#when women wear a vest and pants ?????

[robo-milky]

I don’t play Reverse anymore but that new Tennant skin is making me act up…

[trashabilly]

additional rant related to my tags on the last post i reblogged:

i distinctly remember employee appreciation day when i worked at the bank. the financial advisors got gift baskets and heartfelt individual little speeches from the branch manager while me and the other tellers got drinks from the bubble tea shop nearby that the manager picked (they were really gross flavour combinations and i couldn't drink mine bc im lactose intolerant and she got all dairy)

and then we got told collectively "you're not doing as bad as before but try to make less mistakes and not need as much help"

(we got virtually no hands on training, only powerpoints and if we needed management/an advisor to help us with something they would take at least 10 minutes to get to us while we had a line out the door and only 2 under trained tellers)

[profeminist]

Cartoon by https://www.instagram.com/vulgadrawings

AGGRIEVED ENTITLEMENT

looks like this:

[The single panel comic has a pink background. A white man with short brown hair wearing a white collared shirt and black pants is sitting on one end of a wide wooden bench. His arms are crossed and he is staring straight ahead, his legs splayed out to either side wider than his hips. To his right stands a woman with dark hair and brown skin wearing a green vest over a lilac long-sleeved shirt and black shirt. She is gesturing with one hand at the bench, smiling as she looks sideways at it.]

Woman: I THINK I DESERVE TO SIT ON THIS BENCH TOO!

[Below the first drawing, the woman is now sitting on the opposite end of the bench, her hands on her closed knees. She is looking sideways apprehensively at the man who has fallen onto the ground. His arms are flung out and he looks horrified.]

White man: OH MY GOD I'VE BEEN PUSHED OFF! THERE'S NO ROOM FOR ME ON [Underlined text.] MY [End underlined text.] BENCH ANYMORE!

See also: human conversation.

"Men perceived the discussion as being equal when women talked only 15% of the time, and the discussion as being dominated by women if they talked only 30% of the time."

[thir10th]

ciao, bella! - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

summary: you love your polyglot girlfriend TW: smut, oral sex, dirty talk, language kink (i don't actually speak Italian so i apologize for any possible mistakes), hair-pulling, i think that's it A/N: requests are welcome! i still have some drafts to finish first tho. Like and reblog, any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

The hours seem to pass so slowly when there's nothing you can do.

You're sitting on one of those uncomfortable chairs on that bullpen, a cup of coffee running cold on your hand. Staring at te board with all the names and pictures, you were starting to memorize it.

Morgan and Emily enter the room, the main suspect handcuffed and struggling to get away from Morgan's hard grip. Emily takes er bulletproof vest off to enter the interrogation room, you and Hotch following behind. She happened to be the only one who spoke italian on the team, so this one was hers.

You had profiled the unsub as the classical sexist, misogynist, scared of women over 130 pounds, or like you liked to call them- the unresolved mommy issues type.-

Your girlfriend was gonna eat him up alive, and you could not be more proud.

Morgan and Emily enter the room, he tells him to sit down, which he does seem to understand. Hotch and you watch the scene from the other side of the glass, your eyesnever leave Emiy, she carefully reads the file, in complete silence, making him nervous, until she starts speaking.

You certainly weren't expecting it, although you should've. It wasn't the first time you heard her speak other languages. Arabic, Russian, even Spanish, she always sounded so smooth, mysterious even, but there was just something about this exact moment, the way she challenged him, antagonized him, it was easy to tell she had complete control of the conversation despite that you could not understand a single word of what nether of them was saying.

Your braking point is when they start an argument, you cant really tell what it's about but she shoots from her seat, hitting the table hardly with a strong hand, you excuse yourself. You had to get out of there if you wanted to be able to finish the day.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

it takes you less than a second when she closes the door of your shared hotel bedroom behind herself, to wrap your arms around her waist, connecting your mouth to hers, pushing her body against the door.

"wow, not that I'm complaining but, what's got you all riled up?" she asks, a big smile on her face, the second you separate to catch your breath

"nothing... it's just..." you doubtfully say, her eyes scanning you, going from your eyes, to your lips, back to you eyes, both of you heavy breathing into each other.

"c'mon, spit it out" she says, leaving soft pecks on your lips to get you to talk

"just you, your voice" you confess "you know... when-"

"you like hearing me speak Italian?" she finishes for you, grabs you by your waist, and switches places with you, now she's pushing you against the door, running her hands down your back, reaching your ass giving it a gentle squeeze which makes you jump in your place.

"a little bit" you admit. Emily grins, cocky and gorgeous, she slips her hand into your pants and underwear, running two gentle fingertips up your center, collecting your slit, she shows you her hand, a proud smile on her face, you squirm underneath her touch

"this doesn't look like a bit to me" she kisses your cheek, your neck, you bring your lips to hers, your tongue slipping over her lower lip, in the desperate attempt that she’ll grant you access "Questo è quello che volevi?" you cannot control the moan that escapes your lips, her voice is soft, smooth, it makes you feel things, you kiss her again, this time she complies, granting you access.

She pushes you even harder against the door, her free hand finds its way underneath your shirt, you're not wearing a bra which gives her free access, she lets her fingers dance over your sensitive nipples, your breath becoming quicker with each passing second. “Please, Emily, I-” you got cut off as she sharply took one of her nipples into her fingers and twisted it, the pain quickly turning into pleasure

"what's that? or, should i say che dici?" you can't form any coherent words, you just let out a deep breath, grabbing you by the waist, she forces you onto the bed, her hips aggressively sitting on top of yours

"aww, la mia bambina è nervosa perché le piace che parli italiano?" she's loving the teasing, she loves making you nervous but mostly she loves how worked up she's getting you with only a couple of words.

She placed soft kisses all over your breasts, her lips wrap around your nipple, licking the rosy bud, her teeth softly tugging and nipping the sensitive area, you moan in pleasure.

Finally, she moves her mouth down, placing soft kisses all over your stomach, filling it with butterflies. She unbuttons your pants, aggressively taking off your underwear with them.

Even though you had her exactly where you wanted her, she was still too clothed. You pull on her shirt, hoping to get the message across, as your mind was all nice and fuzzy, she just put her hands up, so you could clumsily remove her shirt, leaving her in her bra and workpants.

"Em, please, just please" you cry desperately for her to finally finish what she started. You moan out as she forcefully shoved a finger up your dripping pussy, licking a strap long of your slit.

"ti piace questo tesoro?" you know you're in for a long ride, now that she knows that you like her Italian, she will be taking advantage of it, not that you're complaining, obviously.

"I don't understand a word of this, but it's working" you say, closing your eyes in pleasure,  your hands pulling on her hair, in a desperate attempt to pull her closer to where you needed her the most.

She was going slow just lapping up your juices, her tongue enjoying the taste of you, how drenched you were. Her lips finally met your clit, licking over the bundle of nerves, sucking the hardened bud.

"Oh fuck, yes baby don't stop" She began fucking you faster and harder, using her fingers, loving the wet sounds your pussy was making around them. Her fingers curled at the perfect spot inside you making your eyes roll back into your head. Her mouth sucking on your clit, her fingers drilling roughly into your pussy was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please, Em, I'm going to-"

"andiamo tesoro, puoi venire" you can only assume that's her way of approving, you came all over her mouth, her fingers, she lets you ride your high, and then collapses over you, laying on your side.

You open your eyes and see her laying next to you, playing softly with a strand of your hair, you need to catch your breath before you can return the favour.

"Who would've said that it would only take me speaking Italian to make you this horny ugh?" she asks, a playful grin on her face.

"It's just something about the accent i think, or maybe just the way you sound, i don't know, but you looked so sexy in the interrogation room today" you try to explain

"Well lucky for you, i'm fluent" you move to kiss her lips

"however there's someone else who can also speak Italian, right?" your mouth falls open when you realize what she means "OH! No, Emily! Why did you have to bring Rossi up now? You're ruining it" you close your eyes trying to erase that image from your head, Emily giggles "I'm sorry! C'mon, Scusa, amore mio, ti amo" she kisses you cheek, your lips, your face "Ok that one i know what it means" you hold her face in your hands, trapping her lips between yours, kissing her in return, her voice and herself the only thing on your mind again.

"C'mon baby" you straddle her hips "It's your turn, tesoro"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[neowinestainedress]

between us — johnny suh

title: between us

pairing: professor!johnny x lawyer!oc x fem!reader | husband!johnny x wife!oc x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself tangled in the life of the Suhs after Mr. Suh starts working as an English professor at your father’s university. You don’t understand why they float around you so much, but soon enough, you can’t get enough of that secret, dirty game anymore.

genre: smut, fluff, plot, mxfxf, married couple, established relationship, age gap, bisexual characters, aged up johnny (to his early 30)

warnings: age gap, daddy/mommy issues, smut, sexual tension, 3some, mxfxf, dom/sub dynamics, mdom, fdom(oc), fsub(reader), mentions of s*x toys, unprotected s*x, pet names (honey, babe, doll...), or*l s*x (reader receiving and fem giving), fing*ring (reader receiving and fem giving), n!pple play, dirty talk, praise, minor degradation, size k!nk, 1 face slap, 1 *ss slap, 1 cl!t slap, hair pulling, talks of face f*cking, dp and face sitting, sub space, overstimulation, reader goes non-verbal at the end, aftercare | inclusivity notes: reader’s hair can be grabbed bc i’m degenerated and needed to write hair pulling during or*l, there are no descriptions of the texture and type tho, reader wears hair in different hairstyles (not specified), reader feels small because she’s shorter than them and in general feels ‘intimidated’ (body type is not specified), no use of y/n

visuals

wc: 16.590k

a/n: i’m sure this isn’t what people were expecting when i talked about writing mxfxf, but what can i say, this idea came to me and i had to write it. at first, it was supposed to be less complicated, just hot steamy sex with two hot almost-dilf-and-milf but you know me by now, if it’s not deep and complicated we don’t write it here. disclaimer: they are all bi and this is not just a straight couple using a bisexual person to spice up their s*xual life, i can’t say more because i don’t want to spoil anything but i just wanted to make this clear. i hope you’ll enjoy, if you do please leave feedback with asks or reblog (so the story reaches more people) also this is the first time i write smut between two women so please let me know if it’s good!! love u ♡

The Suhs are by now a known presence in your life. Since Mr. Suh started teaching at your father’s university, it became almost impossible to not see him for more than two days straight.

You don’t feel like blaming your father. Actually, you get it. Mr. Suh is a charming, brilliant man in his early thirties. After years of studying and being an assistant, he started teaching English literature at another prestigious university, the one your father is president of. And in his free time —and you wonder how he did that— he even wrote a few books, the first ones being analyses of writers’ works, and then a successful mystery novel.

You like him, even if he intimidates you a bit. He’s a person you can have interesting conversations with, maybe too interesting. You can’t understand what hides behind his elegant attire; either suits and ties or brown pants and polos or vests, his brown hair is always pulled back, only occasionally some loose strands fall on his forehead and make him appear less put together. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him dressed casually, or crack a joke, but then again, it’s not really your place to know.

But Mr. Suh, also known as Johnny, is never alone when he comes to your parents’ house, or tags along at dinners, parties, and more, anything that your father likes to organize with his academic clique.

His wife, Aaliyah Taylor Suh, is always with him. She’s not less interesting or intimidating than him. Mrs. Suh is a drop-dead gorgeous woman in her early thirties like her husband. She’s an amazing lawyer, working at one of the top firms in the city, and probably that’s also why she comes off as piercing to you, it’s like she always knows what to say and do, and you struggle to keep up. And just like her husband, it’s also in the way she presents herself; she’s always perfect with her long goddess braids that reach her waist which is always perfectly hugged by the beautiful, expensive suits or dresses she wears.

This should pretty much sum up why you don’t talk much with them, even if they’re nice —at least it seems from the few conversations you had— you don’t feel at their level. Not only do they look like gods in your eyes, but they also fit the perfect stereotype of the rich, powerful couple that makes heads turn around every time they walk into a room —yours included— and the small, yet significant, age gap only makes it worse.

It would be easier to talk with them if your father wouldn’t constantly remind you that. He always had a passion to turn you and your dreams down, but since they are part of your life, it only worsened. Your father never misses the occasion to point your flaws out; how clumsy you are, walking around and stumbling on your own feet, dropping things every now and then, and messing up your words during speeches. Instead, he’s amazed by their brains and how quickly they became successful, they spent years on books and still never lost each other and found time to get married, they accomplished everything you haven’t, and it seems impossible for him to not slam it in your face.

And you agree, partially. You envy them. They seem to always be at the right place, at the right time, never saying a word wrong, and always looking straight out of Vogue. You’re also jealous of their love, you don’t know what a stable relationship looks like —not that you care to know, nobody your age seems to be doing it for you— unlike their stable, lasting marriage that is the deal closing off a just as long period of dating. They were high-school sweethearts, and you envy the way they still look at each other. Nobody ever looked at you like that, as if you meant the world to them. And you don’t understand how they survived all these years, you almost went insane during college, the two relationships you tried to have failed like a ship sinking in a storm. And now that you’re free, you’re still suffering the aftermath of all the stress you’ve been through. 

So you struggle to understand why they circle around you like moths to a flame.

It all started months ago. At first, it was only longing gazes, you could always feel them on you, and you always thought that there was something wrong with you; your make-up smudged, your hair out of place, your clothes dirty or crumpled up, but, even if you weren’t like them, there was nothing wrong with you.

Then, one night, things started to make more sense.

It was late, around 10 pm. As much as you couldn’t stand your father, you tried to tag along as much as possible to find some connections career-wise. You could’ve asked him a favour —doubting he would do it— but you had no intention of making him take credit for your future. You preferred talking with his academic friends or critics on your own, it hadn’t been successful yet, but you won’t give up.

You were standing in the kitchen, a glass in hand as you tried to drown in the alcohol and forget every word you had heard from your father when Mr. Suh approached you first.

“Tiring, isn’t it?” Mr. Suh’s voice brought you back to reality. His build, tall form leaning against the fridge as he stared at you with a small smirk on his face, his hair was falling a bit more freely since the gel had given up after the whole night —day, you’d dare to say, you’re not so sure he had time to go back home and get ready for this dinner again.

You tried not to get lost in his beauty and swiftly hummed, nodding. “Yeah, but at least the wine is good.”

Mr. Suh snickered, starting to walk over to you, a hand in his hair as he shook it back. “Pinot?”

Your eyes moved up in his, he was standing so close you could feel his breath hit your face, and you struggled to find the words. Throat dry and hands so sweaty you were sure you would’ve dropped the glass on the ground. “Yeah, Pinot, or at least, I think so,” you mumbled, giggling awkwardly as you looked down and took a step back, trying to put some distance between you two.

“Can I have a taste?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, his piercing gaze staring right into your soul.

You should’ve told him that surely there were some glasses left outside, or maybe opted to take a look in the wine rack behind him, but you didn’t, and your hand moved to his almost right away.

You watched him smile in a ‘thank you,’ before his lips met the glass, alcohol pouring down his throat, a bit too messily for his usual put-together act, a drop dripping on his chin against his tan skin.

Mr. Suh smiled, humming happily as he handed the —almost empty— glass back to you. “As imagined, my favourite,” he winked.

“Oh, good — good. I — I like it too,” you slurred, panicking and feeling so small. And guilty because something about all of this felt so wrong and dirty and you immediately thought of Mrs. Taylor. Was Johnny flirting or were you too horny to think straight? They were a perfect couple, they couldn’t be cheating, right?

So, you scrolled your head, and said goodbye to him, quickly walking out of the room with the excuse ‘you were sure your father was looking for you’ but in reality, you just needed a breath of fresh air.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. You would find yourself alone with Mr. Suh more than you wished to, and he was always so subtle with everything that you started to think you were going insane. He couldn’t have possibly brushed his hand against yours as he walked by your side to go to his wife, right? And he couldn’t have willingly rested a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you, trying to make way to get to your father? And why would he call you ‘honey’ with that sweet, intoxicating, slightly condescending tone, and only when you two were alone? His voice was always sensual, but you could swear it would drop even lower when he had you alone in the kitchen or in the library you spent some much time in, lecturing you about some poem or book, watching as you hung from his lips.

Anyway, you thought you could deal with it, you would only see him when your dad invited them, and even if it was a lot, you could stick with your mother —a slightly more likeable presence to you that wasn’t best friend with the Suhs.

Things worsened when Mrs. Suh started talking to you. The first, serious, conversation was about a pretty boring thing, some case she was working on. But there was something in the way she talked to you, laughing as she dismissed the conversation and simply stared into your eyes before asking to talk about yourself. Unlike her husband, she was curious, almost as if she wanted to get deep into you and discover things you probably didn’t even know about yourself.

And you froze. You had nothing to say. Everything that came to your mind was either too boring or too wild to be known to her.

“So? Too many secrets to hide?” She joked, showing you her pearly white teeth before winking.

