#best women’s leather gloves

[leathercollectionus]

05% Off On Women Leather Gloves

Leather Collection presents a necessity for the wardrobe of the woman of the 21st century in the form of women’s leather gloves. Brace yourselves because our version of the lady’s leather gloves is not only practical but bold and all-inclusive.

Our collection features a variety of unconventional creations revolving around the traditions of glove making. However, each of them is homogeneous in their attention to detail and commitment to quality. Every leather skin that was part of the manufacturing process was a direct extraction from credible tanneries.

05% Off On Women Leather Gloves

[zeawesomebirdie]

Being an adult means buying new work gloves and the DVDs for the 1943 Batman serial in the same purchase 😌

[kiwi-on-ice]

Halloween couples costumes with Overwatch men + women with fem!reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Not fully smut but definitely nsfw elements in some

Notes: Happy Halloween!! <3 and thank you all so much for your support throughout kinktober, it’s been stressful but so fun! Hope you all have a spooky day, love from kiwi xx

Women:

Ashe:

Inspired by @ovwechoes she’d definitely love to go as Poison Ivy, with you as her Harley Quinn, buying you both the best quality costumes. Makes the perfect distraction, people are too busy staring at you both unashamedly to notice her gang pick-pocketing them and robbing a few shops before you disappear into crowd of costumes.

She buys you Harley's original jester outfit (the tight leather has her blushing just a little, as her hand won’t be able to help wandering over your curves). She wears a green corset, with tights and gloves that feel so lovely to the touch, complete with fake leaves that go around her. Every time your eyes go to her cleavage, she tilts your chin up with a teasing smirk, telling you ‘my eyes are up here, sugar.’

Junker Queen:

Loves Halloween, she’d definitely want to dress SCARY. Would want to see the slight fear on people’s faces, so she goes as a vampire. But she whites out her face, putting red contacts in her eyes, and covers herself in fake blood. She looks horrifyingly sexy, in a tight black outfit fitted with a cloak, and even fake fangs.

When she shows you your costume…or lack thereof you’re confused. But then with glee she tells you that you’re clearly the vampire’s plaything, the tasty morsel she drags around. That’s why you’re in a short white nightdress, with lacy stockings and garters. She paints red marks on your neck and wrists like you’ve been bitten (and even offers to leave some real marks, for the sake of realism of course)

Kiriko:

Another one who loves Halloween, and you both scroll through Pinterest for hours collecting ideas before you decide on what to wear to the Halloween party you’d been invited to.

You go as Daphne and Velma, and you both do a coin toss to decide who gets who. She gets Daphne, dressing in a tight purple dress with white go-go boots, whereas you get an orange jumper and red skirt, with some black rimmed glasses to complete it.

Kiriko insists on pulling up your long socks for you, kissing up your leg to tease you. You get her back though, running your hands down her dress under the guise of smoothing it down, so you can feel her up. On second thoughts…maybe you both are gonna be late for the party.

Mercy:

Surprisingly can be a little self conscious about dressing up, despite how much she actually loves it. So having you also be enthusiastic helps her a lot. You show her lots of pictures, but she seems the most curious about Kim Possible and Shego. You assume she wants to be Kim, but you couldn’t be more wrong.

So on the night, your jaw drops to the floor when you see her in the skintight black and green body suit, blonde hair tucked away underneath a curled black wig. She looks stunning, as she tells you she wanted to dress as the opposite of how she normally presents, an angel into a demon so to speak.

But when she holds your waist where your black crop top ends, your knees almost buckle out how gorgeous she is. And it makes your eyes wander to attempt to find how exactly she zipped it up…

Moira:

She’d laugh at you teasingly for how much you want to match with her, but she allows you to pick her costume. For once, you can dress her up like your own doll, and dress her you do.

You pick Rapunzel and Flynn rider, with you wearing a shorter version of her purple dress, with a dainty crown, and her in as close to the film’s costume as you can. You practically drool as you see her (and you’ll probably have to show her the film, since she’s clueless as to who she’s meant to be)

Although afterwards, she’ll make teasing comments about ‘stealing’ your heart away before grabbing your crown and holding it above your head, delighting when you attempt to jump and grab it.

Sombra:

Oh man she loves Halloween; and you both go all out every year. This year, she gets the idea to do beetlejuice and Lydia. She creates a ‘sexy’ beetlejuice outfit, with the black and white striped jacket and top, with a short skirt and sheer tights. She does her makeup gorgeously, with a black smokey eye and matching lipstick, painting green patches on her face just like the film. You have to forcibly stop yourself from ogling her, before she shows you your costume.

It’s Lydia’s red wedding dress, but cut shorter which makes you roll your eyes playfully. She insists on doing your makeup for you, giving her an excuse to get close to your face so she can paint the red lipstick precisely.

Tracer:

When you both are invited to the Overwatch halloween party, she knows that she wants to do a matching costume with you. She's a pretty crafty person, so she makes it from scratch for you both.

You're Cosmo and Wanda, with Lena having made little headbands that have a crown on top, as well as a star magic wand. You wear a wig, but Lena surprised you by actually dyeing her hair, making you giggle when she emerges from the bathroom with a goofy grin. All throughout the party, you both pretend to grant other people their wishes, having a blast.

Widowmaker:

While she loves Halloween before she was experimented on, now she looks at it slightly different. Despite her usual outfits, she feels less desirable than she did before, her blue skin something she can’t seem to get past.

But she wants to move past it, for you at least, so she agrees to dress up as whatever you’d like. You dress her as marceline, with you as princess bubblegum. She laughs at the slightly juvenile outfit choices, but she can’t deny you look just lovely in your pink dress, and she can’t help but fiddle with the crown on your head. You tell her breathlessly that she looks beautiful, and she gives you a teasing spin. That night you both are practically joined at the hip, and hey if her hand slips down a few times, who’s gonna stop her?

Zarya:

She’s a little shy about dressing up. When you approach the subject about you both having a couple theme, she’s hesitant. After all, there’s not a lot of buff women in media in general, so she’s afraid of looking a little silly wearing a costume for a character that doesn’t look like her. Despite all your reassurances, you know it’s something you won’t be able to shift her on, so you get a better idea.

Booting your game console up, you make her play the last of us with you, and as soon as she sees Abby, you know your plan worked. So you both rock up to the overwatch party and Abby and Ellie, grinning as the fake blood you applied to her face really makes her eyes pop.

Men:

Baptiste:

It was while you both were doing a movie marathon that you mention the upcoming overwatch Halloween party. You both happened to be watching blade, and after remarking how hot you think he’d look in leather, the idea is sealed.

You knew you were right when you finally saw his costume, the black leather making him look alluring and dangerous. You were dressed as Abigail from the sequel, a crop top squeezing your chest and a fake bow and arrow strapped to your back. As you make your feelings known, he pulls you to his chest and whispers the filthiest things you’ve ever heard before teasingly winking at you, explaining that the taxi is waiting outside. It’s gonna be a long party…

Cole Cassidy:

Jokingly suggests you going as the cowgirl to his cowboy, but you pout and tell him you want to go as an actual costume, which includes him dressing up. He has a think, and having just watched death note with Genji, suggests Light and Misa. You beam and start to prepare the outfit on your phone, and he sighs in relief that you didn’t seem to pick up on the fact he suggested it so he can see how you look in the ensemble.

And god is it worth the wait, when you come out wearing that black corset, stockings barely reaching your plush thighs as you give him a spin that nearly has you flashing him with how short the skirt is. Although you’re just as affected, seeing him in a nicely pressed white suit and tie, strong hands clutching a fake copy of the death note. He insists on making you sit in his lap, running his hand up the corset to feel the material, before you feel just how much he likes how you look.

Doomfist:

Hadn’t even thought about Halloween, too busy to have spared it a passing glance. So in the days leading up to the holiday, you both realise that you need to sort out a costume. You’re a little stumped, but he has an idea.

Men in black was always one of his guilty pleasure films, and dressing in a suit and sunglasses was certainly easy. Although seeing you in a tight suit he’d had custom made for your measurements was certainly making his thoughts stray as you arrive. The whole night, he keeps making excuses for you to dance with him, drink with him, be with him.

Genji:

Secretly a massive nerd, has several costumes he wants to try. But he finally settles on spider-man, thinking it’ll be more identifiable than the other obscure costumes he has in mind.

He shows you his idea for you, and is delighted when you agree, and dress up as spider-gwen, tight white outfit exentuating your body and making his heart rate increase. All throughout the overwatch party, he’ll teasingly pull down the hood of your costume to get your attention. But with each playful glare you give him back, he has to force himself to not get too flustered, thinking about you giving him that glare while climbing into his lap…

Hanzo:

He initially scoffs at the concept of dressing up, seeing it as a childish activity. But he can’t seek to deny his beloved of anything, not when you look up at him with puppy eyes and beg so prettily for him to share this experience with you.

That’s how he finds himself looking at the mirror, observing him dressed as the phantom of the opera. He tries not to be a prideful man in terms of vanity, opting to focus his pride on his skills, not his looks. But he can’t deny he looks good tonight, the mask covering half his face making him look like a mysterious danger, but not one someone would shy away from. And when he sees you as Christine, your white dress glistening in the low light, he takes the opportunity to hold your hand in his gloved one and plant a kiss upon the back of it seductively. He may not be a man who emphasises his seductive qualities, but he doesn’t mind playing the part for tonight at least.

Junkrat:

Loves dressing up! Or to be more specific, loves you dressing up. Always gets off on seeing you in some sort of cosplay or costume, but you also want to see him dressed up for a change, so it's your idea to come to a compromise that'll effect you both.

After doing his makeup, and forcing him into the outfit you bought him (he thinks it's scratchy, but he'll bare it for you), you turn him to the mirror to see you've dressed him as Captain Jack Sparrow. He laughs manically when he sees himself, doing a crude voice impression to make you giggle too. You excuse yourself to the other room to put your costume on, and when you come back in dressed as Elizabeth Swan, specifically in her pirate costume, he practically drools like a puppy.

Lifeweaver:

Is delighted that you want to do a matching couple costume with him, and when you tell him your idea, he’s overjoyed.

You choose Morticia and Gomez Addams, explaining that how Gomez treats Morticia is how he treats you, so it fits! And when he gets the costume on, dear god. You love him in it, the dark colours a contrast to the usual colour palette he has.

And wow, when you come out in the tight fitting black dress, he nearly collapses. He immediately does a reference to the movie, grabbing your hand and kissing up your arm to your neck, finally to your ruby lips. You both go where you’ve been invited, but he whispers promises in your ear that tonight, he’ll ravage you in the way a gorgeous woman like you deserves.

Lucio:

Loves Halloween!! Loves the spookiness!! If anything, he’s the one to suggest a couple costume. Wants something with makeup and sfx and gore and guts and everything.

You both go as zombies, and you go all out on the disgusting makeup. When you walk the streets on the way to your party, people actually cross the street to avoid you both, something you giggle at as soon as they’re out of earshot. But to tease him, you decided to have your zombie wear tight denim shorts, so the whole time you both are partying and having fun, he has to train his eyes to look at the fake blood spattered over your cheeks as opposed to how delicious your ass looks.

Mauga :

Any excuse for a good time, he’s down, so he lets you control his costume. But he says he wants something comfortable, doesn’t want anything that’ll hinder him. So you give him a plaid shirt and jeans, telling him the mask will be the main focus. He’s a little confused at the wolf mask you give him, but you tell him to sit tight and wait until you return.

And when you do…it’s almost like he gets into character with the way he growls at the sight. You’re wearing a red riding hood outfit, corset perfectly exemplifying your figure as the frilled white shirt shows off just enough cleavage to leave him wanting more. With his big hands, he gently takes the red hood and moves it from your head, before lifting you into his arms for a kiss. All throughout the party, his eyes are firmly on you, making sure nobody gets any ideas to play with his girl. And afterwards well…he shows you just how beastly he can be.

Reaper:

Doesn’t care for dressing up, so you attempt to bribe him by saying he can just wear his normal mercenary outfit but change the mask.

And when you pull out the scream mask, he isn’t a fool. He knows what you’re doing as he slips it on, and your cheeks immediately flush at the sight. He leans into it, walking over to you before crowding you against the door, placing his hand by the side of your head and tilting his own as he asks in his raspy voice ‘do you like scary movies?’

After that…well, you both are very much late to the talon Halloween gathering, you hadn’t even gotten your costume on yet. You quickly had dressed up, but all the while his hands were around your waist, trying to convince you to ditch the party and instead have a round two with him <3

Reinhardt:

Another one who’s delighted that you want to do a couples costume, thinks it’s so cute of you to ask. But he also takes it as a competition. You both have to be the best dressed!

You both spend ages discussing ideas before you settle on one that he likes. In all honesty, you’re surprised he could actually find a Batman costume that actually fit his huge frame. But still, he looks amazing, the dark costume emphasising his muscles.

But my god when he sees you as catwoman, curves squeezed into tight leather, his knees nearly give way. Huge hands immediately wrap around your waist, brain racing a mile a minute as he attempts to compliment you in a way that doesn’t sound crude. Please tell him you don’t mind…but he fears your costume will end up ripped if you enable him too much.

Bonus venture time:

Venture:

Obviously they're excited when you tell them you want to do a couple costume...until you pull out your phone. Then they're rolling their eyes playfully and passionately explaining 'actually babe, Indiana Jones is a very poor representation of an archaeologist! I mean he doesn't even do desk based assessments before partaking in an excavation-'

But you're convincing, so that's how on Halloween night you're feeling up their muscles over the tight brown leather jacket, before playfully flicking the hat atop their head. You're dressed as Lara Croft, the tank top pushing your tits enough that their eyes are practically glued to your chest.

Although they need to get you both to the party, so they playfully get their fake whip and wrap it around your waist, dragging you out the door as you erupt in a fit of giggles.

[000jeon]

Focused on her

mature: graphic detail.

synopsis: He had always been a master of concentration, but the sight of you in that black, figure-hugging dress was enough to shatter his focus. The way the fabric clung to every curve of your body, accentuating your shape, was simply irresistible. It was as if the dress had been tailor-made for you, and him alone. Every inch of his being was drawn to you, he found himself struggling to keep his eyes off you and had to his frustration out in other than boxing gloves. So about a leftover spiked condom in his leather wallet he had left from previous nights?

aged jungkook au! complicated friendship au! Roommates!

contains: oral, smut, dirty talk, tattooed JK, pierced JK, not as much plot but plot, dub-con, Dom jungkook, sub reader, ball sucker, coy reader, slight pinning, wall, floor, verbal jk, the reader isn't as verbal, jk focused, jk is very imaginative, in love jk, cursing, daydreamermer, face sitting (m), the reader isn't on bc, mentions of pregnancy, crempie, cumshot, blowjob, rounds, he is big, w.a.p.

Sweat glistened down his towel-wrapped forehead and rolled down his chin and neck as if melting underneath the warmth of the sun. His stamina and determination kept him going for hours at a time, taking a break every second to see what you were up to In the living room as he practiced alone. Typically he'd go down to a trainer or have him over, but due to severe rain pour and storm, it was best to cancel and take precautions for both parties.

You on the other hand took the opportunity to go through your clothes and see what could be donated. He never minded you stripping naked in front of him, allowing him to view you in such a relaxed state and you never hesitated to ask why. Was it because like his friends he was a pervert or because it was just a woman's body and he shouldn't huff and puff like a dog wanting a chew toy? You never knew and you never gave it a second thought.

With a loud smack coming from an undercut against the 6'0ft punching bag, he whipped his chin using his tattooed sleeve arm and continued working on his strength. Continuing he took his gloves off with his teeth and placed them besides his hip, giving himself a break to drink some water and sit on the little black padded gym bench he bought recently. With your back towards him, he took the opportunity to check your ass in your panties out and smirk to himself while he quietly took a small spit to drink.

Curious about why you were slowly bending down to pull something up he soon realized the dress had small chains of gold around the midsection of the dress and he practically held in a laugh at how you thought aloud of how delicate the seems were. Within another sip the dress was under your breast and almost completely on besides the spaghetti straps that looked like they needed to be clasped by another.

In amazement, his eyes raised and mouth slowly hung as he watched in awe of your beauty and amazing figure. Was it the ideal body you'd see marketed no, but the way your body hugged and tugged at the dress made him rethink his life choices of women in an instant. Once again shaken to his core, he stood up and walked over to help you clasp the back of the dress, his height leaning over your smaller frame and taking a peek at your breast naturally sitting comfortably in the dress.

