#skid: hall

[silverika326]

Sky: COTL Oc Hunger Games Shenanigans

Other’s Ocs include:

Holt, Catalpa - @splatanastamprr

HC, Vuti - @splatsherry

Peregrine - @kokosovc

This whole event was so freakin hilarious I had to make stuff out of it!

[yahoo201027]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Brian Huskey (@thebrianhuskey)

From Brian Huskey over at Instagram, we got a script cover from one of the upcoming episodes of Bob's Burgers with "The Skids in the Hall".

[amaranthinespirit]

husband!simon riley who backs his wife's rights and wrongs cw: murder next

you fucked up. majorly, as you stared at the bloody body on your living room floor, red seaping into the grooves of the floorboards. you were frozen, perhaps it was shock as you watched the carnage seep into your nice rug that simon had bought you.

you ran your hands through your hair, only spreading the blood across your soft skin and threads of hair. how would you explain this to your husband? how would you hide this from your husband? how would you explain to him the rug, that you begged for, was suddenly not to your liking, because it had a massive splotch of someone's else's blood? no mistaking that for a period stain.

you were royally fucked, pacing back and forth, avoiding splatters of blood as you thought millions of plans in your head.

what if you dumped the body in the dumpster? no, the body would decompose far too quickly, and not to mention the smell. it's the middle of the fucking summer and hot as balls outside! okay, well, what if you stuffed the body in a suitcase and buried it? no, no, it was too big to fit in even your largest. oh, what if you cut him up? back up, that's even more blood that you'd have to deal with. plus, digging was never your thing.

all this time panicking left time wasted, and soon enough, your lovely, unsuspecting husband had pulled into the driveway. you shrieked to yourself as you peaked out the blinds, scrambling back to the body, but yet again, what the fuck could you do?

the front door opened and closed quickly after, the sounds of boots being kicked off and disposed as panic rose in your body. fuck, this was it. you were definitely going to jail, your husband will never trust you again, wouldn't even pay a visit. you could hear his voice calling, increasingly becoming more concerned without a response.

footsteps followed, and he appeared around the corner. his eyes landed on you, then the body, and then you, and then the body, and then—you get it. his eyes scanned your smooth skin for injury, narrowing at the blood before confirming it wasn't yours.

"wot have i told ya about makin' messes near yer precious rug, swee'eart?" he grunted, shrugging off his coat and tossing it to the couch, pulling you in by your hips, pressed against his front as a thumb swiped away a blood splat on your cheek, "y'okay?"

you looked at him dumbfounded, lips parted in shock as you stuttered, "y...yeah," you swallowed thickly, immediately moving to explain yourself, "but simon, i-"

"shhhh, don't say a word, pretty thin', I've got't." he coos lowly, petting your hair, rubbing the strands between the pads of his gloved fingers as he eyed the blood, "go take a shower 'n look all pretty f'me, yeah? can ya do'tha?"

your eyes darted around, but a firm grasp on your chin kept your attention to him. you swallowed thickly, meeting his eyes for the first time since he walked in, and nodded again. detaching from his side, you skidded down the hall to rid yourself of the dead man's blood.

after you disappeared into the bathroom, simon let out a deep sigh, "who the fuck is this?" he muttered gruffly to himself, shaking his head as he crouched near the body, tilting his head multiple ways as he examined further before shrugging it off, "wot'vr the missus wants."

yeah, he wouldn't question you. you wanted someone dead? had to be for a good reason, and he'll buy you a new rug after tossing that one. but he wouldn't tell you when the police dropped by about the disappearance of the man. don't wanna stress out the missus.

[iydiamartinx]

RED HANDED

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune word count: 1.2k synopsis: Damian sneaks you into the manor, only to get caught red handed.

Wayne Manor was supposed to be empty.

That’s what Damian had told you when he pulled you through the back gate, hand clasped tightly in yours, voice low and insistent as he muttered about stealth and nosy family members and “don’t touch that, it’s a pressure sensor.” He’d checked the security logs himself—Bruce was at a board meeting, Alfred out running errands, and the others all scattered across the city on patrol or “adult things,” as Damian called them with no small amount of disdain.

So he brought you home. Quietly. Secretly.

To his room.

The moment the door shut behind you, his shoulders dropped that ever-present tension. His fingers found your wrist, then your waist, tugging you gently toward the bed. No words, just that look he gave you—sharp eyes softening, mouth twitching at the corners in something dangerously close to a smile.

You were the only one who ever got that version of him.

Now the two of you were curled up beneath the covers, the storm outside tapping against the windows while his arm wrapped snug around your waist. Damian’s head rested near yours, nose brushing your temple every so often, breath slow and steady.

“I could get used to this,” you murmured, tracing lazy circles along his chest.

“You will,” he replied, voice quiet and certain. “Once I find a way to keep you here without the others ruining everything.”

You giggled, tipping your head up to meet the small, rare curve of his mouth—the almost-smile he only gave you.

And then the bedroom door slammed open.

“Dami, I need to borrow—OH MY GOD!”

Both of you shot upright like you’d been struck by lightning.

Dick Grayson stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide as dinner plates, mouth agape in sheer, appalled disbelief. His finger jerked upward, trembling like it couldn’t decide whether to point at Damian, you, or the fact that you were clearly in his bed.

“What the hell, Grayson?!” Damian snapped, scrambling to hide your presence by throwing the blanket over you as you shrieked in surprise and ducked under it. But the damage had already been done.

“You have a GIRL in your BED?!” Dick shouted, scandalized.

Damian looked moments away from lunging across the room. “I swear to Ra, if you say one more word I will end your bloodline—”

But it was too late. The yelling had summoned the wolves.

Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.

“What the hell’s going on?” Jason’s voice barked from the hall, followed by a clatter of someone sprinting.

“Did someone die?” That was Tim, out of breath and still chewing toast as he skidded into view.

And then, like the final nail in the coffin, Bruce appeared.

He was dressed for work—pressed suit, tie knotted perfectly, not a single strand of hair out of place—but the look on his face was nothing short of bewildered. He stood in the hallway, staring into the room like he wasn’t quite sure what he’d walked in on, and very much wished he hadn’t.

There was a silence. A very loud, very awkward silence as everyone took in the scene.

“Damian has a girlfriend?” Tim whispered like he’d uncovered an ancient secret.

Jason blinked at you, then back at Damian. “Wait. She’s real?”

Another blink. Then a wild grin. “She’s real!” He turned and punched Dick in the arm. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“I do not—!”

“You bet she was imaginary!”

“Because she was supposed to be imaginary! He’s fifteen!”

“Seventeen,” Damian growled, practically vibrating with fury under the blanket. “And if any of you take another step into this room, I swear on every god you hold dear, I will bring out my katana.”

But of course, the damage was done.

Slowly, cautiously, you peeked out from beneath the blanket. Your cheeks were burning, your hair a mess, and your heart pounding loud enough to echo in your ears.

Four sets of eyes landed on you.

Jason gave a slow, impressed nod. “Hey there. I’m the hot brother.”

“I swear to—”

Damian made a strangled sound of protest, but before he could lunge across the room, Tim raised a hand with a sheepish half-wave.

“I’m the smart one,” he offered helpfully. “Sorry about… all this.”

“And I,” Dick declared proudly, hands on his hips, “am the fun one. Also the reason you’re all about to get grounded. You’re welcome.”

“OUT!” Damian barked.

That’s when Bruce finally spoke up. “Enough,” he said, calm and quiet— almost immediately it made all three older brothers freeze.

Jason blinked. “We were just—”

“Out,” Bruce repeated, this time with the faintest arch of his brow. 

One by one, the boys started backing up like scolded dogs.

Jason grumbled something under his breath and turned.

Tim gave you a quick, apologetic smile and shuffled after him.

Dick lingered the longest, flashing you a grin and a salute. “Still think it’s adorable.”

“Out,” Bruce said again, firmer this time.

With that all three filed out with varying degrees of grumbling and smirking.

Bruce remained in the room for a moment longer. His eyes shifted from you—still half-curled beneath the blanket—to his son, who sat stiff-backed beside you, his jaw tight with embarrassment and defiance.

“I expect a proper introduction at dinner,” Bruce said coolly, turning on his heel. “Six sharp.”

Damian exhaled like it physically pained him. “Yes, Father.”

Bruce nodded once, then turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Damian exhaled sharply through his nose, the breath full of fire and exasperation. He muttered a string of curses in Arabic—low, venom-laced, and fast enough to blur into one hissed syllable—as he collapsed back into the pillows with a dramatic thud. One arm flung over his eyes like he was shielding himself from the humiliation still clinging to the air.

You lay beside him, the warmth of his body still lingering beneath the tangled sheets, a laugh bubbling in your throat despite your best efforts to suppress it.

“Well,” you murmured, voice edged with amusement, “at least they didn’t bring a camera.”

He made a sound—something between a groan and a growl. “You underestimate them. There will be photos. There will be memes. Grayson will narrate the whole scene on the family group chat by noon. I am already doomed.”

You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, the curve of your mouth brushing the flushed skin just beneath his eye. “Guess I better dress nice for dinner, then.”

Another groan, this one muffled by the pillow he dragged down over his face.

But then, without warning, his arm slid around your waist and pulled you in—close, possessive. Like he wasn’t ready to let you go, even if the rest of the world now knew you existed.

“Remind me to kill them later,” he muttered, voice gruff but reluctant.

You laughed and burrowed into the crook of his arm, cheek pressed to his collarbone. “I don’t know… I kind of liked seeing flustered Damian. Might be my favorite version yet.”

He peeked down at you then, dragging the pillow just far enough to reveal a glare that lacked its usual bite. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You tilted your head and gave him a grin, utterly unrepentant, before brushing another kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah,” you said, voice soft and smug. “I know.”

[wroetolando]

𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙵𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎 | 𝙻𝙽𝟺

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris x fem!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where lando crashes during a race, and you’re the first person he calls from the hospital, leading to the world discovering your relationship and realizing just how much you mean to each other

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: control - halsey

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: crash?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The moment Lando’s car spun out, your heart dropped into your stomach.

The race had been tense from the start—too many close calls, too many drivers fighting for positions that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Lando had been holding his ground, P4 with only a few laps to go, when suddenly—disaster.

One second, his car was stable. The next, the rear tires lost grip, and the McLaren was skidding sideways at high speed. The impact with the barrier was sickening, the sound of carbon fiber shattering ringing through the speakers of the live feed.

Your breath caught in your throat as the commentators fell silent for a moment before scrambling to process what had just happened.

“Big crash for Lando Norris!”

The camera panned to the wreckage—his car sat crumpled against the barriers, front wing completely destroyed, one wheel hanging at an unnatural angle. But you weren’t looking at the car. You were searching for movement. Searching for Lando.

Seconds felt like hours.

Then, finally, relief—Lando’s helmet moved. His hands gripped the steering wheel before he slowly, painfully, started to unbuckle himself.

“He’s moving,” someone in the McLaren garage muttered, but it wasn’t enough. Not for you.

You needed to see him walk away. You needed to hear his voice, to know he was okay.

Marshals and medical staff were at his car within moments. The camera showed him trying to get out, but something was wrong. He hesitated, gripping his side as if in pain. That was when the medical team stepped in, helping him out of the cockpit and guiding him toward the ambulance.

Your phone buzzed with messages. You ignored them all.

All that mattered was getting to him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and stress.

You practically ran through the halls, only stopping when you spotted the familiar papaya-colored jacket outside one of the rooms. McLaren’s team principal looked up, eyes heavy with concern.

“He’s okay,” he said quickly, holding up a hand to stop your panic. “Bruised ribs, mild concussion. They’re keeping him for observation, but he’s stable.”

The breath you’d been holding finally escaped, but it didn’t stop the shaking in your hands. “Can I see him?”

“He asked for you.”

That was all you needed to hear.

Pushing the door open, you found Lando sitting up in bed, looking far too smug for someone who had just been pulled from a wrecked F1 car. His hair was messy, a cut visible on his temple where his helmet must have pressed too hard.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite emergency contact,” he teased, voice slightly hoarse. “Took you long enough.”

You didn’t say anything. You just crossed the room in three steps and wrapped your arms around him—gently, careful of his injuries, but firmly enough that he knew just how scared you had been.

His breath hitched. Then, his arms circled your waist, holding you just as tightly. “Hey, I’m okay.”

“You weren’t moving,” you whispered into his shoulder. “I thought—”

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

You pulled back just enough to cup his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

He grinned, despite the exhaustion in his eyes. “No promises.”

You smacked his arm lightly, making him wince. “Ow. Injured man, remember?”

“Then stop making jokes and rest.”

Lando just sighed, leaning back into the pillows. “Stay?”

You didn’t even hesitate.

Climbing into the narrow hospital bed beside him, you carefully curled up against his side, mindful of his bruised ribs. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together as his breathing evened out.

For the first time since the crash, you felt like you could finally breathe too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The world found out about Lando’s injuries almost immediately. Social media exploded with concern, fellow drivers sent messages of support, and McLaren released official updates.

But what people didn’t expect was the blurry photo of you curled up beside Lando in the hospital bed, posted to his Instagram story with a simple caption:

“Best medicine.”

The internet lost its mind.

Until now, your relationship had been private—close friends and family knew, but the public had been none the wiser. That changed overnight. Suddenly, fan edits, speculations, and messages flooded in.

Carlos was the first to text.

Carlos: “So this is how I find out you have a girlfriend? After a crash? Dramatic.”

Lando: “Now is not the time, Sainz.”

Oscar wasn’t much better.

Oscar: “At least tell me you scolded him properly.”

You: “Oh, he got an earful.”

And then, of course, there was Max.

Max: “I knew it. Only someone special would put up with his nonsense.”

Lando read the messages over your shoulder, laughing even though it made him wince. “I think they approve.”

You rolled your eyes. “They’re lucky I didn’t strangle you for scaring me like that.”

His expression softened. “I really am sorry.”

“I know,” you murmured, squeezing his hand. “Just… be more careful, okay?”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I promise.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Two Weeks Later

Lando had never been one to enjoy sitting still. Recovery was torture for him—forced rest, limited movement, no racing. But if there was one upside, it was that he finally got to spend uninterrupted time with you.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he grumbled as you forced him to stay on the couch, a blanket draped over him.

“Enjoying making sure you don’t injure yourself further? Absolutely.”

He huffed. “I feel fine.”

“You’re still bruised, your concussion isn’t fully healed, and you wince every time you try to move too fast,” you listed off, arms crossed. “Sit still and let me take care of you.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “You like taking care of me?”

“I like making sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Same thing.”

You sighed, exasperated, but he just pulled you down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For being here. For worrying. For everything.”

You smiled against his lips. “Always.”

And in that moment, as he pulled you closer, you knew—no matter how scary the crashes, how stressful the races, you’d always be right here, waiting at the finish line.

Because loving Lando Norris was always worth the risk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[duranduratulsa]

Here's today's CD 💿 and Cassette Playlist...

Danse Macabre by Duran Duran (2023)

Paper Gods by Duran Duran (2015)

SKID ROW (1989)

Disintegration by The Cure (1989)

Rock & Soul Part 1 by Hall & Oates (1983)

#duranduran #dansemacabre #papergods #skidrow #thecure #disintegration #hallandoates #darylhallandjohnoates #darylhall #JohnOates #rockandsoulpart1 #cd #cassette #2010s #2020s #80s

[nightcourtnovels]

Little Matchmaker

Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel is on uncle duty during a visit to the day court and Nyx gets away.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel had fought in wars. He had infiltrated enemy courts, survived countless battles with nothing but his wits and his shadows. And yet—

Nothing, could have prepared him for watching over a toddler.

“Nyx,” he warned, his voice calm but firm as the little boy squirmed in his arms, practically vibrating with energy. “Stay still.”

Nyx—Rhys and Feyre’s pride and joy, the heir to the Night Court—grinned up at him, utterly unaffected.

“No.”

Azriel’s eye twitched. “Nyx—”

The moment he loosened his grip just slightly, the boy launched himself from Azriel’s arms and took off through the grand halls of the Day Court palace.