“No, uhm,” you mumbled, trying to find the words, but losing them again when your eyes fell on her hands, golden jewellery shining on her fingers as they wrapped around the flute so delicately and yet sensually before she brought the glass to her full lips tinted with dark purple. Your head snapped up, trying to control your breath and not show the erratic movements of your chest, and squeezing your thighs together for some reason. “I’m working. Yes, busy working and trying to survive my dad.” Busy. You wrote for a small magazine online that paid you dust; reason why you were back living with your parents and kept writing your book, hoping to finish it and publish it one day and get the chance to be as far as possible from that house.

She smirked, and you could see it wasn’t because she was happy with your answer but almost as if she was having the time of her life at the way you were acting. “So, work and dad make you, you?”

“No,” you replied right away, slightly offended too. “I thought we were talking about… about things… happening now.”

A low chuckle rolled out of her lips, “I’d love to get to know you better, you know? Your family is so outgoing, they can’t keep anything in, but you…” she paused, eyes looking at you up and down, “you’re so secretive, reserved, like a candy to unwrap.”

You gulped, fearing she had the wrong idea about you and her husband and was planning a way to kill you. Aaliyah wasn’t stupid, of course she had seen the way Johnny talked to you and, worse, the way you reacted. She was also a lawyer, a brilliant one, you doubt some of her clients were even innocent and yet they got away with everything, she could stand up for herself in court, and Johnny would find a poetic way to get rid of your body and turn this into the plot of his next success.

“I… I…”

“You should spend some time with us,” she said, smiling, crossing her legs and moving her braids behind, showing her cleavage, “you know, at our place, alone. No family getting in the way, no father painting you bad. Just adults having fun.”

“Oh,” you gasped, gulping as you felt the air in your lungs disappear. “Sure, I’d love to.” But the truth is, you wouldn’t survive being alone with them.

“Beautiful dress, by the way,” she complimented, getting up and walking past you, “shows all the right curves.”

That was the start of everything. Unfortunately, she had no intention of killing you. Instead, she seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you better, saving you from your father by engaging in conversations with you when you were all at the same table, asking what you liked, and mostly, complimenting you. At first, it could’ve been mistaken for a ‘girls support girls’ kind of moment, but quickly you started to perceive something else. Her looks, her touches and her words weren’t any different than Mr. Suh’s ones, so lingering, so secretive, and teasing, feeling like a breeze that taunts your skin with a sense of relief that’s never meant to come.

Two months have passed since that moment, and your plans of keeping the distance crumble apart when you find yourself alone with them.

It’s not the first time, but you feel today might be more difficult to deal with. Your father is stuck with an idea of you from when you were five years old and in constant need of supervision, or else you can’t explain why he almost treats them as your babysitters.

‘We’ll be out today, look after her,’ these are the words your father exclaims before walking out of the Villa he owned on this lake abandoned by God, your mother already at the car parked in the driveway.

You’re not a child but you surely act like one, rolling your eyes and letting out a loud grunt before puffing out air.

Mr. Suh laughs, humming lowly before turning to you. “You’re still a child in his eyes, aren’t you? His sweet, innocent, little baby.”

That comment shouldn’t have had any effect on you, yet, it does. It feels like he is implying something else, it’s clear in his tone and especially his eyes. But you shake it off, laughing before replying ‘yes,’ and then running up the stairs with a faint goodbye. You hear Mrs. Taylor say something, probably asking you to stay, but you pretend you don’t hear and disappear into your room.

You can avoid them only for so long before you don’t know what to do anymore and decide to go downstairs —terrible decision.

You think they left, so you walk outside to read a book under the porch and enjoy a cold lemonade, but when you step into the garden you see them by the pool.

Aaliyah is laughing tenderly at Johnny who’s dancing on the trampoline, winking at her before jumping in the pool, splashing water around, making her turn around and cover her face more with the large floppy hat she’s wearing.

You feel like dying, this is not how you want to see them, and you have to force your eyes up, not making them fall on her ass. You’re still in time to go back, just one step behind and you can go upstairs as if nothing happened, but you’re not quick enough.

“Hey,” Mr. Suh greets you. “We were hoping you would join us,” he smiles at you, walking out of the pool by the stairs, scrolling the water out of his hair before pushing it behind.

You gulp, which is the only thing you can do to try to water your throat —and more embarrassingly, don’t moan at the sight of his sculpted body. And then you smile, a tight forced smile as you still stand like a statue. “Oh, I won’t join you, I just wanted to read.”

Mrs. Suh snickers and you watch her turn around to stand out of the pool, strong arms lifting her body up —and only now you realize that she’s pretty ripped too, the soft curves complimented by the signed abs, toned arms, and thighs.

“You go to the gym together?” Dumbly slips out of your mouth and by the time you cover it with your hands it’s already too late, but the comment makes them smile.

“You pay attention to details, don’t you?” She asks, clicking her tongue and smirking. She then takes the hat off, letting the braids fall on her back before she sits on the round table, pulling a chair out to gesture you to take a seat. “And I don’t train as much as he does, prefer pilates actually.”

“Oh,” you reply, momentarily bringing your attention to Johnny who’s now sitting on the other chair, leaving you the seat in the middle. “Heard is good for the body, nice choice.”

“Are you going to sit, or do we have to drag you here?” Mr. Suh jokes, head pointing at the empty space between them.

You shake your head, looking down as you take a deep breath and force your legs to work. You can do that, you just have to sit in the middle of the hottest couple you’ve ever laid eyes on and that for some reason loves to tease you, you’ll be fine.

“See, it wasn’t that hard,” she says when your ass touches the chair, book and lemonade resting in front of you on the round table.

“So, enjoying your break?” Johnny asks and then throws his hair back to scroll some more water out, but that makes you lose your focus and gulp nervously.

“Yeah, needed a vacation. Would be better if it wasn’t with my father,” you add, looking down.

She chuckles. “You two really don’t get along. Poor thing, he doesn’t get you, does he?”

You hesitate to reply, 1) you don’t get if she’s mocking you and 2) you wouldn’t care because the way she called you poor thing makes you feel things.

“He thinks I’m a child. I mean, he treats you like babysitters, I’m an adult,” you reply when your brain starts working again, and sadness fills your expression.

“Sure you are,” Johnny adds, chuckling, and you frown. “Sorry, it’s just funny that when you get mad at him, you act a bit childlike. Teenagers-like, if it makes you feel better.”

You sigh, frowning as you stare at him. “You think I’m stupid?”

“What?” He asks, brows raising.

“You think I’m as stupid as he thinks I am? Because the way he talks about me would make anybody think I’m this clueless, hopeless, dumb woman who has no idea what she’s doing with her life.”

Aaliyah chuckles tenderly, “Honey, you’re smart. Johnny can’t quite shut up about you after you two talk. He loves your takes on authors and the way you write, says he would love to have you work with him somehow.”

You almost stop breathing. He talks about you to his wife? He remembers what you say during your conversation or when you talk about what you write? Damn, you doubt people even listen to you.

“Oh, thanks,” yet, this is the only thing you mumble, and it’s fine like this. Anything else coming from your mouth could dangerously be a squeal.

“Anyway,” she says, leaning closer, making you move back and hold your breath, only to damn yourself when her fingers brush on your skin to wipe away something that dropped on you with the wind, “your dad’s not here now, why don’t you join us by the pool and stop stressing about him?”

You smile but shake your head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll stay here.”

“Are you sure? The water is perfect,” Johnny adds, standing up and towering over you. “Couldn’t convince my sweet wife to jump in but maybe you’re braver than her,” he winks, and you don’t have the courage to turn around and see if she saw.

“Oh…” you whisper and then look at the pool. If only he knew the problem wasn’t the water, you wouldn’t think twice about jumping in.

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Suh pleads, and before you can realize it, her hands are wrapped around your wrist. This is the first time she touches you, not a caress, not a tease, but a firm hold on you, and it shouldn’t send shivers down your spine, but it does. Her fingers are slim and soft, and you find yourself wishing you could feel them more, preferably somewhere else on your body.

“Wait,” you try to retort, but you have no choice. She’s dragging you to the edge of the pool and Johnny is walking right behind you, you’d be trapped either way.

“Here,” she says, coming to a stop when you reach the border of the pool. “Much better than sipping lemonade while reading a book all alone, right?”

“I don’t have a bikini,” you say, only now realizing you didn’t go downstairs for that.

“Are you wearing lace?” Johnny asks, walking so close that you can feel the heat of his body.

“Wh-why do you care?”

“Dummy,” he chuckles, “if you’re not, you can jump in anyway, it won’t ruin the lingerie.”

“Oh, of course, yeah, of course,” you mumble, looking away to don’t show how embarrassed you are. But their laughs —even if lighthearted— don’t help you at all, and you still feel trapped between them. “No, by the way, I have no reason to wear lace,” you add, trying to fill the silence.

“Really?” Aaliyah asks, tilting her head to the side. You turn around, facing the pool so you can look at them both —and fool yourself you have a way out now that your back is free.

“Well, yes… I’m… I’m not really people’s type,” you mutter, torturing the inside of your cheeks and your fingers.

Johnny snickers, “Weird, you look exactly like —” he doesn’t finish though, and you barely see the glance his wife gives him to stop him. “I’m sure you are someone’s type.”

You nod, but your brain is slowly melting, from the weather, from their closeness, and now because you can’t understand why she stopped him and what he truly wanted to say.

“Undress,” she says resolutely, and you’re brought back to earth, staring at her with wide eyes. “To swim… remember?” she finishes, head tilted to the side and a mocking smirk on her face. You know she’s having the time of her life watching you panic, you’re giving it all way, from the way your breath falters to the way your chest heavies.

“Sure, to swim,” you repeat but it’s more to ground yourself. You hope the water is freezing cold, so maybe your body can cool down, and so can your thoughts. You quickly lift your dress over your shoulders and by the time you can see again, you see them in the water, standing right in front of you, leaning against the other side of the pool.

“Are you coming?” Johnny asks, voice raspy but clear.

You hum, kneeling down, feeling the water with your hand. It’s not cold enough to calm you down and to make you take time, you have to jump in. So, you do. It’s not too deep and you can walk to them.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Aaliyah voices out, deeply breathing in the air and moving her fingers in abstract figures on the surface.

“Yeah. I…” you look down, watching your bra and how little it covers, the damp fabric highlighting your hard nipples even more.

“Shy?” It rolls from her tongue like venom, so sweet yet poisonous as her eyes lock in yours.

“No, no,” you laugh awkwardly. “Why would I?”

“We wouldn’t blame you, we can come off as quite intimidating at times,” Johnny says, the corner of his lips twitching in a smirk before it relaxes.

“You don’t intimidate me,” you lie, chuckling and crossing your arms on your chest.

She laughs. “My nipples are hard too, babe. It’s the cold,” she reassures you with a smile, but you don’t feel better. You’re not so sure it’s only the cold, you think they became this hard a few minutes ago when you were practically sandwiched between them.

“Why did you come here?” You ask out of nowhere, and their expressions change. “I’m sorry, it’s not like I don’t want you here,” you explain, “but you could do vacations on your own and don’t have to suffer through my father, so I don’t understand.”

“Thought we said not to talk about him?” She says, raising a brow.

“Well, I want to talk about you. You two have it all, you’re rich, powerful, smart, in love, and yet, you…” you float around me, always, constantly, “...you spend so little time together.”

Mr. Suh laughs, his head rolling back for a second. “We’re always together. I come home to her, not your father,” he jokes and she laughs, nodding in agreement.

“Also, this might not be the only vacation we will do this year. We always go to Santorini in September before Uni starts,” she adds.

You hum, biting the inside of your cheek.

“But let’s talk about you,” she says. “Why are you here? Your brothers didn’t come.”

“My brothers can do whatever they want, I can’t.”

“Why?” This time Johnny is the one asking.

“I’d let him down,” you add, lowering your gaze because you don’t like the look of pity behind their eyes. “But I don’t want to think about him. You’re good at diving,” you change the subject, addressing Johnny, hoping it will be enough to move the focus from you. 

“Thanks,” he replies, a proud smirk on his face.

“Don’t stroke his ego, he’s going to jump again and splash around,” she jokes, rolling her eyes.

“You’re already wet, so why would it be a problem?” He smirks, and then turns to you and winks, making you choke on your own saliva, but you try to cover it up with a fit of cough, something that makes the couple giggle under their breath more.

Aaliyah swims to you, pushing you back so Johnny can have space and maybe don’t drown you with his jump. Your skin is on fire as her hands place on your back as she guides you and you’re thankful your feet can touch because you can barely walk, so imagine swimming.

“He was in the swimming team in high school,” Aaliyah explains, covering her eyes from the sun with a hand and squeezing them so she can watch Johnny. You mimic her, humming at her words. “He was so good, I think I fell in love on the bleachers watching him swim.”

You chuckle tenderly and try to imagine a younger version of them, and you can almost see them. You wonder if their personalities were the same more than ten years ago, you wonder how they looked, you wonder if they would’ve ever imagined to still be here after so many years. But in any version you come up with, you still don’t fit. Actually, it makes you look like a stain even more.

“Your love is… strong,” you whisper when Johnny finally dives in and she cheers before bringing her attention to you.

“It is,” she agrees, a sweet smile showing her straight, white teeth, “even though weird things happen sometimes.”

You giggle, frowning. “Weird things?” Your voice is shaking, and you don’t want to connect the two dots that are so vivid in your head.

“What are you talking about? Praising me?” Mr. Suh asks, grinning, running a hand in his wet hair before hugging his wife from the back and kissing her cheek.

“Not about you, nothing impressive about that jump,” she jokes. “About us.”

“Us?”

She hums. “I was telling her how I fell in love with you, and she said our love is strong.”

You want to ask about the weird things, you want to ask so much more, but you don’t. And you simply stand there, watching Mr. Suh’s hands wrap around her body, feeling jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

The whole thing gets more intense as time passes by. You’re curious about them, as individuals and as a couple, and you can’t deny the tension anymore. Not tonight.

The three of you haven’t really spoken, mostly because you slipped away as soon as you crossed ways, and after a few tries, they stopped trying to approach you. But the buzzing chemistry is strong across the room.

You try not to look at them, you even try to engage in conversation with your father —when he’s not attached to Mr. Suh’s ass— and some of his other friends, but it’s useless. Your head always turns in their direction, it’s almost like a voice is luring you in.

You guess you look dumb from the outside, and you’re sure that if you looked at yourself in the mirror you would tell yourself to work on the way you stare at —almost strangers— with eyes filled with lust. You don’t want to, you don’t want to look at them, even less with that wide-eyed gaze and agape mouth, but you can’t help it.

“Honey,” your mother’s voice scoffs, “what are you doing?”

You perceive her scolding —disgusted— gaze on you and you cough, looking at her to be met with her judging eyes. Typical of your mother, usually you only get her looks with no need for words to be added.

“Sorry, I was zoned out,” you justify, chuckling awkwardly, but it only makes her frown more and sigh. “I’m a bit tired,” you lie, trying to fool her.

“Just don’t look weird,” she dismisses you with a wave of hand. “Not more than the usual,” she adds, leaving you alone.

You roll your eyes, scoffing loudly once you’re sure she’s out of sight and then start walking to the table with the drinks. You’re not sure adding alcohol to the picture will make it better but who knows, maybe ending up passed out next to a toilet is better than lusting over a married couple that is probably just messing with you.

It doesn’t work.

You blame it on the hard drinks your friends make you drink when you go out, your alcohol tolerance must be out of the roof by now, but it doesn’t matter because your biggest problem still stands.

Your problem is standing on the other side of the room now that you’re sitting on some couches with the fourth drink in hand. You shouldn’t feel like this, stomach upside down and a frown hardening your beautiful features while you look at them. But you can’t help it. Mr. Suh’s hand sitting at the side of Aaliyah’s waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles over the maroon dress she’s wearing. You can’t hear her laugh as her head rolls back before falling on his shoulder at something the person they are talking to is saying, but your brain replays the sound anyway, and you smile.

The beam on your face drops quickly when her eyes lock into yours, Johnny is not looking, busy paying attention to the person in front of them, but her gaze is on you. It’s piercing even with the distance between you and it takes your breath away. You should make this look normal, raise a hand and wave with a small smile before turning away, but you don’t. You’re stuck, like you always are around them, and the only thing that moves is your heart, pounding fast and violently in your chest as you watch her every move, one hand bringing a glass to her lips and the other meeting Johnny’s on her waist. You’d love to roll your eyes and huff ‘he’s yours, we get it,’ but you only feel a stinging pain in your heart, and a less painful one, well… somewhere else.

The spell breaks when she turns around, eyes on her husband and laughing again as if nothing happened, almost as if you’re not even in the room anymore.

Your shoulders drop, your breath gets normal again, and your head lowers. It’s not normal to feel like this, especially when it all feels like a mockery at times. You know there’s no space for you. You can’t be her and run your fingers in his hair without getting scowled at for ruining it. You can’t be her and kiss him on the lips and chuckle when he rubs your nose against yours. You can’t be her and see him in the comfort of when he wakes up or goes to bed.

But you play and play, and fool yourself you can, getting lost in those fantasies. You need a breath of fresh air.

