#one of them was her whole outfit and it looked like it was from an entirely different game

[chaifootsteps]

OMG the scene where Charlie baby talked to Baxter irked me SO bad! Like what are you doing?!? Youre a grown ass adult talking to another grown ass adult, you dont talk to people you just met like that EVER!

Like what was the point of the scene?? To be funny? Cause it isnt, there is no joke, punchline, nothing, its just Charlie being rude to a random stranger that she just met.

Was it to make Charlie look like an "adorkable kawaii potato that LOVES cute little things :3"? Then someone tell Vivziepop that it isnt 2014 anymore and nobody likes these characters, epecially when theyre ADULTS, theyre just really fucking annoying.

This is why i hate the Show's Charlie, they try to sell her as if she is oh-so-nice and the most kind person in the world that CARES about others issue's when she is actually a priviliged bitch that thinks she has the solution to every problem in the world when she doesnt understand shit about other's people's situation nor cares enough to listen to them.

She reminds me to these internet e-celebrities that build their whole image on being wholesome and sweet but then when theyre asked to talk about some societal problem they decilne because "sowy i dont want to bring politics to my channel :3 xoxo".

It would have been interesting if she was written this way on PURPORSE. Like at first her being a naive, rich, priviliged princess that never faced any real problems and thats why she is sure that she can easily solve other's problems by doing what she says, and as the show progresses she starts learning to LISTEN to other's explaining their situation and why the solutions arent as simple as what she was made to belive growing up privileged.

But since Vivziepop lacks any self awareness the show tries to convice us that her ways are the correct ones, and that everyone should do as she says in order to fix everything and that her acting like an ignorant asshole to thers its ok because its "cute :3".

Maybe im just exagerating because im a short person with a baby face who got treated a similar way Charlie talked to Baxter by other adults, and i dont think i need to clarify you should definetely NOT do that to other people like that, like how do people not realize its rude as shit.

Its embarassing how upset i got at this, i hope this show gets cancelled as soon as posible.

Yeah, that was pretty vile. It was that unbearable scene where she forced them to play rhyme-and-clap games all over again, and that other unbearable scene where her idea of redeeming them was putting them in stupid outfits and having them read from scripts.

I hate series Charlie so much.

[lily-fics-11]

I Can See You: Chapter 8 (Ellie Willaims, TLOU)

I Can See You

Fic master post here

*Not beta read

It’s been over a month, and I am so sorry! I’ll have a little life update at the end in case anyone cares lol. Thank you to everyone for your patience and support:)

Chapter 8

Your first date with Ellie, who is officially your girlfriend:)

Word count: 4k

CW: *Ellie and reader are both 18*, profanities, sexual innuendo/references, briefly talking about food

Deep breath in. 

An hour until Ellie picks you up for your first date. The hottest girl in school, the hottest girl you’ve ever seen.

Deep breath out. 

Time to get ready, time to get perfect. 

Before washing your face you splash cold water on it first to focus. This is actually happening, it’s not some elaborate day dream. 

The normal skin care routine first, then all the makeup and prep you would usually do for a date or party. A tried and true hairstyle that  always looks good on you. 

Hours had been spent picking out an outfit the night before. Changing into it, you look in the mirror and adjust yourself until your appearance is deemed perfect. 

The buzzing of your phone continues the whole time you get ready, the group chat wanting to hear more about Ellie and the date. They get an answer here and there.

Caroline is protective as usual, telling you not to fall for any of Ellie’s tricks, or let her turn you into some elaborately planned one night stand. 

Melissa was getting intel from her sister, since she is on the lacrosse team. The locker room was full of whispers about you and Ellie after the game. The underclassmen who don’t know Ellie as well thought the whole thing was cute and romantic. The upperclassmen are a little more divided. Some of them feel bad for you, assuming that it won’t go well. Abby and her friends think Ellie is doing it all to spite her. The rest are hopeful that this will mark the official end of all the Ellie girl drama they’ve been so happy without over the last month. 

Nicole is the most nonchalant. Knowing how strong and smart you are, she doesn’t question whether or not you can handle yourself. Though she doesn’t understand it, she knows the effect that you can have on women. If anyone can change Ellie, it’s you. In all honesty, Nicole is most excited to hear your review of the new restaurant more than anything else. 

Then there is sweet, sweet Teresa. Bless her heart she is so excited for you. Asking for pictures of your outfit, hyping you up, and telling you how cute you and Ellie are together. 

Ellie rings the doorbell at 7:00 on the dot.

When you open the door she offers her hand for you to take. “Hello beautiful,” she smiles and drags you into a kiss. Her soft lips welcome you like you’ve just arrived home. She smells good, having just sprayed her perfume. The earthy and woodsy notes have become so familiar. The scent is strong as it washes over you, fogging out everything but Ellie. 

Ellie leads you down the steps but she isn’t looking forwards, but back at you. Taking you in, looking you up and down… there are stars in her pretty green eyes.

“You got all dressed up for me,” she points out, admiring all the effort you put into your appearance. “You look great. Well you always do, just a little fancier tonight.”

“Thanks, you know you look pretty good yourself?” You giggle. 

Ellie, with a slight blush in her cheeks, opens the passenger door of her beat up pickup truck and helps you in. Sitting down herself, she plugs in her phone and turns the music low enough to talk over it, but it’s still loud enough to make out the song that’s playing. She’s playing your favorite song. 

Backing the car up and putting it into drive, Ellie puts her hand on your thigh. But she doesn’t just let it rest there. She grasps your leg so that she isn’t simply touching you, she is holding onto you. 

A smirk creeps up on your face when you take a moment to look at Ellie’s hand. Her veins are well defined. Her fingers are long, adorned with silver rings. 

This small gesture, it’s protective. Possessive. It has your heart beating like you’ve just run a marathon. 

After the car stops you go to open the door but Ellie puts out a hand to stop you. “I’ll get it for you.”

Your face warms and you busy your hands by adjusting your clothes. It’s not that you hadn’t expected chivalry from Ellie, it’s just causing butterflies in your stomach now that it's your first date and it’s actually happening. 

Ellie opens the door and once again takes your hand to help you get out. Her hand is a little sweaty. Is she nervous too? THE Ellie Williams, feeling this way about you?

Walking into the restaurant hand in hand is a surreal experience. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in a window. The reflection of a cute couple is mirrored back. 

The hostess seats you at a quiet spot in the back corner. It’ll be a nice place to just talk and enjoy each other's company without any prying eyes. 

Sitting across from Ellie, you find yourself admiring her beauty, as always. Like a song you can listen to on repeat for hours. It’s something you’ve done a thousand times and will continue doing. The way freckles are dusted over her fair skin and a faint flush colors her cheeks. How her lips curve into an adorable grin. That sparkle in her eyes. 

“I’m so happy to be here with you baby,” Ellie tells you with a hint of shyness “to be your girlfriend.”

“B-baby?” You stutter, surprised by the replacement of the word ‘babe’ with ‘baby’. The word itself feels more significant, as well as the way she says it. It holds a certain conviction. 

Ellie looks down and starts fiddling with one of her rings. “I feel like ‘babe’ is too casual. You’re not just some girl, you’re my girl. You mean so much to me.”

“I like that,” you tell her, placing your hands on top of hers. Ellie looks up at you, meeting your gaze, and her posture relaxes with the familiar feeling of your touch. 

“We should probably look at the menu,” Ellie says, though clearly not wanting to let go of you yet. Nodding, you use your free hand to pick the menu up so you don’t have to let go of her. She follows suit, and you both reluctantly look away from each other and at the menu. 

The waitress takes your drink order while you look over the menu.

“It was nice to meet Joel,” you tell Ellie after taking a first glance at everything.

Ellie peers over the menu with a relieved smile. “I’m happy you got to meet him. It was nice to meet your friends too.”

That receives a chuckle in response. “You don’t have to lie, baby. They weren’t particularly nice to you.”

“They were just being protective. I think it’s good that your friends care so much. So tell me, what did they think? I’m sure they had something to say.” Ellie questions cautiously, putting down her menu to give the conversation her full attention. She laces her fingers through yours to properly hold your hand. 

After tilting your head to the side and taking a moment to go over everything they have said you giggle and admit “they don’t know what to expect.”

Ellie’s free hand nervously grabs the back of her neck.  “That’s my fault isn’t it.”

Squeezing her hand for reassurance softens the worry in her eyes.“It’s just as much my fault. I obviously hadn’t told them it was you I was talking to, but I didn’t really tell them anything. Just that she played lacrosse and went to North, half of it was a lie. I told them there was a girl and that was all I gave them aside from them seeing those hickies on my neck. So when I was like ‘surprise, the girl I’ve been hiding is my girlfriend and actually you all know who she is.’ I was already on thin ice for hiding things from them.”

Ellie nods sympathetically. “You are very close to them, makes sense that they don’t like you keeping secrets. Especially when the secret has the reputation it does.”

Smirking, you tell her “believe it or not, they were way more chill when they talked to you than when I first broke the news.”

The look on her face is one of disbelief. “Seriously? That was them being ‘more chill’?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh, seeing the reaction it got from her. “They didn’t even believe me. At first I just told them it was a lacrosse player from our school. They guessed everyone but you and assumed there was a sapphic they didn’t know about before they even considered you.”

Ellie’s eyes narrow. “So they asked about Anderson?”

Biting your lip, you give her the truth. “That was their first guess.”

She looks both offended and disappointed. “They didn’t even guess me? Why not? Am I not good enough?”

Squeezing her hand and giving her a gentle smile, you try and help her relax. “No, they knew that before now you didn’t do relationships.”

Ellie's expression is one of extreme embarrassment. “Oh. Wow,” is all that she can say, and it sounds strained. 

But her expression softens with the way you look into her eyes with deep compassion. “I told them that you aren’t like that anymore. That you’ve changed.”

Her posture straightens and her attitude perks up.“I have.”

“I know that baby. They’ll see,” you promise her. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” Ellie is dead serious. It’s obvious that she is devoted.

“I know you will. You are going to impress them. They’ve already started to warm up a little, even if it doesn’t seem like it yet. You actually won Teresa over already.”

Ellie lets out a long breath and smiles. “Tell Teresa that I say thank you. And that she’s a saint.”

“She was very impressed by your romantic gestures and hard launch,” you giggle. 

Seeing you giggle melts Ellie’s heart. “I’m glad she appreciated it. But I wasn’t trying to impress anyone except you. I just wanted to show you how much I care about you.”

“Melissa and Nicole should be easy to win over,” you assure her. “Jackie, Melissa’s sister, is the new freshman on varsity. Just make sure she feels welcome and is adjusting okay. Nicole? She likes Dunkin’ Donuts.”

Ellie’s nod is dutiful, she gives you a salute. “Be nice to the new girl on the team, get an extra coffee when I stop there for you. I’ve got it covered.”

“That’s 75% of the friend group!”

“And the other 25%?”

“Caroline is very stubborn,” you sigh.

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” Ellie is very eager. 

“Well, being nice to Jackie will give you some bonus points. Maybe give you, I don’t know, 7%. Doesn’t matter how many times she is told that you’ve changed, she needs to see it. Actions speak louder than words with Caroline. I think that seeing you treat me well over time is what it’s going to take,” you explain to her. 

Ellie nods, looking determined. “I’m going to treat you well. Treat you the best. Everyone will see how much you mean to me.”

“You’re sweet Ellie,” you smile at her. 

She squeezed your hand. “You are.”

“Sweet enough that your friends approve?”

“Well you talked to Paz. I only bothered to talk to my other best friends,” Ellie explains.

Brooke, Anna, Danny, Tim and Mark. Brooke is a soccer player, Anna plays volleyball. Extremely popular, effortlessly beautiful, exceedingly influential. Danny and Mark are lacrosse bros, Tim plays football. Seemingly douche bags, but not the worst of the worst. Brooke and Danny have been an item since freshman year, but Mark is a player like Ellie. Like Ellie was.

You look at Ellie expectantly.

“I’ll start with the good news. Brooke and Danny seem excited for someone else in the group to be in a relationship. Mark is disappointed that I won’t be playing the field anymore. He also asked why you….” Ellie trails off. 

Smiling at Ellie, you reassure her. “You can tell me the truth. 

“Mark wondered why if I was going to have a girlfriend why not… a girl we usually hang out with.” Ellie bites her lip. “I told him how great you are, he’s coming around.”

She doesn’t say anything else, just nervously focuses on her menu.

“Don’t worry, Ellie. I’m not offended or anything. What about Anna and Tim?”

She takes a deep breath. “They, uh, will be harder to convince. They think you are using me, that you’ve got an ulterior motive. They think that since you are smart you must have manipulated me into a relationship, that’s why you are the only one to ever get me to settle down.”

The stress on her face melts away when you squeeze her hand and give her a soothing smile. “That’s not unfair, they are just looking out for you, the same way my friends are looking out for me. You’re acting different, it makes sense that they would question why.”

Ellie nods. “I’ve changed for the better.”

“I know that, soon they will too.”

“So uh… do you want an appetizer?”

After ordering you decide to lighten the mood and tease Ellie. “You never told me you had noticed me before I became your tutor.”

“Well yeah, of course I did. Just look at you,” she chuckles. “First time I noticed you, Paz said it wasn’t worth it, that you’re smart and you’d know better. I was too much of a horny little shit not to listen to her. Then any time I looked at you over the years those words were in the back of my mind.”

“I guess that’s fair enough. So what was different this time?” This is something you’ve been dying to know. What changed? 

“When I used to play the field, I would flirt with every girl the same. Talk about lacrosse, all the championships I’ve won. But you didn’t give a shit.” Ellie laughs and starts tracing circles on your hand with her thumb. “I’d never met a girl that wasn’t impressed by that stuff. You weren’t condescending, even though you could have been. It was your job to help me… but it was more than a job to you. Nothing about you was shallow, it was impossible for me to be, even though I normally was. I was starting to feel all that when we played that guessing game. So when I looked into those pretty eyes of yours, after you made me guess what color they were? It was all over for me.”

Once the waitress has served your food and walks away Ellie clears her throat. “Can I… take a picture of you? To put on my story… I wanna show you off.” She’s never sounded so shy before. 

Biting your smile and nodding, you tease her “you know we don’t even follow eachother on social media?”

Ellie’s eyes widen. “We have to fix that right now.” She’s dead serious, even has a sense of urgency. She passes you her phone so you can add each other. On every form of social media, she insists on it. While on Ellie’s phone you see that she has a space aesthetic as her background.

“I like your wallpaper,” you comment while switching from one app to another. “Very space nerd of you.”

“Hey- it’s a nice wallpaper!” Ellie defends herself with a sheepish smile. 

With a smile on your face you let her know you’re only teasing “Baby, I think it’s cute. It’s very you.” After finishing the social media following Ellie takes back her phone when it’s held out to her. 

“Now can I take your picture?” Ellie questions eagerly, like a kid asking for a cookie.

“Only if I can take one of you too,” you giggle. 

Ellie asks you to pose for the picture, but even when you do, her smile is still bigger than yours. 

“Can I see?” Ellie playfully rolls her eyes when you request to see the picture before she posts it. 

“You look perfect, but I guess,” she chuckles, turning her phone. Your eyes are full of joy, a cheesy but genuine smile with a hint of a giggle. “Do you approve?” Ellie teases. 

Nodding your approval you smirk at her and unlock your own phone. “My turn!” 

Watching Ellie pose awkwardly and fixing her hair? It’s possibly the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Her freckled cheeks are flushed pink and she smiles bashfully. When you snap the picture you know that it’s your new favorite. 

The both of you post the photos on your stories, all smiles and excitement to be showing eachother off.

“Now that we have followed each other on social media, and posted each other… I realized that I still have you as ‘tutor girl’ in my phone.” Ellie bites her lip.

You start giggling. “And I’ve still got you in my phone as ‘space nerd’, we should probably change that.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Going to add some cute little emojis or something?”

“Of course, and the picture I just took as your contact photo.” The two of you change what you need to in your phone and put them back away. To enjoy each other's company. 

“Should we get desert?” You ask after you both finish your dinner. 

Ellie smirks. “Well I have movie tickets for us, so you might want to save room for snacks.”

“What are we seeing?” You question with eager enthusiasm. 

“Do you remember that one movie you mentioned?” Ellie asks, not sure if you actually would.

“You remembered?” That movie came up in conversation very briefly, but Ellie does remember the little things. 

“Of course I did. I always pay attention to everything you tell me. Sometimes I write stuff down if I think I might need it later.”

“Like how you took a picture of my Dunkin’ order. Before we even started dating,” you laugh. 

“We weren’t dating but I wanted to impress you. I was kind of dating you in my mind before we made things official…” Ellie blushes. 

Ellie insists on paying the bill instead of splitting it and you leave to go to the movie theater. 

“Baby, what do you want?” She asks at the concessions counter. 

“Um… I’m not sure. I kind of want candy but I also kind of want popcorn.”

“Then get both,” Ellie says nonchalantly. 

You shake your head and laugh. “I don’t need both.”

“But you want both, so I’m getting you both. I already know your favorite candy so you can’t stop me,” she smirks. “Anything to drink?”

“Hmm… I want to get a slushy. But water is better for eating popcorn, so I’ll get water.”

“What flavor slushy do you like?” Ellie smirks.

You softly elbow her in the side. “Ellie you don’t need to get me both.” 

“Yes I do!” She pouts. 

“Blue raspberry,” you sigh. 

Ellie orders everything and insists on paying for it once again because ‘she was the one that asked you to go on the date’. You made it clear you won’t let her always pay for everything and that you plan to spoil her any chance you get. Ellie also tries to carry everything by herself, but you take the drinks so that nothing gets spilled. 

In the theater you sit in the back row. While organizing the snacks and drinks Ellie put up the arm rest between you. “The water bottle has a lid, it can go anywhere. I, however, can't go anywhere. I have to be as close to you as possible.”

Getting comfortable during the previews Ellie wraps her arm around you and you lean into her, resting your head in her shoulder. She kisses the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. You chat before the movie starts, trading starry eyed smiles. 

Once the movie starts the two of you quiet down. Every once in a while you feel Ellie move a little, and eventually you realize it’s to look at you. She’ll stop watching the movie for a few minutes so she can stare at you, and then she has to ask what she missed after starting to pay attention again. Occasionally, Ellie will subconsciously kiss the top of your head. 

