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pencil-n-pen · 13 hours ago

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YOUNGBLOOD

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ . ۫ ꣑ৎ . ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

rafe x fem! black cat! pogue!reader

masterlist | kofi

wc: 9.3k (sorry)

summary: summary: You’re the girl. Every guy who asks you out gets the same answer: No. You don’t do dating anymore. But as your reputation grows, so does the challenge. And when Rafe Cameron gets you in sights, he’s not about to give up.

cw: Rafe and reader are both assholes (hers is justified bc to me women are always correct) but it works out. oh also this one is a little spicy !! ofc not full smut but this is Rafe Cameron we’re talking about i can’t NOT include a LITTLE. ward jumpscare for like two seconds, references to past shitty relationships

tags/tropes: he falls first and harder (seriously he wants her BAD) black cat x doberman, kind of how to lose a guy in 10 days vibes, at first Rafe wants her bc of the challenge but eventually he just WANTS her, mild hurt/comfort, dom! rafe but also he does whatever reader wants (except stop trying to date her)

a/n: in this fic i imagine reader being one of those super fluffy feral black cats and then rafe is this doberman sitting behind her. walk him like a dog sis walk him like a dog

i’m so glad i finally finished this i’ve been writing it for ages but here it is !! hope u guys like it <3

songs i listened to while writing: Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer, Meddle About by Chase Atlantic, Champagne Coast by Blood Orange, Salvatore by Lana Del Rey, Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey, Sad Girl by Lana Del Rey, sex money feelings die by Lykke Li, Angel by Massive Attack and Horace Andy

title taken from Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer aka this fics anthem

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He meets you in, of all places, a fucking Barnes & Nobles.

There’s one Barnes & Nobles in the entirety of Kildare Island; it’s on the North side.

Rafe is only there because one of Kelce’s current flings is obsessed with reading those smutty books. Race doesn’t get the appeal. Apparently, the fling is at home sick and Kelce wants to get her something to make her feel better.

Rafe and Topper both think the partying might seriously be affecting his brain chemistry.

But anyway, Kelce asked Rafe to help because he’s “got a way with wooing women” and then since Rafe was going he said fuck it and invited Topper, who will surely be the voice of reason in all of this.

(He seriously doubts it, since Topper almost died in a burning building for the sake of his girlfriend, but whatever. Rafe just doesn’t want to deal with pussy-whipped Kelce by himself.)

They’re on their third go around the store and Rafe is beginning to contemplate the pros and cons of just grabbing the nearest book of the shelf and telling Kelce to just fucking pick something when he spots you:

Straining to reach a book on one of the top shelves. Looking perfectly and immaculately delicious.

“Yo,” He smacks Topper’s arm, getting his attention, “Who the hell is that?”

Topper follows his eyeline, landing on you.

“No fucking way, dude. No chance.”

He frowns, turning and looking at Topper, affronted.

Topper shrugs. “No offense, man. I tried once. All the guys in the island got this stupid-ass nickname for her, too.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mhm. The Pogue Princess. She’s turned down every single guy to ever ask her out. Even the Kooks.”

Rafe snorts. “So she’s arrogant?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. I totally thought she was a bitch when she turned me down, but honestly, it makes sense. People only ask her out because she always says no.”

“So?” He scoffs. “She’s fucking hot. She should be flattered.”

He looks her up and down again. “I’m gonna ask her.”

He can picture it exactly: having the one and only Pogue Princess hanging off his arm. The girl no other guy has banged— she’d be his, and his only. He’d have those lips and that face— he’d have you.

And you’d have him, of course. Not many girls can say that.

“Suit yourself man. Don’t come crying to me when she turns your ass down.”

He strides over to you, sidling up next to you, leaning against the shelf.

“Hey,”

“No.”

He blinks. “What?”

“No. No I don’t want your number, no I don’t want to sleep with you, no I don’t want to go out with you.” You say, not looking over at him once.

“Well, how come, doll?” He says, leaning down a bit so he’s closer to your height. “We could have a good time, you and me.”

“First of all,” You start, pulling a book off the shelf. “It’s a known fact that Rafe Cameron doesn’t date Pogues. Secondly, I can tell you exactly how this relationship would go. We’d date, and then after a few weeks you’d grow sick of my Pogue-ish ways or something like that. We’d break up, and then I would be seen as even more of a social pariah than I am now. I’d be unwelcome in Pogue spaces because I’d forever be the girl who dated Rafe Cameron just to get her heart broken like all the others, and I’m already a stain on this side of the island, but I’m willing to bet your groupies and fanclub would increase their ridicule if I was ever seen here. So no.”

He lets out a low whistle. “You’ve thought this out.”

“No I haven’t. It’s predictable.”

You re-shelf the book you were holding then walk away, stalking deeper into the store.

He looks back at Topper once, flashing his best friend that dangerous smile.

Topper groans in the distance, all too away of the effect a challenge has on Rafe Cameron.

—

You have to say. You’re a little surprised to feel his continued gaze on your back, even more displeased to hear his footsteps trailing behind you.

“You won’t better your chances by annoying me.”

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“You don’t have to,” You slow your walk, reaching out to tap your hand on the spine of a book you’ve been eyeing for awhile. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“And what does my reputation say about me?”

“That you’re an asshole and a heartbreaker,” You turn and look back at him over your shoulder. “You’re not exactly selling me, here.”

Your eyes latch on something tucked under his arm. It’s the two books he saw you eyeing. His gaze catches yours and he gives you a cocky smirk.

You roll your eyes and turn back around. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Rafe Cameron.”

He trails after you the entire time you’re in the store, picking book after book off the shelf that he sees your eyes even linger on.

“What’s your plan here?” You ask, turning a book over in your hands and scanning the blurb on the back. “Buy the entire store? Woo me with your credit card? You’re not the only guy on the island with a piece of plastic.”

“Pretty sure I’m the guy with the most on his plastic, though.”

You sigh loudly through your nose. “I’m not interested in men who are only interested in me as an object. You want the trophy you get from ‘bagging the Pogue Princess.’ So fuck off.”

You’re so sick of this. Sick of every guy being the same— only being interested in you as an ego boost. No guy has ever been interested in you for you.

And they never will be, so long as you keep turning them down. Every man wants what he can’t have.

“You’re seriously not going to get anything?”

You pause in your storm off, turning around to look at Rafe. “What?”

His arms are laden with a thick stack of books, muscles flexed at the weight of the stack, straining at the sleeve of his t-shirt.

He gestures to the shelves around you. “You must have looked at the entire store. You’re really just going to leave?”

“I’m a Pogue, Rafe. You do the math.”

Your hands clench and unclench on the strap of your bag. You never thought you’d catch the attention of Rafe Cameron. If Sarah’s the Kook Princess, then he’s the Kook Prince. Dating him would give you some major points on the North Side of the Island.

…And ruin your relationship with 90% of the Pogue’s on The Cut.

Besides. Even if you did date him, he would stick around. No way in hell he would. And then you’d be back right where you started.

Your fumbling with your keys out in the small parking lot, groaning as your ancient beater car key once again refuses to turn in the lock when you hear footsteps behind you.

You rub a hand over your face and turn around.

“Can you please leave me alone? Seriously.”

He’s got that stupid smile on his face again and he’s holding something out to you.

A book. Just one.

You take it from his hands cautiously. “You had a whole stack. Why downgrade to just one?”

He clasps his hands behind his back. “Cause you looked at all those other ones once. You stopped at this one three times. Figured you might’ve wanted it.”

You chew your lip. “I’m still not going out with you.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d change your mind right now.”

He leans down, reaching forward, breath fanning your face. You screw your eyes shut, bracing.

A loud click behind you. He pulls away.

“But you will.”

With that, he turns, walking back into the store. At the doors, he flashes you one last smile.

You take one breath. Two.

You climb into your now unlocked car, tossing the book onto the passenger seat.

When you get home, you won’t be able to stop thinking about how in the moment, you kind of wanted him to kiss you.

—

He finds you at the Boneyard, because of course he does.

You’re sitting on one of the drift wood-slash-benches near the bonfire, pretending like you’re not shivering.

“You know, most people come to beach parties to let loose and have fun. That includes me. Having fun and letting loose does not include you.”

“Oh, come on. This is neutral territory, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What am I allowed to call you?”

“Nothing. Go find another girl to stroke your ego. Or your dick. I don’t care either way.”

He leans down into your space. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Fuck. Off.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I only came over to give you this.”

This time, instead of holding out a book (that you had, in fact, read in a matter of days. It was as good as you’d thought it’d be) he holds out a jacket. One of those expensive North Face fleeces.

You scrunch your nose. “And why are you giving me that?”

“You’re cold.”

“So?”

“So, I’m being a gentleman.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you knew what that word was.”

He drops the fleece on your head. “Take the fucking jacket.”

You slide it off your head, putting it on and glaring at him all the while.

“I’m only putting this on because I’m cold.”

“Sure you are.”

“This has nothing to do with you. I’m still not dating you.”

“Mhm.”

“I hate you.”

He cracks the same smile he gave you at the bookstore. “Sure.”

He takes a swig of his beer, walking backwards towards his group of friends. “You look good in my clothes, princess.”

You flip him two fingers, and he flips them straight back.

You’ll deny it later that you smiled after the interaction.

—

He shows up at your job. This time, Topper’s with him.

You close your eyes and count to ten, mentally picturing fleeing the country and never having to deal with men again before speaking.

“You know, there’s a term for you right now.”

He smiles that same stupid fucking smile, tapping his fingers on the table of the cafe you work at. He’s seated outside in your section. You highly doubt it’s by mistake.

“Determined? Persistent?”

“A repeat offender,” You say flatly. “Now will you please order and get the hell out here?”

To his credit, Topper looks vaguely uncomfortable with his own presence. Though that might be because you did turn him down particularly brutally. You wince internally. It wasn’t his fault, per se. It was just… not a good day.

Rafe is perfectly capable of handling your top-notch bitch-ery, and secretly, you enjoy the chance to be as openly angry as you want to be.

Rafe pretends to read over the menu. You know he’s only pretending because you watched him read it for five straight minutes when they first arrived. He probably has it memorized.

“I’d like a blueberry muffin,” He says, still smiling. “Just one.”

You scribble it down on your order sheet, then turn to Topper. “And you?”

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “Just a water, please.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Seriously? You came all the way to my job to harass me and that’s what you order? One muffin and a water?”

You write the water down anyway, clicking your tongue. “And the asshole-ery continues.”

“And what would you have us order, then?” Rafe asks, eyeing you from his position at the table.

It’s scary how well he commands a space just by being— he’s Rafe Cameron and he knows it. He exudes power and control.

He’s the exact kind of man you turn down hard. No chance of anything.

“Something actually worth bothering me for,” You slip the notepad into your apron pocket and spin on your heel, “I have other orders and tables to wait. Don’t expect to get your muffin and water soon.”

As you wait and bus the tables that need to be dealt with before your orders are ready, you begin to wonder if you’re going too far.

This isn’t just any Kook. This is Rafe. He could completely and utterly destroy your life if he wanted to.

Maybe you’re better off agreeing to go out with him. Just to be safe. Women don’t turn a man like that down.

Finally, you get their orders out to them, setting them on the table a little less harsh than you were originally planning.

“There,” Can’t quite stop your mouth, though. “Do you want the check now?”

Rafe picks up his muffin, shrugging. “Sure.”

You slide them the bill— you had it ready the second you got the chance. You’d rather not have them here any longer than you have to.

It was hard enough to get a job outside The Cut. You don’t need to give your boss any more reason to fire you.

Rafe tosses a few bills onto the bill and you take it, counting the money.

“You overpaid.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Your total was nine dollars and twenty six cents. You just handed me two hundred dollar bills.”

He tilts his head at you like he’s confused. “I thought you were supposed to tip waiters and shit.”

You blink at the bills. “Yeah like, five dollars. Not two hundred. I don’t even think we accept hundred dollar bills.”

“Tell your manager I’m the one who paid. Can’t take issue with a Cameron.”

“You’re the worst,” You tell him, but take the money back to your manager. He isn’t happy, but like Rafe said— can’t take issue with a Cameron. He gives you the change you need and bores holes into your back with how hard he’s staring as you walk the money back.

“Here.” You thrust your arm out, handing him the change.

Rafe crosses his arms. “I said that was your tip.”

“I can’t accept this. I don’t accept pity money.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not pity money.”

“Then what kind of money is it? Cause it sure feels like pity money. Oh wait, is this you-owe-me-now money?”

He groans. “Can’t you just take the fucking money?”

“Not if there’s a consequence.”

If Topper looked uncomfortable before, he looks almost nauseous now. You kind of feel bad for him.

Rafe scrubs a hand down his face. “Will you just take it? No consequence.”

“Why?”

Topper chokes on his water.

“Why?” Rafe asks, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Because it’s what I do. You’re the Pogue Princess, yeah? I’m giving you the princess treatment.”

“But why? What do you gain from this?”

“I’m just gonna go wait at the car,” Topper says, getting up so quickly he bumps the table.

Rafe’s eyes never leave you, the money still clutched in your hand. “You know what I get out of this? The prettiest girl on the island in my clothes. The prettiest girl on the island spending my money.”

The bills start to crinkle in your grip. “I’m a Pogue. You don’t date Pogue’s.”

He stands, pushing back his chair in a much more controlled manner than you were expecting, given the look on his face. “Have you ever considered that you’re the exception?”

“No, because I’m not. The only part of me that’s an exception is the challenge. That’s all you want.”

Something flashes in his eyes. His gaze is dark where it scans your features, something calculating in his eyes.

“Some guy fucked you over, huh?”

Your near full body flinch is a dead giveaway. “Fuck you, Rafe. You’re an asshole.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. But I’m gonna keep showing you what this,”

He gestures to the both of you. “Could be like. I’m not that kind of asshole. Not to girls who look like you.”

He stands, taking all the change out of your hand except the $100 bill.

“Hold onto that for me,” He says, voice husky as it brushes your ear.

His hand comes up for one second, two, and then he lowers it. Like he’d had to restrain himself ok touching you.

An involuntary shiver runs down your spine. He smirks at the reaction.

And then, he’s gone. Now you’re just some waiter standing at a table with a $100 clutched in your hand.

You shake yourself out of your stupor, getting busy bussing the table. You notice something fluttering under his plate.

An old receipt with a number scribbled on it.

And a $20 bill.

“Son of a—“

—

You’re having a really bad day. One of those thirty-million-minor-inconveniences-in-a-row days. With one last fuck you from the universe on top.

You couldn’t get your hair right no matter how many times you tried, your makeup is rushed and bad because you spent too much time on your hair, once again one of your neighbors pulled out of their driveway without looking and almost killed you, a guy tried feel you up during your shift and your manager told you it was your fault for wearing revealing clothing (you were literally wearing your uniform) and then top it all off, your car won’t start. It won’t even try.

You slam your head against the steering wheel. Your boss made you stay late because of the incident so it’s getting dark now. You’re not walking all the way back to The Cut. But you don’t know how you’re getting home. It’s not like you can just call a mechanic. None of your pogue friends have cars and only person who does you’d… rather not call right now.

So that just leaves one option.

A really, really, terrible option.

A horrific one.

You curse as you rifle through your purse, pulling out the old receipt. Your phone’s almost dead, so you have to make this count.

You dial the number, pulling your knees to your chest and sinking low in your seat.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rafe.”

“I was wondering when you’d call me.”

“I’m sure you were,” You say flatly. “Listen I… I need a favor.”

“Spill.”

“I’m at work. My car won’t start. I just—“ You break off, frustrated tears welling in your eyes. “Can you please come pick me up?”

“I’m on my way. Sit tight.”

He hangs up the phone and you sigh, scrubbing your face and willing the tears to just go away. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, probably smearing your makeup past the point of return, but you can’t find it with in yourself to care.

You sit there for what feels like minutes, hands pressed to your face trying desperately to stop the tears that keep flowing when you hear a car pull up next to you.

You sit up, hands lowered, eyeing the sleek Range Rover that just pulled up next to you.

You manage to climb out of your car, hugging your waist in an act of self-soothing and a sad attempt at getting warm. It gets cold in Kildare at night.

Rafe rounds the front of his car, expression pinched.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, really, just…” You trail off, gesturing vaguely to your car. You sniff hard, rubbing the back of your hand across your face. “It’s just been a long day.”

He looks over your shoulder, assessing your car before looking back to you. “Get whatever you need from your car.”

You rush to gather the items from your car, piling them in the backseat at Rafe’s direction. You turn, facing him when something is thrown at your face.

It’s disturbing that you recognize it by deja vu alone.

“Rafe—“ You say, taking the jacket in your hands.

“You’re cold. Put it on.”

“But—“

“Listen, princess, I’m perfectly satisfied waiting here all night until you put that on.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the car.

You squeeze the jacket in your hand. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That.”

“Mmm,” He hums. “That’s a tough one. Probably cause you look pathetic when you shiver.”

“I do not.”

“You totally do. You get all hunched. Like an old lady.”

“Is this your idea of flirting?”

He smiles. “Put the jacket on.”

You do. It’s just as warm as last time.

He nods his head towards the car and you climb into the passenger seat, clicking your seatbelt.

He climbs in after you, putting his seatbelt on and pulling the car out of the parking lot. After a moment, he reaches across the console, turning on your seat warmer and cranking the heat up.

“Thank you,” You say after a moment.

“I told you I’d show you what life would be like if you were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” He says, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Mine.”

“So you’d have me, what? Caged? Chained to you.”

“Spoiled, is the word I’d used.”

“I’m not an object, Rafe. I’m not going to be some kind of kept woman.”

He snorts. “Who said anything about that?”

“That’s what you want, is it not? Want me to have no personality, no nothing. You want me to hang off your arm and laugh at everything you say—“

“Fuck no,” He says so vehemently you pause. “You’re so fucking mouthy. And stubborn. If I wanted some brainless fangirl, I’d go find one. I wouldn’t pick her up from her job and drive her home. Probably wouldn’t give her my fucking jacket.”

You look up at him. “You wouldn’t?”

He shrugs. “None of those girls tell me to fuck off.”

“So it is the challenge. That’s all.”

“That’s not all. You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Come on. No guy has ever given you his jacket? You seriously want me to believe you look like that no one’s ever spoiled you?”

“No,” You say curtly, “You want me to believe that every guy just enjoys spending a bunch of money on a girl?”

“Not a girl. Their girl. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Cause it’s not your job to get it. It’s your job to be spoiled. Now where the hell am I going?”

You give him a vague address— just the street name and how to get there. You’re not stupid enough to give him your house address.

You don’t talk for the duration of the drive, you begin to shrug out of his jacket when a hand on your thigh stops you.

“Keep it. You can give it back to me the next time you see me.”

“There’ll be a next time?”

“If I have anything to say about it.”

You slowly put the jacket back on, then hastily climb out of his car, barely remembering to grab your stuff from the back.

You pause by the window. He rolls it down.

“Um. Thank you. Again.”

His lips twitch. “Don’t mention it.”

—

You don’t see him for a full two weeks after that.

After the first week, you figure he’s busy.

After the second week, you assume you scared him off.

You’re out on your old, busted kayak on the water, enjoying the early evening sun.

“Afternoon, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,”

You look over, eyeing Rafe and Sarah on one of the Cameron’s smaller boats. Sarah waves at you kindly. She’s always been fairly kind to you—

“Princesses have to stick together.” She’d said to you once, an easy smile on her lips, her face bathed in an orange glow in front of the bonfire.

A similar smile is on her face today. But the one on Rafe’s is nothing but mischief.

“Why don’t you come over here?” He calls.

You flip him a certain finger.

