#bc you should NEVER take things out of context

[gasolinerainbowreads]

ON THE GREEN UPDATE?!?!?!??!?!

LET'S FUCKING GO HELL YEAH

The hatch takes some strength to pry open, and though you should be more nervous about what – or who — you might find inside, you’re temporarily distracted by the sound coming through your commlink. Heavy exhales, low grunts. A low groan of exertion as he pulls, followed by a breathless sound of relief. The crux of your thighs throbs, and as he disappears into the hatch, you scramble up behind him, right on his heels.

got that thang purrriiiinnngggg lmao

You grimace. “What did you call me?” “A channel rat. Your little scavenging fingers, digging through the depths of a ship for a treat.” Dismissing his teasing smile, you shake your head. “Didn’t you tell me once that those things reeked of piss?” He chuckles. “I did indeed.”

piss kink Ezra alert? 👀

That sound. You can hear it in your sleep. No different than the sound of your own zipper being tugged down, and yet, somehow, it is. You envision the entire scene with startling clarity every night: his bare fingers working the clasp, his suit falling away from his body, the sound underneath it all.

damn even a zipper is getting her worked up. he better rail her soon or she's gonna go full Yellow Wallpaper

Cross-legged on your cot, you enjoy the sounds of domesticity filling the pod: the gentle scrub of your steel cleaning brush, the clink of a metal pan on the stove, a spoon swirling along the bottom of the pan as Ezra stirs. His humming joins the din, and you glance up at him.

omg domestic Ezra 🥰

“If you go, I go.”

YOUR HONOR, I LOVE THEM

His gloved hand strokes down the smooth metal of the hatch, searching for an opening. When he finds it, you can hear a terse smile in his exhale of relief. “There she is,” he murmurs. “You gonna open up for me?”

something tells me this won't be the last time we hear Ezra say something like this 😏

“Just wait till I kill you,” the man warns between his teeth. “I’m gonna fuck that girl raw. Right here. Right next to your dead fucking –” A grizzled choking sound cuts off the man’s words, and you whirl to face them just in time to see Ezra jerking the knife out of the man’s neck. Blood spurts across Ezra’s gloves, and he shoves the knife down again, and again. The force behind it is immense, Ezra’s face contorted in a look you’ve never seen before. His jabs are ruthless and quick, cutting and deep, and his arm speeds up, his face in a rage-filled trance, his eyes wild and cold all at the same time. “Mine,” you hear him between heavy breaths, between each plunge. “She’s mine.” Frozen, you watch in a morbid sort of fascination, but also in relief. He doesn’t stop stabbing until the man is long dead.

Your hand sweeps across this skin more than once, trying not to think about all the ways you imagined touching his stomach for the first time. It’s soft under your fingertips, a slight round to his lean belly and though his neck is taut with tension, he remains still under your exploration.

nnnggghhhhh belly

Using one hand to pinch his flesh together, you brace the stapler against his skin, blood smearing on the metal. You punch the first one through, and he hisses, his hand gripping your wrist. “Shit. Shit. Keep going.”

another line I think we just might hear Ezra say again but in a different context lmao

You need him to survive and get off this planet, but you also need him more than that. Deeper than that.

oh yeah? how deep?

He’s been awake for a while. He has wished for you like this so many times.

lmao this fuckin sneaky bitch! pretending to be asleep is only gonna work so long when she sees you're bricked up 😂

He’s never been touched like this by anyone, and it takes everything he has to keep his eyes closed — until he feels you press your lips against his.

okay but can we talk about the parallels here bc, yes, she's younger/less experienced, yet here he is experiencing this sort of attention for the first time. there are still things that are new for him to experience - the emotional vulnerability (like him feeling worried), the physical intimacy that blossoms from tenderness, etc. I really love how they mirror and contrast each other all at once

“This,” you whisper back, bending down for another kiss.

I'm actually going insane that the chapter ended like this so thanks lmao

UGH another amazing chapter, Kelli! The sexual tension made me feel touch starved just reading it. And the looming threat of violence and then the high stakes action/violent scene were so so so well written. Even knowing they have more of a story, I was still sitting there reading worried something was going to happen! (yeah yeah Ezra got cut, but other than that hahaha)

THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS! I love your Ezra so much, and I don't care how long in between updates it is, this story is worth it every. single. time. I think about it often, and it is always a better day when the next chapter to their story comes out. 💚

On The Green: 5

Ezra Prospect x f!reader

Rating: M — some prospecting violence

A/N: I cannot even tell you how much this chapter kicked my rear end — it would have never been finished without the love and care and hand holding of @the-scandalorian and @the-ginger-hedge-witch ❤️ Both extremely insightful in their own ways, I am eternally grateful to each of them ❤️ Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

—

All morning he’s been watching you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

The weight of his gaze on your back every time you turn around, logic argues it’s because he’s guiding you into something he knows you’re nervous about. But in the end, shame wins out. It tells you that he knows what you were doing last night while he was in the shower. You contemplate just asking him directly, if only to relieve the feeling, to get it out in the open.

Instead, you keep your mouth closed and decide to put your focus where it should be in the first place.

“Go over it again,” you ask him.

He nods underneath the dome of his helmet, carefully picking his way along a nearly invisible path.

“It’s a wreck. Been one for a while. I came across it a few cycles back, but once I saw that she was no longer functional, I cut my losses. Went through her innards, took what I could – which,” he looks back at you, “mind you, wasn’t much.”

He faces forward again, holding a branch to the side for you to pass. You step carefully over a thick root, accepting the hand that he holds out for help.

“She had been long abandoned even then, so I don’t think we’ll encounter any unsavory protectors today.”

You can tell from the state of the path that he must be telling the truth. The indentation made by long ago steps is covered by overgrowth, a trench you can only feel rather than see. The ground slopes underneath the creeping vines, the crooked line of it hidden by lush leaves. You follow his yellow suit like a beacon, the color a distinct contrast against all the green.

With each step, nerves unfurl in your stomach at the idea that he might be wrong. That there might be another person there, just as eager to keep what’s theirs as you are to take it. The feeling creeps through your veins like the thick vines that crawl over the soil, and keeping your eyes on the familiar yellow in front of you, you squash down the nervousness with every break of one under your boot.

“Slow now. She’s close.”

He holds a gloved hand out to the side, and you peek around the curve of his shoulder. Just beyond the trees, there’s a pod covered in overgrowth, a relic left behind. The windows are yellowed with age, mildew growing over their oval openings.

The hatch is closed, and the area is silent and still.

He takes careful, scouting steps and you follow close behind him.

“Weapon out, Birdie.”

Your thrower already in your grasp, you tighten your hold on it.

You focus on his breathing for a moment, slow and steady through the speaker in your helmet.

“You good?” His voice crackles over the comm link.

When you look up, he meets your gaze with a level one of his own. Patient, checking in.

At the hesitation you can feel in your expression, he reassures. “I promise you, any occupants are long gone.” Reaching out, he lifts the barrel of your thrower. “Still though, can’t be too careful.”

You nod, and he takes the lead, shielding you.

The hatch takes some strength to pry open, and though you should be more nervous about what – or who — you might find inside, you’re temporarily distracted by the sound coming through your commlink. Heavy exhales, low grunts. A low groan of exertion as he pulls, followed by a breathless sound of relief.

The crux of your thighs throbs, and as he disappears into the hatch, you scramble up behind him, right on his heels. There is a tense moment as he rounds the corner, but when he gives you the all clear, your shoulders drop their pressured weight. Relaxed, you both study the disarray in front of you.

Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust: the shards of broken monitor glass scattered on the floor, the torn seats with stuffing spilling out, the stripped panels from the wall. It’s easy to find the compartment you’re looking for: a gaping hole in the middle of the floor, wires spilling from its depths.

You curse silently. “Someone’s been in there.”

“They take everything?” he asks. Using the tip of his pistol, he nudges the lid off the top of a storage compartment and peers inside.

“I’m not sure.”

Setting your thrower and gloves to the side, you get down on all fours and reach into the open compartment. A tangle of wires obstructs your view and your fingers sift through them all, searching by touch alone.

Your arm disappears all the way up to the shoulder before you locate the sharp edge of the circuit board. Grasping it, you lift it free with a sharp tug. It takes forever to ease it out, but when you do, a grin breaks over your face.

Two converters. Worse for wear, but it’s something. Not near what you need, but it still feels like a victory nonetheless. Carefully detaching them from the board, you hold them out for his inspection, cradled in your palm.

“Look at you, my little channel rat.”

His levity sucks all of the remaining tension from the room.

You grimace. “What did you call me?”

“A channel rat. Your little scavenging fingers, digging through the depths of a ship for a treat.”

Dismissing his teasing smile, you shake your head. “Didn’t you tell me once that those things reeked of piss?”

He chuckles. “I did indeed.”

Going back to the hole in the floor, you study the wires left behind for possible scavenging. “If you call me that even one more time, I’ll shoot you in the back.”

His grin widens at your deadpan delivery.

“Deal.”

–

Back in the safety of your own pod, you pull in deep inhales of fresh air as soon as you lift your helmet off. There is a certain sort of pleasure to it, feeling the recycled air hit your cheeks. Inside the helmet, it’s humid and sticky, the blower pack in your suit not enough to combat the heat from your body. It’s built to keep you cool, but under the helmet, your hair sticks to your nape and your forehead with sweat. Under the helmet, your stale breath blows back into your face. Under the helmet, you feel like you can’t breathe sometimes - which is ironic, given the reason for it in the first place.

Ezra stands close, tossing his helmet down to fumble with the zipper of his suit.

That sound. You can hear it in your sleep. No different than the sound of your own zipper being tugged down, and yet, somehow, it is. You envision the entire scene with startling clarity every night: his bare fingers working the clasp, his suit falling away from his body, the sound underneath it all.

“You good?” He checks on you, and when you nod your head but don’t say anything, he bends his gaze to your level. The stark lighting of the pod makes his eyes look even darker, and his hand comes to rest on your shoulder. Right at the edge of your neckline, the heat of his palm brushes against your skin. “You sure?”

“Yea,” you reassure him, trying to ignore the weight behind your navel his touch brings. “It went good. Really good.”

“I think so,” he replies. “I’m impressed. Our first job as a duo, gone off without a hitch.”

He winks, squeezing your shoulder for a brief moment. When his hand slides away, you stop your body from chasing it.

“Here.” His voice pulls you from your reverie, a cleaning kit held outwards towards you. “You do this, and I’ll do dinner?”

Nodding, you take it from him.

Cross-legged on your cot, you enjoy the sounds of domesticity filling the pod: the gentle scrub of your steel cleaning brush, the clink of a metal pan on the stove, a spoon swirling along the bottom of the pan as Ezra stirs. His humming joins the din, and you glance up at him.

If there was something that you’d never have expected from your first confrontation with the man, a scene like this would be at the top of the list. When your attraction initially began, it used to eat you up inside thinking about how you didn’t know him. You felt immature and foolish thinking about how the feelings were rooted in loneliness, sprouting from a life lacking attention and flourishing in close proximity. However, as scenes like the one in front of you became more common, it was easier to accept it.

The want that you feel coats the space like the dust that lingers in the air outside; ever present, in every breath you take. You try to ignore it, a small pocket of embarrassment bubbling up every time you think about approaching him, though he seems like the type who would be into whatever arrangement you’d propose. Especially given how long he’s been alone. Not only that, but the way in which he carries himself suggests he’s ever fluid, open for whatever comes his way. Adaptable, a side effect of his lifestyle you’re sure.

You know better though.

His carefree conversation is practiced, a facade. One meant to disarm and distract. You’re fairly certain he’s past that stage with you, given not only the amount of time you’ve spent together, but also the way he looks at you. Unguarded, in the morning after he wakes or in the evening, right before he goes to bed. Distracted, letting himself slip into thought, his eyes hooded as his tongue slides slowly across his bottom lip.

Sometimes though, sometimes you see him looking at you in the same way he looks at others: like they are something to study, his eyes keenly assessing.

That look always gives you pause. No matter how much you know he’d probably say yes, his motives are the question you’d really want answered.

Picturing the bare skin along his ribs that rippled in his stretch the other day when he emerged from the shower, you silently flex your hand, mentally fitting your fingers along the velvet skin. Safe in the secrecy of your own mind, you let your daydreams flourish – a bubble that pops when he approaches your cot.

“Not a feast, by any means,” he says, sitting down next to you. “But it’ll do.”

You accept the bowl gratefully, steam rising from its contents. He blows on his spoon, taking a bite. The motion makes his jaw work, and when he swallows, you watch through the fringe of your eyelashes.

“You did good today.”

His easy praise just slips off his tongue, and for someone who has spent so much time in the darkness, you keen under its light.

You smile over at him, and he returns it - but only for a fraction before it drops.

He looks away, down at his food. “The next one might be a touch harder.”

“How come?” you ask, your mouth full.

“Because it’s occupied.”

You stop chewing.

His eyes flick up to meet yours. “Unattended pods are a thing of rarity. Most are occupied, and their inhabitants can be…”

You raise your eyebrows when he doesn’t finish the sentence. “Can be…?”

“Protective of what’s theirs.”

His statement hangs in the air, his expression sober.

Swallowing hard, you sit with it for a minute. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“Look,” he sighs, studying you. “I feel I should go alone, little bird.”

Frowning, you let your bowl rest in your lap. “What? Why? It’s too dangerous.”

He huffs in amusement. “You wound me with your lack of faith in my skills. I assure you, I’ve been navigating such situations alone for far longer than you’ve even been alive.”

The reminder of his age compared to yours should make you feel more at ease about his capabilities, but instead the statement temporarily distracts you. You take in his calloused hands, the lines that edge around the corners of his eyes, the grey flecks in his beard.

“I’ve taught you a lot,” he continues, “But letting the idea marinate, I believe it’s safer to keep you here.”

His suggestion catches you off guard. Everything about your arrangement has been with the word “partnership” in mind: he’s taught you how to dig, how to shoot, how to be aware of your surroundings. For him to want you to stay behind versus alongside him must mean there is something more dangerous about the situation than he’s letting on.

Not liking the idea of being separated from him, you press. “Trust me, I don’t doubt your skills. I’ve seen you in action.”

He sits up straighter, a proud smile stretching his cheeks, and you roll your eyes, undeterred.

“You’re the mechanic, I’m the muscle,” you mimic in his voice. “Weren’t those your words? If there is anyone there, you’ll deal with them so I can get the converters.”

“I’m afraid they won’t part with them as easily as your statement suggests.”

“I never thought they would.” You hold his gaze, searching. “Why don’t you want me there?”

He hesitates, and you can see a war within the depths of his eyes. Eventually, he answers, his voice softer. “I don’t want to subject you to…an avoidable confrontation. Not if I don’t have to.”

A beat of significant silence fills the space between you. Your dinners forgotten, the space around you shrinks to the size of the cot that you share. The urge to toss your bowl onto the ground and pull him to you builds the longer you sit with his statement, but there is something else about his words that tugs at the back of your mind.

You picture him walking into the Green alone, disappearing from your sight. Weeks with him at your side has you rejecting the mental image. Your stomach churns, your hand reaching out to cover his.

“If you go, I go.”

A grimace flashes over his features, the scar along his cheek highlighted for a moment. “I thought you’d say that.”

Rationally, you know he’s just trying to protect you, but you let your hand fall back, hurt. Busying yourself with your bowl again, you can feel him looking at you.

“Hey now,” he says, soft, but stern. “It’s not a lack of faith in your skills, trust me. It’s just that mercs out here are ruthless, raw. Their sensibilities have been swallowed whole by this place, and I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

His voice lowers even more, his tone gentle. “You remember what I said? About girls being rare in this place?”

You look up, and his gaze is fixed on yours, earnest and serious.

“I meant it.”

Apprehension flickers in your chest, but you remain firm in holding your ground. He can’t go alone.

“You really want to come with?” he asks.

You nod instantly. “Yes.”

The corner of his mouth tugs up, a hint of pride flashing through his eyes.

“Okay then, partner. Let’s talk about a plan.”

–

Ezra shifts on his cot, forcing his pillow into submission under his head.

“If you go, I go.”

Your words echo in his mind, your face appearing alongside. Your presence pulls at him from across the short distance between your cots, and he shifts again, rolling to face the wall.

He doesn’t want you to come with tomorrow.

He knows what this place is capable of, the way it carves out the morals of men to leave them shells of desperation. He himself has fallen victim to it, and though he hasn’t often found regret in his actions, he already regrets agreeing to let you come. He’s been here long enough to know that a partner is crucial to survival, but you…you’re unprecedented. You’re a girl. You’re something no one has seen in a long time, and he worries (an emotion he’s not used to) about how they’ll react when they see you.

If it’s anything like the way he reacts to you, you’re both in trouble.

You stir behind him, and he listens. You shift again, and he stills his breath.

The idea that you might be restless with the want you sated last night blossoms in his mind, heat pooling behind his navel. His fingers lightly scratch the wiry hair underneath it, just over where he aches. His cock twitches in interest, and distracting himself from the thought of everything that could go wrong tomorrow, he immerses himself in the thought of you.

You, right behind him, feet away.

You, trying to be quiet, slick need gathering between your thighs.

You, slipping your hand underneath the band of your leggings.

A phantom stickiness smears across the tips of his fingers, and they twitch against his skin. He teases at the band of his thermals, pretending his hand is yours. He moves it slowly, imagining your hesitation - eager, yet shy.

He thickens fully at the thought.

Unpracticed at hiding his attraction towards someone, he’s testing the limits of his self restraint with every minute spent in your presence. Constantly reminding himself of how vulnerable you are, the idea that you’d go along with any sort of proposition out of intimidation makes him sick. But you wanting it? You making the first move?

His hand (your hand) creeps a little lower, brushing against the base of his cock. It’s stiff to the touch, and he closes his eyes – only to be assaulted with the idea of someone else grabbing your hand to force it underneath their pants. His erection wanes, a series of images flashing through his mind: you screaming for help, you being forcibly dragged out of his sight, someone else taking from you what you never offered.