Azriel cursed, bolting after him. Rhys and Feyre had entrusted him with watching Nyx while they attended a diplomatic meeting with Helion. Just an hour or two, Feyre had said. He’ll be good, I promise.

Lies. Utter, blatant lies.

Because Nyx was not being good—he was running, his little wings flapping as he giggled, ducking under servants and weaving through columns with the skill of an Illyrian warrior. Azriel was fast, but somehow, this tiny, barely-three-year-old child was evading him.

As Azriel rounded the corner and skid to a stop, his chest heaved. No more pattering feet. No more giggles. Nothing. His shadows swirled in agitation, reaching out—searching, but then he heard it.

Laughter. Soft, melodic laughter, paired with a delighted giggle that definitely belonged to Nyx. Azriel followed the sound, his steps quieter now as he approached the open-air gardens. And that was when he saw you. Sitting beneath the golden glow of the sun, a book resting on your lap, Nyx curled up beside you like he belonged there.

The boy was grinning up at you as you traced a sunbeam over his tiny hand with your fingertip, your magic shimmering in the air.

Azriel felt something tighten in his chest.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on Nyx as you murmured, “And here I thought I’d be reading alone today.”

Nyx beamed. “I like you. You’re pretty.”

Azriel bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as you gasped in mock offense. “You shouldn’t say such things to strangers, little prince.”

Nyx just shrugged. “Not a stranger. You’re nice.”

Your lips twitched. “Well, that’s very kind of you.”

Azriel finally stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Nyx.”

Both of you turned. And Azriel swore the world tilted slightly. Because up close, beneath the golden light of Helion’s court, you were—

Stunning.

Sunlight seemed to bend toward you, clinging to your skin like a second glow. Your hair shimmered with it, and your eyes—Mother above, your eyes—were warm and bright, like liquid sunlight caught in a bottle.

Nyx, utterly unfazed, looked between the two of you before grinning.

“I ran away.”

Azriel shot him a look. “I noticed.”

Then, reluctantly, he turned to you. “I hope he wasn’t bothering you.”

You shook your head, smiling softly. “Not at all. He was keeping me company.”

Azriel hesitated. He should grab Nyx and go—bring him back before Rhys sensed something was off. But something in the way you were looking at him, made him pause.

And when you tilted your head, sunlight catching on your cheekbones, and said, “And what about you, shadowsinger? Were you planning to introduce yourself?”

Azriel blinked.

Then—He smiled. Just a little. Just enough for you to notice.

“Uncle Azzie!” Nyx exclaimed.

Azriel chuckled, “Just Azriel”

You giggled, “Well Uncle Azzie, I’m Y/N.”

[tender-rosiey]

WE’VE SEEN SUKUNA WITH A SHY DAUGHTER, BUT WHAT ABOUT..SUKUNA WITH AN EXTROVERTED ENERGETIC HUMOROUS DAUGHTER⁉️⁉️

mischief reign — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: I HEAR YOU ANON

sukuna, the king of curses, master of terror and destruction, sits cross-legged on his throne with a look of pure exasperation carved into his features.

his crimson eyes follow the whirlwind of energy that is your daughter as she darts across the room.

“stop running, d/n,” sukuna orders, his voice heavy with authority. “you’ll trip over your own feet and break your neck. then what will you do?”

d/n skids to a halt in the middle of the hall, her little arms spread wide for balance.

her grin is as wide as her father’s, though hers is filled with boundless mischief rather than malice.

“then you’ll fix me!” she chirps without a second of hesitation, twirling on one foot.

sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “you’re too much like your mother.”

“is that supposed to be an insult?” you call out, stepping into the room with a knowing smile.

sukuna’s gaze flicks to you, and though his expression doesn’t soften, you can tell he’s relieved by your presence.

“it’s a warning,” he retorts. “one is enough. two of you? that’s a curse even I don’t deserve.”

d/n bounds over to you, her tiny hands clutching at your robes as she peers up at you with wide, excited eyes.

“mama, did you see me? I ran so fast! like this—zoom!” she dashes in a quick circle around you, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process.

“I saw,” you reply with a laugh, steadying her before she topples over. “but your father’s right. you’ll hurt yourself if you’re not careful.”

she pouts up at you, her brows furrowing in an uncanny imitation of sukuna. “papa’s always telling me to stop. he’s so grumpy!”

“because you don’t listen,” sukuna snaps, his tone sharp but not unkind.

“because you’re always grumpy!” d/n shoots back, sticking her tongue out at him.

the audacity of her response earns a low growl from sukuna. “insolent brat,” he mutters.

you stifle a laugh, knowing better than to let sukuna see you encouraging her sass. d/n, on the other hand, has no such reservations.

she scrambles up the steps to his throne, plopping herself down beside him with all the confidence of someone who knows they’re untouchable.

“why don’t you smile more, papa?” she asks, leaning her chin on her tiny hands as she gazes up at him.

sukuna stares at her like she’s just suggested he grow a third ear. “I don’t smile because I have to deal with you,” he replies flatly.

“you’re so mean!” d/n huffs, crossing her arms. “mama, tell him he’s mean!”

you step closer, your hands resting on your hips as you give sukuna an amused look. “you are so mean, sukuna.”

“I will show you mean later,” sukuna counters, eyes focused on you before they narrow as he turns to look at your daughter. “the world isn’t soft and kind. you might as well learn that now, you brat.”

d/n puffs out her cheeks in defiance. “but the world isn’t just mean either! there’s fun and happy things too! like flowers, and festivals, and—” she pauses, a sly grin creeping onto her face. “—frowny grumpy old men like you!”

sukuna’s eye twitches, his patience visibly wearing thin. “old?” he echoes, his tone dangerously low. “do you have a death wish, child?”

“maybe!” d/n chirps, completely unfazed.

the sheer audacity of her response leaves sukuna momentarily speechless, and you have to turn away to hide your laughter.

“d/n,” you say gently, crouching down to her level. “why don’t we give your father a break? he’s had a long day.”

“but he doesn’t do anything!” she protests, pointing an accusing finger at sukuna.

the cursed king leans forward, his crimson gaze locking onto hers with a dangerous gleam. “do you want to find out what I can do, little girl?”

“sure!” d/n replies brightly, hopping off the throne and striking a playful fighting stance. “let’s see what you’ve got, old man!”

sukuna’s lips curl into a predatory grin, and for a moment, you think he might actually take her up on the challenge.

but then he leans back with a huff, crossing all four of his arms.

“you’re not worth the effort,” he declares.

d/n pouts, clearly disappointed. “you’re no fun,” she grumbles, flopping onto the floor dramatically.

“and you’re exhausting,” sukuna fires back.

you step between them, shaking your head with a fond smile. “

“alright, that’s enough. d/n, why don’t you help me in the garden?”

“but I don’t wanna leave papa!” d/n whines, clinging to one of sukuna’s lower arms. “he’s fun to tease!”

sukuna pries her off with minimal effort, holding her at arm’s length like a particularly annoying kitten.

“I don’t need your help to be teased,” he growls. “I’ve got your mother for that.”

you chuckle, reaching out to take d/n from him. “come on, troublemaker. let’s go pick some flowers for your father. maybe that’ll cheer him up.”

“good luck,” d/n mutters, allowing herself to be led away. “papa doesn’t like anything.”

“except for you,” you murmur under your breath, glancing back at sukuna.

his eyes meet yours, and though his expression remains unreadable, there’s a flicker of something softer in his gaze.

as you and d/n move toward the door, sukuna’s voice follows you, low and gruff. "you're both in the same lump to me," he says.

your eyes widen slightly at the admission. your raise your head to look at him, suddenly right in front of you. you’re about to respond.

but without waiting for a reply, sukuna lightly bumps his shoulder against yours as he passes, the motion almost casual but undeniably intentional.

his gaze never wavers from the throne, but you catch the small, reluctant smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips.

"don't forget that.”

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do not copy or plagiarize or I will make my cat bite you

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[thesecondhandwoman]

Hi! Im usually too embarrassed to send requests but- maybe Ambessa with assistant reader? Whose so sweet and awkward and tries her best to help and follow ambessa around- (if it's not too much reader is from the undercity and worked hard to try and be were she is now)

HER LITTLE ASSISTANT

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: You never fully grasped at the fact you had been chosen as Ambessa’s personal assistant, a simple girl who had climbed high from the Undercity. But now that you had the chance, you weren’t gonna give it up, no matter how nervous you may be.

Request: Anon 🤍

The Medarda estate in Noxus was every bit as imposing as its mistress. A sprawling fortress of crimson stone and black iron, it loomed over the city like a sentinel, unyielding and proud. It was fitting, then, that the woman who ruled within it was just as formidable.

You were not.

Trailing behind Ambessa Medarda as her assistant, you often felt like a tiny sparrow struggling to keep pace with a hawk. She strode through the halls with her characteristic confidence, her long strides and the sharp clink of her armor an unrelenting tempo you scrambled to match.

Your arms were laden with reports, a satchel bouncing awkwardly against your hip. You’d learned early on that Noxian efficiency left no room for mistakes, and as someone who’d clawed their way out of Zaun’s undercity, failure wasn’t an option.

“Keep up, little one,” Ambessa called over her shoulder, her tone teasing yet commanding.

“Yes, ma’am,” you chirped, nearly tripping as you hurried to close the gap.

She stopped abruptly, turning to watch as you skidded to a halt in front of her. Her sharp eyes swept over you, taking in your disheveled appearance and flushed cheeks.

“Well, I did not mean keep up by falling,” she chuckled, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Just breathe.”

“I—yes, of course,” you stammered, clutching the reports tighter. “Sorry, Lady Medarda.”

Her brow arched. “Ambessa. You’ve been working for me long enough to drop the formalities.”

“Right. Ambessa,” you repeated, though the name felt far too intimate on your tongue.

She seemed satisfied and gestured for you to follow. “Good. Now, let’s see if you’ve organized these reports properly.”

Ambessa’s days were relentless, filled with strategy meetings, inspections, and commanding the loyalty of those around her. You followed her through it all, your hands busy with ledgers and maps, your mind spinning as you tried to keep up with her sharp wit.

Despite your nerves, you’d started to notice small things about her. The way she rolled her shoulders after a long meeting. The faint smile that tugged at her lips when something amused her. The occasional soft glance she directed your way when she thought you weren’t looking.

She wasn’t cruel, not to you. Stern, yes. Intimidating? Always. But there was a softness to her that you suspected few ever saw. It was in the way she ensured you ate during long days, how she subtly slowed her pace when she noticed you struggling to keep up.

And sometimes, her touch lingered just a moment too long.

Like now.

The two of you stood in her private study, the soft glow of the hearth casting flickering shadows across the room. You were handing her a report when her fingers brushed yours. It was the barest of touches, but it sent a jolt through you.

“You’re trembling,” she remarked, her voice low and teasing.

“S-sorry,” you stuttered, quickly pulling your hand back.

She chuckled, setting the report aside. “Relax, little one. You’ve done well today.”

Her praise was rare and precious, and you couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through your chest. “Thank you, Ambessa. I just want to make sure I don’t disappoint you.”

Her expression softened, and for a moment, the weight of her armor seemed to lift. “You could never disappoint me.”

Like the others, the following days brought more of the same: relentless work, fleeting touches, and a growing tension that neither of you addressed.

Ambessa was always close, closer than necessary, you thought. When reviewing maps, she would stand behind you, her breath warm against your ear as she pointed out key locations. Her hand would sometimes rest on your shoulder, firm and reassuring.

It wasn’t inappropriate, but it was enough to make your heart race and your thoughts spiral. Did she even realize what she was doing to you?

One evening, as you prepared tea in the estate’s kitchen, Ambessa entered unexpectedly. You jumped, nearly dropping the kettle.

“Ambessa! I didn’t hear you,” you said, clutching the counter for support.

“I noticed,” she said with a smirk. “What are you doing down here?”

“I—well, I thought you might like some tea. You’ve been working so hard, and I just…” You trailed off, your cheeks burning.

Her expression softened, and she stepped closer. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

You swallowed hard as she took the kettle from your hands, her fingers brushing yours again. Her touch lingered, warm and deliberate.

“You’re too kind, little one,” she said softly, her gaze locking with yours.

Your heart thundered in your chest. “I just want to help.”

She smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your knees weak. “You do more than help. You keep me grounded.

The tipping point came on a quiet night, weeks later. The day had been exhausting, and you were both in her study, the fire crackling softly as you worked through a final stack of documents.

Ambessa set her quill down, leaning back in her chair as she regarded you thoughtfully. “You’ve worked hard today. Come here.”

You hesitated, unsure of what she meant.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” she said, though her tone was more amused than stern.

You approached her cautiously, standing awkwardly in front of her chair. She reached out, her hands settling on your hips as she guided you to sit on the edge of the desk.

“Ambessa?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Shh,” she murmured, her thumbs brushing small circles against your sides.

Her touch was firm yet gentle, grounding you in a way that made your breath hitch. Her gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it, and the tension that had been simmering between you for weeks finally broke.

“I’ve been patient,” she said, her voice low and intimate. “But I can’t ignore this anymore.”

You blinked, your heart pounding. “Ignore what?”

“The way I feel about you,” she admitted, her honesty stealing the air from your lungs.

Your lips parted, but no words came. She cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin as she leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

When her lips met yours, it was soft and tentative, as though she was afraid of overwhelming you. Her kiss was surprisingly gentle for someone so strong, her touch careful and reverent.

You melted into her, your hands finding their way to her shoulders as the world fell away.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm against your skin.

“Tell me I’m not wrong,” she murmured, her voice laced with vulnerability.

“You’re not,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

She smiled, her eyes holding a tenderness that made your chest ache. “Good.”

She slowly leaned back in, allowing her lips to ghost against yours once more. “Then let me continue to show my love for you.” She breathed before her lips captured yours again.

A/N: kinda mad I made this so short, but I hope it’s okay!!

[fanficsat12am]

Where the little lamb frolics (the little wolf follows)

As blood is spilled in the palace halls, Telemachus' greatest fight is not against the suitors, but against the helplessness that comes as he watches his beloved in the grasp of danger wc: 1.6k warnings: mentions of blood, violence, death, and implications of harassment credits of the art goes to the wonderful @gigizetz and @saradika-graphics for the dividers ❤️

As you ran through the palace's corridors, the sound of screams echoed off its marbled walls. Arrows sliced through the air with a sharp hiss, followed by a sickening squelch, a piercing shriek, and then, with grim finality, a heavy thud. The suitors who had parasitized the halls for decades were now either clambering to get to the doors or dead, their blood staining the previously white floors. 

“Telemachus!” You frantically called out, head whipping in every direction as you continued to scan every face that passed by you in your search. 

Your terror mounted with every step you took. The thought of your beloved joining the bodies lying on the ground sent a wave of dread that engulfed the pit of your stomach. 

As you passed one of the palace’s storerooms, you heard the unmistakable striking of swords. Despite your instincts telling you to run, you knew that even if there was the slightest chance he’d be in there, you’d rather take that over nothing. Running inside, you find Telemachus locked in a fierce struggle, battling off more than a dozen suitors with a fiery determination in his eyes. The sounds of clashing swords and desperate grunts filled the air as your betrothed fought with a fire that left you both in awe and terror, each move calculated and precise, yet the odds seemed stacked against him. 

You sighed in relief to see that the boy was at least alive, but the moment of respite was cut short as one of his opponents successfully disarmed him, his weapon skidding to the side. 

Before you could call out to him, a rough tug at the back of your chiton cuts you off, sending you stumbling backward into something. Your blood ran cold as an arm wrapped around your torso and arms with a vice-like grip, their hot breath fanning the nape of your neck. As you tried to writhe your body from your captor's hold, you were met by the cold metal of a blade that pressed deeper into your throat with every move. 

