#but never responds when i fucking need her to

[whowrotethenote]

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Summary: What starts off as a regular Spring Break attending Wrestlemania for Alana, takes an unexpected turn, landing her in a fantasy come to life. The Tribal Chief is in need of unwinding after his victory and he chose her.

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC

Warnings: NSFW // Smut // Age gap // Profanity // Adultery

Word count: 8.9k (sorry lol)

Inspo: Biggest Fan by Chris Brown

A/N: This took way longer than it should've, but I'm actually proud of myself for finishing. Y'all don't know how many times I've started writing something in the past and never finish. There's drafts of unfinished everything on my laptop.

This is my first time posting my writing on any platform. I hope y'all like it. I tried to proofread as much as I can, but I'm honestly tired of reading it lol. I feel like I'm going to realize its shit and delete it all.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any media posted. Credit to their respective owners.

I do not consent to any portion of my writing to be reproduced or used in any manner without expressed written permission of myself, with the exception for the use of brief quotations.

This story is completely fictional. With the exception of OCs, I do not own any characters in this story. The pictures posted are for the intention of face claims and imaginative purposes. The ideas, stories, scenarios, and characters you are about to read about are a mixture of my imagination, and inspiration from real life whether it be loosely based on people I know or public figures. By no means should you take anything a character thinks, says, or does, as my way of expressing my own interpersonal beliefs and thoughts. The characters are themselves and I am me. Two completely separate entities. I am not trying to promote any lifestyle, ideas, or agendas throughout the book. I am simply telling a story. If you cannot grasp that concept, do not read any further.

“I wonder if the Usos will come out.”

“Yeah, probably,” I respond to my roommate Demi, only half as concerned as she is. The Usos are the last thing on my mind. They’re her choice of poison. I’m here for one man and one man only.

I survey the crowd of strangers surrounding us. All in Bloodline gear waiting for the same thing. The Main Event. They all probably spent a fortune months ago just to be in the very same spot she and I stole tickets for.

It wasn’t on purpose. We originally had nosebleeds. We were lucky to even have those, seeing as we snagged them just days ago. The frail older man outside the doors waving a chunk of tickets in his hand, was an angel in disguise. He waved and waved until two tickets went flying into the thick crowd of people all pushing to just get into the main doors of the building. 

Demi and I searched on hands and feet for those tickets that no one else seemed to be looking for. Imagine our disbelief seeing them all dirtied and stepped on by the door and they read floor seats. Not just any floor seats. The ones located directly next to the entrance ramp with a clear shot of the ring. Fucking jackpot.

don’t be acting all fanned out when he walks by either

I smirk reading the text my brother sent. Yeah, right. Maybe three years ago, a young Alana would’ve woke up tomorrow morning with no voice from losing my shit, watching the Roman Reigns walk by me. But it's not five years ago. I’m not a teenager in my room waiting at the TV with my golden glove on, throwing my one’s up and giving an acknowledgment he couldn’t even see. 

Who am I fooling? That teenage girl, although buried deep, still lives within me. Otherwise I wouldn’t even be here. I wouldn’t have spent the two thousand my dad gave me to enjoy my spring break on a plane ticket to LA, a hotel and tickets to Wrestle-mania 39. I’d be like the rest of the Juniors at my university. Bar hopping in Mexico or in Miami half naked strutting down Collins Ave.

I go back and forth between scrolling on my phone, daydreaming, and loosely watching the matches that come. Before I know it, the moment I’ve been waiting for all night and damn near all my life rises to the forefront.

The lights dim and the first beats of the drums ring loud throughout the stadium, matching the acceleration of my heartbeat. This is really happening. He’s about to come out and walk right past me. Everyone around me pulls their phones out on the ready, accompanied by a roar of screams just as loud as the orchestra performing his music. 

Too concentred on the entry way anticipating his figure, I forget I even have a phone. No, I need to feel this thoroughly. No middle man between me and this unforgettable experience.

We all wait in collaborative angst until his tall figure emerges and my breath gets caught in my throat. The aura and the energy he carries is all consuming, demanding the attention of every person present, even his haters. Solo and Paul flank behind him following his slow and steady pace until he comes to a hard stop. 

The cameraman is dangerously close as he kneels to catch him from an angle down below. This is so surreal. On cue his pyro lights fire, upping the excitement from the crowd if even possible. Everyone is already losing their minds. Even Demi’s screams threatened to take out my right eardrum despite her main infatuation resting with the Usos.

His mesmerizing eyes scan the crowd with a slight nod of approval and then they land on…me? Time stills and I can’t hear the noise around me. Was he staring at me? 

As much as I want to look around for confirmation that his eyes are indeed locked on me, I’m hypnotized. The slight scrunch of his brows and his dark pupils paralyze me in place. Jesus, Lana. Move. Smile. Wave. Shit, do something.

He’s fucking beautiful. Carved from stone. Kissed by the sun. Hair wet and hanging. Ula Fala draping perfectly around his neck. Full beard with a hint of greying. And his chest. God, his chest. His abs rippled perfectly. I’m scared to even blink, at the risk that I’ll miss something.

A thick pink tongue slithers out over his lips and I heat up from the inside out. My god.

In a flash he looks onward to the ring on the move again and the world returns to its original state. 

I turn to face Demi whose eyes are wide like a saucer. “Biiiitch,” she drags out and we break into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, so I’m not bugging?” My brows dent. 

“No. No, I saw it too,” she assures me. “That man was definitely eye fucking you.” My face heats replaying the scene back in my head. “That was so surreal. He’s so much bigger in person…” Her voice trails off once I get lost in my thoughts watching him hold his titles up in the center of the ring. He moves like a king. Like everywhere he goes he expects everyone to bow gracefully and fall at his feet. It makes him even more attractive than just what the eyes can reach. Fuck me. This is going to be a long night.

Demi got her wish. The Usos came out but their stunt didn’t last too long due to an appearance from Sami and Kevin. Somehow, Roman still took home the win. Still the champion. Still on top. Still the man.

The whole match, I could only half way focus on him and his god-like figure moving about in the ring. The other half of me was still stuck in the moment we shared during his entrance. Was he really staring at me?

Call me delusional, but I swear he looked at me two more times. Once during the match, when he kicked out at the last second of Cody’s pin. He struggled to his knees and rested back on his heels to scan the crowd. He stumbled to his feet, but not before those eyes bore a hole into mine for a quick second. Then again, when he won. He held up his titles, chest heaving up and down, then he looked my way with a squint.

“I can’t believe he still won,” Demi practically has to yell as we ease our way through the crowd to leave. “I was sure it was game over when Sami gave him the boot.”

Simultaneously we push through the back entrance doors and let them slam behind us. The slightly chilly night air of April hitting. No more screams. No more crowds. But the rush and aura of the night still lingers on us.

“My man doesn’t take L’s,” I tell her matter-of-factly with my chin up.

“I see,” she laughs.

We were smart. We took an Uber and told him to let us out from almost three blocks away. We follow that same pattern now to avoid the rush and traffic of everybody trying to leave at once. Towards the opposite way of the parking lot, away from the crowds, we start our journey to a quiet block to call the Uber. 

“Wanna hit it?” Demi extends her hand that holds a lit blunt in between her fingers. I shake my head.

“How the hell did you even get that thing in?”

“Tampon,” she informs before pulling from it. Of course. She’s been sneaking weed into parties that way since we were freshmen.

“Excuse me! Ladies!” An authoritative calls from behind causing us both to stop in our tracks. I know that voice. “Excuse me!”

Demi and I lock eyes and at once we do a complete one-eighty to find him practically chasing us down.

“What the fuck?” I hear Demi murmur before he stops in front of us winded.

“Ladies,” he offers one firm nod. “My name is—’’

“Paul Heyman,” we finish for him in unison. 

A smug smile adorns his chubby face. “That’s right.” He holds a hand out and we both just stare at it for a while. After several seconds of an awkward and shocking silence, Demi abruptly shakes his hand and I follow her lead, still trying to make sense of this moment.

“I’ve been sent to relay a message. The Tribal Chief has requested your services for tonight.”

“Services?” The line between Demi’s thoughts and what comes out of her mouth has always been very blurred.

“Yes,” he confirms. In unison we turn just our heads to each other with equal expressions of confusion and disbelief. “You see, The Tribal Chief likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road from time to time.”

“Company, huh?” I catch Demi’s smirk.

“Especially on nights like tonight. You know?” I raise a brow. “All the adrenaline, excitement, and energy from tonight’s match. It's good for him to uh… blow off some steam and unwind.”

I lose count of how many times Demi and I have to exchange looks tonight. Since I’ve met her we’ve always spoke a nonverbal language only we understand. A subtle head nod in the direction of a cute boy in the room, an eye roll when somebody says something problematic, or wide eyes when someone spills tea that we know we’ll have to debrief about later. Tonight, our eyes dance in a mutual agreement that can’t be any clearer. “Hell yeah,” I speak for the first time. 

Demi tosses the lit blunt and we both advance to follow him. “Oh no, I’m sorry. Just you.”

“Me?” I ask with a finger to my chest. He grins slyly nodding.

“I— I don't know.”

“You don’t know?” Demi slaps my arm.

“I’ll need an answer now. Gotta get you to his bus before the real crowd emerges. There’s a few things you need to sign.” Sign? Oh god. This is getting serious.

“M—maybe this is a mix up. Are you sure he asked for me—”

“Bitch.” I’m interrupted by a firm push from Demi toward Paul. My eyes meet her wide ones that scream, “go.”

I look between the both of them. “You’ll be fine getting to the hotel?” I’m not all the way certain how tonight will go, but I have a feeling I won’t be seeing her until tomorrow.

“Girl, don’t worry about me. I’ll always get where I’m going. I should be the last thing on your mind.”

“We can wait until her Uber comes?” I eye Paul who eyes his watch briefly.

“Sure.”

So we wait in silence. The whole time, I bounce the idea of just saying never mind and pussying out, back and forth like tennis. Reading my mind, Demi would eye me and mouth “don’t you dare.” So many things can go wrong. I’m not even entirely sure I know what the hell Paul is talking about. Company? Services? It could mean so many things. Does he want to talk? A massage? Am I going to just sit there on his lap while he watches TV? What if he’s one of those foot guys? Is he going to touch himself while I sit there barefoot? Oh god, please don’t have a foot fetish.

With the exception of tonight, I’ve only ever seen him through a screen. Playing a character. I don’t know him. That’s the reality of it. Am I really about to follow a stranger, Paul Heyman, to accompany another strange man?

After checking that she has the right Uber and sensing she will be safe alone with him, I let her hand go. She gives me one final look before I let her shut the car door. “Make him remember you, bitch.”

Like a farmer leading its cattle to slaughter, I follow him as he leads me up the steep steps of the bus. A pit of something stirs in my stomach the deeper we walk. Equal parts angst and doom. Like the end of something and the beginning at the same time. We pass the driver’s seat. The floors are a shiny mahogany wood, matching the cabinets of the kitchen area we end up in. Although small, it feels grand. Definitely doesn’t seem like a space this chic belongs in a bus trailer. I guess only the best for the best.

In the midst of admiring the space, I look over to see Paul shuffling some papers around.

“Alright! So I’ll need you to sign this.” He separates one stack from the main one and slides a pen out for me. “Just something that says we’re not responsible for any items lost, damaged, or anything like that.” Everything in me screams to read the thick stack thoroughly before I dare sign my name on the dotted line. I do it anyway, because who even has time for that? Paul is already moving about like he has somewhere to be.

“And this here,” he pushes the signed paper out the way and slides another stack in its place. This one much thicker than the former. I raise a brow. “Don’t worry. It's just a non-disclosure. Nothing discussed, seen, or heard after you sign can be shared with any other persons.”

I look for the expiration date of the legal document and don’t find one. I search and my eyes land on the word indefinitely.

“Indefinitely, huh?” I think deeply about what I am about to agree to. I would only even want to tell Demi and a few other girls from our bookclub maybe that watch WWE. My eyes land on the seven figure lawsuit terms if the NDA is breached. I weigh my options. Spill tea and get fined or secretly get intimate with the man of my dreams…

The pen is smooth as it glides along the dotted line and I cap it before handing it back over to Paul. “Perfect.” He takes it and reorganizes the papers. I blow out a breath looking around again. There’s a grey curtain blocking off the rest of the bus, which I assume holds a bedroom of some sort and a bathroom.

“Is he already here?” I lean to try and get a peak of whats beyond the curtain.

“Nope. He’s doing a bit of press and wrapping some things up backstage. You’ll wait for him here. The driver is inside the building. Probably won’t be back until late tonight. Roman should be back soon.”

“I’m expected to stay here overnight?”

“Totally up to you. I’m sure you and him will figure it out. It’s not like him to spend the night alone though.”

In that moment it becomes clear what I am here to do. My heart lurches at the thought of just sharing a bed and possibly cuddling with him. His big muscular arms wrapped around me. The heat of his breath on the back of my neck and the hardness of his di—

“This wasn’t on the NDA you just signed, but,” he held his hand out between us. “I’m gonna need that phone before I leave.” Of course. I almost change my mind. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back as soon as it's all over. Definitely before you leave.”

Fuck it. I retrieve my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and he gladly takes it. I don’t need it anyhow. I can’t imagine being in the presence of him anyway and my phone stealing the show. I would forget I even had one.

It's not long before he’s packing everything up, preparing to leave me. A small part doesn’t want him to go. He served as sort of a comfort. Truth be told, my heart is in my ass.

He pulls the curtain back to reveal a chic bedroom set up. If I didn't know any better, I would think we are in a five star hotel and not a bus trailer. 

Everything is a sleek grey with undertones of black. Glossy black wood dresser chest and a matching nightstand. Black wood bed frame and headboard. I run my hand along the dark grey duvet thats just as soft as it looks. 

“I’ll be on my way. You’ll probably see me tomorrow or later tonight. If not someone else will give the phone back.” He waves my phone and turns, but not before pulling the curtain back to close.

I’m all alone now. Theres a flat screen mounted opposite the bed, but the noise won’t do anything but make me more anxious. I want to be able to hear everything going on.

I have the weird urge to go through his suitcase I see sitting upright by the wall. I shake the thought away knowing it's an invasion of privacy. I opt to go through the dresser chest instead. Its empty. I guess he didn’t get a chance to  unpack.

I turn and rest my butt on it, crossing my arms. Minutes go by, and what seems like an hour passes before I hear movement outside the bus. Deep voices talking and then I hear heavy steps heading my way. I straighten up. No, too formal. I sit on the bed legs crossed. No, what am I? An escort?

I stand again and take my original place leaning on the edge of the dresser, just in time for the curtain to pull back. The sight of his large stature so much closer to me than he was in the arena takes my breath away.

He doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me and walks right by me to his suitcase. Then he’s in the bathroom. The sound of him peeing is loud followed by water running. 

Big, tan and burly, he emerges again. He moves with power just oozing off of him, with an authority that just screamed, “I’m in charge.” It's not just a ring persona. Thats just him.

My eyes never leave his tall frame maneuvering around the small space as if I’m not even standing here. He kicks the Jordans off his feet to slip into his slides. His Nike hoodie comes off next and he tosses it on the small loveseat in the corner. His big and cut arms now in full view.

He relieves himself of the contents in his pants pockets. Wallet, keys, some loose change, and a small folded paper all fall on the dresser. He stops for a moment holding out his left hand. He twists the black band off his ring finger and places it in the drawer instead of on top of the dresser with the rest of his things.

Our eyes snag and I immediately shift my attention to my fingers. Twisting and untwisting. Picking at the acrylic on my nails. Anything but looking him in the eye after witnessing that. It's not too late to change my mind. I can stop this. I should, but do I really want to?

The sound of his slides lets me know he’s on the move again. I find him by a minibar area I hadn’t noticed earlier. 

“Is it cold in here?” His deep voice cuts through the silence. It's then I notice I was holding and rubbing my arms as if I was cold. So, he is paying me some kind of attention. Truth is, I’m just trying to keep the goosebumps from a slight panic attack at bay.

“No, it's fine.”

“You feeling alright?” He twists slightly with a raised brow. Probably trying to figure out why I haven’t moved an inch since he walked in here. He’s so calm and cool. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the calmer he is, the more anxious I grow.

“Yeah. Y—yeah, no I’m fine.”

“You spoke to Paul already?”

“Yeah—yes,” I correct myself and clear my throat. I don’t know when it became so damn dry.

I was speaking to his back. The muscles still making themselves known even through the fabric of his black tee. Hair sleeked back into his signature bun. My eyes trail down to his ass. For a man, he has a nice one. I image how he’d look with nothing. The intimacy of him walking around with absolutely nothing on. The afterglow of sex on him. Rock hard abs and tribal tattoo as his only decoration. His manhood swinging freely, semi-hard even after just laying serious wood—

“Then I assume you know why you’re here,” his deep voice cuts my nasty daydream short. 

I can hear him maneuvering glass, but I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing over his big frame. I was too shell shocked to move too much, afraid I might wake up from this fever dream.

“I do,” I answer him. 

If my father knew when he gave his only daughter, his princess, money to enjoy her spring break, that she’d end up alone in the bus of a man who was over ten years her senior, the money would’ve never made it into my hand in the first place. I’m sure this isn’t what he had in mind, but truly this was the best way a young girl could enjoy spring break. An unexpected encounter with an older and wealthier man. My idol. I watched him on TV for years. Gawked at the screen. Liked thousands of edits on Tiktok and Instagram. Dreams of this very moment knowing it couldn’t possibly ever come true. And now here he was. Big in stature and energy right here in front of me. Talking to me. 

Hell yeah, I know what I’m here to do. Even if he didn’t utter a single word and just stripped and nodded to the bed, I’d still get the job done with no shame. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t?

I can hear them now. But he’s married. He has a family. He’s old enough to be your father. They just won’t understand. Demi would. Demi would get it. She always gets it and she always gets me. Having lost her father and sister in a car crash just weeks before moving into the dorms for college, taught her that life was indeed too short. Live freely and take risk, because you don’t know when you won’t be able to. Shit, we’re all gonna die anyway. That’s the mantra she lives by. She’s different and that’s why I attached myself to her. She’s not like everybody else who lives like they’ve already walked the steps to heaven.

