#isn’t life more beautiful when people can be exactly what they want

[kooppss]

lost

Jungkook POV from thirsty.

warnings: male masturbation. mention of sex and female masturbation. Jungkook is a fuckboy. This is his inner monologue, zero dialog.

word count: 2.1K

Jungkook chose you as his roommate because you're hot. 

He thought that, worst case, you’d fuck, and he’ll have to find a new roommate. Returning to where he was. 

He was sure it would be a treat to have a pretty little thing like you wandering around the apartment. He did ask you some questions about your cleaning habits and shit like that. But frankly, you could live like a raccoon, and he’d still choose you. 

Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. 

You are a treat when you walk around in your pajama shorts or your slutty going out outfits. Not to mention the thin tank tops with no bra. He likes to imagine you put in extra effort for him to enjoy. 

Earlier today, you were a vision—your too-tight, too-short sports set clinging to your body, messy hair stuck to the sweat on your skin. Jungkook hopes he managed to fool you with his cool act when you talked to him. For the life of him, he has no idea what you were talking about. The final straw was the flush on your cheeks—a look he’d imagined on you more times than he’d like to admit.

It’s not his fault. He swears!

But what can he do when the walls in your apartment are so thin that he can hear you being fucked in your adjoining room? When he can hear every beautiful sound you make.

He loves how loud you are. 

Sometimes, it was just your beautiful moans and whines.

Sometimes, he could hear choking sounds. He imagined you choking on his dick. 

Sometimes, he could hear the guy’s name spill from you. He preferred it when you didn’t. 

He didn’t mind when you moved in and started bringing your hookups to the apartment. Like, free porn, right? Who would complain? 

Also, he isn’t a hypocrite. He does his fair share of bringing people to the apartment. And you never nudged him about it, unlike his previous roommate.

Was it weird of him to touch himself to the sound of his roommate fucking in the next room? Maybe. 

It’s not like he could do anything else when all the blood in his body traveled south. 

So why has he stopped enjoying your little shows for him lately? 

Why did he go to the gym when he heard a guy’s voice from your room? 

It’s not like he’s jealous or something stupid like that. No way. 

It was just annoying that they got to have what he couldn’t. 

Why weren’t the two of you fucking to begin with? 

Wasn't it the original plan? 

Do you not find him attractive? 

What do they have that he doesn’t? He can fuck you better. He knows it. 

So Jungkook tried to stop bringing girls when you’re at home. He thought that maybe it’ll make you stop as well. 

He hasn’t stopped fucking around, obviously. No need to be radical. 

But now he has a new problem. He misses hearing you. He wants to hear more of you. He wished you’d make those sounds for him, but until then, he’ll handle whatever he could get. 

And fuck. You looked so hot earlier. You’re not making it easy for him. 

You returned from your yoga class or whatever hot girls' workout you’re doing. But how you looked; he couldn’t stop thinking this is exactly how he imagined you. Usually, in his head, you’re wearing way fewer clothes and sprawled on his bed. But close enough. 

Shit. You’re driving him insane. 

He’d usually just fuck you out of his system. But you don’t seem to be affected by him like he expects you would. He needs to do something about it. 

Jungkook is lying in bed, trying to think what he could do. 

He has been lying for a little while now, hand lazily stroking his length under his boxer. It doesn't seem to be evolving anywhere, but he’s too bothered to just fall asleep like that. A sound from your room snaps him out of his dazing state. It sounded like you dropped something. Maybe it was the water bottle you always take back to your room. 

It doesn't matter; the noise reminds him that you’re right there, on the other side of the wall. He really wishes he could hear you right now. That’s always helped him get going in no time. 

He wonders, did you also touch yourself when he brought girls home? He wants to think that you did. He always tried to recall if he heard you, but it’s hard to notice when he’s balls-deep into someone else. 

He never heard you alone. Are you quieter when you masturbate? Do you use your fingers? He bet they’re not enough—not like he could use his fingers on you. Maybe you need battery-powered help? He never heard a buzzing sound. He could help you use it.  

Fuck. 

Jungkook sits up in his bed, pushing his boxer down to free his dick. He spits in his hand and spreads it over his length. The added lubrication makes him groan. It feels good. 

He wishes it was your hand on him. 

Would you act shy, or would you grab him with confidence? Would you be a good girl for him or a little brat? He’d know how to put you in place. 

He thinks about all the ways he’d take you. How he’d utilize every surface of this apartment. A louder moan slips out of him, and he halts for a second. 

Do you hear him right now? God, he hopes you do. 

The thought pushes him further towards the edge. He increases his pace, thinking about you listening to him in your room. That cute flush of your cheeks spreads as you lie in bed. And with that image, he comes. 

Fuck. He needs to get a grip. 

Or to get you.

__________________________________________

Jungkook had a good day. He slept like a baby last night and hit a new PR at the gym.

He’s just out of the kitchen on his way to his room when you decide to ruin his day.

Seriously, where the fuck do they sell skirts this short?

Because he wants to buy you a hundred more.

You look amazing. You really do. Why do you have to do this to him?

And it’s not even 24 hours since you made him lose his cool. 

You didn’t see him, and you fully bumped into him. You look all flustered and cute. 

Well, now it’s his time to shine. 

He gives you his best nonchalant grin and teases you until you walk out of the room. He knows the fact that he’s shirtless and a little sweaty works out to his advantage. He caught you snicking looks. 

Good. He should do this more. 

He can’t lose.

Later that night, after he showered and made dinner, Jungkook sprawled on the couch, mindlessly zipping through shows on Netflix.  

Nothing catches his attention; he just clicks on something as a background noise while he scrolls on his phone. He goes through stories on Instagram when something is catching his eye. It's you, in your little teasing outfit from earlier, sitting on a high chair at some bat with a drink in hand. 

You look fucking hot. He knows if he’d meet you there, he’d 100% try his luck with you. 

Stupid random guys have a chance with you, yet he doesn’t get one. 

He clicks on your profile without much of a thought. Scrolling through your photos. He’s stuck on one from your last vacation; you went to a beach house with your friends. You sit on the sand next to the water, a beautiful smile on your face. And you’re wearing one of the smallest bikinis known to mankind. 

He barely processes that his hand is already inside his sweatpants. And if he weren't fully hard by now, the next photo would have done it. You stand with your back to the camera, still in the same location, same deviled-creation bikini, ass cheeks on display, covered with sand. Your ass looks fucking amazing. Before Jungkook finishes thinking about all the things he’d do to it, he’s already coming in his hand. He sighs; you make him like a teenage boy. Cuming in his hand from a photo of you in a bikini. Fucking embarrassing. 

He reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table and grabs some to clean the mess before cleaning himself better and washing his hands in the bathroom. 

When he returns to the living room, you’re there. He takes his spot on the couch, and before sliding his phone into his pocket, he realizes it’s still open on your Instagram. He knows how it looks. He assumes you can piece together what happened here. He expects you to call him out, to lash out. But instead, you look… shy? Could it be? He never pegged you for the shy type.

And you’re blushing now? Oh, Jungkook likes this game.

He looks at you, waiting for you to say something. To make your move. But you fold first.

Jungkook has won this round.

A slow grin spreads across his face as he watches you walk to your room, knowing this won’t be the last time you’ll play.

Later, Jungkook is still thinking about what happened. He feels like he should make a move, take advantage of the momentum. He has proof that he’s had some effect on you; now he just needs to break through your walls. He’ll keep up the teasing, building this tension between you two. He saw an opening, and he should go for it—

Even if it’s just to see you blush more because of him.

__________________________________________

Jungkook pulls the headset down to rest on his neck. They just had a win, and now he’s waiting for Taehyung to come back after taking a piss. He grabs his phone and scrolls through it almost automatically.

Until he sees it.

WTF. 

Holly fucking shit. 

He mumbles into the microphone, “start without me,” and tosses the headphones away. 

He stares at the photo; he can physically feel all the blood in his body traveling directly into his penis. It’s so intense he almost feels lightheaded. 

What the fuck do you think you’re doing? 

So this is it. After days of him teasing you and trying to catch you off guard, you finally played your move. And what a fucking move it is. 

You fucking tease. 

Oh, you think you’re so smart with that. You want him to collapse? To fold down? No problem. You’ll get a front-row seat to him burning in hell. He’ll drag you down with him. 

You little devil.

Jungkook head spins with the image of you; he’s going to come embarrassingly

fast. 

Fucking hell, you caused this problem; you should be the one fixing it. 

He can’t figure you out. You act all shy and flustered, and then you pull this? Why the hell did you even take that photo? Did you know you’ll need to torture him?

Jungkook doesn’t know if to bless you or to curse you. He doesn't know if he hates what you do to him or if he can't get enough of you. 

He thought he had the upper hand and was about to win. But you’re all-consuming. He thought he was the one hunting you, but he feels like your prey. It’s so good and so sinful, this little game you play. He’s a player, and he’s addicted to the game. 

He comes loudly. He doesn’t care if you hear him. You need to know the extent of your effect on him. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? He lies back in his gaming chair, head tilting back, trying to cool down. 

Even with his mind fucked up, Jungkook knows what it means for him. He’s at the gate. He’s almost at his destination. The game is about to end. And honestly, he doesn’t care who wins or loses at this point—as long as he gets you.

After a few more rounds, they finally call it a night. Jungkook shuts down his computer and sets the headset aside. He pulls off his sweatpants and tosses them into the laundry bin. He’s about to get into bed when he hears noises from outside his room. He glances at his phone���it's already past 2 AM. You should be asleep. He grabs his phone and heads to investigate the source of the noise.

You catch him off guard again. He sees you bending down in front of the fridge, reaching for a water bottle from the bottom shelf. You’re wearing nothing but a shirt and simple white cotton underwear. Cute. You look even better in real life. You turn around, startled by him. And even though it’s too dark to see, he knows it’s there. He knows you’re blushing.

Yeah.

He lost.

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 36

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 2,430

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: THAT'S F'D UP MAN

...Bucky used to have this image in his head - one of a worn-down but cozy house located somewhere far from any crowded city, at the end of an obscure dirt road that winds through country fields and hilltops.

It was one of those old white homesteads with withered color and creaking floors boards he'd promise to fix up someday, but only after the door that hangs off its hinges, letting in all the warm summer air. There would be this brown porch with a swing and hand-carved balusters - the perfect spot to sit during late evenings while watching the sun set over a freshly harvested field. The songs sung by chirping crickets and croaking toads could lull anyone asleep.

Come the holiday season, there would be a shift in peace. The entire property would transform into a winter wonderland disrupted by tiny boot prints, snow angles, and snowmen. The halls would almost always smell of some sweet treat, and the rooms would be lively with the added addition of grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins - so many cousins.

It was a vivid image for the longest time. His sisters fussing about in the kitchen, his parents and in-laws sharing stories by a fire, a handful of rambunctious children counting boxes under the tree...and a lovely wife at the center of it all.

Your entrance would be grand as you'd gracefully step down the stairs to greet guests. You'd wear this beautiful long green skirt and white blouse with a Christmas pin tacked to the front, your hair curled and pinned back after much effort that morning. The silver on your finger would catch the light perfectly as you accept your husband's hand, allowing him to guide you through those last few steps of your descent, right into his lips so that he can steal a quick kiss before anyone else can divide your attention.

...But this was only ever an image -a simple dream to keep him going during the war. Some of the other guys would fantasize about finding ‘the one’. Not Bucky. He already had a gal, and he already had a ring, too. All he needed was that worn-down but cozy house located somewhere far from any crowded city…

He'd be lying to say he hasn't still thought about it, even all these years later, however it can't exactly be called a hopeful dream anymore - not when it feels so unattainable. Now he's only reminded about all those promises he can't make, the quiet sunsets you'd never get to see together, all the holidays neither of you will celebrate. He already had the gal, but he lost her...Now he only has a ring.

It's become an annoying habit for Bucky to reach into his pocket to twirl the cold metal around his fingers. If in private, he'll even find the strength to take it into his hand and observe it closely, desperate to remember how it came to be. Did he see it in a store window once? Was it similar to something his mom or grandmother wore? What made him so sure you'd say 'yes' to this and not a more impressive diamond? …And does it even matter?

You left. You’re gone. At long last, you’ve turned your back to him, giving up just as you should've a long time ago. He should be happy. This is exactly what he wanted, isn’t it - The reason why he gave you the cold shoulder, practically ripping out your heart and stomping on it for good measure despite everything you've sacrificed to be by his side.

Without him in your life - without you constantly feeling the need to run to his side or concern yourself with his self-destructive tendencies - you'll be able to move on. You'll find an amazing partner who will treat you right and keep you safe; someone who won't put a target on your head or risk losing control of themselves and harming you.

With them, you'll be able to live a long, happy life this time around. You’ll be able to take full advantage of your miraculous reincarnation by enjoying all the wonders stolen from you in the past. They'll be there to carry you inside your dream home, to be your warm shoulder during chilly evenings, or the hand you take at the bottom of the stairs, all the while showering you with all the love you're deserving of...

"Bucky, I have loved you ever since I could remember who I used to be. Every second we've spent together - Everything I've ever done and said - It was never an act, it's always been me."

He tries to drown it out, squeezing his eyes shut with his hand clenching around the ring, yet your sorrowful voice is all he can hear.

"I've only ever wanted to see you be happy and doing well - that's my ultimate goal. While I'd like you to be that way with me - While I'd like to be happy together, if you don't -...If you don't see me as her then..."

...Damnit…What has he done?

"- Slacking on the job?"

Bucky startles all too easily, practically leaping in his own skin while stuffing the ring back into his pocket. It’s a rather suspicious reaction from someone found sitting completely isolated on the edge of a dock, however Sam’s nice enough to not draw attention to that - not immediately, at least.

"Relax. I bring refreshments," He instead takes some pride in being able to sneak up on the super soldier, smirking as he holds up two chilled bottles of beer. Passing one to Bucky, he invites himself to sit down and hang his legs over the water in a similar fashion, “‘least I could do in exchange for all your help today.”

“...Will it be enough to help your family out?” Bucky asks after a moment of silence. With ease, he flicks off the cap of his bottle before wordlessly reaching over and doing the same to Sam’s drink when the other man clearly struggles.

“This was only half the work,” Sam snorts before taking a drink, “It’ll still be an uphill battle from here, but once business takes off - which I’m optimistic it will - we’ll have a stable enough income to cover the rest of the repairs, maybe more, after all, most of what we did today is only a temporary fix…Of course, I’ll need to put in some hours of my own to help Sarah get to that point - assuming we ever get this Flag Smasher crap taken care of…

“I spoke to Joaquin,” He continues, dropping into a more serious note, “He’s been doing some digging on their movement since Latvia. Looks like they’ll be targeting the GRC conference next.”

“When’s that?”

“Two days.”

Bucky hums uncomfortably. He wants to say that doesn’t feel like enough time, but really, aren’t they already prepared? Sam has Steve’s shield. He’s been practicing with it nearly every spare second they haven’t been working on the boat - And isn’t half bad at it either. Paired with that new flight suit the Wakandans made for him, he should be able to hold his own against the Flag Smashers…Maybe it’s Bucky who isn’t prepared.

His mind doesn’t feel like it’s in the right place. Despite having put an end to John Walker’s shameful antics and making amends with the Wakandans by returning Zemo to their custody, he still feels distracted; anxious. In fact, he only half listens to Sam’s plan. The words about what Joanqin exactly said or their next course of action merely rumble against his ears as he fiddles mindlessly with his bottle and the precipitation that coats its glass. His thoughts are anywhere but on the mission.

“...Have you heard from (Y/n) at all?”

Sam suddenly jolts his bottle away from his mouth before he can even fully tilt it back. This causes a small wave of liquid to pour out which he manages to at least prevent from hitting his clothes thanks to the guard of his free hand, although he's only temporarily distracted by this inconvenience. His attention quickly sets upon Bucky through a glare, "Are you serious? You're really asking about them now after how you treated them for weeks?!"

To his surprise, Bucky doesn't attempt to argue nor does he show a single ounce of offense. Instead, he bows his head in shame while redirecting his gaze out to the sea, "I know. I'm an asshole."

"...Then why?" Sam gives an exasperated sigh and a shake of his head, "I really don't get it. You have someone who cares about you enough to literally be reborn remembering you, yet you threw them aside despite clearly loving them back - and don't give me that bullshit ‘I don’t’ excuse. Everyone can see it. I see it. Sharon saw it. Hell, even Zemo made his comments, so why? Why play this stupid game, treating them like shit which makes you both miserable as all hell when you could just be together already? When you could both just be happy?"

"It's not that simple...They could do better," There’s a brief pause where neither of them say a word, however there’s a thick judgment in the air as Sam stares daggers into the side of Bucky’s head, eventually forcing him to explain his point after a distressed sigh similar to Sam’s previous one.

"...I'm scared...I'm scared that if I let myself love them again, I'm going to end up losing them again. I'm the reason Hollie's dead. I'm the one who killed her regardless of what she or anyone else says. I’m the one who pulled that trigger.

"And - And I know the Winter Soldier is gone. I know I ended that nightmare - That it’s supposed to be over and done with, but even if that’s true, it doesn't mean that part of my past is erased! At any given moment, someone from that past could show up. They could come looking for me - Looking for revenge, and God forbid Hollie gets wrapped up in the consequences. She already has been with all this damn super soldier serum crap and look what happened! She could’ve been killed back there! One wrong move and it would’ve been her instead of Lamar.

“...I -...I can't lose her again, Sam…” Bucky’s free hand rips through his hair, gripping at strands as he lets out a stammered breath that’s barely choking back a sob, “Fuck, I can't live with that all over again. (Y/n) was the only reason I was able to the first time around. I can’t do it without either of them..."

Sam frowns, wordlessly watching his friend’s breakdown in quiet contemplation. He had a feeling that something like guilt would be Bucky’s motivation behind rejecting you. Seeing his reaction to your injury back in Latvia only seemed to confirm it, but this is much worse than he thought.

Returning his drink to his lips, he hesitates for a second before committing to a response, “...So you decided to avoid her, causing her all this heartbreak and stress in the moment to avoid the possibility - not even a guarantee, just a possibility that she could get hurt in the future if she keeps associating with you?"

"...She already wasted a life on me. I thought that if I could push her away - If I didn’t give her a choice in being together, maybe even make her hate me and leave on her own - that she'd be able to move onto better things. Find someone who could actually give her what she de -"

"- That's fucked up, man," Sam remarks harshly while finally taking that sip of his beer.

Bucky groans at the lack of sympathy he receives, however he voices no arguments for his own defense. Instead he takes full responsibility for his actions, dropping his head into his hand in defeat. Sam’s right. It is fucked up of him. He’s a complete asshole and his ‘buddy’ doesn’t stop himself from rubbing it in further:

“You know, there are guys out there who would kill just to have a girl look at them once with the amount of love and respect as they did you. You had a girl who was so whipped for your sorry ass that she chased you around through not just one, but two lifetimes, yet instead of considering yourself lucky, you decided to punish the two of you for basically no reason…And I’m gonna take a wild guess in saying you never once told them any of this, did you?”

“You know what they’re like, Sam. If I told them the truth, they’d just find all the more reason to hold on tighter and dig their feet into the ground…There’d be no convincing them to leave even if for their own good.”

Sam snorts, "Yeah, you're probably right about that. It seems that Stark stubbornness is strong enough to bleed into different lives…but you know, stubbornness like that isn’t always a bad thing. It just goes to show how much you mean to them and how much they're willing to fight for you.

“...I think you need to just be honest with them. Don’t you think you at least owe them that? I mean, in your own scrambled logic, they’ve already sacrificed a lot for you, right? Might as well pay back some of that debt by facing them like a man and saying what’s on your mind. Otherwise they’re just gonna go on thinking that they were somehow the issue while you’ll be left moping around in self pity with no resolution in sight for all this drama you created.”

Bucky huffs at Sam’s pointed blame, although he does still contemplate his advice. You probably hate him by now - No, you definitely hate him after the way he’s been treating you. Would you even care to give him the time of day to explain things? You’ve already tried that to no anvil. It’s a little too late to apologize, but like Sam said, if he doesn’t, will this feeling of guilt ever go away?

Sam sighs again, this time setting his bottle down on the dock with a 'clink' before standing up, "...Tell you what: you can stay at my sister's house with us for the night. In the morning, I'll make a big o' breakfast which you'll use as fuel to get your ass to (Y/n)'s place where you'll both talk things out like the grown adults that you are...Deal?"

Bucky rotates his grip on his bottle, glancing through the corner of his eyes at the hand Sam holds out towards him before at last taking it, "...Deal."

Next Chapter [coming soon]

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Taglist:

@arunabrak

@lovemesomevesey

[queseresere]

Suppose I’ll post this, because it’s pride month.

Acrylic on wood, uhhhh gonna hazard aprox 60x90 cm, haven’t actually measured it. Took me about 50 hours, that’s for damn sure.

Closer crop for the key details!

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #03. CORPSE BRIDE

𐙚 topic。．when you turn down yandere hsr men’s proposals.

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。general yandere themes, suggestive content, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and boothill. sunday and aven are regular additions to my posts lol, wrote boothills less intense bc he’s too silly to imagine

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ ‘convinces’ you

。he will actually try to coax you into it. he doesn’t want to just force things onto you, that isn’t really what he wants 。“ill make you the happiest pretty bride, doll, just believe in me, hm?” 。continues to sweet talk you, telling you what he can do- buy you pretty dresses, give you anything you want, and he lists luxury after luxury. 。and he follows through his promises. even if you are being really disobedient, he’d still buy you more luxury than you could ever ask for. you will start questioning if you really don’t want this marriage- which is exactly what he wants you to do, to make you doubt yourself. 。his list goes on and on- a vip ticket to the Reverie, first row tickets to robin’s concerts, only the finest things that only his class of people could ever get their hands on. 。but in that list, he conveniently puts out ‘freedom.’ 。if you disagree, he’d pout, asking you why- and when you tell him you want to be free from him, he’d laugh, calling you a silly girl. 。“i already gave you a choice when we met. it was your choice to pick a card from an unknown pile.” 。he’d have the wedding commence in some really luxurious property of the ipc, and he will, invite your family over- he’s merciful. but is it mercy when you know you won’t see them ever again? 。“it would be a shame if they don’t see the happiest moment of your life.”

STANDING there with the most beautiful dress you could humanly ask for, your expression is nothing but a shell as Aventurine smiles at you through those shades. Your eyes are everywhere but on his eyes, when you stare at them, you feel like you’re losing yourself.

you are glad your gown came with a veil over your head, nobody can see your dead eyes, except him.