He softens.

His attachment to you is something like he’s never experienced before. This urge to keep you hidden from the world to protect you, while also helping you flourish. The need that coats him from the inside out, yet is forced to stay on a leash. It feels like a fever dream sometimes, the time he spends in the pod with you. A liminal place, a trapped sort of existence akin to hell itself in the way he wants you, but also something akin to heaven.

A companionship he’s missed, a presence he ached for and now has. Like you dropped from the sky, meant just for him.

He hears you shift again, and he frowns.

He should roll over and ask you if everything’s okay, but he knows it’s not. You’re probably worried about tomorrow and you should be. You’re as ready as you’ll ever be — as ready as this place will allow you to become before you’re thrown into the heat of the fire.

He also shouldn’t because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop himself. If he rolls over, he’ll see you — see your shadowed form in the darkness, the dips and curves of your body. He pictures himself being drawn to it, crawling the distance between your cots. Settling close to you, feeling the heat of your skin. Murmured, dulcet tones of soothing. His hands smoothing away your nerves.

His mouth being drawn to yours in the dark intimacy of the night.

He wants to tuck your face into the crook of his neck and tell you it will be fine.

But he doesn’t know if it will be, and so he stays still, guilt eating at his restless bones.

—

The pod stands alone in the clearing, silent and imposing.

Boot prints have tamped down the soil surrounding it, the greenery eaten away. The tracks are fresh, and they lead in every direction.

“How many do you think there are?”

Hidden in the green together, you speak lowly even though no one is tuned into your frequency but Ezra.

“Hard to say. I’d judge two, maybe three.” He shifts, trying to get a better view. “The size of their vessel doesn’t say much for numbers. Can’t be more than that.”

“Do you think they’re in there?”

Noting no sign of life surrounding the pod, you try to peer in the windows from afar to spot any movement.

He sighs, a heavy and resigned thing through your connection. He turns his head, and you do the same, facing each other.

“Unfortunately, Birdie, we won’t know until we open the door.”

He checks the charge on his pistol, flicking his eyes to your weapon in a motion for you to do the same. “You ready?”

Nodding, you grip your thrower. “Ready.”

Standing from your hidden spot, he takes an automatic lead in front of you. His slinking steps are careful, his breathing steady and measured. The dust motes surrounding you make the whole thing seem like a suspended dream, like you’re moving in slow motion along with them. For every step he takes, you do the same until you’re moving as mirror images, creeping closer and closer.

Anticipation and adrenaline have your entire body on high alert, yet the green around you remains eerily calm. There is no movement and no sound other than the gentle rustle of the trees, and while that would normally be muted underneath the dome of your helmet, your straining ears pick it up. A bead of sweat glides down the back of your neck, your eyes focused on Ezra’s back as he reaches the pod.

His gloved hand strokes down the smooth metal of the hatch, searching for an opening. When he finds it, you can hear a terse smile in his exhale of relief.

“There she is,” he murmurs. “You gonna open up for me?”

He works the latch open with force, and you spot check the edges of the clearing. Your heart is beating so fast you can feel it in your chest, and in contrast, Ezra seems as calm as ever. You think about your own pod in the middle of a similar clearing, and how your role has reversed in your weeks here. Once the trapped person inside, now the intruder seeking what belongs to someone else.

The hatch opens, and you crawl in behind him.

It’s empty inside, though clearly in use. Two cots are pushed against the wall, blankets and pillows crumpled on top of them. Thermals litter the floor, metal dishes are stacked next to the small sink, and there is a station of cleaning tools left out, as if someone stopped mid-task.

“Speed is of the essence, little bird.”

His voice grounds you, your eyes immediately scanning the floor. It takes a minute to find the sealed compartment, but you catch the edge of it underneath one of the cots.

“Help me move this,” you ask him, picking your way over to the panel. While you’re careful with your steps, he stomps without care on anything in his way: discarded papers on the floor, a dirty shirt. He lifts the cot with a grunt, and you drop to your knees.

The panel springs open and sifting through the wires, you wish you stopped to take your helmet off. It’s hard to get close enough to the floor with the dome limiting how close you can get, and a small huff of frustration slips from your mouth as you stick your arm down, down, down, stretching it as much as you can.

Just when you’ve reached your limit, you feel the edge of the panel.

“Anything there?” He delivers the question calmly, though you can hear the slight tone of urgency that slips through.

“Got it,” you grit through your teeth, tugging it free.

The edges of it catch on the neat wiring that surrounds it, and impatiently, you tear through it all. Lifting it from the floor, your eyes widen.

“Ten. There are ten, Ez.”

You look up at him in awestruck wonder, and he returns a tight smile.

“Speedy now. Show me how you use those nimble fingers of yours.”

You click them off with practiced precision, trying to tamp down the elation that you feel at the added weight of each one in the pouch attached to your hip. When you have all ten, you toss the panel back into the nest of wires and slip the lid back into place. Standing to get out of his way, you watch as Ezra unceremoniously drops the cot back onto the floor.

He smiles at you, a genuine one this time. “You did so good, Birdie. So good.”

Relief floods your chest at his praise. Your stomach has been in knots all morning, worsening as you sat in the bush and waited, and though you know you’re not out of danger yet, you take a moment to let your victory wash over you. A sudden, fierce wish to be back in your own pod with him takes you by surprise, a burning need to throw your helmet off and have him do the same so you can kiss him. Your body subconsciously leans forward, drawn to the idea and to him and to the need to have his praise breathed directly into your mouth for you to swallow.

A similar look flashes across his own dark features, and there is a beat of weighted tension. It swirls in the space between you, filling it — and breaking, when he grabs your hand.

He gives it a squeeze, leading you back towards the hatch. “Come on. Before they get back.”

Following the back of his suit out of the pod, you notice the surroundings of the clearing seem brighter, less ominous. The dust that floats through the air no longer seems threatening and nightmarish, but more like a pleasant dream. You take in the details for the first time today, your eyes fixed where the tops of the trees brush the sky – disappearing when you’re ripped from behind with a sudden, forceful jerk backwards.

“Ezra!”

Your thrower gets tossed from your hand, and the air is pushed from your lungs as your back hits the ground with a thud. You kick wildly and try to scramble up, and a sharp kick from behind keeps you trapped in place, forcing you onto your front.

Coughing, you lift your head under the helmet, but the edges of the dome obstruct your view. Straining, you squirm underneath the heavy pressure of a boot on your back, fighting to see where Ezra is. You can see only his boots, toe to toe with a stranger’s.

The voice above you is grizzled and deep. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Looking for something we need,” Ezra drawls, and though you can’t see his face, you can picture it. The truthful admission comes out slow and confident. “We found it, so we’ll be on our way.”

You hear the charge of a thrower above you, and Ezra’s boots shift slightly. It’s a special sort of hell to hear him through the comm link without being able to see him.

“Go in there and see what the fuck they took,” orders the man pinning you to the ground.

You see his partner's boots walk out of your sight, and hear him climb the ramp to the pod.

“You stay right there,” he warns Ezra. “One move and I’ll shoot your partner here.”

Lifting your torso with a grunt, you shift just enough to get Ezra in your sights before the boot on your back forces you back down. Even though you’re prone and he’s being held at gunpoint—both at the mercy of a stranger—reassurance floods through you at just being able to see his face.

“That would be…regrettable.”

The shift in Ezra’s expression is cold and menacing, his fingers flexing slightly on the grip of his pistol.

“That so?” the man teases. His boot wiggles, shoving you deeper into the soil. “Feels kinda scrawny. Can’t imagine what use he is to you for someone so small.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ezra counters.

“Let’s see him.”

The words take you by surprise, just like the swift jerk of your shoulders. He flips you faster than you can react, his boots coming down to step on your arms and the tip of his thrower aims directly at your face – his eyes wide with surprise right above it.

“Is this – is this a girl?”

Your boot flies up to kick him in the back, and he grunts but doesn’t budge. You do it again, and he presses the muzzle of his thrower into your chest.

“Do it again and see what happens.” Antsy, he glances up in the direction of the pod and yells to his partner. “What the fuck is taking you so long?”

Taking advantage of his split second of distraction, you use every ounce of strength you have to bow your back off the ground just enough to catch him by surprise. His boots falter, taking the pressure off your arms and you quickly sit up, driving your elbows into his thighs. He growls in frustration, trying to keep his thrower on you while also bending to swipe for your leg, and you scramble backwards in the soil. Your boots slide on the damp earth, your gloved fingers digging into the ground for purchase and there is a sharp crack in the air as Ezra aims his pistol at the man and misses. You flinch, crawling backwards to get out of the man’s reach, and panic cuts through you when you hear the stomp of boots coming down the ramp.

“What the hell –”

Those are the only words the man gets out before you hear more cracking shots, and then he’s falling backwards, dead, onto the ground.

“You son of a bitch!” The man who had you pinned lunges for Ezra, his thrower tossed to the side, a knife in his hand instead.

Ezra abandons his own weapon, throwing himself at the stranger. You watch helplessly as two of them hit the ground, fighting for control of the knife. Crawling towards Ezra’s gun, you stretch your hand towards the weapon when you hear it.

“Just wait till I kill you,” the man warns between his teeth. “I’m gonna fuck that girl raw. Right here. Right next to your dead fucking –”

A grizzled choking sound cuts off the man’s words, and you whirl to face them just in time to see Ezra jerking the knife out of the man’s neck. Blood spurts across Ezra’s gloves, and he shoves the knife down again, and again. The force behind it is immense, Ezra’s face contorted in a look you’ve never seen before. His jabs are ruthless and quick, cutting and deep, and his arm speeds up, his face in a rage-filled trance, his eyes wild and cold all at the same time.

“Mine,” you hear him between heavy breaths, between each plunge. “She’s mine.”

Frozen, you watch in a morbid sort of fascination, but also in relief.

He doesn’t stop stabbing until the man is long dead.

—

The walk back to the pod is as quick as it can be, with Ezra’s weight leaning heavily on your side. All traces of joy and victory have long vanished, and the two of you say nothing to each other as you trudge along the hidden path.

His expression as he killed that man plays on repeat in your mind the whole way, along with his words.

“She’s mine.”

Though he’s trying to mask his pain, his grip on your hip tells you the truth, as does his labored breathing. You didn’t see it happen, but the man must have hit his mark at least once, judging from a telltale stain of dark red smeared across the front of Ezra’s suit. It seems to take forever to get back, and with every step, his wound gets worse and worse in your mind.

Finally back inside your pod, you strip and toss everything carelessly onto the ground.

“I need the med kit,” he groans, collapsing against the wall. His movements are jerky as he rips his helmet off, and then his gloves, using his teeth. “Fuck,” he sighs, his eyes pinched closed.

He’s pale, his sweat matted hair stuck to his forehead and you kneel in front of him with the kit, rifling through the contents.

“What do you need?”

His hand splays protectively over his lower stomach. “He got me through my suit, just here.” He shifts, a loud groan breaking free when he peels down the top of his suit. He rolls it to the waist, and gingerly pushing the fabric down, you see his thermals underneath, stained dark and saturated with blood.

He lifts it, and you wince.

“Looks worse than it is,” he breathes heavily, letting his head fall back against the wall.

“It looks pretty bad, Ez. Really bad.”

His stomach is matted and smeared with blood, and at the center of it all, a gash.

He holds his hand out for gauze, dabbing at the wound with a hiss. “See?” His stomach flinches, and he wipes it again before looking at you. “A stitch or two should do it.”

“You sure?” you ask, and he nods, letting his head fall to the side as he looks away.

“In you? Always.”

Your fingers tremble slightly when you flick open the med kit, and then rote memory takes over. You’ve done this – your father used to stumble home all the time with various gashes. Bar fights, brawls in alley ways. Prospectors are a rough crowd, and you’d stitched him up more than once. This is just like that, only better because you don’t have someone yelling at you to do it faster – but also worse, because you care about this person more. The thought leaps into your mind, and knowing you don’t have time to dwell on it, you shove it away.

Ezra flinches at the touch of your hand against his bare stomach, his muscles tensing under your fingers.

You pause, and he lets out a nervous laugh.

“Sorry. Cold hands.”

You give him an apologetic smile.

“Keep going.”

You take your time disinfecting the wound, making sure all traces of dirt are gone. Your hand sweeps across this skin more than once, trying not to think about all the ways you imagined touching his stomach for the first time. It’s soft under your fingertips, a slight round to his lean belly and though his neck is taut with tension, he remains still under your exploration. You want him to look at you: for reassurance, for acknowledgement of your hands on his skin – but he is resolute, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall.

Setting your rag down, you pick up the stapler.

“You ready?”

He nods.

Using one hand to pinch his flesh together, you brace the stapler against his skin, blood smearing on the metal. You punch the first one through, and he hisses, his hand gripping your wrist.

“Shit. Shit. Keep going.”

His breathing has turned into panting, his eyes clenched tight. You slide it along his skin an inch, and then punch another one.

The groan he lets out would be filthy, if not for the situation you’re in. It’s a strained, long thing — his head tipped back, veins highlighted along his neck and you toss the stapler to the side, pressing fresh gauze against the wound.

“All done. It’s done.”

He nods, a tired smile gracing his face. Leaning forward, he keeps one hand on his stomach and you watch nervously as he crawls onto his cot. He falls back onto his pillow, calmer now, but still pale.

“My thanks, Birdie.”

He slips into a stress-induced sleep, and you look at him for a moment before cleaning up.

At the sink, you notice his red hand print around your wrist. The blood had pooled between his fingers, the digits a slick slide over your small wrist and you brush your thumb over the marks he left behind. It looks violent, yet there is a part of you that likes it. Being branded with him, a part of him smeared into your skin.

You hesitate to wash it off.

—

He sleeps, and you keep watch.

You had worried for your father sometimes, but it was nothing like this. In the small amount of time that you’d come to know him, Ezra already meant more to you than your own father ever did.

In the dark, you finally let yourself dwell on the realization.

Your father had never truly been a father. He was more of a stranger, or a roommate at best. He dragged you down with him, keeping you close enough to use you when he needed. He was never invested in you, never cared what you thought or wanted. You never needed him for anything, but Ezra…Ezra you need. You need him to survive and get off this planet, but you also need him more than that. Deeper than that.

The respect and courtesy he treats you with is something that surprised you, given the way you met. In a short while though, you’ve come to realize it’s exactly what’s been missing from your life this whole time. His curiosity and interest is genuine, and his care for you — especially after the events of today — is obvious.

She’s mine.

Did he say that because it’s true? Or because he needs everyone else to believe it’s true?

His lashes flutter, a dream seemingly racing through his slumber and you watch the movement of his eyes under his lids. His fingers flex, and without thinking, you place your hand on top of his.

He stills, and so do you.

The minutes and hours slip by, the moon slowly making its way from one pod window to another and you keep your vigil all the while. He murmurs in his sleep, and you cradle the curve of his jaw. Even after he stops, you keep your hand in place.

Your thumb traces the line of the scar on his cheek - a hooked thing, violent. He never told you how he got it, and you long for him to wake up and regale you with the story. He’d make a meal out of it, you know he would.

When he doesn’t stir, you continue your exploration.

Delicate touches: a swipe over his silken eyelid, a trace down the line of his nose. The bristle of his moustache tickles the pad of your thumb, a direct contrast against the smooth patch of skin on his jawline where there is no hair.

He’s a killer, and you wonder how many have gotten as close as this.

She’s mine.

He’s right — you are. In a short while you have become his. The juxtaposition of the man you saw today versus the man in front of you now is jarring, as if he couldn’t be the same man at all. And maybe he’s not, for anyone else. But for you, he is.

You get both, and while you should have been scared by the way he savagely killed today, you instead find yourself proud. You find yourself drawn to it, admiration and assurance and a sense of protection swirling around in your mind.

He did that for you, something no one has ever done.

Emboldened by this knowledge and drawn to his profile in the dark, you rest on his firm chest, and your fingers splay outwards over his heart.

Leaning down, you press your lips lightly against his.

–

He’s been awake for a while.

He has wished for you like this so many times. Just like this, only he never imagined himself like this. Just his luck that his wish comes true, but at a cost.

You’re so close, your face hovering just above his. He can smell the sweetness of your breath, of your skin. The way you’re looking at him has been one he’s only ever seen in his dreams, and though his body aches with a hidden want that threatens to consume, he stays perfectly still, not wanting it to end.

He’s never been touched like this by anyone, and it takes everything he has to keep his eyes closed — until he feels you press your lips against his.

He responds instantly, his hand coming up to cup the crown of your head.

Your kiss is so soft — soft and delicate and vulnerable, just like you. Your mouth fits neatly against his own, and before he can truly savor it, it’s gone.

He opens his eyes and your shadowed form comes into focus, your proximity intoxicating. His dream come to life.

His hand slides down the back of your hair, settling on your neck. Holding you place, he can see the vulnerability that seeps out of your every pore, and he longs to soothe you. If he knew what he should soothe, he would.

He knows what he wants to soothe, but he waits.

“What are you doing, Birdie?” he whispers.

Your eyes flit between his, and you bite your lip, thinking. He watches as you war with yourself inside your head, and his touch drifts to cup your cheek. His thumb slides across the soft curve of it, and when his eyes dip to your mouth, he watches your expression change to something more assured.

Confident, resolute.

“This,” you whisper back, bending down for another kiss.

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

sorry not sorry but its twisted that people take Christian media and try to twist it around to fit and affirm their gender ideology

[hirazuki]

Me, episode 1: Oh, a relatable protag! And a relatable female protag, at that. Sweet! That never happens.

Me, a few episodes in: Wait, the protag really is going to be my character? The one I identify with the most? Seriously? It's not going to be a strange, at least somewhat sinister, seemingly hostile male side character? It's gonna be a female character and the protagonist? That's insane, that literally never happens... what's the catch??