This was a more than seldom, once in a lifetime opportunity. I’d think about this night when I’m grey and depleting on my deathbed. I won’t let my head play tricks on me with the opinions of anyone who would do the same thing put in my position. 

It's silent again. I hear liquid being poured for a second. I wonder if Demi made it back to the hotel okay. She’s probably blowing up my phone with a thousand texts trying to figure out whats going on.

So deep in my thoughts I don’t realize he’s making his way to me until he’s right here already. I have to look up to meet his gaze as he stares down at me over the bridge of his nose. He’s so big. He smells divine. It's a masculine type of musk with a cleanliness to it. My breath gets caught in my throat, realizing exactly how close we are. Our shoes were just shy of an inch from touching. My chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move. 

Without any words, he holds a glass filled with brown liquid out closer to me. I look down at it with just my eyes. I’ve only been twenty-one for two weeks. Didn’t even get the opportunity to sit at a bar so a man could offer me a drink before trying to sleep with me. Who would’ve thought the first offering would come from him. Roman Reigns. Just at that thought, something in me ignited.

I took it, with the intention meaning more than just accepting the drink. I’m accepting the situation. Drawing a line in the sand and disposing of any doubt if there even was any left. I’m doing this. All complications pushed to the back. Tonight he’s not Joe Anoa’i, the married man with five kids. He’s Roman Reigns, undisputed WWE Universal Champion, The Tribal Chief, Main Eventer, Head of the Table…And I’m his biggest fan.

I throw the contents of the glass back, trying my hardest not to make a face from the burning sensation. He gets it down in one big gulp, putting me to shame, as I can’t help watching his Adam’s apple bob up and then down. He’s still just inches from me. I can see every hair on his beard. The slight greying ones are my favorite.

It's so weird seeing him in this state. So lax in his own space. No ring gear. No mean scowl. No Ula Fala around his neck. No championship belt around his waist. Just him. Black tee and sweats to match.

He takes the glass back and places them both behind me on the dresser top. Without warning, he’s on me. His tongue shoves past my lips saying to hell with formalities. No warm up. Straight to business.

“Mm,” I groan from shock. My natural instinct from being so caught off guard is to create some space, but a firm hand gripping the base of my neck keeps me in place.

He immediately asserts dominance, caressing every part of my body his hands can reach like he owns it. My neck, my shoulders, my back, and all the way down to my ass with a firm squeeze that separates my pussy lips. All the while still assaulting my mouth with his warm tongue. The tang of the alcohol still lingering. I fight for some control in the kiss but it's no use. He’s too much for me.

Everywhere his strong hands make contact, it leaves a spark until my whole body feels like it's on fire. Damn, that drink was strong. He pulls away from the kiss completely after one last soft, open mouthed peck. Like a magnet, my eyes find the thick bulge in his black sweats and I grow even more excited. 

He drops to his knees in front of me and my breath hitches when his cold fingertips find their way up my shirt. A trail of kisses with a slight tickle from his beard follow up and up until I raise my arms for him to take the shirt off completely.

He’s back on his feet, turning me so my back is facing him. My breathing grows erratic. This is really happening. 

“Lights,” his voice rumbles behind me. The bright lights turn off but there's little lamps set up in the small space allowing a cast bright enough to see still.

The black lace bra I wear is unhooked in a matter of seconds. Who knew when I put it on this morning, that Roman Reigns himself would be taking it off come night. With a firm grip on my hips he turns me back to face him. 

Being well endowed up top from such a young age, my natural instinct is to cover myself. I always thought they were a bit big for my body. Standing at five foot seven, I was only one hundred and fifty pounds. A lot of my weight being carried up top from these double D’s. When all the girls in middle school were just filling in, I was a full D cup. I noticed how boys would stare. Older men too. It would make me uncomfortable. Always thinking of ways to cover them or make them appear smaller.

Avoiding eye contact is useless. His eyes are like magnets. Like the sun. Just beaming down on me, making them impossible to evade. So I stare back at him. We stay like this for a while. Just watching one another in silence. The air is smoky with lust and pure ecstasy. 

His hands cover mine and slowly drag them down to reveal my breast. Round, surprisingly perky, with fully erect chocolate nipples, creating a contrast to my caramel complexion. They steal the show as his eyes shoot to them immediately while he breathes deep from his nose. 

I can feel his energy shift from passionate to pure animalistic. When his entire mouth covers one nipple, I lose all my sense. My head rolls back and instinctively I bring a hand to the back of his head. A rough hand cups and caresses my breast while he’s still latched on. I watch in awe as his thick tongue sticks out to flick and play with it before sucking again.

He’s expertly unbuttoning my jeans with his other hand as I feel the snag of him trying to pull them down. I step out of my shoes to help him and reveal the black thong I am not even accustomed to wearing. I’m more of a a boy shorts or Walmart pack panties kind of girl. I just so happen to have forgotten to pack them and had to borrow a pair from Demi. 

Bending down must be uncomfortable, since he grips the back of my knees to hike me up like I  weigh absolutely nothing. He gives more attention to my chest, sucking until my nipples are sore, before his tongue is in my mouth exploring again. We’re moving now, I assume towards the bed. With every step, his erection rubs against me leaving me clenching and needy.

My back meets the unbelievably soft bed. I practically sink into it, watching him rear back to remove his shirt and show off that god-like body. Mountains and valleys of muscle in his abdomen placed perfectly like someone sculpted him with their bare hands. His bun hangs a little looser now.

His long fingers loop the waistband of my panties and we lock eyes. His stare is intense saying what his lips didn’t. I nod once. I’m doing this.

Almost in slow motion he pulls them down my legs, his eyes not leaving mine until the very last second. His attention is stolen by the sight of me down there.

“You’re soaking.” He uses the butt of his thumb to circle my clit. I jump slightly at the sudden contact. “That’s all for me?” He locks eyes with me again, expecting an answer and all I can do is nod frantically while biting down hard on my bottom lip. I can’t keep still. My body is on fire under his touch and his gaze. Eyes dark with passion, he squints watching me squirm every time he speeds the rhythm of his thumb up or down.

“Fuck,” I move my hips to the rhythm of his hand and grab one of my breast.

His thick tongue snakes out to lick his pink lips like he did earlier in the arena and I almost cum on sight. I look on in shock watching how he licks his thumb clean like he just ate Doritos and he’s discarding the remnants of them. A small groan of pleasure leaves his throat. I must be dreaming.

Climbing off the bed hastily, he tugs his pants and red briefs down at once and his dick pops up on recoil. My pussy clenches around nothing in anticipation for her next guest. Long, thick and tanned just like the rest of him. Mouthwatering. I never had the urge to taste something so bad in my life.

I can tell there’s no time for that though. He’s anxious now. I can feel the heat and need radiating off his body as if his stiff, vein-filled dick didn’t already tell on him.

With a tight grip on my ankle, he flips me over abruptly. Of course. Missionary would’ve been way too intimate for the circumstances.

On instinct I get up on all fours, deepening the arch to an almost painful degree so the view is nice for him. A smack so hard I jerk forward a bit, lets me know he’s satisfied with what he sees.

“All this ass,” he mumbles rubbing my behind in circles and even giving it a little shake. 

He runs his long fingers up and down the slickness with ease. A groan leaves my throat as I grow impatient. I know I should want this to last as long as humanly possible, but I can’t fight this storm inside of me. I’ve wondered too long about it, daydreamed about it, and even touched myself in imagination before at the thought of this man I only knew through a TV screen.

I sway back and forth slightly waiting and listening to the sound of a wrapper and a slight pop. I have no time to prepare. The bed dips with the weight of him back on it. His thick head is at my opening, rubbing from my clit to almost my asshole. He only does this three good times before I’m practically ripped apart.

“Ouu!” A mix of a moan and something I’ve never heard from myself fills the room. He roughly takes the hand I thought I would use to push him and pins it behind me.

My throat goes dry. God damn. He’s fucking huge and unforgiving. Even with the slow pace he’s pushing into me combined with my wetness, it still feels like he’s breaking me apart from the inside out. 

“Breathe,” he coaches. If possible a gush of wetness rushes out from the sound of his voice, bringing me back to the situation at hand. I have to make it work for him. 

I bite down on the expensive grey covers as he pulls completely out and then back in. “Mm!” 

He finds his rhythm, as he’s able to glide in and out. I try to match him once the pain subsides. I glance back to catch his full bottom lip caught between his teeth. The muscles in his chest working as a sheen of sweat starts to form.

I work harder now. The sight of him turning me on more than ever, opening me up like a wildflower. 

“Let me hear you. I wanna hear you,” he grunts out almost desperately. The vulnerability in his rough voice drawing more heat and wetness from my core. I moan louder than I intended and shock myself. I’m not usually verbal in bed. Maybe a little cry or whimper here and there. This shit feels too good to be demure and delicate about. 

I obey his order and release the moan that I didn’t even know I’m suppressing. It's not forced or fabricated. I genuinely feel so good in this moment I can only moan in response. 

His strokes are primal. Animalistic like a lion in the wild taking whats his. And he’s so fucking big. In aura and size. The ways his body envelopes mine makes me feel smaller than I really am. His thickness stretching me in a way I didn’t think was possible.

“Oh, fuck!” I yell out. His hand tangles in my hair and stretches my gaze up, giving him full view of my desperate face.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he demands. 

“Oh my god,” I pant. “It's so fucking good,” I struggle to get out. Every thrust steals my breath. He aims for the perfect spot every time and doesn’t miss. The smack of our bodies colliding ring loud in the silent space.

“Louder, baby,” he grunts diving deeper.

“I can feel you everywhere. You feel so good! Unh!”

“Atta girl.” The rumble of his voice sends a vibration straight to my core. My pussy clenches down from his words. To add insult to injury, a large and slightly calloused hand finds its way up my stomach to cup my breast. He pinches, twists and rolls my nipple around like he’s playing with a toy. As if my pussy isn’t becoming dangerously wetter already.

He removes the hold in my hair, trailing to my hip. His thumb presses down hard while guiding me back and forth on him. He gives me his all and I return the favor, using the unstable grip I have on the duvet to leverage me as I throw my ass back on him to catch.

The friction of his balls slapping sloppily against my clit built up enough pressure for a pending orgasm. With one strong hand still on my hip, he uses his free one to shove my face down to the bed making me lose any power I had in this fight.

His front collides with my ass, causing a consistent slapping. Anyone walking on the bus could easily tell whats going on now. His grunts, my pants, the consistent slapping. These were sounds of fucking. 

“Fuck me! Yesss!” I don’t recognize myself. He’s awakening something in me. A familiar tinging stirs in the pit of my stomach. If he keeps on, it won’t be long until I explode all over his thick dick.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” I whimper in response.

He goes harder than ever before, his strokes less uniform and more wild. My mouth falls wide open at the intensity and perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

His hips continue to snap against me and if possible I feel him grow harder inside me. His fingertips dig into me so hard I know there’ll be bruises tomorrow. 

“Urghh!” A guttural moan erupts from him, urging me to fuck him through his release even as his movements slow. I study his facial expressions and record them in my brain to take home with me as a souvenir. He stretches his neck with eyes shut tightly. That fucking tongue. Whisking out to flatten over his top lip before he bites down on his bottom one. Chest heaving up and down with the muscles in his abdomen flexing with every breath. 

“So fucking good,” he says more to himself. He delivers another hard spank to my ass before I feel him ease out of me, hissing slightly at the sudden disconnect and absence of him. The pit of my stomach heavy still with the lingering orgasm that was cut short. 

I’ve had sex with guys before and never got to finish. I’d leave unsatisfied and almost regretting the encounter completely. This is different. I’m here for him. I’d fulfill his needs and drain him even if it meant I left with nothing but a wet ass. 

The bed creaks a little, letting me know he got up completely. Just when I think the night is over, my mouth falls open at the sensation of his hot mouth covering my entire pussy. His tongue slithers out to graze my distended clit.

“Mm, shit,” I cry out, shaking. I’m so sensitive. Any little sensation sends my body into overdrive. Every lick draws a mini release. When I finally get to the edge I know I’ll fall completely apart. The hair from his beard tickles me, only heightening the sensations. I feel nothing but pure pleasure.

A strong hand comes down on my left ass cheek and I whimper on impact. He squeezes it in a firm gip to move me up and down in a steady rhythm on his flattened tongue.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” I cry. I let my head hang down unable to keep it up any longer. All I can do, feel, and think about in this moments is how good he feels to me. Guys my age always need a crash course on how to eat pussy. Always too much spit, they couldn’t find my clit, or the torturous shaking of the head like a rabid dog.

Roman is eating me like I’m his last meal. Touching spots I didn’t even know a tongue could reach. With the way he’s grabbing me and rocking me on his stiff tongue, he’s damn near fucking me with it. We’re two complete strangers. The power dynamic is completely off. He’s the billionaire WWE superstar and I’m the underpaid and overworked fan in college. Somehow he’s still taking the time to worship my body and give me his all as if he’s the one who has something to prove. 

The dick was mind-blowing. Oh, but the head will be the death of me. That same tongue he wags and flicks on live television, exploring me. Tonight is an absolute fairytale. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he could read my mind. He knows exactly what I want and how I want it.

In only a matter of seconds a tornado of heat swirls in my core. I rock back and forth on his mouth before he sucks relentlessly on my sensitive bud nonstop.

“Unnhh!” An uncontrollable shake erupts from me as I see stars. The world goes completely blank for a while as I relish in the ecstasy of my orgasm granted by the Tribal Chief himself. Tonight, I acknowledge him and his mouth.

“Oh my god,” I whisper in between pants coming to my senses. A small laugh leaves my throat at the way I just lost myself in front of him.

I turn to find him in the middle of snatching the cream covered condom off. His big dick bobs up and down from the snatch, fully erect again. 

We got one night only.

Like a lioness on the prowl in the jungle, I eye him, crawling to the edge of the king bed where he stands. I stop just in front where my mouth aligns to his thickness, still eyeing him, making sure it's okay. He nods giving me the green light and even holds the base in his strong hand to bring it closer to my lips.

I let a glob of spit form and fall freely on his thick mushroom tip. Before it can drip, I catch it on the underside and lick from tip to base, to the tip again. His hips push forward impatiently. 

“Open.” It's not a question so I don’t test him. His face is hard, but his eyes are desperate. As soon as my lips part he shoves himself all the way in like he owns my entire mouth. He draws out and I hallow my cheeks to keep it in as long as possible until I release him with a pop. 

“Stick your tongue out for me.” I oblige and he slides his heavy dick across it gathering spit before pushing back down my mouth. A pulse grows in my clit again. A revival from seeing the remains of the mess I made in his thick beard.

“It's so good,” I tell him while slapping it on my tongue for him, earning a groan. The skin of him is soft as he stretches my mouth. I can taste the salty precum and I cant wait for the rest of it. I never trusted a man to release his bodily fluids in me in any way. It kind of grossed me out. Oh, but not tonight. He can release wherever he chooses.

Using one hand to twist in tandem with sucking him, I study every change in his expression, every pattern of his breath to record what feels the best to him.

“Go ‘head,” he urges in a low guttural tone. “Just like that. Take it all the way down. Don’t stop, babygirl.” That’s all I need to hear. 

The eye contact is so deep it puts me in a trance. In a constant and fluid motion I take him in and out, making sure he reaches the back of my throat every time. In and out. In and out. In and out. The sounds of spit and his heavy breathing take charge of the room.

His body stiffens a bit and I can feel him get harder on my tongue. Deliberately I take him as far as possible and stay there until I make myself choke. The contracting of my throat around his thick head sends him completely off the rails. He breaks our bubble, throwing his head back to the ceiling.

“Mmm. Aw fuck!” A strong hand grabs a fistful of my hair, making it impossible for me to move.  Thick ropes of his warm cum shoot down my throat and all around my mouth. “Ahh,” he groans out with a hiss jerking his hips forward a few good times. “Oh my god,” he blows out a heavy breath and lets his hands rest on his hips. 

I’ve made dean’s list, honor roll all throughout high school, medals of all kind from track decorate the walls of my bedroom in my parents’ house. None of those accomplishments compare to the sight I just witnessed. The Roman Reign’s spent and sexually exhausted because of little ole me.

“Let me see,” he whispers while watching me suck the last of it out. I open wide and stick my tongue out so he can see his cum on it. His massive dick jumps at the sight. I feel the warmth of some of it seeping out and running down my chin.

“Don’t move,” he instructs. Like his obedient soldier I stay put, only looking around with one good eye. The other shut tight so none of his cum could invade it.

When he emerges again, he has a wet cloth in hand. Gently but still firm he wipes my face clean of him and my tears that slipped from the intensity of choking. Who knew the Tribal Chief is into aftercare?

A squeal escapes me from being lifted into the air and over his broad shoulder. I’m hanging as he moves us about. There’s no way that any of this is happening. 

The shower starts to run. Even upside down I can see the marble walls and waterfall shower head raining down.

“You care about your hair getting wet?”

“No,” I strain to get out with his shoulder digging into my stomach. He chuckles so softly, I would’ve missed it if I couldn’t feel it from being on him. 

He fucks me for hours in the shower. My back against the wall. In the air. Face against the tiles. On all fours again. I guess older men carry more stamina. The water cascaded from up top on us both while we locked tongues passionately, breathing in each other’s air. 

He was in control the whole time. He flipped me every way he wanted me to go. Told me what to do, never asking. I’m left a wet, quivering mess at the end of it all.

I don’t realize how exhausted I am until he asks if I want to stay the night. I think about getting dressed and leaving, but the bed is impossibly plush and the sight of him naked still is impossibly sexy. Even better than I imagined.

I threw cuddling out the window once I seen his stoic nature and how he moved about earlier like this was just a business deal. He lays in the bed, still naked on his back with muscular arms slightly stretched. I lay on my stomach beside him trying to get comfortable. My heart thumps out my chest knowing he’s still here with me and so accessible. We literally just violated each other in the nastiest way possible and now we lay in bed not even touching.

His heavy breaths and light snore fill the room in no time creating a sort of white noise for me descend to. 

Some time in the middle of the night, I don know how, but those light snores ended up right in my ear. His breath hot on top of my head, accompanied by a very heavy arm over my hip. 