As the officiant goes on with the questions, you grip your bouquet a little harder to the point you feel their stems crumple, just like your shriveling heart.

You snap out of it after hearing silence- you see his expecting eyes on you and you nod blankly. “I do.”

And your husband smiles even wider, and he steps closer and slowly, while staring at you with uncomfortable adoration through those tantalizing purple eyes, he kisses you. You are expecting a tender kiss in a ceremony; but his gloved hand sneaks onto the back of your head, pulling you in hastily.

“I love you so fucking much, princess—” he breathes into you, brushing aside the saliva that trickles down your chin after his intrusion. “It took quite a while, but you’re finally all mine.” He pulls up your hand that has your forced vow on it, he chuckles and softly kisses your fingers.

“‘m gonna make you so happy, so ecstatic, that you’re gonna thank me for it, love. you will thank me that I restrained you from everything else.” he whispers, and the people clap, cheering; your family too, who smiles, knowing nothing that it would be your last reunion.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ breaks you

。he just takes it on another level (and does not find your struggles entertaining unlike the former) 。he will be, really heartbroken at first. the head of the oak family asking you to be his lifelong sweetheart is almost like him giving you his life. you are his entire world- and the world has rejected him. 。“…I see. was I not good enough for you, angel?” 。although his emotions will be very hard to control, he’s very used to commencing plans. he’d tell you that he could ‘talk this out’ with you. unfortunately, it’s not a choice, but rather, an order. 。sunday is a ‘the end justifies the means’ kind of person. he will do any means to make you eventually accept your fate. that will include imprisoning you in some faraway place and leaving you abandoned for so long, you will be broken, wishing for any interaction. food is only given to you through a remote device, with no human interaction. 。sunday itches to be with you- he is compassionate for you, his heart will ache to see you sob into an endless cacophony. a part of him will be tempted to go to you and be with you physically, not watching you from a screen. 。he will repeat it- he will visit once a blue moon, comforting you, asking you if you changed your mind. when you ask him when he’d release you, his expression will harden. 。“it seems you haven’t learned anything, sweetheart.” 。if you are still stubborn, he will be a little impatient. he will speed up the process by adding new things in- maybe making you dream of a lovely, free life and when you wake up, you’re just alone. he will not resort to anything violent, he cares too much about you to hurt you. although, ‘hurt’ in his dictionary doesn’t apply to mentally hurting you. 。you will sob and show your most dramatic, fragile sides to a descent of madness, thinking you are truly alone until sunday comes to visit. you are wrong, though- sunday has always been with you, just not physically. 。he has always been watching you cry into the void through a screen. always.

MAYBE you have finally lost your mind, because when Sunday comes to visit you and your dull prison, you collapse to your knees and immediately plead him.

“Please,” you sob, clutching his legs desperately- he doesn’t crouch, but looks down- almost like a god addressing its follower. Sunday is no god for you, but you beg like he is.

“Please what?” He looks at you, fingers brushing over your hands, tilting his head just the slightest. His golden eyes glitter in the dim light. He is waiting for only one answer, there is only one correct answer to his question.

But you do not give him the right one. “Please just let me go,” you break down. Your heart is throbbing from all the crying, vision blurry and your head is light with no energy to talk anymore.

His gentle, serene smile immediately warps into that of a cold one. “Try again?” His fingers grip your hands hard, warning you that his patience is running thin.

When you remain silent except for your sobs, he crouches down to stare at you on eye-level, boring holes into your fearful expression. Unlike his deadly gaze, his words are soft and flow out quickly like a river- albeit with a sigh of exasperation. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to stop this just because you beg.” His hand pushes yours against the floor to knock you down, figure towering over you as he leans in to whisper- “—although, they’re very pleasant to listen to.”

“Honestly, I don’t get why you are struggling right now. It’s so easier to accept your eventual fate. Unless, you do like to seek pain.”

His other hand goes over your stomach, then slides tantalizingly slow up your body- you shiver and tremble at each touch that is too foreign to you. Cold fingers cage your neck and you choke on your breath.

“I’m not planning on hurting you, angel.” His voice is still gentle, but his eyes are telling another story, they seem keen to hurt you again and again. “But I did say I’ll resort to other… methods. Since none of them seem to work, I suppose the only solution would be caging you with a baby.” When your eyes widen, he laughs dryly. “The look on your face tells me that you didn’t expect it. But you will be my loving wife, dear. You will not be able to run or reject me, not when your own child is at stake. It makes only more sense to… make you bear children. My children.”

As he watches you struggle under him, trying to breathe, he feels like he has entered ascension. Soon, one of your pretty fingers will have his ring, and very very soon, he will have his first child- the very thought of him makes him lose his mind. He so wishes to make you his, claim you inside, watch your pretty pussy gush out his cum while he’s pressing deep into your womb- but he also wishes to see a mini version of him, or you. He finds it too adorable to withstand. He will vow that his children will grow up pure and innocent.

“We will be the happiest family in the world,” he purrs. “And I’ll make sure of it.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིOOTHILL ⇢ will try to prove himself

。maybe a little similar to aven. but while the latter will materialistically give you things and spoil you around to convince you, boothill will more likely show himself off instead. 。“i can fudgin’ shoot an ipc lackey in the head from miles away, sugar- ya can’t see that ‘n any other guy.” 。he’ll try to show you his capability to protect you- which will likely end up in multiple people dying but as a galaxy ranger, he has morals, so he will probably use the ipc as his shooting dummies 。overall he’s sweet even if you reject his proposal- he will likely be furious, just not at you. 。oh lord but during the day you rejected him, be prepared for multiple news flashes of dead people across the street. the amount of emotion will be too much for his consciousness to restrain 。when you confront him, he’d apologize, albeit a little too nonchalant. 。“‘m sorry sweetie, got a lil outta hand last night.” 。per your wish, he won’t kill anyone who’s unrelated and innocent- but he’d still go on a killing spree in the ipc headquarters to the point you are blacklisted on their list because he would shout your name and rant why you didn’t accept him while he shoots his gun all around the place.

“BOOTHILL, what the hell are you doing?” You frown when he returns- even after rejecting his proposal, he drifts around you like a lost stray dog. And he is always covered in blood, looking furious- but when you talk, his expression simply melts away like butter to a grin that shows his sharp teeth.

“What do ya mean what I’m doin’? Makin’ sure nobody hurts you.” He snickers. He smells like metal, like he always does, but this time it’s overpowering, which lets you know what he’s been doing.

“I don’t need protection, Boothill. You can just leave me alone.”

You’re beyond annoyed at his clinginess. No matter how many times you reject him, he’d always come back, showing something new off to you, and half the time it wasn’t anything pleasant, but rather his list of crimes.

“Aww, don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He chuckles and flashes a grin and his other metal hand spontaneously pulls you into his embrace— you jump. When did his hand get there? “All I wanna do is to make sure my future wife is safe and sound. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“I told you, I’m not going to accept-“

“Ah ah! Wait and see, you will be, I promise. But don’t drag the chase a lil too long. Even I get impatient.” Something cold pressed against your forehead and you realize it’s his gun. When your expression turns aghast with fear, he barks an amused laugh.

“You scared of this? Nah, I’d never hurt ya. Won’t wanna turn your body into metal like mine.” Although he says this with a dark smirk, he doesn’t remove the gun. “The sooner you agree to it, the merciful I become. Ya don’t wanna see innocent guys die because of your stupidity, hm?”

[sincerelyneo]

golden hour | l.mk

“i’ve got a really big problem…”

💿now playing: golden hour by mark

❯ summary: Mark’s got a really big problem; you. The pretty neighbour that shares a bedroom wall with him. You’re a night owl and you’re so loud and are you…listening to his music whilst masturbating…? Fuck now he’s hard. Guess he’s got two really big problems.

❯ pairings: mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: neighbours, smut

❯ words: 2.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, masturbation, mark’s a loser for the plot, very explicit details of sexual fantasies, reader uses she/her pronouns and female gendered terms, literally just mark being horny whilst reader gets off to his song.

Mark needs to move out. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take the old run-down building his apartment is located in having no working elevator. If you’d have told him two years ago when he signed his dream music contract with a real record label that he’d be climbing six flights of stairs after a long week of work he’d have called you a liar. But that’s what happens when people aren’t listening to your music. 

Maybe he's overreacting; the building isn’t that terrible. It has its perks—like the pretty view. And it’s usually quiet—well, it was until his lively new neighbor moved in. Mark might have thought of you as a perk when he first saw you, considering you’re exactly his type, so fucking beautiful. But you’re also so fucking loud.

You always seem to have something going on—plans, hobbies, parties, meetings, friends. Mark knows because the walls between you and him are thin, and you’re never quiet, never still. At first, he thought it was kind of cute, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realises he’s been so distracted by how attracted he is to you, he’s been letting your noisy lifestyle slide.

It’s not like he wants to knock on your door and ask you to keep it down; he’s too worried you’d think he’s some kind of loser. Even at twenty-five, he still craves female validation like he’s a high schooler—so he’s been putting up with the sleepless nights. Another reason why he needs to move asap. 

The lack of sleep, combined with the endless stairs, has left Mark drained this past month. He can practically hear his sofa calling his name, can taste the cold bottles of beer that sit in his fridge as he reaches the top step. He may be a tad out of breath and a little sweaty but he’s got the weekend off and that’s all he can think about. But unlike you, Mark’s life is boring. The most exciting thing about his weekend is the idea of not having to climb his complex’s stairs until Monday. 

Meh. He could dwell on the mundane schedule of his life for hours but he gets distracted. Distracted by his pretty little nightmare neighbour. 

You're all dressed up in a tight gold dress that clings to every inch of your body. Your hair falls down your back as you lock your door, tucking the keys into the tiny clutch hanging from your shoulder.

That’s when you notice him too.

“Oh, hey,” you greet him softly, offering a bright and friendly smile. 

Mark returns it, his chest swelling. There's no denying you’re a beautiful girl. And although he’s overheard your phone calls about parties through the thin walls, and the hum of your hair dryer as you get ready for nights out, he’s never actually seen you in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. He’s never been given the opportunity to see you so dolled up, to notice the little love handles he can all of a sudden imagine himself gripping. He clears his throat and smiles wider.

“Hi Y/N…you look nice!” He compliments kindly, fingers fiddling with his own keys. 

Nice? 

The word replays in his mind. He’s spent endless nights thinking about how beautiful you are and now he’s finally got to feed his craving of seeing you in tight clothes but the only word he can muster up is nice? Oh he hates himself. 

But then he sees you blush at the comment, and he loves the way you purse your lips, trying to hide a shy smile. A part of him is annoyed that you’re blushing over something so simple—he thinks every man should be showering you with compliments, and you should expect more than nice. Still, there’s something about the way you squirm from his words that has his cock throbbing.

He wonders if it’s because you’re attracted to him too. It’s not completely out of the question. You know who he is, of course you do. You see each other in passing a lot but you’ve also spoken on the day you moved in. Mark remembers it like it was yesterday. 

He could hear you panting and cursing in the hall, hauling boxes up and down the stairs before he came out to help. You didn’t recognise him at first, not until he was in your apartment setting boxes down.

That’s when you turned to him with wide eyes and a breathy, “oh wow, aren’t you the dude that sang ‘Golden Hour’?”

Mark started blinking at you like a deer in the headlights. He’d never encountered a fan in person before, he had a small community online, but his music hadn’t exactly been taking off like he planned. So you can imagine his surprise when his new (extremely attractive) neighbour knew one of his songs. 

“Thank you,” your soft voice breaks him from his memory, and moves his focus. “Just a night out with the girls, been a long week,” you sigh. 

He wants to hear all about your long week, wants to be the one to make it better—maybe convince you to skip the girls’ night and spend it with him instead. But he doesn’t. He doesn't even let the thought linger for more than a moment before he’s nervously tapping his key against his thumb.

“Well have fun, and be safe,” he settles on tenderly. 

You nod with a small smile, giving a gentle wave before turning to leave. He watches you until you’ve rounded the corner, only then unlocking his door and kicking off his shoes with a sigh.

Mark grabs a bottle of beer from the kitchen, kicking the fridge door closed behind him. His entire apartment is dark and it reminds him of the loneliness he’s been feeling for the last six months. Mark never really thought about love and relationships before he met you. Sure, he likes to fool around as much as the next person, but he’s always been fine with being on his own. But you remind him of the lonely. 

He’s never longed for love and friendships but a secret part of him craves a woman by his side… craves the woman next door.

He wonders what it’d be like for you to be cuddled into his side as you watch a movie. Wonders if you’d laugh at certain parts and crane your neck up to pepper tender kisses to his soft lips. Mark squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, tries to rid the thoughts of you from his mind.

But it’s proven a little more difficult when he moves from the couch to take a shower and the water is running down his tense and naked body. He struggles to not think about you on your knees, touching his thick cock and kissing up his thighs.

He has to swallow back the lump in his throat and blinks away the urge to touch himself to the thought of you. He refuses to be that kind of guy. He’s not that kind of guy. So he gets out the shower and does the only thing he likes doing — music. 

Mark tries out new melodies on his guitar, humming broken lyrics and soft tunes he’ll be sure to show his producer on Monday. After a while he catches sight of the clock on the wall and it’s already a little past midnight. After locking his doors he’s crawling into bed and ready to sleep; but then he hears something. 

A soft giggle muffled from the wall behind his head. 

Mark’s fully aware the two of you share the same wall for your beds, rooms mirroring each other, but he’s never heard this kind of sweet giggle fall from your lips so late at night. He tries not to let the sound affect him, but there’s only one reason why a girl like you could be giggling at this hour after a night out. 

You’ve brought someone home? But Mark can’t hear a man’s voice, not even the slightest grunt or groan of male muttering. He can only hear soft giggling slipping from his favourite pair of lips.

And then he hears a robotic voice announcing that the Bluetooth is successfully connected and he knows he’s about to hear your fuck playlist. The thought sends a thrill through his body and he knows he’s unlikely going to get any sleep tonight.

He’s about to get up, to move to the sofa in the living room, to not be disrespectful and a perv by listening to you getting off, but he hears a familiar hammering of drums and a guitar muffled through the paper-thin walls and his eyes are bulging.

“Give me my A course, ice is so big like a glacier” 

You’re giggling again and he can hear your body fall against the sheets of the bed – the bed that’s very clearly pushed up against the same wall his is. It creaks under your weight, and Mark feels the wall tremble slightly as your bed frame knocks against his wall.

He’s tried so hard not to be that guy, but his hand finds its way in his boxers before he can fully comprehend what he’s doing. He’s rock fucking hard, red and veiny and he takes off his boxers, leaving him sprawled on his back, completely bare.

He hears your soft whimpers, can hear you hum in appreciation even over the buzzing of your vibrator and the thumping of his song. He doesn’t know what’s turning him on more; the fact that he can hear you getting off and moaning out, or that you’re listening to him while trying to cum. 

Either way, his hand is wrapped tight around his thick length, thumbing over his oozing tip. He thinks of how you must be, how you’d look completely whilst naked and sprawled out on the bed for him. Mark imagines himself on top of you, kissing your perky tits he loves to think about and wrapping his lips around your swollen nipples. His mind feels like it can taste you on his tongue, can feel your dainty fingers tugging at his hair as he laps you.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp loud enough for him to hear.  

It makes him imagine your eyes rolling back when he finally fucks himself inside your tight little cunt, he visions the look of ecstasy on your face when your jaw would become completely slack and your body quivers for him. He knows you’d feel him deep in your stomach. He knows he’d be so big for you. 

“Fuck,” he slips out in a desperate pant.

He’s completely breathless, tugging at his dick, spitting down on it to get it all wet for you. He knows you’re so much wetter on the other side of the damn wall, and that he’d rather be sinking into your wet pussy but his spit would have to do. 

He throws his head back in his pillow, eyes shut tight, allowing his mind to work over time. 

“Fuck, Mark… I need it.”

Everything feels surreal, like he’s in his own personal heaven with a touch of hell. You’re crying out for more, for him, begging for it deeper, harder, and he finds himself fucking into his fist just as desperately. Like his soft palm is your silky pussy.

Mark can’t focus on anything other than your sweet fucking cries that sound otherwordly against his song. It makes him think about how much he’d love to record your moans, use them in his next song. But then he’d never be able to release it — because they’re his to hear. 

It’s when the bridge starts that you really let yourself go, filthy fucking moans, the speed of the vibrator increasing, and God he wishes he could watch you right now. See you trembling and begging as the instrumental plays out loud and hard. 

He can’t handle it.

Gruff moans are slipping past his lips and he does nothing to try and conceal them. The muscles in his arm are burning but he fucks his cock harder, imaging what it’d be like to feel his balls slap against your ass as he pounds into you.

He can feel the coil tightening in his stomach, the way his cock starts to twitch. His imagination grows wild and filthy, every single fantasy he’s tried locking away to not be that guy now flooding his mind because you’re that girl. 

That girl that’s using his music to cum. That girl that wants to hear his voice as she gets off. That girl who’s doing it with no shame, no guilt. That girl that’s using him. 

The thought takes Mark’s mind to sinful places. “Take it,” he can hear himself seeth through gritted teeth. He imagines you begging for his cum, taking it like the good fucking girl you are.

“Ugh, fuuckk I’m cumming!” Mark cries out gruffly through strangled moans and he hears your screams follow.

Your bed is creaking louder than before and he knows your thighs have got to be trembling as you cum around your vibrator. Mark’s hand and thighs are covered in thick ribbons of white arousal and when his eyes flutter open, through his blotched vision, he imagines seeing you kneeling between his thighs and licking it up.

He’s completely fucked as he hears his song mellow out and you aren’t moaning anymore. Instead, he can hear  breathless little pants. He stays where he is for a second, eager to see what else he can hear. But there’s nothing — only complete and utter silence.

Mark doesn’t sleep the entire night. He can’t. He’s kept awake with the guilt of listening to his pretty neighbour. Or is it with the thrill of knowing it was his voice that got you off that's making him so restless? 

[aphrvdisiac]

OFF TO THE RACES.

ellie williams, abby anderson x fem! reader.

part one of to lie and love like you do.

SUMMARY | you are in a poly relationship with new york’s elite women, ellie williams and abby anderson, but living in the world of power, money, and lust possesses each one of you as the dynamic amongst you three becomes more volatile and violent.

WARNINGS | adult language. graphic violence. polyamorous relationship. abby calls reader “bunny,” ellie calls reader, “little lamb.” mentions of alcohol consumption and drug usage. possessive and obsessive behaviors. dark content: graphic details of t*rture and m*rder, men being pigs, controlling behavior. adult content: sub!reader x doms!ellabs, doing it in a confessional booth, god kink, fingering, degradation, overstimulation, edging, ball gag, strap-ons, face smacking, mommy and daddy kink, knife play w/ branding, double penetration.

NOTES | so brief explanation: this is my fic, off to the races. it used to be on my original, old account that fell under the user “angvlita” but unfortunately i deactivated that account so the fic no longer exists. anyways, all rights are reserved to me for this, and i do not want it published anywhere else. with that being said, please take into caution all the tags and warnings because this isn’t meant to be taken lightly whatsoever. ellie and abby are mean and cruel in here. thank you, and enjoy.

If Los Angeles was the city of Angels, then New York was home for all Hellbound.

You grew up in such a glistening city, where people’s facades weren’t as hidden, illicit affairs took place, and a fifteen year old was trying cocaine for the first time. It held beauty just like Lucifer, having greater cruelty and an ominous essence lingering beneath its soul.

You wish you didn’t get caught up in a reckless lifestyle, that you didn’t become so corrupted that you were a girlfriend to your two best friends.

Ellie Williams, daughter to architect and businessman Joel Miller, and Abby Anderson, daughter to a famous renowned surgeon Jerry Anderson. The two had great power, control, and wealth – they fucking lived off of it. They were cruel and vicious to everyone.

Ellie was a venomous scorpion, Abby personified as such a nefarious viper. The two together were threatening, and it all surprised you when they wanted you in their circle in the early start of Junior Year, easily befriending you.

You remembered it clear as day.

You were sitting at a table, reading Jane Eyre. It was your free period, and you had not much to do, finished with any assignments.

The silence you enjoyed was interrupted when two figures sat themselves down at the table, gaining your attention as you peered up at the book, and noticed elite scholars Ellie Williams, and Abby Anderson.

They were grinning at you, eyeing you like a predator did with their prey, a cascade of goosebumps running over your skin.

“Can I help you?” You asked, bookmarking your spot before closing the book, and setting it down.

You knew it came off rude and too sharp, but their appearance made you uncomfortable, and weirded out.

“We’ve been keepin’ an eye on you,” Ellie said, and your heart sank, not knowing exactly what that mean. “We aren’t here to ruin your life, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I mean, I don’t know,” you chuckled nervously, fidgeting with your Cartier bracelet. “You have quite the reputation.”

“So you know us?” Abby asked, and you shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

“We want to invite you out,” Ellie added, and your brows knitted together, utterly confused. How could you not be? It was a random invitation, and you didn’t have any prior interactions with them.

You just had Fine Arts Honors with Ellie, and English Literature with Abby — though, you never made any conversations with them, and you didn’t see the need to.

“Why? This is new, no?” You questioned, eyeing them back and forth in the moment the duo looked at one another, words kindling behind their eyes.

“Somethin’ about you is sweet… special,” Abby confessed, and a smile threatened to curl onto your lips. “You interest us.”

“Marrona, at 8PM,” Ellie stated, getting up with the blonde by her side. “Just come by, and if you still don’t like us, you’re free to go.”

“You’re trusting a stranger? Interesting,” you lightly joked, smiling to yourself. “The world must be ending, then.”

They smiled with you, a rare expression anyone could come across.

It was an unforgettable night that you thought of for a week before either of you approached each other again.

Many of your friends told you to not fall for it, that you’d be a laughing stock, and would only be ruined. You didn’t know how ruined you would become, and you simply wanted to know what it would be like to sit in their company.

You were sure it was because of your status — your mother was an heiress, and your father was a CEO of an advanced technology business. You were humble about your life, yet knew you had a higher position in money and glory than them. You were sure they wouldn’t just let anyone in, that they were more intelligent to let a random classmate of theirs be brought into their social circle.

The deeper you fell into their rabbit hole, you had become tainted, and cruel as them. You were their rotten apple, something they possessed and prized so admirably as you were theirs only. Before the relationship was even thought of, you weren’t allowed to talk to anyone else besides them, leaving you to drop all your closest friends, and submit only to the two girls.