At one point she leans over and says “I want to put you in my lap and kiss you but I don’t want to do that on our first date. I want to treat you like a lady.” That makes you giggle. Hearing your laugh makes Ellie’s smile even brighter, it makes her want a kiss so badly, it’s visible in her pretty green eyes. 

At the end of the movie you walk out with Ellie, hand and hand. You see a few people from school and you catch their attention, but that doesn’t even matter when the date is going so well. You and Ellie pay them no mind. 

Ellie parks in your driveway and turns the key in the ignition. 

The urge to tease Ellie was too strong to resist. “I made it out alive.”

She just smirks “You aren’t out of the car yet.”

“Plan on killing me?” You laugh. 

Ellie’s eyes narrow seductively. “Well I plan on taking your breath away.”

Before meeting Ellie this hot to nerdy loser ratio didn’t seem possible. How can she look so unbearably hot while saying something so incredibly cheesy? Now isn’t the time to try and figure that out. “Then get to it, Williams.”

Ellie leans over the center console to cup your face in one of her hands. The other finds itself on the inside of your thigh. She closes her eyes so you follow suit, she lets her lips slowly find yours. She isn’t gentle for long. Ellie starts soft but abruptly deepens the kiss, as if intending to hold back and subsequently failing. Her grip on your thigh tightens but instead of pulling you towards her she presses further into you, practically crawling over the center console. 

“Ellie,” you whisper breathlessly, “come here.” Grabbing onto her and roping her in, she climbs over the center console and clumsily falls into your lap. One of her hands tangles into your hair and the other goes right for your chest while her lips find yours once again. 

You reach for Ellie’s shirt to try and pull it off, but she stops you. 

“Are you okay?” You ask breathlessly, face red and worried.

“Good, so good,” Ellie nods with a smile.

“Then why did you stop?” You ask, holding her face in your hands to get a good look at her expression. 

“We are in a car. Before this we’ve messed around in the library, and a classroom. You deserve better than this. We deserve better than this. If we keep going… I’m not going to want to stop, and we can’t have our first time together in a car.”

You brush a piece of hair out of Ellie’s face. “You’re right. I want our first time to be special*

Ellie cups your face with a gentle hand and gives you a sweet kiss before climbing back into the driver's seat. She takes your hand in hers, intensely holding your gaze. “You’re special. And perfect. And beautiful.”

Blushing, you nervously adjust your shirt for a distraction and look down.

With her index finger on your chin, Ellie tips your face back up. “I mean it!”

“I know you do,” you smile softly, “you’re sweet.”

Ellie chuckles, “I’m just telling the truth.”

Beaming at her, looking into those beautiful eyes, you run a hand through her auburn hair. “You are pretty great too. Beautiful, flawless, extraordinary.” Ellie’s eyes widened, but they are starting to look a little sleepy. Her tiredness is evident. “You had a long day, I’m sure you want to get home and wind down.”

“But that would mean leaving you,” she pouts.

That makes you laugh. “You’re going to have to do that eventually.”

Ellie’s freckles nose scrunches up, brows furrowed. She’s unwilling to accept that. 

“We can hang out again tomorrow,” you promise her, running your index finger along her jawline. 

“I’m going to a party tomorrow tonight, do you want to come with me?” She’s hesitant but hopeful. 

“Is it the one at Kyle’s? My friends want to go because ‘everyone’ is going to be there.”

“Yes, actually!” Excited surprise lights up her face. 

“So, you gonna be my date to the party?” Ellie practically begs. 

You smirk. “Is that an invitation?”

“Of course it is! I want my beautiful girlfriend by my side.”

Ellie walks you to your door and kisses you goodnight, you make her promise to text you when she gets home safe. 

(Space aesthetic wallpaper and Ellie’s outfit are from Pinterest)

I didn’t mean for it to take this long😭 Here it is in chronological order: I went to see my girlfriend and got to meet her daughter for the first time (it was the best day ever). I got sick for a while:( I took a spontaneous trip to see my bestie who lives in Chicago (I live in NY) and then got sick again. My ex (that I’ve been broken up with for over a year but hurt me so bad) texted me confessing her love a week after I posted my girlfriend for the first time and it fucked with my head for a bit lol. Also, I also got a part time job, and I like it a lot! So I’ve been working along with studying for my professional engineer license. I had some issues with filling prescriptions/getting my medications (for mental health) and that really threw me for a loop. I’m hoping now that I’m into the swing of things with work and things have seemed to settle down I’ll have more time to write!! It’s been a lot besties and I’m doing my best😂

Tags: @bready101, @st4r-b3rries, @tlou-bombshell, @stvrs13, @everegretseverything, @mikellie , @lamolaine, @0pheli4 , @soupycloud, @radioheadfan699 , @callmelola111, @hysteriawillnotsuccumb , @normalthing111 , @3isosoup, @lmaoo-spiderman, @cqliflower, @ellstronaut, @boobdrug, @liasxeatt , @that-queer-fanbase , @benthoee, @charminglilly , @ellieslittleslutt, @dinanellie, @h4by43iie

(I’ve mostly fixed the tag list I think, lmk if you’ve change your @ or want to be added:))

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

MAIN MASTERLIST here

WHISPERED VOWS MASTERLIST here

Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything.

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family Dynamics, Arguments, Talk Of Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Yoongi Overworking Himself, Possible Food/Body/ Eating triggers.

A/N: I rewrote this damn chapter about 50 times. See the author's note at the bottom to see how it was originally going to end!

A/N 2: I accidentally deleted chapter 8 and couldn't recover it. I swear I almost deleted my whole account because I was so mad. I wrote it again, and it's actually much better than the first one.

You look in the mirror as you try on your fifth outfit that consists of jeans and a nice sweater. You felt ridiculous that you were this concerned about what you were going to wear. You were just meeting your sister, not going on a date or anything. It shouldn't feel like a big deal as you're making it out to be, but it was. You had a feeling this meeting was either going to get the two of you on track or say goodbye forever. Honestly, you don't think you're ready for either of those options.

“What happened here?” Yoongi said as he came into the bedroom and saw the mess you created.

Your clothes were thrown all over the room after you tried them on and discarded them in frustration. Random shoes lie by each other, nowhere near their matching mate. You didn't care, though. You only cared about trying to look your best without making it look like you were trying.

“I can't decide what to wear,” you tell him and throw your hands up in frustration. “Do I dress up? Do I just wear jeans? She's going to be dressed perfectly, I know it.”

“It's not a business meeting,” he comments, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your middle. “You don't even have to go.”

“I want to hear what she has to say to me,” you say. “I just, I need to do this.”

“I'll come with you,” he mumbles into your neck.

“No,” you whisper.

“I'll sit in the car and wait,” he offers and makes eye contact with you in the mirror.

You turn and wrap your arms behind his neck, hugging him. His own arms tighten around your waist, not wanting to let go as he buries his face further into your neck. His lips press against the smooth column of your neck. You were so thankful that you had him, but you had to stop relying on him so much.

“I don't want you getting hurt,” he says quietly. “We both know how she is. With how you have been avoiding your mom, I can guess what your conversation is going to be about.”

“Yoongi, I promise you that if it gets to that point. I will walk out and be done with her. I promise. I have to do this on my own. It's important to me that I do this on my own,” you tell him.

“Come to the studio when you're done,” he tells you, finally giving up on convincing you to stay home. Moving his face close to yours, he rubs your nose with his own. “Will you do that?”

“Yes,” you whisper and press your lips against his. “I’ll be fine.”

You look out the window at the coffee shop where you sit and wait for your sister to show up. They have various colors of red and pink hearts cut from paper taped to the windows in honor of Valentine's day coming up. You wonder if you and Yoongi will do anything that day, but you know you probably won't. It's okay, though. You don't really think that it's that important of a holiday. Last year, he made you dinner followed by the rest of the night in bed. You chuckle to yourself, thinking back to what Lisa had said. Maybe you will take a picture of what's hidden in your closet to intince him to come home that night. No, you're still too embarrassed just thinking about it.

You turn your attention to the glass of water on the table that you ordered when you sat down. It was cold in your hands as you played with it, turning it around and around as the ice clanked against the clear surface. You are not much of a coffee drinker and only drank it socially when you felt like you had to. Jisoo and Lisa need their tall latte, something with extra pumps of stuff to drink every day to survive. Yoongi drinks his black, and it takes like dirt. Much like flowers, you never understood the appeal of coffee and why people liked it so much. Maybe it was the caffeine or just the routine of having it every morning. You check your watch and see you have been waiting for ten minutes, but it sure felt like hours.

The bell to the entrance of the coffee shop jingles as you see your sister finally enter and look around the shop for you. When she spots you, you see her take a deep breath and walk over to the table in the far corner where you sat. There weren't many people around you, you thought that was for the best. As she sits across from you, you sit up just a little straighter in your own chair, straightening your posture. The server comes by and takes her order before either of you can say anything to each other. She ordered some soy something, and it sounded nasty.

"I'm surprised you actually texted me back,” she said, looking at you as she pushed her perfectly smooth hair behind her ears. It didn't seem that she was nervous at all, or she was at least good at covering it up.

“Me too,” you say truthfully as your foot under the table starts to tap quickly. “What did you want to talk about?”

There's a heavy silence that passes between you two as you stare at each other. You break eye contact, and you let your fingers grab a brown paper napkin that was in front of you. You roll it up and unroll it, over and over again, just to keep your hands busy. You wish you could at least appear half as confident as she looks. You both smile at the server, who brings the drink over and places it in front of her on the table. You watch as she takes a sip and places it back down on the table.

“Mingyu and I have been going to couples therapy for the last few months. It was his idea. He admitted during a session that our family dynamic is making him have second thoughts, and he is afraid to have a family with me,” she tells you. “He doesn't like how mom hovers or how you and I don't talk. I promised him that I would sit down with you and try to talk this out. See if we can repair our relationship.”

“Here I am,” you say, and she nods her head.

“I’ve thought about what I wanted to say to you for weeks before I finally got the courage to reach out to you, but now I don't know anymore. Now that I'm here in front of you, it all sounds stupid.” she admits. Her fingernails lightly tap a steady rhythm on her coffee cup. “I even wrote everything down and rehearsed it, but it still just comes out all wrong.”

“Just say it,” you urge, and your fingers grip the napkin harder. The ware on it starts creating small tears in the thin brown material. You were both nervous.

“As much as I don't want to admit it. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and…” she whispers, staring at her coffee and stirring it with her spoon. “I think I was jealous of you.”

“What?” You ask, your voice full of disbelief and face full of confusion. Your sister is jealous of you? There was absolutely no way that you heard her correctly. “What do you mean?”

“She was always so overbearing with me. She had to control everything in my life. I had such high standards to live up to, and I had to work so hard to get there because I couldn't let her down. She told me all the time that I couldn't let her down. If I wasn’t the best, I was letting her down. I had to come first in everything. Etiquette classes, pageants, dance, student council, valedictorian ….” she trailed off, remembering everything that she had been a part of. “I had to be perfect but not you. She left you alone, and I HATED you for that. I hated that you didn't have to put in all that hard work that I did. I hated that you could make mistakes, and I couldn't.”

“You were jealous that I was ignored and yelled at?” you ask, scrunching your face at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Yes…no,” she looked frustrated as she looked up at you. “Remember when we would go camping at grandma and grandpa's cabin?”

“Yeah, the whole family went. You hated going,” you answer, wondering why this was important. “You looked miserable the whole time.”

“No, I didn't hate it. I was just never allowed to do anything. You got to go play with our cousins running around outside in the woods and I had to sit with mom because she didn't want me to get dirt under my nails or god forbid any scrapes that could be seen from a stage. You got to go to birthday parties and sleepovers. I couldn't because she always had to make sure that was sticking to my diet. I had to make sure I could fit in all my costumes at all times. She made every decision for me, but you…you got to do whatever you wanted,” she explains. “My whole life revolved around her and making her happy. All my decisions in life before I moved away were all made by her. I don't even think I know who I really am. I only know the person she crafted me to be.”

“I didn't know things were like that,” you told her softly.

“When I got to college, I almost had a panic attack because I didn't have her there with me telling me what to do. It was like I got so reliant on her, and I was scared,” she said with a sad smile. “Then I met Yoongi.”

You squirm in your seat at the mention of his name. Deep inside, you hoped that you could avoid any conversation about him. Unfortunately, you know he is a big point of contention right now, and he wasn't going to go away. He was going to be in your life forever, but there was no way you could possibly ever think about picking your sister over him if you were forced to choose.

“What about him?” you ask nervously, biting some loose skin on your dry lips.

“It was like….he was the first thing that was all mine,” she said thoughtfully.

“Thing? Do you hear yourself?” You ask, your jaw dropping a little. “Yoongi isn't a thing. He is a person.”

“I know that. You know what I mean,” she snaps a little bit but takes a breath and calms herself. “It was so great at first. We would go out on dates and hang out with friends in the dorms. It was almost like I finally had a normal life for once. A life that I made on my own, and mom had nothing to do with it. Then he started wanting to hang around you because he was always worried about you, and I didn't want to share his attention. I didn't know how to share his or anyones attention.”

“We were friends,” you tell her.

“Just friends? You know, he never got me anything for my birthday. He always said that he didn't like celebrating them,” she whispers as she slowly turns her engagement ring on her finger. It sparkled beautifully when it caught the sunlight at the right angle.“He always got you something though, didn't he?”

“I guess,” you can feel guilt swirl in your stomach because you can't deny her words.

“I tried to be perfect for him,” she says as a couple of stray tears fall down her face. “I did everything I thought I was supposed to do. I gave him all my attention. Had as much sex as he wanted, but it just wasn't enough. Why wasn't I perfect enough for him? Why couldn't I earn his love? I was good at earning people's love and attention.”

“You don't have to earn someone's love,” you explain. “That's not how that works, and you don't have to be perfect for anyone.”

“Will you be honest with me?” she asks softly, and you nod your head as you feel your nerves kick back in. “Were you ever with him when he and I were together?”

“No,” you say automatically. “I wouldn't have done that to you. We never crossed that line.”

“I could see the way he would look at you when he thought I wasn't around. He never looked at me that way. I….just could feel him slipping away from me, but I didn't want to let him go. I knew if I let him go…..he would run right to you,” she told you. “I was right.”

“I….” You start, but nothing else comes out. She was right, and once again, you couldn't deny it. He did run to you…eventually.

“How awful is that? I kept all three of us unhappy because I didn't want to fail at being someone's girlfriend,” she says, wiping her face. “I didn't know how to deal with failure because if I failed, that meant I wasn't perfect. It was never an option before.”

“He told me he felt guilty for how bad your relationship got,” you tell her, and she looks at you questioningly.

“Did he say anything else?” she asks, hiccuping slightly.

Yes, you thought to yourself. He called her suffocating, but there was no way that you could tell her that. She didn't deserve that, and you didn't want to hurt her. You had to choose your words wisely.

“He just said that you two were just…too different,” it wasn't a lie he did say that. “He said that it would have never worked out, and he should have broken it off sooner.”

The two of you fall into silence again. You take your water in your hands again and turn the glass around and around once again. You notice the ice has melted quickly. The condensation makes your hands wet this time, and you move to wipe them on your jeans. It leaves behind streaky handprints on the material of your jeans. Your sister takes a sip of her soy coffee and looks out the window as she sits her mug back on the table. She looks like she's trying to gather her thoughts. You give her the time she needs.

“I love Mingyu. I really love Mingyu,” she says, still looking out the window. “I honestly don't think that I ever TRULY loved Yoongi, not like I love Mingyu anyway. I was just so desperate. I'm just terrified that I will make the same mistakes…”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. “He loves you. He obviously wants to work on it if he wants to do therapy with you. He's fighting for you two, and you should work with him. You need to let Yoongi go. You're not a failure. You just….didn't know any better.”

“I'm sorry,” she said as her bottom lip quivered. “I'm so sorry. I see it now, I do. I know how awful I was. I'm working so hard to change for Mingyu….for myself.”

Tears well in your own eyes. You've never seen her like this. You have seen her cry, of course, throw a fit and have a tantrum, but this….this is new. This was raw, real, and it hurt you to watch her like this. You blink, and your own tears flow freely down your face.

“You don't have to accept my apology,” she says softly, wiping at her face again. “I probably wouldn't if I were you.”

“Can I say something?” You ask, your own voice shaky.

“Yes,” she says just as softly as before.

“I'm still hurt,” you tell her, and she looks down at her coffee. “I think a part of me will always be hurt no matter how many apologies I get or how much time passes. It's always going to linger somewhere.”

“I understand,” she says, nodding her head.

"But,” you continue, but your breath catches and you hiccup. “I want my big sister in my life.”

You start crying openly and sniffle as your nose starts to run. She looks at you with wide eyes and new tears form in her eyes. She blinks, and they fall down onto her perfectly unblemished face. This time, she doesn't wipe them away. They fall onto her pretty sweater, leaving wet spots as they soak into the material. You're sure if you look around, people would be staring at the two of you crying together in the corner. The two of you probably looked messy.

“Really?” she sobbed.

“Yeah. No Mom. No Yoongi or Mingyu,” you say. “Just you and me. I think we can figure it out if we don't rush it.”

You reach your hand across the table and place it in the center with your palm up. She stares at you for a moment before slowly reaching across and taking your hand in hers tentatively. You both smile a teary smile at each other. You don't even think that you can remember ever touching her like this…ever but it felt nice…almost normal.

“We will figure it out,” she promised, squeezing your hand. You nod your head…..you will.

Yoongi was walking around his studio with his earbuds in his ears when you finally arrived. You and your sister stayed sitting in the cafe for another hour, drying your tears together. You steered your conversation to her wedding. You wanted to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a happy topic. You learned she hired a wedding planner, and she thinks that's why your mom has been on your ass about helping you so much. Her wedding planner was lovely, but she was a no-nonsense woman who wasn't afraid to shut your mothers suggestions down or kick her out of a flower shop or two when she tried to take over. Everything makes sense now as to why she was so pushy. She told you not to give into her demands and even offered to give you her wedding planner's business card. You refused, saying you were already too far in now to stop. You hope you don't live to regret that decision.

Yoongi's head snapped up and looked at you when you entered the room. You could feel your bottom lip begin to tremble as you stood there and stared at him. He ripped his ear buds out and let them fall to the floor with a clattering sound as they bounced. Launching yourself at him, you wrapped your arms around him tightly.

“I fucking knew it,” he snapped. “Give me her number. I will deal with it once and for all.”

