#for most of these the differences are barely visible in-game

[bigskydreaming]

The thing that absolutely drives me wild about Batman as a concept is that Bruce Wayne COULD change Gotham on a systemic level, with a proper commitment of his resources, I feel. Money absolutely is a gamechanger and a billionaire's wealth is like. Staggering when you actually think about it. There's a reason we talk about how the ten richest people in the world could change the entire world if they just stopped hoarding their resources and used them for the fullest benefit of all, and like yeah one billionaire isn't going to single-handedly change the world (particularly if the others are setting up roadblocks), but one city, Gotham, as a proof of concept? It could be done. It wouldn't be easy, it wouldn't be fast, but like....the kind of resources Bruce has to devote to things....it could be done.

And that's the kind of exploration I would kill to see in comics. And its also why I have very little patience for the "but you guys act like Bruce Wayne never does anything for the city except as Batman, he supports all these charities, he makes sure WE employees have the best benefits, employs tons of jobs, etc"....nah. We're talking about BILLIONS. He could do more. If you want me to believe that a literal billionaire is committing the fullest thrust of his resources to maximizing the potential of his city and the lives of everyone in it, then you can't give me this bare minimum bullshit, because it will always come across as him just doing the comic book equivalent of doing philanthropic work as a tax write-off. If nothing visibly is changing in Gotham's status quo, and nothing is visibly changing in terms of Bruce's personal bottom line and his wealth and resources....then no, you're not going to impress me with that because he's ultimately still not doing anything that real world 1 percenters aren't already doing.

And sorry not sorry, but I'm not gonna buy the whole ethical billionaire thing ON THE BASIS that "but he's a comic book character, you can't apply real world optics/expectations so yeah in comics it IS possible to be an ethical billionaire" if ultimately, you're still playing it safe with this character and he's at best still just matching particularly charitable real world one percenters. Like, if he's still a billionaire....he could be doing more. Ethical billionaires don't exist not because real world and comic books are different, they don't exist because ethically, nobody NEEDS to be a billionaire so a truly ethical billionaire would at a certain point have divested himself of so much of his personal wealth in an effort to help others that he would technically no longer be a billionaire.

(And yes, I'm aware there have been times Bruce hasn't been a billionaire but never because of what I'm talking about here, that's always been as a reactive consequence to storylines aimed at villains targeting his wealth, etc).

So....writing Dick as having essentially given away enough money that he no longer counts as a billionaire IS a more honest approach to that particular issue than the usual "oh well Bruce regularly gives more to charity than anyone else, etc" stuff. I will give it that.

BUT.

The reason I don't give Taylor any ground here is because like. As much as I truly believe that an honest to God billionaire's resources could definitively act as a game-changer to the status quo of at least a single city, if properly utilized.....

You have to show the work.

And that's the part Taylor never had any interest in. He talked a big game about having Dick realize that this was bigger than anything he could conceive on his own, that he asked everyone around him the best way to go about things, blah blah blah....but he never actually...SHOWED what any of that looked like, beyond the most shallow, superficial level.

I believe that comics have the potential to act as....social laboratories in a way, extrapolations of what society or social dynamics or societal interactions COULD look like if we were able to change various real world parameters....such as disenfranchised individuals having superpowers that could make them the equivalent of entire institutions or states attempting to oppress them, for instance. Or the application of a billionaire's wealth and resources devoid of having to bear the weight/burden of the exploitation that would HAVE to be at the root of that much initial wealth if it was wealth accrued in a real world setting. Or with X-Men comics in recent years, the examination of is it even possible for an ethical ethnostate to exist if one could theoretically be enacted without a displacement of an initial population or actual colonization, the crimes against humanity that go hand in hand with any real world attempt to create an ethnostate BECAUSE of the logistics of forming one in a real world setting, etc.

But it means nothing if you attempt to handwave a radical change to the status quo as just a progressive front, like Taylor did IMO, without having any genuine interest in doing that in order TO explore a specific vision of the future, a specific ethical/moral question, any kind of real thought experiment or extrapolation of some aspect of the world-as-is in pursuit of imagining the world-as-it-could-be.

And there was none of that in Taylor's Nightwing run. Same as there was none of that when he had Jean Grey do pretty much the EXACT SAME THING on a nation-building level in X-Men Red, with her literally going around to various visionaries, scientists, philosophers, etc and going "hey let's brainstorm how to make the world better for mutants" and then making a big deal about I've done it! I've figured out a better road forward!

....and never fucking showing even a hint of what that actually looks like, beyond employing a bunch of buzzwords that sound great on a completely superficial to the point of meaninglessness level, but utterly lack in substance the very second you start to scratch at the surface to see if there's anything more underneath that gloss.

Taylor's Dick Grayson said all the right words to come across as heroic but humble, "I'm committed to doing the right thing" but with only vague gestures at what the right thing is and "I'm smart enough to know I don't have all the answers" but never making an actual attempt at coming up with ANY answers vs just doing an "inclusive world tour" of people he asks for the answers or to help him find the answers that ultimately is just the height of performative....

Because no actual conclusions are ever drawn about WHAT to do. No actual novel ideas or ground-breaking risks are proposed. Absolutely nothing about the status quo in Bludhaven is ACTUALLY changed on ANY level that we can actually SEE....

Its just Taylor (through Dick) saying no I've done it, see, I've changed the status quo.

....DID YOU, though?

And yeah, like Em said, that's why Watters already has 110% more of my attention because like. Even with unlimited resources and the BEST of intentions....which I do believe Dick Grayson would always have, if embarking on a quest to truly enact societal change on a large scale....

NOBODY has the answers for how one individual can change an entire city. But that doesn't mean you're saying shit by just having the comics emphasize Dick saying "oh I don't have the answers" before then jumping to "but let's pretend that what I'm doing here IS the answer anyway."

The REAL follow-up to one man acknowledging he alone does not have the answers and has no infallible blueprint or roadmap to making a better future for his city is not just being like "oh I'm just a mere mortal, I can't figure this out on my own" -

It's following up on his attempts to change things and owning the fact that MISTAKES ARE GONNA BE MADE.

And the real crucible for him as THIS kind of hero is going to be what he does in the face of mistakes he makes when trying to change things on this level, wield societal power on this scale, all while not having a divine mandate that ensures he'll get shit right on the first try.

THAT'S the struggle I'm actually interested in seeing....and whether that convinces Dick its a mistake to try and be this ambitious and reverts him back to just regular day to day street vigilantism....or whether we get to see him pivoting and learning and growing from these mistakes, accepting the responsibility of them without making them an excuse to just stop trying to make things better.

I'm bored of heroes who have the power to change the world but never fucking do anything world-changing with the power because "oh we don't have the right to dream that big" because like....there's a point there, sure, but I don't particularly think that needs to be the point of every single story that imagines people with that level of power. I think there's room for stories about heroes with that power who can acknowledge and own the fact that hey, maybe nobody has the right to wield that much power but that doesn't necessarily change the fact that they DO have that much power and inaction IS still a choice in how to wield world-changing power....even if its simply by not wielding that power and thereby being complicit in the perpetuation of a broken status quo.

I DO want to read stories about someone - particularly someone who does have experience being disenfranchised and at the mercy of those with far more social power than him - being like okay, this is where I'm at. This is the reality....things need changing and I am in a position to change things, and maybe I'm not the right person for that job but maybe there is no right person and I'm just trying to avoid responsibility by saying oh this is too much responsibility.

But like. If you're going to write that story, you have to actually WRITE THAT STORY. We have to SEE this journey unfold on the page. And you have to go into that journey knowing that your hero is gonna get shit wrong before he gets stuff right, and the consequences of that HAVE to be major. Because playing with things on this scale IS major. It demands that kind of scrutiny.

And Taylor didn't want to do any of that, and that's why I have no respect for the lip service his stories pay towards showing a better, more progressive tomorrow. He never actually SHOWS anything. He talks about how his characters are going to make that future, has them make a lot of promises about how things will be different, and then goes right back to writing a next issue where literally nothing is different in any tangible, substantive way.

But if you want to actually write about, imagine, envision a better future for your characters to help bring about, you need to actually bring something to the table. An actual vision, an imagining, a step forward that readers can actually follow and be like okay, we're with you so far....

Rather than just throwing a bunch of characters at a buzzword dartboard and expecting readers to do all the work of imagining what the better future these characters are all talking about and promising might actually look like, and how any of them actually get from the Point A that is the status-quo-in-current-comics to the Point B that is your-claims-for-what-the-current-status-quo-in-comics-could-someday-become.

@hood-ex Do you happen to have that post handy where you talked about the differences in Watters' approach to having Dick try and tackle social issues in Bludhaven vs Taylor's more shallow "look I had him create a foundation, it fixed things, I don't intend to explore why or how but trust me, it fixed stuff" approach? I noticed it when I was online briefly a couple weeks ago and I was like "that sounds right but I don't know enough to support it" at the time, but I've caught up and now I feel like I know enough. I would like to support it.

[calamitaswrath]

Hair color is finalized, time for the next part of the face!

(Link to female version of poll)

[tired-biscuit]

I licked it so it’s mine

pairing: stepbrother!yuuji/fem!reader

premise: After a long day of work, you decide to make use of the empty house by having some drinks and a movie night with your older stepbrother. Eventually, one drink turns into two, two become three, and so on. As the buzz of the alcohol progressively fills you with more and more courage, interesting things commence.

cw: 18+ MDNI. stepcest, ‘in the flurry of the moment’ setting, no curses AU, characters are in their 20s, intoxication, dubcon, implied corruption, coersion and pressuring from reader, descriptions of size difference, manhandling and roughness — poor yuuji gets a little too into it in the end.

wc: 6.7k

divider credit: @/adornedwithlight

———

Your big stepbrother Yuuji is likeable. He always has been.

To be fair, what is there not to like? When it comes to his looks, Yuuji is tall, handsome, a proud owner of a pair of pretty honey-coloured eyes that make him resemble a puppy, and an even prettier smile. Every summer, his skin gets this wonderful, almost golden tan that makes him outright glow from within, and his face gets sun-kissed, causing his already rosy cheeks to get dotted with tiny, barely visible freckles that gather under his eyes and only enhance his cuteness.

However, after living with him for so long, you’ve since learned that he rarely actually pays attention to his appearance, much less dresses to impress.

After all, Yuuji is a simple man. He does not care about clothes besides the level of comfort they provide, and yet he still somehow manages to achieve victory. Catching girls checking him out when he’s in nothing but his trusty pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt is a common occurrence. Even listening to flustered whispers and giggles has turned into a regular thing at this point.

On top of all that, he’s also nice. Kind and open and warm – you could use so many more positive words to describe your stepbrother’s wonderful personality, but you’re pretty sure that they’d never do it justice. Perhaps the only bad thing you could say about him is that he’s too nice. Too helpful and giving.

Especially towards the people who don’t deserve it.

And as you watch him from the corner of your eye now, hanging out at the park and licking the ice cream that he’d treated you to as a reward for beating him in his favourite video game, you try to consider yourself as one of the people who do deserve his everlasting kindness. Who do deserve to be treated nicely by him, and to hear the laughter in his voice, and to accept his almost naive generosity.

It’s a nice day out today. The wooden park bench that you’re sitting on currently is warm from the setting sun that still filters through the leaves above your heads. Small, moving patches of light and shadow linger everywhere, causing you to stare, almost mesmerized, as some of them lazily continue to dance across your big brother’s face.

Yuuji’s arms are splayed wide open and draped on either side of the worn backrest that you’re both leaning against. He’s finished his ice cream ages ago, so now he’s got his legs outstretched and his head angled up towards the sky, enjoying the peaceful tranquility that this year’s summer brings. 

There are quite a few people out and about in the park during this time of day – most of them joggers and dog walkers that are using the slightly cooler temperatures to their benefit – but if you listen closely, you can make out distant shouting and laughter coming from a group of children who are occupying the playground that’s on the other side of the trees.

The sound makes you feel kind of old, so you zero in on your sandals to keep yourself busy.

“Remember when you used to scream like that?”

“What?” 

When you turn your head to the side again, Yuuji’s gaze looks expectant.

“Back when we were kids,” he explains, jerking his chin towards the direction of the playground. “You got all shrieky and high-pitched whenever it was my turn to chase you, remember? Made you sound like a deflating balloon just by running in your direction.”

“Oh!” You take another lick of your ice cream, fully flattening the scoop before sinking your teeth into the edge of the cone. The scent of strawberries fills your nose in an instant. “In my defense, that probably happened because I didn’t like playing tag with you all that much.” 

He quirks an eyebrow at this, intrigued. “How so?”

“Well, for starters, your legs were longer than mine, which made you catch up so fast that it wasn’t fun for me anymore. Aaand your hands were also always sticky for some reason,” you reply, still chewing on the wafer. “It was gross.”

“Wow, okay.” He rolls his eyes but it immediately gets followed by a brief chuckle that escapes his lips. “Excuse me for trying to be a little bit sentimental with my clean freak of a baby sister.”

“I’m normal… You’re just nasty,” you fire back, smiling when he goes to playfully shove you.

His hand is warm when it lands on your shoulder; so warm, in fact, that you can feel the rise in temperature even through the sleeve of the thin, cropped T-shirt that you’ve put on this morning. 

It doesn’t take you by surprise. For as long as you’ve known him, Yuuji has been one to have blood as hot as molten lava running through his veins. You’re unsure how he survives it whenever the weather is scorching hot, like today for example – August has always proved to be a bitch whenever it comes to heat – but so far he seems to be doing just fine.

And while it may be weird to some, him being hot-blooded is the reason why you sometimes like to drag him into your bed during the winter months, when it’s cold and you come back home from work feeling like your toes have turned half-frozen in your shoes. Besides being provided with good company, he’s also like your own personal heater.

And that’s it. There’s nothing else to it; how could it be when he’s your stepbrother, for crying out loud! You grew up together and have lived under the same roof for years. He’s walked into your room just to leave the lights on and the door open so many times. You’ve endured his godawful Fortnite phase and have seen him be at his worst just as he did with you. The only feelings that you harbour for him are strictly platonic. 

You’re both pretty set on that.

“I should take that ice cream from ya as a form of punishment for being so mean to me,” said stepbrother teases now, pulling you back from your thoughts. When you look up at him, he’s grinning like a little boy. From ear to ear and in a way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Cute.

“Nu-uh,” you respond, allowing the evidently distrustful tone to lace your voice. “I licked it so it’s mine.”

“Tsch.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Like that’s ever been an issue before. C’mon, give.” 

“It is for me because unlike you, I’m not- Hey!” Before you can finish your sentence, he swipes the ice cream from your hand, successfully stealing it right in front of your nose.

You glare at him now, brow slightly furrowed in annoyance, as Yuuji proceeds to lick the melting sweet with exaggerated delight. Since whatever was left of the scoop sank deeper into the cone, you realize that you’re unexpectedly intrigued by the fact that he needs to push his tongue out a little more to get to it. 

And he does; of course he does. He twirls it across the flat, creamy surface, and it’s not long before the inside of his mouth is coated in milky pink and there’s a hum of overly satisfied approval sounding from the back of his throat.

You’re unsure how to feel about the entire thing, but you definitely don’t dwell on it.

“Mmm,” he purrs, squeezing his eyes shut. He even makes sure to go as far as to smack his lips. “Mmm-mmm-mm! So good.”

For whatever reason, you feel your stomach do a weird spin as you listen to the sounds he’s making now. It’s like there’s an instant flash of heat searing through your body, similar to the pesky one that you get in the middle of the night when you’re hormonal and on your period, but before you can even properly acknowledge it, it’s gone as fast as it came.

“Again: you’re so gross,” you manage to say with a huff that’s supposed to be disapproving but doesn’t sound like that at all. The shake of your head that you add to the jab also feels somewhat unnatural. Every one of your mannerisms does, actually.

Yuuji, seemingly blissfully ignorant of your inner turmoil, laughs before he takes a giant bite out of the side of the cone and finally hands it back to you.

“Hey, at least my hands ain’t sticky this time.”

———

The house is empty when you come back home that evening.

This too is not much of a surprise, really. Your parents have been gone for the last couple of days, enjoying their yearly vacation to the seaside that neither you nor Yuuji could attend this time because of your work schedules. 

So while your mom and his dad are basking in the sun and drinking sugary cocktails, you’re waking up at six in the morning every day to make it to your dull desk job in time, and he’s stuck flipping burgers at McDonalds and honing his social skills in the drive-through booth for eight hours every day.

Poor, poor you.

“Did you see the drinks they’re having over there? Gosh,” Yuuji grumbles on this exact topic as he throws himself onto the couch and flicks the TV on. His expression looks mildly conflicted at the list of movies he’s being offered by the streaming service you’re both leeching off of, but it eases back into neutral as soon as he rests his feet atop the coffee table and crosses his ankles. “They even had those fancy umbrellas on the top and everythin’.”

“There, there,” you say, quickly patting his knee before sitting down beside him. You’re not sure why, but you pay extra attention to the small sliver of distance that you keep between his leg and your own now. The feeling from earlier didn’t fully go away yet, so touching him or him touching you still feels kind of odd.

Meanwhile, Yuuji doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all, because now he’s resting his head against your shoulder, invading your personal space whilst he pouts.

The action is nothing unusual for him – it’s normal, he does it all the time – and yet you still swallow thickly, trying to ignore the sudden hyper awareness. 

“What is it now, you big baby?” you manage to muster out, taking the remote from him.

“Eh… It’s nothing,” he says.

“Aha,” you say.

“Well… It’s just that I want nachos and cocktails with fancy umbrellas, too!” he bristles at your prodding, pressing the side of his face even further into your shoulder. His hair tickles your cheek because of it.

“We have nachos at home,” you utter, trying to avoid the ticklish sensation.

“Yeah. Shitty tortilla chips that come in a bag, with a side of tasteless dip from the fridge,” he quips. “Yum.”

You stifle your laughter. He’s making such a big deal out of a silly thing like nachos. “I’m pretty sure they all come in a bag, Yuu… Come to think of it, theirs are probably stored in one of those big, wholesale bags that most food places get.”

“Well, I want the wholesale ones, then.”

“You’re pretty set on this, huh?”

He just gives you a look.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you ramble, pulling back just enough to make him lift his head and look at you properly. “How about… we try to make semi-decent nachos and cocktails with what we have, and have ourselves a little movie night since we’re both off work tomorrow and we definitely deserve it after all the pain and suffering we’re going through?”

Yuuji muses. “All you do at your job is sit behind a desk all day.”

You feel your eyes narrow. “So?”

“So,” he says, sounding smug. “I’d hardly call that pain and suffering.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you chide. “I wasn’t aware that your job also consisted of crawling underneath barbed wire and coming face to face with excruciating death between all those burgers you flip.”

He pokes you in the side for the insult. After jumping a little bit at the ticklish sensation, you make sure to immediately return the favour.

“Do you want those cocktails or not, Ronald McDonald?”

Yuuji stretches his arms above his head and yawns before he gets ready to stand up. “Yeah, yeah… Let’s make ‘em fancy.”

He follows you into the kitchen then, where you both work to recreate the vacation food and drinks to the best of your – and your pantry’s – capabilities. 

The nachos end up being surprisingly decent after you sprinkle some shredded cheese on top and give them a spin in the microwave. The cocktails, on the other hand, are a mixture of cheap wine from the corner store and coke, adorned with pieces of sliced pineapple at the top because you sadly ran out of cute paper umbrellas, much to Yuuji’s disappointment.

Though in the end, everything works out just fine.

You have yourselves a nice, perhaps you could even call it relaxing kind of evening. You change into your comfortable pyjama shorts and tank top, he gets rid of his T-shirt because he prefers being shirtless during the summer, and you play a couple rounds of his favourite game again; all of which you lose because Yuuji decides that he isn’t holding back this time. Afterwards, you watch a movie that isn’t all that good necessarily, but isn’t half bad either, and take rather hefty sips of your makeshift cocktails.

By the time the credits start to roll, you’re both feeling a little buzzed and warm in the face. Neither of you feels like calling it a night just yet, though – being off work the next day at the same time happens so rarely, after all – so you decide on watching something equally as uneventful and drinking some more.

So that is how both yourself and Yuuji end up drinking more than you’d initially planned. The alcohol becomes easier to swallow down when you’ve already numbed out your taste buds and have adapted them to the cheap, shitty wine flavour. It even makes the pineapple slices look cool.

And now you’re both drunk. Not shitfaced, per se, but definitely more than tipsy. Enough that it’s making your vision a little bit blurry around the edges, your limbs soft and pliant, and your mind fuzzy. Enough that it’s making you feel like you could do just about anything you’d set your mind to.

You’re both giggling like morons as you sit cross-legged and face each other on the couch. He’s desperately trying to tell you a story about one of his co-workers, who, according to him, is supposed to be very weird, but he keeps on slurring his words and keeps on losing track so often that it’s making the entire thing outright incomprehensive.

“Dude-” Your voice falters as yet another set of giggles pushes its way out. Goddamn alcohol. “You have got to stop laughing and tell me whatever it is you want to tell me about this weirdo, because if you don’t, I swear to god that I’m going to fucking lose my shit.”

“Listen… Jus’ listen-” 

“I am listening, you dumbass!” you interrupt, reaching over to flick his forehead. He flinches at the action.

“No, but like,” he mumbles now, rubbing the aching spot. “I want to tell you, but at the same time… I kind of don’t.”

This instantly succeeds in sparking your interest. There’s something he’s unsure about telling you? How curious; you tell each other everything!

You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on your knees. “How so?”

Yuuji’s eyes flicker towards the television for a quick second. The movie is still playing – it bathes half of his face with light and the other half in shadows. 

Much to your bafflement, he sheepishly bites his lip before he says, “‘Cause it’s a secret.”

“A secret? Really?” You groan as you grab the small decorative pillow just so that you can throw it his way. Despite his intoxicated state, he’s still rather quick to deflect it. It lands on the ground soundlessly.

“What was that for?” he asks now, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, I dunno,” you say, bristling. “Did it maybe ever cross your mind that telling me that is only gonna make me want to hear it more?”

“I mean,” he says, scratching the back of his head and shrugging. “I guess…?”

You give him a pointed glare. “You know how much I love secrets, Yuu!”

“I know.”

“Then tell me!”

“No.”

You pout in answer, clearly unsatisfied.

Yuuji looks at you, his expression slipping into something that’s a bit more sincere and apologetic. He watches as you continue to avoid eye contact and push out your bottom lip, clearly trying to appear upset as much as you possibly can in order to get him to change his mind.

Sooner or later, it ends up working.

A person like him is so giving… Who is he to ever tell you no?

“Oh, fine,” he says, sighing with defeat. “Just pinky promise that you won’t tell anyone, okay?”

Your grin is pleasantly lazy because of the alcohol that’s still coursing your veins as you chirp, “Of course.”

He hooks your pinkies together and shakes them from side to side lightly as if it’ll help solidify the promise better.

“So, what’s the secret?” you ask when you pull your hand back and use it to support your cheek.

After a short moment of silence, he finally forces himself to blurt out, “My co-worker, he, uh… He thinks you’re hot.”

You stare at him, arching one eyebrow. “Wait, that’s it?”

Yuuji can feel his entire face tingling with heat now. The blush that steadily continues to bloom makes his skin slightly itchy, but he refrains from scratching it. “Yeah, that’s it.”

You watch him closely. 

“What?” he inquires, not liking the fact that you aren’t saying anything. The flush of red has crept down to his neck now.

“You’re lying,” you reply at long last, expression blank.