“Come on!” Sarah yells. “We’ve got beer!”

Well. Who are you to say no to free alcohol?

—

You should’ve said no to the free alcohol.

“You know what Rafe?” the words tumble out of your mouth, clumsy. “You’re really hot. It’s not fair. How am I supposed to hate you when you look so hot?”

You’re sitting on one of the benches on the boat, half leaning on the back of it and half leaning on Rafe.

You might have forgotten to take into account the fact that you’re a lightweight.

He raises an eyebrow. “How many beers did you have?”

“Don’t worry about that,” You slur, attempting to shush him but failing halfway through, your hand falling harmlessly into his lap. “I like beer. I like drinking. How come I don’t drink often?”

You pause, squinting at him. “How come you’re so hot?”

“Yeah,” He sighs, “You’re drunk.”

“Who cares? I like being drunk. Drunk me is fun. Like that one song. Release your in-hi-bitions— feel the rain on your skin!”

He gives you a pained look. “Please don’t try to start dancing. You don’t have the coordination for it, and I’m not going into the water when you tip overboard.”

“Pshhh, yeah you would. You like taking care of me. Cause you’re weird.”

You turn to face the other side of the boat, where Sarah is watching you with an amused expression. “Sarah! Did I tell you that he drove aaaaaaaallllllllll the way to my job to pick me up cause my car wouldn’t start?”

She tilts her head, looking at Rafe. “You told Dad you were going to go pick up Topper and Kelce from a party so they didn’t drunk drive.”

You make a so-so motion with your hand. “That’s like. Basically the same thing.”

“It is not. You really are a lightweight, huh?”

You squint at Sarah. “Did John B. tell you that?”

She splutters. “No, I—“

You cross your arms, frowning. Then you turn to look up at Rafe again. “I should’ve called John B. to pick me up, cause he’s the only Pogue I know who’s got a car. But I didn’t. I called you.”

“Mm,” Rafe says, his jaw tensing and un-tensing. “And why is that.”

“Cause he’s being a dick. He’s all upset ‘cause I’m hanging out with you, keeps telling me I’m gonna get hurt again and blah blah blah, but then, it turns out he’s been dating Sarah for weeks and he didn’t tell me! It’s the same thing! And we’re not even dating.”

Rafe looks at Sarah. “You’re dating him? That’s who you broke up with Topper for?”

She glares right back at him. “There is literally a Pogue in this boat right now who is only here because you want to date her. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“She’s different.”

“How?”

You and Sarah ask the same question at the same time. Rafe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She’s not just some random Pogue I picked up off the street.”

“I could have been.”

“You’re not helping.”

You frown, staring at your feet.

He gazes at you for a moment. “She’s just… different.”

You blink up at him through your lashes. “You should kiss me.”

“No.”

“Why not?” You whine.

“Because when sober-you remembers all of this, she’s already going to kill me.”

“Not to mention I would.” Sarah grumbles, taking a sip of her own beer. “Come on, Rafe. You should bring her home. It’s getting late anyway.”

“Mm,” He hums, glancing at you up and down. “You wanna go home?”

“No. There’s no beer and Rafe there. S’ boring.”

“I’m pretty sure sober-you likes it that way.”

“Then she’s boring,” You poke the muscle of his bicep. “Do you work out?”

“Yes.”

“Are you buff?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Could you carry me?”

“Probably.”

“Hmm,” You sink lower on the bench, kicking your feet. “Okay. We should go home before sober-me figures out what’s going on.”

Sarah brings the boat back to their little dock while Rafe makes various attempts to keep you awake during the journey.

You whine, batting his hands away as he pokes your face.

“We’re here, so you’re gonna have to get up.”

You groan. “You’re a big strong man. Carry me.”

You hear a huff, a sigh, and then arms come around your middle and you let out a half-aborted scream as you’re hefted into the air, stomach landing on a muscled shoulder.

“I was joking,” You mumble, your arms dangling. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“I swear to fucking— here.”

He slides you off his shoulder and you wobble as you land, vision swimming.

“I think I’m a lightweight.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Why are you so mean?”

“I was told by a certain princess that it was my brand.”

“I wanna go home.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you going to walk then? Towards my car? So you can go home?”

You turn (slowly) and squint at his car in the distance. “That seems really far away.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t wanna walk that far.”

The muscles in his jaw jump. “Just this once, because I need to get you home, and you are drunk, I am going to offer you a piggy-back ride. Got it?”

“Hmm. Okay.”

He stoops a little so you can hop on, then hooks his arms under your legs with only a mild grunt, your arms crossing —not too tight— around his neck.

He makes his way across the deck and up the path, silently, your cheek pillowed on the side of his neck.

When he makes it to the car he opens the passenger side door and slides you into it, clicking your seat belt on when your fingers fumble with it.

He’s silent the entire drive, jaw clenched and hands white knuckled on the steering wheel.

The silence practically thrums with anger, the charged air prickling your skin.

“Are you mad at me?”

He works his jaw. “No.”

“It seems like you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Then how come you’re upset?”

He sighs out through his nose. He doesn’t respond right away. Waits until he pulls over at the front of your street, sets the car in park. His hands don’t leave the steering wheel.

“You’re… squishier than I thought.”

“You think I’m fat?”

“No- fuck. I’m saying you’ve got a convincing stone-cold-bitch act. Then you go and get drunk and turn into this. Makes me feel like a piece of shit.”

You cross your arms. “You don’t like it. Me.”

He finally looks over at you, his eyes hooded. “I never said that. It’s one thing for us to have this back and forth assholery, as you put it. But now I know this is also who I’m being a dick to.”

You look down at your lap. “You know, I wasn’t always a stone-cold bitch.”

He cuts you a look. “Stop talk—“

“No, you shut up, I’m not that drunk anymore,”

You’re totally lying, which he knows, but he lets you talk.

“There was… this guy. I really liked him. He really liked me. Well, I thought he did. He was a Kook, too. Everyone warned me against getting with him, but I thought what we had was real,” You clench your hands on your thighs. “It wasn’t. Turns out his friends had dared him to sleep with ‘the prettiest Pogue he could stomach.’ That’s all I was. The only Pogue he could stand to fake it with. He told me the morning after. We broke up.”

“Who—“

“It doesn’t matter. I’m telling you this so you understand that I am a frigid bitch, but I’m also… this. So you better not fuck this up.”

He chuckles. “What do you want me to do, then?”

You shrug. “Prove me wrong. And I’m not made of glass. You just gotta… take it.”

Rafe raises a single eyebrow. “Take it?”

“Look, I already told you I think you’re hot. You’ve got a brain. Put the pieces together.”

He rubs a hand across his jaw. “And if I go too far?”

“I’m not that fragile.”

He crosses his arms, biceps flexing. “You sure about this?”

“Right now? Yes.”

He hums. “I should say no. You’re drunk. You’re not in the right mind to make these kinds of decisions.”

“But?”

“I’d rather test this and see,” He leans down, across the middle console, eyes hooded and hungry as he stares down at you. “You’re on, pretty girl."

—

When you wake (in your own bed, shockingly) it’s to the sound of a chainsaw right next to your ear.

Oh. It’s actually just your phone buzzing.

You hit the accept button and roll over onto it instead of doing all the effort of lifting it onto your face.

“H’llo?”

“Morning, princess.”

You groan. “Why the fuck are you calling me?”

“You don’t remember last night?”

“You’re on, pretty girl.”

You groan again, this one long and drawn out. “Why did you let me drink? You should’ve thrown me off the side of the boat after the first beer.”

You’re utterly mortified at how you acted. There’s a reason you don’t really get drunk anymore.

“And get rid of my free show like that? Please.”

You huff, head pounding at the effort of remembering the night before and speaking. “Why’re you calling me?”

“Had to make sure all that drinking didn’t kill you. We’ve got plans tonight.”

You sit up a little in bed. “No we don’t. I have work tonight.”

“That’s your only dispute?”

“I figured I didn’t have to state the obvious ones.”

“Come on. It’s just a little party—“

“I don’t do parties, Rafe.”

“I recall seeing you at the boneyard more than a couple times.”

“Bonfires on the beach don’t count as parties.”

“So you’d come if it was on the beach?”

“No, I—“ You tap the speaker button, dropping the phone into your lap. “What’s the point of this party, exactly? You want to be seen in public with me? Want everyone to know I’m off limits?”

“Yes,” He says it so easily, though his voice a little rough, a little gravelly, “But you also need to lighten up. I’ll pick you up from work. Bring clothes to change into.”

You open your mouth to respond but the hang up tone beeps steadily in your ear.

Of course you had to go blab your tragic backstory to Rafe fucking Cameron.

—

Work is long as usual, and you’ve contemplated quitting several times by the time you’re changing into your ‘party’ clothes in the bathroom, ignoring the fact that Rafe has definitely been parked and waiting for half an hour.

Your boss kept you late. Again.

You rush out to his car, cursing. He’s leaned up against the passenger side door, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his phone. He looks up when you approach, the corners of his lips twitching.

He pushes off the car, opening the passenger side door and nodding towards it.

“You look good.”

You pause, shouldering your work bag. “That’s it? I keep you waiting for thirty minutes and that’s all you say?”

“Did you want me to get upset?”

“Well, no, but—“

He shrugs. “Don’t care. Get in the car.”

He closes the door after you then climbs in himself, cranking up the heat and driving towards the boneyard.

You notice his eyes flicking down to your thighs every now and then. When picking an outfit for the party/bonfire/whatever, you’d decided to go simple. Having Rafe follow you around would be attention enough.

Still, the jeans you’re wearing are tight. A bit more form-fitting than your usual attire.

He seems to notice.

You shift in your seat, a little self conscious under the heat of his gaze crossing your legs and angling them towards the car door.

He sighs. “Mm-mm. None of that.”

He reached a hand across the console, deft, strong fingers effortlessly hooking and curling over your knee and dragging your legs back over and closer to him. Once he resituates you, his hand travels a little higher, squeezing and rolling the plush flesh there in his hand.

Your breath hitches. “What are you doing?”

“Taking.”

You swallow heavily, nearly choking on the lump in your throat. “You better not act like this at the boneyard.”

“And what if I do?“

“I’ll leave.”

He snorts. “I’m your ride. You gonna walk home? In the cold?”

“It’s not cold out.”

“It is to you. You’re always shivering. You better have brought the jacket.”

He doesn’t have to say which jacket for you to know which one he’s referring to.

You cross your arms, firmly ignoring the hand still intermittently squeezing your thigh. “I did. But i’m serious, Rafe. You have to back off when we get there.”

“Mm,” He hums. “Then at least let me have a little now.”

There’s something in the way he says it. The timber of his voice, the low, almost croon to his tone. He says it like you’re in control. Like you have power over him.

Even just the idea of it is exhilarating.

You push your thigh up into his hand, just a little bit.

“Only cause you’ll be insufferable if I don’t.”

He curls his hand under your thigh, palm pressed to the side and fingers pressing into the muscle through your tight jeans.

“Thanks, baby.”

“I’m not your baby.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You pull up to the beach, party already well under way.

People cheer as Rafe climbs out of the car, but he ignores them in favor of walking over to your side of the car and offering you a hand, which you swat away.

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re really hard to be polite to?”

“You’re just—“

“For the love of god, don’t start with that shit. Get over here.”

He snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you to his side. He starts towards the beach and you squirm, not wanting to be seen tucked under his arm.

This is the exact scenario you’d wanted to avoid with this whole thing. Showing up with Rafe Cameron —literally climbing out of his car— and having his arm around you is the perfect way to be ostracized by almost ninety percent of your circle.

“Will you chill the fuck out?” Rafe says, slowing to a stop a little ways away from the party, turning you to face him. “We’re just going to a party.”

You attempt to shrug his arm off your shoulder, but it holds fast. “You don’t get it. You have money, so you don’t need a community to fall back on. We’re poor. All we have is each other. So if I walk over there with you, i’ll lose it. I’ll be a traitor.”

His expression twists. “You’re blowing this so far out of proportion it’s not even funny.”

Anger begins stirring in your chest. “Rafe—“

“Who cares? No seriously, who the fuck cares? Everyone on this island is a piece of shit in their own ways. No one gives a shit if I got you under my arm. No one’s watching you. You’re not a fucking celebrity. You’ve got a reputation for turning down guys, you’re not fuckin’ Taylor Swift.”

The anger fades and your skin prickles in its absence. “I don’t think that I’m famous or anything.”

Rafe’s features smooth into something a little calmer. “I know, I know. Is this cause John B’s being a dick?”

“He has a point—“

“No he doesn’t,” Rafe snorts, “He’s dating my sister. He doesn’t get to say anything.”

You sigh. “They’re just worried about me making the same mistakes again.”

His arm leaves your side and you resist the shiver that threatens to overtake you at the sudden loss of the warmth and stability you hadn’t realized you’d been reliant on during the length of the conversation.

Rafe slides a gold ring off his pointer finger— the gold ring. The Cameron signet ring. The ring he never takes off.

He takes your hand, turning it palm side up, and drops the ring in it.

“There. My dad would probably murder me if anything happened to that ring. If I become a real and serious dick to you, chuck it in the fucking ocean.”

You stare down at it. “This is real gold. It’s a family heirloom. You can’t just give it to me.”

“I’m not,” He says easily, “This is a loan. When you decide that I’m not gonna fuck you over, you can give it back.”

You close your fingers around the ring, still warm from his finger. You tilt your back, looking up at him through your lashes. A small smile starts to spread across your face.

“I’ve really got you wrapped around my finger, huh?”

He huffs a laugh, tucking you under his arm again and walking you towards the party. “Took you long enough.”

The party honestly is fun after that. You drink (not much, Rafe carefully watches your alcohol intake and makes sure you toe the line of tipsy, but don’t fall over into drunk territory. He spends the night nursing one beer, claiming designated driver whenever someone gives him shit for it.

“Never stopped you in the past.”

“Didn’t have precious cargo before.”

He stays true to your earlier agreement and remains fairly hands off, but follows you around the party like some sort of guard dog, lingering just over your shoulder and successfully scaring off every guy who even looks in your direction.

Some of the pogues do give you the occasional glare or judgmental look or two, but Rafe was right. No one cares.

It’s… nice. For once you’re not hoping no guy approaches you or praying a Kook doesn’t start some shit with you. With Rafe trailing behind you, one hand in his pocket and jaw set, you truly are free to just enjoy the party, for the first time in your life. No one’s trying to hit on you, no one’s trying to making a spectacle of trying to convince you to date them, no one is making snide comments.

It’s weird, because you’re accustomed to a certain kind and amount of anxiety that comes with going to a mixed party, but everytime you start wondering how things are going to go wrong, Rafe is there with an arm around your waist or some stupid comment or other about somebody at the party whispered in your ear.

You manage quite a bit more socializing at the party than you usually do. Unfortunately, between this and the alcohol, you tire pretty quick.

You trip over your third stick when Rafe settles a hand on your hip with an “Think it’s time you went to bed.”

You groan. “But I’m actually having a good time for once.”

He steers you in the direction of the car. “Well, you’re in luck, cause if you think you’re going to parties alone from now on, you got another thing coming.”

Rafe at your side —a seemingly permanent arrangement now— you stumble your way towards the car.

“Isn’t that boring for you?”

“If it was, I’d say something. Besides. There’ll be different parties. Stop worrying so much about shit.”

His words seem harsh, but his tone is nothing other than low and fond.

“I’m cold.”

“I told you to grab the jacket—“

“I did bring it—“

“Then why aren’t you wearing it?”

“It didn’t match the outfit!”

“Are you being serious right now?”

"Is it a crime to want to look good at a party--"

He chuckles, fingers flexing on your hip as he tugs you closer to him. "You're so stupid."

"Rude."

"Not rude if it's true."

You elbow his side, but he just laughs louder.

Unsurprisingly, he warms the car for you when you get in.

—

Storms are a common thing in Outerbanks. Everyone's used to them. Monsoons, thunder storms, even the occasional hurricane. So you're not surprised to get the warning, not surprised when it hits.

You are a little surprised to wake up pelted with rain, a tree branch in your room, and part of the roof missing.

"Shit," You gasp, pushing the fallen debris off your body and rolling out of your bed to assess the damage.

It's bad. The branch is big and long, probably from that stupid tree your neighbors refused to cut down that you said was going to be a storm hazard. They'd refused, and now there's a huge tree branch that's caved in your roof and part of the wall that separates your bedroom from the living room.

No one is home but you. No one ever is, but right now it causes tears to rise to your eyes, because there's a branch in your room, and the roof is in pieces, and now that you've stopped moving, your legs and arms and torso actually hurt quite a bit, and something warm and wet is running down your temple and when you touch your fingers to it, they come away wet and scarlet.

You're out of your depth and you're scared. You can't stay here, obviously, but you don't know what to do. No one else is home. You don't even know who to call. JJ is out, because who knows if his dad is home and he doesn't even have a phone right now, Kie's out too because her parents didn't like that you were a Pogue with a reputation, you and Pope aren't that close, and John B is... John B. He has a car, at least, and you grew up together, so he'd probably overlook everything between the both of you if you're in danger.

You snatch you waterlogged phone off your dresser, shaky fingers scrolling through your contacts, thumb hovering over John B's.

You should call him. You've been neglecting your friendship with the group recently, working around the clock and Rafe whisking you away. Everyone's busy in their own way, what with the treasure and everything, so this could be a moment to reunite, bond over how shitty the storms make life on the Cut.

There's one other person you could call.

You shouldn't. Should stick to the friends you know, call John B.

But if you called Rafe, he'd come. He'd come get you, and probably take you back to his house and you wouldn't have to worry about anything, because for some reason, he's serious about doing that.

You could call him. He probably wants you to.

You press call before you can talk yourself out of it.

"Do you know what time it is--"

"A tree branch fell on my roof and now I don't have part of my roof and I'm really cold and wet and please come get me."

"Jesus— okay, yeah, yeah I'm coming. Shit, okay. Are you hurt?"

"My head is bleeding and I'm battered all over, but I don't think I need to go to he hospital."

"You're bleeding from your head and you don't think you need to go to the hospital?"

You can hear the sound of a car door slamming and an engine turning over.

"I don't want to go because then I'll be stuck in these clothes and they'll poke and prod at me and it'll take ages and—"

"Alright, alright. Calm down. How bad is the damage to the house. Look around for me."

"Um," You turn in place, scrutinizing the disaster and chaos around you. "I think most of the roof is intact, just the portion that covers my bedroom and some of the living room are uncovered. The branch took out most of the wall that seperates my room from the living room."

"Fuck. Okay, what about the rest of the house?"

"Um, I don't think I can get to it. The tree branch and other house... pieces are blocking my door."

"Can you get out? At all?"

"Yeah, I think through my window."

"Don't move. Take what you need from your room. I'll be there soon."

“Please don’t hang up.”

The line goes silent and you think he has hung up, that you didn’t say it fast enough or he just didn’t care, but then he speaks.

“Would you rather I sneak you in my house or walk in through the front door?”

“…What are the pros and cons?”

“Well, getting in the front door is easiest, but then you risk seeing my parents and my Dad won’t have questions, but Rose will, and I never want to answer her questions anyway.”

“She can’t be that bad.”

“She is. Sneaking you in is harder, but then we avoid conversations, but if we get caught, conversations will probably be worse. Might become a whole lecture.”

“They’d lecture you for taking in a girl who needs help?”

“Rose would.”

He keeps talking the entire way to your house, his voice speaking in low tones as you gather up the things you need to spend an indefinite amount of time away from home.

He eventually does hang up when he arrives, so you turn your attention to prying your window open and climbing out of it.