“No,” you cry out, gripping onto him tighter. “It's fine, it's fine. We…we're good. We are going to go to their wedding.”

“What?” he asks and pulls away from you as he looks at you like you grew another head. “Did I just hear you right? You and me….me… going to her wedding?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “I'm going to send her and Mingyu an invitation as well,” you say, and he sits down in his chair.

“What happened?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. He looks at the floor for a minute before looking back at you just as bewildered as before.

“Turns out…..she was hurt just as much as I was,” you tell him and he cocks his head to the side in contemplation. “We are going to take things slow and get to know each other….without anyone around.”

“Okay, I get it,” he says, raising his hands in surrender.

Yoongi sits back in his chair and crosses his ankle over his knee. He looks at his computer and then back to your exhausted and blotchy face. Turning his chair away from you. You watch as he shuts down his computer and presses a few buttons on his thingamajig behind it. You'll remember what it's called later.

“Let's go home,” he says, standing up and bringing you close to him.

“What about the album?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I'm close to finishing it,” he tells you, as he drops a quick kiss to your lips. “It will still be here tomorrow.”

“Home?” you ask softly.

“Home,” he confirms.

Yoongi takes your hand in his. It's the same one your sister held not too long ago. You smile brilliantly up at him. Home.

A/N 3: Okay, so originally, it was not a happy ending for the sisters. MCs sister couldn't take responsibility for anything and even accused her of wanting Mingyu. The more I sat on it, the more I wasn't happy with it. This was the final outcome.

Tagged Readers:

@mggv97, @granataepfelchen, @kam9404, @svnbangtansworld, @futuristicenemychaos, @notarshia

[naferty]

It's been a minute, but I'm happy to say I wrote something stony! And avac stony to boot.