He sputters when he inhales a sharp breath, ready to defend himself. “Am not!”

You throw another pillow at him. He avoids this one, too. “Are too!”

“Stop throwing stuff at me!”

“I will, if you tell me the secret!”

“I already did!”

“The actual secret, dumbass!”

“Fine… Fine! Ugh,” he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He also said that, umm…”

You enthusiastically gesture at him to continue when his voice fades into nothing again. Curiosity is threatening to eat you alive at this point. “Yes? He said what?”

“He said-” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly. “He basically told me that if you were his stepsister, that he would’ve been all over you ages ago. Or whatever.”

You stare at him once more. He stares right back.

“What?” he asks again, this time slightly more nervous. His pupils are huge and the blush is starting to make him sweat. “What is it?”

After a moment that seems like forever, you repeat, “...That’s it?”

Yuuji feels like his heart has dropped to his ass. “What d’you mean that’s it?!”

“Exactly what I said,” you say, shrugging. “Your co-worker has a ‘Oh no, stepbro, I’m stuck’ fantasy. So what?”

“I-” Yuuji’s eyebrows draw so tightly together until there’s a small v etched between them. He pauses for a long time before he says, “Don’t you think that’s weird, though?”

“Not really.” You take another small sip from your glass and place it back onto the coffee table. “I mean, have you never noticed how popular it is in porn? Lots of people are into that kind of stuff.”

“N-no…” He stutters, somehow succeeding in turning even redder in the face. “I don’t-”

“Watch porn?” you offer quickly, already rolling your eyes.

“Not porn like that,” he quips, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically snippy. 

You chuckle at the tone he uses, attempting to tame the upward curl of your lips. Things are getting interesting and dirty – something you don’t get to encounter a lot whenever it comes to golden boy over here. “Well, what kind of porn do you watch, then?”

Oh, that is very bold. If it weren’t for the liquid courage, you doubt you’d dare ask the question. But it’s out in the open now.

Hanging in the tense air that’s between you two. Waiting. Preying.

“Not the stepsister kind,” he says in a low mutter, surprising you that he even chose to answer. “I’m not into that.”

You can’t help but let the smile show now. “How can you know if you’ve never seen it?”

Yuuji gawks before letting out a nervous laugh. “...What?”

“I said,” you repeat, leaning ever so slightly closer. Enough to make him feel on edge, but not enough to scare him away. “How can you know that you’re not into it-” There’s another pause, another closing of distance. His freckles are visible now. “If you’ve never seen it? Hmm?”

“I just-” He tenses up when your knee bumps into his. The short moment of contact is electrifying for some reason; it jumpstarts his heart into a far quicker rhythm. “I just, uh, do.”

You look him directly in his sweet honey eyes. “Yeah?”

And he immediately rushes to break eye contact. “Yeah.”

“You know,” you trail off innocently, patting his knee this time instead of ‘accidentally’ bumping it. Unlike before, though, your hand remains on his leg. “For someone who swears up and down to not be into it… You really don’t sound so sure about it to me.”

“Well, I am,” he protests in a heartbeat, however the bite that’s supposed to be in the statement isn’t quite there. 

The reason behind it might be because he’s quite tipsy and can’t bring himself to be firm with you. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because he’s staring at his lap when he says it; right at the spot where you’re still touching him.

Your hand feels so warm as it sits on his thigh. And pleasant. 

He doesn’t exactly… want it to go away.

You watch as he huffs in defeat and shakes his head with evident frustration the thought must have evoked. It causes a giggle to bubble up your throat from how entertained you are. You don’t even try to stop it this time.

He could tell you off, call you names, push you away, whatever… But he doesn’t. 

No, he’s just too good of a big brother.

So you allow the flat of your palms to rest on both of his knees now. Still careful, though not nearly as much as before. Meanwhile, your own knees dig into the softness of the couch as you readjust your weight forward so that you can lift yourself just enough to be eye level with him.

Guilty anticipation pools inside his gut and turns him frazzled when you use the momentum to invade his personal space even further. All of a sudden, you find yourself nose to nose with your cutesy stepbrother. Chest to chest. So close that he can feel the heat of your breath on his lips and smell the fading scent of your perfume mixing with thin layers of sweat and sunscreen. 

“Prove it, then,” you say. Your voice could barely be considered above a whisper but the silence that follows after it is so loud.

Yuuji gulps from how unnerving this entire situation has become. Gulps. “Prove… Prove what?”

“Prove that you’re not into it.”

Thump, thump, thump! His heart is going wild. “How?”

“Watch it with me.” You move your hands upwards ever so slightly as you speak the words, but it’s not long before you’re sliding them all the way up to his thighs. 

They’re strong, his legs, and the muscles in them flex and harden underneath your touch, making the lines of his gorgeous, so profoundly male-like physique all the more defined. The hairs there are lighter in colour and they’re silky smooth. They tickle the tips of your fingers when you finally let them settle at the very edge of his gym shorts. 

Digging your nails into his skin just enough to make him jump a little, you add, “Please?”

God, you’re so drunk and… something else. Your pupils are huge; so big that Yuuji swears he can see himself in them, and the laugh you let out a moment later is girlish and kind of breathless. 

And he, well, he just looks so goddamn confused in response to it. Like a little puppy that’s been caught doing something naughty and bad. Big, round eyes, twitchy upper lip and everything.

“I, umm… I dunno,” he chokes out finally. He feels like coughing so that he can clear his throat, but he somehow manages to stifle the annoying sensation. “I just… I’m not so sure about that-”

“Pleeease, Yuuji,” you repeat, pushing, pushing, pushing. You even start pouting right at him as a means to get him to budge. “I wanna!”

Fuck.

The whine that’s appeared in your voice now makes his cock involuntarily twitch. What the actual fuck, his dick is responding to you – his baby sister. Little by little, blood is rushing south; right below his waistline until he can feel warmth slowly taking over every inch of his lower half. He tries to make it stop, to put an end to it, to slow it down at the very least, but his efforts prove to be completely useless.

His throat feels scratchy and dry now from not allowing himself to cough, and his skin feels too tight on his face. It makes him rasp as he says, “You, uh, you wanna?”

“Mhmm,” you purr in a mere instant, squeezing his thighs again just the tiniest bit. Goddammit, since when did those parts start feeling so fucking sensitive? “Wanna… wanna see you start sweating a little when you realize that your dick is getting hard over dirty shit like stepcest, you know? Wanna prove you wrong.”

A second twitch, a second rush of blood. Yuuji’s stomach spins and tightens with anxiety. His nerves go haywire. With each passing second, he can feel his cock getting heavier in his shorts. Can feel pre-cum turning the front of his underwear more and more sticky. Can feel his mind going dizzy with quick-paced lust.

You’re just so goddamn close. Staring right at him, with your tits almost on full display in that tiny thing you call a shirt, and with that infuriating, shit-eating smirk plastered on your lips. Kneeling right between his legs, talking about stepbrothers fucking stepsisters, allowing your breaths to intermingle as if it’s no big deal.

But that’s not all. Besides being too close for comfort, he’s also pretty sure that you’re quietly hinting at the possibility of something happening tonight, like letting him stuff your pussy with his cock. Hell, forget stuffing – even just seeing it would be nice. 

Not that he’s ever thought about laying eyes on his sister’s cunt, much less filling it, but now that this entire thing is unfolding in real time, before his very eyes, and he swears that he can feel the tips of your fingers subtly brushing against the ridge of his hard-on over his clothes… He doesn’t feel like refusing the idea necessarily, if it were to actually happen.

Fuuuck!

“It-it won’t,” Yuuji stammers in one last attempt at keeping his sense of morality, however all he does is end up fumbling over his own damn self like some pathetic loser. He’s so red in the face, it’s obvious now. “I, ah, I already told you-”

His sentence gets interrupted by a sudden kiss that you press right onto his still half-open mouth. 

You don’t know what exactly it is that compels you to do it, but here you are. Kissing your big brother. Latching yourself to him. Offering him things you shouldn’t.

Oh, here you are, all right.

The kiss itself is clumsy, rash, idiotic. Your teeth clash as you hurry forward to wrap your arms around his neck, and there’s a small, muffled noise – that terribly sounds like a squeal of excitement – escaping your lips when his big hands find your waist and he yanks you forward until you’re fully seated on his lap.

One second ago you were merely looking at each other, tip-toeing the line but never quite overstepping it, and now you’re grinding against one another like animals in heat, tangling tongues and tasting each other’s spit. Everything happens so fast and it’s all based on pure instinct and executed with zero thinking, because if it happened any other way, you’d surely regret it.

He tastes like pineapple and the lousy chewing gum that he bought back at the corner store earlier in the afternoon but spat out pretty soon after. You shouldn’t find the odd combination of flavours that good, you know this, but right now the inside of his mouth tastes like sweet, sweet heaven.

And possible release.

“Fuck, Yuu,” you pant between messy kisses, running your fingers along his undercut. “You’re so hard, look… Proves me right, mm?”

Yuuji wants to tell you to shut up, to stop saying things like that, to stop making him feel both so guilty and turned on at the same time because it’s complicated and he doesn’t fucking know what to make of it.

But all he ends up saying instead is, “Yeah...”

Because, as always, he’s simply too good of a big brother. Too good to tell you no.

Especially when you’re right.

And even if your big brother’s cock is hiding underneath several layers of clothing, you can still feel it pressing firmly between your legs now. Thick and heavy and in urgent need of some tender affection; a little sisterly love, if you will. It’s making you grow more and more expectant of what’s to come. There’s no space for shame left.

His size seems promising – at least judging by the feel of it. Each time you push your weight against him, circling your hips a little, he responds by pushing you down even further with the help of his hands on your hips; spreading your folds slightly apart and allowing the seam of your shorts to dig straight into your clit.

Your breathing grows laboured because of it. Slowly but surely, you’re becoming a hot mess of mm’s and ahh’s. And Yuuji, poor, sweet Yuuji, is nowhere near to being any better after he’s forced to hear all of it.

He’s sweating like crazy. Is throbbing between his legs. Is trying to tame his pulse but it just keeps on hammering and ringing inside his ears. The blush is making his entire face itch all over again and his clothes feel too tight on his body. What else is there?

Oh, even his heart feels like it’s jammed itself inside his throat when he pulls back just enough to break the string of saliva that’s bridging the narrow space between your mouths and asks, “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Just fuck me already, god,” you hiss in response. You’re so sexually frustrated that it’s making you pissy.

Neither of you has planned this nor expected this to happen, but you’ve both been feeling lonely, terribly single; are yearning to be touched. It’s been a while for the two of you, shit happens and people get too busy to enjoy the simpler pleasures in life, and you both consider the other to be attractive, so… why not?

Why not? Maybe because this entire thing could, quite possibly, be a disaster in the making.

Still, it doesn’t feel like a disaster when Yuuji’s hands wrap around your sides and slam you down on the couch. Doesn’t feel like a bad thing when he blindly hooks his fingers to the waistband of your shorts and you bring your legs closer to your chest and lift your hips a little so that he can tug them off easier.

Either he’s too impatient to wait or he did it by complete accident, but he manages to pull down your panties right along with your shorts. They’re both left dangling from your left ankle now, hanging uselessly and completely forgotten because he’s too busy trying to push himself inside you.

His back is hunched and his rosy lips are parted as he sucks in and exhales sharp breaths above you. They fan your forehead, cooling the sweat that’s gathered there, only causing you to shiver. 

You press your foreheads together when you lift yourself slightly with the help of your elbows so that you can reach between you, tug his waistband low just enough to expose him and guide him inside you. He grits his teeth, baring them like a threatened animal as soon as your fingers curl around the base of his cock, mindlessly stroking the impressive length, spreading the pre-cum that’s gathered at the tip without any sense of patience.

Neither of you looks into each other’s eyes; all of your attention is aimed at the spot where you almost connect. After all, his fat cockhead is bumping against your sticky pussy now, inconsistently gliding up and down and smearing arousal. Every time he teases your entrance, your breath hitches in the back of your throat and you cling onto him a little harder.

“Yuujiii,” you whine, teeth sinking into your bottom lip so harshly that you fear you might have drawn blood. He almost doesn’t recognize the sound of your voice. “What’re you waiting for?! Put it iiin!”

“Yeah… Y-yeah, okay,” he bites out, trying to stop the persistent flutter of a muscle in his cheek. His arms feel like giving in but the muscles in his biceps still flex and shudder with anxiety and anticipation when he finally presses in.

His cockhead pushes past the initial ring of muscle pretty effortlessly from how wet you’ve gotten from mere kissing and a little bit of grinding. Perhaps it’s the alcohol that’s making you so pliant and eager, but it’s easy to open your legs wider so that you can let in even more of him.

Yuuji feels dizzy; like the entire world is spinning. You’re underneath him, panting so loudly and you’re so warm inside, so accepting, so wet. Your pussy hugs him just right, walls squeezing around his girth, sucking him in further. The sensation makes him drop his entire weight right on top of your writhing body the second he allows himself to slowly rock into you and sink balls deep.

He hides his face into the crook of your neck as he begins to lazily thrust inside you, doing whatever feels best because he can’t possibly bring himself to form thoughts right now. In and out, the strokes are long, slow and deep. So deep, in fact, that they make you wince each time he hits the sweet spot that’s hiding inside.

You’ve ended up so close yet again; with your limbs intertwined and your bodies pressed tightly together that your shirt is crinkling between you. It rides up with the movement of his hips slamming against your own, exposing your stomach, making you stick to each other from how sweaty you’ve gotten.

“Nngh… You feel… s’good,” he grits out, quiet moaning already lacing his voice. His breathing has gotten so heavy that it’s creating moisture on the small patch of skin on your neck that he’s got his mouth pressed against. “Won’t last long… Ca-ah… Can’t.”

He sounds so fucking drunk as he continues to say pure nonsense into the side of your throat and keeps on pressing you into the softness of the couch. Not only on alcohol, but also on your pussy it seems. 

It makes him practically start pounding into you now. Abusing your tight little hole. He slips one arm underneath you and pulls you even closer so that he can steady himself a little bit, and wetness squelches between you as a result. Skin slaps against skin, breaths intermingle. His fingers tangle into your hair crudely – it hurts when he tugs at the roots even if you’re well aware that he doesn’t mean to.

He’s so big above you. So strong. So stupidly male. And he’s also gotten lost in the moment. For a second it makes you scared of him a little bit even if he’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, a real proper marshmallow. And it doesn’t help that his cock is as big as the rest of him is; stretching you so deliciously, splitting you wide open, causing tears to prickle at the corners of your eyes even if the booze that’s coursing your veins is supposed to numb you out to a size like that.

“Yuuji, wa- fuck, wait…!” You cross your ankles at his waist in an attempt to slow him down, heels panically digging into his back dimples and toes curling. 

“N-no, I can’t, please… Don’t make me wait, please, please, please, c’mon,” he babbles, still not slowing down, not stopping. His eyes are half-closed and they show concern, but they’re also dark and foggy when he lifts his head just enough to look at you. “Just a lil’ more, yeah…? Yeah? Just a lil’... Ugh, keep still just a bit longer- I’m almost there. So… mmh… close.”

You try to fight against him, tugging on his hair and sinking your nails into his back, but all he does is endure it, not really caring much about your thrashing and turning. He’s got you caged underneath him, crying out his name, clawing raw red lines into his broad back. It’s all drunken breeding instinct and no brain as he uses your body like a toy, and the realization that you can do nothing but take it is terrifying as much as it is thrilling.

His pounding has turned borderline ruthless by now and in his urgency to cum, he’s pushed himself so deep inside you that you’re pretty sure he’s fucked his way straight into your goddamn womb. In his weak attempt to make you last until the end, he’s even started to messily rub irregular circles into your clit.

It makes a thin line of drool dribble down the corner of your mouth from how fucked out you’ve become in a mere fifteen minutes. The overstimulation is probably completely accidental, but it achieves the same result just the same. He outright forces the climax out of your body, and the second he feels you squeeze around him, abused pussy trying to milk him dry, he’s giving in, not resisting anymore, shooting his load inside you in an instant.

The groan he lets out is almost like a growl. He arches his back again, balls tightening, grip almost turning iron-like. You can feel the warmth of his cum as it fills you in steady waves of pleasure. 

You both stay still for a long while after that, trying to gather your senses, attempting to calm down your trembling. His cum is warm and sticky; tacky between your thighs. It starts to drip out of your hole by the time his cock softens enough to create more space. 

There’s just so much of it. A fuckload.

And he’s still breathing so hard. You both are.

“I’m so sorry… Fuck, I-” he rasps out. His mouth is so dry that he feels like he could chug an entire jug of water, but he pushes that need away for now in order to get a good look at you instead. “I just- I-”

Yuuji stops mid-sentence when he sees you push two of your fingers between your legs before bringing them up in front of your face again. He watches, eyelids heavy, as you spread them then, toying with the glimmery, cloudy white substance that’s gathered there until you gently push them inside your mouth, licking his release right off of your fingertips.

His jaw almost hits the floor. He’s so baffled by what he’s just seen that he barely registers the fact that his cock is trying to get hard again, throbbing against his thigh.

“What?” is all you say in response to the incredulous look that sits on his face now. Your voice is muffled from the way you keep your mouth stuffed full.

“I licked it so it’s mine.”

[poisonlove]

Wednesday Addams x F!Reader

• Reader is about to leave for work. Wednesday asks her if she's forgotten anything, and Reader gives her a kiss. Wednesday turns red and opens her hand to reveal Reader's keys/wallet/etc., saying

'I meant this, but it's appreciated.' Or smt like that!

forgetting something ?

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X fem!reader

Words: 4k

Warning: fluffy

Author notes: I've received a lot of requests, I'll try to do them all!

Happy reading

"Love, what's the password for your phone?" I ask curiously as my eyes glance at the smartphone in my hand.

I found myself in Ophelia Hall in Wednesday's room with Enid, wanting to spend some time with my girlfriend. Enid was doing Things' manicure while sharing some gossip about some outcasts at school. Meanwhile, Wednesday Addams was making the most of her writing time.

Ignoring me.

The tapping of the keyboard abruptly ceases and Wednesday slowly turns towards me. Her brown eyes turn cold and dark as they meet Enid's, who visibly trembles in the face of that icy, penetrating intensity.

"Things, I'll finish later..." Enid whispers, her nervous smile betraying the fear inspired by Wednesday's gaze.

Without saying another word, Enid jumps up from her bed and hastily exits the room. The door slams behind her, resonating in the silent air as Wednesday watches her pass with an impassive expression, lips pressed in a subtle smile of satisfaction.

"How many times have I told you not to scare her?" I say with a small smile on my lips, and Wednesday looks at me without batting an eyelid.

"I didn't scare her," her voice is calm and controlled, without any hint of remorse or concern.

"You did," I sigh at her comment while absentmindedly playing with her phone.

"As you wish," Wednesday replies calmly, showing no particular emotion.

I smile shyly at her response.

"I told you not to use vulgar nicknames in front of others and you keep doing it," Wednesday justifies herself, looking at me curiously.

I raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Vulgar?" I ask, feeling puzzled.

Wednesday nods timidly, without a hint of a smile on her lips.

I sigh loudly.

"Anyway... Could you tell me the password?" I ask again, wanting to change the subject to avoid ruining the atmosphere.

Wednesday tilts her head to the side and scrutinizes me with her gaze.

We've been together for a month, but I don't know if I'll ever get used to her quirks.

"My favorite plant" Wednesday replies in a monotone voice.

"Of course" I reply sarcastically as I type in 'Belladonna.' The phone unlocks, and I smile as I see the background: me and Wednesday embracing during the Poe Cup. The brunette had a stoic look while she look at me smile at the camera.

"Nice background," I say teasingly and Wednesday rolls her eyes at my comment.

"I know," she replies monotone.

I could see a small smile threatening to emerge at any moment.

"But don't you have any games?" I ask disappointedly, and Wednesday stares intensely at me.

"I barely use it to write to you," she justifies herself, and I nod understandably.

Wednesday and technology were two completely different things and couldn't fit in the same sentence.

"So you only have WhatsApp?" I ask curiously, looking at Wednesday.

"You're distracting me unnecessarily," Wednesday mutters annoyed by my questions. She turns her back on me and starts writing her story again.

"Thanks, Wed" I say sarcastically, and Wednesday continues to press the keys of the typewriter ignoring me.

"Why am I with her, I don't know," I mutter to myself, turning my gaze to her phone. I scroll through some pages and look at the apps.

I  choice YouTube.

"Because you love me," Wednesday replies loudly without looking at me "and anyway, I can hear you, be careful," she adds in a cold voice.

Was that a threat?

"Right" I reply aloud.

I start searching for what interests my girlfriend. Hundreds of horror stories and interviews of real murders, true photos, and thousands of hypotheses about monsters, unsolved murders, and much more.

Creepy but Wednesday's style.

"Y/n?" I raise my head from the phone and turn my attention to Wednesday who had once again interrupted her writing hour.

"Tell me, darling" I ask with a smile on my lips.

"Shouldn't you be going to work at the café?" Wednesday asks with curiosity.

My smile fades and I widen my eyes in realization: I had forgotten.

I quickly get up from the bed in a panic

"shit shit" I put on my shoes and look around the room in concern. "Where's the jacket?" I wonder, and I look around the room with worry. "You threw it on Enid's bed," Wednesday exclaims disapprovingly, and I smile hugely.

I internally thank Wednesday for her incredible memory.

I walk towards the door, but Wednesday's voice makes me stop.

"Forgetting something?" She asks seriously.

  I sigh at the unfortunate moment of being romantic. "You're right" I walk towards her and lean down towards her face to unite our lips in a sweet kiss.

As we separate, I notice that Wednesday's cheeks were completely flushed.

"You were forgetting the car keys, idiot," says Wednesday embarrassed, showing me the keys.

I had left them on her desk an hour ago when I arrived.

"Oh, thanks," I say embarrassed, and Wednesday smiles widely making my heart race a mile a minute.

"But I appreciated it" she confesses quickly and I smile back getting lost in her deep brown eyes.

Yes, definitely, now I remember why I'm with her.

[wyvernest]

cregan stark x f!targaryen!reader

previous part - next part - first part | all chapters list

>>Queen Rhaenyra has sent you away from the brewing war to safety since your brother, Jacaerys, has secured the Pact of Ice and Fire. You have to honor it by marrying Lord Cregan Stark, Warden of the North.

chapter cw: sex in the hot springs, so smut, fluff, piv, two positions?, a bit of chasing as primal play, breeding kink

His thick arms hold you with undeniable ardour. The steam fuming from the waters in misty ribbons do little to clear your head, as your lord husband peppers the sensitive skin below your ear with kisses full of want.

One of your legs curls up around his own, as if on instinct; a seemingly romantic yet primal instinct of silently allowing him to have you. Your breathing only deepens when you feel the coarse hair on his leg, as if the embrace did not already bring your bare breasts against him, and every patch of your shivery skin under his touch.

Even with the clear ripples of the water, you sense something against your hip, and the breath leaving your lungs gets caught on a moan on its way out.

“My dear wife.” He mumbles with sincere infatuation, as your hands escape his hold and run down his massive shoulders.

“Wasn’t I to be less easy, Lord Stark?” You tease, with barely half a breathy voice, and he visibly tenses in pride at the name.

He stops, and when he moves his head away from your neck to look at you, you nearly regret even speaking as the reminiscence of his heated touch burns needily above your clavicle.

“You are anything but.” His tone is low and intimate, and it has your insides twisting and turning in anticipation. You wanted to have him fight for it, as late as it was. Though you are now unsure of how much longer you could bear it yourself. “Did you have a change of heart?”