My heart smiled and my face caught fire. It was so intimate. Undeniably my favorite part of the night. I shifted as quietly as I possibly could, inch by inch, until I was facing him. His bun fell completely apart, leaving his dried and fluffy curls cascading over his shoulders and the plush pillows. I make out what I can in the dark of his sharp features. I never seen him so relaxed. In the ring he’s always tense, always painted with tyranny and stress, but not right now. He almost looked like an angel.

I make a mental image of him. This is exactly how I want to remember him— how I want to remember this unpredictable night. This is the part that even if I could tell it, I don’t think anyone would even believe me. Burying my face into his chest, I breathe deep, trying to imprint his smell into my brain like ink on the skin. 

The loud voices of men I don’t recognize, serve as my alarm clock. Eyes still shut, flashes of the night before and the soreness of my body, warp me back to reality. Oh, shit.

I shoot up from the pillow to scan the room, keeping the covers close to my naked chest. His suitcase still stood in the corner, but there’s no trace of him. No water running. His slides are gone. The thick curtain shields me from the rest of the bus.

6:07 AM flashes on the digital clock of the now cleared nightstand. 

It's not like I was expecting this grand goodbye. The man didn’t even say hello to begin with. I thought I could at least see him one last good time before I leave LA for good.

I attempt to rise up, but something crinkling under my palm stops me. I grab the sheet of notepad paper and rub my eyes before reading the contents of it.

Thanks for last night. Joe. 

Short and simple. In the corner, two cursive R’s as a signature. I neatly fold the paper and drop it into the pocket of my jeans I find folded on the chest dresser. I want that paper with me everywhere I go. A small piece of the whole experience. A subtle reminder of the best night of my life.

Every part of me wants to feel bad. How could I let him just use me for his needs for a night and then discard me like it was nothing? I should feel low. Cheap. But thats not even the kind of girl I am. The glass is always half full to me. Last night was arguably the best night of my young life. I’ve never known such adventure. I never felt more free—more like a woman.

I flop down in my bed still in a daze from the events of last weekend. Demi had a million and one questions. The NDA kept me from spilling. Even if I could’ve given her a play by play of how the night went, I don’t think I would’ve. Demi and I have the kind of bond thats void of any secrets. But that night with him was so special to me, I want to keep it for myself. Something for just me and him. It makes it more magical when only we know what happened. I just want to soak and bathe in it all. 

Light as a feather I stare at my ceiling, letting the flashbacks corrupt me. The feel of his soft skin. The smell of him. His grunts and pants. His hands caressing and gripping my ass. The warmth of his tongue filling my mouth. I blow out a breath getting worked up again. I’ve touched myself countless times since that night to the memory of his voice and his energy. He was just so damn good. So much man and dominance, but still gentle and cautious. 

After we touched back down in New York, it was back to reality. But that didn’t stop me from walking on a cloud. You can’t tell me shit. I fucked the Roman Reigns. Drained him and swallowed the aftermath. How’s that for a spring break?

It's currently Thursday. Almost a week has passed since the greatest night of my young life. I just got back from the gym with Demi. She’s pressed me every single day since that night, but I won’t budge. The confines of the NDA keeping me stronger than I normally would be. 

Tomorrow is Smackdown at the Garden, but it's unclear if Roman will even be in attendance. He takes so many hiatuses it's really a hit or miss with him. Demi asked if we should go, but I declined not wanting to spend the money I didn’t have just for him not to even show.

A sudden dread came over me knowing that he couldn’t possibly be thinking of me even half as much as I’ve thought of him. He’s overridden my mind. I’ve obsessed over every little detail and played it back a thousand times, while he doesn’t even know my name. 

Paul said it himself. He likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road. All the times he has to travel for work, cameras in his face nonstop, and body aching from all the physical exhaustion, I’m sure he always has to release the tension somehow. I’m just one of many. 

I knew that going into it. I know I’m not special, but I tried my hardest to be. I did what I could to make him remember me. Constant eye contact, carrying out his every command, throwing this ass back as hard as I could and sucking the soul out of him.

A violent buzz of my phone snaps me out of my daze. I feel for it on the covers. My eyebrows dent at the message notification from a number I don’t recognize, causing me to unlock it.

Your Tribal Chief has requested your services again. 

Sorry for that long ass disclaimer lol. It’s a shame I even have to include that, but I literally watched a girl argue with an author on here about promoting adultery and cheating simply because a character was cheating. Like, it’s a story?? It’s a fictional character?? Don't read it??

If you read it or even just parts of it, I really am appreciative. Pls like or reblog. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Please remember I am an artist…and I’m sensitive about my shit lol 💋

banner credit:  @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[viiolyns]

cw / g!p vi. softdom!vi. no protection. praise. lwk inexperienced reader? that’s all me thinks

you straddled her lap, her hard dick covering the front of your cunt. you’d been like this for the past 15 minutes, rambling about random bullshit, trying to distract yourself from the fact that the two of you should be fucking right now.

the nervousness building up in you was evident, clear as day. while you’d never taken her before, it wasn’t for a lack of her asking. whenever she brought it up, you’d shift the conversation or deflect, not feeling ready. sometimes you’d even tell her you were ready, then back out. which she didn’t mind, never did. jerking off after sex never hurt anyone.

but tonight. fuck. you needed her.

she puts a finger over your lips, making you shut up for a second. with her free hand, she takes a hold to your chin, sensing your hesitation. “baby. you can say no, again, really—no need to…you don’t have to.”

you shook your head at her words, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you tried to compose yourself. you wanted it, really you did, but you were just scared. stupid nerves.

her hands found your hips, gripping the soft skin there. "c’mon, honey," she said softly, her voice soothing. "i’ll help you." she raised your hips up, gently aligning your entrance just above her. “if you want me to stop, you tell me, okay?" you nodded, before she gently prompted you, "words."

"i’ll—okay, i'll tell you," you respond, her nodding in understanding before she drags her swollen head in between your lips, gliding her length back and forth to get it wet enough before slowly pushing you down onto her. you wince at the burn, stings of whimpers and curses leaving your lips.

“it’s okay, pretty, i got you. go slow, don’t rush it,” she reassures, rubbing firm circles into your clit with her thumb; relaxing you until you take all of her.

and when she finally sheathes, you just sit there, on her dick; getting yourself used to the feeling, your forehead resting against hers. eventually you begin to grind, earning some words of praise from your girlfriend. "thereeee you go, good girl. just grind like that, mhm."

vi's getting an eyeful, an image she'll be committing to memory. she's grinning; hands still resting on either side of you, ever so often grinding along with you, making you impossibly wetter. you could do this all night, probably cum from this alone, but fuck. "i need to..to move."

without hesitation, her hands moved down to your ass, helping you glide up and forcing you back down; her tip brushing against your g-spot. “oh, that’s feels good. feels s’good,” you slurred. eventually, you picked up the pace; fully bouncing on her now, giving her a show, your breasts bouncing along with you.

mindlessly she pulls your upper half forward, mouth latching onto your left tit, sucking and moaning into it as a hand comes up to massage the other, rolling the sensitive bud in between her fingers.

"so goooooddd—shit." you whimpered at the extra stimulation.

"so fucking beautiful," she muttered into your chest, happy to finally see her girl in this light. she detached from you with pop, her gaze going back and forth from your face to your cunt, reveling in the way you swallowed her. "love this pussy—fuck—she’s taking me so well."

your moans got louder at her words, lurching forward and hiding your face in the crook of her neck, your breath warming the skin there. you're slowing down now, whatever stamina you had left diminishing at a quick pace. vi notices, grabbing your ass and fucking you from beneath; taking full control now.

“faster,” you damn near whine, “go—go faster, please.” she obliges, her movements getting impossibly quicker. the sound of her balls slapping against your ass filling the room. it was damn near pornographic. “vi, i’m close.”

"yeah?" you could tell she was close too, just by the change of tone, all whiney and needy. the undeniable hunger in her voice. you nod frantically, your hand coming down to rub your clit, trying to match the pace she was fucking you at.

“i’m gonna cum.”

“i know, baby,” she moaned, “where you want it?”

“inside. inside, please. want you to fill me up.” you exclaimed as the tension in your stomach clenched, reaching higher and higher until you finally came with a cry of her name. vi wasn’t far behind, just seconds later her dick twitched relentlessly; the warmth of her seed filling your cunt.

she pressed a kiss to your head before repositioning you to be right on top of her, skin to skin, her dick softening inside of you. “was it good?”

you scoffed as if she didn’t already know the answer, already drifting off into sleep, “fucking amazing.”

[lorasdolly]

sevika, ambessa or vi can you do virgin reader who is like squirmy maybe some tears

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀!

────୨ৎ────

𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗸𝗮 𝘅 𝘃𝟭𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

You had asked Sevika to take your virginity because you trusted her most. She was your girlfriend and although it's been months and you still haven't had sex, she's been patient about. Said she doesn't mind taking care of herself.

Yet, today you were so needy, ovulating and demanding. You could feel how your panties stuck to your cunt, showcasing the need for your girlfriend. Every time she did anything, it turned you on even more.

When she was making breakfast in a wife-pleaser, holding your hand on the way to the gym, groaning and drying her wet hair with only a towel wrapped around her waist. You had seen her naked plenty of times, feeling desperate at the sight of her nude but never this much.

You knew it wasn't smart to make big decisions on a short notice, but your pussy wouldn't forgive you if you didn't let her fuck you already!

She was insisting on making sure you were certain about doing this, even while undressing you. She'd furrow her brows and look up at you, "You sure baby?" All you would do is nod your head and tug at her hair, not fond of the anticipation that came about you.

But once she finally got her hands on you, she began to ravage you.

Sevika held your body down tenderly, sighing as the tears welled in your eyes from being overwhelmed and anxious. She shushes you gently, wiping the tears with her thumb as she presses her digits from her other hand inside you.

You whine more, "I, I can't take it, 'Vika!" Your complaining makes her huff softly, kissing your tear-ridden cheek. She curls her fingers upwards, tips pressing against your gspot and using this as a chance to stretch you out more. Your hymen tore when she inserted two of her fingers, only ever using your clit to stimulate yourself.

"You can take it, you told me you could take it if I went slowly, baby." She coos, quickening the pace of curling her two digits. Your back arched off the mattress, moaning and slightly trying to get away from you. She tuts at that, bring her hand to circle your throat gently and keep you close. She hardly applied pressure on your throat, only treating you with upmost care.

"Don't run from it, 'kay?" You nod at her advice, nails digging into her shoulder as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. "Hng— 'Vika," She chuckled and kissed down your neck, biting softly. She was amused by the squelching noise, the way your slick gathered up and formed a white ring on her digits.

"Agh– 'Vika, weird knot in my tummy–!" You exclaimed, crying and squirming under her. It felt so good yet so foreign, you weren't sure how to react to this kind of stimulation. She supported and stabilized your body, fucking her fingers sloppily into your sopping cunt.

She observed how you clenched around them, "Greedy girl, y'know I need these back, hm?" She taunted, receiving a cute whine she yearned for so deeply. She responded with a mocking pout and just kept her movements going consistently. "You're about to cum baby, that's the weird feeling in your tummy,"

Her hand on your throat came to caress your tummy, not pumping her finger in and out but instead ramming them repeatedly into your g-spot. You whined, borderline filthy as you came around her fingers. "No more— 'Vika!"

She didn't stop there, slowing her fingers but still fucking you to help you ride the high. When she pulled out her fingers with a nasty squelching noise, you covered your face in embarrassment.

She chuckled and took your hands off your face, "Don't be ashamed, was so pretty doing that baby." She reassured, holding you against her body as the tears came to a slow halt and resulted in only sniffles,

"Thank you, 'Vika" You murmured sweetly into her neck, a soft sigh leaving her parted lips as she coddled you. "Glad it was you." You whispered.

[thehighladywrites]

you’re just like me

pairing: cassian x crazy stalker reader

summary: cassian thinks of you as his insanely obsessive ex girlfriend who’s downright crazy. you are obviously cassian’s one true love and will eliminate anything that stands in your way.

warnings: murder, dark romance, cheeky little twist👀, stalking, obsessive behavior, sexual content, knives, nasty sex, um also a sick way of getting off just downright crazy, description of murder… um this is just kinda dark. two psychos encouraging each other

amara’s note: so i might be making this into a series bc i have an amazing idea for azriel next😫😫😫 also guys this was a lil dark lol

You couldn’t understand how Cassian had the nerve to walk away from you. There was absolutely nothing wrong with you, not one single thing. People just didn’t get it; love was supposed to be all-consuming, right? Obsession wasn’t a flaw. It was just proof you cared deeply. So what if you knew his schedule down to the minute, memorized the exact scent of his shampoo, or followed him everywhere he went like your very existence depended on it? That wasn’t weird, it was love. Real, burning, raw love.

Cassian must have been confused, that’s all. Poor thing, probably led astray by some outside influence. Maybe someone whispered lies into his ear or cast some strange spell over his mind. Yeah, that had to be it, because Cassian did love you. He did. He just needed to wake up and realize it again.

And when he did , he’d thank you for never letting go, for being the one person who truly saw him, who loved him without limits.

Seeing Cassian sitting next to some water-wraith makes your heart pound harder and harder, fury bubbling under your skin. That’s it — that’s why he hasn’t been his usual self. That wretched wraith is manipulating him, filling his head with filthy lies about you. Poisoning what was meant to be perfect.

You have to stop this. You have to save him. And the only way to do that is to get rid of her. Permanently.

Your hands itch for action, and you’re already stepping forward when a hand clamps around your wrist.

“Are you about to go over to Cassian?” Feyre’s calm voice cuts through your haze of rage. “Don’t cause a scene.”

You tilt your head, offering her a polite smile. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply going to claim what is rightfully mine.”

You tug at her grip, but it holds firm. Feyre’s eyes narrow. “Not so fast. You know Cassian will think you’re crazy if you kill her right here and now.”

Your breath catches. How the hell did she know? Were you that obvious?

Before you can respond, she steps closer, her intoxicating perfume filling your senses. Her voice, low and smooth, sends shivers down your spine.

“If you want that little whore gone, gut her like a fucking fish. I’ll even help you. But not now, it’ll look bad for us.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Never in a million years would you have expected Feyre to suggest murder.

“Why are you so interested in me killing her?” you ask, voice curious.

A wicked smile curls at her lips before she presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “That little bitch tried to fuck Rhys right in front of me. Didn’t even bother pretending she didn’t know who I was. She didn’t care. And now I want her gone.”

Her voice cracks with a manic edge before she smooths it over, composure snapping neatly back into place.

She was just like you, a comfort you took pleasure in, someone who understood that love was meant to be fierce, consuming, and without limits.

—

You did exactly what Feyre suggested — waited until the big meeting with all the courts had ended, biding your time until the wraith was on her way back to Spring. She was alone, vulnerable, just as you had hoped.

Before she could winnow away, you struck. Kidnapping her had been easy, far too easy. And then came the best part: stabbing her over and over until you were drenched in her warm blood. Her look of terror sent a sick thrill down your spine, flipping your stomach in delight. Fuck, it felt good to finally get rid of her. Like being on edge for an eternity and finally getting the sweet, blissful relief you'd craved.

You cleaned up meticulously, disposing of every shred of evidence. No one would ever find her.

Winnowing back to Velaris, you appeared just outside Cassian’s house, dagger still in hand. Breaking in through your usual route was second nature by now. You settled yourself on his sofa, waiting patiently like you always did when he needed a gentle reminder of who truly belonged to him.

The door creaked open, and Cassian trudged inside, shoulders sagging with exhaustion. Normally, you'd feel a pang of sympathy for how hard he worked — how much he gave of himself. But not tonight. Tonight, you were kinda pissed.

His eyes flicked toward you, squinting in the dim light. He hesitated, unsure of who he was looking at until he flipped the lights on.

The color drained from his face as he stumbled backward, eyes wide with shock. “What the hell?” His voice wavered. “What are you doing here?”

You tilted your head, offering a sweet, unwavering smile. “Hi, Cassian. Done being a manwhore? Ready to come back to your senses?”

His gaze darted to the blood soaking your clothes, the gleaming dagger in your hand. He shook his head in disbelief, taking another step back, as if distance could protect him from you.

“I said, what are you doing here?” His voice hardens, sharp and commanding.

Yours matches his, cold and steady. “Well, since you seem to be under some delusion that you can get away from me, I figured I’d burst your little bubble and remind you that’s not the case.”

A calm smile spreads across your lips as you lift the dagger, pointing it directly at him. The weight of it feels right in your hand, steady and sure.

Cassian’s chest rises and falls as tension coils through the room. “You’re insane,” he mutters, disbelief lacing every word.

“Call it what you want. Call it love, call it obsession. Call me fucking insane,” you say, taking a slow step forward. “But you belong to me, Cassian. Always have. Always will.”

You shake your head and laugh, a hollow, unsettling sound. “Gods, Cassian. I don't know why you're doing this to me. Stop being so damn difficult and realize there's no one else for you. That water-wraith slut sure knows it now.”

His face goes pale, a hand pressing against his chest. “W-what are you talking about? You... you killed her?” he asks, horrified.

“Sure did.” You smile sweetly, tilting your head. “And I'll end anyone you think can take my place. Am I clear? Either you realize it now, or I keep killing people. It's all up to you.” You shrug nonchalantly, inspecting your nails as if this conversation were about the weather.

There's a long silence, thick with tension, and then something changes.

His voice drops, lower and rougher. “Took you long enough.”

Your head snaps up, eyes narrowing in confusion. His pale, horrified expression has melted away, replaced by something darker, more primal. His eyes gleam with something unholy, and his mouth twists into a cruel, wicked smile.

“Was wondering when you’d kill that little wraith,” he says smoothly, his voice dripping with amusement. “Gods know it was hard feigning interest.”

A warmth spreads through your chest, almost dizzying. Was this a dream? No way. Cassian matching your intensity, your madness — that was only supposed to happen in fantasies.

“What?” you whisper, barely believing what you’re hearing.

He steps closer, eyes gleaming darkly. “Didn’t think I noticed your stalking? Or the way you conveniently disposed of anyone I talked to?” His smirk widens, sharp and dangerous. “The way you just happened to show up at places I had scheduled? I’ve been onto you since day one.”