With a wrap around your waist, he turned you, softy. With fear your eyes expanded wide like dear in headlights afraid he'd stupidly break it, but instead gave you more breathable room and adjusted the dress with a smile he wasn't aware he wasn't hiding from you.

"mmm, you think I could take you somewhere nice in this. It's a shame you've never worn it until now," he mentions, backing up to get a better view of the dress. Looking up at him you could see his gaze dancing to the slight sparkles that shined ever so softly in the living room light.

With a faded smile you look down and sigh saying "I've never felt confident with anyone enough to really show it off, so I hid it until now I suppose." Ignoring his offer due to the last bit of his speech, he walked up and lifited your head a bit with a sweaty finger.

"let me be the confidence you need, I'd train harder to protect something as bright as that smile when you turned around in that dress" he mentions, his heart fluttering more than yours at a soft compliment. Taking a moment he realized what he had uttered and pretended to cough to the side in his arm.

Flustered he tried speaking and only studdered words came out and was embarrassed. Taking a breath in, he smiled and gain a slight composure to excuse himself to what he believed was a full sentence.

"I'm going to uh, yeah. I'll -" he stopped himself, walking off itching his hair as he walked back to the puffy cool new gym bench. Flustered himself, that giggle you let out killed him and he knew it was about to haunt him for days of how he messed up a cool moment like that.

Undoing the towel wrapped around his head, he sighed and smelled it. It wasn't very noticeable but it was time to wash his hair. Which to him was a blessing sent from above or love itself, a moment he could hopefully steam out his head as he washed his worked-out bodys trophie of sweat and pride out his pores or so he thought.

He thought the cold water would stop the thoughts of taking you out as friends to a dinner, to show off your curves. As friends to a fancy 5 star restaurant in Seoul, he'd have to book now to see you in that dress again. But the one thing that made the water run warm was the thought of watching the dress fall down your body like a melted white chocolate fountain. A fountain he'd pour over you if you gave him one day, a night, and even the chance. Something his mind was begging for at this point.

Turning the water to warm, he gently hit his head against the wall in frustration and desperation at that point in time. He wanted to last one more hour to make it four with boxing, but damn if he did it's be obvious on how he felt about the dress on your body and there would be no way of getting out of being teased for months on bodily functions.

Couldn't help he liked what he saw, it pumped more thrill in his body to watch you turn your back away from him then to finally land that harsh punch he's been aiming for all day. And that was bad, very bad. He could trip over thoughts as he was over you. Was he in love or just desperate or maybe both? Not a teenager anymore, but grown enough to acknowledge that his heart dipped lower than his chest and throbs at the sight of you at times. Something he kept secret and hideen if possible, very hidden..

With a last scrub and the daily shower confession, he assumed he was clean of rightfully lustful thoughts until he walked out in a towel to his imagination of the black dress falling at easy down your body. He gulped and quietly made it to his room in search of clothes and franticly looked for clothes to go out in.

"gah, fuck this" he cursed aloud, pulling his shirt down as looked for clothes and ways to get that image out his head. Infact he needed to get out of his head, out of his apartment as he searched for boxers and his pants, and his wallet in a hurry.

"why me?" He whined to himself silently as he fell dramatically on the bed in a pain only you could fix. Reaching for his wallet in defeat he felt a circle like dent and remembered he kept a condom in there incase the day you wanted to get spicy with him out side of his head he'd be ready. Was he ready if that ever happened. Sighing he took the condom off and placed iton his bed side counter.

"it's pouring outside, wet. Wet like- ugh" he slapped himself slightly on the forehead. "What am I doing wrong with my life" he groaned sitting up and gaining the mental strength to go back out to see you. Which he did, to only find you ordering a pizza online without him.

"Ya" he yelled loudly scaring you as you jolted towards him on the bar stool to face him.

"Without me you jerk. First, you surprised me with the dress and now you're ordering without me, is this how I'm being kicked-"

"No you're not being kicked out, you purchased the place, and two, I just got the website. It's late, cold and I'm sure they will happily deliver here. So here, look and order with me. We get wings half off today." you mentioned getting up In your set pajamas and shoving your iMac laptop in his face.

Grabbing it with thanks he ordered his half added more items and placed his credit card in the order so you wouldn't have to pay before handing it back.

"Thank you jungkookie oppa!" you teased seeing the uncomfortable scrunched face he let as he regretted coming out here. Laughing, you ordered some drinks from another website to come and eveuting wa settled to come withing 45mins to an hour, which could increase due to the storms harshness.

"Is this where we play games and head back to" he jokingly questioned pausing as you got on your knees in front of him. Blinking several times he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or just maladaptive daydreaming again. Looking down he saw he wasn't and his Best friend of 20 years was on her knees looking at his Bonner like it was meat on a menu.

"Why not skip to the fun part of waiting," you softly bit down on your glossed lower lip as he gulped in anticipation.

"Maybe the wait is worth the fun in the end?" He lets out a deep huff of warm air backing up a bit in sheer awkwardness. It wasn't like he didn't want you, it was more he didn't like the way you started it when he could've 'man up' and started it himself. It was his erection anyway.

With a hand offered to help you up, you gratefully took it and he used it to pull up and close to his chest. Breathing heavily out of shock, your eyes slowly trailed up to meet his as he smirked in a smile.

"One thing to know about me is I like taking care of others, I want to have the lead, and those soft pleading eyes you're giving me are driving me crazy right now" JK mentions, lowering his head down so his lips could meet with yours but only keeping them an inch away for added suspense.

"then I'm glad I've always listened to you, to every word and command you've asked of me thus far" you gulp, lips quivering in need of attention. With that in mind, his head slightly turned and yours did too without breaking the small gap between his throbbing lips and your slightly quivering ones. A distance he shortly after broke, with his hands feeling around your back before bringing his arms around in a comfortably tight embrace around your hips.

Moaning from the tug and the great relief of broken space, he drank up the vibration and used it to fuel his lustful fire below. One that could be felt pushing against your pelvis as if asking on his behalf for more, for consent of the obvious.

Wanting more, he kissed vigorously. Their lips moved from the pace of uncertainty to tongue exploring the edges and buds of your own as his heart pounded from the excitement of your arms wrapping around his neck loosely like his thin silver chain with a gem pendant you bought him for his birthday years ago.

The birth gem necklace he swore to himself to wear religiously every day. The one he didn't put on today, in an attempt to run away from your hold. To only be wrapped around your embrace, just like the necklace.

While he tries to calm himself before making any long-term decisions with you. He knew that was a promise he couldn't keep with himself as he ached for something long-term and his body was pushing him to. Meanwhile, with his heart controlling his movements now, he started to walk you over to the closest kitchen wall in sight to corner you. To trap you in his warm-hearted embrace the same way the thought of you, your body, and your whole existence did to him mentally.

With the kiss naturally breaking off, he moved his lips around your jaw and pushed any fly hair strands away as he made his way to your neck. Gripping his shirt, in the back his mouth drooled over it in need as he applied rough pressure in the crook between your jaw and neck. With a burning desire he build higher than the pyramids of Asia, you pulled his shirt up and gripped his skin. A bright hue of red plastred on his cheeks as he marked other places on your shoulder of him.

"so much pleasure" you whined quietly, your words loudy admitting to the idea of how sensitive you were to every touch of his on your body. A sentence he repeated mentally as he pulled off to see your pleading state of your face and lips.

"Good, I wanted that" he chuckled at your need for intimacy. Whilst eyeing you carefully watching for your aroused response to his movements, he gripped the hemming of his shirt to pull over and throw off to the side of you. In all its glory, his upper body was indeed muscular and slimmed. A pack of 8, along with his biceps were seen more clearly as you walked your eyes down and around his bare uper torso.

"keep them lowered for me only" Jungkook insisted, pulling his shorts and leaving him in his ballooned underwear for your visual pleasure. A moment- wait no a sight you never thought you'd see like this. Moving your gaze back up, caused him to tilt your head back down to look.

"never said to look up, so keep your eyes lowered" he leaned in your ear to say. With a nod, you saw him lower his body to his knees and pull both layers of pajama pants and underwear down to reveal a slight bush. Embraced you covered yourself modestly with shock as he pushed them away and lifted one of your legs on his shoulder.

"looks good, so it'll taste good," he says, tongue slowly brushing and coating his lips in hunger as much as wetness as he leans his nose forward more. With a lookup of yes, you nodded and soon gripped the jet-black strands of his hair as his lips collided with your folds. Tongue lathering your juices around your clit as his hands held your hips still and close as he sucked and teased the floods and your nerve with ease. Arching, you felt the release of wetness drip along your thighs as he continued to lick his deep coral-pink tongue around the nub as his lips attached to your labia with thirst.

Moaning at almost an uncontrollable pace, you tugged and played with stands of his washed musk musk-smelling hair as your mouth felt like it was being held open for you in need. Pulling away softly, he made his eyes make contact with yours as he continued to orally fuck you to insanity before pulling off at any side of orgasm as he could feel the convulsions of your opening with ease and with some experience and a vague memory could tell the difference between one cumming and having an orgasm. A feeling he could sense was near.

Completely coming away from you, he caught you in his arms as your Legs buckled and gave up on standing on him. With a smile, he laid you on the thankfully clean, but cold white-lined tile floor and even placed his shirt under your head for a slightly better experience. Pulling his underwear off he threw them and eventually kneeled himself over your mouth, shaft in hand as his hard on faced towards your tits.

"get me even more excited for your mouth" he requests, your tongue like his earlier licked to become wet to provide a more comfortable experience for both of you. Thankfully JK decided to spend a few minutes trimming himself a bit in the shower as it was overdue for him, something you didn't mind not caring long as he was sexually clean. Something you knee from the constant lack of lotion in the bathroom and your bottles disappearing out of sight .

Succking on one side of his balls, you were glad they weren't too big to suck and roll around in your mouth as he jerked his cock in pleasure. Pulling up your shirt, he saw your breasts once again in a relaxed state and jerked and toyed one handily at them in ecstasy.

"so good" he breathed out heavily, cock heavy in his hands as he jerked over your breast harder in delight. It wasn't like he needed the extra help, but fuck if he had the chance to jerk himself over your pretty breasts he'd take it with no questions asked. Another fantasy fulfilled to him. Pulling himself off of you he stood up and helped you up to strip you of your top.

"fuck there's no way I'm letting your body get pleasure on this floor baby. You deserve somewhere warm and cozy, like my bed to lay on" he insists, taking your hand and urging you to his room. You gladly followed behind him as he rushed the both of you to the bed.

With the shut of the door and the flick of his warm-toned mood lighting. His bedroom was lightly illuminated with a warm yellow glow. Laying on the bed, he thought about a blowjob first but realized saving it for the end was more worth it as he knew how much of you he could handle before leading to his own orgasm.

Turning you over with light force, you laid on your belly and he handed you a pillow for added pleasure as you placed it under your pelvis. Waiting as he was you were getting adjusted completely, he tore his spiked, lubed, and internally ribbed condom and shuttered in slight coldness as it went down his shaft. Ready as you were, he soon pined your legs down and wanted to do things in prone bone style jungkook version than anything. Besides your ass in his eyes was meant to take it face down like this.

With his chest now hovering above your back, he placed his tip on the entrance of your cunt as he held himself in a somewhat of a one-armed plank position to do so. Kissing your upper back he warned you his cock was a large size to take. Which you believed based on how tight his boxers were on him minutes ago and the sound of him jerking wasn't light. With that in mind, he softly slid just his tip in before going into a full plank-like stance above your back as he introduced his protected cock to your warmth.

With the sound of painful pleasure coming from your lips, he stopped and allowed his hips to roll his tip in circles to get you accustomed to his cock. A feeling both mentally and physically arousing to both of you. After about 3 mins of him rolling his tip in and back kissing, he was able to inch his way deeper into you which caused him to panic at the feeling of walls tightly gripping and sucking him in with urgency.

"I'll pay for plan b if I fuck up and more if that doesn't work" he assured, knowing he's gonna wanna take that condom off to feel skin to tissue any minute.

Part 2: coming soon

M.LIST

[scribendis]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

Aemond Targaryen x female reader (third person perspective) ❖ husband & wife

Warnings: smut, dry humping, p in v sex, semi-public sex, newlyweds being horny, little bit of profanity, breeding kink if you squint really, really hard Rating: 18+ MDNI Word count: ~3,500

Summary: Upon returning to camp from a hunt in the Kingswood, Aemond looks for a way to keep his wife warm on a bitterly cold night.

A/N: Serendipitously conceptualized ages ago but written (very late!) for the first week of the @hotd-bigbang winter word prompts challenge - Fire | Furs | Forest

Dividers by @saradika | AO3 link

The setting sun cast long shadows across the small city of tents that made up the hunting camp in the Kingswood. While the men had spent the day combing the forest for boars, stags, and other game, the women had occupied the main tent. They gorged themselves on cakes and other sweets, all the while indulging in gossip that ranged from the salacious to the downright treasonous. 

And, much to the chagrin of the new wife of Prince Aemond Targaryen, they pestered her endlessly about the burgeoning love life of her and her husband. She quickly learned that, to be a woman in the king’s court meant sharing every last, excruciating detail of one’s “wifely duties” so that the others could compare them with their own. So that they could all know whose husbands fucked them the best and complain about their own lackluster experiences. 

They questioned her until she was beet-red in the face and one of the older women finally called for an end to her torment. Still, it would taste a lie for her to say that all their titillating conversation about lovemaking had not made her ache desperately for her husband. 

But by the time that night finally claimed the sprawling camp, the men had still not returned from the hunt. It signaled to the waiting wives that their husbands would come back without their prize, frustrated and exhausted - and that they would later fall into their beds reeking of wine. 

The call of horns and the distant sound of barking hounds was their cue to don their furs and exit the tent to greet the arriving men. The prince’s wife was glad for the fur-lined cloak that her husband had procured for her for just such an occasion as this. She was even more grateful for the garment as she exited the tent only to be met with the sting of the cold night air on her cheek. The women elected to wait for their husbands by the bonfire that raged in the middle of the camp, its light their only source of warmth as frost began to settle on the Kingswood. 

It was easy for her to spot her husband among the group of riders, his long silver hair unmistakable in the light of the rising moon. Whatever otherworldly quality his Valyrian features gave him seemed amplified tonight - and it made the sight of him astride a horse even more odd to her. Were her husband any other lord of the realm, his approach on horseback would not have seemed out of place. But Targaryens were no horse riders. Still, Aemond effortlessly commanded the steed beneath him, his mastery reminiscent of the way he would handle a dragon.

As the crowd of riders began to disperse, her eyes remained fixed on her husband. Amid the thundering of horses’ hooves and the raucous laughter of the noble lords, Aemond's attention, too, was solely focused on her. The intensity of his gaze only intensified her excitement, eliciting a gentle flutter in her belly.

With grace and ease, Aemond slipped off of the horse’s back. A waiting servant took his leather riding gloves from him, but Aemond could very well have let them fall to the dirt for as little attention as he paid to anyone but her. 

Aemond was always loath to indulge in any public affection, aside from the occasional hand at the small of his wife’s back or a brief touch upon her cheek. Even now that he was reunited with her after such a long day apart, his restraint came in the form of a soft kiss brushed against her temple and nothing more. But the way that his arm wrapped around her and his hand dared to wander much lower than her waist - and the way his eye held hers so intently - told her just how much he had missed her. How much he needed her.

Given Aemond’s usually stoic demeanor, she had never thought that he would be needy, but he had proven to be just that in the few weeks since they had been wed. They had already made love in the depths of the palace library more times than she could count, and discovered countless other hidden places throughout the Keep where his hands had found their way up her skirts and his lips had left marks on her neck. Some mornings, he would forego training altogether to stay in bed with her with his face between her legs or his cock buried inside her. 

And he had not heard a single complaint from her yet. 

“Ābrazȳrys, your skin is cold to the touch,” Aemond commented, a hint of concern lacing his soft voice. His lips lingered at her temple for a moment longer before he withdrew, taking one of her hands in his. “As are your fingers.” (wife)

She smiled. His own hand was as warm as ever. “I am no dragon like you, dear husband. The cold night air chills me to the bone.”

“And the furs I gave you do not suffice?” he asked, quirking a brow.

She shook her head. “Nor the bonfire.” 

Aemond hummed, his displeasure at such an assurance quite clear. He brought her fingers to his lips, blowing warm air on them before kissing them. “Come, jorrāeliarza. I have another idea for how we might offer you some warmth on such a cold night.” (beloved)

Still with an arm drawn around her, he swiftly guided her around the bonfire and, to her surprise, past the royal tent where food, wine, and music awaited them. She glanced over her shoulder questioningly at the entrance to the tent, from which poured an inviting golden light, but Aemond seemed determined on his path. 