“No.” Your answer shoots out fast, contrary to your desire to play a different game. “I only wish to relish this for longer.”

The slight twitch of his features when you clarify your intentions strikes a lighting into your already boiling blood; the twitch of a wolf whose prey evaded his swiftest attack. He knows she can’t run forever, but the hunt weaves frustration and eagerness on his face nonetheless. He accepts and loosens his possessive hold, though his eyes betray his thoughts.

A hunger so profound and restless darkens his gaze, and you almost want him to have refused your little diversion. To have taken you however he pleased, tell you that you’ll be the most perfect mother for his pups and show you what it truly meant to belong to a northerner.

But alas, you drift away into the crystalline pond, and even the smouldering waters feel colder without his skin on yours.

Your giggle bounces off the cave walls with an echo so sweet to his ears that you thought for a moment he may pounce on you and end the wait. But he remained restrained, slowly following you further behind stalagmites.

Luring him further deep into the springs, you twist and turn in the rippling waters from moment to moment just to gaze at him, just to see more and more of him; the way he carefully got up to freeze the image of you swimming naked in his mind. You watch the droplets run down his stomach, the shine of the dimly lit cave mirrored in his irises.

“You have such beautiful eyes, lover.”

“Lover.” He retorts, his tone almost a threat. “Nigh yours they’re naught but stones beneath frostfires.”

You blush at the deftness of his compliment.

“Though winter blooms only ever endure if they grow in the shadow of stout stones. There is more beauty in living to defend than in living to survive.” You declare, still backing away, intimidated but enticed by his stalking pace approaching you.

He smiles, distracted by your cleverness.

“We must be perfect for eachother then.”

He leaps with no warning, wanting to entrap you back in his arms. You avoid his swift hands only with the merit of water slowing him down. As he catches his balance, you push yourself onto your elbows on the edge of the pond, coming to raise to your feet in front of him.

It is the first time he truly sees you, no turned back, no waves or foam to veil you. His eyes rake across your body shamelessly, a reminder of how you’re his. The air, however steamy, hits you with the slightest cold gust, and your skin prickles with goosebumps, nipples hardening as your skin weeps with a sheer shroud of damp varnish; a statue of beauty and desire.

You ought to feel at the very least timid under his hungry gaze, but you don’t. You feel wanted, adored by his expression alone, and near want and adoration there is no place for coyness. You feel precious and pure, so that you offer yourself to him, allow him to touch you for he has earned it.

The sense of great importance yet dissolves quickly as he, too, rises from the waters, seemingly reaching for his prize. You don’t wait to see him entirely because if you did, you would have seen him at the cost of your freedom.

With a leap and a giddy scream, you sprint through the cave to evade him. Your heart thumps too fast for you to even have the courage to look behind, though you hear the water splashing violently in your wake. You decide to dive back into the pond and hide into a crevice.

You can only hear your rash breathing as you search around the rocky shores for him.

Suvion’s back horns twitch in his sleep, slightly disturbed by your raucous play, but nonetheless calm.

Strong arms curl around your middle, not tight enough to hurt and not loose enough for you to fight back. With a yelp, you give in and settle back against his chest, turning your head just enough to see his face. His erection brushes up your thigh, and you lose all willingness to delay.

“A man can only be so strong.” He adjusts his hold, keeping one arm around you, moving your hair from your neck with his other hand, baring the skin above your shoulder. “- when his pretty lady wife gets all naked and wet and dances around him so happily just to drive him mad.”

You feel his hot breath over your pulse.

“Do you enjoy seeing my need get so dire, flower?”

“I do.”

“Then it seems I have awfully neglected my duties as husband. I might just have to remind you that you haven’t wed some craven southern lord who doesn’t have the guts to take what is his when he wants it.”

You arch back slowly, feeling him up. He places a firm hand on your shoulder and pushes you into a more manageable position, taking you by surprise. You try to brace yourself with your palms on any stone you could find, while his own hands ride down your back, stopping at your hips to grip the supple flesh of your arse.

A pleasured gasp fills your lungs as Cregan brings his hard cock to rub on your tender flower. He groans at the feeling, teasing you so close yet so far from pleasure.

As your own hips begin to move in sync with his, chasing the promised intrusion, one of his hands roams your belly, your waist, his warm, calloused palm setting your skin aflame in its wake. His fingers reach the underside of your right breast, and your breathing stops; as if you’re afraid any more movement might dismiss his touch.

“Cregan.”

His palm remains on your ribs, and your whole being silently begs for him to continue.

“Don’t fret, I’m not leaving your side, wife. This is for your own good.”

“I don’t --” Your protest is cut short as both his hands reach your breasts, fondling firmly.

Your body feels inexplicably light and soft in his arms as he lifts your torso back against his chest, his large, rough hands not once breaking away from your tits. You’re cornered, at his will.

His mouth finds your neck, licking and biting away as you resume his motions where he stopped, pushing your ass into his groin and asking him in the most primal ways to take you at once.

“I cannot wait to see you heavy with child.” He caresses your lower belly, and you feel his cock twitch between your thighs in excitement at the thought. “Do you want that, my love?”

“Of course I do - ” You confess with a trembling, quiet moan.

“Say it, then, wife.” He interrupts, clearly overrun with heat and desire.

“I want – ah” He kisses down your neck, one of his hands leaving your breasts to slide his fingers over the petals of your cunt. He hums approvingly, bringing the head of his cock to your core. You’re soaked in more ways than one. “ - I want your babes, please, Cregan, you- ”

You mewl as he pushes in, the water splashing right above your knees. Pleasure shifts into pain and pain into pleasure as he takes your maidenhood, mounting you with a bruising hold on your waist. He groans with you, his breathing laboured. At a particularly sharp sting, you whimper, making him stop to plant a kiss on your shoulder blade. You can’t move, you can’t think of anything but him, the scent of him, the sounds that escape straight from his throat, his warm hands on you.

An echo of his guttural groans makes you clench around him, making him halt right before he could bottom out. You feel him up in your guts, though his girth stings worst.

He pushes you forward again, a hand on your neck and another providing leverage on your hip. Giving a few well measured thrusts, he starts to properly move. Your back arched for him, thighs parting, your essence coating his cock like you were made to take his seed.

Your own moans spur him on as he quickly finds his pace, relentless and steady. His heavy balls slam against your sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing your breaths out with every lunge of his hips into your behind.

“Fuck, I want to see you. Ugh, I want to-” He grunts, drawing his still hard cock out of your cunt with a pained curse, your own insides squeezing him on his way out.

You yelp as he picks you up the way he picked you up on the way back from the Weirwood tree on your wedding night, taking you out of the warm waters and walking over to his discarded furs on the cave floor.

The air is suddenly brisk on your damp skin, but your husband is quick to climb on top of you and shield you from the cold with his own body heat.

He gazes at you with such wonder and adoration in his eyes you, for a mere moment, swear you could faint from it all. When lust seeps back into his pupils you don’t fail to notice, his lips finding yours in a messy, wet kiss. You sigh into it to catch the breath you still haven’t found since he left you, he breaks it to groan as he grabs himself in his hand to re-enter you.

You both gasp, forehead to forehead as you meet again, his cock twitching as he once again pushes through your vestal resistance. When he begins to pound, you curl your legs around his hips and tangle your hands in his dark hair.

A sweet cacophony of conjoined sighs and groans reverberates into the cave walls, ever so slightly eclipsed by the waterfalls. With every thrust you start to climb towards your peak, and with every one of your “Cregan!”, “Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop!” he grows closer to his own.

Your own little death finds you as he presses his lips to the sensitive trails he’d found on your neck before biting down to muffle his own pleasure. He pushes in with a few final lunges, and you feel his cock pulsate and release his seed.

You suddenly grow insanely hot as you come down, though you don’t hesitate to snuggle at his side on the soft furs as he drops beside you panting and dragging your smaller frame with him.

“It took, lover.” You break the silence, speaking into his neck.

He turns to you, pleased and interested.

“I know it did.” You explain, smiling up at him. “I know it.”

“Even if it didn’t, we have plenty of time to try, flower.”

a/n if i missed tags sorry guys also will soon show u suvion<3

tags:

@ohsnapitzmarvelficrec @crypticlxrsh @louiselouve @karmaswitch @just-pure-trash @yujyujj @cost234 @dracaryxzs @cherrymallowtm @lady-targaryens-world @lightdragonrayne @krokietino @sukunassfinger @ithilwen-blackwood @rey26 @beebeechaos @melsunshine @aemondwhoresworld @romeavecryst @raynetargaryan2 @fireandblood-mharmie @mitski9328373 @drwho-ess @dorkysupernova @nitimurinvetitumsposts @ghitakhnifissa @darylspersonalwhore @helo1281917 @delaynew @poochies04 @accidentpronedork @fiction-fanfic-reader @rha3nyra @wallacewillow0773638 @star-serpent @potionsclub @moadvx @jellybeanstacey0519 @italianchameleon @ephemeralninon @sithapprentice @cloveradora @hawkins-2000 @thatspiderwebinthecorner @wolvestitches @idohknow @nyxbranwenn @asteria33 @nina6708 @r-3dlips

[vlrspace]

promise me, you belong to me

okkotsu yuuta x reader

contains. nsfw/mdni!!, implied yandere! yuuta, possessive! yuuta, unhealthy-ish relationship, petnames (angel, baby), yuuta and reader are in their fourth year, all characters are 18+, no actual smut but it’s heavily suggestive, this is short

notes. yandere! yuuta keeps taking over my mind, help 🫠

“did you have fun today with megumi?”

the question makes you drop your pen onto the table, spinning yourself towards yuuta with wide eyes. your boyfriend sits on the edge of your bed, legs spread as he leans back on his hands, dark blue eyes looking at you with adoration.

“jesus, when did you come in?” you’re a little startled as you ask the black haired male, a hand coming up to your chest, feeling your heart beating rapidly.

yuuta only chuckles before responding with a cheerful smile, though his eyes are far from that. “what, am i not allowed to see my girlfriend?” his tone is gentle, but there’s a slight layer of tension laced within his words.

“that’s not what i meant, you know that” you shake your head, the bottom of your glossy lips are jutting out a bit and your brows furrowing. your boyfriend’s smile disappears at your facial expression and you turn back to your table with a sigh, switching off the lamp near you before you slowly walk towards him.

you come to a stand between his spread legs, placing both hands on his shoulders, rubbing it tenderly while he gazes up at you. yuuta’s hands instinctively find their place on the back of your thighs, just below your ass cheeks and a grin stretches across his face. those blue eyes of his are unsettlingly darker than usual.

yet he still makes you feel safe, his touch on your bare skin is warm, fingers grazing your skin carefully, steadily making their way under your shorts. it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he grabbed a handful of your ass, but you couldn’t stop the breathy yelp leaving your lips. you’re glad you’re holding onto his shoulders, your knees are getting weaker as he looks at you so lovingly, in contrast to his harsh actions.

“you haven’t answered my question yet” yuuta reminds you lowly, eyes flickering with a sign of warning as his hands start rubbing your cheeks to soothe the ache he caused.

“we always train together and you always let me win. i wanted a little challenge to improve my skills” you answer quietly, fingers massaging his shoulders and you focus on the way his muscles tense under your hands. you can’t look at him any longer, not when he’s watching you like a hawk.

it’s better to not tell him that gojo asked you to pair up with someone else that wasn’t yuuta. gojo knows that yuuta’s abilities are excellent, he makes a good teacher, but yuuta wants to avoid you getting hurt and that won’t be handy during a fight where he’s not by your side.

you know that gojo is right, but you also knew that yuuta would get jealous and possessive of you the second he sees you, it happened before on many occasions.

you spent an afternoon with inumaki and itadori in the common room, while yuuta was away on a mission. he didn’t like seeing you sitting between the two boys, excitedly playing some game on the tv even if you were wearing his clothes. one of the hickeys he left on a visible spot on your neck took an awfully long while to fade.

you have to decline most missions with ino and nanami too because yuuta can take teenage boys hanging around you, but older men are a different level (not that he couldn’t beat them in a fight). yuuta made that clear by ruining you the night before your mission, leaving your muscles sore, throat dry and body covered in marks all over. it leads to you sleeping in (yuuta turns off your alarm) and you can barely function throughout the day, deemed useless to go on a mission.

“you can improve yourself with me too, i don’t see why you had to pair yourself up with megumi” yuuta speaks, words dripping with venom and you feel his hands leaving your ass and instead, he places them on your hips, thumbs slipping into the hem of your shorts. “look at me angel” it’s firm, the way he demands your attention on him and you oblige, not wanting to anger him.

yuuta’s gaze is predatory, it makes you bite your lips and you feel him slip your shorts down before pulling down onto his lap. one of his hands come up to your face, brushing his fingers against your skin and you instantly lean into his hold when he cups cheek. yuuta looks at you expectantly and you return his actions with both hands, leaning close to him.

“i’m sorry yuuta, i’ll choose you next time, every time” you whisper against his lips before pressing your lips together. “i’m only yours”your words are mashed between kisses, but yuuta gives you an approving hum, licking your bottom lip and you let him slip his tongue into your mouth eagerly.

yuuta’s hand move from your face to your neck, closing his fingers around your throat but he doesn’t squeeze it and continues to assault your mouth with his. you fist his black hair, pulling him closer to you and you moan into the kiss when you feel his other hand pinching your clit through your panties.

“you promise right, baby?” he mumbles against your lips, ducking his head lower to kiss, suck and bite the skin there. you already know you’ll be littered with love bites by tomorrow morning.

“yes, yes i promise yuu” you frantically nod and he leaves your neck and offers you a grin before laying you down on your bed. he kneels above you as he takes off his shirt and presses a quick peck on your lips. yuuta hovers over your panties, sucking your clit through the cloth, holding you down by your hips. it makes you trash and whine, lacing a hand with his.

“no one else gets to have your pussy, only me. fucking remember that” yuuta grumbles against the material, eyeing your reaction but ends up chuckling when you lift your hips up in a needy manner and he slides your underwear down.

yuuta knows he has nothing to worry about, you’re such an eager little thing, putty in his hands when he pushes the right buttons. but you’re also so delicate and beautiful, he knows that, sadly so does everyone else. yuuta fears someone might take you away from him because of that, yet when you’re so wanting and yearning for him to touch you where you need him the most, he remembers he has nothing to be afraid of. only yuuta knows how to please you and make you come undone just the way you like. it makes him love you so much more, you’ll always give yourself to him like this and let him do however he pleases.

why would you want anyone else, when he’s right here? you belong to him anyways.

@/vlrspace, 2024

[marysfics]

In the Blur of Sight, I Found You—The One Who Sees Me Beyond What’s Visible

You’ve always lived in the shadows of your own uncertainty, but will she be the one to bring your world into focus?

Word count: 3.7k

Angst, Fluff

This fic has a happy ending.

You were sixteen when you first met Alexia Putellas.

Back then, she wasn’t the global icon of football that the world knows now—just a girl with bright eyes, messy ponytails, and dreams too big to keep quiet. You weren’t much different. A quiet soul with a condition that made life feel unpredictable: some days, you could see the world clearly, every blade of grass sharp beneath the sunlight; on others, your vision was a foggy mess, as if the universe had decided to drape a curtain between you and the rest of humanity.

It was on one of your better days when you first saw her.

Your friend dragged you to a local football game. “You need to get out more,” they had said, nudging you. You remember sighing, reluctant but too polite to refuse. As soon as you settled onto the grass beside the pitch, something pulled your attention—or rather, someone.

“Who’s that?” you asked.

“That’s Alexia,” your friend replied casually. “She’s going pro one day. No doubt about it.”

“Alexia,” you whispered to yourself, tasting the name on your tongue as you watched her effortlessly weave through defenders, the ball glued to her feet.

It was the first time you saw her smile after scoring a goal, and for some reason, the sight rooted itself in your mind. Bright, genuine, almost radiant—a warmth that lingered even when the sun dipped below the horizon.

You never forgot that day.

Your paths didn’t cross right away. It wasn’t until a year later, at a school tournament, that you truly met. By then, your eyesight had deteriorated further. On most days, you could barely make out people's faces unless they were right in front of you. It made connecting with others... complicated.

“Do you want to kick the ball around?”

The voice caught you off guard. You looked up, blinking rapidly, trying to focus on the figure in front of you. It was her. Alexia. Even in a blur, you would’ve recognized her—the warm, confident tone that was always gentle yet unyielding.

“Me?” you asked, unsure.

She smiled. “Yeah. You.”

You could hear the laughter of others as she pulled you up. You weren’t exactly known for your athleticism. In fact, you had a reputation as “the girl who sometimes stares off into space,” or, worse, “the girl who bumps into lockers.”

But Alexia didn’t seem to care.

“I’ll go easy,” she teased, tossing you the ball.

You missed it entirely.

“I can’t really…” you started, your voice trailing off.

“Can’t what?” Alexia asked, her curiosity genuine.

“See the ball. Or you.”

For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause, and you braced yourself for the awkward apology or the pity you were so used to. But instead, Alexia just shrugged.

“That’s okay. I’ll make sure you can feel where it is.”

From that moment on, Alexia took it upon herself to pull you into her world.

For her, football wasn’t about what you could see—it was about rhythm, sound, and trust—things you could feel deep inside. When your vision faltered, she was your guide. When you wanted to quit, she laughed and told you to try again. What you didn’t realize at the time was that you were starting to fall in love with the way she saw no limitations in you—only possibilities.

Time moved forward, carrying you both through life’s challenges. Alexia was accepted into Barcelona’s youth academy, and though you cheered her on from afar, you kept your support quiet—scribbling words of encouragement in letters you never had the courage to send. Your condition remained stable, but always unpredictable. You focused on your own passions—writing, music, and art—things that allowed you to experience the world on your terms.

You’d run into Alexia from time to time at the coffee shop you both loved. Every time, she greeted you like no time had passed.

“How’s your sight been?” she’d ask gently, concern in her voice.

You’d smile, always a little tired of answering but grateful for the care behind her question. “Depends on the day. How’s football?”

Her eyes would light up, her face animated as she described her latest matches, the training routines she was mastering, and the goals she was chasing. But, without fail, she always made time to ask about your art.

“I wish I could see what you make,” she said one day, her voice full of longing.

“Maybe one day I’ll show you,” you replied, your heart racing at the thought.

It wasn’t just a promise to her—it was a promise to yourself, because Alexia never treated your vision as something that defined you. She cared about what you felt, what you created. And even as her fame grew, you remained part of her orbit—quiet, steady, and unspoken.

One afternoon, as you sat in your usual corner of the coffee shop, Alexia looked at you with a thoughtful expression.

“Have you ever thought about glasses?” she asked. “Couldn’t we get you something to help?”

You felt a familiar weight in your chest at the suggestion. Glasses had been offered so many times before, but you knew they wouldn’t help. Not in the way she hoped. The thought of explaining it again felt exhausting, but Alexia deserved honesty.

“They won’t really make a difference,” you said softly, shaking your head. “My vision’s just… not like that.”

Alexia’s brow furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t press. Instead, she gave you a smile that didn’t need explanation.

“Okay,” she said, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “Then I’ll just have to keep being your eyes.”

And in that moment, you realized it was enough. For both of you.

Your days started to fall into a quiet rhythm—sometimes steady, sometimes unpredictable. Your eyesight shifted as if it had a mind of its own: some mornings you woke up with a surprising clarity, able to see details that had escaped you for years, while on others, the world blurred beyond recognition. The good days felt like gifts, moments to savor, while the bad days taught you patience and resilience. Alexia, as always, was a constant thread woven into it all.

The coffee shop became your shared place. More and more, you’d find her waiting for you with an easy smile and two cups of something warm. She’d wave you over even if you weren’t sure it was her at first—always loud enough for you to know you weren’t alone.

“You’ll never believe how today’s training went,” she’d say, already launching into a story. You’d listen, absorbing every detail—the way she talked about her teammates, her goals, the highs and lows. But the best part was when she turned her attention back to you.

“What about you? Did you write anything today? Paint something?” she’d ask, genuinely curious.

“Trying,” you’d say with a small smile. “Some days it feels like I see the whole picture. Other days, I just see smudges.”

Alexia tilted her head once when you said that. “Does that bother you?”

You hesitated. “Sometimes. But maybe the smudges are just part of it. Like I’m supposed to fill in the rest myself.”

She grinned. “I like that.”

And somehow, you knew she understood.

There were days when your vision was clear enough that it caught you off guard—when you could see Alexia’s face without squinting or straining. Her expressions became more vivid: the way her brows pulled together when she was lost in thought, the dimple that appeared when she smiled wide. It made everything feel more… real. More fleeting.

One day, during one of your better mornings, she dragged you out to a park with an old football under her arm.

“I’m going to teach you to play properly this time,” she announced.

“You know I can’t—”

“You can,” she said firmly, passing the ball toward you. “Besides, you can see today, right?”

You nodded. “For now.”

“Then we’re taking advantage of that.”

It was clumsy at first—kicks that missed, laughter that filled the air—but Alexia’s patience never faltered. She ran alongside you, calling out directions and laughing every time you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“Okay, okay, try to keep your body over the ball,” she said through her chuckles, gently nudging your shoulder. “You’re practically dancing out here.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to be graceful,” you shot back, earning a snort from her.

By the time you both collapsed onto the grass, out of breath and exhausted, the sun had started to dip low in the sky. Alexia lay on her back, her eyes closed, while you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching her.

“Good sight day?” she murmured after a moment.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “A good day.”

Her lips curved into a small smile, and for a moment, you didn’t want to blink—afraid that when you did, the clarity might vanish.

But not every day was like that.

On the bad days, when your vision was just a haze of color and light, you often stayed home, overwhelmed by frustration. Alexia, however, didn’t let you disappear. She’d text you, call you, or sometimes just show up at your door.

“Don’t hide from me,” she’d say firmly, a teasing edge in her voice as she pushed her way inside. “You don’t need perfect eyesight to sit and talk.”

She’d sit cross-legged on your floor or flop onto your couch, filling the room with stories about her week, recounting goals she’d scored or mistakes she was determined to fix. You’d listen, finding comfort in the familiarity of her voice, even when you couldn’t see her face.

“Are you frustrated?” she asked once, catching you in a quiet moment.

You nodded. “I hate that it changes so much. That I can’t predict it.”

Alexia’s voice softened. “I get that. But you’re still you. On good days and bad.”

Her words settled deep, in places you hadn’t realized needed reassurance.

The more time you spent together, the more your world expanded. Alexia saw you—not your limitations, not your unpredictable sight, but the person you were beneath all of it. She never made you feel like you were less. If anything, she made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t before.

And slowly, you realized you were falling for her. The girl who taught you to feel where the ball was. The girl who never let you disappear on bad days. The girl whose laughter made the world seem brighter, no matter how blurry it looked.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not yet. Not when the future felt so uncertain.

For now, you let yourself exist in the moments—good days, bad days, and everything in between. Because Alexia was there, steady as ever, making you believe that even when you couldn’t see clearly, you could still feel.

The years stretched forward, but the two of you remained tethered, no matter how far life tried to pull you apart. Alexia was carving her name into the world of football, rising steadily through the ranks, while you quietly honed your art—writing, painting, capturing the world as you felt it, even when you couldn’t see it clearly. You both grew into yourselves in ways that were both separate and intertwined, like two threads in the same tapestry.

By your early twenties, everything between you and Alexia was still… unspoken. A quiet current ran beneath every interaction, a constant presence neither of you wanted to name for fear of breaking it.