Your breath catches, heart thundering. “And?”

“And I knew you were the one the day you snuck into my room and stared at me, thinking I didn’t know,” he murmurs, eyes burning into yours with dark satisfaction.

A shiver runs down your spine, both thrilled and unhinged by his words. “You knew?”

He leans in closer, voice low and possessive. “Of course I knew. Your heavy breathing was a dead giveaway, sweetheart. You looked like you were seconds away from crawling into bed with me.”

You grin, eyes gleaming with madness. “I almost did.”

And it was true. He had been shirtless, skin smooth and golden in the moonlight, hair tied back so his sharp, handsome features were perfectly highlighted. Only years of discipline had kept you rooted to the spot instead of crawling into bed with him like you’d wanted to.

His smile deepens, dark and taunting. “You should’ve.” He steps closer, voice dropping to a low, sinful whisper. “Not the Gods themselves could have pulled me away.”

Your pulse races, wild and electric. This was so not fucking happening. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m not tempting you, my love.” he says, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “I’m inviting you.”

He looks down at you, hands settling on your hips as he pulls you so close. Cassian’s heat makes your brain go fuzzy and for a moment you’re lost. Just as he is about to kiss you…

”Wait. So you felt the same I did? Why did you act all high and mighty when you’re literally worse than me?” You step back and raise an eyebrow at him, arms crossed over your chest.

Cassian blinks, clearly taken aback by your sudden outburst, but instead of guilt or surprise softening his expression, something darker gleams in his eyes — intrigue, even delight. “You’re mad at me, baby?”

“Of course I’m mad!” you snap, practically vibrating with frustration. “You knew I’m bsessed with you, and instead of saying anything, you just sat there, playing with me, making me feel insane.”

Your grip on the dagger tightens in pure frustration. “Do you know how many nights I spent plotting ways to keep you? How much blood I spilled thinking you didn’t care?”

His lips twitch, eyes filled with dark amusement.

“You could’ve just matched my crazy from day one, but nooo, you had to be all stoic and mysterious. Gods, Cassian, that’s infuriating.”

He steps closer, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re adorable when you’re pissed off, ya know? A cute, hotheaded little thing.”

“Adorable? I should stab you,” you snarl, but he only grins wider.

“Do it,” he whispers, his voice dripping with challenge. “I’d love to see what happens next.”

Your breath catches, heart racing as his words sink in. Cassian wasn’t just tolerating your madness, he wanted it, thrived on it, matched it beat for beat.

The realization sends a dizzy thrill through you, but you pout anyway, refusing to let him off the hook that easily. “You’re the worst,” you grumble, turning your head away with a dramatic huff.

He chuckles darkly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “I was only interesed in seeing how far you’d go. Didn’t know if you’d run for the hills when I told you I murdered Helion’s advicer for looking at you yesterday.”

Your heart skips a beat, then thunders wildly in your chest. A sharp, wicked grin tugs at your lips despite yourself. “You did that?”

“Snapped his neck right before breakfast. Or did I feed him his own fingers then strangle him with his insides? Can’t say I remember.”

A sick thrill courses through you. Man, he was fucking perfect. It was so fucking wrong but your knees went weak and you started throbbing. He killed someone just for staring at you?

That was actually hot.

—

With no surprise, cassian fucked you for so long, so hard so fucking deep. It was so nasty, a reaaaal mess. one hand of his grabs onto your thigh, another gripping your waist while he’s glancing down at your sloppy cunt, what a masterpiece. Cassian decided he needed to see better so he pulled out as you whimpered pathetically.

his fingers smear his oozing cum all over you, from the slit all the way to your, swollen, throbbing clit.

“look at you makin’ a damn mess.” Your shaky hands gripping his wide shoulders start to slip. His arm tightens around your waist before you fall backwards. “fuckkkk, baby, look at how good your pussy was takin’ me, see how fucking wet she is?” you shudder as his fingers go knuckle deep into your cunt, giving you a few pumps before he pulls it right out, stringy wetness coating them.

he places two thick fingers inside of your mouth, you suck them clean whilst still moving against him, silently pleading for him to fill you out.

“shiiit, not fair. you got these killer hips that’ll dumb down any man.” Cassian finally fills you up again, his fat cock gliding against ypur wall just right. “oh-fuckkkk thaaat’s it, slow baby. slow, fuck me good, yeah?”

Cassian’s breath hitches as you tighten around him, his arm hurling behind the headboard. the desperation of having something to hold on to gives you an ego boost. was your just pussy too damn good?

“c-cas,” you moan, feeling his big fingers stroke their way against your waist to the very undersides of your thighs. you made sure to go slow, slow and steady just like he wanted. cassian’s got a sleazy grin, feeling the wetness of your cunt take him with all its might. “g-gonna cum!”

“i can tell, ah shit— you’re squeezin’ the fuck outta me,” He grunts in response as he feels you writhing, groaning at the gummy texture of your walls mightily gripping around him tight.

But it’s not enough. The rush lingers, addictive and gnawing, and you want more — need more. Something to cling to, something to burn into your memory for the rest of the week. A painfully sweet reminder of just how far you’ll both go for each other.

Your lips curl into a sly smile, voice dropping into a breathy tease. Finally, you’d lock in one last time to see if he was really as crazy as you. “Do you want to know,” You pause, your breath hitching in pleasure, “how it felt to kill t-that wraith?”

Cassian’s entire body tenses, his pupils dilating as a spark of something wild flickers in his eyes. His pulse kicks up, thrumming like a war drum. Fuck yeah, he wanted to know. Every sickening, twisted detail. Morality be damned—this was love.

“Tell me,” he demands, voice low and raw, filled with a dark hunger.

You grin wickedly, savoring his reaction. “It was beautiful,” you whimper, letting the memory flood your senses. “The way her breath hitched when she realized she was going to die? Gods, Cassian, it was intoxicating. She looked so helpless.”

His breath shudders as he pumps harder, his voice gravelly. “What did you feel?”

A dark satisfaction blooms in your chest. “Relief,” you murmur. “Pure relief. Like I’d been waiting forever and I was free.”

Cassian’s eyes burn into yours, his lips curling into a slow, dangerous smile. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. “Absolutely perfect. Absolutely mine.”

Your heart races as you lean in, lips hovering near his ear. “Next time,” you purr, “I’ll let you watch then fuck me right there.”

That’s it. Those few sadistic words are all the power he needs to finish you both off.

“you’re a nasty fucking girl—ughhhh.”

his speed had the bed creaking louder, and cassian’s grunting in your ear was getting louder as you were feeling fuller than ever. with hot pounds of skin against skin roughly slapping against each other after each second, the two of you felt the same pangs of pleasure and fervent dizziness. “inside, cas—fuck, cum inside me!” before an inevitable flood of heavenly pleasure consumes you both.

your cunt throbs the second he spills an entire whopping load inside of you raw, and you nuzzle your face into his neck. “cas—,” you stammer, and your walls were oh so greedy, adjusting to the way your pussy convulses around him, sharp nails dragging over his back. you both cum together as a surge of electricity pulses through each of your veins.

“fuck… ya better take every drop, s-shit,” he groans before slumping back against the headboard, tugging you closer so your face rests on his neck.

This was absolutely perfect. Cassian was yours now—forever. He could never leave you. And if he tried? You wouldn’t just kill him; you’d burn the entire world down with him. If you couldn’t have him, no one could. He simply wouldn’t exist without you.

That was love.

And Cassian being utterly, unapologetically insane? A gift wrapped in chaos. He understood you better than anyone ever could. Maybe you’d push him, see just how far that darkness in him stretched. Because Cassian didn’t get jealous—he got even. He got murderous.

“I love you, Cassian. So, so much,” you sob into his neck, your body trembling under the weight of the confession.

“I know you do,” he rasps, his voice rough as he grabs a blanket, wrapping it around your shivering form. His strong arms envelop you completely, his touch obsessive, possessive. His hand trails down your hair and back with agonizing tenderness as though memorizing every inch of you.

But something gnaws at you—a flicker of unease. Why wasn’t he saying it back? Did he need more proof that you were his literal wife(even if he didn’t know it yet), his reason for fucking breathing?

As if sensing your doubt, his grip tightens, pulling you even closer until you could hear the rapid, frantic beat of his heart. His lips brush against your ear, his voice low and raw, trembling with emotion.

“There are no words for what I feel for you,” he says, voice breaking. “Love is too weak, too pitiful. What I feel for you—gods, it devours me whole. It’s a sickness, an obsession that digs its claws into me and never lets go. You are everything. My breath, my blood, my madness.”

His words crash over you, wild and terrifying and utterly beautiful. And you know—he belongs to you as much as you belong to him.

Always.

[warlocksoup]

LOOPED: MIYA ATSUMU

she's stuck in a loop: texting him late on a friday night, letting him into her bed, clinging to him, silently begging for him to stay, only for him to leave again.

masterlist

tags/warnings: friends with benefits, implied love triangle, angst, hooking up, unhappy ending, kinda softcore smut but no actual smut, hardly proofread, mdni

word count: 2.2k

an: thinking abt starting a gen taglist for works like this since im planning on pivoting away from writing a bunch of series and focusing more on things like this. idk. let me know what you think if you want i can't make you. also do i think this is my best writing? no but writing has been so hard lately im proud of myself for getting this out

Atsumu likes to hold her after they fuck. 

His bare leg is hooked over her hip, and his arm is thrown over her shoulder, pulling her into his chest. It’s hot under her sheets, and Astumu’s skin is coated in a thin layer of sweat. It’s humid and unbearable, but she bears it, holding onto him by his waist, because it’s the only time he’s like this with her. 

“Thank you,” he says, and he tucks her head under his chin. His eyes are closed, and he lets out a long, deep breath. “I needed that.” 

He thanks her like she did him a favor. Her arms go a bit tighter around his waist, and she presses her ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Yeah,” she mumbles, her cheek pressed flat against his skin. “Anytime.” 

Atsumu runs a hand over the back of her head, smoothing down her hair. His fingers continue, dragging slowly down the center of her spine. “Do you mind if I stay for a little while?” he asks, voice dropping to a raspy whisper that makes her feel so desperate that shame boils just under his touch. 

Her eyes close. “No,” she says, her lips brushing against his bare chest as she speaks. “You can stay for as long as you want.” 

It’s like this every week. She always expects it to be different, and it never is. Every week, when it feels like it’s been dark for too long and she’s alone and can’t sleep, she texts him after she promised herself she wouldn’t. Sometimes he responds and says he’ll be right over, sometimes he replies and says he can’t. Sometimes he shows up without saying anything at all. 

It’s been like this for a while. Long enough for her to feel embarrassed that she’s letting him drag her along like this. 

He hums, and she can feel vibrations throughout his chest. “You’re so soft,” he tells her, “it makes it hard to leave.” 

Atsumu will leave, though. Before the morning comes, he’ll be out the door without saying a word to her. It doesn’t seem very difficult, when he does go. He always peels her off of him like she’s some piece of dirty laundry and slinks out of the room when he thinks she’s fallen asleep. 

His breathing steadies like he’s slipping into sleep. She tilts her chin forward, and places a soft kiss on the center of his chest. She won’t be able to sleep. She’s too wired, it’s too hot, and her neck lays uncomfortably on top of the pillow. When the morning comes she’s going to be sore and tired, and it will be a strain to get anything done. 

Her eyes close, and she’s sure that Atsumu’s knocked out when she whispers, “You don’t have to leave, y’know.” 

He doesn’t say anything. She wasn’t expecting him to. She keeps her eyes closed, and thinks of his warmth, trying her best to avoid thoughts of it disappearing when the morning comes. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu stands at the edge of her bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants. “I’m sorry to leave so soon,” he tells her, thumbs tucked under the waistband as they settle at the bottom of his hips. “I have to be at the gym so goddamn early tomorrow.” 

Her legs are crossed underneath the blanket and she sits upright, holding the pillow he usually sleeps on against her lap. “”S okay,” she tells him, watching as he grabs his hoodie off of the floor and throws it on over his head. “I’m not offended or anything.” 

“Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have come over tonight,” he confesses, and now she’s starting to feel a bit of a sting. “I just really needed to see you tonight.” 

She doesn’t know how to feel about this. She shuffles a bit, an indiscernible feeling settling uncomfortably over her skin. Atsumu doesn’t say things like that. She doesn’t know how to react. “Is something wrong?” 

Atsumu freezes, placing his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt. His expression is screwed up, knotted. Something is wrong. She leans forward, like she’s expecting him to whisper it in her ear, like he’s about to profess something profound and close to his chest. But Atsumu just shakes his head, “Nah, it’s nothing,” he says. He pats the pockets of his sweatpants. “Have you seen my phone?” 

She’s disappointed, but she doesn’t know why. She leans back and reaches towards her nightstand, yanking her phone off the charger and dialing Atsumu’s number. She knows it by heart, and hopes that he doesn’t notice. It buzzes from under her sheets. 

He leaves half past midnight, forty minutes after he got there. She can’t sleep once he’s gone. She stays up, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, trying to wear down her mind, make it too tired to keep thinking of him. 

Sakusa texts her. Five minutes past one. “Was Atsumu at your place?” 

She ignores it. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu lies on his side, and draws patterns on her bare stomach with the tip of his finger. She doesn’t say anything, out of fear of making him stop. She watches him instead, watching his face as he stares down at her midriff. He has this slight smile on his face, and it makes her feel pleasantly uneasy.

“I like your stomach,” he tells her. “I think it’s my favorite part of you.” 

The smile that grows on her face must give her away. She’s grateful for how occupied he is with her skin. “You have a favorite part of me?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I like all of you,” Atsumu tells her. “But I do have favorites. Your stomach, your nose, your thighs, fuck, just so much of you,” he sighs, as if overwhelmed. “I mean, a man can only take so much.” 

She doesn’t think it’s fair, that she’s expected not to fall in love with him when he says things like that. So unabashedly, completely unprompted. And there is this small part of her that kind of resents him, for things like this, saying all of that when he’s going to leave her before the morning comes. But she likes it more than she could ever hate it. So she smiles, and she says, “I don’t think I could pick my favorite part of you,” and means it more than she should. 

Atsumu’s hand stops, and he looks up at her. He grins, and it makes her stomach flip. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

It’s fifteen minutes to midnight, and she’s pacing in her bedroom, trying not to look at her phone. She texted him twenty minutes ago, and she thinks if she keeps herself from looking at her phone, it’ll make him respond quicker. She can’t back her logic, but she’s well past the point of reason. 

He hadn’t talked to her all week. Which, she tries to tell herself, isn’t too weird. He’s busy. He’s a professional athlete. He has better things to do than entertain her and her whims, and what is she to him, really, besides a person to sleep with? They weren’t that close when they started hooking up, and it’s not like the fucking as brought them closer together. 

But still, her stomach knots up with nerves. She feels like something’s wrong. Maybe she gave him too much of herself. Maybe he doesn’t want as much of her as she’s willing to give. 

Her phone vibrates against her nightstand, and she nearly breaks a toe rushing to answer it. On her home screen is a notification from him. 

Can’t make it tonight. Sorry. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

She always tries to give Atsumu what he wants. He likes it when she begs, so she begs. She gets down on her knees and begs to please him. He likes the feeling of her on top of him, thighs squeezing on either side of his hips, so she climbs on top of him, not stopping when her thighs start to burn. He likes it wet, so it’s wet. His hair tugged, his neck nibbled on, his back scratched. Whatever he likes, she gives it to him. 

And he keeps making these small little grunts of pleasure and his eyes are fluttering, but Atsumu feels far away. Unimpressed with the way her body moves against his. His hands lay lazily on her hips, not gripping tightly on her flesh. He doesn’t whisper praise in her ear. He doesn’t bite down on his lip and tell her yes, he likes it like that, keep doing that. He’s quiet, withdrawn. 

She keeps trying to give him more, and more, desperation clawing on the inside of her chest. But Atsumu gives her nothing. He takes what she offers silently, and it starts to feel like he’s keeping his eyes closed to avoid looking at her. 

After, he doesn’t hold her. Atsumu lies on his back with his hands tucked under his head, staring at her ceiling. He doesn’t say anything. 

Her body feels like it’s burning. She feels humiliated. The silence is bad but she thinks talking might be worse. She doesn’t want him to leave but she doesn’t want him to stay if it’s going to be more of this. The air is so thick she thinks she might choke on it. 

Atsumu turns his head to look at her. “Have you talked to Omi recently?” 

The question shocks her so badly she turns her head to him, face scrunched up in confusion. “What?” 

He shrugs. “He hasn’t been talking to me lately. I was just wondering if he said anything to you.” 

Her head straightens out and she looks back up at the ceiling. “He texted me the other week and asked if you were here. I didn’t know if I should tell him or not, and it didn’t really seem like any of his business, so I just didn’t respond.” 

Atsumu hums. “I think he’s jealous of you.” 

“Do you want him to be?” she asks at once, and then regrets it. 

Atsumu doesn’t say anything to this. He gets quiet, and she has to bite down on her lip to keep herself from saying something else stupid. Somehow, the air gets heavier. 

“I’m sorry,” she says after a minute of silence. 

“It’s okay,” Atsumu says, and he doesn’t mean it. He leaves a minute later, and tells her it’s because he has an early practice, but she’s not stupid. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu presses her against her bedroom wall, and when she closes her eyes, all she can see is him and Sakusa, arm’s slung around each other’s shoulders in a post-victory celebration earlier that day. And the way Atsumu looked at him makes her feel rotten. It hurts to remember, and Atsumu pounding into her does little to distract from it. 

She’s the loser in this war, she thinks, arms around his shoulders and leg hooked over his hip, too disconnected from her body to feel anything. It doesn’t matter how many times Atsumu has crawled back into her bed and held her against his chest. It doesn’t matter how in love with him she is. It’s always Sakusa. It’ll always be Sakusa. 

He holds her tightly after, their legs tangled together and his cheek resting on the top of her head. His phone’s in his pocket and it keeps buzzing. Atumu ignores it, and she can’t stop herself from thinking that it’s him.

She swallows. Her throat feels dry. “Someone keeps texting you,” she says, because she wants him to acknowledge it. 