Just like the alcohol, the minutes spent outside to cool your body and mind don’t work. When you go back to sit at your spot, you realize they’re sitting opposite to you. You’d leave again but you have no excuse, and it would become even more awkward now that your father sits next to you. But it’s fine, they’re talking again with someone else and you can focus on what your father is saying. Or maybe not, his conversation with another one of his intellectual friends is boring, nothing interesting comes from his mouth, just old, recurrent, wrong takes. You’d get in the conversation, just to feel something else that night and end up in a discussion with your dad because you need to prove him wrong, but your brain is somewhere else.

Once again, in front of you. Mrs. Suh is sitting on Johnny’s lap, somehow her back manages to stay straight even if she’s not resting against anything, her long legs are elegantly crossed by the ankle and one of her arms is wrapped around his shoulder. You recognize the person in front of them, Mr. Kim Doyoung, a math professor, and you question how they know each other but it gets swiped from your mind quickly.

You hate how close they are. Their touches so subtle and yet so loud making it feel like they’re rubbing it in your face. You hate how people look at them, with so much awe and affection, you feel like only you can look at them like that. And you feel stupid, it is stupid.

But then it happens again, this time it’s Mr. Suh the one looking at you. All the anger and jealousy fly away. Thousands of eyes on them, and he’s still looking at you. His wife is in his arms, and he’s still looking at you. Your father is at your side, and he’s still looking at you.

You gulp, shifting on the spot to try to get comfortable and stop the painful throbbing between your legs, but it’s impossible.

Mr. Suh’s lips flicker in a small smirk, and then his brow rises, there’s also a small raise of the cup he’s holding, and you immediately turn around, just to make sure your father is not looking. You can’t believe he’s so bold, flirting —or whatever he is doing— not only in a full room but with your dad by your side.

You should hate it, you should leave, maybe even confront him, but you don’t. You’re actually quite ashamed the whole thing turns you on. It’s hot, and taboo, and taboo but hot. And come on, you’ve been subtly flirting with a married couple, this shouldn’t be the worst thing, but it feels like it. Because your father worships them, everybody in that room praises them, wants to be like them, and thinks they only have eyes for each other, but they don’t, even if it’s only a naughty game, their eyes are on you.

It’s you.

Their eyes skim around the room playing hide and seek with yours. Their hands tickle your skin in secret. Their bodies speak to you.

The whole room fades in the background, all the tension, all the problems, gone.

It’s only you and them.

Eventually, you start spending more and more time at their place. You tell yourself it’s because they’re easygoing and you can easily escape from your house —to be more precise, from your father. But the truth is, you’re starting to enjoy them more and more.

You still feel out of place sometimes, but it quickly fades away when they notice their conversation push you out by quickly pulling you back in, making light jokes you can understand, or asking about your day. You realize Mrs. Taylor tends to pick up on you quicker than Mr. Suh, while he prefers to ease you with tender touches, and you wonder if he knows the effect they have on you.

You still don’t open up to them much, fearing that if they discovered more, they’d quickly stop giving you attention.

Attention.

That’s another thing you enjoy about being with them. You feel seen. Even if their chemistry is over the roof, they never leave you out, you’re not a tapestry with them. They listen to you, even if you don’t say much, even if you stumble on your words and only give them a small peek. They look at you with sweet smiles on their faces and hum interested, holding conversation with ease.

And shamefully, the thing you love the most, they pamper you. It’s not like you’re poor —even if you have decided to don’t ask for money from your father, some privileges from your wealthy family come anyway— but they still spoil you. Expensive dinners in places you honestly never even wanted to set foot inside. Expensive clothes you doubt you even have the occasion to wear. They even gifted you a Cartier necklace that you keep stored away as your most treasured possession.

But their attentions aren’t only economical, they spoil you with homemade dinners at their place, movie night on their couch, and something more…

You lost count by now of how many times they get you alone and flirt with you, teasing you, watching you get flustered, chuckling at the way your breath falters when their fingers brush your skin or hair. It’s like a dirty game, you are their dirty game. But you don’t hate it. You know they both know what they’re doing, but you love this secrecy, the way you’re their trophy in plain sight and yet a dirty secret they have to hide from each other. It makes you feel wanted, desperately wanted.

And soon enough, you find yourself playing that game, too.

You wear your best outfits when you pass by the University, skin-tight skirts or pants, and just as skimpy blouses or tops with the excuse to borrow books from the library and say hi. Your lips are tinted red for Mr. Suh when he asks you if you want to pass in his office to help him with some lectures, and brown for Mrs. Suh when you casually pass by her firm for lunch or after work. Your hair is always in different hairstyles until you start to stick with the ones you see they like the most. And slowly, you gain some confidence to flirt back.

Your remarks are subtle, and your gaze shies away when they hold eye contact and only giggle or smirk teasingly. But it’s something.

Or so you think.

One second, you’re confident, and the other you feel like you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. You start wondering if you’re pathetic in their eyes and are nothing more but a plaything for them to toy with and discharge when they’ll get tired of you. But nobody ever complimented you this much, calling you beautiful, caressing your face, loving the outfits you put together, and, most importantly, didn’t make you feel dumb. So it feels impossible to pull away from them. Even when your father starts getting mad at you about it.

He’s not dumb, and he has seen the way you and Mr. Suh sit in a corner and talk, he has seen that he greets you before anybody else —even before him— and he doesn’t like it.

“Johnny and Aaliyah have a beautiful relationship,” he starts, scolding you, “don’t try to screw it up, you’re not half of her worth.”

And that’s the first time you cry at night about it. You don’t want to listen to him, but you can’t help but question why they would choose you. Even if it’s just a game, even if it means nothing, you can’t find a reason why. You don’t know who started this first, but it’s not like it would be any different, they’re both hot, smart, talented and successful, and your father is right, you’re not half of her, or his, worth.

Yet, you can’t let it go.

If you know their townhouse by heart, you can’t say the same for their holiday house. It’s your first time being there after they invited you to their getaway weekend. You didn’t hesitate to say yes, pack your best things and leave.

You didn’t want to wander around but they left you all alone and didn’t show much of the house, so you took this opportunity to see a bit more.

The place is big; in the spacious hall, you’re met with the stairs once you enter, the big living room and on the right there’s the kitchen with a grand island in the middle and the table in front of the wide window. Farther down the corridor there’s a small bathroom and a room you couldn’t open.  You’d like to go outside in the garden and chill next to the pool or under the porch, but it’s like upstairs is calling you.

On the first floor, there are the bedrooms and a studio. Your room —well, the guest room— is at the end of the corridor with a big bathroom next to it, while their room is at the end of the stairs, or so you guess.

You don’t want to pry, but curiosity’s got the best of you, especially after trying to open that room downstairs that won’t open. But you know you don’t want to find the keys to that room when you enter their bedroom —yes, you do, but that’s not the main thing.

Your lips part when you enter. It’s bigger than yours, with white walls and wide windows that let the light shine in making it seem even bigger. The big bed is against the wall that faces the door, and right next to the windows, there’s a small sitting room with a two-seat couch and two armchairs.

You should stop and don’t step further but you don’t listen to your brain.

On the wall in front of the bed, there’s a fireplace and on top of it there’s a television that takes half of the wall. At the sides, there are recessed shelves in the wall with books and elegant boxes, a lamp in front of it, and a lounge chair.

There are other lamps, all seem to be design pieces. Two long bedside tables that seem to be vanity desks of marble black. Some beautiful paintings are on the walls and you frown when you can’t recognize the artist, but they picture women and nature and you find them mesmerizing.

Then your eyes are caught by a rectangular red box placed against the wall at the side of the bed, it’s bigger than the bench at the end of the bed, and something about it screams at you to open it.

You shouldn’t, you feel like you’re invading their privacy —and well, you are— but you don’t stop.

You kneel in front of it, and a part of you hopes it’s locked somehow so that you can walk out of there and pretend nothing happened. But there’s no lock or key, you just have to lift the lid to see what’s inside.

Your lips part and a gasp comes out of your mouth when your eyes see what’s inside. You freeze. Close it and leave. Your brain screams, but you’re stuck, eyes blinking as you try to make sure you’re not making it all up.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, hand falling from the lid to shakily touch what’s inside. There are other boxes but, for now, you don’t care to open them and only grab what you can see. Handcuffs, blindfolds, what seem to be whips but they all have different shapes and you don’t get the differences, ropes and other items you can’t name. The closed boxes have labels on them, lingerie, anal, vibrators, and dildos.

Your hands grab one, opening it, inspecting what’s inside with surprise and curiosity, and then another, and another. To be honest, you don’t know why you are so shocked, you own some toys —a vibrator and a small dildo— but you’ve seen much more than that, and it shouldn’t be surprising that a couple like the Suhs have freaky, kinky sex. Yet, it’s overwhelming you.

You are so caught up looking into the box that you don’t hear the door open and Aaliyah stand behind you with just a rope wrapped around her body.

“Looking for something?”

One of the boxes falls from your hand when Mr. Suh’s voice resonates in the room and you jump around in fear.

You mumble no sense, starting to panic while your eyes dart around the room for an escape. There would be many, the room is all windows and you could easily jump off the balcony to put an end to how embarrassed you feel right now, but you can’t.

Their gazes are piercing you and pinning you down against the floor and a feeble “I’m sorry,” is all you can say before your throat goes completely dry.

They snicker, starting to walk over you and you take a step back, but almost fall into the box. You don’t, not because your brain started to work again, but because Mrs. Suh has her arms wrapped around you to keep you from being bent in half into that.

“Careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” she says, a veil of genuine concern and something else, a lot of something else, that you can’t decipher.

“I told you she was curious,” Johnny says, talking to her once she lets you go after she makes sure you can stand on your feet.

“I — I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking down and torturing your hands, but the toys abandoned on the floor only make you look outside. “I thought you were out.”

“I was,” Johnny says, “went buy something sweet for you. But it looks like you’ll get something sweeter tonight.”

Your brain panics, trying to assimilate everything they said to you. “You — you were home the entire time?”

She smirks. “Didn’t hear the water running?”

You sigh defeated, pressing your lips together and shaking your head.

Johnny chuckles before kneeling and talking to you again, “You’re lucky we didn’t want to use these on you tonight, I’m not really in the mood to clean them all up,” he says as he puts the dildos back in the box and set it aside, outside of the container so he remembers to clean them.

“On — on me?” You mumble still struggling to breathe.

Aaliyah hums. “All this teasing has to go somewhere, right?”

“I — I…” You — You… you wished this so much that now that is happening you don’t know how to feel anymore.

“You don’t want us?” Johnny asks with genuine care and your eyes widen, terrified they will get the wrong idea.

“No, I do, I do, but I don’t want to — I… I promise I’m not weird, I don’t even know why I came here, or why I opened that, it’s just so eye-catching, it’s red and nothing in this room is red, and…”

Your rant gets interrupted by two lips on yours. You don’t know who it is at first, eyes closed and brain and heart going off like sirens, running around with their non-existent hands in the air. But then an arm wraps around you and pulls you close, and you realize it’s her. It’s her soft yet firm touch, it’s her body against yours.

And then you’re trapped again, Johnny is behind you, and you feel small and powerless.

“We’re not mad at you, honey,” he says, fingers running against your neck as he moves your hair back, “we’re kinda glad you snooped around, we weren’t really sure how to initiate this.”

“Oh,” you gasp. “But I’m not weird, I’m not a stalker, I promise.”

“We know,” she stops you again, chuckling, “maybe you wanted to get caught. Johnny called your name when he was downstairs, you didn’t hear him?”

Your lips spread partially as you try to remember but you’re sure you didn’t hear his voice or the shower. “No, I… I think I was too caught in… into… well…”

They snicker.

“Naughty girl,” she mocks, gently cupping your chin. “Found something interesting?”

“Uhm, no…”

“No?” Johnny asks and you feel something against your bare thighs —wearing shorts was a bad idea. It has fringes and it tickles. “Not even this?”

You look down and see the black flogger in his hands and you gulp. “I never tried any of these before… I’m not even sure how some of these things can bring pleasure.”

Aaliyah chuckles, shaking her head. “Oh, babydoll, you’d be surprised.”

“You want to tie me?” You ask innocently and they laugh.

“Nah, seems a bit cruel for our first time, don’t you think?” Johnny says, hands wrapping around your stomach.

First time? There will be another one? You think but you don’t ask. You probably already look depraved enough to their eyes, you don’t want to make it worse.

“So, want to have fun with us?”

“Yeah…”

“Hesitating?” She questions, caressing your cheek to soothe you but her touch only makes your body buzz in excitation.

“No, I still don’t get why you would want me,” you whisper, diverting your gaze.

“Have you taken a look in the mirror?” He says, big hands caressing your waist and lips brushing against your neck.

You shake your head. “I still think I don’t fit between you…”

She grabs your chin, lifting your head. “Then why don’t you stop thinking tonight, mhh? We’ll give you a reason to believe why you do fit, instead?” Her hands grab yours and she places them on the tie of her robe, if your fingers move and you let it fall to the ground the whole night will bloom. The consequences could be tragic, tomorrow could be the worst day of your life, but tonight might be the best one.

You don’t hesitate anymore; you’re curious, you’re needy, and you badly want to be pressed between them and feel their skin against yours, so your fingers dance on the tie and pull the robe open.

Your lips part to let out a gasp when her naked body unreveals to your eyes, and you get lost in it. Your eyes move up and down, taking in her perky, round boobs, her darker nipples hardening at the cool air of the room, and then they go down, to her toned stomach you have already seen before until they reach her soft hips, you bite your lips when your eyes fall between her legs, perfectly trimmed black hair covering her most intimate part, and lastly on her soft thighs and long legs.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe out, feeling you could collapse just from the view, and you start wondering if you can take Johnny too.

Her lips lift in a smile and her hands wander on your body where her husband’s hands are leaving your body untouched. You press your lips together to don’t moan already, it would be so humiliating to do so, but it’s almost as if they know.

“Don’t hold back,” Johnny whispers against your ear, shivers running down your spine. “We take pride in what we do, and want to hear you.”

You hum, nodding fast before you feel dizzy when he pushes your shorts down, his body lowering to accompany them on the floor, his hot breath hitting your exposed skin before his lips leave kisses on your thighs and ass.

Aaliyah is busy taking care of your top, lifting your arms to reveal your bare chest. Your first instinct is to cover yourself, but she stops you with a stern look and a “Don’t.” Her voice is sultry, sweet like honey and intoxicating, and you can only obey. “It’s not fair when I’m so bare at your eyes, don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” you manage to breathe out, and then turn your head to stare at Johnny, the only one who’s completely covered. You don’t say anything, but your eyes speak louder than any word. You’re basically imploring him to show himself to you, your eagerness is burning out of you, yet he mocks you with a smirk and then a scoff.

“Later, honey,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t be greedy. Too much on your plate, then you can’t chew.”

His wife snickers, pushing him back from you. “Follow me,” she says, giving you a reassuring smile before turning around and walking toward the bed.

You hesitate, looking back at Johnny, asking his permission, and when he nods, you still feel stuck there. You need a light push from him to start moving your feet and follow her on the Wyoming king bed.

“I didn’t think you would be so shy, doll,” she points out, watching you hesitantly climb on the bed and crawl to her.

“She’s not,” Johnny replies for you, “she’s just playing with us.”

You stop in your tracks, looking back at him, mumbling to come up with a reply. But you stop thinking when her chest presses against your back and she turns your head to kiss you. Her hand reaches out to call Johnny to join you, but you don’t think about him until you feel the bed bend with his weight and then his hands on your thighs.

“Or maybe she just needs to ease into us,” she suggests. You catch she’s telling him something, it’s a quick conversation with eyes and mouthed words; you don’t get it, but you don’t care to get it.

You trust them. And you like the thrill of being at their mercy with no idea of what they truly want to do with you.

So, you let them. You let them move you, shifting around you as their hands gently push you flat against the bed and their lips start tracing your shivering skin. You hate that Johnny is still dressed but that thought quickly leaves your mind —or better, doesn’t annoy you that much anymore— when his fingers hook on the band of your panties and pull them off.

You squirm, hiding your face against Aaliyah’s arms but they’re quick at reassuring you.

“Stop hiding away,” Johnny says, “you’re beautiful, honey.”

But your confidence it’s not the problem. You’ve never been the centre of attention, you never had two pairs of eyes, lips, and hands on you. You don’t know how to cope with all of this.

You gasp when her lips wrap around your hard nipple and she starts sucking. And you can’t control your hips when his hands brush against the apex of your thighs before lingering over your sensitive pussy.

“Can I taste you?” Johnny asks, softly caressing your skin.

“Yes, you can.” You’re already short on air as you watch him lower his head, his eyes intensely staring straight into yours, making you feel so small and yet so safe.

Your legs go weak as soon as his plump lips touch your sensitive clit, he’s only leaving delicate kisses on you and small kitten licks but that’s not the only stimulation you’re receiving, Aaliyah’s mouth and fingers lick and pinch on your sensitive nipples are not helping you calm down.

“Oh my god,” you curse, rolling your head back when he starts eating you out for real. Tongue working with precision from your leaking slit to your throbbing clit, not leaving a patch untouched. His hold on you is firm, big hands keeping you spread, massaging your skin to help you relax even more, but with no room for movement. 

