she stressed the last word, “he talks too much.”

“Fairest and wisest beings are not my quarry,” the stranger arched a dark brow. “My name is Gandrel, and I am indeed seeking a monster, a Vampire Spawn, in these lands. His name is Astarion, and I am to bring him back with me to my tribe. I hope that the Hag of these lands will help me flush him out after the sun sets tonight.”

“Is that wise? Using one monster to trap another?” Katja folded her arms, insolence edging her tone. “If he’s just a Spawn, why risk more of your soul to seek aid from a disgusting Hag?”

Gandrel paused, his dark eyes skimming over the short little Barbarian, that glance quickly taking in each of her companions. Then, he scanned her up and down, no detail would be missed, not with his wizened experience. His brow furrowed in suspicion, his gaze was quick and sharp.

Shit.

“Did your elders not teach you respect, child?” Gandrel suddenly shifted onto his toes. “Your own presence in these lands is… curious, too young and insignificant to be on your own hunt. Which begs me to ask you… how did you come by those fang marks on your wrist?”

Katja could feel Astarion coiling like a spring beside her.

“They are fresh,” Gandrel’s thick, cracked lips turned in a chilling half smile. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d say they were given out of… familiarity. The wrist isn’t a Spawn’s first choice of bite unless they mean to draw out the life of their victim for reasons of torture, mercy, or affection.”

Katja’s pulse was deafening. The burn of shame was immeasurable, only outmatched by the swirling, gut dropping angst that churned in her belly to think that another Gur would take Astarion from her. He was hers… her prize that was. Her chance at the head of a Vampire Lord.

Fuck this guy, she decided.

“Well, Astarion,” Katja gave the Vampire a twisted smirk. “Which one is it?”

The Pale Elf suddenly flexed his muscles, a wide and wicked smile on his face, catching the scent of ambush in the air. “Torture, it’s the torture one,” he purred. “Just to be clear.” Unsheathing his daggers, he bowed his head in mock submission. “Together, my little vagrant?”

“Impossible,” Gandrel’s eyes went wide. “But… the sun!” His panic set in, the inconceivable truth of a daywalking Spawn all but shattering that experienced air.

“The only thing impossible is your survival,” Astarion purred, running a finger down the sharp edge of his blade. “I’m going to enjoy this…”

Only once he was licking Gur blood off his dagger did Astarion finally catch his breath. They paused just off the path, cleaning their blades and resting before finding the same Hag their unwanted intruder had sought. He watched Katja as she knelt by the Gur’s corpse. Rudely, she had denied him feeding from this foe, and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. From the corner of his eyes, he watched as she muttered prayers, placing two coins over his lifeless eyes before standing once more.

It was almost picturesque, this scene of pious devotion and tradition. Two things he loathed. And because they were Gur practices, why that only made him loathe it more.

She took her sweet time standing in that congealing pool of blood before she moved once more. A few paces away, and she stopped and turned to use one of a few spells her tough Barbarian brain knew. “Arde!” she called, and the corpse burst into a mass of flames. Their enemy was no more, just ash and smoke.

Astarion sat back on his heels, narrowing his eyes. Katja was a curiosity, a conundrum he couldn’t quite pick apart. And it irked him to no end. What started as a small way of exacting his revenge against a whole people on one little girl now became… complicated.

He hated the Gur, those cutthroats that took their ignorance out on him one fateful night outside of the Magistrates’ offices. The night he died in this world. Shuddering at the memory, he forced himself to assess this blonde braided beauty more carefully. She stood in a silent vigil, mumbling her Selûnite prayers one after another. She looked so… immaculate, pious, untouchable. Pure. It made his stomach lurch into his throat. In excitement, in anticipation.

A thought niggled the back of his mind, that part of him, ruthlessly cruel and oh so skilled at manipulation, plotted long and hard. Those thoughts reverberated with the notion of how much fun it could be to show her just what she missed on that straight and narrow path of the Gur.

A little corruption would go a long way, he smirked. Besides, he owed her a good time after taking his side.

He suspected her ambition protected him, her need to keep him alive so she could claim Cazador’s death as her final offering to become chief hunter… or whatever those backwater people called it. He didn’t care, so long as someone helped him kill that bastard.

Ever the conundrum, she stepped into the ashes, kicking them up with her boots. As all the dust had settled, then she reached in and retrieved those same two coins.

That… that made him smile. “Well,” he purred and resheathed his dagger, “perhaps there’s some hope for you after all. I was beginning to think you were no fun at all.”

“Why waste two coins?” she harrumphed, putting them in her pocket. “He’s not going to need them in paradise.”

“Yes, yes,” Astarion purred. “Eternal rest grant unto him, etcetera etcetera…” Those crimson eyes leveled at her, all brimming with primal hunger.

Katja shuddered, trying very hard not to feel like a mouse in a trap. Trying hard to remember she was the hunter.

“You know, I could show you a different sort of paradise.” He crept closer on silent feet, the tip on his tongue dabbling the teeny corner of his lips. “You wouldn’t even have to go through death to reach it, perhaps just a little death… once or twice if you’re very responsive.”

Katja’s scarred face twisted into a perplexed frown. “How can anyone die a little?” she sneered.

Undeterred, he grabbed that bitten wrist, pressing his full, smirking lips to that pulsing vein beneath. “Oh my dear, I’m glad you asked. My tent, tonight. Once the others are asleep, I’ll make sure you are thoroughly illuminated, my little huntress.”

[kingofthering]

obsessed with the bodyswap you just wrote!! sooooo insane making it would LOVE to know where you think it goes from there… are the wounds healed with the tenth under vale’s name… or is it WORSE because vale knows that He was not actually the one to win it… do they fuck nasty about it (kidding. mostly)

Also going to include @moonshynecybin's tags here because they made me pause, especially the first one. Fic in question here for additional context.