The man called out to a familiar face that stood in the middle of the room, Melanthius. You’d recognized him to be the king’s goatherd who provided the suitors the finest food and bent to their every will. His loyalty to the king had long been drowned, if it wasn’t obvious enough by how he had practically become one with the other suitors.  A disgusting grin formed on the corners of Melanthius’ mouth as his gaze met yours, a dangerous glint shining through.

“It seems we’ve caught ourselves a little lamb” he taunts, stalking towards you. 

Little Lamb. Telemachus knew that nickname anywhere. 

His words made Telemachus’ head turn sharply your way, his eyes widening, brows drawing together. Despite all the training and lessons taught to him by the Goddess of Wisdom herself, his heart will always trump his mind when it comes to you. He felt the world stop as he saw the glistening metal drawn against your skin. 

The momentary distraction had given the other suitors ample time to capture him, seizing his arms as their fingers dug into his skin like iron chains before pushing him onto his knees. He struggled against their hold, his gaze locked on you as his chest continued to rise and fall in ragged breaths. 

Melanthius lets out a low chuckle, “Wherever the little lamb frolics, the little wolf will always follow suit.”  

Each stride Melanthius took felt like a weight pressing down on Telemachus' chest, and with every inch the man drew nearer, Telemachus found himself aching—not just wanting, but needing to be by your side. In the prince’s eyes, the scene before him was no different from that of an innocent lamb poised to be pounced upon by a pack of ravenous wolves. 

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on them!” he screamed, lurching in every way possible if it meant getting to you. Melanthius turned to look at the struggling prince, finding his futile display entertaining. 

“You have no power here, young prince,” he snickered, pausing from his advance to you and instead walking to him, bending down to meet his eyes. 

Telemachus glared at the man, “You may bleed the palace dry of its fortunes for all I care. But no harm shall befall my mother and my beloved for I swear by the gods that I shall make you and your men pay with your life” he growled, the fire of his fury continuing to blaze like the forge of Hephaestus that wanted to consume all that dared to stand in his path to you. 

The suitor laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. His eyes glinted with a mix of arrogance and amusement as he stood again, making his way back to you. His footsteps fell heavily on the floor as he drew nearer as the air between you thickened with a tension so palpable it could almost be touched. 

“Oh, Little Wolf, did you, in your naivety, truly think of them as fools who seek only treasure?” his voice was even and relaxed, masking how poisonous his words truly were.

“Your presence here has doomed the old king. And once we’ve slain him, noblemen shall rightfully take the throne. Along with it, Ithaca, the crown…” he pauses, taking hold of your chin. His stare held a sinister gleam, “and more.”

“No!” Telemachus screamed, the word cracking in the air, sharp and jagged.

Yet, beneath the force of his cry, there was an unmistakable sense of vulnerability, for he understood his helplessness. Despite having the goddess Athena by his side, he wasn't strong enough to shield you. And now, because of that, you were going to suffer. Amid the echo of his cry, there came a sickening squelch followed by a grunt of pain, laced with disbelief.

The grin that had once spread across Melanthius' face had twisted into a frown, crimson blood trailing from the corners. No one had noticed the king who now stood behind him, the attacker’s blade piercing through his chest. 

Melanthius sputtered, the thick liquid rising in his throat making the task of speaking almost impossible.

“M…Mer-” 

“Mercy?” Odysseus growled, his breath heaved as his teeth grated together. Beneath the unkempt locks of his hair concealed a gaze that flickered with intense rage. 

“Mercy?” In a split second, an arrow had found its way to another suitor’s head, the sight leaving the others terrified. 

The hands that once held Telemachus with a firm, iron grip had now loosened, now frozen in fear of their inescapable death. You saw the prince move with a speed so unmatched, it was as though the gods had blessed him with the swiftness of Hermes himself. For a brief moment, his eyes locked with yours, and you saw it—the same burning fury that consumed his father. It was wild, untamed, a storm that raged in the depths of his gaze. The prince was no longer a son or a man—he was a force of nature, unstoppable and fierce, bound only by the fierce will to protect what he loved.

With a speed that could only be born from the gods, he shot toward the nearest dory, his hand steady as he seized the weapon. In one fluid motion, he hurled it toward your attacker, its flight a blur of lethal intent. His once-compassionate regard for the suitors had vanished. Mercy had been swallowed whole by a tidal wave of unrelenting vengeance, a wrath so fierce it seemed to rise from the depths of the underworld itself. 

You let out a shaking breath of relief as the chilling bite of the blade finally withdrew from your skin, leaving behind a lingering ache like the ghost of its touch. The sharpness of the metal still seemed to hum in the air, a haunting reminder of the danger you’d narrowly escaped. Your body trembled, weak from the shock, as if your very soul had been tested. The ground beneath you seemed to shift, threatening to give way as your legs buckled, but before you could falter, Telemachus’s strong arms enveloped you, pulling you into the shelter of his protective embrace. 

As you pulled away, his hands gently cupped your face, tilting it with a quiet urgency.

"Are you alright, my love? Did they hurt you? Please, tell me you're safe."

His eyes searched every inch of your skin, scanning for any trace of injury, any sign of pain that might have been hidden. The touch was tender, yet the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. The world seemed to fall away as he focused, desperate to ensure that nothing, nothing had touched his beloved in any way that might cause hurt for it will only further cement that he had failed. Placing your hands atop his, you give him a gentle squeeze. 

"I am well, Tele. Do not worry—" The words were cut short as a suitor’s shrill scream pierced the air, sending a shiver through the stillness.  Without hesitation, Telemachus pulled you close, his strong arms wrapping around you as he shielded you from the chaos. As your cheek pressed against the warmth of his chest, you could feel the rapid thrum of his heart, pounding like a war drum in the silence between you. The scent of sweat and earth clung to him, a stark contrast to the cold fear that had gripped you only moments before. His body trembled slightly, not from weakness, but from the tension that came with knowing danger still lurked nearby. Yet, within the strength of his embrace, you knew there was no place safer in all the world.

"As long as I live, I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it to you," he whispers, drawing you closer to him for he will not make the same mistake again.

[silverika326]

Sky kid lore sketches

Catalpa [bottom image, middle] is @splatanastamprr ‘s!

[yahoo201027]

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A post shared by Simon Chong (@chongster62)

Aside from a script cover for "The Skids in the Hall", posted by Brian Huskey, we also have three other script covers that is made by Simon Chong for the previous few table reads.

[sooniebby]

Hey Danny!

A lot of people are asking for another Ito Yuki fic, and you mentioned you don't have any ideas. This isn't really a request, rather a suggestion...

Is Ito Yuki the jealous type? If he is...

So male reader is known as a player, right?. And basically, the idea is that his past conquests confront him, "why do I still see you with Ito Yuki when it's been more than a week?" And all that was happening. People also happen to continually confess to reader... This kinda builds up and leads to jealous sex, I guess? Oh, and you mentioned Ito Yuki also getting confessions, so maybe reader gets jealous, or Ito Yuki is trying to get reader jealous...

Idk, all this revolves around jealousy lol

It's all up to you-

Sorry if this isn't appealing in any way to you, just ignore me!

-♠️

ఌ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘

w.c › 9.1k

warning › This is an OC. His first post. Reader last name is Yoshida. Slut shamming. Homophobia. Decided to make jealousy more angsty/sad

plot › It’s been a month since you’ve been dating Ito Yuki, it’s great but you soon find out everyone in school isn’t exactly happy about that.

kinks › praise, manhandling, semi-public sex, marking, creampie

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“You’re joking. No way in hell you’re no longer single!”

You smiled smugly, puffing out your chest.

That’s right, you, resident playboy, was officially taken. Your friends, Sana and Ryun stared at you for a moment before they began to laugh. You frowned as they continued laughing, obviously not believing you.

“It’s true!” You whined, pouting your lips. “It—Yuki even said he’s been into me since our freshman year!”

“Why would he be into you?” Ryun asked, wiping at a stray tear from his face. It couldn’t be that funny!

Sana sighed, rubbing at her chest. “Yeah, no offense, Yoshida-Kun, but you aren’t exactly relationship material!”

“I can be relationship material.” You muttered, mainly to yourself. Usually you never felt attacked by Ryun and Sana’s words but this time you couldn’t help feeling oddly offended.

Were you really not relationship material?

A knock on the door caused you to turn your attention to the front of the classroom. Everyone in the classroom got ready to sit as the teacher began to start the lesson.

But you couldn’t pay attention. Well it’s not like you ever do.

All you could think about was Sana and Ryun’s words.

When it was finally lunch, you shot up from your desk, startling Ryun and Sana. You grabbed your bento box and sent them a playful wink.

“I got a date! Enjoy lunch without me, losers!” You teased, rushing out of the classroom. Your feet pattered against the ground as you practically dodged every student who got in your way.

A wide grin spread on your lips when you came face to face with your date: Ito Yuki. He was standing by the stairs, looking down at his phone when he heard your loud footsteps.

He glanced up to see you sprinting to him with the widest smile ever. Your cheeks hurt as you waved excitedly. Yuki only lifted his hand slightly to wave before you skid to a stop right in front of him. Well, tried to. It was hard to stop on recently mopped floors.

“Watch out!” You cried out, anyone in your path quickly moving to the side.

Just as you were ready to tumble down the stairs, Yuki easily caught you by the collar of your sweater. You let out a sigh of relief as he tugged you back up. Yuki raised an eyebrow as you gave him a thankful grin.

“Aw~ You saved me!” You giggled, teasingly poking his cheek. To anyone else, Yuki must’ve looked annoyed but for the whole month you two have been dating, you could see the slight smile on his lips.

“You can’t run in the halls,” he said, spoken like a true student council president. You only gave him an apologetic smile. You’d run in the halls again.

“Rooftop?”

“Mhm.”

You grabbed Yuki’s wrist and began tugging him up the stairs to the rooftop. He followed right behind you, occasionally telling you to slow down or you’d trip. The rooftop wasn’t empty with a few other students eating there but you didn’t care.

As you glanced around, trying to decide a perfect spot, Yuki subtly grasped your hand. You looked over as he guided you to a more secluded area. It was on the side of the entrance. Everyone else sat more to the middle of the rooftop.

You plopped down onto the ground as Yuki knelt down beside you. The two of you didn’t say anything for the first few minutes as you ate in silence.

With anyone else, you would’ve felt odd.

But with Yuki, sitting in silence was calming.

“Ah.” You hummed, swallowing a big bite you took of your onigiri. “What do you want to do when we reach our six month anniversary?”

“Hm. I’ll think about it.” Yuki said, reaching over to wipe something off your cheek. “You eat like a child. How did you get some people to sleep with you.”

You grinned, using your free hand to tug down your sweater to show off your collarbone. “With my sexy looks~”

“Cover up or I’ll fuck you right here.”

“Yuki!” You blushed. It was hard getting used to the fact Yuki was more perverted than he let on. You’d think being a playboy would meant you’d have a higher sex drive but it honestly felt like Yuki was insatiable.

“The school festival is in four days. What is your class doing?” Yuki asked, changing the subject. You fixed your sweater before stealing an egg roll from Yuki’s bento box. He only smacked your hand away when you tried to reach for another one.

“We’re doing a monster themed cafe! I’m going to be a werewolf barista.” You said, grinning.

“Will you wear a maid outfit?”

“Pervert… No. I’m a barista! I’ll be in pants.”

Yuki looked disappointed. You only shook your head. The two of you continued eating lunch talking about random things before the warning bell rang. You mentioned skipping to Yuki and he practically stared at you as if you said you wanted to kill his mother.

When you two walked downstairs, you were about to walk away to your classroom when Yuki gripped your arm. You hummed, looking back to ask what was wrong when lips pressed against yours.

Your eyes widen as you stared at him, unable to kiss back. He pulled away and his usual slight smile pulled on his lips.

“Wait for me by the school gate after classes. I’ll walk you home.” He said.

“Don’t you…”

“I’ll skip.”

You watched as he walked away, entering his classroom. You would’ve stayed standing there until the bell rang again. That was your cue to quickly get to class.

Though you only thought about Yuki the entire time. You two weren’t exactly hiding your relationship but Yuki was heavily against public affection and you weren’t going to push it. The most he did was hold your hand.

That was the first time he ever kissed you in public, even if the hallway was empty when he did. The fact he did made you giddy.

To think you were missing out on the little things by only being with people for just a week.

You had previously feared you’d get tired of Yuki but you didn’t want to leave him at all.

Ito Yuki had your heart at this point.

You absentmindedly doodled little hearts on your workbook, not noticing sharp eyes watching you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Hey, ready to walk home?” Ryun asked.

You shook your head, a giddy smile on your face as you clutched your school bag close to your chest. “No can do! I’m going home with Yuki. See ya!” You didn’t wait for him or Sana to answer, rushing out of the classroom.

There was a pep in your step as you changed your school shoes to your sneakers, humming to yourself. You closed the shoe locker shut, turning around only to gasp to see someone behind you.

“Holy!!! Katori..?” You whispered, staring at the boy in shock. A nervous smile pulled on your lips as you bowed your head in a polite greeting.

Katori was one of your former dates. It lasted the usual week back in your second year. Though it had gotten a bit awkward when he ended up being in your class this year. Always so awkward when that unfortunately happened.

He was handsome, that’s why you had sought him out. Tanned skin from playing baseball. An average height of 175 cm (nothing compared to Yuki’s 183 cm). Spiky black hair and sharp eyes.

You and Katori haven’t exactly talked. Well you usually never talked to any of your past dates. Too awkward. Katori’s face looked slightly angry? His eyebrows were furrowed while his jaw was clenched.

“Are you okay…?” You asked, tilting your head.

“I saw you with Ito Yuki.” Was all he said, his gaze narrowed in on you.

“Really?” You muttered, confusion written on your face. “What—?”

“—He kissed you. It’s been over a month since you asked him out.”

“You saw that?”

“It was out in the open.” Katori looked at you as if you were an idiot. “Besides that, why are you and Ito still together? Didn’t you tell me you don’t date?”

You frowned. “What? Why does that matter now? I told you that last year. I can change.”

The sound of banging caused your body to freeze up as Katori slammed his fist against the shoe lockers behind you. You stared at him with wide eyes, feeling the remaining students look at the outburst in shock.

“Someone like you changing? Listen here, I don’t know if you know this, but Ito is a friend of mine. I don’t want you leading him on when all you’ve ever been was the school’s resident slut, got it?”

A friend? Yuki was friends with Katori? You never noticed. You were a bit self-centered at times but Yuki never really mentioned his friends to you. Ryun and Sana had other friends that you don’t remember the faces of.

“Resident slut..?” You whispered. You knew your reputation wasn’t exactly the best but was that what everyone thought of you? The fact no one was even helping, just staring at you was telling enough.

Did even Sana and Ryun feel that way about you?

“Katori.” A voice called out, catching everyone’s attention. Everyone looked over to see Yuki walking over. You could see Sana and Ryun right behind him, a shocked look on their faces.

You almost felt embarrassed.

Katori pulled away from you. “Ito—”

“—Just because schools over doesn’t mean you can’t get in trouble for fighting.” Yuki said, moving to stand in front of you. A thankful sigh left you as you felt safe with Yuki acting like a barrier.

“Seriously?” Katori rolled his eyes. “Are you dating him, Ito?”

“Yes.” Gasps rung through the students. You couldn’t help but grin. Yuki didn’t even hesitate.

“I never thought you’d fall for his nonsense. Sleeping around with everyone in the school, he probably has diseases by now.” Katori shook his head. A few snickers were heard. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you stared down at your sneakers.

“Yet you slept with him during your second year, having known his reputation. I’m not childish enough to care.”

Katori looked up at Yuki in shock. “Are you—? Are you seriously defending him?”

“He’s my boyfriend. You were my friend.” Yuki reached behind himself and grabbed your hand, tugging you forward. He reached down and kissed your forehead. “Mind your own business next time, Katori-San.”

With that, Yuki opened his shoe locker and changed into his outdoor shoes. He didn’t even spare anyone else a glance as he dragged you out the school’s front door. It took a moment before you began to keep up with his brisk pace.

The walk home was silent but somehow still comfortable.