This was heavily inspired by an old BL manga I read many years ago.

~~~

Tony wouldn’t say his time in Avengers Academy was bad. He wouldn’t say it was good either. As the son of a SHIELD agent and a HYDRA double agent, it was hard to find people to hang out with, let alone have any friends. What with the whole ‘he could be a double agent waiting to reveal secrets for his own benefit,’ thing looming over him thanks to his father. 

It didn’t matter that his mother had been a dedicated agent who left his father the moment she learned he was double-crossing and raised him herself to be a good person. All her efforts were ignored and Tony was lucky to be called a backstabber at worst and a turncoat at best. 

At least this school accepted him with minimal difficulty. Granted, he was ignored by the two main affiliates he was associated with, but at least he was able to study and hey! He was given permission to use the engineering room. He had that going for him.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom though. Sure, the one individual who managed to overlook his whole conflicted birth was not exactly a person to write home about, but Loki had a sense of fashion compared to most and always made sure Tony looked his best. 

“No Asgardian prince will share common space with a pauper,” were Loki’s everyday words when he found Tony wearing his admittedly cheap outfits. Conveniently forgetting Tony wasn’t exactly carrying a nation’s treasury in his back pocket like the prince. 

All in all, it wasn’t so bad. He had a sort-of friend but really an acquaintance who found his presence less annoying than most. He was given permission to tinker and experiment with tech and invent whatever he wanted. Within reason. He was given his education. He even managed to share space with some of the greatest names known! Both on Earth and from space. 

Captain Marvel, the Hulk, Falcon, heck, he even managed to catch a glimpse of Moon Girl and had Iron Woman look at him once! The last one had made Tony’s entire day. What he would give to share, like, ten minutes with Iron Woman and pick at her brain. See how she worked. A dream come true. 

Often, he would daydream of one day joining any of their groups. Just once. Even if it was only a minute or two. He would daydream of perhaps making a difference somewhere, even if small. Invent life-changing tech. Maybe even become a hero in his own right? Anything to show he wasn’t just a simple agent who was ready to turn their friends over at a moment’s notice.

What he would give for just a glimpse of what that would feel. Not having everyone watch your every move. 

Well, not much to be done there. He just had to buckle down and work harder than most to go against the whole school’s expectations of him. Every day he attended his classes, completed his extracurricular activities, worked on his shabby attempt at an AI and daydreamed about what-ifs.

“Yo, Clint, hurry up. You’re already late!” 

Tony turned to look behind him where the Hawkeye and the Falcon were casually waving at each other. Going about their day like usual and walking around as if they didn’t carry big names on them. 

He sighed and went back to his work. He was finishing up his coding for another attempt at Friday’s calculating. He was alone at Club A. The engineering room having been taken up in its entirety by up-and-coming SHIELD agents wanting to be the next big shot. As Tony was not in the mood to be constantly stared or pointed at, he decided to finish his coding in the one building devoid of bodies this time of day. 

However, even if alone with nothing to distract him, he couldn’t help his mind wandering around the place. In particular, a rumor that had begun circulating around the Academy recently. A rumor involving the golden boy. Captain America himself. 

What was the rumor? Why, apparently Captain America had a crush. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t exactly something worth talking about, but if one was following Captain America’s career closely, it was big news. 

Captain America was a big name, and the person responsible for it wasn’t someone to ignore. Steve Rogers was kind, respectful, brave and a very, very private person. Especially with his romantic aspect of it. It was rare to ever see the guy go on dates or show even a lick of interest to anyone. One could say if he ever found love again the person lucky enough wouldn’t have to ever worry about his eyes straying. 

Peggy Carter was a very lucky woman, or had been lucky, he would say. If the rumor held any truth, the founder of SHIELD was no longer the one holding the Captain’s heart. 

According to hearsay, Steve Rogers had a crush on someone in the engineering club, and while Peggy Carter was a genius in her own right, she wasn’t exactly tech savy for the club. This left a few possible contenders. Excluding the SHIELD agents – because come on, why would Captain America go for a lowly SHIELD agent? – the heroes at the top of the list were Moon Girl, Ironheart, Shuri, Spider-Gwen and, of course, Iron Woman. There were more, sure, but the rumor listed these specifically. 

Tony sighed again, tapping the end of his pen against the wooden surface he was working on top of. He should probably stop thinking about this particular rumor, but he couldn’t help it. Ever since growing up, he looked up to the idea of Captain America. Going against all odds to be the hero he was today. Tony couldn’t help but compare himself and his hardships with the guy, and somewhere along the way he kind of, sort of, maybe had gained a little bit of a crush on the hero, so hearing about the hero liking someone was a little painful. 

If he had to guess, the one the Captain was crushing on was probably Iron Woman. The one and only Natasha Stark. He often saw the two hanging out with each other. Always together with their ‘click.’ It was only natural Steve would catch some feelings if they hung out every day. 

Didn’t hurt any less though. 

“Okay,” he said to no one. “Focus. Focus.” He couldn’t waste his hour of free time away thinking about this. He had coding to finish and nobody was going to help him with it. Loki was useless when it came to tech and didn’t exactly make for encouraging company, so it was now or never. 

He slammed his pen down, harder than necessary, but the paper had no feelings to hurt so he didn’t particularly care, but he did utter a soft ‘sorry’ for disrespecting the code. 

He got to work and made good progress. His calculations might be a little off but he could hammer it down once he had access to the engineering labs again. The important thing was he had the base to work with. 

He decided to stop when he got stuck. He needed to test out his idea, but with no access right now to the computers at the labs, it was pointless to continue. He shuffled the papers together and stuffed them in his backpack. He still had twenty minutes left to kill time before his next class, meaning his next destination was the park. There, he was left alone and he could sit with his thoughts.

Ah, perhaps that wasn’t the best idea. The last thing he needed was time to think about the rumor again. Then again, he was thinking about it now as he attempted not to think about it. A vicious cycle.

As he was busy with his inner turmoil, he failed to notice someone getting closer from behind and by the time they caught his attention, Tony was left staring blankly at a flower in his face. 

It was a rose. Very red and very much smelling of a rose. It was jammed right in front of Tony’s nose and he went a little cockeyed looking at it. The person at the other end of the rose was none other than Steve Rogers. 

Whoa, Tony thought. He had never seen the Captain America standing so close before. Had his eyes always been that blue? 

So enraptured by those eyes, Tony could do nothing as the Captain reached out to cup the side of his face and pulled him forward. Tony went wide-eyed when the hero placed a small kiss on his mouth. A peck, really. Tony barely felt it. 

The hero pulled back and gave a blinding smile. Then, just as quickly as he appeared, he left the rose on his lap and disappeared, leaving Tony alone once more in Club A. 

Tony placed his good hand over his mouth unconsciously, and as his thoughts started catching up he went bright red. 

He just – he just – he – k-kissed -

A squeak he would deny for the rest of his life escaped him and Tony quickly scrambled to run back to his dorm to hide. 

[bambii-bimbo]

Enthralled

They woke up in a daze, head pounding, sitting in chair. They had no idea where they were, or what had happened to them. All they could remember was... umm... uhhh... In that moment, they realized they couldn't remember anything. Who they were, where they were from, what their life was like. Becoming aware of their body now, looking down to find a nice, round pair of large breasts covering their slim stomach. They screamed out of fear, only to hear a feminine, woman-like cry escape from their plumped up lips. Almost hyperventilating now, they checked the rest of his body to confirm their fears, and with a long, deep breath, took in the changes. A round butt, long, thick black hair tumbling over a narrow feminine frame, and to top it off, a pink, glowing pussy between their thighs. After calming himself down, they looked around the room made up of nearly all pink, with a few soft chairs sitting in front of a TV, and a door leading into a chamber of sorts at the other side of the room. Just then the door opened, and pure perfection walked in.

"She's awake!" The girl was wearing a ridiculously revealing black outfit, and strutted her way into the room, breasts moving side to side and long pink-highlighted hair swinging back and forth. She was stunning, and the still groggy, confused girl couldn't help but stare at her form. At least, now she knew she was a girl, but couldn't remember if she was always one. Not that it mattered anyway, the girls whole world became the sexy woman as she approached her.

"How do you feel, Kylie?" The woman inspected Kylie's features, giving her a moment to digest her appointed name, before continuing on. "In case you don't remember, which I seriously doubt you do, my name is Alexa. I know you're feeling pretty confused right now, but that's alright. By the time we are done, you will be feeling so, so much better." Before Kylie could say anything, Alexa snapped her fingers, and spoke a command. "Bambi Freeze." Instantly, Kylie felt all of her muscles completely clench, and she stood at attention in front of Alexa. "Good girl!" Clearly she was pleased with Kylie's response, and with another snap, motioned for her to follow. Kylie followed, without any resistance or thought, pursuing Alexa before being sat down in one of the pink chairs, Alexa sitting directly across, extremely close. "What am I doing here?" Kylie asked, her girly voice echoing through the room. Alexa gave a smirk, licking her lips and seemingly waiting for something.

All of a sudden, Kylie heard footsteps behind her, and another woman came around the chair, wearing the same type of revealing outfit, but this time was a brunette. Her pink bra did a poor job of hiding her absolutely massive tits, swinging back and forth as she leaned over towards Alexa. The two exchanged a few words before giving their attention back to Kylie, still questioning her situation in the chair. "Relax, you won't need to think about anything in a second. If you're still confused, let me explain. You have gone through an intense brainwashing cycle, where we have altered your mind and body to be the perfect bimbo doll, just like the two of us. I'm guessing that you can't remember anything before now, which is good. Old life completely gone, first step to accepting your new life as Bambi." Kylie tensed up, asking "who is Bambi?" The other bimbo laughed, a very pretty laugh, and said "Bambi is the girl deep within you. We have programmed her deep into your subconscious, and now it is time for you to accept her as a part of yourself! You don't have to fight it, the conditioning has made sure that you can't anyway. Just let it feel good, and give in to the feelings of pleasure and empty bliss you feel while we complete your bimbofication. Now, lets begin."

Bimbofication? Bambi? Brainwashing? Kylie tried to stand up, to make an effort to resist her captors. She wasn't some dumb bimbo, conditioned to obey her inner "Bambi". This was ridiculous! Before Kylie could stand up and do anything, however, Alexa snapped her fingers, and Kylie froze in the chair. Blankly staring at the girl in front of her, she could feel the hands of the other girl behind her begin to run through her black, moisturized hair. "What did we tell you, Bambi. There is no escape from your conditioning, no chance of resistance. Your subconscious mind gave in a long time ago, and now it is time to let your conscious mind accept this too. It's so easy to just obey, to open up yourself to Bambi, to let her take control. You'll feel so good, feel like such a good girl. So let it happen." Alexa moved in super close to Kylie, still feeling the other bimbo's soft hands glide over her head, massaging her ears. "Look at my breasts, Bambi." Kylie instantly felt her eyes drift downwards, down to Alexa's large tits. She watched them begin to sway, side to side, in a rhythmic, almost hypnotic motion. She had to admit, they were easy to look at, so full and soft, admiring them as they swung. Before long, Kylie was deep in trance, completely enthralled in Alexa's breasts, completely mindless as the other girl whispered into her ears, still gently massaging her. "Good girl. Stare. Submit. Obey. Sink." Kylie relaxed into the chair, eyes fluttering and mouth dropping open. It did feel good, to stare at Alexa's breasts, bobbing up and down now.

"Mmm, what a good girl you are. So easily accepting trance, dropping deep under my large hypnotizing breasts. Feel the pleasure radiate all over your body, sinking even deeper into this state of obedience. Bri, lets make her feel it even... more." Kylie sat, unmoving mindlessly absorbing Alexa's breasts and enjoying every second of it before feeling Bri's own, soft, large breasts pressing up against the sides of her head. The chair leaned back and Alexa felt her head lean into Bri, with her legs wrapping around her tight waist and feeling her warmth on her back. Alexa adjusted herself too, climbing on top of Kylie and rubbing herself over Kylie's crotch. Kylie felt the drool come out of her mouth and pussy, feelings of arousal increasing by the second. Spreading her legs even more as Alexa grinded on her, continuing to sway her large, bare breasts back and forth. When did she take her bra off? It didn't matter, all Kylie knew is that she was loving this. All resistance she had was completely gone, replaced with total mindless obedience and vacant, seemingly endless arousal. Bri's large breasts pressing up against her ears, holding her in place, Alexa leaned down, holding a teat over Kylie's mouth. "Show me you want my milk. Only the dumbest, horniest bimbos get my milk." Kylie strained for her nipple, wet tongue and soft moans highlighting her struggle, showing her desperation. Alexa, satisfied, lowered her teat on to Kylie's face, and...

Kylie was in heaven. Sweet milk instantly burst into her mouth, covering her face as she blankly sucked, happy and empty as the thick heavy cream filled her mind. Making any remaining thoughts completely still, dissolving in the warmth and pleasure of the milk rushed to her brain, making her feel so much more fuzzy and aroused than before. The feminine, drowsy scent coming from her exposed breast only added more to the horniness, thinking of nothing but the sweet milk gushing into her wet, obedient mouth as a powerful pink fog clouded Kylie's head. Hearing nothing but her constant triggers and mantras being repeated in her ears, and Alexa's moans stimulating Kylie even more. Alexa suddenly pulled away, leaving Kylie needy and so, so horny, begging for more. Laughing loudly, mixed with her pleasure filled moans, Alexa backed off, stimulating her sensitive breast with her own hand, and Bri pulled her breasts, also wet with milk, away from Kylie's head. Intense pleasure causing Kylie to writhe, she audibly yelled, accepting her new life. "I am a pretty horny bimbo doll, completely brainwashed and conditioned to obey and be the most slutty girl that Bambi can possibly be. Please keep going, I'm begging you so much. I need it so, so much right now." Kylie moaned again, hands locked at her sides no matter how much she tried to move towards her throbbing pussy. Alexa and Bri giggled, before Alexa said "You will fully accept your conditioning and become one of us only when we allow you to cum. Cum out your mind and drop fully into submission for Bambi. What a good girl you have been, keeping you in heat this long has left you desperate. So, we will allow it, just for good girls like you. Think with your pussy now."

The trigger immediately took effect, with Kylie instantly moving her hand to her breasts, stimulating them and watching them lactate for the first time. She felt Bri climb on top of her, pressing her own hands against her sensitive breasts and massaging them, sending spasms throughout Kylie's body. Then, Alexa's plump, wet lips locked on to Kylie's pussy, instantly delving her tongue deep within her clit. Bri locked her mouth against Kylie's and they shared saliva, rubbing their breasts together on autopilot. Kylie couldn't think about anything other than her triggers, repeating her mantras and feeling so abolustely delicious. She felt an orgasm approaching through her pussy, as Alexa's pace increased rapidly. Her moans became louder, the mantras like the ticking of a clock, her whole body twitching every time she repeated one in her head. And then, she heard a new one. "Bambi Cum and Collapse." In the most intense and pleasurable surge of bliss she had ever felt, Kylie finally came, her stimulated breasts worked by Bri's as they passionately made out, Alexa's tongue feeling the full force of her orgasm. Feeling Bambi take total control, Kylie felt the intense orgasm rush through her like a flood, before finally settling after a long moment. She collapsed back against the chair, Bri lifting off and standing beside Alexa, licking the remaining juices off of her face.

Kylie stood up in front of the two bimbos, admiring her new fellow Bambi's and still shaky from the intense orgasm. It was no longer a question, Bambi controlled Kylie, a good girl for her conditioning. So brainwashed that she was unable to form a thought unrelated to her brainwashing or pleasure. "Thank you so much for showing me the bliss that Bambi brings. Why would I ever resist when I can just give in and be a bouncy, blank bimbo?" Alexa bit her lip. "So glad you came around, Bambi. Now you can let your tits and pussy think for you at all times, obey the pleasure that you love so, so much. Good girl." Kylie mindlessly smiled, feeling soft and fuzzy, ready to begin her new life as a slutty, brainwashed bimbo.

[marisol-000]

The Sandbox Scientists ch.2

Chapter 2! I can't believe how long this got, I had to push some stuff to the next chapter sooooo look out for that one!

(a03)

The boys didn't take the news that they weren't going home well.

There were lots of tears and crying and yelling until eventually weak promises and the offer of cookies calmed them down.

She couldn't blame them of course, the poor things suddenly waking up in a place they don't recognize with people they don't remember.

But what could they do? Neither she nor Robert knew where Jekyll had lived, just “somewhere” in Glasgow; and forget Edward 'street urchin’ Hyde!

Even if they could send them home it probably wouldn't be a good idea. Whatever had happened to her friends was likely temporary, or at least more likely to be solved by one of the scientists here than any townie in scotland.

All they could do now was try to keep the two comfortable while they looked for a solution.

And the first step to that was to get the boys in some fitting clothes!

“Right, but we don't have any. This isn't exactly a daycare.” Robert mused.

“Well you seem to forget! I'm quite the gifted seamstress!” Rachel bragged, wiping some cookie dough off her hands.

She flipped the patterned rag over her shoulder. “I can have some outfits going for these two in no time.”

Robert leaned around her, peeking into the kitchens where the two were playing tag. Henry kept tripping over his pants which slowed him down, but Edward couldn't seem to catch him anyways; not stepping wide enough and his arms not quite reaching, so there seemed to be no clear winner.

He let the door swing shut.

“Hmm, A whole wardrobe? For two boys? There's no telling how long they'll be this way. We'll need shirts, slacks, vests, coats, shoes and who knows what else. I'd much prefer taking him to a tailor.”

“Him?” Rachel raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, “I suppose you mean Henry.”

“Yes Henry.” he said unflinchingly, “You can't expect me to take Edward Hyde to the bloody tailor, he's still a wanted criminal you know.”

“He's a child!”

“He's a nuisance! He'll probably knock a candle over and set the shop on fire, it's in his nature.” he huffed.

Rachel paused and clenched her hands. She fixed him with a nasty glare.

“Don’t talk like you know him! That fire was *not* his fault! Master Hyde is a sweet boy who’s not done *anything* wrong.”

Lanyon hesitated, surprised by her sudden attitude change. Regardless he cleared his throat.

“Well, you seem to have forgotten about all the drinking and bar fights he’s known for. He's a bad influence. I don’t want him anywhere near Henry.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, “He is *not* a bad influence.”

She walked into the kitchen, swinging the door open and holding her arm out to gesture. “Edward Hyde is a charming young man who would never do anything wrong, much less convince Henry of all people to do so too!”

Both boys were on a chair, eating raw cookie dough directly from the bowl.

They blinked at the adults with their big round eyes.

Robert crossed his arms over his puffed chest, turning to her with an infuriating smirk.

Rachel sighed and got them cleaned up.

First Edward, then she balanced Henry on her hip while leaning over the sink. He was old enough to use the bar of soap by himself but she couldn’t resist wiping his rosy cheeks, humming while she dried his hands with her apron.

His feet barely touched the floor before Robert grabbed his arm and whisked him towards the door.

“Oi! And where do you think you’re going?” Rachel yelped.

“To the tailor, as I said.” Clearly believing he won that argument. Which he hadn't! She just… hadn't had the best timing.

“While he looks like that?” she gestured to Henry’s oversized and by now wrinkled clothes. “Robert, people are gonna think you kidnapped him.”

“Well how do you-” Lanyon made a shooing motion towards Edward, who was trying to follow them, “How do you expect the tailor to make him clothes without measuring him?”

Rachel rolled her eyes, sometimes she couldn't tell when he was being a helpless rich boy who couldn’t do anything himself or just plain stubborn. 

“I’ll take the measurements, they don’t need him there in person. I’ll measure both boys and you can take that to them. 

And say it’s for nephews come to town! No one’s gonna believe Robert Bleeding Lanyon of all people is taking in poor orphans.” That got a snort out of him.

Privately she didn't think it was a good idea to separate the two so soon, they only just stopped crying. And they'd been sticking close together since she and Robert found them. Seemingly feeling safe and comfortable with each other.

She snickered to herself. She couldn’t wait to tell Dr. Jekyll and Hyde how cute they were together.

Once they warmed up to the place the kids will be back at each other's throats in no time!

“Besides, you probably couldn't handle one child much less two.” she smirked.

Robert huffed, Take that! Who's winning now Robert?, and crossed his arms while sitting back down at the table.

“Fine, whatever, just measure them already.”

Rachel ushered the boys to her room, wrapped a measuring tape around the wiggly worms, and wrote a list of things for Lanyon to buy. With notes on fabric types and colors. Lots of Red and Green of course!

As much as she would have loved to see Edward in Eli's old clothes, they hadn't kept any from that age.

The neighborhood they had lived in was in constant need of hand-me-downs, and they hadn't been expecting to need things to remember him by…

Anyway!!!!! That just meant that it was time for her favorite activity:

Dress up time!

‘Edward Hyde’ was not enjoying dress up time.

They liked Rachel, the woman who found them, well enough. She was making them cookies after all, but she's so grabby!

Especially with him, he couldn’t go longer than a minute without being practically picked up in hugs or stuffed with various snacks.

Not that he didn’t want them, he was SUPER hungry after waking up, but the way she squealed when he said ‘Thank you’ hurt his ears.

Henry…it felt weird to call someone else his name. He tried to think of it like the two Jeffery’s in his class, who both had the same name. Instead of someone else who was him.

Henry didn’t like being prodded either. Whispering as much to him when she left the room with her note.

He agreed, and hoped whatever “Situation” the adults said they had to be here for would be over soon.

“Alright! Here are those cookies I promised you, *cooked* this time.” Rachel pouted, entering the room with a silver tray.