So, I thought about this a lot because I feel like this touches the Rosquez thesis a lot, and the many ways you can interpret it.

The damage to their relationship was done before they even raced in Sepang (let alone before Jorge won the championship). They were doing better before it all crumbled down in 2018. And then they once again appeared friendly before divorcing again in Misano in 2019.

All that to say that if we're being real, they were probably doomed in the long run, no matter the outcome of 2015.

In this little universe, though, I do believe that end result of the championship and Marc fighting for him can alter the perception and the understanding Valentino has of Marc, which is key to a better development of their relationship, I think.

(That and better communication but let's not ask too much of them. Anyway.)

From Marc's side, I believe that things are pretty straight forward. Contrary to what Valentino wanted to believe, Marc genuinely didn't have any reason to make Jorge win (they didn't even start looking friendly until 2019, Valentino please, anyway I diverge) and while the press conference definitely annoyed him and made him want to have Valentino pay in some way (cue him being a little more of a nuisance than usual irl), I don't think that's his final mindset in the body swap universe (which is why I wrote things the way I did with him doing his best and getting Vale the tenth, duh).

I've always tended to consider Marc has a person who doesn't hold a grudge (we have one point in common, yeah!) and to me it's always aligned with canon events and the way he's always talked about separating the on-track events from the off-track events. Of course there was some ignoring going on in the beginning of 2016 but then he was the one reaching out to him.

He's always cared about Valentino a lot and maybe he's turned a blind eye on things being a little weird in the months leading to Sepang while being just a little aware of them (like, they were still laughing together and holding hands two race weekends before Sepang, we've all seen the confused/lost expression on his face post press con, home boy did not see that one coming) but when he wakes up in Valentino's body that Sunday in Valencia? Yeah, deep down he still wants the best for Valentino. So he wins him the tenth.

On Valentino's side, though? Oh boy. He legitimately cannot understand Marc's brain process through this and it fucks him up a lot (story of his life, truly). And it's silly but his mind goes both "oh maybe he's not that evil after all" and "hm, he must have done that with an ulterior motive" (hashtag self sabotage). I don't think he believes in that second one much but it's hard to let go of it because it's also the train of thought that justifies his actions and words of the past weeks, so.

Anyway. Logistics now, because you all know I'm a very (too) practical person.

Valentino needs to be there for the celebrations of his title (watching Marc having to do the little gimmick they had prepared for the 10th after he crossed the finish line was painful enough) (I'm going to assume Marc got briefed / reminded about it by Uccio before the race, just in case) (I'm not gonna imagine what they could have prepared but it was definitely the most awkward moment of Marc's life).

If we keep going in the last scene of the first post, we can go like :

"You need to apologize for me, so we can be seen together without raising a billion questions."

"What?"

"We don't even need to organize anything because you'll have to talk to the press tomorrow after testing anyway. You can say that I got a little carried away because I'd been waiting on that title for a long time and I shouldn't have gone off on you like that. We talked and it's all fine now."

Marc's face is unreadable and it's disconcerting. Valentino has always been told that he wears all of his feelings on his sleeve and he very rarely sees himself on camera but being met with his face so guarded? It throws him off a lot.

When the silence stretches, Marc has a short laugh. "Oh you're serious? You want me to go out there and actually lie for you? Just so you can be there when all of Italy is at your feet again?"

On a corner of his mind, Valentino has to wonder if being in his body is giving Marc more confidence than usual because even Valentino can recognize that this is the most confrontational Marc has ever been with him. [which, this is just Marc fighting for himself because he's exhausted and he's in the wrong body —a stressful experience already— and he's just done the right thing and Valentino still isn't happy with him, he needs a break]

Marc's not looking at him. He's barely been doing so since they woke up that morning.

Valentino doesn't call him out on it.

"I think this would be good for you too. If you think about it."

And then Marc looks at him, murderous enough that Valentino feels uneasy and wraps his arms around himself. [How nice to finally worry about the influence of his words on the public's opinion of Marc, right?]

"No wonder you want me to do the apologizing for you considering how much you suck at it," Marc huffs. Valentino thinks he might see some tension releasing from his shoulders. [Because Marc, bless his poor 22 years-old soul, can recognize that this is actually good for him. Doesn't mean he can't give Valentino a hard time about it.] "You're sure you don't want to use my voice to make me apologize for things I didn't do? I'm sorry that my racing had an impact on the championship, I'm glad all ended as it should have."

Valentino can recognize the sarcasm dripping in Marc's voice. He still tells him to shut up but it doesn't sound mean. Not to his ears. Not to Marc's considering the half smile that pulls on his face for maybe one second.

The next day, testing happens (going relatively well considering the situation) and Marc apologizes on Valentino's behalf and he squeezes Valentino's shoulder when he passes by Valentino (while he's talking to the press) and both his words and the photo make rounds on Twitter and all over the Internet.

Then, Marc goes to Tavullia with Valentino. I don't care if that's too big and going to raise too many questions, it's happening.

Don't ask me more about that day but yes, of course they end up having sex about it. It's always sex fixing those situations, anyway. I'm not sure I can say much more about it because body swap sex fucks with my mind a little but yes to all the headcanons.

I do know that 22 years-old Marc exuding Valentino's confidence and boldness sure is a sight for sore eyes.

Okay and I just reread this original ask. I think that Valentino will forever feel a little weird about it but I don't think there is resentment, not really. Can he ever truly deconstruct the delusional thoughts he built in his head (with Uccio's help) in the second half of 2015? I don't know.

But I think he has enough clarity to know he wouldn't have achieved what needed to be achieved in Valencia without Marc's help, so there is that.