It wasn’t until you were only a minute away from your home that Yuki finally said something.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry he embarrassed you.”

You hummed. “It’s okay… I’m guessing he saw you kiss me in the hallway. I hope I don’t bring down your reputation.”

“I don’t care about my reputation if it comes with the cost of hurting you.”

Your eyes widen as you glanced up at Yuki, your cheeks feeling warm. Yuki was staring straight ahead, his hand tightening its’ grip on yours.

The rest of the walk home was quiet—you couldn’t say anything. You reached your house just a second later. Just before you walked inside, you leaned on your toes to press a kiss on Yuki’s lips before rushing inside.

It felt as if your heart was beating out of your chest after kissing him. You felt happy.

But despite his reassurance, you couldn’t help but think about what happened earlier.

Did.. everyone really view you with such disgust..?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

The school festival was in two days. Your class was excitedly getting ready for the monster themed cafe. You were helping a classmate pick out what sweets he should get to sell when Sana tapped you on the shoulder.

You excused yourself, following her out of the classroom. Ryun was standing there as well, a frown on his face. This couldn’t be good.

You three haven’t exactly been on talking terms.

It was childish to not talk it out with them but you weren’t exactly in the mood. Or at the very least you wanted some time to gather your thoughts before bringing it up to them.

Looks like you’d get your chance.

“You’ve been avoiding us.” Sana said bluntly, crossing her arms across her chest. “What gives?”

“Yeah, are you embarrassed about what happened on Monday with Katori? It’s nothing new.” Ryun sighed. Sana quickly glared at him as you tilted your head.

“Nothing new..? What do you mean?”

Sana shook her head. “People have been talking behind your back since second year.” She admitted. “No one has ever said it out loud to your face before though.”

“You guys knew and didn’t tell me?”

Ryun shrugged. “It wasn’t like it was rumors. It was only things that were true. Besides, Sana and I always tease you about being a slut anyway.”

Your jaw clenched as you glared at them. “You two are my friends! They are strangers! You were really allowing them to say those things without defending me?”

“What would we say, Yoshida?” Sana asked. “You were sleeping around and everyone was curious to how you somehow hadn’t had any STDs.”

“I practice safe sex!” You whisper-yelled, not wanting to attract a crowd. “Did you not think that it would hurt my feelings to learn that almost everyone in this school had a problem with me?”

“Well what did you expect?!” Ryun suddenly cut in. “You’re a playboy, how is everyone supposed to think about you? Sleeping with a new person each week since first year is insane, Yoshida!”

“Is that really the only reason you haven’t been talking to us?” Sana asked. “Because Katori hurt your feelings?”

“Hurt—? I’d like you to be able to be called a slut in front of everyone else and just bounce back with ease!” You didn’t notice a few of your classmates beginning to pay attention to the little spat in the hallway. “You’re my friends, I shouldn’t have to explain that to you!”

“Are we really your friends? Because you won’t even allow us to call you by your first name. But Ito Yuki can after only talking to you for a month. What’s with that, huh?” Ryun spat out, inching close to you.

You frowned. “I told you before! Hearing my first name is weird! Not even my parents call me by my first name. I only recently started getting used to hearing it because of Yuki.”

“It’s like you’re ditching us for your new plaything.” Sana sighed, shaking her head. “What? Is he that good in bed? We’ve always been there for you, what happened, huh? Did sleeping around cause your brain to turn into jelly?”

“I doubt your relationship with him will last long,” Ryun cut in. “You’ll get bored soon and find a new shiny tool. You told us before, sticking with the same person gets boring. A slut like you needs new engagement all the time.

“Will you really cling so hardly on Ito when even he can drop you at any time? He has girls always chasing after him. Who’s to say he won’t get uncomfortable about how everyone talks about you?”

Sana nodded. “It was getting hard being your friend. The rumors were beginning to spread onto us. Sluts hang out together, that’s what they were saying. Ito Yuki is too good for you, do you really want to drag him down with you like you dragged us down?”

You stared at Sana and Ryun in shock, their words beginning to tune out. It felt like a tsunami had passed through you. Was this how they fault all this time? When they were joking around with you—was it how they truly felt this entire time?

It was too much. Your eyes flickered over to your classroom door to see your classmates staring at you. Katori there as well, staring at you with a wide smirk. You looked down at your shoes, your breathing getting heavy.

“Oi!” A voice suddenly yelled, catching everyone’s attention. The classmate you were speaking to earlier about what sweets to buy was suddenly standing in front of you.

He glared at Sana and Ryun before turning his attention over to your nosy classmates. “Mind your own business!! You guys haven’t finished decorating!” He yelled. The students quickly rushed back into the classroom.

Sana blinked. “Suzuki-San?”

Suzuki looked back over at you three. “If you wanted to have a private conversation with Yoshida, you shouldn’t have done it in the fucking hallway! Scram, I gotta talk to Yoshida about actual important stuff, like our school festival that is on Friday!” He glared at them before they reluctantly walked back into the classroom.

You kept your gaze down as Suzuki patted you on the back.

“Thanks.” You muttered.

“It was nothing. Living in a small town makes them hungry for any sort of drama,” Suzuki laughed. “You’re the only interesting person in this whole school.”

Your gaze flicked up to Suzuki as you stared at his face. “Have I…?”

“No, no! I’m straight.”

“Oh. Why did you defend me?”

“What you do in the bedroom is none of my business. Besides, you wouldn’t be a playboy if no one took you up on your offers.” Suzuki gave you a smile. “Everyone who got with you knew who you were. I’ve seen people that slept with you even call you a slut. I think they’re just jealous you never wanted to date them.”

“Jealous?”

“Mhm. At first it was only a few people who constantly talked behind your back but ever since you and Ito-San started dating it’s gotten worse. A few of your exes are jealous they didn’t get to ‘tame’ you.”

“Tame?!” You gasped, the stray tears in your eyes being blinked away.

“Yeah.” Suzuki hummed. “Some people that slept with you had the goal of becoming your partner. I always wanted to tell you but I had no proof, only word of mouth. Add in with that it’s Ito Yuki, student council president who had a recent ‘glow-up’ in the eyes of the girls, everyone has a reason to be mad.”

You were shocked for the most part. People wanted to tame you? Gross. You shook your head at the thought. But your worst fear was true. Yuki’s reputation was being dragged down because of you.

“Have they been talking bad about Yuki?”

“Mhm. Especially Katori after Ito’s fight with him. Mainly people waiting until you give him a STD or you cheat on him. A few girls are upset that he’s gay, saying that you turned him… Whatever that means.”

Great. Absolutely great. You had knew that Yuki still got confessed to before he made it public that you were dating. Those girls never gave up even when Yuki turned them without a second thought. It wasn’t like you thought he’d cheat on you.

It was more so that maybe of those girls would be better for him.

“Thanks, Suzuki.” You whispered, wanting to just lay down.

“It’s nothing. I couldn’t be a bystander anymore.” Suzuki admitted. “You should get some water, I’ll tell the teacher when she comes back.”

You hummed and walked away, ready to chug some water from the water fountain. As you walked past some classrooms, you skid to stop in front of Yuki’s classroom.

You were curious to what they were doing for the school fair when you noticed some giggling. Your eyes landed in on a girl walking up to Yuki with a shy smile on her face. She was clutching a note to her chest as her friends practically pushed her to Yuki.

The girl would’ve fell had Yuki not caught her. He helped her to her feet and was about to turn his attention back to the board when she tugged on his sleeves. You could only watch as the other students began to coo and giggle, watching the girl get ready to confess.

You wanted to stop it but your feet felt glued to the ground. The girls friends began chanting “confess” over and over again before the girl finally blurted out her confession.

She was cute, typical girl next door. The boys beside Yuki began to cheer Yuki on, patting him on the back. Did.. Did they not know you were his fucking boyfriend? That Ito Yuki had a boyfriend?

Someone said something that you couldn’t hear properly. A few whispers ensue. You strained to hear them properly.

“Well, it’s not like Yoshida is known for staying with his partners for long.”

“Yeah, he’s probably just using Ito-Kun anyway.”

“Yoshida is so disgusting,” one of her friends laughed. “Why wouldn’t someone want Kaede-Chan! She isn’t infested with 1,000 STDs! Right, Ito-San?”

“Uhm, Ito-Kun… Are you really in love with Yoshida..?” Kaede whispered, her doe eyes staring up at Yuki. “I’ve had a crush on you since first year, I doubt Yoshida has liked you as long as I have. He probably doesn’t even know you like—”

You couldn’t hear anymore. You sprinted away.

Tears were streaming down your face as you ran up the stairs to the rooftop. You just wanted this cruel day to end. To think all these three years your school has viewed you as parasite the entire time. Your own friends was getting tired being your friend.

And you might lose your boyfriend to a girl that was better for him in the eye of the school hierarchy.

You bursted through the rooftop door and crashed into the walled fence. Your fingers gripped at it as you rest your forehead against the cool metal. Heavy hiccups left you as you tried to calm down.

Maybe if you had been normal.

If only you weren’t a playboy.

No matter, you’d set Ito Yuki free.

Even if you didn’t want to.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You clutched your school bag to your chest as you stood by the school gate. It had been two hours after school, you were waiting for Yuki to finish with his council president duties. He had texted you to go home but you hadn’t responded.

This needed to end.

“(Name)-Chan?”

Your heart fluttered as you looked back to see Yuki. He had his usual slight grin as he walked over to you. But it quickly dropped when he took in your puffy red eyes.

“What happened?” He asked, his hand reaching out to touch you but you quickly stepped away. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you. “Are you okay?”

You only nodded. “Yeah, I just. Uhm. We should break up.”

It was silent before Yuki let out a laugh. “Funny. What really happened?”

“No. We should break up.” You said louder, standing up straight.

Yuki’s fox like eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. “What the hell are talking about? You want to break up?”

“Yea, we aren’t compatible. We don’t even really know each other.”

“We were getting to know each other. Don’t give me bullshit reasons.”

“We just shouldn’t be together!”

“Why?!”

“Because I’m the school’s resident slut and you deserve someone like Kaede!” You yelled, feeling your eyes water as you quickly looked away. “Besides I’m… I’m bored. I’m used to having a new partner each week! I can’t.. I can’t stay with one guy.”

“Kaede—? Did you see the confession? I rejected her.”

“I knew you would…”

“Then what? You think that I really believe you can’t stay faithful? Who’s been feeding this bullshit to you?”

“It’s true! I’ve practically fucked everyone in this damn school, you were just another week. I.. I even talked about how virgins are the best partners!”

You looked back at Yuki, wanting to get this over with. But to your shock, Yuki almost looked hurt at your words. Fuck, you couldn’t just break things off easily, could you? You mentally cursed yourself for telling that when a grin pulled on Yuki’s lips.

It wasn’t a grin that reached his eyes.

“You act like I don’t know what type of person you were before I said yes. I even knew your fucking catchphrase! You think I didn’t know what you usually liked in a partner? Yoshida (Name), I’ve liked you since our first year, I only ever wanted you. I don’t care what everyone else thinks.”

You looked away, shaking your head. “We wouldn’t last anyway! I’m not the type of partner you would want to bring to your parents! I’m known as a slut by every student in this school, who’s to say no one else knows?! We’re not that big of a town!”

“(Name)…”

“Just let me break up with you before I drag you down with me.”

“You’re so childish.”

You bristled, biting your lip. “Whatever. We’re over.” You quickly walked away, not looking back even as Yuki called your name.

This was for the best, even if you didn’t want it to be.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Who pissed in your cereal?”

You glanced up from your pillow to see your mother staring at you with a bowl of noodles. She gently placed them on your desk and sat down on the chair, turning it to face you.

“What happened, Plum? You look miserable.”

You only whimpered, shaking your head. “I found out… that I’m the school’s resident slut..”

A slight laugh left your mother. “So? So was I.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Mhm. I slept with almost every boy in my grade level. They were pretty bad for the most part. I didn’t stop until I met your dad in college.” Your mom said, sighing at the mention of your father. “A hunk. Great in bed—ah well you don’t need to know that.

“Wait, have they been bullying you? Do I need to visit the school?!” She asked, a frown on her face.

“No. That would be even more embarrassing.”

She sighed. “If you say so. But that can’t be the only reason.”

“I found out Sana and Ryun were spreading the rumors behind my back.”

“Excuse me?” A look of anger spread on her face as her upper lip turned up into a snarl. “I need to get their keys back. How dare they hurt my baby behind his back! Did anything else happen?!”

“I broke up with my boyfriend to protect his reputation.”

“Well that’s a bit dumb.”

You frowned, looking over at her. “What do you mean?”

“What I said. That’s dumb. Who cares about high school reputation? Was your boyfriend bothered by you being called the school’s slut?”

“No…”

“Then what makes you the one who gets to decide that the relationship ends?”

“I…”

Your mother gave you a smile. “You tried to do the right thing even if it was a bit silly. If your boyfriend wasn’t bothered by it, you can’t just decide he was. What it really was is that you were probably jealous or even scared that he would think he could do better than you. So you wanted to end it before he could hurt you.”

Why did your mother have to be so smart?

She got up and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Try to make up with him, if he was really upset about the breakup, he’d want you back quickly.” With that, she left the room, letting you wallow in your thoughts.

Maybe you really did screw up.

Shit, would Yuki even forgive you if you came crawling back?

You groaned. You just wanted to sleep.

If only you just talked it out with him.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Sorry, this is all we have. Someone forgot to buy fake hair.”

Suzuki helped you tied the fluffy tail to your waist. You slipped on the headband with furry ears as you glanced at the mirror. It was the school festival. You were dressed as the werewolf barista though you looked more like a dog. You wore a white button up with black slacks.

You glanced over at Suzuki to see him dressed as a vampire. He was dressed similar to you but with fake fangs and a bit of blood on his face.

“It’s so hard to talk with these fangs.” Suzuki groaned, slipping them back on. You only grinned as you placed the food on the table. Your eyes glanced around the classroom that was turned into a spooky cafe. Everyone was dressed up as some sort of monster.

You didn’t pay any mind to Sana and Ryun, not wanting to talk to them. They also made no effort to speak to you. Your mom really did get the spare keys she gave them back, basically banning them from your house.

It still hurt, realizing you lost two childhood friends.

Though you technically gained Suzuki. He was cool and didn’t talk badly about you behind your back.

Small victories.

The festival finally began at 5:00 pm. Everyone in town was welcomed. At first your class’s cafe wasn’t gaining much attention. Suzuki looked a bit worried so you tried to come up with an idea.

You walked out of the classroom, looking at the groups of people attending the other classes. As someone passed by you grabbed their arm. The person was a girl, one of your past dates, Kazuha.

Kazuha flinched, probably shocked before she saw it was just you who grabbed her. She grinned. “Yoshida-Kun! Ah you look so cute! Lemme take a picture.” She pulled out her camera and quickly snapped a couple of pictures before you could even attempt to pose.

You forgot she was apart of the photography club.

“Anyway, what’s up?” She asked, giving you a kind smile.

“Ah, my classes cafe isn’t gaining enough of attention… Could you help us gain some traction? I don’t know what to do.”

Kazuha hummed, nodding her head. “Lucky for you, I still find you cute.” She teased. “Leave it to me, Yoshi!” With that, she sprinted off before you could even ask what her plan was.

She was only gone for a few minutes before coming back with a pep in her step. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“You’ll be kissing whoever spends over five dollars at the cafe! Just a kiss on the cheek, don’t worry.” She said, a smug smile on her face.

You almost complained that you were taken before remembering that no, you weren’t. “I doubt anyone would be that interested in kissing me.” You said, frowning.

Turns out you were wrong.

It didn’t take long before a group of students came over, looked to be the volleyball team. They practically bought everything. Suzuki had to tell a classmate to bring out the extra food they had stored.

“Can we also take a picture?” One of the boys said, a shy smile on his face. You only mutely nodded, taking a few selfies with them. There wasn’t anyone on the volleyball team you had dated, they were mostly filled with first years.