You can barely get it wedged open enough to fit through, so you toss your bag through first and shout a quick “over here!” before beginning to crawl through.

You hear footsteps slow to a stop in front of you. “You know, usually when this scenario happens, you’re facing the other way around.”

You swat at his leg. “You’re disgusting. And I’m not stuck. You just arrived at an in-opportune moment.”

He curls a hand under the window and pulls up, making the gap wider. At the sudden release of tension you yelp, tumbling out of the window.

“You’re such a mess.”

“You didn’t warn me!”

He helps you to your feet and leads you to his car, the hand on your waist keeping you distracted from the wreckage behind you.

—

You do decide in the end to just walk in the front door, because you’re cold and wet and tired.

Ward does wake up and meets you at the staircase (you’re pretending not to notice the sheer opulence of the house) looking rumpled and confused.

“Who’s this?” The man asks, gesturing your rather pathetic looking form.

“My girlfriend,” Rafe says smoothly, “Branch fell on her roof. Place is a mess.”

You wave hello. “Sorry for waking you, Mr. Cameron.”

His gaze flicks to you for a second, then back to Rafe.

“Girlfriend?” His tone sounds… off. “How long has this been a thing?”

Rafe shifts, squaring his shoulders and stepping a little more in front of you. “A little while.”

Ward hums again, eyes flitting to you, taking in your appearance.

“Make sure you get the first aid kit. That head wounds looks nasty.”

Rafe nods. “We got it. Thanks, Dad.”

Ward just dips his head once, then steps back into the bedroom.

You let out a long sigh, pressing a hand to your chest.

“I thought he was going to throw me out.”

“He wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let him, anyway.”

You snort. “Yes, yes, you’re a big strong man. Can we attend to my wounds now? And get some dry clothes?”

Cleaning your wound doesn’t take long, mostly because your head is the only one that really needs cleaning. The rest is taken care of in the shower. The most luxurious and amazing shower of your life. Seriously. You didn’t even know showers could be this relaxing.

The warm water soothes your aching muscles, and Rafe has weirdly good taste in bodywash.

He’d left you a change of clothes and a spare towel even though you said you brought your own.

You change into his anyway.

They’re more comfortable. Better quality than your ratty pajamas.

Your underwear is a different matter. Your dresser is old and broken —as most things in your house are— and the drawer you picked to store your underwear in doesn’t close all the way. This normally isn’t an issue, but when your roof is suddenly no longer attached, it means the a good portion of your underwear got soaked and muddy.

Except the ones at the bottom of the drawer. So the only underwear you had to bring to Rafe’s that was clean and dry is the tiny, lacy stuff you bought from Victoria’s secret and only wear when you’ve taken an everything shower and need a little pick-me-up. When you want to feel like a hot piece of ass. Girl things.

So you look at yourself in the mirror, clad in your own tank top (it’s actually warm enough in his house to wear a tank top to bed) and a pair of his pajama pants, the draw-string pulled tight, the fabric sagging low on your hips, showing off a thin little strip of lace.

Your face flushes. You look like his girlfriend. Dressed in his clothes, lacy underwear peaking through, skin freshly washed and smelling of his body wash.

When you step out of his bathroom, old clothes clutched in your hand, he stills.

He sits back on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his elbows as you slowly saunter over, steps quiet.

His eyes flick down to the lace, pauses on the sight, then back up to your face.

The air is charged, thick with tension.

You pull away from it, tossing your clothes in your backpack and ignoring the heat of his gaze on your back.

“Come over here.”

You straighten, hands behind your back as you walk to him.

“Closer.”

You step forward, now standing between his legs.

His hands come up to the back of your thighs, tightening, before moving to your hips. His thumbs ghost over the edge of the lace, and he rumbles something deep in the back of his throat.

“I like these.”

“Do you?”

“Mhm.”

He presses his face forward, pushing your tank top up with his nose pressing his lips to the now exposed skin of your stomach.

You gasp, then feel him smile against you. He tugs you closer, face pressed to you and hands gripping your sides, just above the edge of your ribcage.

Tentatively, you reach a hand down, sliding from the top his head, down the side of his face, then slowing to a stop at his jaw, pushing your palm up. His head lifts, his eyes a little glassy, chin resting on your stomach.

“You introduced me as your girlfriend.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you are.”

“I am?”

You stroke a thumb over his face, sweeping over his cheekbone and under his eye. He leans into the touch, pliant.

“You think I let just any girl in here? You think I give any girl my clothes?”

“Yes?”

“Come on, baby. We’ve been over this.”

He presses another kiss to your stomach, mouth hot and lips firm.

He lifts his head up again. “You can make me yours anytime you want. Just say the word.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper, words barely even a breath.

“Mm,” He hums, hands running up and down your sides. “You think too much.”

You pause for a few moments, taking everything in.

You grab his hand, leave it palm side up in front of you, then reach into your pocket and drop something into it.

The ring. His ring.

He stares at it for a beat, then closes his hand around it, slipping it back onto his finger.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He grins.

Your drop your hands around his neck and he moves his hands to the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his middle.

He doesn’t waste any time kissing you. It’s hot and full at first, a roaring flame licking in both your chests, like he’s been holding himself back all this time and finally let it all out. He pushes up into you, and the kiss deepens before it mellows out, slowing down to a few cracking embers.

He pulls back, your noses brushing. “Been wanting to do that since the fucking bookstore.”

“That long?”

“Mhm. You were wearing those cute little pants and you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Wanted to have you right there.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Mm. Only when it comes to you.”

You fall into each other again, and again, and again.

“Baby.”

“Hm?”

“I really like you in lace.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

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babysfirsthaze · 2 days ago

Text

Frustrated...(Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader)

Synopsis: Your girlfriend is a commander of war. She' needs someone to be mean to, and you're willing and able.

Content: MEAN!Caitlyn, dubcon if you squint (yg have a safeword I promise.), dacro if you squint, degradation, sex referred to as 'bullying' one (1) time, reader compared to a dog one (1) time (not in dialogue), fem!reader, fingering, spanking, pussy spanking, aftercare, reader's bush is mentioned one (1) time

A/n: im gonna need you guys 2 be super nice 2 me ab this one okay. I'm 3 cones deep time of writing. Caitlyn I need you SOOOO BADD, this fic is very not normal proceed w caution

Caitlyn Kiramman is not a gentle woman. She never has been, not really; learned to shoot things down and dead when she was just a child, carried that sentiment with her to womanhood. And you've been her girlfriend for a few months, she's never really mean to you. Always treats you with the sort of respect she expects people she deems important be regarded with.

But – there's a war brewing. She's a commander. She's been a little stressed lately, of course she would be, and she needs to get that tension out somehow.

Which is how you ended up in this situation, folded over her lap as she spanks you. Hard.

"T-..ten," you manage, nails digging into your palms as you're made to count the harsh, unforgiving blows to your ass. Caitlyns fully clothed, you're stripped bare and dripping arousal all over her nice pants. You can't see her face, but her jaws still clenching, she's only getting madder.

"You like that, don't you? Always been a slut," she spits, her slender hand now grabbing roughly at the fat, kneading it under her palm. She tugs at the skin, spreading open your ass to expose your neglected pussy, making you whine. "So wet, and for what?"

Before you can respond she's spanking you again, affording a harsh slap to the skin where your ass meets your thigh. "Eleven," she supplies for you, her voice mocking, seething with an anger that's not directed at you. "If you can count that high."

You mewl incoherently, ass wiggling to try and get away from the pain. Cait doesn't like that. She grabs you again, and then, all of a sudden – you're being manhandled, shifted so you're more on your side, and she tugs your leg into the air.

"Wha–..?" No time to voice your confusion, because she's already delivering a harsh smack to your pussy, making you moan, loud. She groans appreciatively, her mouth twisting into a (sadistic) smile for the first time since she's been home.

"Pretty girl likes that, huh? Such a good whore."

She presses her hand into your pussy, the heel of her palm against your clit, her tough too rough, too much – she's hurting you, she's enjoying hurting you. It makes you so wet. She has her right hand absent-mindedly (and a little clumsily) stroking your hair, cupping your face – you just look so pretty when you cry, it's not her fault.

"C-caitt! 'S too much, please, too much.." you're sobbing, pussy already puffed up and overstimulated when she slips two fingers in, firmly pressing against your g-spot. And groans, eyes closing for a moment to collect herself. Her face is all flushed by now, and she's smiling, hard; she loves this, taking all her energy out on her pretty, slutty girlfriend. She stuffs her fingers into your hole, curling them up and fucking you so good.

"Fuck, princess, pussys so fuckin greedy...you love this, huh? Love being used like this?" You nod, your body all curled up so you can press your face into her side, muffling your whines. She strokes your hair distractedly, the way one would a fussy dog.

You're getting her top all wet with tears, her pants all wet with arousal. "So messy," she tuts, although her voice is far away, absent-minded. She's more focused on the filthy noises you and your pretty cunt make, on the way your hole swallows her now-wrinkled fingers up so, so greedily.

She lets go of your face for the first time to instead grope one of your tits. It's a simple act of cruelty, of degradation– and it just snaps something in you, your orgasm spilling out of you, all over your thighs, up her arm, getting everything wetter than it was. She moans out loud, just about cums from the sight herself. "Shit, baby, you're such a fucking slut, I love you," she's rambling, digging and rutting her fingers into you, bullying you through your orgasm. You hit her lightly a few times, she hardly notices. She fucks you through it, she's so mean, so unreasonably mean, it's the hardest you've cum in a long time.

Eventually she starts to kiss a line up and down your arm, hand slowing, then pulling out delicately. She cups the back of your head again, her now-free hand coming up to her face so she can suck your arousal off her fingers, one by one. By the time you open your fingers she's licking delicately up her palm, just wanting to taste as much of you she possibly can. You moan out loud again.

"Y'such a good girl, did so well f'me," she cooes, gently running a (wet) hand over your (wet) thigh, trying to soothe the muscle. Her mouth trails up your shoulder and to your face, gently catching your swollen lips in a kiss.

"Did I tell you how much I love you?" She asks, her head still reeling, stomach still swirling with the feeling. You cling to her, overwhelmed and confused and fucked out.

"I got you, baby, I got you...you're so fuckin pretty, yknow that? Made me feel so good, so much better, my good girl, yeah, fuck, baby.."

She nuzzles into your cheek, gently scooting you so you're layed down on the bed. The towel she put under you is completely soaked, seeped into some of the sheets. Oops. She lifts your legs up gently to pull it out from under you anyway, softly kissing on your thighs to distract you.

"Caitlyn," you sob, and she shushes you, shaking her head. "'M done, baby, 'm done. Gonna clean you up now, yeah? Stay awake f'me, baby," she mumbles, pressing her mouth to her hips before straightening up, dropping the towel in the hamper. She'll clean it up in the morning. She also strips off most of her clothes, they're soaked and smell like pussy anyway.

And she returns in panties and a singlet with a soft hand-towel, patting dry your thighs, pussy, bush. Once she's satisfied she moves up to kiss your face, wiping the tears off your cheeks, quietly shushing you.

"Such a messy girl," she cooes, nudging her nose against you affectionately. "You did soo well, baby."

Published on 16/2/25 by babysfirsthaze on tumblr

#arcane #piltovers finest #arcane x reader #arcane smut #caitlyn kiramman x reader #mean caitlyn #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn kiramman x female reader #mine #arcane league of legends #Caitlyn x you

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thechaoticcherub · 2 days ago

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Super touch deprived dbf Joel in forced proximity to reader? She has to sit on his lap in the car or share a tent while camping etc!? Love your writing so much!! X

Hi! Thanks so much!!!!

I got stuck on this one so much but I think it turned out besides it being kinda ramble-y. Please enjoy!

LMAO i totally missed the DBF part of this. I hope you like anyway!

Cumulonimbus

Pairing: Touch starved!Joel x Reader

Summary: You and Joel get stuck out in the woods while on patrol because of a storm.

Warnings: 18+ please, age gap, P in V sex, handjobs, camping, touch starved Joel, Joel apologizes a lot, UNEDITED, Daddy kink(only near the end), size kink, cum play, cum eating, creampie

Word Count: 3.5K

Notes: I'm terrible at editing, I just wanted to get this out there lmao. enjoy!

🎀👼🏻Home | Ask | Masterlist👼🏻🎀

You were already supposed to be back in Jackson, it was supposed to be a one day patrol shift for your first time out but a thunderstorm had gotten you and Joel all turned around and night had fallen. There was no point in trying to keep going in the dark and downpour so you set up to camp overnight. To your relief, Joel had a tent packed in one of his saddle bags and you tied up the horses while he worked on setting it up.

The day had been mostly silent, which was typical for Joel, but you had tried your best to fill some of the silence with your own brand of sweet questioning. About the area surrounding Jackson, asking for tips on riding horses, wondering if Joel liked going out on patrol, to which he answered, ‘usually’ with a significant look at you. You caught his drift but you also caught the smirk on his face as he looked away. So as the afternoon went on you felt comfortable asking about the thick, dark clouds forming overhead and if they meant a storm or if it was just normal clouds.

“I mean…I think they’d need to be like cumulonimbus clouds if it was goin’ to storm and these look too uhhh sparse to be um, storm clouds.” he said, sounding completely clueless. You looked up at the piles of dark clouds in the sky and raised your eyebrow. “Shit, I ain’t an expert.” he snapped, kicking his horse to get her moving again. Twenty minutes later it was pouring rain, you were soaked and already shivering.

“Not cumulonimbus, eh?” You called over to Joel, he glared at you.

Now he was letting out a stream of swears as he worked on getting the tent set up and you came back from the canopy of trees where you had tied the horses to give them a little cover.

“Grab that end of the tarp there, help me get it over the top,” He said to you over the steady sound of the rain. You picked up the end he indicated and you both shook some droplets off of it before covering the top of the tent which was small, barely big enough to stand in but at least it would provide some respite from the rain. Joel went to the horses and came back with his pack that had been tucked in the saddle back, huddled over it to try and protect it from the rain. He unzipped the tent and chucked it in there.

“Come on, let’s try and get dry,” he said. You watched as he ducked underneath the tarp that jutted out a bit from the actual tent, providing some shelter and untied his boots, toeing them off before stepping all the way into the tent. You followed suit. Joel had to duck his head slightly inside the tent but you could stand up straight. It was a small space inside. Once you both were in there, there was barely a foot of space between the two of you at any given time.

You shivered, your teeth chattering as you stood by the entrance, dripping wet. Joel was already stripping off his jacket and then his flannel, laying them both in the corner of the tent, taking up more room and making things feel even smaller. Your eyes caught on him and you couldn’t force them away as he started to pull the black t-shirt he had on under the flannel up and off of his body.

You had been attracted to Joel for a while, ever since you had first come to Jackson and met the gruff, older man but now you were alone on patrol with him, in a too small tent and he was stripping out of his clothes.

You were frozen in place, unsure if you could stop staring at him, or move your arms away from being crossed over your body, keeping any body heat that was left as close as he could. Joel glanced over his shoulder, sitting your chattering teeth and the way your lips may have been starting to go blue.

“Take that wet stuff off,” He instructed, maybe he sensed your hesitation because he turned away from you. “Nothin’ I aint seen before,” He said as he undid he belt buckle. You swallowed and then stripped yourself of your jacket and shirt, making sure to lay them out so they were in a pile that would never dry at all. You heard the shift of denim and knew Joel was taking his jeans off, you followed suit so you were finally just in your underwear and old tank top that was thankfully not soaked all the way through. You were still shivering but at least there weren’t cold, soaked clothes rubbing against your skin anymore.

When you turned back around, Joel was knelt over his pack, pulling stuff out. First two compression sleeping bags and with a jolt you realized he packed one for you and you hadn’t even considered packing something like that just in case.

Then a water bottle, his gun, a knife, and a bag that had beef jerky and crackers in it. You were shivering so badly you could barely think of anything else. Joel rolled out the two sleeping bags, with your piles of wet clothes, both of you standing there and the two sleeping bags, there was no room in the tent anymore. Joel looked back at you and he almost dropped the water bottle that was still in his hand.

You watched his eyes flick down your body, and despite how frigid you were, a spark of heat ignited in your belly. “You can get in your sleepin’ bag, kiddo,” he said. The sound of the rain on the plastic of the tent was loud and you felt overwhelmed with cold, tiredness and something more so the words spilled out of you before you could stop them,

“Can we put our sleeping bags together and sleep close? I’m going to freeze to death otherwise,” You said. You watched Joel’s Adam’s apple bob at your suggestion and you caught his eyes glancing to your chest. A weird mix of arousal and shame stoked the tiny spark in your navel when you realized your nipples were hard, poking out of the thin tank top you were wearing.

Joel cleared his throat, blinking and quickly looking away from you, “Oh…uhh yeah might be a good idea,” He went about opening up one of the sleeping bags, laying it out on the ground and then opening the other one to go on top as a blanket. You were still for a moment and he looked at you again, “Go on,” He nodded to the blankets and you scrambled over, sank down on one of the sleeping bags and pulling the other up and over.

Joel went about laying out his gun, his knife, the food and water within arms reach of the sleeping bags. It looked to you like he was avoiding joining you even though it was so cold out there and there was no way he was comfortable.

“Joel,” You breathed, looking over at him. He glanced around towards you and again you were struck with how good he looked in just his boxers. He was broad through his chest and shoulders, he had muscular arms and a soft belly. You were shocked by how attracted you were to an older guy. Your eyes swept lower, taking in the dark, course hairs peppered with grey and white that led from his belly button and disappeared into his boxers. “Come get warm,” You finished and you watched him swallow. Joel edged closer to the sleeping bags and finally knelt down peeling down the top layer of sleeping bag. Chill crept in, causing your skin to erupt in goosebumps, your nipples tightened even more. Joel crawled in and you immediately felt his body heat sweep over to you under the blanket.

He settled down as far as he could from you while still being entirely under the blanket. You could still feel his heat and his presence so close. Your heart rate ticked up and you found yourself longing to reach out to him.

Joel was so aware of your body so close to his it almost hurt. It had been so long since he had touched anyone and now you were both under one blanket, attempting to keep warm and he could smell your skin so close. You scooted closer and looked up at him, there was something in your eyes burning, and it was mirrored back in his. He knew that he shouldn’t do what he wanted to do, he knew that you were too young for him and that he was just a sad, touch starved old man who would do anything just to feel you. But you were moving closer to him, you were looking up at him with eyes that seemed to say, ‘please, touch me, Joel.’ but maybe that was just his hopes.

Your breath hitched as Joel moved his hand up, towards the side of your face. He paused his movements as he heard your breath. Joel’s hand hovered just above your cheek, not touching you, the heat from his skin radiating from his fingers down onto your cheek. You were longing for it, the slightest touch but he seemed so hesitant. You wanted to reassure him, to tell him that he could touch you however he wanted but the words were lost in your throat.

The heat under the blanket was so comforting, the sound of the rain outside was lulling you both into a feeling of security, Joel’s fingers finally made contact with your cheek, skin against skin. Course fingertips caressing soft cheek. Joel sucked in a breath at the feeling. He had forgotten how warm and soft women were, so different from him, so inviting. And you. You were particularly warm, particularly soft, particularly sweet, like a cinnamon roll. Or what Joel remembered of cinnamon rolls. He wanted to taste you. His hand against your cheek wasn’t enough. His thumb grazing along the skin of your cheekbone wasn’t fulfilling enough.