It was late one night when she called you. You could tell something was off the moment you picked up.

“Are you home?” Alexia’s voice was unusually small.

“Yeah. You okay?”

“Can I come over?”

“Of course.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was on your couch, a hoodie pulled over her head, her knees tucked up against her chest. The sight of her—so small and tired—made your chest ache. She was always so strong, so put together. But not tonight.

“What happened?” you asked softly, handing her a mug of tea.

Alexia stared into the cup for a long moment before answering. “I missed a penalty today. It was stupid, but it mattered. We lost because of me.”

Her voice cracked at the end, and you felt something break inside you.

“You’re human, Alexia,” you murmured. “You’re allowed to mess up.”

She shook her head, frustrated. “Everyone keeps saying that, but it doesn’t change the way it feels. It doesn’t change the pressure.”

You sat down beside her, your knee brushing hers. “It’s okay to feel that. You carry so much, Alexia. But you’re not alone, you know?”

She looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, you forgot to breathe. Her dark eyes were searching, full of something heavy and unspoken.

“You always say the right thing,” she whispered.

“I just mean what I say,” you replied, your voice barely above a murmur.

There was silence, but it wasn’t empty. It stretched between you like a thread pulled taut. Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, Alexia leaned in just slightly, her face so close to yours that you could see her even on one of your worst sight days.

“Do you ever wish things were… different?” she asked softly.

The question settled in your chest like a stone.

“Different how?” you managed, though you already knew what she meant.

Her gaze dropped to your lips for just a second before she pulled back, as if realizing something too late. She let out a shaky breath, her hands tightening around the mug.

“Never mind,” she whispered. “Forget I said anything.”

But you couldn’t forget. You wouldn’t forget.

That night haunted you in the weeks that followed. The way she looked at you, the way her voice wavered like she was balancing on the edge of a confession. You thought about all the times you’d caught yourself staring at her—her smile, her focus, her laugh that always made your heart race. You remembered every time she reached for your hand without thinking, every hug that lingered just a little too long.

You’d loved her for so long, it felt like breathing—so natural you didn’t even realize you were doing it.

But saying it out loud? That was a risk you weren’t sure you could take.

It was on one of your bad sight days when you finally broke. You’d woken up to a world that was nothing but shadows and shapes, frustration simmering under your skin. You tried to paint, but the colors blurred together, the brushstrokes clumsy.

When Alexia showed up later that afternoon—completely unannounced as usual—you were ready to push her away.

“I’m not really in the mood today,” you muttered when you opened the door.

Alexia ignored you, stepping inside and holding up a brown paper bag. “I brought food. You need to eat.”

“Alexia, I can’t—”

She turned to face you, cutting you off. “I know today’s hard. But you don’t get to shut me out.”

Her voice was firm, but her eyes were soft. It was her, always her, and you hated that she could see through you so easily.

“It’s not just today,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “It’s every day. It’s waking up not knowing if I’ll be able to see your face or if the world will just be colors and light. It’s trying to keep up with you—someone who has everything figured out—when I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Alexia’s brows pulled together. “You think I have everything figured out?”

“You do. You’re you.”

She took a step closer, her voice quieter now. “And you’re you. Do you think I’d keep showing up if you weren’t the most important person in my life?”

Your heart stopped.

“What?”

She took another step, closing the distance between you. Her hand found yours, her thumb brushing gently over your knuckles.

“You’ve been here for me through everything. Every goal, every failure, every day I wanted to quit. And you never asked for anything. I don’t care if you can’t see me, because I see you. I’ve always seen you.”

Your breath hitched. The words you’d been burying for years suddenly felt too heavy to hold back.

“I love you, Alexia,” you whispered, the words falling out before you could stop them.

Her lips parted, surprise flickering across her face, but it didn’t last. She smiled—a small, gentle smile that melted something inside you—and squeezed your hand.

“I love you too,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And maybe it was. Because loving Alexia had never been hard. It had always been there, unseen but deeply felt.

She pulled you into her arms then, holding you close, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that everything—good days, bad days, and all the moments in between—was enough. Because she was there.

And she saw you.

The days that followed felt different—so much closer. It was as if saying the words had changed the way the air moved between you and Alexia. The silences felt heavier, but not uncomfortable. Her touches lingered, her gaze held yours longer, even on the days when you couldn’t fully see it. You were aware of her in a way that made your chest ache, as though your heart had been holding its breath for years and was finally allowed to exhale.

But still, there was a line—blurred and uncertain. You both danced around it, never quite stepping over.

It wasn’t until a quiet evening at your place, weeks later, that everything boiled over.

You were on the couch, your legs tucked under you, while Alexia lay sprawled out beside you, her socked feet resting against your knee. She was talking about an upcoming match, one that carried extra weight for her team, but you were only half-listening. Her voice was soothing, rhythmic, like a song you’d memorized years ago.

“What about you?” Alexia asked suddenly, catching you off guard.

You blinked. “What about me?”

She propped herself up on one elbow, tilting her head as she looked at you. “You’ve been quiet tonight. What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

“Nothing,” you said, too quickly.

Alexia’s brow arched. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You sighed, shifting uncomfortably. You could feel her eyes on you, warm and searching, and suddenly the weight of the past few weeks felt impossible to hold any longer.

“Alexia,” you started, your voice cautious, “what… what are we?”

The question seemed to hang in the air, sharp and fragile all at once. You weren’t even sure you wanted her to answer. Part of you was terrified to hear what she’d say.

Alexia blinked, her expression softening as the words registered. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you replied, your voice steadier this time. “We say we love each other, we spend all this time together, and… it feels like more. But we never talk about it. We never… define it.”

Alexia sat up fully now, her knees tucked against her chest as she turned to face you. Her gaze was steady, unshaken, but you couldn’t quite read it.

“I didn’t think we needed to define it,” she said quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “Maybe you don’t. But I do.”

She exhaled softly, looking down at her hands for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “I’m not avoiding it. I just—” She hesitated, searching for the words. “I guess I thought it was obvious. That you’re it for me.”

Your heart stuttered. “What do you mean?”

She leaned closer, her voice soft but firm. “I mean you’re the person I care about most. You’re the one I want to see at the end of every long day. You’re the one I think about when I’m on the field or when I can’t sleep. I don’t care what we call it, as long as I’m with you.”

Your breath caught, but something inside you still resisted, still hesitated. “But what does that mean, Alexia?”

“It means I love you,” she said, the words simple but full of weight. “And I want to be with you. Not just as your friend, not just as someone in your orbit. I want us to be something. You and me.”

Her honesty hit you like a wave, overwhelming and undeniable. You’d spent so much time wondering if you were imagining what you felt, if you were overstepping. And here she was, meeting you in the middle with the same certainty you’d been too afraid to claim.

“But what if I can’t…” you started, your voice trailing off.

“What?” Alexia pressed gently.

You struggled to say it. “What if I can’t give you what you need? What if my bad days—my eyesight, my moods—what if it’s too much for you?”

Alexia’s expression softened, and she reached for your hand, threading her fingers through yours. “Do you think I’m here because it’s easy?”

You stared at her, taken aback.

“I’m here because I want to be,” she continued. “Your bad days don’t scare me. Your moods don’t scare me. I know you, and I love you. Not the idea of you. Not the version of you that’s perfect all the time.”

Her words settled deep, wrapping around you like a balm for every hidden fear and unspoken insecurity.

You swallowed, your voice shaky when you finally spoke. “I love you too. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” she said softly, leaning closer. “But we can’t keep tiptoeing around this, can we?”

You let out a small laugh, the tension breaking just slightly. “No, I guess not.”

“So?” she asked, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Will you be mine? Officially?”

The words were lighthearted, but you could see the vulnerability in her eyes, the hope she was trying so hard to hide.

“Yes,” you whispered, smiling despite the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I already am, Alexia.”

Her grin lit up her whole face, and before you could say anything else, she leaned in and kissed you—soft and slow, as if she were memorizing the shape of you. Her hands cupped your face, her thumbs brushing your cheeks gently, and you melted into her, letting the rest of the world fade away.

When she finally pulled back, she pressed her forehead against yours and whispered, “Good.”

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt clear.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Would you like to read little blurbs about this in the future?

[dragonpropaganda]

The Architecture of Rain World: Layers of History

A major theme in Rain World's world design that often goes overlooked is the theme of, as James Primate, the level designer, composer and writer calls it, "Layers of History." This is about how the places in the game feel lived-in, and as though they have been built over each other. Here's what he said on the matter as far back as 2014!

The best example of this is Subterranean, the final area of the base game and a climax of the theme. Subterranean is pretty cleanly slpit vertically, there's the modern subway built over the ancient ruins, which are themselves built over the primordial ruins of the depths. Piercing through these layers is Filtration System, a high tech intrusion that cuts through the ground and visibly drills through the ceiling of the depths.

Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets, the friendly local ghost, tells the player of the "bones of forgotten civilisations, heaped like so many sticks," highlighting this theme of layering as one of the first impressions the player gets of Subterranean. Barely minutes later, the player enters the room SB_H02, where the modern train lines crumble away into a cavern filled with older ruins, which themselves are invaded by the head machines seen prior in outskirts and farm arrays, some of which appear to have been installed destructively into the ruins, some breaking through floors.

These layers flow into each other, highlighting each other's decrepit state.

The filtration system, most likely the latest "layer," is always set apart from the spaces around it. At its top, the train tunnels give way to a vast chasm, where filtration system stands as a tower over the trains, while at the bottom in depths, it penetrates the ceiling of the temple, a destructive presence. (it's also a parallel to the way the leg does something similar in memory crypts, subterranean is full of callbacks like that!)

Filtration system is an interesting kind of transition, in that it is much later and more advanced than both of the areas it cuts between. This is a really interesting choice from James! It would be more "natural" to transition smoothly from the caves of upper subterranean to the depths, but by putting filtration system in between, the two are clearly demarcated as separate. The difference in era becomes palpable, the player has truly found something different and strange.

Depths itself is, obviously, the oldest layer not only of subterranean but of the game itself. The architecture of Depths has little to do with the rest of the game around it, it's a clear sign of the forgotten civilisations that our friend Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets showed us, there's not actually that much to say about it itself, it's mostly about how it interacts with the other layers of subterranean.

That said, Subterranean is far from the only case of the theme of layers of history. It's present as soon as the player starts the game!

The very first room of the game, SU_C04, is seemingly a cave. It is below the surface, the shapes of it are distinctly amorphous rather than geometric. (well. kind of, it doesn't do a very good job of hiding the tile grid with its 45 degree angles.)

But let's take a closer look, shall we?

See that ground? it's made of bricks. The entire cave area of outskirts is characterised by this, the "chaotic stone" masonry asset is mixed with brickwork, unlike the surface ruins which are mostly stone. This, seemingly, is an inversion of common sense! The caves are bricks and the buildings are stone. This is not, however, a strange and unique aspect but a recurring motif.

This occurs enough in the game for it to be clearly intentional, but why would materials such as bricks be used in otherwise natural looking terrain?

The answer lies in the "Layers of History" theme. This is in fact, something that happens in real life, and it's called a tell

To be specific, a tell is a kind of mound formed by settlements building over the ruins of previous iterations of themselves. Centuries of rubble and detritus form until a hill grows from the city. Cities such as Troy and Jericho are famous examples. The connections to the layers of history theme are pretty clear here, I think. Cities growing, then dying, then becoming the bedrock of the next city. The ground, then, is made of bricks, because the ground is the rubble of past buildings. The bones of forgotten civilisations, heaped like so many sticks!

[falafelluva]

: 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: when Kenan lets his nerves get the best of him, you’re the one he can run to.

warnings: idk, none

It was a quiet night, the kind that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. You were deep in a dream when a soft sound pulled you back to consciousness.

The clock on the nightstand read midnight, and the faint glow of the streetlights seeped through the curtains, casting shadows around the room.

You turned to your side, blinking slowly, and there he was—Kenan, sitting on the edge of the bed, his silhouette tense and uncertain. His brow furrowed, and he bit his lip, clearly hesitant to wake you.

“Hey,” you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Sorry to wake you,” he said softly, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“I just… I didn’t want to disturb you, but I couldn’t sleep.” His German accent slipped through, thick and comforting, even at this hour.

You propped yourself up on one elbow, instantly alert. “What’s wrong?” you asked, concern flooding your mind. You had seen him nervous before, but tonight felt different.

“I have a big game tomorrow,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… it’s been weighing on me, and I don’t know how to shake it off.”

The weight of his words settled in the room. Kenan had trained for this moment for months, and yet here he was, unsure of himself.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, reaching out to take his hand. “You’re going to be amazing. You’ve worked so hard for this.”

He squeezed your hand tightly, grateful for the reassurance. “I know, but…” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s a big deal for the team. I don’t want to let anyone down.”

“Kenan, you could never let anyone down,” you replied, looking directly into his eyes. “You’re so talented, and everyone believes in you. I believe in you.”

He chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit.

“It’s just… sometimes I feel like I’m not good enough. Like tomorrow is my chance to prove myself, you know? And if I mess up…” He trailed off, a shadow of doubt crossing his face.

You couldn’t stand to see him like this. You shifted closer, wrapping your arms around him in a comforting embrace.

“You’re already good enough. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, especially not to me. Just go out there and have fun. Remember why you love the game.”

Kenan sighed, the warmth of your embrace enveloping him. “Danke,” he whispered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “I needed to hear that.” (Thanks)

As you held him, you felt the tension begin to melt away. You could sense his heartbeat slow as he took deep breaths, finding solace in your presence.

“What’s going to help you sleep?” you asked, wanting to ease his worries further.

“Honestly, I just need to talk,” he admitted, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze. “I hate feeling like this, like I’m drowning in my thoughts.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding encouragingly. “Let’s talk. What’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

He leaned back against the headboard, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “The game plan. I keep going over it in my head. I want to make the right moves, the right passes… But what if I don’t?”

“Then you learn from it,” you replied confidently. “Every game is a chance to grow, whether you win or lose. Plus, you have a whole team backing you up.”

Kenan chuckled again, a hint of lightness returning to his demeanor. “You’re right. I just need to remember that I’m not alone in this.”

“Exactly! You’re a team player, and that’s what matters most. Just do your best and have fun with your teammates. They’re counting on you, but they’re also your friends. It’s about the game, but it’s also about enjoying it together.”

He smiled, visibly relaxing in your presence. “How did I get so lucky to have you?”

You shrugged, feigning modesty. “Not lucky, our names are written next to each other.” you replied, but deep down, you felt a warmth spread through your chest.

“Seriously, though. I don’t know how I would manage all this without you.” He turned serious again, intrigued by your words.

“Anytime you need to talk, I’m here,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. “But maybe let’s keep the midnight wake-ups to a minimum?”

He laughed softly. “Agreed. I’ll try not to disturb your beauty sleep.”

“Good plan,” you teased, feeling the comfort of his presence seep into your bones.

As you both sat there, the quiet of the night wrapped around you like a protective blanket. The world outside was still, but inside, you could feel the electricity of his nervous energy.

After a while, Kenan leaned back slightly, glancing at the clock. “I should probably try to sleep,” he said reluctantly.

“Agreed. But first, let’s do a quick pep talk,” you said playfully, straightening up.

“Kenan, you are talented, hardworking, and destined for greatness. You’ve prepared for this moment, and you’re going to shine. Just remember to have fun out there.”

He looked at you with a grateful smile, his eyes sparkling with a mix of admiration and love. “You really know how to make a guy feel special huh? you’re like kebap, perfect”

You laughed, playfully smirking at him. “I am Jose Mourinho.”

He settled down under the covers, and you cuddled close beside him, feeling the warmth radiate from his body.

As he drifted off, you could hear the soft rhythm of his breathing, a sound that always calmed you.

“Goodnight, Kenanım,” you whispered, brushing a soft kiss against his forehead.

“Goodnight, sevgilim” he murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting in a sleepy smile— wrapping his arm around your warm body.

You closed your eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. Tomorrow would come with its challenges, but for now, all that mattered was being there for each other, side by side.

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 | Francisco Morales x reader

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summary | working your summer job you find yourself fawning over a boy you barely know, realizing by the end of the summer that letting go of him may not be the best idea.

content warning | young!frankie morales, reader is working in bar (if there’s some things wrong, just know i tried fjsjsj), background tf boys, phone texts, inebriated hook ups (frankie is a lil drunk but he’s okay i swear) smut out the wazoo, oral (m/f receiving, protecting p in v, hints of voyeurism, idk let me live in this dream pls

word count — 7.5k

The bar was supposed to be easy cash, a second job you picked up during the summer, between the interim of your final year of college and the beginning of your life—just some extra money to keep you afloat amongst the drowning seas of tuition debt. But, the job came with unexpected challenges—rude customers, drunk customers, (given that you worked in a bar you really couldn’t fault them) but it was the rowdy ones that really got under your skin. And you quickly learned the unspoken schedule of customers as they made their weekly round for a few drinks, some over-fried bar food, and a game of darts or pool.

Monday through Wednesday were some of your more favorite days, friendlier people who liked to visit earlier in the day before the bar got packed after sunset, some relaxed chit chat and a beer or two. They tipped very nicely, too.

Thursday was the slowest of the week, co-workers sliding in to catch a game of pool or watch some sports game on the old, ratty television tucked in the corner area of the bar, even with you squinting your eyes it was still barely visible and they almost always left the biggest messes at their table—but again, you couldn’t complain when it was only a few tables you had to scrub down.

Friday was always busy, the weekends just as bad—from open to close you were shuffling around behind the bar, in tune with your co-workers as you moved around each other. You knew some people by name and some would politely remind you—you saw about a hundred different faces every week, some were bound to slip through the cracks.

But, within your first week there, you found a particular group of boys would show up every Friday without fail—a few rounds of beers, a mountain of wings and fries and whatever else they could get their hands on, and a game or two of darts and a pool table they had just to themselves.

The charmer, Santiago, was the first to introduce himself.

A crisp hundred dollar bill slipped over in advance with a softer tone, “I’m apologizing in advance, they tend to get a little, uh, loud.” It wasn't the right word, but you smiled nonetheless, still checking the money behind the counter in case he tried to slide you a fake and mask it with a simple courtesy that wasn't shown often. Kindness. 

You start their tab, grab their orders, and within twenty minutes their voices are already booming over the rest and arguing about a stupid game of darts, three other boys crowded around Santiago as their faces are within an inch of the board, fingers pointing all over.

There is a straggler, though—a man who’s similar in age to most of the boys, late twenties maybe? He had to be close to your age or just a little older but the sodden expression on his face made him feel much older, sipping at the round of beers you had brought by as soon as Santiago headed back for the table.

They call him Catfish, whatever that means—and it seems like they all have nicknames for each other and you wanted to ask, but it didn’t seem worth it. Your Rolodex of names in your head was already bursting at its seams and Santiago was the only one you could bother to remember, especially when he’s sliding over a chunk of cash in advance rather than blowing up his tab and then scrambling to pay.

For a few weeks it’s just that. They come in, Santiago pays, and then they spend a few hours in the back of the bar arguing like boys, rather than men. But, they always leave you a hefty tip when they don’t fill out their tab or when they go over and pay it out and then some. 

And naturally, you’re curious. About them. About him.

So, when Catfish comes in on a Saturday night completely alone, that curiosity does get the better of you.

He doesn’t make much of a scene, sliding into the bar stool instead of taking up a table, and seeing how busy it is, he waits—quietly and with a faint smile on his face that you catch a few times in passing, refilling cups with ice and offering a polite smile back.

When you finally get to him you're slightly breathless, wiping your hands on the towel tucked into your back pocket, “Hey, sorry about—what can I get you?”

“Just a beer,” He says with a shrug, promptly sliding over a twenty as you pour and hand off the glass.

“Where’s the others?” You ask curiously, an attempt at casual conversation despite selfishly wanting to know.

“A party,” Fish explains, “Benny won his tournament so they’re celebrating that.”

The name sounds familiar but you can’t quite place it.

“The younger one,” He adds with a subtle smirk, seeing the furrow in your brow of you thinking too hard.

“So Benny, Santiago—but you get stuck with Catfish?”

It can’t be his actual name, but they never use anything else.

“Francisco,” He takes a generous sip of his beer before setting it down, tapping his fingers idly against the surface of the bar, “—but, just Frankie. If that’s easier.”

You tilt your head with a genuine smile, putting a name to a face and it feels fitting, the hat suffocating his mop of hair, curls peeking around the edge of his hat and the dark colored tees he always wore, some sort of dismay always written on his face. You can’t explain it, but it works for him.

Frankie. Francisco. Catfish.

“Well, Frankie—if you need anything just yell. That’s probably the only way I’ll hear you,” You tell him with a laugh before attempting to depart—the bar isn’t too bad at the moment, all customers dealt with but the roar of the bar is loud.

“Well—wait,” Frankie half shouts, grabbing your attention, “what’s your name? I gave you mine, seems fair to ask.”

You tell him with a shrug, “But, I only ever hear honey or sweetheart all night, so really, I’m whatever you want me to be.”

Frankie chuckles at that, looking away briefly as if to busy his mind with something else and you slip away then.

You don’t ask why he came alone—why he would skip out on a party with the men he came here every Friday night with—maybe he needed a break. Alone time. It wasn’t your business.

But, one Saturday becomes another. And two months later he’s come by every Saturday. Alone. And giving you his undivided attention. It’s sweet, you’ll admit that. 

He isn’t as closed off on Friday’s when he arrives with the other boys but isn’t as outwardly friendly as say, Santiago would be during that time. But, Saturdays—he’s a whole different person. Lighter. Happier.

He only ever orders one beer, makes small talk, and lately—he’s been walking you to your car. So, not only is he nursing that beer over the four hours left in your shift by the time he gets there, he’s waiting for you. To clock out, that is.

Really, it’s against your better judgment. Allowing a total stranger to know what you drive, where you park, what time your shift ends, but Frankie is a… friend.

He isn’t like most of the customers, terrible at small talk and flirting and only making half-assed, nasty comments toward you when they get a few rounds in. 

He’s seen it a few times. He never berates the guys, but he does pull your attention away, occupies your mind, and always manages to slip in a few words that make your legs go weak and encourage the dull throb between your thighs—even if it’s just a smile and an apology on their behalf. 

Frankie always shows interests, ask about you and your life in the politest way he can without seeming like a complete creep—you can tell he doesn’t flirt often, by the way he’s quiet around his friends when you stop by their table or how he never asks for your number despite twirling his phone in his hands idly most of the night, trying to seem occupied but mostly staring at a blank screen until he finally gains the courage to ask you another question.

The first night he walks you to your car it’s quick—he stays until you close up for the night and walks around back, a careful and watchful eye on your surroundings as he nods and wishes you goodnight with a half-hearted smile, kicking himself in the ass for not just asking for your number.

And it continues like that for weeks, within those couple months, and gradually Frankie bursts out of his shell little by little until you both are giggling one night over a particularly rowdy customer, having gotten himself arrested for indecent exposure and broken a table. 

His hand grazes your lower back as you walk out, a genuine mistake but you turn your head toward him quickly, soothing his worries with a smile as you stick the key into the lock.

“Don’t worry about it,” You tell him with a comforting tone, “I’m used to men being a little more handsy than that, so, if anything, you’re a gentleman.”

“Those aren’t men.” Frankie argues lightheartedly.

“Eh, men who act like boys,” You say, “they’re assholes either way you put it.”

Frankie nods, readjusting his cap on his head as he pushes his fingers through his hair.

You twist the keys in your hand and start the walk toward your car.

“Do you ever take that thing off?”

