#dominance posture

[fitnessmith]

Posture dominante, manger du chocolat et s'entraîner pour demain

NOUVEAU PODCAST 👉 Posture dominante, manger du chocolat et s'entraîner pour demain. 🎙Pour écouter mon podcast : - Recherchez « la pause fitness » sur votre plateforme de podcast préférée - Ou rendez-vous en bio @fitnessmith, cliquez sur le lien, fitnessmith.fr/news puis dans « les nouveautés» - Ou rendez-vous dans votre boite mail pour les fidèles auditeurs #musculation #podcast #fitnessmotivation #gym #abs #shredded #minceur #regime #nutrition #dietetique #alimentation #alimentationsaine #keto #cetogene #vegan #vegetarien #carnivore #workout #france #sante

Dans ce podcast, nous allons parler de muscler sa dominance, de manger du chocolat et faire du sport pour aller mieux demain. Nouveau ! Les bienfaits cachés de la mélatonine   Sommaire du podcast : Ta séance d’aujourd’hui t’aidera jusqu’à demain  Une nouvelle étude de l’Université de Londres révèle que l’effet positif de l’exercice sur la mémoire persiste jusqu’au lendemain. Les personnes…

[cara-mel5]

guess who the celebrity is (level: impossible)

[birchbow]

the fact that pale and pail are pronounced the same in english is so funny sometimes. i can't imagine the confusion. ive always just mentally dodged the problem with the explanation that fics are meant to be viewed as translations from alternian and they definitely have very different words. do you have any thoughts/headcanons on how that works in-universe?

Honestly the fact that one is used as a descriptor and the other one is either a noun or a verb means I haven't generally been too caught up on this! But I do find it very funny to imagine the sort of tongue-in-cheek disclaimer that troll-related fics are, JRR Tolkien-style, just translations and localizations of a very different language and culture. Do I sometimes wish I'd brought the level of xenoshenanigans to PoF that I did for my sfw xeno fics on my main? yes. but also those take a lot more mental work than "here's some clowns getting absolutely Ribald with it" lololol

[ghostonly]

Disability, Cures, and the Complex Relationship Between Them

So, I've been thinking a lot lately about cures, just in general, as a concept. I've been watching the excellent videos of John Graybill II on Youtube, where he demonstrates his day-to-day movements as someone with Limb Girdle Muscular Dystrophy 2a, and updates every year to show how it progresses. I'm currently writing a character with LGMD and wanted to be sure I understand exactly how it impacts his daily life and movement limitations, so this has been extremely helpful, because there's only so much you can glean from a list of symptoms.

Quick Background on John Graybill II

John started this series in 2007/8, back when he was about 30 years old. He was diagnosed when he was 17, back in '95, and, when he started this series, he was very much fighting his LGMD, in a constant struggle, and angry with himself and the condition. In this, he directed a lot of toxic positivity at himself and became convinced he could defeat LGMD with positive thinking, healthy diet, etc.

Now, while I respect that there are positives to this (exercise and eating well is rarely a bad thing, and the stretches he does almost certainly have helped him to lengthen his time with mobility), there is also something to be said for accepting a physical disability for what it is. In later videos, he clearly had shifted that mindset toward something a bit more realistic. Where, in the beginning, he had been certain that he would somehow heal himself through positivity and such, he later says that may never happen, and he wants to enjoy doing what he can, while he can, instead of being in a constant battle with himself.

That being said, he does run an organization (I believe he runs it?) that seeks to fund research and find a cure for muscular dystrophy of this particular variety. And, while watching his videos from oldest to newest, I've been grappling with my complicated feelings regarding cures.

Why Are Cures a Complicated Topic?

The reason cures are a complicated topic is because, for a lot of us, cures are unlikely to ever be developed - at least not within our lifetimes and probably not within our children's lifetimes. Many physical disabilities and disorders are just too rare, too unknown, the cause unclear. For us, we have to just accept that this is something we have to live with, for better or for worse.

The other reason is that people are often proponents of seeking cures for things that don't need curing, such as autism. Obviously I haven't polled every autistic person alive, but I have known and read content from countless autistic people. I don't think I've ever found a single autistic person who wanted to be cured of autism. In fact, I would say most of them were pretty vocally oppositional toward the idea, for good reason. 90% of the difficulty that comes with being autistic comes from societal ableism and accessibility issues on a systemic level.

My Thoughts on Cures

I can't speak for everyone with incurable physical disabilities that are unlikely to have a cure developed, nor can I speak for everyone who's autistic, but, speaking for myself, talk of cures can be extremely uncomfortable to me.

I asked myself why. Because, in reality, there shouldn't be anything wrong with researching a cure for something like LGMD. It causes people great difficulty and often great pain. For certain variants, it causes early death.

And, after reflecting on my feelings for a long while, I think I've figured out why the word and the concept bothers me so much.

Cures Are Often Used as a Crutch for Ableism

There are, broadly speaking, two camps of people who want cures:

People who want to improve their quality of life, the quality of life of someone they love, or who want to prevent future generations from the difficulty they or a loved one have been dealt

People who are uncomfortable with disability and want it to go away

This is a venn diagram with a large overlap. The number of people who are purely in camp 1 is much smaller than you might hope.

Why Is Wanting to Get Rid of Disability a Problem?

Okay so here's why camp 2 is a problem. Let's say, for the sake of the argument, that every disability has a possible cure that just has to be found. Why is that a problem? Disability is bad, right?

Wrong! Disability is completely amoral - it has no goodness or badness. It just is. Ideally, some of the more painful disabilities could be cured to prevent pain and early death. However, the problem with viewing disability, in a vacuum, as bad, is that your opinion of the disability will inevitably rub off on the people with the disability.

When you view disability as an adversary, you view disabled people as a problem to solve.

Just as John Graybill II explains in one of his stair-climbing videos a few years into the series, he had spent so long trying to fight the progression of the illness, that he had spent every day in passive anger and frustration. He had forgotten to just enjoy his ability to climb stairs. And he said that he wished he could go back and just enjoy it - stop timing himself on his stopwatch and trying to beat his times. Basically, even as a disabled man himself, he had spent so long looking at his disability as a problem to fix, he hadn't been properly enjoying being a person and just living his life.

When you apply the same fix-it approach to someone who doesn't have a disability, it's equally easy for them to forget the personhood of the people with disabilities. Only, instead of it being directed at themselves, it is directed at others. They push their disabled loved ones to just try harder, just push harder and for longer, eat right, try this, do that, think right, take vitamins - if you just try hard enough, you can beat this!

Except... most of the time, you can't.

The idea that doing everything right will allow you to beat a chronic illness is just ableism in a scientific hat. You're afraid - of being disabled, of the consequences of disability, of someone you love being different, of them looking weird, becoming weird, being seen in public yourself or with someone disabled, of being uncomfortable, of having to put in more energy and effort into helping someone with special needs.

The list of things people are afraid of is endless, and the positive spin on that ableism is simply fighting to fix it.

Make it go away so that you don't have to deal with it anymore.

And then, when you take that approach and apply it to the countless disabilities that don't have cures and may never have cures, you end up with boatloads of people who are seen as problems to solve. They feel like a burden to their family and friends. They're pushed to do what hurts and will actually cause more long-term problems for them by forcing themselves to do things they shouldn't be doing - things that damage their bodies, which aren't meant to do those things anymore.

The Long-Term Consequences of Ableist Pushes for Cures

So back to that argument about all disabilities being curable with time: what's the problem with making some disabled people uncomfortable if, one day, all disability is cured and there are no more disabled people?

Well, the simple answer is this: that's never going to happen, and if you think that way, you're a eugenicist.

Even if every disability is curable with time, the ends do not justify the means - the means being to humiliate and degrade disabled people by treating them like problems.

And it would take decades, maybe even centuries, of those means to even reach the ends. But we'll stop that argument there, because there will never be an end to disability.

Why There Is No End to Disability

So, the thing about disability, is it will never cease to exist. Even if it was a good goal to have, which it isn't, it's never going to happen.

Disability is often caused by gene mutation. At one point, none of the gene mutations for our current physical disabilities existed. They developed. And, just as the current disabilities developed over time and with gene mutations, so will new and different ones. Even if we cured all of the current disabilities, there would always be new ones, likely developing as fast as we can cure the existing ones.

Additionally, a lot of disability is not congenital. People who are in accidents and lose legs will never be able to regrow those legs. Even if eugenicists managed to prevent any "deformed" babies from being born without limbs, people would lose them from accidents and infection, and all kinds of things.

In a world where all congenital disabilities were cured, what quality of life do you expect people in wheelchairs to have?

Because I think I can confidently say that, if everything congenital were cured, a day wouldn't pass before accessibility laws were thrown out the window. We would be returned to the days where disabled people are hidden away and can't leave the house - kept as shameful secrets by families who resent them, or shown off as paragons of strength and virtue when/if they're able to be fitted with a working prosthetic.

Neither of these outcomes is positive.

The Slippery Slope of Cure Ideology

So, on to another argument: there is a lot of danger in letting cure ideology go unchallenged.

I want to clarify again, that I don't think we should never research cures. I'm challenging, specifically, the social movement behind cures that is often driven by eugenicism and ableism.

So, why is it dangerous to let that exist? Well, let's look back at the reason I mentioned that people are in camp 2: they are afraid of being uncomfortable. They are afraid of what's different from them. They view difference as a problem to be solved - a disease or a disorder.

You can see this exact principle in action when people fight for a cure for autism. It's being fought for by the allistics who know people with autism, not usually the autistics themselves. It's being fought for by parents who are angry that their child is different or won't look them in the eyes. They see them as an obstacle to overcome, not as a person who has a different way of socializing. Even in the best case, where they see them as a person more than a problem, they are seen as a person with a wrong and disordered way of socializing.

Imagine, for a moment, that there was an allistic trait that people treated as disordered or wrong the way an ableist might treat hand-flapping or lining up toys. Let's take a direct comparison - something one does when they're happy - like laughing. Imagine, for a moment, that something you do when you're joyful, is treated like a maladaption. Perhaps, in this alternate universe, smiling is normal, but laughing is disturbing to people. You spend your life desperately trying to repress your laughter, hiding your joy, even though it's the most natural thing in the world to you. How would you feel hearing people chanting positively, with smiles, taking donations, running marathons and dancing, all for a cure for laughter?

Really, really, genuinely think about it.

Imagine living your entire life like that.

This doesn't just relate to autism.

The reason this ideology has to be challenged is not just by the concrete example of people trying to cure autism, it's the root of the ideology, that different is bad. That the majority being uncomfortable means the minority is wrong and needs to be fixed.

Is this ringing any other bells for you? Because autism isn't the only thing I desperately hope they don't find a genetic link for.

If fighting for a cure for anything people deem different and weird enough goes unchallenged, people will attempt to cure anything they don't like. Like being gay. Or being trans.

And I'm not talking about conversion camps that try to brainwash you into thinking you're not gay. I'm not talking about the abusive Christian approach, I'm talking about the eugenicist scientist approach.

If a genetic link were found or if there was some kind of actual biological difference, that could mean people trying to test fetuses for the "homosexuality gene" or whatever. It would give a concrete path for eugenicists to try preventing gay and trans people from ever even being born.

And, if that biological connection is found, how long do you think it would take for people to start excitedly pushing for a cure to "homosexuality" or "transgenderism"?

What is the point of this post?

It's food for thought.

I want, not only my abled followers, but my disabled ones as well, to reflect on how they feel about cures - about being cured or about curing others.

I want you all to ask yourself, am I in camp 1 or camp 2?

Your goal in supporting a cure should be to prevent death, to prevent pain that cannot be overcome through systemic support and accessibility, to help people live lives with quality.

Your goal in supporting a cure should never be to remove something that makes you uncomfortable. If you're abled, it should never be to make your life easier or alleviate your feelings of guilt, resentment, or stress. It should never be to make people normal, especially not people you care about.

And, on a final note, remember that the things you see in a disability you know nothing about may not have anything to do with reality. If you see a disability for the first time and you immediately wish for a cure for it, simply because it looks painful, maybe find out if it actually is first. Sometimes we attribute pain and misery to things that are no big deal to the people dealing with them. And, in doing so, we also attribute heroicism and virtue to the people dealing with them - which they did not ask for.

Don't make disabled people into a project. Don't use them as inspiration porn - putting them on a pedestal and using them as proof that "anything is possible."

Treat disabled people with dignity and respect.

Treat disabled people as people, with or without them jumping through every hoop you think will make them better.

Think about how fucking annoying it would be if, every time you got up from a chair in public, everyone stared at you, or even praised you for it. How uncomfortable would you be if no one ever saw you as yourself but as some kind of ambassador for strong, amazing people who are so so so cool because they can tie their shoelaces.

Think about how fucking infuriating it would be if every tenth person you walked past turned to you, looking sad, and said "god bless you."

Think about how old that would get, and how fast.

That's all. Just think about it.

[gravesung]

i feel like "bottom in top's clothing" needs to be added to the raine-muse-type bingo card

[deoidesign]

A general cane guide for writers and artists (from a cane user, writer, and artist!)

Disclaimer: Though I have been using a cane for 6 years, I am not a doctor, nor am I by any means an expert. This guide is true to my experience, but there are as many ways to use a cane as there are cane users!

This guide will not include: White canes for blindness, crutches, walkers, or wheelchairs as I have no personal experience with these.

This is meant to be a general guide to get you started and avoid some common mishaps/misconceptions in your writing, but you absolutely should continue to do your own research outside of this guide!

This is NOT a medical resource!!! And never tell a real person you think they're using a cane wrong!

The biggest recurring problem I've seen is using the cane on the wrong side. The cane goes on the opposite side of the pain! If your character has even-sided pain or needs it for balance/weakness, then use the cane in the non-dominant hand to keep the dominant hand free. Some cane users also switch sides to give their arm a rest!

A cane takes about 20% of your weight off the opposite leg. It should fit within your natural gait and become something of an extension of your body. If you need more weight off than 20%, then crutches, a walker, or a wheelchair is needed.

Putting more pressure on the cane, using it on the wrong side, or having it at the wrong height can make it less effective, and can cause long term damage to your body from improper pressure and posture. (Hugh Laurie genuinely hurt his body from years of using a cane wrong on House!)

(some people elect to use a cane wrong for their personal situation despite this, everyone is different!)

(an animated GIF of a cane matching the natural walking gait. It turns red when pressure is placed on it.)

When going up and down stairs, there is an ideal standard: You want to use the handrail and the cane at the same time, or prioritize the handrail if it's only on one side. When going up stairs you lead with your good leg and follow with the cane and hurt leg together. When going down stairs you lead with the cane and the bad leg and follow with the good leg!

Realistically though, many people don't move out of the way for cane users to access the railing, many stairs don't have railings, and many are wet, rusty, or generally not ideal to grip.

In these cases, if you have a friend nearby, holding on to them is a good idea. Or, take it one step at a time carefully if you're alone.

Now we come to a very common mistake I see... Using fashion canes for medical use!

(These are 4 broad shapes, but there is INCREDIBLE variation in cane handles. Research heavily what will be best for your character's specific needs!)

The handle is the contact point for all the weight you're putting on your cane, and that pressure is being put onto your hand, wrist, and shoulder. So the shape is very important for long term use!

Knob handles (and very decorative handles) are not used for medical use for this reason. It adds extra stress to the body and can damage your hand to put constant pressure onto these painful shapes.

The weight of a cane is also incredibly important, as a heavier cane will cause wear on your body much faster. When you're using it all day, it gets heavy fast! If your character struggles with weakness, then they won't want a heavy cane if they can help it!

This is also part of why sword canes aren't usually very viable for medical use (along with them usually being knob handles) is that swords are extra weight!

However, a small knife or perhaps a retractable blade hidden within the base might be viable even for weak characters.

Bases have a lot of variability as well, and the modern standard is generally adjustable bases. Adjustable canes are very handy if your character regularly changes shoe height, for instance (gotta keep the height at your hip!)

Canes help on most terrain with their standard base and structure. But for some terrain, you might want a different base, or to forego the cane entirely! This article covers it pretty well.

Many cane users decorate their canes! Stickers are incredibly common, and painting canes is relatively common as well! You'll also see people replacing the standard wrist strap with a personalized one, or even adding a small charm to the ring the strap connects to. (nothing too large, or it gets annoying as the cane is swinging around everywhere)

(my canes, for reference)

If your character uses a cane full time, then they might also have multiple canes that look different aesthetically to match their outfits!

When it comes to practical things outside of the cane, you reasonably only have one hand available while it's being used. Many people will hook their cane onto their arm or let it dangle on the strap (if they have one) while using their cane arm, but it's often significantly less convenient than 2 hands. But, if you need 2 hands, then it's either setting the cane down or letting it hang!