He wanted both hands on you, lips on you, he wanted his taste to mingle with your taste. He wanted to be drunk on skin to skin. Joel let out the breath he had been holding, the scent of him washing over you. He cupped your face and then reached up with his other hand and cradled your face, unable to keep his hands off of you now that he’s touched you. You leaned in towards him, looking up into his eyes and then you heard him whisper,

“Fuck,” Under his breath, he said it like it was an admission of guilt, like it was release of pressure. Like a sudden wave across still water he swept over you and his lips attached to yours. Your heart rocketed into your throat, your hands flew to his sides and you tugged him into you. Joel kissed you deeper, his mouth opening, addicted to your taste, addicted to the feel of you already.

“I’m sorry,” he said between kisses, “I’m so sorry,” his lips brushing yours as he spoke. You shook your head, trying to make sure he knew there was nothing to apologize for. He let out a moan, as if he hated himself but couldn’t contain it anymore. You ran your hands up his sides, feeling his skin under yours.

Joel broke away from your lips, pressing his forehead into yours, “I…I shouldn’t do this,” He spoke so softly, you could barely hear him, but his kiss had ignited something in you, something that wasn’t going to be extinguished by his stupid guilt.

“Why not?” you asked, grabbing his hand and pulling it up your body towards your chest. His muscles flexed, trying to stop his hand. Joel looked pained, he shook his head,

“Because you’re…” he couldn’t finish, you had dragged his hand over your breast and he let out a shaky breath. “You’re just a baby, you don’t know-“ he tried to finish but your lips crashed into his and you kissed again. Joel’s hand flexed over your breast and you pressed your chest up towards him.

“Shut up, Joel.” you said. He ignored that, still pressing his forehead against yours as his hand touched your breast. You craned your neck and pressed your lips into his, trying to convince him by kissing him. He kissed you back and you felt his thumb start to stroke over your nipple.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “I need it, darlin’ He mumbled and grabbed the hem of your tank top. It was like he was giving in, his body was forcing him to give in. You were so beautiful, so soft and you were practically begging for it. You helped him pulled your tank top off up over your head, throwing it out of the sleeping bag and Joel’s eyes fell to your breasts.

“God, Darlin’, you’re so fuckin’-“ He cut himself off by cupping your tits in both hands, thumbs still stroking over your hardened nipples, “i’m sorry,” He said again. Joel shook his head, and you reached up and stroked his hair back, looking up at him while he gazed down at your bare breasts. “Beautiful,” He breathed out, his thumb and forefinger pinching. That spark in your belly that had been ignited by him stripping burned brighter and lower, heating your sex. Your brow furrowed in pleasure and you sighed and nodded.

“Don’t stop, Joel.” You whispered and he groaned.

“Not goin’ to, baby,” he breathed, kissing your cheek and then your chin, jaw and neck, spreading warmth all throughout your skin. You rolled on top of him and Joel let out a groan, “Oh god, alrigh’ baby, you want it?” He asked as you pressed your hips into his, feeling his crotch pressed into yours.

“Yes,” You breathed. It was happening so suddenly but you desperately wanted him and it was clear how badly he needed it. You could feel his cock hardening in his boxers, pressing into you. You rocked your hips forward again and he groaned. You reached down towards the waistband of his boxers and pulled on it, your fingers were trembling so it snapped back down against his tummy. Joel groaned again, his brows pinching together, you giggled at his reaction but then tucked your hand into his boxers and finally got your hand around his cock.

It was stiff and big, your fingers wrapped around the base and you stroked it, following its length down towards his tip.

“Oh god,” he moaned. “Baby, you do that so good,” he breathed into your cheek, placing a kiss there. You started to stroke him more earnestly, squeezing around the head, your finger stroking over the slit, his precum sticking to the pad of your finger. “Jesus Christ, darlin’, you’re too fuckin’ young to know how to do that this well,” He moaned. You giggled again and tugged his boxers down, releasing his cock from the restraints of the fabric. You stroked his cock up and down, relishing the feeling of his thick manhood in your hands. Joel moaned, you watched his eyes roll back and you couldn’t help but giggle more, your fingers tightened more, stroking faster. Joel quickly put his hand over yours,

“St-stop,” he laughed, “I need to feel more of ya and if ya keep touchin’ like that i’m goin’ to come,” He said. Your grin was devilish as it took over your face, part of you wanted to watch him come all over himself but at the same time your pussy was begging for it.

“Joel, I want your cock,” You said, your voice dripping with fake innocence, you watched a smile spread over his face.

“Gotta warm ya up first, darlin’” he said his hands reaching to your undies now and tracing along the waistband of your undies this time. You didn’t want to wait, you were already wet, needy and wanting his big cock inside of you. “Can’t jump right in, you’ve probably never-“

“Don’t be dumb, Joel.” You said to him, smirking, his fingers found their way into your undies and stroked once up your slit, feeling how wet you were. His face flashed slight confusion and then he raised his eyebrows at you.

“You’ve done this before, kiddo?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and he reached up and grabbed the hair on the back of your head, dragging you down to be level with him, his lips hovering near yours. “Be honest,” He breathed.

“Yes, Joel, I’ve done this before and I need your cock, now.” You whined and rubbed your hips forward, feeling his cock pressed into your underwear clad pussy. Joel reached up and tugged your undies to the side, and you moved up higher on your knees and he lined his cock up against your entrance, the head barely starting to penetrate you. You gasped. He was big. Bigger than you had, had and suddenly you were slightly worried about taking it. You looked down at his face, his brow furrowed, his lip was sucked into his mouth. You let your hips drop some, pushing his cock inside of you, the head seeming to split your lips open and then opening your cunt.

“Good God,” Joel moaned, feeling your tight heat enveloping him. You let out a whine as you took more and more of him inside of you. He was much bigger than anything you had tried before and you suddenly felt in over your head but the stretch was so good. You stuttered to a stop with him halfway inside you, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, guiding himself into you. Your breathing was hard and you rocked your hips forward, trying to grind yourself against him and open yourself up for him.

“Joel!” You moaned, the stretch, the burn, the fullness was so good. It heated you through and through, you took him deeper and Joel grabbed at your hips.

“Good girl, that feel good?” he asked. You whined and babbled nonsense, unsure if it felt good or hurt too much. You weren’t used to being on top and being in charge of how much you were taking was overwhelming. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, ’s’been so long since I…fuck! I’m sorry, baby, I need this.” Joel wrapped his arm around your waist and flipped you over so you were on your back, your legs around his waist and his cock plunged farther into you. You gasped in pain and pleasure.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry.” Joel moaned, pumping his hips forward, watching the place where your bodies connected as he fucked into you. You could have screamed but you knew that you were out in the woods and you needed to be semi quiet. Joel leaned down over you, stroking your hair back, finally looking into your eyes, “Wishin’ you let me warm you up?” he asked teasingly. You gritted your teeth and shook your head,

“No,” you gasped, “No, I love it,” You whined and it was true. He pumped his hips faster and nodded as he cupped your cheeks,

“I know babygirl, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry to need this so fuckin’ bad,” he breathed into you. You tried to shake your head, you tried to do anything to tell him how much you wanted it but you were stupid from how good his cock felt filling you, stretching you and pounding into you. So you let him apologize while he fucked you. You wanted more, more, more but his thrusts were becoming faster, less steady, more needy. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m going to fuckin’ come, I know…I know it’s wrong,” he whispered to you. “I’m so sorry, just…a little…god, please.” Joel pushed your knee up and back, opening you further for him. You were whining,

“Oh god! God! Please! More!” You said. Joel’s body pressed into you, his cock slamming into you once more,

“I’m so sorry, darlin’, I need to come in ya,” He said, “I’m sorry! Take Daddy’s come like a good girl,” he breathed and you felt his cock spasm as he came deep inside of you. Joel kept himself inside of you all through his orgasm and then he collapsed against you, pressing as much of his body into you as he could. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, peppering your face with apologetic kisses.

“Joel, stop…stop apologizing,” You mumbled. “I wanted it,” You whispered. Joel pulled his cock out of you and pushed your legs back again to watch his own spend slip out of you.

“Fuck,” He breathed. “I know you wanted it, but-“ He reached down and stroked his fingers up and down your abused pussy. “I-it’s so wrong how badly I needed it, darlin’,” he whispered. You wriggled and moaned as his fingers stroked over your clit.

“N-No…I need it too, Daddy.” You said, using the name he had called himself before. Joel smiled almost sadly as his fingers gathered his come on his fingers and brought it to your mouth. You obediently opened your mouth, accepting his fingers. His eyes lit up as you sucked it down.

“I know, darlin’, you’re naughty, jus’ like your Daddy,” he said.

#joel miller #she answers #joel snippets #joel miller headcanons #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou #the last of us

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burrowkit · 3 days ago

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does it count if somehow, magically, almost anywhere I go, accidentally stumble across a library?

Like, I drive through a small town, and end up on a random side road. Or I need to park on said side road for something else... I get out of the car and like... right across the street is the library?

This has happened a few times to me.

It was once a joke. So much so, that sometimes I take a photo to send to a friend.

To answer the question, in my province... and not counting school libraries... probably 10? maybe 11? 12? 13? I can't keep track.

1-2 in another province.

I could probably find a couple else where.

I've also been known to look for the local libraries when doing day trips from home, because they are often safe spaces, that are free to use for doing your own stuff in (e.g. reading, writing, gaming quietly on an electronic device). As long as you follow the rules for the local library. And, they tend to be easy to find.

And, they often have signs everywhere, making them super convenient to find... which kind of defeats the "find it without maps" part, but anyways.

Anyways, libraries are super important. They provide safe places for people to read books, but to also access information and so much more!

You can use any travel method you like, walking, public transport, so on. You can get an uber but their map has failed so you'll have to give directions. You can travel to other countries and count those libraries but you have to be able to completely navigate from your home without assistance. So you can catch a plane but must be able to travel to and from the airport. No limit on how long it takes. If you know which block it's on or which tram line but aren't sure precisely, but you feel sure you'd find it once you got there, count that as a yes (if you're not sure maybe google it now and see if your plan would work). You cannot rely on asking for directions though, this must be all your knowledge

#libraries #I accidentally find them #oops #I park across the street from them and don't even realize it

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littelovelunette · 3 days ago

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i'm obsessing over ur page rn because i LOVE our wifes vi & sevika 🫶🫶 was wondering if you could do (if u haven't already) nsfw headcanons for one of them? like ... what are their turn-ons, their turn-offs, what they like in a woman ... maybe even kinks ... im curious and i can't ask chatgpt these things 🤧.

I gotchu and thank you so much it means a lot when I hear praises about my writings it makes me feel really supported and loved thank you so so much and ig i already did do nsfw headcanons for sevika but ima do a new one for you because you made me day just now and i will include BOTH OF THEM

HEADCANONS (TURN ONS, TURN OFFS, KINKS) ft. Sevika and Vi

Sevika

turn ons

a woman shorter than her or in general smaller than her which is pretty much all women because cmon sevika is tall and buff as fuck

thick thighs are a huge turn on for her

being bitten harshly, not the wussy type of bites, the type that would draw blood and ache for days

obedient girlies who spread their legs whenever asked to do it but that doesn't mean she'll turn down a brat just cause she likes obedience, she will spank you raw if you're bratty

women with high sex drive

sevika gets super wet when someone takes charge when she's tired from work and would lay back and let you do the work, strong women who take charge and are mentally sluts are attractive to her

big ass

anything related to mild danger really

turn offs

being on the receiving end of degradation (baby is insecure deep down but doesn't let it show) but you can call her slut, whore, bitch; just don't insult her arm or anything about her not caring about grooming herself, age, looks and that stuff

you taking advantage of drunk sevika would disappoint her and turn her off, she wont let you touch her for days

publicly she holds all dominance and if you try to make her act submissive to you in public she'll instantly lose her sexual appetite

hard to turn her off in general because she has a high sex drive

kinks

knife play, gun play enthusiast

anal, she likes giving more than receiving because receiving it... well, sevika squirts a lot when she receives anal and she feels embarrassed about it but if you dominate her successfully and are close enough she'll ache for anal pleasure

power play, seeing how strong she is compared to her gets her off easily

breeding kink hardcore, oh she wishes she could pump you full of semen because even if she says she prefers not being with children, settling down has been a lifelong dream

bondage, should've seen the way she looked at jinx when she was tied up

mild sadism during sex because cmon, the girl grew up around guns and fights

double penetration because why not?

Violet

turn ons

seeing your mouth around anything whether its even a popsicle or you licking off the seasoning of chips off your fingers

you in a skirt for some reason turns her on maybe it's just the view of your beautiful legs

you being assertive as fuck with her, she loves it when you take control for a change and it makes her fantasize about how you could make her moan and make her feel so good

you in her shirts or hoodies makes her bend you over and fuck you in that very clothing

seeing you without a bra makes her grab your boobs in a tight grasp and bite them because they just look so delicious

loves having you on her lap and it gets her wet seeing you all pretty on her lap

soft gentle sex

turn offs

dishonesty during intercourse

idea of someone else owning you or having it with you makes her blood boil

overly fragile or needy behaviour from you turns her off because she wants you to know she'll always be there to do anything and everything for you, protect you and nurture you

disrespecting her family turns her off hardcore

sadism during sex turns her off and she won't be cruel to you during sex at all, maybe a little due to simple teasing but she won't deprive you of anything if you're a masochist

kinks

spanking, she loves you bend over her lap and crying as she slaps your ass firmly for teasing her in public

nipple clamps and she will pull on them deliberately to make you whine and cry

69 because she loves burying her face in your pussy while you do the same for her trying to keep her in place because she wriggles out of sensitivity so much

leaving hickeys all over your chest and inner thighs too so she can claim you in every way possible she just loves you so much

having you blindfolded, tied up, gagged so all you can do is take her

she loves fingering you to no end she would do it every day and all the time if she could

she likes stretching your pussy out and watching the arousal dripping down

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batarangaroo · 1 day ago

Text

Punishment ideas

(From my daddy and from least to most embarrassing, as rated by me)

Rating scale: 1-2 sound like fun, 3-4 sound fun and blushy, 5-6 are embarrassing but doable, 7-8 are deffffinitely punishments, 9-10 are incredibly humiliating

Drinking water and holding game in public

1/10 - defffffinitely want to try this. Though I’ll regret it as soon as I really have to pee like I always do.

Panties under diaper

2/10 - hehehe it kinda sounds fun, I wanna try! Daddy says because of that it’s not punishment enough though

Daddy wets Roo’s diaper while she has it on

3/10 - So I don’t know if I’d like it, and I know for sure it would be embarrassing and a good punishment and make me feel super little… but I like the idea.

Forced baby time (Roo is sat down at the TV and has to watch baby shows for a few hours and then get put down for a nap)

3/10 - the shows would be sooooo boring (which I guess is the point) but I love when Daddy forces me to nap even if I don’t wanna. I always feel better after.

Carseat (or sitting in the backseat)

4/10 - anything with a harness I’m really into, so this is no different. But I’d hate being in the backseat away from my daddy. I’d be so sad.

Forced bedwetting

4/10 - I put up a huge fuss about this last time, but honestly… I kinda liked it🫠

BUT I don’t like having to do laundry because I have to wash my waterproof mattress cover in front of my roommates and it’s crinkly🥺

Take a picture of Roo’s wet diaper and post it to Tumblr to embarrass her. Or send it to some abdl friends ;)

4.5/10 - This is really super embarrassing, but I kinda also like my daddy showing me off… especially to abdl friends

Write a Tumblr post about you did wrong and read it out loud to Daddy

5/10 - the writing is fun, but the reading aloud is so freaking blushy! Especially when I have to say it really quiet cuz my roommates are home

Really girly outfit (pink and purple)

5/10 - 😳 it’s not my viiiibe, it’s too babyishhhhh

Spankings?

5/10 - I don’t like leaving marks from spanking or too hard or using any instruments other than your hand. But you putting me over your lap would be embarrassing and I’d learn my lesson.

Locking mittens for a day

6/10 - it’s so vulnerable🥺 I like it but asking Daddy for literally everything would be hard for me

Nighttime diapers in public

6/10 - fuck, Daddy, they’re so hard to disguise :(

Roo has to bring a big bag full of her diapers and diaper supplies to class or around her friends

6/10 - Roo doesn’t have to do that, fuck! No! What if they look?!

Kids menu at a restaurant

6/10 - IN-PERSON?! YOU’D ASK FOR ONE FOR ME? AGHHHHHHHH

Locking diaper cover, where she has to be in it until she soaks her pants

6/10 - and it might be higher. Till I soak my PANTS?????? Fuck.

Baby talk only for a day (no words, only baby babbling)

6/10 - this is also so vulnerable, I have to rely on my daddy for everything! It’s good practice I guess but soooooo embarrassing and little and agh

Daddy feeds her baby food for a day

7/10 - grossssssssss ew I don’t wanna... I like the idea of Daddy feeding me, though.

Make her wet her pants in class or a public place (enough to leave a wet spot but not a puddle… if she can control it)

7/10 - um what if I can’t stop🥺

Cloth diapers and plastic pants

7/10 - sounds a little like a sensory nightmare and beyond embarrassing looking

Using a training potty for a day

7/10 - the whole day? I don’t even wanna use it at all!!

Child harness or leash

7/10 - still a good level of embarrassment, but sooooooo demeaning and little. Definitely only in the house. This is on the level of light puppy play for me.

Make her leave a babyish item where here roommates could see it (baby powder, wipes, diaper rash cream, etc.)

4/10 for baby powder or wipes, because those are explainable, BUT

7/10 for DIAPER CREAM BECAUSE OH MY GOD NO

Making her wear a crop top and baggy pants (that might show her diaper in public)

8/10 - THAT IS SO MEAN HOW DARE YOU. I don’t want people to see my crinkly waistband🥺

Embarrassing items (buying her a diaper genie, changing mat, rattles or baby toys, like little blocks, chew toys, things like that).

8/10 for the diaper genie, FUCKing no! How do I explain it? No!

2/10 for the others, those sound like fun and I love stuff I can put in my mouth. Not a rattle, though, that’s embarrassing

Many many double/quadruple diapers in public

9/10 - Absolutely the fuck not! Jesus christ! Waddling in public????????? You’re gonna let everyone know I’m in diapers

Messy diaper

9/10 - UGH ACK NOOOO that’s so embarrassing no no no

Pooping with daddy present in the bathroom

9/10 - Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh no! What the heck! I can’t even think about this

Diaper enema on changing table (or suppository)

10/10 - Hey! Fucking no! Nope. How do I look at you ever again? What the heck?

Babysitter with abdl Mommy

11/10 - WHAT THE HECK. Nooooooooooooo, just my daddy can see me🥺 Down the road I might be more okay with this, but that would be so humiliating

#ab/dl #diaper training #diaper dependence #diaper wetting #bed wetter #bed wetting #little roo adventures #babygirl #ab/dl punishments #diaper discipline

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ladyloveandjustice · 2 days ago

Text

I mean, Legend of Lattes did have a conflict, her coffee place straight up burned down? It wasn't a major focus for most of the book but it happened.

I've only read a few cozy fantasy things, and didn't find a few of them super memorable myself, but the definition of cozy fantasy is pretty broad from what I've seen. Emily Wilde is categorized as that and it is FULL of conflict and action and has some great and memorable characters.

But people have always liked stuff that's low tension/stakes/fluffy. See coffee shop aus in fanfic, or fanfic tagged fluff. See slice of life anime where characters are just hanging out. It's not a new thing. People have always wanted to watch or read things that just give cozy vibes and allow them to hang out with characters. The book industry realizing there was a market for that was inevitable. If it's not for you, it's not for you, but it's obviously for someone or it wouldn't be doing well.

I also think this is a good example of how condescending we can get when talking about a genre we don't like. Rather than say "it's not for me, I don't find the characters memorable and want better stakes, maybe there should be more variety" (which was more where OP was at) it has to be somehow bad for people to read it and write it. like...