“Aemond, are we… not going inside?” 

A smirk tugged at his lips, and she noticed a mischievous twinkle in his eye as they passed a flickering torch. “I thought I would spare you any further conversation with the ladies of the court.”

“And I thank you for that, dear husband,” she said with a laugh, her words falling from her lips in fleeting clouds of mist that looked like she was breathing smoke. “But I do not think–”

Aemond stopped them in their tracks and turned to her, staying any further words by sweeping in to press his lips firmly against hers. “Lykirī.” (Be calm.)

Once freed from his bruising kiss, she stood, dazed, for a moment before any further thoughts could come to her - something that her husband had certainly noticed given the grin that spread across his lips. She pushed him away playfully with a little scoff and an over-exaggerated look of annoyance that drew a rare chuckle from him.

“I am not one of your Targaryen dragons,” she protested, drawing her furs tighter around herself. “Those… dragon commands won’t work on me.”

Aemond leaned in to meet her at eye level, offering an arm to her that she took. “But it did work, did it not?”

She was still none the wiser about their destination as her husband quickly guided them beyond the boundaries of the camp and toward the treeline. The leaves had taken on stunning hues of red, orange, and yellow, a sight that she had marveled at from within the wheelhouse on their way into the Kingswood that morning. But in the cover of night, that beauty was lost to the pitch-black darkness. Not even the light of the moon could permeate the thick canopy of trees, leaving the forest an endless void. 

She did not fear the darkness, only the occasional sound of a twig snapping or the call of some unknown creature. As husband and wife disappeared from the sight of the camp, she found herself clutching onto him more tightly. 

“Aemond, where are we going?” she whispered as though speaking at full volume would topple one of the mighty trees. 

“Patience, jorrāeliarza.”

“What if there are wolves out here, Aemond–”

“There are no predators in the Kingswood. And, if there were,” Aemond turned to her and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, brushing the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, “do you think that I would let them harm even a single hair on your head?” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before releasing her. “Do not worry. We can stop here.”

She glanced around, seeing the pleasant glow of the camp in the near distance and nothing but darkness everywhere else. “Here?” 

“I thought, perhaps, you would want to be a bit further from camp…” he purred. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see him lean in. One of his hands reached up to pull her furs aside and his lips found her neck, warm and soft as they began to kiss her skin. She felt his hum vibrate against her pulse point, where her heartbeat fluttered wildly. “Given how loud you can be, dōna ābrazȳrys.”

A gasp left her and her head tilted away from his lips, begging silently for more. Tomorrow would call for yet another dress with a high neckline, she thought. 

“I’ve… I’ve not heard that one before…” He regularly called her all manner of names in High Valyrian. She often found him muttering to himself in his ancestral tongue. One night, he had even spoken it in his sleep. She knew a small handful of words, but only those few. “What does that mean?”

“Sweet wife,” Aemond breathed against her neck, leaving a bit of warmth behind before his lips captured hers once again. “You taste sweet tonight, too.”

“It must be the… the wine, I think,” she gasped. “Or the lemon cakes…” 

But the growing hunger inside him was not for the sweetness of cakes or Arbor gold. 

He kissed her more deeply this time, lips coaxing hers apart to taste her tongue for himself. His hands fell to her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh to draw her body against his. And, in doing so, he finally offered her the warmth he had previously promised her - one that not even the hottest bonfire could provide. 

As his fingers began to deftly ruck up her skirts, she felt her skin prickle. At the same time, an entirely different kind of heat began to spread through her until it found its familiar place between her legs. Moaning softly into their continued kiss, she dropped her hands to the closure of his trousers, where his obvious arousal strained against the dark fabric. 

“Gods, Aemond, you're so hard and I've barely touched you," she breathed against his lips. “Did you miss me?” But she knew the answer, and how pleasing it was to know just how badly she had been missed that day. 

His only reply was a grunt that rose in his throat as his hands slipped beneath her smallclothes and all but tore them from her. Despite the rough, calloused spots on his palms and fingers, his warm touch was a balm against the cold night air. In a swift, almost aggressive motion, he lifted her by her arse so that she had no choice but to envelop his hips with her legs. It taunted her, the feeling of his hard cock pressing against her wet entrance. His trousers were a tedious, unwanted barrier between them. 

Their passionate embrace only became more heated as Aemond pinned her to the trunk of one of the trees and his body pressed firmly against hers. She squirmed, inadvertently causing friction between her clit and his still-clothed hardness that was too delicious to keep a moan from stuttering past her lips. 

“It would seem that you missed me as well, jorrāeliarza,” he rasped with a playful smirk. Teasingly, he rolled his hips against hers to coax another one of those sweet sounds from her. “Come on. Take what you need.”

She needed no further convincing, as great as the ache between her legs had grown. Her grip on the collar of his longcoat tightened and she took over, rocking her hips against his at a slow, but steady, pace. Each gasp and moan that left her lips billowed from them in a smoke-like mist, until she tucked her head into the crook of her husband’s neck and the sounds became muffled against his throat. He smelled of horse and sweat and, if she searched for it, the soap he had used the night before. But he tasted divine as her lips began to pepper open-mouthed kisses against his skin.

Judging by the trembling breaths that she felt against her hair, this teasing was just as pleasurable for her husband as it was for her. His own grip on her arse tightened, as though he was fighting to hold on. Knowing him, he wanted only the satisfaction of spilling himself inside her. 

But his own torture would not go on for much longer, as her rutting against him was quickly bringing her to the brink of release. Her pace quickened, desperate as she was to reach it. Finally, the pleasure inside her began to unfurl and its warmth spread through her. From head to toe, it enveloped her completely as though she had been submerged into a hot bath.   

It was exactly as Aemond had promised. In the grips of her climax, the frigid air mattered little, if at all.

Gasping for breath as she came down again, she pressed her lips to his and he received her kiss greedily. No doubt he was desperate for his own release after watching her come apart - and how could she refuse him?

“You know,” she began as her hands fell to his trousers once again. Only, this time, her fingers made quick work of the closures. “Earlier, all the women wanted to know how good you are in bed.”

Their gazes locked and, even in the darkness of the forest, she could see the almost animalistic desire in his one good eye. But as desperate as he was to be inside her, he seemed almost equally as intrigued by her words. She freed his cock from the confines of his trousers and took it into her hand. Her simple act of stroking him once was enough to draw a low groan out of him.

“Fucking gossips,” Aemond replied huskily. His lips drew close to hers but did not quite meet them. “Do I wish to know what you told them?”

She grinned. Her fingers guided his cock to her slick entrance but stopped there momentarily. “I told them–” Her words were cut off by a moan as he buried himself inside her quickly and without warning. “Oh, fuck…”

“Oh, fuck?” Aemond repeated teasingly, raising a brow. “Am I so bad at it, jorrāeliarza?” The smug look of satisfaction on his face belied any attempts at fooling her into thinking that he believed that to be her true confession earlier that day. 

Too impatient, he began to move his hips against hers - and she met each of his slow, steady thrusts with movements of her own. Misty air surrounded them amid their shared panting, both of them relishing in the sensation of becoming one again after such a long day apart.

She allowed her head to fall back against the tree, where strands of her hair began to tangle in its rough bark. But she hardly noticed or cared at all, especially as her husband’s lips reclaimed her neck and his hot breaths swept along the contours of her jaw. 

“Ābrazȳrys.”

She became so lost in the carnal pleasure of his cock sliding in and out of her that Aemond’s voice barely reached her. It did not help at all that his pace began to quicken as the heat between them grew to a simmer. The cry of pleasure that left her mingled with the sounds of the forest, joining the nighttime symphony of hooting owls and the rustling of the crisp underbrush.

“What did you tell them?” Aemond pressed. His own composure was starting to fail him and his words came out strained. 

A breathy laugh left her. He always purported to care little about what the members of his father’s court thought of him. But, evidently, that sentiment did not extend to his wife and her opinions. 

She placed a hand on his cheek to pull his lips to hers, kissing him deeply as pleasure began to coil inside her anew. “I told them,” she panted, her eyes opening to meet his, “that my husband is not the one riding the largest dragon in the world.”

Whatever Aemond had expected her to say, it clearly was not that. For a moment, his hips stilled and he looked as stunned as the ladies had been when she had uttered those same words that morning. One of them had even spilled a full cup of wine down her pale blue dress as she stared at her like some startled animal. 

“My, my…” he purred.

But his look of shock fell away just as quickly. Replacing it was a ferocity that she had never seen from him before. A hunger that her words had awakened inside him which only she could satiate. There were no more soft words of love, or the usual names he called her while making love to her. His fingers dug almost painfully into her hips and he resumed his movements against her. 

Aemond quickly built up a brutal pace, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her toes curl inside her shoes. Any thoughts or complaints about how bitterly cold it was outside had been long forgotten, drunk as she was on the intensity of the pleasure he was fucking into her her. Even her moans began to leave her in choked gasps and broken mewls that, if anyone in the hunting camp heard her, would have sounded no different than the calls of some creature of the forest.

She could feel it, the straining of her muscles and the tightening of her insides. The tremble that overtook her as she hurtled toward the edge along with him. She felt like a handkerchief being squeezed of water, and he would not stop his tightening of her until he had wrung her of every last drop.  

Her eyes fluttering, she leaned in to capture Aemond’s lips in a kiss that he did not reciprocate in his own carnal pursuit of release. “Aemond…” “Mm-mm,” he chided, his tone gruffer and far lower than she had ever heard it. “I want to see you.” 

One of his hands released its grip on her arse and moved to the nape of her neck to hold her firmly and ensure she could not look away. As he watched her, he groaned deeply in his own fight to hold on until he could get precisely what he wanted. 

And it only took three simple words from him to finish her at last.

“Cum for me.” 

Like a dam breaking, all the building pleasure that had been twisting inside her released. Coaxed by the continued pounding of his hips against hers, it spread into every extremity as her body shuddered and her cries of ecstasy filled the dense, frosty air. The fluttering of her walls around him soon spelled the end for him, too. With a few more ragged thrusts, he found his release inside her.

His eye squeezed shut. His lips, kiss-swollen, parted. And then, a certain look of peace overtook him.  

Although still lost in her own haze of pleasure, she watched him closely - and she decided that he had never looked more beautiful. 

They remained in their loving embrace, neither one wanting to pull away from the other just yet. Her, with her legs still encircling his hips, and him, with one hand holding her up and the other at her neck. Aemond pressed his forehead to hers and his thumb began to caress her cheek tenderly.

She hadn’t spoken of these moments to the women of the court that day. About how her husband could fuck her within an inch of her life and, immediately thereafter, treat her with such affection and softness. With such devotion in each caress of his fingers and every soft word he uttered.

Their breathing soon began to slow once again and the world around them finally came back into view. Smiling, she brushed the tip of her nose against his before kissing him so deeply that he hummed in surprise. But he reciprocated earnestly, slowly setting her back down on the ground but never quite letting her go.

“We should return to the camp,” Aemond said as he re-adjusted her furs on her shoulders. “I would not have you catch your death out here in the cold, jorrāeliarza.”

A sweet grin spread across her lips, but something wicked glistened in her eyes. “Oh, but my husband has already given me all the warmth I require.”

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

When it comes to cold weather, the main rule (regardless of gender or presentation) is: when in doubt, choose warmth and safety over style. 

Some basics: 

Layering is your best friend: Start with moisture-wicking base layers to keep sweat off your skin. Follow with insulating layers (like fleece or wool), and finish with a weather-resistant outer layer (like a puffer jacket or waterproof coat) to protect against wind, snow or rain.

Keep your sensitive areas warm: Make sure your hands, feet, and head are covered! Gloves, warm socks and a beanie can prevent cold-related discomfort or injuries. 

Waterproof: If you're facing snow or rain, make sure your clothes are waterproof. Wet clothes lose their insulating ability, so staying dry is a big part of staying warm! 

Reflective Gear: If you’re out in the dark or in poor visibility conditions, consider adding reflective elements to your outfit for safety.

People can react differently to temperatures. A temperature that feels super cold to you could feel comfortable to someone else, depending on what you’re used to (and some other factors). As a very basic rule, we can say: Gloves, beanies, and other cold-weather accessories typically become necessary when temperatures drop below 40°F (4°C). In more severe cold (below 32°F (0°C)), it’s even more important to wear them to protect yourself from frostbite and maintain body warmth. But it goes even in milder weather: if you feel uncomfortable or if it’s windy or damp, it’s a good idea to add these items for extra comfort.

With all that being said: Clothes are not just for safety and temperature control, they also help you express yourself - and that doesn’t suddenly change in winter. 

Dressing for cold weather doesn’t have to mean sacrificing your personal look. Whether you want to present more feminine, more masculine, or more androgynous, here are some tips to help you layer up and feel like yourself: 

(Note that these are suggestions, not hard rules. Style is highly subjective as everyone has different tastes, preferences, body types, fashion inspirations, budgets, cultural influences etc. I could suggest something here that you’d feel super uncomfortable in - if so, that’s not a sign you’re “doing it wrong”! Cherry-pick what feels right and ignore the rest) 

If You Want to Present More Feminine

Base Layers: If you want to wear skirts or dresses in winter, start with thermal leggings or tights! These can be nicely paired with cozy, long-sleeved tops or lightweight thermal shirts. (But also keep in mind that plenty of women, cis or trans, do not wear dresses all the time! Nothing wrong with choosing jeans!) 

Outer Layers: There are plenty of styles to choose from that have a feminine touch, such as a belted trench coat, a pea coat, or a long wool coat. Shawls are also excellent for adding a touch of style while keeping you warm! 

Footwear: Knee-high or thigh-high boots lined with faux fur or fleece can keep your legs warm and add a polished look to your outfit. Ankle boots with thicker socks are also a good alternative.

Accessories: Scarves, gloves, and beanies can be both practical and stylish. Knit hats or earmuffs can add a soft, cozy vibe to your look.

Style Tip: Go for a mix of fabrics like wool, faux fur, and knitwear to create texture and warmth.

If You Want to Present More Masculine: 

- Base Layers: Start with thermal undershirts or moisture-wicking base layers. Consider long underwear for added insulation beneath your pants.

- Outer Layers: There’s plenty of outerwear to choose from, like a puffer jacket, parka, or wool overcoat! (Faux) Leather or bomber jackets layered over sweaters can also add a masculine edge while keeping you warm.

- Footwear: You might want to opt for sturdy boots, such as work boots, Chelsea boots, or combat boots. Thicker socks can keep your feet warm.

- Accessories: Don’t skip out on scarves, beanies, or gloves for being “too feminine”. They can actually be great for adding a more rugged feel to your outfit! You just gotta find a color and style that fits you well. 

Style Tip: Focus on layering in a way that adds structure. Sweaters, button-ups, and jackets work great together for a sharp, put-together look. Play with dark, neutral tones and thick fabrics like wool or denim for extra warmth and style.

If You Want to Present Androgynous

- Base Layers: Neutral-colored thermal tops or turtlenecks can serve as great foundational pieces. You may want to pair these with straight-leg or loose-fitting pants that allow room for layering underneath.

- Outer Layers: Oversized coats, puffer jackets, or long trench coats can work well for an androgynous look. Try layering with oversized sweaters or fleece pullovers for extra warmth.

- Footwear: You could go for sneakers, lace-up boots, or loafers paired with warm, thick socks. But really, any pair of shoes can work for an unisex outfit. 

- Accessories: Neutral-colored scarves, simple beanies, and fingerless gloves can add to an androgynous look. Minimalist accessories like oversized scarves or gender-neutral caps are both practical and stylish.

Style Tip: Aim for a balanced mix of structured and relaxed pieces. Try loose layers on top with more fitted pants, or vice versa, to create an effortless, warm, and non-gendered appearance.

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[rottiens]

✮ tags. . vampire gojo x afab! human reader, helltown au. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ cw. . 1.5k

It's late in Helltown, your boots struggle against the pile of white snow under your heavy boots and every so often you sniffle through your nose looking to somehow escape the cold that builds up on your face, exposed to your least favorite weather. 

The trees rise above your head and lull you as if they carry words inside their leaves, autumn is giving way to winter and the whole transition, along with the news that has filled the papers these past weeks gives the picture a gloomy tone. Your hands are inside your coat while an icy air escapes through your pale lips.

You shouldn't be out on the street so late, much less alone, much less with the news of the disappearance of those young women.

It wasn't just disappearance. It was the murder of that young woman who studied at the same university where you teach and then her best friend who had been missing since Halloween night and of whom nothing was known after that day. The parents had announced rewards, and the local police were scraping clues even under the rocks; however no one had heard anything from her or anyone had managed to provide relevant information.