Frankie’s eyes dart up toward the hat and he chuckles, hidden under the scruff and grown out facial hair, “No. No, not really.”

“Would you do it if I asked you to?”

He contemplates but never gives you a straight answer, forcing you to prod him gently with the end of your key, “Don’t worry—I won’t. Not yet.”

Frankie’s fingers curl around the edge of your door as he holds it open and watches you climb in, mind swimming with a million ways to ask what he wants, but it never comes.

But, you see it on his face immediately, the caution behind his eyes in being so forward with you.

“Ask for it,” You tell him, turning on the ignition to your car, still looking at him as he looms between you and the car door, “—unless you want to make me ask.”

Frankie looks away briefly and you laugh softly at his sudden unabashed expression as he smiles and turns back to you, “Can I have your number?”

You hold your hand out in wait, thumbing in your number the moment the phone finds your palm. You send yourself a short text with a smiley face to make sure it goes through and hand it back over, feeling a sudden flutter of anxiety in your chest.

Not good, not bad—but it is something.

“Put it to good use,” You warn him, “don’t make me regret that.”

Frankie smiles wider that time, his teeth peeking out behind full lips.

“Right,” He agrees, “absolutely. I promise.”

He adds a soft goodnight and you depart, feeling your phone buzz again before you even pull out of the parking lot.

[Unknown Number]: Goodnight

You snort a quiet laugh to yourself.

An hour later, a toothbrush tucked into your cheek as you stare down at your phone when it vibrates. You had half the mind to save his number despite your exhaustion from the shift you worked.

[Frankie]: Home safe?

[You]: Yep. :) Thank you for checking on me

[Frankie]: :) Goodnight. 

[Frankie]: Again lol.

It’s stupid—it shouldn’t make you smile. But, it does.

You quickly find every day occupied by Frankie in some form, through text or just the thought of him. He’s everywhere and you can’t seem to care—and you give up sleep in the middle of the night for text conversations that come from just wanting to hear from him, as nervous as you are to just call—you could, you knew he wouldn’t care. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You try to learn as much as you can about him.

[You]: Why Catfish?

It’s a random Tuesday when the text comes through his phone. He’s busy in class, cramming himself in as many hours as possible before he tests for his pilot license.

[Frankie]: Long story. Obnoxiously long. Why?

[You]: Just curious. It’s a strange nickname

[Frankie]: So what does that make me?

Frankie doesn’t get a response for a while and he knows you’re probably working, but he finds his fingers reaching for his pocket any time his phone vibrates in the hopes that it’s you.

[You]: Sorry. There was a mess at work. 

[You]: It makes you strange btw

[You]: I’m kidding. But, it’s still a weird nickname.

Frankie can tell it’s you from the constant buzzing and he takes a peek at his phone.

[Frankie]: Oh shit. How bad of a mess?

[Frankie]: I know. Maybe I can explain it another time.

You’re busy wiping the beer off your face as you look at his text, the security dragging out the guy who had splashed the glass of liquid back at your face.

[You]: Some asshole threw a beer at me. Nothing new. Clothes are soaked.

[You]: Don’t try to make a joke about that or I’m double charging you this Friday.

Frankie frowns at the implication that you think he’s first instinct is to make a joke at your expense, but you can’t help to protect yourself from the behavior you’re used to from most men.

[Frankie]: Do you need me to bring you something? I can stop by on my way home?

[You]: I’ll survive. Thank you, though. My shift is almost over.

A couple days later you end up going down a fireshot line of questioning to get to know him, much to his surprise.

[You]: Okay. Birthday?

[Frankie]: April 2nd. 

He returns the question to which you answer but add on another text with a joke at his expense.

[You]: Damn, a day short and that would be perfect for you. So, you’re an Aries.

[Frankie]: Yeah, whatever that means.

You laugh to yourself, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you walk through your local grocery store to pick up items for dinner that night.

[You]: It fits you. Oh! What do you do for work?

[You]: Fair game since you know what I do.

[Frankie]: We’re all in the army. I work on aircraft.

Oh, that’s…not what you were expecting.

[Frankie]: It’s new. I’m trying to get my pilot's license right now. I’ve got a big test coming up for it.

[You]: That’s so cool! Take me for a ride sometime?

You smirk to yourself as you press send.

[Frankie]: Yes.

You look ridiculous smiling at your phone in the middle of the aisle but you can’t help it.

In the army. A pilot. And a gentleman? Or, at least he’s provided himself to be nice enough. You were both young, so it didn’t surprise you that you were both unluckily single. But, Frankie seemed like such a catch—and it terrified you how badly you wanted him. Even in the simplest form. 

A friend, a best friend, even. Or more, definitely more. But, you didn’t mind either way.

He’s due to take the test for his pilot license the Monday after your last shift, showing up with the boys on that Friday before—typical routine and behavior, but he does seem a bit more handsy. Santiago has always been friendly, but he does hug you this time he sees you, catching you on the way back to the bar and he plants a kiss on your cheek that you welcome with a soft, playful shove of your hand at his face and if it strikes Frankie with jealousy, you don’t notice.

But, he does shock you when he wraps an arm around your front and hugs you lazily, haphazardly slumping his other arm over your shoulder as he plants a kiss in your the hair at the crown on your head and rubs your hip with his thumb, leaving you dumbstruck and wanton the rest of your shift, frazzled every time you glance his way.

Santiago orders a round of shots toward the end of the night and thanks you with a wink, departing for the table and interrupting the idle conversation the men were entranced in.

You’re not sure what was going on, wiping down the counter as the night slowed down and casually flicking your eyes up to check on them, hearing them laugh occasionally, glancing your way briefly and suddenly Frankie was headed your way, fiddling around with the brim of his hat as he pressed a forearm against the countertop you had just wiped down. 

You snap him gently with the towel and give him a look, he backs away slightly, hovering over the edge of the counter.

“What’s up?”

“They’re a bunch of dicks, I’m sorry.” Frankie deflected, glancing back at the boys who were staring on with sated smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of him fumbling and dropping the ball as he spoke to you. His eyes flick up wearily, soft and so distinct to him that it makes your heart ache. “Pope—Santiago, he dared me to come over and kiss you. And it’s stupid but if I didn’t at least try I would never hear the end–”

You pull him in by the collar of his shirt, the brim of his hat being pushed askew by the force as you press your lips to his in a simple, but unmistakable kiss. Tilting your head slightly as you pull away briefly to kiss him once more, dropping your towel to push your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and it seems like his brain catches up too late, his fingers barely grazing your neck as you pull away.

You pointedly look around Frankie to flip the other three off with both hands.

“Get out of here,” You warn playfully, “before I murder one of them.”

Frankie huffs a soft laugh through his nose before he turns away, speechless.

They were out of there within a few minutes, but an hour later your lips were still tingling.

Frankie is different that Saturday—more energetic, seeming lighter and more playful. 

He drinks one beer, then two, surprisingly a couple shots of tequila—and before you know it, you’re seeing a much different side of Frankie than you're used to and it is quite the sight.

“Am I cutting you off?” You ask curiously, “I don’t want you nursing a hangover tomorrow when you have your test on Monday.”

“One more,” Frankie promises, “but—surprise me?”

You shrug, not finding a problem with it.

“Sweet or savory?” You ask him.

You feel your breath catch slightly as he pauses, his eyes doing a subtle drag over your body as you take a couple steps back, reaching for an empty glass.

“Sweet.” 

It has an underlying tension to it neither of you address. 

You make something up on the fly—fruity and sweet with the slightest bit of tang, nothing that screams Frankie but when you set it down in front of him and he drinks, his eyes widen slightly.

And for half a second you think he might spit it out, but then he’s chugging the rest down—and maybe it’s alcohol dulling his taste buds but he makes a quick show of assuring you he liked it, even if it’s mostly for your own benefit.

Shaking his head as he licks at his lips with his tongue in a way that feels so unnecessary that you can’t help but giggle, snatching the empty glass away from him as he smiles, his eyes half-lidded from the faint buzz he has going on, but otherwise he still seems fine.

You couldn’t let him get that drunk, not when he had so much riding on that test.

By the end of the night, your side hurts from laughing so much, forceably having to shove your hand in Frankie’s face to get him to shut up for half a second, his fingers circling around your wrist as he pulls you forward and you giggle into his shoulder.

“Stay. Let me close up and we can walk through the back.” You tell him and he nods quietly, though his grin never fades, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip idly while he watches you work around the clutter and reorganize, cleaning everything down before you’re flicking off the lights and nodding at him to follow.

If it were anyone else, you’d have given them a stiff kick to the balls and sent them on their way, but the moment Frankie noses at your neck your hard resolve melts and you shrug him away at how much it tickles your skin, feeling his hand wrap around the bicep on your left arm. He’s never been so touchy but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. In fact, you’re eating it up at this point.

“Frankie,” You warn him playfully, working and failing to lock the door as uses his other hand to squeeze at your side, “come on—I can’t lock up with you doing that.”

“Try,” He teases, challenges, and you can’t help but like the bolder, less restrained side of himself he’s offering up to you.

The gentle nuzzling quickly turns to kisses, wet and open mouthed as he practically drapes himself over you, one hand pressed into the brick wall beside the backdoor and you sigh softly, leaning into his chest as you finally get the door locked and shrug him away.

“Am I going to see you next week?” He asks hopefully, knowing that with August looming in the distance that your job at the bar was close to being nullified. 

You shake your head with a bittersweet smile, “Tomorrow is my last day, actually. For now, anyway.”

Frankie’s brow furrows at that and he shakes his head slightly before he’s invading your space, hands cupping your face as he lifts your chin up to meet your lips and kisses you gently, your fingers coming up to curls around his forearms and you feel his lips part just as you pull away.

“What—what are you doing?” You ask him, feeling like an echo as he comes back to the surface with a delayed response, trying to kiss you again but you're pressing your fingertips over his lips until he realizes that you actually want an answer.

“I’ve wanted you all summer,” He admits and it makes your blood run hot, that distinct tingle of pleasure shooting down your spine and it is nothing you were expecting him to say, but tonight was full of surprises apparently, “do I need to prove it to you?”

He presses his forehead against your own and you shake your head in response. You believed him, you didn’t doubt him for a second—but it feels surreal. Those quick, fleeting summer flings you only hear about in passing, never expecting to experience it yourself.

You may never see him again, you had to strike the match while it was still in reach.

“Are there cameras back here?” Frankie asks hastily.

You snort, “No—we’re five minutes away from college dorms in the poorest part of town. People come here for cheap booze, not security.”

Frankie nods at that, “You’re right,” He responds but the end is muffled as he kisses you again, with less care and a lot more tongue as you open your mouth to him and find the words on your tongue are muffled by his.

And thank god the street lights were shit in the back alley, barely working amongst the occasional flicker, you eventually find your way in the darkened corner of the back alley with Frankie’s hand working at the button on your jeans, almost tripping over an overturned crate on the way there that causes you both to burst into a fit of giggles, laughing through the sloppy kisses Frankie can’t help but smother you with, sighing when his fingers dip past the denim and thin fabric underwear to cup your pussy with his entire hand, the warmth of his palm like an answered prayer.

His hat is frustrating though, constantly bumping and prodding at your head before you finally get fed up, plucking it off his head and tossing it to the ground with an annoyed sigh that forces a choked laugh from Frankie’s throat, dipping a finger down the center of your core before pressing inside of you, gasping at the sudden but welcomed intrusion. You release a shaky sigh and open your eyes to look at him, finding he’s plenty amused but still buzzed in his own way.

Half beer, half pleasure—but he looks like he wants to devour you.

Lucky for you, he was starving.

Your mouth hangs open slightly, breathing picking up as he angles his fingers and slips another inside, curling them toward you from within and you pull at the curls at the nape of his neck.

He smirks in amusement, “Wish you could see how needy you look,” Frankie comments, “all it took was a couple fingers, huh?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Too bad it took you all summer,” You pester him as he picks up the intensity, using his other hand to push your jeans lower down your hips, “and some stupid fuckin’ drink to make you finally want to have sex with.”

“Sex?” Frankie jokes through a throaty chuckle, “Who said anything about—”

Your hand cups the front of his jeans firmly, a little harsher than necessary but you can tell he doesn’t mind, almost challenging you to tease him a little more but the moment you both hit a solid wall you’re tripping over each other’s feet and it pulls you back to the surface and despite your clothes being half-stripped away and Frankie’s hand still shoved down the front of your jeans, it brings back a surprising amount levity to assess the situation at hand.

“I mean, do you want to?” You ask him curiously, tucking a curl behind his ear as he blinks, considering how this would affect his relationship with you, as brief and fleeting as it was.

“You’re really asking me that?” He responds, “Of course.”

“Well, I mean you did just say—”

Frankie places his palm over your mouth, muffling the end of your sentence.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He deflects, hoping you’ll play along.

You work at his belt without hesitation, far over the small talk and tired of wasting time. Frankie pulls his hand away much to your disappoint, pouting slightly as he drag his hand up your stomach, under your shirt until he’s got it tucked under your chin and mouthing of your bra greedily, the fingers of his other hand peeking around the fabric to pull it down, taking the soft, pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking with a satisfied groan as you dip your hand beyond his waistband and over his boxers, pulled tight against his thighs and groin. You could picture the sight of him in your mind for hours if you wanted, but you had him here, right here. 

Why not give yourself a peek at the real thing?

Frankie is lost, deep within the exploration of your body that he doesn’t even hear your voice when you plead with him, his voice grazing over the delicate skin of your breasts as he pulls away, already ready to descend and yank your jeans the rest of the way down, press his face between your legs and feast on you like it was the best thing he’s tried all night.

But, there’s the pout again—so subtle he would miss it had he not finally given you his full, undivided attention and he was right. You are needy.

His thumb rubs at the small sliver of your lip that’s poking out, rocking his hips gently into the hand still tucked away into his jeans—there was such a distinct charm to him, melting under his gaze the second his eyes made contact with your own. Every time.

“I don’t wanna keep you,” You whine emphatically and Frankie almost immediately begins to shake his head—

No. No, of course not. You wouldn’t be keeping him at all. Not a chance, not a fuckin—his inner monologue is going wild but he finds you perking up at the slowly growing panic on his face.

“But,” You breath, the thumb that was resting at your bottom lip trailing down the valley of your breasts before he cups one gently in his hand, “I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t give you at least something to remember this.”

“Couldn’t forget about you if I tried, actually,” He begins, but you shake your head, shushing him and pushing his hand away before you sink to your knees despite the immediate protest in your knees at the hard gravel—but god was it fucking worth it when you look up, half-lidded eyes staring back as you shake his jeans down his hips, just far enough that you can watch as he does the work with his boxers, cock bobbing free as he settles the band underneath his balls and if has to look away by that point, overwhelmed in the way your eyes roam but you don’t speak, clearly admiring and seering this to memory as you smile cheekily, taking his cock in your hand and jerk him slowly, thumb running along the vein that follows to the head of his cock.

“Get off the floor,” He begs pathetically, “gonna tear your knees up doing that.”

You laugh quietly to yourself and slide your tongue along the head of his cock, dipping down the slit of his head and to his shaft, pulling back at the skin and taking him into your mouth fully. He’s uncircumcised, thick and perfect—he fills your mouth out so beautifully in all his girth that you wonder just how much better it can feel between your legs, filling you out in the best way.

“Oh, jesus—baby, that’s,” You hum, bobbing your head in constant rhythm as your work your free hand around his balls, cupping them and allowing your other hand to cover the rest of what your mouth couldn’t take of his length and Frankie looks like he might actually pass out, looking around desperately for something, anything to lean on before he just settles for the wall behind you, resting both of his palms against the brick as he towers over you.

Frankie sighs shakily, dropping a hand to tuck against the back of your head, and your stomach swirls with anticipation as he allows himself to break his restrain a little, guiding his cock into your mouth with little aide given how eager you were as you took him as far as you could go, brush your nose against the trimmed patch of hair at the base and feel his hand flex in your hair, gripping it tight and attempting to pull you off to no avail, repeating the process until he’s begging for you to slow down, give him just a few seconds to breathe, ultimately finding that you don’t stop until he finally finds his voice again, stuttering out a desperate, “Stop, stop, stop–”

You pull away suddenly, worrying crossing your face but quickly dissipating as Frankie laughs, pulling you to your feet without much fight on your part and he does notice the few scraps on your knees, collecting with blood and he really wishes you would have listened but you brush him off, his body pressing you up against the brick wall behind you, pants still hanging at his thighs and his dick pressed against your stomach, shirt still sloppily bunched up over your tits.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, so vulgar it makes you pulse around absolutely nothing, his eyes roving over your face curiously, his thumb tracing over your lips, with a soft mumble, “God, I need you so bad.”

“My car,” You respond, tongue pressing against the pad of his fingertip as you nod behind him, “Condoms, they’re—in the car.”

Frankie makes a face, sort of amused but a little confused.

“Shut up,” You null his question before it slips out—”It’s precaution, okay? Guys love to pull the whole—”

“No, I—I get it,” Frankie answers, a small laugh rounding out his tone, “I just figured, you know—we’d…go back to your place? Or mine?”

Your hand fists into his shirt slowly, pulling him impossibly closer like he wasn’t already pressed against every surface of your body.

“What if I can’t wait?” Your eyes soften, looking up at him and catching the swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip, wanting to taste that tinge of sugar that lingers with him, “Would you fuck me right now?”

Frankie nods eagerly and you don’t hesitate, grabbing for his hat, placing it against his chest and gripping his hand in your own before you shove him away gently and lead him to your car, mostly covered in darkness aside from the obnoxiously orange streetlight that glowed overhead. Your clothes haphazardly pulled back up as you clamber into the driver's seat to reach over the console and into the glovebox, aware of the hand that slides between your leg as you search in the poor lighting, squealing when he squeezes at the flesh under his grip and shoving the foil wrapper into Frankie’s chest when you finally get your hand on the box.

“Off,” He tells you, pulling at the zipper of your jeans, “all the way.”

There was so much going on in your mind, nothing you could pluck out and focus on but it buzzed with excitement, anticipation, the kind of adrenaline that only comes in situations when your judgment is hasty and not fully-thought out. You’re barely kicking your shoes off and pulling your jeans past your ankle before Frankie is manhandling you into the backseat, and pressing his face between your thighs as he licks into you, a surprised gasp tearing from your throat as you grip the seats wherever you can.

Your pussy throbs under the care of his tongue, and he carries on obnoxiously, making a mess between your legs as his fingertips grip at the flesh of your ass and force you to open yourself wider to him, “Frankie—” You interject weakly, but he silences you with his mouth, sucking at your clit like it was his new obsession and you whine so pathetically that you find you covering your mouth in shame, biting gently at your bicep to muffle the flurry of sounds that came out after.

He pulls away some time later—minutes, hours, days, you can’t even place it. But, you hear him shift, the rip of the wrapper and the jingling of his belt as he shifts his jeans further down and slides into the backseat more comfortably, hovering over you. His hands squeezing at your hips, a comforting gesture as he speaks from behind you.

“Are you sure?” 

It’s sweet, you can admit that. But, you don’t need that.

“Frankie.”

He wasn’t budging. Because, if by some sudden change of heart you didn’t want this, he wanted to know.

“Yes. Yes,” You say, turning slightly to look over your shoulder, his face only an inch or so away as you tuck your arm back and push your fingers into his hair, pulling his face next to yours as he pushes inside of you slowly, yanking gently at the strands between your fingers as he settles, a soft sigh falling from your lips.

“Let me hear you,” He begs, “It’s just us.”

He hears you all the time, voice carrying across the bar but never like this—for him, only for him.

He pulls back gently, snapping his hips firmly and you hum softly, slightly giddy over the entire situation. He continues that way, so gentle and cautious that it makes you wonder why you both avoided this for so long, “More?” Frankie asks. You nod and his pace quickens slightly, a little harsher, and your hand grips onto the passenger seat beside your head for leverage as he chest rumbles with a deep sigh, “Fuck this is—baby, you have no idea.”

“Tell me,” You plead, the quiet creak of the car drowned out by your loud, pathetic moans as Frankie’s fingers curl around your throat and hold, no pressing or squeezing, just another place for them to find a home.

“Thought about this—so many times,” He admits, “came here for months—fuck, months. And then you show up and I was nervous—couldn’t, couldn’t even think of what to say to you. I knew I’d embarrass myself in front of them.” He squeezes then, a gentle pressure on your throat that has your eyes rolling back in your head.

“I had to see you alone,” His throat is tight, his breath a little quicker as he speaks, his hips snapping into you at a steady pace that clouds your mind effortlessly, “wanted you for myself—and, I would’ve fucked you that first night if you’d let me.”

You cunt squeezes him tight at his words and he curses, “So greedy, baby. She’s drooling all over me—such a fucking mess,” And you need to see him, face the man who’s finally found just the right amount of confidence to make you speechless. You lean up suddenly and force a hand into his chest and he only looks slightly confused before you’re pulling him inside and forcing him to sit into the cramped back seat, uncaring of the open car door as the car rocks with the weight of your bodies and you seat yourself on his lap, gripping his dick in your hand and sinking back down onto him without a word, curling yourself over him as you push away the hair clinging to his forehead, damp from sweat and his eyes are blown wide, staring up at you like he was under hypnosis, gaze locked on your own.

“Tell me now,” You challenge him—nowhere to hide behind his words.

“Would you—have let me fuck you that one night I walked you to your car?” He asks.

You smile guiltily, remembering the heat of his hand on your back, never really an accident.

“I’d have let you fuck me over the pool table if you asked, Frankie.” You admit, “In front of your friends too, if that’s what you really wanted.”

Frankie laughs weakly, giving you the lead as you lift your hips with a sudden eagerness.

“Is that what you want?” You tease him, “You guys are all about claim, right? Army boys love to show off—I mean, they’d probably be into it. Santi, for sure—”

Frankie covers your mouth with his hand and you giggle, biting playfully at the flesh of his palm.

He squeezes at your hip with his free hand, forcing you into a hurried pace as he begins to move his hips to meet your own, lifting off the seat slightly with every snap of his hips. Your cry is muffled by his hand but Frankie sees it in your eyes, the flutter of your eyelashes that tells him.

“Touch yourself, babygirl,” He tells you, “Let’s see how bad you want it.”

You lean back between the open space of the driver and passenger seat, one hand gripping the upholstery of the seat while the other works between your legs, fingers drifting over your clit and into the mess of yourself that was leaking over Frankie’s cock from where it was buried inside of you and he wasn’t lying—you’ve never been so turned on in your life. Half-assed hook-ups and guys that didn’t give a shit about your own pleasure, Frankie was a goddamn dream and a hell of a good fuck. 

You know your body well enough that it doesn’t take long, but the show is for Frankie’s benefit alone, head thrown back over your shoulders as your middle and ring finger circle your clit, occasionally wrapping your hand around what of his shaft was available as you tried weakly to move your hips, squeezing to pull a soft little gasp from his chest. It was such a damn shame you didn’t have him fully naked, splayed out on the mattress in your shitty apartment. You wanted to dig your nails into his skin, leave half crescent marks and a reminder of you for days, weeks even. 

“Fuck, I’m right there, baby—” He warns, unexpectedly joining your own fingers and forcing you over the edge just before he pulls you in, a brutal snap of his hips before he’s muffling the deep groans of his orgasm into your skin, teeth sinking gently into your shoulder.

The next few minutes is spent in a blissful silence, moving off of him carefully as he discards the condom but never letting you drift to far, still curled up and half naked on his lap as he pushes a strand of hair away from your face, pulling you in for a kiss that takes your breath away, literally pulls from your chest and makes your heart stop.