You gave each boy a quick peck on the cheeks, every single one practically giggling excitedly when you pulled away. After they left, a group of girls came in. They quickly bought some food before rushing over to you.

“You’re so cute! Can I take a picture instead of the kiss??”

“You should be an idol! So cute.”

“Ah, thanks.” You blushed, taking a quick selfie with each girl. “Are you…?”

“We’re first years!” One girl answered. “I heard so many weird rumors about you but you’re so shy in person!” She said, giggling.

“I’ve only heard third years talk bad about you.”

“Ah, right! So homophobic too,” the one with bangs rolled her eyes. “Don’t let them bother you. They’re just jealous you’re cute. Are you supposed to be a dog?”

“A werewolf.”

“Well it’s a good attempt!”

“Ahah, thanks. Please recommends us to any friends!”

It seemed like first years either didn’t care or possibly didn’t know about your reputation. It made sense, you didn’t attempt to sleep with any first years. You mainly stuck to people in your year, only a few second years ever got the chance with you.

Well that was good, only third years hate you.

A few more people came in after. Again, mostly first and second years. The food was almost out before it even reached 7 pm.

“Everyone’s going to be kissing your feet after this,” Suzuki grinned. “We would’ve been screwed without you.”

Kazuha hummed, “and without me! I was the one who came up with the plan.”

“Why are you even here? Don’t you have your own class to bother?” Suzuki rolled his eyes while Kazuha just sent a smug grin.

“I’m mainly surprised people really wanted a kiss from me.”

“Well you are attractive.” Suzuki said bluntly. “In my personal opinion, you’re the school’s heartthrob, not Ito Yuki.”

Kazuha nodded in agreement. “I mean, it wasn’t like you ever ran out of people to date.”

“Mhm.” You glanced around the makeshift cafe, everyone beginning to wine down. A few students even taking off their costumes now. You fixed your tail, popping open two buttons of your shirt to get cool. “Looks like we might have to close up early, there’s only two sweets left.”

“Oh! Let me have them for free!” Kazuha grinned.

“No way! Pay like everyone else!” Suzuki glared at her. He took out his fake fangs and sighed in relief, tossing them in the trash. “I’m never wearing that thing again. I think it scraped my gums.”

“Really? Let me check.” You leaned in, motioning for Suzuki to open his mouth. He complied and leaned down so you could get a clear view. There did look to be a small little wound on the right side of his gum. “Ah, it looks like it irritated the right side. Nothing cut open though.”

“Oh that’s good.” Suzuki hummed. “Anything else?” You leaned in even closer, reaching up to gently grasp Suzuki’s jaw so you could tilt his head down.

“Uh… Yoshi… Suzuki. We have a customer.” Kazuha whispered, her voice weirdly quiet. You glanced over at her, confused on why she was sounding like that. Plus it wasn’t like your other classmates couldn’t handle the customer.

Suzuki pulled away from you, no longer blocking your view of the front door of the classroom.

Your breathing hitched at who was at the door.

Ito Yuki.

And he didn’t look happy at all. His hair was slicked back with gel, a singular strand pulled over his face. Dressed in a suit and tie, you couldn’t help but be memorize at how handsome he looked.

He walked into the classroom, heading straight towards you. He practically ignored Suzuki’s greeting and grabbed the last two sweets left on the main table.

“Are these two together over five dollars?” He asked, his gaze only on you.

“Yeah.” Suzuki answered before you could. “Are you going to take up our offer—”

Suzuki didn’t get to finish when Yuki tossed the sweets back on the table and stepped right up to you. His hands gripped your waist, one sliding up to cup your neck as he pulled you in for a kiss.

Your eyes widen as you could only grip at his shirt in shock. His eyes narrowed in on yours as he pressed your body against his. A strangled moan left you as he bit your bottom lip, easily turning the peck into a hungry kiss. His tongue immediately slipped into your mouth as you felt your legs turn into jelly.

It almost felt hard to breathe as he kissed you breathlessly. He chased your mouth when you attempted to pull away for some air. His tongue was exploring your mouth as if he was hungry and he wouldn’t survive without the taste of you.

The fact your classmates were still in the classroom wasn’t lost on you. Sure, you weren’t particularly shy about asking out people in public or shamelessly flirting with PDA, this was brand new. Especially when Yuki wasn’t into public affection.

Your moans were hardly muffled by Yuki’s mouth, though it seemed to spur him on. His grip on your waist slipped down before grabbing a handful of your ass. A shameful squeak left your lips when he finally decided to pull away.

The only sound that could be heard was your heavy breathing. Yuki only stared down at you before moving to grab your hand instead of your ass.

Kazuha and Suzuki looked shocked to say the least. Though Kazuha gave you a thumb ups with a smile, nodding her head. Suzuki looked mostly traumatized at the sudden make out sesh. A few of your classmates were whispering but you couldn’t hear them properly. You could feel Sana and Ryun staring at you.

Katori looked pissed but that only made you happy.

“You can clean up without him,” Yuki simply said, looking at Suzuki.

Suzuki only let out a soft ‘huh’ as Kazuha quickly nodded, a grin on her lips. “Of course, of course!! Go have fun you too! Be safe!”

Yuki hummed and began dragging you out of the classroom, not waiting for you to even attempt to refuse. As they walked out, Suzuki glanced back at the two sweets left on the table.

“He didn’t pay…”

You had to pick up the pace to keep with Yuki’s long strides. Though finally out of your classroom, you got to see what the other classes did for the festival. When you passed Yuki’s classroom, it looked like their theme was mad scientist cake decorating.

You wondered where his lab coat was but didn’t think he’d be in the mood to answer such a question right now. He finally came to stop when he reached the student council’s room and pulled you inside. The door closed with a slam as he turned the lock.

Now that you two were alone, it suddenly dawned on you that you were broken up for only two days. When it almost felt weeks. Wow, you were a simp for him at this point.

“What was that?” He asked, his jaw tense.

“What was what?”

“Seriously? You break up with me two days ago and suddenly allowing everyone to kiss you for a school festival?”

“I didn’t come up with it… Kazuha thought it would be good to help us with sales. I didn’t even think people would be interested in kissing me.”

“You have such low self esteem for being a playboy,” Yuki said, letting out a joyless laugh. “You think people slept with you so easily for only week without being physically attracted to you?”

“I…” You shook your head. “Anyway what was that?! You just kissed me in front of everyone! You told me you don’t like public affection.”

“I had to make sure no one got the idea that you were suddenly single.” Yuki easily confessed. “Your class seems to be the one spreading most of the rumors around school, they’ll let everyone know that you’re mine.”

“But… I’m not yours. I ended the relationship.”

“Yeah, without my feelings being taken into consideration. I thought about it, we’re not breaking up. You can’t just end things.”

“Yuki, I’m not good for you. I don’t want to bring you down.”

“(Name), it’s fucking high school. Who gives a shit what they think? Do I have to fuck you brainless to make you understand that I want you no matter what they think?”

You blushed, looking away in embarrassment.

Yuki let out a laugh. “That’s all you need.” He grabbed your arm and pulled you close, his free hand reaching up to cradle your face. “I’ll fuck you until you understand you’re never leaving me. I’ve waited so long for you—I’m not letting other people’s jealousy take you away from me.”

His hands grabbed your button up and easily tore it open, buttons popping loose. You gasped as you tried to salvage the shirt but he easily pulled it off. The room’s cool air brushed against your skin.

You looked up at Yuki, eyes wide. “In here?!” You whispered, remembering the third floor wasn’t exactly empty.

“Mhm.” Yuki took off his glasses, placing them on your face. Your vision was blurred from the prescription. When you attempted to take them off he gripped your wrist. “Keep them on. I’m still angry at you.”

A gulp left your throat as you watched a blurry image of Yuki. You could still make out what he was doing but could no longer see his face clearly. Cold hands pressed against your stomach, causing you to tense up. He slowly pushed you back until you laid down on the table.

“Do you know why I like you?” He suddenly asked. You only let out a confused hum. “When I moved to this town, I was pissed. From Tokyo to something so minuscule. Besides, I was a new kid coming to a high school where the kids knew each other since elementary.”

Wet lips pressed against your stomach. You gasped, looking down to see but Yuki reached up and gripped your face. He pushed your head back to rest on the table before pulling away.

“I didn’t think anything of you until I saw you in that maid outfit. Then I noticed how you portrayed this persona of yourself: the smooth talking playboy but deep down you were cute when you thought no one was looking.”

You clamped your hands against your mouth to muffle the surprised moan that left your throat. Yuki’s teeth sunk into your stomach as he bit hard on your soft flesh. He left two more marks, each harder than the first.

“You were more sensitive than you let on. I noticed whenever your dates didn’t go through the full week with you that you would get sad. Pouty and moping around the halls until you find a new person.”

His hands grasped your waist. His thumbs gently digging into your skin. Soft kisses pressed against your stomach, his tongue teasing your belly button. He unbuckled your tail, letting it lay dejected on the floor. But then his teeth bit into your skin, earning a loud squeak from you.

“Anyone who even looked at you wrong made you upset. I only watched you from afar, you never made an attempt to ask me out. But I always watched you ask out other people. That stupid catchphrase of yours got on my nerves.”

The sound of fabric tearing caused your hips to flinch as cool air conditioner teased your now bare thighs. His mouth immediately bit at your inner thigh. His hands held your hips down to stop you from bucking away from his touch.

“I wondered all the time if you would just stay that way. Asking out people and leaving them after the week. How could that be satisfying to you? But during our summer break after our first year, I came across you at the park. I saw you crying your eyes out.”

Your eyes squeezed shut at the mention of that incident. His glasses slid down your nose from your constant movement. Yuki moved to your left thigh, biting hard on the skin. You whimpered, one hand reaching down to grip his hair.

“I wanted to talk you but your friends ended up coming over. All I could think was that I never wanted to see you cry like that again. The thought of you frowning made me angry. Those feelings towards you might’ve just been infatuation but I knew I wanted you in my arms.”

“Yuki…” You moved to sit up when his hand immediately pushed you back into the table. You grunted in surprise, his glasses falling off your face from the force. It toppled to the ground, one of the lenses cracking from the force.

You looked back up to quickly apologize for not protecting his glasses when you finally got a good look at Yuki. His eyes were red. He was.. crying?

“I didn’t say you could speak.” He said, his voice harsh. If you hadn’t seen his face—you wouldn’t have thought he was crying. “I was ready back then to just watch you from afar. You didn’t seem to want a permanent relationship and I wasn’t going to force myself on you. But then you asked me out…”

He looked down at your thighs, his hands moving to your hips as his fingers teased your boxers.

“At that moment, I knew I couldn’t admire you from afar anymore. You were within my grasps and I needed to make you mine. Make you obsessed so you won’t want anyone else.” He let out a joyless laugh. “I knew exactly what you were saying when you mentioned the week being over. But I wasn’t going to allow you to leave me.”

His hand grasped your boxers as he glanced up at your face. He didn’t say anything as he slowly began to tear the fabric open. You blushed, your body suddenly feeling hot at the sight.

“You know, Yoshida (Name).” He whispered, a grin on his face. “You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever met. And I’m so fucking angry that you decided to end our relationship without thinking about me. But it’s okay, you just don’t see yourself the way I see you.

“Hit me three times if you need to stop.” Was all he said. He grabbed the torn fabric of your shirt and used it to blindfold you. You whimpered, gripping at his arm just to make sure he didn’t disappear. “You can’t be loud, the festival is still going on. Though I don’t mind if everyone learns how good I fuck you.”

You bit your lip as his hand grasped your cock. His thumb rubbed against your slit, teasing it slowly as you withered beneath him. Now having your sight gone made the feeling more intense for some reason. You wouldn’t know what he was going to do until you felt his touch.

His hand released your cock, letting it plop against your stomach. Your body twitched as you waited for him to touch you again. When you didn’t feel anything you began to whine.

Your hips twitched when something wet teased your hole. “W..What was that?!”

“Shh, it’s lube.”

“You carried lube to school?!” Two fingers rubbed against your hole, spreading the cool lube. A gasp left your throat when Yuki slowly pushed in two fingers at once. The burn was strong as your back arched against the table.

“I didn’t. A friend gave it to me.”

“You..You’re friends—ngh… friends with someone who brings lube to school?!”

“Mhm. It’s good to have friends with different interests.”

“Different interests… ah!”

The squelching of the lube filled the room as you bit your lip, trying to muffle your whimpers. You could hear people walking past the room. It should’ve made you anxious but honestly you felt so horny.

Yuki curled his fingers, rubbing right against your prostate. A wet cry left your lips. Your hands digging into the table for some form of purchase.

Before you could reach your high, his fingers pulled out. It was silent for a moment—only the sounds of people walking past. You briefly wondered if he left when something pressed against your ass.

His hands gripped your waist, keeping you still as he slowly thrusted into your hole. You clamped your hand over your mouth to muffle the moan from the stretch.

“I wanted to mess with you more but we can’t stay in here for too long.”

Your vision blurred—the soft blues of the moonlight stabilizing your sight. Yuki tossed your makeshift blindfold onto the pile of torn clothes. You gazed up at him, finally able to properly take him in once more.

His hair was messy. The sleekness gone. Bangs threatening to fall over his face as he ran his hand through his strands. His eyes were still puffy and red.

“Yuki… I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Yuki’s eyes widen, just a bit as he stared down at you. It was still hard to really tell what he was feeling through expression alone. You wanted him to say something, to say if he forgave you or not.

“You’re still not off the hook.” He finally said, a slight smile on his lips. “I’ll punish you properly another time. For now, I’ll show you just how much I love you.” His hands reached up and grasped your waist, pulling you to the end of the table.

A shuddered gasp left your lips as he slowly thrusted in deeper. Your hands gripped at his bicep, body gently moving at his rhythmic thrusts.

Yuki leaned down and pressed a kiss to your neck. His mouth kissed down to your collarbone as he bit at your skin. You whimpered—his hips picking up in pace.

The sound of skin slapping bled into the room with your raising pitch in moans. Your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him in even closer.

“I like you.” Yuki suddenly whispered, lips pressed against the underneath of your chin. He slammed his hips against your ass, earning a loud cry from you. You quickly bit your lip to try and muffle yourself as he kept a faster pace.

“I like your smile.” His fingers dug into the soft skin of your hips. “I like your laugh. I like your eyes.” Hips slammed into you, holding its position as his cock grazed your prostate. “That smile you have whenever you’re going to be a menace.”

Your nails dug into his back as small gasps left you. His cock was now repeatedly rubbing against your prostate. Your toes curling from the pleasure as you had to fight everything fiber of your being to not scream out.

“(Name)-Chan.” Yuki whispered, grunting when you involuntarily tightened around his cock. He let out a chuckle. “(Name)-Chan, I love you.” His voice soft and sweet, a stark contrast to his harsh thrusts.

You were going to say something but Yuki didn’t allow you. He kissed you, pressing his body against yours as he was unforgiving in his pace. His hips slammed into your ass as the sound is skin slapping filled the room.

You didn’t even attempt to muffle your moans. Your prostate constantly rubbed and pressed against with his animalistic thrusting. Yuki greedily swallowed your moans as you pulled him closer.

It didn’t take long before you reached your high, your back arching as you came. Yuki didn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm. Your hands trailed up to tangle in his hair as you felt his cock begin to twitch.

Yuki pulled away from the kiss, your mouths barely touching as you took deep breaths. His hips stuttered as he let out a low groan, gripping your hips as he slammed deep inside. Something warm coated your walls as you let out a whimper.

You couldn’t be mad about him not using a condom. At least not right now. You quickly kissed him again. It was a slow kiss, the previous hunger finally satiated.

“I… I love you too.” You whispered, pulling away from the kiss to look him in the eye. “What… should we do for our sixth month anniversary?”

Yuki raised an eyebrow as he let out a laugh. “So suddenly?” He leaned in, his nose rubbing against yours. “It’s actually our first day together as a couple, since we just got back together.”

“Really?” You asked. “But you didn’t ask me out yet.”

Yuki pulled away as he stared down at you. He reached down and gently cradled your face, his thumb rubbing against your lips.