Me, more than halfway through the season: ... huh, I guess Maomao really is it. Okay, then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Me to myself, after episodes 22/23:

[oceansquill]

Okay, someone uploaded the ~10 minute dream portion of the podcast - I'll link it in the comments. Here's a summary

the main story:

Starts with Phil saying that when the "their nda's are done they can talk shit now" jokes were going on, he said that when he retired he'd give context to the "imagine taking credit..." tweet

Tommy says he'd "never been in an argument with anyone before" so he was really stressed at the time

at the time tommy was in a call with eryn, jack, tubbo, and freddie and they were egging him on

from tommy's pov, dream got really personal so tommy wasn't sure if he was serious or not

Tommy contacted phil for help, phil decided to find out

other stuff:

tommy joked about there being red flags, jack and phil agreed - jack claimed he had a bad feeling from the start

the infamous part of it was "I vowed never to be horrible to dream again" "it's not worth it, it makes me too sad"

apparently jack was aggravated by dream one week into the smp and figured he was a bad person from then on (also said dream doesn't like him and was clear about that - corroborated by tommy)

jack gives dream credit for giving him the dsmp opportunity and "individual acts of kindness" but thinks that he takes ownership of other peoples' works because he helped (and doesn't like him because of that)

at the end jack said the words came out harsher than intended, he just really does not like dream

jack said if there were dream fans in the patreons he thinks they're "fighters" and says hats off to them

tommy says he done with all the behind the scenes drama so he only works with like 4 people now

phil says he has no animosity towards dream, just disdain for a lot of things he's done behind the scenes

jack says he'd be civil to dream if he saw him

says he feels bad airing "all that out online"

[daisywords]

\

[snekdood]

i think im allowed to assume someones consuming their kinks in a harmful-to-others way if I have first hand experience with them sexually abusing me, personally.

[gibbearish]

guy who is really mad some people don't like having cake smushed in their faces

guy who is really mad that people smush their friends’ faces into birthday cakes

[edlucavalden]

Man one of the most important things to me in dunmesh is when kabru cuts down mithrun's story to be more digestable

Not only does he cut things out to make it more coherent, but he also cuts out the personal parts

it shows that kabru not only listened to him but empathized with him to know that he was being unnecessarily vunerable for his own good. And by doing so, he gives mithrun something that makes you human, back; his privacy

He understood him enough to know which parts were personal and which parts should be said. Twisting it enough so that mithrun can get the benefits of opening up while also keeping things private. You dont need to say everything in order for them to understand. It's ok to protect yourself.

Kabru really didn't need to do that. He really didn't. He was only given the role to take care of Mithrun, if anything — he'd benefit when mithrun would dump everything to him, but he chose to be more. Him helping mithrun wasn't one out of responsibility or obligation but one of choice. This subtle act is proof of that.

People who love you take care of you. even when you dont ask for it, even if they didn't need to. They do it because they want to, and they choose to take care of you. Thats whats so important to me

I love the meta touch to this too. While thistle's and Marcielle's intentions for being the dungeon lord (and by proxy, their personal motivations) were explained in the narrative in detail.—

Mithrun didn't. His fears, wants, insecurities are never explicitly said to us the audience throughout the entire story, even in the extras. (The only reason we were able to understand is bc of subtle hints and context)

The scene where Mithrun fully opens up. It cuts to Kabru's thoughts and starts talking over his monologe, only leaving the parts we need to know. This is the narrative's way of respecting mithrun's privacy. And by proxy, the audience respecting mithrun's privacy. Again, the narrative couldve easily gone more in depth, it couldve shown more—it will change literally nothing. But it chooses to do that instead.

We arent immune to boundries just because we are an omniscient reader. Courtesy is not conditional.

Which is really telling when you realize the most direct personal information we receive out of mithrun was from the information page about the winged lion

How violating...

[ghostfacd]

YES I KNOW THAT HE’S MY EX! | TOM BLYTH

pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary. you knew tom was your ex, and that you should probably stay away, but that’s never stopped you before

part 1 | installment of this au (please read for more context!)

ynuser :)

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user1 im loving the aesthetic

user2 THE BIKINI TOP IS SO CUTE

user3 put them toes awayyyy

rachelzegler i pay attention to things that most people ignore (this isn’t your car.)

➥ user4 PLEASE?? not rachel using yn’s own lyrics on her

➥ user5 IS THIS TOM’S CAR??

user6 i may be delulu but those r tom blyth’s mfing hands.

user7 he has her hair tie on; i repeat, tom blyth literally has yn’s hair tie on

When Tom had messaged you saying he wanted to talk, no matter how much you knew it was a bad idea, you decided to agree to it anyway.

The breakup had ended pretty badly. Although it was an agreement between you and Tom, that didn’t mean that’s what the both of you truly wanted.

The reason the two of you broke up in the first place was that Tom was talking too much about your future, which wasn’t a bad thing — but it overwhelmed you. You weren’t ready to settle down, not yet, at least. You and Tom had only been dating for a few months, and although it was all sweet and loving, you knew that getting engaged this early was like asking for a disaster to strike.

He was upset. Clearly. He loved you, you loved him, so why was it such an inconvenience for you to agree to take the leap in your relationship? That caused a blown out argument between you two, and by the end of it, you had agreed breaking up was the right thing.

You had a acting and music career to focus on, and Tom had an acting career that was just at the beginning of its success. You felt that it wasn’t right to put a distraction into his life.

“Is this a bad idea?” You ask breathlessly as you pull away from the kiss. You can’t help but stare into Tom’s eyes, which held a language of their own.

“Maybe,” he says, wiping the corner of your mouth. “But who cares?”

Who cares. Right. Well surely, it was a bad idea to meet up with your ex, much less kiss him, and although alarms were baring in your head that you probably shouldn’t—you go in for a second kiss, this time, Tom doesn’t let you go, cradling you close to his body.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to take the next step in our relationship, I’m fine if you’re not ready yet. I just want you, okay?”

And how could any girl possibly reject Tom Blyth when he’s begging so prettily? Certainly not you.

tomblyth and ynuser both posted an instagram story !

ynsbiggestfan THE GIRLS AND I AFTER SEEING THE STORIES ON INSTA

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user8 IM ACTUALLY DYING BC NO WAY WAS THAT A COINCIDENCE

user9 they’re connected they cant be far away from each other

user10 she’s my Heather 💔💔

➥ user12 fr i wish tom was that inlove w me

user13 so this is why rachel said that wasn’t yn’s car

➥ user14 ITS ALL MAKING SENSE NOW

sean.kauf photo dumpy

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ynuser pic creds ?? 🤬

➥ sean.kauf 🤓🤓

user15 wait im confused, is she together with tom again or is she with sean..

user16 Ykw i cant even be mad, if i was as hot as yn, i’d have two bfs too!

➥ user17 REAL SHIIT

tomblyth fun fact: the 2nd pic is sean third wheeling after forcing me and yn to speak to each other

➥ user17 TOM CONFIRMED IT IM DEAD

user18 all the yn haters must feel stupid asf rn after accusing yn of being with sean

➥ user19 literally cause all 3 of them are literally close 😭😭 like why would sean date yn, he’s literally friends with tom

user20 if yn isn’t dating sean let me have him omg

ynuser yes i know that he’s my ex but can’t two people reconnect !!!!!

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user21 this took the cake.

user22 time to cry again bc tom blyth is off the market

user23 she got him wrapped around her finger FR

user24 THE THIRD PIC OF THEM 🥹🥹

user25 THE CAPTION OUUU GIRLY IS BRAVE

tomblyth i only see you as a friend (the biggest lie i’ve ever said)

➥ user26 I CHOKED

➥ user27 THEIR SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGERS ARE CRYING RN

[p0rnd3aler]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE NSFW THINK PIECE/DRABBLE

I’m depraved

Rafayel is the neediest. He’s got a lot of insecurities/abandonment issues from his first love and he def has an anxious attachment style. He’s also absolutely the type of person to be codependent (Hello?? “Join me let’s drown in the ocean together”????? Like, come on). He’s constantly trying to do every little thing with you, almost like he can’t breathe unless it’s air that’s already been filtered through your lungs.

However, all big baby behavior™️ considered, he definitely knows how to woo you. I feel like since he’s Lemurian and also an artist, he only knows how to love a person in the most deeply devoted and romantic way. He’s also very careful with his heart and who he gives it to, once he decides it’s truly and solely yours that’s it. There’s no one else. But you also have to honor that with proper care, he’s very sensitive.

Anyway, I feel like he fucks in a way that’s slow, very sensual. The kind of love making where he takes over all of your senses, all you can feel is his touch, all you can smell is his sweat and cologne, all you can taste is him on your tongue, and all you can see and hear are his face and the sweet words of devotion he whimpers in your ear.

He’s also very easy to rile up.

Zayne is boring to me. Like I get the appeal he’s very hot and he’s also very stable (in a romantic sense) and healthy but I just can’t fantasize about that. Like yeah he’s a busy ass surgeon who will always make time for you no matter what and he’s super devoted and always caring for you in little ways, but also mf will make you take a water break during sex if you’re too wet bc he doesn’t want you to get dehydrated. Im done.

Honestly I think I’m biased against him bc the way he talks to MC just reminds me of this horrid man I met at a bus stop once who immediately started trying to tell me what to do/give me life advice. I get Zayne is qualified and the guy at the bus stop was not but idc if y’all want me to put effort into writing for him ur gonna have to submit it into the requests baby, moving on.

SYLUS. I feel like everybody thinks he’s just some big ol�� nasty freak but they’re WRONG. THEYRE WRONG ABOUT HIM.

Don’t get me wrong he’s definitely fucking tweaking when you first meet him, like just going apeshit off the bat with no context for us. But also? Once you get to know him? Bitch I’ll kill for that man you do not know. This mf drops everything for you.

Important arms deal he’s been trying to set up for a year or going to the arcade with you to get plushies out of a claw machine? Deal = cancelled

The fearless leader of the N109 zone who blows up anyone who perturbs him slightly. MF contributes 50% of the carbon in the atmosphere alone with the amount of shit he literally actually blows up with bombs. But you? You may break into his house and handcuff him to his bed in his sleep while trying to steal a brooch off of him. he doesn’t give a fuck. he’s in love with you. Set his house on fire! He won’t care! He’ll just buy a new one!

As rough as he is around the edges he’s completely smitten. “You should know I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.” Like girl don’t fucking play with me. Is he mentally ill? Absolutely. But he is so devoted, so careful with you. “I’m never annoyed when we do things together.” It’s literally like he’s learning how to be a human being for once and he doesn’t care about losing the coldness or sharpness he once had because you’re more than enough to replace any absence the loss of those thing may bring. He knows he’s getting soft and doesn’t care. He doesn’t try to stop it. To kill for you is nothing to him. Not even a second thought. He kills all the time. But he would never harm again if the violence ever came in between you two.

And I think that dedication, that devotion totally translates itself into how he makes love to you. He’s definitely a filthy talker, I think he says some NASTY shit during sex, just because he likes seeing you squirm and feel how your skin gets hot from his words. But I don’t think he likes hurting you. He wouldn’t do anything to harm you. He’ll spank you yeah, and he’ll tap or squish your cheeks to get your attention. But he only wants to bring you pure, carnal pleasure when it comes to sex. If you even think “that feels good” he’s like a dog with a bone. You get no rest when he’s there you only get mind-numbing pleasure. He’s a tease, he’ll poke lighthearted fun at how loud you’re being, ask you who you think can hear you two while you’re being nasty. But he knows you. He knows what you love, what gets you off, and he cares to learn all of this because of how much he loves you God I’m SICK

Xavier is filthy. That man laps up your pussy like a thirsty dog. The freakiest nastiest mf out of all of them. He won’t show any sexual prowess or interest for months I think. I’m not sure he’s even aware of his powers. Your relationship will literally be based around his chaotic sleeping “schedule” (that shit is not a schedule) and relaxing between missions together. All things considered, you guys spend almost every waking (and sleeping) hour together. Work, dates, naps, eating, it’s almost always together.

It’s not until he hears you getting hit on all night that his composure finally starts to crack.

Three months of the sweetest, purest boyfriend you could ever ask for. Your sweet silly boy, who starts silently pouting all night. It’s not until you two finally find a hotel to stay at for the night, that he finally starts loosening up.

“I’m not a young fool, you know. I don’t take what’s in front of me for granted” he quotes the guys hitting on you earlier, which he heard through your ear piece. Then he recites every time another guy hit on you while you two were on your mission. He’s a jealous jealous jealous boy. He HATES other guys vying for your attention. It just makes him want to whisk you away and bounce you on his dick so loud that every other guy can hear it. When he feels jealousy, he feels the need to mark, claim, devour you so no one else can try and steal you. He gets himself worked up. Stewing and agonizing over the thought and the memory of another guy trying to get to you so much that he can’t even think of sleeping. He gets completely taken over by the urge to have your every reaction solely based on him and what he gives you. I think he fights off these feelings for a long time, up until the protocore mission in the misty invasion memory. He just barely keeps it together until you’re rubbing all over him, pulling him closer to whisper his name in his ear, he just can’t take it. He needs to hear you say it louder. He needs everyone to hear you say his name.

He fucks you so sloppy, the kind of man who does not care what means he has to use as long as the end is what he wants. He wants you covered in marks of his making, he wants you to smell like him, he wants you to have trouble walking the next day, and he wants that asshole who tried hitting on you at work to ask you “what’s wrong? You look like you’re having trouble walking”

And as soon as the guy asks that you look over to Xavier, who has the most pleased little shit eating grin on his face.

The craziest part is that after he gets it all out of his system he’s back to being the little innocent sweet boy. But you know his secret, and he likes that you know it.

[luffysprincess]

LIE DETECTOR TEST : BACHIRA MEGURU

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : bachira meguru x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 640

⊹ warnings : fem!reader with she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a “wife”, suggestive/nsfw. MINORS DNI

⊹ a/n : i recommend reading isagi’s version first for more context and a hugee thank you to @nymphsdomain for finding the link to a rb and to aali <3 (@tteokdoroki ) for reblogging this and isagi’s parts in the first place bc shes the reason these could even be found again!! 

⊹ isagi’s version I kunigami’s version

Isagi could only huff out as he tucked his phone back into his pockets. He should’ve expected this honestly, considering he’s known the man for years now.

It’s been quite some time since Bachira’s been hooked up to the machine. Only a few minutes were spent calibrating it with some straightforward questions, but since then, he’s gone into full, honest detail to every question Twitter had for him. And it had every person in the room looking at him with either pure shock and/or amusement.

“…and that’s when I had her squirting all over the back of the team’s bus”

Kunigami spit out his water, and Isagi’s eyes grew wider than ever before as they both turned to him.

“What?! When did this happen?!”

Bachira chuckled at their reaction, “Last match ♡”

“Milo?”

“No lies so far,” Milo laughed.

“Wait…don’t Rin and Barou always sit in the back…“

“Yup” Bachira answered proudly.

“Oh my god. They’re gonna kill you when they watch this.”

“That’s if they watch it. Which they won’t.”

“Alright next question! Twitter user @/bachirasbitch asks What’s your wildest sexual fantasy and why does it include me?”

Kunigami whistles, “Your fans are just as shameless as you”.

“They’re right though. It does include them. And the rest of my fans too.” Bachira chuckles at the looks he’s getting from his teammates before continuing, “I’ve always wanted an audience for what me and Y/N do behind closed doors. I think it’d be pretty exciting knowing someone’s watching me pleasure my wife.”

“You should make an only fans account then,” the interviewer suggests. “Your fans would probably love that.”

“Now who says I don’t already have one,” he winks back.

“Well do you?”

“I don’t have to answer that. I’m here to answer Twitter, not you” he grins.

“Fair enough,” the man sighs. “Let’s see, we’ve got time for one more question for you. @/bluelickmyclit asks What’s the most awkward thing that’s ever happened between you and one of your teammates?”

“Ooh I like this question.”

“I don’t” chimed Isagi.

“So before my wife and I moved into our apartment, we used to be next door neighbors with Yoichi. The way the floor plan was had us sharing a wall between our bedrooms. I know, silly design. Now this happened quite some time ago; before I got married, and back when this guy—” he points his thumb over to Isagi who’s hiding his face in his hands “—was single. I don’t know if I’d call this the most awkward incident but it was pretty awkward, ‘cause there wasn’t a single night we went to sleep without hearing him moan out Y/N’s name. And I mean every night—“

“Ok!” Isagi interrupted, cheeks and ears tinted pink. “I think they get it”

“I don’t know why it took him so long to realize the walls were paper thin. Y/N and I aren’t exactly the quietest people out there. He had to have heard us every night too— ow” Isagi cut him off with a punch to the arm, sick of his teasing which only furthered Bachira’s amusement.

“I hope you know Y/N found it very flattering”

“Shut up and take the cuffs off.”

“She thinks it was cute”

“Kunigami, hurry up and connect to the machine.”

“I’m rather enjoying this, actually. How often was this happening again?”

“Every night” Bachira and Kunigami continue to tease Isagi, laughing at him as he attempts to unhook one teammate and attach the sensors to the other instead.

Bachira had never had so much fun in an interview before. He couldn’t wait to go home and tell you all about it and then watch it with you when it aired. But for now, he’d enjoy messing with his friends like this. And now that Kunigami was up next, he was looking forward to it even more.

[bruhnze]

Yo solo digo que deberías hacer una historia basada en esta canción.

Or what we know in the world of fanfiction as a song-fic. Sorry, I have intrusive thoughts sometimes

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

To the anons who sended requests like this one, I hope this made you happy aswell :)

Summary: Lucy Bronze gets an invitation to a special speakeasy. Should she go? It is her last chance to use the invitation because she is leaving Barcelona in a couple days…

Warnings: sub!Lucy, smut, smut, smut, dom!Ona, I feel like I should say a BDSM warning.. things get…freaky. use of words like slut/toy/etc.. 50% AU (only bcs Ona is no footballer). Also, there is some Spanish in this, for continuity purposes it is not translated but I have made sure everything can be understood from context (i think).