You grab the edge of the coat around your neck and pull it upwards in an attempt to battle the cold as your steps quicken, you are close to your house, however due to the lack of movement on the avenue it feels more like a much longer walk than it really is. All the doors and windows are closed, including the houses and premises, you only have the company of pale light bulbs illuminating the entrances and your way home. 

A shiver runs down your back as the wind howls around you, a foreboding feeling tells you that you are not alone, though you dismiss one terrifying idea after another as this can and must be due to your suggestion. You grab the pepper spray inside your pocket as if your life depended on it and quickly turn around to verify that it was all in your head, holding the white bottle at the level of your head, your finger trembling on the tip of it. 

The wind roars in your ears, the noise of the blood pumping overwhelms your senses. In the distance you hear fluttering and your eyes snap, checking the shadows for movement within them. You remain in this position for a few seconds, frozen in time, until your legs tingle with warm blood and you return to the front to hurry on your way. 

Turning your eyes forward you meet a pair of piercing blue eyes that lock with yours for a few seconds before the man quickly looks away, you stifle a scream by clenching your jaw and the adrenaline makes you spray the pepper near his shoes. 

You take two steps back, raising the pepper spray to a considerable height. The blue-eyed man wears a baggy black hooded sweatshirt and a leather jacket of the same color over it making uncovering the features of his face an impossible task. 

“That's not how you use pepper spray,” he says in a strangely friendly voice.

You look him up and down wondering where he came from, though the voice sounds familiar, you don't remember seeing him anywhere before. Although you can't tell for sure since most of his face is covered, all you can see are those intense blue eyes scanning you up and down. 

“Tell me who you are or I'm going to scream,” you warn him, raising the spray to the level of his face. 

He raises his gloved hands to his chest in surrender. 

“Hey, take it easy. It's me.” He brings his hands to his hood and pulls it back to reveal a shock of white hair swirling in the icy wind. 

“Oh my...” Your horror turns to panic as you realize you were about to ruin the eyes of the new Biology teacher's assistant, he had only just moved to town a few weeks ago. You slowly shake your head, moving the spray away from his field of vision, back into your pockets. “I'm so sorry,” you utter, your panic slowly transforming into an embarrassment that burns like a torch on your face. 

“It's okay,” he smiles sideways, pulling the hood back over his head. “You acted properly.” 

The now not-so-stranger looks you up and down again, with those blue eyes that break the harmony of the white snow.  You run away from them when you get the chance, hurrying your pace along with him who starts walking with you.

“It's terribly cold.” You laugh, downplaying the sudden fear that still rubs your veins against each other. “I'm freezing,” you try to make it sound like something to break the tense moment, but your voice comes out cracked as you hide your face in your coat at the same time as you lift your shoulders to get out of the chill. 

“It is dangerous for you to be out here.” He looks down at you, you can feel it out of the corner of your eye. 

“I know,” you stutter, avoiding those haunting eyes. “You mean because of the deaths and stuff?” As soon as you add the last you regret it, you really didn't want to talk about it. “I was running late reading my students' papers, then visiting my grandparents,” you add, giving him explanations he doesn't need to hear but you feel somehow compelled to say. “I hope the police catch them soon, whoever the culprit is,” you finally say with a frown, remembering the news.

“Hm.” Is all that comes from his lips. “Mind if I walk with you? I live close by anyway.”  

At the proposal your heart pumps fast. Despite the fear you feel, you think it's better to accept than to walk alone. You nod, swallowing hard. Saliva cuts your dry throat.

You say your name waiting for him to introduce himself. “I haven't seen you around here before? Are you new to the neighborhood?���

“Yeah, I just moved in a little while ago. I- I've been watching you,” he whispers, you stop walking abruptly looking at him with wide eyes and quivering lips, pepper spray hovering against your fingers hidden in your pockets. The man stares at you for a few more seconds, before throwing his body back, chuckling. “I meant to say that I've observed your classes and you're good, my name is Gojo Satoru.” 

You relax a little at the joke, forcing a smile but still tightening your spray, maybe you were too tense, maybe your friend's assistant... Satoru, how he had introduced himself, was nothing more than that. So still with your nerves making your senses more responsive you decide to keep walking beside him.

“Thank you,” you reply. “My house is the next one,” you point to a tall brick house around the corner.

“All right.” He walks in the same direction you pointed, still staying close to you. His steps are light, as if he's gliding along the sidewalk. “I imagine your husband must be worried.” You look at him briefly, clearly confused. “I mean the man who comes to pick you up from college sometimes...”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “No, no, that's just a friend. No husband... I live with my friend,” you say. “But now she's visiting her parents for the vacations.” This time your eyes go to him shortly, hair escaping through his hood in white snowflakes, falling softly over his eyes.

You flee to the road before he can notice, your cheeks burning. As you stand in front of the door, you pull your keys out of your backpack.

“Thanks for walking me out, Satoru.”

“No problem. I'm glad I could help you get home safe and sound.” He gives you a warm smile even though you can't appreciate the fear and hesitation of the moment. 

You want to invite him in and be nice, but you know your friend would slap you if you told her about the stranger you let in the house knowing there's a killer on the loose. So you smile weakly at him and lean your body forward momentarily in a bow.

“I'll see you at school,” you say instead. 

Satoru doesn't reply anything else. He remains still, standing a few feet from the front door, waving his fingers in a goodbye that you cut off as you close the wooden door. Inside, the heat envelops you and you let out a purr of reassurance. Warmth surrounds your neck and cheeks cool as a woolen scarf, and you sigh in relief, letting out the fear and tension that encounter had caused you.

Satoru was a interesting guy… You try hard not to think of situations that might make your job uncomfortable, but you can't help the questions that arise in your mind. You wish, deep down, to know a little more about this mysterious man.

[archangeldyke-all]

royalty sevika trying to take off readers armour would be so funny. like there’s just so many layers of metal and chainmail or whatever that it takes 3-4 business days to take off lmfao

also that new pic of sev IM DYINGGG SHES SO DJSEHEJOWK

this made me gigglehehheeh

men and minors dni

you're still in shock.

you're half convinced this is the best dream of your life, and you're going to wake up any second now and return to a world where your love for your princess is hopelessly unrequited.

"are you okay?" sevika whispers, pulling away from your lips. she's got you pinned to one of the half-dozen chaise lounges in her quarters, one of her hands on your cheek, the other gently guiding your gloved hand down to hold her waist.

you blink up at the woman above you. it's rare-- but from time to time sevika will say something that lets on to her deep-seated belief that she's not the right kind of woman to be a royal. you know it comes from her father. you know that she looks in the mirror and sees her strength and scars as something negative-- something that pulls her further away from the soft, passive figure she's supposed to be. you know she's insecure about the looks people shoot her when she dares to wear her suits to balls and meetings; the comments the nobles shoot her about growing her hair longer.

but to you? "you're the most beautiful woman i've ever met." you whisper, reverently.

sevika's concern melts, a shy smile taking its place. "you've clearly met very few women."

"sevika." you whimper, reaching up from her waist to cup her scarred cheek. "please, princess. please believe me. you're a goddess among mortals."

sevika seems shocked at your sincerity, her eyes wide and watery as she looks down at you. you just gently stroke your thumb across her cheek, swiping away the single tear that falls.

then, something in her gaze shifts. her eyes get a little sharper, her pupils a little wider. she smiles, her gap tooth and sharp canines flashing for a moment and making you lightheaded. "i command you get naked this instant." sevika says.

your stomach bursts into butterflies as you burst into laughter. sevika smirks down at you, soaking in the sight of your smile, but her hungry look doesn't leave. "alright. you'll have to get off of me." you whisper.

sevika frowns at this, then ducks back down to kiss you again. you hum happily into her lips, and just as you dart your tongue out to lick her lips, sevika wretches herself off of you with a gasp.

she smiles down at you, then jumps up to stand, offering you a hand. "get up." she demands. you giggle, taking her hand and letting her haul you off the cushions. "strip." she commands.

you blink, suddenly incredibly shy. "j-just me?" you ask. sevika's smirk gets a little softer, and she steps an inch closer to you.

"i'll race you. first person to get naked gets to take the lead tonight."

you burst into laughter-- knowing that sevika's terms result in her winning, knowing that she knows this too, and expecting nothing less from her. "i love you." you giggle.

sevika's eyes get soft, she pulls you in for one more kiss, and then she shoves you away by your shoudlers.

"c'mon, strip!" she demands.

you get to work, unbuckling the belt around your waist that holds your sword, then the buckles that hold your chestplate tight around your wasit. you pull the front and back pieces off, and then nearly pass out at the sight of a naked sevika in front of you.

"princess." you gasp.

sevika snorts, smiling and puffing her naked chest out in pride. you stumble forward, scrambling with your leather gloves and carelessly tossing them in oppisite directions across the room as you reach out to touch her.

you stop an inch away from her skin, looking up at her for permission. sevika's smiling at you so warmly, you could die happy right here and now. "may i touch you?" you ask.

sevika giggles. "you can do a lot more than that." she whispers.

you smile, then reach forward and take her hips in your hands, pulling her toward you to kiss her.

she hums against your lips, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. you reach up to play with her lovely hair, tugging at the small ponytail she wears before pulling it free.

when she pulls away from the kiss, she looks devestating.

hair free, gasping for air, cheeks flushed-- she's an angel.

"how are you still dressed?" she asks.

you look down at yourself bursting into laughter when you realize you're still bundled up in your armor.

"wanna help me?" you ask.

sevika grins. "i've had fantasies that start like this." she says. you grin.

"what? you naked and me fully dressed?" you ask. she laughs as she unbuckles the ties at your hips, the armor protecting your thighs thudding to the ground.

"no-- me helping undress you." she corrects, kneeling down to pull your shin and knee guards off.

you think you might die. sevika-- the princess-- is naked and on her knees in front of you, kissing your clothed legs as she gently strips you of your armor.

"s-sevika." you whimper. she giggles and blinks up at you, freeing your feet of your boots.

"like the view?" she teases. you huff and gently tug some of her fringe.

"almost as much as you like yours." you shoot back. she laughs.

"i'd like my view a lot fucking better if you were naked." she frowns, looking down at your body.

you burst into laughter. you've still got chainmail, then the protective leathers you wear underneath it so it doesn't catch on your skin-- then your linens-- then your wraps.

"it's gonna be a bit." you giggle. "i think i have a more complicated dressing process than you."

"i don't doubt it." she huffs, pulling at your leather pants.

you snort, then smack her hands away, dropping your trousers easily.

sevika groans and flops back on her back dramatically, sprawling out naked on a rug more expensive than your entire life as she laments the fact that you're wearing pants under your leathers. you half laugh, half gasp at the sight of her beneath you. she shoots you knowing eyes, and then flits her hand at you.

"fucking get naked already." she demands. you don't follow her instructions, instead, you kneel down and offer her a hand, helping her rise. she glares at you the entire way, but doesn't protest as you lead her toward her bed, letting her recline against her sheets before kissing her lips.

"stay here." you whisper. she raises an eyebrow at you, and you giggle, running around toward the foot of the bed before you start slowly, deliberately working off the rest of your armor.

sevika grins against the pillows. "fuck yes." she whispers under her breath. you giggle, freeing yourself of your chainmail and draping it over a chair. "y'know..." she trails off as you pull your leather top off. you raise an eyebrow at her.

"what?" she looks away from you, blushing. your stomach turns over, and you grin. "what!?" you ask, thrilled.

"i commissioned a concubine to... strip tease out of some knights armor for me before." she mutters. you burst into giggles, and sevika huffs.

"any particular inspiration...?"

sevika groans, then throws a pillow at you. you easily dodge it, finally shucking off your linens, leaving you only in your undergarments.

sevika finally seems satisfied, her eyes soaking in the skin she's never seen on you before. "fuck. come here." she grunts.

"i'm not naked yet." you point out. she rolls her eyes and glares at you.

"fuck off, i'll do the rest, just come here." she makes grabby hands at you, and you burst into giggles.

you've never been one to deny your princess. so now, fifty pounds lighter without your armor, you jump into bed beside her, both of you giggling as you meet in a kiss.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[riotlain]

General Descendants Dating Headcannons

making my descendants debut

Your parents aren't specified in this

i find specifying it when its unnecessary lame👎👎

THIS IS A NWLNW BLOG!! WOMEN DNI

Ben Florian

True gentleman!!

Regularly gives you gifts (usually to make up for his absence if taking place in the 2-3 movies)

Tight hugger. Like fr tight

Bad at explaining his negative emotions. Like he'd work himself into the ground and deny it so try to keep him in check

Enjoys going on dates at night or just staying in

He doesnt mind either

Spoils you regularly. Like you could fr give him a shiny rock and he'll give you a gold necklace💀

If youre from the Isle he'll help you settle into Auradon and try to make it less overwhelming

Carlos Devile

Silly guy (real)

More of an acts of service guy

On the isle yall would spend time running around together or just hanging out (probably at your house. He slept in a dressing room so😭😭)

He wasn't really mean or anything so like he whenever you guys run into trouble hes more of the flight kinda guy

In Auradon though it is different!!

If youre someone from Auradon he'll be more anxious when yall first started dating. He's not used to the Auradon customs (hes the best at getting used to them tbh)

If youre from the isle then he's a but more relaxed (though hes still scared he'll mess up since yall are dating now)

Dates are usually staying in and playing video games/watching movies or study dates

Jay

Physical affection typa guy (And also verbal i suppose)

Like he always has his arm around you or just his hands on you in general

Likes kissing your neck (usually more romantic way than anything)

If you are both from the isle yall spent most dates running around and stealing shit for his dad's shop

If youre from Auradon he def flirted when yall first met (or a bit later)

Your guys' dates in Auradon is usually just hanging out in one of yalls dorms

Alot if his time on the Isle is running around so he probably enjoys relaxing for a bit

You best wear his Jersey to his tourney games

Talks about you to others alot bc he just cant shut up about you for more than an hour🙄🙄

Harry Hook

Flirty man

Physical and acts of service kinda guy

also gift giving

Like you have atleast 2 necklaces (that he stole)

If yall are from the Isle then you are probably in Uma's crew

If you arent you still gotta get her blessing. If she dont like you, you gotta go

Live, laugh, love Uma

Yall spent most of yalls time probably workin in the restaurant or just causin a ruckus on the isle

If youre from Auradon tho he probably talked to Uma and Gil about you for a bit along with some lil flirting here and there

When yalls official he may try to change up your wardrobe (unless you already enjoy your current one) You have leather gloves tho. From him🫶🫶

You 2 spend time either around the crew, in one of yalls dorms cuddling, or around Auradon causin some mischief

He def steals nice shit for you

Gil

Absolute sweetheart

Physical affection and acts of service kinda guy

And verbal affection🫶🫶

If yall 2 met on the isle then you've probably met Uma and Harry and hang around them

They def tease Gil a bit

If from Auradon he fell for you but wasn't too confident with talking to you

Like he tried to do the whole thing Gaston does but it didnt work too well for him😭😭

Yalls dates are usually by the waters, shopping, or just hanging out inside

Study dates too i guess (he will not be paying attention)

Chad Charming

Literal shmuck (loving)

Gift giving and physical affection

Like literally let him spoil you

If youre from the Isle he will be a bit weary of you

Maybe try to flirt and be all charming

But when yall actually dating hes a softy idc

If youre from Auradon yall def date alot sooner

He'd probably ask you out like whenever youre free tbh😭😭 in a smooth way tho

Yalls dates are like picnics, staying in and cuddlin, and study dates

Please come to his Tourney games and wear his joursey🫶🫶

[ghuleh-witch]

Title: Fangs Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explict Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, blood drinking, p in v sex, unprotected sex, fingering Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x Female!Reader Characters: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia, Female!Reader Additional Tags: Dracopia, Vampire!Copia, no use of y/n, no beta, pwp Word Count: 3,238 Summary: Your best friend wanted you to come to a club with her. You agreed to go even though the club scene wasn't your thing. While your friend went off to dance, you somehow found your way into the office of the club's owner. Author's Note: This fic was inspired by the couch scene in RHRN.

Ao3 || Masterlist

You didn’t know what you were doing there. Clubs weren’t your scene, especially not goth-vampire-themed ones, but yet there you were, at the bar ordering a club soda while your best friend danced with some other girl on the dance floor. You watched the two women for a moment before you moved away from the bar to an empty spot along the wall. The red lighting and fog gave the space an eerie look as “Fangs” by Dionnysuss started to play. 