Atsumu inhales deeply. “Ignore it,” he says, “just lie with me.” 

She closes her eyes, and does as she’s told. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Can I come over tonight? 

He texted her first. He doesn’t usually, but he did. The notification popped up over a video the MSBY Black Jackals post-match. Meian’s giving a courtside interview, but just behind him, she can see Atsumu and Sakusa, shoulders squared and tensed, keeping a strict distance from each other as they exit the court. She can feel the chill through the screen of her phone. 

She doesn’t know what it is that holds the both of them back from each other. Maybe it’s her. Maybe Sakusa doesn’t realize that Atsumu would drop her immediately if Sakusa ever asked him to. 

She’s always known that he would, though. Whatever she has to offer doesn’t seem to compare to Sakusa. She’s just a temporary fix, really. Just something to hold Atsumu over until Sakusa realizes this. 

She taps on the notification, and her conversation with Atsumu pops up. For a second, she scrolls through it. Minimal talking, mostly texts from her, with late responses from him. She can see it there, how much Atsumu doesn’t care about her. It doesn’t matter if he asks to come over or tells her he loves her stomach or how hard it is for him to leave. He just doesn’t care about her. Not the way she cares about him. 

Her thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment, paused in contemplation, before she types out a quick, yeah, sure, and hits send without thinking anymore about it.

If Sakusa hasn’t figured it out yet, then she’s not about to help him. She’ll just keep giving and giving, until there’s nothing left to give.

[growth-opportunities]

Even though we don't talk anymore, this is the picture I love to go back to when I think about my old friend group. It's just so thrilling to me, to think about what this picture used to show. We were all moderately busty when we met (I have my own theories about women of similar bust sizes becoming friends, but that's for another day.) Jenny, sitting next to me in the leopard print, was the biggest at an E cup and I was the smallest, though still sitting pretty with a pair of juicy C cup tits. We were all headed up to my parents' summer home for a few days to really break in the new swimming pool. It was meant to be a dream vacation with my best friends, girls who had been my best friend for a long, long time.

All it took was a few shots of Pink Whitney to turn it into a nightmare.

Okay, that's kind of an exaggeration. It was already a nightmare, I just didn't know. But alcohol helped loosen Allison (in the back, behind Jenny)'s lips. As soon as she mentioned Joe, my boyfriend, I knew something was up. A few more shots and a screaming match later, it all came tumbling out. Turns out Joe had been cheating on me with Jenny for a few months now. Allison and Shannon knew about it but they were all keeping it a secret from me. It broke my heart, of course, but it really twisted the knife when she started talking about how her boobs meant she could steal any guy she wanted and that Joe deserved someone better than someone 'small' like me. Needless to say, I kicked them out and made them find their own way home. I had never been more furious in my entire life. Just the betrayal of it all, from people that, just days before, I felt like I could trust with my life.

I still had a few days at the vacation home, so I continued to drink all by myself, threw myself a nice little pity party. And, in a moment of impulsiveness, I may have kind of turned to magic. The others had always teased me for my interest in the occult, so I thought what better way to get back at them. And if they were all fine with stealing my boyfriend, then I had no qualms stealing something back from them. And what better than the things that Jenny thought made her so fucking superior. I threw together the stuff that I needed (though admittedly, it was a little janky to use my mom's scented candles for the ritual) and called upon the Powers Beyond to help me. Turns out, the Powers Beyond respond really well to revenge. Not only did I steal almost all of their tits, but they rewrote reality so that I always had tits that big and they were always that small.

It was unbelievably arousing to look down and see my tits swelling, watching my bikini top shift as reality adapted to my new size. Feeling their growing weight, watching as they swelled larger and larger, spilling out of the top until reality gave me a new one... I can see why people keep going back to make deals with otherworldly powers. I thought the picture of us together and happy, just before my world shattered, would always be a painful reminder, but now it's proof of my revenge. I doubt Joe is with Jenny still, in this reality, but I couldn't give a shit about them anymore. Their tits have made me absolutely enormous and I can't wait to see what life is like at this enormous size.

[lu-is-not-ok]

hi there! i’ve been motivated by previous asks, so i would really like to hear your thoughts on hong lu’s relationship with yi sang, as it is currently and how it may progress with the story… they have very interesting parallels to me and i wish i could see their relationship explored somewhere other than my own head lol

also, (if you would allow me two questions) do you have any particular thoughts about hong lu’s particulars (bachelor and sheltered)? i find the sinners’ particulars to be really interesting too but i never see them discussed anymore. thanks for your time & have a good day <3

When it comes to Hong Lu and Yi Sang, their relationship is much more straightforward but also much more genuinely positive.

The two don't really interact with each other in any notable manner until Canto 4, which is also where their dynamic Truly gets established. Canto 4's Dungeon is where they both end up connecting, as Yi Sang recognises Hong Lu as someone who heavily resembles Young Ji from the League of Nine, while Hong Lu himself appears to relate to and understand some of Yi Sang's struggles.

This all comes to a head when Hong Lu is the one to recognise the emotional core of what was happening and gives Dante the advice they need to actually reach out to Yi Sang at his lowest.

From this Canto onward, Hong Lu appears to consistently check up on Yi Sang during moments that remind the latter of his past with the League. Hong Lu shows that he not only holds concern for Yi Sang's emotional well-being, but also wants to make sure he doesn't bottle up his thoughts the way he learned he did in his past.

Likewise in Canto 7 Yi Sang is shown to be returning the favor to Hong Lu so to speak, though he's shown to struggle a bit more with processing how Hong Lu responds in comparison.

Outside of these moments, Hong Lu and Yi Sang are shown to generally have a cordial and amicable rapport, both showing curiosity towards each other when they share their respective knowledge and likewise jumping off of each other's observations to add their own. While Hong Lu does tease Yi Sang once or twice, it doesn't read nearly as mean-spirited as some of the shit he pulled with people like Heathcliff and Rodya.

Their relationship is perhaps one of the few on the bus that I can genuinely say is an entirely positive one for both of them. They both clearly care for each other and enjoy speaking with one another, even if they might struggle to understand one another at points. No ifs or buts, they're just straight up honestly decent friends.

It really makes me wonder how Yi Sang is going to take it once Hong Lu's lies are revealed... Compared to a lot of the relationships Hong Lu has with the other Sinners, his bond with Yi Sang seems the most genuine. Will Yi Sang be able to recognise that and will he decide to still stand by Hong Lu side?

Now. As for your second question.

I don't have much to say on Hong Lu's particulars beyond mentioning that their translation is. Interesting to say the least.

According to someone who speaks Korean, the term that got translated to "Bachelor" would more accurately be translated to "Young Master", aka it doesn't really have anything to do with marital status in its original language.

Similarly, the original wording for the "Sheltered" particular is more so an allusion to Hong Lu having a different sense of reality to what is considered normal. It's an interesting specificity that the English translation added that from my understanding wasn't there in the original text.

I don't have much else to add beyond the fact that people are too quick to trust the Manager Instructions as being the ultimate truth on what the Sinners are like. Their description of Ishmael as someone whose "patience runs deep" is proven incorrect in the fucking Prologue where her impatience is directly called out. This shit isn't a trustworthy source of info.

[28harryssunflower]

It was always you

“You know, I think I’m actually cursed.”

Harry barely looked up from his phone as you flopped onto his bed with a dramatic sigh, burying your face in his pillow. “Yeah?” he said lazily. “What kind of curse we talking about? Eternal clumsiness? Never getting the last slice of pizza?”

You groaned and threw a pillow at him, which he dodged effortlessly. “No, you idiot. A love curse.”

That got his attention. He smirked, locking his phone and tossing it onto his nightstand. “Oh, this could be good. Go on, then. Tell me about your tragic, love-deprived existence.”

“I’m serious, Harry!” You sat up, hugging the pillow to your chest. “I’ve never had a boyfriend. Never even had my first kiss. Meanwhile, you’re out here hooking up with a new girl every week like it’s your part-time job.”

“Full-time, actually,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes but continued. “I just… I want someone to love me, you know? Someone who looks at me and thinks, ‘Yeah, she’s the one I want.’”

Harry watched you for a moment, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. Then, with his usual smugness, he leaned back against the headboard and stretched out his arms. “Well, lucky for you, you’ve already got me. No need to search any further.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious!” he grinned, opening his arms invitingly. “Come on, I’ll even cuddle you, since you’re always so lonely.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are, still talking to me.”

You flipped him off but, despite your protests, you eventually curled up against his side, sighing softly as his warmth surrounded you. It was familiar. Comforting. Safe.

But safety wasn’t love.

And that was the problem.

So when you finally got a boyfriend, you were ecstatic.

Harry had been just as excited for you at first, grinning as you rambled on about your dates, about how sweet your boyfriend was, about how it felt to finally be wanted.

But slowly, things started changing.

It started with little things - canceling plans last-minute, leaving his messages on read. Then, you started avoiding him altogether, barely sparing him a glance in the halls. When he tried to talk to you, your boyfriend would pull you away, whispering something in your ear that made you frown but ultimately follow him without a second thought.

The worst part was, you didn’t even seem to realize what was happening.

And then you forgot his birthday.

Harry spent the entire day pretending not to care, but he did. God, he did. His mum had even asked why you weren’t there - because you were always there. But he just muttered something about you being busy, shrugged off her concerned look, and spent the rest of the day staring at his phone, waiting for a text that never came.

But he didn’t go to your house to confront you. He didn’t text you. He didn’t call you.

This time, he just let it go.

By Monday, he didn’t even bother trying anymore.

You were his only friend - had always been his only friend. Without you, he was alone.

So he leaned into it.

He walked through the halls with his hood up, earphones in, ignoring everything and everyone. He leaned against his locker alone, scrolling through his phone. He was just another body in the hallways now, and maybe that was fine.

Until he heard the laughter.

Harry didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

Your boyfriend and his friends stood at the other end of the hallway, their laughter carrying over the dull roar of students. He was pointing at Harry, smirking as he whispered something to his friends.

Harry clenched his jaw and slammed his locker shut. He wasn’t in the mood for this.

But, of course, your boyfriend had other plans.

“Oi, loser!”

Harry exhaled slowly through his nose but didn’t respond.

“You deaf too?” Another voice chimed in - one of his friends, probably. “Or just fucking pathetic?”

Harry gritted his teeth, gripping the strap of his bag. Just walk away.

But then your boyfriend stepped in front of him.

“You know, it’s sad, really,” he sneered. “You following her around all these years like a lost puppy. Guess she finally got tired of your pathetic ass.”

Harry’s fists curled.

“What?” Your boyfriend smirked. “Nothing to say?” He shoved Harry’s shoulder, making him stumble back a step. “No comeback, huh? Figures. You were always just a waste of space-“

Harry swung.

His fist connected with your boyfriend’s jaw, sending him staggering back. But before Harry could do anything else, hands grabbed him from behind, shoving him hard against the lockers.

And then the punches started.

One to his stomach. Another to his ribs.

A fist slammed into his jaw, snapping his head to the side.

A knee to his gut knocked the air from his lungs, and suddenly, he was on the ground.

More kicks. More fists.

Blood filled his mouth. His vision blurred. His head spun.

And then he heard your voice.

“Harry?!”

The beating stopped instantly.

You pushed through the crowd, your heart stopping when you saw him.

Harry was barely breathing, blood smeared across his face, his lip split, bruises already forming along his jaw. His arms trembled as he tried, and failed, to push himself up.

Your chest tightened, tears blurring your vision as you shoved your boyfriend out of the way and dropped to your knees beside Harry.

“Oh my god,” you choked out, cradling his face in your hands. “Harry, stay with me, okay? Don’t fall asleep. Just- just keep your eyes open.”

He groaned, barely conscious.

You snapped your head up, looking at the crowd. “Someone call a fucking ambulance!”

No one moved.

“Now!”

Finally, someone fumbled for their phone.

Your boyfriend scoffed behind you. “Why are you wasting your time? He’s a loser.”

Then he reached for you.

The second his hand touched your arm, you whipped around, eyes blazing.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch me, you prick.”

He blinked. “What?”

You shot up to your feet, shoving him back. “It’s over.”

He laughed. “Oh, come on. Don’t be dramatic-“

“Piss off!” you screamed, voice breaking. “Get the fuck away from me!”

A few teachers finally arrived, pushing through the crowd. Someone pulled your boyfriend back, while another crouched next to Harry, checking his breathing.

Minutes later, sirens blared outside.

You held Harry’s hand the entire way to the hospital, whispering apologies through your tears, telling him to just stay awake, that you were so, so sorry.

He squeezed your hand weakly. “Told you… you don’t need… anyone else.”

A broken sob left your lips. “Shut up, idiot.”

When his parents arrived, you barely got the words out before breaking down entirely, burying your face in Anne’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed. “It’s all my fault.”

Anne just held you tighter. “Oh, sweetheart.”

You didn’t leave Harry’s side. Not for a second.

Because maybe love had been right in front of you all along.

The hospital room was too bright, too sterile, too quiet except for the steady beep of Harry’s heart monitor.

You sat beside his bed, gripping his hand tightly, even though he was barely conscious. The sight of him like this - bruised, battered, barely able to open his eyes - made your chest ache with guilt.

You had let this happen.

And you weren’t leaving him again.

“I want a second bed in his room.”

The nurse blinked at you, glancing between you and Harry’s sleeping form. “I’m sorry, but only family members-“

“I don’t care,” you cut in, voice shaking but firm. “I’m not leaving him.”

The nurse hesitated, clearly torn, but then she sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

That night, they wheeled in a second bed for you.

It was small, uncomfortable, and cold, but you didn’t care. It was close enough to Harry. That’s all that mattered.

You barely slept.

Every time he shifted, every time he let out the faintest groan of pain, you were up, adjusting his pillows, checking his IV, making sure he had everything he needed.

Sometime in the middle of the night, his hand found yours.

“You’re still here?” he mumbled, voice hoarse, eyes barely open.

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips quirked up just slightly, the ghost of a smile. “Good.”

And then he fell back asleep, his fingers still loosely wrapped around yours.

The hospital stay lasted a week.

A week of helping him sit up when his ribs hurt too much. A week of spoon-feeding him shitty hospital food because he was too drugged-up to do it himself. A week of pretending not to cry when the doctors explained how much pain he’d be in for the next few months.

A week of never leaving his side.

By the time he was discharged, you had practically memorized his breathing patterns, the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was uncomfortable, the way he clung to your hand every time he fell asleep.

And despite everything, despite the pain, despite the bruises, despite the way you had abandoned him for so long - he still wanted you there.

You didn’t understand it.

But you weren’t about to question it.

The first night at his house was rough.

He could barely move, every breath sending a sharp pain through his ribs. You helped him get into bed, carefully adjusting his pillows, setting his pain meds and water on the nightstand.

“You really don’t have to-“

“Yes, I do.”

He looked at you for a long moment, then sighed. “Alright, Nurse Bossy.”

You rolled your eyes, sitting down on the bed next to him. “Shut up and take your meds.”

He did. But when he winced, shifting slightly, you immediately reached for him, helping him lean back.

His gaze softened. “You’re gonna take care of me, huh?”

You swallowed. “Of course I am.”

Harry studied your face, something unreadable in his expression. “Even after everything?”

Guilt twisted in your chest. “I don’t understand how you can even look at me after what I did,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

He exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing against yours. “Because you’re you.”

You blinked at him, eyes stinging. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

Harry tilted his head slightly. “That’s not for you to decide, is it?”

Your breath hitched.

After a moment, you sighed and carefully curled up beside him, resting your head on his good shoulder.

“I’m still sorry,” you murmured.

“I know,” he whispered. “But you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

The next few weeks changed everything.

You never left his side. Every morning, you helped him sit up, made him food, made sure he took his meds. You helped him shower, helped him dress, even sat through hours of shitty reality TV just to keep him entertained.

And through it all, Harry changed too.

Gone was the playboy who hooked up with someone new every weekend. Gone was the smug flirt who never took anything seriously.

He still joked around, still teased you endlessly, still acted like the Harry you had known your whole life. But something was different.

He wasn’t looking for anyone else anymore.

Because he already had you.

Neither of you spent a single night alone after that.

If he wasn’t staying over at your place, you were at his. You always shared a bed, sometimes he stayed up late watching movies while you fell asleep against his shoulder.

But no matter what, you were together.

Always.

One night, weeks after everything, he traced lazy patterns on your arm as you lay curled up beside him.

“You’re really never leaving me again, huh?”

You swallowed. “Never.”

He exhaled, pulling you a little closer.

“Good.”

If anyone had told you a year ago that you and Harry would end up like this - tangled together every night, inseparable, happy - you would have laughed in their face.

But now, lying in his bed with his arms wrapped around you, his lips brushing lazily over the top of your head as he mumbled half-asleep nonsense, you couldn’t imagine life any other way.

Everything was just… good.

Better than good.

Perfect.

School was different now.

Where Harry used to be surrounded by girls hanging off his every word, he was now only ever with you. He still had his cocky smirk, still joked around with his old friends, but when it came down to it, he only had eyes for you.

And he made sure everyone knew it.

Whether it was his arm slung over your shoulder in the halls, the way he pulled you into his lap when you sat with him at lunch, or the way he casually shut down any girl who so much as batted her eyelashes at him - it was clear.

Harry Styles was taken.

And he wouldn’t shut up about it.

“My girlfriend’s actually the smartest person in this school,” he’d brag to your teachers when you aced a test.

“My girl made the best fucking pancakes this morning,” he’d tell his friends, even though he had literally helped you burn them.

“My girl,” he called you. All the time. And you secretly loved it.

You rolled your eyes at his antics, but every time, you’d find yourself blushing, hiding your smile as he grinned at you like you were his entire world.

Because, well… you were.

Your families were just as obsessed with your relationship as Harry was.

Anne had always loved you like a second daughter, but now that you were officially dating her son, she took it to a whole new level.

“I knew it,” she’d say every time she saw you two cuddled up on the couch. “Knew you’d end up together. Should’ve placed a bet.”

Harry groaned. “Mum-“

“You two were practically married as kids anyway,” she continued, waving him off. “Might as well make it official.”

You laughed. “We’re still in high school, Anne.”

She just shrugged. “You’ll get there.”