Yet, they took care of you like no one else did — expensive gifts, abrupt trips to Europe, fancy dinners, and the sex they gave you.

God, the fucking sex.

It was them at the same time, or one coming to your place to claim you entirely. You didn’t mind it, no, you had become so immune to being theirs, you would please them.

You don’t exactly remember how the polyamory relationship came to be; you were getting closer with Abby, Ellie didn’t like it, and the two had come to the idea of sharing you, right before twelfth grade. You weren’t opposed to it, but hated the twisted repercussions that tied into it.

During all of Senior Year, you weren’t allowed to go out without them by your side, or at least one of your bodyguards. You couldn’t get drunk, only at home, and that’s it; they had this monologue about how dangerous the world is, and how they wouldn’t be able to forgive themselves if something happened to you.

You had no privacy, they always had a guy watching you from a distance if you went out with family, and tracked your location. Your only friends were whoever else was in their group, which wasn’t much whatsoever, so you were practically without anything.

When you all graduated, and you were planning to attend Columbia, you hoped some leniency would be kicked in from their part, but no — the two only got more dominant about everything, to the point they refused to let you share a dorm room with a girl.

“Oh my fucking god, I’m not going to fuck her!” You yelled. “You’re being dramatic; it is better for me to live on campus so I don’t deal with traffic every morning.”

“What if she tries something?” Ellie asked, sitting down on her couch with a glass of bourbon in her hand. “You know we are just trying to look out for you.”

“No, you’re being insane,” you stated, and she scoffed, eyeing Abby. “Both of you have really got to stop this shit. I need to make a career for myself, be my own person without your crazy bullshit jeopardizing it all.”

Abby got up, now towering over you as she grinned. “Such a brat you are,” she mocked, and you shivered, glaring at her. “After all this time, we hoped you would start being appreciative.”

“I… I’m more than grateful for the both of you,” you assured softly, frowning. “But please, I'd rather be in a dorm room than some penthouse where you’re being insufferable.”

“The fuck did you just say?” Ellie asked, hastily standing up, and before you could speak, she grabbed your jaw. “Insufferable, huh?”

You whimpered, the grasp tightening, and worried she might crack a bone. “No… no,” you whispered, and the pair mockingly cooed at your panic.

Ellie shoved you into Abby’s arms. “Deal with her, I’m in a good mood today.”

Abby held onto your wrist, seating herself down, and bent you over her lap. “Gotta keep training you, ‘specially after all this time,” she mumbled, flipping up your skirt. “Starting to think we should just replace your ball with some soap, maybe raise up the punishments.”

“No, no,” you pleaded, peeking up at her. “I didn’t mean to say—”

“Don’t fuckin’ stare at me,” Abby spat, and you whined, looking away as you could feel her hands massage your ass. “You’re lucky it’s me being lenient, not her.”

Abby wasn’t wrong there — Ellie was more harsh with her punishment, would leave you in a puddle of tears, and it would be Abby that had to reel her back into reality. You recalled the moment when Ellie had you bent over the edge of the kitchen table, hitting your ass while she kept her thick rings on, and you were in tears by the end.

You didn’t talk to her for at least two weeks, but she repeatedly apologized, and was no longer able to strike you with no more than seven slaps, and if she did, Abby had to put her in check.

You never knew why you liked being punished like this, like a ragdoll of some sort, or why you let consequences happen to you. You were human, but something about these two keeping you in check was pleasuring, and comforting in a way.

The first hit made you squeal, kicking your feet in reaction. “Fuck!”

“Count, bunny,” she said, the nickname made your stomach turn. “I know you can do it.”

“One…” you shuddered, another strike coming after it. “Fuck— two!”

“Only doing five today, it’s okay,” she assured, kissing the back of your neck, and your ass was met with the third strike.

“Three!”

Another one.

“Four!”

And the last one.

“Five,” you moaned, your ass burning. “I fucking hated that.”

“Me too, bun,” Abby said, picking you up, and let you sit on her lap. “Let me look at my girl.”

She took your face into her hands, fingers brushing past your ears, and grinned. “There’s my bunny, are you okay?” She wondered sincerely, a frown tugged on her lips.

“‘M fine,” you muttered, resting your head on her shoulder as she held you. “Is Ellie mad at me?”

“You know how she is,” she reminded, and you huffed, nodding. “We love you, more than you’ll ever know. We wouldn’t be able to live if someone hurt you, or something horrible happened.”

“I know, didn’t mean to be rude,” you mumbled, and she sighed, kissing the side of your head. “I just feel like both your lives should be more than just me.”

“Oh, baby,” she sighed, bringing your head back up, and gazed at you with immense endearment, you could faint from it. “You are our life. Our religion, our air, everything we want and need.”

You grinned. “You mean that?”

“Of course. Now, let’s go see Ellie, yeah?” Abby suggested, and you agreed, trailing in front of her as you walked to Ellie's bedroom in her penthouse.

“Ellie,” you sang out, pouting. “Are you still mad?” You opened the bedroom door, finding her sitting on her desk chair with an electric guitar in her hands.

Ellie looked up at you the second you were in her presence, and she sighed, sitting the instrument aside of her. “Hey, little one,” she greeted, opening her arms for you. You rushed to her, perching yourself on her lap, and wrapped your arms around her neck.

“Sorry for being rude,” you mumbled into the crook of her neck. “I love you and Abby both.”

“Sweetheart, I know,” she rested her hand on the back of your head, her thumb caressing it. “We know what’s best for you, that’s why we take care of you unlike anyone else.”

Ellie wasn’t wrong there, and that saddened you. Your parents had always be mentally and emotionally distant; they were there physically, but always focused on their own issues. It was either your mother was caught up in her pill addiction, or your father having a new mistress.

There never really was time for you — you raised yourself for as long as you could remember.

Many would say you had no reason to hate your life when you have this trust fund, nepotism lifestyle, but you would trade all of that just for parental affection and care. Yet, that never came, and the only people who tended to your needs were Ellie and Abby.

They came into your life when you needed them the most.

“Our parents want a gathering tonight,” Abby walked into the room, clearly irritated. “First stop is church.”

“Church?” Ellie laughed. “Oh baby, it’s your parents that want that.”

You never understood why your parents went to church. They may have grown up religious, but the things you witnessed them doing led them to earning a one way ticket to Hell.

“We could have our fun,” Abby assured, grinning. “Isn’t being selfish and ungrateful a sin?”

Ellie picked your head up off her shoulder, forcing you to look at her. “Yeah… it is,” she smirked at your protesting whines, and patted your bottom. “Get home, and get changed.”

You walked inside the cathedral by your parents side, searching around for your girls. “Ah, there’s Jerry!” Your father pointed out, taking you and your mother to Abby’s dad. “Jerry!”

Jerry turned around, grinning at him, both hugging one another. You hopped to Abby’s side, smiling up at her. “Hi,” you whispered.

“Hey, baby,” she mumbled, gently pinching your arm. “Ellie is in the confessional booth.”

“What?” You asked. “Why?”

“You sinned,” Abby reminded, and you swallowed thickly as she leaned into your ear. “And you need to repent.”

Your parents were caught in conversation with Jerry, and you sighed heavily, rolling your eyes. You knew they wouldn’t pay much mind if you were gone for a bit.

“Don’t fuckin’ roll your eyes,” she spat, tightly seizing your wrists, and tugged you away with her. To your unfortunate luck, the confessional booth had its own room in the cathedral, and gradually spacious, giving you more than enough privacy.

“Let the fuck go of my wrist!” You shouted, and she halted her footsteps, turning around. “I can follow, ya’know? I’m not dumb.”

Abby ignored you, suddenly tossing you over her shoulder as you screeched, furiously kicking your feet. “Ellie’s going to love hearing this,” she taunted, and you zipped your mouth, giving up all protest.

Abby twisted open up the door to the room, putting you down on your feet, and slammed the door shut.

Ellie was leaning against the wall, joint in her mouth, and was wearing a black suit, a bralette underneath her fine blazer. “There’s our girl,” she beamed, yet her bright expression toned down when she took notice of Abby's unsatisfied attitude. “What did she do?”

“Rolled her eyes, being a brat,” Abby said, and you looked down in shame, not knowing why you kept digging a hole for yourself. “Don’t know why she keeps doing this. Maybe we’ve been too nice.”

Ellie hummed, burning her joint out on the windowsill before leading herself into the stall, her legs spreading as she sat down. “We’ll take our turns. Kneel before God.”

You only stood still, gazing up at her.

Abby’s hand curled around the back of your neck, getting a whine out of you. “The fuck is your problem today? Want to be ignored instead?” She wondered, and you shook your head. “It sure seems like that, bunny.”

“Bring her over here,” Ellie beckoned, and Abby guided you over to the auburn-haired girl, forcing you down to your knees. “Wearin’ such a pretty dress today. All for us, hm?”

You looked at her, hands resting on your thighs as you nodded. “Course I did. Wanted to be pretty for you both.”

“Hmm. Roll up your dress,” Ellie said, and you froze, not moving. She inched closer to your face, tilting her head. “Something wrong, honey?”

“No, ‘course not,” you muttered, fingers fiddling with the ending hem of your babydoll dress.

“Then listen,” Abby added in, and your breath shuddered as you bunched the skirt to your waist, exposing your bare cunt. “Won’t you look at that? She thought she was gonna get something.”

“Did you think that?” Ellie asked, and you hesitantly nodded, her cruel laugh ringing in your ears. “After how you’ve been acting all day? Silly girl.”

“Where’s your rosary?” Abby wondered, and you opened up your purse, scrunching it up in your palm. “Not even a pure girl anymore, just a depraved whore for us.”

Ellie grabbed the jewelry piece, wrapping it in between her fingers as the end dangled in your face. “Abby, next to me,” she ordered, and Abby took off her leather jacket, letting it drop to the floor, stepping in the stall.

You stayed kneeled, trying to put water to the fire you sparked.

The tip of Ellie’s combat boot hit under your chin, raising your eyes to hers. “Get over to her,” she cocked her head to the side, and you rushed up and over to the blonde haired woman, who grinned at you.

Abby pushed you down onto her lap, your back pressing up against her chest as Ellie pushed open the sliding barrier, mindlessly playing with your rosary. “Why are you here today?” She began, yet Abby shoved your legs open, one hand on your throat, and the other snaked down in between your thighs.

“F—Forgive me,” you stuttered, shivering to Abby's fingers glazing over your needy cunt, “for I have sinned.”

“Go on,” Ellie agreed, and Abby slowly pushed one finger into you. “What troubles you?”

Your head fell back onto Abby’s shoulder, squeezing harder on your throat as a warning. “Fuck… I—I’ve been selfish, sir,” you continued, whining to her teasing pace. “Cruel and ruthless to those who love me.”

“And why is that?” Ellie wondered, paying no mind to you or your noises. “Do they deserve it, little lamb?”

Abby put in a second finger, the pace now running a bit higher, but made sure to not give you entire satisfaction. “Do they deserve it, bunny?” She whispered in your ear, her thumb pressing on your bud. “Tell her now.”

“No, God no,” you whimpered, placing a hand over Abby’s wrist. “I’m just… just a brat— holy fuck, fuck me.”

“Using vulgar language in front of your God, little lamb?” Ellie teased, knowing what she was getting at.

She was your God — both of them were. They were your religion, devoting every piece of you to them, would do anything to have their forgiveness and love for eternity.

“I’m sorry, God,” you moaned, Abby’s fingers pounding into you as you were beginning to fall apart at the seams, grabbing onto her wrist. “Fuck— Forgive me, God. I need your forgiveness.”

“You have to earn it,” Ellie stated, and Abby breathily chuckled, her breath fanning against your skin.

“Want to be good for your Gods?” Abby asked, and you nodded, your face falling into the crook of her neck. “Gonna do anything just for us to fuck you, huh? ‘Course you are, baby. You’re filthy— look what we’ve done to you.”

A warm sensation ran in your stomach, down to your thighs as your body jolted on her lap. “Please, God,” you pleaded, tears at your waterline. “I want you, God. I’ll never sin again.”

Ellie hummed, looking at Abby. “What do you think?” She asked. “Does the whore deserve to be forgiven?”

“Might have to work a little harder,” Abby said, and you were lost in your head, your climax burning in your abdomen. “She’s going to break another commandment.”

“No, no,” you breathed, shaking your head. “I won’t do it unless God tells me to.”

“Is that right?” Abby cooed, and her free hand combed through your hair, grabbing it. Her fingers slipped out of you, tossing you down onto your knees again with a harsh thud, a soft weep eliciting from you.

Ellie stepped out of her side of the booth, moving to yours, and you heard the rustling of her and Abby’s pants, keeping your head down. A nude Ellie brushed past you, sitting down onto Abby’s lap, both of their seeping cunts shown to your eyes.

“Please us, little lamb,” Ellie said, and you slightly moved yourself closer, your mouth latching on Abby’s cunt, hearing a soft moan leave her. You slid two fingers into Ellie’s, who cursed under her breath, and the pair looked down at you as you stared right back at them, desperation shining in your eyes.

“Doing s’good, baby,” Abby gently praised, her breath jagged, and looped around Ellie’s waist to keep her in place. “Keep fuckin’ going like that.”

Your mouth switched between the two, lapping up their juices as they made out with one another, sweetly moaning into each other’s mouth. All you could do was admire them, kneeling obediently while you drowned your mouth in their juices, needing more than just this.

Ellie put her hand on top of your head, the end of your rosary dangling in between your eyes, and she rutted her cunt against your mouth, keeping it latched. You stuffed Abby with three fingers, enough to fulfill her, roughly thrusting them into her.

The rosary continued to stay in your vision, almost like a mocking coming from Ellie and God; that once a pure angel fell into the hands of the corrupted, and became just what and who they are.

But you loved it, you loved that they curated you into this way. All you wanted to do was please them, see how sensitive they could turn out to be.

You spent the remainder of mass baptizing yourself in between their thighs, drunk on the taste of their sweet pussies.

You had spent the next day at home, making sure you had things planned out for when you moved out for Columbia. Abby and Ellie had convinced you to live in a penthouse that was about a block away from the school, and you had agreed on the fact that it was better to be with people you knew than a stranger as they knew it made you easily uncomfortable.

Your parents had left randomly for vacation, staying at their place in Milan, leaving you alone with your cat. You didn’t mind the loneliness, it was something you well adjusted to as you got older, and you only ached for attention when it came to your girls, but they had their responsibilities that you couldn’t interfere with.

You had finished packing up your box of books, setting it in the corner of your bedroom. Your attention turned to the sound of your phone going off, the soft ringtone coming through. You grabbed your phone, grinning at the contact name of “Jesse.”

“Well if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker,” you teased. “What’s up?”

Jesse James and his girlfriend, Dina Woodward, were the only people Ellie and Abby trusted you with; which said plenty because they would kill anyone who they didn’t know, and tried to talk to you. He was good, despite the fact he came from a shit father, constantly got in trouble with the law, and blew money on anything. Dina was the only one who could put him in check, and you had grown close to her over the time of knowing him.

“I fuckin’ bought a club,” Jesse started off, and you scoffed in disbelief. “Turned that shit into a burlesque. She’s a beau, you have to come out and check it out.”

“Well, I can’t right now,” you denied, and he groaned. “I’m trying to make sure I have everything together before I leave for college.”

“Cry me a river, come on!” He begged, and you breathily laughed. “You are always so attached to Ellie and Abs, make time for me.”

“Is your girlfriend with you, at least?” You wondered, and he hummed in response. You looked at the time on your clock, reading “9:03PM”, and you sighed. “I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t go anywhere.”

True to your word, you arrived at Jesse’s enriching club. You got out of the black cab, and stared at the sign that gleamed in pink neon “Carissima.”

You hummed softly to yourself, approaching the security guard at the front. “Friend of Jesse James,” you said, and he nodded, easily recognizing you. He opened up the door for you, thanking him, and moved inside, hearing the familiar melody of “I Put A Spell On You” by Nina Simone tune through the venue.

It didn’t take much to find Jesse, his arm wrapped around Dina’s shoulder as the two sat on a lounge chair in front of performers, their soft laughter knitting between the music. You walked up to the side of the furniture, their eyes averting to you.

“You made it!” Dina exclaimed, jumping up, and pulling you into a hug. “I’ve missed you. Feels like forever.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you said, separating the hug, and gave a hast squeeze to Jesse before sitting on the side of Dina. “So, what made you buy this?”

“Good investment,” Jesse said, and you awed, chuckling. “My dad doesn’t agree, but it’s beautiful. These performers… mind blowing, a fascination to everyone in this room.”

“You tell Ellie and Abby?” You wondered as Dina handed you a cigarette, lighting it up for you. “They would love this, think you are a genius.”

“I thought you would bring them. Ya’know, since you’re attached to them,” he teased, and Dina smacked his arm, glaring at him. “Bad joke, fuck! But where are they?”

“Don’t know, I haven’t talked to them all day,” you answered, puffing out a blow. “But they got their shit to worry about, don’t like being in the way.”

“You’ve been their world since you met them,” Dina said, taking the stick from you. “However, it is scary how overprotective they are.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

Jesse laughed. “Those two have always been frightening—”

“Yeah, but their care for her is… different,” she stated, and gazed back at you. “Known them since we were kids, and I can say they would kill for you.”

“So dramatic,” you joked. “They’re the closest people I have in life. They take care of me, know what’s good for me and I don’t know— I’ve never really had that.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she mumbled, handing you back the cigarette. “I just know they’re fucking you good.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go get a drink!” You beamed, inhaling the tobacco, and got up. “You need anything?”

They shook their heads, and you hurried to the bar, continuing to burn out the cancerous stick in a spare ashtray. You smiled at the bartender as she headed over to you.

“What can I get you, love?” She asked.

“Just a cosmo, please,” you said, and she hummed, turning to the drinks. You waited patiently, fingers tapping on the gradient countertop in thought.

A shoulder softly brushed past you, but you ignored the person, until they cleared their throat. “All alone here?”

You shivered to the voice of a man.

“With some friends,” you dryly answered, eyes focused on the bartender who had her back turned from you.

“That’s a shame. Woulda invite you to hang with me,” he said, his voice thick and heavy. “You always still can.”

“No thank you,” you denied, shaking your head, and prayed for your drink to come quicker, only for the bartender to head into the stock room for a moment.

Oh, you felt sick.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Dina and Jesse lost in their conversation, completely oblivious to you.

Your phone was in your purse, and you were scared to even fiddle with it.

“I don’t bite, honey,” he assured, and your heart leaped into your throat as his hand touched your bicep. “Come on. A pretty thing like you should be having fun.”

“Please let go of me,” you said, yet harsh enough to come off stern. “I don’t like your hand on me, so get the fuck off.”

“Now don’t be a bitch,” he spat.

You finally looked at him, your body wanting to collapse on you. He was taller than you, about six foot three or so. Broad and muscular, completely fit. His eyes were dark, had a goatee on his face.

You thought about throwing up all over him just to get this over with.

You hoped people sitting around would notice, yet no one did, caught up in their own worlds. You yanked your arm back, and scoffed. “You don’t got the right to touch me, you fuck.”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” he threatened. “You come here in that little black dress, and expect nobody to fuck you?”

The bartender came back, and was the only one to notice this unsettling tension. “Hey, honey!” She called out, putting your order on the countertop. “Had to head into the back to grab more cranberry juice, I’m sorry.”

She kept her eyes locked on the man, a pair of scissors in her hand. “Can you hold onto my order for a second? I need to use the ladies room,” you said, and she nodded, making sure to keep the man secure in her radius.

You hurried into the bathroom, your shaky hands taking out your phone. Teardrops collected on the screen as you hit Abby’s contact, the first name on your recent call list.

It took only two rings until she answered. “Bunny?”

“Abby… abby,” you breathily whispered, sniffling. “Is Ellie with you?”

“Yeah, baby. We just got done with some things,” she said, and you sighed in relief. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m at this club, Jesse’s club,” you began, sucking in a sharp breath. “And went to the bar to get a drink… this man came up to me, wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“What?” Abby’s tone sharpened. “Did he hurt you? Where the fuck is Jesse? Or Dina?”

“He just grabbed my arm. Jesse and Dina were just busy with each other, I was too far away for them to notice anything,” you stated clearly, wiping away your hot tears. “I don’t know if he’s still in here, but the bartender is keeping a close eye on him, and I’m hiding in the bathroom.”

“Stay in the bathroom, we’re coming right now,” she assured, and you hung up the call, sitting yourself on the porcelain seat, trying to compile all your thoughts and emotions.

As Abby brought the phone down to her lap, Ellie glanced at her. “What happened?”

“Someone fuckin’ weirdo touched her,” Abby exsperated, and static rang in Ellie’s ears, scoffing in disbelief. “Jesse opened up his own club, she was there, and went alone to get a drink.”

Ellie texted Jesse for the address, and Abby searched around the backseat compartment. “I don’t know if the gun is still in here,” Ellie said, and the blonde groaned in frustration. “We can’t go in there with one.”

“The one time you don’t bring your weapon,” Abby sighed.

“Got the address,” Ellie mumbled, opening up her phone. “Charles! Hit 7th avenue.”

“The fuck are we gonna do with this dude?” Abby asked, and Ellie grinned. “Talk to me, baby.”

“We fuckin’ kill him,” Ellie stated.

You passed time by playing games on your phone, the stress of it being enough to forget the short horror experience you just encountered. The shout of your name in the bathroom caught your attention, killing your high score in the process.

“Baby, where are you?” Ellie called out, and you rushed out of the stall, getting her attention. “Oh, there’s my girl.”

She hastily brought you into her arms, letting you cry into her shoulder as she held you, cupping the back of your head. “My brave girl, hm? So proud of you,” she praised, kissing your temple. “Abby and I are gonna take care of everything.”

You nodded, bringing your head back, and she smiled softly at you. “Do you have any party favors?” You wondered, and she sighed, shaking her head. “Please, just wanna wash off tonight.”

“Honey, you are not taking coke,” she said, and you frowned. “I know you are upset, but your body isn’t used to it, and you wouldn’t like it.”

“Yes I do! Remember when I did it off your ass on our ski trip in Aspen?” You recalled, and she kept denying you. “Please! Just this once. I’ll have Dina make sure I don’t do more than three lines.”

“Dina couldn’t even keep an eye on you right now!” She shouted, and you flinched, body tensing. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just— You need to be careful.”

“Just three lines,” you repeated.

Ellie reached into her trouser’s pockets, fiddling with the bag, and handed it to you. “Go have fun, baby,” she said, and you kissed her cheek, thanking her before sprinting back out to Jesse and Dina.