“Take me through the dark. Hide me from the light. I miss your every touch—”

The music was too loud and you couldn’t hear yourself think. You sipped your club soda and looked around the club again. Your eyes wandered upward to a balcony with privacy shades pulled down over the opening. You briefly wondered what was up there before someone bumped into you and caused you to spill your drink on your dress.

“Hey watch it,” you said. A wet spot began to bloom on the black strapless dress you wore.

“Sorry,” the man dressed in a black Victorian-inspired outfit said before he disappeared into the crowd. 

You sighed and moved along the way hoping to find the bathrooms. You slipped through a curtained partition with restroom signs above the entrance. After you dried your dress with paper towels from the bathroom, you reentered the hall to find the light dimmer and the walk to get back into the main part of the club much longer.

“The fuck is going on?” You muttered to yourself as you came up to a door. You looked behind you and the restrooms were out of sight. You knew you were still in the club. You could hear the music thumping right behind the other wall, so where exactly were you and how did you get so lost so fast? You opened the door and hoped it would lead you back onto the dance floor, but instead, it opened up into an office. That’s when you realized somehow you were in the room above the dance floor.

“Can I help you, piccolina?” 

You jumped at the voice and looked to your left. A man with mismatched eyes sat on an ornate red velvet and wood-trimmed couch. His face was painted into some sort of skull design with white and black paint. His mousy hair flecked with gray at the temples told you he was some years older than you. He lounged back on the sofa in a black frilly-trimmed shirt and jeans textured with unique stitching and sewn-on bits of fabric. He held a wine glass with very dark red liquid in his black leather gloved hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I got lost,” you explained, already trying to back out of the room. There was something about the man that just didn’t seem right to you. It was as though you honed in on ancient instincts that warned you of a predator. At the same time, curiosity got the better of you and you wanted to stay and find out who the exquisite man sat before you was. 

“Hmmm,” he responded as he sipped his drink. “You looked bored out there.” He nodded towards the screen that was pulled down over the balcony. You could see out onto the dance floor, but you knew from the floor no one could see inside.

“You were watching me?” You asked as you took a step further into the room.

“I see everything in my club,” he said. He said up and swung his legs off the couch to plant his feed on the ground. “Copia Emeritus. You may call me Copia or Papa, and you are cara?”

“Papa?” You asked curiously.

“Just a title,” Copia said. “Now, what is your name?” 

You swallowed and said your name as heat flooded your body. Now that you could see him better in the dimly lit room, you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. There was something about his eyes that bore into you and hypnotized you into approaching. You were so enthralled that you didn’t even hear the door shut behind you.

“And why did you come here tonight, piccolina?” Copia asked. He took another sip of liquid from the wine glass he held. “You’re obviously not having a good time. Why are you still here?”

“My friend wanted to come,” you told him. “She’s been going on and on about this place, so I told her I’d come with her because she didn’t want to come alone.” 

“And as soon as she saw a pretty face she forgot all about you?” Copia presumed as he leaned back on the couch with a confidence that you’ve never seen before in someone. “Come sit? No reason to continue standing there.” 

You nodded and your feet led you forward on their own accord toward the couch. You sat on the opposite end and looked towards the balcony. “You said this was your club?”

“Si,” Copia answered. “If you want to get technical it belongs to the organization I’m affiliated with, but I do run the place myself.” His eyes roamed your body. It didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, but you did feel like a deer in the headlights for a moment. “Can I get you something to drink? I noticed some idiot bumped into you and spilled your drink.”

“No, no I’m okay,” you said. “I should…” You knew you should return your friend. She would look for you once she noticed you were missing, but it was like a magnet kept you rooted in place. Your body refused to move. “I should…”

“Should what, cara?” Copia asked as he leaned closer to you. You could smell his cologne—something earthy and woody that filled your nostrils and caused you to relax. It was then you noticed what was off about him. You got a glimpse of fangs when he opened his mouth to speak. You blinked as though you’d suddenly be able to understand what you saw. 

“You seem confused,” he then said. 

“I…” You trailed off. “Sorry, I think the lighting is just messing with me.”

Copia smirked. “Sure, let’s say it’s the lighting, eh?” 

You didn’t know when he moved from his spot at the end of the couch to the spot right next to you. You had blinked and he was just there like that’s where he sat the whole time. One of his gloved hands came up to your face and gently moved a stray lock behind your ear. “You smell divine,” he rumbled. It sent tingles down your spine as his fingertips traced down your neck. He leaned in close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. “Divine and downright sinful.”

You knew you were clear-headed. You didn’t have a single drop of alcohol that evening, but nothing made sense. You didn’t understand what was happening. Yet, you still turned your head and pressed your lips to his. It satisfied the sudden urge and lust that had taken you over. 

He seemed surprised. He stilled momentarily before one hand wrapped around your waist and dragged you closer and the other cupped your cheek. “You sure you want this,” he murmured against your lips when the kiss broke for a second. “Because I’m going to do more than just kiss you if you say yes.”

“Yes,” you answered. And you did want whatever was to come. You needed to know what it would be like with him and why he was a predator and you the prey.

“Good,” he said. “Because it was going to be a shame if I couldn’t have a taste.” His lips moved down over your cheek and jawline and pressed kisses to your skin as he went. He came to your neck and brushed your hair aside. “You know what I am, si?”

“I—” You began and then things started to click together—the cup of the dark red liquid, the hint of fangs, his whole aesthetic, the theme of the damned club. “You’re a vampire,” you breathed. 

“Very good,” Copia purred in your ear. “You’re smart, piccolina .” He pressed a few kisses to your pulse point which made your breath hitch. “I’m going to have a taste now, okay?”

“Okay,” you answered. You trembled in anticipation as you felt the graze of pointed fangs on your skin. A sharp pinch and hot pain caused you to gasp, but the sensation didn’t last. You felt good; a feeling of pure bliss filled you as he drank your blood. You could feel hot rivelets of blood flow down your shoulder, back, and chest. The blood was never going to wash out of your dress, but you didn’t care. It was black and no one would notice. All you cared about was the feeling of his fangs in your neck.

Your hand rested on his chest, fingers gripped into the soft fabric of his shirt. “Fuck,” you breathed. “W-why does that feel so good?”

He chuckled against your skin before you felt his mouth pull away. He stared at you, blood on his lips and chin. “Yeah? Does it feel good, piccolina ?” He asked. A finger traced the blood that trickled down your chest and to your breasts. He smeared it against your skin. “I’m glad it does. You make it hard to control myself.” His finger began to pull down the fabric of your dress. “May I?” 

You nodded and watched as he pulled down the top of your dress enough so your breasts spilled out. His tongue was on you then, and he licked the smear of blood clean from your skin before his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples.

 “Oh fuck,” you moaned as a hand came up to card through his hair. 

“So vocal, cara, I like it,” he said. His tongue flicked over your hardened nipple as his hand palmed your other breast. “Be as loud as you want, cara , no one can hear us up here.” His hand moved from your breast and down your body. He pushed up the hem of your dress to reveal the lacey blue panties you wore underneath. His fingers brushed over your clothed center and you involuntary bucked your hips.

“Please,” you breathed. Your heart hammered against your ribs as unfeathered desire and need coursed through your veins. You felt as though you’d die if he didn’t touch you right then and there.

“Please what?” He asked. A sparkle appeared in his eyes as his lips formed a smirk. “Use your words, piccolina .” 

“Touch me, fuck me, I don’t care I just need you,” you whined. You knew how desperate and pathetic you sounded but you didn’t care. You needed to satisfy the craving for him that clawed at your insides like a rabid animal.

“How about I do both?” He proposed. He slipped down off the couch to his knees between your legs. His fingers found the elastic waistband of your panties and pulled them down your legs and around your heels. He bunched them up and stuffed them into his pocket without explanation. His hands pushed your thighs open wider. “Bellissima,” he breathed before leaning forward to capture your lips. 

You moaned into his mouth as his tongue swept through your parted lips. You could taste the faintest hints of coppery blood on his lips. Your hands rested on his chest but soon they gripped his shirt as you felt two of his fingers slip through your folds and to your clit. 

“Jesus Christ,” you swore against his lips as your hips bucked against his touch.

He hissed. “Maybe refrain from saying that name, cara. It’s blasphemous.” 

You didn’t have time to respond as he slipped a finger inside of you. You let out a moan, the leather of his gloves cool on your hot cunt. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you panted as he pumped his finger in and out of you. It curled upward just right so it hit that one spot that drove you wild. “Don’t stop,” you begged.

“I don’t plan on stopping,” Copia chuckled. He slipped a second finger into you and stretched you open with each thrust of his hand. His thumb rubbed tight circles against your clit. “You look so sweet falling apart for me,” he said as he leaned forward and licked at the bite mark on your neck. 

You choked out a whimper as the coil in your middle tightened. “Close,” you managed to say, your knuckles white against his black shirt.

“Come for me,” he said in a low rumble. “Come for me, piccolina .” 

A few more pumps of his fingers and you came hard. Your walls clenched around his digits before you went limp against the back of the sofa. You looked down at him and watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. You bit your lip at the lewd act and met his eyes. 

“You taste as decadent as your blood,” Copia purred as he repositioned you to lay back on the sofa. He got up, one knee on the couch between your legs. His erection strained against the laces of his pants, and you couldn’t help but sit up and unlace them. Your mouth found a sliver of skin between his shirt and pants. He let out a pleased hum as his hand came up to stroke your hair.

You chanced a glance up to his face to see him staring down at you. His pupils were blown wide with lust and hunger. The look made you bite back a groan as you opened the laces of his pants and pushed them down his thighs. He didn’t have on underwear under the pants, so once his pants were passed his hips, his cock sprung free. He was thick; thicker than anyone you’ve had before and you knew the stretch would be delicious. Your mouth watered at the thought as you wrapped your hand around his length and began to stroke him slowly. Your other hand fumbled to undo the buttons of his shirt.

He gently batted your hand away and began to undo the buttons himself. His head lulled back as a groan escaped his lips. “Cazzo, così buono per me (Fuck, so good for me),” he muttered as he shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. It fell forgotten to the floor.

You admired his figure—from his chest hair that tapered down his torso to his pelvis to the three sixes tattooed on his peck in a swirled pattern and to the little bit of belly he had. You pressed kisses around the soft skin of his belly button as your hand still pumped his cock slowly. 

“Keep that up, cara, and I won’t last,” he groaned before he gently pulled your hand off him. “And I want to last.” He positioned you the way he wanted on the couch so that he was between your spread legs and ready to enter you. “Do you still want this?”

“Yes,” you said as you nodded your head. “Please, I need it.” 

“And you’ll have it,” Copia said. He leaned down and kissed your lips as the tip of his cock nudged your entrance. “Breathe for me,” he said before slowly pushing into you.

You let out a hiss at the intrusion. The breath was sucked out of you. His cock stretched your walls and it caused a sting that became a pleasant burn. He took his time so you could adjust to his size, and before you knew it, he bottomed out in you with a moan.

“So fucking tight,” he gritted as he held himself above you. “Cazzo, you feel so good. Let me know when I can move.” 

“Move,” you panted desperately. “Now.”

“So demanding,” he tutted. He slowly pulled out and thrust back into you. 

He kept the pace steady—not too slow or too fast. The sound of both your breaths and moans filled the room as he leaned down to your neck.

“Need another taste,” he grunted before he bit into your neck once more. 

You cried out; the pain and the pleasure were nothing like you’d experienced. “Shit,” you moaned. “Feels so good.” 

His reply was muffled against your neck as he drank. Between him fucking into you and sucking your blood, you started to feel dizzy which only added to your pleasure. “F-fuck,” you whined as you slipped a hand between your bodies and began to touch yourself. You needed more. You needed every nerve ending in your body to be lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Sì, brava ragazza, toccati per me (Yes, good girl, touch yourself for me),” Copia groaned as his eyes went to the space between the two of you. He watched as his cock disappeared into your cunt before he buried his face in your neck and his fangs pierced your skin again.

Your head swam, but you didn’t know if it was from blood loss or bliss. As you rubbed your clit with your fingertips in time with Copia’s thrusts, you felt your core grow taut. You felt Copia release your neck and raise his head to look down at you. 

“You’re getting close,” Copia grunted as his speed picked up. He licked the blood from his lips and moaned. “I can feel it. Are you close, cara ?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

He tutted. “I want to hear you say it. Are you close for me, cara?”

“Yes,” you panted. “Fuck, I’m so close.” 

“Good girl,” he responded as he thrust hard and deep into you. “So am I. Come for me again, cara.”

His hips snapped against you and the coil snapped. Your vision whited out for a split second as your back arched off the sofa. You cried out in ecstasy. “Papa! Copia!” You whimpered as your legs shook.

“Sto per venire (I’m gonna come),” Copia grunted as his thrusts became erratic. Four hard and deep pumps later and he came inside of you. His seed flooded you and filled you. His arms shook as he lowered himself to the sofa, careful to not crush you in the process. “Cazzo, you are—you are—” He seemed to struggle to find the words.

You smiled and laughed lightly. “So are you,” you agreed.

He chuckled, fangs visible between his parted lips as he moved a lock of hair from your forehead. “Not what you expected tonight, was it?”

“No, no it wasn’t. I didn’t know what—oh shit, my friend,” you said as she sat up. “I need to go before she notices I’m missing.”

Copia backed off of you and gave you space to fix your dress and make yourself look appropriate. “I suppose I’m not getting my panties back?” She asked him.

“Hmmm not a chance,” Copia smirked. “At least not today. Maybe next time?”

“Next time? That’s awfully presumptuous of you,” you responded as your own smirk played on your lips.

“Go find your friend, cara. And when you want to see me again, all you have to do is step into this club. I’ll make sure you get to where you need to be.” 

You heard the door creak open and looked behind you. You never remembered closing it. When you looked back at Copia he was gone and the window behind a large desk was opened to the cool night air.

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (27)

***

It only takes one charge to seal the entrance. Silco wedges it against the uneven roof of the tunnel and then scurries back towards Vander. They crash into each other, kneeling, hands over their own ears and eyes squeezed shut as it explodes. It's so loud Vander can feel the noise in his ribcage, roaring through his chest. They stay like that, collapsed over each other, breathing hard behind their masks.

"How are your hands?" Silco asks, tucked in against Vander's chest.

If he's being honest, his hands are getting tender inside the gauntlets, skin aching from the metal rubbing against his palms. He's been doing his best to ignore it. "They're fine."

"Show me," Silco says, unwinding the cotton scraps he keeps wrapped around his forearm.

When Vander removes the gauntlets, his hands are red and puffy. There are blisters starting to form at the webbing of his thumb and the outside of his wrist. Not that Silco's faring much better: his fine fingers are covered in dirt and scratches even if his palms are protected by his leather gloves.

Silco wraps the cotton around each of his hands, carefully tucking the fabric as flat as he can. "You know, if you weren't working with me, you'd be safely in bed by now."

Vander snorts. "Yeah, I'd be snoring by now. Definitely wouldn't be trying to dig my way down to you."

Silco bobs his head side to side, conceding the point. "You would have got our spare gas masks, and then come down here. We'd still be in a better position than we are right now."

They should be digging, but honestly, Vander would rather sit here and hold Silco close for a while. The endless bedrock will still be waiting for them. "Do you want me to transfer back to level one?"

"I'd rather you quit the mine altogether."

"Sure, someday."

"Not someday, Vander. Now. They don't have any claim over you," Silco says urgently, "they can't keep you here. You should work until the end of the month, collect your pay and leave."

"And do what? I'm not fishing. And if you think the canning factories are safer than this mine, you've never seen someone get dragged through the equipment." Not that Vander's seen it himself, but he remembers the stories when he was a kid, men and women missing hands and arms and considering themselves lucky. "You're here. Our friends are here."

"Your friends," Silco insists mulishly. It's not a fight Vander wants to try winning tonight.

"People I care about are here," Vander says instead. "I'd rather be working than drinking too much and picking fights."

That catches Silco's attention. "What?"

"My Ma died and I was angry." Vander remembers it very clearly, that feeling of being lost and alone in the world. Having to say goodbye to the one person who was always on your side. "I didn't want to work in Piltover, I didn't want to be on a boat. I didn't want anything except to drink until I forgot. Or to pick a fight so I could be angry at someone."

Silco curls a hand around Vander's wrist, smearing dirt over the bandages there. "It's better than giving in to despair. Giving up."

"I had given up." It's not a truth Vander's ever said out loud, but does he have a better time to be honest? They might not see the morning. "I figured eventually I'd run into someone bigger and harder than me, someone who fought dirty, and it'd be done. I wouldn't have to figure out what I was supposed to do next."