For this reason, optimizing one handed use is ideal! Keeping bags/items on the side of your free hand helps keep your items accessible.

When sitting, the cane either leans against a wall or table, goes under the chair, or hooks onto the back of the chair. (It often falls when hanging off of a chair, in my experience)

When getting up, the user will either use their cane to help them balance/support as they stand, or get up and then grab their cane. This depends on what it's being used for (balance vs pain when walking, for instance!)

That's everything I can think of for now. Thank you for reading my long-but-absolutely-not-comprehensive list of things to keep in mind when writing or drawing a cane user!

Happy disability pride month! Go forth and make more characters use canes!!!

[moechies]

nanami who has you impaled deep on his cock, hands restraining your tiny, quivery wrists.

you’ve been a bad girl.

fussing over the smallest inconsistencies throughout your day spent with your dearest fiance — having taken a day off to spend with his darling girl. but you’re a brat — there’s no doubt about it. nonetheless, it’s kento’s responsibility to put you back in your place, turn you back into the pliant, nice, and smart woman he knows you to be.

so when you begin to act indifferent than your usual self, slamming cabinets with a mean force and glaring off at your fiancé at his feeble attempts to comfort and confront you, he knows you’re feeling off.

and he knows it’s not your fault — you’re big on emotions but hefty weak when it comes to communication. so, he’ll just have to force it out of you.

so that’s how he forced you here — mindlessly bouncing atop his cock with your arms confined and pressed roughly against the concave of your back. your consistency is mindless, allowing your little pussy and those weak thighs of yours to think for you as your mushed little head spits out scenarios in order to calm your fiancé.

“do it correctly. i know you can.” the man grumbles, sitting himself up against the soft pillows with a rough readjusting to your sore wrists. they ache — having being pressed against eachother for nearly an hour, and your fiancé having no intention to release them any time soon.

you writhe in his grip, crying out his name with a soft whine as a peace offer for mercy, any mercy.

“correct your posture and straighten your thighs. like i taught you many times before. don’t tell me you forgot, darling.” he eyes you condescendingly, sighing with a disappointed demeanor that has you whimpering.

“y—yhes.. yes sir!” and you do just as he says, straightening your back and stretching out your legs. it takes you a weak couple of grinds before you manage to find a suiting pace — although slow but kento deems it acceptable.

“well done. now,” kento grunts, “tell me what’s gotten you so fussy today. will you?”

you huff, shaking your head softly with an adorable pout, increasing the speed of your pace in hopes to lose the man in his thoughts with your hips.

“now now,” kento warns, his free hand, the right one coming up to squeeze at your cheeks, his calloused thumb jabbing into your right dimple, the rest of his hand laying tight against your left. “we’re not about to play the guessing game.”

you squeak in pain, eyes closing shut which forces the previously bubbling tears to spill over your lash line.

“speak up, darling, or you won’t be cumming anytime soon. i can promise you that.” he growls — which is his last and final warning, an assertion of dominance you’ve only seen once long before.

“i—i—“

nanami removes his grip from your face, a contradicting thumb that comes to wipe at your tears so sweetly you might just cry again.

“wa—wan’ you to put a baby in m—me already,” you hiccup, “wan’a have your kids, k—ken.” finally, you crack.

nanami cums.

you squeak inevitably, not expecting the sudden fill in your womb, thick ropes of spent painting your walls white and filling your tummy. “o—oh shhh—shit.” nanami whines, cursing himself when he feels it leak against his tummy. your hips slow, meaning to stop, “no.. don’t stop. keeping going, l—love. until you can’t, for me.”

you nod shakily, hiccuping softly when you hear the man chuckle, leaning back against the headboard with a weary stare. “that’s it, doll? you’ve been so fussy, so mean all day just because you wanted me to breed this little w—womb? aw.” nanami coos, and you can’t help but feel the slightest bit embarrassed. you’re quick to pout again at his teasing, but your ploy is quickly shocked to failure when he presses harshly against the chub of your tummy — directly atop your womb.

“darling, you must communicate. how would i have known you’d ask of s—something so simple?”nanami stutters when you drop onto his lap, situating yourself tiredly onto him. “i just— ‘s-s embarrassing.” you whimper in response, lifting your head to receive a gentle kiss from the man.

kento’s quick to flip you over, quick enough that you don’t even notice your hot body against the cool sheets with your fiancés cock still impaled deep into you. “no worries now, it’s all done.” nanami grins, “now all i’ve got left to do is make my woman feel good, isn’t that right?”

[orangeblossomsintheair]

oh could you write something cute about the reader and Lando please, maybe something funny where the reader says "oh yeah I'll do this but for that you'll buy me a Porsche" and Lando actually buys her a car 💜

BRAND AMBASSADOR | LN4

wc : 3k

an : slowly working through my requests yippie! im not too sure about this but i hope its alr :'>

It was meant to be a joke. Really.

But Lando didn’t know how to take a joke.

For weeks, he’d been pestering you to do a photoshoot with him for Quadrant.

“Brand image, baby!” he insisted, arms flailing as if that explained everything. “Power couple vibes! You and me, absolutely dominating the internet. Imagine the engagement!”

“My manager would actually drop dead if I did a hoodie campaign.”

“Oh come on, baby, just one photoshoot,” he pleaded, leaning so far over the kitchen island that he looked like he might slide right off. “Just a few pics in Quadrant stuff! Hoodie, joggers, maybe the bucket hat if you're feeling spicy-"

You didn’t even look up from your phone. “Lando. I’m booked for the next eight months. Vogue is flying me to Paris next week, and Dior wants me in Milan by the weekend. I don’t have time to play influencer in your gamer merch.”

“It's not gamer merch!” Lando gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. “It’s- it's… lifestyle! Culture! Gaming and racing fusion!”

“That’s cute,” you said flatly, scrolling.

Lando narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t even look at the new designs I sent you.”

“Because it’s just another hoodie, baby.”

He gasped again, louder this time. “Just another hoodie?”

“Oh, I’m sorry- hoodie, but make it Formula 1.”

“Wow.” He pointed at you. “I cannot believe this slander. From my own girlfriend.”

“Your supermodel girlfriend,” you corrected without missing a beat.

“And yet, I’m still here, humbly begging for crumbs of attention.”

You didn’t even blink.

And that’s when you heard it. The soft shuffle of socks against hardwood floors.

You looked up just in time to see Lando drop dramatically to his knees in front of you, arms sprawled over your thighs like some lovesick Victorian maiden.

His chin rested on your knee, staring up at you with those big, stupidly pretty eyes.

“Please.” His voice dropped to a pitiful whisper, like he was auditioning for a charity ad. “Do a Quadrant shoot with me.”

“Oh my God, Lando- get off the floor!”

“No. I live here now.” He clung tighter. “Photoshoot. Please, baby. You could be the face of the brand! Imagine it: you in my merch, absolutely carrying. We could finally replace Max’s ugly mug on the website-”

“Lando!” You laughed, swatting at him.

“It’s true! The customers deserve better!”

“You own the brand. You’re supposed to be the face.”

"But you’d look so good in my hoodies," he said, practically drooling at the thought. "God, you in joggers? Maybe one of those cropped sweaters? The internet would lose its mind.”

You stared at him. Long. Hard.

“…Fine.”

His eyes lit up, stars in aquamarine. “Wait, really?”

“But it’s gonna cost you.”

Lando blinked. Sat up straighter. “How much?”

You smirked, dragging your perfectly manicured nails through his curls, watching him melt like butter.

“A car.”

His entire posture changed. He sat up straighter, interest piqued. Now you were speaking his language. “Which one?”

You almost choked. “Excuse me?”

Lando leaned in, eyes sharp now. “Which. One.”

Oh, he was serious.

You blinked, regrouped, and leaned back like you were simply ordering off a menu.

“LaFerrari.”

Silence.

“The red one. Wine red. Matches my nails.” You admired the burgundy polish glinting under the light. “I’d look good in it.”

Lando didn’t even blink.

“Deal.”

Your head snapped toward him. “What?”

“Done.” He stood up, dusting off his sweatpants like you hadn’t just asked for a multi-million-dollar hypercar. “I’ll have the keys for you next week. Photoshoot’s on Friday.”

“Lando, that’s a LaFerrari-”

“And?”

“It’s like… a $3 million car!”

He tilted his head. “Do you want it in the garage or delivered to your place?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…You’re insane.”

Lando leaned down, smirking, and kissed your forehead. “And now you’re stuck with me.”

“…I want full creative control over the shoot.”

“Baby, you can set the studio on fire if it makes you happy.”

“And you’re paying for my glam team.”

“Obviously.”

You stared at him, still trying to process how you had accidentally hustled a hypercar off your billionaire boyfriend in under five minutes.

“And I want full rights to veto any photo where I look bad.”

“Oh, baby, you never look bad.”

You squinted. “If I show up and it’s just me in some hoodie in front of a brick wall-”

Lando’s hands cupped your cheeks, deadly serious. “You will be in a hoodie… in front of a gaming PC.”

You slapped his hands away.

—

You were never supposed to take it this far.

The photoshoot was meant to be a joke.

A little bargaining chip to shut Lando up for five minutes. You didn’t think he’d actually pull it off.

Yet here you were.

In a studio. In a Quadrant hoodie. In sweatpants.

And to make it worse, Lando was treating this like he was shooting for Vogue.

“Okay, okay- pause! Can we fix the lighting on her left side? I need more contrast, more mood. She’s selling the hoodie but not the vibe.”

You slowly turned to glare at him. “Lando. I am wearing a hoodie. There is no ‘vibe.’”

“There’s always a vibe!” Lando spun around to the photographer. “Tell her there’s a vibe.”

The photographer, who was clearly riding the paycheck wave, gave you an awkward smile and a less than enthusiastic thumbs up. “Yeah. Big vibe.”

You groaned and adjusted the hoodie, tugging the hood up over your head. “Lando, I walked for Dior last month. Dior. And now I’m here, dressed like a Twitch streamer in front of a gaming PC.”

Lando gasped. “First of all, streamers WISH they looked this good. Second of all, don’t disrespect the setup. That’s a triple-monitor, RGB-lit, water-cooled rig worth more than my life.”

“Yeah, well, it better be. Because I’m dying inside.”

“Okay, can we get a shot of her sitting on the desk? Like, casual, but make it fashion. Maybe holding a controller? No- headset! Baby, put on the headset.”

You stared at him. “You want me to wear a gaming headset in a fashion shoot?”

“Yes. Gamer girlfriend aesthetic. Internet eats that up.”

“I haven’t touched a console since the Wii came out.”

“And that’s the fantasy!”

—

Lando couldn’t stop staring.

The moment you put on the damn headset, he knew he was in trouble.

He’d been so smug, so proud of himself for getting you to agree to this ridiculous photoshoot.

But now? Now he was fighting for his life.

Because there you were, sitting on the desk in a Quadrant hoodie, wearing his brand, looking so effortlessly good that it was like the universe was punishing him for ever thinking this was a good idea.

It wasn’t just the way the hoodie hung on you, oversized and perfect, or the way you pushed the headset into place like you were made to wear it.

It was the thought behind it.

You were wearing his stuff.

And that did things to him.

Very Dangerous things.

Lando dragged a hand over his face, trying to snap himself out of it, but it was no use.

His gaze betrayed him, sliding back to you as you leaned back on the desk, legs crossed, your smirk telling him you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“Lando,” you said, your voice teasing and smooth, “you okay over there, baby?”

He tried to play it cool. “Yeah. All good.” His voice cracked halfway through, and he coughed to cover it up.

But he wasn’t fine.

Not even close.

His hands were clammy, his heart was pounding, and he was hyperaware of the fact that he was growing harder by the second.

Oh, this was bad.

You shifted on the desk, leaning forward slightly, the motion drawing his eyes to your legs before snapping them back to your face.

That cocky little smirk was still there, your stupidly pretty eyes glinting with amusement.

You were enjoying this. Brat.

“You sure?” you pressed, tilting your head.

His voice was higher this time, strained and barely holding it together. “Yep. Fine. Totally fine.”

You didn’t buy it for a second. “Lando…”

“That’s it,” Lando muttered, voice tight, cracking slightly with frustration. “Break! We’re taking a break.”

His words were sharp, a contrast to the usual smooth confidence he exuded.

Without waiting for any response, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you away from the set with a sense of urgency that didn’t match the cool composure he usually carried.

“Lando, what the-”

“Not now,” he interrupted, low and tense, as he pulled you into a nearby storage room.

The door clicked shut with an almost deliberate force, the sound of the lock turning echoing in the small space.

You barely had time to gather your thoughts before he was in your space, his breath coming fast, his chest rising and falling against yours.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” His voice was low, strained, his hands finding your waist, gripping tight, enough to bruise.

A slow smile spread across your lips. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”

Lando’s forehead pressed against yours, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as if trying to center himself.

His breath fanned across your lips, shaky and uneven, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his chest seemed to rise and fall faster with every breath.

“You’re a brat,” he muttered under his breath, voice raw, yet edged with something almost desperate.

“You’re the one who wanted me in your merch,” you teased, your fingers curling into his hair as you leaned into him, feeling the heat of his body.

“Yeah, well…” His hands slid lower, pulling you closer, his fingertips burning against your skin. “Now I’ve got more than I bargained for.”

The words barely left his lips before his mouth found yours.

The kiss was messy, urgent, his lips urgent against yours, like he couldn’t get enough.

You didn’t need to think. Your body responded immediately, hands moving to pull him closer, the heat building.

The press of his body against yours was relentless, hard and desperate, as he deepened the kiss.

His hand slid down your thigh, pulling it up to hook around his waist, while the other traced a slow, deliberate path along your jaw.

His breath fanned across your skin, shallow and uneven, each exhale carrying a heat that set your nerves ablaze.

“You don’t fight fair,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, edged with a hunger that made your stomach flip. His mouth moved to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his teeth grazed your throat.

Your lips curled into a smirk, your nails raking across his back just enough to make him shudder. The sound of his sharp inhale sent a rush of power through you.

“Neither do you,” you whispered, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his as your fingers found the hem of his hoodie, tugging it higher, your touch skimming over his skin.

“God, you…” His voice broke, his words catching in his throat as he crashed his mouth back to yours.

The kiss was harder this time, almost frantic, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

His hands moved with purpose now.

Demanding, claiming, leaving no part of you untouched.

Your nails scraped against his back again, dragging another groan from deep in his chest, a sound so raw and desperate it made your knees weak.

His hips rocked against you, slow and deliberate, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

“Careful, Norris,” you teased, your voice breathless but still carrying a hint of mischief as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. A quiet intensity that you'd seen more than once.

“You’re starting to look a little… well, territorial.”

For a moment, he froze. His chest heaved with every ragged breath as if he was trying to regain control.

Then his lips twitched into a sly, almost dangerous smile, one that sent a thrill through you.

“Maybe I am,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word carrying weight. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, making any distance between you disappear.

The words sent a shiver through your spine. But it wasn’t fear. It was something else, something exciting, something that only made you want more.

His lips found your neck again, pressing soft, burning kisses against your skin.

His teeth grazed over your pulse, just enough to send a jolt through you, sharp and unexpected, making your breath catch in your throat.

You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered, “Everyone’s going to notice, you know. You weren’t exactly subtle when you dragged me off like that.”

The corner of his mouth curled into a grin, but it was dark now, and there was a sudden pressure in his hands as he adjusted his position against you. “Let them notice,” he said, his voice thick with something unspoken.

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin. “I don’t care. They can see whatever they want.”

The words sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, your nails scraping lightly over his back.

—-

When it was over, you leaned back against the wall, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breath.

Lando, however, was already standing in front of you, his hair tousled, his hoodie still hanging off his frame in a way that somehow made it look even better on him than it ever had before.

He bent down casually to scoop your underwear from the floor, dangling them in front of you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Come on, love,” he said, his voice rough and teasing, still thick with exertion. “Don’t leave me hanging. Put these back on before we go out there.”

You shot him a glare, snatching the fabric from his hand and hurriedly slipping it on, feeling the heat rush to your face.

Lando leaned back against the wall, watching you with a cocky, self-satisfied grin. “Still dripping with me,” he murmured, but the rasp in his voice made your stomach flip. You felt your cheeks flush even more.

You rolled your eyes, tugging the hoodie down to hide your body and fix your composure. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with a wink. “Guess that says something about you too.”

The studio lights were still dimmed as you walked back in, legs slightly unsteady. You caught yourself on the doorframe, trying to keep your cool, but the feeling between your legs was still fresh, raw.

Lando followed you, smirking like a cat that had just caught its prey. He leaned against the wall, eyes on you as his grin grew wider. “Fix your hair,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “You look like you just got fucked.”