Vino tinto y una súper Nova

Wordcount: 13k, i really cant keep it short damn, this was supposed to be 5k max.

Lucy stared at the little black card in her hand for what felt like the thousandth time since she had received it three months ago, her mind racing. She would never, right? The thought echoed in her head as she traced the dark red letters on the card with her finger. Elixír Oculto.

The name alone had an intoxicating allure, a whisper of something forbidden. A speakeasy in the heart of Barcelona... how could she resist? The idea was undeniably cool, almost too tempting to let the opportunity go to waste.

When she had done some digging online, the secrecy surrounding the place had only heightened her curiosity. There wasn't much information, but the description she'd found told her everything she needed to know and more.

"Indulge in an intimate atmosphere where connections flourish, and desires are whispered between sips of the finest vintage. At Elixír Oculto, we offer an exclusive, invite-only experience where boundaries blur, and the night unfolds in ways only your imagination can envision. Here, every encounter is as unforgettable as the last, curated for those who seek more than just the ordinary. Discretion is our promise, and a magical experience is our guarantee."

Lucy frowned, her heart beating a little faster. She wasn't really considering this... was she? A sex club? But then again... these were her last days in Barcelona. Maybe this could be her little farewell gift to herself, a night of adventure. It had been too long since she'd done anything like that. But could she really go through with it? Was she truly going to sleep with someone who might be paid for it? Shouldn't she just pick up someone at a bar instead? But then again, who knew if the people there were paid or not?

Maybe, just maybe, everyone with an invite was just like her - someone just looking for a bit of fun, a brief escape. She could meet someone on the same wavelength, someone who wanted what she wanted: a night of no-strings-attached pleasure.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. She had played all her games, packed all her bags... didn't she deserve a little adventure? Five more days in Barcelona, one more night to herself. What was the harm in just taking a peek inside this speakeasy? If it turned out to be nothing, she could simply turn around and leave, laughing about it later.

But what if it wasn't? What if it was everything the card hinted at and more? Lucy glanced at the card again, feeling the pull of the unknown. Maybe... just maybe... this was exactly what she needed.

Lucy stepped into the shower, letting the hot water trail over her, washing away the tension of the day.

She took her time, scrubbing herself thoroughly, feeling grateful once again for the laser hair removal she’d undergone. Smooth skin was a necessity in her line of work for her, where shared dressing rooms were the norm. But it also came in handy for those unexpected moments of.. fun, the ones she hadn't had in far too long.

By the time she finished, it was around 7:00 PM. She sat naked on her bed, her damp hair wrapped in a towel, scrolling through her phone absently. Cooking? Or ordering in and going out? The question lingered as her eyes drifted back to the little black card lying on the nightstand. Ordering in and going out to where, exactly? Was she really going to that club? She asked herself.

She shook her head, making a quick decision. Sushi. Might as well savor some of Spain’s delicious fish before she left. After placing the order, Lucy stood in front of her nearly empty closet, groaning in frustration. Everything's packed... Was she really about to dig into her suitcase for something to wear? All this for a night at a sex club? Pathetic, she thought, but with a sigh, she unzipped the suitcase dedicated to her formal wear anyways.

She went through the neatly folded clothes, searching for the least wrinkled option. Finally, she settled on a brown suit. Not her first choice, but it would do.

At least she hadn't packed her jewelry and didn’t have to dig for that. Small victories.

Glasses or lenses? She hesitated, then opted for glasses. If there was ever a time to pull a "Clark Kent," this was it. With any luck, no one would recognize her there.

Loose hair, she decided. It was different from her usual look, but she slipped two hair ties onto her wrist just in case - always good to be prepared.

Back in the bathroom, she leaned into the mirror, the only one left in her apartment. She couldn’t check her entire outfit, but at least she could perfect her makeup. A touch of light foundation, a sweep of mascara, a hint of blush, she kept it simple.

She smiled at her reflection, feeling a flicker of confidence. You’re Lucy Bronze. She reminded herself, taking a deep breath. You can do whatever you want. You’re going to this club because you deserve it, and because you want it.

She practiced a wink, her attempt at charm feeling a bit rusty. Why was this so hard? she groaned, shaking her head with a small, self-deprecating laugh. She really needed to do things like this more often.

With a splash of her favorite perfume, she sealed the deal. The scent was subtle but intoxicating, just enough to boost her confidence.

She walked into the kitchen, turning on some music to give herself a little pep talk in the form of a dance, well, something resembling a dance at least, but no one could see her here anyways. She needed to get in the mood, shake off some nerves.

No alcohol, she reminded herself. She was still a professional athlete, after all. Even though a drink might ease her anxiety, she wasn’t about to compromise her principles just because she was nervous. She was still in season, and there was no room for slacking off.

Lucy exhaled slowly, pulling herself together. No liquid courage needed. She could do this on her own. She wasn’t going to waste this invitation - she was going to embrace it. And if she was honest with herself, she knew she wanted this.

Lucy took a deep breath, standing inside of what looked like just another ordinary bar. This should be it, right? she thought, glancing around. It didn't look like anything special, but then again, that was the point of a speakeasy.

Her fingers brushed over the little black card in her pocket, the red letters Elixír Oculto barely visible in the dim light. Oh, right... the 'vino tinto' thing, she remembered. The guy inviting her had mentioned something about asking for the red wine specialties. Maybe that was the theme of the club?

Lost in thought, she nearly jumped when a voice interrupted her. "Señorita?"

She looked up quickly, a friendly smile on her face. "Oh, sorry, I was just... uhm..."

The bartender chuckled, recognizing the uncertainty in her expression. "Ah, inglés," he said with a warm smile. "Welcome to our bar. What can I get you tonight, beautiful?"

Lucy felt a light blush creep up her cheeks. Damn, why am I so easy? she thought, flustered. "Uhm..." She hesitated, then held up the card. "Red wine?"

The bartender's smile widened as if he had been expecting this. "I thought so," he said with a knowing nod. He gestured for her to follow him. "Come, I'll show you the wines we have in stock."

They walked through a door behind the bar, descending into a dimly lit wine cellar. The air was cool, the scent of aged wood and fermented grapes heavy around them. The bartender reached for the only bottle on the shelf that wasn’t covered in dust, pulling it gently. The sound of a mechanism clicked, and a hidden doorway swung open. He stepped aside with a polite bow. "I wish you a very good evening, ma’am."

Before Lucy could respond, he was gone, leaving her standing at the threshold of the hidden hallway. This is so freaking cool, she thought, her excitement growing. It was just like in a movie. She walked down the narrow corridor, the exposed brick walls adding to the clandestine vibe, until she emerged into a lavish, red-lit space.

The atmosphere was intoxicating. To her left, a sleek bar was manned by two bartenders who moved skillfully, mixing and pouring drinks with effortless grace. Directly in front of her was a stage where men and women danced sensually, their movements captivating.

Plush chairs were arranged around the stage, some already occupied by persons who watched the performance with rapt attention.

"Puedo ayudarla, señora?" A mans voice spoke softly next to her.

Lucy jumped, startled out of her thoughts. "Uh, I was invited," she said with a nervous chuckle, turning to face the man who had approached her. "First time." She offered.

"Ah, inglés," the man said, echoing the bartender from earlier with a friendly smile. Lucy couldn’t help but laugh at the coincidence of them reacting exactly the same.

"I asked if I could help you," he clarified. "But I see, you’re new here, so of course, I’ll assist you."

Lucy nodded, feeling a bit more at ease.

"First, we need to stop by the hall over here," he said, gesturing to the right as he began walking. Lucy followed closely. "You don't have a coat, but if you'd like, you can leave your jacket here. If not, that's fine too." He pointed to a row of small black lockers built into the wall. "Devices go in here."

Wow, this is serious, Lucy thought, realizing just how secretive the place was. "Okay," she agreed, slipping off her small bag. She started to take out her phone but was gently interrupted.

"No bags allowed either," the man said kindly. "You can place it in the locker and take the key with you."

"Alright," she replied, securing her belongings. The man shut the locker for her and handed her the key.

"Perfect. Now, you’re free to enjoy a drink at the bar. Did you see where it was, or would you like me to show you?"

"I’ll go by myself, thank you," Lucy smiled, feeling a bit more confident as she took the key.

"If you need anything, just ask someone with this," he said, pointing to a wine-red handkerchief peeking out from his breast pocket. "Enjoy your time at Elixír Oculto, beautiful." With a final smile, he walked away.

Lucy blinked, a bit taken aback. Did they call everyone beautiful here, is that just part of the charm? she wondered as she made her way to the bar.

"Uh, could I get a whiskey glass with ice... but with iced tea instead?" she asked awkwardly, feeling a little out of place. "No alcohol," she added quickly, clarifying her request.

The bartender raised an eyebrow but complied without question. Lucy felt a bit of regret - she should’ve grabbed some cash from her bag. How was she going to pay for this? They’d probably let her settle the bill with card when she left.

She thanked the bartender with a smile and took a sip. Yep, iced tea.

"Hello," a soft voice said from behind her, accompanied by a gentle touch on the small of her back.

Lucy stiffened, her heart racing. Is it starting already? She carefully lowered the glass from her lips, afraid of choking, and turned to look.

The woman beside her wore a sharp suit, a wine-red handkerchief in her pocket just like the man from earlier. Ah, she worked here.

"Hi," Lucy replied, realizing she’d been silent for too long. Wait, did she just speak English?

The woman smiled warmly. "The gentleman from earlier mentioned you were English," she explained.

Wait, had she said that out loud? Lucy wondered. Or was her face really that readable?

"It’s normal to feel a bit nervous your first time here," the woman continued, her tone reassuring. "But I want to make sure you’re comfortable."

Lucy nodded, trying to steady her breathing. "T-thanks."

"We’re all about creating magical evenings here," the woman said, her voice soothing. "If I may take the liberty to make an assumption, I’d like to suggest our other room."

Lucy tilted her head, not quite understanding. Another room? Sure, why not? But what was this other room?

"This room is for women who like men," the woman explained, gesturing toward the stage, "and men who like women." She looked at Lucy with kind eyes, no judgment in her gaze. "But we also have a room where women dance for women only."

Lucy swallowed hard, her breath hitching slightly.

"If my assumption is -"

"No, no," Lucy cut in, offering a reassuring smile. "You’re correct. That would be more up my street."

"Perfect." The woman smiled, her eyes twinkling. "You can follow me."

Lucy quickly got on her feet, leaving the red bar chair behind.

The woman led her through another corridor, these walls were also lined with exposed brick. As they reached a pair of dark red curtains, the woman held them open and Lucy was greeted with an even more enchanting room than before.

Or maybe it was just the fact that this room was for women only that made it feel so captivating. The space exuded a warm, inviting glow, with plush furnishings and soft, ambient lighting that made everything look almost dreamlike.

Lucy took in the scene with wide eyes, her earlier nerves beginning to ease as curiosity and excitement took over.

The room was mesmerizing, with a stage prominently set in the middle. As she looked around, she noticed four women on the stage. They weren’t exactly dancing like what was happening in the other room; two were just sitting and drinking something, but the two that caught Lucy’s eye were engaged in a more intimate display. Lucy felt a flush rise to her cheeks. She absently fidgeted with her collar, loosening it to help her breathe a bit easier.

“Señora?” The woman who had guided her in gently touched her arm.

Lucy turned back, her face warm. “Oh, sorry. I’m just feeling a bit hot,” she said, demonstratively removing her jacket.

The woman smiled understandingly. “I was just saying, if anything here makes you uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to let them know.”

Lucy blinked, a little taken aback. She couldn’t imagine those beautiful women being a bother at all. “Oh, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied awkwardly.

“Choose a seat,” the woman continued with a friendly smile. “And if you finish that iced tea, just let me know, and I’ll get you something - anything you like.”

Lucy felt a flush of embarrassment. Did she know it was iced tea? She chuckled nervously. “O-okay, thanks.”

The woman laughed softly. “We rarely serve alcohol here. We do have it for those who want it, but we often welcome athletes or models who don’t drink, but even otherwise, we don’t judge.” She reassured Lucy with a warm smile.

“Oh, great, I’m an athlete. Thanks,” Lucy said, her cheeks still tinged with color, assuring the woman she wasn’t just someone with an alcohol problem or something.

The woman’s eyes twinkled with curiosity. “I’d love to know more, but I’m not allowed to ask,” she said, holding up her hands playfully. “Have a great evening, beautiful.” She gave Lucy a wink before walking away.

Lucy watched her go, a hint of self-consciousness creeping in. Damn, I should’ve just owned the iced tea. I’m a professional athlete, damn it, why did I let myself feel so awkward? She sighed, feeling a bit unsettled.

The girls had now spotted her, all four pairs of eyes were trained on her. Lucy made her way to one of the chairs, forcing a smile as she went to take a seat, deliberately choosing a spot not too close to the platform. She draped her jacket over the backrest and surveyed the room.

The platform was only slightly raised, just below knee height, with a lower step running around its edge. In the center stood a plush red sofa and four poles were evenly spaced around it.

The room had a inviting, but over all very red, ambiance. Around the platform were chairs similar to the one Lucy was sitting in. Behind her was a wall lined with booths - small tables surrounded by benches. The lighting was soft and atmospheric, with a brighter spotlight focused on the center of the room, were the platform was.

As she glanced back at the platform, she noticed two of the women had begun dancing on the poles, those who had been touching each other earlier. Lucy’s attention was drawn to another set of curtains behind the platform. That was not the hallway she had came from right? She shifted her gaze, only to cringe slightly when she met the eyes of the woman who had guided her in. Damn, why is this so awkward? she thought.

The woman gave a reassuring nod, and Lucy forced a smile in return before turning her attention back to the platform.

A moment later, a woman approached her. “Eres tan hermosa, primera vez aquí, no te reconozco,” she said, her voice soft and inviting.

“Uh, l-lo siento, soy i-inglés,” Lucy replied, feeling flustered. “I mean, I can understand, pero no hablar muy bien. But yes, first time.”

The woman smiled warmly. “You’re pretty,” she said as she moved behind Lucy, her fingers lightly tracing along Lucy’s arm before resting gently on her shoulders. She leaned in, whispering against Lucy’s ear, which made her shiver. “Would you like a little show?”

Lucy nodded, her eyes drawn to the girl still lounging on the red sofa. She found her to be the most captivating of the four, though all were undeniably beautiful.

“Yeah, that would be -”

“Perfect,” the woman interrupted with a mischievous smile. “We’ve been dying for some audience.”

Lucy’s attention was drawn to the girl lounging on the red sofa. As if she sensed Lucy's gaze, the girl stretched languidly, her movements effortlessly graceful. The dim lighting bathed her figure in a soft glow, accentuating her features and adding a sensual allure to the scene. She was really pretty.

Meanwhile, the girl who had approached Lucy earlier had selected a new track - something with a more seductive rhythm than the background music that had been playing before. Lucy’s eyes darted between this change in atmosphere and the girl now rising from the sofa with a confident, almost mischievous smile.

The dancer approached the pole closest to Lucy with deliberate, measured steps. While the other three women continued their synchronized dance around their poles, Lucy found herself completely captivated by the girl who had drawn her in from the start.

With an almost hypnotic grace, the girl returned to the sofa, her body swaying to the rhythm in a way that was captivating, truly. She traced her fingers along the plush red fabric, creating a tantalizing scene. The background music seemed to fade away for Lucy, leaving her entire focus fixed on the dark blond-haired dancer.

The girl’s performance was a seamless blend of elegance and sensuality. Her movements were fluid and confident, a blend of seductive dance and playful tease.

Occasionally, her gaze met Lucy’s, each glance filled with a promise that was both alluring and mysterious.

The dancer’s use of the poles were masterful, their bodies contorting in ways that was mesmerizing and purely art, if Lucy could give her opinion about it.

All four of them could dance, but as Lucy tried to focus on it all she couldn’t help herself staring at the brown eyed girl.

The performance was captivating, drawing Lucy deeper into the fantasy of the evening.

As the show progressed, the girl’s movements grew more passionate and intense. Lucy watched, entranced, as the boundaries between reality and fantasy seemed to dissolve, the room around her fading into insignificance. It felt like she had walked right in to a Hollywood filmset.

When the performance reached its climax, the girl struck a final pose. Instinctively, Lucy placed her glass on the table beside her and clapped, genuinely impressed.

Wow, she thought. Just for this private show, it was worth it. Damn, these girls are fucking amazing. She found herself wondering if it was okay to think of them in an objectifying way. Regardless, she couldn’t deny the sheer amazement of the experience.

The girls gathered together, their giggles filling the room. “Thank you, thank you,” they chimed with an adorable accent, clearly pleased with her applause. They made a playful bow.

Lucy’s gaze fell on the shorter girl again, who was now smiling directly at her. As the four of them stood together, it was evident that she was the shortest. She smiled at Lucy, then turned to her companions, and they began to speak rapidly in Spanish. Lucy tried to follow their conversation.

“Está claro que le gusta Ona,” one of them said.

“No podemos ir todos juntos?” another replied.

“María!”

“Bueno, pfft, Ona te la llevas.”

Lucy caught a few words and felt a thrill of excitement. Were they discussing her? Did she understand correctly - they were deciding who would be with her? The thought made her feel giddy. She really hoped the shorter girl was called Ona.

Jeez, she thought. Was she really thinking about this like that?

To her surprise, it was indeed the shorter girl who approached her. Lucy straightened in her chair, her curiosity piqued.

"Hola, hermosa," the girl said confidently, her voice carrying a hint of playful seduction. "Can I take a seat?"

Lucy glanced around, momentarily flustered. Her heart raced as she processed the unexpected request. Her initial thought was, In my lap? Really? It felt like something out of a fantasy or a cliché.