And so sometimes it feels impossibly challenging to write any book except one where nothing bad happens and nothing is in danger and nobody is really bothered or worried about anything and everything is mostly fine and there aren't any major setbacks…..

That is a hell of a condescending assumption to make about those writers. Jesus. I'm a professional author too, but I would not want to make these assumptions about my fellow writers.You don't know if they're doing it because it's easy, or if they're doing it because they felt there was a need for it, or it was just an idea they liked writing. You don't like it, great. That doesn't mean those writers are slacking off or doing something wrong somehow. You don't know that they don't also write books with tension and conflict. I feel like most of them probably have, actually. Assuming they sat down and thought "omg this will be easy I'm so lazy" is just...do you make the same assumption about romance writers? It can get pretty formulaic, but that doesn't mean it's easy to write. Have you tried to write a cozy fantasy and sell it and make it do well? If not, I don't think you should talk about how easy it is.

But that leaves readers cold.

I mean not all readers obviously, since it wouldn't be doing well or selling well?

And frankly, I don't feel like it does much of anything to nourish either our souls or theirs.

It feels like eating a bag of potato chips for dinner instead of going to the effort of even just heating up a frozen dinner that has a vegetable in it.

Why does reading HAVE to "nourish your soul", whatever that means? What's wrong with eating a bag of potato chips? You teach college, so I wonder if you've ever run into a colleague who thinks this way about regular fantasy and sci-fi. Where they think that genre fiction is inherently more disposable and less challenging than literary fiction. I've sure as hell run into those professors, that look down on readers and writers of "commercial fiction", and I've seen the bad impact they have on their students. Do you agree with them? Because you're sounding a lot like them right now. This is the exactly the kind of argument they'd make.

You don't know whether these people don't also read books with more stakes or a variety of genres as well. Low effort reading has it's place, it just maybe shouldn't be the only thing you read if you want to actually experience the breadth of literature.

And I see this a lot in the book community, but dissing the stuff people are into and saying they need to challenge themselves more or they won't be smart like you (I see this with YA a lot too) is not going to convince them. It frames reading as a chore, and people often don't like doing chores in a life full of them, and reading is a hobby for a lot of people. Rather that say "you need to read this to better your mind" say what can be interesting or intriguing about these books that are more challenging, what kind of cool things you can get from them. Sometimes it seems to me like the point of these arguments is to feel superior, rather than actually convince people.

Nothing's wrong with reading low effort books or watch low effort shows--it's when say, a YA reader says books are inherently flawed if they don't spell things out like YA sometimes does or has more challenging themes. Or a cozy fantasy reader acting like all books should be cozy fantasy and books with tension are bad. Those are the people that ruin the discourse. But, doing the inverse isn't any better.

idk, man. I've taught university classes about this shit, but what do I know.

I teach grad school classes on writing, (I don't like to pull that card, since it's not like teachers can't have flawed ideas about their subject but since we're here) and have taught similar lessons. Yet, here's what I think I do know: telling students the genre they write is wrong is not something a teacher should do. Those literary fiction professors love doing that, and I'm not them.

As a teacher with a variety of students in a variety of genres, I have to read genres I don't like all the time--god I hate most 'dark romance' and man do I not get or like omegaverse, but I sure as hell had to read both. But just because I don't like them doesn't mean they're worthless, or there isn't a market for them, or it's wrong to write them. So I put those feelings aside, think about what kind of help the student needs to be successful in their chosen genre, and what the audience would want, because that will help them improve. (though I do try to hint if something seems like, incredibly sexist, that maybe we should reconsider that, or look at it from all angles and decide if it's something the story needs). And at the same time, I do teach them basic lessons on how to structure a story, and what's good about conflict, stakes, etc.

But I wouldn't tell any of them they're wrong for writing cozy fantasy even if it's not always my cup of tea, because there is a market for it, and I want them to do well at it and do what they love. What pays the bills pays them, and if you actually like what you do, that's also important. Writers do need to challenge themselves, which is why I encourage students to be open minded about all genres, try out writing them, try writing different POVs, different stuff even if they don't publish it, because that can only help them get better at what they do. But if what they publish is cozy fantasy, hey, it gets them good money and they like doing it, that's more than I can say for most jobs.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

#writing #book talk #sorry...sometimes the tone of a thing gets to me even if i also don't care for the subject

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yaut-jaknowit · 3 days ago

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Hello can I have an ask about reader who came from our world who is a big fan of predators who can read, write and speak their language and fight like them too gets teleported to yautja prime and I guess she was looking around for shelter and she found a clan so she entered their clan grounds hoping she doesn't get killed and she found a pyramid (from what I remember seeing in one of the movies) which turns out to be where the clan has its important meetings. And the elder clan leader let's call him Kar'dokh (if you don't mind) was having meeting with other nearby clans so reader accidently enters the meeting room filled with other clan leaders and their most trusted soldiers standing by their side and the silence was LOUD

Reader: ....

Kar'dokh and the other clan leaders: ....

*Kar'dokh gets up about to kill her*

*Reader speaks in yautja*: wait I mean no harm I swear!!

And like all of the yautjas were flabbergasted to find this out and they were suspicious of her cause how does a human know so much about their people? (cause in the world no human ever went to yautja prime) so word got out and everyone wanted to see the human including people from other clans, so fast forward reader and kar'dokh got close -e ends up liking her try's courting her but she pretends to be oblivious to it

Kar'dokh: ooman

Reader: yes?

Kar'dokh: why do you refuse to be my mate? Am I not a worthy enough male for you? I have you know I have strong seed to sire strong pups so why do you refuse me?

Reader: what...? What do you...huh? Kar'dokh you are an alien I wouldn't even be able to give you children!

Kar'dokh: my people's technology can fix that issue so be my mate

Reader: I... I can't

Kar'dokh: and why not?

Reader: because I'm human!!!

Kar'dokh: not valuable reason. Try again

Reader: why do you even like me!?!? Kar'dokh: because I am attracted to you

Reader: *tip toe’s and manages to grab him by the shoulders* raise your standard!!!!

Kar'dokh: *slams hand into metal and puts a deep dent into it then proceed to grab her by the risk*

AND BOOM he pounces on her, corners her against the wall gets her to confess her feelings and they do the super Spicy boombayah doggie style😉

And she somehow got pregnant a few days later

SORRY FOR IT BEING LONG!!!!!

To Another Realm

Pairings: Kar'dokh (male yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 5271

Summary: After being transported to another realm where yautjas are real, you learn to survive. With the help of Kar'dokh. A clan leader of a strong tribe. If it wasn't for him, you would've been long dead your first day. Close proximity and his help made the two of you grow close. To the point there was no space between you two.

Author Note: IM SO SORRY ITS TAKEN ME FOREVER TO GET TO THIS. I've been so busy. Work just changed my 6-2 to a 10-6 and I'm now moving an hour away. So I'll be taking a small break as well for that for writing probably. Maybe... I don't know.

Also! I do have a patreon now: link There are three tiers. Those get the post earlier. Everything will still come out. I'm tweaking things as I go.

Masterlist

Ao3

Wind rushes passed you. The ground comes and meets your face with a dull thud. Blackness is all you see.

A throat-tearing gasp wracks your body. You sit up rapidly and start to violently cough, trying to figure out how to steady your breathing. It takes a moment to steady yourself enough to wipe away the tears from your face and gaze around. What you saw wasn’t what you were expecting.

Jungle. Tall, lumbering trees towered high above you. Heat and humidity smacked you in the face. The air was hard to breath. It felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen, like you had been shoved onto of a mountain without any time to acclimate. You struggled to your feet and glanced around. The area felt weird. It was as if your internal compass was thrown off completely.

Where were you?

Only thing you could feel besides the confusion was dread. A heavy thing to sit in the pit of your belly, weighing you down. You placed over your heart and took in deep, calming breathes. A difficult thing to do when it feels like you’re slowly suffocating. You pushed through the dread and began to move in a random direction. There had to be some sort of clue to as where you are… and how you got here. The last thing you say doesn’t correspond to waking up in a forest!

Due to the lack of air, you could only walk at a moderate pace. That already had you panting slightly. The terrain was rough and unsteady. Thick foliage, fall giant trees, wide creeks, and boulders made the trip all the more difficult. You had to push forward though and find some sort of clue. Sweat and humidity sticks to your skin like a sheet. Your clothes sticking to you uncomfortably. No matter how much you pulled the drenched clothing away from your skin.

Hours, or what felt like hours of traveling, later, you spotted something through the foliage. It rivaled the trees height. A structure! You immediately started to quickened your pace and race through the foliage, not caring if the branches tore at your clothing and skin. You panted heavily by the time you pushed past the lush bush. You stood there and dragged your gaze up, up, up until you find the top. It was a pyramid. A pyramid in the middle of the jungle. Was this somewhere that had Aztec or Mayan buildings? That’s all you could come up with.

It was in pristine state, as if you had been transported back in time. Like this was the day it was built. You can’t recall anything from anywhere that had something like this. With your heavy breathing, you had to stand there for at least ten minutes, under a tree, catching your breath. The sun was harsh. It felt like you were in a desert, in middle of the day. It nearly burned your skin by standing out in it for a short period of time. You glanced at the building after catching your breath once more. You wanted to go inside. Who knows what’s beyond its walls? Could be an earth shattering record?

With a deep breath you pushed onward and stepped into the blazing sun. Even the intensity felt off, the rays as well. Yet, you didn’t have an idea on what is happening. Besides this being a terrible dream. Stuck in a hot, humid jungle with no phone, no map, no clue where you were. A hopeless situation to be put into with your lonesome.

Large stairs that reached your knees slowed your ascend. Halfway up, you had to stop and take a moment. “This. Is. Bullshit,” you muttered to yourself then continued up the stairs. The material was textured and a deep ruby red with blocks of black. It was beautiful despite you sweating all over it. Does a dream really make you sweat this much?

By the time you had reached the top steps, you feel faint, ready to fall back down the stairs you just climbed. You stumbled your way into the entrance, thankful for the cover. The sun had done a number on your skin. The heat that radiated off of you could make water boil off of you. Your back touches a wall before you slide down to sit. Your legs were more than thankful for the rest. There had to be at least on-hundred steps. Minimum. It was worse since they were made for bigger people.

All because you wanted to see the inside. This better be worth it.

Once you felt stable, thirty minutes later, you weakly stood up. Your legs wobbled when you took a step. You continue on and follow your way inside. Only to realize it had a stairwell. You growled and glared at the damn thing. Then, you take the slow and approach of climbing down each step. It wasn’t much to complain about. Only about two flights until you reached the first floor. Now, it was time to explore.

There was something in the air that had you on alert. Either from the creepiness or from the fact you felt like you were crossing into forbidden territory. You tread quietly, peered around corners before doing down that hallway. The place felt like a maze, meant to drag you deeper and deeper into the depths. Until you from yourself all the way at the bottom level.

That; s when you realize that the only reason you’re able to see is from fire lamps. Lamps that have to be lit by someone. You stopped in your tracks and looked at the walls. In your blind stupor, you didn’t think to look at the walls. Walls that are decorated with stone carvings. Carving that made you think of the movie ‘AVP’. This is really a dream.

You walked up to the carving and gently ran a hand over the smooth stone. Beautiful work. Someone had poured their heart into the crafting a story into the stone. Your gaze drifts over the art work and followed the story down the hallway. All the way to a grand door at the end of the hallway. It was too carved with a mixture of stone, word, and some sort of ore. You stopped in front the door with your jaw dropped.

Curiosity got the best of you. Both of your hands were place on one of the doors.; With all of your weight and strength, you pushed open the door. Your head was ducked down as you struggled the entire time. Just enough until you could slip between the new crack. You stepped into the room and instantly freeze on the spot. That dreadful feeling only intensified… tenfold. You picked up your head and had to cut off a gasp.

Tens of eyes stared at you bright, fierce gazes that looked ready to tear into you. Your muscles locked in place as you stared out at the group. You recognized them. Yautjas. These were Yautjas. Twenty or so. All of them staring at you. Your heart pounding in your chest, trying to escape from the situation you’ve put yourself into.

At the end of the long, formal table, one grand looking Yautja stood up abruptly. Others following suit. The first on marched around everyone and advanced swiftly towards you. You stumble backwards and smacked into the closed door behind you.

Two long blades slid out and glinted off the low light from the fire lamps. Your eyes about bulged out of your head as you looked at the approaching Yautja. Seeing them in movies was far different than seeing on in person. Not that you ever thought you would see one like this. Your hands lifted up in a complacent manner, as if you were trying to call down an angered animal.

“Wait!” you screamed, using a language you never though to use. The Yautja stopped in his tracks his muscles tense. Everyone else pausing as well. “Don’t… don’t kill me.” The unused language was choppy on your tongue. You never thought you would ever use it. Not that you had anyone to use it with.

Surprise over took his anger in the moment. His eyes roamed from head to toe. “You spoke.” It was a statement rather than a question. The words takes a long few seconds to register in your brain. A bit of excitement flares to life inside of you at the knowledge you understand him.

Timidly, you nodded your head. “Yes. Did. Not well.” You did your best to communicate with him, hoping to keep yourself alive. The other Yautjas with him, hoping to keep yourself alive. The other Yautjas behind him glanced at each other, confusion evident in their eyes. Some looked angry. One stepped out from the group and tried to bypass the main Yautja standing less than ten feet from you. He sticks his arm out and stops the other one.

“No, Taural,” he growled but didn’t let his bright vibrant eyes off of you. You felt like a deer in headlights, just waiting for them to do something. For them to decide your fate. There was no running, no fleeing. You couldn’t outrun them, there was no chance of escape. You had to think smart.

The one he stopped snapped his head towards the larger male. “It’s a ooman, Kar'dokh! On Yautja Prime. It needs to be killed,” Taural spat at the brown Yautja. Your heart leapt into your throat. Kill you?! But-but, you’re not a threat, you have no weapons. They have no reason to kill you!

“No.” Such a firm statement that left nothing to be argued. “Return to your seats. Now.” A command that left everyone only to followed. They followed his order with little resistance. Some glanced back at you with murderous intent. Part of you was thankful for the mercy while the other was afraid what he might have in store for you.

Kar'dokh approached you once more with a stern look in his eyes. Instantly, like a cornered animal, your first thought was to throw a punch. But, you didn’t want to give a reason to kill you. Don’t be a threat. He stopped directly in front of you. A towering form that made you feel like you were going to shit yourself. Your heart raced and felt like it was going to leap directly into his hands.

He leaned down and got directly into your face. You tried to turn your head away but he grips your chin and forces your head back. “No threat. Can’t… kill me,” you continued in choppy Yautja. The fear that gripped your heart squeezed hard. All you could do was stand there, under his scrutiny. Your eyes pleading for your life to be spared. Because if your memory served you right, from all the knowledge about these guys, they shouldn’t be allowed to harm or kill you in any way. You aren’t a threat and hold no weapons.

“How do you know?” he growled out lowly and tightened his grip on your chin. You since. “How did you get here?” You could see the questions swirling in his eyes the longer you he stared at you. He was trying to figure out where and how you got here.

Longer you stood there pinned to the wall, you grew more lightheaded. Either from the anxiety that ran through you or the lack of oxygen was starting to get to you. Maybe it was the fear of death right in front of you. Or maybe it was a combination of all of that. Your breathes started to come out fast the longer you were pinned. Darkness began to crowd your vision.

“I-I’m gonna pa-pas out,” you alerted to him before everything went dark. You collapsed on the ground. Kar'dokh letting you dropped. The last thing you remember is being picked up.

By the next time you woke up, you felt a bit refresh. Your eyes blinked open to stare up at a patterned, carved ceiling. Carving like the ones you’ve seen on the pyramid walls. Your brows furrowed at the sight. What? You sat up and rubbed at your eyes. The scene didn’t change. You had just woke up. What in the world were you still in this dream? Fear started to fill your stomach. No… surely, this was a dream. Was this a dream?

Then, a door opening caught your attention. Your head snapped over towards the sound. Kar'dokh was walking into the room, head held high. He stopped besides the cot you had been placed on during your forced nap. Stunned, you peered up at him, heart thundering again. “What happened?” you asked, speaking in your normal language now. Then, you felt the blanket that had been laid on you, slip down. That’s when you realize the room you were in was a medical room. And it didn’t feel like you were suffocating anymore.

His nearness was frightening. To see him crowd into your space without any remorse for scaring you terribly. A grumbled came from the towering, brown giant. “Our planet’s atmosphere isn’t designed for oomans.” His voice! He spoke in Yautja but a monotone voice sounded in your ear. A translator.

It’s thought that they breathe nitrogen more than oxygen. They can survive in our atmosphere than us in theirs. “A regulator has been added to our respiratory system.” Kar'dokh leaned into closer into your space. Your natural reaction was to move away but he snatched your throat and tugged you back. “Now, that I know you won’t die before I get my answers: start talking.”

Worst of all, you don’t know the true answer to his questions. He didn’t look like he would accept ‘I don’t know’ as an answer either. You forced down the lump in your throat. “Uh, what was the questions again?” you asked in a small voice. As much as you wanted to shy away and hide, the grip he had on your chin was firm. There was no escape.

He scowled at you and tightened his hold on you for a moment. “How did you get here? Who brought you onto our planet?” The deepness and anger in his voice was laid thick over you. It rattled you deep to the bones. Fear gripped your heart. The more you looked at Kar'dokh, the more you noticed how decorated he was. Kar'dokh was covered with plenty of bones and scars. From your knowledge, he must be a well decorated hunter or possibly an elder… or a clan leader. That had your heart dropping to the floor, at his feet. You whimpered quietly and closed your eyes, trying not to faint again.

“Answer me!”

Your whole body jerked from him but he brought you back to his space. “I don’t know! I don’t know! I promise. I woke up in the middle of the jungle. I-I walked around and found this place. I don’t know how I got here. Honestly!” you had to plead to him. Hopefully, he’d see the honesty in your eyes, hear it in your voice. You cracked open an eye to read his face.

The gears in his brain were spinning. Kar'dokh growled then let go of your chin. With a yelp, you fell back and nearly fell off the cot if it wasn’t for him grabbing the collar of your shirt. He hauled you back up into a sitting position. Far too close. You could see the speckles in his eyes. Beautiful but deadly. This creature could easily hurt and kill you with a fraction of his strength. The only reason you are alive currently was you weren’t a threat nor an honorable kill. Those… others wanted to kill you with little remorse or pause. Was that honor rule not true? If that was the case, you were a walking corpse. Soon to be a skull on the wall. Nothing more than a trophy.

Kar'dokh eases off of your shirt until he knew you won’t fall backwards again. “Thanks,” you murmured and drifted your face down towards the cot again. Your hands were folded in your lap, nervously playing with each other. “I’m being honest. I promise. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t even know where I am. This isn’t earth, is it?” You gazed back up at him, eyes large and wide.

The two of you entered a short staring contest until he sighed and took a step back. “I believe you, ooman. I don’t smell another on you.” The brown Yautja leaned forward and sniffed you for a moment. “You do smell… strange.” Was that a good or bad thing? He stood back up and stared down at you from over his mandibles. “Do answer me this: how do you know that we can’t harm you?” Your breath got caught in your throat. Was it wise to release such information to him? Would he think you as insane?

But, the only way was to get through all of this is to be honest. From there, it would be up to Kar'dokh if you are to live. Putting your life in someone’s hands.

“Okay… you might not believe me though.” From there, you went into explaining what your world is like. Going deeply into about how Yautjas are a fake species, made up. All of them a fantasy that someone made up… until now. Kar'dokh took all of it. His stern face a wall of impassible features. Not even his eyes gave away a single emotion. By the end, you finally stopped and watched him closely.