You barely suppressed a laugh, brushing your fingers through your hair and pulling it back into something that at least resembled “done.” “Gee, I wonder why,” you muttered under your breath.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you were still trying to play it cool. “Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to retort when Lando took a step forward, his smirk never fading, and pulled you close. He kissed you softly, lingering, the kind of kiss that made it hard to remember where you ended and he began.

“Come on,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, the mischief still dancing in his eyes. “We’ve got a photoshoot to finish.”

—-

Months passed.

The LaFerrari didn’t show up.

Not that you cared. Really.

Sure, it had been a fun little joke—“Pay me in a LaFerrari or I’m not doing this shoot”—but you never expected Lando to actually follow through.

He said he would but Lando also forgot to stock up on groceries some days so you didn’t take it to heart.

Besides, it wasn’t like you had time to think about it.

Your schedule was relentless: fashion weeks in Paris, Vogue shoots in Milan, fittings for Dior in New York.

You were barely home long enough to unpack, let alone pine after a car.

It wasn’t a big deal.

Until one night, after a particularly grueling flight back from London, you pulled into your driveway and-

You slammed the brakes.

Because there it was.

A LaFerrari.

Burgundy red. Like aged wine. Like sin and velvet had a baby and parked it outside your house.

It gleamed under the porch light, shameless and expensive.

For a full minute, you did nothing but stare, slack-jawed.

Then you slowly got out of the car, leaving your bags in the trunk.

“Lando,” you muttered, pulling out your phone.

You called.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, baby- what’s up?”

“You left a LaFerrari on my driveway.”

“Oh! You got home?” He sounded way too casual.

“Lando. There is a multi-million-dollar car parked outside my house.”

“Yeah, about that. It’s yours. Obviously.”

“…You’re joking.”

“Would I joke about something this expensive?”

“Yes.”

“Fair. But not this time.”

You stared at the car again.

“Are you serious? After months?”

“It takes time to deliver a LaFerrari!” Lando said, his voice way too serious for a man who had just been exposed.

“I had to get it customized, too. Your name is literally engraved on the side. And then there was the whole issue with cargo. Did you know they’re super strict about how cars are transported? I had to make sure it wasn’t gonna get dented, and the shipping company I trust didn’t have any available slots until-”

“I thought you were joking, Lando!”

“Well, I wasn’t,” he replied confidently. “You said you wanted a LaFerrari. You said ‘make it red wine,’ so I made it red wine. I also got the seats customized with carbon fiber inserts and-”

You groaned in disbelief, interrupting him. “You literally bought the car, customized it, and shipped it to my house."

Lando blinked, unfazed. “Well, yeah. Obviously. Did you think I was kidding about that part?”

“Yes! It’s a LaFerrari! Who even does that?! It’s absurd!”

"Clearly me.” He paused. “Check the glove compartment.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Suspicious, you approached the car, heels clicking on the pavement. You opened the door.

God, even the door sounded expensive- and popped the glove compartment.

Inside was a tiny Hot Wheels car. A red LaFerrari.

Taped to it was a sticky note.

“Just in case this one wasn’t enough. - Lando”

You stared at it.

You looked back at the LaFerrari, glinting under the sun like some ridiculous, over-the-top love letter.

“…I’m taking it to the Dior fitting tomorrow.”

“You better.”

“…Is this why you were ignoring my texts last week?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you! I was busy coordinating with Italy!”

“Oh my God.”

[dulcescorderitas]

clark leaned against the locker room door, his eyes blazing with an unmistakable crimson hue. the cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips wasn’t just charming—it was downright infuriating. red kryptonite had turned smallville’s golden boy into a swaggering, irreverent bad boy, and he knew exactly how to wield that dangerous edge.

“y’know,” he drawled, tilting his head lazily as his gaze slid over you, unhurried and electric, “i’ve got a talent most boyfriends don’t. i see things… things other guys can only dream of.” his voice was low, gravelly, a sinful mix of arrogance and tease.

you folded your arms, feeling the heat of his stare as though it had a weight of its own. “what are you talking about, clark?” you snapped, pretending the flush on your cheeks was from annoyance and not the way he was looking at you—like he already owned every inch of your body.

clark chuckled, a deep, wicked sound, and stepped closer, the space between you crackling with tension. his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, but his posture screamed dominance. “oh, don’t play coy,” he said, his eyes flashing to yours briefly before dipping lower again. “lacy red with a little bow in the front? cute. but maybe next time, try something sheer. you’re hiding a masterpiece under there.”

your breath caught in your throat, indignation and something darker surging through you. “excuse me?!” you hissed, your hand instinctively tugging your skirt down. “did you just…?”

“did i just use my x-ray vision to admire my girl’s panties?” clark interrupted, leaning down so his lips were just a breath from your ear. his voice dropped, husky and unapologetic. “damn right i did.”

your heart was pounding now, a wild rhythm of embarrassment and excitement. “you’re unbelievable,” you muttered, trying to keep your composure. but it was hard to stay indignant when he had that smug, wolfish grin on his face, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“and you’re gorgeous,” he shot back effortlessly, stepping even closer, his body brushing against yours. “seriously, babe, you should’ve seen yourself bending over to pick up your books earlier. let’s just say it made gym class a hell of a lot more interesting.”

“you are impossible, clark kent,” you said, but your voice wavered, betraying the growing heat between you two. his confidence, his audacity—it was intoxicating.

“impossible?” he echoed, finally pulling his hands free of his pockets and bracketing you against the lockers. “maybe. but you love it.” his lips hovered dangerously close to yours, his smirk softening just enough to be almost sweet—almost. “don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll keep your little secret safe… for now.”

[valalice]

Hello there!! I really love your work! Could I request some older! gf caitlyn with some subtle and soft dominance? Doesnt need to be nsfw [but won’t complain if it is ;))]

It could just be about how she acts with the reader when in public, at home, etc. [i.e: cooking for reader when they’re busy for exams, putting her hand on reader’s thighs when sitting in public, or big spooning reader when they head to bed.]

That’s all. Please remember to stay hydrated and take frequent breaks! Keep being you and don’t overwork yourself :)).

— 🐢

ꪆৎ HEAVEN, HEAVEN. ft. 𝓬𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓷.

ʚɞ summary. subtle ways your older girlfriend caitlyn shows dominance towards you.

warnings. fem!reader. reader is in college. age gap (10 years or more). no use of y/n. modern au! where cait is an office worker. fluff. in one headcanon there's a mention of curly hair (it's all for inclusivity and bias tbh—coming from a girl with curly hair). pet names ie: darling, love, baby, ect. smut nsfw. bottom!reader. dom!cait. hair pulling. mommy kink (reader calling cait mommy & cait calling herself mommy). squirting. cait had a bush. reader is a brat kinda. slight exhibition. fingering (r!receiving). orgasm denial. oral (c! receiving). strap (r!receiving). the strap is referred to as cait's cock. not proofread. wc. roughly 2k to 3k

an. thank you for the request, lovie! and i'm happy that you're enjoying my work ☺️ i decided to take this request and turn it into a headcanon format so i hope that's okay! you are too cute with your kind words and i hope you are taking care of yourself, drinking lots of water and eating yummy meals <3 i also decided to add some nsfw headcanons 🙈 so i hope you guys enjoy them. and for any of these headcanons i am willing to expand on them if you guys are interest :) remember to support your writers by reblogging & commenting !

m.list. | arcane m.list.

࣪ ˖ SAFE FOR WORK.

‣ straight away with caitlyn you notice her dominance. even before the two of you started dating and she was courting you, as she'd say when reminiscing with you or her friends on the early stages of you two, she exuded an air around her that's nothing less than confidence, pride, and dominance. she's already tall at 6 foot, but her posture is always upright, her appearance sleek, and she reveled in maintaining eye contact. and before her you usually didn't find people who were overtly dominant attractive, but when it comes to caitlyn it's completely different, natural. it's the way she carry's herself and it rubs off on you.

‣ the first subtle way of cait's dominance you noticed was her ability to make decisions. she's knows what she wants and how she wants it, and that's something you're relieved about, being too indecisive at times. so being able to let caitlyn reign free on decision making was something that gave you peace of mind. and it wasn't that she was a control freak (she kind of is, but that isn't the point), she helps level out the playing field when you're iffy.

"what would you like to eat for lunch, darling? my treat." she ask, clicking on her keys to unlock her car, taking the bag from off you shoulders to hold it in her hand.

"hm," breaking away from cait to walk around her car to the passenger seat, just before your slide in. "i don't really know." you cringe, you couldn't even count on your fingers how many times you've said this phrase in your relationship so far.

you hear caitlyn hum and the sound of her swinging open the back seat door and the shuffle of her setting your bag in the backseat before you enter your seat. she joins you in the driver's seat, clicking in her seat belt, her gaze settling upon you scrolling away on your phone. "would you like to eat out somewhere or pick up fast food and we can take it back to my place?"

your head darts up to look at your girlfriend, lips twisting up, thinking about your options. "i want something good."

that's earns a chuckle from cait, "i know that silly," her hand coming up to boop you on your noise, which caused you to scrunch it and giggle, swatting her hand away. "but what is exactly good?" she presses.

"well what do you think is good?"

"that wasn't the question."

you grumble, "you're so difficult."

"says you." she teases.

"'m always the one who picks. what would you like." you ask turning in your seat towards her as best as you can.

"i'm fine with whatever you'd like. you know that."

biting your lip you think about the choices she gave you earlier. "i think we should go back to your place."

"that's a start. do you have a taste for anything."

"i already answered that."

"darling." she sing songs in a tone similar to a warning.

she starts the engine, finally, and you immediately connect to the bluetooth.

"y'know we haven't had chinese in awhile." she proses, eyeing your expression from the corner of her eye.

"oh, that sounds really good actually."

cait perks up in the drivers seat, "you're usual?"

"yep!"

"alright," she stretches forward to twist the volume nob lower. "i'm going to call it in and we'll pick it up on the way home."

‣ cait also does the general dominate things; like opening up doors of any kind for you when she can, interlocking your fingers when the two of you walk together, walking slightly in front of you at all times as well as guiding you. you secretly love it though when instead of guiding you through a crowd by being in front of you, you love it when she does it by standing behind you, a hand or both hands securely on your hips as she leads you forward from behind. she's also a firm believer of switching places when walking, on the street and you're near the road? she's switching with you. in the parking lot and your facing the intersections? she's using her hand on your lower back to guide you to be the closest near the parked cars.

‣ she will also never let her girl look out of place, so she fixes anything that is "off" with your appearance. like fixing a certain stand of hair, taking that fallen eyelash off of your cheek and raising her finger with the piece of your fine hair on it in front of your lips so you could wish and blow it away, fixing your jacket so it's straight or the neckline of your shirt or dress, the straps of your bra will never be showing when you're wearing thin strapped items as long as caitlyn's around. holding your little compact mirror while you fix up your makeup or reapply your lipgloss. your necklaces will always be facing the correct way. picking off lint or stray hairs from your clothing. and she somehow always notices when your sneakers are starting to untie before your, pulling you aside so she can get on a knee and pat her propped up knee so you can place your foot there and allow her to tie your shoe, when she's done she pats your foot to let you know and she dust herself off before leaning down to give you a kiss.

‣ when out in public she'll usually always keep one hand on you at all times. in a comforting way for the both of you, especially if the two of you will be around her friends or people her age. she knows you get antsy around them and there's anxiety about being the youngest in a room full of older people. so, there will always be a comforting arm wrapped around your waist or a hand in or lap or on your thigh.

you look around the room, there's people you've met before. caitlyn's friends and a few colleagues, but for the most part a majority of them are new faces. and you can't help but feel like everyone is looking at you.

you've never been insecure about being with caitlyn. yes she's older than you, but it's never stopped you from feeling head over heels for her and that feeling overpowers any doubt or insecurity you could ever have. it's the fact that it seems like you're the youngest in the room, there's nothing inherently bad about that. but everyone here is successful, and you're well. . . a college student working a job that has nothing to do with what you're going to school for.

a warm hand snaps you out of your thoughts. lifting your head, caitlyn's already looking at you with a soft expression. "you're shaking your leg, love."

"oh," looking down at the leg with cait's hand on it, still shaking. you stop it on command, focusing your gaze back on your girlfriend.

"are you okay?" she tilts her head, her eyebrows furrowing and the ponytail her blue hair is in swishes behind her, cute.

you give her a tight smile, nodding your head. "hm." you hope you're convincing enough.

caitlyn takes in a breath, breaking her gaze from you to look around the room. "y'know that woman over there went for the same major as you." she points out.

"really?" observing the woman who's talking with a few of their colleagues before turning your wide gaze back to your girlfriend.

"hm. she doesn't do work with it," she pauses, turning her head back to you with soft eyes. "but, what she does now is something she loves."

her hand smoothing up and your thigh, comforting you. "what i'm trying to say is that don't worry about your path right now being different from others around you." she reassures. reaching out to take a hand from your lap to take it in hers, bringing your hand to her lips and pressing a kiss.

flushing at her gesture, "thank you, cait." your voice small enough for only her to hear in the chatter of the room. your hand stays up near her lips and she presses a few more kisses, causing you to giggle.

"there she is." she muses.

you bring her hand holding yours down down into your lap to clasp her hand in between yours. leaning forward, a few inches from her face.

"kiss?"

caitlyn leans forward to meet your lips, not connecting them just yet. "any thing for my darling." she whispers against your lips.

‣ it was also established pretty early that caitlyn is the big spoon in the relationship. she enjoys and you love it. caitlyn also finds it pretty cute whenever the two of you are laying anywhere whether it's the sofa or in bed that you turn your back to her and keep shifting until she notices your moving form, coming up to wrap herself around your backside. not really big spooning but caitlyn enjoys the feeling and pressure of your laying on top of her, always telling you how it grounds her whenever she pulls you along to the bed and flops you on top of her. but you never complain because you find it comforting too, the side of your head press against her soft chest, focusing on the steady rise and fall of it and the buh dumbs of her heartbeat, you usually fall asleep quickly like this.

‣ older gf!caitlyn knows how draining it is to be in college. you get so focused on your education by sainting grades or completing assignments, not to mention the exams. so, she's always doing her best to help you out and make sure that you keep yourself in check rather that be mentally or physically. during hard times where you have midterms or finals or just back to back exams caitlyn will always tell you to not worry about picking up shifts at your job, she already knows you're overworking yourself by studying and doesn't want you to exhaust yourself further by working long hours. because she knows you and that if you could study then work a shift and study some more afterwards you would, but she knows that isn't healthy for you. so she always reassures you by saying that she'll support you financially for a little bit, transfer sums of money into you bank account for rent, bills, groceries, ect. it gives her peace of mind to know that she able to take a weight off your shoulders and provide for you. cait is also an insanely amazing cook and you always rave about her cooking, so she began taking a day out of her week every week to cook you some premade meals. she always comes stocked and ready on a weekend to your place with her tote full of meals to pile into your fridge. and during exam season it became pretty common for you to send time at hers for a few days. she does it to watch over you to make sure you're not running on fumes, but you like to think of her as a built in study buddy for reviews. during these days cait will come home from work to most likely find you at the dinning table studying, she'll kiss you on your forehead, and she'll head straight to the kitchen to cook dinner. as much as you dread exam season you don't dread spending this time with cait, there's just something so inherently domestic about cait providing for you. coming home and cooking dinner for the both of you, it makes your mind go numb. and it makes her feel successful when at night when she drags you to bed and for her to wake up to begin getting ready for work that you're still in bed soundly sleeping and that you didn't sneak off somewhere to study.

"dinner's ready." caitlyn chims, poking her head into the dinning room where you sit.

you lift your head up from your notes to eye her. sniffing the aroma around you. "chicken alfredo?"

"hm. you said something about craving it last week, so when i went shopping i picked up the ingredients."

"you're so sweet, cait." you hum, watching as she exits back into the kitchen. you prop your elbow up the table to rest your head in your hand, eyes flicking back down to your notes. you needed to understand—no—absorb this material into your brain for your exam coming up in a few days. listing off multiple curses within your head for taking this course and major and your professor for being a difficult teacher.

there's crinkling of sheets of paper around you. cait's suddenly bending across the table to organize the scattered papers in her hands. "c'mon, love. you can study a little more later."

fixing your gaze back up causing your eyebrows to raise, dumbfounded as you watched her. releasing your head from your hand to reach it out for the papers. "but—"

"but?" her tone is questioning and harsh. blue eyes narrowing at you.

"just a few more minutes, please, baby. i almost have this down."

you watching her graceful figure walk to the edge of the table where the rest of your materials lie and she places the stack down. she stands tall, placing a hand on her hips. "you can always study some more afterwards," she begins to walk over towards where you sit. "your notes aren't going to miraculously grow legs and run away, love. they'll be here." she assures. you blink and look back down at the notes in front of you, then back up at caitlyn. and for the first time you notice her attire, her hairs in a messy ponytail, still in her work attire but she's discarded her blouse and is only in her under tank top and slacks, she too has has had a long day.