The couple bounced up from their seats at your appearance, clear worry plastered on their faces. “Fuck, we’re so sorry,” Dina said, gently grabbing your wrists. “We were so caught up—“

“It’s fine,” you smiled, sitting down on the lounge seat, and popped open the bag of cocaine.

“Fuck, you’re doing lines? Haven’t seen you do that shit since the Debutante Ball,” she said, and you poured some of the white powder onto the table in front of you.

“Ellie and Abby don’t know about that,” you told her, and her eyes widened, looking at her boyfriend who only shrugged at her. “They would kill me if they knew the amount of drugs I’ve done behind their back.”

“You’ve only done cocaine, no?” Jesse questioned, and you only glanced at him over your shoulder, giggling. You took a random card out of your wallet, dividing the powder into neat lines, a dumb smile on your face.

“Jesse, can you go get my cosmo, please?” You asked, sweetness laced in your tone. “I deserve some of that with this shit.” He sighed, nodding, and getting up from his spot.

There were seven lines made, and you wiped off the collected powder from the edge of the card, sniffing it up your left nostril. You exhaled sharply, snickering, and traded the card in for a dollar bill. “You want some of this?” You offered, turning around to look at Dina, and she denied the offer, eyes focused on you.

You hummed, tightly rolling up the bill. “More for me, then.” You brought the paper up to your nose, aligning it with the first line, and took a heavy inhale, a strong burn hitting your nose. You sniffled, bringing your head up and leaned it back, shakily laughing.

“Easy there, babe,” Dina put a hand on your back, rubbing it. Jesse came back on time with your drink, handing it to you, and noticed the dollar bill next to the second line.

“Already started?” He teased, and you took a sip of the cocktail, eyeing to the drug. “I’m all good, treat yourself with that stuff.”

With you doing lines and being utterly distracted inside of the club, Abby and Ellie were on the top floor of the building, inside a storage room with a beaten man on the ground.

Abby took another kick to his gut, Ellie sitting in a chair with a cigarette in her mouth. “You like touchin’ females you don’t know!” Abby yelled, and he sobbed, restrained by cable ties, his right eyes kicked in. “Fuckin’ touching her like that, you aren’t getting away with this shit.”

Ellie took the gun out from the back of her trousers, lucky enough to find the weapon in the glove compartment by the driver. She flashed the object to the man’s eyes, a vile grin playing on her lips as she stared at him.

She got up, and stalked towards his limp body, standing by Abby’s side. “What’s your name, man?” Ellie asked, with her partner taking a hast note to her facade. “Got any kids or anything?”

“My name is Brandon,” he breathed, and Ellie nodded, squatting down to match eye level with him, letting the gun dangle in her hands. “Shit, dude, listen— I—I’m sorry. I didn’t think she was taken.”

“What makes you say that?” Abby questioned.

“A girl like that… wants attention,” he said, and the girls looked at one another before glancing back over to Brandon. “Can even tell she’s got lingerie under that shit. She’s a fuckin’ tease, a whore.”

Ellie hummed, reloading the glock in her hand, and chuckled. “I think I’m done with my cigarette now,” she mumbled, jokingly frowning as she played with the stick in between her fingers. “Too bad I don’t have an ashtray on me.”

Abby took out a switchblade, exchanging it for the gun. “Tell me when you need me to do it,” she said, and the auburn haired girl seized the man’s jaw, squeezing open his mouth as a wave of protests elicited from his throat.

Ellie pushed the bud to his tongue, and cruelly laughed at the garging scream that came out of him. “Keep fuckin’ talking shit!” She shouted, flicking open her switchblade, and held it to his throat. “Swallow that cigarette, wanna see if you still want to run your mouth!”

“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” Abby chimed in, taking off her leather jacket. “You’re lucky we don’t kill you right now.”

Ellie put her hand over the man’s mouth, refusing to let him spit out her cigarette, only giving him the option to swallow it for good. She smiled, pleased with the simple act, and took her hand back. “Got anymore shit to say?” She questioned, tilting her head to the side.

Brandon sniffled, jagged sobs intertwined with his heavy breathing. “You’re both fucking insane,” he began, trying to gather oxygen into him. “She’s going to leave you. You’re going to drive her away with this shit.”

“We’d like to see her try,” Abby said, and Ellie stood up, putting herself aside to let her do as she pleased. She sat back down, opening up her phone to text Jesse.

E: How is she?

J: Two Cosmos in. Had seven lines. Get down here soon.

E: Don’t let her strip her clothes off. We don’t need a sequel to Barcelona.

J: Me and Dina can’t handle her, only you can. She won’t shut the fuck up about you.

E: Don’t let us down again. P.S., may need a mop in here soon.

She tucked her phone away, and admired Abby damaging the man. She was ruthless, yet composing herself enough not to kill him — just yet. His face had molded into a pulp, unrecognizable to anyone as his blood painted on Abby’s hands, his weak pleas being ignored by the pair.

Abby and Ellie got high off of this, hurting or killing anyone who made you uncomfortable. They had been getting away with it for so long, and you had been gullible to it, never blinking an eye to their unknown actions.

They would do this over and over again, even if something was your fault within it, they dealt with you in their own way — but no one was ever to lay a hand on you, and you knew that too.

Abby snagged his wallet out of his pocket, opening it up. “Brandon James,” she announced, pulling out his cash, and putting it in her pockets. “Gonna use this to buy her something pretty and nice.”

“Where does he live?” Ellie asked.

“Won’t you look at that!” Abby said, pressing her boot to his face. “He’s a rich brat. Lives in that building next to yours, Els.”

Ellie chuckled. “Money probably got him out of his shit. Isn’t that right, Brandon James?”

“Please,” is all he could manage to say, dizzy and lightheaded.

Ellie returned over to him, and stood over him before lowering herself. “This may hurt,” she said, signaling for Abby’s help, who obliged by opening the man’s mouth. Ellie grinned, tugging at the tip of his tongue, and began to sever it with her switchblade.

He screamed, thrashing around, but was overpowered by the two women, entirely useless to their strength. “This isn’t even the worst part,” Ellie muttered, grunting as she went on to cut off his tongue. “You made her cry, ya’know? Poor baby was so scared, and didn't know what to do.”

His tongue ripped out, being put to the side of his head. She got up, staring at the blood of her hand, and could only curl her hand into a tight fist.

He fuckin’ frightened her, she thought to herself. He deserves to die.

He was already facing death in a horrid, slow manner, and the last thing he would see was these two, towering over him; utterly indulged by his death, and letting it fuel their ego.

“Kill him. Jesse wants us back,” Ellie ordered, and Abby aimed the gun at his face, her finger carelessly pressing down on the trigger. His face blew, and they both hummed, taking in the view. “Good job. Already called the crew to come get him.”

Stuck yet hast of cleaning themselves up, alcohol and drugs overrode your brain, consuming you. You were sitting on the edge of the couch, staring at the dancers on the stage who moved with elegance, and passion. Each one of them were beautiful, confident in their own way that made your heart beat.

“Wish I was as good as them,” you said, sipping on Jesse’s cup of scotch. “I can fuckin’ dance, but not like that.”

“They’re giving a simple show,” Dina noted, and you blew a raspberry, glaring at her.

“They’re doing much more than that,” you retorted, and inhaled one last bump, coughing. “I… I want to go up there.”

“You’re not,” Jesse denied, and you pouted. “Ellie and Abby would murder you, and then me. We don’t want Barcelona to happen.”

“Oh my gosh! That trip was so fun!” You recalled, warmly smiling at the memory. “Wait, what happened?”

“You drank too much, got lost in the crowd dancing with too many people,” Dina said, and you zoned out, attempting to have any recollection. “Then, you bought everyone shots, danced on top of the bar, and flashed your ass to them.”

“Okay, that’s not bad,” you giggled, shrugging. “I’m going up there!”

“Do you have a death wish?” Dina wondered, and grabbed your wrist, preventing you from standing up. “Your girlfriends are going to kill you if you do some sort of strip tease up there.”

“They’ll get over it,” you said, freeing your wrist from her hold. “They’re not here, anyways, and they won’t do shit about it.”

Jesse and Dina sighed, giving up all attempts and let you run off onto the stage. The burlesque dancers beamed at your presence, letting you stand in the middle as you were too mind numbed to understand what you were doing, just knowing you wanted to have fun.

The song and crowd were an echo, intoxication burning into your body, controlling each thing you did. You sheepishly grinned, your hand reaching to the side of your dress, and pulled down the zipper.

“No, no!” Dina shouted, and Jesse mumbled multiple curse words, sipping down the last of his drink. “Oh, we are so dead.”

Abby and Ellie appeared right next to them, at the exact time you were shimming off your dress, and were exposed in your garter belt, stockings, and undergarments. “What the fuck did we say!” Abby shouted, and the couple sighed, watching in horror with the two girls while you were oblivious to them.

People in the club cheered for you, a few getting their wallets out. You laughed, your vision a blur as you showed off your body, letting your hands run all over your body.

Your girlfriends watched attentively, millions of thoughts piling on top of each other, thinking of how to get off the stage, and back home. They weren’t going to punish you while you were clearly out of your mind, but that gave them enough time to think of how to handle you.

They just fucking murdered someone for you, and your flashing your body to strangers. You were more than ungrateful at this moment.

The dancers on stage encouraged you to do what you wanted, cheering you though they knew you were not intact with reality. “Should I take off my bra?” You questioned, and the people in front yelled in agreement, earning a small laugh out of you. “Yeah? Flash my tits for New York?”

“What the fuck is she saying?” Jesse asked. “Go get your girl before she turns this into a riot house.”

Abby and Ellie both rushed to you, having to fight through a crowd just to reach the steps to the stage. Your hands fidgeted with the hooks of your bra, and before you could strip it off, they got to you on time. “Oh, it’s my girls!” You slurred, hiccuping as you laughed, and blushed in shame. “How long have you been here?”

Ellie took off her blazer, tossing it over you as Abby picked up your dress from the ground. The crowd booed and groaned at your escort as you only waved at them, blowing a kiss. “Bye Dina and Jess! Love you both so much!” You yelled, and squealed from being abruptly thrown over Abby’s shoulder. “Ow, my stomach!”

The limo was parked outside, and the chauffeur opened up the door, Abby throwing you onto the seat but made sure you didn’t bump your head. Ellie climbed in right behind her, the door shutting.

“Hiii,” you slurred, continuing to giggle. “You like my outfit?”

“Who gave you coke?” Abby asked.

“Els!” You said.

“Ellie, we talked about this!” Abby protested, and the auburn shrugged. “She can’t do that shit unattended.”

“I’ve done it so many times without you both,” you confessed, and their eyes snapped at you. “You made me this way — fucking corrupted, and shit. I am your blessing and nightmare.”

“You’re drunk,” Ellie sighed. “You need to rest when we get home.”

“Why, daddy?” You asked, and Ellie reddened at the nickname. “I know you both want to hurt me. I was bad tonight, disrespecting you both. How silly of me.”

“Fuckin’ watch it, bunny,” Abby spat, and you laughed. “I mean it.”

“Whatever. You’re idiots,” you mumbled, and Ellie had thinner patience than Abby did — meaning one more insult would cause her to take you in the car. She tossed your dress at you, eyes boring into you. “You could just hand it next time.”

“You are one more backtalk from getting it,” Ellie warned, and your smile slowly faded. “Anything else you need to confess before we deal with you in the dawn?”

“Oh, I can’t have a life of my own!” You realized, carelessly putting back on your outfit.. “Can’t take drugs without your eyes following me. Can’t even hang out with someone without a bodyguard being there! So fucking annoying!”

“If it’s so annoying, why stay?” Abby asked.

You went silent, looking away from the both of them, and finished throwing on your dress, slouching in your seat. “Only ones who take care of me,” you murmured, so soft and quiet, pouting too. “Make me feel special.”

“Yeah, and we’re the only ones who will put up with you this way,” Ellie added, and you nodded, tears welting in your eyes. “Who else is gonna do that? Tell us.”

You shook your head. “No one… no one,” you mumbled, chewing on your lower lip. “Can… Can I sit on your lap? Please?”

Ellie heavily sighed before giving in, beckoning you. You practically hopped into her lap as you wrapped your arms around her neck, nuzzling your face into her chest.

You fell asleep on the ride back to the shared penthouse.

Sunlight crept into your eyes, taking you out of your gentle slumber. You groaned, stuffing your face into the pillow, and felt warmth on both sides of you. Your eyes slowly parted, finding Ellie’s tattooed arm dangling over your chest, Abby’s looped around your waist.

You were trapped in between them, no way out. Your head pounded, your nose stuffy, and dying in sickness. You stayed still, trying to resurface last night's events, yet only blur spots flickered in your head. You whimpered, loud to drag Abby out of her slumber, her eyes adjusting to the sight of you.

“Hey, bunny,” she whispered. “You okay?”

“Did I drink last night?” You asked, and she weakly chuckled, nodding.

“And you did cocaine,” she muttered, and she brought her hand up, resting it on the side of your face. “You are in trouble.”

You panicked. “Whatever I did—”

“Baby, you are okay,” she assured, thumb caressing your cheek. “But you said some rude things. All we plan to do is spanking, that’s about it.”

“I’m sorry,” you frowned, and she kissed the side of your head. “Hope that’s the only stupid thing I did.”

“And you stripped and performed at a burlesque club,” she shared, and your eyes widened, whining in embarrassment. “Ellie nearly ripped your head off in the car.”

You looked over at Ellie, and grinned. “I’ll make it up to you both,” you promised, pressing a kiss to her lips, and she smiled, nodding. “I’m going to clean myself up, I feel a bit nauseous.”

“We had your things moved and unpacked yesterday,” Abby said, and you sat up, stretching out your arms.

“You broke into my house late at night, and got everything settled that quick?” You laughed. “I’m still a month away from attending school, and you’re already locking me down.”

“Better to get it done now,” she acknowledged, and you got up from the bed, padding over to the bedroom’s bathroom, closing the door behind you.

It took you only about thirty minutes to clean up, unimpressed by how worn out you looked. Your lipstick smeared, eyeliner and mascara cluttered around your eyes, your breath reeking of alcohol.

The shower was enough to relax your body, yet still felt sick, considering you needed a meal. You stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body, and stepped in front of the sink.

You found an unopened toothbrush waiting for you, and you grinned, opening it up. You turned on the faucet, and laid down a portion of toothpaste on your toothbrush, running it under the water shortly after.

You brought the object into your mouth, and used your free arm to pick up your pajamas. You walked over to the walk in closet, and looked around for the hamper, only to find it shoved into the corner.

Peeking over the basket, you noticed a white shirt stained with some red on it. It grabbed your attention, looking too crimson to be considered red wine, or anything else.

You just shrugged it off, putting your clothes over it, and went back to brushing your teeth. “Hey Abs,” you called from the bathroom. “What kind of shit did you get into last night?”

“What do you mean?” She shouted back, the loud conversation awakening Ellie.

“One of your shirts is stained,” you said, and Abby inhaled sharply, Ellie shooting up to look at her girlfriend. “Did I fall and eat shit, and get blood over one of you?”

“Honey, you did,” Ellie lied, voice groggy and hoarse. “I had to carry you inside, you had blood coming out your nose.”

“But I have no bruises or anything?” You realized, spitting out the paste, and cleaned up your toothbrush and mouth. You changed into shorts and tee before walking back into the bedroom. “Did you guys get into a fight last night?”

They went silent, and you got into the middle of them on the bed, going back and forth looking at them.

“You had an incident last night,” Ellie said, and your brows furrowed. “A man was being a fuckin’ dick, you called Abby, and we handled it.”

“Oh what, you fucking killed him?” You joked, and they laughed dryly with you, but enough to make it believable. “If you beat him, you just have to say that.”

“We handled it,” Ellie repeated, and moved herself closer to you, putting her hand on your cheek. “Now we need to handle you.”

You rolled your eyes, bitterly scoffing.

“Fuckin’ roll them again,” she dared, and Abby laid back against the headboard, letting everything unravel. “Always going to be a brat? Even when we’re so good to you?”

Your face softened into a doe expression, tilting your head to the side. “Doesn’t that make you want to fuck me?”

“We won’t even touch you if that’s what you're trying to accomplish here,” she taunted, and her hand snaked up to the side of your head, tightly gripping your hair. “When are you going to learn, little lamb? Is what we do for you not enough?”

“It is,” you whimpered.

“Yeah? Then why do you keep acting like it isn’t?” She asked, and eyed over to Abby. “What should we do with her?”

“Break her,” Abby said, getting up from her spot. Ellie grinned, turning her head back towards you, and your cheek was met with a harsh slap. You gasped, and her hand slid down to the back of your neck, pushing your body onto the bed.

“Fuckin’ strip,” Ellie spat, and you whimpered, but obliged. You fiddled with the ending hem of your shirt, taking it off, and your fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties and pajama shorts. “Need you on all fours.”

You huffed under your breath, glad that she couldn’t see you roll your eyes again. Your clothes piled down onto the ground, letting your knees sink into the mattress, your chest laying flat as your ass was lifted to her eyes for display.

“Baby, you’re fucking soaking,” Ellie cooed with Abby returning on time, able to hear the clicking of objects. “Let’s hold off on gagging her until she wants to say some shit.”

Abby moved to your eye level, grinning. “You want to keep being a desperate whore?”

“I’ll get my satisfaction either way,” you assured, and she inhaled sharply, eyes snapping into Ellie’s. The auburn handed her an item, noticing the pink ball. “Wait, wait!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Abby seethed, maneuvering your face and brought it up, fastening up the ball gag. “You’ve really fuckin’ done it this time, bunny. And Ellie is going to handle you, not me.”

You swallowed thickly, your doe eyes shining with pleas but the blonde dismissed you, tossing your face back onto the bed.

Both girls had stripped themselves bare, Ellie positioned behind you as Abby sat in front of you, her cunt for you to gawk at, but forbidden to please.

In a sharp breath, you felt thick silicone push into you, causing your cunt to stretch. You cried, yet it was mumbled, and Abby laughed at you. “Gonna deny you everything, honey,” Ellie muttered, her hands grasping onto your cheeks for support as she carelessly thrusted into you, breaking into you. “Need to make you cry, need to know you’re fucking place with us.”

“We could easily get rid of you,” Abby continued on, and your brows knitted together, shaking your head. “Could’ve fucking disposed you months ago, but no. Here we are, still putting up with your bratty ass.”

You cursed and moaned breathlessly, the pain turning into a bliss as Ellie’s strap pounded into you. “Wouldn’t want that, huh?” She asked, and you cried in response. “Course not, honey. No one fuckin’ loves you like we do.”

You stared at Abby with teary eyes, your hand aching to touch her, only for the blonde to slap it away. “No, take what you are getting right now,” she warned, and you nodded, your hips rolling and swaying with the rhythm of Ellie’s thrusts. “Won’t ya look at that? Little bunny just can’t get enough.”

Your hands grasped onto the messy bed sheets, nails digging into them. You stuffed your face into the material, lewd noises eliciting from you through the ball gag, almost feeling as if your body was jolted with electricity the moment Ellie’s strap found your orgasmic area.

“She’s enjoying this too much,” Abby pointed out, and Ellie hummed, all movement being halted. You groaned in protest, and she switched around your body, laying you flat on your back. She straddled herself on top of you, intimidating you with how she towered over you.

She popped the gag out of your mouth, your lungs engulfing fresh air. “Oh, little lamb,” she softly whispered, and smacked your face again, seizing it afterwards. “You got me upset, you know that? Treating me like shit.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, the strike burning your cheek before she placed another one. “Fuck!”

“You’re sorry?” She repeated, almost as if she didn’t trust you. “For which part, honey?”

“Just… just wanted to get a rise,” you admitted, breathing heavily. “Couldn’t ask for it.”

“Look where that landed you,” she said, and hit you once more, your head spinning. “You going to apologize to Abby, hm?” She climbed off of you, her hands guiding you around to face the blonde. “Say sorry, baby.”

You were a crying mess, and weren’t even at the worst part yet. Though you were scared, you were aroused; maybe you were as depraved as they were. You enjoyed the sadistic acts they brought onto you, wanting to be all theirs to use, and play with.

You were their girl at the end of the day, nothing could change that.

“I’m sorry, mama,” you mumbled, and Abby hummed, careless to your apology. “Please, mama. Didn’t mean it, I’ll be better.”

“You need to start acting right,” she said, and you nodded, mumbling promises through your sobs. “You aren’t able to leave us, you know that, right?”

“I won’t,” you reassured, sniffling. You knew that’s what many people wanted, that they knew you couldn't be without these two girls, simply as if they were your life support.

Everyone knew it.

“Where’s your blade?” Abby asked, and Ellie gestured to the night stand. She opened up the drawer, taking out her prized switchblade, something she always carried with her, but you didn’t know why. “Got to mark our girl.”

Ellie grabbed her knife, flicking it open, and she settled herself in between your thighs. She was grinning to herself, yet so was Abby, the two only knowing what they had done the previous night with the weapon, and you were clueless to it all.

“Need you to be a big girl for me,” Ellie stated, and you sucked in a sharp breath, the tip of the switchblade pointing into your right inner thigh, beginning to carve into your skin. “Right there, baby. Doing s’good for us, focus on mama.”

Abby scooted closer to you, putting your head on her lap. “Don’t cry, bunny. It’s gonna be over soon.”

Ellie branded her initial firstly into your right thigh before moving onto your left inner thigh, starting to cut Abby’s into it. You were trying your best to compose your body, squirming and softly sobbing to your skin being pierced.

“Mama, it hurts,” you pouted, and she caressed your cheek, looking down at you. “I know I’m your girl.”

“Just so you remember,” Abby reminded, groping your breasts. “Sometimes you forget, baby. We can’t keep repeating ourselves.”

You only nodded, melting into her gentle touch. Ellie threw her knife on top of the pile of clothes, smirking at initials. “Ah, now we can give you what you want,” she said, and you sighed in relief, a smile playing on your lips.

Dots of blood appeared on the wounds as the girls got up from the bed, opening the bottom drawer of the night stand. You stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the burn that scorned, and a large hand pressed onto the side of your body, shifting you around.

“Come on, baby,” Abby whispered, positioning you on your knees that sunk into the bed, and could feel her bare chest brush on your back. “Need you to spread yourself for us, you can do it.”

“You’re our girl,” Ellie promised, kneeling in front of you, and cradled your face into her warm hands. “Don’t know what we would do if you tried to leave us.”