“You two are welcome to any books I have when you're done, I'm gonna be busy for a while.” With that she sat at some sort of machine. And started using it to stitch some fabric together.

He knew how to stitch! Well, kinda, Momma had shown him a few times, but putting dead animals back together was different than clothes.

He snuck glances at the boy who was also Henry, who occasionally glanced back.

He wanted to talk to him so bad, surely if they were the same person then he had done that too?

He wanted to ask so many questions, and try things he couldn’t do alone. It was thrilling to potentially have a friend that was willing to do weird stuff with him.

But for now Rachel was in the room, and adults never liked his ‘science’ much.

The two of them sat in silence and ate their cookies.

After what felt like hours the woman straightened up with a pop in her back.

“Whew! Two pairs of shirts and pants in record time! Ready to try them on?”

He looked up and nodded eagerly, dropping the dreadfully boring romance novel, “Yeah! It’s so cold in here.”

She whipped her head to look at him, pigtails flying.

“Oh! I’m so sorry Edward, I should have noticed! I’ll get you some blankets and more of Jekyll's socks, I’m sure we can layer them til you're warm again!”

He was sure she could layer them to the point that he would never walk again.

“Er, no thanks! The clothes will be fine.” he said, dodging another hug.

Henry snickered softly, out of Rachel's hearing. He snuck around and inspected the clothes she put together for them.

They were nothing fancy, buttonless white shirts and coal black pants. The stitching for both of them looked to be black too, but upon closer inspection it was actually a dark green, it seemed she had a lot of green lying around.

He wondered if she would notice if they took out the thread later, or if this was a ‘gift’ they'd have to rewear, like with his extended family.

“Well, when you two are done, come back to the kitchen and I’ll make you something more filling than cookies!” she said, and muttered, “God knows you two don't eat enough.”

“Yes ma’am.” they said in unison. 

With another squeak and a giddy grin she shut the door behind her.

A few minutes later, the door slowly creaks open. And two heads pop out.

Archer was losing his mind. Maybe he saw wrong? Or was finally going mad like the general public believed.

Surely something had happened to his head because he could have sworn he just saw a child.

Two even.

“Uh…did you see that?” he asked Bird, welding pen loose in his grip.

Bird looked up from adjusting one of his contained moss cultures, “Hmm? See what mate?”

Archer was leaning comedically far in his chair to see out the door, cord stretching to its limit.

“Just. Two little…I don’t know, ghosts maybe? One of Maijabi’s do you think?”

Bird raised an eyebrow, “Something on the loose in the society again? Should we tell the others?”

“Uh, could be my imagination.” he said, but set the pen down where it wouldn't burn anything. He stretched his arms above his head and groaned.

“Well, I’m overdue fer a break anyway, it’s been a while since anything interesting’s happened around here.”

Flowers was on the hunt.

She was on her way to the kitchens for a bite when she saw a short shadow dart through the common room.

Fortunately she had all sorts of equipment in her pockets, a true scientist is always prepared! But for some reason her emf reader wasn’t picking anything up.

Not under a couch… not behind this case…

The clack of shoes alerted her to someone approaching but she was more interested in the sound of wheels or metal boots.

“Hello Flowers, what are you looking for?” Tweedy then, she should remember to ask about some more batteries before he left. Her mosquitoes were too small to include a charging port.

“A small robot,” she said, checking under a table, “ ‘bout waist height. I think one of Pennybrigg’s creations is on the loose.”

“Oh, is that what I saw? I thought Ito shrank someone again.” he laughed loudly.

“Yeesh, that woman can be cruel when she's pissed off. Still can’t believe Dr. Jekyll taught her how to do that.” she shuddered.

Tweedy leaned on an armchair, derailed from whatever he’d been doing, “Actually I heard it was Hyde, everyone forgets he is Jekyll’s lab assistant.”

“Ah, well I’ll believe Hyde did that.”

On the floor above, Lavender rushed in, skidding to a stop before the railing. A large net slung over her shoulder.

“Excuse me! Has anyone seen any kids around here?”

Flowers and Tweedy looked up at her in shock.

“Kids?! I thought that was a robot?” Flowers gaped.

“Well *I* thought it was one of our creatures. I saw something slip out of our lab and was chasing it, but it turns out there's actually human children running around the society!” Lavender wheezed.

“I can’t emphasize enough how dangerous this place is for kids.”

The two on the ground floor looked at each other, slack-jawed, then scrambled to help her search.

“Well, we’ll just hope none of your creatures slipped out after them!”

By now it had spread throughout the society that somehow, for some reason, there were children there.

A good amount of lodgers were gathered in a random hallway, loudly trying to figure out what was going on.

“Is it true? Are there really children here?” someone asked.

“Sure are!” Pennybrigg laughed, “I saw them with my own eyes!”

“Huh, I thought that's what that was but I didn't think anyone would be dumb enough to let kids in here.” 

“Does anyone know how many? We can’t have any left behind that's for sure.”

“Just two. I had to chase them out of my lab.” Griffin huffed, “The damn brats laughed at me.”

That earned a few snickers from the very mature adults in the room.

“How’d they even get in here is my question.”

“Well, it’s not like we keep the doors locked, it's probably just some curious teens here for a lark.”

“No, they looked younger than that. What if they're lost and need help?”

“Has anyone seen Dr. Jekyll? He’ll want to know about this.”

“Screw Jekyll! We don’t need him to hold our hands all the time, we can find two kids by ourselves!”

“But if they get hurt it’ll reflect badly on the society!”

The crowd murmured in worry, with people either confirming they locked their labs or resolving to. Luckett cursed and sprinted off right then, almost losing his hat in his haste.

“Then we’ll just find them before they get hurt! Come on, less talking, more looking!” someone said, clapping their hands loudly.

With that the crowd split off into different hallways.

“I GOT ‘EM!”

Twenty minutes later there came a cry from Ranjit Helsby.

Like a flock of birds the lodgers descended upon him. Cheering and pushing to see his catch.

“You cheeky buggers can’t hide from us!” Helsby crowed.

The exploratory bathynaut was carrying one child in each hand.

Scruffed and struggling like kittens, the two were yelping and crying for help.

They seemed to be about the same age. One was brunette, with a healthy flush, and dark brown eyes. He was yelling to be put down and kicking his legs in the air.

The other was smaller, frailer, a little pale but was squirming and kicking the same. He had a wild shock of blond hair, and quite the set of lungs, his voice quickly growing hoarse from his shouting.

The outfits they were wearing were odd. They weren't anything fancy, though they certainly weren't the rags worn by street urchins. Bizarrely, neither of them were wearing shoes. Just plain clothes with visible stitching.

Contemplative, Flowers reached into her pocket.

“Oh Helsby, put them down already!” Cantilupe cried, “They’re damn near the verge of tears!”

Sure enough the boys looked like they were about to start bawling. With the blond starting to hiccup, and the brunette's lip wobbling dangerously.

Pouting, Helsby did, trusting the wall of lodgers to prevent their escape.

Predictably the boys were off the second their feet touched the floor. Everyone reaching arms out and bumping into each other to catch them.

However they didn't try to escape, simply darting for the nearest person wearing a dress. Who happened to be Chabra.

They crashed into her, nearly knocking her off balance. She startled but didn’t pull away. The small boys took hold in fistfuls and buried their faces in her skirt.

Chabra leaned down and awkwardly, cautiously, put her hands on their backs.

“Aww, guys we scared them! They're just babies!” Archer cooed from the crowd, triggering a flood of coos from everyone else.

The blond one peeked out to give a glare, but it was watered down by his red nose and big eyes.

“W-Who are you people? Leave us alone!”

Lavender curiously offered her skirt to the boy closest to her, the brunette.

He eyed it for a moment, then took the bait, reaching a pudgy hand out to the fabric. He didn’t grab on though, only running a hand over it a few times.

Incapable of going one at a time, the lodgers began bombarding the two with questions.

“Are you lost?”

“Do you need us to find your parents?”

“Who sent you??”

“Wot? Nobody-”

“Yeah what? They're literally children!”

“That's what they want you to think!”

“Do you want to see me set this plant on fire?”

“What are your names?”

“Hen-er- Ed-”

“Henderson you say, I had a cousin named that, but my uncle's name wasn’t Hender!”

“Oh, shut up Bryson!”

“No my names-!”

“Do you know someone by the name of Rachel Pigdley?”

The two boys look up at that.

Amidst the swarm of questions, Flowers had managed to win their attention, the other lodgers quieting down attentively.

The boys hesitate, suspicious. They whisper to each other, not even Chabra able to hear despite still leaning at an awkward angle.

“Do *you* know Rachel?”

Flowers puffed in pride at her hypothesis being confirmed. She relaxed her grin into a softer, hopefully reassuring smile.

“I do, she's the Day Manager. Next to Dr. Jekyll, she's the boss around here. Though she’s quite nice when you get to know her.”

Pushing someone out of the way, she approached the boys and carefully knelt by them.

She reached into her pocket. And turned it inside out.

“You see? Rachel’s a friend of mine. She sewed some pockets into my dress for me.” Flowers showed the boys the stitching on her inner pockets. The thread was a lighter shade of green than theirs, to match her dress, but visibly the same pattern and spacing.

She could have done them herself but these ones had been thanks for fixing an alarm clock Hyde had broken when he came in a window once.

This more than anything seemed to convince the boys. They let go of Chabra completely and leaned over her pocket like curious birds.

“Yeah! Rachel patches up some of my stuff too!” Sinnet jumped in.

He raised the elbow of his shirt, where a large brown patch was surrounded by some soot that had never washed out.

Some of the others pitched in, getting the idea.

“Yeah mine too!”

“And me!”

The two boys seem convinced and relax fully. A few people let out sighs of relief that they wouldn't have crying kids on their hands.

“Do you live here too?” asked the blond, looking around at all the people.

Sinnet looked at him quizzically, “Too?”

“Yeah, like Rachel and Robert.”

“Oh, yeah! Can't say I know any Roberts, though.”

“They mean Dr. Lanyon dear. Dr. Robert Lanyon, our co-founder?” Lavender sighed.

“Huh, I didn't think he liked kids, you suppose they’re new recruits of some kind?”

“Do we look like babysitters? Half the things in this building could kill a child like *that*!” Luckett snapped his fingers.

To everyone’s surprise the two boys gasped in excitement, “Really?!”

They didn't look scared, they looked eager. And… curious?

“Er…yeah actually. Do you… want to see them?”

Lavender smacked the man on the shoulder, “Luckett!”

“Come on! You saw their faces!  Remember when you were that age and curious about the world? I'd bet anything these two are scientists!” he nodded confidently.

That got some excited whispers. Everyone turned to look at the two boys.

Their mismatched eyes were open as wide as possible, jaws dropped. “You-you’re scientists?” asked the brunette.

Nods from the crowd.

They looked at each other, then back. “We’re scientists!!!”

“That settles it! Let’s give them the grand tour!!”

The lodgers broke into cheers and lifted the boys up, prancing up the stairs as fast as they could.

As the others raced towards the nearest lab, Cantilupe and Maijabi followed at a more leisurely pace.

Once they reached the landing, the rapid click of flats managed to reach their ears.

Glancing over, they watched as Rachel ran through the halls and the common room. Calling out and frantically checking behind furniture.

“Oh, there's Miss Pidgley. I was beginning to think something had happened to her to have left those boys alone so long.” said Cantilupe.

Maijabi squinted, adjusting his eyepatch, “Hm, least she could’ve done was give us a heads up if there were new lodgers. It’s not like her.”

She paused to take a breath and called out again, “Edward! Henry! Edwaaaardd!!”

“Ah, that explains it, Hyde’s on the loose again.” Cantilupe giggled.

“Ha! That'll keep her busy fer a while. Suppose we’ll have to ask about the boys later then.”

Cantilupe nodded in agreement and they carried on behind the others.

Rachel checked the candelabras to make sure no candles were knocked over.

[dixidin]

Considering that we're gonna be entering Natlan in the next nation of genshin. I have a few words I wanna say on it.

On one hand, I'm so happy we're finally gonna see Capitano and learn about all the new lore, ect!

But on the other hand, I'm really nervous on what hoyoverse is going to be doing with the people in the nation considering the treatment with Sumeru and the fact that Natlan is inspired off of West African cultures and Latin America.

But considering the character designs of Vannessa and Iansan, I have some(what) faith in hoyo (fingers crossed!)

[scrawlingskribbles]

not me blearily waking up at 5:30am almost in tears bc I had a dream that Ian had apparently been making more little OK KO shorts on the side and the utter joy I was feeling as dream!me was scrambling to find & watch them only to wake up before I could........ :((((

[louthelost]

I've been affectionately calling this "the au I'm not writing" for a while now. Then I accidentally wrote 20k words for it. So I guess I can't call it that anymore (I still do though). So here's some concept art for an AU that's been bouncing around my head for a while which I guess we can call the bruce-never-became-batman-and-so-jason-and-babs-end-up-as-gotham's-first-vigilantes-and-slowly-acquire-more-friends AU. Or... we can just call it "You were never alone"

(sketches/linework under the cut)

[skenpiel]

homestuck fans when theres no rhyme or reason to the trickster designs and its literally just a jumbled mess of hideous colors and vague candy themes which means theres no consistency to analyze to help with making fan designs

[logansdoll]

hammered

you get a little too turnt during girls night, and logan comes to your rescue.

CW: heavily suggestive, profanity, Logan's your white knight, Ororo's gettin lit, men are creeps, you're actually drunk as a skunk, etc.

"You guys got together?! Why didn't you tell me?!" Ororo gasped, loudly, sitting up straight in her seat.

Your brows furrowed, eyes widening at her volume, a few passing party-goers sharing concerned looks.

"Say it louder. I don't think the rest of the city heard you..." you grumbled, face burning as you took a sip from your strawberry daiquiri.

She sat next to you on the little leather couch situated at the back of the club near the bar, which had began to trickle with activity.

The three of you had been there for only about thirty minutes, the buzz of the night starting to pick up, the dance floor packed with dancers and drinks flowing.

And the eyes, still staring.

"Ignore her, (n/n)," Jean smiled, kindly, as she rested a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I think it's sweet you two took it at your own pace. It shows how serious you both are about this."

The three of you were having easy conversation, drinking and gabbing about whatever came to mind, when you and Logan were suddenly brought up.

And Ororo nearly died of shock when she found out you two were official.

"And speaking of seriousness... I believe we have an audience..."

Another group of three in particular, whose gazes were piercing you and your friends from across the way.

The three intense pairs of eyes belonged to three men in their best designer.

They each had their own outstanding feature: the tallest one sitting on the right had long, black hair, while the one on the left had arms roped in tattoos and lip piercings, the final one having a buzz cut and a snaggle-toothed smile.

Their lustful stares all but ignored by the two sitting next to you, your mind preoccupied with downing your second daiquiri that soon turned into a third.

You barely paid the men any mind, already knowing a man ten times hotter than all of them combined.

You actually missed him a whole damn lot.

You both were supposed to have a date night, but he got called last minute to round up Rogue and her friends who were causing havoc at some far off arcade.

So the girls dragged you out to the club, much to your protest.

'The kids just had to choose tonight of all nights...'

Ororo scoffed, gulping down another jell-O shot, "Waiting on him to come?" she chuckled, the flashing club lights making her light eyes sparkle.

You flushed in your mini dress, feeling hot despite the blasting AC and your exposed skin.

"You'll be waiting a while," she sighed, crossing her smooth legs over one another. "I heard Scott over the phone... those kids are in serious trouble."

You'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed that he wasn't there, resting his hand at the small of your back, giving you those lustful stares on the dance floor, and complimenting your outfits in his own Logan way.

You'd done so much to make sure you looked hotter than hot, too.

You had raided your closet and pulled out a short, backless mini dress that made your legs look longer and showed off the curve of your spine sliding down towards your ass.

You loved, loved, loved it—how beautiful the black fabric looked against your skin; how sexy it made you feel.

Not to mention it was one of Logan's favorites.

He'd torn it off you many times.

Combined with your stiletto heels, fresh mani-pedi, the perfume adorning your wrists and the back of your knees, and hair that gracefully caressed your shoulders, you felt like a damn vixen.

Ororo sat up, taking your hand in hers, "No sense in sitting around while you wait, eh?"

She smirked at you, mischief in her eyes.

"Let's dance."

You paused a moment, hesitant.

But in that instant, those three daiquiris hit you like a truck, and all inhibitions went out the window.

'Fuck it.'

You stood up, chugging the last of your drink before taking her hand.

"Let's do it."

Famous last words.

Smoothly, you glided your fingers up your body, swaying your hips in rhythm with the beat as Ororo danced with one of the men.

You two had been dancing so well, you called the attention of the entire club. And with you about seven daiquiris in, it felt as if the music was coursing through your veins and melding with your bones.

The men of the establishment were hounding you both relentlessly—Jean having escaped to the bar to strike up some friendly conversation with the bartender—and even with your inebriated state, you fought them off vigorously, smacking away hands and returning advances with a sharp tongue.

Though the novelty was beginning to fade, and the urge to go home had began to set in.

As if on que, your phone began to buzz, taking your attention away from your thoughts.

"Hold up! I'm getting a call!" you laughed. "I'll be right back, 'Ro!"

She gave you a wink before you went stumbling off the dance floor, tugging a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You decided to go to the nearest ladies' room, leaning against the wall where the long line started, before flipping open your phone.

You looked down at the caller ID, grinning to see the name of your favorite guy on the screen.

"Heyyyy, Logan," you sang into the phone with a drunk giggle.

"There you are," Logan let out a sigh of relief from the other side of the phone. "I've been tryin' to reach ya. I just finished roundin' up the kids and droppin' 'em off back home, so I'm free for the rest of the night if ya still wanna go out."

"Oh!" you chuckled, "Sorry!"

As you paused, Logan suddenly became confused.

"Where the hell are you? It's so loud, I can barely hear ya."

You placed one foot up on the wall, leaning your back flush against the cool tiles. "'Roro 'n' Jean took me to the club 'n' these guys tried to join us," you slurred. "Oh, they bought us drinks, too. And one said he liked my dress. He wasn't as good looking as you."

"You wearin' the backless one?" he asked, sounding intrigued.

You giggled giddily in response, finding humor in his quiet curse.

"Damn... ya had to pull that one out?"

"Oh, you should see me, Logan... I look gooood," you smiled, looking down at yourself. "But it's not the same... s'not as fun without you."

You lowered your foot back down to the ground and crossed your arm over your midsection, suddenly feeling cold and small.

"I miss you, Logan," you said, quietly. "Could you pick me up, please?"

His chest warmed at your tone, unable to fight the smirk on his face.

Despite the fact that you were absolutely sloshed, your mind still drifted to him, and even missed him when he was away.

It was adorable.

"Sure, sweetheart. Where are—?" "Wait!" you shrieked, a smile blooming on your face as you got quiet.

Logan cocked a brow.

'Huh?'

It was your favorite song.

"Logan! It's my song! I'll be right back!" you smile into the phone before hanging up, scrambling back to Ororo.

When you shimmeyed back onto the dance floor, she happily greeted you, moving in sync with the rhythm as you began your own moves.

"Oooo, what's that?" you asked, pointing at the glass she was holding.

It was orange and topped with ice and chopped oranges and strawberries, reminding you of a tequila sunrise.

"Want it?" she giggled, holding it out for you to take.

Which you gladly did, tossing it back lie it was water, humming approvingly at the taste as you licked the remnants off your lips.

The two men next to her were close to falling out from the scene.

"Fuck," one of them groaned. "Can you do that to me?"

You turned to them, brows furrowed. "Fuck off. My guy's gonna be here anyyyyy second."

Ororo gasped as she threw an arm around you, pulling you close to her perfume-soaked neck, "He's coming? That's great!"

You both cheered together, throwing your hands in the air as you continued to dance.

"C'mon," a man smirked from behind you. "What's he doing leaving a pretty lil' thing like you alone?"

Your face fell, expression annoyed as you turned to him, "Didn't I tell you to go somewhere? He's gonna show up sooon..."

The man had gotten closer, so close that you could see him lick his lips, expectantly.

He scoffed, leering down at you under the strobe lights, "But he ain't here, is he?"

"I wouldn't put money on it, bub," Logan replied from behind him.

Your eyes lit up like stars as soon as you laid eyes on your dark, handsome bodyguard.

He stood there behind the man with his thick, leather-clad arms crossed over his broad chest, which was covered by his white tee.

And he looked less than pleased.

"Logan!" you smiled, moving to stand by his side like a magnet.

The man turned to face him, watching as Logan snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

"This is the boyfriend?" he laughed, amused.

His words hardened Logan's expression tenfold, and it took everything in you not to giggle.

"Yeah, I am. And why the fuck are you still here?"

His words forced the man's expression to meld into one of frustration, and you bit back an amused smile at the sight.

You were drunk out of your mind, but you knew better than to interfere.

The man swallowed thickly, "I was just—"

"Harrassin' my woman."

You felt your heart flutter at the nickname.

He'd been calling you that for a while, but somehow it always felt like the first time.

"I didn't know she was yours—"

In a flash, his Logan's fist was up, his claws were on display and right in front of the man's face, scaring the shit out of him.

"I don't like repeating myself," he spat, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Fuck. Off."

You both watched the man scatter, eyes wide as he scrambled toward the bar.

Damn.

'What a bitch...'

"You alright?" Logan asked, taking off his leather jacket as he glared around the room, taking notice of the other leering men on the dance floor. "This place is full of fuckin' sleazeballs."

You shrugged, running a hand through your hair, "Eh, I managed."

Wordless, he handed over his jacket, your nose wrinkled in confusion.

"What's that for?"

"You're shivering, (n/n)."

You looked down at yourself, realizing that you were, indeed, shivering.

"Oh."

"C'mon," he sighed, draping the jacket over your shoulders before resting his hand at the small of your back, steering you toward the exit. "I think that's enough fun for one night."

Glancing back at Ororo, he gave a small look, slightly concerned.

"Scott's on his way for you two... You gonna be good?"

"Tipsy, but okay!" she gave him a thumbs up, along with a little wink. "Have fun, you two!"

He ignored the innuendo, but nodded, going back to ushering you out the back door.