During your whole talk, he had grabbed a chair. Kar'dokh stood up and uncrossed his arms. “All you’ve said is… unrealistic, though you arriving on Yautja Prime is also next to unrealistic. Oomans aren’t allowed on Yautja Prime but… you are a special case now. If what you say is true then you must be kept alive.” That made a cold drop drip down your spine. What could that mean?

From that day, you were under lock and key by Kar'dokh or in a medical-like room. They would run tests on you yet they couldn’t come up with anything logical for your situation. In the meantime, you got to learn more than ever about them. Probably the first and only humans to step foot on Yautja Prime. Alive. It took time to get Kar'dokh to open up but your excitement about learning their culture and language inevitably softened him up enough. That’s when you learned more about him. Plenty for a well decorated warrior and clan leader to talk about.

Two years after you first dropped down onto their planet, the scientists were still scratching their heads. They haven’t figured out how you’ve made it here. They were able to find out you weren’t from their universe. Something about your cells were different. That’s as far as they’ve gotten about your situation.

On a different hand, you’ve gotten further with Kar'dokh to the point he allows you free roam of his home and the clan he leads. There was a strict no harming or killing on you. He had his name and symbol burned into your skin to ensure everyone knew you were off limits. Everyone kept a wide berth when it came to you. Rarely did anyone talk or looked at you. Something you used to your advantage. For the most part. Until you wanted to learn about their culture more.

Back in the comfort of Kar'dokh’s home, you were studying the language. A soft, thin, knitted blanket laid over your legs while you were curled on the couch in the living room. The language… was different. But Kar'dokh was more than helpful when it came to speaking and writing. Listening, that’s a whole different story. That’s all on you. Your brain is completely scrambled trying to understand the different clicks and trills they make.

With a groan, you flopped back against the back of the couch and tilted your head back, eyes closed. A familiar presences hovered over you, blocking out the light. You cracked open an eye then softly smiled at him with no teeth showing. “Hello, Kar'dokh. Come here to gloat about my struggles?” you teased him.

The brown Yautja placed his hands on the top of the couch and leaned over you. His long, dark tresses curtained around his head. “What are you struggling with?” he asked you, features soft and calm. You continued to gaze up at him. “I told you I’m here to help you.” He has changed since the first day you met him. You’ve cracked past his hard exterior to see how soft and kind he could be. You sat up and brought up the sheet of paper you were on. Kar'dokh grabbed it and looked at it closely.

Kar'dokh snorted then used a sharp nail to flick off the translator right behind your ear. Then, he began to speak in Yautja. “What it is saying is…” he spoke the word but it didn’t register in your brain. The confusion etched in your features stated you didn’t understand it. At all. Kar'dokh repeat it a few times. “Now, you try it.” The course of two years has greatly improved your Yautja speech and understanding. There are moment when you struggle… but Kar'dokh is there to catch you before you fall.

At first, the word choppily fell from your lips. Kar'dokh was patient in helping you get the word. The different facial structures definitely made it all the harder. Yet, Kar'dokh was patient with you the entire time. Even if it took all day for you to finally get it.

Once you finally got it, Kar'dokh purred and grinned at you. He combed his fingers carefully through your hair. “You did so well. I’m proud of you,” he praised to you.

In the pit of your stomach, butterflies erupted to life. Your eyes softly shut as you enjoyed the comfort his presence and touch offered. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you,” you muttered softly in Yautja. The words were starting to fall from your lips with ease. His nails raked across your scalp. You sunk further into the couch with a deep groan.

A chuckle comes from the brown Yautja. You feel his presence grow closer, his heat washing over you like a blanket of comfort. One of your eyes barely cracks open to see his bright yellow one staring directly at you. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

Without thinking, you leaned up and pecked him on one of his mandibles.

The whole world froze. Your heart dropped to your stomach. Internally, you were cursing at yourself. You flinched and tried to slip off the couch to put some distance between the two of you. When a hand snatched the back of you neck, lifted you over the couch, and dropped you right in front of Kar'dokh. Your shoulders scrunched up, eyes not daring to look him in the eye.

Rough finger pads gripped your chin and forced you to look directly at him. A lump began to grow in your throat the longer you stared at him.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just-I don’t know. It just happened. I do have feelings. I don’t know if you did. And I probably just ruined what friendship we had. Now you’ll probably hate me. Please, don’t. I don’t know what I wo-“ a tongue was shoved into your mouth and promptly shut you up. Your eyes fluttered shut.

An arm snaked around your waist and tugged you close to a feverish body. Your own arms wrapped around a sturdy neck. Kar'dokh guided you towards the nearest wall and trapped you between him and it. You are forced to pull back and pant for breath. The back of your head resting against the wall.

“That’s one way to make me shut up,” you teased him and leaned up on your tippy toes to place a kiss to his lower mandible. “I’m not complaining though.” Kar'dokh growled lowly in the back of his throat and dove back into another kiss. You immediately responded in haste, hands roaming over his shoulders and felt up his powerful body.

As your hands dipped lower, Kar'dokh pressed himself harder against you. One of his legs pressed between your legs and forced them open. You gasped into the kiss but he doesn’t let you pull away this time. A rough textured hand palms at your hip for a moment before dipping under the hem of your shirt. The difference in temperature has your hair standing on edge. He continues to grope at your newly exposed skin.

For a moment, he moves back a fraction to give you a moment to take a breath. His large, brown forehead was pressed to your own. Piercing yellow eyes stare directly into yours. The hand under your shirts drifts up and skims under the swell of your unbound breasts. You gasped and arched your back, pressing yourself more into his touch. His eyes flared with fire, mandibles twitching wider.

There’s a long second passed before he rips your shirt off of your body and frees your torso. Kar'dokh’s gaze was immediately admiring the new skin he exposes. Both of his hands palm at the supple, soft skin of your breasts. Large thumbs toys over your nipples and draws them into peaks. You whined and curled your hands into fists. One snagging a dark tress of his. He purred deeply and pressed his mouth to yours again in a fierce fight for the top. Kar'dokh easily overtakes you.

You tugged on his tress. His dark nails dig into your ribcage then he pinched and twisted one of your nipples. A gasp tore at your throat and forced you to pull away from him. Your hips rutted down on the thigh between them.

“Kar, no more teasing. Please, I can’t take it anymore,” you begged him, breathless. His irises darkened.

With the open invitation, Kar'dokh simply rips off your pants and under in one move. A yelp escapes from your throat but he ignores it. The brown Yautja bumps his knee further up and grinds against your exposed slit. Heat flushed to your cheeks at the feeling of a dripping mess making its way to his thigh.

Drool drips down his jaw. Kar'dokh grips your hips and easily lifts you off of the ground, keeping you pinned to the wall. Instinctively, your legs attempted to wrap around his waist but he was larger than you. He uses his hips to hold you up as he undoes his loincloth and tosses it to the side. Your gaze is drawn downwards.

Hot and heavy. Kar'dokh’s alien cock is nestled between your thighs, resting on your stomach. The tip reaches your belly button easily. Oh shit. You felt yourself clench around nothing at the sight.

One last look in your eyes, he draws his hips back. The tapered, neon green tip was pressed to your entrance. Then, with a swift thrust, he lodges himself as deep as possible, only able to get about halfway in. Your back arches off of the wall as a wail falls from your lips. The sheer size of him makes it hard for your walls to even clench around him.

Kar'dokh uses a hand to ensnare your throat and forced you to look at him. “I know you can take more.” Another draw and thrust of his hips makes the rest of him fit snuggly inside of you. The feeling of him overwhelmed you. It felt like he was touching every nerve inside of you. Maybe he was.

A deep groan falls from his alien mouth. His eyes fluttering, on the verge of shutting at the exquisite feeling of you wrapped snuggly around him. “That’s it. I knew you could take it, little one. Mm, you’re so tight,” he muttered under his breath. Kar'dokh refocused on the task on hand.

The pace at first was sloppy, unsteady until he found the perfect beat. Loud slaps echoing throughout the living room. Your hand was still wrapped around his tress firmly, using it as a lifeline. Your jaw dropped as each thrust forced the air out of your lungs.

“Yes, yes. Perfect. Been wanting to do this-ugh, for so long. Make you my mate. Gonne breed you. Have my pups,” he rambled amidst the brutal fucking he provided. His claw dug into your hips and held you in place.

You couldn’t the snort that left you as you tried to stay sane. “T-that’s n-ah, no possible, Kar.” From what you know of, it shouldn’t be. No matter how potent their seed is. Or the fact the tip of his shaft was slamming against you cervix with each rut into you.

Black nails dug deeper into your flesh, threatening to break the barrier. “Doesn’t matter. Our technology will fix that,” he growled back and doubled his efforts. Your reply was cut off with a high pitched whine. The brutalness was wrecking to your smaller frame. There wasn’t a chance you would be able to walk tomorrow.

He leaned further into your space and buried his face into the crook of your neck. His long, pink tongue slithered over your salty flesh, tasting you. Blood pool around the nails that finally pierced the flesh of your hips.

“You’re mine. My mate!” Your pants grew whiny. You had no choice but to hold on as the first wave of your orgasm started to wash over you. Your eyes crossed as the pleasure became overwhelming.

Fangs bite down into the crook of your neck, scaring as his mate. With a deep, resonating snarl, Kar'dokh hips go flush with yours. You mewled at the feeling of his throbbing cock taking up every available space inside of you then some more. Spurts of cum began to fill your insides.

None of it was able to spill out and be of waste. Something was lodged just shy of your entrance, plugging you up. You squirmed in his hold and tried to figure it out what it was. Then, the light bulb went off.

A knot. Kar'dokh had knotted you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine. He really was doing everything he can to make you pregnant. He unlatched his teeth from your shoulder and licked at the dribbling blood.

At first, you smiled. That turned into a smirk and soon enough, you were laughing softly, soaking in the dopamine in your system. Kar'dokh’s licking stopped. The brown Yautja pulls away to look you in the eye, confused on your laughter.

“I don’t know how this will work. You won’t be able to get me pregnant,” you explained to him again, trying to get the point across. “Why do you even like me? I’m a human.”

One hand detaches the claws in your hip to grip at your chin. “It’s because I am attracted to you. Ooman or not, you are attractable both physically and mentally.” Oh… that’s really sweet of him. Your cheeks flushed with heat again. You couldn’t even duck your head off to the side.

“Then, you need to raise your standards, Kar. Or you just need to get out more often.” Kar'dokh responded with a snort and returned to nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He doesn’t entertain your words. Instead, he holds you in his arms, waiting for his knot to deflate.

So he could do it all over again.

Sure enough, a human can get pregnant by a Yautja.

#yautja #yautja x reader #predator #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 1 day ago

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okay... late night thot about dick grayson because i CANNOT sleep without writing this down... smut warning

imagine its the 50s (minus all the terrible shit that went down in that time period) and you work at this adorable little dinner. you always get the night shift, and you never ever complain because you always get the same man through your doors every single night for the same damn thing. dick sticks out like a sore thumb, always in a nice suit, or a dark turtleneck- clearly looking like he left some super fancy buisness job. the diner is soft pastels and pinks and blues and he looks like count dracula when he sits in the same corner booth. you always make sure to do your hair and makeup all nice and soft for him, and give extra care to your painted nails and that extra spritz of perfume. so you smell like sugarcakes all the time. flashing him a smile as you skate over with his coffee and sandwhich he always gets for a late bite, and then bumping the juxebox with yout hips so a nice tune will play while he eats (and watches you work). he always tips you super well and you leave your phone number on his bill one time, which was super bold for you because although you were outspoken and bubbly- your little southern drawl heard from the kitchen all the time, you were shy with him. cause he flirted with you like crazy and it made you so flustered sometimes you almost forgot how to skate. but he called you one night and yes you totally were in a little nightgown, laying on your bed, kicking your feet and twirling the phone cord while he gave you praises. dick grayson was such a flirt you were surpised he wasnt married. though he was young, like you- mid/late 20s. i can just imagine him sitting at the bar when its quiet and just staying while you work a slow night to keep you company :)) and he holds your hands in his large ones and just admires your nails whenever you switch them up, he loves every colour and design. his nickname for you was sugar, cause you smelt like a candy and cause he told you that you were sweet as sugarcakes. one night, his compliments were getting you so hot and bothered you met him outside on your break in the back of the dark parkinglot... and ya know. mmhm.

"yeah sweets that feel good? hittin all the right spots for my pretty little sugarplum?" he'd coo as he had your back arched in the back of his cadillac, moaning and fogging up the windows as he gripped your neck and pound into you from behind. "you like that pretty? gonna let me fill ya up, make you even sweeter? my baby.." and he'd pinch your cheeks (both of em) and make you cum so hard you saw stars, head getting foggy and going into subspace as he'd fuck his cum into you even though that fancy lil pill didnt come out until the 60s. oh well, it was dick grayson. and after he cleaned you up and praised you, kissing your face all over and the top of your head before fixing his tie, his glasses and the lipstick kisses all over his neck, he'd take you back before your break was over and get you a slice of pie.

okay idk should i make this a full length fic? the thot just came into my mind, i fear i had to write it... sabrina carpenter has inspired me...

mini moodboard: the people in the pics do not represent what reader looks like, simply the vibe!

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ihopesocomic · 2 days ago

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Even though you stated in the previous ask that you're not trying to be realistic with IHS, as a biology student: I still find the lions more convincing than those featured in other media. Sure, they have societies and philosophy but it's not so forced that it distracts from the fact that these are lions and not "fantasy lions". This isn't even going into how you still know how lions look and behave and you incorporate this knowledge into things like their fighting styles, for example. Good job!

Oh hey, thank you so much!

To be honest, I wasn't super duper into lions until My Pride came about and even then I was still more of a wolf fan. I grew up reading wolf comics on DeviantART and to this day, that's still my personal preference.

Yes, I know: your favourite lion comic co-creator is actually a canine fan. Shock. Horror. TWIST

But I decided to read into lions purely because if you're gonna write about something, you have to have a respect for the subject. And they are honestly a fascinating and wondering critter. I love their family dynamics, the fact that they're the only big cat (if you wanna get technical and exclude cheetahs, since I recently learned they don't count) to live in groups and just how they look in general.

I also like disproving the stereotypes I had about them before looking into them. Like how the mane is actually not a good indicator to gender because it varies across genders. As we know, some females grow manes and some male lions remain maneless.

The science behind it doesn't really matter to me, I just think showing lions of various gender identities with various mane styles and lengths or lack thereof is a neat design trait to play with and I'm glad we've developed a variety over the years. Disagree? Well, somebody sure sounds like they don't like fun. lol But we've never been about sticking to realism because we feel that's too limiting and it's not really the kind of story we wanted to pursue anyway. Just like realism isn't the ultimate art style, a story not being realistic doesn't make it any less of a story. I'm glad we have a reader base that can appreciate that. <33 - RJ

#ask #ask us stuff #rj answers #worldbuilding

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amemoryofwot · 2 days ago

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In regards to WoT show Liandrin I think there's a certain point where a character in a show needs to portray concepts that are otherwise lore or exposition. Like, the writers didn't do so much with her because they think she's Super Neat in the books or something, but because as a relatively one noted early intro character she's in a convenient place to tackle some Stuff onto. Some examples I can think of are:

The Vileness - as this is like one of my personal fave WoT topics I YELLED at her intro in the very first episode. It's the Vileness!!! She's hunting down and Gentling men unsanctioned without a trial! She only has Reds with her there, and it's so completely different to the procedure for Logain where she has the Greens. She even put them into a position where they felt they had to Gentle Logain early, I maintain that she slipped that shield for a fraction of a second.

The ability of the Black Ajah to lie - The rewatchability of the show remains peak, it's super fun to see all the places she's definitely lying, bringing into play that hidden Black Ajah wild card of Being Able to Say Anything. Again, the first intro scene, where the critics were so pressed she misrepresented the taint. Ah yes, famously man hating Black Ajah Liandrin just might have something to say about that, yeah.

The unnaturally long lifespan of a channeler in relation to others - Watching your child age and die is a pretty horrific consequence of this, and one example is enough to explain why none of the other women have children either. This does get verbalized in the books but again showing examples is going to be more impactful in a visual medium than someone saying it out loud.

Black Ajah recruitment - I don't know whether she truly thought she would get Nynaeve as a Black, certainly at least she thought she could argue her into the Red (why Heal the aftereffects when you can go after the cause?) but it does show there is a recruitment process involved. Albeit in the books it seems to be limited to capturing a person and demanding they swear to the Dark or they will be killed, the show has at least tried to provide some hot nuance with Liandrin, Min, Dana, etc. You can argue RJ had some clear cut ideas of what made a Darkfriend (petty, selfish, etc) but these are human emotions in general, the world for the most part isn't divided into a subsection of Bad People that only have these emotions. Plus some of RJ's ideas of what a Good Person is (namely, self-sacrificing) isn't always, uh, good.

The general idea that Darkfriends may appear helpful or good, but have a secret agenda - when the eps first came out there was a lot of pushback that Liandrin got some of Siuan's scenes. I think this was all to entirely sell us on Liandrin is On Our Side Actually, because in the book it is actually hilarious how Min's like "hey gang I have a bad feeling" and then Liandrin shows up out of nowhere to whisk them away. Plus the scene with the sword and wrapping them up in Air and stuff is not really a great look. It was enough to seem like she's trying to help, but coming across in a really traumatic way that on hindsight of the betrayal makes it even more abusive. Now, we are constantly suspicious that other Aes Sedai may end up being secret Blacks

That the Forsaken have different agendas, and use Darkfriends to implement them - using one single character like Liandrin and shunting her from Ishamael to Lanfear (and ultimately to Moghedien) helps illustrate how the Forsaken work without giving away too many secret identities.

Anyways that's the one's I can think of now. Again truly the show is so efficient with its writing, practically every line has some lore or foreshadowing or twist to it, and expanding on these honestly somewhat flat characters is a really effective way to illustrate these concepts.

#wot book spoilers

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 1 day ago

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been stalking your blog for a while and I just wanted to say I love your writing so much!! this is my time ever requesting anywhere so im sorry if anything's out of order.

is it possible for you to write something about a jealous g!p Donna with a withdrawn reader who was discarded by Mother Miranda?

Mother Miranda experimented on reader, accidentally giving them a form like a more dangerous vârcolac before deciding to hand them over to Donna once she was done since Alcina already has her daughters.

the reader is very withdrawn and usually spaces out and totally disassociates most of the time. but over time reader and Donna get closer because reader is very agreeable and likes to play with Angie.

one day, Donna and reader go to the castle for some reason and one of the Dimitrescu daughters (or Alcina) take an interest in reader and start relentlessly flirting with them.

this makes Donna go kinda crazy and she gets super jealous and possessive and decides she needs to knock reader up and show everyone who the reader belongs to.

no problem if you don't like the request or it's too dark or something, I hope you have a nice day!

Yess!!!! Thank you for your request, and sorry about the delay!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))))

A good girl

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, half-vârcolac! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, dark themes, dark Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 8,052

Summary: She's a monster, just like me...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :)) Sorry if I didn't write for too many days, but it was my birthday and I wasn't able to do it... (yes, I was born on Valentine's day, how funny) Love you!!!

“Well, well, what's the matter? Why have you called us at this time of night?” my doll, Angie, asked, with a haughty tone that made me glance at her fleetingly as a reprimand. “I hope it's important.”

Mother Miranda raised her eyebrows, but the priestess ignored the comment, gesturing for me to come closer.

“Forgive her, Mother, I...” I tried to excuse her, but I was interrupted by a raised hand that told me, without words, that I should remain silent.