“Look at you,” she teases, pulling away from your boob to pay attention to your face, “so wrecked and we barely even started. You love the way my husband is eating you out?”

Your eyes open to meet hers, and you regret it right away, the intensity of her gaze making you feel something you’ve never felt before. Sure, she carried around an intimidating vibe, but that kind of aura disappeared as the months passed and you grew closer, but this, this is different. She is dominant and firm, yet somehow you can always find that veil of care that characterized her.

You try to answer, afraid not receiving a verbal response will disappoint her, but your throat lets out an embarrassing whimper followed by a broken moan.

She snickers, shaking her head, and caressing your cheeks so gently it feels like she’s mocking you. “I know, doll, I know, he’s good with his mouth.”

You cry out in embarrassment but your head rolls back when Johnny sucks harshly on your clit and his hands move down to keep your pussy spread.

“Taste so good,” he mumbles pressed against your skin, the vibrations driving you insane. “So wet for us, you wanted this so bad, didn’t you? Our desperate toy, we made you wait for so long.”

You’d love to scream that yes, this took too long, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You somehow find the strength to look up, much with the help of Aaliyah who places an arm under your head for support, and you feel your stomach tighten up at the view.

Johnny looks like a starving man, messily lapping at your aching pussy, devouring you with his face buried between your legs, nose pressed against your mound. He’s so caught up he probably doesn’t even realize he tugs you closer when his arms wrap around your thighs.

Your eyes shut down and for a moment the image of the usual him crosses your mind. There’s nothing of the composed, elegant, and polite man you know, that man that your father loves so much, the same man that if he saw him right now, would have a heart attack. But you quickly push him out of your mind. You have no other choice when Aaliyah’s fingers add to the mess between your legs, and you bite your lips so hard you almost bleed.

“Too much,” you cry out, looking for mercy in her eyes when she draws them from her husband and your cunt to your face.

“Too much?” She coos with a condescending tone. “You’re bucking your hips against his face and want me to believe it’s too much?”

You groan loudly, giving up as your head falls against the mattress again. Her arm is not there anymore as she’s using it to support her body to tease you, and your neck has no more strength to watch him have the time of his life between your thighs.

But you’re not the only one groaning; Johnny’s moaning too, getting drunk in your juices and falling into madness as he tries to ease the painful boner in his tight jeans, grinding against the mattress for comfort.

“You’re so hot you’re making him hump the mattress, babydoll,” she points out. “That’s the effect you have on him. Still doubt you’re not enough?”

You don’t, not right now, you don’t want to think about it. Still, you shake your head, earning a soft, pleased smile and a “Good girl.”

It makes your stomach tighten, your toes curl, and your hands clench around the sheets. “Johnny,” you whisper, keeping your mouth parted as you try to let more air in, it’s a beg for release but you can’t find the words to let it all out.

The way you moan his name, so shyly, so weakly, a bit for the pleasure, a bit because you feel like it doesn’t belong to you —God if he finds it endearing the way you still call them Mr. and Mrs. Suh sometimes— makes his heart pound and his dick ache. You’re so fragile in their hands, right now, in his. He had wished to have you like this for so long; since his wife first brought you up and he started to look at you in a different light. Every time you spoke your mind during dinners, coming up with something that was too smart for your father to comprehend until he proposed the same point of view, only changing a few things. You deserved to be lifted on the table and eaten out like this. And the more you two talked, or your hands brushed timidly, the more he felt addicted. He couldn’t stop thinking of you.

And that was crazy, because the only woman he ever had was his wife, and never he would’ve imagined he could feel so attracted to someone that wasn’t her. And yet, the three of you are here, in the same bed, in the same mess.

When you call out his name again, he snaps out of his thoughts and looks up at you, the eye contact makes your head spin and you hold onto Aaliyah’s wrists. You feel like the orgasm will make you fly away, but before that, Johnny will kill you with just one look.

“Please,” you cry out, begging to be spared, or maybe not, maybe begging to be ended, begging for the release, begging to reach the best orgasm of your life.

“Let go, honey, come in my mouth,” his deep, sultry voice is the final strike that sends you over the edge. Body convulsing in his hold as he keeps you down and keeps sucking and licking you, eagerly swallowing your sweet cum, and moaning vulgarly against your burning hot skin.

You feel dizzy and high, and your body slumps against the soft mattress when your first orgasm ends.

“Want to see you,” you cry out, trying to lift your body and reach for him, but your limbs quickly give up.

Aaliyah chuckles, and you turn to face her. “We need to work on your stamina.”

You pout as you justify yourself, “It was too good, and I haven’t come like this in — well, never.”

Johnny chuckles, smirking proudly before he stands up at the edge of the bed. “Want to see me, honey?”

You nod with enthusiasm, biting your lips as your heart thuds in excitement. Your eyes lock with his fingers that are moving way too slow on their way to unbutton the shirt. But after what feels like an eternity, the blouse meets the floor, leaving uncovered his toned chest, arms and beautiful tattoos adorning the skin of his shoulder. But it’s not like you haven’t seen that before.

“What?” You scream annoyed when she covers your view, standing on her knees between you and her husband, giggling at your disappointment.

“He needs a hand, baby,” she chuckles and you huff again. Of course, they would fuck with you some more.

Every sound drives you more insane; you bite the inside of your cheek when you hear the belt open, and your heels tap against the mattress when the zip comes down, lastly, you groan in disbelief when you hear his pants and belt hit the floor.

“Please,” you whine, closed fists slapping against the bed.

“Fine, greedy little thing,” Johnny chuckles, and so does she as they finally give you what you want.

Your eyes and lips widen, and you gulp. “Oh… wow…”

They laugh, it’s a soft sound that creates a beautiful harmony, and even if they’re making fun of you, it warms your heart. The next thing they do is crawl to you to kiss you.

It starts with a soft peck on your lips, their mouths on yours meeting almost shyly, and then it gets heated, teeth and tongue clashing together as all of you try to have a taste of each other.

“Don’t worry, you can take it,” she reassures, kissing your lips, hands travelling down your stomach until it reaches your throbbing clit and starts moving in circles, making you gasp against their lips.

“I don’t think I can,” you mumble, glossy eyes looking into his first and then moving to hers. “Maybe you should.”

“Oh, I do, trust me,” she replies, smirking before kissing your neck.

“Tonight is about you,” Johnny reminds you, doing the same as she’s doing but on the other side. “It will fit.”

“Mhh,” you mumble, feeling weak and overwhelmed. 

“Let me make sure it will fit,” she sings happily, now taking the spot between your legs.

You moan against Johnny’s mouth when her finger pushes inside you, humming in delight as she feels how wet you are. You can’t see her, eyes closed as you get lost in the kiss, but just her presence is enough to make you tremble.

“Look at you, it’s so easy to turn you into a puddle,” she teases, watching as you can barely kiss Johnny back. Something about the kiss you and her husband are sharing makes her head spin. There’s something about you, something new, something they’ve never had before. You’re so delicate, like a flower, and your petals fall perfectly between them. Just like right now, she’s sure there’s nothing in your brain, and yet your lips follow Johnny’s, messily meeting him in that slow, yet passionate kiss.

Your body reacts so nicely to their hands running on your skin, cupping and groping at your soft boobs to stimulate you everywhere as she works the second finger inside of you. They are experts at what they’re doing, sending shivers all over your body and pushing you further down into that haze.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, you’re so eager to feel Johnny inside, aren’t you?”

You mumble a reply as you finally pull away from Johnny, a thread of spit still connecting your lips, but you don’t notice until he breaks it off. “Want to feel him.”

They snicker, and then their lips are on you; Johnny’s busy leaving pecks on your neck before he pays attention to your nipples, and Aaliyah is focused on kissing your inner thigh and tummy as her fingers still curl inside of you.

“I don’t think you’re ready, yet, pretty girl,” she hums, curling the tips up and hitting your sensitive spot. That action makes your hips buck from the mattress and causes a louder moan to slip through your tortured plump lips. “So wet, dripping all over my fingers. I bet you taste so good, maybe I’ll get a taste one day, uhm?”

You squeeze your eyes, uselessly trying to calm your breath, it’s pathetic how fast your chest is moving in erratic movements, and how your hips squirm to search for more, even if one of their hands is on your stomach to keep you in place. You don’t reply but you internally scream that yes, you want her. You want to feel her soft, full lips on you, you wonder if she’s eager like Johnny or more meticolous, if she moans loudly or keeps quiet. You don’t know, but the mere idea makes a growl roll from your lips.

“She’s good with her fingers, isn’t she?” Johnny’s deep voice hits your ear, and you feel your body melt. Your head moves quickly to agree as you turn to the side to face him. He’s staring at you with a sly smirk on his face and before you can stop him, you feel his long fingers on your clit. You bite back a moan and try to plead with your eyes but it’s useless. Neither of them wants to stop.

“What, princess? We have to make sure you��re ready to take my dick,” he whispers, shushing your senseless sounds with a kiss.

You bite his lips by mistake when she pushes a third finger inside, eyes wide both in surprise and in a silent apology to Johnny.

“Too much,” you cry out.

But she tsks, shaking her head. “You have to be all stretched out for him, doll. You don’t want to break, do you?”

You shake your head before it rolls back, and your face contorts more. You don’t want to break but you feel like you might explode from this alone. She’s incredibly skilled in what she’s doing, it’s like her fingers are pumping and curling following the rhythm of a melody only she can hear, they hit you deep and fast, not giving you time to recover from each profound push.

“Just a few pumps and then he’ll fuck you exactly like you want,” she encourages you, her dark brown eyes looking softly at you, curling up in a sweet smile.

It takes you less than a few pumps to come undone, you don’t even see the orgasm coming when it washes over you, knocking air out of your lungs. It’s her two fingers pumping into you, curling and scissoring, after she pulled the third out to move faster, it’s Johnny’s thumb on your clit, flicking it swiftly, and his lips on your nipple, sucking harshly. But mostly, it’s them, the warmth of their bodies wrapping around you, intoxicating you like a drug that takes its sweet time to kick in.

Your body shakes, trapped between the mattress and their big bodies, and you feel like the room is spinning around you.

“You come so easily,” she mocks, pulling her fingers out once she’s sure you’re done, and slapping your clit, making you hiss.

Easily. If that was nothing to her…

“Naughty girl,” Johnny scoffs, pulling away from you and you whine when their hot bodies are not on you anymore.

You sigh, thinking since when you’re so pathetic and needy? You truly can’t last more than ten seconds without having them all over you?

“If you were ours that wouldn’t have gone unpunished,” he says, settling between your legs and spreading them apart. You barely noticed them moving around, already too far gone to be aware of what is going on around you. His intense gaze makes you shiver and more cum oozes out of your already messy, wet cunt. Johnny takes a deep breath, getting lost in the sight of you, your face is wrecked, your lips parted, your eyes watery, your boobs are heaving, and your hips are moving around, pleading him to fuck you. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, honey.”

The compliment makes your heart swell and you weakly smile back at him.

“Come on, fuck her already,” Aaliyah encourages him, pushing his hips closer as she stands at his side, “she deserves it.”

You gasp under your breath when his hands wrap around the back of your knees and, with a strong tug, he pulls your body against his, the tip of his dick slapping against your core. He moves one hand down to grab the base and pushes his cock against your slit, it feels like forever as he rubs his leaking tip against your clit and every now and then pushes against your opening that’s fluttering, begging him to fill you up already.

“Johnny,” Aaliyah scolds sternly, looking at him up and down, and her dominance at the moment makes you shiver and moan, shamelessly. You try to close your legs to hide the effect it had on you but they both push them open, and somehow, the way they’re not paying attention to you, eyes locked into each others, and still have you under control, makes you whine even louder. “Stop teasing her,” she orders, cupping his chin and pulling him closer. “Don’t you see how badly she wants you? Dripping on the sheets like a kitten in heat?”

You frown at her comment even if well, she’s right. You’re sure you’ve never been this wet your entire life.

“As you wish, milady,” he jokes and in a second, he’s inside of you.

“Fuck,” you scream at the stretch, even if he didn’t bottom in, you still feel like you can barely breathe. “Oh, shit.”

“Damn, honey, I’m not even halfway in,” he comments, stopping and looking at you with a worried face. 

“No, I’m fine, I was — too caught up,” too caught up in you two and I barely remember my name.

Aaliyah snickers, shaking her head. “You’re so cute, doll,” she hums, caressing your thigh, “just relax and take him all, uhm? He’s going to fuck you so well,” she says before addressing her husband, “right, Johnny?”

Johnny nods, smirking playfully before sinking further until his entire length is in.

Your head rolls back while pleasure dissipates inside your body, he fills you perfectly, stretching you so nicely. You feared it was going to be more painful, but it feels so good, and the pairs of hands soothing your skin are helping you calm down.

Johnny pulls you closer, beginning to slowly move his hips, hissing under his breath while your walls flutter around him so nicely, your wet, warm hole welcoming him with ease now that you’re not tense anymore.

And then it happens, for the first time that night, they kiss. You bite your lips with force as your eyes bore holes in them. Their lips move on their own, doing what they have been doing for a life now, and their hands pull each other close. You’ve seen them in similar circumstances before, but this, this, is different. Johnny is kissing his wife while he’s buried deep inside of you, one hand on the small of her back, the other keeping you spread, her hand tangled in his long, brown locks and the other intertwined with yours at your side.

Everything is oddly romantic and erotic at the same time. Everything makes perfect sense and no sense at all. But it’s fine. Tonight, you don’t want to think, you don’t want to worry, you want to roll around in this mess of limbs and skin and feel. Feel alive and loved. Even if it might be an illusion.

“Fuck, baby,” they moan when they pull apart, giggling at the way they’re in sinch even if for different things. Their eyes are on you again and while Johnny praises how good you feel, she praises how well you’re taking him.

And your heart jumps around while a dumb, drunk-in-love smile plasters on your face. But it swiftly drops when she moves up again to whisper something in Johnny’s ear. You try to study his expression, something flickers in his eyes, and they darken even more, you even feel his dick twitch inside of you, but you can’t make out anything of what she says.

Then Johnny’s hips come to an alt, and your throat dries.

“We were thinking you got to come two times already,” he starts, licking his lips, “and while I’m having fun with you, you will agree we kinda neglected Aaliyah, right?”

You nod quickly, eyes moving between the couple in swift motions.

“So, what do you think about turning around and eating her out while I keep fucking you?”

It’s like your brain sparks up and shuts down at the same time at his words. You nod eagerly, mumbling ‘yes’ while a small, fucked out smile creeps on your face.

“You want me, baby?” She asks, voice slurring out of her lips like velvet.

“Yes, please, want you so bad,” you reply, body buzzing in excitement as you take her body in.

You don’t have time to complain when Johnny pulls out of you, he swiftly turns you around, strong arms moving you as if you’re nothing for him, and given all the weights he lifts at the gym, it is nothing. Your body moves on its own, ass perking up while your face lowers down, close to the soft, perfumed sheets but not enough that you can’t use your lips.

And there she is, resting against the headboard with her legs spread right in front of your face. Her pussy’s dripping, clit throbbing in anticipation, and you envy how good she has been to hold it back for so long.

And even if your eyes are curious and sparkle with lust, she can sense your hesitation. “Come on, don’t be shy,” she encourages you, one hand gently cupping the back of your head, massaging your scalp, “don’t tell me it’s your first time.”

Well… not exactly, but you weren’t a pro at this either.

“Oh, you’re always on the receiving end?” She snickers, looking down at you. Eyes piercing you, pinning you down in your place. She has this thing, it’s like magic, one look and you’re right where she wants you, how she wants you.

“Mostly…” you admit shyly, looking down again.

“Well, time to change that,” she says before pushing you against her pussy.

Your lips move shily at first, it’s almost as if you’re testing the ground. Kitten licks are all you give her, licking up her sweet cum while your nose rubs against her clit. You breathe deep, getting lost in her aroma.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” she praises, hand still caressing you but not pressing you down. If it was somebody else —even Johnny— she wouldn’t have hesitated to do so, but with you, she wants to take it slow and guide you through it.

You moan against her when Johnny pushes in again, this time he doesn’t wait before his hips start slamming against you, but he’s not going too fast. And the pleasure he’s fucking into you urges you to do better. You try to do what Johnny did to you before and every other person you’ve been with, and be better than the other times you’ve eaten pussy before.

“Yes, pretty girl, focus on the clit,” she instructs you, moving her hand down to caress your neck, and when you comply, a deep guttural moan rips from her throat. She hums in delight and your heart flips with pride. “Use your tongue.”

You hesitately stick your pink muscle out and poke it at her entrance but she stops you with a click of her tongue, “No, doll, up and down, come on, you can do it.” When your tongue starts doing that, licking her from the bottom of her entrance to the top, flicking your tip right under the hood of her clit, her legs shake and she pushes down a hiss. “So, so good, babydoll.”