“Hey, do you wanna make out?”

It took a moment before it fully registered. Your lips quivered as you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Shit… It sounds so stupid when you say it back.” You sighed, a bit embarrassed that the sentence was your catch phrase for so long.

“Do you?” Yuki simply asked.

You looked up at him and grinned. Your eyes felt teary as you whispered,“Mhm. Let’s make out.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“I’ve had a crush on you since first year, I doubt Yoshida has liked you as long as I have. He probably doesn’t even know you like—”

“—Are you guys done?” Yuki cut her off, brushing off a hand that touched his shoulder. He glanced around the room before sighing. “1,000 STDs? Are you all five? Yoshida (Name) is my boyfriend.”

Kaede stared up at Yuki in shock. “But—”

“—But nothing. This class is supposedly filled with students who test the best, so I assumed you wouldn’t be so childish. Speaking such nasty language about my boyfriend in front of me is insane. Get it through your head, I’m dating Yoshida (Name), and I won’t ever date someone like you, Kaede. Now everyone get back to planning.”

The room was silent as Yuki’s classmates slowly began to get back to their assigned tasks. Yuki paid Kaede and her friends no mind as they consoled the girl. A snicker left the girl beside Yuki.

“Shit, Yuki! That was crueler than normal. I thought you were going to punch someone!” Maki laughed, “You’re really serious about Yoshida-San, huh?”

Yuki glanced over at Maki. “Course I am. He’s my first and only boyfriend.”

“Only..? Like you won’t.. date men after Yoshida-San?”

“No. (Name) is the only person I’ll date ever. We’re never breaking up.”

Maki only laughed before awkwardly stopping when she noticed Yuki’s serious face. “You’re weird sometimes, Yuki.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“You’re… cute.. as a maid…”

Yuki felt as if he was going to pass out. You stood in front of him, dressed as a maid for the first year’s class festival. He was shorter back then, thick square glasses that did nothing for his looks. You didn’t have to look up at him like you do now.

You tilted your head at him, the long hair of your wig moving in tandem. A slight grin pulled on your lips as you gripped the edge of your dress, teasingly pulling it up to show a sliver of skin not covered by your stockings.

“I know~ But I can be sexy too.” You dropped your dress, giggling as if you didn’t just sexually tease Yuki. “Thanks, Ito~” You skipped away to your friends, your skirt swishing with your movement.

Yuki learned three things that day.

He has a thing for cute things

You looked good in feminine outfits

He reacts like a Victorian man at the sliver of skin

As well as another thing, staying as your admirer was proving harder each day.

He just didn’t know how lucky he would get in his third year.

Had to put in some last minute feminization because that’s literally Yuki’s whole kink. Just didn’t fit into this chapter well. Anyway, love exploring angst and fluff! Excited to write chapter 3 cuz it’ll be graduation time!!

Tag list: @omgplsletmeread @the-ultimate-librarian @tehyunnie @chill-guy-but-cooler @smellwell @euthymiko @love-kha1 @star-3214 @tomoeroi @cherry-blossoms-187 @remdayz @iwishtobeacrow @mello-life25 @ofclyde @kiiyoooo @mooncarvers-world @rhetorical-conscience

[streetsofdublin]

I VISITED QUARRY ROAD IN ORDER TO PHOTOGRAPH THE CABRA GRAND CINEMA

IT IS AN ART DECO STRUCTURE Quarry Road was originally called Quarry Lane, after a small quarry which was situated near where the current statue of Our Blessed Lady is located at the roundabout with Fassaugh Road (originally Fassaugh Lane.) This quarry was filled in the early part of the 1900s and the family who lived in the Homestead grew cabbages on the reclaimed land. The real landmark on…

[prael]

Cleaning Service

Kinktember Day 2: Maid Play

Aespa Karina x male reader smut

words: 4,000 Kinktember Masterlist

"Hey, babe?" You poke your head from the door of your home office. "What's with all the noise?"

Karina is hooking her head around the corner at the end of the hallway and calls back to you, "Noise? Oh, whoops! I was just sweeping the floor and dropped the brush. Sorry, sir."

"Sir?" you question under your breath as she disappears around the corner. "Whatever..." You retreat into the office once again, plopping down onto the comfy computer chair. You turn your focus back to the work documents in front of you. This lasts for all of two minutes before you hear a loud thumping noise once again from somewhere in the apartment.

You leave your chair, cross the room, and open the door, poking your head out in confusion once more. "Karina?" There is no reply. The hallway is quiet. The doors to the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen are all closed. You take a step into the hall and you're greeted by the loud scraping of furniture on the floor from the living and dining room at the far end.

You advance towards the corner in apprehension, calling out again, "Karina? What's going on?"

She is half over the dining table and looking over her shoulder. "I'm still cleaning, sir. Sorry if I'm loud. I have been told that I'm too loud with everything I do." There's a lilt in her voice on those last words. Between that and her choice of dress, it is hard not to have your mind in the gutter.

"What the hell are you wearing?" You probably intended to ask that in your own head but you couldn't help but blurt it out. In reality, it's very clear what she is wearing, the better question would have been why is she wearing it, but it's too late for that.

"Sir, this is standard dress for a maid. I am the maid you hired after all. I'm here to give your big, long... hallway a long, hard, deep clean, right after I finish here in the dining room."

At this point, you haven't made eye contact for a single second of the conversation, too drawn to how her skirt is so short that not only can you see her panties, but you can see the bare skin of her lower back above them as she bends. Your gaze wanders down the backs of her tasty thighs and the gap between them.

Karina speaks again after a soft laugh at how you seem to be stunned, "Perhaps you would like to watch me work? Make sure that I don't miss a spot and get into all these... tight spaces?"

"Karina... I have work. I have to finish this paperwork..." you respond half-heartedly.

"Okay sir, if you don't want to watch, I can just keep working on my own." As you lean back on the wall by the corner, thinking, she bends forward, so that her ass rises into the air. "I promise not to make too much noise."

Working is a fool's errand, every time you hear something outside your office, you're reminded of what Karina is up to—of her ridiculous outfit. You want to watch her. There isn't enough blood in your brain for you to think clearly. And then the door opens. Brush in hand, Karina steps into the office and bends over to run the bristles across the floor in long sweeping strokes. It is impossible not to notice the slight sway in her hips.

You look away, turn, and focus back on your work. For a brief second, anyway. Her long and slightly wavy black hair hangs in front of her shoulder as she bends over to sweep, between the locks, the white low-cut lace frills of her outfit struggle to contain her chest. It's fitted so tight that they spill over, each sweep of her arms threatening to push them free.

You can't help it anymore. You steer into the skid and fuel the roleplay. "I expect every inch of this place swept, cleaned, and shined. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir, the place has to be clean, really clean. I am here to serve you to the best of my abilities."

"Clean this desk," you instruct simply, returning to your computer screen with a smug smirk, as though you are oblivious to the real intent of your words. You aren't really oblivious to it—you're relishing it. She is likely doing the same thing, of course. This is her plan. Her choice of outfit—from the black and white dress down to the choker on her neck has an intention behind it, and there's no point pretending that she isn't trying to seduce you.

She steps over next to you, duster in hand, and with exaggeratedly graceful gestures she dusts down the desk you work at. She reaches over you, to the far side, instead of walking around, this way she can push her chest right into your face. In between writing lines in an email, you check out the cleavage just inches from you. You breathe a gentle warm sigh right onto her.

Karina whines, softly, in your ear, and then speaks, "Oh master... It looks like there's some dirt I have to clean right"—Karina reaches down below the desk to grasp your trousers, over your bulge—"here. I know just what it needs. A nice spit-shine."

"I did hire you to clean everything," you smile. Karina settles down to her knees on the floor and then crawls under your desk. You spread your legs a little more to let her inside and roll your chair forward ever so slightly. You type your email; there are so many to work through, after all.

Her hands explore over your trousers until she is firmly clasping at you, massaging through your pants. "It's so dirty down here," Karina puts a feigned whine into her voice. "I'm going to have to get in there and really make it nice and clean, master."

Karina tugs at the zipper of your trousers and pulls it down, next she has your boxer shorts tugged down as well. She cradles you in her right hand, toying, feeling it grow harder in the palm of her hand. For some time, she playfully toys and strokes, squeezing and palming and groping all over. This is heaven.

"This is a really big job, sir, I do hope it's worth a nice, big tip. The maid likes to be rewarded well." You hear and feel the giggle against your inner thigh before she runs her wet, slick tongue all the way from the base of your length right up to the head. She spits onto it and collects it with her stroking hand, creating a smooth and slippery glide.

She uses her other hand to massage your balls, cupping and stroking them. She seems to work you over for so long without making a change and it has you wondering if she intends to use just her hand all the way. Her fingertips play over your sensitive cock, teasing, working you into a fever. Your fingertips brush the keyboard, working away while your cock is worked over, a display of inhuman self-control.

"Are you going to be a good maid and clean it for me, or just play with it all day?" Your hand wanders to the top of her head to rub her.

"Sorry master, I have been known to enjoy my job a little too much at times. Don't worry, I will have your dick all cleaned and polished right away." Karina doesn't waste another second, before her mouth engulfs you, sinking down onto you, wet and soft and slippery, hotter than even the warmth of her hands had been, her lips gliding down on you and wrapping snugly.

Your fingers tap wildly over the keyboard. She runs her lips and tongue all along your shaft as she moves down and then up. Every movement causes your toes to curl, and your body to arch forward in your seat. The movements cause your hands to slow over the keyboard. "Good girl."

Karina grabs and caresses your thigh in silent appreciation. It tickles more than anything, making you writhe ever so slightly, but that just sends you deeper into the warmth and wetness. It is absolute bliss, the smooth, warm feeling enveloping your entire shaft.

Her hands kneed your upper thighs as she pushes her head down all the way, before coming up to gasp for air, catching her breath, and then descending back onto you with eagerness. In a moment like this, you can feel every little thing she shoes with her mouth. She plays her tongue over your tip and you grip the keyboard as if you plan to twist it in half. You stare straight ahead blankly, knowing that if you were to look down, you would be a lost cause.

That tongue swirls and twists around the head, a feat that cannot go unacknowledged. You reach down with one hand and tangle up in her soft, silken black hair and push her harder. It's all the direction she needs as she brings the full heat and pressure of her mouth down into your lap, bobbing up and down rapidly. She is drooling all over you. Your fingers are gently caressing her as her tongue draws all sorts of sensations over your flesh.

At last, the task is done and you hit enter and fire off your email. Just in time to grip the arm of your chair. " Fuck..." you exhale under your breath. Karina hums happily as your cock hits the back of her throat, sending ripples through you, driving you ever closer. Harder she sucks, desperate to suck you clean. Your mouth goes dry, and a violent shiver courses through your body, toes and fingers tingling. "I'm going to..." you exhale as a shiver rushes over you, eyes widening, pleasure mounting, peaking.

You tremble. Then, your eyes shut and you squeeze into a fistful of hair. You let out a low, long growl and thrust your hips forward, grunting. You cum, right down the back of Karina's throat, and she works you the entire time, sucking down every drop of you into herself. This is ecstasy. You could float right up away through the roof and into the sky at any minute.

Karina bobs her head for a short time, the intense sensitivity is almost unbearable, every second, every stroke is an overload to your system, but she won't give in into you have released every drop. Finally, she pulls her mouth away. Your whole body sags in relief as Karina leans her face against your thigh. "I trust my work has satisfied?" she whispers, and all you can do is nod. "Then I should continue my other tasks."

Karina crawls out from under your desk, and as she stands, she wipes around her mouth with her fingers. Her lip gloss is smeared at the sides of her lips, her cheeks reddened and her hair messy, but she still gives you the most beautiful smile. She stands straight and neatens her dress. 

"Where was I... Ah, yes, I should dust the shelves. Sir." You roughly pull up your trousers and underwear and watch as Karina retrieves her duster and sets about her work. You look back at your screen but she's still there in the periphery, standing on her tiptoes as she dusts, the hem of her little dress not even half-covering her perky ass. "Don't let me distract you, sir, work hard. Really, really hard."

What else were you meant to do? You watch Karina as she dances around, dusting in a way that doesn't even clean anything. Everything else has become unimportant, apart from the curves of her body moving in front of you. You could sit there all day, watching her, and, well, that's probably just what Karina wants. She has effectively just said don't try to do any work, sit there and think about fucking me instead.

A few emails later she's still there, leaning to reach the lower shelves, arching her back and showing you everything. Your commitment wanes by the second, just staring, thinking and wanting, it's like torture. "How can I focus while you're just there? In front of me?" You ask her directly at last, leaving your chair, walking past and watching her over her shoulder, pressing a kiss onto the side of her neck.

"What's wrong, sir? Have I done something wrong? Please don't fire me, I'll do anything." You stand directly behind her, nose in her neck, your hands resting on her hips, before sliding down and cupping her round ass. Karina fakes a stammer in her voice, "Sir, that's... that's..."

She doesn't resist. Your hands slip between her legs and stroke her underwear. You can feel how wet she is by just grazing over her. "I didn't hire you to be pretty, slutty and wet, you know? I hired you to work."

Karina pushes back into you, grinding against your fingers, wanting more than a tease. "Sir, I thought those were the only reasons you hired me."

You grip the band of her panties, before tugging them down her thighs. Karina grips the bookshelf, pushing her ass out towards you. "You really want to earn a tip?"

"Yes sir, a big, hard, throbbing, long tip..." Karina purrs, squirming against you, trying to get some stimulation where she needs it most, pushing her wet slit back towards you.

You plant one firm palm between her shoulder blades, using a hard force to pin her against the bookcase. Your fingertips travel down between her legs and you slip one inside her, causing her to inhale sharply through clenched teeth.

You follow this with another. They slide right in with a groan. You whisper in her ear, "How can a maid clean when she is so dirty? Look at the mess you are dripping down your leg." You say that with a tinge of aggression even if you're really happy about it. "It's going to get on my floor. The very floor you should be keeping clean."

"I can mop it all up. I'm so sorry." Her voice is an irresistible plea as you massage her soaked insides. "You can even make a mess of me if you want, then I will clean it all up. You will think I'm the very best maid."

"Want to be a good maid?" You spit onto the floor by her foot. "Get down there and clean that up. Quick." Karina immediately descends and begins licking your saliva off the floor.

You lower to your own knees, right behind her, and push your trousers down again, pulling your hardened, still-wet, cock free once more. Karina's licks are frantic—even if there's nothing left on the floor, you order her to continue until it's spotless while you take hold of her hips in a firm, dominant grasp.

You guide her body as needed as you press yourself against her pussy, running your stiffened cock over her flesh. "You clean that floor well and I'll give you a very... very big tip."

"Yes sir," is a repeated series of eager replies punctuated by soft groans, as you grind your shaft against her, lubing yourself up with her sticky juices. She shudders in your grasp and quivers every time the tip of your cock brushes across her clit.

Her attention falters with each one, causing her tongue to get slower. "Keep... Cleaning. You're not done yet." You hold your cock right at her entrance, and she pushes back, a subtle attempt to get you in her, she gets as much as the first inch before you pull back out.

Karina cries out at the teasing, "Nooo, please, put it inside me, sir." She glances back at you, and there's a glaze over those hazel eyes. Desperation.

"Keep licking," you tease Karina, pushing the head of your cock into her and out, never quite fucking her but driving her crazy. "Show me how clean you can get my floor. Then I'll fuck you... Hard... You want that, don't you?"

"Yes," she pants and shivers, unable to even formulate more of a sentence.

You reach up for the back of her dress, the black fabric held together by a white string, which you easily pull free. You keep pulling and it all unwinds from her, exposing her beautiful pale skin down to her lower back. Her breathing speeds as the reality sets in, you're taking control, pulling off her clothing, baring her. You grab the dress, yanking it down her body, and she doesn't even wear a bra so those heavy tits hang freely.

You return a palm to her upper back, pinning her to the floor. You readjust your position behind her.