“Calm down, Donna,” the blonde said softly, shaking her head and smiling sinisterly. “I don't blame Angie for her curiosity.”

Silently, I nodded again as she walked towards one of the cages in the place, discreetly indicating for me to follow her.

“Mm,” she murmured, resting her hand on the lock of one of the cages. “Come closer,” she indicated with a vague gesture, as my vision cleared enough.

Slowly, I obeyed. I took one step and another and… Suddenly a metallic sound made me step back in fear. A creature lunged at the bars, clawing, scratching, tearing the air, trying to catch one of us.

“Madonna!” I screamed in fear, moving as far away from the cage as possible, listening to desperate growls, to the agonizing sounds of that beast.

Mother Miranda laughed amused, but cautiously moved away from the claws.

“This is my lastest experiment,” Miranda said with irony. “Or rather, my latest failure. Sometimes I think I should stop trying,” she added shaking her head, standing next to me. “What do you think?”

“I-It's a… a vârcolac, vero?” I whispered, without taking my gaze away from those fierce, bloodthirsty eyes.

“Mm, perceptive,” answered the blonde, nodding. “That's what I get for trusting Moreau…” she sighed, blinking petulantly. “I don't know why I bother.”

“Sorry, Mother, but… what do you need me for?” I asked, playing nervously with my hands.

“Well… I have to say that even though it was a resounding failure… there is something about her that has caught my attention.”

“Her?” I asked immediately, looking at the monster, which seemed tireless.

“Mm,” Miranda murmured. “I thought the transformation would be permanent, but it seems somewhat unstable,” she began to explain while I looked at Angie, who was equally confused.

“W-What do I have to do?” I asked, without taking my gaze off those terrible eyes, those fangs that wanted to chew our flesh.

“What you do best, dear,” she whispered, placing a hand on the lock and opening the cage. “Now!”

I stepped back in fear, watching the monster come out of its prison, lunging straight towards us. Fear began to take over me, but Mother was there, I couldn’t let her down. Without thinking too much, I reached out my hand towards the vârcolac just before I felt its claws on my dress.

The creature stopped with a moan of pain, resting its claws on its head, suffering terribly. It folded over itself as I focused all my powers on it, subduing it, or trying to, at least.

With a roar it stood up again, resuming its attempt to attack me, but it didn't reach me. Its monstrous gaze locked with mine, and without warning, the monster began to change.

The fur covering the beast began to retract, revealing pale, seemingly soft skin. Those bright eyes stopped being horrible and greedy, and became frightened . A soft, silky mane sprouted from its head and face, mutating into that of a young, beautiful girl...

The vârcolac disappeared, and the girl it transformed into collapsed in my arms with her eyes wide open before closing them. The weight of her body forced me to hold her.

“Look at that... it worked,” the blonde commented, cautiously approaching us and observing the unconscious young woman. “Excellent, Donna.”

I held the naked girl while Miranda checked her condition meticulously, indicating after a few moments, to put her down. I obeyed carefully, laying the girl down on the cold stone, unable to take my eyes off her body, her beauty.

It seemed almost impossible that such a terrible creature could hide something so beautiful, with such an innocent look. I was always an impressionable woman.

“Well,” Miranda sighed. “It seems that after all, her transformation is reversible. A curious advance, but unfortunately it doesn't help me much.”

“Who is she?” I asked, dazzled by that inert body.

“Mm, oh, well, don't worry about it, dear,” my savior replied, putting a hand on my shoulder. “She's just a young orphan who lived on the outskirts of the village. The Duke was tired of her stealing his stuff and I... well, how could I waste an opportunity like that?”

“What's going to happen now?” I asked again, bending down to brush a lock of hair from the young woman's face, to see her calm gaze, her soft breathing, the movements of her body.

“I've already taken out everything I had to take out of her. I guess I have no other option but to discard her and…” Miranda commented, walking towards her desk, but stopping talking when she looked at me, frowning. “Donna.”

“Mm?” I said, waking up from a curious dream, from an involuntary hypnosis, sitting up, somewhat nervous.

“I thought you would help me to get rid of her, but…” the blonde said, laughing sinisterly, with a suspicious glint in her eyes. “It seems you like her.”

“Cosa? Oh, no, io…” I said nervously, shaking my head, making the veil covering my face move, revealing my embarrassment.

“Come on, Donna,” she said, slurring her words and approaching me, stepping over the young woman gracefully, with contempt. “I can't blame you. She is a beautiful girl, isn't she?”

“Yes, beautifully monstrous,” Angie added, peeking out from behind my dress.

“Mm, that's it,” Miranda joked, making a knowing gesture to the doll. “The truth is that I have wasted time and resources on this little wolf… maybe discarding it would be a waste, don't you think?”

“I don't know, Mother,” I stammered, moving away from the girl and pretending not to be nervous.

“I'll give her to you,” the blonde said, arching her eyebrows.

“What?” Angie and I said at the same time, a response that seemed to amuse the priestess even more.

“Donna, my dear, I know very well how lonely you are in that big, empty house,” she justified herself. “I think you could really use some company.”

“I’m fine, Mother,” I replied, clenching my fists.

“Please, you and I both know that’s not true,” Miranda laughed, shaking her head. “I certainly wouldn’t want to waste another experiment.”

“T-Then send her to the castle,” I protested, crossing my arms, briefly lowering my gaze to the young woman. “I’m sure Alcina will be delighted to…”

“Alcina already has three wonderful daughters, dear,” the witch interrupted. “All my children have gladly accepted my gifts. You, my dear, are the only one who hasn't done it yet... besides, I've heard that they've been getting very close to your estate lately.”

“I've got it under control, Mother,” I whispered, darkening my hidden gaze. “They're not a problem.”

“I know, Donna,” she replied, downplaying it. “But she could be a good guard dog, don't you think?”

“Um, I...” I murmured again, starting to sweat without really knowing why. “W-Well, okay,” I finally agreed, without thinking too much about it.

Miranda nodded satisfied, taking a shabby dress out of a box and putting it on the girl, making me see that, from that moment on, she was my responsibility.

“(Y/N),” she said, just before walking out the door.

“Excuse me?” I asked, glancing at the unconscious girl.

“That was her name,” the woman murmured, looking at one of the papers. “(Y/N), 22 years old, villager…” she read, before tearing the paper with contempt and a sinister smile. “But I suppose you can name her whatever you like, she's yours now.”

“T-Thank you Mother,” I said unsure, before leaving the laboratory.

I was never used to gifts. In another time a gift used to be different; my doll Angie, a dress, new shoes… Certainly nothing that had to do with the girl I was carrying in my arms.

Loneliness always accompanied me. My parents, my sister made the days much more bearable for me, a girl with complexes about her appearance, a weirdo in a strange village. But if I ever had the illusion of living a normal life, that disappeared the day my world fell apart.

One by one, they all disappeared. My sister succumbed to her illness, my parents decided to throw themselves off the cliff… Did they ever care about me? They left me even more alone, almost as if I had jumped too, almost as if I had ceased to exist.

Maybe for a moment I thought that this was the best; to leave this world, to end it all, to make the Beneviento family disappear completely. It was a fleeting thought, but one that came back to me every time my sick mind reminded me how pathetic I was, how alone I was.

I never believed in the Black Gods, they never listened to my prayers, my pleas. I had nothing left, I owed them nothing. But, like a miracle I didn’t call upon, they seemed to hear my cries of pain, my madness.

Mother Miranda came, just before I ended my life, and offered me a gift. She offered me the family I had lost, to be someone important, to be something. In my agony I reached out my hand to her, wishing with all my might to be free of the poison I ingested, to give myself a second chance.

The gift of the Gods turned out to be much more terrible than I believed. The scar on my face, my useless eye, disappeared to give way to a horrible abscess that covered part of my face. My body changed, being manipulated by the Gods, giving me things I never asked for.

When I woke up, I was no longer Donna Beneviento, but Lady Beneviento, daughter of Mother Miranda, Lord of the village.

It didn't take long for me to discover my powers, to know that I could finally instill fear in all those who once laughed at me. The changes and my deformity ceased to matter for a while, I enjoyed what the Gods gave me, I rejoiced in the pain I could cause to whomever I wanted.

My loneliness didn't disappear, but Miranda's gift could do many more things than I thought and so, Angie was born, the doll my father gave me was now my only company. She lived, she spoke, she was part of me. I thought I would finally stop being alone, but it wasn't true.

Making dolls and attending meetings with my siblings became routine for many, too many years.

Maybe I should thank Mother Miranda and the Gods, for that very different gift, that beautiful girl who rested in my arms. She was a monster, but so was I. I wondered if she ever felt the same as me.

“Let me get this straight, I mean, Mother Miranda does her experiments, and the ones that don't work for her are for us? Do we look like garbage cans?” Angie said, while I slowly placed the young girl on the bed in the guest room.

“Angie…” I whispered annoyed, covering the girl with the sheets. “It's a gift, don't be ungrateful.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” the doll mocked, jumping on the bed. “Here, my daughter, a vârcolac to keep you company, don't forget to take it out 3 times a day …”

“Will you shut up?” I protested, removing the veil from my face and blinking nervously. “She can be very useful.”

“Especially for you, right? I've seen the way you look at her,” the doll rebuked me, making me frown as I caressed that silky hair. “Listen to me, my Donna, she's dangerous.”

“I can control her,” I affirmed, I couldn't tell if as a response, or it was to myself. “Stop complaining.”

“Ugh,” the puppet protested, shaking her head. “This is a mistake, silly Donna, you'll see when...”

“W-What...” a hoarse, dark voice made us both look at the young woman, who squeezed her eyes shut, moving slowly.

I got up from the bed abruptly, studying each of her movements with caution. Angie was right, the look of that creature was still in my mind, as well as those growls were still in my ears.

“Shit, she's woken up…” Angie said, getting out of bed and hiding behind me again.

“What's going on?” the young woman's voice cleared and her frightened gaze locked with mine. No matter how hard I looked, there was no trace of that fury, of that creature.

The girl gasped not looking away from me, and backed away in bed, putting her knees to her chest.

“What now, huh?” Angie mocked, whispering.

The truth is that I hadn't thought about how to react.

“Y-You know… do you know where you are?” I asked, clearing my throat, cautiously, approaching little by little.

“Brilliant, Donna,” Angie mocked, causing me to move my arm back, to see if I could give her a warning blow.

The girl looked at me with dark eyes and slowly shook her head. Her whole body was shaking with fear, she was terrified and I… I didn't know what to do.

“Your name, do you know what your name is?” I asked in a more relaxed voice, the complete opposite of my heart, which was beating too fast.

The girl shook her head again, making a gesture of pain, looking at her hands.

“B-Blood… there, there's blood everywhere… I have to kill… I have to… No!” she stammered, gripping the sheets tightly. “I don't have to… I have to…”

“Hey, calm down, listen, I…” I interrupted, coming closer to hold her wrists, which she was shaking exaggeratedly.

“N-No, I just, I only see blood and death, just… just… you,” the girl said, stopping suddenly, looking at me scared. “I-I know you… I-I know who you are. Four Houses that dominate the village, at the service of the Gods…” she began to ramble, moving back and forth quickly, as if she were in a trance. “In life and in death… we give glory… Mother Miranda!”

“Hey, come on,” I said, trying to calm her down, without success. “Ascoltami…”

“Don’t… don’t… don’t touch me… A valley of mist, from where no one ever returns…” she continued murmuring, fleeing from my attempts to get closer. Maybe Angie was right.

“Stay still!” I yelled, losing my nerve, which made the young woman back away even more, terribly scared, covering herself completely with the sheets. “Cavolo!”

“Ugh, I see that your social skills are still as poor as ever, Donna,” Angie whispered, gaining enough courage to climb onto the bed again, walking towards the lump and knocking on it as if she were knocking on the door. “Knock, knock, weird girl.”

“N-No…” the young woman murmured.

“It's me, your friend Angie! The magnificent Angie! Don't you want to meet me? I'm a talking doll…” the puppet insisted as I slowly moved away, looking at the scene with curiosity.

“A… doll…?” she whispered peeking her head out from under the sheet slowly, looking at Angie with curiosity as the doll moved her hand in greeting.

“That's better, it's rude not to look at who's talking to you, you know?” the doll said, looking at me with a mocking gesture. “Don't pay attention to this silly Donna... she scared you, didn't she?”

The girl nodded, looking at me out of the corner of her eye, panic shining in her face.

“Forgive her, she can't help it, she has a very bad temper,” Angie whispered in her ear, making me sigh and cross my arms.

“Angie...” I hissed threateningly, catching the girl's attention again.

“Don't pay attention to her,�� the doll said, sitting next to the girl, who seemed a little more relaxed. “Tell me, girl, do you have a name?”

“Yes... no... I don't know,” she answered, bringing her knees to her chest again. “This isn't a cage... am I not in a cage?”

“No, silly, you're at home, with us, we're your new owners, what do you think?” Angie asked, with her hands on her hips.

“Home...” the girl repeated, putting a hand on her belly. “My stomach hurts.”

“Are you hungry?” I asked in a soft whisper, trying not to lose my nerves.

She looked at me, but quickly looked away, as if she were afraid of me. Unfortunately, it didn’t surprise me.

“Oh, I'm sure you are,” the doll said. “Do you know that my Donna cooks very well?”

The girl didn’t move, she simply looked at me briefly again.

“I'm hungry,” she said, nodding.

“Oh, you heard it, silly Donna, go to make her something to eat,” she ordered, making me frown .“Come on, let's go.”

I snorted, clenched my fists, and resigned myself, leaving the room quickly, slamming the door. I really had no other choice. That girl was completely terrified, and I… and my appearance, didn’t help.

For some reason, Angie seemed to calm her down, so I decided to ignore my failure and, for once, obey the doll. I cooked, trying to calm myself down, repeating the same question over and over again: had it been a good idea?

“(Y/N), doesn't that name mean anything to you?” I heard Angie say as I entered the room with the food.

“Yes, I think so,” she answered, with a much more relaxed posture, without taking her eyes off the puppet.

“Of course, because it's your name, silly, (Y/N), do you like it? I can think of another one…” Angie joked, as I left the tray on the table. “Oh, dinner, eat, silly, eat.”

“I like (Y/N),” the girl said, getting a little closer to the food. “T-This doesn't smell like blood… it smells… good…” she commented, as I helped her put the tray on her lap. “Angie says you don't want to hurt me,” she told me directly, to which I sighed, shaking my head.

“Right,” I answered coldly. “As long as you behave,” I whispered afterwards, making it clear who I am. I’m a Lord, not a babysitter.

“I don't know what I have to do,” she murmured, unable to hold my gaze for more than three seconds. “I'm scared.”

“Easy, you're the new guard dog,” the doll said, to which I closed my eye and shook my head.

“Angie…” I sighed annoyed.

“G-Guard dog,” (Y/N) murmured while eating, letting me see something precious, something I would always remember: her smile. “It's delicious, did you make it?”

I nodded, smiling back, not at her words, but at her beauty, an overwhelming and mysterious beauty that made me shudder.

“Your duty is to protect the estate, to protect us, do you understand?” I insisted, making her smile fade. “Tell me you understand, (Y/N).”

“Y-Yes…” (Y/N) sighed, devouring the rest of the food. “I’m strong, I tear, I devour, I…” she murmured erratically again, putting her hands on her head. “I-It hurts…”

“Oh, yes, you are very strong,” Angie said, putting a wooden hand on her shoulder. “You like Donna's food, huh?”

She nodded with a tender smile, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

“It's better than animals,” the young woman said, with a different glow on her face. “There's no blood, no…”

“Well, behave and Donna will make more food for you, okay?” the doll said, extending her hand towards the girl. “It's a deal, right?”

The girl hesitated, but finally shook the doll's hand, thus beginning a very strange time in my life, in our lives.

Mother Miranda's experiments on (Y/N) took their toll on her. She barely had any memories of her past, only small fragments that appeared from time to time. Her mind had been corrupted by the instincts of the creature she had become, but it was impossible not to see humanity in her gaze.

I tried to communicate with her several times, but without success. I assumed that deep down, she remembered who I was; she knew I was dangerous. I didn't give it any importance. Nothing in the world could make me forget about my dolls, about my lonely routine.

Who am I kidding… everything was different in the house. Nothing could be the same with that girl walking, exploring, spending time with Angie.

(Y/N) was withdrawn, extremely shy, but the doll seemed to like her enough to make her smile. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of Angie. Those smiles had to be mine; she was mine, after all.

She ate, slept, read, played with Angie... that's how she spent the time. Of course, I didn't want to scare her and I didn't want to make her nervous. I knew that if I did, the vârcolac inside her would wake up.

After a few quiet weeks, I began to doubt her usefulness; I began to think that instead of protecting myself, I was protecting her.

I’m a Lord, I can protect myself, I didn't need a failed experiment to do it for me, or so I repeated to myself every night. But when I closed my eyes, I could only see her face, her smile... Any thought that involved getting rid of her disappeared with the light of her gaze, with the forced innocence she gave off with every step, with every question.

“What are you thinking, Donna?” I said to myself, daydreaming again, thinking about her, about (Y/N), about the beautiful girl who lived with me, and who seemed so unattainable.

I don't even know why she seemed unattainable to me… she was mine…

“Donna, Donna!” a screech pulled me out of my dolls, Angie.

The puppet came running to the workshop, annoyingly pulling at my dress, in panic.

“Cazzo,” I swore, dropping the needle and thread and pulling the doll away from my clothes. “Angie, basta!”

“You have to come quickly, Donna, intruders, intruders in the house” the doll said, gesturing for me to pick her up.

“Intruders? What about (Y/N)?” I asked, quickly getting up from the chair and running to the elevator.

“See for yourself,” the puppet said.

When I got to the top, already covered with my black veil, there she was, (Y/N), with her hands raised. In front of her, two men from the village, pointing a shotgun at the young woman.

“I repeat, weirdo, it's not you we're after,” one of them said. “Where's Beneviento?”

“Y-You can't hurt Donna, she's nice to me, she takes care of me,” (Y/N) answered.

“You shitty guard,” Angie commented, while I hid behind a wall. For some reason, I was very curious to know how it all ended.

“Nice?” the man with the shotgun said, laughing mockingly. “Who are you, her little whore?”

“I'm the guard dog,” (Y/N) hissed, lowering her hands and kicking the floor.

A laugh bounced off the walls, the two men laughed amused at the young woman's submissive attitude.

“Oddio…” I wailed, ready to intervene.

“You? Oh, how scary…” one of the men continued mockingly. “Come on, get out of the way, weirdo.”

“You're not going to hurt Donna,” the young woman growled, her gaze darkening, her breathing quickening.

“Oh, wait, wait,” Angie indicated, leaning over the wall. “This is getting interesting.”

“You can't hurt her!” (Y/N) shrieked, her voice changing until it sounded like a furious roar.

The convulsions weren’t long in coming and, with them the familiar sound of clothes tearing, the monster's fur hiding its soft skin. The vârcolac inside her emerged, hiding her beauty, turning her into a monster that made the guests pale.

“Shit,” one of them said, throwing away the gun and running towards the door, followed by his companion.

The creature growled again, before walking quickly, chasing them towards the exit. I couldn't see what happened, only screams of agony and pleadings could be heard in the distance.

Shortly after, the mutated wolf returned, its fur covered in blood and a murderous look.

“Donna, do something... she's going to eat us,” Angie told me, while I came out of the wall and slowly approached, ready to act, to give her back her beauty.

Luckily, it wasn't necessary. The creature convulsed again, falling to the floor, turning into that beautiful young woman, the naked young woman I met weeks ago.