Your own parents weren’t any better.

Your mom practically beamed every time Harry walked through the door, already treating him like a son. Your dad had been a little skeptical at first (probably remembering Harry’s less-than-stellar reputation), but after seeing how much he adored you, he came around quickly.

“Just take care of her,” your dad had told him one evening, clapping a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry had looked him dead in the eye and said, “Always.”

That had been the moment your dad fully accepted him.

From then on, family dinners turned into “future planning sessions,” where your parents and his would casually drop comments like, “When you two get married,” and “Your future kids are going to be adorable.”

You’d groan and hide your face in your hands while Harry just smirked, clearly enjoying it.

“You hear that, love?” he teased one night as you lay in his bed, scrolling through your phone while he played with your fingers. “They want grandkids.”

You shot him a look. “You’re literally seventeen.”

He shrugged. “So? You think they’re wrong?”

You sighed, setting your phone down to look at him properly. “Do you?”

Harry didn’t answer right away. He just studied your face, eyes soft, thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

Then he smirked. “Nah, they’re definitely right.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder. “Idiot.”

He just laughed and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You love me.”

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

But he knew the truth.

And so did you.

Being with Harry felt like breathing - natural, effortless, something you didn’t even have to think about.

When you were alone with him, the rest of the world disappeared.

No teasing from your families about marriage and grandkids. No whispers at school about how Harry Styles finally settled down. No past mistakes, no guilt, no fears.

Just him. Just you. Just this.

Nights at his house were your favorite.

It usually started with a lazy movie night, where Harry would let you pick something - though he always found a way to distract you before the ending. Sometimes with kisses pressed against your jaw, other times by burying his face in your neck and mumbling about how you smell so good, love, what is that? until you finally gave in and let him pull you into his arms.

You always ended up in his bed, tangled together, legs hooked over his, your head resting on his chest as his fingers traced slow circles on your back.

Harry loved to touch you.

Not in a desperate, needy way - though, let’s be honest, sometimes it was that too - but in a constant way.

His hands were always on you, even in the smallest ways. His fingers brushing over your knuckles when you walked side by side. His palm resting on your thigh when you sat next to him. His lips pressing against your temple whenever you leaned against him.

And when you were alone, when it was just the two of you wrapped up in his sheets, his touch was even softer.

He’d run his fingers through your hair, whispering little nothings, sometimes teasing, sometimes serious.

“Gonna marry you one day,” he murmured one night, voice heavy with sleep.

You huffed, your fingers lazily tracing patterns on his stomach. “You’re obsessed with me.”

Harry chuckled, shifting so he could press a kiss to your forehead. “Obviously.”

You smiled against his skin, feeling his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

This was home.

Mornings slow and filled with warmth.

Harry was not a morning person. He liked to stay in bed as long as possible, groaning dramatically whenever you tried to move.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled one morning, voice muffled against your shoulder.

“I have to pee.”

“Pee later.”

“That’s not how it works, idiot.”

Harry groaned, tightening his grip on you. “Fine. But you’re coming back.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, kissing his cheek before slipping out of bed.

When you returned, he had stolen your pillow, hugging it to his chest like some sort of oversized teddy bear.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, crawling back in beside him.

“Mm.” He tossed the pillow aside, pulling you into his arms instead. “Better.”

You let him be clingy, let him tuck his face into your neck, let him hold you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

Afternoons spent doing absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.

Some days, you stayed in bed all day, wrapped up in each other, talking about everything.

Harry loved to ask questions.

What’s your happiest memory?

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?

If we were stranded on an island, would you eat me or let me eat you first?

(You didn’t dignify that last one with a response.)

Other days, he’d convince you to go on little adventures with him - late-night drives with the windows down, ice cream runs even when it was freezing outside, sneaking into the neighborhood pool just to float on your backs and stare at the stars.

Everything was better with him.

Even the boring, ordinary moments.

Some nights, you didn’t sleep at all.

You’d stay up talking, whispering under the covers like kids sharing secrets.

One night, after hours of just being with each other, Harry tilted your chin up, eyes soft in the dim light of his bedroom.

“I never really knew what love was,” he admitted. “Not before you.”

Your breath caught. “Harry…”

He swallowed, his fingers brushing over your cheek. “I know I’ve said a lot of stupid shit in the past, and I know I was a dick before, but I-“ He exhaled sharply. “I love you. You know that?”

You stared at him, heart swelling in your chest.

“I know.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Good.”

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. “I love you too.”

Harry let out a breathy laugh, like he still couldn’t believe this was real.

And then he kissed you.

Slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world. Like he was never letting you go.

And he never did.

You and Harry barely fought.

Sure, you bickered all the time - about who got the last slice of pizza, about his terrible taste in reality TV, about the way he always stole the covers at night. But it was never serious.

Until tonight.

And it was stupid.

It started with Harry forgetting to pick you up from school when he had a day off and you weren’t driving home together.

You waited outside for over an hour, your phone battery slowly draining as you sent unanswered texts, your frustration growing with every passing minute.

By the time you walked home - freezing, exhausted, and pissed off - Harry was sprawled out on his bed, completely oblivious.

“Oh, hey, love,” he greeted casually, grinning. “Didn’t hear you come in-“

“You forgot me.”

Harry’s grin faded, eyebrows furrowing. “Shit.” He sat up, running a hand through his hair. “I- I didn’t mean to, I just-“

“Oh, you just what?” you snapped, throwing your bag on the floor. “Got too distracted being lazy to remember your girlfriend?”

Harry scowled. “I wasn’t being lazy! I was studying.”

You scoffed. “Studying what, Harry? The inside of your eyelids?”

His jaw clenched. “I said I didn’t mean to. What more do you want?”

“I want you to care!”

“I do care-“

“Not enough.”

Harry stood up then, his expression darkening. “Don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like I don’t love you just because I made one mistake.”

Your nostrils flared as you glared at him. “It’s not just one mistake, Harry. You never take things seriously. You’re always so fucking carefree-“

“Oh, I’m so sorry for not being miserable all the time,” he shot back sarcastically.

Your hands balled into fists. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a pain in my ass,” he snapped, stepping closer.

You stepped closer too. “I hate you.”

His chest was heaving now, eyes burning into yours. “Yeah? I hate you more.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t soft. It was desperate, angry, all teeth and heat and hands gripping a little too tight.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, his body pressing yours against the wall.

You gasped into his mouth, nails raking down his back.

He bit your bottom lip in retaliation, his breath hot against your skin as he muttered, “So fucking annoying.”

You dug your nails in deeper. “You love it.”

His response was a growl, his lips crashing back into yours, his hands grabbing, pulling, taking.

You didn’t stop. Not when he lifted you onto the bed. Not when he hovered over you, his hands gripping your wrists. Not even when he smirked and whispered, “Still hate me?”

Afterward, you lay beside him, panting, your limbs tangled together, skin still burning from his touch.

The room was silent for a long time.

“I hate you,” you muttered, turning your head to glare at him.

Harry chuckled breathlessly, rolling onto his side. “I hate you more.”

You both stared at each other, eyes narrowing - until, suddenly, you both cracked.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, and before you knew it, you were giggling, your forehead dropping against his shoulder.

Harry grinned, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close. “We’re so fucking stupid.”

You nodded, still laughing softly. “Yeah.”

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. “But you still love me.”

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

Harry smirked. “Guess you’re stuck with me, then.”

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were warm now, soft, all the anger from before completely melted away.

You leaned in, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to his lips.

He sighed against your mouth, his fingers threading through your hair.

After a moment, he pulled back just enough to murmur, “Still hate me?”

You smiled, “Yeah.”

He grinned, kissing you again.

[avifaunaa]

Natasha + R rambles [ htwswy ]

Authors Note: I’m a little tired from posting that monster of a chapter for Rio yesterday — so until I regain some brain juice back I’ll share some little cutsie rambles about Nat/R from the htwswy-verse! I know you guys love this fic a lot so if you want to know more about it please know my anons are open!

Masterlist

Summary: N/A | rambles

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Content Warnings: a tiny mention of self-harm, but other than that none! Mostly humor, fluff, the good stuff.

• Natasha and you probably get another cat not long after you guys get super duper serious — Liho was so pissed

• Out of the two of you, believe it or not, Natasha’s likely less likely to start an argument and more likely to find a solution to one.

• It actually took a while for Yelena to warm up to you despite whatever we think we see in chapter 1. Natasha is her sister and nobody is good enough for her sister until she can decide they are. “A while” is actually six months — making the offhand Yelena-like comments even when she agreed to your attempts to reach out for hangouts to watch Studio Ghibli movies.

• When she does decide you’re perfect for Natasha [ “I’m glad you approve,” you told the blonde blandly as you sat across from her at breakfast, oatmeal untouched and eyes uncaring, “but we’ve been dating for a year now.” She pointedly ignored you, as she usually does. ] she goes to Natasha herself and says so.

• Natasha wasn’t amused.

• Natasha who doesn’t seek out cuddling at bedtime immediately due to her fear of what could happen if she’s tangled up with you during a night terror. Short of flinging you into the wall and making Tony pay a hefty repair fee, you weren’t sure there was much.

• She admired the size of your balls, honestly, considering she could kill you.

• You laughed at her despite the severity of the situation she felt — whereas you didn’t. You didn’t think she’d be able to before waking up.

• It turns out you were right — she always ended up awake with you somehow touching her. On top of her chest, curled up against her, spooning her, spooning you.

• When Natasha sat you down and told you the full story about her history — from the Red Room until the defeat of Thanos — you didn’t seem to know how to take it. But you did know how to respond to her opening up: you took care of her. You disappeared only to return with a dangling Liho in your arms and plopped her into Nat’s lap while you gathered various items for a lazy day on the couch.

—> “I need you to say something,” Natasha finally admitted after you hadn’t spoken about it for a few minutes, television murmuring in the background as she stroked Liho’s soft fur. “Just tell me what you’re thinking?”

—> You lifted your head off her shoulder to look directly at her. “I think,” you started slowly, picking at your leggings, “that you’re one of the bravest people I have ever met and the good you do in the world despite the amount of wrong it has done to you is a feat that I will always admire and love you for.”

—> It was a beautiful response — and not an “I’m so sorry” to be found in there either. She kissed you just to tell you how much it meant to her. That her past didn’t change how you in her eyes. As your partner, your fiercest protector, and your best friend.

• Natasha Romanoff who comes home busted up form missions and you hackle like a cat and fuss over her, poking and prodding each wound, demanding to know where they came from and “why the fuck did you come see me before going to Cho?” and only when did she notice you were in near tears did she stop coming to you before going to Cho.

• Natasha who finishes trying the coffee menu at her normal spot and approaches you about how it makes her feel.

—> You bring a list of suggestions for other local places in the city to start going to

—> It’s cute how she worries about never going back — but you make a promise that for every new place you try you always go to the usual spot once a week

• Natasha who notices your ticks and understands when you work as a way to self-soothe or self-harm.

• This causes her to visit more frequently and break the streak of the period you work so you can go to bed, or eat some food, take a shower — whatever it takes to get you away from the lab.

• Natasha who introduces you fully to the team. She looks entirely too proud of herself, eyes so lovely and soft, and you as Thor slams down the hammer and dares you to play the game nobody ( but Steve Rogers, but Thor conveniently leaves that out ) can win but him.

—> Natasha comforts you when you go :( after ten long minutes of attempting to peel that stupid hammer off the table while everyone eggs you on, knowing full well it won’t happen

—> “It was not a game you were excepted to win — none of us can,” she assured you.

I LOVE THESE IDIOTS SO MUCH CHAT

[dunroamins]

It really fucking sucks as someone who likes both Steve AND Jonathan, but sometimes the fandom lowkey makes me hate Steve - whether it's by demonizing Jonathan/attributing his best tributes solely to Steve, or by wildly mischaracterizing him.

Yes!

Steve has his own, entirely valid, good qualities, many of which he actually shares with Jonathan: being brave, protective and loyal.

He's also practically intelligent and observant (realising the recording was coming from inside the mall), and he's done what a lot of young lads do. He was a bit of an arsehole in high school, and now he's grown up and grown out of that behaviour.

What that means is that he's a fairly ordinary kid. That's the whole point-he's the normal small-town boy who ends up doing battle with interdimensional monsters.

Jonathan, by contrast, gets so much hate because he's not ordinary. He is primed for the Upside Down. He's not ready for what happens to Will...but he's been expecting things to go wrong his whole life because they always have. When the GA calls him weird, or ugly, or boring, what they really mean is 'I can't relate to what he's been through so I don't have any sympathy for him'.

He's intelligent, sharp, witty, spiky, strong and compassionate. He has a moral centre because his father never did. He's a dad before he's a high-school grad; a mother's helper before he gets to be a child. This is the young man who organised his little brother's funeral, and still made sure his mother ate. This is the young man who had his spine cracked wide with a surgical stool, and tried to save his girlfriend through the pain.

This is a man who (probably without fully realising) limits his own choices because he's determined to expand his little brother's.

The constant erasure of Jonathan's complexities-his constant relegation to the background by large swathes of the fandom-hurts, because that's exactly what happens to kids like him. To kids like me.

Jonathan is different by design. The whole Byers family (sans Lonnie) is different by design. They are the ones best equipped to deal with all of this because they know the darkness that lies beneath normal life. It's not a shock or a surprise to them. The whole concept of the show is about a family that's been beaten down by people who don't care to understand, responding to the Upside Down in a way only they can.

Jonathan doesn't get to have the redemption arc Steve does, because (aside from the photo debacle) he doesn't need one. He doesn't need to grow up, because he's already had to. His outlook on life is more mature, more cynical, more responsible, because it's had to be. From the first episode, Joyce is already in the habit of focusing on Will because Jonathan 'can take care of himself', so his needs don't show on her radar. Not only does that mean she doesn't see them: it also means that Jonathan doesn't have a good handle on his own needs either.

When you learn to make yourself small to keep everyone else afloat, you lose the ability to tell when you're sinking.

And a big chunk of the GA seems to see this and go 'Oh, he's sinking, what a loser!' because it's become normal for him to sink. They see his character as the oddball tragic foil to Steve's everyman charm, when they were supposed to see it the other way around. Jonathan was supposed to be one of the central characters for once, and to take that away from him because he is the way he is...misses the point entirely. You're supposed to sympathise with Jonathan. You're supposed to watch the show and think deeply about the harm we do when we exclude people. You're supposed to learn from him.

Yes, Jonathan does struggle to be sociable, and charismatic, and open! He does struggle to express himself! That's the whole point: he is a child who's been through more in 16 years (as of S1) than most people in small-town America have in a lifetime. He is the way he is because he trudges through Hell and keeps going.

Because he'll be damned if anyone he loves ends up there with him.

[butterflywingswrites]

reposting all my anon fics in one place. enjoy 🤗

(running out of fics, send asks)

revenge sex with caitlin part 2

you made out with caitlin and ran your fingers through her soft hair

“does your boyfriend kiss you like this?”

“no” she whimpered out between kisses “you’re better”

“i’ll show you how much better i can be” you kissed down her neck, biting and leaving marks to show how good you were making her feel. you grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it off over her head. you raised your eyes at caitlin’s lacy bra underneath

“cait were you planning this?”

“well i wore it just in case” she said shyly “i wanted to be pretty for you”

“you’re always pretty” you put your hands under her bra and started massaging her tits, making sure her nipples were getting the attention they clearly weren’t getting before. with your hands still in her bra, you started kissing down her abs. you always loved when she showed off her abs and now you got the privilege to kiss them. you moved your hands out of her bra to pull her pants off

“matching set? damn caitlin you really did plan this” she looked absolutely stunning in her lacy set, but she covered her face as if she were embarrassed

“i just wanted to be prepared” she squeaked out

“babygirl don’t be shy. i love it. you look so sexy. but i want them off now” you tugged her underwear off her hips. you paused for a bit, potentially a second too long

“what’s wrong? do you not want me? we can stop—“

“you’re gorgeous and i want you” it was your turn to cut her off “i’m just thinking about how i want you. do you want my fingers or my tongue?”

“mhmm both” she moaned out. clearly she’s been deprived of the sexual attention she needs

“whatever you want my pretty girl” you rubbed two fingers on her clit, gently testing out how she wanted to be touched. she responded well to that so you continued while moving her bra cup to the side. you placed a gentle kiss on her hard nipple then flicked it with your tongue. caitlin let out a soft whimper

“more” you flicked her nipple with your tongue again

“do you want me to suck on your pretty nipples?” instead of answering, caitlin just pushed your head against her chest. you gently sucked on her nipple while continuing to rub circles on her clit. the sexy moans and whimpers that left her mouth were leaving you soaked. caitlin tugged on your hair aggressively, signaling that she was close

“feels so good don’t stop” her begging turned you on even more. you kept going until she came on your fingers

“that’s it, let go babygirl” you let her ride out her orgasm on your fingers and kissed her

“fuck that was so good” caitlin said breathlessly

“i’m not done with you yet” you kissed her again “i still need to taste you” you moved your head down her body so you could eat her out properly. the way she deserves

you placed her thighs over your shoulders and moaned when you saw how wet she was. you took your time kissing her pretty thighs, enjoying the moment. when you got to her pussy you gave her a slow lick up her entrance

“fuck caitlin”

“what’s wrong? do i not taste good?” caitlin confused your words of pleasure for distaste

“no babygirl. he never tells you, does he? you taste so fucking good. i can’t wait to eat that pretty pussy” you started to lick her slowly, trying to build anticipation for her and savor the taste for yourself

“i need more” caitlin put her hands in your hair and tugged. you quickened your tongue to try and give her what she wanted. the soft moans that left her mouth told you she was getting it. you brought your thumb to her clit, already sensitive from the first orgasm you gave her. when your thumb made contact, her thighs tightened around your head. her moans got louder and you knew she was close. with a loud moan and a tug at your hair, caitlin came on your tongue. you lapped gently at her pussy, cleaning her up while trying to memorize her taste

“i bet he doesn’t make you cum like that” you smirked. caitlin was totally fucked out

“no. he doesn’t make me cum even half as good as that. not even a quarter as good” she admitted

“don’t worry babygirl, i’ll always be here to make you feel good”

[faghubby]

Going out again

"Ally. Why can't we just go to dinner together?" I whined

"Don't start, I am in a good mood. You wanted me to find a lover and now all you do is bitch like a little girl whenever I go to meet him" Ally shot back as she sat at her vanity finishing her make up. She stood up.