"okay." you agree.

caitlyn smiles, showing off her toothy grin and her front gap you adore. she takes the material in front of you and places it with the rest.

"we're eating at the island. i have a sneaky feeling your cute bum has been sat on that chair all day." she teases.

you stand, bones cracking. your eyes shoot straight to look at cait, the both of you bursting into laughter. the noise proving her suspicions correct.

she sways back towards you, "come before the food gets cold." she muffles out, taming her laughter.

beelining to the kitchen island you sit back down, but now on a high top chair. lifting yourself up by your hands on the counter to eye the dish of chicken alfredo on the other side of the counter.

"looks s'yummy, cait."

"hope it is."

"always is" you correct.

watching as she stands on the other side, empty plate in hand with tongs in the other, dishing up some pasta and chicken.

"good?"

you eye the plate, "hm" you nod.

she heads behind her to the stove where steamed broccoli lies, piling some onto you plate. opening a drawer next to the stove, grabbing a fork and slamming it shut with her hip. she turns around and walks around the island. the clank of the plate landing on the counter, placing the fork down next to it.

"dig in, darling." pressing a kiss into your hair before going to fix her plate.

‣ she takes care of you in softer domestic ways. such as taking off your makeup for you after a long day or a night out with friends. bathing you and carefully washing over you in the shower. washing your hair, even going as far to learn the type of products you use and buying spares for her place so she's always stocked if you happen to spend days at her place and it's a wash day. she even learns how to care for you hair type if you have curly hair, hearing you complain endlessly about the process of washing and styling it, so she'd take it upon herself to observe you and learn so that way she can help and maybe even completely take over the process to give your poor arms a break. a certain domestic thing she does is call her place home. not just her home but your home too. whenever you're spending the night and the two of you out she'll always say "alright, let's head home, love." at the end of it. and it never fails to make your heart skip a beat that she views her space as your guys's collective space. she makes it knows that she's ready for you to move in whenever you feel most comfortable, and the day that you announce that you're ready to live together she is beaming.

࣪ ˖ NOT SAFE FOR WORK.

‣ a subtle way she asserts dominance is maintaining eye contact with you. she relishes in being able to make you flustered from simple eye contact, watching you get all fidgety and stumble over your words. but it's also her silent cue whenever you're acting out in public. a tilt of her head, dark gaze, heavy lids and a narrowed eyes will usually set you in place.

‣ caitlyn knew a lot about herself before she met you, she kept a list of all things she liked and didn't like, and those things rarely changed. but what she didn't know is that she'd find being called mommy so attractive. she knows she can be assertive and demanding at times, always the one with the plan. she was even deemed the "mom friend" when she was younger, but not once in any of her other relationships had anyone called her mommy. and maybe it's because she's never dated anyone, before you, with a large age gap. but the first time the word escaped between your sweet lips it was when cait had you face down, ass up, drooling into a pillow. fucking you at a particular angle with her cock that caused you to go dumb and roll your eyes to the back of your skull. realization didn't strike you when it muttered out, you were too far gone, but of course caitlyn heard it, she hears everything. her hips stilling. "what was that?" you barely heard her question, only worrying about the fact that she stopped fucking you, pressing your hips back to gain her attention to begin thrusting again. "please—mommy." oh. she liked that.

‣ older gf!caitlyn expects nothing but the best behavior of her sweet darling. she finds it intolerable and disrespectful when you decide to be a brat and act out, and when you take it further and push her past her warnings? she's seething. but two can play that game.

cait lets out a laugh along with her friends. the two of you were where at this restaurant for hours now. you didn't mind your girlfriend's friends, you loved and enjoyed their company. but you didn't expect to be here for this long and it's getting antagonizing having to sit and pretend like your understanding anything any of them are saying, especially when cait looks like that, blue hair flowing down her back, dainty silver jewelry decorating her body, in that black silk dress the one with the modest (you don't think do) slit. you begged her to cancel the moment you saw her, but she persisted, and now you're suffering.

she's even been uptight today, shutting down your sly advances, saying something about acting out and wanting to enjoy a night with her friends in a long time when the two of you took a bathroom break. the bathroom break had backfired too, you prosed the question about going to the bathroom hoping she'd shuffle you into a stall and finger you, but that was a bust.

when you peak down to look at the time on your phone you catch something interesting from the corner of your eye. caitlyn's exposed thigh from the slit, her dress is bunched up a little at her waist so the amount of skin showing is more.

your nimble fingers trace down her thigh, smirking at the feel of goosebumps rising on her skin. settling your hand on her thigh, not too far low and not too high, just yet.

cait turns her head to peer down at the hand on her thigh, your pinky rubbing back and forth on the soft skin. then to your face, you flash her a smile and she does the same, pressing a quick peck to your lips before she turns her attention back to her friends. you feel as though a grey gloomy cloud was cast over you in that moment.

in a burst of inspiration you begin to inch your hand high, little by little until a few of your finger tips are dipping past the slit of that dress towards her clothed cunt.

her head instantly snaps towards you, eyes narrowed.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i want to play." you shrug.

"and i told you not here."

"but i really want it," your gaze on caitlyn growing dark. "mommy." purring out the name so only the two of your could hear it

caitlyn's eyebrows raise in shock before they settle back down, turning her head to see her friends are still deep in conversation. her hand pulling yours from between her thighs. there isn't a harsh grip around your hand but it is tight, and with that hand she pulls you forward.

"fix your attitude and behave. maybe i'll think about touching you when we get back home."

you sit up straighter a grin forming on your face. nodding your head "m'kay." caitlyn squints her eyes at your sudden sudden change, releasing your hand.

a few moments pass by and you're already thinking of defying cait again. this time your hand finds her shoulder. you're bored so you begin to trace shapes on it, but then that gets boring so you start toying with her dress strap.

"stop that." her voice startles you.

you roll you eyes, confidently, because caitlyn isn't even looking at you.

"'m not even doing anything."

"yet." the pronunciation of the word is precise and harsh.

she turns back to you, "you're thinking of doing something. so i suggest before you do, that you don't."

"cait." you whine.

"what's going on with you, hm?"

"i told you."

"you're never this bad in public." that's true, but you've never had to wait this long for your girlfriend to touch you.

"you don't get it."

she eyes you. "no, i think i do," leaning forward her lips ghost yours. "seems as though i've spoiled you rotten which is causing you to act like a little slut in front of all my friends."

her voice dropped to an octive, enacting a reaction of chills down your body, wetness pooling between your thighs.

"be quiet or you won't cum for a week." she commands, pressing a kiss to your lips and refocusing herself.

"wha—"

suddenly caitlyn's hand dismisses the fabric of your skirt to between your thighs. fingers getting to work by rubbing at your clothes clit. you look up to see that cait now has her drink in her other hand, bringing it up to her lips to take a sip. her peripheral vision catching you and flicking her eyes to you, corking an eyebrow up at you.

as she is finished with her drink and sets it down her fingers push past your panties, spreading your legs a little wider to welcome her large hand. slow lazy circles on you clit was all you got for awhile, but it was enough to simmer your ache.

without warning cait bullies a finger into your sopping heat, causing you to let out a loud gasp. the entire table turning to you.

"are you okay?" one of her friends asks.

"yeah. you feeling alright, love?" her voice is laced in false concern. slipping another finger into your greedy cunt, observing your reaction.

you shuffle, looking around the table, then down at your empty plate. you can see cait's hand flexing as she pumps fingers in and out of you.

"uh— none of us has ordered dessert yet! it's not a dinner without dessert," you prose. "hm, right?"

the table agrees, and someone beckons the waiter over.

while everyone is occupied, caitlyn leans forward to your ear. "quick thinking, little one." she praises, watching as the waiter takes everyone's dessert orders. "order up, love."

"and what would you like?" the waiter asks.

biting down on your lip, hard. "hm, what's good?" there was an infliction on your voice from cait pressing her thumb against your clit as she fingers you.

"the molten lava cake is our most popular—"

you cut them off. "i'll take that!" a muffled moan escaped through your mouth, "hmm, sounds very delicious." hoping that saved yourself.

the waiter writes it down on their pad, turning their attention to caitlyn. "and for you ma'am?"

"oh, her and i will share." she confirms.

as the waiter walks off your head turns to cait, glossy eyes boring into her cold blue eyes. "cait—"

"i know" she shushes, she already knows you're close by the way you're desperate sucking her fingers back in. you're not sure if it's all in your head, but you swear cait fingering you underneath the table is causing the obscene squelches from your messy cunt to reverb and echo through the restaurant. to combat the noise you squeeze your thighs around cait's hand, but she persists.

flinging a hand down to grip at the hand between your thighs, you're so close that you don't even care if her friends caught on. not when her slender fingers that spot so deep within that only cait can reach.

just as you legs begin to shake uncontrollably, caitlyn whips her fingers from you needy cunt and between your thighs. grabbing the cloth napkin to wipe off your juices from her fingers, an icy glare is sent your way as she sets it back down, one that tells you everything.

brats don't get to cum.

‣ going back to spooning with caitlyn, she also loves to place you in her lap while the two of you watch tv. your head in the crook of her shoulder and a hand of hers in your hair, playing with it. until suddenly when she was innocently twirling a piece of your hair you'll feel a tug at it, causing you to gasp unexpectedly. or she'll get straight to it, so a her hand will find its way on the nape of your neck, slim fingers threading themselves through the underside of your hair before she yanks, now this will cause you to moan out, head falling back so she's cradling it in her hand. wet lips finding their way to your exposed neck, kissing and nipping away at the sensitive skin. you'll whine out, only for cait to shh you, "let me have my fun, love."

‣ there's something intoxicating about you being naked while caitlyn is completely clothed. the contrast between your crumbling figure and her composure. she also loves seeing how your sensitive body reacts to the feeling of her clothes on your body. her favorite is to press her clothed chest to your bare one while the two of you are messily making out, your nipples immediately hardening. even the way she can feel your slick soaking through her slack covered thigh, tainting the material. it drives her insane when she makes you squirt, your juices all over her button up making the material darker.

‣ when you're particularly needy and need something to shut you up she'll shove a few fingers in your mouth, watching the way your eyelids drop and you focus on sucking on her fingers. on other occasions she'll order you on your knees, grabbing a cushion for them. and she'll strip slowly and teasingly for you.

you watch her hips sway, raking in her naked body. her blue bush in your face and you feel drool pool into your mouth, gulping. a hand comes to your chin, pushing your head up to look up at her.

"you've been needy," she begins. "but, you've also been good. so i was thinking of putting your neediness to use, i want your mouth."

nodding your head aggressively, eyes dropping back down.

"words."

a hand still on your chin tips your head, peering up with wide doe eyes, cait's expression is cold as she stands over you. "yes, use me mommy, please."

her face relaxes and she smiles down at you, "good girl." your chin is released and her hand smooths over the back of your head, pushing it forward.

taking her clit in your mouth, you moan into her. lapping her up, you free your hands from your lap, placing them on her hips to burry yourself further between her pretty thighs. eyes fluttering shut, savoring the taste of the woman standing above you.

"ah, that's it. s'good." cait's noises of pleasure sounds like music to your ears. opening your eyes to view up her body, she truly is a stallion. her eyes are shut, her shirt long discarded on the floor as she toys with one of her breast, her hand still on your head keeping you pressed up close to her, and her mouth is agape.

your wet muscle working away at her, gliding through her sticky folds. slurping up all her arousal, not wasting a drop.

"so—" she begins. but gasp when you take her clit and suck on it. "shit. so," she gasp again, "so eager to please."

nodding into her, not wanting to let up. releasing a moan into her, causing the grasp in your hair to tighten.

"c'mon, love. make me cum," doe eyes staring back into her drowsy eyes as she lazily talks. "make mommy cum."

caitlyn addressing herself as mommy made you clench your thighs, the ache between your thighs becoming very apparent.

your pushed so far into her that your nose is up against her bush, her scent only enhancing your eagerness.

cait begin to slightly rock back and forth in your mouth maneuvering your head so she's practical long dragging her cunt against your face. your finger nails grip into her hips, adding to her movements. her juices dripping down your chin to dip down your neck.

"fuck!" she yelps, her sweet release washing over her shuttering body and you quickly slurp it up.

the grip in your hair releases. when your satisfied you let up, but quickly you place a kiss upon cait's clit, letting up with a mwah. a shiny sheen covering the bottom half of your face, even the tip of your nose.

cait's hand finds it's way on your face once again, but it cradles you jaw this time, thumb swiping over your plump, slick cover lips.

"my baby always knows how to care of me, doesn't she?" she purs, droopy eyes sparkling down at you with a dazzling smile to match.

‣ whenever cait is strapping you she prefers to be gentle with you. it'll take a lot of begging and or pressing your luck to get her to be really rough with you (like the first time you ever called her mommy). she also just prefers it. she likes taking it slow with you whenever she fucks you with her cock, in missionary so she's able to see your twisted up face from pleasure. she's also just a plain sucker for intimacy, the two of you so close that you're not even sharing space the space you two take up is its own completely new thing. everything of the outside world just washes away, and she gets to focus on you and only you. she loves being able to look you in your eye and dip her head in the crook of your neck to litter kisses and love bites across it and down your collarbones to your tits. and she really loves when you cum, your back arching off the bed your chest pressing further into hers, your head falling back, mouth agape and releasing pretty moans and whines of your climax, even your toes curling and uncurling. she eats it up. she loves it. she loves you.

[luvv4j4ybe11]

꧁𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖꧂

✧ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔<3

✧ 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔. 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒅𝒂, 𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒗, 𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒔𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒂𝒍/𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍, 𝒔𝒊𝒛𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒕 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒙𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚'𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒔 (𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒋𝒔 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒐), 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 (𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈), 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈/𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚/𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒖𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒅𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒑𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂, ’𝒔𝒊𝒓’ 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒕. 𝑳𝒎𝒌 𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔💕

✧ 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔: 𝒀𝒂𝒘𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒚𝒊̀𝒑- 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒀𝒂𝒘𝒏𝒆- 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅, 𝑶𝒆𝒚𝒂̈- 𝒎𝒚 (𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆), 𝒀𝒂𝒘𝒏𝒕𝒖- 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏, 𝒕𝒊̀𝒚𝒂𝒘𝒏-𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒗𝒐-𝒚𝒐𝒗𝒐 𝒇𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒕, 𝒕𝒔𝒂𝒉𝒚𝒍𝒖- 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅, 𝑵𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒙𝒂𝒏 ’𝒆𝒌𝒙𝒊𝒏, 𝒐𝒆𝒚𝒂̈ 𝒕𝒊̀𝒚𝒂𝒘𝒏- “𝑺𝒐 𝒕𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝑴𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆“, 𝑻𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒌𝒆 𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒊̀𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒈𝒂 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒏- 𝑪𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚

✧ 𝑩𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒏𝒔𝒇𝒘 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒇𝒘 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒅𝒏𝒊!! 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒔𝒇𝒘 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒇𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒐

✧ !!𝑨𝑳𝑺𝑶!! 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏!𝒔/𝒐, 𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒚𝒂!𝒔/𝒐, 𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒌𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒂!𝒔/𝒐. 𝑺𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓. 𝑬𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚☺️💕

──☆*:・ﾟ──☆*:・ﾟ ──☆*:・ﾟ✧𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒉𝒄’𝒔

- they’re all extremelyy protective over you. And always so ready to defend you.

- very touchy, weather it’s a little hand hold or a full on thigh grab he needs to have his hands on you at all times.

- they’re all very fertile, and so are you. (So yk what that means😘)

- their aftercare is AMAZING 🫦

- NON-SEXUAL DOMINANCE 😩!! Like…

Putting his hand on your back to lead you somewhere

Saying “no” in a stern but caring tone

Opening things for you/ Making way for you

Giving you reasonable instructions

Telling you “come here” and/or pointing to the ground to where they want you

Fixing your appearance (like fixing your hair or loincloth)

Lifting your chin up

“look at me”

Fixing your posture

“Yeah?”

And so many more😩

- always so quick to do anything for you. Want food? He already out the door. Cold? Blanket is already covering you. Need a hug? Immediately wrapping his arms around you and kissing you gently. This man is in loveee with you😭

- they got the besttt hand placement 😩

𝑵𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒚𝒂𝒎

❥𝑺𝑭𝑾❥

- loves taking you out on late night beach walks, the bioluminescence of the pandora making you look even more gorgeous.

- whenever you two go on walks in the forest he always hold your hand whenever the path gets too uneven. And whenever he has to climb or jump over something he’ll always pick you up so you don’t get hurt.

“Teyam! I’m fine! I’m not a child you know.”

“Mhm. Yeah sure, yawntutsyìp. Now come on.”