Abby wetted her fingers, spitting down on your tight hole as she pushed two fingers into it to start you off. You roughly gasped, your body nearly faltering. “Stay steady, princess,” she said, moving her fingers at an easy pace. “Gotta prepare you for my cock, I need to make sure you can take it nice and sweet.”

Your face stayed in Ellie’s hands, trying to keep you focused on her. “Make sure to keep yourself spread for mama,” she told you, and you nodded, your shaky hands clawed down on your ass as you kept it spread open for Abby. “You can take it, you always do. Isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

“Yes daddy,” you muttered, and Abby’s fingers popped out of you. She put her hand back on your shoulder, guiding you back in the same moment she let her strap harshly sink into your whole. You cursed under your breath, tears welting in your eyes, and Ellie cooed, keeping your face in place.

Abby didn’t move further, letting your hole take in all of her, and nodded at Ellie. She dropped her hands, hooking your arms around her neck as she filled your hot cunt with her strap, and your body shuddered, your face collapsing down onto her chest. “No no, baby,” she said, shaking her head. “You gotta show us how much you want us. Fuck yourself on our cocks.”

“Too stuffed,” you mumbled, and Abby’s hand reached for the front of your neck, tugging your head back.

“Show us how needy you are, pathetic bitch,” Abby spat, and you whimpered, but compiled, gently bouncing yourself on both silicone objects. “Yeah, that’s it, bunny. Fuckin’ take everything we give you.”

Ellie’s was captivated by the way your cunt swallowed her strap, dripping and soaking it already. “This is all you wanted, right?” She taunted, breathlessly chuckling. “Just wanted us to make you cock drunk, for us to treat you like the dumb whore you are.”

“Y—Yes, yes!” You choked out, rolling your hips as your body began to endure the scorching pleasure. “Oh my god, feels s’fucking good, please.”

“You’re barely fuckin’ two minutes in on fucking yourself,” Abby laughed, bringing your head back and laid down on her shoulder, forcing you to look up at her, “And you’re already falling apart. Can even hear how wet your pussy is.”

“Want to be fucked, please,” you breathed, on a brink of sobs. “Can’t do it on my own.”

“You have to earn it, love,” she stated, and grinned. “Show us how bad you need us, want us to fuck your pretty holes.”

You pouted, and she shoved your head back forward, a spin of dizziness whirling in your brain. Ellie sadistically smirked in front of you, her hands laid on your thighs, and tilted her to the side. “Looks you’re about to cry, little lamb,” she teased, and you kept heavy eye contact as your holes stretched further with every desperate bounce. “Got nothing to cry about, honey. You brought this on yourself, you know that.”

“S—said sorry, daddy. I’m sorry,” your breath shook, sobs threatening to spill from you. You were overfilled with needs, feeling as if you were in heat, and only they could put the fire out. You could fuck yourself good, but they could make you feel orgasmic tides crash into your soul, and take you in one.

“Only saying sorry ‘cause you’re not getting what you want,” Ellie said, and you were quick to deny it. “Don’t fuckin’ lie, you know how much we hate that.”

“Please, please,” you begged. “I’ll be so good, won’t be a brat ever again.”

“Fucking lying again,” Ellie scoffed, and Abby grinned, smacking your ass. “Don’t worry baby, we like when you are; means we get to see you cry and break.”

You were stuck in the middle of these two, falling apart on their cocks as they observed you, waiting for you to break down into sobs. This was their whole pride, everything they fucking thrived off of, and if it made them the happiest they’ve ever been, you would them hurt you over and over again.

Your bouncing turned rapid, breasts in sync, and porngraphic noises drawing out of you. Your sensitive spots were being hit at, your eyes rolling back, and could feel heat pooling in your abdomen. Your hands reached out for one of them, but they denied you of it, leading you to fall into pits of sobs.

“There it is,” Abby growled. “Just what we wanted.”

“Can’t do it,” you sobbed, shaking your head. “Please, need mama. Need your help, please.”

“Yeah, bunny? Need us to take over?” She asked, mockery tangled in her tone. “Can’t use that silly brain of yours, huh? Our poor baby that’s useless.”

Her words mixed in with the fire that bubbled inside of you, expanding into your thighs. “Fuck me, fuck me,” you babbled, choking on your tears. “Need it s’bad, please. Just fuck me.”

Ellie halted your movements, and kissed your cheek. “We got you, honey. Let us do whatever we want, okay? We need to fill your holes, want to see it leak out of you.”

The duo situated themselves before handling you to stretch your form better, your knees locking place to keep you up. Abby braced her hands on your waist before her strap brutally thrusted into you, Ellie following the same tempo shortly after.

You could feel yourself being split open, Abby’s hands residing on your hips as Ellie’s let hers rest on the sides of your breasts. Their noises were shaky, rough, and undeniably lewd, a string of curses muttering out of them.

They would always be hypnotized by you, your body, and how fucking well you always took them. They would fuck you hours on end, and they have before, but they couldn’t get enough it. It was a fucking drug, worse than any they’ve taken. Everything about you was addicting and pure perfection to their eyes, knowing that they would be the only ones who could see you crumble under them like this, let them take control of you, and tear you apart.

They wanted to fucking spend the rest of their life in your pussy, fucking destroying it, and letting it cry with you.

Raw lust was a firestorm on your skin, sinking into your body, and coursing through you. Your climax was overrode, about to collapse on you, and take you entirely, just needing to be free. Your legs trembled, slowly weakening, and a muscular arm snaked around your waist to lock you in.

“Our pretty girl needs to cum,” she acknowledged, and Ellie’s fingers furiously hooked around your throat, squeezing it. “What do you think, babe? We let her cum?”

“Don’t know if she deserves it,” Ellie said, and your sobs were uncontrollable; your body was breaking, haze clouded in your head, and your high was unbearable over the limit. “You want to cum, little lamb? ‘M having too much fun seeing you like this.”

“Wanna cum, need to cum,” you blubbered, breath hallowed, and could feel them so far into you, you could almost swear they were poking at your stomach. “I’ll be so good forever. ‘M your girl, only yours; won’t ever be ungrateful again.”

Ellie grinned. “You mean that, honey?”

You mindlessly nodded, agreeing anything just so you could cum — it was fucking torturous.

“Cum for us, sweetheart,” Abby said, and you exhaled in relief, your body relaxing to her permission. Like a violent hit, your high crashed out of you causing your body to jump and shudder. Abby kept her arm around you, the pair not being done with you until they came.

You could hear the sploshing of your juices as Ellie viciously rammed into you, Abby’s cock abusing your tight hole with absolutely no remorse. You were there, letting yourself be their garbage waste, waiting for them to fill you up.

“Imagine if we could fuckin’ put a baby in her,” Abby laughed, her moans knitted into it. “Make her our bitch forever, wouldn’t be able to leave us then.”

“That what you want, angel? For us to make you a pretty mommy?” Ellie asked, and you blankly agreed, braindead and numb. “Keep you trapped forever, nowhere to fuckin’ go.”

Abby and Ellie always considered that; having a family with you, though they never practically discussed it with you, or if that’s what you wanted. They truly wanted you in their life forever, needed you in every way that would kill them if they couldn’t have it. And if you did try to exit out of their lives, they would find a solution to reel you back in.

“Mama gonna fill your hole, ‘kay?” Abby warned, and you hummed, falling in and out of reality. Ellie left her on your throat as extra leverage as she continued to hammer herself into you, her own climax trailing behind the blonde’s.

A symphony of vulgar, raw noises echoed throughout the bedroom, and your second peak surfaced in the depths of your belly, your body frail and trembling.

“Fuck, baby, baby, baby,” Ellie cried out, her nails clawing into your skin, and Abby’s hands crept down to your cheeks, clawing into them. Your skin was running hot and wild, their body heat radiating onto you as the room smelt of filth and sweat, shameless moans and whimpers wailing out of all three of you.

Your cunt and hole were stuffed with cum from their straps with Abby and Ellie’s climax dripped out of their sweet pussies. They pushed themselves out of you, and you fell back on the bed, gathering lungfuls of breaths.

“Won’t you look at that?” Abby said, her and Ellie mesmerized by their cum leaking out of your holes, their initials branded into your thighs. “So fuckin’ pretty, all for us to look at.”

“Head… hurts,” is all you could manage to say, curling up into a ball.

The girls took off their object, dropping it to the floor as they separated to obtain things for you. Abby went to the kitchen, grabbing cold water, painkillers, and a box of cherries for you; Ellie was in the bathroom, wetting a rag, and seized the first aid kit.

They rushed to your side in under a minute, worried that they might have finally done it this time.

“Baby, you with us?” Ellie panicked, and you nodded, sleep wanting to take you. “Can you sit up for us, please?”

“Can’t,” you whimpered, and Abby sighed, helping to pick you up. She kissed the side of your head, holding you sit up while Ellie aided you.

“You did so good for us, sweetheart,” Ellie cooed, running the cloth over your aching cunt and hole as you hissed in response. “I know, I know. Just need to make sure we clean you up well, okay?”

Abby brought up the glass of water to lips, stroking the side of your head while you took slow sips. “There we go, there’s our tough girl,” she whispered, and opened up the bottle of painkillers, inserting two pills in your mouth, returning the glass back to your mouth afterwards. “We’re so proud of you. You’re okay, bunny, we’re almost done.”

Ellie soothed your wounds with hydrogen peroxide, putting bandaids over it after. She put a chaste kiss to your hip, and you smiled small, thanking her. “You want to get some rest?” She asked, and you nodded. “Okay, honey, let us change the sheets while you eat some food, yeah?”

Abby carried to the loveseat sofa that sat in the corner of the bedroom, handing you the box of cherries as she helped out Ellie. The two weren’t even cleaned up, but made sure you were comfortable and okay before they were.

You wanted to cry.

They’re so fucking perfect, you said in your head.

You had eaten about five cherries by the time they fixed up the mattress, and put new sheets on top of it. You set the food next to you, and Abby returned to you, scooping you into her arms as you grasped onto her, sitting you on the edge of the bed.

Ellie picked out a new set of pajamas for you, changing you into new underwear, and a soft, pink nightgown. “Get some rest, and we’re gonna get ourselves fixed, ‘kay?” She said, guiding you under the duvet covers, and made sure you were tucked in. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

You hummed, your eyes drooping, and let rest take over you. You felt them press a loving kiss to your forehead before you passed out.

You could hear your ringtone tune, lulling you out of your slumber. You let it go through as it shut up a few seconds later, and you groaned, trying to fall back asleep.

Then, the ringtone came back, and the buzzing added onto it. Your hand reached for your phone, finding it laying next to you. You grabbed it, squinting to who was calling.

Joel Miller, the contact name flashed.

Why the fuck was Joel calling?

You noticed the time, seeing it to be 4PM — how fucking long were you asleep for?

You swiped the button right, bringing the device up to your ear. “Hello?” You mumbled, clearly exhausted and groggy.

“Hey, kid. I was wonderin’ if Ellie was with you?” He asked, trying to sound calm, but wasn’t. You instantly sat up, finding a note on the nightstand, and you picked it up.

Abby and I went out to get some things. Be back as soon as we can. Love you always, sweet girl.

Xo, Ellie.

“Um, no,” you answered, putting the note down. “Why? Did something happen?”

There was silence for a moment. “The cops are here, asking for her.”

“Cops. Why?” You asked, fear streaming through your whole body.

“They’re accusing her of murder,” Joel said, and you swallowed thickly. “Someone reported their friend missing — a Brandon James — saying how they saw him leave with Ellie, and Abby.”

Memories now began to flick in your brain, like bright lights, and bile burned at your throat.

The shirt. The red on the shirt.

Blood.

“We handled it,” you recalled Ellie saying.

“We handled it” was code for “we killed someone.”

You remembered the Brandon guy harassing you, grabbing your arm, and it sent you into full panic mode. You remember calling Abby about it, and Ellie giving you coke to distract you for the meantime. You remembered them not being with you for a while, keeping you with Dina and Jesse.

They needed you blind and gullible.

“Are you sure it’s even her description? People just say shit ‘cause they hate her,” you said, holding yourself together. “And Abby? That’s crazy.”

“Another person at the club supported it by saying they saw the two walking out with you,” Joel continued, and you quietly cursed under your breath, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “They were there, so were you.”

You went quiet as you heard some shuffling over the line.

“Do you know something?” He asked.

“I don’t,” you said, sincerity mingled in your words. “I promise I don’t. And I don’t remember anything about being at a club, I’m sorry.”

“Okay, well if you see her or them, call me,” Joel said, and you hummed, hanging up the call immediately. You let go of your shaky breaths, and nodded to yourself as a waterfall of hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

You couldn’t stop thinking of the shirt. It had someone’s blood on it, and they were dumb enough to leave it at home. You knew Jesse and Dina wouldn’t narc them out, they were the same as Ellie and Abby.

You were alone in this; you had the choice of coming forward with the shirt, or keeping your head down, being naive to everything.

Everything started to make sense — the possession, the house, the authority you had given them. They never wanted you to leave, and they eliminated any threats, even ones that hurt you. You were glad they were there at your beck and call, but you never knew it would go to the extremes of murder. You were starting to worry that this wasn’t the first time they did this, but the first time it was starting to catch up with them.

You continued to sob as you went through your phone contacts, and clicked your mother’s number.

It took a few rings until she picked up. “Hello?”

“Momma…” you sobbed out, not knowing how to explain what you were thinking without exposing a lot of things. “Momma, I’m worried.”

Your parents weren’t entirely neglectful — if you really needed them, they were there, and would never get mad at you for anything, even if you had some fault in it. They had their fatal flaws, ones that even affected you, but they’d drop everything if you were in danger.

You never knew why that was, but you appreciated it.

“What’s wrong, dear? What happened?” She asked. “Why are you crying?”

“I think something bad happened,” you sobbed, sniffling. “And… and I can’t be here, in the city. It’s a lot to explain, but can I stay with you in Milan? Please?”

“You’re worrying me, cherie,” she said, and you broke down further, everything in the room spinning with you. “You can come stay. Are you at home?”

“At this penthouse… I’ll send the address to Tony,” you stated, trying to steady your breathing. “Thank you, momma.”

“Of course,” she softly responded, and the line went dead. You rushed down to your feet, running into the walk-in closet, and grabbed a suitcase. You tossed random amounts of clothes until the baggage couldn’t take anymore; you could buy more stuff in Milan.

You tossed your hygienic products on top of the clothes, and before you were going to zip up the luggage, your eyes averted to the hamper. You contemplated taking the shirt with you, burning it in another country so nothing would be traced back to them.

You couldn’t tamper with evidence. But these were your girls, and it was your turn to take care of them, even if their actions made you sick at this very moment. You grabbed the bloody shirt, tucking it under your clothes, and zipped up the suitcase. You put on your sneakers, and tossed a leather jacket over your nightgown.

Abby’s jacket.

You shrugged it off, and grabbed your cell phone, putting it in your purse. You double checked to see if you had everything in your purse before rushing yourself out of the penthouse, and into the elevator.

You didn’t need to leave a note, or anything of that sort. You couldn’t talk to them for a while, not until you made sure you weren’t crazy or overthinking this whole situation. But the shirt was enough to confirm the first of your suspicions, and what Ellie said.

“We handled it”, her voice kept playing in your head, like a broken record.

For now, you needed to isolate yourself; besides, it wasn’t like they would find you.

That wasn’t possible.

You hoped.

[reidrum]

I can't stop thinking munch!spencer x reader who's insecure about having thick thighs (it's me, I'm reader)

take a seat | s.r

hi thank u for requesting!! i tried to be ambiguous about reader’s size but if it doesn’t come across that way lemme know and ill fix it!!!

wc: 1.7k

cw: 18+ smut minors dni, afab reader, face sitting, munch!spencer my beloved, insecure!reader who i took to be a little self indulgent sorry, fluff, hurt comfort but no hurt lol

this is also not proofread sorry

_______________________________________________

the thing about spencer is if you have any fear or qualm about anything, his main verbal form of comfort is information. and it’s not a bad thing, not at all. finding comfort in the facts is what spencer hopes to achieve when he spews his tidbits. it’s just, sometimes it’ll do more harm than good, or even worse, do nothing at all.

that’s where you’re at right now, sitting in spencer’s room with your legs tucked under you while he sits up at the head of the bed. the top buttons of his dress shirt are undone, tie strewn somewhere in the room. you’re still fully clothed albeit in a loose t shirt and some panties. the want in his eyes is undeniable, his question still lingering in the air.

you weren’t exactly the most confident person, but was anyone really? did people really wake up in the morning, look at themselves in the mirror and say, ‘wow, i look beautiful today.”? tell themselves they’re going to have a good day because they said so?

so when you’d spent your whole life living in the shadows trying to blend in and just do your job, one day an ever observant spencer reid saw you struggling to carry your coffee and your bag into the bullpen and came to your rescue before it could spill all over you. you were a mumbling mess, uttering thank you’s and i’m so sorrys and i’ll be more careful next time. but his gaze on you was unwavering, even in the face of your uneasiness, and firmly but softly told you nothing was wrong, and suggested that maybe you and him should get coffee before work to avoid this rush next time.

falling in love with him was too easy after that.

spencer never failed to make you feel cherished, loved, safe, always going above and beyond to care for your needs and wants. the trust you had in him was immense and you knew he would never steer you astray.

so sitting in front of him on his bed while he adorns a small smirk asking, no telling, you to sit on his face, made you falter a bit.

“you want me, to sit on your face?”

he nods, “yeah.”

any thought you’ve ever had vanishes from your brain, “b—but, won’t it be uncomfortable? for you?”

“not at all.”

seeing spencer be surprisingly calm about this is having the opposite effect on you, creating the unsettlement in your gut. like he’s been thinking about this for while, has wanted you at his mercy in a way you haven’t experienced before, has thought through all the facts and possibilities and ruled with absolute certainty that this was what he wanted, needed. and right now your body is betraying your mind as the heat pools between your legs.

but that brain of yours, a blessing with its vast knowledge but a curse at how easily a single thought can send you into a deep spiral, is working overtime to convince you that this isn’t really what he wants.

he can see the cogs working overtime and scoots closer to you and places a comforting hand on your thigh to rub soothing shapes with his thumb, “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“nothing i-“ you stop before you can get too deep.

his eyes look at you expectantly, luring you to continue.

“what if i hurt you?”

“that is literally impossible.”

“what if i suffocate you?”

“then that would be a great way to go out.” he chuckles.

you lightly slap his leg, “stop that.”

he gestures you closer to sit curled into his side, a comforting arm smoothing you up and down. “if you really don’t want to do it that’s okay i don’t want to push you, just want you to feel good s’all.”

you ponder for a minute, “…you would tell me if it’s too much right?”

“i would,” he nods, “but i won’t need to.”

he squeezes your hand in reassurance, and you remember that spencer reid would never lie to you.

which is why you say, “okay.”

his eyes light up like a carnival, “yeah?”

you take a deep breath, “yeah.”

“come here,” cupping your cheek to bring in and kiss you.

it starts off slow, deliberate. like he wants you to know how much he appreciates you placing your trust in his possession, and how gently and carefully he’s going to take care of it.

you hike a leg over his lap to straddle him and wrap your arms around his neck, letting his lips mark you like a road map. he moves down your jaw and uses his nose to nudge your neck away, giving him better access to litter the skin with love bites.

the moans spilling from your mouth spur him on, he starts subconsciously bucking his hips up causing you to grow restless for more.

he senses this and motions for you to lift up on your knees above him so he can slide his body down flat between your legs. the warm palms of his hands rest where your thighs meet the swell of your ass.

you look down at the sight of him laid out for you, and catch his shit eating grin staring back. the dichotomy this position gives you with a sense of power to be over him like this but the vulnerability at feeling so exposed caused a swirl of emotions for you.

“hey,” he squeezes his palms laid on your ass, “if this is a lot, that’s okay.”

“no, no.i think i want this. i’m just scared.” you softly admit.

“nothing to be scared of, angel. it’s not like i haven’t eaten you out before, it’s just a different position,” his hands move closer to your core, “let me make you feel good, please.”

you stare into his eyes once more, being met with nothing but trust and lust for you. with a deep breath, you nod your head.

he smirks again, “alright sweetheart, take a seat.”

you slowly inch your body up his own, hearing him outwardly groan as your cunt came into his line of sight.

“jesus fuck, you have the prettiest pussy.”

you preen at his words once you’ve reached the position, and you hover in hesitation. he wraps his arms under and around your legs and gently pulls you down.

and he attacks you like a man starved. his tongue licking a full stripe up your cunt, letting it swirl around your clit. the feeling is so intense in this position you have to lean forward and brace yourself on the headboard.

with a gasp you whine out his name, “oh my god, fuck.” he continues to use his tongue to barrel you towards your peak, knowing exactly where to touch and lick to rile you up.

he can tell you’re still holding back, feeling the tense muscles in your upper thighs harden under his touch. with a sharp tug he pulls you to be seated fully on his face, and he lets out a deep groan that vibrates through your whole body.

you’re fully at his mercy now, held down by his large hands and his mouth working so hard to make you see stars. the pleasure is overtaking all of your senses, when you look down to meet his eyes they’re staring right back at you, reveling in your ecstasy. a languished moan leaves you as you tangle your hands in his hair and pull.

he laps up your arousal with urgency, tongue moving in such a delicate and intricate way you would think he’s writing a love letter with it.

the coil in your gut starts to tighten and you can feel your peak coming fast, “spence…” you whine.

he hums in response, silently acknowledging what you mean. one more slow lick up and down your slit was all it took to push you overboard. the endorphins rush over you like a tsunami as you try to ride out the wave of your orgasm.

spencer doesn’t stop his motions and continues to work your overly sensitive clit, gripping your legs tighter to him as he prevents you from escaping.

“shit, oh god baby, you need to st—stop.” you brokenly moan out. you tug on his hair hard as you try to release his grip on you, and after a few minutes he takes pity and lets you go.

you let out a big and tired sigh as you flop to the side of him, one leg still draped over him as you’re both panting heavily, attempting to come down from the heat of the moment.

he smoothes out the leg over him with his hand and turns to face you, face plastered with a stupid grin and glistening with you.

“see? that wasn’t so bad.”

you scoff breathlessly, “i think maybe you’re trying to kill me.”