Unsure of how to accept with words, she simply nodded, her cheeks warming slightly.

With elegant movement, Ona settled into Lucy's lap. As she adjusted Lucy's collar, straightening it, she said, "The other girls think you’re interested in me."

Lucy’s heart raced. So, this was Ona.

"Is that true?" Ona whispered, her breath warm against Lucy's ear. "Would you like to come with me?"

Lucy glanced back at the platform. The other dancers had returned to the sofa, lost in their own interactions. "Mhm, I think you’re a very good dancer," Lucy said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Ona’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction. "Follow me, preciosa." With a charming smile, she stood up and beckoned Lucy to follow her. Her tight braid swinging back and forth as she turned.

Lucy quickly grabbed her jacket and hurried after Ona, her excitement growing as she moved toward the curtain. Only at the curtain she realized she had left her glass behind.

Ah, fuck that iced tea, Lucy thought, amused with herself, as her gaze lingered on the woman’s miniskirt, which left little to the imagination. She couldn’t help but wonder what was hidden underneath. Bronze! she scolded herself internally. Get a grip - don’t be a creep.

“This is -” the woman began, but then paused, turning around.

Lucy quickly snapped her gaze back up to meet the woman’s eyes. Shit, caught.

The woman chuckled mischievously. “Like what you see?”

Lucy nodded, feeling like a teenager caught doing something naughty. God, why is everything going so terribly rough?

“This is my room,” the woman continued, starting over with a smile. “After you.”

Lucy stepped through the door as Ona held it open. “Thank you, Ona,” she said, taking in the spacious room. A bed with red sheets dominated the space, and a large, perfectly fitted closet lined one wall.

As she looked around, she realized Ona hadn’t followed her in. The woman was still standing in the doorway, her expression suddenly serious.

“How do you know my name?” Ona asked, her tone stern.

Lucy looked at her, confused. “Oh ehrm, the girls- they were-” she stammered, pointing back towards the main room.

“You heard?” Ona’s expression shifted to something more mischievous. “How much did you hear?”

Lucy’s eyes widened. “I don’t know, not much. They said Ona was going with me?” she offered hesitantly.

Ona smiled and finally stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “Okay then, Ona it is. But I’d like to know your name too then.”

“Of course,” Lucy said, draping her jacket over her left arm. “Lucy.” She extended her hand.

Ona chuckled, taking Lucy’s hand and bringing it to her lips to place a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Very formal, huh? Nice to meet you, Miss Lucy.”

Lucy nodded, feeling a bit flustered. “Y-yeah, nice to meet you too.”

The room here had the same kind of music playing as the other room, only quieter.

“So… do you work here?” Lucy asked, breaking the silence, as Ona moved further into the room, which felt like a luxurious hotel suite. Probably not the best conversation starter, Lucy thought, biting her lip.

Ona’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Work?” She laughed softly. “No, baby, I do this because I love it.”

Lucy frowned. “So you don’t get paid?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

“This is a private club for attractive people, by attractive people,” Ona explained matter-of-factly. “I understand you are someone who likes to know the details.” She chuckled. “When you get invited here, it’s by someone who’s been a member for a while and earned the privilege of handing out a card. It’s a pretty big deal to receive one,” she smiled. “Being a member is free; we call it ‘pretty privilege.’ But most members make donations. I also get a cut from those donations, and sometimes people make a specific donation just for me. When that happens, I get it all.” She sat down on a leather couch and leaned back, eyes locked on Lucy’s. “I’m under contract with this place,” she continued with a smile, “so what you said is probably true. But I prefer to see it as an arrangement that lets me live out my life’s passion.”

Lucy nodded, captivated by Ona’s every word. “What is it?” she asked, genuinely intrigued.

Ona grinned, a flicker of mischief in her eyes. "Well, it goes hand in hand with Elixír Oculto’s motto - helping people experience a magical evening. But my personal passion is making dreams come true, even the ones you never knew you had."

"Wow," Lucy murmured, letting the words sink in. Achieving every dream you have, even the ones you’ve never thought of before. It was poetic, inspirational.

“Don’t be afraid to take a seat, cariño,” Ona’s voice was soft but commanding, her smile so hypnotic that it made Lucy’s heart skip a beat. Those dimples, perfect teeth and scattered freckles. They could tell her this woman was send right from heaven and Lucy would believe them.

Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and settled into the leather chair half-facing Ona. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her. God, this girl was stunning.

Ona’s grin widened, her amusement clear. “Afraid I bite? I mean, I won’t… not just yet.” Her chuckle was warm as she patted the spot beside her on the couch. “Come closer, hermosa.”

Swallowing, Lucy stood up, leaving her jacket draped over the chair. She moved to sit beside the Catalan, nerves dancing along her skin. She fidgeted, scratching at her wrist in an attempt to calm herself.

Ona noticed and gently took Lucy’s hand, her touch soft and reassuring. “Don’t be so nerviosa, beautiful,” she whispered, tracing the inked skin on Lucy’s wrist. “You’ll hurt your pretty tattoo.”

Lucy glanced down at their intertwined hands, then back up at Ona.

“Show it to me,” Ona said, nodding toward the tattoo.

Without hesitation, Lucy unbuttoned her sleeve and rolled it up, revealing the intricate design she was so proud of.

Ona’s fingers lightly traced the ink, her touch sending a shiver down Lucy’s spine. “English, with a tattoo that says família?” she teased, a playful lilt in her voice. “Estás segura de que no hablas español? Did you just say it so you could eavesdrop?” She chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “Or did you just have a bad tattoo artist?”

Lucy laughed softly, shaking her head. “No, I’m half Portuguese… but I don’t speak it that well either, to be honest.”

“Hmm,” Ona mused, her fingers still lingering on the tattoo. “Okay then, what brought you to Spain?”

Lucy smiled, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. “I worked here, but now I’m heading back to England. It’s been amazing working in Barça, and I wanted to end my time here with something special. I was invited here by a photographer from work. He thought I’d enjoy this place. Guess I owe him a thank you.”

“Hmm, okay,” Ona said, catching the subtle compliment with a knowing smile. “So, you’re a model?”

Lucy chuckled, shaking her head. “Not really. I guess I am sometimes, but it comes with my real job - I’m an athlete.”

Ona’s interest piqued as she shifted, settling onto Lucy’s right thigh, her legs resting between Lucy’s. “Really, what sport?”

"Guess," Lucy replied with a playful smirk, finally enjoying a moment of being the one in control.

Ona’s finger traced lines on Lucy’s muscular upper chest, down to her shoulder and bicep. “Hmm, the muscles make me think something like.. rugby,” she contemplated. “But I’m not sure.”

Lucy chuckled. “It can feel like that sometimes, but no - it’s football. I played for Barça.”

Ona’s eyes widened slightly, a glimmer of amazement slipping through her composed exterior.

“And what was the shoot for? The one where you got the invitation?” Ona asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Underwear,” Lucy admitted, feeling a bit awkward as she wasn’t supposed to reveal it yet.

“Hmm,” Ona grinned, her finger now tracing the buttons on Lucy’s blouse. “Now I’m curious what the photographer saw when he gave you that card.”

Lucy’s breath hitched as Ona began undoing the buttons. “Is this okay, bonita? Can I?”

Lucy nodded eagerly, her thoughts screaming for Ona to take it all off, right then and there.

Ona smirked as she revealed Lucy’s rock-solid abs. “Was it a Calvin Klein shoot?” she asked, eyeing the matching bra and the sliver of fabric peeking out from above Lucy’s pants.

“Uhm,” Lucy grimaced. “I signed a confidentiality agreement… I’m not supposed to -”

“My lips are sealed,” Ona assured, miming locking her mouth and tossing away the key. “But I will enjoy the photos if I ever come across them.” She winked cheekily and continued tracing her fingers over Lucy’s exposed skin, the touch light and teasing.

Lucy’s breath hitched again as Ona’s hands slipped beneath her blouse, sliding it off her shoulders with that same practiced ease. Quickly, Lucy undid the last button on her sleeve, leaning forward to help Ona remove the blouse completely.

Ona chuckled softly at Lucy’s eagerness, enjoying the way Lucy seemed to hang on every moment. As their faces drew closer, Lucy’s gaze locked onto Ona’s lips, her desire surging as she leaned in for a kiss. But just as their lips brushed, Ona pulled back with a playful chuckle.

"I can tell you’re used to being the one in control," Ona teased, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Lucy blushed, the rejection making her feel suddenly shy again.

"But it doesn’t work like that here," Ona continued with a grin. "Well, it can, but that privilege has to be earned."

Lucy nodded, feeling a bit uncertain.

Ona smiled warmly, placing Lucy’s hand on her knee. "Oh, come on baby, don’t worry. You didn’t do anything wrong - it’s just one of the rules," she explained, her thumb brushing across Lucy’s bottom lip. "You can kiss me anywhere except on my mouth," she added, cupping Lucy’s cheek. "I’ll teach you all the rules along the way, hm?"

Swallowing, Lucy nodded again, her nerves settling slightly.

Ona chuckled softly. "You haven’t bitten your tongue, have you?"

Lucy shook her head. "No, I understand."

A knowing smile curved Ona’s lips. "You’re so eager to please, aren’t you?"

Lucy’s cheeks flushed.

“Kiss my neck querida.”

Lucy hesitated for a moment, glancing at Ona, who was comfortably seated on her lap, her neck now tilted to one side, invitingly exposed.

Leaning in, Lucy let her lips brush softly against the warm skin, savoring its softness and the intoxicating scent. God, her skin was so soft, and damn, did she smell good.

Encouraged by Ona’s subtle cues, Lucy began to place delicate kisses along her neck, listening intently for any sign of pleasure she was bringing. When Ona tilted her head back, giving her more space, Lucy grew bolder. She added a teasing flick of her tongue, a gentle scrape of her teeth, her breath warm against the damp trail she left behind.

Ona chuckled as she felt Lucy getting lost in the moment.

Lucy pulled back slightly, curious about the reason of Ona’s amusement.

"I can already tell this will be a great night," Ona murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "You’re doing very well so far."

A wave of confidence washed over Lucy at the compliment, and she smiled, feeling more at ease. Ona stood up, and Lucy’s eyes trailed her every move, captivated by her grace. God, she was stunning. Clad in leather boots with a heel, a miniskirt, and a little top. Ona didn’t wear much already, but Lucy couldn’t help but imagine her wearing even less.

Ona moved to one of the closet doors, her back to Lucy as she opened it. Lucy couldn’t see what was inside, but her heart raced when Ona returned holding a leather rod with a small feather at the end, bundled with little strings of leather. Was she going to get hit?

But instead of using the rod, Ona casually walked to the kitchenette and opened the mini-fridge. She retrieved a bottle of water and poured two glasses, adding a few ice cubes to each. Returning to Lucy, she placed the rod on the coffee table and handed her one of the glasses.

“Water,” she said simply, taking a sip from her own glass.

Lucy awkwardly accepted the glass and took a sip, trying to calm her nerves.

“How can we get you relaxed, amor?” Ona asked, settling herself onto one of Lucy’s legs again. “You’re so tense.” Her fingers traced lazy patterns on Lucy’s skin. “What’s making you so nervous?” She leaned in, her lips brushing softly against Lucy’s jaw. “Is it because you’re letting go of control for once?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “It can be amazing, hermosa,” she assured, placing another kiss just below Lucy’s ear. “I know you can be so good for me, hm? Just let me take control.”

Lucy swallowed hard and nodded, “Y-yeah,  i-it's just... new.”

Ona pulled back slightly, studying Lucy’s face. “New? Completely new? You’ve never…?”

Lucy chuckled, her nerves easing just a bit. “Oh no, I don’t mean that… I mean having sex with someone in a setting like this.”

“Sex?” Ona’s voice was serious, her tone unreadable.

Lucy’s heart plummeted. Had she completely misread the situation? But just as panic set in, Ona’s lips curved into a mischievous grin.

“I’m jokingggg,” she giggled, leaning against Lucy. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She cupped Lucy’s face gently. “You should’ve seen your face.”

Lucy exhaled shakily, trying to regain her composure.

Ona took the glass from her and set it beside her own on the coffee table. Then, she shifted her position, straddling both of Lucy’s legs, her knees planted firmly on either side. She pushed Lucy’s hair behind her ears “Sorry I teased you, sometimes I can’t control myself.”

She smiled as Lucy stayed silent, “You’re okay, Lucy. Don’t beat yourself up. It’s good that you said this is your first time. We can talk everything through as we go.”

Lucy hesitated, then lifted her hands, which had been resting awkwardly at her sides. She was eager to touch Ona, but unsure of the boundaries. “Can I…?” she asked, her voice trailing off as she tried to figure out how to navigate this.

Ona’s eyes sparkled with amusement at Lucy’s sudden eagerness. “Yes, you can put your hands on me if you like,” she said, smiling. “Good job for asking first.”

Lucy’s smile widened, relieved that she’d finally done something right. No, she reminded herself, she’d done well with the kisses too - she shouldn’t be so insecure. Her heart pounded as she gently placed her hands on the warm, bare skin of Ona’s thighs, feeling the smoothness beneath her fingertips.

Ona subtly grinded on Lucy’s lap, tracing a finger from her chest to the tip of her chin, ‘’are you going to let me have some fun with you, let me play with you?’’.

Lucy hung on every word, every movement the beautiful woman made. There was no question in her mind - she would do anything Ona asked. She nodded eagerly, her wide eyes full of obedient anticipation as they locked onto Ona’s.

Ona’s thumb once again grazed Lucy’s bottom lip, letting it pop gently a couple of times. She smiled, her mind already dancing with thoughts of the fun to come. “Soy la maestra tonight, sí?”

Lucy nodded again, her thoughts a swirl of sí, por favor, and gracias, already unable to think straight.

“Claro?” Ona repeated, her voice firm yet playful. “Because if you understand, I want to hear you say it.”

“Y-yes, claramente,” Lucy stammered, throwing in a bit of Spanish out of sheer confusion.

Ona’s grin widened. “Ah, perfecto. But next time, I want to hear, ‘Sí, maestra,’ okay?”

“Sí, maestra,” Lucy echoed, her voice certain this time.

"Good girl," Ona purred, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Let’s see if you can keep that up." and stood up, taking the rod with her ‘’follow me’’.

Lucy followed her closely, Ona took place on the bed.

‘’On you knees hermosa’’. She ordered, leaving space between her legs.

Lucy swallowed, her heart racing, so this was it, it was happening. She knelt down, her hair falling infront of her face like a curtain, quickly she put her hair up.

She looked up, meeting Ona’s smile, ‘’well prepared’’ she said pleased.

Ona put her foot up and pushed Lucy’s shoulder with it, ‘’take these off’’.

“Sí, maestra,” Lucy said, her gaze already have drifted off to Ona’s legs, with her leg up like this a glimpse of dark red, laced underwear was revealed.

‘’Querida’’ Ona said sternly, ‘’you are not getting distracted, are you?’’.

“N-no,” Lucy licked her lips unconsciously, but pulled herself together, biting her lip ‘’uhm, no, maestra,”.

Ona pushed the sole of her leather boot a little deeper into the skin of Lucy’s shoulder.

Lucy got the hint and pulled the zipper down to take her left boot off, then she reached for the other.

After that she eagerly waited on the next command.

 Ona spread her legs further.

Lucy didn't have a second thought about the fact that she was staring now, she was just admiring the view provided.

Ona noticed her looking, her smile turned into a grin, ‘’you are looking at me with hungry eyes’’ she chuckled.

Lucy briefly looked up, wondering whether that was something positive in Ona’s opinion.

‘’Well’’ Ona said, standing up ‘’do you want a taste?’’.

Lucy scooted back slightly, giving herself some space as her face was almost pressed against Ona, who had just stood up. “Sí, maestra,” she nodded eagerly, “please.”

“So well behaved,” Ona said, tipping Lucy’s chin up with her finger. “It’s almost boring. Are you a little boring, Lucia?” she teased, “But I don’t believe you’re all that innocent. Are you?”

“No, maestra.”

“Tell me what you want.”

Lucy blushed, she could think of a lot of things. ‘’u-uhm.. a.. taste then?’’.

Ona chuckled, ‘’oh my sweet puppet’’ she brushed her fingers through Lucy’s hair, ‘’how could I deny when you are being such a pretty obedient toy for me’’.

She swallowed, ‘’can I?’’ Lucy asked as she reached up to hook her fingers in the band of Ona’s skirt.

‘’Sí.’’

Lucy took the skirt and thongs off all at once, maybe by accident, maybe not. But she was just going to rock with it.

Now she was face-to-face, no scratch that, face-to-lips, with Ona’s heath. She looked up, ‘’can I maestra?’’.

Ona melted, she hadn’t expected the woman who carried herself so.. confident.. to be such an easy submissive.. but if she was honest she missed a bit of resist. ‘’No.’’

Lucy backed up, confused. No? Why not. ‘’w-why.. maestra?’’.

A soft chuckle escaped Ona’s lips. “Because, preciosa, I want to be in my comfortable chair.” She reached for the leather rod again, her tone playful but commanding. “And you will follow me like the good pet you are.”

Lucy instinctively moved to stand, but the gentle press of the leather rod against her shoulder stopped her.

“Hands and knees, hermosa. Come.”

There was a brief hesitation - was she really going to do this? But the light, insistent tap of the rod on her skin urged her forward. Lucy met Ona’s gaze, then slowly bent down, beginning to crawl toward the couch.

A light thump landed on her still-covered ass, prompting her to glance back at Ona.

“Too slow,” Ona teased. “I thought you were an athlete.”

Lucy gave a slight nod, quickening her pace as she continued to crawl.

Ona easily overtook her, settling into the leather chair with a languid grace, her legs spread invitingly. “Come, cariño. Your reward is waiting.”