- hates when he sees other guys looking at you, almost like he can hear their thoughts. So he’ll just wrap his arm around you and trail kisses and a few bites all over your soft skin, making sure everyone know you’re his.

- whenever he gets mad his jaw does that thing, and ik yall know what im talking about 😩

- keeps track of your period/heat cycle, so he knows the exact day you’re going to get it.

- he baby’s you a lottt during these days, making sure his girl is ok.

“Here tahnì, kiri made this for you. It’s supposed to take some of the pain away.”

“Thank you, baby. You’re the best-“ and there it was again. That sharp pain shooting up through your core. It felt like someone was trying to tear you apart from the inside out.

You yelp in pain, neteyam automatically leaping next to your side and pressing his big hand into where the pain was coming from.

“Shshsh, yawntu. It’s ok..I know it hurts but I’m here baby. I got you.” He coos, the warmth and pressure from his hand soothing you immediately. The rest of your body weight pressing into his chest.

“That’s my girl.”

- always is looking at you even when you’re not looking at him. You always manage to catch his eyes tho, it’s hard not to when he’s staring right into your soul.

- but when you finally do meet his eyes they’re always filled with love and affection, it makes you smile all giddy every time

- his tail always betrays his words, like whenever you feel like he’s getting jealous, you’ll ask him upfront. And ofc he’ll say no, but two seconds later you feel his tail coiling around your thigh possessively. Or when you guys get into a fight and are still mad at each other afterwards, his tail will still wrap around your calve as a comfort. But he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

- does the lil “come here” waist grab combo before he kisses you🤤

!!𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕!!

❥𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾❥

- loves seeing how flustered you get by him just doing the smallest things, like when he flexes his arms or lowers his voice a little just to see your thighs clench and face get all red/purple

“Y/n..you listening to me, yawntusip?” He questions with a smirk that tells you he already knew the answer to his own question.

“Yes, yes I’m sorry, baby. Continue.” You responded, mind still focused on how the way he was looking at you and his deep voice made your panties unbearably slick.

“Mhm.. no. I rather do something else instead.”

- has such a huge breeding kink. Like he’s downright obsessed with how pretty you look all cockdrunk with his cum just leaking out of you. Makes him feralll.

- also has a courruption kink, size kink, slight spit kink, biting kink, Dacryphilla, and yeah this mf js freaky asf (but he keep it on the DL)

- speaking of him being freaky asf, he’d definitely fuck you in public. Like this man is balls deep inside of you, hitting your sweet spot every time he thrust back in, and he’s over here telling you shit like “shshsh, yawne.. don’t want them to hear you now do you? Mhm~fuck.. you must want them to with the way you’re clenching around me huh?” Like MHM😩

- he’s a eater. He’s such an eater. (js like his brother and daddy) your pussy is basically stress relief to him😭

- puts his hair in a bun before he eat it🫦

- doesn’t mind when you ask to return the favor, bc he loves seeing you on your knees in front of him, pretty lips wrapped around his thick tip and hands desperately gripping at his thighs as you try to push the rest of him into your mouth. The sight makes him js 😵‍💫

-so whipped for you 😭like this mf will do ANYTHINGGG for you, just say the word.

- loves watching you try to hold in your moans and whimpers, the way your face gets all puffy and hands start shaking and squeezing him desperately makes something primal awaken in him. And watching the tears finally spill over your face when he makes you cum? Fucking perfect to him.

- has a ‘sir’ kink too, you found out about it accidentally tbh😭

“Make sure you clean that cut, oeyä yawntu. Don’t want it getting infected.” He ordered softly, making you smile at his gentle yet stern demeanor.

“Yes, sir.” You quipped sarcastically, looking down at the bandage infront of you.

His whole body froze at the name, ears perking up and tail standing up in a ridged way “What?” He said lowly, his switch in energy making your body mimic his.

“I-uhm sorry I-“

“No. Don’t apologize, yawntu.” He walks over to you quickly before kneeling infront of you, kissing you hungrily. “Say it again.” Your tail sways around excitedly at his tone, body getting hotter by the second.

“Yes, sir.”

“Mhm..again.”

- a titty man definitely, he loves watching them bounce whenever he fucks you in missionary

- whenever he punishes you, orgasm denial/control and spanking are his go tos. He just loves how needy and whiney you get from him not giving you what you want.

“T-teyam, please! I’m sorry!”

“Yeah? You pissing me off says otherwise.” Another harsh slap.

You writhe and squirm under him, but it’s no use. Tears of frustration stream down you face once you feel two more slaps to your sensitive flesh.

“P-please, teyam. No..more.” You whine, chest heaving and mouth dry from your screams of protest. His expression softens at your small voice, hand coming down to rub the irritated skin back and forth gently.

“Alright, yawntu. No more.” He coos, leaning down to leave soft kisses on the back of your neck, “but don’t think I’m gonna let you cum at all tonight.”

- loves kissing you when your sitting on something, weather it be a counter or your bed, he just loves kissing you like that.

- grabs your waist to grind you down onto him/guide your movements

- “I’ll make it fit, Yawntu.”

- when he starts getting close he’ll whisper the DIRTIESTT shit in Navi to you 🫦

“Mhm~..Teyam, please..” you whine, the feeling of him using you and stretching your small, leaking pussy proving way too much for you.

“I know, ma’yawntu. Need you to be good for me ok?” He coos, holding the side of your face gently.

You lazily respond with a head nod, slowly losing yourself because of the feeling of your 4th orgasm building up in your core.

He shudders when your pussy clenches around him repeatedly, making him lean down to cadge you in with one of his arms, while the other holds your leg. Leaving slow, sloppy marks and kisses all over your soft skin.

“Hah~fuck..Niftxan ‘ekxin, oeyä tìyawn..Tsun ke ne tìng nga a prrnen~“

𝑱𝒂𝒌𝒆

❥𝑺𝑭𝑾❥

- likes having you on his lap while he does small chores that don’t require him to be standing

- and he does that thing where he pats his lap so you know where you’re supposed to be😩

- whenever your stressed he’ll always trace the same pattern on your back, and it soothes you almost immediately

- veryy affectionate with you,he’s a man after all. He loves to show his woman how much he loves her.

- he always lifts up your chin/ grabs your waist before kissing you

- when you guys argue (which is rarely) he’s definitely a “come here” typa mf, bc he hates making his girl feel bad

- likes to bring you to his meetings just to have you sit there and look pretty

“Baby, what does that mean?” You ask while looking up at him innocently, the sight making him smile softly.

“It means knowing our location, babygirl (knowing our 20)” he responds, placing his hand on your head as you let out a soft “oh..” and continue to listen to him talk to the other warriors.

- likes to form tsaheylu before you guys fall asleep

- hugs from behind 🫦

- loves you guys height difference so much

- another one that babies tf outta you, no matter what. Especially if you’re close to your period/heat cycle

“Hey babygirl, how you feelin?” He says with a soft smile on his face as he walks over to you with a basket of your favorite fruits and cold water.

“Oo! You got yovo for me? You really didn’t have to do that, oeyä tìyawn. I’m just feeling a little lightheaded is all.” You explain, sitting up on your hands so he can sit down in front of you. And that’s when the pain hits. A sharp pain going straight up your spine into your head that makes you cry out. The ringing in your ears getting excruciatingly loud.

Jake is quick to get to your side, placing you on your side so your spine is stretched out. Reliving the pain almost immediately. “I know babygirl, I know. I’m right here.” He coos, pressing firm circles into the base of your neck, massaging out the excess tension. “Just breathe, okay, hon? I gotchu.”

- the emotional security this man provides is AMAZING LIKE🥹🩷

- you always crave him, not even just sexually but physically too. Just his smell,his vibe, his company. Just him. And it’s the same for him too.

- he never stops trying to impress you, just because he has you it doesn’t give him a reason to stop

- he does that thing where he’ll say your name and then point with his head/eyes to where he wants you to be😩

“And I just don’t know how I could-“ you ramble, stressed out because of the celebration later tonight.

“Y/n.” Jake says sternly, but softly. His baritone silencing you immediately.

He looks at you before looking at the bed and tilting his head softly, making you obey his order silently.

Once you sit on the bed, he stands between your legs, cupping your face with his big hands gently. “Baby..” he pauses to kiss your forehead gently. Making you melt into his touch. “Relax. We’re gonna figure it out,ok?” You nod softly at this, letting your nerves leave you.

“Plus I can’t wait to see how sexy your gonna look to-“ “OK, Alright!”

!!𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕!!

❥𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾❥

- lovesss having you in mating press and missionary, something about seeing all of your expressions makes him drill into even harder, just to see how you react.

- when you start whining and whimpering from the overstimulation, he’ll just cup your face and place soft kisses on your skin while saying, “I know, baby, I know.” Not even bothering to slow his pace on your poor cunt.

- “you look so pretty like this, baby” and “that’s my good girl” are his favorites

- finds it so hot whenever your tail wraps around him when he’s fucking you in doggy, it’s such an ego boost for him.

- pushes your legs back whenever he’s eatin it😩

- he loves cockwarming after a long day lemme tell you 😮‍💨

- he absolutely loves praising you, but also degrading you a little too🙈

“Awh hon, this wet just from a little kissing? Such a needy little slut for me.”

- his biggest kinks are breeding and size kink

- likes using toys on you, and definitely slips one inside you before you leave in the morning, just to watch your knees buckle whenever he presses that little button

- definitely an ass man, he loves squeezing it and watching it bounce whenever he has you in doggy

- “sir” kink 100%, especially when he’s punishing you.

- speaking of this tho, his brat taming? Phew lawd😩 he gives you exactly what you want and also you nothing at the same time.

“Ja-Sir!, please! Im-sorry!” You yelp, voice bouncing from his harsh thrust and tears streaming down your face from the overstimulation.

“Nuh-uh. Too late for that shit now, babygirl. Wanted to act like a little whore, so I’m gonna fuck you like one.” He growled, leaving yet another hard slap on your ass, making you whine in pain.

The pace he set was fast and deep, avoiding your sweet spot every time he thrusted back in. And pulling out whenever you got too close. It was absolute torture. Yet you craved it nonetheless.

“Sir..please. I can’t..” you say softly, making him finally hit your sweetspot with his thick tip, turing you into a moaning mess. “Alright, babygirl. But this is the only time you’re cumming tonight.”

- forehead kisses after sex🥹

- speaking of kissing, he’s such a good kisser (obvi bc he has experience but still🙄) he always goes at the pace you want, he knows where to put his hands, and he always puts so much feeling into them like ugh🤤

- cockwarming with you while you sit in his lap>>

𝑳𝒐’𝒂𝒌

❥𝑺𝑭𝑾❥

- such a cuddle bug, like my baby loves being touched and touching you

- when you’re standing and he’s sitting, he’ll wrap his arms around you and pull you close to him. (Even tho he’s eye level with you because he’s so tall😭)

- hates seeing you sad, angry, etc and he does everything in his power to get you out of it.

“Hey mama, I got you some chocolate norm had stashed in the fridge.” He announces while walking into your room, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

“Thank you, sweet boy. I’m not that hungry though..” you say softly, tone quiet and deadpan. His ears perk up and flick at the tone of your voice, brows knitting together at your mood.

“Mama, what’s the matter?” He says softly as he climbs into your large bed, fit for the both of you. You say nothing, instead just rolling over and wrapping your arms around his much larger frame.

Chuckling softly at this, he kisses your head lovingly. “It’s ok, mama. I gotchu”

- likes teaching you the lingo his dad uses on the throat com, he just loves how genuinely intrigued you are when he tells you about it

- gets jealous very easily, he’ll be so quick to pick a fight with someone it’s not even funny

- hates when people touch his hair but loves when you do it

- whenever you guys talk, he always does the triangle method without realizing it. And it gets you flustered every single time😭

- “my girl can wear whatever tf she want but if you touch her ima break your jaw, it’s that simple” typa bf

- loves playing with your hair/ braiding it

- always stares at you, always. Whenever you walk by him and flash him a quick smile his whole train of thought just stops, kiri and neteyam always make fun of him for it😭

- especially if you guys are talking in a group of people, just a lil hand hold or eye contact with you will have this man melting

!!𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕!!

❥𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾❥

- he’s definitely an eater just like his dad and teyam, but before he eats it he always kisses your thighs and ya lips (both of em…bc we all know know these men are js as much of pussy kisses as much as they are pussy eaters yfmm???)

- the second he puts his hair into that ponytail..phew yk you done for😩

- loves doing the finger + tounge combo js to hear you scream and cry out his name

- speaking of that he loves hearing you say his name, deadass makes his eyes roll back just because of the sound of your voice and the way your pussy squeezes him so hard

- does the knee thing whenever you guys make out (and always has his hands on ya tittes🤭)

- the make outs you guys have?..phew😩 sloppy and slow and bodies all pressed tg😩

- you put on a mini skirt one time as a joke and phew lawd..the way he bent you over so quickly and fucked your brains out🫦

- steals his dads camera to take pictures of you so whenever you guys are apart he has something of you to keep him company 🫶🏽

- absolutely adores your body, he loves how soft and squishy it is, especially your thighs and ass

- such an ass man, (like Jake😭)

- loves having you in doggy and missionary

- also I see him liking 69ing too, but he didn’t realized he loved it so much until you introduced it to him

- a switch, loves being in control and making you a cockdrunk mess for him but also loves when you fuck him

- he has such a huge oral fixation, like if you stick your fingers in his mouth while you’re riding him, he turns subby so quick 😮‍💨 or whenever you start randomly kissing and sucking on his hands his brain turns into putty, poor baby gets so overwhelmed by how good your mouth feels he almost cums untouched 🙁 breathing all heavy and face a mess.. ugh😍

- doesn’t really like quickies, but if you both are desperate he’ll do it. He just rather take his time with you, he loves watching you fall apart for him.

- he has a thing for whenever you touch his hands, like when you massage them gently and tell him how pretty they are or how nice they look he turns into a blushing mess, tail wagging and thumping against the floor wildly

- likes touching you in public to see how long you can keep quiet

- “Awh, what was that mama? I couldn’t hear you.” While having the most shit eating grin on his face

- loves teasing you about how much your tail sways and wags when you’re around him. And how much it’ll instinctively wrap around him.

- one of the ways he likes to punish you is making you sit in his lap while he tells you how to touch, cooing and teasing you when he sees your delicate, slow strokes turn more aggressive and needy. So he holds your hand to guide you at the pace he wants.

“Lo’ak!~ please..wanna cum so bad..” you whine frustratedly, moaning softly as he curls your fingers into your sweet spot. But it isn’t enough. You need him.

“Awe that’s too bad, baby. Shouldn’t have been such a needy slut before you got into this. Now you just gotta take it.” He says sternly, removing his hand from yours and placing them on your inner thighs.

“Lo’ak I-“

“I don’t care. Now keep touching, mama. And if I see you speeding up you’re not cumming at all tonight.”

- and yet anotha man that’s whipped asf for u, when you guys were officially mated, he swore he fell even more in love with you. Mf was already making plans for kids😭

- so so vocal😩 especially when you force him to be submissive(he acts like he hates it but yall both know damn well😭)

- another one who grabs your waist to grind you down onto him😩

- another “I’ll make it fit” mf, but he’ll taunt and tease you for how much your legs are shaking and the tears endlessly flowing from your eyes.

“Fuck!~ lo-lo’, wait..it’s not gonna fit..” you writhe and yelp, pathetically trying to push him away from you with your shakey legs.

He growls angrily at this, grabbing both of your legs with his hands and pushing them down next to your ears, folding you like a pretzel under his strong frame.

“Don’t, fuckin’ push me away, mama. Ever.” He seethes, your faces inches apart from each other. “Plus, your pretty little pussy seems to be doing just fine. Poor girl keeps getting greedier and greedier the more I push into you.” He places a slow, sweet kiss on your lips before pushing the rest of his cock inside of you, rubbing your clit to open you up even more.

The stretch makes you cry out and squirm, tears spilling down your face at the stimulation. “Awe, look at you sweet girl. Is my cock too much for you? You can handle it, baby. You said it yourself.” He teases, a shit-eating grin appearing on his face when you try respond to him, but all the comes out are little moans and whimpers.

He thrust into you softly, testing out the waters. You moan loudly at his slow movements, pussy clenching around him repeatedly as you reach for him aimlessly, mind already turned into mush. He chuckles at this, giving you his hand before carefully speeding up his pace. “My pretty girl, already cockdrunk? Mhm~ Fuck..can’t wait to turn you into my personal little cock sleeve~, want that, mama? Want me to fuck you so much that you only crave me?” His words make your pussy clench and squeeze around him repeatedly, letting him know everything he needed to before his pace turned ruthless.