Oh…this was not good. 

You breathe shakily and pull away with a smile that masks that sudden ache in your chest and kiss again at the inside of his palm. He leans his head against the backseat, eyes closed as he catches his breath and groans slightly when you move off of him, oblivious and exhausted as you redress hastily beside him, pulling your jeans back up your legs and over your hips, slipping your shoes on and readjusting your shirt, shaking him gently when you fear he might have passed out right there in the back of your car.

“Frankie,” You call out, saying his name a few more times before you call out, one last time, “Francisco, hey.”

His eyebrows raise in question, a subtle smile on his lips as he peeks an eye open to look at you.

“I really need to get home,” You tell him, laughing half-heartedly at his drunken stupor, “you’ve gotta go.”

Frankie seems to realize then that he can’t drag this out any longer, redressing himself slowly as he climbs out of the car, watching you fiddle with your shirt and your appearance, trying to not look like you just got fucked in the backseat of your car.

He seems to notice the slight dismay on your face, knowing that your lives were diverting down different paths, but this was still the present. Now. And he was still here.

He presses you into the driver’s side door and kisses you then, hands crawling up the side of your neck and caressing the curve of it, dipping his tongue past your lips and really stealing your breath away, moaning into your mouth like you were the greatest thing he’s ever tasted.

You pull away regrettably when you feel him start to ramp up again, “Good luck on your test, by the way.” You tell him honestly, “You can text me the good news when you pass.”

Frankie chuckles, “I will.” There’s a long pause and then he’s speaking again, the few words you weren’t sure you wanted to hear, “Can I see you again?”

The hesitance is obvious on your face and it kicks Frankie down a peg, but he gets it. He wasn’t a boyfriend, barely even a friend. But, he was still hopeful.

“Maybe.” You offer, “I mean—you still have my number. I’m just a text or call away, you know.”

Frankie couldn’t admit that you were the only thing getting him through this summer without relapsing or making another misstep, that wasn’t your burden. But, the weight on his heart is heavy and his own to bear, welcoming the hug you offer him immediately and squeezing you so tight you might break, but of course, you don’t. 

And he thinks that if he showed up broken, in pieces, that you would know exactly how to piece him back together, but he hoped that never happened. That maybe you might manage to escape him and he wouldn’t drag you down with him.

“Goodbye, Frankie.” 

He smiles and nods, settling his hat back on his head as he steps away.

You leave soon after, not sure why this sudden dark cloud is looming over you.

Frankie never texts you about his test and the texts you send in the aftermath are never responded to—and eventually you give up, feeling like an idiot for being hopeful in the first place.

↝ beta: @chaotic-mystery

↝ divider credit: yours truly.

[lucyandalexiafan]

Need to be praised | Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso x reader

Summary: after winning the most important home match of the Liga, the Clasico, it is even more clear how Alexia needs to feel loved, praised. You and Jenni plan a different evening than usual, hoping to help her.

Warnings: smut and light angst. dom!Jenni, sub!reader, sub!Alexia, oral sex, chocking on a strap, punishment (belt), safewords, daddy kink, use of pet names / slut, dirty talk, light degradation, praise.

Words: 6.6k

You enter your house, the sound of the door closing behind you.

There is silence.

Ale had fallen asleep in the back seat of the car as soon as you got into it.

The trip had been short, with some indie songs in the background.

Jenni’s hand had caressed your thigh the whole trip.

You were exhausted. You were coming back home after the umpteenth match, another match a few days after the last one. And it wasn't a normal match, it was the Clasico, the most important home game of the Liga with a sold-out stadium.

Alexia had felt the brunt of the responsibilities the most, being captain had made everything more complex, heavier.

Many, too many, responsibilities.

Moreover, there was that complex she had.

That one of no longer good enough.

Strong enough.

Talented enough.

Aitana had won everything possible.

Ale was happy for her, obviously, she had seen her grow up in Barça's youth team, she had taught her everything she could; but that doesn't mean something inside her wasn't burning, consuming her.

It wasn't envy, it was anger.

It was disappointment.

It was resentment.

Not to Tana, but to her knee.

Grudge over her ACL.

Hate for her knee, for the constant injuries she has.

And ever since Tana won the Ballon d’Or, the funny, smiling, Ale had faded away. It wasn't easy to see, to notice this constant state of pain, she was really good at hiding it. But you could tell she was tired, that she couldn't take all the pressure anymore.

She tended to vent this anxiety, this pressure, this anger, with sex, rough sex where her need for control could come out. But, because you were having so many matches and only a few days off, you couldn't, she couldn't, dedicate to yourself the time necessary to enter that necessary headspace, to even think about it.

And Ale was increasingly needy, but it was not a need to be in charge, to be the dominant one. Jenni and you talked about it two nights ago, when the blonde was at yet another technical meeting with the staff and you two were having dinner at home. She had asked you if you two could take care of Ale, to change your roles in bed for once; Jenni had pointed out that Ale really needed to receive compliments, to be told that she was good.

That she was enough.

To feel loved.

To feel appreciated.

You weren't familiar with this, much more comfortable being the good submissive, but she was right.

You take Ale's hand and pull it towards you.

You gently place your lips on hers.

You feel her relax at the contact.

Her lips are soft, sweet.

Your hand is threading through her hair, massaging her scalp.

She gasps at the contact.

“Amor, we would like to suggest something to you”

Jenni's voice interrupts your kiss.

It is low, horny.

Ale turns towards the older woman, your arms wrapping around her body.

You are in the middle of the hall.

Jenni is leaning against the kitchen doorframe, her gaze fixed on Alexia.

Sweet eyes, a barely visible smile.

You leave kisses on the Catalan's shoulder, as if to reassure her.

“We would like to take care of you, amor – she tells her as she approaches the blonde – to make you understand how perfect you are, to prove it to you”

Ale opens her eyes wide, her body tensing beneath your arms.

“You don't have to say yes if you don't want to - you add as soon as you realize how tense she is - But we thought that this could be the better moment, because we will have the next three days free"

She nods surprisingly quickly.

“I want it, please”

You stop the kisses.

Alexia always hated giving up control, always fighting also Jenni before letting it to her.

You glance at Jenni, the older woman smiles lovingly at the blonde.

“Already so good amor, my good girl” she tells her before placing her lips on the blonde’s ones.

The kiss is loving.

Romantic.

Slow.

Nothing to do with their usual kisses, the rough, passionate ones.

There is no struggle for control.

For being the one in charge.

For power.

Ale leaves to the raven the chance to direct it.

“Why don't you both go lie down in bed? I want you both naked"

You nod, taking Ale's hand, and then heading towards your room.

You take off her shirt slowly, helping her slide it over her arms, leaving chaste kisses on her chest here and there.

She moans, her hands in your hair.

Your hands grip the button on her jeans while you look at her asking for permission and, when she nods, you remove it from the buttonhole.

You push them towards her ankles and she kicks them away, leaving her only in underwear.

You quickly take off Jenni's hoodie and peel off your sweatpants.

You push her towards her bed, asking her to lie on her back, Alexia complies without responding.

A sense of tenderness invades you at the thought of how much she needs reassurance.

She lies down, head against the pillows, and you kiss her neck, the collarbones, leaving few marks along the line of the bone.

“You are so perfect Ale," you whisper before licking the skin between her breasts "So beautiful.”

She gasps, the grip on your hair harder.

“We will take care of you, you know that?" you kiss her abdomen, your lips in contact with every muscle, "You won't have to think about anything.”

She moans desperately.

“Please," she whispers, absorbed, "I beg you.”

“You are so needy, mh?”

“Yes, I need you so much,” she replies lost.

The low voice, a whisper.

Arms outstretched.

You touch the elastic of her panties with your lips.

She sighs.

"I beg you."

You slowly remove them, kissing her thighs and ankles as you go.

You observe her. The eyes are closed, her head tilted back, the lips parted while she sight, the back arched, her panting makes her chest rise maniacally.

She had never begged you.

Never.

“We have to wait for Jenni, amor," you whisper in amusement when she tries to push your head between her thighs, "Are you such a needy thing, aren't you?”

The obvious hesitation in your voice.

You don't know how far you can go.

How much can you point out that she is not in charge.

You're not even sure you know how to praise her.

She nods.

“Can you kiss me?”

The voice almost scared.

Hesitant.

Needy.

You push yourself towards her face.

You kiss her lips, the grip on your heart increases.

How insecure is she?

“Amor, I thought I said you should both be naked,” Jenni's voice fills the room.

You pant against the blonde's lips.

You kneel on the bed, your knees resting on the mattress on the side of Ale's hips.

You undo your bra, sliding it off your arms.

The captain moans beneath you, her hands squeezing your thighs, the grip almost painful.

“Take off your panties, amor, before I have to punish you – despite the loving voice, the note of dominance evident – ​​This night is just for Alexia, isn't it?”

You nod quickly, scared of ruining everything.

To shift attention from Ale.

To stop you from taking care of her.

You stand at the foot of the bed, facing Jenni, and quickly take off your panties, letting them fall to your feet, then kicking them to your right.

You look at the floor, your head bowed, not having the courage to look the Madrilenian in her eyes.

The attention must be on Ale, but you don't know how to behave.

What to do.

What not to do.

Her feet enter your field of vision and you close your eyes when you see a hand move towards you.

She rests it on your cheek.

“I'm sorry daddy,” you whisper guiltily, cheeks burning for the embarrassment.

Ale moans openly behind you.

“It's okay amor,” she whispers before forcing your chin up, obligating you to look into her eyes “Ale is so beautiful that she’s distracting, it's normal that you've lost all sense of the rules. But don't do it again, or I'll punish you, okay?”

You nod.

“Yes daddy, I'm sorry.”

She smiles before kissing you.

It's not the sweet kiss she gave the blonde.

It's passionate.

Rough.

Her teeth bite your lip.

It's her way of showing off dominance.

To show that she is in control.

“Now I'll tell you what we'll do, okay?”

Her voice betraying not just horniness, but impatience.

Jenni loves to dominate and she loves having any form of control in bed.

“I will sit on this chair and you will put on a good show for me following my instructions, okay?”

“Yes,” you both answer in unison.

The response speed is almost astonishing.

The raven grabs your hair forcefully.

"What's my name?"

“Daddy,” you gasp in pain from the grip, "I'm sorry daddy.”

You bite your lips looking into her eyes, which are tainted by sadism. This version of Ale, this so submissive Ale, has to make her really horny.

Then, while she looks you strictly in the eyes, a grin appears on her face.

“What are your safewords?” she asks you.

“Green to continue, yellow to slow down, red to stop,” you respond.

She nods.

“Are these safewords okay for you, Alexia?”

She replies with a whispered, shy, “Yes, Jenni.”

“Can you tell me what we always say about using safewords, amor?”

“Which… that should be used if I need it,” she sighs hesitantly.

The Madrilenian smiles.

“Good girl,” she praises.

Ale and you moan in unison.

“Alexia, sit against the headboard with legs wide open - you feel Ale move, while Jenni's grip on your hair hardens - You get on your hands and knees, your back arched, your head between Alexia's legs,” Jenni directs.

She lets go of your hair, opening her hand.

She takes a step back, as if to give you enough space to do what she asked.

You look at her, lips wide open.

Does she want to punish you?

She tilts her face to the side, as if to warn you and exhort you to follow.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“I'm sorry, daddy,” you whisper guiltily before turning towards the bed.

Are you already shifting the attention from Ale to you?

You can't look at the blonde because of the embarrassment of being naked, bent over like this, waiting for punishment.

Ale moans, her hands gripping tighten the sheet beneath her.

You rest your knees on the bed between her legs, and arch your back, shoulders brushing her thighs.

Your hands are on her thighs.

“Hands behind your back,” she commands.

You do it and try to adapt better to the position, to find a balance which in reality always turns out to be precarious.

You hear footsteps behind you, and from the way Alexia's body tenses you could swear Jenni is selecting items from the drawer.

You pant in anticipation.

A knot in your abdomen.

The smell of Alexia invades your nostrils.

You squeeze your thighs.

“Now I'll tell you how things will go,” she announces in an authoritarian tone. “Cariño, you broke the rules, so I'll spank you - her steps stop - And Alexia will decide how and how many times because she was a good girl, and good girls should be rewarded,” Jenni declares.

You moan without restraint, and the blonde does the same.

“You can decide everything, amor, how many blows, with what, if she should be tied up… everything. Because if you are good girls you can choose,” she tells her.

You bite the sheets, hands clasping together.

The nails in your palms.

Your pussy contracts around nothing, arousal starting to wet your thighs too.

“I... the belt - you widen your eyes at Ale's response - is it okay?” she asks Jenni hesitantly.

You close your eyes at the idea of the belt.

Ale loves to use it to punish you, she prefers it to any other object or the hands, while Jenni prefers hands, she says she loves the feeling of your body twitching under her touch. But when Jenni uses the belt to punish you, those few times, she does it harshly, while Ale is kinder, the blows she gives are softer, she loves to see how you jump when the belt comes into contact with the butt, not so much causing you strong pain.

“Of course, whatever you want, pretty girl,” Jenni concedes.

You groan, realizing how things are going to go.

You'll be their little toy, as always, but the dynamic is different. Jenni wanted this, she wanted you to disobey, so she could allow Ale to choose, to be in charge, praising her for every decision made under her guidance.

“How many times?”

“Ten,” the Catalan replies surprisingly confidently.

Jenni chuckles.

“You like when I punish our slut with the belt, don't you?”

“Yes, I like it,” Ale admits.

Her hands are now in your hair, and you gasp at the unexpected hold.

“Why, pretty girl?”

“Because of the noise that the belt makes when it hit her butt, because it leaves marks, because then she is always soaking wet”.

“Do you know why she is always wet?” Jenni replies to her as if you were not among them. “Because she is such a slut for us, for you.”

Ale and you gasp at the same time.

The humiliation, the degradation, which clashes with the sweet tone used with Ale.

The grip on your hair tightens, the nails penetrate the scalp.

���Please,” you whisper, not knowing whether to Ale or Jenni.

“So eager to be punished for us,” she muses.

You arch your back even more.

You hear a metallic noise, it's the buckle that makes the belt, and your body tenses in reaction.

“Do you want her tied up?”

“No - Ale replies - If-if she moves her hands-“

“Will there be more blows?”

You close your eyes at the idea.

They know that you don't know how to stay still when they punish you, that you need to be tied up if they want you not to move.

"No. Denial,” Ale pants, unable to explain herself better.

“As you wish, pretty girl.”

You clench your jaws, the opposition between the praise for Ale and the humiliation towards you is aphrodisiac, but your body is so tense that you know that the impact of the belt will be even more painful.

“Jenni, can I touch myself?”

You widen your eyes at Ale's request.

Ale doesn't ask permission to touch herself.

Ale touches herself, maybe she is then punished by Jenni, but Ale doesn't ask permission to do it. It is one of the most bratty behaviors that the blonde uses against the older woman.

The request probably also leaves Jenni dumbfounded, who is slow to respond.

“Please, I'll be good, I won't come without your permission.”

You moan.

You had never seen Ale so submissive, so in need of praise, to be good for Jenni.

“You can touch yourself, amor, but with this,” she says as you hear her walking. “And you can't come without my permission.”

Her hands leave your hair.

You try to look at her.

She leans over your body while Jenni gives her something, an object, that you recognize as a vibrator when you hear the sound of a vibration.

One of her hands comes to rest between her legs, the vibrator against her clit, the other one on her breast, starting to play with a nipple.

Then, the first blow hits your butt.

You scream in surprise, at the pain.

The body that tenses, moves towards Alexia's thighs.

“One, daddy, thank you,” you reply automatically like every time you get punished.

You hear her grinning.

Then another shot.

You groan.

“Two, daddy, thank you.”

The pain already starting to invade you and she continues to hit you with this force for the next five blows.

Alexia's moans invade the air.

“Can I… a finger,” she gasps, her thoughts disarranged.

“Yes amor, you can. Fuck yourself for me”

Ale moans, a grating moan, then you see her stick a finger inside herself.

You bite the sheet and, before you understand what you are doing, you place your hands on the mattress.

"You're such a slut who always wants to be the center of attention," the raven girl says angrily behind you "This was supposed to be Ale's night, but not only did you get to be punished, but you broke another time the rules"

You gasp, closing your eyes in humiliation, and try to fix your situation by repositioning your hands on your back, in the position you were supposed to hold. You hope it's enough, but you know it's not.

“I'm sorry daddy,” you whisper guiltily.

“Mm, really?” the teasing tone, the hands squeezing your ass between your fingers. "you're such an exhibitionist slut that I might think you were putting on a show for Alexia. Do you like it, pretty girl?”

Her hands are on your ass, squeezing the flesh, on the places where bruises will probably show up, and you groan in pain.

“Yes Jenni, so much.”

You gasp.

Usually, the dynamic is inverse. You're the good one, the one who gets praised, Ale is the one who breaks the rules on purpose to annoy Jenni.

The blonde's moans are getting closer and closer together, the hand that moves fastest inside her and she plays with the vibrator against her clit.

“Do you want to come, pretty girl?”

She pants, she begs her.

A blow, hard, impacts your ass.

You move forward, your body contracted by pain.

It hurts more than all the others, and is the same for the other two. You gasp, tears in your eyes.

“Can I come, Jenni? Please, I was good for you”

“Come for me, love,” Jenni's voice surprisingly gentle. "come for me, my perfect girl.”

Alexia comes screaming, her body shaking around you as she lives it to the end. she then turns off the vibrator, dropping it absentmindedly to her side.

"Jenni" you moan, your voice unsure, trembling, without really know what you want.

The pain pervades your body, your hands grab the sheet, clenching it between fists. You know you're breaking the rules again, but you need to touch something, to grip something, in an attempt to alleviate that pain.

You know it's Alexia's night, that you're there for her, that she needs to be praised, but you're not sure if this is the direction you want the night to take. The way she had squeezed your cheeks between her hands suggests how the evening could take a more sadistic turn, and less caring, and you're not sure if you want that.

The idea of being their toy makes you horny, the idea of being used turns you on, but you need to be praised too, to be told that you're good too.

You hear Ale's breathing calm down, Jenni bending over your body to kiss her. You lift your head, watching from below as their lips collide, as the blonde's hands end up in her hair, and as the raven grins against her.

You bite your lip, not knowing if you want to interrupt the moment or if it's better to let it continue.

"My pretty girl," the Madrilenian whispers as she moves away from Alexia, standing up again at the foot of the bed, "My two good girls," she says, her hand touching your back rubbing her nails lightly on it.

You gasp, the praise finally arrived, the kind lovely contact.

Your thighs clench in response.

"Amor, can you lie on your back?"

You do as she asked, without talking back, your skin burning at the contact with the fabric of the sheet, your hesitant hands ending up on Ale's shins, your gaze avoiding the one of the older woman.

"You're forgiven, amor," Jenni whispers before kneeling on the bed, her knees to the sides of your hips, "My good girl."

Then, finally, she kisses you. A slow, loving kiss and your hesitant hands draw her to you, seeking comfort. One of her hands lands on your cheek, thumb gently caressing your skin, the other on Alexia's thigh.

"Are you okay?" she asks softly once she moves away from your lips, her gaze trained on yours, her eyes sweet, a shy smile shapes her face.

"Yes daddy - you answer, your voice still trembling - Another kiss?"

The blonde moans at the sight of you two, between her legs, kissing.

Jenni takes her time to kiss you, her tongue licking your lower lip, her teeth nibbling your lips, then kissing the skin of your jaw, your neck.

She sucks a portion of skin above your collarbone, leaving you a dark red hickey, and you move your hands through her hair, your legs now bent on themselves tightening her body to you.

She grins, then bites the skin of your chest multiple times, leaving various marks next to the first.

"Daddy," you gasp again.

"What, little one?" she asks, her face now reclined towards you, her black eyes staring into yours.

You blush under her gaze.

"Please daddy touch me."

She licks her lower lip, then returns to kiss your chest, moving towards your breast. She bites your right nipple, one hand gripping the left between her fingers.

You arch your back towards her, your head brushing against the inner thigh of Alexia; and that's how two fingers of one hand of the blonde, that were gripping her thighs, end up against your mouth. She pushes them beyond your lips, against your tongue, and you gasp surprised at the intrusion. You tilt your head towards her, giving her more access to your mouth, and try to lick them.

You look into her eyes as she moves her fingers inside up to the last knuckle, thus reaching the back of your throat and making you gag.

Jenni, hearing the noise, stops kissing you.

You feel her observing you, and you have confirmation when Ale shifts her gaze from you to above you.

She smiles shyly.

The brunette gets up on her knees, moves them towards Ale, crawling on the bed, then kisses her again.

You moan at the lack of contact, at the cold hitting the saliva she left on your chest.

The blonde's fingers stop, entirely inside your mouth, the moment the older one's lips land on hers.

"Keep moving them," Jenni orders, and she does, moving them faster, "Like that, good girl, fuck her mouth."

You gasp, almost choking, when they hit the back of your throat rhythmically. You squeeze the raven's thighs with your hands as you push yourself a little further toward the end of the bed, seeking a more comfortable position.

"Do you want to fuck her mouth with the strap-on, pretty girl?" the brunette asks her.

Your eyes widen at the idea.

"Yes-yes Jenni, please."

Jenni leans in one last time, kissing her lips softly, then gets up from the bed again. You hear her walks back towards the cabinet and open the drawer; Ale's hand, wet from your saliva, is now resting against your cheek, the thumb caressing your skin.

You turn your head, your cheek against the mattress, and then absentmindedly kiss her inner thigh with your lips open, knowing how sensitive that part of her body is. And sure enough, she moans and you feel her other hand move from her thigh to your hair, squeezing it.

“So beautiful,” Jenni murmurs so softly that you almost don't hear her "My perfect girls".

You hear her walking to the side of the bed, and then sitting next to Ale.

You see her kiss her neck, and the blonde tilts her head back against the wall, giving her more space.

“Shall I help you put it on? - she asks, without really expecting an answer - Amor, lie on your stomach"

You roll onto your side, then onto your stomach, groaning at the feeling of the cold air against your cheeks.

You look at Jenni, she's still fully dressed, her shirt sleeves rolled up and the top buttons open, hair gathered in a low ponytail that leaves the shorter tufts free.

She helps the younger to wear the strap-on, her hands skimming Alexia's thighs, and you moan in anticipation.

“Move more towards Alexia - she orders when the blonde has finished preparing, her thighs even more open - Your head must be perfectly aligned with the strap-on. Exactly, like that, good girl” she praises you.

You moan, looking at her, but she's focusing on the blonde, her hand squeezing the woman's jaw, forcing her to look at her, then licking her bottom lip.

"Ready?"

The blonde nods and leans towards Jenni, her lips pressed carefully to hers, as if trying to figure out if the raven is okay with her resourcefulness. The older woman kisses her back, her hand on her cheek.

You moan, the pain between your legs growing more and more. The desire to touch yourself, to move your hand there and reach your orgasm, makes you squeeze the blonde's thighs tighter in an attempt not to do it, to be good for them.

“Alexia, you won't be able to touch her, I will decide the pace - Jenni's hand ends up in your hair, caressing it - Cariño, remember that if it's too much you have to tap Alexia's thigh three times and I will stop immediately, understand?”

You nod, your gaze fixed on the dildo. It's bigger than the one you normally use for oral sex, you bite your lip hesitantly.

“Words, not gestures” she warns you.

"Yes, daddy" the voice unsure, hesitant.