Finally, Lucy reached Ona, her heart pounding with anticipation. She had been waiting for this moment ever since she decided to step into the speakeasy. Now, seeing Ona up close, a girl even more captivating than she had imagined, the desire was almost too much to handle.

It felt strange to be in this position - usually, she was the one in control. But giving up control felt natural with the way Ona guided her. From the moment she had entered the room, she knew this was what she wanted, she’d do whatever the Catalan would ask.

‘’You see what mess you created?’’ Ona asked rhetorical, ‘’clean it up’’. She said pointing at Lucy with the whip she was still holding.

Lucy nodded and wanted to lean forward but was restricted by the rod poking against her collarbone.

‘’Manners hermosa’’. Ona said looking at Lucy with a grin, the girl was locked-in on her center like it was going to walk away if she blinked.

 Without looking up Lucy answered, ‘’sí, sorry maestra… please let me clean you up maestra’’.

‘’mhm, go on’’.

She leaned in, her focus on Ona’s thighs. Lucy knew she had talent and wanted to show Ona she wasn’t just another amateur, she wanted to be the best.

As she placed her hands on Ona’s inner thighs and moved closer to her wet core, she was met with a corrective tap, prompting her to pull her hands back.

On her hands and knees, Lucy lapped at Ona’s wetness, she groaned of pleasure as she tasted the girl. Damn, Ona didn’t just look incredible, she tasted amazing too - subtly sweet with a hint of something more. God, had she missed tasting a woman. But Lucy tried not to lose herself and alternated between kisses and teasing licks, deliberately avoiding Ona’s clit, waiting for her to guide her next move.

Ona considered her options. She wanted to savor the moment with this stunning woman but she also wanted to climax. She could come multiple times.. so.. she could play with the woman some more later right? After all, Lucy was an athlete - she likely had stamina for days.

Ona buried her hand in the brown hair of the kneeling woman, guiding her. "Show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do, belleza." Her voice remained steady and composed.

It didn’t take long for Ona’s resolve to waver. She couldn’t stifle her moan as Lucy’s skillful tongue worked its magic. Ona’s fingers dug deeper into the roots of Lucy’s hair, pulling just enough to keep her in place while still allowing some movement. Ona’s smile widened smugly as she felt Lucy’s moans vibrating against her core. Oh! this girl liked it a little rough.

Ona couldn’t deny it, this woman knew exactly how to use her mouth. She was enjoying this a lot, and if Lucy kept it up, she might even crack the top ten of women Ona had been with. The soft, eager whimpers coming from between her legs only fueled Ona’s arousal. The idea of a woman not just enjoying, but worshipping her body always got to her. God, Ona realized, she wouldn’t last much longer.

Lucy was lost in her own world between the strong thighs of the Catalan woman, oblivious to the moans she was drawing out as she brought Ona closer and closer to the edge. She only heard her own soft moans, and felt them echoing against the warm, wet skin. And fuck was she drunk on the taste of Ona’s arousal.

Lucy didn’t even notice the trembling legs squeezing her head until she was yanked back, forcing her to look up.

Ona grinned down at her, meeting the two dazed eyes staring back, looking at her with the most adoring eyes, like she was an actual goddess. It would’ve been almost adorable if not for the setting.

"That’s enough for now, my pretty mascota," Ona said, her voice playful but firm. "Come, help me up." She extended her hand.

Lucy rose to her feet and pulled Ona up with her.

The rod that had fallen beside the chair was forgotten for now - they were going to search out some new things anyways.

"Get undressed, my little muñeca follable," Ona whispered as she passed the slightly taller woman.

She made her way to the closet, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. This was one of her most prized possessions. Behind the doors, red velvet panels framed an array of black hooks and pins, displaying her collection of toys like weapons in a high-end gun shop.

As she opened the lengthy wooden doors, the little spotlights shot on and highlighted her collection of tools.

She turned around to the awkward but endearing sight of Lucy struggling to step out of her pants. Sensing Ona’s gaze, Lucy blushed, quickly discarding them and standing there in just her white boxers.

Mhmm, Ona's mouth watered at the sight. Lucy’s muscular, athletic build was a masterpiece, her tanned skin in contrast against the white fabric. The only thing she wore on her torso now was a simple gold chain, gleaming against her skin. In a different setting, Ona would have gladly let this piece of eye candy ruin her completely, or maybe, she'd allow that later.

Ona grinned as her eyes lingered on Lucy’s tight ass, the white briefs stretching across it as she bent briefly to place her glasses and rings on the coffee table. Hmm, that toned ass could only belong to someone well-familiar with working a strap. She blinked and chuckled, snapping herself out of her daydream. She couldn’t let herself get too distracted.

Lucy looked at the laughing woman and walked back toward her, eyes innocent and questioning.

Ona grinned. "You look so good-

Oh. Lucy blushed, caught off guard by the compliment, though pleased that Ona thought so. She knew her abs got plenty of attention from women, but it still felt good to hear it.

-I can’t wait to ruin you."

Lucy blinked, her steps faltering just before she reached Ona. The soft, promising tone in her voice sent a wave of heat through her body. Would she let her ruin her? No doubt about it. She’d let Ona ruin her and say thank you afterwards.

Ona chuckled. "Come on, don’t get shy again. You can choose a few things you'd like."

It was only then that Lucy’s gaze shifted to the two open doors or rather what had been hidden behind them. Her eyes widened at the sight of the array of sex toys on display. She’d never seen so many gathered in one place before, well, except for the couple of times she had visited an adult store.

Ona stepped back slightly, inviting Lucy to take a closer look.

Mesmerized, Lucy moved closer but hesitated as her hand reached out. She realized she probably shouldn’t touch everything.

Ona opened another door to reveal a selection of harnesses in various colors and materials: brown, black. Her gaze fell on a dark red one, her favorite. She took it and slipped it on, savoring the familiar feeling against her skin.

Turning back to Lucy, who stood there in awe, Ona couldn’t help but grin.

She positioned herself behind Lucy, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her harness-clad hips against the woman’s ass. She reached around and pointed at several straps, displayed from small to large. “Which one will I be wearing?” she whispered, brushing her lips against Lucy’s neck.

“Uhm…”

Ona gently bit down, a teasing nip. If she was right, this woman wasn’t shy about a bit of pleasurable pain. Her suspicions were confirmed when a soft, whiny gasp escaped Lucy’s throat. Mhm, this was going to be so much fun.

Ona reached around Lucy, cupping her perky breasts and teasing her already hardened nipples between her fingers.

Lucy’s vision blurred from the overwhelming sensations of Ona’s presence. Her hips pressed against her back, her teeth sinking into her neck and the way her nipples were being twisted. A moan escaped Lucy as electric shocks shot straight to her core. She tried to bring her hands up to cover Ona’s, keeping her close, but suddenly, everything was gone.

Blinking, Lucy saw Ona now standing beside her, gazing at the array of toys. “Choose, mi juguete. What will you let me play with?”

Lucy wanted to shout, Me! With me! but held her silence. Instead, she focused on the toys, deliberately considering her options. She wasn’t shy about receiving a strap, it was something she had enjoyed in relationships, though less so with casual encounters. But she certainly had nothing against it, especially this beauty, she could do what ever she wanted.

She reached out for a strap of a manageable size, glancing at Ona before touching it. Ona gave a smug smile, raising her eyebrows. “I’m guessing you have some experience?”

Lucy nodded, blushing as she recalled not only her experiences with other women but also her solo adventures. She handed the strap to Ona while keeping her gaze fixed on the endless lines of toys.

Her attention then shifted to a collection of butt plugs. Only recently had she started exploring these, and although she had never used them in front of someone else, the orgasms they provided were incredible.

"Ahh," Ona cheered, surprised by Lucy’s interest. "I wouldn’t have picked you as someone gustan las cosas por el culo." She let her hand brush over Lucy’s muscular ass before giving it a playful squeeze. "Well, choose one, hermosa."

Stepping closer, Ona reached for a decently sized plug with a bit of texture. "I recommend this one," she whispered.

Lucy shivered as goosebumps trailed down her spine. She took the plug silently, rolling it between her fingers, her body already reacting. God, she was so worked up. She was aching with desire, feeling a firm pulsation between her legs.

Ona surveyed the array of equipment for restraining and gagging, including her favorite, the gag ball. However, she had a feeling she’d enjoy the sounds Lucy would make even more. She put the strap on and took one of the whips from a pin, the whip was red with black. Matching perfectly with her. She was wearing a red harness with a black strap and she was still wearing her red top. Then she look a black vibrator, or her magic wand, how she liked to call it.

‘’satisfied?’’. Ona asked, she thought they could start easy as this was their first encounter after all, even though she found Lucy and her working together pretty good.

Lucy looked up, turning to Ona in surprise. Wtf? Satisfied, no she was not satisfied at all, she was dyeing-

‘’chose the toys you like?’’. Ona added, clarifying herself.

Ohhh. Lucy nodded, ‘’yes’’.

Ona chuckled mischievously, almost sadistic. ‘’Manners cariño, manners.’’ She shook her head sarcastically, ‘’oh oh,’’ she stepped closer, driving Lucy against the wooden door, ‘’it’s a shame I have to punish you now’’ she grinned as she saw Lucy swallow hard, but her eyes told Ona she didn’t mind this at all, ‘’you want to be punished?’’ she grinned.

Lucy blushed, remembering what she had to call Ona and anticipating on something that was definitely far from a punishment for her, ‘’S-Sí, maestra,’’

Ona chuckled, seeing the woman squirm against the wood, ‘’Beg me’’ she said, bringing her hand up to the woman’s neck, ‘’how bad do you want it?’’.

Lucy’s face flushed, her mouth suddenly dry, her lips still sticky from earlier. ‘’please maestra, p-punish me’’.

‘’Have you been bad?’’. Ona said, closing her hand around the thick neck.

‘’mhm’’ Lucy nodded, almost not being able to focus as Ona put a little pressure on her throat ‘’uh- yes.. maestra’’.

Ona grinned, ‘’desperate puta’’. She guided Lucy by her neck towards the bed, ‘’bend over, bend down on the bed like the puta sucia you are’’.

She released her grip.

Ona chuckled silently as Lucy almost face planted on the bed as she eagerly crawled on it.

She hovered behind her, letting her fingers graze over the ass that was sticking up in front of her. Sliding a finger under the elastic band of Lucy's boxers, she pulled it up before snapping it back against her skin. "And why is this still on?" she asked.

"You're not listening very well, are you? I told you to take it off," Ona said.

"Sí," Lucy mumbled as she got back up on her knees. "Sí, maestra, I-" She fumbled with the fabric, trying to shuffle it down her legs but struggling in the awkward position.

Ona pressed the whip against her shoulders. "Down. Leave it like that, if you're so desperate."

Her eyes were fixed on the impossibly slick lips of the woman bent down in front of her. She was a mess, the briefs she'd been wearing completely ruined.

Ona reached over Lucy, not bothering to keep the strap from pressing into her as she took the toy from her hands. Leaning over Lucy's back, Ona couldn’t help but admire the sculpted physique beneath her. This woman was clearly an athlete, but even among them, she was on the upper end of the scale. Broad, muscular shoulders and a body that was nothing short of stunning, it made perfect sense why the photographer had given her a card. She was captivating.

Letting her nails lightly graze down Lucy’s bare back, Ona whispered, “I think you deserve a little correction, don’t you?”

Lucy arched into the touch, her heated skin prickling in the cool air. “Mhm,” she murmured, biting down as Ona's hands kneaded her flesh. Every nerve in her body was on high alert, craving more of the touch she desperately needed.

Ona chuckled and leaned back, ‘’what was that hermosa?’’. She teasingly asked, letting the strands of leather travel along her back.

Lucy whimpered, ‘’si, maestra, I need-

Crack.

She arched as the whip landed firmly on her ass, she moaned into the bedsheets. Fuck.

Ona leaned down and kissed the spot that was now turning red, ‘’and what do you say now my toy? I gave you what you asked for’’. She said, amusement clear in her voice. She loved the way the woman seemed to enjoy this.

She bit down in the flesh of Lucy ass, as an answer stayed off, or maybe just because the skin looked so perfectly bitable, so tight, so round.

Lucy’s brain short-circuited. Was it.. thank you? Did Ona expect her to say thanks? ‘’Uh, t-thank you?’’ she said, a little unsure.

Crack.

‘’Thank you who, pretty?’’. Ona said, letting the leather strings of the whip tease over the sensitive prickling skin of Lucy’s ass after she landed another strike.

Lucy arched as she grabbed the sheet between her fists, whimpering from the impact. ‘’Thank you maestra!’’ she cried out.

‘’Very good beautiful.’’. She caressed Lucy’s ass, ‘’but you’re a bit of a messy girl, aren’t you?’’. Ona said as she changed the whip in her hand for the plug and swiped it along Lucy’s core. ‘’You are-’’ she chuckled as she saw Lucy’s body reacting to what she did, ‘’-a little wet muñeca, how come?’’.

Lucy breath shuttered as she felt the toy dipping between her lips, it was frustrating the way Ona teased her. ‘’You’’ Lucy groaned, ‘’Because of you maestra’’.

‘’Hmm.’’ Ona smirked, ‘’beautiful zorra, so eager, so wanting’’.

Lucy pussy tried to clutch on nothing but thin air at the dirty words Ona spoke. She stiffened as her cheeks were held and she felt Ona spit down on her asshole. God she felt dirty, but she enjoyed every bit of it.

A flat hand soothed her lower back, ‘’relax for me baby.’’ Ona cooed as she reached down to place soft kisses on Lucy’s cheeks. Lucy whimpered as Ona got lower and lower with her mouth, she wished the girl would eat her out, but Ona stayed away from her heath. Instead the plug was now circling her ring of muscle, teasingly waiting to enter.

With ease, Ona slid the toy inside, her smile widening as she watched a shiver run up Lucy’s spine. The girl let out a soft, almost grateful moan.

Stepping closer to the bed, Ona guided her strap through Lucy's wetness, teasing her mercilessly.

Lucy leaned back, desperate, aching for more, but Ona chuckled and stepped away. “Up. Come here,” she ordered, her voice firm.

It took Lucy a moment to process, her mind clouded with need, but she finally turned to look at Ona.

“Kneel for me, mi juguete,” Ona commanded, grinning as she watched Lucy’s dazed expression, her pupils blown wide. “You’ve made quite a mess.”

Lucy dropped to her knees in front of the Catalan without hesitation.

“Show me, princecita,” Ona murmured, cupping Lucy’s jaw. “Show me how pretty you look with your mouth full.”

Lucy swallowed hard - this was something new for her. She’d been on the other side plenty of times, the one wearing the strap, in control. But as Ona tapped the damp tip against her lips, she opened her mouth without hesitation.

Like a shameless slut, Lucy wrapped her lips around the plastic shaft, locking eyes with Ona as she did.

Ona could barely keep her composure. There was nothing quite like watching a strong, confident woman drop to her knees for her. She pulled back slightly, gripping the base of the strap as a string of saliva clung to it, then playfully tapped it against Lucy's cheek. Smiling wickedly, she murmured, "Imagine if people saw you like this, hm, the Lucy Bronze on her knees."

Lucy whimpered, all traces of shame long gone. She craved this, she needed it desperately. Her tongue flicked out, and she eagerly took it back into her mouth, determined to please Ona.

Lucy locked eyes with Ona as she took in as much of the length as she could.

Ona gently wiped away a tear that slipped down Lucy’s cheek. "Hmm, you've been so good," she murmured, stroking her jaw tenderly. "Now, stand up for me."

‘’Si maestra’’. Lucy stood up, watching intensively waiting for any other instructions. Hm, she wish she could take that top off of Ona.

She didn’t realize she was staring until Ona’s soft chuckle broke the silence. “You’re actually adorable,” Ona said with a smile, momentarily unable to hide her amusement. “What’s on your mind? Do you want to take my top off?”

Lucy blushed and looked up shyly. “Mhm, yes, you’re so pretty,” she replied softly.

Ona chuckled and drew Lucy closer by her hand. “Then take it off, bebé.”

With a smile and a racing heart, Lucy lifted her hands to remove Ona’s top. Ona raised her arms, and within moments, she was standing naked before Lucy, who also took the opportunity to finally kick off the briefs that had been dangling around her knees.

In awe, Lucy let her hands explore Ona’s bare torso, beginning at her sides and gradually moving up to her chest. She gazed at Ona with a mixture of anticipation and admiration.

Ona, rolling her eyes with a playful smile, asked, “What is it you want to say?”

Lucy hesitated, her eyes drifting to her hands. “U-uhm, can I?” she stammered.

“What is it, baby?” Ona tilted her chin up, encouraging her. “Tell me what you want.”

“Kiss them,” Lucy replied, her voice almost dreamy.

“Of course, pequeña,” Ona replied with a chuckle, charmed by Lucy’s timidity. Most athletes were quite full of themselves and self-absorbed, but this girl only seemed to have eyes for her. From the moment their gazes had locked at the beginning of this evening, she had been the sole focus of Lucy’s attention. It was cute.

Lucy surprised her by leaning down, starting with soft kisses at her belly button, and slowly working her way up. Between each kiss, their eyes met, intensifying the moment.

Ona’s chest rose and fell as Lucy moved closer to her nipples. Damn, this woman knew exactly how to affect her. A groan escaped as Ona’s head fell back, surrendering to Lucy’s touch.

Ona snapped back to reality as Lucy guided her toward the bed, trailing kisses along her neck until the back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Ona slid her hand into Lucy’s hair, gently pulling her away as she tutted softly and talked in a stern voice. "Not good, hermosa, not good." Stepping to the side, she added, "You’re too distracting. Get on the bed, bend over."

Ona chuckled, her voice teasing. "Trying to take the lead, hm?" she asked, reaching for the whip. "Oh, so you wanted more punishment?" she added sarcastically, as Lucy whimpered when the leather met her skin again.