──☆*:・ﾟ──☆*:・ﾟ──☆*:・ﾟ

𝑨/𝑵~ bc why did this take sm more longer than an actual fic? Im done 😭 I tried to make them all as even as I could, but some of them have more than the other (let’s take a huge guess on who I’m talking ab😭). Might make another one for the girls tbh🤭 but I hope yall like this, and if you want me to write more lmk🩷 I had fun with this one🥰

𝑫𝒖𝒄𝒆𝒔🫶🏽,

𝑳𝒖𝒗𝒗4𝒋4𝒚𝒃𝒆11~

~

~

~

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: @xylianasblog @strongheartneteyam @professional-yapper @itchaboi-itchyboy @blue-slxt @hotdsworld @plooto @quicktosimp

𝑫𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒃𝒚 @eloquentreverie

[saltynametag]

[mssalo]

taste

Pairing: Neighbor!Older!Joel x Reader

Summary: After moving in next door, you've slowly chipped away at Joel's gruff exterior, turning his grumbling into smiles. One night, as you show up at his door with your usual charm, the playful teasing between you two shifts into something much more intense. When Joel finally gives in to his burning desire, he can't help but get lost in your sweetness, leading to a night filled with heated passion and uncontrollable cravings.

this is my first post, `m scared

Warnings: 18+. Explicit content. Unprotected sex. Age gap. Oral sex (female receiving). Intense dirty talk. Obsessive behavior. Protective dominance. Reader has she/her pronouns and a vagina(lol), Detailed descriptions of physical intimacy. MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact).

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time you reached Joel’s porch, the sky a tapestry of deep oranges and purples.

It had been a while since you moved in next door, and over time, you’d chipped away at the gruff exterior of the man who now occupied far too many of your thoughts.

He wasn’t one for casual conversation or easy smiles—except, it seemed, when you were around.

You knocked lightly, and the door swung open almost immediately. Joel stood there, his broad frame filling the doorway, his usual scowl softening just a little when he saw you.

“Evenin’, darlin’,” he greeted, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble that always sent a shiver down your spine.

“Hey,” you replied, stepping inside with a smile that you knew got under his skin. “Miss me?”

Joel closed the door behind you, shaking his head, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips.

“You never give me much of a chance to miss you. You’re always showin’ up.”

You flopped onto his couch, making yourself comfortable as you flashed him a playful grin.

“You’re lucky I do. Imagine how quiet your life would be without me.”

“Quiet, maybe,” he muttered, his voice low and rumbling as he leaned against the wall, his dark eyes watching you with an intensity that made your heart skip. “But peaceful too.”

You rolled your eyes, unfazed by his teasing. “Yeah, right. You’d miss me if I stopped coming around, and you know it.”

A low, almost inaudible laugh escaped him, the sound deep and throaty, though his gaze lingered on you with a kind of burning curiosity.

“So, what brings you here tonight? Bored?” he asked, his voice carrying a rough edge, casual but with a hint of sharpness.

You shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see my favorite grumpy neighbor.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something darker in his gaze.

“That so?”

You grinned, leaning back on the couch and stretching out a little.

“Yeah. Besides, I think you secretly love having me around. Admit it.”

He shook his head, a soft grunt escaping him.

“You’re trouble, that’s what you are.”

You laughed, watching him from beneath your lashes. “Trouble, huh? I think you like trouble more than you’re letting on.”

His jaw tightened, the raw, darkened intensity of his voice rising.

“You’re too young to be throwin’ yourself into trouble like this,” he said, his voice rough and strained.

You tilted your head, smiling up at him, your voice dropping a little lower.

“Maybe I’m not the kind of trouble you think I am. Maybe I’m exactly what you need.”

Joel’s eyes darkened further, his posture stiffening as he shook his head again.

“Damn it, darlin’, you don’t know what you’re askin’ for.”

You leaned forward, catching his gaze and holding it. “Why don’t you tell me?”

He stared at you, his eyes tracing over your face and down the curve of your body.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, rough whisper, each word laden with unspoken desire.

“You’re beautiful, you know that? Always have been.”

Your heart stuttered at the unexpected compliment, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you tilted your head, offering him a playful smile.

“You’ve never told me that before.”

“Because I shouldn’t be sayin’ it,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion as he stepped closer, looming over you.

“But damn if I haven’t been thinkin’ it since the day you moved in.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. “Joel…”

“I’ve been dreamin’ about this,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper as his fingers brushed against your cheek, trailing down your neck.

“Thinkin’ about how good it’d be to touch you like this.”

Your breath hitched, his touch sending waves of heat through you. “You have?”

“Every damn night,” he growled, his voice deep and throaty with desire.

“Every time I see you, all I can think about is how bad I want you. In every way.”

The raw hunger in his voice made your stomach flip, but you tried to stay composed. “So what’s been stopping you?”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his hand dropping to your thigh, squeezing lightly. His voice, though rough and strained, was filled with raw longing.

“You’re too damn young, too damn good for me. I shouldn’t want you like this.”

You arched an eyebrow, your voice soft, teasing. “But you do.”

He groaned, the sound deep and resonant as his fingers tightened on your leg.

“Yeah, I do. More than I can stand, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep your voice steady even though your body was practically humming with anticipation. “Then what are you waiting for?”

For a heartbeat, Joel stayed still, his eyes searching yours as if looking for a reason to hold back.

But when he found none, a low, guttural growl rumbled from deep within his chest. He surged forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was hard, rough, filled with the intensity of every moment he’d spent holding back.

His hands roamed over your body, fingers slipping under your shirt, grazing your skin with rough, calloused palms.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, the kiss deepening with every passing second.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his voice thick with desire as he looked down at you.

“Goddamn, you’re so fuckin' beautiful,” he muttered.

“Hot as hell, too. Been dreamin’ about you like this… and it’s even better than I imagined.”

Heat flushed through you at his words, your body aching for more as he hovered over you, his hands still exploring.

“Yeah? What else have you been dreaming about?”

Joel’s voice dropped to a rasp, his hand sliding up your thigh, gripping just above your knee.

“You. Spread out under me, lookin’ at me like you are right now. Spread open—showing me that sweet fucking pussy. Beggin’ for me to touch you.”

Your heart pounded as his words sank in, the sheer intensity of his desire making your head spin.

You arched into him, your voice breathy as you teased, “Who says I’m gonna beg?”

He smirked, his fingers trailing higher, teasing the edge of your shorts.

“We will see, darlin’. But for now I’m gonna give you everything you’ve been wantin’.”

With one smooth motion, Joel tugged your shorts down, his hand immediately finding your pulsing heat, under your baby blue panties, fingers slightly teasing you as he watched your reaction with dark, hungry eyes.

You gasped, your back arching as his fingers worked you slowly, deliberately, purposely.

“Jesus, Joel,” you moaned, your hands clutching at his arms as he continued to tease you, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your neck.

“You’re—fuck—so good.”

He groaned against your skin, the sound low and possessive, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered,

“I’ve been dreamin’ of hearin’ you say my name like that. You’ve got no idea what you do to me, darlin’. You’re perfect. Fuck.”

His praise sent a rush of heat through your body, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as his fingers moved with skill around your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

When his lips found yours again, you were lost, drowning in the sensation of him, the feel of his hands, his mouth, and the deep, gravelly sound of his voice in your ear as he murmured,

“You’re so damn beautiful. Can’t believe I waited this long. So stupid.”

You whimpered, your body trembling beneath him as he pushed you closer and closer, his fingers working you in perfect rhythm until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Joel, I—”

He growled softly, his hand tightening on your thigh as he kissed you hard, but right before you reached that sweet high, his fingers stopped.

You gasped, the sudden absence of his touch leaving you in a daze, your body aching with the need for more.

“Need to taste you, baby. Been wantin' it so bad.”

Joel’s lips trailed a heated line from your mouth down to your neck, each kiss a tantalizing brush of warmth against your skin.

His touch was deliberate, his breath hot and uneven as he moved lower, his eyes dark with desire.

His hands gently pushed your thighs apart, his touch sending shivers through you as he settled between your legs.

His breath hitched slightly, a deep, hungry growl escaping him as he looked up at you, his eyes full of a possessive, smoldering heat.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he rasped, his voice low and thick with need, as he pressed soft, lingering kisses to the inside of your thigh.

The feeling of his lips so close to where you needed him most made your breath catch, anticipation and excitement building in the pit of your stomach.

With a deliberate slowness, Joel’s lips found their way to your most intimate place.

His breath against you was warm, each exhale a tantalizing caress that made you shiver with anticipation.

He paused for a moment, his face mere inches from your core, taking in your scent—the musky, sweet aroma that was uniquely you.

Joel inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as he savored the intoxicating smell of you.

The scent was heady, rich with the essence of desire, and it made his pulse quicken and his entire body shudder with a primal hunger.

He let out a low, shuddering breath, the sound escaping him in a groan of deep satisfaction.

The scent, so personal and intimate, filled his senses, amplifying his desire as he felt every inch of his control slipping away.

His breath against you was hot and uneven, his entire body trembling slightly as he tried to hold back the feral need surging through him.

Joel’s eyes were dark with a mixture of awe and lust as he looked up at you, the sight of your flushed skin and the way you responded to his touch only heightening his desire. He could feel the raw, primal urge to taste you, to fully indulge in the intoxicating aroma that was driving him wild.

Unable to resist any longer, he pressed his lips to you, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweet, heady flavor that had been teasing him.

The taste was as intoxicating as the scent, and it drove him to growl deeply, his voice resonating with a rough, satisfied tone as he continued to explore you.

“oh fuck,” he muttered, his voice a low, guttural rasp, “you taste so fuckin` perfect, I can’t get enough.”

His tongue danced over your sweet clit with relentless hunger, sucking and licking. As he savored every part of you, he couldn’t help but rut against the couch in desperate frustration.

The intensity of his arousal was almost unbearable, and he found himself grinding against the cushion, the friction only adding to his mounting desire.

Joel’s grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers digging in as he continued to taste you even deeper with greedy fervor.

“fuck, you’re drivin me insane with this sweet pussy”

he growled into you, his voice thick with a mix of desperation and obsession.

“I can’t get over how goddamn perfect you are. `been wanting this for so long, and now that I have you… I can’t stop.” he says, slurping loudly, messy.

Your body responded instinctively to his touch, every flick of his tongue, suck between his plump lips and every rough breath only heightening your own pleasure.

The sound of his low, desperate growls, the way his body moved against the couch, all combined to create an atmosphere charged with raw, unrestrained passion.

Joel’s movements became more frantic, his tongue working you with an almost frantic intensity.

“you have no idea what you’re doin` to me,”he rasped, his voice hoarse with need.

“I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

His admission only fueled your desire, your body trembling with each touch and taste as you responded to him with equal fervor.

And as Joel continued to lose himself in the sensation, rutting against the couch with an almost animalistic need, it was clear that nothing would stop him from savoring every moment of this intoxicating connection.

Joel's tongue moved relentlessly against you, each stroke deliberate and filled with a raw, insatiable hunger.

His deep, guttural growls reverberated through his chest, the sound mingling with the muffled cries that escaped your lips. His face was buried between your legs, and he showed no sign of slowing, his need to taste every inch of you driving him to a fever pitch.

"y` taste so good," he groaned, his voice thick with desire as he lapped at you with unrestrained enthusiasm.

"I can’t get enough of you. so sweet, so perfect, I just want to make you cum all over my tongue, baby."

The heat of his breath, the way his tongue worked you with an almost frenzied intensity, pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Every flick of his tongue, every rough, needy groan, drove you wild. Your hands gripped his hair, pulling him closer, your back arching as you tried to chase the growing pressure that built in your core.

"Joel, oh god," you whimpered, your voice breathless and desperate.

"I’m so close. Don’t stop, please—"

His growl was a low, primal sound, vibrating through your entire body.

“that’s it, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice muffled but still filled with that familiar rough edge.

“let me hear you. I wanna feel you come apart for me. I want you to lose yourself, to give it all to me.”

With every word, every sound, Joel drove you closer to the edge. His tongue flicked and circled your clit with a masterful touch, pushing you right to the brink. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming with the pleasure he was giving you.

The heat between your legs was overwhelming, a wave of sensation that crashed over you in a relentless tide.

“Joel, I—” you began, but the words were lost in a broken cry as he pushed you over the edge. 

Your orgasm hit with a force that took you by surprise, your body convulsing as the pleasure surged through you.

You gasped, your breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps as Joel’s tongue continued to work you through the climax, savoring every shuddering response you gave him.

“that’s it, darlin’, come for me,” Joel urged, his voice rough and strained as he lapped at you with feverish intensity.

“feel it, let it all out. I want you to come all over my face.”

His words, combined with the relentless pressure of his tongue, drove you to a second, even more intense peak.

You cried out, your hands gripping his hair tightly as the waves of pleasure rolled through you. Your body trembled, your thighs quaking as he kept his relentless rhythm, his own breathing heavy and ragged as he tasted every drop of your release.

When you finally came down from the high, your body still shivering with aftershocks, Joel’s touch softened, his movements more tender now as he kissed and licked you gently, savoring the last remnants of your orgasm.

His eyes were dark with a mixture of satisfaction and possessiveness, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“you were amazing,” he murmured, his voice husky and filled with admiration as he looked up at you.

“so perfect, darlin’. I could taste you all night.”

Your breathless, sated smile met his gaze, and you reached down to cup his cheek, your fingers brushing softly over his skin.

“you know how to make a girl feel special,” you whispered, your voice still tinged with the lingering effects of your climax.

Joel’s breath was ragged, his gaze locked onto yours with a possessive intensity that made your heart race.

He pulled back slightly, giving you a moment to catch your breath. But the desire in his eyes never wavered; if anything, it deepened. 

“you’re so fuckin` hot,” he growled, his voice a low, rough rasp.

“- every inch of you. I need to be inside you, to feel you wrapped around me.”

You could barely respond, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax.

But the need in Joel’s eyes drove you to beg.

“please, Joel,” you whispered, your voice filled with raw need. “- want you so bad. I need you to fill me up. please, give me your cum.”

His gaze darkened further, a shudder of anticipation running through him.

He reached down, positioning his cock at your entrance once more.

“fuck, you’re so eager,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust.

“- you want me inside you, huh? want me to claim you, hm?”

“yes,” you moaned, arching into him, your body aching for his touch. “I want you to fill me, to make me yours. don’t hold back.”

Joel’s eyes were burning with an intense, almost feral hunger as he began to push into you, his cock stretching you deliciously. “you’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough with need.

“every inch of you belongs to me.”

You gasped as he thrust deeper, the sensation of him filling you completely sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“Joel, you feel so amazing,” you moaned, your voice trembling with desire.

“I’m so close. I want you to make me come again. I need your cum inside me.”

His pace quickened, each thrust deliberate and powerful.

“you want it that bad, huh?” he growled, his voice a low rumble of satisfaction. “you want me to fill you up, to mark you as mine?”

“yes, Joel, yes,” you cried, your voice desperate.

“I need you to come inside me. make me yours. I want to feel you. I want to feel your cum.”

Joel’s movements became more urgent, animalistic, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

“you’re so perfect,” he groaned, his voice rough and filled with possessive pride.

“so fucking tight. I’m gonna give you everything you’ve been begging for.”

His pace picked up, each thrust driving him deeper into you, the rhythm steady and relentless.

“fuck, so good,” he growled, his voice a deep rumble of satisfaction.

“you’re mine, darlin’. every time I see you, every time I touch you, I want to remind you just how much I need you.”

With a final, powerful thrust, Joel let out a guttural growl, his cock throbbing as he came inside you, the warmth of his cum filling you completely.

“fuck,” he moaned, his voice strained with pleasure.

“I’m never letting you go. you’re mine.”

You moaned loudly, your body trembling as you felt his release, the sensation pushing you to the edge once more. “Joel, yes,” you cried, your voice breaking with the intensity of your pleasure.

“you’re making me come again. I —”

Joel’s arms tightened around you, his movements slow and deliberate as he rode out his orgasm.

“that’s it,” he growled, his voice filled with a mixture of satisfaction and fierce pride.

“come for me, darlin’. let me feel you come all over my cock.”

The combined sensations of his release and your own climax left you breathless, your body trembling beneath him.

Joel’s lips found yours, his kiss deep and possessive as he whispered against your mouth, “so perfect. you’re mine, now and forever.”

As the last waves of pleasure subsided, Joel’s grip on you remained firm, his eyes never leaving yours.

The connection between you was stronger than ever, a blend of passion and possession that promised more intense moments in the future.

When you finally caught your breath, you looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “better than your dreams?”

Joel chuckled softly, his voice low and tender as his thumb gently brushed your cheek.

“darlin’, you’re better than I ever could’ve imagined.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, that same soft, teasing grin still on your lips as you gazed up at him. “glad I could make your dreams come true, old man.”