“maybe,” he laughs, “ but you liked it right?”

you nod bashfully, “did you…like it?”

his eyes widen, “are you kidding? you looked so hot it drove me insane. you’re always so beautiful but having you like that…i like making you feel good, it makes me feel really good, and that is a win-win.”

you smile at him and move closer to fit under his arm and into his side, your hand resting on his chest. he tightens his arm around you and whisper, “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you say through hooded eyes. your hand starts trailing lower, “must have been really good for you seeing how painful this looks.” you softly say, gesturing to the aching bulge in his boxers, the dark patch stained by precum.

his breath hitches as you inch closer, “baby, no it’s okay. you don’t have to do th—“ the sentence gets cut off when your hand gives him a tentative squeeze.

“i don’t have to, but i want to. i should thank you somehow for making me feel so good,” your voice dropping an octave in lust, “will you let me show my thanks, honey?”

you stare at him with the sultriest doe eyes he’s ever seen, and he’s thoroughly convinced in that moment that you are, in fact, trying to kill him.

still a great way to go out, he thinks.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could we please have a batboys (and Bruce) x reader who can break the 4th wall?

This was rubbish.

Dick

Would rest his head on your shoulder and ask. ‘Who are you talking to sweetheart?’

He genuinely wants to know considering the first thing he heard was you talking back his beautiful back and perfect thighs, only to find that you were saying all this to no one in particular.

‘Oh just the lovely people reading this.’ You tell him happily and Dick would only see the walls of your shared room.

‘And what are they saying?’ Dick would then say.

‘Oh I can’t hear them, nor can I really see them exactly but I just have this feeling that we are being watched -or read in this case- by many people, I can sense them and i want them to feel included in my love life with the most beautiful man Gotham has to offer.’ You tell him as you kiss him on the cheek, making him smile.

‘Well as long as they know that I am taken by you, then we’ll be okay.’ Dick replied as he kissed your forehead sweetly. Dick at first though you were just the type to talk to yourself like some people, but seeing as how it seemed as though you were more or less addressing someone rather then just talking to yourself, Dick then assumed that you might have an ability that allows you to look past this reality and into another one entirely that might be looking into this one.

It was a scary thought to think that he was being watched ,or read as you put it, by another reality but it was intriguing nonetheless the less that there was a possibility of multiple dimensions. So he could only imagine what you were able to experience if you were able to see beyond this reality to address people who probably saw him in a different form entirely.

If anything he’s extremely curious as to how your ability worked exactly as it was something that was clearly unheard of. Somedays you would address the audience as per usual but other times you didn’t address them at all, almost as though you knew where and when they’ll pay attention to you both: all so that you could entertain them for as long as possible without it coming across as excessive or too long winded.

He would try to act like he could see them too as to not have you feeling so alone, but would get flustered when you tell him that he was looking the wrong way.

He’ll leave the fourth wall breaking to you instead and will be nosy and ask all sorts of questions about your ability, all before saying that your powers was the most coolest he’s come across, but you knew he was only saying that because you were his beloved partner but that didn’t make what he said any less true.

Jason

Would raise a brow at first but would keep this tendency to himself out of a need to protect you from those who’d gladly send you away for such tendency.

Jason isn’t phased by much but you talking to a wall as though someone was there brought a weird feeling to his chest.

‘His thighs? Perfect. His stomach and autopsy scars? Delicious. Arms, hands and back? Gorgeous but all of you at home are already aware of that and could only imagine how plush his tits are-‘

‘Who are you talking to chipmunk?’ He’d ask, cutting you off as he expected you to be on the phone to someone, so imagine to his surprise when he saw your phone on charge and you were in fact talking to thin air.

‘Just the people thirsting after you.’ You’d reply as though it was common sense.

‘Thirsting?’ Jason tried the word, not liking how it sounded coming from his mouth. ‘What’s that?’

‘Just think of it as another word for desire, but they can’t have you because in their reality you’re a fictional character who gets the short end of the stick constantly by people who don’t know what to do with you in general.’ You shrugged as you looked over at him with a smile. ‘Also you get stereotyped as someone you’re not by people who obviously lack a capacity for reading given how short their attention span is.’ The last part was muttered under your breath before bringing the conversation back to him.

‘Enough about me how about you honey?’

It wasn’t the first time you’ve done this and Jason knew it wouldn’t be the last either as he would find you passionately ranting to your invisible audience about something, and while it was cute to watch you be this passionate, he also became concerned for you in case you were going through something that you didn’t want to burden him with out of a need to protect yourself.

‘You can tell me if you’re going through something you know that right?’ He’d tell you one night as he holds your face in his hands.

‘Of course I do jaybird,’ you whispered to him before watching him as he fell asleep, only to move your head elsewhere to speak to the wall. ‘Isn’t he the cutest? Truly a man unlike any other, a dying breed if you will, but I can assure you dear readers that you too will find your Jason Todd because that’s what you all deserve in life is to be loved deeply by an non-judgmental and caring man.’ You fished before joining him in your sleep.

Tim

He thinks your maladaptive daydreaming.

What else was he meant to take away from you talking to seemingly no one so passionately as you did in that moment.

He didn’t want to say that you were insane but it wasn’t everyday where a sane person would idly make conversation with thin air or a brick wall as casually as you did.

That or you were extremely lacking in sleep and were now seeing things, if that was the case then he would be able to relate to you as he had those types of days also, more often then others that’s for sure but from what Tim could tell was far from the truth as you looked bright and too well rested for that to be the answer.

And honestly? He doesn’t want to know who exactly you were talking to as not to frighting himself shitless and would act as though you talking to a crowd of no one within your shared room was completely normal in Gotham.

God forbid you start talking to this unseen audience during the night, Tim will think he’s in some sort of horror movie that he was forced to watch with the rest of his family on Halloween. Seriously who knew fourth wall breaking could come across as though you were demonically possessed?

He wants to ask who you’re talking to, he really does but if he was running low on fumes that day, really tired and wanting nothing more then sleep he would forgo all logic and just agree with what you were saying to thin air.

‘I wish I could tell you just how mean Tim can be when he’s sleep deprived, you think you know sarcasm? Wait until Tim is on about two hours of sleep and then you’ll know true sarcasm.’ You’d say.

‘Says the one who’s talking to the wall as though it had ears to listen or a mouth to respond.’ He’d replied.

‘See what Im on about? Absolutely mean when he’s sleep deprived.’ He would hear you whisper aloud but he was on the verge of falling asleep against the table to find out the true reason to your uncanny ability to break the fourth wall.

Damian

Genuinely thought something was off with how often you would look off into the distance, as though you were addressing someone he couldn’t see, like a hidden camera that lead to an unseen audience.

‘Isn’t he the cutest when he’s acting all tough,’ he’d her you say, ‘it’s like if you give a rabid chihuahua a knife but ten times worse because he can actually back up his deeply descriptive threats.’ Damian’s brow would raise at this as he watched you silently as his mind wondered who you could possibly be entertaining with such things.

Gotham has an ability to make the most strong minded person break and needles to say Damian would keep silent watch over you while you had these kinds of episodes, even when you would proudly praise his artistic skills but never to him directly, but more so to seemingly thin air with a beaming smile.

‘He’s got a future as many things and in all honestly I’m envious of how multitalented my Dami is, but at least I get to be his hype man and cheer for him no matter what, which is something I bet half of you which you could have but here I am loving your fantasy!’ You’d finish with a cackle and it left Damian smiling to himself at your pride towards him, but also still very curious as to who it was you were talking to.

‘Who are you talking to.’ He would ask you one day.

‘The audience reading this fic.’ You’d reply as though it was the most casual thing to bring up in conversation.

Damian’s brows furrowed. ‘Audience? What audience.’ He tried looking in the same direction as you, only to see nothing but his bed.

‘Oh I don’t expect you to see them but they are there,’ you tried to reassure Damian but it only came off as ominous and albeit cryptic, ‘they are always there, watching.’ You’d add and needles to say your words only made Damian go into a defensive posture at the aspect of being spectated by beings only you could seemingly engage with.

Well done you’ve made Damian somewhat paranoid as to what this audience you speak to wanted, what they wanted with you to have you keep engaging in conversation with them and what they could be planning.

‘Always watching?’ Damian asked.

‘Yep,’ you replied, ‘but not when we’re in the bathroom, that’s just really weird but other then that we are merely entertainment for them to consume on days of boredom and to grow a parasocial relationship with us to their leisure.’ You added and when you looked over at Damian, his jade eyes were wide and you winced internally, wishing you hadn’t said anything at all because now you’d knew Damian would start reaching for his sword out of instinct now.

Try and tell him it’s a joke as much as you like but Damian would now take your ability to break the fourth wall as a sign that someone was out there, watching all of you, an invisible enemy that he couldn’t kill and it pissed him off. He’ll break you free of the curse…sooner or later.

Bruce

‘That man is finer than a mother fucker and he knows it. And I know damn well all you thirsty bitches are making edits of my sexy Bruce to the song of older by Isabel LaRosa. I just know it you absolute sluts, but I can’t blame you because I would too.’ Bruce had just finished showering and the first thing he sees is you seemingly talking to a wall as though you were talking to a group of people in a whole different plan of existence.

He’s seen a lot of things in his time as Batman but someone talking to people who aren’t there? He’d assume you’re either clairvoyant or have another ability that can allow you to talk to an audience of people whom he can’t see, for whatever it was wouldn’t change Bruce’s opinion on you, powers or not.

‘My darling.’ He’d greet you as he holds you from behind. ‘May I ask why and or who you were speaking so passionately about me to?’ He adds.

‘The people reading this fanfic.’ You’d tell him as though it was a completely normal thing to admit as it was something you had been doing for as long as you could remember. Your parents thought you were talking to an invisible friend like other kids your age, but it grew concerning when you were still talking to no one in particular well into your late teens.

Bruce just raised a brow but would assume that you had some ability that you weren’t comfortable to admit to him, and he didn’t want you to feel pressured to talk to him about such a thing, especially not if you had admitted to someone in the past before and their reactions were negative.

He would just try and look deeper into this sort of thing in hopes of finding any pre-existing information about anyone showing similar signs as you and reading it deeply and intensively so that he could be well informed to know what you were going through. Bruce loves to be educated on things that he didn’t understand with the hopes of understanding it on a deeper level, so if he did managed to find something that perfectly describes what you were doing, then he’ll be reading it until he could recite it in his sleep.

He didn’t want you to feel as though you should be ashamed of your unique ability and would often take notes and things that he’d noticed you do as you addressed the invisible audiences in vivid detail. Your ability to see into another reality or anything similar to talk to people was a powerful thing to have and Bruce was fascinated by such a unique power, a power that could prove that alternate realities exist.

But Bruce would find himself intrigued with how you talked to this invisible audiences, almost as though you were greeting an old friend, whether or not this was your way to cope with the fact that you could sense an audience watching your every move and leave no privacy to be had for yourself. It was unfortunately something Bruce wasn’t quite sure but until your ability was causing you harm he would contour to watch and observe while acting as though he was unaware/ unfazed of your tendency to talking to seemingly no one.

Basically reader: you should know this too

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing — Damian Priest ♥︎ f!Reader 🖤 Summary — Damian’s girlfriend is pissed off. 🖤 Word Count — 2.3k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. D/s undertones, rough, unprotected p in v, slapping, cum. 18+ 🖤 Notes — Spanish translations are at the end of the story provided by Google Translate. 🖤 Taglist — If you'd like to be added, please click here! 🖤 MASTERLIST, KINK LIST

“Don’t fucking touch me, Priest,” she says, yanking her arm out of his grasp before shoving his stupid, giant body as hard as she can. He stumbles back a couple steps, arms spread, palms to his girlfriend, and the unadulterated befuddlement painted on his face is enough to make her head explode.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Damian chuckles.

“What’s wrong with me?” she screams. Damian’s smirk is gone in an instant and his muscles stiffen, bringing him to his full terrifying height, but she can’t back down now. Not after what she just saw. Fuck him and the click he claims. “The fuck is wrong with you?” she continues yelling. They’re drawing attention—well, she is, anyway—but she couldn’t care less. She wants these people—his friends, coworkers, bosses, fans—to know exactly how much Damian Priest sucks, what kind of man is, what kind of boyfriend he is.

“Come here,” he grumbles, snatching her bicep, squeezing hard enough she knows there will be a bruise left behind, and he lifts, nearly bringing her feet off the ground, making it completely impossible for her to escape this time. She feels like her shoulder is dislocating the closer they get to the locker room, and she’s nearly flung into the door when it opens unexpectedly.

“Everything … okay here?” Seth Rollins asks, chocolate eyes passing back and forth between the couple.

“Everything’s fine,” Damian roars, swinging the tiny woman inside the empty locker room. As she goes by, she lifts her middle finger at Rollins, who instantly backs away, hands up, not wanting any trouble. Damian releases his death grip on her arm before kicking the door closed behind him. “Okay.” He sets his hands on his trim hips, shrugging, big eyes and raised brows. “Seriously. What’s your problem?”

Her lips purse as she massages her arm and considers his question. On one hand, she’s pissed because the asshole should know what he did. On the other hand, she could accuse him only to have him deny it, and then what does she do? On the other, other hand—a much smaller, less significant, barely existing other, other hand—there’s a chance she’s wrong, and while it would be good news, she would be embarrassed, and their relationship would be damaged … if it isn’t already. But then the image from earlier flashes in her brain and, not only does she want to die a little, she believes she knows the truth, so decides to stay the course.

“You’re—” She clears her throat because suddenly it’s scratchy and it hurts much like the pain in her chest. “You’re cheating on me.”

The allegation hangs heavily in the ether. She feels stupid actually saying the words. She never, in a million years, would have believed him to be the type, but she knows what her eyes saw. Rhea Ripley—the incomparable, exquisitely beautiful—Rhea Bloody Ripley in Damian’s strong arms, her muscular legs wrapped around his waist. They weren’t kissing, but they might as well have been, and somehow, in her crumbling mental capacity, that alone served as plenty of evidence for an affair.

“What?” Damian asks, the tone of his voice lowering several levels. “I’m—” He pauses, shaking his head. “You think I’m cheating on you?”

“Yeah, Damian, you’re fucking cheating on me,” she replies with more force than she thought she was capable of.

He nods, plump lips forming a deep frown. “And you thought acting like a psychopath in front of everyone we know was the way to handle it?”

“I don’t hear you denying it,” she seethes, nostrils flaring. Her skin crawls at the thought of the two of them together. She wants to vomit imagining a life without her Papí. She just can’t fucking believe they’ve ended up here.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Damian replies, bending over to her height. “You’re talkin’ nonsense!”

“I saw you, Damian. I fucking saw both of you.”

He shakes his head, shoulders coming up to his ears as he considers her statement. And then it dawns on him—she watches in real time as the lightbulb flashes on above his stupid man bun. “Are you talkin’ about Rhea?”

Her mind is blank, erased like a math problem on a chalkboard, leaving her heart in control of her body—and right now?—that heart is fractured, splintering, promising to disintegrate at any given moment. She feels her feet moving of their own volition, closing the space between them. She stands before him for half a moment at less than half his height before reeling back and slapping him across the face. The palm of her hand erupts with fire, tears she’s been battling since the moment she witnessed the embrace now streaming freely down her contoured cheeks. Damian stands frozen, looking somewhere over her head. The muscles in his jaws flex as he clenches his teeth, inhaling long and hard through his nose. He opens his mouth to spin a web of lies, so she slaps him again before he can get started. She’s crying now because of the pain in her hand and the pain behind her ribcage, so she slaps him once again because it’s his goddamn fault. Damian catches her wrist as she makes another attempt, and this is a brand new pain.

“Mírame!” he bellows, backing her up until she slams into the nearest wall. She loses her breath a bit, but Damian places his free hand behind her head to prevent any impact. His grip on her wrist is unrelenting as he holds it against her chest. She is miniscule in this awkward embrace, her eyes looking everywhere but where he wants her to. But when he bends his knees and dips down to her level, ducking his head until he’s in her line of sight, she’s forced to meet his gaze. “I’m gonna make you pay for those slaps in a minute …” he cautions. His hand starts applying pressure to the back of her head. “But first I have to tell you, because for some reason you need to fucking hear it, I’m not cheating on you.” 

She swallows, having her breath stolen again because she feels the truth of his words vibrating her bone marrow. She also feels the shame and embarrassment of being wrong. With her free hand she struggles to unclamp his vice-like grip from her wrist, and having had enough of her shit, Damian grabs both wrists this time and smashes them into the wall above her.

“Do you hear me?” he carries on, with quite a bit more hostility than she’s used to, shoving his knee into the wall between her legs. His knee pad becomes a cushion for her pussy—he’s still in his gear, still sweaty, because she accosted him right after his match—elevating her to the toes of her sneakers, and she is completely at the mercy of Damian Priest.

“Yes,” she says through clenched teeth.

“Good. Do you believe me? Hmm?” Capturing both wrists in one hand, he cups her chin with the other and touches his cheek to hers. “Do you believe that I’d rather die than hear someone else call me Papí?” It’s actually an incredibly sweet confession, but the venom in his tone scorches the honey in his words.

She believes him. By all that is good and holy in this world, she believes him and she is equal parts mortified, thankful, and contrite. She’d allowed her imagination to run wild because of an act of love between close friends, never once considering having a civil conversation with either of them about how it clearly made her uncomfortable. Did she just cause a rift in their relationship? Contaminate it with her jealousy? How many people is she going to have to apologize to? Seth, for sure, although he usually deserves any middle finger aimed in his direction. Christ, what’s she gonna say to Rhea?

“Damian,” she whispers, doing everything she can to not sound pathetic, and if her own ears are to be trusted, she is failing miserably.

“No,” he interrupts her, “you started this. I’m gonna fucking finish it. Now answer me.”

She grits her teeth, rolling her hips unconsciously because the position he’s put her in isn’t all that comfortable, probably by design, and suddenly she remembers how and why she’s propped on her boyfriend’s thigh. Even the slightest friction renders a groan from her. Damian tilts his head, eyes unforgiving, a sable shade she’s never seen before, and she regrets having made any noise at all, no matter how unintentional. His cheek is transforming into a furious vermillion, and the guilt that washes over her is nearly unbearable. She has no hand left to play, not that she did in the first fucking place, and she resigns herself to the punishment she’s about to receive. Well-deserved punishment, she understands.

“Yes,” she breathes, his eyes boring into her, chipping away any residual resolve she might have left inside.

“¿Si, que?” he booms, as if he expected the incorrect response. His anger hasn’t abated.

She can’t feel her fingers anymore and she’s struggling to maintain balance on Damian’s thigh. The slightest lean this way or that sends jolts of pleasure throughout her body, and it’s a losing battle trying to keep the satisfaction off her face. “Yes, Papí,” she says, “I believe you.”

He eyes her for a long moment, searching her face for any clue she might be lying or still angry. She keeps her own eyes open and on him, seemingly baring her soul before him, feeling more vulnerable now than she has in her entire life. At last he pushes away from her and the wall, releasing her wrists, removing his thigh from between her legs, and maybe she misses that last part a little bit.

“Now take those off—” He points at her denim shorts. “—and bend the fuck over.” And then he moves his arm to the right, pointing at a giant WWE trunk on wheels wedged against the corner of the room. She knows her place, and she has her orders.

She kicks her shorts toward him, standing before him in nothing but a pair of Nike hightops, a white thong, and a t-shirt-turned-tube-top that demands the audience to ALL RISE. He doesn’t even look at her body before nodding toward the trunk, and Jesus Christ, she’s in so much trouble. She passes him while rubbing her wrists and when she’s standing less than a foot from the trunk, she realizes she’s too short for this fucking thing too. She glances at Damian over her shoulder, and he’s stomping toward her, and her heart jumps into her throat. She hops onto the trunk, tips of her shoes barely kissing the floor just like when she was straddling Damian’s thigh.

The smack to her right ass cheek echoes throughout the locker room, same with the slap to her left, and she yelps.  Damian grabs her hair and pulls, arching her back into a spine-busting half-circle. He lets go, but before she can fall forward, one of his huge hands clamps over her mouth and holds her in position. With the other, he wrenches at her thong to pull it aside—she hears the material rip at the same time—then bends her leg at the knee and props it onto the trunk beside her.

“You know, the jealousy is kinda sexy on you,” Damian comments. Now she feels his hand working at his pants as it bumps against her sore ass. Then comes a different kind of smacking as he swats the sensitive skin with the underside of his rigid cock. He traces the head along both cheeks and along the crack, on down until she feels the huge, blunt head at her soaking entrance. “But don’t you ever fucking slap me again.”

Without warning, he is wholly sheathed inside her, his hips slamming into hers. She cries out from behind his hand, clutching his wrist with one hand as the other claws at the trunk in a desperate search for leverage to launch herself away. Damian is not a small man, in any way, shape, or form, so he’s always allowed her a few minutes to get used to his size. Not this time. This is her penance. He squeezes her hip, in full control of her body, and he’s simply using her pussy to get off now, without regard for her pleasure. She feels almost like a fleshlight, but her hormones are confused because she’s wet as fuck and, whether he likes it or not, she’s liable to get off just from him fucking her.

Damian stretches across her backside, her spine still bowed, and his teeth scrape across the shell of her ear as he grunts, “Say you’re fucking sorry.” He removes his hand from her mouth.

She gulps oxygen before panting, “I’m sorry, Papí. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He kisses her sweaty neck and sighs, hanging his head over her shoulder in unison with slowing the pummeling of her pussy. “I’m sorry, too. Lo siento, mi vida.” His rhythm starts speeding up following several moments. “But I am gonna cum in this pussy,” he advises, standing up straight, gripping both hips. “And you are gonna walk outta here with it dripping down your thighs.”

“Yes, Papí.”

“Because I fucking love you.”

She groans, bucking back against him. “I love you, baby.”

One final thrust and he makes good on his promise. He even squeezes the base of his cock to make sure every drop is inside her before pulling out. He’s much more gentle with her now, his enormous hands sliding up her back to her shoulder and arm so he can assist her into a standing position. As soon as she turns to him, she grabs his face and pulls his lips to hers. Their kiss is long, deliberate, and by the time they’re finished, his hands are cupping her face and hers are clutching his neck, and goddamn it, she’s so fucking stupid. But love makes people do crazy things.

“Now what do I do?” she asks, holding up the tattered side of her thong. Damian inspects the damage, then takes the lacey material in both hands and rips it into several pieces, which fall one by one to the floor.

“Problem solved.”

🎀 Mírame - Look at me 🎀 Si, que - Yes, what 🎀 Papí - Daddy 🎀 Lo siento - I'm sorry

[pikp0kcas3]

The Hazbin Hotel fandom’s issue with accepting aromanticism and asexuality

Now that it is officially Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week, I want to talk about this!

I find that, as an aroace myself, I am constantly grasping at good representation and coming up empty— it usually ends up in one of two ways.