The lantern flickers and dies, leaving them both in darkness.

"It's probably overheated," Silco says, but he doesn't move to check it. He keeps his grip on Vander's arm, stays curled against him. Cautiously he says, "You don't still feel like that. What changed?"

"I joined the mine. It's hard work but at the end of the day, you feel like you've achieved something. This place isn't…" Vander trails off, thinking. No matter how he phrases it, Silco's not going to agree. "This place isn't the worst option for everyone. Sometimes, it's a good choice, the best they have."

Silco is silent for so long that Vander doesn't think he'll reply at all. Then fingers slide along Vander's arm, gripping at Vander's elbow, dirty skin to dirty skin. "I could agree with that if it was a choice for everyone."

***

[friendship-ditch]

Portrait

Carol Aird x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: Carol hires you as an artist to fulfill various requests, though not all of them involve art.

Warnings/Notes: Slight non-sexual nudity? Nothing really

Word Count: 3596

  It was hard to find work as an artist. 

  You often found yourself darting from contract to contract, visiting their houses and completing their jobs, but never getting called back. It was usually rich people that hired you so you did leave with a good sum of money, but it was only enough to last you a certain time. There were a few times money was hard and you’d pick up a side job to earn a solid income but just that was torture. 

  You were an artist, unchained and unbound. Tying yourself in with the restraints of a corporate job sounded like hell. You would go insane.

  But as the winter settled in and heating bills rose, you found yourself having to take a few more unfavorable jobs as well from the usual portraits and elaborate murals. That’s how you ended up repainting the women's bathroom in Frankenburg’s, the department store. You tried to get there early and work before customers came in but the walls were in desperate need of assistance and you spent half of the time peeled off the old shitty paint.

  Nearly every woman that entered the bathroom gave the strange girl on a ladder painting the upper walls an odd look; usually one of annoyance or confusion, but they rarely ever said anything. You eventually got so used to tuning them out, that when someone did speak to you, they had to try quite a few times.

  “Excuse me?” A voice asked, quite loud.

  Startled, you looked down the ladder. If you weren’t clinging on tight, you probably would’ve fallen over.

  She was beautiful.

  Golden hair curled just above her shoulders, body wrapped in a rich fur coat and hands hidden beneath leather gloves. She was staring up at you, a polite smile on her face.

  “I’m sorry, am I in your way?” You stuttered. Of course you weren’t. There was nothing here but a wall. You cleared your throat. “Or uh… do you need something?”

  The woman chuckled. “The latter. You don’t mind if I ask you something, do you? I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

  “No, no, not at all. I need a break.” You climbed down before taking a seat on one of the lower steps. “How can I help?”

  “Do you do home work?”

  “I do anything.”

  A little smirk spread across her lips, then was forced back into that polite smile, though the twinkle in her eyes didn’t fade.

  “I can hire you, then? I promise it’s a better job than a bathroom.”

  She was beautiful and funny? Was this a dream? If she wasn’t staring at you with those intent blue eyes, you would’ve slapped yourself just to check.

  “Yes. You can hire me.” You dug around in your pocket for a business card and pulled a rumpled one out. “Sorry… I’ve been here a while. Everythings a bit messy.”

  “I don’t blame you.” The woman took the card like a treasure. “When are you available?”

  “Anytime after today.”

  “Wonderful. My husband was supposed to paint the hallway but… he’s not around to do that anymore.” The woman huffed, then blinked at the look on your face. “Oh, no, he’s not dead. We’re just divorced, that’s all. It’s for the better he’s not around… though I’m not in the best headspace to spend hours on a ladder, if you understand where I’m coming from.” 

  Seeing as you’d just been on a ladder for the past 4 or so hours, you didn’t, but you smiled anyway. 

  “Completely. Just give me a call later and tell me what you need.”

  “I will.” The woman winked and turned towards the door, then she paused. “I’m Carol. Carol Aird.”

  “Y/n.” You replied, not missing the way her lips quirked up into a grin.

  She dipped her head and then left, though you could hear her voice hang behind for a moment: “I’ll see you soon, Y/n.”

  And you did see her soon. She called you the next day and you went to her house the day afterwards. She’d already gotten the paint and everything with the intention to redo the hallway herself, but after climbing the ladder and getting hit with a wave of vertigo she swore it off.

  Now you were pulling up in front of her house. It was a nice, large stone house way out into the country of New Jersey. The maid brought you inside and you met Carol in the hallway.

  The hall had long walls and tall ceilings, the old white paint peeling off around the edges from years of clinging on. Carol had done you a favor and moved what furniture and paintings she could. You negotiated a pay and then she left you to paint. 

  While you worked, you could hear her playing and talking to her younger daughter downstairs, Rindy. The little girl was the one to come up and very shyly ask you about lunch, which Carol had just called you down to. You’d never had a client serve you lunch before, much less invite you into their dining room but Carol would have it no other way.

  “I can’t thank you enough for this, truly. You’re a saint.” Carol set the tray down on the table with your sandwich and glass of ice water. She brushed her fingers against your shoulder and then nudged the curtains aside to peer out the window. “I had been planning to hire a painter for a long time, but it kept slipping my mind. I suppose I’ve been rather busy recently.”

  “With the divorce?” The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them. You’d found an overturned family photo upstairs that had fallen from the hallway table. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

  “No, no, it’s okay.” Carol assured you with a heavy sigh. “You’re right. The divorce has taken a lot out of me, I suppose. But it’s for the better. I’m tired… but happy.”

  You nodded quietly in understanding, about to drop the topic when she looked over at you.

  “We fell out of love, Harge and I.” The wistful tone in her voice led you to believe she hadn’t talked about this to anybody in a while. “I was first… I fell in love with someone else for a time. My best friend. She and I are long over but what little Harge and I had left was broken. I don’t blame him… but in all honesty he never treated me like a wife. Just an object.” Carol trailed off as she turned to face you. “I’m sorry. You don’t care about this.”

  You shook your head and stood to join her at the window, sandwich clutched in your hand. “It’s alright. I don’t mind. I like talking.”

  “Do you…” Carol smiled faintly. “You’re a dear.”

  Her words brought a bashful smile to your face and you just chuckled.

  It was later that day, as you were finishing up the hallway, that Carol came upstairs once more. “How packed is your schedule?”

  “Honestly? Not very.”

  “Can I hire you again?” Carol looked up at the newly painted walls, admiring your work. “Rindy’s room is a bit… the colors are rather faded. Harge promised her a mural above her bed long ago but that fell through, I was thinking about maybe a light pink.”

  “I can paint a mural.” You offered.

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” You grinned and nodded, eager to do something other than plain colors. “I’m actually… Well, usually I do more commissions and stuff like that. I’ve just been doing wall paintings to pay the bills.” 

  A look of curiosity flashed through Carol’s eyes and she nodded slowly. “And your commission schedule?”

  “Still empty.”

  “Would you be able to pump something out before Christmas?”

  “Yes.” You decided not to say the ‘for you’ that nearly slipped out. “I can do that.”

  You would say anything to see that big smile spread across her face. And it wasn’t just that. The second Carol found herself naturally close enough, she pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head and ruffled your hair affectionately. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/n.”

  The next few days you completed the mural in Rindy’s room, though you spent half of the time talking with Carol about various little Christmas presents she wanted to commission for various family members and friends. Before you knew it, you were spending a lot of time there at her home with her and Rindy. You got to know the both of them pretty well, doing a few little paintings for Rindy and being a friend you learned that Carol desperately needed.

  It was one late night after a little bit of wine that Carol asked you to paint her. The two of you gathered into the study and you sat her on a stool beside some flower vases. Then you propped your easel up in front of her and began to paint. It was a bit of a struggle since the two of you kept giggling but you eventually got into the groove, at least, for a little while.

  “You moved again.” You peered above your canvas at the elegant and poised woman, noting her torso was now tilted slightly towards the left. It had previously been straight. 

  “Did I?” Carol’s voice sounded from a few feet ahead where she sat. She tried to lean back to her previous position but her hand flew to her back with a grunt. “Shit…”

  “Is everything alright?” Not liking the sound of her in pain, you abandoned your paintbrush. The portrait was coming out well enough for a sketch, it could wait. You crossed the room and stood beside her with a frown.

  Carol took a shaky breath as her hand rubbed in tense circles over her side. She furrowed her brow when you replaced the motion with your own hand but didn’t protest. “Y-yes… I’m fine. Just a little stiff, I slept on my side badly and it sinches up.”

  “You poor old lady.” You cooed softly. Carol tried to bat your hand away but you moved it further down her side, immediately finding the sore spot by the way she flinched. “I guess I should’ve decided on a pose easier for your dinosaur bones.”

  “Cruel.” Carol huffed though there was no bite in her tone. She unfurled a little beneath your gentle ministrations but not much. “Treat your elders well or I’ll be the one laughing once you get unexplainable pain.”

  You chuckled, feeling her lean against you a little more. “Alright… tell me how to treat you well, then.”

  “Don’t force me to sit like this.”

  “I didn’t force–”

  “Help me up.” Carol paused, wincing again. “...please.”

  You slipped one arm around her middle, arm reaching behind her and hooking on the other side of her waist. She carefully draped her own arm over your shoulders. The aching side of her body faced the air so as to not stretch it further.

  The second she was on her feet you caught a faint mumble of ‘bed,’ sounding from her lips and began helping her out of the study and towards the staircase. It wasn’t easy. The hallway, decorated in rich wallpaper and wooden trims seemed so long. But you didn’t really have a choice.

  “I’m sorry, Carol.” You murmured after her third muffled grunt of pain. “Let me fix this somehow, please.”

  “Don’t pity me, y/n, I’ll manage.” Carol’s nimble fingers reached for the rail of the stairs. She appreciated your help of course but to have you practically drag her up there was slightly mortifying. The wood creaked beneath her tight grip and she took a deep breath.

  “Would a bath help?”

  “You want to bathe me?” Carol didn’t mean to sound so utterly flabbergasted at the idea but the tone slipped from her tongue. She couldn’t even remember the last time Harge did such a thing, if he ever did. Though she’d never admit it outloud, the idea was attractive.

  A slight blush tinted your cheeks and you nearly dropped her down the stairs. “Well… if you want…?”

  “I’m teasing.” Carol lied, locking herself back up after a few seconds of thought. She had no reason to lay herself bare for you. Even for you, that was much too vulnerable for her tastes. “But a bath would be,” her breath hitched at a long stretch, “pleasant, yes…”

  “I’ll draw one for you.”

  The walk to the lavish bathroom was more painful than usual. You’d always dreamed of a bathroom this large and extravagant… upon finding that out, Carol often offered it to you after a long day. She let you guide her over the cold tile and took a seat by the window as you began to fill the tub. 

  “How often does this happen?” You asked, fingers swirling around in the warm water to make sure you didn’t scald the poor woman. On the other side of the room, behind the privacy wall, Carol was struggling to slip out of her clothes and into a robe. There was a thump, then a response.

  “Not often… it’s picked up ever since things with Harge went down. The doctor told me it could be a stress response.” Carol gritted her teeth, fingers aimlessly scraping over her back in an attempt to unstick the zipper on the back of her blouse. When her attempts were futile, she peeked around the corner. “Help me, please.”

  It took a little tugging but eventually the zipper came loose. The blouse practically melted off Carol’s shoulders, revealing her somehow both muscular and slim back, only obscured by her lace bra. Your fingers lingered a moment too long and Carol chuckled.

  “Unclip that too, please.” She added. You did as she asked and she turned to face you, an arm keeping the fabric over her chest. “Thank you. Is the bath ready?”

  “Yes.” You helped her over to the tub slowly. Once you reached it, you turned around so Carol could strip off the rest of her clothes in private. Her soft groan of contentment and the slosh of the water was enough of a sign for you to turn back around.

   Submerged beneath the soothing, bubbly water, Carol grinned at you through half lidded eyes. Her head lolled back against the wall and one hand hung lazily over the tub's wall. “This is divine.” She hummed. “How do you run such a wonderful bath?”

  You watched quietly as Carol lifted her hand above her head, her blue eyes studying the limb as though it was alien to her. “It’s not too hard. Just… fill the tub with water.” Carol flexed her fingers a few times as if waiting for more. When you said nothing else, she turned her head in your direction.

  “That's it? No secret bath salts or anything?”

  “No.”

  Carol burst out laughing, though the laugh was cut with a wheeze as pain flared up in her back. She sank further into the water so her nose was the only thing visible through the bubbles and giggled softly. “Strange. Perhaps you just have the touch. I’ve never felt so relaxed from a bath before.”

  You couldn’t help but chuckle at that as you sat down beside the tub. You drew circles in the suds atop the water. “That’s a new compliment, I’ve never heard that one before.”

  “Sell it with your business. Y/n: Art and Baths.”

  Both of you laughed. Your laugh turned into a yelp when a hand snaked up out of the water and grabbed yours tight.

  “What are you doing?” You shook off the sudden wave of shock, watching curiously as Carol’s fingers left soapy trails over your skin. The soft pads of her fingers brushed up and down your arm, turning it over until she was satisfied.

  “You’ve got paint here.” Carol tugged your arm closer, revealing a large splatter of green paint on your skin. Then she looked up at you, eyes taking in the multiple paint spots on your face. “You’ve got paint everywhere.”

  “That happens.”

  “Does it itch? Rindy spilled a whole container of paint on herself one evening. The poor thing cried for hours about the itch.” Carol began to scrub the paint off your arm before you even replied. Her nails dug gently at your skin, peeling the green off and watching it dissolve in the water.

  You chuckled as the touch began to tickle the closer it got to your elbow. “It doesn’t itch a lot. Sometimes it does, though.”

  “We can’t have an itchy artist.” Carol pursed her lips. Once the spot on your arm was gone, she lifted her hand and waved her fingers. “Come here.”

  When your face was in reach, she sat up a little. The bubbles just barely covered her chest, but you could care less about that. Her fingers were now gently scrubbing away at a streak of blue on your cheek. The corner of her bottom lip was bit tight between her teeth, concentration in her eyes as she worked.

  “This stuff is strong.” Carol muttered in displeasure. 

  “That’s how it lasts so long.”

  She only huffed and continued to scrub. When she noticed some paint by your ear, she flashed you the same look she probably gave Rindy when her painting incident happened, then got to work once more.

  “Is your back feeling better?” You tried to make smalltalk to ignore how close her head was to yours. You could feel her breath on your skin, droplets of water dripping down your neck from her fingers, only to meet their doom from her hand.

  “Much.” Carol murmured. “I don’t even feel it anymore. You’re a saint.”

  “Truly, all I did was fill the tub with water.”

  “Well, truly, I think it feels so good because you did it.” Carol whispered in an odd tone. When you turned to look at her, your faces gently bumped into each other.

  You pulled away in surprise but Carol didn’t. Her hand settled on your neck and she was watching you through deep eyes, contemplation clear in them. 

  “I feel drunk… is it late?” She asked.

  “It’s nearly 1 am.” You remembered the time from around half an hour ago. You didn’t want to risk looking now in case she’d tug your neck, or let go. “I think people start feeling loopy around this time.”

  “Or it’s your bath.” Carol teased, though her eyes were serious. When you didn’t break eye contact, she sat up fully and tucked her knees to her chest to hide what little of herself she could. The soap clung to her body like a blanket but you could still see the majority of it. “I think it’s the bath.”

  “It might be the bath.” You agreed breathlessly. Her hand ran up your neck to cup your cheek and you leaned into it. “I think I feel it too.”

  “That’s good.” She leaned a little closer, now directly in front of you. “I’m not scaring you, am I?” You shook your head immediately and a flirty smile broke out across her face. “Good.”

  Your eyes fell to her lips, then rose back to meet her piercing gaze. “...I think I’m going to need to paint you again.” You whispered.

  Carol was confused by the change in topic, brows furrowing. “Why’s that? Is this one not good?”

  “It’s beautiful.” You’d managed to capture her likeness almost to a T on the painting downstairs, even though it was just a sketch. “But I want one for myself.”

  Finally, you’d managed to fluster Carol. Her already pink cheeks darkened and she let out a nervous chuckle. “You artists… always so bold.”

  “I can be bolder.”

  Carol’s eyes flashed with challenge, but you didn’t get to see it before your lips met. And by the time you pulled away, it was replaced with need and adoration. Her mouth hung slightly open, her whole body flushed. “Y/n…”

  “Was that okay?” 

  “It was okay. But I’ve seen you do better.” Carol’s fingers found their way into your hair, twirling a lock around her pointer finger. “Kiss me again. I think I’ll like it a lot more.”