His eyes darkened at the playful jab, and before you could say another word, Joel leaned in, pressing a rough, claiming kiss to your lips.

“you keep pushin’ me,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice low and gravelly, “and I’ll show you just how much I’ve been holdin’ back.”

The warmth of Joel’s body pressed against yours, his possessive gaze locked onto your face. His hand trailed lazily over your skin, sending little shivers through you as he traced circles along your waist. The heat between you had cooled slightly, but the intensity of his presence remained.

You lay there, chest still rising and falling as you caught your breath. Joel leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours, a rare moment of tenderness from the man who had been all passion and dominance moments earlier.

“You okay?” he asked, his gravelly voice now softer, more intimate.

You smiled, a lazy grin spreading across your face as you nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice still a little breathless. “More than okay.”

His lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. “Good. Didn’t want to be too rough on you.”

You laughed lightly, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “I can handle you, Joel.”

He chuckled, the deep sound rumbling through his chest as he pulled you closer, wrapping his strong arms around you. “You definitely can.”

There was a comfortable silence between you, the weight of what had just happened settling in. You had crossed a line, but it felt inevitable. Joel had been circling your thoughts for so long, and now that you had given into each other, it felt like the only natural conclusion.

As you lay there, wrapped up in his arms, your mind wandered to what came next. This wasn’t just a casual fling—not with the way Joel had looked at you, the way he had spoken to you with such raw honesty and desire.

“What are we doing, Joel?” you asked softly, your voice cutting through the silence.

He stiffened slightly, his arms tightening around you. He let out a deep sigh, as if the question had been hanging between you for a while, waiting to be asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quiet but honest. “I just know I want you. That I need you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the vulnerability in his voice surprising you. You had never seen Joel like this—open, exposed.

“And you’ve got me,” you whispered, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “But where do we go from here?”

Joel shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you. His dark eyes, usually so guarded, were softer now, more open.

“We figure it out,” he said, his voice steady, but there was a hint of uncertainty in it. “I ain’t gonna pretend like I have all the answers. But I know I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. This wasn’t just a moment of weakness or lust—Joel wanted more, just like you did.

“I don’t either,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want more.”

Joel’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It was a stark contrast to the heated passion from earlier—a kiss that spoke of something deeper, more meaningful.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, as if he was trying to read your thoughts. “We’ll take it slow,” he said, his voice firm. “Figure things out, day by day.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. “Okay. Day by day.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Joel’s lips, and he kissed you again, slow and deliberate. When he pulled away this time, his eyes were filled with that same possessive intensity that had sent a thrill through you earlier.

“But make no mistake, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly tone that made your heart race. “You’re mine now. And I don’t plan on lettin’ anyone else have you.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, but it wasn’t unwelcome. In fact, the idea of belonging to Joel, of being claimed by him, felt right. You leaned up, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Joel’s eyes darkened at your words, and he pulled you close again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that promised more than just passion. It promised commitment, something solid in the midst of the uncertainty.

For now, that was enough. You had Joel, and he had you—and together, you would figure out what came next.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I accidentally deleted this post bruh

pussy whipped like me. this was my first fic, hope you enjoyed it.

[zomb-core]

۫ ꣑ৎ A TRIM || carl grimes x female reader

summary: carl refused to let anyone near his hair after losing his mom, but when he desperately needs a trim he goes to the person he trusts most, you.

(intended lowercase)

warnings: mentions of losing a parent.

pure fluff

“a trim, got it?”

carl twisted around in the chair he was sitting on to face you, you could tell he was nervous and you understood why. he hadn't cut his hair since he was 13, lori used to give him haircuts and he couldn't bring himself to let anyone else do it after she died, until now.

you currently stood behind him, a pair of shears held in your dominant hand while your other held a comb and spray bottle. “yes, a trim, I got it. now, are you gonna sit still and let me start?” you teased, a brief laugh passing your lips.

he nodded, removing the bandage from around his face and setting it on the counter next to his hat. “yeah, just please be careful—”

“carl.” you interrupted, making eye contact with him through the mirror, taking in his worried expression. “I know how important your hair is to you and I will be very careful, I just need you to trust me.”

he caught his lip between his teeth before giving you a curt nod and straightening his posture. “okay.”

you gave him a reassuring smile followed by a gentle kiss to the top of his head before starting. you grabbed a section of his hair, spraying it with the water until it was drenched, repeating this until his hair was thoroughly soaked. you didn't have a lot of experience with cutting hair and you were beyond nervous, but when he came to you and asked you if you would give him a trim you didn't have the heart to tell him no.

you took a deep breath before grabbing a decent portion of hair, bringing the comb to it and running it through it, stopping about an inch from the bottom, holding it up so carl could see it, “how's that?”

“that's fine.” he concluded after a few moments of staring at it, closing his eyes tightly when you brought the scissors up to his hair.

you hesitated. you knew how important this was to him, when he told you stories about his mom your heart would ache for him, and his hair was one of the only things left he could relate to her besides judith and messing this up would break his heart.

the sound of the scissors snipping the hair caused you both to flinch, you watching the hair fall to the tiled floor.

you exchanged a glance with him to make sure he was still comfortable, and you continued, copying your previous cut over and over again until you had chopped roughly the same length of hair off of every section.

the bathroom was completely silent minus the sound of the scissors and you shuffling around, neither of you could bring yourselves to speak, both too focused on your movements to say anything.

eventually, you finished the larger part of his hair and all that was left was his bangs. you walked around so you could be face to face with him, examining the way his bangs framed his face. “okay..” you mumbled, grabbing the larger portion of his bangs between your index and middle finger using them as a guide and you worked on his fringe while trying to avoid getting any hair in the open wound on his face. once you were satisfied with how that side looked, you moved onto the other side, making a few quick snips before setting the scissors down and stepping back to admire your work.

“what do you think? did I do okay?”

he stood up, leaning closer to the mirror to examine his hair as you watched him anxiously, awaiting his reaction. you rocked back and forth on your heel, your hands interlaced behind your back, “carl?” you tried, becoming extremely paranoid that you had messed up, but your worry was quickly brought to an end when he wrapped his arms around you.

“it looks great, thank you.”

your worried expression was replaced by a geeky smile, and you returned his hug, giving him a tight squeeze. “oh thank god, I was so worried.” you laughed, pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose,

“thank you, by the way.” he looked confused at your statement, tilting his head to the side slightly, “for what?”

“for trusting me, I know that this was hard for you and i’m glad you trusted me of all people.”

he ducked his head down and nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, smiling against the exposed skin, “i’m glad I did, too.”

masterlist

[hayatheauthor]

Writing Rage: How To Make Your Characters Seem Angry

Anger is a powerful emotion that can add depth and intensity to your character's personality. If you're facing issues realistically expressing your characters' rage, here are some quick tips to help you get the ball rolling. Whether your character is seething with quiet rage or exploding in a fit of fury, these tips will help you convey their emotions vividly to your readers.

This is blog one in my writing different emotions series. Go check it out to explore more emotions!

Facial Expressions

Furrowed Brows: Describe the deep lines between their eyebrows, signaling frustration or intensity.

Tightened Jaw: Mention their clenched jaw, indicating suppressed anger or tension.

Narrowed Eyes: Highlight how their eyes narrow, showing suspicion, irritation, or anger.

Raised Upper Lip: Note the slight curl of the lip, suggesting disdain or contempt.

Flared Nostrils: Describe how their nostrils flare, indicating heightened emotions like anger or aggression.

Body Language and Gestures

Crossed Arms: Show their defensive stance, portraying resistance or defiance.

Pointing Finger: Describe them pointing accusatively, conveying aggression or assertion.

Fist Clenching: Mention their clenched fists, symbolizing anger or readiness for confrontation.

Hand Gestures: Detail specific hand movements like chopping motions, indicating frustration or emphasis.

Aggressive Posturing: Describe them leaning forward, invading personal space to intimidate or assert dominance.

Posture

Tense Shoulders: Highlight their raised or tense shoulders, indicating stress or readiness for conflict.

Upright Stance: Describe their rigid posture, showing control or a desire to appear strong.

Stiff Movements: Mention their jerky or abrupt movements, reflecting agitation or impatience.

Eye Contact

Intense Stares: Describe their intense or prolonged gaze, signaling confrontation or challenge.

Avoiding Eye Contact: Note how they avoid eye contact, suggesting discomfort or a desire to disengage.

Glaring: Mention how they glare at others, conveying hostility or disapproval.

Dialogue

Raised or strained tone with variations in pitch reflects heightened emotions.

Short, clipped sentences or abrupt pauses convey controlled anger.

Use of profanity or harsh language intensifies verbal expressions of anger.

Volume increase, from whispers to shouts, mirrors escalating anger levels.

Monotonous or sarcastic tone adds layers to angry dialogue.

Interruptions or talking over others signify impatience and frustration.

Aggressive verbal cues like "I can't believe..." or "How dare you..." express anger explicitly.

Reactions

Physical Reactions: Detail physical responses like increased heart rate, sweating, or trembling, showing emotional arousal.

Defensive Maneuvers: Describe how they react defensively if someone tries to touch or talk to them, such as stepping back or raising a hand to ward off contact.

Object Interaction

Aggressive Handling: Show them slamming objects, throwing things, or gripping items tightly, reflecting anger or aggression.

Use of Props: Mention how they use objects to emphasize their emotions, like slamming a door or clenching a pen.

Descriptive Words:

Verbs:

Roared with fury, expressing unbridled anger.

Snapped in frustration, indicating sudden irritation.

Shouted angrily, releasing pent-up emotions.

Glared fiercely, showing intense displeasure.

Slammed objects in rage, symbolizing anger's physical manifestation.

Grunted in annoyance, displaying impatience.

Raged vehemently, portraying uncontrolled anger.

Adjectives:

Furious and incensed, conveying intense anger.

Seething with rage, bubbling beneath the surface.

Livid and fuming, exhibiting visible anger.

Agitated and irritated, showing growing impatience.

Enraged and wrathful, expressing extreme anger.

Vexed and irate, indicating annoyance.

Infuriated and incandescent, highlighting explosive anger.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[kaira-diaries]

Nocturne:

warning: smut-implied age gap || wound cleaning || violence || implied death ||

pairing: fem!xfrontman/In-ho

wc: 4k

a/n: Okay, I feel like while writing this I blindly turned it into an enemies to lovers. Kind of? Sorta? Maybe?

summary: The sheltered daughter of a VIP grows bored of the games, and finds herself exploring the quarters of the front man, only she's blindly unaware. This mistake, while nearly costs her her life, also opens up an intense and longing romance.

->Masterlist <-

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

You stifled a yawn, staring down at the game room where players carefully carved honeycombs under the watchful eyes of masked guards. Dalgona—a game you knew well but found painfully dull. Your father, sprawled beside you on the velvet loveseat, reeked of expensive liquor and slurred, "Where are you going?"

As you stood, you tucked a pillow beneath his head, smoothing your burgundy dress. "For a drink. Rest now."

Another VIP leaned over, gesturing to your snoring father. "Had too much?"

"Always," you replied with a tight smile. "Keep an eye on him, will you?"

Glass in hand, you ascended the grand staircase to the bar. The itch of your golden mask only added to your frustration. The sound of a gunshot from the game room below barely held your attention. Forty lost—disappointing. You popped the cork on a fresh bottle of wine, pouring a glass and savoring the first sip.

Then, through the double doors ahead, you noticed something. A space you'd never seen before, dark and enticing.

You hesitated, glancing back at the games. Nothing exciting there, and your father was well guarded. With a sly smile, you patted the blade strapped to your thigh, pushed the doors open, and stepped into the unknown.

With the wine bottle in hand, you take a generous swig, the rich flavor a momentary comfort. The foyer feels stark, oppressive—its black walls and cool gray floors exuding a chill that seeps into your skin. Gold accents glint faintly in the dim light, the only warmth in this austere domain. You grimace at the decor but press on, curiosity pulling you deeper.

The elongated hallway looms ahead, flanked by heavy, closed doors. Each one seems to hum with secrets, daring you to turn the handle. You hesitate, a voice in the back of your mind warning you to turn around. Yet, as your fingers graze the cool brass of a doorknob, you pull back. Another sip of wine quiets the voice, and you continue to the open space at the hall's end.

This room feels different—softer, more inviting. You run your fingers along the sleek fabric of a gray loveseat, its plush texture a strange comfort against the stark surroundings. Your gaze lands on a collection of vibrant figurines—a rare splash of color in the muted space. One stands out: a woman in a flowing red gown, microphone in hand, her face alight with passion. Around her, a miniature band, instruments gleaming, seems poised to play.

Your heart races as you spot a remote beside the figures. The urge to press it outweighs any lingering caution. You place the bottle down next to your mask as you remove it, press the button, and watch as the figures come to life, their voices harmonizing in a hauntingly beautiful rendition of "Fly Me to the Moon."

The melody fills the room, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Eyes closed, you let the music wash over you, unsure if it's the alcohol or the song that's softening the edges of the world. 

You were halfway through the bottle of wine when the music stopped abruptly, and a cold dread prickled your spine. The figures had ceased their dance mid-note, leaving the room in a suffocating silence.

You spun around, the blade on your thigh now in your grip, sharp and ready.

Standing in the doorway was a figure shrouded in shadow, his presence dominating the room. He stepped forward, the dim light catching the edges of a cold, metallic mask. His posture was rigid, and his gloved hand gripped a pistol aimed directly at you.

"Who are you?" His voice was like crushed gravel, low and commanding.

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your expression sharp, masking the fear threatening to surface. "You first," you bit back, your fingers tightening around the hilt of your blade.

His head tilted slightly, the gesture almost mocking. "You're in my quarters, and yet you demand answers."

You shifted your stance; every muscle in your body coiled like a spring. "I didn't see your name on the door," you snapped, each word laced with defiance.

In a flash, he was upon you, closing the distance with startling speed. His hand caught your wrist, twisting it just enough to force the knife from your grip without breaking the skin. You gritted your teeth as he pinned your arm behind your back, pressing you against the cold edge of the table.

His gun found its way under your chin, tilting your head back to meet his masked gaze. The mask's lifeless eyes stared down at you, void of humanity, and yet you swore you could feel the heat of his scrutiny.

"Answer me," he growled, his voice a hairsbreadth from your ear.

You smirked, though your pulse hammered against your ribs. "Kill me, then. I dare you. Let's see how you'd like explaining to everyone why a VIP's daughter ended up dead in your quarters."

His grip faltered for a fraction of a second, a hesitation so slight that most wouldn't notice. But you did. He released you with an almost annoyed shove, holstering his gun as he took a deliberate step back.

Rubbing your wrist, you straightened and smirked at him, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. "Yeah didn't think so," you muttered.

Before he could respond, the room was flooded with pink-clad guards, their rifles raised and aimed squarely at you. Your eyes darted between the barrels of the guns and the masked man.

"Stand down," he barked at the guards, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

They hesitated but obeyed, lowering their weapons.

You scoffed, brushing past the guards as you retrieved your blade from the floor. "All of this for little ol' me?" you quipped, slipping your knife back into its sheath.

The masked man didn't respond, his head tilting slightly as if studying you. His silence unnerved you more than the gun had.

With a flick of your hair, you grabbed your golden mask from the table and placed it over your face, the metallic surface catching the dim light. As you walked past him, your eyes never left his, and neither did his leave yours.

"Try not to miss me," you said with a smirk, your voice dripping with mockery as you exited the room.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

You lay on your back, rubbing your eyes as exhaustion clung to you, but sleep refused to come. You didn't know what time it was, but when a dull headache crept in, you sighed and slipped out of bed to find a glass of water. Throwing on a black robe, you padded into the quiet halls, unconcerned. At this hour, only the guards would be awake, and none would dare glance at the daughter of a VIP—not if they valued their lives.

You crossed your arms against the chill and shut the door behind you. The once-bright hallway was now shaded, the only light spilling faintly from the main room ahead. Your knees ached as you trudged down the cold corridor.

The earlier Dalgona game had thinned the herd. Many players were gone, and your father's friends were divided—some bitter over their financial losses, others laughing as they poured another drink. For them, the money was trivial.

Mama had always been against gambling, insisting money was meant to be earned, not squandered on fleeting thrills. You missed her fiercely, the ache of her absence tightening your chest. You pressed on, trying to shake the melancholy, though your thoughts drifted elsewhere—to him.

His presence lingered in your mind like a gloom you couldn't shake. He had come terrifyingly close to ending your life, yet there was something in that encounter—a charged energy you couldn't explain, equal parts fear and... something else.

Reaching the kitchen, you stepped inside, greeted by the faint hum of the industrial fridge. The space was massive, gleaming stainless steel counters and cabinets casting faint reflections in the dim light. You found a glass in one of the cabinets, filling it with water from the sleek faucet.