"I know what it is, you're bored home all alone. Well why don't we fix that" she told me grabbing my arm she led me down the hall.

"See this closet, it's a mess. Everyone just throws stuff in there they don't want to deal with" She then led me to the kitchen. "And the pantry, stuff gets thrown in here no organization" she told me. "Why don't you spend your free time taking care of that rather then pitching about me getting laid" she told me. I lowered my head in defeat.

"Don't cry about it" Ally said lifting my chin. "You can wear my pantyhose while you do it" she smiled. She knew I loved to wear her pantyhose they felt so smooth and sexy on my legs. Ally left to meet her lover. I knew nothing about him. She never shared details. When I had mentioned her cuckoldingMr, i thought it would boost are sex life add spice. Instead it killed it. She was getting what she needed from someone else. She wouldn't talk about it. But also stopped having sex with me at all. She had known about the pantyhose fetish since before we where married. No my sex life was me sitting home wondering what she was doing and with who as I masterbated.

Maybe this was a test if I did a good job cleaning everything up she would have sex with me. So I put on a pair of her pantyhose and nothing else and tackled the closet first. I spent hours on the closet and the pantry. I wasn't even done when Ally returned home.

"Look at you a busy little sissy" she smiled. "Did you have fun?" She giggled my dick hard in the pantyhose. She stepped close.

"It's been months hasn't it?" She asked as she ran her hand over my hardon. "You did really well so how about I let you ask some questions" she said.

"How big is he?" I asked without thinking.

"Wow your first question is about his big cock, jealous? Do you secretly want to suck his cock?" Ally teased. "It's bigger then you of course bit not overly enormous" she told me.

I thought for a moment "do I know him?" I asked

"No" she responded. She rubbed me again thru the pantyhose then ran her hand across my ass. I jumped as it felt like electricity running thru my body.

"Whould you like to wear pantyhose more? I would get you your own?" Ally asked I just moaned. "What about other things, girlie things. Have you tried panties?" She asked

"Yes, I love the feeling of satin" I confessed she stepped behind me her hands never leaving me.

"I bet you would look so cute all dressed up in satin" she told me her hands running up and pinching my nipples. "Rub yourself, don't take it out just rub" she told me kissing my ear. I rubbed my hardon it didn't take long for me to make a mess in my pantyhose. She headed for a shower leaving me to finish up.

In the morning I found a pair of nude pantyhose on top of my clothes.

"Wear them under your work clothes today" Ally told me. I put them on and put my underwear over them thinking it would hide them better if I bent over or something. I struggled to focus all day. The pantyhose driving me crazy.

At home Ally was cooking dinner,

"How was your day?" She smiled. "Why don't you strip down to just your silky pantyhose" without a thought I stripped. "How did you feel today?" She asked.

"Hot" I complained even though I loved it.

"Well you could shave that will reduce the temp and of course make them feel even more anazing" Ally told me. "And maybe I tell you how he likes to fuck me" she smiled. I went to take a bath. I shaved my legs, ass and groin. Before getting out of the tub. Ally met me at the door with a pair of full size pink satin panties.

"They are your size try them on" I slid them on and they felt amazing she then handed me a new pair of pantyhose they fit better then hers they weren't tight they felt amazing on my shaved legs.

"He loves to bend me over and fuck me standing up. He pounds away abusing my poor little pussy" She told me rubbing me thru the pantyhose and satin panties. I wanted to cum but she stopped.

"Why didn't you finish?" She asked running her hand thru the little cheat hair I had. I had not thought about it. She didn't wait for a response instead she bent me over.

"Like this he has me then he spreads my legs a bit" she moved my legs "and gets me wet" she said as she ran her fingers over my panty covered asshole. She then pulled my pantyhose and panties down exposing my ass. She applied something cool to my asshole and pushed her finger in.

"I want to make you a full fledge sissy" she told me. I didn't move I let her do whatever she wanted. She then pushed something hard against my hole.

"Push out and relax" she told me I tried and suddenly something slid into my ass. It hurt alittle as I gasped she pulled up my panties.

"I suck and swallow his cock. I never even put you in my mouth" Ally told me. "Do you like your new butt plug?" She asked. I spent the rest of the night even sleeping with the plug in my ass and the pantyhose.

"I am seeing him agsin after work, so you should focus on getting the laundry caught up and maybe thinking about getting rib of the rest of this hair. I went to work in pantyhose again. But she let me remove the plug it was small it felt so much bigger. When I got home I found a bigger plug on the table.

TRY THIS ONE SISSY GIRL the note read. I took it and worked into my ass as I get the tub set. And shaved my chest and pits. This is what I wanted I wanted the attention I wanted her to tease me. The plug hurt a little but if it made her happy.

Ally came home just before I was going to bed. She underdressed in front of me making a show of it. She peeled off her cum soaked panties.

"Look at all his cum" she laughed. "I got you this to wear" she smiled handing me a pink satin nightgown. As she went to shower. I put it on and wanted to jerk off. I was about to give in when Ally got out of the shower. She laid in bed naked. She lifted my nightgown and stroked me.

"Cum, don't hold back cum" she told me. I cane innunder a minute she caught all my cum in her hand.

"He cums so much more then you, she bought her hand up to show me. "Eat it, lick up your mess" she said sternly. I hesitated.

"I let him fuck my ass, could imagine me letting someone take my ass" she said I licked her hand clean. The salty taste was okay but the slimy texture almost made me gag.

In the morning she gave me a satin camisole with matching panties to wear. But no pantyhose. Agsin as soon as ingot home she had me strip and added an even bigger plug to my ass. Another nightie to wear to bed. The next morning she added a garter and stockings under my work clothes.

When I came home she greeted me at the door. She dragged me to the bedroom sat me down.

"Tell me you want this" she told me.

"Ally I love you" I started

"Tell me you want me to make you a sissy bitch, make you suck cock" She instructed me.

I froze staring at her I didn't want this to stop, but suck some guys cock?

"Yes make me your sissy bitch" I told her.

"That's truly what you always wanted isn't it" as she started to undress me smacking my hands down when I tried to help. "A little cuckold unable to satisfy his wife because he wanted to he the girl" she continued. She stripped me completely naked.

"Get on your knees and suck my cock" She told me lifting her dress. A pink plastic cock jutting out from her crotch. She pushed me down and lifted her cock to my lips. I looked up at her then opened my mouth. She was right I could never satisfy her I wanted to wear panties. I tried to suck her cock she gave me tips and hints to suck her cock better. My jaw hurt my knees hurt my throat hurt by the time she let me stop.

"You didn't make me cum, so" she pulled my hair so I stood and she spun me around and lubed my ass. She pushed her cock into my ass. She started slow but was soon bounding away.

"You love my cock don't you baby?" She asked

"Yes, fuck me" I pleaded. Before she stopped and pulled out.

"Get dressed" she told me pointing to a pile of clothes. There was satin panties and a bra. Stockings and a skirt and a shirt that said Sissy across it then in a box a pair of high heel shoes in my size. I slipped them on simple black 3 inch heels. I almost fell putting them on. I had not even noticed Ally get dressed as well.

"I will be back in the morning, I expect the house to be spotless. I don't care if it takes all night. You should be a pro in those heels by then" She kissed me on the cheek and left wearing sweat pants. I so wanted to cum but focused on cleaning. I didn't want to ruin this. I was up to 2am scubbing the house top to bottom.

I woke up to Ally coming home it was 9am.

"Still in bed" Ally pulled back the covers I still wore the bra and panties. She sat and rubbed my erection thru my satin panties.

"Beg to clean his cum from my cheating cunt" Ally laughed. I looked at her she was serious.

"Ally, I don't want" I whined

"Beg to devoure his sperm from me, make me believe you need it" Ally said.

"Please, Ally let me clean your pussy" I said. She looked at me.

"Ally I need to suck his manly seed from you, I need to clean you" I pleaded she stood and dropped her skirt lowering herself to my mouth. His cum dripped on my face before she even lowered herself all the way. She ground her pussy into my face as I locked and sucked her lips and clit. When she was satisfied I had done a good job she got off.

"Stay right there" she told me. When she returned she wore her strapon. She pulled off my panties and lubed my ass, before shoving her cock balls deep into my ass. My dick became soft but cum leaked from it. As she fucked me. My legs on her shoulders.

"Your just a little sissy now, my little bitch girlfriend" Ally told me. That's all I was now wasn't it. She didn't see me as a man. How could she? I started to cry as she fucked me hard with her toy.

"That's it my little bitch, all you can do is cry" Ally teased. She fucked me so long sweat dripped off her face. I was jelly. I just laid there.

"Here let's put this on now" Ally said as she fiddled with something around my balls. I sat up when she was done. I didn't have a dick!

"I knew it would fit. It's like you have no penis at all she laughed. "It's only 3/4 of an inch chastity cage." She told me. "And I already threw out the key"

"Your a woman now" Ally smiled. As I burst into tears again.

[baileysturnz]

𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍? ❥ఌ

𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 1 𑁍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 2 𑁍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 3 𑁍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 4 𑁍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 5 𑁍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 6 𑁍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 7 𑁍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 8 𑁍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 9 𑁍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 10 𑁍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 11 𑁍 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 12

𓂸𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩

𝖬𝖺𝗍𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖠𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝖠𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 3 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾.

𑁍𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏, 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗁, 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗌𝗌, 𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 (𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺..), 𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥

𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚜 ❦

𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵: @kier-with-a-k @idrk2292 @mommymomm 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘤 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘺! ❥

𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚢 @bernardsbendystraws 𝚝𝚢𝚜𝚖!

 I didnt know where Matt was taking me. We were going to the country side? “Matt please tell me youre not a murderer and are kidnapping me”. i say and Matt laughs. “Dont worry, i wont kill you but i am taking you to a forest”. “Oh fuck”. when we got there it was a trail for hikers but Matt told me it looked better at sunset. so we eventually gathered the left over soda and pizza and some blankets to take with us.

 We walked a little further to the trail. We set everything up and i saw Matt lighting a cigarette. “You smoke now?”. I ask him. “Sometimes, not a lot”. Matt offers me. I take it, im not s smoker but ill never deny one once in a while. The sun was getting low and Matt started talking. “tell me something nobody knows about you”. i really think about it. “That I never regretted that night with you and even though of what happened i still dont think it was a mistake”. I say and take a hit of the cigarette. 

“once s girl told me she didnt regret her first time being with me, and i told her initially it was a mistake, i fucked up and i threw everything away, even if we stayed friends i always wonder what more we coulve been, what shoulve been us, im sorry Bows, i know I hurt you but i mean it, ive meant everyword i have said for the past week.”.

 “Matt-“ i say sniffing. Im cut off by Matt mouth strangling mine. I breathe out“matt, im sorry too”. “Dont be, you didnt do anything wrong” We go back to kissing. matts hands on my waist and my hands travelling from his hair to his chest. Our kiss got deeper, we were both laying on the blanket, Matt pinning me down. “Matt”. I say put of breathe as he starts kissing my neck. 

“I need you, please”. I say searching his face. His gaze held on mine as he starts to look for a condom in the mini van. He stands up and searches for it and curses underneath his breathe. “Shit, i dont have here”. “I say standing up. “So…” i say. “I can wait till we get home” i say as i move closer to Matt. “Fuck, im sorry princess i need you too”. He says as he pulls me against him by the waist. “lets get going then”. I say. We get in the car and i dont think ive ever seen matt drive that fast. 

When we got home, we went up the stairs kissing, until we heard voices. “Shit” I whispered. Matt and I got ourselves together and we walked up the stairs. We saw Nick and Chris sitting on the couch. “Hey guys” I say. “Hey, What did y’all do all day?”.. Nick asked. Matt responded “We went to have lunch and then we went to the mall”. “But you don’t have any bags” Chris started. “There was nothing pretty, so we didn’t buy anything”. “Oh okay”. Nick says. “Im going to head to sleep”. Chris says. “Yeah me too” Nick says. “Chris you sleeping in my room?”. Nick asks. “Yeah”. 

They both went up the stairs. Once we hear the door click shut. Me and Matt looked at each other, a huge smirk growing in his face. He took me in his hands and we started kissing. Matt backed up until my hips hit the table loudly. “Shit” Matt hissed. He grabbed my hand and led me to his room. Now in his room, he locked the door and pinned me against it. He starts to kiss my neck.

 His hands reach the hem of my sweater “Can I sweetheart?”. He asks. I nod and the sweater is thrown to the floor leaving me with my black lingerie bra. “Oh god Bows”, he mutters. “What? Like what you see?” I say in a sassy tone. “Don’t tempt me, baby you’ve seen what I can do”. I could feel the pool of heat being created in between my thighs. He takes my bra ooff and says “I can’t believe I’m seeing your fucking tattoo””. He starts kissing it. 

Then I start kissing him, his neck, his jawline. I reach the hem of his shirt, he helps me discard it to the floor. I start kissing his chest down, and down and then up to his mouth. He takes control over me again when he put a hand underneath my thigh and pushes my legs up around his waist, a groan comes out of his mouth.

 He kisses between my breasts and gently puts me down on the mattress. Matt starts kissing me from my mouth, to my neck, to my chest, to my stomach and finally stops at where my jeans waistband lies. He looks up at me, seeking permission. “Yes Matt” I say. He is fast at unbuttoning my pants and throwing them to the floor. Matt started to puts kisses to my clothed clit. 

I moan in need and want. “Please Matt”. I say. “You have to be patient Bows” I groan. He finally takes my panties off and starts pressing kisses to my inner thighs until he gets to my wet folds. He runs a finger through them, I moan. “So wet for me?” He asks with a smirk on his face. “MMaattt Pleaseeee” I whine. “Atta girl”. Matts mouth starts exploring my folds. i moan. 

“Shh we don’t want my brothers knowing how good I make you feel”. “Y-yes” I breathe out struggling to keep quiet. Matts mouth is replaced by his fingers. I moan louder, this time Matt doesn’t say anything, he just pulls up and starts kissing me to shut me up. “Mat-t I’m close”. I say. “Not yet baby, I haven’t even started”. Matt takes out his fingers and licks them clean, as I was reaching my climax. “Matt! Are you fucking kidding me?”. I whine sitting up. “You didn’t even let me finish!” I continue. “Well you’re gonna have to wait, because you’ll be coming when you’re riding me, so wait patienly” He grins and starts putting his pants down sitting in front of me. He lets out his length with precum on the tip. He grabs a condom puts it on and discards the wrapper. 

Matt opens up my legs and positions his tip infront of my folds. I moan and he groans as he thrusts. I can feel my walls clenching around the length of him. “Fuck” he breathes out as he thrusts a little faster and harder. “Fuck, Matt” I groan against him neck. 

He starts pressing kisses to my neck and he says “Come on baby” as he fucks me harder. I shriek as he abruptly changes positions by grabbing my hips and putting me on his lap, for me to ride him. I start to rock my hips harder and faster each time. “Oh god Matt” I scream loudly “Please Matt I’m so close” I moan. “Fuck Ally”. “Im coming-g” “Release for me sweetheart I’m right behind you.” We both become undone as our moans and breaths echo through the room. Breathing fast Matt kisses me and then below my ear 

“That was fucking amazing, Bows”. “It was” I say as I get out from his hold and lay back down on the bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up” He says standing up and grabbing a towel. He cleans my sensitive spot and cleans himself. He lays back down and puts his arms around my waist and kisses behind my ears. “Good night baby” he says turning of his lights. “Good night Matt”. I say turning to face him and kiss him.

𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖾𝗇𝗌

𝘣𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺❥シ

a/n: Hey yall!! I hope yall LOVED this oneeee. I think (idk) that ill be feeding my chris girls with my next blurb-tomorrow hopefully- AND how are we feeling about the grammys tday!! love yall and thank you so so much for reading 💗

[starvrse]

UNDER PRESSURE

pairing: kim nakyoung x trainee fem!reader

summary : dance teacher nakyoung fingers u 😅

warnings: she manipulates u into sex !!!, fingering, mirror sex, dom naky, etc.

unnecessary bs: 3.8k words

seated in front of the studio mirror, nakyoung carefully observes your group of seven as you rehearse the same song for the umpteenth time. her sharp gaze flicks from one member to the next, taking in every movement, every gesture, and every imperfection. with a critical eye, she notes every wrong step, every missed beat, and every flaw in the choreography. she studies the dynamics of the group, the interactions between the members, and the cohesiveness of the performance.

as the dance comes to an end with a performance that appears flawless, the girl with her feline like features stands up from her previous sitting position, releasing a deep breath she had been holding. she stretches out her muscles, loosening any tension that had built up during the extensive rehearsal. Her sharp, perceptive eyes look over the members.

“yn.” she calls out to you with a strict tone. “step forward.”

you swallow hard and walk to the center of the room, feeling the weight of her sharp gaze. the rest of the girls watch, their expressions a mix of concern and tension.

“you hesitated on the bridge,” nakyoung says, her voice cold and cutting. “it threw off the entire performance. this isn’t a game, we can’t have weak links in this group.”

you nod, trying to maintain your composure. “i’ll do better,” you reply, but your voice falters slightly.

“better isn’t good enough,” she snaps. “you need to step it up. I don’t wanna see any more mistakes.”

she pauses, her eyes narrowing. “after practice, I want you to stay back. we need to go over your parts. I don’t care if everyone else is done for the day, your training isn’t complete yet.”

you feel a surge of anxiety mixed with determination, and your ears burn with embarrassment as the rest of the group observes your reprimand. “okay,” you respond quietly, trying to steady your voice.

“good,” she replies, crossing her arms. “now let’s run it again, but this time, I want to see real improvement. show me you can handle the pressure.”

as the music starts, you focus all your energy on the dance, trying to shake off the weight of her criticism. but with each move, you can feel her eyes piercing through you, assessing every misstep.

when the performance ends, you catch a glimpse of the other members exchanging glances, concern and tiredness etched on their faces. but nakyoung’s gaze remains locked on you, relentless and unwavering.