  You had no choice but to fulfill her request. She seemed a bit more pleased, but requested it again, and again.

  And by the time she’d finally upgraded your kiss to a ‘great’, half of your shirt was soaked from leaning over the tub. Carol ended up taking it off and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. She pulled away and glanced down at the tub.

  “Perhaps we’ll have to do this in the other bathroom.” Her voice was soft against your skin. “The tubs bigger. I’m afraid we both wouldn’t fit in this one.”

  You giggled. “That’s okay. I can wait.”

  “I can’t…” Carol huffed. “Grab my towel, will you? I think my back is feeling better.”

  That was a bit of a lie as she rose from the tub with a grunt, but ignored it. You helped her out and she dried herself off with the towel, though when you tried to leave the room, her fingers latched around her wrist.

  “Stay, won’t you?” Carol flashed you a flirty, playful look, then cleared her throat and forced her smile away, though it didn’t leave her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get dressed on my own.” She added, as if you’d need another reason to stay.

  You closed the bathroom door, made sure it was locked, then turned around as she dropped her towel.

[darlingdekarios]

hush awhile.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 1,289 content: Anakin Skywalker x f!reader, porn with plot, jealous/possessive Anakin (is he ever anything else?), teasing, smut [fingering - receiving, unprotected p in v]

despite knowing it's just part of your job as a spy, a possessive streak flares in Anakin when he watches you in action.

A soft, warm hand slid down the expanse of your back as you lay bent over on the chilled table beneath you, your breaths desperately calm in an attempt to portray some semblance of control over yourself. The trail of heat that followed his touch was soothed by the cold leather of his gloved hand immediately after, a soft chuckle falling from his lips at your obvious appreciation for his touch. The same gloved hand smoothed over the first cheek of your ass that it reached before sliding further to push your legs apart, taking in the view presented to him.

Your cunt was already glistening for him – the evidence of your approval toward the situation dripping down your thighs as your mind anticipated what kind of mood he was in tonight. Based on his dark eyes when you’d returned to the ship, he was sour toward the mission you’d completed today, and even more sour that he had to listen to it over a commlink stuffed into your ear. As a Senate Spy, you were often sent away to deal with corrupt Senators or even the trade federation, but this time you’d found yourself in a glorious party on Tatooine with one of the many crime lords planted there. Anakin Skywalker knew all-too-well what kind of beings those men were, and he knew how they treated beautiful women like you. As a singular gloved finger slid through your folds, collecting as much of your arousal as he could, he hummed in quiet approval. 

“I hope this is for me, angel,” he cooed, leaning forward to place a tender kiss to your shoulder before he dipped the same finger into you. You’d had Anakin’s fingers before – many times now – but the added thickness of the glove pulled a gasp from you. Had you been on your back, you would have been greeted with his perfect smile. “Did any of them touch you?”

“Of course they did,” you spoke honestly, knowing he’d see through any lies you’d try to present in his best interest. It was part of the job – one that he was well aware of and had been for a long time – though no matter how much time passed he would never grow to be okay with the situation. A quiet growl sounded behind you, a second finger joining the first though you’d hardly been worked up to it. “But hardly. One of the Hutts wrapped a tail around my leg, and there was a Mandalorian bounty hunter who was keen on holding my waist.”

“Maybe you’re soaked for them, then.”

“Never, Ani, only for you,” you corrected, fucking yourself back onto his fingers slightly to prove your point more-so. The content sigh that came from his lips was his sign of appreciation and understanding. To thank you for your honesty he curled the gloved fingers inside of you, eliciting the quiet moan he’d been searching for from your lips. 

As his fingers pumped into you, stretching you in preparation for the thick cock he’d undoubtedly fill you with soon, his free hand reached to work open his robe and drop his pants. Once his hardened cock was free and he’d given himself a few strokes he slid that hand to rest at the back of your neck, pushing you against the table to ensure you didn’t move. “Only me? I’m not sure I believe that. Why don’t you beg for me to prove how bad you want me?”

His fingers withdrew then, having coaxed you closer to an orgasm than you cared to admit with what little attention he’d really given you – though it was always that way with him, your adoration for the man encouraging you toward bliss far sooner than any man before him had managed. Grasping his cock again, he began to slide the velvety head through your folds, gathering enough of your nectar to wet himself on the chance you completed your task satisfactorily for him. He knew you always did just what he asked, and with enthusiasm.

“Please, I only want you – and I want you so badly. I’ll do anything you ask me to, just please,” you began, your words already breathless from his skilled fingers. How you managed to say exactly what he needed to hear after a full day of work and being on the brink of orgasm would always baffle the 20-year-old Jedi. “Please…I need you, Master Skywalker.”

You always used that name to your advantage, to push him to an impossible depth of desire, and now was no exception. Unable to keep himself from you any longer he breeched your entrance with his thick cock, groaning as his hand at the back of your neck grasped tighter to mirror the grasp your walls held on him. His gloved hand found its way to your hip, holding you tight enough to bruise as he slid inch by inch into you, closing his eyes to fully appreciate the heavenly moan that sounded from you as you welcomed him in. When he bottomed out and the head of his cock prodded at your cervix before he stilled to allow you a moment, he couldn’t help the chuckle that fell from his lips at your near scream of his name. 

“Sh, my angel…there are people in the other room,” he chastised, giving the back of your neck a tender rub as you adjusted to his length. After what he determined to be a proper adjustment period, feeling you relax beneath him he pulled his cock away from you entirely before resheething every inch into your hot cunt, groaning again at the feeling of your tight walls embracing him and the sound of his balls slapping against you. When you proved your inability to quiet yourself, he reached to pull his glove free before folding it in half, raising the leather to your face. “Open.” 

His firm instruction came, your mouth falling open with no hesitancy. He stuffed the glove inside your mouth, patting your cheek softly before placing both hands back at your hips as he began snapping his own against yours, thrusting deep into you with fervor. With each thrust into you he could feel your walls tighten around him more, melting away any of the frustration he’d allowed to build at the thought of your mission. Though his glove muffled the moans and cries he’d normally cherish, they were still present, the beautiful symphony encouraging him toward release.

One of his hands slid further down, connecting a warm finger against your clit as he rubbed expert circled, pushing you toward your own bliss. His thrusts became sloppy as your legs began to shake, proving that the end to his mission for the night was well within reach. Thanks to the makeshift gag in your mouth the only warning he received before your orgasm rushed through you, your walls tightening down around him as though your body wanted him to stay put – a request he was more than happy to fulfill. 

Your pulsating, tight cunt coaxed him to his own release, his hot cum spurting in thick ropes to paint your insides a way only he could offer you as he broke his own rule, moaning out loudly as he emptied his balls into you. He grasped your hips tighter, ensuring every drop of his seed made its way into you before he pulled out entirely. Stepping back to enjoy the sight displayed before him – your combined releases leaking from your perfect cunt and pooling on the table beneath you. 

“Next time you have a mission like that, come see me beforehand. I’m sending you in front of that scum with my cum in you from now on.”

masterlist. star wars masterlist.

[kwisatzworld]

Uccio Salucci: the good life

December 2008 by Mat Oxley

Uccio Salucci’s good life is living life with the world’s greatest motorcycle racer, handing him his helmet and gloves on the grid, topping up his energy drink in the pit, hanging out with him in Ibiza. In fact, everywhere Valentino Rossi goes, Uccio goes with him. It’s a bit like being God’s butler. There’s no doubt that Uccio lives the good life – travelling the world in first-class style with the hugely popular Rossi, who just happens to be his best mate as well as his employer. Uccio has been Rossi’s right-hand man since his earliest days on the GP trail, he’s like an extra pair of hands for the seven-time world champion. The old school friends have known each other most of their lives and are pretty much inseparable whether they’re in the paddock, partying in Ibiza or chilling out back home in Tavullia.

How old are you? I’m 29, same as Valentino.

How did you get here? We have been dear friends since we were four or five years old. We used to go to school together and after school we used to go minimoto racing together. Of course, Valentino was always faster. When he started travelling around and doing well in GPs he needed someone he could really trust to be with him, as all racers do. Valentino asked me to be his ‘main of faith’ and I said yes.

What do you do? My real job is to drive the motorhome to all the European races. I am also Valentino’s assistant, so he calls me bad names when things go badly and when things go well we share the happiness. I look after everything for him, all his kit, his leathers, helmets, gloves and boots, anything he hasn’t got time to do, I do.

What is the highlight of your job? Travelling, seeing new things, learning new cultures and, of course, being with an amazing character like Valentino. He’s a lot of fun to be with, in and out of the paddock. Of course, we do argue, we argue a lot, like women! The best moment of our time together was South Africa 2004, his first win with Yamaha.

What makes you tick? The engine of my job is wanting to win the race on Sunday, this is my main motivation, just like Valentino’s. You cannot do this job if you’re not hungry for victory.

Is it the easy life? It’s easy and it’s difficult. For sure it’s easier than a proper job, I don’t consider this to be a real job. It’s difficult to be with Valentino because he’s very famous, so he gets a lot of criticism, so you always have to stay calm about this kind of thing. But you get used to the lifestyle, it’s not a crazy life but an emotional life.

What’s your best-ever trip? I always enjoy driving the motorhome on long journeys, like to Jerez in southern Spain. The motorhome is always very crowded, there’s always four or five of us from Tavullia, with me doing all the driving.

What’s the best bike you’ve ever ridden? The Yamaha 990cc M1! I rode it twice in 2006, first at Monza, then at Valencia. Valentino let a few of us ride his bike. It was fantastic, the power and the braking were incredible, and the handling was so light and easy, like a bicycle. But I didn’t go very fast. For sure if I crash, I die!

What’s the secret of the good life? The secret of the good life in the paddock is to take everything lightly, not to take it too seriously. There’s a lot of pressures and if you focus too much on the pressures you don’t have a good time.

What would you swap about your good life? I don’t like it when Valentino gets criticised. The paddock is like a barber’s shop, everyone talks a lot, there’s a lot of bullshit, I don’t like that aspect of this world.

How often do you ride? I have an XT660 Supermotard, I go to the seaside from Tavullia. In the summer I never drive a car. Maybe I’m a little crazy on the street, especially on roundabouts: foot down, wheelies. But please don’t write that.

Who else has the good life? Rock stars!

You and Valentino like a party don’t you? Yes, of course, we love parties, but we’re getting older so we don’t party as much as we used to. We like to be with friends, eat a pizza…

So no more DC10? [A legendary Ibiza pill-popping club] We don’t like it anymore, the people are different now, Ibiza has changed.

What’s the best party you’ve been to? DC10 in 2000, before Vale bought a house in Ibiza. That was crazy!

What about girls? Some people think I’m a filter for Valentino’s girls but I’m not, maybe it would be nice. The problem of being with Valentino is that when a nice girl comes to meet us, she soon goes off with Valentino. He’s better looking, thinner, richer… and faster too.

Was the good life better in 1997 or is it better now? Those early days in GPs were unforgettable, the world championship was a dream come true for us but it was kind of like a game back then. We used to play, we were more natural in the way we carried on. Then we got older, racing got more serious and now it’s becoming more like a normal job.

What happens away from races? I’m with Valentino wherever he goes, like two normal friends, well, maybe not normal friends, but we are very good friends who get along well in all kind of circumstances.

And what good life after this good life? Recently I’ve started thinking about this but at the moment I have no idea. I will worry about this problem when I have to worry about it…

[diejager]

wdyt of the idea of high society victorian cod characters cus i saw one glimpse of the idea and thought hmmm occult ghost and im praying we get it

I can’t believe I went google searching for this Drabble XD

PS. I wrote this before seeing @justadeadreaper ‘s AU!

The Past Cw: SLIGHT DARK, DUB-CON, spiritualism, occult, sex magic, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, oral sex, tell me if I missed any.

You’d heard from other women that the dark and mystery-shrouded man was one of the best spiritualists in England —if not the only man practicing the dark arts. You were warned through loose lips and gossiping whispered that he was a giant for your time, dressed in the finest silks a man could buy for himself and portrayed an aura of pride and excellence, holding an air of finesse and savagery in every words he spoke. You had your own expectations before you met him, fingers trembling as you wrote your letter, a grieving tear rolling down your powdered cheek.

You waited with bated breath and tense shoulders for his reply, and when a letter arrived, the little skull wax seal playing a part to your excitement, you ripped in open and settled in your desk in an unladylike manner. For a man you didn’t know, you couldn’t help but admire his calligraphy, the hand which he used to write was skilfully gentle, his words curled with a gracefulness you envied. In the black lettering, he gave you a date and location, touched by your plight, he invited you to his house in an unknown part of Manchester.

You rode out a few days early to meet him, being aware that he’d extended his invitation to a week long stay after your second exchange. He expressed his solemnity and sympathy towards you, promising that he’d be able to help you and you couldn’t be any happier to be able to let the past rest.

But your expectations of him fell the moment he greeted you at the wide mahogany doors of his house, he was broad and talks, a giant dressed in black. The cuffs and collar of his long coat were woven with silver roses and vines, gracing pant-clad thighs, thick and strong as a tree’s tough bark. He wore leather gloves - black as the rest of his attire - and a gem-clipped cravat stuffed under his black waist coat, buttons holding it to his sculpted chest and a flared end with silver intricacies, silver flowers and plants sown into the fabric. He was dressed beautifully, like a phantom of the opera, but when you gazed up, his dark eyes stared back, skin painted black and face hidden with a mask, a smooth skull stitched into the fabric of his cover.

He was a masterpiece in dark garments, handsome and mysterious when he ushered you in, the rumble of his voice making your body tingle, warmth filling your abdomen. He was a quiet man, eyes expressing more than words could, he had a gentle silence to him with tender and guiding hands, herding you to his seance room —or so you thought. There weren’t any tables, only plush cushions and soft-padded chairs in the dimly lit room, shadows dancing on the dark walls when he laid you down, coaxing you to relax under his care.

“I need you to relax,” he whispered, pressing his covered mouth you your forehead, brushing your locks off your sweaty skin, “do you trust me, love?”

You felt light-headed, mind dazed with the warmth and comfort he provided you, you choked down a sob, your voice dying in your throat. So you gave him a small nod, shuddering when his hands grazed up your hips to cradle your cheek, brushing away your stray tear.

“Good, close your eyes for me, yeah?”

Darkness embraced you with soothing calmness as he cradled you in his arms, feeling you up until his hands slipped under your petticoat, his calloused - when had he taken his gloves off? - fingers hooking the band of your lacy underwear. He spread your legs, hanging them over his wide shoulders, his hot breath hitting your sensitive mound. You flinched when he pressed his lips to your covered slit, burying his nose in your thick bush as he drew a calming pattern on your inner thighs.

The fire brewing in your core boiled, strong and coming forth in giant waves. It was unknown, a strange sensation that rocked you whole. He dragged his tongue up your wet hole, circling your blinking cunt and to your twitching clit, lifting the hood to have better access to your sensitive nerve. You shuddered and jerked with every touch, little mewls and whimpers slipping past your painted lips and graced his ears with your pretty sounds.

His tongue was skilled, nimble as he dove into you, pumping your tight cunt with his hot muscle, slurping up your slick and rolling your virgin clit with his thumb, rough and calloused, yet gentle with you. You squirmed and murmured incoherent words, something about it feeling weird, about your body burning and your mind lost to it, but he only coaxed you further, praising you for being so good and compliant for him.

“Good girl, telling me how good you feel,” he panted, diving back into your gummy walls, tongue brushing your softness before he replaced them with his strong and thick finger, plunging into you and hitting your sweet spot, “M name’s Ghost, love. Scream my name, yeah?”

His soft praises and talented fingers had you tipping over, the fire spilling over the edge with a blinding light. You cried out his name - is moniker - with mewls and gasps, arching beneath him and wrapped your legs tightly around his head as you came, gushing around his fingers. He slowly pumped his fingers, tongue lapping and drinking up your slick, gorging on your drooling cunt as if it were the sacred waters of the fountain of youth.

He left you limp and numb, lashes fluttering, peering at him with tired eyes, bathing in the adoring eyes of the spiritualist that made you come with his mouth and fingers alone —something new to you, a stranger in your heart and throbbing core. With his mask pulled over his tongue, mouth and chin still wet with your slick, he mumbled to you, tender words coaxing you to sit up for him.

“Reckon we get started, love?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx

[chimivx]

home;run -> fem!reader x mlb!mingyu, mlb!vernon, mlb!dk

College didn't work out, so you're stuck with the next best thing. Living with your superstar brother, traveling with his championship winning team, haunted by your past and heavily influenced by your present.

wc; {part seven} 3.6k warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; peese n lurv. <3

Cheers could be heard down every street in Iloa, the Lions stadium alive, living, breathing, exploding full of love and support, every voice showering down onto the field of ten or so men stretching, throwing around baseballs, or sprinting across the grass.