As you raised the glass to your lips, a flicker of movement in the doorway caught your eye. Your heart stopped. He stood there, The masked man, silent and imposing.

A startled yelp escaped your lips as you stumbled back a step, clutching your chest.

"You're gonna give me a heart attack—again," you snapped, scowling at him as you poured 

another generous measure of water into your glass. "Ever heard of announcing yourself?"

His voice came out low and mechanical, but there was something unspoken behind it, something you couldn't quite place. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his eyes behind the mask locked on you, lingering just a little too long. His steps were slow and soft, as if he was trying not to scare you off.

You cleared your throat, shrugging off the weight of his gaze. "Could be better," you said nonchalantly, swirling the liquid in your glass. Then, flashing a sharp smile, you added, "I didn't quite catch your name after you nearly blew my brains out."

"I'm the Front Man," he replied evenly.

Your grin faltered slightly, but you held it together, leaning casually against the counter. "Fitting. So, what's your deal in all this? Why are you here?"

"I oversee and operate the facility," he said, his voice as detached as ever.

You tilted your head, curiosity tugging at you. "So, you're the game maker," you said, taking a sip and adding, "Those were actually your quarters, then."

"Among other things," he admitted, a touch of something—pride, perhaps?—edging into his tone.

Your lips twitched with the hint of a smile as you folded your arms, suddenly acutely aware of your black robe, barely held together at the waist. "Sorry for snooping earlier," you said, your voice softer. "Curiosity and boredom get the better of me sometimes."

He didn't respond immediately, and the silence stretched, charged and heavy. When he finally spoke, his question caught you off guard. "What did you think of today's game?"

You raised a brow, knowing he didn't care about your opinion. Still, you couldn't resist taking the bait. "Honestly? It was a bit of a snooze fest. The Dalgona challenge?" You shook your head. "A complete letdown. I was so bored I ended up raiding your quarters just to find something more entertaining."

You thought you heard a low scoff beneath the mask, but his face was unreadable. "How so?" he asked, almost begrudgingly.

"It lacked drama," you said, setting your glass down. "There was no big moment to keep the audience on edge. No payoff. It felt...lazy." You leaned forward more, catching his stare. "I'm not easily impressed, and for my first visit? Not great, especially after being...manhandled."

His head tilted slightly, his mask catching the low light. "You're a spoiled brat," he said, his tone clipped. "I'm not here to entertain you."

You pushed away from the counter, stepping in front of him closely, your golden necklace catching the light as it swung forward. "That's where you're wrong," you said, your voice low, each word deliberate. "I'm part of the next generation of VIPs—the ones funding your 'little business.' If you can't impress me, why should I invest in you?"

The room felt colder for a moment, his silence more cutting than any retort. "Why wait until now to join your father at the games?" he asked abruptly, sidestepping your challenge.

You blinked, momentarily thrown. "I've been busy," you said.

"Busy with what?" he pressed.

You toyed with a strand of hair, smirking. "Business," you said lightly. "I mostly dabble in the legal kind...and sometimes the not-so-legal, if the payout's worth it."

A gust of cold air swept through the room, making you shiver. You rubbed your arms for warmth, feeling the tension in the air grow thicker. "How did you end up running all of this, anyway?" you asked, meeting his gaze. "Doesn't seem like the kind of job you'd find on a career board."

His answer was clipped. "I'm skilled at what I do. That's all you need to know."

"That's it?" you asked, your frown betraying your disappointment. "No juicy backstory?"

"Does it really matter?" he countered.

"Guess not," you said with a shrug. But his words lingered, their finality leaving a mark.

"If you're mostly about legal businesses, what are you doing here?" he asked, his tone sharp, probing.

"I love my father," you said simply. "He asked me to come, so I came. And this...this is my future, isn't it? Might as well get familiar with it instead of pretending it doesn't exist."

For a moment, he said nothing, his mask a void, his gaze impenetrable. But you felt it—the weight of his attention, the unspoken pull between you.

Finally, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the spell breaking. "I should get to bed," you said softly, stepping around him toward the hallway with your water. "Goodnight."

He inclined his head, his voice low. "Goodnight."

As you descended, the warmth of the exchange lingered, a quiet echo in the stillness of the night.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

A week had passed in a whirlwind of chaos, each game more brutal and captivating than the last. Yet, what lingered in your mind was the frustrating absence of The Front Man. Beyond fleeting glances, he seemed distant, as though merely going through the motions. It bothered you that you were disappointed.

Seated in your velvet chair, you felt the thrill of a game's dramatic conclusion but soon found yourself craving a refill. With a sudden burst of energy, you left your seat, not bothering to smooth your sage green dress, and ascended the staircase to the bar. The marble counter gleamed under soft light as you reached for the whiskey decanter.

Before the amber liquid could hit the glass, a loud crash from behind the double doors stopped you cold. Another crash followed, then a cry of pain that sent chills down your spine.

Heart pounding, you slipped inside to find The Front Man hunched over, a knife digging into his bloodied shoulder.

"What the fuck?" you blurted, stepping closer.

He shot out his good arm, stopping you. "I'm fine. Go back to the game," he said, his voice calm but distant.

You hesitated, his words tempting you to leave, but the sight of him—wounded and vulnerable—rooted you to the spot. Walking away felt impossible.

"Let me get it out. At that angle, you'll never dislodge it." He continued to poke and prod at his shoulder, his fingers and the blade digging into the tender flesh. Groaning in pain as blood pooled from his shoulder, he ultimately ignored your offer; shocker. 

You rolled your eyes and rushed over to him, hovering until he quit and met your gaze through the grey mask. "You can barely stay upright; let me help," you said, palm outstretched for the blade. "Believe me, you don't want to bleed out. It's a mess to clean up." He stalled for a few heartbeats, and you almost felt awkward until he placed the bloodstained blade in your hand. 

Sitting beside him, the tension in his body eased slightly. 

"You're stubborn," you muttered, wiping away the blood to get a clearer view of the wound. 

"And you're persistent," he shot back, a flicker of amusement flashed in your expression. 

"Call it a survival skill." You took a steadying breath. You hesitated for a moment, then glanced at the mask that concealed his face. "This isn't going to work with that thing in the way. Take it off."

Silence followed for a few moments, "It stays on."

"Look," you said, your tone firm but not unkind. "If I'm going to pull this bullet out without nicking an artery, I need to see what I'm doing. That means the mask—and the jacket—have to go."

A tense silence stretched between you, broken only by the sound of his unsteady breathing. Finally, with a sharp exhale, he reached up and unfastened the mask. As it fell away, you froze.

He was breathtaking—sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and piercing eyes that seemed to cut right through you. Despite the blood and sweat streaking his skin, he radiated a rugged intensity that made it hard to look away. You blinked, forcing yourself to focus.

"Jacket and whatever is on underneath too," you managed, your voice quieter now.

He smirked faintly, as if he'd caught the flicker of shock in your expression, but said nothing as he shrugged off his jacket and black shirt with a wince. Beneath it, his body was lean and sculpted, the muscles taut as he shifted to give you better access to the wound. You swallowed hard, mentally cursing yourself for being distracted. "This might hurt a little more." 

"Just do it," he deadpanned, taking a wealthy swig of liquor. 

The blade slipped deep into the wound, and your fingers steadied as you worked with precision. The bullet was lodged in an awkward angle, and you cursed under your breath. "What were you doing to end up like this?" You asked, partly to distract him and partly because your curiosity was gnawing at you. 

"Nothing, it was a disagreement," he said curtly.

"With a bullet?" you teased, but his silence told you it wasn't a joke. "Right. Noted."

Finally, your blade scraped against something hard, and you exhaled in relief. "Got it." You carefully maneuvered the bullet free, holding it up triumphantly before tossing it onto the table with a metallic clink. 

He let out a shaky breath, his body fully relaxing for the first time since you'd entered the room. "You're good at this," he admitted, his voice softer now.

"Thanks. Years of practice." You grabbed another cloth and doused it with the liquor, dabbing it against the wound to clean it. He hissed through his teeth but didn't pull away. 

"So," you said, wrapping a bandage tightly around his shoulder, "are you going to tell me what actually happened, or do I have to piece it together myself?" 

He studied you for a moment, his gaze unreadable. "You ask too many questions."

"Maybe," you admitted with a small smile, tying off the bandage. "But it's part of my charm." He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching as if suppressing a smile. 

"You're lucky I decided to be a helpful hand today," you commented, admiring your handiwork. "That should hold for now; I'll come back tonight to clean and bandage it once more. Just don't go picking any more fights."

"I'll keep that in mind." You started to gather the bloodied cloths and the blade, but his voice stopped you. "Thank you."

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and you glanced back at him. For a moment, the stoic, commanding figure seemed almost... human. 

"You're welcome," you said softly. "Just try not to die on me. It'd be a shame after all that work." 

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound sending you a strange warmth. "I'll do my best."

With that, you left his quarters to rejoin the game, the faint sound of his laughter following you as you returned to your velvet seat. 

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

The room was dim, bathed in the soft, amber glow of a single lamp on the bedside table. The air was thick with the heady mix of whiskey and expensive cologne, an intoxicating blend that made you pause in the doorway, savoring it for a moment longer than you should have. In your hands, bandages and a damp cloth felt heavier than they were, as if weighted by the tension you carried with you. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, his back straight and shoulders taut, every inch of him radiating restraint. The mask was absent, left somewhere out of sight, and you were mesmerized by the faint outline of his profile in the low light. 

You knocked softly on the open door, the sound cutting through the thick silence. "So." he said without looking up, his voice, edged with dry humor. "That's how you announce yourself to someone." 

A soft laugh escaped your lips, an involuntary reaction to his sharp wit, as you entered the room. The distance between you felt heavier with every step, but you closed it anyway and sat beside him. 

"Any dizziness?" You asked, your voice gentle, almost tentative, as you set the supplies beside you. 

He turned his head toward you, his eyes shadowed yet heavy with something unspoken. His stillness was unnerving like he was waiting for something-waiting for you. "No," he said finally, his tone steady but low. "I feel fine." 

"Good," you murmured, reaching for his shoulder. His body tensed beneath your touch, a subtle reaction, but you felt it all the same. You worked carefully, peeling away the bandage with delicate fingers, wincing at the angry wound beneath. "Your body must be making up for the blood loss," you added, your voice softer now. 

His gaze lingered on you, the intensity of it palpable. You could feel the heat of it, even as he said nothing. The space between you seemed to shrink with each passing second, and though neither of you spoke, the weight of what remained unsaid hung in the air like a fragile thread. 

"You don't have to do this," he said, his voice breaking the quiet. 

You glance up, meeting his weary gaze. "Maybe not," you admitted, your fingers brushing his skin as you cleaned the wound. "But I want to." 

His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening for a moment before he let out a slow measured breath. "You shouldn't care," he murmured, almost to himself, but the words felt directed at you as if he was referring to when he pressed a gun to your head. 

"And yet, here I am," you said, a faint smile playing on your lips. 

His expression was unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might say something more. Instead, he sat in silence, letting you work.

As you finished securing the new bandage, your fingers lingered for just a moment too long, the touch barely there but electric nonetheless. You pulled back slowly, your heart thundering in your chest, and you pulled your hands into your lap, staring down at them.

You could feel his heavy and unwavering gaze on you. He hadn't said a word, but his silence spoke louder than any declaration. His dark and intense eyes roamed over you, not just your face but every detail—the loose strands of your freshly washed hair, the way your shirt slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing the soft curve beneath. There was more than curiosity in his gaze; there was hunger, restrained and smoldering like a fire barely contained. 

"Why did you offer to come here tonight?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. 

"To check on your wound," you said, though your voice cracked under the weight of his stare. 

He leaned forward slightly, his good hand bracing against the bed, and you caught that familiar scent of cologne mingling with a raw scent that was entirely his. "That's not the only reason," he countered, his tone sharp. 

Your breath hitched as he closed the space between you, the proximity dizzying. "Maybe I was worried," you admitted in a whisper as his presence consumed you. 

"Worried," he repeated, almost to himself, his lips curling into a faint smirk. 

"You shouldn't be." 

"I can't help it," you whispered. 

His hand moved before you could think, his fingers brushing against your cheek. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes burned with something deeper, something primal. His thumb traced a line down your jaw, "You're exquisite," he murmured as his hand slid down, resting on the side of your neck, his thumb now grazing the hollow of your throat. The pulse beneath his touch quickened, betraying you. 

"You should leave," he said, though the words lacked conviction. 

"Do you want me to leave?" you asked, searching his eyes for any truth. 

His grip on your neck tightened ever so slightly, his fingers pressing against your skin as he tilted his head closer. "No," he admitted, the confession slipping out. Your lips parted, a sharp inhale escaping as the tension between you snapped, and he closed the distance. His lips captured yours with a heat that stole your breath. 

The kiss wasn't tentative or hesitant—it was consuming, demanding, and filled with a longing that neither of you could deny anymore. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you dizzy, his control slipping just enough to let you feel how much he wanted you. 

Your breath hitched as the kiss deepened, his grip on your back tightening, holding you to him. Without breaking the kiss, you shifted even closer, the soft fabric of your shirt brushing against his chest as your hands settled, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your fingertips. Wanting more, needing more, you leaned further in, swinging one leg over his lap. His breath caught as you settled onto him, straddling his thighs with deliberate care, mindful of his injured shoulder. His good hand explored every inch of you now as the kiss quickened with appetite. You gasped as his hand gripped your ass with breathtaking strength. 

The intimacy of the position sent a flush of heat through you, pooling between your thighs as your pulse thrummed wildly. Gazing down at him, he searched your face, lingering on your lips before flicking back up to look at you. Your hands reached up, brushing your fingers against his jaw; the faint stubble was rough beneath your touch.  "I didn't hurt you, did I?" you asked softly. 

"No," he said, the single word rough and weighted. You smiled. 

"Good," you mumbled, your palm pushing his hair from his face.

 "Because I don't want to stop." With that said, you pulled your shirt up, over your head and tossed it to the side, unveiling your breasts. He took every inch in of you, wasting no time attaching his lips to you. The sensation was breathtaking as you threw your head back, moaning. 

You exhaled sharply. There'd be marks, no doubt. However, concern surfaced within you as he suddenly pulled back. You gazed down at him, catching the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I can't fuck you how I want." 

Your expression eased as you met his gaze. "Then let me take care of you," you murmured, your voice gentle but determined as you lifted off him and slid down to the floor, settling on your knees. Reaching for his pants, your fingers diligently worked at the leather belt, yanking it free. Unzipping his pants and sliding your hands in, he sprang free before you, and your mouth watered at the view of him. You caught his eye, finding a smirk on his lips as he reached for your hair, wrapping it around his knuckles.

He gave a sharp tug, pulling your head back, and you whined. "You look so pretty on your knees for me," he remarked with desire staining his eyes.

With that, you took his immense size in your mouth, gliding to the pace he had set for you. Your tongue danced on his tip, and you swallowed every time you took the entirety of him; he groaned, "Fuck, just like that." He praised and your eyes watered from the intensity. You weren't outstanding at providing head, and a wave of insecurity washed over you. Nerves twisted in your stomach at the thought of not satisfying him, but the hitches in his breathing, the sharp inhales and exhales, and the praise he offered gave you the assurance you needed as you took him deeper and deeper with intensity and lust. You hadn't been able to see, but his head was thrown back in pleasure, lips parted.

Feeling him twitch in your mouth, you knew he was close as he picked up the speed even more. Saliva began pooling from your lips, dripping onto your knees and covering his length as you fought to breathe. His pull on your hair grew sloppy and you moaned at the appetizing ache in your scalp. "Fuck you're going to make me cum." His voice is rough as he offers one last yank of your hair, slamming you back down onto him and filling your mouth. You swallow the load, pulling off him and meeting his exhausted eyes; he rubs his thumb over your lips, promptly shoving it in your mouth, and you take it with no protest.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

His chest radiated warmth as you melted into his embrace, your heartbeat gradually syncing with his steady rhythm. Your eyes remained closed as you hummed, "you never told me your name." 

A calloused palm rubs your shoulder, "In-ho." 

You smiled, repeating it, "In-ho. I like that much better than FrontMan." 

His fingers gently encircled your wrist, his touch spoke volumes. "Stay with me," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. You pushed yourself onto your elbow, looking down at him. "I am, " you whispered, but he shook his head and caressed your cheek. "Stay here with me. Help me run the whole fucking thing." The request entailed a lot and you weren't able to form a response, stunned by such a proposal, but then you thought it over. There was nothing left for you back home except your emergency medical clinic, which could indeed survive without you. Your father was fine and could take care of himself as long as he had his money. All you contained was a large sum of untouched money. You bit your lip, looking back at him. "Alright." 

->Part Two <-