“(Y/N),” I said, bending down to check that she hadn't been hurt. “Tutto bene?”

The girl smiled slowly, looking at me out of the corner of her eye as she caught her breath.

“I-I don't understand,” she said in a tender voice, pushing away the monster inside her. “You always talk weird.”

“Weird?” I asked, smiling too, shaking my head. “Um, I... have they hurt you, (Y/N)?”

“N-no,” she answered, looking at her naked body. “They're gone... I made them fall off the cliff... they wanted to hurt you,” she explained, getting nervous.

“They haven't, thanks to you,” I said, reassuring her with my voice, helping her up.

“Have I been good?” the girl asked expectantly, which made me look at Angie strangely.

The doll, simply, shrugged.

“Yes, of course, (Y/N), you have protected me,” I affirmed, checking that she wasn’t really hurt. “Well done.”

“Great,” she said with a radiant smile, jumping for joy. “Have you seen me, Angie?”

“I have,” the doll said, nodding slowly. “You have earned your dinner, (Y/N).”

“Yes,” she whispered with another jump, expecting something from me, something that I didn’t understand. “So… will you continue to be nice to me? To take care of me?”

“Um, um, I…” I stammered, still not understanding her insecure and strange behavior, but finding it cute in its own way. “Of course, (Y/N), you are part of the family.”

“Family…” (Y/N) sighed, looking around. “Family? You mean…? You say that I…? I have a family? Am I your family?”

“Um yeah, sure,” I said without really knowing why, before (Y/N) pounced on me, wrapping her arms around me, pressing her head against my chest. “L-Lasciami…” I protested at the discomfort of her naked body hugging me, moving my hands away so as not to make contact with her skin, something too tempting.

“I always wanted a family,” she murmured in a sweet voice, not letting me go despite my resistance.

“Basta, basta…” I insisted, grabbing her wrists.

“Mm, I like when you talk weird,” the girl sighed, ignoring my attempts to push her away, hugging me even tighter.

“Okay, let me go,” I said in a more authoritative voice.

She finally pulled away after one last squeeze, putting on an innocent look, playing with her ankle on the floor.

“Gods… Go get dressed, will you?” I ordered her, looking away from her nakedness, something complicated, too complicated.

“I'm fine,” she said, shrugging. “I'm fine because I've made you happy.”

“You have to put some clothes on, do you hear me? You shouldn’t be naked” I told her, covering my eye with my hand to avoid looking at her curves, some attractive ones, ones in which I could lose myself forever.

“If that's what you want, I'll do it,” (Y/N) said excitedly, comically running to her room.

I sighed in relief at losing sight of her beauty, and relaxed my body, at least until I saw evil eyes watching me with interest.

“What?” I asked Angie, who didn't look away.

“Oh, oh, oh…” the doll mocked, walking around me. “You seem to like the girl a lot, huh?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked shaking my head, pretending that nothing was happening, that my heart wasn't beating too fast.

“Come on, Donna, you can't lie to me. You like the girl, just say it,” Angie said, pulling at my dress.

“Mm, she's nice, and beautiful, but that doesn't mean anything,” I admitted without problem with a slightly arrogant tone.

“Oh, sure, sure… what's that?” the doll asked, pointing at my dress, slightly deformed by a treacherous erection.

“Cazzo,” I protested, hiding my arousal as best I could. “It's just that... I... It was by accident... it's not every day that a naked girl hugs you, you know? But... but what am I doing giving explanations to my doll?” I asked again, fleeing from her words and accusations. “I'm going to the workshop and you... you should stop making stupid insinuations, is that clear?”

I could try to fool Angie, but I couldn't fool myself. I definitely liked that girl. I felt something about her that I thought I would never feel.

Love was something I had long forgotten about. I wasn't capable of feeling it, I wasn't capable of loving, or so I thought.

Even when Alcina offered me a maid to vent, I couldn't get anything but just physical pleasure. No one could ever love me, I couldn't ever love anyone, but then (Y/N) appeared: a wounded girl, her mind shattered by Mother Miranda's experiments, a girl who longed for a home, a purpose; a kind, captivating, innocent girl...

I couldn't feel that way, I felt bad for doing it, for starting to stop imagining nonexistent girls when I masturbated, and start thinking about her. I knew it was wrong, that I was taking advantage of her innocence, but I couldn't feel guilty for loving, for igniting something in my heart that I thought would never come back.

That incident with the intruders made things worse. (Y/N) began to lose the fear she had left, approaching me when I was in the workshop, asking me about my dolls, about the food I prepared for her, about the strange language she liked so much.

It was as if, knowing her purpose, knowing that she finally had a family, something inside her had been unlocked.

It was very difficult not to feel sorry for her, but it was even harder to separate myself from her warmth, from her innocent displays of affection, which, little by little, became an addiction for me.

“That's it... slowly... it's almost done,” I whispered in a patient tone, sitting on the sofa next to (Y/N), who insisted on learning to sew. I couldn't refuse her, I couldn't deny her anything.

“Today I remembered something again,” she commented, with a comical face of concentration while she embroidered on the fabric. “I remember running with an apple in my hand… I remember being very hungry.”

“That's over, (Y/N),” I said with a serious tone, placing her hands in the correct position. “You're with me now.”

“When… when I remember those bad things… I think about you and it goes away… do you have those powers?” she asked innocently, giving a last stitch to the embroidery.

“Mm, I guess I haven’t,” I said laughing tenderly, being watched by Angie, who made fun of me with exaggerated gestures. “But I'm glad you think that way… Mm… fammi dare un' occhiata…” I murmured, taking the piece of fabric,

“You've spoken weird again,” (Y/N) commented, her cheeks blushing. “Can you teach me?”

“Mm, do you want to learn Italian?” I asked, going over the seams with my fingers.

“That way I could talk weird like you,” she said with that penetrating, innocent voice, leaning over my shoulder to look at her work. “W-Well, how did I do it? I-It's my name, see? Just like you told me.”

“Mm,” I murmured with a smile, handing her the fabric back. “Not bad at all, (Y/N), soon you'll be able to help me with the dolls, what do you think?”

“Oh, really? I'd like that,” the girl said enthusiastically, smiling and hugging me again. I never got used to her hugs. “I want to help you”

I smiled again, letting my hand travel to her head, placing a lock of hair behind her ear and sighing in a melancholic way.

She smiled back at me and did something… something I didn't expect. She quickly placed her lips on mine. I couldn't tell if it was a mistake or if it really was a kiss. What I do know is that I was completely paralyzed.

“(Y/N),” I managed to say after a few seconds of silence.

“Did it bother you?” she asked, shyly moving away. “I wanted to show you some gratitude and… affection, just like in that movie we watched to the other night, remember? The boy and the girl kissed and… well, I wanted to know how it felt.”

“So, how does it feel?” I asked in a low tone, moving away from the temptation to take her right there.

“It feels good…” she sighed. “I want to do it again, would you like that?”

“Of course she would like that, silly girl!” Angie added, yelling shrilly and killing the moment.

“Angie!” I protested. “Fuori!”

I couldn't continue complaining, as the young woman brought my face back to hers, kissing me again, letting herself be carried away by my clumsy but sure movements, caressing my lips with hers, my hands traveling along her neck, warming up the atmosphere.

“Donna, I like to kiss you,” (Y/N) said as she pulled away, biting her lip, losing a little of that innocent look. “I feel good when I do it... could I do it more times?”

“Um...” I murmured confused, with my breathing agitated and the heat rising through my body. “Yes, yes of course, as many times as you want, tesoro...”

I couldn't tell if it was simple affection or if that girl, miraculously, felt something for me. I didn't want to give it too much thought, I had what I wanted.

Her kisses, her caresses were heaven, there was no trace of that disgusting vârcolac in her eyes, there was no monster inside her, only love, affection; I don't know how to call it.

That exploration of physical contact increased, becoming a habit in each of our encounters. Doubt killed me, guilt tormented me. Was I really taking advantage of her? I didn't know, I didn't want to know, and unfortunately, I stopped caring.

The nights changed, they stopped being cold and lonely. Her body hugged mine in my bed, innocently, not wanting to break that mysterious magic that surrounded our relationship, whatever it was.

I was afraid to ask, to tell her that I loved her, that I wanted her to stop calling herself "guard dog." I wanted her for myself, only for myself, to love like I had never done before, to take her, hug her, caress her... to have her by my side.

I didn't know if there was something, but I did feel it. She was mine and I... I was hers. Somehow I knew it, I knew there was that something between us, that thing I longed for so much and that I never dared to ask.

They were the best months of my life, but I knew that sooner or later there would be some kind of problem and that one, in particular, had a name and surname: Alcina Dimitrescu.

“Here you go, dear,” the lady of the castle whispered, placing a cup of tea in front of (Y/N), during an almost obligatory visit to the castle.

Of course, the rumor of the vârcolac-girl who lived with me spread quickly and I couldn't stop my sister from wanting to meet her.

“Oh, for me? Thank you,” (Y/N) sighed, doing something I will never forget.

She got up from the armchair, throwing herself into my sister's arms, hugging her quickly, just as she did with me. Anger began to invade me silently and even more so when I saw Alcina's mischievous smile and a look that made me tremble.

“Oh, how effusive,” the lady in white said, returning my girl's hug, with a tender smile. “You're lovely, aren't you?”

“Donna says I am,” (Y/N) answered, sitting down next to me again, playing erratically with my fingers.

“Mm, I see… so tell me, Donna, do you think you'd let her spend some time with us? We also need a guard dog…” Alcina murmured in a seductive voice, as if she was laughing at me. Nobody laughs at me.

“Here, in the castle?” my girl asked. “Whoa… would you take care of me too?”

“Oh, of course,” my sister answered, making me stand up abruptly, pulling the young woman's hand, forcing her to stand up again. “Donna, dear, what's wrong?”

“We're leaving,” I growled furiously, feeling how little by little I was losing control. But I wouldn't do it in front of my sister, not at all.

“Now?” (Y/N) asked, being dragged by my abrupt steps. “G-Goodbye, Alcina.”

I didn't want to hear an answer. I only heard a sinister laugh as I walked back to the mansion. Normally (Y/N) and I would take little walks around the grounds, holding hands, I loved that… But this time my steps were fast and (Y/N)'s breathing seemed to fail her.

Once in the house, I pushed the poor girl inside, slamming the door.

“Donna? What's wrong?” she asked, looking for Angie with her eyes.

“Yes, Donna, what's wrong with you? I was going to play poker with the girls and…” the doll complained, crossing her arms.

“Fuori! Get out of my sight, Angie!” I shouted furiously, eaten away by sudden jealousy, losing my mind, letting madness take over me.

“Donna, why are you shouting? Are the voices in your head hurting you again?” (Y/N) asked, putting a hand on my shoulder, one that I pushed away with a growl.

“No…” I sighed, laughing nervously. “No, (Y/N), you hurt me,” I said, pointing at her unpleasantly.

“Have I done something wrong? Have I not been good?” the girl asked with a sad look, like a child who is being scolded.

“No, (Y/N) you haven’t been good,” I said with a sinister smile, one that I regret, grabbing the scared (Y/N) by the collar of her dress. “What do you think you are?! Huh!? Who do you think you are to flirt with my sister?”

“What?” she asked, grabbing my wrists.

“Cazzo…” I growled, pushing her away and releasing her from my grip. “Listen to me, silly girl, you… you are mine, do you understand? Mine! And I won’t tolerate you being seduced by anyone, do you hear me? No one can touch what is mine!”

“Seduce?”

“Don't play dumb with me, bitch, why did you hug her?” I asked furiously, holding back my dominant instinct, my desire to slap her and claim her body roughly.

“The tall lady? I wanted, I wanted to show her some gratitude and… I-I'm not a bitch,” she said, defending herself clumsily, lowering her head.

“You seem like one, (Y/N),” I hissed, with a cold, dominant look, completely out of my mind. “You only have to show affection to me, to me! To no one else, is that clear? To no one else!”

“Donna, relax,” Angie whispered, hidden behind a piece of furniture. “You're losing your mind again…”

“Taci!”

“Have I been naughty?” (Y/N) asked again, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I didn't want to be naughty, I didn't know that…”

I sighed, calming down a little and clenching my fists on either side of my hips, moving closer to her, hoping, praying that she wouldn't back down, that my madness hadn't scared her away again.

“I know, you're a good girl, aren't you?” I whispered, caressing her cheek with my trembling hands, repressing my anger as much as I could, thinking of a solution, thinking of what I could do to make her mine.

“Yes, I'm good,” she said, sobbing and shaking at my touch, a horrible sight I didn't want to see. “I'll never hug anyone else, I promise.”

“Mm, you're mine, right?” I asked, darkening my voice, moving closer. “Is that what you want, (Y/N)?”

“Y-Yes, I want to be yours, only yours,” the girl repeated. “With you I’m happy, with you I feel… I feel things… and… I think, I think I love you, Donna.”

“Oh, bella, I love you too,” I sighed, happy to have heard those words, but with my sister's gaze still in my mind, with jealousy still attacking my conscience. “We can't let anyone separate us.”

I knew what I was doing, I knew I was playing with her mind, manipulating her will, but I couldn't do anything else, I needed her, I loved her, she had to be mine, and everyone should know it.

“We can’t, Donna,” she said, closing her eyes due to my caresses.

I could brand her with a hot iron, I could tattoo my name on her, I could force her to always be by my side, tie her with a leash like a good dog but… no. None of those ideas convinced me. I had to do something.

(Y/N) was the best thing that had ever happened to me, Mother Miranda gave her to me, only me.

My siblings were like vultures, they were selfish… they always wanted everything for themselves but… but maybe there was a way, a way to mark her forever, to let every last stupid villager know that she was and would always be mine.

“Vieni,” I whispered, grabbing her wrist, pulling her weak body towards the elevator.

“Are you going to punish me?” she asked scared as we went down to the basement.

No, she couldn't make me feel guilty, so I silenced her with a deep kiss.

“So you're not angry anymore?” (Y/N) asked with a new, special smile, letting my hand guide hers.

“No,” I said dryly, entering the bedroom and taking a breath. I had wanted to do that for so long…

To take her innocence, to claim her body, and also to make it clear to this whole damn village that (Y/N) was, and would be mine forever. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.

“Get naked,” I ordered her, moving away, giving her some room.

I expected a refusal, a hesitation, but there was none of that. (Y/N) nodded immediately, beginning to untie her dress clumsily.

“I thought you didn’t like seeing me naked,” she commented, getting rid of the last remaining piece of clothing.

“Nonsense, your body is beautiful,” I said, repressing the erratic blinking of my eye, a sign that my madness hadn’t dissipated yet. Not that I wanted it to dissipate, either. “On the bed, lie down.”

“Is it some kind of game?” the girl asked innocently, almost tenderly, obeying without asking, without complaining.

“Mm, maybe,” I said with a satisfied smile, discreetly stimulating myself over the dress, undoing the buttons on the top with my free hand. “Be still, mm?”

“Now you're naked too,” (Y/N) joked when the clothes disappeared from my body and I approached slowly, gently stimulating my erection.

Not wanting to hear her innocence once again, I kissed her, kissed her deeply, letting myself fall on top of her naked body, caressing her skin with mine, my hands traveling through all those corners that I had wanted to visit for a long time.

She laughed with every kiss on her neck, every time my fingers gently squeezed her nipples, every time our breasts brushed, every time my skin became hot with hers. Her shy and innocent hands began to explore my paleness, curiously, discreetly.

I smiled with satisfaction, regretting not having tried it before. But a much darker purpose dominated our first time. Things were as they were, and (Y/N) would be mine forever.

“Spread your legs, (Y/N),” I ordered, helping her obey with my hands, contemplating the moisture that my actions caused on her body, the reaction that my kisses, my… affection caused.

“Okay…” she hummed, gasping in surprise when my fingers ran slowly through her folds. “What you're doing… It feels… good…”

Her expressions excited me even more. (Y/N) closed her eyes, writhing when I began to form circles on her clit, when the tip of my fingers slowly reached her entrance.

“More, more please, Donna,” she begged, scratching my back, moaning in pleasure at this new sensation, something that made me smile and decide that now wasn’t the time to play.

“More? Va bene… look at me, (Y/N),” I said, removing my hand and guiding her face to mine. “Look at me while I make you mine, tesoro.”

She obeyed expectantly as I positioned my trembling shaft in her wetness, playing with her folds, smearing myself with her essence before slowly inserting the tip, something that twisted her face and forced her to move away.

“Ah, Donna, it hurts…” (Y/N) complained with a pitiful look.

I sighed, nodding, pretending that I understood her pain, that I would be patient. I didn't know how long I could resist taking her hard.

“I know, tesoro, hold on a little, okay?” I whispered in her ear, covering her beautiful face with my kisses, distracting her from the discomfort of losing her innocence.

I moaned uncontrollably when I was completely inside her, when I felt her body stretching for me, only for me. She was so tight and so wet… I thought I would lose my mind even more.

“W-Wait… this… this feels even better…” the girl moaned, relieved because the pain had passed, placing her body in a more comfortable position. “I want more.”

“Mm,” I murmured, starting to move my hips, sliding along her walls comfortably, following the rhythm of her moans, of her body reacting to my erection inside her.

The moans became unpredictable and my hands scratched her skin. The subtlety disappeared when her legs wrapped around my waist, when her body pulled mine deeper, further inside.

“More, more!” the young woman shrieked, adapting too well to my frenetic pace, taking everything, trapping me in her wetness in an irresistible way. “More!”

“Così bagnata…” I growled raising her legs, grabbing them as my hips rammed into her, while my gaze was lost in her gestures, in her body trembling with pleasure. “Sei mia, (Y/N)”

“Donna, I, I feel…” she gasped, trapping my erection even more between her walls, stimulating it with terribly pleasurable movements while her body tensed, releasing itself with a scream that surely even Alcina would have heard. I wish she have.

“Cazzo…” I growled, not losing that stimulation while her body relaxed, being on the edge, about to make her completely mine forever. “Sto… sto… sto per venire!”

Not wanting to hold out any longer, I released myself inside her, letting my seed settle on her body, my heat flooding her walls while sweat soaked my back.

Wanting to make sure I got what I wanted, I didn't pull out. I stayed inside her, my cock bathed in our release, feeling the warmth, the comfort of knowing she would be mine forever.

“It was so funny,” (Y/N) said, kissing me boldly, sighing and letting herself fall completely onto the bed. “Can we do it again? Come on, please, again,” she begged, moving away from me and joining her hands.

“Um... w-well... wait a bit, will you?” I said, laughing nervously, trying to catch my breath. “I'm not a machine, I need a moment.”

“Damn,” she protested pouting, lying down exhausted.

I settled down next to her, kissing her softly, letting her head rest on my chest, our sweat mixing.

“(Y/N),” I said, moving her shoulders as she was falling asleep. “You’ve been a good girl, you know? You've taken it so well…”

“Mm… I’m a good girl…” she repeated sleepily. “I love you, Donna.”

I laughed, kissing her hair, but looking away. I wondered if she really knew what the consequences were, what my intentions were.

“Now we have to wait, (Y/N). If I haven't succeeded, I'll keep trying. I won't stop until I get you pregnant,” I whispered in a dark voice, but trying not to scare her.

“Oh, um, a baby?” she asked, opening her eyes wide. “That makes sense. That way everyone will know I'm yours, right?”

“You're a smart girl,” I laughed satisfied, kissing her softly. “Yes, amore mio, you will carry my child and everyone will see how beautiful you are with my baby growing inside you…”

“It's great,” the girl sighed, making me frown. I certainly didn't expect that reaction, not at all. “We can finally be a real family…”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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