"That's fine," Ona murmured, her breath warm as she grazed her teeth along Lucy’s neck. "Next time, just ask, mi juguete. I love playing with you." She let her lips trail down Lucy’s spine before standing up straight again.

Crack.

Lucy moaned into the mattress, her ass more sensitive than before after each hit. She braced herself for more, but the expected impact didn’t come. Instead, she felt Ona press up against her.

Ona reached for the vibrator and, with her arm around Lucy, gently slid it across her wetness until she felt Lucy start to buck her hips. She grinned as she turned on the device, keeping it at its lowest setting.

At the same time, she aligned herself with Lucy’s entrance, having slid the strap through her slick a few times to ensure it was well-lubricated. It was definitely wet enough, she had to make an effort to maintain control and prevent slipping inside just yet.

If the wetness pooling between Lucy’s legs didn’t make her arousal clear enough, her soft, breathy groans into the bedsheet left no doubt that she was ready.

Lucy moaned as Ona entered her in one fluent thrust, completely bottoming out, pressing against the plug that was still inside of her.

Ona started thrusting as she felt Lucy had gotten used to the way she filled her up, starting with slow languid thrusts as she held the vibrator in place.

Lucy struggled to focus on all the sensations overwhelming her. She felt euphoric yet whiny, caught in a paradox of feeling both overwhelmed and unsatisfied. She craved more.

She cried out as Ona thrust harder and more deliberately. Fuck she was incredible, Lucy thought as every movement hit just the right spot. But she quickly realized that this wasn’t entirely focused on her. As her own orgasm built, the swears and murmurs behind her revealed that Ona was also nearing her climax.

“I-” She moaned, cutting herself off as waves of pleasure surged through her. She collapsed onto her forearms, her face pressing into the bed as her thighs quivered. The intensity of her orgasm hitting her sooner than she had anticipated.

Ona bit her lip as she watched the wetness gushing down between their bodies. She let the vibrator fall onto the bed, leaving it running as she gripped Lucy's hips, desperately chasing her own release. She was so close. She shut her eyes tight, concentrating on her peak, thrusting just right so the base of the strap pressed firmly against her clit.

Lucy’s walls convulsed around the strap, having moved past the initial waves of overstimulation, and another orgasm was already building up.

At the same time they cried out, waves of pleasure rippling through their bodies at the same time, jerkily Ona rode out her orgasm until she pulled out and collapsed next to Lucy.

Lucy was in a complete daze, her vision blurred, heart pounding so loudly she could hear it echoing in her ears. A wave of pure bliss washed over her, and time felt meaningless.

She couldn’t tell if it had been seconds, minutes, or longer. Time seemed to blur in her hazy state. Slowly, Lucy became aware of the gentle buzzing against her belly. With fumbling hands, she reached down, trying to turn it off. Ona chuckled softly and took it from her, switching it off with ease.

Lucy let out a deep sigh. "That was… fucking amazing."

Ona turned to face her fully, a satisfied smile on her lips. "Glad you liked it."

"And you?" Lucy asked, her voice a bit breathless.

"Mhm." Ona leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Lucy’s cheek. "Very good."

Lucy smiled, rolling onto her back, stretching out as contentment washed over her. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this satisfied before. As she sensed Ona moving beside her, she cracked one eye open and was met with a playful smile.

Ona reached out, lazily tracing patterns on Lucy’s chest. "You tired already?" she teased, though there was a faint note of disappointment in her voice.

Lucy hummed, savoring a few more moments of bliss before sitting up slightly. "Why?"

Ona chuckled, that familiar mischievous glint returning to her eyes. The athleticism was always a plus, models tended to tire too quickly for her liking. "Want to wear a strap? I think you’ve earned it." She smirked, already imagining how Lucy would womanhandle her, or perhaps she could ride her, propped up against those irresistible abs.

A slow smile spread across Lucy’s face. Oh, she definitely wanted to wear a strap. "Yeah," she replied, "I’d like that."

"Perfect," Ona said with a grin, standing up with the kind of ease that made it seem like she was just starting her day, full of fresh energy.

Lucy could feel her own energy gradually returning. As Ona removed her harness, letting it fall to the floor with the strap still attached. Lucy stepped towards her, removing the plug and laying it beside the discarded strap.

Ona didn’t seem to notice, already preoccupied with scanning her closet. Without looking up, she handed Lucy a harness, her mind focused on choosing the right strap.

With practiced ease, Lucy slipped into the harness, already feeling the familiar stir of excitement building again.

Ona turned to her with a grin, handing over the strap and a small bottle of lube.

Lucy raised an eyebrow as she took it. This girl was definitely experienced, but the size of the strap was... pretty big. She couldn’t help but smirk, though she kept any comment to herself.

It was a shame Lucy wasn’t allowed to kiss her, especially now. Ona looked so damn cute biting her bottom lip, intently watching her secure the strap. Truly a shame.

Unable to resist, Lucy leaned in, kissing the soft skin of her neck with eager lips. They stumbled into the wooden door, and Lucy caught Ona just before she could crash into it too hard, pausing her movements.

Their eyes met, Ona’s filled with undeniable lust. Lucy smirked. This girl truly had a passion, no doubt about that.

Lucy lifted Ona, carrying her toward the nearest wall, to not to let Ona’s back press against the rough wood.

Ona chuckled at how effortlessly the girl carried her. Cupping Lucy's face she pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before trailing her lips down to her neck, playfully returning the favor with a few teasing bites mixed in.

She paused, however, when Lucy pressed the lubed strap against her, a low groan escaping her lips as Lucy began to grind her hips. Held securely against the wall, Ona could feel the firm grip of Lucy's big hands on her ass, grounding her.

Her jaw went slack as Lucy slowly entered her, guiding her down onto the rubber strap. God, she loved the feeling of being filled like this.

Ona reached for Lucy’s hair, fingers tangling just above the nape of her neck, giving it a firm tug. Lucy groaned in response, but it didn’t slow her rhythm. Instead, she leaned in closer, her lips finding Ona’s neck once more, resuming her trail of eager kisses.

Lucy felt the urge to give Ona more, to feel even closer, the desire to kiss more of her skin was overwhelming. With that thought, she shifted, holding up Ona easily as she walked them towards the bed. Her movements slowed but remained deliberate, their connection never breaking even as she shuffled on to the bed.

Lucy eagerly latched onto Ona’s chest, her tongue tracing circles and lips sucking gently, every movement fueled by the soft sounds escaping the woman below her. Each moan spurred her on, her own thrusts becoming more insistent, matching the rhythm of Ona’s pleasure. Lucy’s focus was completely on her, reading every breath, every gasp, and responding with more intensity.

Ona groaned, a sudden idea flashing through her mind. She tugged Lucy up by the roots of her hair and, with a swift motion, rolled them both over. Lucy, caught off guard but intrigued, let it happen, eyes widening as she watched Ona straddle her waist. Instinctively, she tried to sit up, eager to continue her trail of kisses, but Ona gently pushed her back down, pinning her to the bed.

Without a word, Ona reached for the vibrator they'd used earlier, switching it on and positioning it against herself. As she began to ride Lucy, her left hand pressed firmly against Lucy’s toned stomach, steadying herself while she controlled the pace, her movements deliberate and intoxicating.

Ona's eyes squeezed shut, her breath hitching as she focused on the growing tension coiling in her core. The heat in her stomach tightened with every thrust, every brush of Lucy’s touch, pulling her closer and closer to the edge of release.

As Ona’s body faltered, Lucy’s hands tightened around her hips, steadying her movements. She continued to lift her up and down, her own hips rolling rhythmically beneath her, guiding Ona through every wave of pleasure.

With a satisfied hum, Ona eventually eased herself off Lucy and collapsed beside her, turning off the toy with a soft click. She exhaled deeply, sinking into the bed in contentment, her breathing gradually slowing.

Lucy rolled on her side to watch Ona, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

Ona sighed and rolled her eyes, before turning to face her. "Lucy"

Lucy, still captivated by Ona’s beauty, smiled warmly. "Yes?"

Ona leaned closer, gently cupping Lucy’s face in her hands and squeezing her cheeks. "Hello."

Lucy chuckled, feeling a flutter in her chest. "Yes, hello. I already -"

"No," Ona interrupted, squeezing a bit harder. "I know that look. Put your brain back in gear for a moment."

Lucy blinked, momentarily confused. Her mind was engaged, or so she thought. Oh shit. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized she might have been caught up in the moment more than she intended.

Ona's grip tightened slightly. "You’re not falling in love with me," she said firmly. "This was fun, but it's just an act. We're not running away together, we’re not getting married on an island, and you’re not buying me presents." She released Lucy’s face and gave a reassuring smile.

Lucy’s frown deepened as she processed Ona’s words. Wait, was I really - she thought shocked, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment washing over her.

"But this was great," Ona continued, her smile softening. "If you ever find yourself back in Barcelona and have time for a night of fun, just ask for Nova."

"Nova?" Lucy asked, still a bit flustered. "Oh, is that your stage name?"

Ona nodded, a playful glint in her eye. "Sí."

----the end-----

I hope you liked it, I have never written a song-fic and i went a little of track (litteraly lol).

sorry, this was... a lot 🙈

[yamujiburo]

Some of this might sound intentionally hostile in text and I apologize.

I'm saying this as an abuse survivor mind you - don't throw "abusive ships" under the bus so easily - at least, so long as they're not actually glamorizing the abuse. I lived that irl and I personally find someone overcoming it, slowly having enough of that bullshit and getting out over time, and the other person having to wipe their own butt for once after they've made the damn mess, very refreshing. Maybe that's not a ship in the traditional sense. It's no happily ever after bc it shouldn't be, but I find stories like mine shyed away from so often because even the portrayal gets considered a "canon ship". ... that's just how media works now, I guess? I very rarely See a fictional relationship not called a ship in literally any context now so that's the definition I'm running on.

I wish more people were willing to portray the hardships of finding acceptance outside of "whoever you can find will accept you" very much, and finding the better things after. I wish people weren't terrified out of portrayimg situations like mine.

Jessie.. is not a good person in canon. You expect me to believe she moved into to hanamusa seamlessly, without falling on her ass? I never see you talk about Jessie's abusive tendencies in canon. You never talk about the inherent meanness she needed to get over to get there. She's quite aml lot like my ex in canon, actually.

What do you mean you're going to just remove from the character that she is abusive to those around her. Jessie hits people. She takes her own junk out on others all the time. Do you even like the character then, are you actually invested in her growing, or are you just making an OC at this point?

Idk. Do you, boo. But you are posting about a character who, whether you like it or not, is canonically abusive. I just don't buy that dating Ash's mom alone fixed her. That isn't... How that works. It would be excellent if it did. Part of my love of hanamusa is that it signals Jessie's change - but she could have changed for anyone before now.

What makes Delia different? How is she specifically a turning point for Jessie? Because Jessie's flaws go well beyond just bossing people around.

I would love if my abuser had the same outcome as your Jessie. I adore your portayals of hanamusa, where she's still flawed but still strives to do better. That's all I ever wanted from my ex.

What the fuck got her there tho.

Anyways I've been watching a lot of Bojack Horseman lately -

I agree with you! I don't think abusive relationships (or any tough subject matter in general) should be shied away from in media. It can be powerful when executed well and written by folks who are equipped to tell those kinds of stories. I do think it's sad when people treat it as off limits. But the ask I got was definitely more about which ships I have where I actually like the relationship between the characters. I think the semantics of the word "ship" are kind of vague or rather, over time, got so specific to only mean "absolutely love together and want them as endgame" (for most people anyways). So that's usually what I take the word to mean when people ask me about it.

I can 100% appreciate how an abusive relationship is written and handled, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna ship an abuser with their victim (that falls into the glorifying you're talking about). Love Bojack Horseman! Big fan! I think the way they handled Bojack and Sarah Lynn was beautifully and tragically well written. But does that mean I ship Bojack and Sarah Lynn? Absolutely fucking not.

I've talked about Jessie's character plenty on this blog and the way she's handled in earlier seasons specifically. This is kind of a summary: If we look at it on surface level, yes we can say she was abusive. But I think it's important to acknowledge and take into account the medium, time period and culture. Slapstick and cartoon violence was HUGE in anime and animation in the 90s (and prior to that too). Characters were always cartoonishly slapping each other around with giant mallets, folding fans, etc. Looney Tunes style. These slapstick bits were always distinct from real abuse and hurt (for Pokémon, Jessiebelle comes to mind). Mean slapstick wasn't a character trait exclusive to Jessie either. We saw it in Misty, James, Meowth, characters of the day and pretty much any character who got mad. It was a visual shortcut to show anger.

This type of slapstick has since (thankfully) died out and it hasn't really been a part of the Pokémon franchise since the early 2000s. However, Jessie was a notably special case. One of my favorite fun facts about the Pokémon anime is that there was a point in the series where Megumi Hayashibara (Jessie/Musashi's seiyuu) told the writers that moving forward, she no longer wanted Jessie to be violent or to be shown hitting James or Meowth (source: her memoir "The Characters Taught Me Everything"). She thought it directly went against the vision Takeshi Shudo had for Jessie, James and Meowth, when he created them, which was that they are good natured villains. If you watch from DP and on, Jessie never lays a hand on either of them. I think it was a such a good move on Pokémon's part to change her character like that and I'm forever grateful that Hayashibara said something! Whenever I write Jessie now, I always keep that in mind. She's mean, shouty and stupid but would never genuinely hurt those she cares about.

From then, her character becomes much more bearable. She's still bossy, mean and vain (typical cartoon villainess attributes) but I'd hesitate to say abusive. She'll still yell at James and Meowth, they all yell at each other, but in more of a sibling way (imo) rather than a "i'm actively trying to hurt your feelings way". The show makes a point especially in later seasons to show that Jessie, James and Meowth are not beyond being redeemed. From conception the whole POINT of the Team Rocket trio was that they are redeemable but their persistence and obsession keeps getting in the way of them seeing that there's a better life for them out there.

I won't deny that Jessie was unsavory in earlier seasons, but when I write her, I choose to write the version that Takeshi Shudo and Megumi Hayashibara had envisioned from the get go. She's still incredibly flawed and makes plenty missteps but wants to be better as you stated! My favorite part about Jessie is that she's a piece of shit LOL and I enjoy writing the changes she goes through to be better (but then still showing her default so some of her evil tendencies). In this AU, Delia doesn't fix Jessie. Jessie fixes Jessie because she is with someone makes her want to be a better person. She's already in the middle of turning over a new leaf before even meeting Delia, after leaving Team Rocket. Writing Jessie as legitimately abusive I think could work, but that's not my story to tell and if someone who were more equipped to tell that story did, I'd be very interested to take a listen!

I hope this doesn't come off as trying to deny or invalidate your experience. If you see that in Jessie, I hear you! This is just how I've interpreted her character over the years, having watched every episode of Pokémon and reading Japanese interviews from the cast and crew. She's such a compelling character and I love how messy she is

[slaaverin]

I love that last ask, and your reply.

Just one thing I’ve wondered since the ending of the show myself…

So, I was thinking hypothetically, that even if it was the case that jikook didn't see each other for months, if they are ‘just friends', why on earth did they need to carve out time to travel together? They could have literally just hung out in Seoul when eventually free, had dinner, drinks, gone to a gig, (I mean they did, when they went to D-Day, they hung out with Yoongi as Jimin said), like they do with others, like Jimin going to an art gallery with Joon (who he also didn't see much of in 2023).

I mean seeing as how busy they were, especially as the schedule was fit into JK's already very busy schedule (and literal release of his first solo single) squeezed in, why would it matter?

Because if they are just friends, they are no more just friends than any of the other member, or any of their other friends?

I know they made it work, by having it filmed, and had to bc of MS, and that this was planned and executed by the company, and sold to Disney as we know. It was obviously part of their chapter 2, I think spearheaded by Jimin, but it is such a major thing to do.

But, again, if they were only friends, why?

I say this also because in a majorly loud way, it marks them as different to the others. The why of it all. Why they wanted/needed to do this with each other, and only them (as was intended). Jimin spent half of 2023 saying the only members he saw were Hobi and Yoongi - which in turn made other shippers think that they are finally ready to show the world their relationship (and I mean that literally, I saw a thread about it yesterday, that in 2023 Yoongi was fulfilling Jimin's words in 'Serendipity'). I digress… but he also supported Hobi at Lola and Yoongi in Newark.

If we think about it, in real time we did not know what they were doing in NYC, and we only got fan stalker pics, nothing from them. Nothing on social media, no live. Why? Jimin went live with Yoongi, and posted pics of them on Instagram, also with Joon when they went to the art gallery. Why didn't they post or go live even if it was just him supporting JK in NYC, like he did Yoongi, and Hobi. It makes no sense if they are 'just friends, as to me, again, it marks them as different?

I can’t wrap my head around it if they are just friends (I know they aren’t in my gut), because it hits different to me.

There was another thread going round on x about unpopular opinions on them. Ridiculous thread, some comments were downright ridiculous, homophobic ( coming from supposed supporters) and typical they broke up: have never been together: are just bros… blah blah. Again, from jikookers. However there were some good takes shouting back. Especially when it comes to MS.

The enlistment then hits harder. That is so damn loud. The only idols to ever use the buddy system. To me the whole laying low in 2023 makes sense in that context. We didn’t know about the show until after their enlistment had been secured. We saw them at Yoongis concert but that was fine bc he is a member, they were with Tae. They were in NY we didn’t know why, until we got that infamous back selca, we had nothing. Then boom, what followed a year ago in 10 days is something none of us saw coming. The fact they left everyone behind but each other, is loud. It’s so loud it’s hard tk believe it’s real. Again, to me in this scenario and with them being who they are, this was so meaningful. If they were ‘just friends’ why? There was no need. Especially seeing how again, from our perspective and the fandom at large they were distant in 23, didn’t see each other, then bam. They enlisted?

What in the world?