Now she is near-nude, pressed flush against the cold and wet floor, and you're leaning over her. You steady your grasp back on her waist, taking her firmly. "What do you want?"

"I want payment for my services, sir, in the form of a big, hot load in my slutty, little pussy," Karina moans. She feels vulnerable now, underneath you as you lean over her back.

You begin to press inside her, feeling all of that clinging wetness, hearing her little noises. Slowly at first, before increasing your intensity, driving inside of her all the way. As you do, you speak over her, "Paid in sex? Paid in cum? And where will it go after we're done?"

"I'll keep it inside me, sir, so there's no mess. You can even dump it all inside my ass, and then I will make sure it all stays there." Karina quivers under you, her back is so slender and delicate, smooth as silk. You run your fingers across her spine and see her skin ripple and her butt rise slightly upwards in response.

"Think I might just do that then..." You begin to build up a rhythm inside her, picking up momentum. She seems so delicate and weak under you, everything Karina usually is not. She's whimpering already, a sign of how desperately horny she is, how she wants to be yours. You grip the soft flesh of her ass and then give a slap with your palm, leaving a red mark.

"Thank you, sir." There's a sincere sense of submission in Karina, which you drink up. She enjoys this change of pace just as much as you do.

You slip a thumb between her cheeks and run it up and down her crack. You prod her hole, eliciting another high-pitched whine from her lips and her insides tighten around you which feels fucking amazing. You gather more of the sticky juices leaking down from her pussy, moistening your thumb further and begin pressing your finger more firmly into her, inching the first knuckle up inside her ass.

With each press inside, a squeal leaves her lips, though her words beg for more, "Give me more, sir, don't stop, it's so good... Thank you!"

Karina is reacting like crazy, it is unlike her to be this sensitive, in the moment, she doesn't allow anyone to control her, but this is everything to her now. You push deeper into her, and deeper, and with a little more resistance, all the way inside. Now you're pressed to the hilt, all the way inside Karina's pussy, and thumb-deep inside her ass at the same moment, drawing more delicious, delicate noises from her, turning your beautiful domineering woman into a helpless mess of blissful whimpers.

Keeping your length inside her, you work your thumb with a twist and a push and you let your spit spill onto her hole, slicking it and making the movement smoother. You use your spare hand to brush over the cheeks and grope. Karina trembles violently, moaning, pushing herself backwards on your digit. She loves having you deep inside her like this, both holes stuffed.

There are so many things that you could say, so many taunts, so many vulgar things, but to bask in the revelry of Karina being a messy submissive girl is to not even need to say them, her expressions, noises, reactions and the pure depravity of it are more than enough for you. This is it.

This is it.

You pull from her cunt and cock back your thumb, ready to replace it with all the pumped-up eagerness of a man possessed, and then you spread her wide. Little to stop you as you slide forward, plunging into the warm and snug grip of her ass. She cries out in response to your breach, making those cute, sexy noises all over again, as you slowly slide into her, gritting your own teeth and groaning as you bury yourself completely within the grip of Karina's asshole, every bit as intense and delightful as you knew it would be.

"God you've got the best ass," you say with a growl. "Fit to take everything I have."

Karina could say anything, sarcastic or clever, or maybe something born out of depravity, but she can barely summon up anything more than an approving murmur. The kind of sound a girl makes when her mind isn't here anymore, focused on a single, wonderful feeling—being stuffed and stretched out.

Your hands caress the supple skin of Karina's ass as you begin to withdraw, holding the soft flesh between your fingers and taking handfuls of her.

Karina clutches, clawing at the floor, but says nothing, letting the sensations take her away, overwhelmed. Just her moans and the deep gasping breath through her nose as you roll your hips into her, grinding and stroking over her and causing her to go so rigid and tense. Her eyes roll back as you lose yourself within her.

A rhythm forms and you're barrelling towards giving her the mess she wants inside her ass. She strains to say, "Fuck my ass. Fuck it. Fuck it and then fill it. Want you so deep. Want all that cum."

Your fingernails dig in, gouging red scratches on her pale ass cheeks as you squeeze her tighter. Karina's hole grows snugger and hotter by the second as if the warmth and depth were begging for what Karina had voiced—an ass full of cum. You certainly want that, and the faster and rougher your hips work the closer it is. "Love filling all your tight holes."

"Do it, cum," Karina moans.

Hard and fast it arrives, the need that you can't prevent. You erupt within her. Violent spasms accompany your filling of her ass, of what must be the most satisfying, taboo orgasm of your life (so far). She takes it all so beautifully, moaning and squealing as she fills up.

No mess. None at all. "So full," she whines. No mess but the one in her.

You lean down, head at her shoulder as you catch your breath, and she cranes her head to nuzzle against you, reaching up to touch your cheek and make eye contact with you through heavy-lidded, satisfied eyes. In that gaze, she doesn't have a smirk or any sort of mischief, just a pleased look of joy, appreciation, and perhaps even a desire for more. You'd be lying to yourself if you didn't say you shared the feeling.

You leave her there, slumped onto the floor, ass in the air. Her little maid outfit is barely even affixed to her body anymore, crumpled and hanging around her midsection. The skin of her ass still bears the marks of your nails. She remains where you have left her. Karina's face and breasts smudge and push against the floor with each breath she takes. The room smells of sex, her, the two of you.

"Clean yourself up. Clean my office up," you instruct her while buckling yourself back up before heading for the door.

Karina coughs once, then admits, "I don't know if I can manage that. Maybe we need a real maid."

[whisperofaflame]

Too Long (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

18+ (this is pure smut, you have been warned)

Summary: Wanda is away for work, and you're feeling increasingly needy. Natasha tries to teach you some patience and restraint.

Word count: 5.4k

Featuring: Mommy kink, praise kink, begging, slight dumbification, slight humiliation, penetration, strap-warming, slight size kink, cunnilingus, dacryphylia (soft of), explicit consent, safeword use (and healthy discussion), subspace, aftercare.

Warnings: This is kinda filthy — please mind the tags above and skip if they squick.

A/N: This is my first foray into smut, so it might be a bit clunky/repetitive in parts. I wrote this on the notes app of my phone in the back of my parents car on a long cross-country drive earlier this year. I don't know why I'm telling you this. Catholic guilt maybe? Anyway, I'm posting this and running...

Wanda has been away for three days now, and she won’t be home for another two. In her absence, your emotions have been wobbly, and your behaviour less than your best. Thus far, Natasha has been tolerant. She understands that your petulance stems from the separation, and how much you’re missing your Mommy. So she’s been letting you off lightly when you’ve pouted and deliberately pushed her buttons, giving you gentle reminders rather than stern warnings. She even let you get away with not tidying up the living room last night, which is normally a non-negotiable. And yet, despite all of her kindness and understanding and leniency, your misbehaviour has only continued. If not escalated.

Natasha told you this morning that she needed space to focus on her work, and she didn’t want to be disturbed while she was in her study. She even explained when you could have breaks together, for lunch and snacks and cuddles if needed. But what she thought was a simple, reasonable rule (set mainly to help you get some of your own work done in peace, rather than any selfish desire of her own) is being blatantly ignored. Repeatedly. 

The fourth time you interrupt her without knocking, whining something unintelligible about being bored and needing your recently confiscated Switch right now, Natasha’s understanding of the situation flickers into a new light. Her previous resolve lost, a new tactic takes its place. One which she realises is far more appropriate for your needs, as she now sees them.

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Natasha frowns at you, her demeanour very different to the rather softer affect she has adopted since dropping Wanda off at the airport. She seems more like herself now. Serious, firm. Reliable. The domme you know; the domme you need.

“Go change into a skirt and a vest top. Now, please,” Natasha commands, her tone cutting into you at once, making your heart flutter and your core twinge. 

“Yes, Nat” you squeak out, then dash off — out her study, down the hall and up the stairs to your room. In the closet, you find a white cropped tank top and a layered white and pink floral skirt. It’s short, leaving little to the imagination. You’re fairly sure this is what Natasha wants. 

Once you’re dressed, you pull up your socks and race down the stairs again, almost skidding as you turn the corner to her study. The door is closed over, making you hesitate. Do you knock? 

Your heart pounds, a smidgeon of anxiety rising to the surface. 

“Nat?” You call out nervously, twiddling your fingers together and scrunching your toes up beneath you. 

“You may come in, malyshka,” she responds, her voice husky and commanding. Your hand trembles as you reach for the handle and push the door open. 

Nat is sitting at her desk again, looking across at you with her fingers tapping the edge of the table. She has a stern sort of look on her face, one which makes you fold in on yourself, shoulders curling forwards, head ducking. 

“Come here.”

You obey her instruction at once, approaching in a flurry, desperate to please her. You stop about a foot away from her, hovering at the side of her desk. 

Natasha’s eyes roam your body from top to toe, smirking appreciatively. You can feel the cool air from the open balcony door meeting the already-damp patch of your underwear beneath the skirt. 

“Now then, malyshka…” Natasha begins, her tone serious and a little scathing. “Why do you think I’ve called you here?”

You swallow thickly, words sticking in your throat. 

“I’ve been bad,” you squeak out. 

“Hmm…” she hums, considering your words. “Can you tell me more about that, baby?” Her voice is a little softer now. Perhaps she’s noticed your trembling fingers and taken pity. 

“I - I’ve been disturbing you while you work,” you mumble. “I’m sorry.”

Natasha reaches out and takes your shaking hands into hers. 

“And can you tell me why, please, little one?” She strokes your hands with her thumbs, and you feel like you’re melting. You desperately want her to hug you, to hold you. Anything more than this. 

“Um…” you gnaw at your lip, struggling to maintain eye contact with her piercing green eyes. Natasha nods encouragingly at you, and you take a deep breath. “I n-need you, Natty. I - I wanted…” you blush darkly, her questioning forcing you to consciously realise what you’ve been wanting, what you’ve been aiming to happen without really knowing. 

“Go on, malyshka,” Natasha urges you, letting go of your left hand and cupping your chin, lifting it so you’re looking at her. You swallow, and feel hot, embarrassed tears well in your eyes. 

“I wanted you to touch me,” you say, the words spilling out in tandem with a single tear. 

“Oh, my pretty girl,” Natasha coos, wiping the tear away with her left hand then placing both hands around your waist, fingers brushing against the skin exposed between the ending of your top and the beginning of the skirt. “You know you don’t need to act out to get that, right? You can just use your words.”

You squirm on the spot and look down again, feeling your arousal pool at the condescending tone she uses. Natasha’s hands snake a bit lower, resting on your hips now, pressing in against the fabric of the skirt and stilling your slightly swaying movements. 

“Hmm, do you need a reminder of Natty’s rules, baby?” she asks, making you look up uncertainly. “Remember, I like you to use your words, malyshka. Big girls use their words to communicate, and only big girls get to play grown up games with Natty. Are you a big girl, Y/N?”

You whine at this, feeling hot all over and struggling to contain the urge to rub your thighs together, the soaked fabric of your panties becoming distinctly uncomfortable against your throbbing centre. 

“Are you too little right now to play?” Natasha checks, her tone wavering between teasing and concern. You look up at her, mind foggy and unsure how to answer. “Colour, baby,” she commands, and you feel relieved at the easy request. 

“Green,” you whisper, at once. She smiles. 

“Good girl for using your words,” she praises, and she leans forward in her chair, rising a little to kiss you passionately on the lips. You feel yourself falling into her, your weight taken entirely by her firm hold on your hips. When her tongue presses against your lips you grant her entry at once, and she’s lapping inside, her tongue pressing against yours, her teeth taking your lower lip in a bite that borders on painful. You wrap your hands around the back of her neck and moan into her mouth. In response, her hands dig in a little tighter to your hips, and she breathes out a little gasp of appreciation as she lets your lip go and separates. 

“Let’s take your panties off, then you can sit on Natty’s lap,” she tells you. You stare at her for a moment, blinking as the words sinks in. She waits for your smile of understanding before she reaches beneath your skirt, hooks her fingers into the elastic of your panties and slides them down your legs. They pool at your ankles and you step out of them, her hands returning to your hips and holding you steady as you wobble. Natasha glances down at the glistening fabric on the floor, smirks, then lifts you onto her, arranging your legs so your knees are pressed against the remaining edges of the chair, your calves folded under your thighs. Your skirt splays out, hiding your thighs and a bit of hers like a blanket. As you sink down, you feel something hidden beneath you, beneath the fabric of her trousers. Something hard, that presses against the sweet spot that craves friction. 

Natasha sees your surprise and smirks. 

“Feel that, baby?” she asks, her voice even lower than usual. Seductive, excited. You nod, biting your lip to suppress a whimper. Natasha raises her eyebrow and you remember her rules. 

“Y-yes, Natty,” you breathe. 

She rewards your words with a controlling movement of her hands on your hips, guiding you to rock yourself back and forth over the buried strap. Your moans come out broken, your breath too shaky to maintain a single sound. 

“P-please Natty,” you beg, tears bubbling up again even though you’re so happy. “I need you. Please.”

“Shhh… it’s okay baby,” Natasha hushes you gently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips and quelling your babbled words. “Let Natty help you.”

She lift you a little so you’re resting on your knees and hovering above her. Then she removes her hands from your hips, and reaches down beneath the drape of your skirt. You hear her unzip her trousers, which must already be ruined by your slick. You blush at the thought, struggling to stay steady on your knees. 

Natasha’s hands return to your hips, and she looks you in the eyes, seeking consent. 

“Please, Natty — I want this,” you whisper, desperation making your voice waver but you’re so sure; you need her. 

“Okay, baby,” she promises, kissing you again then bringing one hand down beneath your skirt. Brushing against your thighs, teasing you only briefly before taking her fingers to your folds and running them from your opening to your clit, collecting your arousal and letting out a deep breath. 

“Oh, zolotse — you’re so wet,” she groans delightedly, and you whimper at her words, at her delicate touch. You need more. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes, Natty,” you whisper, feeling the hand at your hip move back up to your waist, pressing into the flesh beneath your ribs and holding you tight. Your fingers flutter at the back of her neck, too nervous to take hold of her hair but expecting you’ll need too soon, to anchor yourself as she enters you. Please be soon. 

Natasha’s finger renew their inspection of your folds, whispering back and forth, producing small convulsions as your hole begs to inhale something, twitching at the teasing glances of her fingertips. 

“Natty…” you whine, tears building up and spilling over silently. “Please, inside me, please.”

She silences your babbling with a kiss, and as she sucks at your lips a single finger finds your opening and enters, making you moan into her mouth. Natasha murmurs something as she kisses you, lips wobbling out the indiscernible sounds, but the appreciative groan that accompanies them makes you think she is enjoying the way your walls are fluttering around her digit. 

“God, baby,” she murmurs when she releases you from the kiss, “your pussy is so tight; I need to stretch you more before I can fill you up, hm?”

You whimper at this, humiliation and arousal overpowering your ability to think. You pray she won’t ask for more words, because surely they won’t come now. Your brain is so empty, so full of fog. 

Natasha removes her finger from you, but then re-enters with two before you can even whine at the loss. She slides in easily but you can feel yourself squeezing at her once she’s inside. You feel so close already, and it’s just her fingers, just the beginning of what she must have planned for you. Your head droops and you rest your forehead against her shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut and willing yourself not to come, not yet. 

“Oh baby, is it too much already?” Natasha asks, crooning with condescension. You tremble against her as her hand leaves your waist and curls around your back, holding you in a gentle embrace as her other hand pumps two fingers in and out of you at a slow pace, masterfully avoiding your clit. You shake your head against her shoulder desperately, not wanting her to finish you here. You want to be good for her, to hold on until she lets you. And to be good, Natasha needs your words. You take a shuddering breath. 

“Natty,” you squeak out, her name strangled by your quivering arousal. 

“You’re okay, baby, I’ve got you,” Natasha reassures you. She carefully removes her fingers from you, leaving you empty and twitching. The hand around your back returns to your waist, and you revel in the sharp pain of her fingernails digging into your skin, finding you amongst the fog and grounding you a little in the moment. 