"I missed you, Logan," you confessed, a slight whine to your voice as you practically clung to him.

"I know you did, sweetheart," he sighed, approaching one of Cyclops' cars. "Let's get you home."

The moment you hung up the phone, he sped over to the club, breaking about fifteen different traffic laws in the process.

An annoyance he decided to deal with the next day.

Without warning, you grabbed him, shoving him up against a wall of the alley you were in, interlocking your fingers as your free hand traced mindless shapes in his chest.

"You look so good, Logan," you purred, eyeing him up and down with hungry eyes, heating him from the inside out. "So good."

Suddenly, your lips attached to his neck, lazily peppering the flesh with kisses and pecks, with the occasional nip.

"(n/n)... you're drunk," Logan stated, moreso for himself, as he weakly tried to pry you off.

"I'd do this anyway," you grinned into his skin, pulling back to look at him, gaze half-lidded. "You look so sexy..."

Slowly, your lips curled into a hazy, loving smile, your eyes staring up at him like he was the only thing in the world.

Fuck...

You'd think he was about to go into cardiac arrest.

'This woman's gonna be the death of me...'

"What's wrong?" you asked, lips pouty and eyes glassy as you looked up at him, your expression one of hurt. "You're not touching me..."

"Doll," he sighed, voice slightly strained. "As gorgeous as you look... and as much as I wanna pin you against this wall... you're fuckin' hammered. And I'd like to feel you up when you actually know what yer doin'."

He pulled back to see your reaction, only to find you were already out like a light, softly snoring and drooling all over his shirt.

A soft smile fell onto his lips at the adorable sight, the man brushing some of your hair out your face before scooping you up in his arms, pressing a long kiss on your forehead.

'Somethin' else...'

[dante-mightdie]

My favorite past time is watching Chopped and pretending I know how to cook. They do an episode where a butchers are invited to show off their skills.

But, picture this, Butcher!Simon entering into a butchering competition, being dedicated to his craft, he shows up with the already blood stained apron (the nicer one with less blood). When the judges come around asking why he's here, Simon's like "doin' this f'r m'girls." Pan over to his sweet wifey all pretty and sweet looking, holding their twin girls in their matching lamb outfits all happy and giggley watching their daddy chop meat.

Then Simon slams his cleaver down scaring the judges half to death, as blood splatters across the them all. "Now go away. Got meat to chop."

obsessed obsessed obsessed

the whole crowd goes from cooing at your cutie twins to gasping when simon slams the cleaver down, shocked at how such a brute could have such a lovely family but you couldn’t care less about their stares

no, you’re far too focused on pointing out simon to your little girls so they can cheer him on and clap and squeal every time they see him on camera

and when he wins, he’s showing you his award like a dog with a really big stick because he just wants his wifey to be proud of him and brag about him and show her that she made the right choice picking him 🥺

[5sospenguinqueen]

Forgetful Flirtation - Toto Wolff x Wife! Reader

Summary: A heavy celebration leads to a husband forgetting his wife. And a team who won't let him forget it.

Warnings: Fluff. Swearing. Slight age gap.

Requested: Yes by anon.

F1 Masterlist

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by kimi.antonelli, valterribottas and others

mercedesamgf1 LEWIS HAMILTON WINS THE BRITISH GRAND PRIX 🇬🇧

13,331 comments

totowolff you did us proud. you deserved this, lewis. enjoy 

landonorris congrats mate

yn_wolff oh, lewis, what an amazing drive. well deserved. i’m so happy for you 

→ mercedesamgf1 we can confirm that she cried 

→ lewishamilton 🫶🏾

pierregasly congrats champ! 

roscoelovescoco well’s done’s dad’s 

→ yn_wolff it was the luck of roscoe in the garage. maybe we should have him every weekend

→ mercedesamgf1 we agree

georgerussell63 you deserve it, mate 🍾 i’ll buy you a round later

→ user1 are they going out together later?

→ user2 wouldn’t surprise me if the whole team celebrated this win

yn_wolff just posted

liked by iamrebeccad, carmenmmundt and others

yn_wolff team dinner to celebrate hubby’s, and especially lewis’, success 

3,644 comments 

totowolff meine schöne frau

→ yn_wolff i love you

francisca.cgomes oh okay so we’re dressing hot tonight?

→ yn_wolff i know you’re complimenting me but don’t make it sound like we didn’t compare outfits for tonight. you even know what kind of underwear i’m wearing! 

→ francisca.cgomes i enjoyed those pictures 

→ pierregasly pardon?

→ user3 yn is such a girl’s girl 

user4 that hand placement though 🤤

→ user5 she’s really not good for toto’s reputation

→ user6 she’s making it look like he’s groping her

→ user7 can you blame him? look at her. she’s hot liked by yn_wolff

user8 um, anyone else find it really unprofessional that she’s publicly admitting to sending images of her underwear to people?

→ francisca.cgomes one person, and i’m her friend?

→ user8 it just reflects badly on her husband who has an image to maintain 

→ totowolff no, it doesn’t. she is her own person

user9 unlike you crying bitches, i love that toto is married to someone slightly younger so that we get this content 

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Weaving through the throng of bodies, you scowled as you dodged another couple gyrating against each other near the entrance to the VIP section. Your glass was empty and your shoes kept sticking to the floor, tacky from a cocktail of spilled drinks. Scanning the crowd, you scowled as you made your way over to the bar. How was it possible to lose a 6’5 billionaire in a crowd of shorter drivers?

Gesturing wildly to a crowd of people, the man of the day caught your eye and you hurried over to him. 

“Lewis, have you seen Toto anywhere? I can’t find him.” You nibbled anxiously at your bottom lip. 

“Last I saw, he was with Bono asking the DJ to play 80s music,” laughed Lewis, recalling the image of his team principal and engineer swaying together, a feather boa draped across the pair of them. 

You thanked him before turning and continuing on your crusade. All around you, familiar faces were wrapped around their partner’s (or women they had just met), dancing to the music or whispering in their ears. Alcohol had been flowing freely for the past three hours and the majority of the people in the club were more than inebriated. The hours had passed and you were ready for a warm shower and for your husband to tuck you into bed. Yet, he had decided to elude you.

Toto’s dress shirt hung loosely off your frame, having been draped around you earlier whilst you stood outside for some fresh air. You had simply rubbed a hand down your arm, trying to dispel the goosebumps that appeared, and there he was, bundling you up. That had been an hour ago and you hadn’t seen him since. Inhaling deeply, his scent surrounded you. The only comfort you had as you began to wonder whether he’d left you here in his drunken state.

Lando was up on the platform flapping his arms in a dramatic manner and messing around with the decks, directing you to where you thought you’d spotted a tall figure shrouded in the shadows. 

“Yn!” Bono greeted, beaming at you through the pink feathers enveloping his face. 

“Having a good night, Bono?” You asked, smiling at the sight of him. “Toto, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” 

“Well, hello there,” your husband drawled, peering down at you with a heated gaze. “Come here often?” 

“What?” You laughed, leaning closer to hear him over the music. Surely you had misheard. 

“I would’ve remembered seeing a woman as beautiful as you before.” 

Beside you, Bono was shaking with silent laughter, gesturing wildly at someone in the distance. Probably summoning more people to bear witness to the peculiarity happening before you. Sidling up to him, you wrapped a hand around his bicep under the guise of stabilising yourself. You felt the muscle under your hand flex.

“Careful, Mr Wolff. If you keep being nice to me, I might have to take you home.”

His arms wrapped around your lower back, pulling you close against him. A heart stopping smile filled his face. “I don’t think I’d object to that. I would, however, like your name first.” 

“Is he being serious?” Somebody whispered behind you, earning a wave of raucous laughter from the Mercedes team that had gathered. 

“You smell nice.” Toto continued, nose nuzzling into the ticklish spot under your ear. You arched against his touch. He may not remember your marriage certificate but he clearly knew where best to tease you. 

Running your fingers down his arm, you grabbed his left hand, tracing circles across the back of it. His wedding ring - part of a matching set - glistened in the strobe lighting. Fiddling with his fingers, you raised your hand up to your face, pulling it into his periphery. You twisted the band around his finger, letting it catch the light and his eye. 

“I’m sorry but I don’t date married men.”

You dropped your husband’s hand, sliding out from his hold. Turning away from him, you snaked through the crowd and away from him. Dazed, Toto looked at his left hand in bewilderment. He slid the band off his finger, looking at the date engraved inside. Opposite him, his team continued to cackle at his misfortune. He was in so much trouble tomorrow. 

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yn_wolff added to her story

liked by mercedesamgf1, francisca.cgomes and others

georgerussell63 replied to slide 2 at least he remembers you there → yn_wolff you keep teasing him about that and you might seriously find yourself without a seat next season → georgerussell63 don’t say that. i know you’d protect me  → yn_wolff don’t push your luck → i’ll see you for dinner on thursday though? → georgerussell63 wouldn’t miss it

francisca.cgomes replied to slide 3 how are you awake enough to do all that? → i feel like i’ve died. pierre keeps bringing me cups of tea but i can’t even lift my head to drink them  → yn_wolff tbf, kiks, you drank far more than i did 😂 → plus toto has been doing everything for me despite looking like death himself → i think he feels bad for forgetting i was his wife → francisca.cgomes at least you know even drunk you’re the only woman he wants? 

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and others

mercedesamgf1 the silver arrows know how to party

4,463 comments

georgerussell63 yeah and our team principal knows how to forget his wife 

→ totowolff george, would you like to stay with mercedes next season?

→ yn_wolff don’t threaten your drivers online, dear

→ georgerussell63 i’m only speaking the truth

→ user10 george, you don’t look like you were in any state to remember things either

yn_wolff can somebody blow that photo up and print it off for me. i think i need it in my bedroom

→ user11 you get to go home with the real thing, leave the photo for us 

→ yn_wolff i almost didn’t

→ totowolff not you as well, liebling

→ user12 what does this mean? 

lewishamilton hell of a party 

pierregasly maybe don’t let your team principal join next time

alex_albon happy wife happy life probably isn’t working for toto right now 

maxverstappen1 i think we should get toto drunk before race weekends, maybe he’ll forget his strategies 

→ user13 what does this mean? let us innnnn

totowolff i’ll be speaking to all your team principals tomorrow about your behaviour 

→ charles_leclerc yes, dad 

→ landonorris oh, no. now we’ve done it 

→ georgerussell63 who do you talk to about mine?

yn_wolff you forgot your wife, mein herz, i don’t think your scary boss act is going to work today 

→ user14 he did what?!

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Requests open for smau's

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[yieldtotemptation]

ANIMALS ft. Natty

natty x male reader smut

10k words

“All I’m saying is,” Natty starts, like she always does, with more unsolicited advice than you can handle at 2 AM, "for someone that complains so much about not having a sex life, you really don’t do much to fix it."

“And what, oh wise friend of mine, is your recommendation.”

“I don’t know. Get a haircut. Dress better. Try not being a massive pussy?” Natty shrugs. Or at least you think she does. Only so much you can tell over the phone.

You sigh. Bite back the urge to tell her to fuck off. But then, who else would talk you to sleep at this ungodly hour? So instead, you concede the point. “Noted.”

“Or, you know, if it’ll stop you from being such a little bitch,” and now she’s laughing, cackling really, and not once has that ever, ever meant anything good. "You could always just fuck me."

—

Two weeks and twelve hours post-Natty’s incredibly unhelpful suggestion that did absolutely nothing to alleviate you of your insomnia, and you’re back on the phone with her.

Only this time, there's video.

So, yay.

"Help me, please."

It’s a Friday and Natty's begging, again.

Because she knows she can count on you, knows that you’ve long since resigned yourself to your fate as Natty’s on-call ‘fixer’. There for everything from life-changing career decisions to helping her figure out what show to stream next.

And now, apparently, choosing her outfit for tonight.

“Help me, help me, help me, help me.”

God, this woman and her begging. Knowing full well that it’s your kryptonite.

"Okay, okay, okay," you're relenting, much earlier than usual. Mostly because as far as Natty’s petulant requests usually go this one’s a walk in the park. “But don’t you have people for this sort of thing? People who don’t, and I quote, ‘have a dogshit taste in style?’”

“It is dogshit!” Natty calls out, already turned around and leaving you (her phone) on the vanity, facing out to her bedroom and all its hideous pinkness. She disappears from the screen, diving deep into her closet for yet another pair of shorts that will most certainly hug way too close, or a top that dips way too low, or a pair of heels that scream—'hey, I have legs, would you like to spread them?' "But!"

Natty returns to the camera with a leather belt—oh no, that's a leather skirt—in hand; clad in nothing but a casual cotton bra/underwear combination that she’s filling out far too well for your sleep-deprived brain to handle.

She holds up the skirt against her waist for your consideration. Poses. It wouldn't cover a thing. Or maybe that's the point—again, you don't have any fashion sense, whatsoever.

“You’re a man, and I need a man’s opinion because I’m hoping to take one home tonight to fuck my brains out until I forget about this shit-storm of a week. So, you know—help a girl out?”

“As always, you have quite a way with words.”

Natty leans towards the camera, bending down to stare right at you. It makes entirely too much sense that she’s built an entire career around doing just this.

“It’s my third language, asshole.”

The insult lands softer than she likely intended, considering well, you’re a little too distracted to take it. It’s entirely her fault. The angle makes her tits look far too immaculate to pay any attention to her mouth.

Maybe she should consider going out just like this?

Yeah, that’d definitely get her fucked.

But, she frowns before you can make the suggestion, turning on her heels and sashaying back to her closet, leaving you to choke on air at the sight of her ass stretching out her favourite pair of panties. (The white pair with the pretty-pink bows. The one that rides up her ass when she stretches, bends, sneezes—basically any time she’s not standing perfectly still. And even then.)

Anyone else and this whole thing would be weird. Well, weirder than it already is.

See, you and Natty have this thing; this odd, cat and dog relationship that’s been going on since what feels like the dawn of time:

You’ve watched her shamelessly cycle through men faster than a teenager through a box of tissues, leaving a trail of broken hearts and broken cocks in her wake.

While she’s been forced to witness every time you’ve met ‘the one’, only to be there months later to help pick up the pieces when you’re burying your feelings in video games and alcohol and porn, wondering how it all went so wrong.

All this to say that seeing Natty bouncing around in her underwear with that laser-beam of a smile of hers; with all of her soft curves, thick thighs, her ridiculous ass and again, those immaculate fucking tits isn't that unusual.

In fact, it doesn't really do anything for you at all.

(Fucking liar.)

“Here, how about this.” Natty appears from the corner of the screen, having found a top that’s somehow made of even less material than the bra she’s already got on. The gall of her to ask, "Too much or not enough?"

You deadpan. “Does it come in adult sizes too?”

Natty grins, because she can read it right on your stupid face. She looks so, unbearably hot. Without even trying that hard. This bitch. “So just right, then.”

And then she twirls, leaving you to face her back, and before you even have time to blink, Natty’s bra has fallen down her shoulders; and you’re hating how you lean in to look because this damn app has no zoom feature to save your sorry eyesight.

Her fucking tits. Perfect, bouncy. Even through the pixels, even from behind, you can still see the way they spill.

She slips on her chosen top for the evening—a tiny, strappy number—and spins back around to face you in all her Natty glory. By the skin of your teeth, you’re looking away and leaning back, feigning nonchalance and leaving her none the wiser.

You think.

“You know,” Natty says, tilting to one side, hand on hip. Fuck, even that slightest movement makes them bounce. Utterly, utterly obscene. “You should just come tonight.”

You’re saying, “Fuck no,” before she’s even finished her sentence. ‘Coming tonight’ means ‘clubbing’, and ‘clubbing’ means being stuck listening to the shittiest music, surrounded by the worst people in all of Korea, drinking overpriced slop and watching Natty turn down a revolving door of douchebags on the dancefloor.

So, yeah.

If ‘fuck no’s’ were bricks, you’d be building the Great Wall of ‘Fuck No’, big enough for aliens on the other side of the galaxy to see with a fucking telescope and have their first contact with the human race be a giant ‘Fuck No’.

And that’s your polite way of turning her down.

Yet somehow, Natty’s hardly deterred.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Natty sing-songs, shuffling on her tiptoes, shifting her weight from foot to foot, making her entire body jiggle. It’s like she’s intentionally trying to sell you on the idea with every little movement. Make you believe that if you came with her, you’d be able to find someone who comes close to looking half as good as she does in that… whatever-the-fuck that is. Bralette? Crop top? Whatever. Fat chance. "Come on, come, come, come. Be my wingman please!"

You already have your second ‘fuck no’ queued up, but Natty just won’t stop fucking talking.

“Don’t you want to get laid? Don’t you think you need to have fun after what’s-her-name?” Natty continues, pouting at you through the screen.

And there it is, a study in how Natty usually gets her way—jutting out her bottom lip, digging her thumb into the waistband of her panties to expose just a smidge more skin, leaning just right to make her tits look like they’re about to pop out. It’s like she’s got a fucking manual.  

“Don’t tell me you’d rather stay at home with Handalf the Grey than come out with me and all my hot friends?”

“You mean having to clean up after all your ‘hot friends’ and their bullshit while you run off to score free drinks?” You retort, recalling all the other times when she managed to entice you out of your self-imposed isolation and into the deafening, sweaty hellhole known as a nightclub.

“Said hot friends that you’re too much of a pussy to hit on, mind you,” Natty chides, and then oh-so-casually decides to drop this nugget: "They all like you, you know, they'd be more than happy to break this dry spell of yours if you just asked. Don’t act like I haven’t seen the way you look at Julie."

You can feel your cheeks reddening. You’re not a teenager. You shouldn’t blush at this shit. But here you are, falling for Natty’s words and their magical abilities to needle at your insecurities and fill your head with thoughts of her friends and all their... well, incredibly positive attributes.

Natty pounces on your lapse in composure and gets closer to the camera, crouches. Drops down so she’s on her heels and all you can see in that tiny window of your phone is the red of her plush, plump lips.

“Come, you pussy—”

“Natty—”

“Do it pussy—”

“Natty, if you think that’s going to work—”

“Pussy, pussy, pussy—”

You’re yelling down the phone: “Fuck, fine!”

Natty’s victory dance is already in full swing before the words have even left your mouth. Bouncing around her room in pure joy at once again having ruined your evening. Dancing in that barely-there outfit, treating you to entirely sinful ripples across her curves and dips, pure sex on a pair of toned legs. Really makes you wonder how the fuck is she not illegal in at least fifty different countries.  

You hide your face in your hands, because there it is, the reason you’ve never really been able to deny her:

Her laughter, her energy, her fucking shameless glee whenever she manages to get her way (which, if you’re keeping count, is every single time).

She’s just so frustratingly adorable.

Somewhere in her celebrations, Natty finds exactly what she was looking for. Reaches down to the floor, picking up a belt—no, that’s another skirt—this one even tinier than the first.

“Oh, this is perfect,” she preens, holding it out to the camera (to you), before stepping right into it. She spins around, making it dance around her hips. It does wonders for her thighs. "How do I look?”

You swallow. “Like you’re going to get fucked tonight.”

The glint in Natty’s eyes. Like you’ve just served up the finest compliment on a silver platter. You feel sorry for whatever poor soul crosses her path tonight.

Natty winks. “Here’s to hoping.”

—

Guess what?

Turns out you were right: this is the worst place in the world.

Only, you’re the sole person here that seems to think that.

Hours have passed since you helped Natty look perfectly fuckable and you’re at the bar, trying and failing to get the attention of the bartender. Unfortunately, he, like every other male with a beating heart and a boner seems far more interested in Natty’s little dance routine than his thirsty clientele.

You can’t blame him, really. It’s built in how she moves.

Strobe lights cutting through the air like knives, slicing her into this series of absolutely pornographic snapshots as she dances. And she’s not alone, she has friends—beautiful, all of them, in their own ways. They spin and twirl around her; but Natty’s the sun here, the star that everything orbits.

(You included).

You see it play out—the Natty effect. Men, even women alike gravitate to her, drawn by that magnetic force that is Natty at her very best. Trying to get a dance, maybe whisper a line they stole from some movie in her ear, even dare to reach out to touch or press themselves up against her.

But she’s a black hole, a dark star. Can’t get too close.

One by one, they’re swallowed up by the void of Natty’s disinterest. The shoulders slump, the smiles falter, and the hope in their eyes dies as Natty, with a simple flick of her wrist sends them stumbling back into the crowd, forgotten almost immediately.

And the whole time she’s doing this, she’s got you in her line of sight. A wink here, a smile there, a dance on its own; and all you can do is nod and pretend like you’re okay with all this.

You inhale. Deeply.

Her outfit looks even tinier in person.

You turn away for just a moment, shaking off thoughts of Natty, of her hips and their sway and her winks and her smile; attempting (and failing) to flag down the bartender once more.

This fucking night.

But, when you look back, Natty’s no longer on the dancefloor.

She’s standing next to you. Arms looping around your neck.

“Natty—”

But she’s not listening. Her eyes are darting around the room, searching for something—or someone—that you can’t see. Your stomach clenches, because that look on Natty’s face? That’s not her usual I’m-about-to-make-some-poor-soul-my-bitch look. That’s something else entirely. That’s fear.

“Shut up, I need a favour,” she’s in your ear, yelling over the thrum of the bass that’s rattling your ribcage.

You lean in, bend down to meet her, because, frankly, you’re worried. You’ve never seen Natty like this, wide eyed and shaky. Never seen her be anything but comfortable.

You’ve also never been this close to her. Felt her breath hot against your neck, felt her body press up against you, felt her softness, felt her—

Fuck, you should be asking her what’s wrong, but before you can even do that, the bartender's filling two shot glasses and sliding them over to Natty.

She takes one. You take the other. It tastes lethal.

Natty’s nails dig into the back of your neck, and she looks at you, intense. Words fast and frantic. “Just pretend we’re together, okay? For a bit. Until I can figure this out. Just—just keep playing along, yeah?”

You blink. The room blurs around you. You think you might’ve misheard. “What?”

“Be my boyfriend,” she says, taking a second shot before you can even digest the first. “I need you. There’s some creep and I need you. Now, please?”