“not bad, but still not enough,” she says, a hint of disappointment in her tone. “the rest of you can go.”

the other six members share knowing looks, sensing the tension in the air. one by one, they bow to nakyoung, murmuring their thanks before slipping out of the studio. you watch as their silhouettes and voices fade away, leaving you alone with raven haired girl.

as the door clicks shut, nakyoung’s demeanor shifts slightly, but her intensity remains. “you need to step up your game, yn,” she continues, crossing her arms. “i know you have potential, but right now, you’re holding the team back.”

you take a deep breath, preparing for the feedback. “i understand. i’ll work harder.”

“harder isn’t enough,” she replies, her voice firm. “i need to see more confidence. you’re letting your nerves get the best of you, and it shows.”

nodding, you reaching for your water bottle and take a sip. your gaze follows your instructor as she strides toward the door—and suddenly, she locks it.

the fuck is she locking the door for?

you crease your eyebrows together while slightly tilting your head to the side.

nakyoung takes notice of your expression and smirks. “just so no one can interrupt us” she says, answering your question without hearing you say it.

nakyoung steps away from the door, her eyes never leaving you. she walks slowly, almost deliberately, as if she’s measuring each step. you can feel the pressure building in the silence between you two.

“come to the center.” she commands, her tone flat, but there’s something in it that makes you move without thinking.

you take a few tentative steps forward, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of her gaze heavy on you. as you stop in the center of the room, you glance at the mirror, but her reflection is the only one you focus on.

“show me your confidence,” nakyoung says, her voice low, almost like a challenge. “you’ve got the moves, but you don’t own them yet.”

you swallow hard, your hands trembling slightly as you wait for the music to start. the room is still, quiet, and then the music hits—sharp, fast, and unforgiving.

you push yourself to match every beat, every movement, but something feels off. the pressure, her gaze—it’s too much.

nakyoung doesn’t say a word, but you can feel her judgment in the air, sharp and cutting. with each move, you try to find the confidence she demands, but all you can hear in your head is her voice, reminding you that it’s not enough.

when the music cuts off, her gaze sharpens, locking onto you.

“better, but still not enough,” she says, her words chilling. “you’re still holding back. why?”

you take a deep breath, shaking your head, trying to shake off the nerves. “i… i don’t know.”

“you do know.” she snaps, her tone harsh. “you either want this or you don’t.”

you nod quickly, determined to prove yourself, but the sting of her disappointment lingers in the air.

nakyoung studies you for a moment longer, then, without saying a word, she strides toward the center of the room, stopping just inches from you. her presence feels overwhelming, close, and you feel your pulse quicken under her gaze.

“show me again.” she commands, her voice a soft order. she doesn’t wait for a response before she moves, reaching out to guide you.

with surprising confidence, nakyoung steps in closer, her fingers brushing lightly against your waist as she positions you. her touch is firm, but not unkind, as she adjusts your posture, her fingers pressing into your sides to correct your stance.

“you’re too stiff here,” she murmurs, her breath warm against your ear. without giving you time to react, she moves your arm, pulling it up and guiding it through the motion. her hand stays there for a moment, her fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary.

you try to focus on the movements, but her closeness is hard to ignore. the touch is so direct, so insistent, that it makes your breath catch in your throat.

“relax,” she says, her voice low as she moves her hands to your shoulders, squeezing gently to ease the tension. “you need to feel the movement, not just do it. follow me.”

she moves you through the steps, her hands on your waist, your arms, directing you with precision. each time you make a mistake, she corrects you, her touch gentle but unyielding. she shifts your body with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they want, guiding you into the correct form without hesitation.

“good, but you’re still holding back,” she says, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. she adjusts your arms again, moving closer to correct your position, her fingers brushing over your ribs. you can feel the heat of her body near yours, the tension thick between you two.

her touch lingers for a moment longer than it should, and you feel a mix of unease and something else—something you can’t quite place.

“again.” she orders, her hands moving to your waist once more as she pulls you into the next step, her touch controlling.

you obey, your body moving with hers, but inside, you’re still trying to adjust, unsure of the line between instruction and something more.

as nakyoung continues to guide you through the moves, you try to focus, but her touch is making it harder and harder to concentrate. her fingers at your waist, the way she adjusts your posture, it’s all too close, too intimate. the heat of her body against yours makes it difficult to breathe properly, let alone execute the steps with precision.

you feel her hand slide down your arm, her fingers brushing against your skin as she shifts you into the next position, but something inside you jolts at the touch. your mind begins to wander, thoughts tumbling over each other, and suddenly, you can’t remember the next move.

you freeze.

nakyoung doesn’t miss it.

“yn,” she says, her voice sharp, a hint of irritation creeping into her tone. “focus.”

you nod quickly, trying to regain control, but as you try to step into the next part of the choreography, your foot stumbles. the misstep throws you off balance, and you find yourself faltering, your body unable to catch up to the rhythm.

nakyoung steps back, crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze now colder, calculating.

“you’re distracted,” she states flatly. “and it’s affecting your performance.”

you swallow, the frustration building inside you. her gaze never leaves you, sharp and disapproving. you try to steady your breath, but your nerves are getting the best of you.

“this is not the time for distractions,” she continues, her voice firm but controlled. “you want to be better, but you’re not taking it seriously.”

you bite your lip, trying to gather your focus again. but the heat of her touch, the memory of her fingers on your waist, is still lingering, and it’s clouding your thoughts.

“again.” nakyoung demands, her eyes narrowing. “this time, no mistakes.”

you nod silently, but inside, you’re battling the growing tension, the confusion of what her touch means versus what you’re supposed to do. as the music starts again, you brace yourself for another attempt, but you know that this time, the pressure is all on you.

nakyoung watches you with a cold, assessing gaze as you stumble through the next move. you can feel the weight of her disapproval pressing down on you, the mistake now hanging in the air between you two.

she doesn’t say anything at first, but then, with a sharp exhale, she steps back, putting a little distance between you.

“break.” she says flatly, her voice cutting through the tension. she turns and walks over to the mirror, her movements calm but deliberate.

you stand there, your breath coming in shallow bursts, trying to steady yourself after the mistake. your mind races, your nerves still frazzled. you glance at nakyoung, unsure of what to do next.

she doesn’t look at you right away. instead, she sits down on the floor in front of the mirror, crossing her legs in a casual, almost expectant manner.

“come here,” she says without looking up, her tone softer but still carrying an undeniable command.

you hesitate, but the pull of her presence is too strong, and against your better judgment, you step forward. her eyes flicker up to meet yours, and there’s something unreadable in her gaze.

as you approach, nakyoung pats her lap, a silent invitation that leaves you frozen for a moment. she raises an eyebrow, the sharpness of her expression softened by the calmness in her posture.

“sit,” she instructs, her voice carrying that unmistakable authority.

you swallow, unsure, but comply, slowly lowering yourself onto her lap. the sudden closeness makes your skin prickle with nerves. her body feels warm against yours, her presence overwhelming in the stillness of the room.

nakyoung shifts slightly, making you settle more comfortably in her lap. her hand rests on your waist, a gentle yet possessive touch that contrasts with the tension in your body.

“breathe.” she mumbles against your ear, her voice unexpectedly soothing, as if she’s trying to ground you.

you try, but it’s hard to ignore the heat of her hand on your side, the way her fingers seem to linger there longer than necessary. her presence is consuming, and your heart races with a mix of confusion and something else—something you can’t quite place.

“you need to focus, yn,” she says, her tone soft but carrying an edge. “you’re letting distractions take over. I need to see you own it, all of it.”

you nod slowly, trying to steady your breath, but the closeness, the intensity of her touch—it makes it harder to think clearly.

nakyoung’s fingers trace light circles on your waist as she holds you in her lap. the silence is heavy, her sharp eyes studying you in the mirror. after a long pause, she tilts her head slightly, as if coming to a decision.

“i have an idea,” she says, her voice low, deliberate. her hand tightens slightly on your waist, grounding you. “but you have to cooperate.”

before you can even ask what she means, you feel her lean in, her lips brushing against the side of your neck. the gesture is slow, purposeful, and sends a jolt through your entire body.

“unnie,” you say, your voice shaky, as you instinctively pull back slightly, your hands gripping her arm. “i… i don’t think we should do this.”

she freezes, her lips hovering just above your skin, her breath warm against your neck. for a moment, the air between you is thick with unspoken tension, and then she pulls back completely, her hands slipping from your waist.

she grips your jaw firmly, tilting your head just enough to force your eyes to meet hers in the mirror. “you want to debut, don’t you?” she uttered, her voice low and laced with a quiet, unmistakable threat.

her gaze is sharp, unrelenting, and it pins you in place. the question lingers in the air, heavier than it should be, her grip on your jaw firm but not harsh.

“well?” she asks, her voice soft but insistent.

“yes.” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“good.” she says, her lips curling into a faint smirk. her fingers trail lightly along your jawline, the tension in the room thick and inescapable.

nakyoung leans back in and licks a slow, deliberate stripe up the side of your neck. her tongue is warm and wet, leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. you tense at the unexpected contact, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you lean into her unconsciously.

she chuckles softly, pleased with the reaction she's gotten. she repeats the motion, licking another stripe up your neck before nipping gently at the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. your heart racing in your chest as you struggle to catch your breath.

her hand slowly drifts down from your waist to your thigh, her fingers splaying out as she runs her hand up and down the inside of your thigh possessively. she can feel you tensing beneath her touch, your breath hitching in your throat with each pass of her hand.

the girl’s hand continues its slow, teasing journey up and down your thigh, her fingers eventually reaching the hem of your sweatpants. she pauses for a moment, her fingers hovering just above your covered sex before slowly inching them underneath the fabric. her touch is gentle at first, just a light brushing against your panties.

"this isn't right..." you muttered weakly, your face flushing as you squirm in her lap, torn between the urge to pull away and the growing warmth between your legs. nakyoung simply hushes you, her fingers pressing more firmly against your center through your panties.

"shhh, it's good for you," she whispers, her voice low and soothing as she slowly rubs her fingers in circles against your covered heat. "you're so tense, you need this. you need to relax."

she starts to move her fingers in a steady rhythm, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp and arch your back. "see?" she purrs, her breath hot against your ear. "your body knows what it needs, even if your mind is protesting."

"too many clothes..." nakyoung stated, one hand still expertly working between your legs while the other moves to your waist. she hooks her fingers into the waistband of your pants and starts to pull them down, maneuvering you carefully in her lap.

as she pulls your pants down, a giggle escapes her lips. "well, aren't these cute?" she remarks, her fingers pausing momentarily to trace the playful cartoon pattern printed on the fabric. "i never took you for a cute underwear kinda girl."

“too bad they have to go.” she says, fully removing your panties. leaving you bare, an instinctive reaction takes over, you try to close your legs, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks and down your neck. your heart races as embarrassment and a touch of fear tingle through you. "n-no, i... i can't..”

nakyoung chuckles softly, placing her strong hands on your inner thighs to keep your legs apart. "oh, you can and you will," she teases, her fingers splaying wider to hold you open. "you're too cute like this, trying to hide."

nakyoung leans in closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "besides, doesn't it feel better to let go? to surrender to someone who knows exactly what you need?" her hot breath sends shivers down your spine.

"now, be a good girl and keep your legs open for me. i'm just getting started." with a firm but gentle touch, the older girl resumes rubbing slow circles around your sensitive clit. your moans fill the room as pleasure builds with each rotation.

as your moans grow louder, nakyoung quickly but playfully covers your mouth with one hand, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "as much as i love hearing those beautiful noises, we don't want the whole company knowing what i'm doing to you, do we?"

she leans in close, her lips hovering just above your ear as she continues to tease your clit with slow, deliberate circles. "i want to hear you scream my name when you cum, but for now..." she nips gently at your earlobe, "keep it down, sweetheart."

nakyoung’s fingers tease your entrance, gathering moisture before slowly, gently pushing one inside. her eyes widen slightly as she feels how incredibly tight you are. "wow... you're practically untouched, aren't you?" she murmurs, wonder and excitement coloring her voice. "don't worry, i'll be gentle."

nakyoung’s finger pushes deeper, slowly stretching your tight walls. you squirm and wriggle in her lap, your legs trembling as you try to accommodate her intrusion. the dancer holds you firmly in place, her other hand still covering your mouth to muffle your desperate whimpers and squeaks.

"stay still." nakyoung commands, her voice low and dominant. "you're making this harder than it needs to be." she curls her finger inside you, hitting a spot that makes you arch your back and try to pull away from the intense sensation.

she then suddenly releases her hold on your mouth, replacing it with a firm grip on your chin. she forces your head to turn, making you look into the mirror. your reflection shows your flushed face, wide eyes, and trembling lips, with nakyoung’s strong fingers buried inside you.

nakyoung’s voice is a low purr in your ear, laced with a commanding edge. "look at yourself, baby. see how beautifully responsive you are? those cute little spasms when i touch you…" her finger curls slightly inside you, hitting a particularly sensitive spot.

she slowly adds two more fingers to your tight hole, scissoring them to stretch you even further. your scream of protest and pain is muffled by her hand covering your mouth once more. she holds you in place, her fingers pumping in and out of you in a ruthless, controlling rhythm.

in the mirror, you see nakyoung’s smirk spreading across her beautiful face, those full lips curling with satisfaction and something darker—pure, unadulterated desire. "you have no idea how long i've wanted to claim this tight cunt." she whispers, her eyes locked with yours in the reflection.

her fingers continue their dominating rhythm, each thrust deeper than the last. your eyes water, tears streaming down your cheeks as the burning stretch meets with electric sparks of pleasure that make your whole body tremble. small, desperate "mmph" sounds escape your covered mouth, muffled but filled with need and pain.

nakyoung’s smirk turns into a cruel, satisfied grin as she sees your tears and hears your muffled whimpers. she curls her fingers inside you, hitting that spot that makes you writhe and whine pitifully. "so pretty," she teases.

"crying and moaning like a little bitch in heat, even after you said you didn’t want it." her thumb presses down on your clit, adding a new wave of sensations that make your legs shake uncontrollably.

the combination of pain and pleasure is too much, and you start to sob, your body trembling violently as nakyoung’s fingers and thumb work their magic. your vision blurs, and you feel yourself on the verge of passing out from the overwhelming sensations. nakyoung’s grin widens, her fingers never slowing their relentless pace.

the sight of your tear-streaked face and trembling form in the mirror, combined with your desperate moans against her palm, is nearly enough to make nakyoung lose control. she can feel her own panties growing damp as she holds you steady, finger fucking you roughly.

with a final, brutal thrust of her fingers, nakyoung sends you careening over the edge. your body convulses violently, a loud, muffled scream of nakyoung’s name escaping you as you cum hard all over the practice room floor, your thighs shaking uncontrollably.

nakyoung’s fingers are coated in your release, and as she pulls them out, more of your essence drips down her hand. she looks up from your body, seeing your release splattered everywhere on the floor, and some even on the mirror.

with a wicked gleam in her eyes, nakyoung raises her glistening fingers to her mouth, locking eyes with your shocked reflection in the mirror. slowly, deliberately, she sucks each digit clean, her full lips wrapping around them as her tongue swirls to catch every last bit of your cum.

"mmm..." she hums in appreciation, her eyes fluttering closed briefly before snapping back open to meet your gaze in the mirror. "you taste fucking amazing. i bet i could get addicted to that taste."

after cleaning her fingers with a smirk, nakyoung stands up from the floor, smoothing out her clothes. "i gotta get going," she says, her voice back to its usual cool tone, as if the intense moment between you two never happened. "see you tomorrow.”

with that, she throws you your pants and heads for the door, not bothering to look back at you as she exits the practice room. you're left laying there, still trying to process what just happened.

nobody asked for this like gtfoooo 🙄🙄🙄 guys i promise im doing the noeul fic 💔

[dronebiscuitbat]

Gonna tell on myself a liiiiitle bit.

Kiara was initially a self insert OC, like... put myself in drone form and shoved myself in the narrative kind of self insert.

Which... was partly because I was struggling to make her character and partly because I never had before and was morbidly curious.

Her parents are exaggerations of mine (and gender swapped) and she has a sister that I don't. But other then that...?

That's me!

Well WAS me, for a long time. Her struggles with her sexuality, confusion, an absent and unapproachable parent. That's all taken from real shit. Her regression is not something I've done, though I do get some serious brain fog when stressed.

She's both really easy and really really hard to write for those reasons. She reacts how I would, responds how I would. Which sounds great! Should be easy.

No. Because in real life I'm quiet, reserved, I don't have many real life friends. If I'm talking a lot my throat starts to hurt, that's how little I speak.

Which ends up with her sitting on the sidelines and not talking a lot of the time, which is frustrating. At least to me. Because it makes her seem uninteresting or passive.

It drives me nuts sometimes, but I love her character. Not because she's my own self insert, but in all the ways she's different from me now. (I no longer consider her a self insert if that says anything)

She's shy and sheltered to anyone she doesn't know because how relentlessly she was bullied for her sensitivity to certain stimuli. But to people she does know she stands her ground and can push through that discomfort to help them. (She hates the sound of the medical equipment, and the texture of the latex gloves but works in the clinic to help people anyway.)

She's never touched a drop of alcohol in her entire life, and never wants to. Despite both her parents being drinkers. (Though one drinks to drown the pain and the other is more like your cool aunt who drinks a martini at dinner.) And that takes some damn self control when there's SO MUCH alcohol in the house.

She's empathetic, she's not able to bring herself to physically step in to stop a bully (Fear), but she'll take the victim aside and check them over, reassure them, give them a person to talk to that she only ever had in Tera and Rad.

Every kid who doesn't have a freind somehow, she becomes their caretaker, she is the soft mom freind because her mom is the only person who was really there for her aside from her two freinds.

She's fucking SMART. Because she's busy observing everything and anything before she goes to speak. (Which is what makes her so damn hard to write.) Anxiety is her main tenant and observing everything makes it easier for her to work through it.

Those are all things that have grown with her that aren't taken from me. And I would love more chances to show them off, but I STRUGGLE to write her because I'm caught between trying to make her interesting and making her accurate.

I needed to rant. Writing Something for her and it's been ROUGH.

[isacksteban]

i left my wallet at my friends house n i need to go get it and she isnt responding.