Then you feel it, the silicone head pressing against your hole, circling slightly as Natasha moves it over your slick to prepare you. You pant and scrunch your face up in anticipation, desperate for it, powerless to take control in Natasha’s firm grip. But she doesn’t make you wait too long. Guiding you by your waist onto the strap, which she must be holding steady with her other hand. You can’t see it because of the skirt, but it keeps going. On and on she eases you down onto it, your entrance stretching to accommodate its length and girth. Your mouth opens into an O of pleasure and a tiny hint of pain, which Natasha keeps a careful eye on, and uses to determine her speed. She slows at the slightest hint of a grimace and pulls you back up, so you bob up and down very slowly a few times, until you finally sink down and the skin of your inner thighs meets the fabric of her trousers.

“Good girl,” she praises you, peppering your face with kisses and cleaning away the tears. “Such a good girl, taking Natty’s big cock so well. You looked so pretty, baby, sinking down on the biggest strap. Such a stretch for your tiny pussy, hm? I’m so proud of you.” You cry and whine against her, fingers scrabbling at the back of her shirt and threading into her hair as gently as you can, desperate for her to relieve the throbbing by allowing you to ride her. But her hands are both on your waist now, holding you down in her lap. 

“Now, Natty has some work to do, baby,” Natasha tells you calmly, her voice returning to her serious, daily tone. You blink at her, too full to think properly. Natasha gives you a kiss on the lips, then drags the chair closer to the desk and reaches forward with her right hand, taking hold of her computer mouse. 

You stare at her, confused and unable to find the words to express your frustration. You just pout and blink your teary eyelashes, hoping she’ll explain. Finally, she takes pity on you. 

“You didn’t think Natty would reward you for interrupting her, did you, malyshka?” she asks, shaking her head slyly. Your lip wobbles and she hushes you, gently rubbing her left thumb against your tummy. “Hush now, baby — don’t worry. If you can sit still and keep Natty’s cock warm for an hour then you’ll get your reward for being a good girl.”

An hour?

Natasha must see the panic in your face, because her smile disappears at once and her other hand moves back to you, cupping your cheek and wiping your tears away. 

“Colour, baby?” she asks you. 

You want to say green, but something is stopping you. Of course, you love Natasha taking control, you love her applying consequences. And you want her to stay in charge, to do what she wants, what she thinks is best. But you know that if you say green just now, it won’t be entirely honest. Your heart pounds, and your voice gets lost inside you. 

“Orange or red?” Natasha asks, finding your eyes again and trying to ground you with a neutral look. It helps, her taking out one of the options. It helps to know she’s expecting it. 

“Orange,” you whisper. 

“Good girl,” Natasha tells you seriously, giving you a small smile. “I’m so proud of you for being honest.” She pauses, letting the praise sink in. “Can you tell me what’s uncomfortable, malyshka?”

“Too long,” you mumble, blushing. Natasha tilts her head, frowning with worry. 

“The strap?” 

You shake your head quickly. 

“No, the um…” You bite your lip, and duck your head. “The time. I don’t think I can manage an hour.”

You feel embarrassed, that this is the reason you’re first putting a pause to proceedings like this. Your impatience, your inability to sit still. Even with a strap buried inside you, even with Natasha’s soothing embrace, you still know you won’t manage. You’ll get bored and antsy and you’ll get in trouble, no matter how much you want to be good. 

“That’s okay, baby,” Natasha assures you, visibly relieved that she’s not hurting you. “You’re right, an hour doesn’t make sense, I got a little carried away. Do you want this to end? We can move to the bed, or switch straight to aftercare if you need?”

You shake your head again, bringing your hands to Natasha’s shoulders and fiddling with the collar of her shirt nervously. 

“No, I - I want to continue, please.”

“Are you sure, malyshka?” Natasha checks, concern etched in the lines of her forehead. “We can always give it another go a different day, and discuss it properly first?”

“Please Natty,” you tell her, eyes wide and pleading. You do want this; you just needed it amended a little. 

“Okay,” she says, nodding and massaging her thumbs at your waist. “Can you tell me then, my love, how long you want it to last?”

You wrinkle up your nose in disagreement. It’s no fun if you choose; you’re not good at decisions and besides it’s her being in control that makes these scenarios pleasurable. 

“You choose,” you tell her petulantly, and she rolls her eyes, though her lips curl into a smile. 

“You’re so stubborn,” she teases you, tickling her fingers into your sides very gently, and making you giggle, then moan as your wriggles make the strap press deliciously against your walls. Natasha chuckles at your inadvertent pleasure and stills you again in her grip. 

“How about half an hour?” she asks you, serious again and studying your face for any sign of doubt or discomfort. 

“Okay, Natty,” you agree. And you smile a little to reassure her, which makes the skin of her forehead smooth out again. 

“Good girl,” she praises you, kissing your nose gently and making you giggle again. “You’ve used your words so well; Mommy will be so impressed when I tell her.”

You blush and bury your face into her neck, embarrassed at the prospect of her relaying this situation to anyone. Even Wanda, who you know will be happy to hear that you used a safeword when you needed to.

Natasha brings a hand to the back of your head and strokes your hair, shushing you gently as you whine. 

“That’s it baby. You just relax with Natty’s strap inside you. I’ll set a timer and if you’re good and let me work, then I’ll reward you, I promise.” She kisses the crown of your head, and you breathe out, relaxing. But then, she can’t resist another little tease. “You must be feeling so sticky now hm? All stretched out by Natty’s big cock?”

You whine and squirm against her neck, too ashamed to speak. Her words make you feel even more full, the pressure against your walls immense. She pats your head and luckily doesn’t try to pry any more words from you, as she fiddles with her phone and then holds the timer up so you can see it has begun counting down from thirty minutes. 

Natasha’s hands leave you after a while, but you don’t dare wriggle on top of her, despite the overwhelming urge to squeeze your thighs or buck your hips against the full feeling. Even if you were bold enough to try, you’re not sure if you have the energy left. The buildup and teasing, the tears and the honesty, they’ve all drained you to the point of being completely floppy and pliant in her lap. 

“Baby, we’re halfway through now,” Natasha tells you gently, lifting you from your haze after a while. “Are your legs okay? Do you want to change your position a little?” 

You have to force yourself to check in with your body; all your senses are somewhat dulled by your stupor and the overwhelming sensation of being so full. Your knees are a bit achey, you realise. 

“Sore, Natty,” you whisper. 

“Your legs? Or something else?” she checks. 

“Just legs,” you tell her. She nods, finds your chin and lifts your head so she can see your face. 

“Okay; let’s get you off your knees and get your legs to wrap around my back instead. I need to lift you up a little though, baby. It might feel funny, with the strap. Is that okay?”

“Okay, mama,” you whisper. It slips out without you consciously noticing. Natasha’s face softens even more, but she doesn’t draw attention to it, perhaps realising you don’t quite know what you said. 

Natasha lifts you gently, and you feel yourself sliding up the strap as you rise. It does feel funny, and you whine at the feeling. 

“I know, baby,” Natasha coos. “Let’s move your pretty legs now, get them comfy.” She supports your weight and guides your legs to unfold and curl around the back of her. As she gently eases you back down onto the strap, your ankles cross over each other, holding her body close. You let out a little “hummph” sound as you sink down to the bottom, your clit brushing against the base of the strap and making your hips buck a little automatically. 

“Good girl, well done,” Natasha murmurs into your ear, massaging your waist on either side to calm you down. When your breathing slows again, she lets go of your waist and places her left hand on your back, scratching gently as she clicks her mouse in her other hand. You’re not sure if she’s really working, or if it’s just part of the scene. Either way, the idea that she can focus on work while you’re consumed with the feeling of her strap inside you makes your cunt twitch with humiliation. You’re entirely at her disposal, a melted mass for her hands to mould, but she can stay cool and superior, apparently unaffected by the way your arousal leaks out of your stretched hole and dampens the fabric of her trousers. 

You almost fall asleep on her shoulder, so tired from the ordeal and placated by her nails scratching lightly into your back, keeping you just distracted enough from the way her strap seems to be bulging against your internal seams. You’re awoken from the haze by the beep of her phone and the return of Natasha’s full attention, her right hand cupping the back of your head, her lips kissing yours with an energy you can’t return. You settle for moaning passively into her mouth, eyes fluttering closed and your tummy twisting as your arousal approaches the edge again. 

“So good for me, baby, you’re perfect,” Natasha whispers, her lips hovering millimetres from your own. “I’m so proud of you, you stayed so still and let me work. You must feel really full hm? I bet you’re so close.”

“Yes, Natty,” you mumble, relieved by her understanding. “So full, so close.”

Natasha unleashes a moan of her own at your whimpering agreement. 

“Good girl, perfect girl,” she praises again, her own voice becoming a little more desperate. “Ride for me, baby.” And she guides you, lifting you up with her hands at your hips again, letting you sink down when you choose. You’re so tired that you hold on to her shoulders, needing something to press against, hardly able to hold yourself up and prevent your body from crashing down painfully on her strap. 

“Please, Natty,” you whine, tears flowing again as your legs tremble. Your body feels alight, tired but electric, sparks flying through your veins and making you twitch. “Please… gonna…”

Natasha tilts her pelvis slightly and brings you down a little firmer, pressing herself against you so your clit rubs over the bulging base of the strap. 

“Cum for me, baby,” she instructs you, and your fingers fumble at the fabric of her collar, your ankles spasm against each other around her back, and you feel a gush of liquid squirt out of you, leaking out around the strap and soaking Natasha’s trousers and underwear. You gasp and babble her name as you cum, tears leaking out and getting kissed away by Natasha’s lips, as she rocks her hips against you and lets you bounce pathetically on top of her lap as you ride out your high. Eventually you slump down on top of her, breathless and exhausted, and Natasha stills her hips before you can whine from the overstimulation. She uses her thumbs to wipe the tears from your eyes and smiles at you in adoration. 

“I love you, malyshka,” she tells you avidly, staring deep into your eyes as your eyelids droop. 

“Love you, Natty,” you whisper hoarsely, your throat a little dry and your nose a little stuffy from the crying. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Natasha says gently, giving you a little kiss on your nose. You nod, and wrinkle your nose as she lifts you up with her hands in your armpits, the strap sliding out of you and making you shudder. “Sorry, baby,” Natasha whispers sympathetically. “I’ll be gentle; I know you’re sensitive right now.” You nod against her as she stands, still supporting your body weight in her arms as she turns you onto her hip. She moves her right hand to rest beneath your bottom, and you wrap your legs tighter round her body to help. 

“It’s okay,” she reassures you. “I’ve got you.”

Natasha carries you through to the bedroom and then lays you down on the bed, giving you a kiss on the lips then trying to move away. It takes a moment before you realise what’s holding her back; when you do, you unwrap your arms from her neck, flushing at your misunderstanding. She smiles at you. 

“I’ll be back in a moment, baby,” she promises you. And she gives you one last little kiss before disappearing into the en-suite. You stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to close your eyes, knowing you’ll fall asleep if you do. 

Natasha returns promptly, as promised, with a wet cloth and a glass of water. She’s taken her trousers off and removed the harness, so she’s just in her shirt and boxers. 

She supports you to sit up first, then holds the cup as you sip at it, wetting your dry throat and quenching the thirst you hadn’t noticed. Then she seeks permission with her eyes before wiping your legs and centre clean once you nod. You squirm a bit at the feeling of the cloth against your clit, but Natasha is quick to clean you, and she peppers you with kisses on the thighs when she’s done, making you giggle and twitch at the ticklish, teasing feeling. Then she lies next to you, pulling you on top of her and wrapping her arms tightly around your back. You tug at her shirt and whine frustratedly. 

“You want this off?” she asks you. 

“Please,” you murmur, and she smiles. 

“Okay, baby. I can do that for you.”

She sets you back down at her side again, then sits up in the bed and unbuttons her shirt, throwing it to the floor once it’s off. She’s left in her bra and her slightly mottled boxers, and you pout at her in disgruntlement. She rolls her eyes. 

“Come on baby, that’s not how we communicate our needs,” she sighs. But she smiles then, showing you that she’s teasing. She takes off her underwear finally, throws it to the floor then crawls over you to peel your skirt off and lift the crop top off over your head. You cling to her then, sighing contentedly against her skin. 

“Better, baby?” Natasha asks, though she must know the answer from the way you relax against her. 

“Mmm,” you hum happily. You lie side by side a bit, Natasha’s left leg hooked over your body, curling round the back of your knees. It gives a comforting weight, letting you sink deeper into the mattress. You stroke her forearms as she holds your cheeks, watching your eyelids flutter. 

“You can sleep, malyshka,” she tells you; but there’s something you want to do first. You nuzzle your head forward, burying in towards her chest. You glance up for permission then, when she smiles, you plant a series of kisses on her sternum, then the sides of her breasts. Natasha moans quietly, appreciatively. You lick her left nipple, swirling your tongue around in a circle, then flicking at it rhythmically. 

“Yes, baby…” she groans. You kiss around it then, teasing her a little before you encase her nipple between your lips and suck gently. You can feel Natasha shuddering beneath you, and you suck a little harder, pressing your teeth teasingly against her soft skin. 

“Malyshka…” Natasha’s voice is strangled. She scrabbles about, finding your hand then pushing it urgently down towards her thighs. You grin against her breast, and stroke the sensitive skin of her thighs with your fingers, deftly avoiding her centre as you suck her nipple a little harder. 

“Please,” Natasha moans, “don’t tease me, baby. Be a good girl and make mama happy.”

Your cheeks feel ablaze at her words and your core tingles anew. Natasha’s never referred to herself as such before; it’s only ever slipped from your lips, much to your embarrassment. You always thought she wasn’t a fan, by the way she stuck firmly to Natty whenever she referred to herself in third-person during scenes. But now she has used it, right when she sounds so desperate, and so close to her peak. 

“Yes, mama,” you whisper, and you find her folds with your fingers and dip in between, pressing two fingers against her glistening hole and sliding in with ease. 

“Oh…” gasps Natasha. “Yes, baby, that’s it. Pump in and out now. Good girl.” You follow her instructions eagerly, proud to be prompting such sweet sounds from her lips, the moans and the gasps as your fingers curl into the spongy spot that makes her twitch. 

“Yes, oh god — yes,” Natasha cries out. “Another finger, baby, please.”

You add a third finger diligently and continue pumping in and out of her cunt. Your wrist is beginning to ache but you are determined to bring her all the way to her unravelling, so you ignore the pain and carry on fingering her, focussing on swirling your tongue around her nipple and alternating it with sucks and kisses, driving her wild. 

Natasha’s moans and cries become more and more desperate and you feel her walls beginning to squeeze your digits. Quickly you wriggle downwards, planting kisses on her stomach on your way, then you bury your mouth atop her clit and suck sloppily as your fingers continue to fight against her growing resistance, pumping in and out and curling into her g-spot. 

“Oh, oh, baby… yes…” Natasha whimpers, and she falls over the edge, her legs spasming and her thighs trapping your wrist and face harshly between strong muscles. You do your best to keep up your ministrations, even though it’s hard to breathe between the powerful grip of her orgasm. Eventually, her legs relax a little and she grabs for you, motioning for you to join her. You crawl up, waiting until her eyes meet yours before sticking the three fingers which were inside her into your mouth and sucking them clean, your eyelids fluttering at her musky scent and taste. Natasha moans at the sight. 

“Oh fuck, malyshka — you’re so perfect.”

You grin happily as you remove your now clean fingers, then lie down on top of her, your breasts flush against each other. She finds your lips and kisses you deeply, swirling her tongue about your mouth to find her taste in you and curling her fingers into your hair. 

You sigh peacefully as she lets you go, and she turns you over so you’re lying beside her on the bed. Natasha strokes your cheek and holds your hand. 

“Sleep now, malyshka,” she tells you quietly. “I’ll still be here when you wake, I promise.”

You look into her green eyes, tuck your hand under your chin and close your eyelids, a blissful smile on your lips as you slip away.  

↑ (Me after posting smut for the first time, contemplating all my life choices)