One: the character is portrayed as emotionless, cold, and robotic in nature. It’s the question aromantic and/or asexual people are often asked: “Are you heartless?” The answer is no, of course, but general media makes it out to be the opposite.

Or two: Their lack of attraction is seen as something to “fix” because they “haven’t found the right one yet”, and they end up with a partner as a “happy ending”.

It frustrates me greatly because of how little people actually see aromanticism or asexuality as a true part of the LGBTQIA+ community.

So when I watched Hazbin Hotel, and I found out about Alastor being aroace, I was over the moon. I was on cloud nine. I also saw how his voice actor has looked up the term as an attempt to learn about aroaces, which makes me OVERJOYED?? Amir is truly a blessing, and I love that he’s proud to embody a character that’s part of our community. It’s so beautiful to finally have a proper character, a fan favorite at that, who just so happens to be aroace— and that’s another thing I love about this.

It’s never explicitly stated in the show (though it is stated in interviews), but it’s rather clear when you’re watching, isn’t it? Alastor’s aversion to any sort of sexual advancement, coupled with Rosie’s blatant “I know you’re an ace in the hole” comment sort of spell out his asexuality pretty clearly, as well as what side of the spectrum he falls upon. In addition, his Valentine’s day card was strictly platonic, which caters to his aromantic side. It feels so validating to finally be represented, to finally have a character in media who shares the same lack of interest in romance and sex as I do.

When I entered the fandom to look for more content, I kind of expected to see the same respect for Alastor’s orientation there too. But that… wasn’t the case? I am fully aware that aromanticism and asexuality are both spectrums— of course, aromantic and/or asexual people can enter those kinds of relationships. I’m not denying that and they belong in the community as much as anyone else on the spectrum.

But, the more I see the same line again and again and again, the more it feels like an excuse to just ship what you want.

Usually I don’t mind shipping? I’m often a firm believer in people shipping what they like as long as it’s harmless and they don’t go crazy over it. I also know for a fact that Viv doesn’t have a problem with people shipping her characters. They are fictional, after all.

But in this case, people are ignoring the very thing that makes Alastor a part of the aroace community! People are ignoring his lack of romantic or sexual attraction!

Is this not the same as changing a gay character’s orientation to suit a straight ship? If not, how so? I’m told that we are a part of this community, so why aren’t we being treated like it? Why is it so hard to accept the people on the end of the spectrum who aren’t interested?

Something I’ve been noticing throughout my life is that society has not exactly progressed very much on the idea of accepting asexual or aromantic identities. Maybe we have, a little, since the old days— but hell, people in “the old days”, which in truth wasn’t very long ago, believed that asexuality was a medical condition to be “fixed” by taking the right medication or having sex. That’s a pretty low bar to clear. And on the romance side, you’re seen as a “late bloomer” or “boring” if you don’t express interest. These days, being friends with someone is treated like a gateway to them possibly becoming a lover. Not getting married, not going on dates, not wanting a partner— it’s all treated like a crime when it’s not.

Maybe I’m selfish, or sensitive, or I’m butthurt over nothing, or I’m making it all about me. Maybe I’m gatekeeping or whatever the term is. But please, please, please, I just want an aroace character like me who simply is not interested in sex or romance.

And I want fandom to respect that. I admire the creations that fans make— the art, the animatics, the writing and the character analysis. And I want people to keep creating because creation is indeed a beautiful thing.

But I really would like people to treat aroace identities like they’re important. Like it’s more than just a spectrum to get wiggle room to wrangle in another ship.

[mountaesan]

of pomegranates and love stained fingers ; p. sungho 

pairing. idol!park sungho x reader genre. fluff , est. relationship , lots n lots of domesticity ! synopsis. in which sungho shows you that love could be found at an ordinary kitchen table , amidst a mess of pomegranate peels and love stained fingers word count. 1.9k warnings. nudity and bathing in a non-sexual context , a lot of inner dialogue , sungho is… such a gentleman i actually might have fallen in love with him while writing this (yes this is a warning) playlist. the way that i am by abby powledge  notes. this is. so. so. so. self indulgent. but oh to be loved and to be seen by park sungho (◞‸◟)

Pomegranates are a contradiction wrapped in a tough, leather-like skin. 

On the outside, they’re unassuming. Their ruby-red hue is muted by a dull, almost dusty sheen, like they’ve been brushed by centuries of history. But break one open, and it’s utter chaos. Vivid, gleaming seeds spilling out in clusters, their translucent walls catching the light like small, blood-red jewels.

The juice is relentless. It stains fingers, clothes, and countertops with a color so intense that it almost feels alive, impossible to tame. 

And it doesn’t simply mark, it claims. Eating one is an exercise in both patience and surrender. Each seed is a burst of a tart sweetness that’s worth the mess, but it leaves you wondering how something so beautiful can also be so unruly.

That was exactly why you loved pomegranates. They were a little wild, a little untamed. It was in the way the juice stained your fingers, leaving behind traces of something alive and uncontainable. It’s how every seed is a burst of flavor: tangy, sweet, and unapologetically bold. For you, pomegranates were a reminder that the best things in life aren’t always neat or simple; they’re messy, vivid, and unforgettable.

Back in your adolescence, when you were still a hopeless romantic and believed in fate and soulmates and such, you had a theory: that anyone willing to peel a pomegranate for you was to be the one. The one the universe had assigned you—your soulmate. The person you’re meant to share the messiness and beauty of life with, because, let’s be honest, peeling a pomegranate isn’t just an act, it’s a labor. 

It’s tedious, requiring patience and precision to carefully break apart the tough skin without crushing the delicate seeds. The juice inevitably smears, the tiny ruby jewels scatter, and by the end, it looks like a small battlefield in the kitchen. 

You thought of it as a test of devotion. Who else would endure the sticky fingers, the risk of stains, and the painstaking effort, all for the sole purpose of handing over a bowl of gleaming seeds? Your theory wasn’t about the pomegranate itself, it was about what it represented: the willingness to take on something cumbersome and time-consuming just to bring joy to someone else.

In your teenage mind, peeling a pomegranate was love distilled into action. A quiet, unspoken declaration that said, ‘I see the things you cherish, even the messy, difficult ones, and I want to be a part of them.’

So you used to wait, watching the people in your life with a careful eye, jokingly tossing your theory at dinner tables and gatherings but secretly hoping and wondering if someone might one day sit down, pick up a pomegranate, and show you that love can be as simple, and as profound, as peeling fruit. 

But as you grew older, your pomegranate theory began to feel like a relic of a softer, more naive version of yourself. You used to imagine someone peeling away the tough, leathery rind, their hands stained red with love and effort, and thought to yourself, ‘that’s love.’ But with time, the weight of practicality started to take hold. 

Your theory about pomegranates, something you once held close with a spark of whimsical belief, soon became just another one of those silly little things that poets and hopeless romantics dreamed up.

So, you tucked your silly theory away in a dusty corner of your mind, dismissing it as an innocent fantasy of your youth. You searched for love that was grounded, sensible, and serious about the practicalities of life. You looked for someone who could handle the demands of life without the weight of romantic idealism like yours clouding their judgement. 

There was no room for mess or chaos anymore, certainly not for the kind of love that required peeling pomegranates, both literally and metaphorically.

A loud slam of your front door made your ears perk up and you heard the familiar rustling of your boyfriend’s clothes as he shuffled through the living room. You could almost envision the way he shrugged off his outer coat before neatly hanging it on the coat hanger by the entryway.

“Baby? I’m home!” 

“In here!” you called out. The bathwater lapped at your knees, forming small waves that crashed and fell against the porcelain wall of your bathtub. Sungho knocked on the bathroom door, but only out of courtesy, before he pushed it open and greeted you with a bright smile.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he knelt by the side of the bathtub to press a warm kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re home early.” you pointed out. A hand reached out to stroke your boyfriend’s cheek, a single droplet of water running down the slope of your arm and landing back in the bathtub with a small plop. 

“Mastered the choreography first so I could come home to you,” he replied, ever so gently leaning into the warmth of your palm. “Did you just start your bath?”

You nodded, the corners of your lips lifting at his sweet words. “Just a few minutes ago. You don’t have to keep kneeling like that, you know. Your knees are going to hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he said with a chuckle. His gaze softened as he noticed the way the water cradled your form, the steam rising in delicate swirls around you. “Want some help?”

You tilted your head, teasing. “Are you volunteering to join me?”

Sungho laughed softly, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, but I can still take care of you from here.”

Before you could respond, he reached for the loofah sitting on the edge of the tub and dipped it into the warm water before lathering it up with your favorite body wash. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second of this small, intimate moment. 

“You don’t have to, you know,” you murmured as he started gently running the loofah along your shoulder. His featherlight touch sent a slight shiver down your spine.

“I know,” he said, his voice steady and warm. “But let me.”

His voice was so soft, so filled with love, that you couldn’t bring yourself to argue. You let out a small sigh of defeat and leaned back against the tub as he started gently running the loofah over your arms. 

Sungho’s touch was delicate, as though he was handling the most fragile thing in the world. The loofah glided over your arms, his hand following to rinse away the bubbles.

“You work so hard,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he moved to your legs. “You deserve this.”

The words made your chest tighten with emotion. “You’re too good to me,” you whispered.

“No such thing,” he said with a soft chuckle, his hand brushing the back of your calf. “Taking care of my partner is the easiest thing in the world.”

You let your head rest against the edge of the tub, closing your eyes as his hands continued their tender work. The care and love infused into every motion, the way he poured his entire being into making sure you felt safe, cherished, and adored made your heart squeeze tightly.

As he finished, Sungho pressed a soft kiss to your damp shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment. “All done,” he whispered, and you noticed a hint of pride in his voice.

“Thank you,” you said, meeting his gaze. 

Sungho smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Anything for you, gorgeous. Always.”

He stood up and grabbed the big, fluffy towel from the nearby rack, shaking it out to fluff it up. “Alright, come on, let me help you out.”

You shifted in the tub, the water sloshing as you moved to stand. Sungho reached out instinctively, steadying you with his strong, gentle hands. His fingers pressed lightly against your arm and waist as he guided you to step out of the tub.

“Careful,” he murmured, his brows furrowed in concentration. 

The moment your feet touched the bath mat, he draped the towel around you, cocooning you in its warmth. You couldn’t help but giggle as he adjusted the plush fabric, tucking the edges around your shoulders like a protective shield.

“There we go. Let’s go get you dried up, and then we can go see the present I got you.”

The kitchen table was a mess—juice stains spreading across its surface, pomegranate seeds scattered among paper towels and discarded bits of rind. Sungho sat across from you, elbows resting on the table as he carefully pried apart another piece of fruit. His fingers were stained a deep crimson, the juice clinging to his skin and pooling in the small creases of his knuckles. 

“You’re making such a mess,” you teased, watching as he plucked a cluster of seeds free and placed them in a bowl.

He grinned, unfazed. “Worth it.”

He picked up a few seeds between his stained fingers, flicking away the stubborn bits of membrane, and brought them to your lips. “Here.” 

You let him feed you, the tart sweetness bursting on your tongue as he watched you with unspoken fondness. It wasn’t until you noticed the way his brows furrowed in concentration, focusing on getting a particular seed unstuck from the membrane, that it struck you how absurdly thoughtful this was.

“When did I even mention that I like pomegranates?” you asked, your voice softened with wonder and adoration.

Sungho glanced up briefly, his lips quirking up into a sheepish grin. “You told me once, when we first started dating. You were talking about how much you loved them as a kid. Said they were your favorite fruit, even though they’re a pain to eat.” 

You blinked, stunned. The memory was hazy even to you—just a passing remark in some forgetful conversation. But he’d remembered.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you murmured, feeling your chest tighten with an unfamiliar mix of emotions.

Sungho shrugged, returning his attention to the pomegranate in his crimson stained hands. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I like seeing you happy.”

You looked down at the table and took in the chaos of it all: the stains, the mess, his juice-streaked hands, and something deep inside you shifted.

Suddenly, you were seventeen again with your heart wrapped in whimsical theories about soulmates and love.

This was it. This was what you had been searching for back then but had long stopped believing in. This was the kind of love you’d once dreamed of but had dismissed as a silly, adolescent fantasy. Yet, here it was, sitting across from you with juice-stained hands and a soft smile, proving you wrong in the most beautiful way.

Your teenage self had been right: peeling a pomegranate wasn’t just about the fruit. It was a quiet act of devotion, a willingness to embrace the mess and the effort for the sake of someone else’s joy.

Sungho broke your reverie by holding up another handful of seeds, his smile so effortlessly warm that it sent a pang through your chest.

“You don’t have to feed me,” you said with a small laugh, though your voice wavered slightly.

“I know,” he replied. His tone was gentle but resolute. “But let me.”

And as you opened your mouth for the next bite, you realized that love didn’t have to be a grand, sweeping gesture.

Sometimes, it was sitting at a messy kitchen table with stained hands and sticky fingers, peeling pomegranates because someone mentioned, just once, that they liked them.

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[melliemell]

Pairing: Fyodor x reader

Contents: NSFW, sub!fyodor, fingering, (fyodor receiving, he's in for a fun night ngl), masturbation, fyodor agreeing to doing whatever reader asks of him and dealing with it, gentle domming him, Approx. 2.9k. words of filth. my bad

Fyodor was a man of subtle power. 

Not the loud, demanding attention type. No, it was a quiet, calm thing. The art of reading your associates first, and then ever so gently guiding them exactly in the direction you wanted.

All the while letting them believe they pulled the strings.

You pondered over that yourself; teasing the line between all those illusions. 

Even now, eyes fully drawn to the man before you, his slender form kneeling patiently at your feet. The familiar smile of easy confidence graced his features as he gazed at you through dark locks of hair.  

Fyodor was beautiful. You couldn’t deny that. More so with every second that passed. Your mind lagged. You could hardly believe he of all people would agree to a proposition you had only offered half as a joke, half an idea too appetising to regard possible.

“Well?” he asked, smile barely obscuring the amusement he certainly felt.

He was in control even now, it was more than obvious. The thought of that drew forth a slight annoyance in you, the need to fight back increasing. To see how far you could push him before Fyodor’s grip crumbled away–willingly… or not. 

“You will do anything I ask of you? Doesn’t sound like you.”

Fyodor shrugged, observing you carefully. “As long as you ask it of me. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

You considered him. “It is, yes,” you said, voice calm as you tried to keep your excitement under reins.

“Then I don’t mind at all.” 

There it was again, that lazy, upward tilt of his lips. Like he’s done this a hundred times, not a sweat on his brow. You only wanted to ruin him even more.

You took a step forward, standing right before him. Cupping Fyodor’s chin to have him look up to you sent a shiver down your spine, enjoying the readiness with which he leaned into the touch. 

Fyodor’s eyes never left yours. Not urging, definitely not. But maybe curious? You bumped his thigh with a foot, drawing his attention downwards. 

“I think…” you began, stifling your nerves down. “...you should open your legs a bit more.”

“Oh?” A quiet moment and then Fyodor’s thighs spread, cloth dragging against carpet the only audible sound in the room. “I will admit you’re being very timid about this. Interesting.”

“You don’t want me to be?” you asked. His eyes had a dark tint to them, heavy lashes fluttering as you locked gazes. He looked almost dangerous.

“It was only an observation, dear.” 

It was, yes. Fyodor really liked observing people alright. That’s why it was so hard to get a read on him too, his guards so high up you doubted even he remembered to check in on his own feelings.

It… was an interesting thought. One that needed more attention, yes. Certainly. 

“Alright then,” you said, weighing your words carefully. “You know, I want to do the observations for this night, actually.”

“I will be on display as best as I can.”

Perfect. “Okay. Then start by touching yourself.”

Short, simple, and direct. It worked wonders as Fyodor complied, leaning back from your touch to work on his trousers, his soft pretty cock free in his hand a moment later. His face turned to the side, eyes falling close as he concentrated. 

He made it look like a private moment, not even glancing at you as he slowly stroked himself into hardness. He was deathly quiet, not unlike his usual behaviour in the slightest. It was like having a window into something forbidden, and the way he tried to keep his breathing smooth, unbothered–it all brought a sad, knowing smile to your face. 

You knew what to expect. For all his unpredictability in life, Fyodor was a rather collected man–at least when it came to your sex life. That’s why it was so important that he agreed to this. Seeing more was an idea that crawled around in your mind for long, waiting for the opportunity.

Sometimes you just had to push a bit, see what happens. 

You reached out, hand stroking Fyodor’s hair. You didn’t make him turn back to you. Instead, you merely said, “Faster.” 

Fyodor’s brows furrowed. A moment later and his breath caught slightly, his hand moving in rapid strokes over his cock. You never stopped caressing his hair, hoping he felt the gesture encouraging. 

He’d definitely need that for what was to come. 

“Fyodor?” you began, heart thumping.

His eyes fluttered open, gaze hooded as he looked up at you. “Yes, dear?”

Your hand found his lips again, tracing his cupid’s bow. He had such a lovely voice… 

“I want to hear you,” you said. “I think you’d sound really prettily. Will you do that for me?” 

Fyodor blinked, his hand losing its momentum for a second. It was like seeing a quick slip of inner uncertainty, only to be masked back under a carefree tilt of his head. 

“Gladly,” Fyodor said, laughing lightly before kissing the fingers that caressed him. “Although I doubt it’d be much to listen to, but I appreciate your kind words.”

You didn’t comment on that, opting to settle in comfortably into the silence that followed. If it was patience he wanted–he would get it. Fyodor kept his gaze on you for a few moments longer before violet eyes fell shut again. 

He built up his pleasure slowly, tilting to the side just enough to give you a better view of his work. Fyodor’s hand languidly stoked up and down his shaft, his grip firm as droplets of precum trailed over his knuckles. The curse of having such pale skin was how easily it flushed, and Fyodor’s was no exception. With cheeks catching colour right before you, you doubted it would be any different down his chest too. His shirt skillfully obscured the rest of him though, an obstacle that demanded your prompt attention.

“Keep going,” you said as you knelt beside him, drawing his curious gaze to your swift fingers. His shirt came undone in seconds, a shared look of amusement between you.

“Still quiet for me?” you asked, breath ghosting over his collarbone. “If you need encouragement you could always ask.”

Fyodor hummed. His movements were becoming sloppier, but he kept his voice relaxed as he said, “Very generous of you. Was undressing me one of them by chance?”

You bit at his flushed skin playfully. “Yes.”

He only sighed in response, leaning into you. Fyodor’s skin was meant to be kissed, even if he rarely agreed with your words. The idea was foreign to him, and having a lover even more so. 

He never struck you as the type to delve into any romantic endeavours. Yet here you were. With him, pulling at his hair until your lips crashed into his, tongue already prying them open. Patience be damned. You held him in place, deepening the kiss until you were both panting, saliva trailing down Fyodor’s chin as the sound of your tongues moving against each other made more heat pool between your thighs.

You could feel Fyodor’s muscles straining, his belly twitching as his pleasure built. You pushed him back, letting him lay on the floor beneath you. His eyes were lidded, gaze going distant as he struggled to keep his focus. 

He was so pretty like this. His hair fell messy around him, mouth barely open as he breathed soundlessly. 

What a beautiful liar he was.

It’s of no matter though. You would gladly help him with that. 

You did not touch his pretty cock though. No, all your attention was directed to him, his soft lips, his exposed chest that shuddered every time you ghosted your touch down to his soft belly, his nipples hardening under your fingers as you drew your attention back up. Pulling his pants completely off was even easier, Fyodor barely sparing them a glance as he drew you back against him a moment later. 

Good. 

Completely exposed, and relaxed. What a sight he was, lying there under you. 

It made it easier to reach in your back pocket, an idea already forming in your mind. You were prepared for a night like this–never gladder for it as you pried open the small bottle of lube, hand slicked a moment later as it wrapped around the base of Fyodor’s cock.

He stilled against you, lips slightly parted as his breath ghosted over your lips. He liked it slow usually, so you gave a few experimental strokes, letting him feel your every move. Your nose brushed against Fyodor’s, and you smiled when he barely made a move, his eyes still closed. 

“Just giving a helping hand,” you whispered against him.

Fyodor chuckled, the sound of it quiet. “Very kind of you,” he breathed.

And it wasn’t like you lied. You gave him your attention for a while, letting him melt against you. You nudged his legs wider, hooking one over to the side. Fyodor went along, even letting you bite into his lower lip –a partial distraction you could say–and your hand loosened around him to trail down lower…

Fyodor pulled back just as your fingers found his entrance, his gaze blank as it locked into yours. 

You raised a brow but didn’t stop massaging the spot gently. You expected a reaction from him, of course. You’ve never done this before, and Fyodor hardly struck you as the type to suggest this himself, so you let your curiosity guide you through, uncertainty be damned.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” you said, observing intently for anything. Fyodor was a hard man to read after all.

Fyodor was silent, more so than usual. He was so quick to decide on things, predicting the outcome almost always. But he didn’t do that now. He only considered you before sighing. 

He didn’t look at you as he said, “If it is what you wish.”

Your brows knitted. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“How would you like me to say it?” 

“I prefer a “yes” or “no” answer actually. Big boys know those words.”

Fyodor only hummed, which served more to annoy you. You flicked him on the forehead, drawing a quiet complaint as he quickly caught your hand in his. 

“I mean it!” you said, looking at Fyodor with all the seriousness you could muster. “I’m stopping everything right now if you don’t talk normally. Talk to me.”

You pulled Fyodor’s face to yours, waiting. He could play his games all he wanted with the rest, but not you. You couldn’t let him off the hook so easily.

“Alright,” Fyodor said. He looked up at the ceiling, expression unreadable. “I… don’t mind. I am not sure, to be sincere. I don’t think I will enjoy it, but I am willing to try for you… There, how is that for my thoughts?”

You pursed your lips. At least he was honest. “You would like to try?”

“Yes.”

“And you will stop me if it doesn’t go as you like?”

Fyodor hummed. “Yes.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to see if he was bullshiting again. “...fine. But I’m filing for a pinky promise on this one. Pray to God if you lie, you loser.”

“Sure.” And he gave you a chaste kiss, his gaze gentle as he pulled back. He made it so easy to forgive when he was like this. All soft and lovely as you captured Fyodor’s lips again, savouring every second of it.

It didn’t take long to get back on track. He was already hard so that made it easier; let him lose himself in pleasure as you played with his entrance until he got accustomed to the feeling of your fingers against his skin. 