You turn immediately, scanning the floor, but the lights and shadows make it near impossible to make out anything other than vague shapes and strobes of colour, let alone pinpoint a face. "Natty, where is he, I can—"

"No, no, no," she cuts you off with a shake of her head. “Focus on me.”

“Wait, why do I have to—”

“Oh, shit there he is—”

And then she’s kissing you.

Ending whatever argument you may have had, because she’s grabbing, pulling you in, and her lips are on yours and oh fuck, she’s really, really kissing you.

It’s a slap to the face, and you need to reel in from the sting. Because you’re already forgetting what you’re doing, forgetting how your limbs work, because Natty’s putting on the performance of a lifetime and you’re having trouble keeping up.

Her hands are in your hair, yours at the small of her back, and she’s pulling you close, squishing against you and the taste of her—sweet like candy and sharp like vodka—filling you all the way up.

Your tongue catches up, flicking against hers, licking inside of her mouth and she’s even convincing you—as if she’s the one that’s always been into the love at first sight bullshit and you’re the non-believer.

And it’s a problem, how right this feels. Because this isn’t what friends do—definitely not Natty and you. But still, you can feel her tension, her need for this to be believable; and you don’t dare to fuck it all up.

So you kiss her back, because that’s what you do for Natty.

You always do what she needs.

You’re about to pull away; this should be enough to have every single person here convinced that you’re hers and she’s yours. But Natty’s already sliding her tongue back in your mouth, pleading, “Keep going,” the moment a gap opens between your lips; and you’re diving back into the kiss without a second thought.

And then you hear it.

A flash of a camera.

A cheer.

A whistle.

Julie, Haneul, Belle—Natty’s friends, staring at you like proud fairy godmothers witnessing their own magic at work.

You break the kiss. You look down at Natty.

She giggles.

You feel like a fucking idiot.

"There is no creep, is there?"

Natty shrugs, looks up at you, and she actually looks—what is this? Shy? Embarrassed?

"There could’ve been," she says, her eyes wide and innocent, a mask. You see through her like you should have when she first wrapped her arms around your neck.  Oh sure, like she’s ever been innocent for a second in her entire life.

She’s far too smug for that.

You roll your eyes. You feel like every other idiot that’s ever fallen for a bat of her lashes and a peek at her tits. Hope is a hell of a drug, especially when Natty’s the dealer. And yet, despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirks up. "You're fucking insane."

“Maybe.” There’s a long pause. She’s staring at your mouth. She presses a finger to your sternum. “But I had to do something.”

It takes a second. What?

What does that mean?

You stare at Natty, lick your lips. Her taste still lingers.

“Ask yourself the same question I’ve been asking myself for months now,” she says, louder this time, her voice cutting through the noise of the club and hitting your ears with a sobering clarity.

You know what she’s going to say—what she’s going to ask before she’s even opened her mouth. You’ve been asking yourself the same thing too.

So, swallow hard, try to ignore the way Natty’s friends have gone quiet. Try to ignore Natty’s hand still resting against your chest, her eyes burning a hole right through you.

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?”

The blood’s rushing to your cheeks; the music's too loud, the lights too bright, and the room's suddenly spinning around you like a carousel.

Fucking embarrassing.

But Natty doesn’t crack a smile. She just looks up at you. Hopeful. Searching you, searching your eyes for an actual answer; and you already know what it is.

“Because, Natty, we’re friends.” You offer up a weak smile, hoping against hope that she’ll buy it.

But she shakes her head. “Oh, please. Like that’s ever stopped anyone before. Besides, if you want to put a label on it, call it whatever the fuck you want. I just know what I need. Do you?”

You sigh. She gets closer. And closer.

Until your nose is brushing hers. Until her breath is hot on your face, until your heart is racing so fast you can feel it in your ears. Until her hand is sliding down, down, down, until it’s resting over your pants and oh, oh no, you’re straining.

You gasp. She smirks.

“See? You want it too. And I know you do, because, sweetie, your cock’s practically begging me to pull it out and shove it between my tits right here in front of everyone.”

She just throws it out there, so casually, so bluntly, she might as well be talking about the weather. And maybe, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Natty being Natty, but fuck you can’t do anything but stay frozen still.

You’re letting her hand linger. You’re letting her touch you like she’s got every right in the world. You’re letting her because there’s a part of you—the part that’s growing by the second—that wants to see just how far she’ll take this.

“So, what is the real reason, ba-by?”

Because you’re in love with her. You’re in love with her, and you can’t just have casual sex with someone you’re in love with because it will ruin you.

But you don’t say that. Instead, you just tell her: “Timing.”

That makes her laugh. Has her closing what little gap remained between your bodies, until her tits are flush against your chest, and you’re coming to the conclusion that, yes, you did help her pick out the perfect outfit for tonight.

Perfectly, hopelessly, fuckable.

“Well,” she says, and she’s pulling you back down again and shutting you up with yet another kiss. “We’ve got all the time in the world now, don’t we?”

—

You’ve been here before.

Many, many times before.

You installed the showerhead and fixed all the cabinets yourself. Even secured the lock that you’re now unlocking with the digits that you coded.

But somehow, it feels like a first.

First time you’ve kissed her in the back of a car, pushed your hand up her skirt, felt the heat of her against your fingertips. First time you’ve pinned her against the wall of an elevator, made her feel just how desperate you were for her against her thigh, made her promise to be so good for you when you got to her door.

First time being pulled through the threshold, hands at your chest, tearing your shirt off you before you’ve even stepped foot in her apartment. Had her smiling against your mouth, because she’s won, again, and you can’t even bother to argue because you’ve lost to her so many times now that this shouldn’t be so surprising.

What is surprising though is how you’re naked first.

"Terrible, terrible taste." Natty's clicking her tongue as your shoes, your shirt, your pants are scattered along the floor behind you. “We’ll have to fix that.”

And then she’s moving on, hands clawing down your stomach to land at the waistband of your underwear, hooking her thumbs in and yanking down. You’re so obviously hard—you’ve barely made any effort to hide it from her—fuck, you pretty much flagged down the taxi with it.

"Holy fuck," is the first thing out of Natty's mouth when she takes a hold of you, feeling the naked weight of you in her palm. "You’re really not messing around, are you? I was expecting—"

"A sad, lonely little thing," you finish for her, because you've heard it before. "Yeah, you like to mention it a lot."

But Natty’s not laughing now.

She’s just staring. Almost reverently. She decides, her voice a little raspy, tinted with an apprehension that you never knew she was capable of mustering, "I like it. It's... massive."

You lean in, pressing your mouth against hers because if she’s going to say that, you’re going to kiss her, again and again, and there’s a strong possibility you're never going to stop.

She whimpers, gasps into your mouth, says your name for the first time—not some nickname, not a jab or an insult. Just your name, in your ears, like it’s something sacred.

You’re not a saint. You can’t ignore that.

Your cock jumps in her hand, and as if on instinct, she strokes you.

It's slow, purposeful. She's too good at this. Knows the right pressure, where to twist and wind her wrist. How to sweep her thumb over the tip, smear pre-cum over your skin, and this entire time she's staring down at your cock like she's discovered something new.

“This is going to ruin me, isn't it?” she whispers, and you nod, because your voice is lodged in your throat and she’s stealing the air from your lungs. “Going to fit so fucking nicely inside me. Fuck it’s going to stretch me.”

You groan, collapse your weight into Natty, press your lips against the column of her throat.

Both hands now, one underneath, toying with your balls, balancing them in her fingers, and the other doing its best to squeeze, to pump, to make you fall for her with every stroke.

“I can’t wait to ride this,” Natty kisses these words into your cheek, your jaw, leaves these marks all over your collarbone. “I wonder if I can fit it down my throat. God, can you imagine what it’ll look like between my tits?”

And that makes your cock throb.

Because face it, Natty has always had a way of getting into your head; is far too dangerous with her words, and she’s all too willing to abuse this power she has over you to get you do what she wants, which is now, apparently, fucking her senseless.

You let her, let her build and build this pressure, let it coil inside you, tighter and tighter. Until the need to feel her, all of her, is too much to handle.

Until you grab her, take her by the shoulders, push her—not hard, but firmly—against the nearest wall.

You’re not gentle about it, because Natty doesn’t want gentle. She wants rough, she wants passionate, she wants to be fucked and have her cunt worshipped by way of complete ruin.

She’s told you as much.

"That's more like it," Natty bites into your ear, grips your shoulders. She follows your eyes. "Let me guess, my tits?"

So, maybe she has caught you looking once or twice. Either way, you don’t care much for her top anymore, it’s served its purpose. You take a fistful of it and pull, ripping it right off her and tossing it to the floor with everything else that’s kept the two of you from tearing each other apart.

“Better?” Natty poses for you, puts her tits on display—and yeah, you were right all along. Fucking immaculate.

You take a hold of one, palm it; fill your hand with flesh, twinge those dark, plump nipples, because of course you’re going to. You’re going to pinch and squeeze and suck on them. You’re going to mark her like she’s already done to you. Mark them, with your teeth, with your tongue. Fuck, you’re going to make them yours.

But for now, you're just going to slap them, because you want to watch them jiggle up close.

You laugh. Natty does too.

"Much better."

And with that, you’re back on her. Kisses that are sloppy, wet, and filled with all the pent-up want that's been simmering for months. You don’t even know where to begin with Natty, but you start with her mouth. It’s a good place. It’s always a good place with Natty.

Her hand doesn’t stop moving, can’t, won’t. The friction is heaven; you just let her touch you, fuck her hand while you indulge in her tits. Get to know the weight of them, the balance, the softness.

A sigh into your ear as your tongue finally finds her breasts, deep and messy, sliding over her nipple—she’s already so sensitive, just a flick and she’s gasping. You’re not even trying to be precise anymore, not that Natty needs it, not that she needs anything but for you to enjoy yourself against her.

It all makes the room seem smaller, the walls close, surrounding you with the scent—cinnamon and sweat and something else that’s just her.

“See this is why fucking me is such a great idea,” she slurs against your shoulder, hand tightening, stroking you harder, faster.

You mumble an affirmative into her breast. It’s a miracle you can still stand upright.

“Isn’t this so much better than like everything else? Anyone else?” She sighs, breathy, sweet sounds, as she takes you by the wrist, guides your hand southwards.

Fingertips graze her stomach, trace around her belly button and lower; until you’re digging into her skirt and feeling the heat rise off her skin. She’s soaked right through her panties, dripping with it. Another place for your tongue to land.

“We can just be fucking honest with each other,” Natty’s explaining, eyes tearing when your finger pads her clit, pressing down just right. “You already told me all the things you hate. All the things your bitch exes never let you do.” And she smiles, wicked. “Never had the tits to give you.”

Christ.

“And I can get you to fuck me exactly how I want with this big, fucking cock,” Natty finishes. "We’re a perfect fucking match."

It’s at that moment you find the zipper of her skirt, tugging it down, watching it fall to the feet. Leaving Natty to step out of the tiny scrap of fabric she calls her panties; abandoning the sticky mess of cotton.

You take a step back, unlatch your lips from her tits, because you need to see it. Need to finally see her, see your Natty, see the Natty you've never allowed yourself to look at.

So, take your time, drink her in—because the way she’s standing there, the way she’s touching herself now; biting her lip, sighing your name. All but saying, ‘Look all you want, but don’t you dare look away’.

Look at the arch of her neck, the red you’ve left there, that trail you’ve burned down to her tits. Bruised and swollen from your tongue, your kisses, and yet still not marked enough. Follow the curve of her hips; how they flare out from her waist, the plush squish of her ass cheeks against the wall behind her.

You want to kiss her, from the tips of her toes to the top of head; all of her, every part of her, because now she’s going to finally let you.

Because now you're going to fuck her until all she knows is you, going to make her scream your name, going to make her beg for you to fill her with your cock and cum and never ever leave her cunt empty again.

That’s the plan, anyway.

But Natty’s got plans of her own.

“Didn’t you say,” Natty begins, sighing, circling her cunt in a rhythm that you’re dying to recreate. She licks her lips. “That your last ex refused to suck that lovely, magnificent cock of yours?

"Yeah," you stammer, at a loss for breath at just the sight of it all. “And weren’t you trying to find someone to fuck your brains out?”

Natty’s eyes light up; and there's that easy, charming grin that knocks you right off your feet. "You’ve always been such a good listener."

—

Natty's plotting to ruin you.

It's the only possible explanation for the way she's looking at you right now—on her knees, at the foot of her bed, flanked by walls painted an ugly shade of pastel pink and Natty's tits, sandwiching your cock.

You’d imagined it, thought about it when you shouldn’t have been thinking about it. Whenever she brought you to watch her perform, whenever she sent you pictures of her outfit of the day. But your eyes always went there. Straight to Natty’s tits, every time.

You knew they were big.

You’ve felt them, on accident (though they don’t seem like accidents anymore).

But now, to have them enveloping your cock, drowning your shaft in their softness, and to have her, staring at your face with so much fucking excitement as she gives you everything you’ve ever wanted—it’s surreal.

You’re dying to paint them white.

“Looks like you’re already about to fall apart, baby,” she teases, and it’s even worse now that she’s calling you these sweet names, saying them like she’s always wanted to, like she’s finally letting herself. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”

“Fuck, Natty—” you breathe out, your hands finding her hair, tightening, because that’s all you can manage to do when Natty’s in control. Like she’s always been.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, keeping her eyes on you, making sure you’re watching, even as her tongue flicks out to taste you. A slow, taunting lick to make you buck your hips, desperate to feel the suction of her lips. “You must have been dreaming about this, huh?”

You don’t bother lying. She already knows the answer. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

Natty’s smile spreads across her face, and she rewards you with a kiss, pressing her lips down onto the head of your cock; before sliding them lower, eyes fluttering shut with the first taste of you. “Well, what took you so long? All you needed to do was show me your cock and I’d have been happy to do it whenever you want me to. Happy for you to use my tits as your cum rag. You know that, right?”

She moves; and the sight of it alone—Natty’s tits wrapped around your cock, bobbing up and down, hypnotising you with the flicker of her nipples—up and down, up and down. It’s merciless, unrelenting, and she keeps talking, keeps kissing these sweet little words into your cock that makes your hips jerk, trying to fuck her tits faster, harder.

"Look at how perfect you look," Natty keeps going, "how your cock fits so snug."

The sounds she’s tearing from your throat as her tits take you, and she’s barely even started.

“But we can do better, can’t we?”

Her pace picks up, and with it, the tightness of your grip on her hair. She’s pushing the ample mounds together, squeezing, putting her whole body into it, into this new art she’s pioneering. Driving you insane with just her breasts, making you swell between them, throbbing as she works you over.

“So big," she’s panting from just the effort, the bounce, bounce, bounce of it all, "I can feel you getting so much bigger."

Everything’s going too fast, her tits are too soft, her lips on you too hot, and she’s drooling, her spit dripping down onto your cock. You want to tell her to stop, that you can’t take it, but Natty just keeps going.

"Fuck,” Natty mewls, pinching her own nipples, for you, for her. Pinching and rolling them, making them nice and stiff and swollen. “Let me just try and—”

She cranes her head, bends; takes your cock deeper into the warm, wet heat of her mouth. Her tongue darts out licks your cock, gets that sweet spot on the underside, makes you shake underneath her.

Natty holds you there, even as you groan, even as your hips rise; just licks, spits, sucks. Her mouth moving up and down on you, making a mess down your shaft, down her tits. Taking you deeper, deeper, until you’re fucking her face.

She moans around you as your hips buck and you push deep, desperate for it. Her eyes water, her cheeks hollow, and she’s got you. You’re in her mouth and she’s loving it. Loving the power she has over you, loving giving you what she wants, loving how you’re pulling her by the hair, desperate to feed her more of your cock into her throat.

Like your entire relationship has been building up to this moment—to Natty’s tits wrapped around you, her mouth all over you, her eyes on yours, watching as you fuck her face.

"Fuck, Natty," you grunt, your voice barely recognisable. "What the fuck—"

But Natty's just smiling, you’re fucking that smug little smile on her lips, and she’s taunting you. "Come on baby, keep going, keep going."

It’s utterly obscene—the smack of her lips around your cock, her slobbering all over you, her gagging, her moaning around you, looking up at you and asking, “Is that all you’ve got?”

You're so close, so fucking close, and she knows it. Moving her tits faster, faster, and you're about to blow your load all over Natty's pretty face, her chest.

But she keeps talking.

Even as you stuff her cheeks, even as you muffle her, “None of those other skinny bitches could do this, could they, could handle this big, fat cock?”

Even as you force her down, pull her by the hair, “You’ve been so obsessed with my body, so obsessed with my tits, haven’t you?”

Even as her tits slide off you and your cock smacks her across her cheek, “I always saw the way you looked at them, fuck I was showing them off for you, you just took too fucking long to notice.”

She won't stop fucking talking.

You finally snap. "God, are you ever going to stop?"

But Natty just laughs, bats her lashes. Slides her tongue from your base to your tip. "Maybe you should find something to gag me with."

Your hand wraps around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes go wide, to make her mouth pop open. She rolls out her tongue for you, and you know what she expects you to do, what she expects you to fill her mouth with.

But you don’t—instead, you fill it with your kiss.

It's deep, it’s bruising, it’s saying ‘fuck you’ in the sweetest way possible, without uttering a single syllable. Natty laughs against your mouth, a ‘fuck you’ right back with her teeth, biting down on your lower lip. Not breaking skin—not yet—but the promise is there.

Her hand leaves your cock to wrap around your neck, pulling you closer to her, her mouth eager for yours, and you don’t even think twice before you hoist her up, her legs wrapping around your waist. Giggling again—another sound that’s going to be your undoing—before you’re both stumbling back onto her bed.

The mattress dips under the weight of your bodies falling back into it. Natty straddles you, presses her cunt down onto your thighs. So wet you can feel it on your thigh, leaving your skin sticky and stained with her. Your hands move to her hips, dragging her closer, so you can feel the friction grinding against your cock, making you ache.

She breaks your kiss, gasping for air. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide—seeing her pant like this, it’s not even fair. She’s just so fucking beautiful, like a painting you’re afraid to touch because you might smudge it.

You tell her as much.

She blinks. Blushes.

Grins.

“You,” Natty breathes, her hand trailing down your chest, finding your heartbeat, resting there for a beat, two, “are so fucking in love with me.”

You don’t argue because she’s right.

Her hand slides up your arms, nails dig in and she’s got your wrists, pinning them over your head. You let her. Let her grind herself against your cock, feel the warm, wet heat of her cunt against the tip.

She takes her sweet time, melting herself into you, pressing her tits into your chest, and you can feel her heart racing against yours.

She whispers, “God, I’ve waited so fucking long for this.”

You can’t even form a coherent thought, so you just grunt.

“I’ve dreamt about this so much,” she continues, breathless words sending shivers down your spine. “Your cock, fuck, it’s just as perfect as I imagined. And now, it’s all mine.”

And then she does it—she sinks down onto you, slow and sweet, her pussy taking you in inch by glorious inch. You groan into her shoulder, your eyes shut as Natty’s tight heat surrounds you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before; sure there’s been others but something about Natty’s cunt is so intense it’s almost painful.

“So tight,” you grit out, the words torn from your chest like they’re made of glass. She just laughs, low, sultry, and starts to move.

It’s a dance, a rhythm that’s been building between the two of you for what feels like an eternity. She’s rocking her hips back and forth in this torturous grind. Fucking you like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do, like she needs to make the most of it. Like you’re going to vanish into thin air the second she lets you go.

“I knew you’d feel this good,” Natty sighs into your neck, already surrendering to your cock. “Fuck, I knew it—why did you keep this from me?”

You can’t answer, not really.

You’re too lost in the feel of her, too consumed by the way she’s moving on top of you. Every inch of her body is pressed against yours, and she’s so warm, so alive, that you can’t think of anything but how Natty’s finally letting you in. How she’s letting you make her whole.

But it’s too much. Natty’s cunt, tight and wet, fucking you so slow it’s a fucking crime. Pinning you down, a butterfly on a board spread out, displayed, unable to do anything but take her sweet, sweet punishment. And she’s whispering it in your ear, grinding down, rolling her hips, “Fuck you. Fuck you for keeping this from me,” with every stroke.

She’s doing it on purpose, you’re sure of it. Driving you crazy, making you beg, making you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life. Your hips jerk up to meet her, trying to speed things up, to get that friction you need, but Natty just pushes down on your shoulders, keeping you in place.

So you tell her, "This is fucking torture."

Natty just smirks, her hips never stilling. "Is it?" she asks, as if this all isn’t intentional. Like she doesn’t have some grand plan to ensure you never forget the things her cunt can do to you. "Do something about it then."

So, you do.

It takes more effort than you’ll ever admit, but you break her grip on your wrists, grab her hips, and flip her over, sending her sprawling onto the bed, face down.

The squeal from her. It’s music.

How her eyes go wide when you treat her like a ragdoll, how her tits juggle and bounce, smacking the mattress. And when you push down into her, slamming your hips into her ass, how she arches back into you, her back bowing like a fucking violin.

“Yes!” She cries, fucking cheers into the mattress, like she’s been waiting for this—for you to have had enough of her shit and take her without asking. “Yes, yes, yes—”

You hover over her, throb inside her. "Is this what you fucking wanted?"

Natty sighs into the bedsheets, urging her hips against you, begging without words, begging for you to do more.