“Shit, you’re so hot,” Johnny moans behind you, his hands holding tightly to your waist as he fucks you on his dick. He never imagined he’d be so turned on by this, but fuck, this is the dream. Seeing his wife’s face while you pleasure her, hearing her moan because of somebody else mouth, especially yours, makes him feel something he never felt before.

“You’re so good, doll. Such a fast learner, aren’t you? So eager to please us. So eager to be a good girl for us,” she moans, her fingers inevitably clenching around the roots of your hair when you suck hard on her clit. You seem to have found your scheme, keeping her pussy spread while your tongue runs on her labia and then your lips wrap around her clit, swift flicks of your tongue and shy hands testing what’s better.

You nod against her without pulling away, you could, but you don’t want to. You want to get drunk in her juices, you want to feel her thighs clench around your head —even if she’s trying hard not to do so— you want to hear her deep, intoxicating moans, you want her to pull your hair harder.

“Yes, you are,” she coos, meeting your half-lidded eyes, pushing down a guttural moan when a lonely tear rolls down your cheek, “you’re such a greedy little thing. One person it’s not enough for you, you need more. Is this enough or do you need even more, ugh? Bet you’d love it if we both fucked you at the same time.” Her condescending tone sends your brain into a spiral, you feel empty and yet overflowing, but you can’t reply. Johnny’s fucking you mercilessly now, big dick hitting you deep, striking all the right spots, and even if you’re giving something to her, you have zero control. You’re at their mercy, small and powerless, flushed between their bodies as you somehow do something like a robot.

“Loving eating her pussy while I fuck you hard?” This time is Johnny the one teasing you, his voice deeper but he gives no sign of slowing down, even if the pleasure is getting to him, you know it from his grunts and the way his hips falter every now and then. “Bet it feels so good to be muddy in our hands and have no worries in the world, right? You’re perfect here, nobody to impress,” he moans, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear while his body presses you closer against the bed, “no father to make happy. Just us. Honestly,” he groans, pulling back, squeezing your hips before driving all the way in with a decisive thrust, sending you forward, “he’d have a heart attack if he saw you like this.”

You whine, your laments muffled by Aaliyah’s body, and you feel like you could explode. Is this why you like being with them so much? Because the fact that they like you so much proves your father wrong? The very people that he worships are busy worshipping his daughter while he trashes her around. But you don’t want to think of him, one, it could ruin your orgasm, two, you have them, and that’s all that matters. And to be honest, you love being with them so much because they value you and appreciate you for who you truly are.

You pull away, letting your fingers take the place of your mouth, rubbing on her clit while you talk, “want you, want more, please.”

“More? What’s more than this?” Johnny asks, snickering.

“Sit on my face?” You ask shily while you look up at her, cum and spit dripping down your chin, eyes glossy with tears.

She loses herself in the sight of you. You’re perfect even if you look like a mess, even if your eyes roll back and your lips part open when Johnny hits your sweet spot another time. “Oh… let’s not pull your luck too much tonight, hum?”

“But I —”

“But you, nothing,” she shushes you up, two fingers on your mouth. “You’re being so good, giving me pleasure while you take him so well. Just keep going.” She’d love to sit on your face, only being able to watch your eyes slowly blank as her hips roll against you, while your pretty hands wrap around her thighs as it slowly gets harder to breathe, but you’re not ready for that, yet.

You give up, starting where you stopped. But soon enough you’re whining again, “No, please, please, Sir,” you cry out, looking back to meet Johnny’s gaze for a split second.

He seems a bit startled by the way you address him, but he quickly shakes the surprise off to tease you with a condescending tone. “What’s wrong, honey? I thought you wanted more?” The pout that accompanies his words makes your stomach twist in a knot. You did want more, but the more was being smashed underneath them, not having his skilled fingers rub quick circles on your over-sensitive clit.

“I — I don’t want to come again,” you cry out.

“Oh, you won’t,” she speaks instead. “Don’t get too greedy and take it,” she orders, cupping your chin before pushing you between her legs again. Her patience could only last this long before she would snap.

“Right, because you can take it, right?” Johnny asks, tilting his head to get a peak of your flustered face. You’re burning up, sweat pearling your skin, the shorter hair sticking to your forehead, eyes blinking out tears of pleasure, and body squirming while you try so hard to keep focus on the only thing you have to do.

You doubt you can, but you still nod, moans getting choked up in your throat and against her cunt as you try to use your tongue and mouth the best you can even if control is slipping out of you more and more.

Fighting the orgasm is probably worse than keeping focus. Your stomach is upside down, and you feel all your nerves tense up, every single touch makes you jolt up and you know your throat will be sore by the end of the night for all the moans you’re letting out.

And you slip, eyes closing and mouth getting lazy as your body limply gets slammed between them.

“Hey,” you’re startled when her palm meets your face in quick, light slaps to wake you up, “don’t you fucking dare,” it’s the only warning that slips from her mouth, so sternly it should make you obey on the spot, but it only makes it harder for you to hold back. “Put that mouth to good use, come on.”

You don’t have a choice —not that you would want to do anything else— when she forces your face down again, this time grinding her hips against you to help you out, or honestly, to fuck herself against you because you’re not doing so much anymore.

She scoffs, “You’re being so good for Johnny, bet your pussy is sucking him in so well, dripping down to his balls and clenching tight, you can’t do one thing for me?”

You gasp for air when she yanks you back by the end of your hair, letting you breathe again, watching the tears fall freely from your pretty eyes. Your lashes are clumped together, and some mascara stained your cheeks; so, so pretty, she could stare at you forever.

“I can. I — I promise, I’ll be your good girl, I’ll give you what you want, fuck,” you mumble, words tangling on your tongue.

You’re so fucked out that spit is dripping down your chin, mixing with her cum, and she can’t fight the urge to smear it on your face.

Aaliyah could come by that sight only. To think when she first saw you were shily standing in a corner, trying to have less attention possible on you, stuttering your words at the speech your father made you hold, and almost fell down the stage. And now, you’re a mess in their bed, far away from home after you followed them blindly.

“Good, then use your fingers, come on,” she orders, biting her lips as you struggle to push your body up to finger her. This is exciting, with Johnny it had always been a fight for dominance, but with you, everything works perfectly, you fit between them with ease.

Johnny’s hands help you stand up, but he can’t deny how hot he finds the way you can’t control your body. He wishes he could see your face, you must be so pretty all messed up, but he’ll use his imagination.

“Come on, honey, fuck her, she took such good care of you,” Johnny encourages you, and that’s all you need to push two fingers inside of her. Her warm walls welcome you with ease, cum coating them until it drips down on your wrist.

Aaliyah’s face twists in an expression of pleasure as soon as you start curling your fingers. You’re definitely better with them than you are with your mouth, but it’s fine, there will be time to practice if you ever want to stick around.

“Good girl,” she praises, caressing your cheek gently before pulling you in a kiss. Doing so, Johnny slips out of you, and you whine at the loss, but soon enough he’s fucking into you again.

“Won’t — won’t last long,” you whimper, crying more as you feel heavier.

Johnny hums, pushing you down again and you lazily go back to lapping on her pussy while your fingers keep moving.

“Come here,” you hear him say, but he’s not talking to you. You can’t see, but you know they’re kissing because you feel smaller and more trapped as their bodies get closer, and then the wet sounds of their lips hit your ears. Their moans mix in their mouth, and you can feel the desperation they’re sharing as their teeth clash together.

You want to kiss them too, but you have other things to worry about, like the orgasm you can’t hold in anymore.

“Want to come, please,” you beg, tears adding to the mess between her legs as you try to gasp for more air.

They pull away from the kiss, bringing their attention to you another time.

“You want to come?” You nod swiftly. She’s sure you’re not doing it on purpose but the way your big eyes are looking up at her and your lips tremble, make her heart warm up. You’re so precious. “Then don’t stop fucking me,” she orders, voice low that causes your stomach to twist again. “Don’t stop being a perfect, little, mindless fuckdoll for us.”

Johnny growls, rolling his head back, “Fuck, stop talking to her like that, she’s squeezing me.”

Aaliyah chuckles darkly, sweetly mockingly caressing your wet cheeks. “You want me to stop talking to her because you can’t handle a sweet pussy sucking you in?”

He rolls his eyes and throws his head back, scoffing at her comment.

“It’s not my fault she likes it when I talk down to her,” she coos, looking at him but her words hit you deep. It’s so humiliating the way they’re talking about you as if you’re not here, and yet, it only makes you wetter. “I could do so much more, but I doubt she can take it.”

I can. You scream, but it stays inside your brain, no words can come out of your mouth anymore.

They both giggle at your broken moan that comes out as a reply.

“No thoughts left in that little mind of yours, uhm?” Johnny teases, his fingers playing with your nipples making you cry out more.

Your head is abandoned on her thigh, drool dripping out of the corner of your lips while your fingers pump in and out in tired, messy movements. You’re so far gone that she has to help you fuck her by guiding your wrist.

“Except how good it feels to be surrounded by us. You love it when we trap you between us and make you feel small, don’t you? Bet you’d love it even more if I fucked your mouth with a toy while he fucked your pussy, or maybe the other way around.”

You yelp when someone smacks your ass, you don’t care to figure out if it’s him or her. It doesn’t matter, it only adds to the pleasure and dizziness.

“Or maybe we could each take a hole and stuff you til you break,” Johnny giggles lowly. “Your tight ass and pussy spread by us.”

“Please,” you cry out. Please make me come and please do it. Please fuck me at the same time, from both ends and until I’m nothing between you. But it stays inside, they get it anyway, like they get all of you.

“C’mere,” Johnny chuckles as he manoeuvres you, lifting your body and pushing you closer to his wife. You’re kneeling now, body slumped against hers while he presses you flat, your fingers still moving inside of her while you moan in the crook of her neck. It feels warm, almost romantic, and you feel so small. 

The hand that is not helping you fuck her, wraps around your waist and starts rubbing circles on your burning hot skin, meeting Johnny’s that doing the same.

“Look at you, doll, you’ve been so good. What do you say, John, should she come?” Aaliyah’s voice is particularly sweet, reaching your ear like a faint melody and you feel farther and farther from your body.

“I think she deserves it,” Johnny replies, kissing your neck to distract you from his hand slipping down to your clit.

Your teeth sink into her skin, making her hiss, not in pain but most in surprise, and your face wets even more while a loud sob rips from your throat.

“Come on, princess,” she whispers close to you, leaving pecks on top of your head, “be a good girl and come with us.”

You don’t let them tell you twice when their pace fastens and all the stimuli get to your head one last time. This orgasm is like an explosion that leaves you trembling between their bodies, whimpering and moaning as the violent waves shock you to the core.

“Fuck, so fucking tight,” Johnny murmurs under his breath, hips slamming messily against your ass as he chases his orgasm. He’s caught up in your face before his eyes fall on his wife’s pussy, you stopped fucking her and she’s trying to rub her fingers on her clit, if you weren’t so far gone, brain mush in your skull, she would’ve said something, but she knows is no use now.

You’re collapsed on her body when your eyes trail between her legs, watching in awe as Johnny’s fingers fuck her fast and his thumb rubs her clit as he keeps pouding into you. Their moans are louder as they approach their release and her head falls against the board of the bed while her hands clench around your waist to hold onto something.

And you come again. An unexpected fourth orgasm washes over you, ass arching up and nails sinking into her thigh as you feel as life is being sucked away from you, and that’s what pushes them over the edge, your soft, broken whimpers mixing with theirs and your low mumbles of their names, it’s not Mr. and Mrs. Suh, is Johnny and Aaliyah now, only for you.

More curses fill the air before everything comes to a stop, Johnny’s body falling on yours for a second before he forces himself to pull out and roll to the side.

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. Come here,” she whispers, soothing you as she pulls your body closer, hugging you and caressing your back and hair. You’re still shaking and crying, and your hands wrap quickly around her. “You’re fine, we’re here. It’s over.”

Soon after you feel Johnny’s hands too, and then his soothing words. “You’ve been so good, princess. Was it fun?”

His question is left unanswered, and they understand it will take you a while to start talking again. So they keep whispering sweet words to your ears while their hands calm you down with gentle touches. You don’t remember how long it takes before you fall into a deep slumber, but you know you feel a sense of peace you never felt before.

When you wake up, the clock hits midnight, you’re alone in the bed but you’re cleaned up and you’re dressed in a white shirt that reaches your thighs.

Somehow your legs carry your body out of the room and down the stairs where you take a sigh of relief seeing them laughing as they sit at the table. They’re dressed again, Johnny’s hair is brushed in its place, and her braids are pulled up in a bun again, they look as composed as usual but more familiar.

“Hey, you’re up?” Johnny is the first one who sees you and welcomes you with a sweet smile.  

“We were starving. We wanted you to eat but you fell asleep, and for how intense it was we figured you were going to sleep until morning,” Aaliyah explains, moving a stool so you could sit between them, tapping on the seat to signal you to reach them.

You push your feet forward, legs wobbly and heart still racing, but this time is not the orgasm. You’re still lost in the haze, but now you’re fully aware of what happened, and you don’t know how to act in the aftermath.

“Are you alright? You stopped talking, it worried us a bit,” she says, lifting her hand to caress your nape after she tucked your hair behind your ear.

You nod, shoulders dropping as the tension disappears at her touch. “I’m fine. I guess it was a lot, it never happened before.”

Johnny comes back to you with a glass of water and some bowls with different food, leaving you a choice between fruits, something sweet, and something salty.

“Thanks,” you reply, grabbing the glass and gulping it in one go. “Honestly, I’m not really hungry,” you say, eyes diverting their gazes, there’s still a bit of worry behind them and you’re not used to people caring so much for you, especially after sex. You don’t think you ever saw a one-night-stand the morning after, but not even your exes cared much about how you felt after sex.

“No? Do you need something else?” Johnny asks, a caring tone filling his words, and the look in his eyes is different than all the other times before.

You look around, shaking your head, your throat is dry again and from the corner of your eyes, you see her filling the glass again. You smile shyly before drinking it. “I… I don’t want to sleep alone,” you confess, biting your lips and playing with the hem of the glass in your hands.

They smile, hands cupping yours before holding tight. “We had no intention of leaving you alone,” they say at the same time, making you smile.

“A bit paranoid, aren’t you?” Johnny jokes while Aaliyah leaves to put the food back in its place. You might be awake but it’s clear as daylight that you’re still tired and want to sleep.

“Mhh,” you mumble. Your eyes lift to look at Johnny and you smile. He looks beautiful, the faint silver light of the moonlight paiting his cheekbones and hair.

“And still not very talkative,” she adds when she comes back, a soft look in her eyes. “Come on, there’s no need to talk, let’s get you to bed.” She stretches a hand out and you quickly grab it, jumping off the chair but regretting it when your legs make it known they’re not back just yet.

You gasp when two arms wrap around you and lift you up, and soon you’re met with Johnny’s eyes. You smile at him before locking eyes with her who’s following behind and quickly is at your side.

“Thanks,” you whisper because he’s carrying you but mostly, for the night you spent. You decide you will worry tomorrow, for now, you feel full, they made you feel wanted, and dare to say, even loved. It’s all that matters.

“You have to be grateful, he stopped carrying me upstairs a long time ago,” she jokes and Johnny scoffs, “Liar.”

And soon the three of you are in the bed again, the dirty duvet is not on the mattress anymore and a thinner blanket covers you. You’re in the middle, pressed between their bodies while they leave kisses on your face, and whisper sweet words to you, their hands intertwined on your stomach while their thumbs rub small circles on your skin.

And as sleep takes over you again, you think that there’s no other place you’d rather be, if not between them.

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© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXXVI)

Chapter 36: ‘So I imagine such love of the world—its fervency, its shining, its innocence and hunger to give of itself—I imagine this is how it began’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Time for an adorable first date!!! Also, a reminder that this is not meant to be read by minors…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3839

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Of love

I have been in love more times than one, thank the Lord. Sometimes it was lasting whether active or not. Sometimes it was all but ephemeral, maybe only an afternoon, but not less real for that. They stay in my mind, these beautiful people, or anyway beautiful people to me, of which there are so many. You, and you, and you, whom I had the fortune to meet, or maybe missed. Love, love, love, it was the core of my life, from which, of course, comes the word for the heart. And, oh, have I mentioned that some of them were men and some were women and some—now carry my revelation with you— were trees. Or places. Or music flying above the names of their makers. Or clouds, or the sun which was the first, and the best, the most loyal for certain, who looked so faithfully into my eyes, every morning. So I imagine such love of the world—its fervency, its shining, its innocence and hunger to give of itself—I imagine this is how it began.

Mary Oliver, Red Bird

Andrew looked at his reflection in the mirror, hesitated, freed his hair from the bun he had gathered it in.

He heaved a sigh, trying to slow down his heart, to alleviate the knot in his stomach.

He was so fucking nervous. God, Andrew had not been this nervous since his first date with Samantha. No, scratch that. He had not been so nervous since he had presented his thesis.

He checked his outfit again, pondered his choice for the hundredth time. A black shirt, black pants, black vest, brown leather shoes. Was it too much black?

He shook his head. He looked good in all black, his mother had told him so, and he trusted her with this. He readjusted his glasses. Should he wear contacts? Sam liked him better with contacts rather than glasses…

Fuck Samantha.