“I know you can take it all the way, be a good girl for me” Jenni urges you, her hand that applies enough pressure to push you to take it in your mouth.

You open your lips when the tip of the dildo touches them. Alexia moans in response, her hands gripping the sheet in an attempt not to touch you, not to break the rules.

The hand in your hair applies more pressure, pushing you to take more into your mouth. When you take about half of it into your mouth you moan, the choking sensation creeping in and you feel your hair being pulled upwards.

“Relax your throat, I want you to take it all in your mouth” you hear her order, and then apply pressure again.

You try to breathe through your nose, the saliva pouring out of your mouth uncontrollably as you take in more than half, the tip hitting your throat, making you squirm.

“Shhh, stay still - you close your eyes trying to calm your breathing and breathe through your nose, your hands gripping Alexia's thighs more tightly - Good girl. Now move on it, like this, yeah,” she instructs, pushing her hand up, relieving the pressure, and then applying it again.

You go on like this for a while, the blonde's moans are the only other sound besides what you make.

“Do you like seeing her choke on your cock, pretty girl?”

“Yes… yes Jenni” she replies quickly, her voice breathless.

You close your eyes when the hand puts more pressure on the back of your neck, pushing you to take even more into your mouth, until you come into contact with the harness. The tears wetting your cheeks.

The moan that comes out of Ale's mouth is so grating, so low, that you've never heard it before.

Then, Jenni's hand pushes you upwards, until you no longer have the dildo in your mouth.

You moan for air, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to the strap-on.

“My good slut, so good at sucking cocks. We should just use you for this, right?” her thumbs clean your cheeks “making you my cock slut, used only for this, mh?”

You contract your thighs, rub them against each other, in an attempt to give yourself a minimum of pleasure.

“Now go back and suck it as the good slut I know you are, do you understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply, then place your head back on top of the dildo.

Your lips surrounding it, her hand pushing you back down until you take more than half of it into your mouth. She leaves you like this for a second, and then begins to set a fast, frenetic pace.

You whine as you feel the blonde's thighs contracting rhythmically under your hands every time you lower your head.

“Jenni… Jenni, can I come? Please, I was so good”

“Come for me Ale” she orders while her hand pushes you to the base.

You choke on it, your saliva wetting her thighs as Jenni forces you to move rhythmically on it.

The base of the dildo that put pressure on her clit, her moans getting closer and closer.

“I’m coming… I’m-“

You feel her coming, her thighs contracting beneath you as you hear her scream, the madrilenian's hand continues to push you towards the base of the dildo, allowing her to fully ride out the orgasm.

“St-stop” Ale pants, and the hand quickly disappears from your hair.

You immediately pull away, moaning at the feeling of air in your lungs, saliva binding you to the fake cock, tears in your eyes. You cough a couple of times gasping for air.

“Look at me” the Madrilenian orders you and, when you do, her hand moves towards the saliva, wetting four fingers, and then spreading it on your cheeks.

“Our slut, so obedient. My cock slut”

She grins as you take a finger into your mouth, sucking it down to the base. Her eyes widen slightly, surprised by your boldness.

Alexia turns her head towards her, kisses her neck, sucks some portion of her skin.

“No marks, Alexia”

“Mhmh” the younger one replies distractedly as she continues to kiss her neck.

You take you off her finger with a snap.

“Please daddy, I was so good… fuck me”

She grins looking at you, almost as if Ale wasn't kissing her.

“Yes daddy, fuck her” the blonde supports you, whispering those words directly into contact with her skin.

Jenni's eyes widen when the blonde calls her that.

She bites her lip, her hand ends under your neck. “Come here, sit on my lap”

You rush to do it, hoping for contact.

“Kiss Alexia” she orders you and, without wasting time, you turn towards the blonde and place your lips on hers.

It's a slow, passionate kiss, done just to put on a show, a private show for Jenni, just for her.

“My good girls” she pants as you feel her lips touching your neck, one hand grabbing your breast, the other on your butt.

You break away from the kiss and then look into Jenni's eyes, your fingers move toward her shirt.

“Can I undress you daddy?” I ask shyly, hoping for an affirmative answer.

She looks at you, eyes trained on yours; you try to make the cutest puppy eyes and, caught up in trying to convince her, you move your lips to her sensitive spot, the one under her earlobe.

“Please, daddy, I was so good for you”

“Okay,” she replies, and you smile against her.

You kneel, a couple of feet away from her body. Your hands grab one button after another, undoing them from the buttonholes, and then you help her remove the shirt, leaving her chest bare, her breasts covered by a simple black bra.

You look at her body, get lost in observing her tattoos, her defined muscles, and touch the straps of her bra.

She unhooks it, letting it fall onto her lap.

You bite your lip in front of her swollen nipples, you want to kiss them, lick them, but you know that to do so you have to have her permission.

“Can you undo my pants?” she asks you, urging you to do so.

You nod, your hands moving down to the waistband of her pants, undoing them and pulling down the zipper.

Jenni pushes them, and her underwear, towards her knees and you crawl backward, pulling them towards her ankles, then throwing them on the floor.

“Take the black strap from the drawer,” she orders, and you quickly move toward the cabinet.

You hear her tell Alexia to take off the harness and lie down on her stomach, immediately followed by noises.

“Good girl”

You turn around and see her lying between her legs, her head against her chest, the younger girl's hands are in the raven's hair, her head tilted back.

“So sensitive”

You bite your lip at the sight, the pain in your belly getting stronger, more and more needy to have an orgasm.

Alexia moans when the brunette bites her nipple, but she doesn't have time to realize it because the older one moves further and further down, toward her pelvis.

“My perfect girl”

You are standing, in front of the cabinet, not knowing what to do, what to say.

“Amor, lie down next to Alexia, on your stomach, legs open. Give me the strap”

Quickly you lie down next to Alexia, hoping for contact, for relief.

Jenni grins at the sight of your desperation, at the sight of how needy you are.

“Kiss her” she orders you.

You place your lips on hers, a hesitant, sweet, light kiss, as if you were afraid of hurting her. Your hand on her cheek, thumb caressing her skin, and she bites your lip, pulling it towards her, making you gasp.

“Daddy please” you beg, in a moment of pause in the kiss, your forehead against Alexia's one.

You look at the raven woman and find her wearing the strap-on.

“Here's what we'll do now: I'll fuck Alexia, while you kiss her, and then, if you deserve it, I'll fuck you”

You look at her pleadingly.

You need to be touched, to come, to have attention.

"Daddy, please"

"Safeword?"

You swallow your saliva not knowing how to respond. You know you don't need to stop, you want to see Alexia get fucked by Jenni, but you also know you need physical contact. You don't want to be selfish, shift the attention onto yourself, Jenni has said several times that this was supposed to be Alexia's night and you need to be her good girl, to be praised for it, but you need to be touched, to feel loved.

"Amor?" she asks, her voice softest, as she kneels on the bed, her knees on either side of your body.

“Yellow,” you whisper without looking into her eyes, scared to see disappointment there.

“Do you need us to stop?”

You shook your head quickly. "I... can I come then? Please Daddy, I'll be good, I swear"

She smiles, her lips kissing yours. "Yes, little girl. Be my good perfect girl and I'll give you the best orgasm of your life, mh?”

You swallow saliva at the praise, at the promise of relief.

"No more teasing? Promise?" you ask.

She grips your jaw gently, forcing you to look at her. "Look at me, little girl. I promise. And if it's too much you stop me, okay? Do you promise me?"

You blush under her serious yet sweet gaze.

"Promise" you whisper, then you turn your head towards the blonde and go back to kissing her, a more passionate, rougher kiss.

You hear Jennie laughing while she gets up and then positions herself between Ale's legs, her fingers teasing her folds, moving inside her with a slow rhythm. “Ready, pretty girl?”

"Please Jenni, please-"

And, without waiting for other words or begs, she enters her.

Alexia arches her back in response, her head tilted towards the wall. Your lips attach to her neck, you kiss it, you bite it; you move one hand towards her breast, playing with the nipple.

The blonde moans as Jenni begins to move into her slowly, giving her time to adjust.

But you don't have time, you want to have your orgasm, be touched, be fucked.

You turn her face towards you, your lips on hers again, and you pull her nipple harder, passing tell between your fingers.

When Jenni starts to move with a fast, sharp, pace, Alexia pulls away from you, her hands on Jenni's back, her legs around her body, her lips against hers.

You bite your lip as you look at them.

The older one moves at a faster and faster pace, while the blonde moans closer and closer, more and more desperately.

The pain in your belly increases at this sight, desire burns inside you.

“Are you closed,?” she asks, her voice low, hoarse, even if it seems more like a statement.

"Yes, yes daddy, I'm closed - Alexia moans uncontrollably, her head tilted back - may I come? please daddy, make me cum”

You contract your thighs hearing her beg, hearing her calling Jenni daddy. You push towards her neck, kissing it, while Jenni kisses the other side.

“Cum for me amor” she whispers against her ear.

Alexia, shortly after, arches her back even more, a scream leaving her lips, her eyes closed and her forehead wet with sweat.

Jenni continues to move into her until her orgasm is over, then slowly pulls out of her.

She kisses her lips, her cheeks. “My perfect girl, you did so good”

The blonde gasps, unable to form any thoughts, any sentences. Her chest rhythmically contracting, her breathing quickening.

“Lie on your stomach, on your elbows and knees” Jenni orders, without even looking at you, while still kissing Alexia.

As if awakened from a stupor, execute quickly. Your back arched obscenely, your head close to Alexia's, your hands above your head, your legs open.

“Fucking soaked, who would have thought that our slut likes to look as well as be looked at”

Her voice is low, hoarse, and she says it while her finger grazes your folds, from your clit to your hole.

You arch your back even more, seeking contact.

“Daddy, please, ple-aaa” you scream when her lips press against your folds, her tongue exploring it, teasing your clit.

You clench the sheets in your fists, rhythmically push your body towards her, seeking relief, seeking your orgasm.

You feel her finger rest against your hole, then enter you effortlessly, and then another.

“So soaked - hand moving, straight away, furiously - My slut”

“Yes… yes daddy, your slut”

She bites your cheek, and you groan in pain.

“Please, I beg you… please daddy”

She smiles against your skin, a third finger adding.

You push towards her quickly, sprawling, the orgasm advancing in you.

You feel it.

“Are you closed?”

You nod into the mattress.

“Yes daddy, please, can I come?”

She bites your ass, then removes her fingers from you, but you don't even have time to notice because her cock enters you.

You scream with pleasure.

One of her arms ends up around your neck, forcing you to your knees, your back against her body.

She immediately moves fast, hard, inside you.

“My slut, only mine. So needy, so desperate”

"Yes... yes daddy" You moan, not knowing what to say to her.

She tightens her grip around your neck, her other hand pinching a nipple, the thrusts more and more frantic, faster, while she moans against your ear.

"Wait for me to come"

You close your eyes and shake your head. “I can’t, daddy I can’t… please”

“Wait me, be my perfect girl” she replies as she fucks you even harder.

You contract your body in an attempt to slow the orgasm that is building within you. “Please daddy, please”

"Cum, cum for me”

[postmoe]

Obey Me! Student Council Pet Reader

im just feeling some obey me yanno. non-con, sharing, dub-con, female reader for the end part, pet darling, demons being pervy, cum eating, idolisation, humiliation

.

imagine though that you're the pet of the student council. You had to go through all these trials and such for a seat at the table, or more so, beneath the table and tending to the members.

Ha! You really thought a mere human could be on par with literal demons? You're funny.

Most meetings start with everyone filing in as you're done servicing someone, usually Diavolo or Lucifer. On the bright side, it is very rare anyone misses them anymore!

Barbatos helps prepare tea for everyone, and you're dressed in maid rendition of the school uniform to serve everyone as they talk.

"How about you, (Y/n)? Any ideas for the upcoming festival?" Diavolo will still include you in decisions and such, he thinks your ideas are cute and likes to watch you stammer.

Good luck getting a full sentence out without someone cutting in with something snarky or cooing. "Uhm... Maybe we could have a fairy floss machine that creates different moulds- aaHh~"

Mammon snickers, the control in his hand turned up as the vibrator inside you goes hard. Various games and good behaviour can get them to be in charge of you, to 'play' with you during meetings.

On one of the boards is a star chart and when a member gets fifteen stars for good behaviour or doing something that helps RAD, they get to have you all meeting.

Oh and don't think you can't participate during the meetings because punishments aren't fun. You can try and skip meetings but they can find you easily, especially when there's magic involved. Hiding in a corner won't work either. You better engage with everyone.

One form of punishment had you tied tightly and kneeling on the council table, gagged and blindfolded and exposed for everyone to probe and ogle. By the end you were a crying, wet mess.

Then there are the public punishments, being walked around the school on a leash, only allowed to bark or meow when someone talks to you. Do tricks and obey, don't you dare bite back or they'll make you piss like a male dog in front of everyone again.

You're treated much nicer when you follow their rules. Don't be so uptight, though, a little bratty behaviour is fun! Just... Judge their reactions carefully because if someone isn't in the mood then...

You go between HoL and the Demon Lord's Castle, shared amongst everyone. How caring they are to share you.

It's not just the council though, their friends get some taste as well. Solomon, Simeon, Raphael...

...

Mephistopheles swallows thickly as he stands outside the barely open door to the student council room. His cock is throbbing as all he can hear is the schlicking sound of your pussy getting fucked. The question of 'by who?' is soon answered when his most revered idol speaks.

"You're doing so well, my pet. Just a little more," Lord Diavolo groans, and only Mephisto's mind can fill in the gaps as he dares not disturb him, even though he was personally asked to come here.

A few more sounds, yours and Lord Diavolo's long, drawn out moans, and then only panting remains when he realises that his cock is starting to hurt from all this auditory stimulation. Surely, he cannot go in in this state? He must relieve himself quickly before-

"Mephistopheles, you may enter!" Lord Diavolo calls from inside, his cheery voice making the demon visibly cringe at the state he was currently in.

The sight before him, oh dear lord. Barbatos is standing to the side of his master whose cock was still currently inside your hole. Your fucked out, skin tinged with a flush and sweat dripping down your forehead. Lord Diavolo has just finished tying your hands behind your back before he holds his hand out towards Barbatos.

Barbatos gives him a sex plug, to which he uses to plug his cum inside you once he removes himself. With a large smile, he beckons Mephisto forward, "Your most recent article was magnificent! It really captured the work we are trying to do here at RAD, we even got some wonderful reviews from the Reaper and Vampire society."

Mephisto barely looks at you, though his eyes dart to the trickle of white down your thighs, "Th-Thank you, Lord Diavolo. It's an honour to hear you say that."

His king laughs merrily, and then, he holds you out towards the reporter, "A gift, Mephistopheles. You may use (Y/n) for the rest of the afternoon. Lucifer will come to collect her by sundown."

This was... He was allowing HIM of all demons to play with his precious pet?! And not just that, but, you were still full of his majesty's ejaculate! "I- I mean-," he was wordless, is this all a dream?

As he robotically takes your tired form into his arms, Barbatos speaks, "Of course, please do be gentle with our human. You may do as you like as long as you don't harm her or mark her in any way. Of course, a few finger prints won't be an issue. Please make sure they are shallow enough so they disappear within the night. It is a great privilege my master has bestowed upon you."

Mephisto bows with you in his arms, holding you like the delicate prize you are, "Absolutely! Thank you so much, Lord Diavolo! I will treat her with the utmost care."

"That's more like it," he encourages his enthusiasm, "Now go and have fun!"

.

Mephisto is shaking by the time he reaches the Newspaper Club's room. It's just he and you, now, your arms tied neatly like a gift. He sits you gently on the coffee table and takes a seat on the lounge in front of you.

You have found your voice now as you regard him, "Mephisto. Why did you accept this, I thought you hated me?"

He scoffs, his fingers intertwined as he rests his hands at his mouth, "Your existence is inconvenient but... Fuck. Look at you. Covered in Lord Diavolo's scent."

"Ah, I see," you breathe out, shifting in your spot, "Mephisto, I'm cold."

He hums, the only acknowledgement that he's heard you is when he stands to adjust the temperature in the room. The AC blares as it evens out, and though it's nice to feel the warmth, you're still startled by the heat of his large hands on your thighs. He spreads you open and kneels before you, poking at the bedazzled plug in your pussy. Carefully, he pulls the toy out and watches in amazement as you start to leak from the sheer amount of love his lord had bestowed upon you. Mephisto brings the plug to his nose and inhales, groaning at the strong scent it held.

He lifts your arse up a bit to prevent it all from escaping, though you already feel uncomfortable by the slimy essence dribbling out of your cunt. "This feels gross, can't you clean me up already?"

The glare he gives you is comparable to disgust, "Don't speak like that about Lord Diavolo's gift to you. You are the luckiest being in existence and you still dare to complain." He hoists your legs over his shoulders, bringing you forward so that his hot breath is over your pussy, "Though, I suppose I can tidy you up a bit."

His mouth is over your sensitive cunt in no time, open mouth kisses and tongue digging into your hole to scoop out his lord's cum. Tasting Lord Diavolo's cum. Eating his demon lord's cum out of his pet's hole-!

It's enough to make his wet his pants with his own orgasm, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he ruts his face against your hips and his pelvis into the edge of the table. You're writhing, his advance far more enjoyable than you'd care to admit. It takes a lot of effort for him to pull away, panting, "No, I must save some." He stands and unzips his pants, licking his now wet face and freeing his gooey, straining cock, "I want to feel what it's like to fuck you while he's still inside you, to mix our cum. Oh, do I dare? Am I worthy enough?"

Staring at you spread open for him, a gift from Lord Diavolo himself and still full of him, the resounding silence answers back, 'Yes.'

..

By the end of your time with Mephisto, he has you wiped down and in an oversized RAD coat from the lost and found. He regards Lucifer with a tight smile, handing you over to the Pride demon, "Aha, you'll see I took very good care of Lord Diavolo's pet. Not a mark in sight. She may even want to come back."

Lucifer carries you close to his chest, your slow breathing indicating how tired you are. You close your eyes and lean against him, his fingers moving stray hairs from your face, "I'll be the judge of that once Diavolo and I go over her during our bath together. After all, we will be staying at his castle tonight."

The jab was a direct hit to Mephisto, who spouted curses at the vice president as he proudly walked away. You nuzzled into the warmth his provided, sighing, "He was actually really nice to me... Sorta."

Lucifer smiles, a light chuckle rumbling through his chest, "Is that so? I'll just have to make up the difference then, won't I?"

[sscieloz]

All for me

CEO Im Nayeon x college student!reader

Synopsis: Nayeon is on a work trip and you miss her.

Warnings: nsfw, smut, phone sex ig

Word count: 2.8k

Notes: hummm I think there are some spelling mistakes… grammar ones too lowk... not proofread! ˆˆ

-

“Who’s Jenjen?” Nayeon’s voice is full of disdain as she stares at you, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

“W-what?” you frown, taking your mouth out of her breast with a ‘pop’, truly confused about why she’d bring up your friend in the conversation while you’re like that: a mess of coated saliva and wheezy thoughts, buried in between her chest. “She’s my roommate. From the US, remember? But why—” The woman ignores your confused face, promptly picking up your vibrating phone from behind you. It was visible that your friend, Jennifer (or, well, Jenjen💞❤️😎💙 — as the girl had picked out her own contact name) was calling you. “—oh.”

Jen doesn’t call you often, so it’s strange that she did. You gesture to reach your phone from Nayeon’s delicate hands, only to have your own slapped, instead.

“What are you thinking? Don’t fucking answer.” She lifts an eyebrow at you, pulling herself up to her elbows.

Daring you to misbehave, to not listen to her clear commands. You know how well Nayeon loves this game, how she delights herself in punishing you whenever you do something she deems as wrong — even if you haven’t actually disobeyed her. She just revels in doing as such: messing with you as she pleases. You’re her property, after all. Her little doll, to play and deal with however she wanted to.

And you know better than to not follow her blindly.

You’ll deal with Jen later, you decide. For now, you allow Nayeon to pull you by the hair, bringing your focus back to her delicious moans as your mouth finds her stiffened nipples once again.

-

It was rare for Nayeon to facetime you unexpectedly.

You’d usually have full days of classes, and hers were usually pretty packed up with work, so she’d always wait until you were both on a break to call, messaging first.

Not today, though.

You answer the video call straight away, fixing yourself as best as you were able to while her face didn’t appear on the screen. While you were surprised, the smile on your lips was genuine. The woman had been in Japan attending a few meetings for a couple of days now, and you missed her a lot. She also seemed surprised to see you in your dorm, too, though it clearly pleased her more than it should.

“Hi, Nayeon. Is everything ok?” Your eyes brightened at the sight of her, looking so composed and lavish in her work clothes, bunny smile and shiny eyes presented all for you.

She could be a bitch and a pain in the ass if she wanted to, specially when dealing with work stuff, but she was always caring towards you. Never rude, never impatient.

“Well hello, princess. Don’t you have classes to attend to?” you giggled at the older woman, jumping in bed and taking her— or your phone, for what it mattered, with you.

“Technically, yes.” you told her, after a few seconds of fake pondering, “I’m ditching today, though. There’s this super difficult test on Friday, and I’m barely halfway done with reviewing, so I’m picking my battles.”

She knew this beforehand, of course. You’d given her your schedule when the semester had started, just so you’ll be aware, you’d told her. Truly, it was just natural for you to have her know your routine: it made you feel safe, cared for, and she liked it as well.

You tried to recognize if she was in her hotel room, but her background was a bit different from where you had FaceTimed last night; the walls were too white, and she had headphones on.

Most likely still at work, then.

“Smart girl, picking your battles.” Oh. There it was again, that tone. The one that made you tremble with anticipation, readjusting yourself in bed, so you could have some friction in between your thighs.

It was no surprise that Nayeon preferred to be taken care of. She did spend most of her time bossing people around, after all. Of course, you were more than pleased to give her that, treating and handling her just how she wanted you to, while she rewarded you with expensive gifts and trips. However, most of the time, she’d use you for stress-relief: groping and marking your skin until her anger was gone, and she could dote on her little doll again.

You looked forward to those nights, secretly wishing someone would make her angry enough so you’d be squirming, hopeless, under her touch for hours an end.

“It’s perfect, then.” Nayeon’s voice brought you back to the conversation, the sharpness of it not going unnoticed by you. “Take off your pants.” she commanded, leaning back on her chair so she could be the most comfortable.

“Excuse me?” it was your turn to stare at her incredulously, but she didn’t bulge. If only, her posture got stricter, and a tiny smirk adourned her face.

“Did you not hear what I’ve just said? Undress.” you rolled your eyes at your partner, suddenly filled with defiance, but still did as told. Your sweatpants were taken off rather clumsily, since you were still holding your phone close to your face, but you were quick to obey.

“Fine. Is it better, now?” You muttered, but Nayeon scoffed, still not fully satisfied.

She licked her lips, pleased to have you following her orders.

“Much better, princess. Now, let me see you.” You were curious to see how far she’d go, so you placed your phone on the other end of the bed, allowing her to see every inch of your exposed skin. Even with your panties and a sweatshirt on, you still felt completely exposed to her gaze.

Truth be told, you did feel that way even when you were fully clothed around her, too.

“So pretty. Are you alone?” She praised you, her onyx eyes leaving your body for a few seconds to search for any signs of other people at the dorm.

“Obviously?” Nayeon gave you a hard look, making you shrink in place. You tried your best to be polite, reserved, calm—and that included never being ironic or making snappy remarks at people, but occasionally, it slipped, almost naturally. “Sorry.” You corrected yourself, not meeting your girlfriend’s eyes. “Yes, I’m alone. Jen also has a full day of classes today. A private practice too, I think. She’ll be out until late.” You feel better, seeing the smile of approval on your lover’s lips.