In the bullpen, the smack of DK’s hundred mile per hour baseball hitting the leather of Woozi’s glove echoed against the walls and carried up to the kids in their matching jerseys dangling their heads over the railings to watch them, calling down for them to throw a baseball up into the stands. Standing on the sidelines, coaches, other starting and backup pitchers, they’d grab whichever ball DK discarded and tossed it up to the boys and girls, watching their faces light up with joy.

A sweet smell lingered in the air, one mixing with that of the savoriness of the comfort foods the boys on the team indulged in after a victory, one they hoped would happen today. Pretzels, soft chewy cinnamon bites, ice cream stands around every turn, every corner of the stadium. Women and men wandered about with bright red shirts on, carrying bins of ice cold drinks, beers, and water bottles, their voices booming through and over the crowds eager to get their buzz on. Fans waiting in line at the stores, full of Lions merchandise, were calling them over, swiping their cards without checking the price, and chugging the can as best as they could before they were allowed to walk through the door. An excellent ploy, get them tipsy and they won’t care what they’re picking up off the shelves.

Bouncing in your black boots, skinny jeans on your legs and a silky custom Lions bomber jacket on top of a bodysuit, you held a water bottle in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other. Grooving to the music radiating the walls of the stadium, a pop beat from a music group that prided themselves on being the biggest fans of your brother, the cutest group of seven talented boys the Lions were now partners with, you pulled on the elbow linked with yours, accidentally rocking them with you. Sunglasses low on your nose, you turned and smiled. Latched to you tight, elbows locked, Ryujin licked her ice cream and raised a brow.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said, letting you rock her to your heart's content as the two of you strolled through the first floor pavilion. “Is this that group DK likes?” 

“The group that DK is friends with?” Correcting her, she smiled and rolled her eyes. “We had a few of them over in the off season while I was home with him, they’re cool.”

Ryujin dodged a man barreling toward the seats carrying one of his kids in his arms while the other ran behind him. “Jesus,” she muttered. “This place is crazier than last season.” Catching the drips of ice cream down the side of your cone with your tongue, you winked to a group of girls around your age staring at you and Ryujin and gave them a wave as you passed by them.

“They need them to win,” you said.

“They need to use manners,” she countered, giving you a look.

Shaking your head, waving to some other people who actually called out your name and greeted you properly, you said, “Then we need them to win. You don’t wanna see these people when they lose.”

Ryujin, having been on guard for your sake since she arrived three days ago, gave the people a stare, not caring what they thought of her. She overanalyzed them all. Back in February, a little over a month ago, when the Mingyu story broke the internet, your name was drug through the mud. You weren’t so innocent either, though you were, you knew what you did, what had happened, but to the media you were a drunken mess homie hopper. 

The photos of Vernon safely placing you into his passenger seat couldn’t even compare to the photos of Mingyu and Daya, taken from far away, not up close like people would do to you when you were dating him. That thought alone disgusted you, that you weren’t worthy of certain boundaries like Daya apparently was, that you could have cameras shoved in your face while you were kissing your boyfriend in a public space, but there she was, on his lap, tongue in his cheek, and the photos and videos were grainy as fuck. 

He couldn’t defend himself. It took about twenty four hours for you to be able to face him, even at the training games they had played the following day you ignored him, sat in the stands with your sunglasses on, arms folded, legs crossed, only cheering and clapping when ‘Now batting, first basemen, Chwe Hansol’ was announced through the stadium. Simply to piss him off, of course. Videos of that hit the internet to no one's surprise, everyone was way too involved in the scandal that almost took down Vernon’s name as well.

The two of you spoke that night, the day after the story nearly imploded your lives, with DK and Vernon on standby, the two waiting in the hallway outside of your hotel room to Mingyu’s demise. Your precious, golden hunk of a boyfriend couldn’t say two words to come back from what he’d done. With grace, somehow, he listened to your telling of how the night went, how he’d acted in front of your brother, and what he’d said to Vernon.

His only reasoning, that wasn’t an excuse to how he ended up with Daya on top of him, was that she came onto him. Loosely believing it, that he didn’t realize what she’d been doing, you let him go with a hug and his thousands of soft apologies for everything he’d been putting you through without realizing. 

That was the Mingyu you used to know, before the money, before the fame got to his head, before he was one of the stars on the team, a huge name in baseball. The nice Mingyu, the one who’d catch onto the things your parents would say and give you a silly look with a roll of his eyes, the Mingyu who once upon time said he wanted to take care of you one day, wanted to give you a life you deserved. 

But, he was all talk. A hug, whispers of I’m sorry, it was as simple as that.

All the mentions of realization seemed to withstand the pressure of the media cracking down on him in interviews, the way people would run into him on the street and bombard him with questions of you, of Vernon, of the scandal, of what he’d done. Every single time he would own up to it. Left within him, though you broke his heart, wouldn’t forgive him, told him that you two did not work together, was the care he held for you. The love he said he had, which out of everything, was the one thing you wholeheartedly believed in.

Protecting your name, defending you, speaking about you with a softness in his eyes only when asked, he at least kept one of his promises. Giving you a life you deserved, a safe one. He gave you your space, he didn’t try to come back, he didn’t fight to hold onto anything, he respected what you had to say, what you wanted, which would’ve driven you mad if Vernon weren’t standing in the hallway, if you didn’t have history clinging to him, love for him. A boy that podcasts and drama influencers alike were calling stupid for involving himself with you, for getting between you and Mingyu, that if you two were to get together after this it’d be a shorter relationship than the one you’ve just come out of.

All the more reason for Mingyu to come out and admit to what he’d done, which in turn, destroyed Daya and Hoshi’s marriage.

Desperately clinging to whatever she possibly could, sloppily throwing stories together, making absolute dogshit up about you, about Mingyu, about your brother, she scrambled miserably to hold onto her husband and the beautiful, wonderful life he’d given her. 

You and Hoshi spent some time together in the days following the break up, bonding in a way you’d never expect. Across dinner tables after days of baseball, he’d sip his beer and tell you story after story about what a witch his soon-to-be ex-wife was. He never meant to marry her, which didn’t make him out to be partner of the year, but when they found out she was pregnant with their daughter he put a ring on her finger and owned up to the new life he was bound to live.

He wasn’t looking for an excuse to divorce her, to escape her, to get rid of her, but he wouldn’t say he wasn’t grateful that this ended up happening. As for his daughter, he wouldn’t give her up for the world, when he spoke on Daya their daughter never came up. It was all her, his now ex-wife, or in the process of becoming ex-wife. He’d always shower Tora with love, would show up for her, and give her the world whether he was with her mother or not. And that’s who Daya became to him, the mother of his daughter, nothing more.

She was the curse of last season after all, the fans had no problem discarding her after Hoshi made the one and only public post to announce his divorce.

In doing so, combined with Mingyu’s unspoken compliance, Hoshi aided in the repairing of your name, of Vernon’s name, and within weeks things started to turn around.

“I don’t like the way some of these people are looking at you,” Ryujin said, holding onto you a little tighter each time someone's eyes spent more than two seconds on you. 

Tugging her out of the way of a family staring at their phones then pointing to the signs above their heads, confused as to where they were going, you yanked her toward the row of stairs leading to the first base line. “Most are fine,” you assured her, pausing at the top of the steps. The man working the row gave you a smile and a nod. “How are you?” Returning the smile, you watched his cheeks blush.

“Fine, Miss Isla, and you?” he asked with another nod of his head.

Looking at Ryujin, then back at him, you nodded as well. “Fantastic. There’s three more behind us, they should-”

“ISLA!”

The high pitched scratchy scream struck your heart. Eyes wide, head snapping to look down at your seats in the first row, you couldn’t help the obnoxious screech that came out of you involuntarily, simply triggered by a glimpse of their beautiful faces. Ryujin slipped her elbow out of yours, accepted the ice cream cone you slapped into her hand, and let you go, discarding the sweets before leisurely following you down the stairs, not running like you were. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed, skipping a few steps at a time, “Oh my god!” Heads were turned from the seats slowly filling the sections, you and your sisters shrieks gathering attention like clockwork. Even if you weren’t actively causing a scene, when the five of you were together people paid attention. 

Jumping off the last step into the row, you didn’t even have a second to look at any of them, to mess with the adorable outfits they’d thrown together, you were in their arms and their arms were around you, squeezing you, the four of you lost in whispers and Tori’s teary eyes. When Ryujin made it down the steps she wiggled herself into the middle, her hands grabbing onto three different parts of two different girls.

Aurora, Tori, Yuna, Ryujin, they were here. Once you found out they were coming to opening day you upgraded their tickets, you grouped them in with yourself and made sure they’d be down here on the field with you. It’d been months, and after the last few weeks, you needed your sisters. Partially the reason why Ryujin came days earlier after she’d gotten clearance from a few of her classes. Like DK promised, she stayed in his house with you, she hung out with your brother and actually got to know him for him and not the almighty baseball superstar he was made out to be.

She liked him as your brother more, and DK took to her in the same way. Within three days it felt like you were trapped with a big sister as well as a big brother with how they both ganged up on you, teaming together to tease you like big siblings should while whipping you into shape at the same time. The other three were set to come back to the house with you tonight, staying for the length of the three game series the Lions were opening their season with, and you couldn’t wait for them to spend time with the brother you spent so much time telling them about at Nasara.

“Tor,” you whined first as the group hug dispersed, reaching for her bronzed cheeks glowing in the March sun. Her glossy pout worsened, making you giggle, forcing your thumbs to her bottom lashes to keep her makeup in place. Tori came close to Ryujin in your heart, another trustworthy sister to share some secrets with, to open up to, she matched your try anything once energy, your party loving twin.

Grabbing your wrists, her red nails brushing your skin, she shook her head. “It is so good to see you, Isla,” she said, her voice quiet, half broken. “You have no idea what the hell we went through after you left, what we thought happened to you, it was so scary.”

A smile pricked your lips. “Ryujin throwing a sneaker at Yeji’s head?” Giggles sounded around you. “I heard all about it.” Wiping her eyes, you took her hands in yours and squeezed them, giving Aurora a glance. “I heard about everything.”

“How did you know?” Aurora asked, her observant eyes intriguing your own, the girl always on some mission to know. “You said something to me, do you remember?” Truthfully, no, you did not, and you weren’t at a point yet where you had the balls to admit it. Aurora seemed to catch on quick. “Before any of us knew anything… Caught onto anything, which, we didn’t, you knew.”

“And it cost you,” Yuna chimed in, laying a hand on your shoulder. Giving her and her chocolate curls a smile, you shrugged.

“I’ll be honest,” you whispered. “I thought it was obvious.” The laughter that broke out warmed your heart, thank god.

“Let’s not get stuck on this right now,” Ryujin pulled you out the girl's hands and moved you in front of a seat that looked straight out to first base. “We have a game to watch, we can talk about this later.”

Shuffling around the chairs, deciding who was going to sit where around you, an insane amount of questions were thrown your way, every single one involving Vernon.

“Are you guys dating?” Yuna asked from beside you on your right.

“Were you guys dating before? At Nasara?” Tori asked from your left.

Aurora poked her head forward. “Just so everyone knows, he told me about her first!”

“Shut up, let her speak,” Tori elbowed her leather jacket that so obviously belonged to Wooyoung. 

Ryujin threw her hands up, her eyebrows furrowed, the crease in her forehead deep. “I knew the whole time?!”

“Shut up, let her speak,” Aurora said to her, the two breaking out into giggles, throwing playful hands at each other. 

Tori rolled her eyes, her fluffy lashes fluttering as she looked between you and Yuna. “These two, I swear they’re on each other more than anything I’ve ever seen.”

Perking a brow, a smirk lighting up your lips, you leaned forward to witness them swatting at each other's hands, giggling like little kids. Yeah, you knew that one. “Ror,” you caught her attention, and Ryujin’s, “You and Wooyoung? Finally?”

She blinked, many times. Tori took her bottom lip between her teeth, her face going blank. “I mean,” she started, shrugging, gaze flickering out onto the empty field. “Something like that.” Confusion filled your face and she smiled, a breathy laugh escaping her. “We’re not putting pressure on anything,” she clarified. “So many big things have happened this year, we just want to… Be.”

You knew that one.

Letting her know you understood her with a smile, you shifted to Tori who just finished taking a deep breath, her eyes fixed forward. “What about you?” you asked her, letting the other two go back to giggling with one another. Yuna listened in to them, paying no mind to the quiet way Tori spoke back to you.

“What do you mean?” she questioned within a whisper.

“You know what I mean,” you laughed, “How’s Mingi? Mr Loverman? I miss seeing you guys be you,” you nudged her arm, “Your relationship is my favorite, I yearn to have what you two have.”

“Yearn?” She smirked.

“I know words, Tor,” you said, sitting up straight. Gesturing to yourself, you said, “Haven’t drank in two weeks, I’m remembering words I used to know when I was good at school, I’m tryna use them all, one word a day.”

Her eyes began to shine. “Two weeks,” she whispered. You nodded, feeling proud, keeping your anxiety locked away for the time being. “Isla, that’s great.”

“Thanks,” you sighed, accepting her hand she offered you. “It’s hard.”

“But you’re doing it,” she smiled.

“Longest streak yet,” you whispered, and she squeezed your fingers. “This doesn’t get you out of the Mingi question.”

Her face fell. “Damn it.”

“Don’t tell me you guys broke up?” you asked, and she turned toward you, flustered, her cheeks flushing of color.

“No, no, no,” she whispered as fast as humanly possible, “Not that, we didn’t break up, it’s just…”

“Soul said that!” Aurora’s cackle cut her off, Ryujin and Yuna laughing with her.

Closing her eyes, Tori took a breath before looking at you. “I don’t know how to describe it. It sounds horrible in my head, I don’t think I can say it out loud, if I try I either look like a jealous bitch or a shitty girlfriend.”

Placing your other hand on top of the one you were already holding, you smiled something soft. “It’s okay,” you said. “Thoughts are one thing, actions are another.”

Tori frowned. “I love him, you know I do.”

“Tor, we all know that.”

She glanced away, collecting her thoughts. The booming voice of the sportscaster sounded over the speakers and the now full stands erupted into cheers. “We’ll talk later,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face as the Lions were called out onto the field, every person in the stadium leaping to their feet.

Adrenaline shot down your spine, your anxiety pushed aside by the excitement that buzzed within your heart. DK, the first to run out onto the field, shot a hand in the air, waving as the music blasted for their arrival, guiding them to their places on the field. Player after player, they ran out, hands in the air, greeting their fans, searching for their family in the stands, saying hello to cameras pointed their way. The field flooded with love from both players and fans.

Number seven hit the field, cleats in the grass, and your heart skipped a beat. This was it, the first game of the rest of his life. Brown curls popped out beneath his hat, curls you had your fingers in last night from the passenger seat of his car after Ryujin slammed her door shut and hurried up to your brother's house, Vernon dropping the two of you off after a shared dinner amongst friends. He took a second, pausing as the crowd went wild for him and his teammates. Tipping his chin backward, chocolate eyes wide, an absolute look of awe, he turned in a slow circle, attempting to look at every single person, until he found you.

The world went quiet around you, though everyone and your sisters still cheered with every ounce of power within them. A smile lit up his face, one he wouldn’t normally wear so publicly, too much emotion for people who didn’t know him. Watching him wear it now, taking in all the love the fans threw his way, you swore you could cry. 

He was meant to go to first base, everyone was taking their places on the field, the other team was on their way out, but once he found you he was stuck. Glued to you. Drawn to you. He couldn’t even say hi to your friends, his friends, he hurried over and grabbed onto the net separating the two of you, beckoning you closer. Stepping up to the ledge, grabbing onto his fingers that poked through the net, you smiled.

“Girlfriend,” he whispered, pressing his nose to the scratchy yarn.

Leaning into him, doing the same, your noses brushing, you whispered, “Boyfriend,” with a giggle.

“This is fucking crazy,” he said. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I’m so happy you’re here,” you said. “You made it.”

“Fuck,” he gasped.

“Remember to breathe,” you whispered. “You can do this.”

Sucking down a breath, he released it all too fast, whispering, “I love you,” before pressing his lips to yours, unafraid to let everyone in the stadium in on the secret you two have been keeping for two weeks now. A secret that you’d try to keep, that both of you wanted to keep, for yourselves, and yourselves only.

Though you knew, after this, #visla would be trending faster than anything.

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.