Andrew preferred wearing glasses, and so he kept them perched on his nose.

Hair up, or hair down?

He couldn’t choose, thought his hair looked good enough today even if he let it loose but then again he didn’t want to have his hair always falling before his face. He opted for the middle ground, tied up only a few strands in a half bun and let the rest fall loosely to his shoulders.

Yeah… he looked good enough.

He added a little bit of his cologne, just to make sure he smelled nice. He turned towards his dog, who was lying behind him on the floor, his head resting on his front paws.

“So… Elwood… what do you think? Do I look nice?”

The dog lifted his head at the sound of his name, making Andrew chuckle. He walked over to pet Elwood behind the ears.

“Yeah, I agree. I look decent enough. Wish me luck! I’m gonna need it.”

Andrew had made sure he wasn’t going to be late, even if he had to drop Elwood at his brother’s. He had set up five alarms to mark the passing of time. And indeed, when he knocked on your door, he was two minutes early.

He was picking you up tonight. For your first date he was the one planning everything. He hoped you would like the evening he had planned for you. He wanted to impress you, to be honest. He wanted to show you that he could be better than Frank, that you didn’t have to regret your choice…

He took a couple of deep breaths as he waited before your front door, looking at the bouquet of flowers in his hands. Your favourites, he had made sure to choose them. He hoped you would like them.

When you opened your door, he was left speechless. He froze, stared, couldn’t help his eyes from raking your frame. You in your emerald dress, the one he had bought with you and that he had dreams about, the way you had tied your hair, the light glimmer of a jewel around your neck…

You… you were… so fucking…

“Gorgeous.”

You raised a surprised but amused eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips now. And Andrew blushed all the way up to his ears…

He cleared his throat, tried to overcome his embarrassment. God, he really was the worst…

“You… Hi.”

“Hi,” you let out in an excited breath, grinning up at him.

“You… you look beautiful,” he complimented you, making you shy away a little.

“Thanks. You look nice too.”

He grinned at that, a wave of pride washing over his heart.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

He handed you his flowers, and you thanked him again, breathing in their sweet scent.

“These are my favourite flowers.”

“I know,” he nodded, and you seemed touched by his answer, emotional now.

“You’re ready to go?” he asked.

“Sure! Just have to put these in some water and grab my purse. Come in.”

He obliged, waited while you were getting ready. He was fidgeting when you came back, his shoulders bent, nerves making him want to disappear. He had to bend to pass your doorframe, and he hadn’t straightened his posture after that.

You noticed as you walked back from your kitchen, found him still standing before your door, rubbing at his palms. And you were frowning now, slowly approaching him.

God… were you second-guessing this already?

“Andy?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?”

He looked at you, surprised.

“’Course. Just… a bit nervous, I guess.”

The understatement of the century. He was this far from shitting his pants…

You reached out, placed your hand on his upper arm. His heart quickened at the touch, he felt his muscles relax without being able to control his own body.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Look smaller than you are.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow, but didn’t straighten his posture.

“You do that when you’re sad, or feel bad, or just… want to disappear. Are you… Are you uncomfortable with us going on a date?”

“Uncomfortable? No, of course not… I’m… nervous. Terrified that I’m going to do something stupid and ruin our date, but… no, I’m not uncomfortable with us dating at all, on the contrary.”

“I like it, you know? How tall you are. I really like that about you. So… no need to shrink down when you’re around me, alright?”

His heart was filled with warmth, and finally, Andrew stood straighter again.

“Besides… I’m already in love with you. So… no pressure. It’s not like you have to seduce me or anything.”

He laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Right…”

You offered him a tender smile, narrowing your eyes a little at him, mischief painted all over your features.

“Actually… can you bend down for a second?”

He frowned.

“Why?”

“Just for a sec.”

Slowly, he obeyed.

“A bit more…”

He bent down again, until you were raising to your tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

You gave him a toothy grin, a mischievous one that made him giggle like a lovesick fool.

“Alright, now we’re ready to go,” you smiled, and he followed you outside of your flat again, his skin burning where your lips had touched him, feeling a little light-headed after your gesture, dizzy with your perfume.

He drove the two of you outside Dublin, all the way down to Wicklow. Andrew finally started to relax during the drive, conversation settling smoothly, as it always did with you. The sun was setting, it would soon be nighttime, but for now the light was painting the sky with golden and red, stripes of purple stretching towards the horizon.

“You haven’t even told me where we’re going!” you noted, and Andrew smirked.

“That’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

“Hmm… I hope you’ll like it. Had to ask for some help from locals to get everything ready.”

“Really?”

“Hmm.”

“What have you planned?” you asked, fully intrigued by now.

“Ha! Won’t say! It would spoil everything.”

You mumbled something about Andrew being annoying, and it made him laugh.

Indeed, he had asked a few friends to help him set up the scenery he wanted for the date. He was also using a part of the land owned by some family friends.

You frowned as you entered the property, but didn’t head towards the house; Andrew aimed the wheel towards the small wood instead, that stretched beyond the fields of barley.

“Where are we going?” you asked again.

“This property belongs to some friends. My parents live nearby, they’re practically neighbours, have been friends for decades. I asked if I could spend the evening on the edge of their wood. We shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“Oh… right…”

“They own the whole farm,” Andrew explained.

“Okay…”

“Don’t worry, no one is going to come during our date. I just needed a nice spot to set up my terrible plan.”

You chuckled at that, let Andrew drive the rest of the way in silence.

He parked by the edge of the trees, opened the door for you, and you smiled at the gallant gesture, a tinge of teasing in your smile.

“Oh, thank you, dear knight in shining armour…”

He rolled his eyes.

“Come on, don’t take the piss. Let me be romantic tonight, alright? The lad is doing his best…”

“Alright, alright… sorry.”

“Right, you need to close your eyes now.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes. This is a surprise. Don’t worry, it’s just behind those trees. And I won’t let you fall.”

He offered you his open palm.

“Trust me.”

His smile was kind, infinitely tender. You stared at him, but he didn’t read hesitation in your eyes, your expression was a little too emotional for that. Still, you nodded, slipped your fingers in his hand.

“I do trust you, Andy,” you tenderly smiled up at him, before closing your eyes, and Andrew struggled to breathe at your words, his heart feeling warm again.

“Although… I don’t know if I should,” you joked, back with your playful tone. “You are a pretty clumsy lad…”

He laughed at that.

“A clumsy giraffe, that’s what I am.”

Still, when he gently pulled on your hand, you followed him.

You walked for no more than a couple of minutes, before reaching a tiny clearing. Nothing impressive, but there was enough space between the pines and oak trees for Andrew to set up his plan.

He had hung a large set of white sheets between two trees, had set a projector so you could watch a movie. A blanket, some cushions and a picnic were set to eat during the film. He had borrowed some fairy lights from his parents to hang them around the clearing, and his brother and Alex had helped him set them up.

It looked nice. He hoped you would like it…

“Alright, you can open your eyes.”

You blinked, gasped as you took in the view. You looked around, found no words to say.

“Andy…”

When you turned to him again, you had tears in your eyes.

“This… this is…”

He offered you a shy smile, trying to take in the view as well. The way the sunset was painting your frame with orange hues, how the fairy lights shown in your eyes…

“Do you like it?”

You laughed, blinking tears away.

“I love it. This is… this is better than what I had imagined.”

“Good,” he whispered, burying his hands in his pockets, feeling himself relax.

“What are we watching?”

“A movie you like,” he answered simply, moving towards the cushions so you would both take a seat.

The picnic was simple, nothing too fancy, but you were glowing, a grin permanently glued to your lips, and so Andrew reckoned that he was doing something good. When the evening turned into night, that the sun finally disappeared beyond the Wicklow Hills, and that the moon and stars were left to light up the heavens with silver, Andrew proposed to watch the movie while you ate your dessert. You nodded eagerly, waited patiently while Andrew was setting up the movie with his laptop.

You recognised Pride and Prejudice with the first frame, gasped at the sight.

“This is perfect, Andy,” you breathed.

You leaned closer, letting your shoulder and head rest against his arm. He kissed your hair.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked in a quiet voice, warm and deep, and he noticed how you leaned even closer, until he was snaking an arm around your waist.

“This is… perfect,” you repeated yourself, and Andrew grinned, feeling proud and content.

“Good… That’s grand…”

“Andy… you know I… don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, by any means. This is magical. It’s… no one has ever done anything like this for me.”

He tightened his hold on your waist without noticing, his heart speeding up as he felt dread replace peace.

“But?” he encouraged you to continue.

“But you don’t need to impress me, you know? I… I love you. This is amazing, but spending time with you is enough to make me happy. Okay? I don’t need all of this to be happy to be with you.”

He felt tears rising to his eyes, but he blinked them away as he nodded.

“Thank you…”

“No, thank you, Andy. Thank you for tonight, thank you for everything…”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, picking up some fruits and watching Elizabeth and Darcy fall in love all over again…

You helped Andrew pack up everything in his car, leaving the clearing undisturbed by human activity again but for the fairy lights hung in the trees, Andrew would come back for these later. You failed to spot the owl you heard before leaving, but you didn’t mind. You took one last look at the small clearing, at the moon almost to its fullest above your head, at the stars shining bright and clear against the inky sky, and you thanked them for keeping a warm and bright weather for tonight.

Andrew drove you home, you chatted all the way, sang along to the songs on the radio and laughed at the lyrics you invented. He walked you to the door of your building, and you both remained standing there for a couple of minutes, under the pretence of finishing your conversation when, really, you simply didn’t want to part. At last, once neither of you had anything left to say, you looked up at him in silence, hesitating. You didn’t want him to leave…

You noticed how his cheeks grew a little pink, how his gaze grew more intense, entrapping your stare. They held such tenderness as they rested upon your features, such fondness… you dared to call it love…

And Christ, Andrew was so handsome like this. All in black, elegant and so damn tall, with his hair held back to reveal his features. You wanted to trace the edge of his sharp jaw, you longed to feel the roughness of his beard under the pads of your fingers, to kiss the bright pink of his lips… And in the streetlights the red in his hair and beard shone brighter than usual, his eyes a darker shade of green and brown. Your heart was pounding at the sight, your entire body heating up at the thought of reaching out to touch him…

“Y/N?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can I… Can I kiss you?”

You grinned at that, reassured. He wanted the same thing as you did. Andrew wanted you too…

You finally noticed that his breathing was irregular, loud and slightly trembling. That his fingers, as they reached for your hand, were warm and calloused and unsure. He seemed vulnerable, waiting for your answer. As if he didn’t really believe this was happening either, as if he too was unconsciously awaiting a rejection.

You closed the space between your hands, intertwined your fingers together, and Andrew released a long breath.

You stared right into his eyes as you spoke.

“Please… kiss me, Andy.”

Something changed in his expression, then. It held the same tenderness still, the same loving expression, something close to adoration. But instead of doubt and fragility, his gaze darkened, he seemed more confident again. His grin was bright and a little dreamy as he reached up to cup your face in his large hand. And if it made you feel small, his touch also made you feel safe.

Slowly, he bent down, while you went to your tiptoes to meet him halfway. When he finally kissed you, it was like the world had disappeared, like you were the only beings left in the universe, like time itself had stopped to grant you this moment. You let go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. Meanwhile, his now free hand was resting on the small of your back, pressing you against him. For how long you kissed, you couldn’t have guessed. All you knew was that when you finally pulled away, gasping for air, head spinning a little, your chin burning because of his short beard, all you wanted was to kiss him again, and again, and again…

“Andy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you want to come in?”

He blinked his eyes open, stared at you, but there was nothing but want, desire and awe to find in your gaze. And so, Andrew let out a shaky breath.

“You’re sure?” he asked anyway, even if the answer was obvious, written all over your features.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you nodded.

Before you could add another word, Andrew was kissing you again, more urgently this time, something filled with sparks and want, kissing you like he never wanted to stop…

He did break away though, nodding, his nose brushing against yours in the process.

“Yeah… yeah, I definitely want to come in.”

You giggled at that, noticed he was blushing, but you still took his hand and guided him inside the building.

In the elevator, his lips were back on yours, he was pressing your back against the wall, hands holding tightly your waist. You had rarely felt so wanted in your life, and you were not even in your apartment yet, let alone your bedroom.

He followed you to your door, you noticed the way he closed and opened his hands repeatedly, as if refraining to reach out and touch you.

The second you were locking your door, Andrew was kissing you again, pressing your back to the wooden surface, holding onto you tightly.

“Y/N?” he whispered against your lips, and you hummed quietly to encourage him to continue. “You… I trust you to tell me if anything feels wrong, if you don’t want me to do something, if you feel uncomfortable or… whatever. Alright? No matter what it is. Okay?”

You looked up at him, pupils blown, and panting with want, hair already made a mess by your fingers, glasses a little lopsided upon his nose. You had never felt as safe as you did in this moment.

“Okay. Same for you. I trust you to tell me. And I trust you to stop, too.”

He gave you a reassuring smile, silently nodding. He kissed you again, tenderly, softly this time. Slow and loving.

“I love you,” he whispered against your mouth, stealing all the air from your lungs.

“I love you too, Andy. I love you…”

You kissed him once more, passion making your movements more urgent again, he groaned when you gently captured his lower lip between your teeth.

“You’ll be the fucking death of me…” he murmured.

He let out a breathy chuckle, the kind that revealed he seemed barely able to believe this was real…

“Can I undress you?” he asked, voice deep and low, the sound alone making your entire body tremble.

“Yes… God, yes… Can I undress you?”

“Please, do…”

A second later, his jacket was on the ground; your shoes soon followed.

You felt the tip of his fingers glide up your waist, sneak behind you to touch the bare skin of your back. Every fibre of your being was on fire, boiling, burning, burning…

“Any boundary I should know about before we do this?” he asked, voice so deep, you thought you were losing your mind.

His warm breath was fanning over your lips and chin, reminding you how close he was.

“Erm… I don’t know… Nothing that could hurt, I guess…”

He chuckled sweetly.

“I’m not much of a bdsm kind of guy either, if that can reassure you.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed, you absolute softy…”

“Anything else?”

You couldn’t think straight, had nothing to add. You asked back the question.

“Nothing I can think of right now… but then… it’s hard to think at the moment.”

You both giggled at that, and if you were still both highly turned on, you bathed in the solace of the moment, all trust and tenderness.

“You’re still okay with me undressing you? With me touching you like this?” he asked, and you nodded.

“You too?”

He chuckled, something darker in his gaze as he bent closer to kiss you again.

“Y/N… you have no idea how much I want you…”

His lips moved to your jaw, your cheek, your neck. He nibbled at the tender flesh over your pulse, kissed and tasted your skin with a brush of his tongue…

Your legs were shaking, you were ready to combust right there, against your front door.

His fingers were back to your waist and then moved up your frame as he spoke again, a path excruciatingly slow across the velvety material of your dress, from your waist to the edge of your breasts. He flattened his hands on your stomach, and you took a sharp intake of breath at how big they felt across your torso.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he confessed into your ear, before sucking on the skin behind it. “Dreamt of you… Christ… I want you so fucking bad. The sins I want to commit with you…”

Then his hands left your stomach to travel down to your arse, and then to the back of your thighs, a silent demand to let him carry you to your bedroom. You didn’t hesitate as you jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his torso and kissing him again. You undid the buttons of his shirt while he walked to your bedroom, letting your fingers cover his breasts, touch his chest hair, fall across his stomach. He shuddered under your touch, his breathing stammering, and you felt so powerful like this, held within his arms and able to summon such reactions from him.

“God… I want to taste you so bad,” he confessed, and you were surprised at how straightforward he was about this. “Can I? Can I put my mouth on you?”

“Yes… yes, please…”

The undressing resumed, he peeled off your dress, your stockings, your underwear from you, and you pushed away his clothes as well.

There was so much awe in his gaze as he took you in, eyes travelling your body as if to make sure he would remember every inch. When he caught your gaze once more, you could read nothing but want and adoration in his dilated pupils.

A silent question, one last checking in to make sure you were still fine to continue, and you nodded, reaching up to touch him, no matter where, you only longed to feel the warmth of his skin under your palm. You untied his hair, the last item remaining on his body, while his glasses had been discarded to your bedside table a while ago. His hair fell down around the two of you, you giggled as it tickled your shoulders, and so did Andrew. When he lowered his lips to your skin again, it was with the intention to touch and kiss every inch of you, make sure you knew how much he longed to worship you.

Your eyes closed with his lips reaching at long last their final destination across your skin, and the groan he let out when you pulled on his hair as a reaction to your pleasure made you question whether this was real or merely one of your dreams.