It should be lorded over, protected too, and shouted from the rooftops. But I know, like you said, it’s safer this way. For us who see it to protect them. To celebrate them quietly.

You see that's something that has always been striking to me.

The fact that Jimin or Jungkook have no trouble sharing some of their outings or interaction with other members but somehow when it comes to the two of them it's always a bit more "hush hush" meaning they don't really show it and we often have to learn it from other people.

Why the need for this kind of privacy if they are just friends? It's doesn't make sense.

It seems that their time together is something precious to them, something they cherish. You cherish the things you love.

So that's very telling.

Once again with enlistement it's everything we need to know.

To discuss that kind of commitment you have to see each other and communicate a lot, plan, think, talk. It's not a small things. So god knows how many times they have seen each other without anyone knowing.

The fact they don't really need us to know it shows it's not really about public image or their colleague realtionship. It was a deeply private and personal decision.

As I said before all of them are friends. They could have enlisted with anyone in the group, or alone, but they didn't.

It shows the strength and commitment to their relationship, which is obviously more deep that what's going on with the group and the public.

Honestly even if we were pretty sure about jikook since all these years for me there was still a bit of healthy skepticism you know like "maybe we're just...wrong?" 😂 but damn when the annoucement for enlistement came it just comfirmed everything in a very solid way. The way it all played out, it was clear that their feelings run deeper than simple friendship. It's way, way more. Because this is simply a huge decision to make.

And the way they talked about it in AYS "I'm not worried about us fighting" do you get the level of connexion to make a statement like this? Once again, huge.

Ah I simply have zero doubts in my mind. Like, they did everything, they told everything that show the amount of love and commitment they have for each other.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and take care 💜

[howiscallmewhateveridctaken]

Lmfaooo what a week 😅

So a lot of people are, understandably, leaving the fandom. Drama like this always tends to put people off and unfortunately that affects the media they’ve come to love. I’m not going to be one of those people bc honestly, I don’t even know if I was ever that “in” the fandom in the first place to even leave it. My account isn’t and never was a nevermore account, yes I’ve made a few nevermore post but those were infrequent and amongst posts and reblogs of multiple other fandoms. I’m also in the discord server but I’ve only ever been a lurker, and usually only ever go in it when I want more context to something I’ve seen on tumblr. With that being said however, I still plan on reading nevermore when (or if) it continues because in THIS particular instance I can easily separate art from the artist and I’ll explain why in a moment.

Like I said I’m not and never have been very active in the fandom. I learned about this drama through a post from an account I follow and went through the server to find more context. I was not present through any of the actual conflicts but I’ve seen the conversations.

So why am I commenting on this?

Well mainly I want to make a point about para social relationships as well as moderation of servers and fandoms as a creator.

I just want to preface this by saying that after reading through all possible context, perspectives, takes and evidence I could find or come across, I genuinely don’t think red is necessarily a bad/morally wrong person. I DO however think she is in the wrong in this situation especially due to how she handled everything. As for how a lot of people are reacting to everything, there’s a couple of things I’d like to note:

From what I’ve seen, all of this is just one big thing of “he said/she said” and pointing fingers as well as just picking sides. If your absolutely distraught because red didn’t turn out to be the person you thought they were simply because she said things you didn’t like, I understand the disappointment and frustration but please remember that content creators in general aren’t your friends. You don’t know these people, they just do things you happen to like. Now I’m not saying you SHOULDN’T feel upset about it, it’s ok to and you even should if it’s an issue to you feel strongly about but please keep in mind that this isn’t a “sign of their true colors” or anything because you don’t know what they were actually like to begin with. Ofc I don’t mean that to say “expect the worst from people” but more as a reminder that can hopefully help you to look at the situation more critically and logically before jumping in guns blazing. It’s understandable if it affects you emotionally, you were emotionally invested in their work; but please realize this before you let it get to that point. Now on the other side of the coin, there’s the people who I feel as though will just pick the creators side simply because they’re fanboys and will stand by them no matter what. I’m DEFINITELY NOT saying that’s what everyone who’s on red side is, but naturally there’s bound to be a few that are going to dickride for the sake of dickriding. Regardless, there’s a lack of willingness to listen and understand from both sides (at least from what I’ve noticed) and that’s a problem because when no one wants to listen then what’s supposed to be a community coming together to resolve an issue just turns into a giant flame war. Also this should go without saying, but at least give the mods a chance. They obviously handled the whole situation horrendously but they aren’t going to do their jobs any better when they’ve got people coming at them with pitchforks.

Speaking of the moderators. I genuinely can’t wrap my head around how red and the other mods have managed to fumble this badly…….like it’s almost funny. All said and done they all had ONE very simple job and they blew it. Although I very much disagree with it, I do understand red’s decision to unban crimson. They wanted to give them a second chance, sure whatever. What I DONT GET is why would they not at the very least check to see if anyone else would be comfortable with a decision that would possibly affect them or even impact their safety. At the very least a warning to or a discussion with the victims would have been something. Not only that but even after they unban them, once red saw the NUMEROUS amount of people that were upset about it they, they should have immediately banned them again and then apologize after instead of some rushed explanation. But I get it stress gets the better of you. I understand their desire to keep things as transparent as possible (which i appreciate and I’m sure so do many others) but from that first apology/explanation it felt more like red trying to shake responsibility off themselves and pointing fingers in the guise of being transparent. I did see where red was trying to get at in her first statement, but there was also things that she honestly should have just had the foresight to realize wouldn’t put her in a better light, and this is aside from the victim blaming-esque wording. red basically says that she felt like a group of people (including Laci the one who reported crimson) were just out to get crimson, which is absolutely insane but then again it’s the internet so who knows. However it’s super clear that Laci obviously wasn’t lying bc the things she accused crimson of did in fact happen. So even bringing that up was enough for me to raise my eyebrow at but I digress. Then red practically says it was hard to handle the situation bc the evidence provided was censored, but Laci literally offered to give the uncensored versions so that was completely disingenuous on red’s part at best. To me it just seemed like the mods were looking for excuses for what could be there own laziness at best and negligence at worst. Their biggest fault so far is not being very good at actually listening to their audience and taking them into consideration. She also brought up that fact that Laci was apparently the only person to report crimson which I did not like to say the least. One of the victims confided in Laci and Laci brought it forward. I understand reds suspicions about Laci not being in the actual server where it happened but how are you going to immediately jump to “well why did no one else bring it up” instead of stopping for a sec and thinking “ hm clearly these victims feel uncomfortable stepping forward”. Which they had to do now anyway because of how bad the issue became. They should not have had to do that. Better it be just one person reporting, even if it’s someone you don’t like, than no one reporting and the issue persists under the radar.

And then there’s red’s formal apology…

First off, girl why are you dropping names??? A bunch of who are supposedly minors? Like let’s be so fucking for real right now😭

And then the audacity to be like “please don’t go after or dm these people” like babes if you were genuinely worried about them you wouldn’t have used their names at all. ESPECIALLY when in the end it was completely irrelevant and borderline inappropriate since it really had nothing to do with crimson, their actions or how you handled them. Not to mention the act of calling them “cliques” when literally all they were was side servers. Like if they’re cliques then what does that make red and everyone who’s on her side? It was very clearly just a biased reaction to people saying things she doesn’t like about her, which by all means she has the right to respond to but not in a way that is clearly trying to sway how everyone else sees them. The way red describes everything is as if it’s middle school drama and then proceeds to play directly into it. Don’t get me wrong her apology was fine, when she was ACTUALLY apologizing. Everything else felt like a last ditch effort to drag others under the bus with her. It was lowkey embarrassing to say the least.

Again, it’s important that I make it clear that I don’t believe red is a bad person. I just think she’s an immature person, or at least she is in how she handled everything and continues to handle it bc like I said I don’t know her, and don’t care to frankly. I didn’t start reading nevermore to be buddy buddy with her. Like if we look at the grand scope of things, this is a grown woman beefing with kids. Obviously they aren’t all kids, most of them aren’t I believe but she’s practically stooping down to school yard conflict in how she’s responded so far. Especially at one point in the server when she was being called out and jumped to “yeah I guess I’m the bad guy and totally evil. You all should hate me”. Like actually cut that shit out, what are you doing. I mean honestly.

And my final point because I’ve ranted long enough. I mentioned before that in this instance I am willing to separate the art from the artist, I stand by that because I genuinely do think this is a situation where red could hopefully grow from this and rectify things. The actual unbanning was a stupid and inconsiderate move on her part, but I don’t think she meant any ill-will or had any malicious intent. I disagree with the people calling her a r@pe apologist because that’s honestly just a huge reach. I’ve also seen some accusations of red and/or Flynn being racist, promoting inappropriate art knowing there’s minors around and from what I’ve seen it’s pretty iffy. Regarding the racism, I don’t believe that they are. Their characterizations of the characters regarding their ethnicities IS stereotypical and was obviously just very surface level research into those respective cultures but I chopped that up to ignorance rather than racism. As a woc I was frankly just relived they didn’t make the poc characters centered on some kind of discrimination or tragedy from their era, which yes is something that shouldn’t be ignored but also I don’t know if rednflynn could accurately and more importantly, respectfully portray those types of issues. Nor is it even their place tbh. With that being said however I don’t belong to most of the cultures the characters belong to. To me it never seemed like they were making a caricature out of these cultures, especially since their ethnicities are barely relevant to their stories anyway but I acknowledge that it’s not my place to deem what’s offensive or not.

As for the promoting inappropriate art of the characters and creating some themselves. Yeah they do. I’ve never been shocked about that nor did I think it was something that they are wrong for doing, I mean it’s their own work. Granted I didn’t realize how many minors were in the fandom but that’s literally every fandom, there’s only so much you could do about it. I don’t know if nevermore has a rating but it’s not like it was something ever promoted to be kid friendly, it’s obvious that some scenes are just straight up fan service. While I personally don’t like fan service it never was enough to impact the story so I personally never saw an issue. But point is I don’t think they should have to monitor what is and isn’t appropriate for minors but things get tricky when they have a server where they are clearly aware of minors.

And then there’s other things like people accusing them of promoting SA or some shit like that bc of a lot of stuff involving Montessor which frankly, that’s just a media literacy issue on the readers part. So yeah with that being said I don’t think red is a bad person, although I understand why a lot of people are done with them which is completely fair. I’m pretty much in a grey area about it, who knows if they end up getting in an even bigger scandal, hopefully they come out better from this but only time will tell. The best/smartest thing red has said throughout this entire debacle was that they’re taking a step back from the fandom. I think it’ll be good for everyone, especially them. It seems like it’ll take stress off them anyway. Plus the hole they’ve dug for themselves is already halfway to china by now so there’s that

[meo-eiru]

MERU😭😭😭 i finally had a free moment to relax and the first thing i wanted to do was play hold your tongues and i've spent the last few hours pouring over how absolutely beautiful of a piece it is in storytelling and visuals. i genuinely have so much to gush over and idk where i should be doing it so into your inbox it goes. i apologise in advance, you also don't have to respond to this bc 1) i am aware it's gonna get vv long and 2) spoilers will definitely be mentioned

i hope sel knows what an absolute gem of a writer she is for executing all of this bc i am fucking gobsmacked by how well certain ideas and concepts were interwoven throughout the entire piece. maybe a lot of the things following are just my interpretations, but that's another thing i really really love — there's enough ambiguity in the prose to be able to infer it in so many different ways

first to the namesake of the game, ‘hold your tongues’ and the many connotations of tongues that are explored throughout; as symbols of liberation and entrapment that intermingle so so well. i feel like the game really delves into the struggles that women face in society, in relationships, just in general and i like how since it's done so through maelyn's own perspective, we're privy to a more complex and raw display of how deeply emotionally scarring it can be.

eric is a little bitch imo (i won't retract that statement ever) but the ever judgmental, taunting and superior tone he has as the ‘voice’ in maelyn's head speaks volumes of the character he possessed and the lasting impact it had on her. giving her dress to another man makes her ‘unfaithful’, the fact that it's emphasised that these are only ‘remains’ of a dress too — bc eric left her with shreds, physically, mentally. 

if we take the dress to act as a metaphor for maelyn herself, he left her in shreds.

in response to this, maelyn bites her tongue, so hard that it bleeds. it's restraint, quite literally biting back your anger and the feeling of being wronged. grounding yourself again to the harsh reality of it all, and it brings her back to the present moment when starling points it out.

we see a similar occurrence later on when maelyn relays her tongue ‘longing for a taste, was to be kept down.' so again, she stops herself (and i think the wording here is particularly interesting, that it was to be kept, so intrinsically this too may also link to how women are commonly taught to be submissive and forced to fit to certain standards). 

in both contexts, the act of biting the tongue can be taken as a suppression of some sort of desire — the first is the desire to be mad, and the second is the desire of lust. both which women have been criticised for through the ages.

i also like to think that the tongue is a representation of freedom. starling is very much making wings to fly out of them, and taking them away from ppl has ‘forever deprived of their ability to lie’ (in which case lying = freedom, i won't expand on this too much bc it'll be another whole essay😭) so going back to maelyn, her biting hers can also be seen as her freedom being hurt, prevented.

another thing is, the line just before ‘he never ran out of tongues’, we can take this as starling never having his freedom threatened. and it poses further questions. is this because of his strength? is it because he has the ocean ‘wholly’? is it because he's a ‘man’?

on my first run through, one of the most prominent questions i came away w/ was what was it that attracted maelyn to starling? to the concept of these monsters of the sea that had surpassed human constraints that had her waiting out all those hours to catch a glimpse of one to begin with. what was it that kept her coming back? time and time again, day after day when she could've not gone back to that shore after leaving.

the text narrates a couple of things that i think contributed, there's a sense of warring humanity and animosity in the repetitive motifs of dirt and uncleanliness, in her noting that starling looked ‘half a man’ and that one half could've ‘consumed’ the other. maelyn has an envy that's touched upon frequently. does maelyn want to be closer to a monster so that no one can hurt her? or does she feel like a monster is all she can be now?

then there's a dynamic with power that was honestly done so well. again, my praise to sel for how well thought out it all was. that part where she put her hand into his guts and he made sounds he was ‘unable to control’, another when she tells him ‘cut’ and he does so without question — she recognises she holds the reins in that moment, acknowledges, ‘in control, I breathed.’ 

starling listens to her for the most part, it's a reoccuring theme. even when making his wings, he's following her instructions although it's made clear that he learns quick and is capable. perhaps this gives her comfortability.

but we see this turn on its head when things start to go left, starling begins to do as he pleases and maelyn is taken back into her trauma, back to feeling ‘disgusting’ and ‘unclean’, she even apologises and promises to do better.

leashes are mentioned a few times, maelyn first describes them as a sort of ‘necklace’ — perhaps this is tribute to the way a woman's submission is often beautified and normalised. the ‘leash’ starling puts on her in one of the ends is made of pearls, he keeps it in his mouth before this. could this be a reference to eric's sweet words that bound maelyn before he revealed himself? starling ties it somewhat loosely ‘so she could breathe’ yet that doesn't take away the fact that it's still there. it has a sort of your cage is not small, but that doesn't mean you're not locked in it kinda feel.

there's so much more i could say but i think ive alr said too much😭 i didnt even get to touch on the cuddle ending which was my favourite, or the symbolism of losing fingers, the significance of the numbers two, three and four to the story. I DIDN'T EVEN TALK MUCH ABT THE ART😭😭 MERU SORRY I GOT DISTRACTED BUT THE ART WAS PHENOMENAL❗️❗️❗️❗️

maelyn is super pretty and i love how her and starling contrast each other in design so nicely. starling's expressions were stellar ++ the bgs and cgs were beautiful (you're right, if you didn't clarify it i would think you were behind the chest one haha). also the body horror aspect was really brought to life with the visuals and ik it definitely mustn't have been easy drawing all those organs, thank you for your service meruuuu

i'll shut up here before i write another 3k, but both you and sel did such a great job w/ this. the two of you deserve a nice break to rest so pls make sure to take things easy and take care of yourselves!! drink water and sleep when you can, and know that you've made a masterpiece♥️

OH MY GOD THIS ASK IS MAKING ME GO FERAL

It's so well written??? You did such a good job picking up the details hidden behind their lines??? I fish you continued writing because I for sure did not want to finish it and please do send the other thoughts you had if you can, I love this so much

I'm sure @celerifleuri will too so I'll tag her

You already mentioned the spoilers at the start but I'll also note it down here for people who haven't played the game yet. I'm sure sel will do a much better job answering your story analyses but I'll also say you're completely right with most things you've said.

The story takes place in 1800s with dated gender roles we unfortunately can still relate to. Maelyn is a curious woman who wants to study and experiment, but is being held back by society and even people who she thought she could trust, but again Sel will do a better job explaining those.

I'll talk about the art a bit. One thing I really enjoyed that was kinda unintentional on my part was the use of night and day.

The story starts at night time, the first ever cg we get of Maelyn is her jumping down the cliff, with the moon's reflection on her left and the waves giving an illusion of wings as she looks up, in that very moment she is free.

On the other hand the first ever cg of Starling is day time. The sun is shining brightly from his left, almost blindingly, as he looks down. His hair covering the screen like spider webs.

To contrast these, it's night time in the wood ending. Just like the first cg of Maelyn, we can see the soft moonight shining upon them but not quite reaching Starling's face. Maelyn is alive.

Meanwhile in the bone ending, even though they are underwater we can tell it's day time, just like the first Starling cg. We get to see a glimpse of them through the seaweeds covering our view, the sunlight showering them gently. Starling is alive.

For the character designs too, a bit of a reverse but I'd say Maelyn resembles the sun, meanwhile Starling is like the moon.

They both share green eyes, although quite different shades. Maelyn has bright red hair that contrasts Starling's red tongue tail.

I also like that Maelyn's hair, albeit a bit loosely, is braided and kept tidy. Meanwhile Starling's hair is usually all over the place and quite messy.