The first finger was hard, Fyodor tensing automatically. He felt warm, too tight for comfort at first. You trailed kisses down his jaw and neck until your finger moved with ease, pumping in and out of his hole as he gradually got accustomed to the stretch. Fyodor was breathing hard and harder, his fist firm around his cock even if he barely moved it.   

He was doing really well. You made sure he knew that, your words whispered against his ear with every stroke of your finger inside him. Fyodor could only look at the ceiling, gaze unfocused.

But it’s what happened after you added the second that you’d never forget.

Fyodor winced at first, falling quiet again as you raised his leg higher for a better angle. You didn’t want to go fast, letting him ease into it slowly. 

…but then you curled your fingers just right, and Fyodor’s entire body seized, eyes blowing wide as his breath hitched. 

You froze, fingers not moving as you looked Fyodor’s face for signs of pain. “Are you okay?”

He looked at you then, eyes blinking as he swallowed. There was… there was no pain there. It was something else.

You’ve seen that face before. Maybe. Not on Fyodor at least. You held his gaze, the corner of your lips lifting. “Oh, my.”

You didn’t give him a chance to answer as you moved your fingers against his prostate, maintaining a steady rhythm as Fyodor’s head fell back, neck beautifully exposed.

The low, guttural moan that left Fyodor’s lips was downright lewd. Your mouth almost fell open. You’ve never heard him do that. And it was getting worse; every thrust forcing out a quiet sound of pleasure that barely got stifled by Fyodor’s pursed lips. Covering his mouth didn’t help either, it only served to pool more heat between your legs, the sight of him like this making you throb with want even more. 

“Wow,” you said stupidly. 

“Don’t–” Fyodor began, only to lose that thought just as fast. You smiled. The lube made it so easy now, your fingers moving fast and merciless as he clutched around them, the action seeming unconscious. 

Fyodor kept seeking your touch, your lips– the kisses heated and messy only to pull back from you a moment later, breathing hard as he covered his eyes with a hand. It’s like he couldn’t make up his mind, the view of it almost too cute if it weren’t for how fast he stroked himself, precum sliding all over his fist. 

“I’ve got you.” You held Fyodor close, letting him whimper against your mouth. You swallowed every pretty sound he made. “Will you cum for me? Pretty please?” you whispered against his ear, kissing the sensitive skin there. 

Fyodor groaned, covering his flushed face with a hand. “You’re… enjoying this a little too much, dear.”

“My bad.” You bit at his earlobe, tongue trailing up its side and his eyes fluttered close. 

He was close, his fist barely maintaining a steady rhythm. As much as you loved to shower him with kisses, watching him stroke himself as your fingers moved inside him was a whole new experience, and it needed your attention. He was completely at your mercy, a mess–his hair soaked and sticking to his forehead, belly twitching from the strain even as his hips bucked against you, seeking more. Desperate was a good look on Fyodor.

“You’re so pretty like this, you know that?” you said.

“Mhm,” he said, but it didn’t seem like he listened to you.

You pulled your fingers out, only to add a third as you kissed Fyodor breathless. You stifled his moans as your hand moved, fingers curving against his prostate with every stroke. The stretch was there but Fyodor barely noticed, moving against you as his orgasm neared. 

“Come on, for me?” you whispered against his lips, feeling his breath hitch. You fucked Fyodor all the way through his orgasm, not stopping your fingers even as his thighs shuddered, his spend spilling over his knuckles to trail down his belly. He was trembling all over, eyes tight shut as he gradually came down from the high.

You pulled your fingers out eventually, Fyodor wincing before going limp beside you. You gave him some time to gather himself, brushing his hair away from his temple as he sighed contently. 

“Thank you,” he said at last, the words sounding rough.

You laughed. “Wasn’t expecting a thank you after this.”

“I wasn’t either, but here we are.” He smiled lightly.

“Does that maybe mean… I might get a chance for a second thank you?”

You laughed even harder at the strained look on Fyodor’s face, even as he masked it behind a forced smile. “Well…” 

“No. No no, it’s okay. God, you’re so cute. I’m not that mean, come on,” you said, eyes filled with fondness. 

“Just making sure,” Fyodor said, turning for a kiss to your temple before his voice became gentle. “But not soon. I have work to deal with, unfortunately. At some point in the future.”

You trailed your fingers down Fyodor’s jaw, considering. Getting closer to him wasn’t easy, but seeing him like this now proved how much it was worth it. Maybe he’d trust you enough with time, be more open…

He was always too focused on what needed to be done; a workaholic at heart. Unfortunately for both of you. “I could help with that?” He didn’t say much about his upcoming deal, but you doubted it was something out of your capabilities. So long as you could ease his burden.

Fyodor smiled, pulling your hand for a kiss. “That would be too kind of you,” he said, voice seeped with honey.

You nodded, keeping your smile in place even as you felt… something. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but the feeling settled in your chest, making you uncomfortable in a confusing kind of way. 

You forced it aside, focusing on Fyodor’s thumb as it stroked gently at your cheek. “Of course,” you said, sighing against his touch. 

You could hardly believe this happened. Better enjoy the small miracles than ponder over things. Fyodor was here with you, you’d figure it out eventually.

[jackiepackiee]

hi there! I was wondering if you could do some hcs about telemachus x reader where she’s a demigod daughter of poseidon? And shes not close with her dad at all bc he’s absent n everything but hes just sorta nervous? Or maybe he isnt nervous but when ody gets back he sorta freaks out? Whatever works for you hun xx

Telemachus x Poseidon Daughter! Reader

An- apologies, I’m not too proud of this one… if you want anything else about this just ask! @sunshinewhosketches

I’d say pretty confidently there are three levels of timespans of your relationship

That being meeting, dating before his dad returns, and after Odysseus’ return

Meeting

Now Telemachus is no strangers to gods. He’s a bit of a nerd… studying all the great tales of the sky, ocean, underworld, etc

And obviously he is close with Athena, he’d consider her one of the closest people in his life

But that’s the only god he really knows as in a personal way, not to mention Athena came to him so he wasn’t actively trying to win over anyone

That being said, it’s most likely that he meets you through Athena

One day you overheard the goddess of war and wisdom speaking of her new mentee with Hermes and you were more than interested

It’s not often that she speaks so fondly of anyone, especially men, so this boy had to be good!

Anyways, it’s not like you knew of his father yet (it’s likely during this time you first hear of him that Poseidon and Odysseus are having their fights)

So you followed Athena one day to meet the boy, just planning to watch from afar

As a demigod you couldn’t exactly make yourself invisible like true gods, so you hid in the water in one of the beach pools of Ithaca while he trained

But he’s very intelligent and soon sees you poking up from the rocks at the waters edge

Now he’s incredibly flustered, not knowing who you are or your intentions

So Athena has to tell him to calm down before you can talk

Sure, she’s against romance, but it wouldn’t hurt for her warrior to have a demigod on his side

And when he finds out your Poseidon’s daughter?

Yeah, he’s shocked

Not because he’s scared, but because “gods are such strong beings supposed to be so beautiful?!?”

You’re there, skin sparkling from the water looking like you emerged from the depths of the ocean

He’s immediately very polite, not daring to say anything to offend you

After all, your father is known for drowning his enemies for a small wrongdoing

But he sees your face and can’t bring himself to be anything but a stuttering mess who blushes lightly

Before Odysseus

When you two are dating things are more or less… crazy

The most obvious issue is the suitors

Now he’s tempted to say to them that, “yeah, I’m dating a demigod so don’t mess with them or my mother”

But he’s no idiot

He knows this would put you in danger, so instead you two usually meet at the rivers and beaches of Ithaca

Anyways, he loves getting out of the palace and exploring his kingdom with you

Although he knows you’d protect him, he likes to be the one protecting you

He feels strong knowing a literal demigod is trusting him with their safety

Your favorite pass time together is sailing, since he isn’t afraid of you getting caught in the water because he knows you can swim well lol

He looks so so so good with slightly wet hair, muscular arms shown off as he hums lowly and pulls at the ropes of the ship

But don’t tell him that! He’ll blush and lie that it’s a bad sunburn

Now he doesn’t know of his father and your fathers feud, so you two have little to fear

Well… kinda

He’s never known a demigod, nevertheless been in love with the daughter of an incredibly dangerous god

So he’s extra polite to you (he would be anyways, because he loves you) and never goes into the water without you

I’m not going to assume what type of abilities you have, but whatever it be he’s very very proud

When you show him he looks at you in awe before hugging you like an excited little kid

“Do it again!” Yeah, who can say no to him?

You two mainly share gentle kisses after long days of adventures, and you always splash him with some water when you get shy from his affection

After Odysseus

Definition of… “oh sh-“

Now Odysseus is a kind man, despite his change after his odyssey

So he won’t be rude to you

In fact he likely won’t know for a while since… everyone has a lifetime of catching up to do

So it isn’t until you see Telemachus come into your bedroom with a panicked expression that issues arise

Now he’s a sweet sweet boy, and he lies

He tells you he’s just feeling ill and needs to lie down

In actuality his dad was telling him about his journey and started talking about the absolute hatred him and Poseidon had for each other

Telemachus goes pale.

He’s so scared two of the people he loves most won’t get along!

So he doesn’t tell you while he figures it out

And by figuring it out I mean having a “tummy ache” because he’s so nervous

To be fair he didn’t know you didn’t care for your dad as you never brought him up

It was a touchy subject for both of you, but now that he has his dad he’s aware of how quiet you are on the subject

Everything is okay to him until he sees you and his dad talking while you help him fix a boat by going underwater and poor bby let’s the secrets fly

Since he sees you underwater he assumes his dad knows

“I’m so sorry father! I know you hate Poseidon but she’s so lovely and I’m not willing to give her up even if you have fought him.”

Which just confuses the two of you until you look at one another and realize

Now both you and Odysseus love Telemachus, and don’t like Poseidon, so what is there to fight about?

Telemachus just holds your hand, waiting for his fathers reaction

But all he does is nod and carry on

To be fair, he owes you for protecting his family while he’s been gone

After that Telemachus is less nervous

Now the only thing that gets him going in a flustered stutter is when his mom says “I’ve never thought you’d marry a demigod” and I maid squeals “when is the wedding”

No, Poseidon and Odysseus aren’t going to get along for your sake

[insomniadreamzz]

In love with the Wolf

Alpha!Jinx x Fem!Reader

This fic takes place in Omegaverse AU. Mentions of smut, blood, werewolves, violence, angst

This fic is also taking place in another world but with Arcane characters. A Fanfiction written by me. I don’t own any of the characters. Using (Y/N) in this fic as well for Reader.

Enjoy!

Part1

Part2 https://www.tumblr.com/insomniadreamzz/772189728598523904/in-love-with-the-wolf

Prolouge

Jinx and Vi were both Alpha‘s and sisters. Their relationship wasn’t the best after their father died in an accident. Vi blaming Jinx for it, like she blamed her every time something went wrong. Since that accident both of them parted ways, Vi meeting a beautiful woman, a Omega called Caitlyn. Caitlyn grew up in well known pack, a family with a lot of money, living the fancy life together with Vi in a beautiful place, a mansion. Meanwhile Jinx stayed at their lifestyle they had before. Nothing looked pompous, she had a simple home, a little hideout where she spent her time resting after going hunting or just causing trouble in town. She was known for being a criminal who stole stuff from other werewolves that had a more fancier life or even going in the human town and causing trouble there.

Their father Vander always told them not to get close to the human town. It’s dangerous. Humans and Werewolves had their problems with each other obviously. War between humans and werewolves was always a thing but at that time things got quiet between them. The leader of the whole werewolf nation made a deal with the human one. A deal no one really knew exactly about but it was important for every nation that they stopped fighting and living their own life even tho there were a little outsiders who still caused trouble. Criminals like Jinx. How long will the armistice hold on until everything goes back to chaos again? Only time would tell.

———

„Is that really necessary?“ You asked as you looked at the mirror, your brother Victor helped you adjusting the tie of your new uniform.

„Of course it is. You’re an adult woman now and our government needs more people who take care of the well being of human existence. You have never been the girly girl ever since you were little. You wanted this don’t you remember? Protecting your home?“ He told you as he gave you a smile with a little hint of sadness in it. „I can’t do it because of my disability to walk but you can. Make your older brother proud.“ He mentioned and you smiled, nodding in response. Victor was right. He couldn’t do anything much but you could. Maybe it isn’t that bad and you could use what you will learn to protect your loved ones.

Even if there is no war at the moment there were still some outsiders who caused trouble on both sides, human and wolves. The city must be protected and you grew more proud with your new job, fighting for good all those years you grew stronger and smarter. At least you thought werewolves were bad and they had to be locked away as soon as they get into the human territory. It’s too dangerous letting those ‚animals‘ run free.

All those things got taught to you. All that hatred. But for what cost? Your brother disappeared and you were alone, living only for the well being of your hometown.

You didn’t know what happened to Victor. He just disappeared from one day to another. You made peace with your own mind, convincing yourself of thinking he won’t come back anymore so you will stop being disappointed every day he won’t stand in front of your door, telling you everything is fine.

„Make your older brother proud.“ That sentence from him creeped in your mind daily and you promised him you will make him proud.

You were walking along the streets, the whole morning was rather quiet, not much to do for you as you roamed along the usual are you were positioned on. You were about to take a break when you suddenly heard a loud bang, a building catching fire, your eyes widen as you saw the chaos only a few meters away from where you were standing. „Shit…“ You mumbled under your breath, running towards the building.

You saw a few people running into your direction, away from the fire, some of your coworkers who were located near your route were also on their way to where the explosion happened, helping injured people out of it.

You decided to get in, trying to find more possible injured people but you didn’t see anything, coughing as you inhaled the smoke of the fire which also made it hard for you to see anything. In the middle of the chaos you saw a figure sitting in the middle of the room you were standing. It was a female, giggling to herself insanely before she noticed your presence, pink glowing eyes looking straight into yours. Her grinning widely so you could see the tip of her fangs. She was one of them…

„What the hell are you doing!? Get outta here!“ You shout at her, not caring if she was one of the wolves. She was still a living being. Sometimes you thought you are too soft for this job but letting anyone die wasn’t one of your things to do. „Why? Don’t you love the chaos? I do like it. Because that’s all I can do right. Causing chaos and trouble.“ She answered and your eyes widened, realising she was responsible for that.

„Why???! Why did you do that? I mean-…fuck it!“ You grumbled, knowing it was pointless asking her that. When you heard the ceiling above you cracking, something snapped in your mind and you rushed to grab the other womans arm and dragging her out of here, she squirmed into your grip, clearly not wanting you to touch her but you didn’t care at this point. Just the moment you both got out, the building crushed together.

„Don’t fucking touch me!“ She growled, you having other plans though. „Are you kidding me? You are arrested.“ You said before a coworker joined you, his expression almost scared as he saw your grip on the other womans arm. „How…did you get her?“ He asked before taking the handcuffs, making sure to put them around her wrists, you both having a hard time to make her stay still but you somehow managed it together.

„What? Why are you so shocked? Isn’t that my job?“ You asked him and his answer kind of surprised you. „That’s Jinx. You have never heard of her? She is well known for doing crimes. You will get a huge price for catching her!“

Your eyes widen in surprise. That woman was Jinx? She didn’t even try to fight you but why? Why was she so easy to get? Something is definitely off here. Jinx didn’t even look at you both, she looked to the ground, looking at absolutely nothing. She looked empty and sad. She did give up so quickly it made you wonder why or was it a trick?

Ever since that day you couldn’t stop thinking about Jinx. You wondered why she didn’t try to escape from you, she could easily turn into her wolf form and escape also the colour of her eyes…that pink colour. Usually werewolves had golden eyes, why were hers so…unique? You wanted to know more about her.

It was your free day but you still made your way to the cells, the urge to see Jinx again and getting to know more about her was just too intense. You knew she probably wouldn’t want to talk but at least you could try. Maybe you could also understand how that species is thinking and if they really are this bad. You always believed in the good in people and you wanted to give it a try.

When you stood in front of her cell you saw her being all curled up in the corner, her long blue hair hanging over her face you could barely see her. The walls of the cell were covered in scratch marks, telling you she probably freaked out in there. You didn’t even habe to say anything, she could sense your presence, her head slowly lifting to look at you, thise eyes already made you feel lost in them. Her gaze was tired, she was tired. Probably from crying, her dark makeup all smudged, cheeks stained with dried tears. „What do you want? Judging me?“ She grumbled but you didn’t answer yet. You crouched down to be the same level as her, showing her you don’t wanna do anything bad. „I want to understand you.“ You finally spoke with a soft voice, making her grunt in return. „No one understands me.“ She said, both of you staying silent for a while before she finally decided to say something.

„I lost everyone. My father is dead because of me fucking up…my sister blaming me for everything that ever went wrong and left me for a fancy bitch that hates me, everyone hates me. What’s the point of trying to keep a living? Nothing. I have no one.“ Her sudden openness was surprising but you understood the part of having no one. „You know…I have no one as well…my brother…he is gone. I don’t know if he is even alive anymore. Our parents died when we were younger.“ You mentioned, looking at Jinx who hugged herself as her nails digged into her upper arms, making her bleed. „You don’t understand half of what I am feeling.“ She continued pushing you away with her words but you stayed stubborn. „So all of this chaos because you have no one?“ You dared to ask and she snorted, snapping her head up as she looked at you, her eyes filled with rage but also with pain. „I wanted to show them all! I wanted to show what I can do! But…I always end up fucking up so I accepted that this is all I can do. I can’t do anything good.“ She snarled before getting up, walking towards you as she grabbed the metal rods of the cell. „What do you even know? You’re just a human.“

„Maybe I am just a human.“ You said before standing up as well, looking directly into her eyes. „You decided to cause trouble here. That’s not your home, that’s just not right. Of course we have to do something about it don’t we?“

„A human killed my father! My fault or not he died by a humans hands! I hate you! I hate what you are!“ She kept on yelling at you, her rage radiating a lot of power but you stayed calm. „You would have been arrested in your own home as well by doing that crime. You can’t blame every human for what they have done to your family. I do believe that if we would work together instead of wanting to erase each other we will have a much more peaceful life.“ You explained, her expression still angry but surprisingly she listened to you. „Jinx. You can do better than that I know it. I don’t care what you are. You are unique. Please remember my words okay? Think about it.“ You said before turning to leave, hoping Jinx will really think about what you told her. Maybe you had a chance to get her convinced to use her intelligence and powers for good. Just maybe.

To be continued

I hope you enjoyed the first part!! It’s more of an introduction but dw part 2 will come soon! Let me know if you like this story and wanna see more. I have a lot for you incoming. ❤️

[yanderemommabean]

Drider Mahito please mama I am begging on my hands and knees

The spider crawls forward, humming and tilting his head as he examines a few spots of his surroundings. A small bush here, a skittering critter over there, and of course a terrified bounding deer that’s trying to avoid the fate of the current one dangling and bleeding in the creature's mouth. 

He’s so excited,the electricity thrumming over his skin. He wants to catch as many meals as he can, he’s sure if he catches the most then things will go just as planned! 

Mahito was positive that all he needed to do was show he could hunt, gather, and track to be able to win your heart. He’s kept an eye on you for about a month now, watched you celebrate a holiday here and there, and was just in awe. You’re so intriguing. Most humans have boring and too bland of a life for him to care for, but you…You have a way about you. The way you carry yourself, the way you stand up to people despite their rank in your nest, the way you favor one thing yet despise another. 

He wonders if you’re the kind to appreciate the beauties of eating one's family members. He could scoop up that pesky relative who questions too much, you seem to have an ire of sorts towards them. 

Ah, maybe as a first courting sort of gift. For now he has to at least get his feet in the door! 

Maybe you’d like that street cat as well? You cuddle the other ones though…mmm…No, best to leave it be. You humans have weird ways to show some creatures affection, and others horror and disdain. 

Though, he supposes that's every creature. 

Trudging around in the trees, he hums a small tune and waves to the other Driders and Nagas, finding their meals and their bones to chew on. Some wave with a smile, others move on with their eyes down or a soured look on their faces. 

They’re smart. They see the markings that Mahito bears and know to stay a good distance. He has a reputation for mauling and using his venom just because some dare to look him in the eye. But that doesn't mean he’s a monster! What? He can’t have fun and play around?! 

A crackle of leaves and twins makes everyone alert, and a wide, almost manic smile grows on Mahitos face. It's you! That scent, that heart beat, the heat he can see on your flesh-It’s you! Oh he can't wait! He can’t wait! 

He scurries forward, blood and meat dripping down his chin and chest as he hurries toward you, pupils wide and wild as he manages to pinpoint exactly where you are. Ah! Now that he’s this close, he’s suddenly nervous! 

But you look so pretty, so delicate, so easy to break and eat and devour if you were more of his prey….

Thankfully you’re his mate! Or, well, you will be! See, he isn’t keen on being told no to something he desperately wants. Be it food, territory, or a way to be with you every single day for the rest of his life. 

You’ll accept, you’ll come home with him, learn his name and learn to stay inside at all times when he isn’t beside you. You’ll kiss and laugh and you’ll tell him how much you love him, how he’s such a good boy for you, how he’s such a hard working hunter who deserves your attention and love and- 

He’s so lost in his excitement he doesn't hear the horrified screams you make as he drops the raw meat and bones at your feet. He just grins, a large tongue coming to swipe at his blood stained teeth as he waits like a dog for your answer and your praise. Surely you see how hard he’s worked on this right?! 

Oh…you’re…scurrying away again? 

Well that’s rather ungrateful don’t you think? 

After everything he’s done? 

His expression sours, but he doesn’t let you get away as he easily gets ahead of you, lifting you up with ease as you dangle in his grasp, begging for your life and terrified of the creature holding your life in his hands, literally. 

“Insolent little wretch. I swear. I did all of this and you’re just going to turn away?!” he hisses, teeth coming close to nipping your skin as you feel your heart seize in your chest. Your voice, quivering and weak, speaks out as he dangles you higher, wanting to see the fear in your eyes for denying him your courtship. 

“Please don’t kill me”. What? What the fuck are you talking about?! Why would you assume-

It clicks. You see him as a predator on the hunt rather than a mate to be loved by. Huh. How did you ever come to that conclusion? It’s like you think he’d eat your bone marrow or something! 

Then there’s a simple solution to this! He just holds you in his hand, tight and firm, carrying you and your wriggling body away to the dark edges of his territory as he explains how he’ll prove himself. 

It’s easy! You just have to let him show you how much he wants you! Well, it's more of a need at this point. He went feral just thinking of you with some other mate, human or not. And if those Naga's want their tails intact they’ll know to keep their distance.

-Mommabean (I hope you enjoyed!)