[reversedumbrella]

teruki week 2024: happy birthday teruki

image description:

[ID: a five page comic for teruki week day 7: birthday. the first 3 pages happen inside a clothing shop's dressing room, where teru is trying multiple outfits while out of view mob comments on them. the first two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 1: fire/electricity. on the first fit, teru wears a top with a flame on it and fluffy long sleeves colored orange and yellow. his pants have five sections, each with flame designs. one red, one orange, one green, one blue and one purple. teru is wearing flipflops. mob comments "colorful." on the second fit, teru wears a green long sleeve shirt, a vest made out of fake lightning bolts, pants made out red, blue and black electric cables and boots. mob comments "zappy."

mob sits on a benchon the dressing room, right by him his flip phone is ringing. mob says "those look really good. anything else, Hanazawa". out of viwe teru replies "PLENTY! and with this years birthday money I might be able to take it all home!"

the second two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 2: school/festival. on the first fit teru is wearing a torn version of his school uniform. he smiles while rocking his head back and forth. mob comments "rock n' roll". on the second fit teru wears viana do Castelo's typical women clothing, nowadays just worn for an anual parade. red cloth on his head, large golden earings and necklaces. red shawl over a white shirl. large red apron over a black skirt. white socks and black shoes. mob comments "wow."

the third two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 3: star/copy. on the first fit teru wears a sparkly five point star around his head, star sunglasses, a pink top, jeans with two big sparkly stars over each knee and a lot of small stars all over, pink high heels. he wears bracelets similar to his head apparatus. mob comments "shinny." on the second fit there are two teru's each wearing outfits only differing in color, with only the shorts being the same. a top over a t-shirt over a long-sleeve shirt. shorts over leggings and sneakers. mob comments "maybe the shorts on the left…"

mob is sitting on the dressing room bench. his phone is either still ringing or ringing again. up to interpretation.

the fourth two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 4: official art/omake. the first fit comes from official art. purple and blue cap, green jacket over a white shirt with a lemon pattern. red shorts over greyscale camouflage leggings. green and yellow sneakers. none of these colors go well together. mob comments "fun." on the second fit teru is wearing a beach outfit. shirtless with blue beach shorts and green sandals. he has colorful necklaces and bracelets. with his right he's grabbing abucket with a shovel inside. on his head he's balancing a beach ball wearing heart sunglasses. mob comments "careful"

the fifth two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 5: hair/trauma. in the first fit teru is wearing a crazy wig that covers his upperbody and arms. it has four ponytails and is covered in braids. it also gives him a large moustache. he's wearing red leggings and green shoes. mob comments "hairy". the second fit is a brocolli and boots. both meet at his calves. his arms are free but his hands have smaller brocolli over them. this is the only fit mob doesn't comment on.

mob is sitting on the bench when teruki grabs him while saying "C'MON". mob replies "huh?!" and teru answers "you didn't really though i was buying just for me?!"

the last outfit was inspired by teruki week day 6: protagonist/rival. mob is the one wearing it. mob's outfit is a clash of colors and patterns. sweater with a star design around the neck. the neck is red, the star is orange and the rest of the sweater is yellow ith green stripes and dots. pink bell bottoms with bright pink stars. teru is showering mob in compliments. he drowns himself in dread thinking "i should have known kageyama-kun would have looked amazing regardless of what he wears. those clothes are too bold even for me but he dawns the clothes i picked with such ease. i have lost again. he is my rival even in fashion sense. there is no way i could have ever won against him…"

the next two apges are the aftermath of the shopping spree. mob and teru laugh and walk with multiple bags, teru carrying two and mob carrying the rest on his arms. happy, teru looks up and then at mob. he says "thank you for getting some time to spend on my birthday with me. i know you have a busy life". mob blushes and turns away saying " no problem. i like spending time with you…" mob phone rings again. teru points at it and says: "there goes your phone again". mob makes all his left arm bag levitate and uses it to open the phone. mob clarifies "just master reigen. there'sa complicated client . he keeps texting in case i need to go there" out of view teru comments "it's nice he calls in advance" to wich mob throws a side-eye. mob looks surprised at his phone, grabs teru and screams "we have to go!!" mob and teru run with the bags floating around them. teru goes up the satirs to reigen's office. out of view mob says "prepare for anything!" teru grabs the door handle and opens the door. inside reigen, serizawa, tome, ritsu and the awakening lab kids scream "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" reigen is holding a cake with 15 candles. end ID]

[butchvampireheimerdinger]

any sevika x butch reader hcs? :P

i see her as soooo butch4butch omg. Transgression is so core to her characterization and I think she would find gender non-conforming dykes soooo attractive. Anyways

Butch4butch! Sevika x reader headcanons

✯ You’ve both got lil peach fuzzy moustaches and neither of u remove ur facial hair so when u kiss ur moustaches tickle each other a little bit.

✯ You’re both rather lesbian obviously and so your love for women n other queer people extends beyond romance. If some dude is bothering some poor chick at the bar, you become the Woman Protection Squad. You’re everyone’s lesbian moms/guard dogs.

✯ Idk who her parents are but she gives off military brat vibes/raised by a strict army father. Now she’s incredibly anti-military (”I didnt always see eye to eye with my old man) but she makes her bed meticulously army style. She’s disciplined like that.

✯ It drives her wild seeing you in “more refined” clothing. Which, for her, means pants without holes that are not jeans, and one of your gay little button ups you probably have. Especially when she becomes a counselor and you show up in Piltover all dyked out in your menswear. Old rich ladies are clutching their pearls and she could probably just take you right there.

✯ Your fav Sevika outfit is the rumpled boxers and wife pleaser combo. Nuff said. Also you share a closet and there’s not a really clear boundary with what belongs to who, except for a few items of clothing that are your “signature.” Like your leather punky battle vest. And her poncho.

✯ You guys would be the punky type of older lesbians that never fought for gay marriage because it was seen as assimilating to a heteronormative society and making queerness palatable to a straight audience. Regardless, you do refer to each other as life partners, domestic partners, sometimes wife. Not really girlfriend unless in a cutesy ironic sorta way.

✯ And as for cutesy nicknames? You call each other “my butch.” Or “my woman” or “my old lady.”

✯ If you did end up having a ceremony with friends and family to celebrate your bond, its double suits fosho. Not exactly matching, but complementary. Maybe borrowed parts from friends and family because who is gonna buy a new suit in this economy? We have a revolution to run!!

✯ It’s at The Last Drop obvs and you hop behind the bar and pour beers, getting your suit all wet. Instead of a bouquet toss, all the single people gather for a rapidfire round of blackjack for who’s the next to get married.

✯ Your “honeymoon” is camping in the nearest wilderness. its all either of you had ever dreamed of. You ride off on your shimmer motorcycle with a billion illegal modifications with cans hanging from it and a sign on the back that says “just hitched.” And you get to watch her chop wood. And she gets to watch you gut a fish. It’s like butchdyke brokeback mountain.

✯ Housework isn’t a masculinity or femininity thing to either of you. She can cook meat, you can do all the plants and veggies cause maybe ur like a gym bro health nut type. Her tendency to load up on protein and nothing else drives you up the wall. “Colorful plate, Sev.”

✯ She does vacuuming and laundry cause she likes to fold stuff a certain way. You do dishes cause neither of you are sure just how waterproof her arm is. And you pick up the clutter so she doesn’t irritate her bad back.

✯ She grills on the barbecue at the summer parties. You pour drinks and set up the trampoline and tetherball thingy/yard games for the kiddos

✯ Affectionate touches include: ruffling each other’s short hair. Pulling you in by the belt loops. Absentmindedly straightening ur rolled up sleeves. You like to rest your head in her lap when its the two of you on the couch and you don’t feel like talking. She uses ur head as a little desk for whatever she’s reading.

✯ You both wear gay little rectangular reading glasses. At night she reads whatever religious text Janna worshippers use in bed next to you and you gab. She peers over her lil glasses at u. Zaun is more religious than Piltover so maybe you both are people of the faith. But if religious trauma exists in this context and you’ve got it, she would always be respectful cause she knows what its like to feel like an outsider.

✯ Obviously you work out together, but neither of you have a consistent routine for that cause ur gay and probably have adhd and her line of work has inconsistent hours.

✯ You have a punching bag in the basement and sometimes the two of you let off steam by punching it back and forth like pingpong. (That’s not how punching bags move, but use your imagination.)

✯ It’s never been a plan for the two of you to have kids and i don’t see formal adoption/ivf/sperm donors being widely accessible in the undercity. But i can see it happening where a disparaged youth on the street adopts the two of you and you become parental figures in that way. Maybe you take in a young trans fellow with a rocky home life. also there’s isha.

✯ If you end up with a younger child in ur care, they call you mama sev or mama vika and mama y/n. Or a cultural name for mom if you have one.

✯ Sevika would be weirdly good with kids because she sees them as people with feelings. She wouldn’t talk down to them or anything. She would be the bad cop but also kind of a gentle parent type. And you know how people sometimes put their naughty kittens or puppies in “air jail?” She is buff enough to do that with her kid one handed until they’re at least ten. And she is the BEST at doing the airplane thing.

Fin.

[5-puthyyy]

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 3

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary:

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8

The first week of living with Agatha and Rio has been difficult, to say the least. It’s been labour, labour, and labour, over and over again. You’ve had dirt under your nails after every morning with Rio in her garden, and you head right back inside to Agatha afterwards, letting her wash your hands clean as she tests you on Rio’s Earth Magick lessons.

The most difficult part is actually keeping your hands and eyes to yourself; it’s impossible not to lean into Agatha’s gentle touch as she rubs your hands with soapy water, taking her time to get your fingertips clean. A few days after this routine, she bought out a kit to care for your nails, cutting your nails short enough to not get dirt deep under them, then filing them down until they’re smooth.

“When will you teach me?” you asked Agatha one afternoon as she wiped your wet, freshly cleaned hands with a hand towel.

Agatha pauses, looking at you with amusement in her gaze. “Are you not satisfied with Rio’s teachings?”

Your eyes widen in panic as you immediately shake your head. “No, I am! I’m enjoying my lessons very much,” you answer, desperate to not seem ungrateful.

Agatha raises a brow at you. “Then what, pray tell, is the issue?” she teases with a knowing smile, standing up to place the towel on the side of the washstand. Your eyes follow her movements, glued to the way the tight brown vest she’s wearing shows off her figure that would be otherwise hidden by the flowy white shirt she has on under it, “I asked you a question, little dove.”

The sudden sternness in her tone grips your throat, forcing you to choke and stutter, falling into a sudden cough as nervousness takes over you. Her soft hands are on your cheeks in seconds, the commanding gaze in her eyes taken over by concern.

“Breathe, darling,” she soothes, her thumb rubbing at your temple, up and down, “Follow my lead,” she says, taking your hand to her chest before you can protest the closeness. It feels far too intimate, especially considering she has a lover, one that is just outside these walls tending to her garden.

“Agatha,” you pant out, trying to catch your breath but becoming even more breathless when you blink your eyes open to find Agatha’s eyes, darkened, hooded as you breathe her name out, “I–I’m sorry–”

“What ever for?” she says confusedly, tucking your hair behind your ear, holding your face in her gentle hands as if you could never do wrong in her eyes. She breaks away from you the moment she hears the backdoor opening then closing shut.

After that discussion with Agatha, something seemed to have switched. Rio was more distant in her teachings, mumbling incoherent thoughts to herself after she tasked you with planting a new type of flower using Magick. You’ve made a mistake or two, but after that you got the hang of it pretty quickly, sometimes whispering the incantations in bed to make sure you keep the memorised. But, distracted by thoughts of Agatha’s touch and Rio’s distance, you messed this one up.

“Come on,” you grumble frustratedly, whispering the incantation again and again but the only azalea that blooms is one that dies moments later.

Rio comes up behind you, twirling a large pair of scissors in her hands. She watches you fail again and again, humming as you get angrier and angrier with yourself. She only steps in the moment she sees your nails digging into the inside of your palms. Her hands cover your fists, the sudden touch shocking you, unexpected from her.

“Don’t do that,” she simply demands, nodding her head at you when you whisper an apology and relax your fingers. Hers relaxes on top of yours, hesitantly hovering. She doesn’t really want to let go, you think, hearing her ragged breathing behind you as she moves closer.

“Rio,” you breathe out, leaning into her touch as her nose brushes through your hair, gently resting against your neck. Your breath hitches as you hear her gently take a breath in, immediately growling and burrowing her face deeper, “Rio, is everything okay?” you manage to ask between your heavy breathing. Your words seem to bring her back to her senses as she freezes behind you for a moment before jumping back as if your skin was on fire.

Without another word, just quiet muttering, Rio spins on her heel and practically sprints back inside, leaving you to tend to her plants. Doing your very best, you take a deep breath and calm your mind, and whisper the incantation again until you get it right.

You don’t understand what triggered your dream a few nights later. Typically, the dreams that meet you are sweet, innocent, and peaceful. You suppose the feeling you had by the end of it was peaceful in a way, but it was definitely not innocent…

You dreamt of Agatha’s hands. She was sitting in front of you but you were on her and Rio’s bed, not your own. She had on the thinnest nightgown, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. But you barely had time to gaze at her, your eyes shut tightly the moment you felt those hands that are always so gentle to you, but this time they were gentle elsewhere. And as you moaned at Agatha’s touch, Rio was behind you, kissing you to breathe your sounds in, her earthy scent wrapped around your lungs.

You refused to let yourself dream this way since your banishment, as this was the very reason for it. There’s something wrong with you for wanting this, for wanting to be touched this way. Desire was wrong, is what your coven believed. All forms of it. You lived day-by-day, rationing food because it kept your gluttony tamed. The simple idea of wanting something more than the necessity was a terrifying thought to you as you grew up. Because the older you got, the more you wanted. You started to see things, see people differently. Men, and women, a sharp jawline, piercing eyes, lips so pretty and pink. You started to want. It was bearable, avoidable, until it wasn’t. Until you got caught.

You will not get caught again. You cannot be banished from here, you don’t think you could bear it. So when you woke up that morning, you beat yourself up in the mirror, glaring until the dream disappeared into the back of your mind. You applied some powder to hide the blush in your cheeks before finally making an appearance.

“Good morning,” you greet Rio and Agatha as you walk into the kitchen, “May I help with breakfast?” you offer with a warm smile, waiting patiently for an order.

The pair in front of you raise their brows suspiciously. Rio crosses her arms over her chest as Agatha continues stirring the pot over the fire.

“You wish to help?” Agatha asks with humour twinged in her tone.

You nod enthusiastically, clearing your throat before stepping forward. “The two of you have been incredibly kind to me. I feel I have not done enough to…to earn what you freely give.”

Agatha’s stirring pauses at this, turning her head to look at you over her shoulder. You cannot read her eyes this time, clearly unable to break through the extra guard she’s put up there. You were sure you used the right words; Agatha herself said you needed to earn their trust that first morning.

“We have to go. For a while,” Rio breaks the tense silence by dropping that pin. You freeze, your chest tightening as you try to fight the panic creeping up, “We have business to attend to.”

Agatha senses your fear and tries her best to soothe you before you begin to panic. “We will only be gone a short while, little dove, and we will be right back here. We have some things for you to do while we are gone.”

The reassurance that they will be back is enough for the panic to dissipate for now. But with that comes a new surge of humiliation at your feelings. You have only been here with them a short while, a few weeks now, and you already feel attached to them. This has become about more than just learning the ways of Magick. It has become about them, about the small moments spent with Agatha and Rio. Are you meant to wake up alone, have breakfast alone, tend to the garden and the household chores alone?

Agatha carries on, taking the pot off the heat and coming to stand in front of you. “I want you to study. I have books, spellbooks and history books, books of all kinds. It will surely keep your mind occupied, little dove,” she smiles softly at you, raising a hand to brush your hair out of your face. But that only exposes the fear in your eyes, fear of abandonment. Agatha frowns, shaking her head lightly and pulling you closer, this time into a hug. You breathe deeply as you bury your face into her neck, the scent of lavender and honey taking over your senses.

Rio’s hand suddenly presses against your back, startling you momentarily before her fingers trail up and down your spine soothingly. “We will be back before you know it, sweetling,” she reassures in a kind whisper, a freaky juxtaposition with the frowning look on her face.

The position reminds you of your dream; a soft wave of desire surges through you, making you swap a little, unsure whose touch you want to lean towards. They seem to sense your struggle, both leaning in until you have Agatha’s front pressed to yours and Rio’s pressed to your back. A soft sigh escapes your lips from the heat of their bodies. Strong but gentle arms creep until they’re wrapped around your waist, and another pair slither around your neck until you’re secure, warm, safe.

“We’ll be back,” Agatha whispers, her soft lips brushing against your flushed cheek, fingers gently sifting through your hair.

Agatha wasn’t lying when she said she had all types of books in her little study. The shelves are overflowed, disorganised with piles straight and some stacked together. There are even a few on the ground next to the various plants Rio has planted into pots scattered around. There’s Magick everywhere here; you can taste it each time you step into the space.

The spellbooks are complicated to understand without a teacher, so you pass on those after attempting to read a few pages. But it’s the history books that managed to catch your attention. You were unaware that there is a written history of your community, of witches. It took you a few chapters before you realised the handwriting is oddly messy. Once you reach the chapter titled ‘Agatha Harkness’ you slam the book shut, concluding that Agatha herself must have written this. It feels wrong to read the history of her life, a strange invasion of privacy. Not only that, but part of you wishes to learn things about her from her, spending more time with her and Rio. 