She was looking at you with such lust, it made your heart break with how much you missed her.

“I want to touch you so bad.” you whined, motioning yourself further so you could hold the phone and be near her —at least virtually, again.

“Don’t move the phone. I want you exactly like this.” The answer came almost immediately, though Nayeon’s eyes did soften at your pleading. “I miss you too, pretty girl. The good news is: I’ve closed the deal earlier than expected, so I’ll be home by tomorrow.” You smiled contentedly, humming in response. “Now, be a good girl and make a show for me, will you?” she asked, eyeing you attentively.

“Not fair.” you mumble, but your hands still went all the way up the thin fabric of your panties to caress yourself. You’re not one to blush, but being stared at by Nayeon suddenly makes you too shy to look at her in the eyes.

It aroused you, though. To have her so immersed by you. You knew her secretary— anyone could barge in, and she wouldn’t even bat an eye. Aware of that, you could feel the slick starting to cover up your walls once you let out a low moan, biting your lips to muffle yourself.

“No sounds for me, princess?” Nayeon asked, too sweet, well aware of your intentions. She let you be a little defiant, knowing it’s mostly your way of showing how much you missed her.

“If you were here, then p-perhaps.” Your words faltered as your fingers caressed your folds, going around your slit in teasing motions. Your cunt was aching, desperate to be filled, but you knew better than to take matters on your own.

Even though you were the one bringing yourself pleasure, Nayeon was in command. She’d always be, in every aspect of her life.

The simple brush of your fingers was enough to have you panting heavy breaths, the wait being the most delicious part of the thrill. You wished it was Nayeon touching you, instead. You knew your sweetest spots, but no matter how much you’ve tried, you could never bring yourself to the same shuddering, earth-shattering orgasms you had whenever it was your partner touching you. Without her, you were never truly satisfied.

She’s ruined you, for yourself and for everyone else, just as she’d repeatedly told you she would.

“It’s only fair, I guess.” She mumbled, smiling at your stubbornness. “So pretty, still, and all for me. Put a finger inside, baby. That’s it, perfect. Breathe in, nice and slow.”

Her breaths were just as heavy as you followed her blindly, eager to seek your pleasure. Your walls welcomed a single digit, and you started with slow movements, just as Nayeon instructed you to.

“N-nayeon…” You whined, leaning your had back on your bed frame. As much as you could feel your wetness and the growing ache, gathering an uncomfortable sensation on your lower abdomen due to the faint action, you’d never be able to satisfy yourself as much as your girlfriend did.

“I know, princess, I know.” She coos, grabbing her phone as if she could reach out to you, instead. “It doesn’t feel as good, does it? It’s okay, I’ll be done with this conference soon enough, and then you’ll have me all to yourself.” You pouted, knowing better than to trust your girlfriend’s words when it came to work. She had done it before, after all: gotten a call back as soon as she stepped foot in the airport, her job trapping her for a few more days. “You have no idea how lovely you look right now, Y/n. In fact, I think your pretty pussy would look even better filled up with two more fingers.”

“I-I,” You whined, lips starting to tremble. It has not been an easy week for you, and your lover’s calm, soothing voice slowly started to turn you into a pliable mess, all hot and hazy.

The many thoughts seated previously in your head start fading, as your brain chooses to focus on Nayeon. Your eyes, though nearly closed, register how good she looks, how tight that 3-piece suit is, and how long she’s been away from you — now. Your skin got even hotter with the wishes to be kissing her plump limps, at the moment. Suddenly, your mind turned foggy, only grounded by your girlfriend’s low tone, and your fingers filling up your walls.

“You can take it, pretty girl.” She assured, motioning for you to do so. Clasped her teeth, then, at the sight of your pussy being entered by three of your fingers, still going in and out in an excruciating slow pace, not nearly enough for you to feel satisfied. “Taking it so good, so perfectly.”

Although the growing ache in your belly was deepening, you still shifted uncomfortably in your bed. The fabric of your panties was too thin, and the friction was starting to bother you. You wanted it off, so you could focus completely on the pleasure you were allowing yourself to have, but your girlfriend had other plans.

“What are you doing, princess?” She lifted her brows at the sight of you lifting your hips, displeased. Although she couldn’t say she hated to see you at that angle. “No, we can’t have that. Good girls keep their panties on. Just push it to the sides a little more, you can hold it if it makes you more comfortable.” Your pussy was so wet, glistening, and slick from her words. “There it is, you’re so good at doing what you’re told, baby. Always so smart.”

You let a loud moan escape from your mouth, aroused by her words, only to cover it up with your hands as you giggle— your pettiness all ruined.

Nayeon smiles hard, too. “I knew you wouldn’t hold it for long, princess. Your sounds are the most lovely, I hate when you cover them up.”

Even though you were flustered, from both your arousal and her praises, you still bit your mouth, committed to following your plan. Your fingers went back to your cunt, and you denied faintly, murmuring some incoherent words about how she’d have to come home and take those sounds out of you, herself.

“What’s all that for, huh?” She leaned her elbows on her desk, smirking at the mess of you on her phone. “Is it because of that purse you were whining about earlier? Come on, princess, I’ll buy you two of them if you let me hear your beautiful screams. Now go faster, too.”

You increased your fingers’ pace, moans exiting your mouth without a care, now that you'd have your wishes granted. “S-so good…” You say, in between whimpers.

“Dirty princess only wants my money.” Nayeon chants to herself, enamored by the sight of your spread up legs, toes curling with the possibility of reaching your high. “Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll give it all to you: all you want, and more. Just say it, and it’s yours. You want more, Y/n?”

You barely register her words, moans now filling up your bedroom’s previous silence. It takes her to repeat her question for you to partially understand it, although still unsure of what she was mentioning. Nevertheless, you nodded vigorously, ready to comply with all of her orders even if your mind was all foggy and hazy.

“Perfect. Now, circle your clit slowly, just like that, yes— exactly how you like it.” She laughs at the sight of you wincing, on the verge of being overwhelmed by your own sudden touches, “Careful, princess. We don’t want you to get overwhelmed right now. Remember to breathe, alright? That’s it, beautiful.”

Following her lead, you inhale deeply, bringing your other hand to your clit as you applied just the right amount of pressure to make you roll your eyes. The sensations aligned were building up to the pleasure on your lower abdomen, and you knew that you wouldn’t last much longer.

“Nayeon, I-I w—“ Your thoughts weren’t clear, and you struggled to voice your desires out loud. The frustration was enough for you to have little tears starting to accumulate in the corner of your eyes, as you huffed.

Thankfully, Nayeon knew you well. Before you started actively crying, she said, with a delicate, caring tone. “It’s okay, princess. You can cum. Do it only for a bit longer, I know you can.”

The effect of your girlfriend’s words was almost immediate: within moments, you were met with a dense wave of pleasure, consuming you completely as you let out a high-pitched, lustful moan. Breathless, you barely noticed how your fingers kept going with their movements, helping you ride out of your orgasm. Your girlfriend let you take your time, minutes passing by in a blink until your breaths were no longer irregular, and your thoughts were all back into place. You were no longer stressed; instead, you stared at her with a peaceful look, now feeling much better after such a tiring week.

As usual, Nayeon knew exactly what you needed.

“Always so sensitive…” Nayeon panted, brushing her fingers through her phone’s screen— as if she were caressing you, instead. “Remember to not overwork yourself too much, okay? Your grades don’t matter to me as much as your well-being; it should always come first.”

You nodded, bringing your phone near your face once again. Of course, you’d comply; she was the one paying for your tuition, after all. “I will, of course. Thank you, baby.”

Nayeon smiled, pleased by your manners. After catching up to her a bit more, you hung up the call, now all focused and much renovated for a new study session. Her message came later, a few minutes after you’d cleaned up your mess and was on the way to your desk, in hopes to wrap up soon.

Ps: I’ll buy you another one of your favorite purses if you leave your panties by Jennifer’s bed, princess.

You laughed at the message, also noticing your bank app’s notifications before you threw your phone away, emerging deep on your notebooks once again.

[ghouldump]

Hear me out: Armand teaching his fledgling to hunt or just Armand with a vamp reader that uses hunting as their bonding/love for one another

Like them scoping out their meal for the night and picking through crowds together

Teacher’s Pet | Armand x Reader

ෆ hunting with Armand as his lovely fledgling and companion.

bare with me guys, i finally have the time to sit down and write and so i’m motivated and working on these requests 😆

“You're thirsty?” Armand asked as you sat up, your hand with to your throat as you nodded.

“Come, we’ll fix that,” he continued, holding out his hand, pulling you into his chest when you accepted it.

“Perfection, you have become,” he whispered, holding your cheek.

Backing away from you, you watched in fascination as the balcony doors opened on their own. Stepping outside, you felt the warm air blow in, before Armand began to lift from the ground. Floating in the air, he opened his arms for you.

“Come to me,” he told you.

“You're flying,” you said, unsure, but amazed. He continually showed off his abilities so flawlessly.

“Do you trust me?” he asked you, biting his lip as you nodded eagerly.

“Then come to me,” he said, watching as you slowly approached, carefully climbing onto the balcony rail, before walking off.

Your eyes were shut tightly, afraid of the high and most likely painful fall, but it never came. Opening your eyes, you released a sigh of relief, Armand holding your waist as he flew to a nearby location, in the dim walkway, you could see plenty of people, tourists out and about.

“That was so cool,” you told him, as your feet touched the ground.

“You have much to learn, but first, hunting, think of your pursuits like a game of cat and mouse, you let them believe they can get away,” he said, turning you towards the people, his hand softly pressed against your stomach.

Searching the faces of the individuals who pressed, you could hear each of their heartbeats, their thoughts all over and scattered, in different tones and languages.

“Stop,” you heard Armand’s voice, and immediately it all went away, the silence peaceful as could be.

“Don't let it overwhelm you, take your time, you have to remember, your time is different than theirs, scope the scenery, and let the game begin,” he smirked.

“You're good at this,” you told this, you faced him, and he only pecked your lips, before turning your head forward.

“You already have beautiful self control, you will too be an excellent hunter,” he told you, his words encouraging you to focus, when you noticed him.

Tall, mysterious eyes, full lips, and golden hair, not only was he handsome, but there was a vein protruding from his neck.

“I told you, I can't just up and leave my wife, I'll send you the money, and you'll terminate this, immediately,” you overheard the man say.

Your eyes followed him, unblinking, it wasn't until this moment, that you realized he was the embodiment of your desired prey. Beautiful on the outside, but ominous on the inside. The inside was the true man, and it only took certain situations to make the facade crack.

“Ah yes, the pretty ones are always more heartless than the less attractive”

“Sounds familiar,” you grinned.

“I don't see what you mean,” he said, making you laugh. As his hold loosened, you began to follow the man, keeping a distance, but close enough to be visibly seen by him.

The farther he walked, the emptier the streets became, finally, you started to whistle, catching his attention. The game began as you slowly walked behind him, while he kept glancing back at you.

“Hey, are you following me?” he asked with a frown, as he approached you.

“No,” you said, watching as he eyed your top. Looking around, he reached for your breast, when he discovered that no one was outside. Grabbing his hand, you easily bent his wrist, watching as he cried out for mercy.

“What the hell?” he cried, holding his arm. Tilting your head, your fangs came out.

“If you can make it to your hotel before me, then you'll live,” you told him.

“M-my hotel”

“Royale Suites?” you asked, seeing the place in his thoughts.

“You can get a head start,” you told him, smiling as he took off running.

Watching him sprint away, the fear oozing off of his body, as he tried to get away. Running after him, you were ecstatic, at last, having a taste of the gifts you once saw Armand enjoying.

As the man rushed into his hotel room, he hurriedly locked the door, and grabbed a nearby chair, shoving it underneath the handle. Backing away, he could feel his heart pounding, as he tried to catch breath.

“I’m happy that you could join us,” you spoke, almost giggling as he spun around, his eyes widening as he saw you.

“What do you want from me?” the man asked, confused.

“Your life,” Armand told the man, as he sat in the recliner, his legs crossed.

“You said if I made it here before you-

“I am a bit of a liar,” you confessed, before attacking the man. Tasting his blood, you felt yourself unable to stop, as you tasted the liquid that took away the painfully dry sensation in your throat.

Armand watched like the proud maker he was, as the light faded from the man’s eyes. Pulling away from the lifeless body, you crawled to him. Your eyes are full of devotion as you stare into the eyes of your maker. Holding your cheek, he smashed his lips into your own, before you moved to his lap, while he peeled away your clothing.

“How did I do?” you asked him, as he kissed your neck.

“Excellent,” he said, bringing a smile to your lips.

“It isn't polite to stare,” Armand continued, but his words were directed the the victim. Sitting upright on the floor, his empty body was left unmoving, unblinking, eyes wide open.

Chuckling at his choice of words, you continued to kiss his soft lips, while he thought of how much potential, you, his precious fledgling, have.

[mattsnight]

Pissed off - Matt Sturniolo

Summary; Matt is pissed off about y/n going to a party, but will she make it up to him?

Warnings; Sex, oral (!male receiving), swearing, use of y/n, idk what else.

A/N; THANK ALL SO MUCH FOR ALMOST 100 FOLLOWERS!! it means a lot, i love you all!!

━─━────༺༻────━─━

Matt barely had any bad days, but if he had one he would be pissed off. Most of the times when it would happen, you and him would argue and later forget about it, but now it was different. You went out with some friends and you didn’t tell Matt. Eventually a friend of you posted a picture online and he saw it. He didn’t like this, so he started ignoring you.

You walk into his room, noticing he’s busy with his playstation. It’s clear that he’s angry at you.

“Matt? Hey..” you speak up. His fingers clench the mouse tightly, his face red with anger.

“Im sorry for what i did okay..?”

He pauses the game and turns to face you, his eyes blazing with jealousy. “You think it's okay to just disappear without a word?” He says. You sigh, not knowing what to say.

His voice is low and dangerous, barely contained rage simmering just below the surface. “Did you even think about me once? Did you ever consider that maybe I might want to know where you are? That maybe I might be worried about you?” His hands ball into fists at his sides.

“Im sorry, i should’ve told you.” You apologize. He scoffs, not mollified in the least. “Sorry? That's it? Don't you think you owe me more than just a sorry?” He shifts in his seat, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “So where did you go?” He asks.

“Jim’s party.” You admit. Jim was someone you both knew from high school and he wasn’t exactly matt’s favorite. His eyes narrow, his jealousy turning into anger. “Jim's party? And why didn't you tell me?” He stands up, towering over you, the rage visible in every line of his body. “Are you trying to hurt me on purpose? Is that it?”

“No matt! I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to have fun..”

A deep breath leaves his mouth. He’s trying to control his anger, but it's clear that he's still upset. “You wanted to have fun? And you couldn't even spare a thought for me? Was it really that hard to send a text?” His voice is tense with frustration.

“im sorry.. can i make it up to you, please?” You beg. Matt sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he sits back down. “Fine. What do you want to do?”

A smirk forms on your face as you sink to your knees in-front of him. His eyes flicker down to you, and he raises an eyebrow at your sudden closeness. “What are you doing?”

“Oh you know.. just.. this.” You say as you unbuckle his belt. His breath hitches as he watches you. “Oh, I see. You want to play that game, huh?” He leans back in his seat, letting you continue unbuckling his belt before he reaches down and brushes a hand through your hair.

You take off his belt, pants and underwear until his cock is in-front of you, fully erect. He lets out a soft sigh as you remove his pants and underwear, revealing his bare legs. He looks down at you, his eyes darkening with desire. “Alright, let's see how you plan on making it up to me.” He spreads his legs slightly, inviting you to sit between them.

You suck on his slit, making him shudder at the first touch of your tongue and letting out a soft gasp. He threads his hands through your hair, holding you close as you continue licking. “Y-yes, just like that...” He lets out a soft moan, his hips twitching slightly as you continue. A groan escapes his mouth as he leans his head back in pleasure as you take him fully into your mouth. He grips the arms of his chair tightly, his breathing growing heavier as you continue to move your mouth. “Ah, fuck... that's so good..”

You pump your head up and down his cock, determined to make him cum. He thrusts his hips up into your mouth, moaning loudly as he gets closer and closer to climax. He can't help but grip your hair tighter, rolling his head back in ecstasy. “God, yes... oh fuck, I'm gonna cum...” he moans out.

You keep going and going.

He suddenly bursts into a loud, desperate cry, his entire body shaking as he cums hard in your mouth. He grips your hair so tightly it almost hurts as he thrashes in his chair, his cum shooting down your throat in thick, hot spurts. “Fuck! Oh fuck!”

As he comes down from his high, you pull back, happy with your work. He collapses back in his chair, panting heavily as he looks at you with a dazed expression. He's still gripping your hair tightly, his heart racing from the intense orgasm. “H-holy shit...” He finally releases your hair, running a hand through it instead.

“Was that good, baby? You still mad?” You ask him. He looks at you with a mix of annoyance and satisfaction, his chest still heaving from his orgasm. “I'm still mad, but...” He trails off, his gaze drifting back to your mouth. “Maybe not as mad as I was before.”

“Do i need to show you again how sorry i am?” You look up at him, smiling innocently. He looks down at you with a smirk, his chest still heaving slightly. “i dont think im able to take it.”

“Oh we’ll see about that.” You say, biting your lip.

And that, that was the most memorable moment ever.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

yalllll i love this! Make sure to follow me for more<3

[soulaires]

aaron warner family headcanons

The Warner Family.

pairings: dad!aaron warner x mom!reader

summary: get to know more about the warner family!

warnings: fluff, domestic, ooc, domestic shenanigans, protective aaron warner …

🪩:: voicemail ; read my other aaron warner fics here.

Aaron found out about it when he heard some crying in the bathroom at the middle of the night, noticing your lack of presence beside him, he got worried and walk towards the bathroom.

There, he saw you, in front of a mirror having a breakdown.

He approached you and asked whats wrong.

“love?” he said softly, as he hugged you from behind and caressed your hair, “My love, whats wrong?” he asked you worriedly.

“aaron..” you trailed off as you continue to sob. He hugged you tightly and kissed your forehead , pulling away as he make you look at him, “what is it, angel? You can tell me.” he urged you.

“I’m pregnant.” you blurt out.

With the lack of reply, you panicked.

“I missed my period recently and I feel kinda shit lately so me juliette and nazeera bought an pregnancy test earlier and I tested all 7 of them and they are all positive, I don’t—”

As you were rambling, he quickly hugged you tightly and lifting you up to the ground as he span you around. You laugh softly at this gesture as he peppered kisses to your face and hair while he whispered sweet nothings.

“Its okay. We will be okay. Don’t worry. We got this, yeah? I love you. Thank you. Thank you, I love you so much, My love.”

at the first stage he got nervous about being a dad and have some self doubt but later got over it as he saw you patying your belly despite it still not visible.

he got more protective over you and never ever let you do things.

you guys told your friends by a guess the word game. They all cried.

He bought a book about being a dad and take notes on pregnancy books to help you out.

Baby proofs the every part of the house immediately.

He went to every appointment with you

He never ever made you feel guilty for your cravings.

Oh you want a food from a store hours away? Just wait.

A hellspawn food combination that you want? He will eat it with you.

Massage? Done.

A food from a different country? He ordered his men to get it ASAP.

Want some sweets especially made by your husband even though you have never tasted his baking? He learned how to bake immediately!

You guys did an gender reveal in the most fun way.

You did it as both kenji and juliette worn a baby costume with 'boy' written in the blue bib for juliette while 'girl' in a pink bib for kenji

They both FIGHT to determine who wins to know the gender

They even go overboard as they jumped into the swimming pool racing each other to the finish line

Kenji won.

So, its a girl!

You guys decorated her room immediately

You did ALOOOTTTT of shopping!!!!!

Your husband just spoils you rotten as you keep buying cute toys, plushies, and pretty cute clothes!!!

“my love, don't you think its a bit too much?” “I am sure the little princess do not need that much clothes, honey.”

he gave up as soon as he saw some cute baby clothes + a matching one.

When you guys did a baby shower its so emotional like omg you guys are gonna be parents!

You and Aaron planted a tree so it grows with baby dior!

teenager!dior safe place is the tree, she goes there to lay down, read and to relax when stresses!

Your friends wrote letters for dior to read when she reached the age 7, 11, 13, 15, 16, 18, 20, 21 and 22!

You and aaron made her a gmail account as you guys constantly wrote her some letters and random things there for her to read in the future

When you went into the labor he desperately wished to take away your pain and was crying with you. He comforted you as he cares your hair and gives you kisses.

“shh, its okay, baby. Im here. Im not going anywhere. ”

“you got this, my love. You are doing so well.”

“Aaron! I can't do this—”

“yes, yes you can, darling.”

He really can't bare to see you in so much pain even though he had seen so much worse

He was very gentle and was crying when he held your baby girl in his hands. His princess, his girls, his universe.

After the labour, you were barely allowed to do things in the house, he only let you rest while he take cares with everything.

You guys had an 3 months lockdown, not allowing anyone to visit the baby

Always keeping an eye for baby monitors

You and him do an rock, paper scissors when it comes to changing baby Dior diapers (he lets you win, sometimes.)

Dior have your eyes so he is a victim to those puppy dog eyes. He can't say no to you, what more to his princess especially with your eyes?

Learns to do her hair!!

Dior first words is not 'momma' or 'dada' it was Kenny. Kenny. You and aaron felt betrayed.

Despite with the nickname, kenji teared up and always paraded the moment (to your husband dismay) he grows to adore the nickname when she keep calling him that

He sometimes forget that he played dress up with baby di so sometimes he go to work with tiara, ribbons, those princess accessories on him.

“Refrain from laughing, there is nothing funny about this matter.” “uh...theres something on you, sir.” “oh.”

Sometimes they were to scared to point it out

Kenji, nazeera and juliette made fun of him not until they were a victim of the dress up

At one point, kenji kidnapped baby dior and was later banned from seeing her for 2 months (barely a month in dior throwed a tantrum wanting to see her uncle kenny)

Baby dior played with your make up when she misses you! She wanna look like you because she misses you so much

Dior is an nature girlie! Aaron believes his angel is a reincarnated of persephone/artemis

Baby dior wears her pants backwards. She believes that “tails” should be at the back. You and Aaron gave up on the fight.

You guys had an motto that if its not hurting anyone or themselves, don't fight it. Let them.

One time you guys thought she was playing phone call but turns out she was in an hour real call with james.

Seashells hunting !!!!!

Everytime you guys went to a beach aaron always buy a big beautiful seashell then hides it in the sand for her to find!!! And her reactions always makes you and him melt!!

he also buries some treasure chests

He made an contract of no boyfriend until shes 30 and made baby dior sign with her prints with paints. He framed it.

You scold him for that and he just shrugs lol

teenage!dior have you in her closefriend and private insta!!

she collects shells and glue them to a cardboard and gifts it to you!

She wants a sibling so one day she just go “I want a baby sister or brother 🥺”

Keeps wishing on a well for it

Aaron is 100% in he just goes “Princess, ask mommy :)” “me too, baby. Let’s just ask momma for it, hm?”

Well, let’s just say she always get what she wants…

authors note: I had fun doing this Omg I wanna make it a series, do you guys want it? Please let me know!!! Feedbacks and reactions are very much appreciated!!!

(Aaron Warner) tag list 🏷 : @ravisinghs-wife @ab-baybay @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @cosmicswan

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