“You want it rough, baby?”

“Yeah,” Natty says, pushing back against you again, nodding immediately. “If you can.”

Still with the provocations, unable to resist pressing at your buttons.

You grab her hair, yank it back so she’s staring at you, force her to look at you. And you fuck her hard. Fuck her like you’ve wanted to since the first time she walked into your life and decided to make it all about her.

You fill her with deep, long strokes, fill the room with the smacks of your hips colliding against her, of your cock thrusting into her cunt again and again.

She claws at the sheets, trying to find purchase, trying to push back against you. But you’re too strong, too desperate.

You pound into her, impale her with your cock, watch her face twist in pleasure, in pain. You’re fucking her like you’re trying to break her, like she asked. Trying to solve her—how hard can she take it, how deep, how fast.

But Natty won’t give you an answer, she just takes it all—every inch, ever pump into her sopping wet cunt. Just grins and takes every bit of your need, your frustration. A bottomless pit of pleasure, begging for more with every whine, every little noise she makes that’s not quite a scream but is so close that it rattles your brain.

And when you finally let go of her hair, Natty’s licking her lips, and without even a care for what it does to you, she coaxes, “You can do better.”

You don’t know how she can talk right now, how she can even think with your cock so deep inside her, but something about the way she says it makes you want to test the limits of her ability to stay coherent.

But first, there’s the problem of her ass.

“Let’s see about that,” you murmur, dragging your hand down her spine, feeling the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, and coming to a stop at her perfectly rounded ass. It’s a masterpiece, a work of art, and you’ve always had a bit of an artist’s soul.

You do what comes naturally.

A spank against Natty’s ass. Hard, hard enough to make her yelp.

Again—another slap, another yelp, louder, better.

You keep fucking her, keep spanking her, keep watching red bloom across her cheeks and Natty squirm underneath you. The whines get louder, her cunt gets wetter, but it’s still not enough to dull that smug look on her face.

“Fuck yes,” Natty gasps, raises her ass, presenting it to you like a trophy for you to claim. “I always knew you had it in you.”

You grab her hips harder, your knuckles white, your hand a blur as it connects with her ass. It’s so explicit, the sound of it in the quiet of Natty’s apartment—each spank echoing through the room like a gunshot.

But Natty just takes it, her body jolting with each hit, her cunt tensing and tightening around you.

“God, don’t fucking stop,” Natty sputters, tears of pained pleasure leaking from the corners of her eyes. “You’re using me so good.”

You lean down, kissing hard against her neck, branding her shoulder. You want her to feel you, to remember you. To not be able to ever feel remotely good again without first thinking of you.

"It's your fucking fault, Natty," you growl into her ear. "You drive me mad."

And she laughs, the sound vibrating through her body and going straight to your cock. "Good," she answers, "Good. Be mad. Be angry."

But you’re beyond that now, beyond the point of no return. All that you know is Natty’s cunt, Natty’s ass, Natty’s moans, and Natty’s grin that you’re aching to wipe off her face.

"Fucking hate me if you want," she’s saying, and she can’t seem to stop, "just don’t stop fucking—ah!”

You nearly stop when you realise you’ve finally done it. Finally left Natty out of breath, lost for words. A fucking miracle, really—the kind that makes you feel like a fucking god.

It doesn’t stop her cunt clenching around you, tight as a vice, because even now, Natty’s got some kind of death grip pussy, and she’s using it to fucking kill you.

You whisper in her ear, “You like that?”

Her only response is a breathy, needy little whine, so you spank her again.

And again.

Her cunt tightens. She’s close, so close. You can feel it.

“You like it when I use you, Natty?”

She nods, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth crying into the mattress, a mess of hair and sweat and utter bliss.

“Say it,” you demand, slapping her ass once more, watching as the pain ripples through her. “Say it.”

And Natty does, because she’s a good little whore, because she’s yours now. “Yes, yes, I like it when you use me, when you fuck me like this, when it’s only about you, your cock, your needs, your pleasure—”

God, it feels good to hear her say it, but you still want more than just words. You want her to fucking scream it.

You make the bed shake, knock the headboard against her wall, it’s a competition of what’s going to break first—the frame or her.

“This cunt. Your cunt. I’m going to use it. Fuck it whenever I want.”

But Natty catches you off guard, because that’s what Natty does best. She opens her eyes, looks right into yours, and suddenly she has her voice again: “Whenever I want. You’re going to fucking move in with me.”

You freeze. Your hand mid-spank. Your cock mid-thrust. It throws you entirely off, because, what the fuck?

"You're going to be my boyfriend now," Natty says, wrenching back control, fucking her ass back into you. Stating not asking, leaving no room for argument. "Move in with me, your place sucks anyway."

"You're out of your fucking mind," you start to protest, but she cuts you off with another squeeze of her cunt around you, and now she’s the one fucking you, her hips rolling back and forth in this maddening, sinful way that has you biting down on your tongue to keep from shouting.

"Move in and just fuck me every day," she says, all light and airy, like it’s already been decided, like moments ago you didn’t have her dead to rights. "Morning to night. It would be so fucking nice."

This is real, you know that for sure. It’s not just something she’s saying to get off, not another way to get under your skin. You know it in her voice, she’s deadly serious and suddenly your mind’s racing.

"Come on," Natty purrs, punctuating each word with a slap of her ass against your waist, "You know you want it, why fucking wait?"

She’s not wrong. It makes too much fucking sense to deny. And yet, part of you still can't believe it. That Natty, the girl who's had countless men at her feet, could have any man at her feet, actually wants you. That Natty is underneath you now, eyes glossed over with need, mouth swollen from your kisses, ass cheeks flushed crimson from your palm.

"I'll take such good care of you, baby," she says, unaware that she’s already completely won, unaware that her cunt already has you bending to her will. "Every day, every night.”

You can't help but nod. You're too consumed in her to do anything else. You just let go of everything. The fears, the doubt, the fucking logic.

And Natty says it, the three words that seal your fate—"I'll love you," she cries out, "I'll fucking love you forever if you just keep giving me this fucking cock."

It's like the world stops, like everything you've ever wanted is right there in front of you, wrapped up in Natty's tight fucking body.

You're so close, so fucking close, that you can almost taste it—the sweet release of your orgasm; giving in to Natty’s unbelievably sensational cunt sleeving your cock, pulsing with each thrust, desperate to milk you dry.

There’s nothing left to do but give Natty wants. Fuck her, hammer into her so hard that you’re going to fuck a Natty-shaped hole into the mattress, fucking shatter her bedframe, and then keep drilling her straight through the floor.

And she’s crying out your name, forgetting about everything that isn’t you, isn’t your cock, isn’t the dream of your cum filling her to the brim and spilling out of her cunt every single day for the rest of your fucking lives.

“Are you close, baby? Are you going to cum for me? Please, give it to me, I need it so bad, I need it now, because I'm about to, about to, about to—"

And then it happens.

Fucking destroys her.

It hits. A crescendo that peaks as you bottom out inside her, shaking her to the core. Her cunt spasms about you, her body rises off the bed as if you’re performing a fucking exorcism, and she screams your name so loud it’s only a matter of time before the neighbours come banging on her door.

"Oh my fucking god you—"

Natty gushes around your cock, juices running down your shaft, your balls, and she’s squirting. Oh god, she’s squirting all over the fucking place.

Natty’s body goes rigid, her back arching so much it’s like she’s trying to fold in half, crying, sputtering these words that don't even make sense—until you realise she's speaking an entirely different fucking language.

Not that it matters, because you can tell what she's saying, read it in her body, in the way she's spurting and making a big fucking mess beneath your bodies. Whatever she’s saying sounds utterly depraved, filthy and so, so good to your ears.

It keeps going and going, until she has enough sense to speak your language again, needing to make sure you hear it when she says—"fucking fill me, baby," she whimpers. "Give me everything, all your fucking cum."

And it’s your turn to be hit—like a fucking freight train.

You're cumming, hard and fast and out of fucking nowhere. Your balls tighten, your cock throbs, and you’re flooding Natty’s cunt.

It’s biological, in every cell of your body—like your entire being is coming undone, and the only thing holding you together is Natty, Natty, Natty.

Her body shaking beneath you, her cunt contracting around your cock as wave after wave of cum fills her up.

She’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect, that you can feel every pulse of your orgasm, every drop of your cum spurting into her. You're not sure how long it lasts, how much you give her, but it’s enough to make your muscles shake, enough to knock the architecture right out of your limbs.

"So fucking good, so fucking good," Natty coos. "Fucking finally, finally filling me up so good."

Her moans a lullaby, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every syllable. You lean down, burying your face in the crook of her neck, your every inhale and exhale ragged as you try to catch your breath. Still twitching inside her, still releasing the last of your cum, and Natty’s just lying there, her body limp, her eyes closed, basking in it all.

"So perfect," she keeps repeating, right up until the very end, “So, so, perfect.”

You collapse on top of her, just lie there shivering together, your face next to hers. She’s got this look on her face, a victorious glow, and you just have to accept it. Yeah, she’s won again, in devastatingly convincing fashion.

For a second, you’re both just that—spent, exhausted, entirely drained. Like you’ve just run a marathon. Or been in a fight. Or both.

Then Natty’s got the nerve to stir, to kiss your cheek with the tenderness of a whisper. Lips softer than you thought possible, given how hard she’s just been fucking you. And that’s it, the moment your body decides it’s had enough of playing dead, enough of lying there like a sack of potatoes.

You roll over, bringing Natty with you, her body curling into yours like she’s been made to fit there. Her head rests on your chest, her legs entwined with yours, and for a moment, you just hold her close.

It feels fucking right.

"Tomorrow," Natty sighs contentedly, her cheek finding home atop your heartbeat.

You blink. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, you're moving in tomorrow." Natty’s deciding for you already, setting the dynamic for the rest of your future. Doing all this with her eyes still shut as she snuggles closer to you. "I'll hire the movers."

You sigh, the weight of the world and Natty's body both feeling surprisingly light. You think about the next few days, the weeks, the years even, with Natty. The idea is so ludicrous, so absurd, that it feels like a fever dream.

But as you hold her, feel her warmth, her unabashed, blatant satisfaction, something inside you shifts. A reframing of the concept of Natty that you hold in your head. The thought of her naked body in your bed, her laughter in your living room, her mess in your kitchen—it doesn’t feel like an intrusion, it feels like home.

"Are you sure?" you ask. A little shaky, a little hopeful.

Natty opens one eye to look at you, a laugh playing on her lips. "Oh, you know I'm going to be the worst fucking roommate ever."

"Yeah, I can see that. But as long as you keep being the best fucking everything else..." Your words trail off into a whisper, your hand tracing idle patterns on her back.

And then she says it again.

"You’re so fucking in love with me."

Natty kisses you hard, deep, her tongue sliding against yours. And you know, you fucking know, that she's right. You are desperately, entirely, so fucking in love with her, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

You laugh, the sound a little desperate, a little wild, and roll her again, pin her down again. A strange feeling rushes through your mind. Like you’re going to be repeating this exact same motion for the next hundred years. And somehow, that doesn’t sound like the worst thought in the world.

Natty squeals, cheers, moans when you settle between her legs.

"Fuck you, Natty."

"Oh, baby," Natty giggles, reaching down between your legs, squeezing you. Once. Twice. Until you're filling her hand once more. "That's what I'm here for."

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

[peanutpinet]

Under My Care - Sylus x Innocent Fem Reader

Random Blurb Idea: When Sylus was taking his innocent, clueless girlfriend out for a date only to be interrupted by his business partners who just happened to be at the bar Sylus owned in Linkon

Prompt Sentence: No, it’s alright, come here

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

When I mentioned “innocent”, it’s more so clueless and not really understanding the danger of the world type and not so much in a negative form like being “dumb” or anything like that.

Also I’d like to mention that I don’t know what currency they use in the game but assuming since the game is from China, I’ll be using Chinese money aka Chinese Yuan

And I want to point out the reader (aka you) is not the MC (Miss Hunter)

Warnings: fluff, slightly aggressive Sylus (not towards you, his men lmao), possessive and protective Slyus (not in a bad way), cursing and sexual names (not from Sylus)

“Luke, Kieran, see it that all schedule for the day is cleared out” Sylus mentioned, putting on his coat over his sweater

“Right away boss!” both Luke and Kieran exclaimed as Mephisto eyed the situation from the window. “Are you visiting her?” Luke asked, making Sylus chuckle

“Yes. And I hope that I won’t be disturbed by anything. I trust you both will take care of everything until I come back later on” Sylus mentioned and the twins hummed, taking notice how their boss looked much more appealing and approachable in his outfit compared to his regular attire in the N109 zone.

Once he finished getting ready, Sylus went to use one of his most lavish car instead of his motorcycle to blend in with the people in Linkon and to not draw much attention.

It was a short trip and right before noon, Sylus had already parked his car in front of your house, waiting for you as he leaned on his car, ignoring all the passerby who were shocked to see such a tall muscular yet lavish man in a regular neighbourhood.

“You’re here already?!” Sylus immediately looked up to see you standing by the door, you had already done your makeup and hair but was still in your loungewear.

A smirk went onto his face as Sylus walked up towards your door and greeted you with a kiss on your forehead. “I thought I’d come earlier so I can enjoy moments like this with you. Will you let me in?”

You nodded and opened the door, letting your tall scary looking boyfriend into the cozy small home you have. “Do you want something to eat while I change?”

Shaking his head, Sylus opted to just sit by the couch. “I’m alright, sweetie. I had something before coming here. You go on and change then. Take your time. I can wait”

You nodded and peck your boyfriend’s cheek before walking back up to your room and finished getting change while Sylus was mindlessly scrolling his phone; ignoring all the incoming messages from business colleagues both in the N109 zone and in Linkon but Sylus could care less about all of them.

Today was about you and him. He won’t let anything get in the way of a whole day ahead of him spending time with you. His loving, caring, adorable girlfriend.

“Sylus, I’m done!! Let’s go!!” you exclaimed as Sylus put his phone away and smiled when he saw you jogging down the stairs wearing a simple white sweater, long flowy skirt, the branded shoulder bag Sylus gifted, and oxford shoes.

“Shall we, sweetie?” Sylus extended his arm as you latched onto it, giggling, making Sylus smile

Sylus then led you to his car, being the gentlemen he is, he opened the door for you, closed it. He even put on your seatbelt as he settled in the driver's seat.

The whole day, Sylus took you to places you want to go. Sylus knew your wishlist as your shopping account is linked to his phone. Several new books just released? Sylus would bring you to the bookstore, pay for it, and take it out of the shop. Don’t want to bother flipping the pages? Sylus bought a tablet and downloaded every book you’ve owned and on your TBR.

You wanted to try a new cafe? Sylus wouldn’t hesitate to bring you no matter how far it was at the moment. He would go as far as to look up the recommendations and order practically everything on the menu much to your complaint. You’re too full? He’ll pack it to go for you. You want to have dessert almost immediately? Sylus would tease you before giving in to your wants.

You wanted to go around the mall, play the claw machines, kitty cards, go to the arcade? He’ll do it all. You want to buy new makeup and clothes? Anything you see or touch, Sylus instantly gets it without caring about your whining about it being expensive.

The whole entire day, Sylus is practically your sugar daddy. Anything you want, anywhere you want to go, he’ll do it all for you. He even carried all the plush and things he bought for you despite your complaints about everything being expensive or too heavy.

Sylus didn’t once complain about anything and just smiled at your secretly sparkly eyes when he paid for your wishlist items. By the end of the night, Sylus decided to bring you to one of your wishlist restaurants which just happens to be the restaurant that he owns in Linkon.

Once you both entered the restaurant, Sylus confidently brought the two of you towards the front of the waiting line, ignoring all the stares that where directed towards the two of you until the waiter at the front realised who had just come and immediately, the manager of the restaurant immediately came to greet Sylus and it was then did everyone realised that Sylus was the owner of the restaurant.

Sylus held your waist tightly as he brought you with him, following the manager who led the two of you to the exclusive VIP room which confused you but made Sylus smirk with pride. “Just a little something I pull for you today. But you’re welcome to come here whenever you want”

Sylus helped you sit down as the waiter came and asked Sylus for his usual order but this time Sylus just told the waiter, “It’s up to the lady tonight. I’ll have anything she orders and make sure that it reaches the minimum spending”

You looked in shock when Sylus said there was a minimum spending and Sylus chuckled at your shocked expression. “Don’t worry sweetie. You won’t know the exact number. Only I do. But I’ll give you a hint. You have to order at least an equivalent of 5 tomahawk steaks”

You looked at Sylus as if he was crazy but you tried to order several menus that you thought weren’t as expensive. Sylus chuckled at the several orders you made and asked the waiter to bring it out as soon as possible.

Once the food and drinks came out, Sylus had you try everything first and let him know your opinion about the food before eating them himself. As the night goes on, the two of you continued eating together, occasionally talking and updating about each other’s life. Sylus was sipping on his wine while you were drinking your fresh lemon tea. Though the two of you are a contrast to one another, neither of you mind. In fact, both of you enjoyed the contrast and see it as complementing each other.

Sometime when dessert was just about to come, you decided to excuse yourself to the restroom, saying how you were quite full to the point your stomach had to lose some of the food you just ate to save room for dessert.

“Alright, sweetie. Don’t take too long. Your dessert will melt later” Sylus teased as you stuck your tongue out as a reply, making Sylus chuckle at your slightly childish behavior

In the midst of waiting for you, Sylus felt another presence and the door to his private VIP room was opened to reveal some of his business partners barging into his private room where he was waiting for you, his beloved.

The bouncer who tried to stop the men came in went to Sylus. “I apologise sir, I tried my best to keep them away but they threatened and…” Sylus raised his hand indicating the bouncer to stop talking. “Leave us”

The bouncer immediately nodded and left the room while Sylus’ business “partners” were standing across him. “Tell me what updates you have or shall I put a bullet in your tongue for every miscellaneous reason for coming here, into my private dining area and disturbing my dinner”

Sylus felt his men were lucky for they provided him with some useful information regarding the updates of his businesses however some were testing his patience and got on his nerves when they were asking if they were going to get paid more or if there were going to be a promotion to be part of his field men. Sylus was ready to end the conversation when there was a soft knock on the door and the bouncer opened it with you peeking in.

“I’m sorry, am I disturbing your sudden meeting?” you asked in a soft tone and before Sylus could answer, one of his men decided to try and act all tough, not knowing you were Sylus’ beloved girlfriend

“Yes you are, you slut. Can’t you see that Sylus doesn’t have time to deal with you attention-seeking girls?” one of the men scoffed as the others were agreeing but also looking at you as if you were a treat

Hearing the comments and stares, you felt small and somehow, tears were building up in your eyes. “I, I’m sorry. I, I’ll go…” you stuttered until Sylus’ strong voice echoed the room

“No, it’s alright, come here sweetie” Sylus reassured you and even motioned you to come back into the room where he used his evol to pull a chair next to him

You were still unsure and fidgeted with your fingers. It didn’t help that the men in the room were still eyeing you but Sylus made his statement loud and clear. “Stop fucking looking at her as if she’s a piece of meat or I’ll gauge your eyes out one at a time”

Though the statement was meant for his men, you can’t help but be scared of Sylus’ loud and commanding voice which he never uses when he’s with you. Once his men looked down, Sylus took it as his chance to use his evol and gently dragged you so that you were now on his lap.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice with you in the room, sweetheart. Are you alright?” Sylus asked, his hold around your waist was gentle and loving; contrasting to his voice and actions towards his men who were shivering at Sylus’ commanding tone

You were still shaken up at what happened but tried to tell Sylus how you felt. “I, I thought I came into the wrong room…”

Sylus shook his head and brought one of his hands to your cheek, gently brushing your hair back. “It wasn’t your fault, sweetie. They came here unnoticed even though…” Sylus looked at his men, gently pushing your head to his chest, ensuring your vision was not towards his men. “I’ve made it fucking clear that no one is to disturb me today”

Sylus leaned back on his chair with you in his arms as he slowly lulled you to sleep. His touch might be gentle but his eyes were ready to kill anyone who so much looked at you the wrong way. “Not only did you all carelessly walk through that door and interrupt my day off but you all just had to eye my beloved as if she was some kind of girl you can pay your way. In addition to that, you dared to call her by an absurd name? Looks like you all need some lesson about respect because no one” Sylus’ hold on you looks more possessive but caring at the same time

“No fucking one, eyes, touches, or even talks about my beloved in a disgusting, animalistic way and gets away with it. She is my lover and specifically under my care. And I’d be dammed to let anyone who mistreats her in any way shape or form get away with it without some kind of lesson”

A/N: I have a confession. I have been trying out c.ai and honestly, it gives me some story ideas for Sylus but I'm not sure if anyone will be interested. I read on Tumblr someone mentioned what if the MC is the 'I don't believe in love anymore' type of girl and Sylus is the 'I can show you what real love is' and I'm just like T^T gosh, that would be so me. Anyways, just a lil fic I decided to pull up before I slowly descend back to the real world since I've been busy :')

If anyone would like to request me anything of Sylus or LADS, do send me a request and I will try to get to it. Otherwise, I hope this fic brightens up your day and take care xoxo peanutwott