After a while, you open it up again, but this time skipping her chapter. The next is entitled–

Oh.

‘Intimacy’.

It’s a chapter on sex, and the more you read, the faster your breathing gets, realising the majority of this is focussed on female relationships. It’s more of a history of sapphic culture within the witch community, emphasising the healing power of unity, and the heightened pleasure of mixing Magick with sex. It shocks you when you reach a page with an illustration of a coven in a forest, clearly all engaging in sexual activity together.

Slamming the book shut, you hurry to your bedroom and force yourself to sleep to avoid the heat pulsing between your legs – despite the Sun still shining brightly. But thoughts of Agatha and Rio find you in your dreams, forcing you awake in a sweaty gasp. This is wrong. It must be, as the alternative is all you have known your entire life is wrong, and that thought terrifies you.

You cannot think about them this way. You will not give in to the monstrous desire, and you will do all you can to tame it, as you should have done months ago. If you had, you would still have a coven, a family, and your mother.

Sleep will not find you that night and the Sun is only just setting. To avoid your thoughts, you decide to ready yourself to head back to the Inn for the night, needing a drink or two to hopefully lull you to sleep later. It is isolating in this cabin, despite it feeling like home now. It’s not home when you’re without them.

Unsure of when Agatha and Rio are to return, you decide to spend most of the evening at the Inn. It’s good to see some regulars still there, the singing man tipping his hat in apology when he spots you mid-song. The hour is later and your limbs are lighter after a few drinks, a few easy conversations, a few happy claps of your hands to the music. That is when she finds you.

“Y/N!” The innkeeper’s daughter yells out your name, rushing down the steps from her lodgings. She holds onto her dress to avoid tripping but lets go to tackle you in a deep hug.

“Catherine, it is always lovely to see you,” you greet her with a laugh as she squeals, refusing to let go.

You spend the entire evening together until the latest hours of the night, drinking one too many ales, and flirting with one too many drunken men just for the two of you to run off giggling. By the time the pair of you stumble outside for fresh air, half the Inn has taken to their lodgings or left to wander drunkenly.

The two of you press against each other for warmth as the night breeze dares to tease pushing Catherine’s dress up. The sounds quiet into a hum as you pull back with a giggle, eyes blurred from the ales running through your bloodstream. The blurry face looks like Rio’s sharp jaw, and those eyes look blue with the moonlight’s reflection reminding you of Agatha.

“You’re very pretty,” you mumble shyly, turning away when her eyes widen in surprise. 

A shaky hand dares to brush against your jawline. “As are you, I always thought so,” she whispers as if it is just a secret between the two of you, “Will you tell me where you have been?” Catherine suddenly asks, her tone curious but only to hide her concern, trying to avoid telling you that she cares about you more than she should.

You turn your head away, clenching your teeth, and think of Agatha and Rio and the power they hold over you. “I cannot.”

Silence fills the space between the two of you and it makes you notice Catherine’s hand has been absentmindedly stroking your cheek for the last minute or so.

“Will you be back? Soon?” she pleads, frowning when you sigh and she takes it as a no, “Please, Y/N, I missed you dearly.”

Seeing the pained look in her eyes, you sigh again. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to visit more often; you have had an enjoyable night. You’re just unsure whether you would even want to leave when you have Agatha and Rio at home. “I will try. If not for the free ale, then for you,” you tease, pinching her cheek playfully as she giggles and leaves the softest of kisses on the tips of your fingers. She holds them against her lips, scared you’ll pull away from the intimacy, but your drunken mind soaks it up. It’s been terribly lonely at the cabin; a little attention here doesn’t hurt.

But suddenly, a throat clears by your side, forcing you to push her touch away in fear of being caught by an agitated drunken man. But what you find is far worse. There stand Agatha and Rio, dressed in acceptable dresses but their hair up in a quick tie, letting you know they came here quickly. Their expressions are mostly unreadable, dark and distant. Agatha’s jawline is clenched tightly, while Rio’s brows are down to her eyelids in a glare. But you can barely focus on that; all you can focus on is that they are here, and they look so beautiful, and your heart feels like it’s about to break through your chest.

“Oh, are we blocking the entry? Apologies, friends. Come in,” Catherine laughs, grabbing your arm as she pulls you to the side. Your body moves with her but your eyes stay glued to the silent pair.

“We were just passing by,” Agatha says curtly before turning and walking away, pulling Rio with her. A feeling of dread sinks into your stomach as you watch them walk off into the darkness without you, but you cannot follow, not now. It’ll be too suspicious. You must find the patience to wait before dismissing yourself from Catherine.

By the time you head back home? Can you call it home yet? By the time you head back to their cabin, you expect them to be asleep but you can see a few candles lit through the window. Not knowing where you currently stand with them, you hesitate by the door, unsure of whether you can just walk in. Choosing to remain respectful, you knock a nervous hand to the wood, waiting for the sound of footsteps.

Rio opens the door, the glare still on her face, though the disgruntled expression is one of her more common looks anyway. She says not a word, simply turning back to march inside, leaving the door open in a silent invitation. Agatha sits on her chair by the fire, a cup of freshly brewed tea in her hand. She refuses to look at you, instead choosing to stare out the window to the moon. 

With the way the glow of the moon dances on her pale skin, she looks more beautiful than anyone you have ever laid eyes on. You cannot help but think the most skilled poets could spend years attempting to write the perfect words to describe her beauty but will only end up weeping in failure. No words could capture her.

“I did not know when you would return,” you whisper, clearing your throat when your voice croaks. Agatha does not move a muscle, so you continue, “I–If I knew, I would have been here, waiting, with–with tea, and I would have baked a pie, and–” you sigh as you cut yourself off, knowing the what ifs will do nothing to fix this, “I missed the both of you,” you settle, instantly regretting it as Agatha turns to you with a dark glare on your face.

“You missed us?” Agatha asks, her tone cold, angry, distant, “Dearly?” she adds almost mockingly, confusing your still tipsy head. 

“Honey,” Rio interrupts, trying to calm Agatha down but now that she has looked at you she cannot stop the words from coming out. Her emotions take over her face, hiding nothing of what she feels.

“We have been gone for less than a week, Y/N, and you could not control yourself?”

Your brows scrunch together. “Agatha, I am sor–”

She interrupts, the chair screeching against the wooden floor as she stands up. “Have we not given you what you have wanted? Freedom? Acceptance? What have we done to displease you so? Can you not tame your desires?”

Desires. Of course it’s about that. Despite the history books in her study, she is just the same as…as your mother. This is not acceptance, this is just like the moment your mother caught you with the tradeswomen and locked you away while the coven decided what to do with you. But this time you will do it yourself before they can.

“Y/N, I did not mean it in that way,” Agatha immediately attempts to correct herself as she observes the way your face reacts to her words, connecting the dots on what you could be thinking about, but you’ve already spun on your heel to your bedroom, tears glistening in your eyes, “Little dove,” she calls out, her tone softer, quieter, more desperate, but you cannot hear anything over than her displeasure with you, “Please, wait a moment for me to explain what I mean by–”

The door slams shut behind you, your back pressed to it to prevent them from coming in. You drop down to the ground, sliding against the door, and let the tears fall.

masterlist + guidelines

pornwplot is better, fight me on this. its coming guys patience haha

[a-little-revolution]

where do you shop for clothes? I’m plus size so I know the struggle of finding cute clothes when you’re not shaped the way corporations think you should be, and I’m very curious how you approach it

Hello! I mostly thrift my clothing, since I'm poor and plus size - a big thing for me is layering and accessorizing. I love mixing patterns, materials and textures to give a sort of bog witch meets howls moving castle vibe! I especially love thrift stores that mostly older women go to, so I can get a lot of old fashioned jewellery and things.

Plus size-wise I go for a lot of high waist-ed skirts and dresses, I've pretty much completely ditched pants because finding ones that fit me was always a nightmare (plus trying them on always felt so triggering and draining). When I do buy pants I never go for jeans or tight fit ones, but rather ones with draw strings. Overall leggings are far more size inclusive and I can wear fleece ones in the winter!

Overall I go for fairly cheap pieces and arrange them in colour pallets that I adore, and add a lot of fake pearls, scarves, crystals and jewellery!

Photo description: a series of five photos displaying various outfits within my style. I am a little person with curly green hair (also purple in a couple photos), pointy eyebrows, a beard and gold facial jewellery. The first photo is a mirror selfie of me sitting in my wheelchair at a local thrift store. I am wearing a dark green frilly shirt with a dark blue Lolita dress over it, and a duo-chrome pearl necklace. In the second photo I am wearing red high waist pants with vertical stripes, a sheer orange floral shirt with the top buttons undone, with white and red pearl necklaces. The third photo is another mirror selfie in a book shop, I am standing with my rollator and wearing a dark green dress with a long sleeve purple button up under it. I wear a few necklaces and a black and grey striped tie tied into a non traditional bow. The forth photo was taken by a friend of mine while I am smoking CBD on our porch. I am wearing a purple button up, orange vest, green skirt and green jacket covered in buttons and patches. My jewlery included gold sun earrings, pearl necklaces, and a piece of citrine on a chain. I am wearing round glasses and stars drawn where my eyebrows are shaved off. The last photo is a mirror selfie in the men's washroom where I wear a more punk style - a black tank top over a black and white striped shirt, a black beanie, white pearls and black necklaces. Hearts are drawn where my eyebrows are shaved off.

[thebrightsilverlining]

Types of Phantom Thief Outfits

Oftentimes when someone genderbends one of the male Phantom Thieves, their Thief outfit is always redone to include a skirt. This is something I always found strange, considering the fact that none of the girls wear skirts as part of their Thief outfit. In fact, with P5X introducing a truckload of new Phantom Thieves, I realized that the lack of skirts and dresses almost seems to be a rule when it comes to the designs, as NONE of the new characters wear skirts.

So, because of that, I wanted to break down the kinds of outfits the Thieves actually wear, from most common to least common.

The most common type of outfit the Thieves wear is a one-piece. While most of these are skintight bodysuits (Oracle, Puppet, Panther, Queen, etc), there's also jumpers (Fox), and rompers (Riddle). These outfits can include modifications and additional parts (Skull's vest and Moko's cape) but ultimately the main outfit is one article of clothing.

Next up is long pants. The second most popular category, it is pretty much exactly what it says on the tin. All these characters where a typical ensemble of long pants and a shirt, with a variety of different styles and accessories to keep things from becoming boring.

After long pants are shorts. Notably, there are only women in this category, while the previous categories had a mix. These shorts can be worn with or without leggings, with Sophia's outfit getting the closest to something that could be considered a dress, due to how short her shorts are and the fit of her shirt. If the character is not wearing leggings or tights, they seem to instead be put in long socks.

Now we enter into the smaller categories. Only two characters are in the poofy pants category, but I thought it was worth pointing out. Not too much to say here. Both poofy pants characters have their entire body covered, with boots or leggings going right up to the end of the pants.

Finally, we're in the singular character categories. Bui gets the closest to a skirt or dress, even closer than Sophia. However, because of the way her outfit is designed, it appears as if she's wearing a long shirt with leggings, rather than a really short dress. Worth noting, though, due to the fact that it is one of the few outfits that could be argued to be a dress.

Finally, Wonder gets his own slot, because I genuinely can't tell what he's wearing. Is that a bodysuit with leggings? Shorts with leggings? Where does his cape end and his under outfit begin? Who knows. So he gets his own category.

[neechees]

Hi! You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, that's totally fine! But you talking about Orville Peck's appropriation of indigenous culture with his fashion choices made me realize that I had never considered that there might be some aspects of "cowboy clothes" that white ppl shouldn't wear and that was super wrong of me. Again, you totally don't have to answer this, but I was just wondering what ways a white person could wear "cowboy clothes" in a manner that wasn't disrespectful? Or perhaps, should we not wear them at all? I can't afford T yet, but when I can finally get it I was planning on getting a cowboy outfit to embrace my trans mascness, but if that would be wrong of me I can scrap that plan no problem!

Ehhh again this is actually SUPER HARD to answer because almost everything about cowboy fashion & the cowboy "aesthetics" are lifted directly from Native American fashion and culture, either because a lot of cowboys back in the day were Native American themselves (including Afro-Natives & Indigenous Mexican vaqueros) or they were White & just kinda. stole the look from the Native cowboys due to a number of factors.

If you google "cowboy jewelry" the first thing that comes up is silverwork & belts & turquoise jewelry, which is taken from Navajo metalwork. Fringed leather clothing? Again, many Native tribes did that (& in some tribes the fringes could mean something, its not just for looks), most popularily with vests, jackets, and pants. A lot if the leather jackets were a result of Native women just sewing their clothes the same but in a European styled cut. Compare this "cowboy" look below to a Lakota war shirt: both have hair embellishments dangling from the arms.

Studded belts? Inspired by Cheyenne mirror belts, which often also have metal studs in them & you'll still see Native pow wow dancers have this in their regalia. Floral vests? A lot of the inspiration comes from Plains floral beadwork. Geometric patterns and blankets? Came from Southwest or Mexican Native American blankets & designs, ask any Navajo weaver & they'll tell you the same. Feathers in cowboy hats? Who else is famous for wearing feathers on their heads--? Native Americans. The look is still popular with older Native men.

Hell, if you visit this site that sells Western/cowboy fashion, you'll see a SHITTON of appropriation going on, taking Native imagery & designs, including one taken from Native American ledger art, all on White models.

The appropriation of Native culture and fashion in the cowboy/western sphere is ongoing, and the influence that Native fashion & culture has in Western/cowboy fashion as it is is absolutely MASSIVE. I once said in another post that the cowboy/western aesthetic essentially belongs to Native Americans, Latines (especially Mexicans), and Black people. And the history of White cowboys has been one largely of colonialism, racism, and displacement of Indigenous peoples, and the masculinity associated with White cowboys especially is also steeped into racism & American patriotism (think John Wayne. There's a reason he's an American icon who played cowboys & killing Indians in films.). I think the only thing that isn't influenced from either appropriation or colonization is like, jeans. Even the style of cowboy boots themselves and potentially chaps were influenced from vaqueros.

So if you're White I'm not sure that'd exactly be a good route to take because trying to seperate Indigenous elements from this fashion/look (nevermind the problematic history of White cowboys) is almost impossible. Obviously I can't force you to do anything, but honestly if I were you, I'd try a different direction, because otherwise I think you'll find trying to do this will be very hard.

[moons-dunes]

Summon the Suit

For Kinktober- Prompt: Suit + Mask Kink

Kinktober Masterlist

18+ Only MDNI

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader

Summary: The sight of Steven in the Mr Knight suit awakens something in you. Steven finds out.

WC: ~2.7k

This work contains: slight mention of violence (nothing serious), reader is implied to be a mercenary, the boys are still working for Khonshu in this, inappropriate use of Steven’s batons, semi-clothed sex, sex against the wall, PiV, probably don’t do this in real life. Please let me know if I missed anything!

The last of Harrow’s disciples hit the ground, the attempt at avenging their deceased leader and goddess put to an end. For now.

You looked around at the unconscious men and women, satisfied to see them completely still save for the shallow rise and fall of their chests.

You wiped some blood from your cheek, the dark red smearing across the back of your hand from where the rings of your attacker split your skin.

Steven picked up his batons, letting them magically fade back into the suit.

The suit you hadn’t seen before.

Usually in these situations it was you and Marc working together to carry out Khonshu’s missions, much to the skeletal bird’s dismay.

This, however, had been a surprise attack.

A night out with Steven had turned into an ambush.

“You alright?” He asked as he ran over to you, gently placing his gloved hands on your shoulders. The mask covering his face disappeared, revealing his messy hair and sweaty forehead.

He was looking you over, eyes wide and frantic.

Thankfully neither of you had gotten hurt too badly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you assured him, wiping your hand against your pants. “You?”

You knew they had Khonshu to protect them, but you still couldn’t help but worry for them. As much as you disliked the god, you were glad for the armour he provided them with.

“All good, yup,” Steven spoke softly, shrugging off his pristine white jacket. “Here, don’t want you to freeze before we get home.”

With all the adrenaline you hadn’t even realized you were cold until he draped the surprisingly thick fabric over your shoulders, warming your bare arms.

He wrapped his arm around you, hastily leading you in the direction of the flat. It wasn’t too far from where you two had gotten jumped.

“Not the best way to end date night,” Steven sighed as you two walked quickly, continuing to look behind the both of you to make sure you weren’t being followed.

“I’ve had worse,” you joked, making him smile a bit.

It didn’t take long to reach the building, and Steven quickly buzzed in.

It was nice to be back home, out of the biting chill of the night. And more importantly, away from anyone who wanted to hunt the two of you down.

Stepping into the lift, your eyes turned to the mirrors that decorated the walls.

Now that you two were safe, you took time to admire the sharp suit Steven was wearing.

The silky fabric almost seemed to glimmer in the fluorescent light of the lift, making each intricate detail pop.

You couldn’t help but to sneak a peek at how the tailored pants accentuated the curve of his ass, or how the vest hugged his waist.

Oh dear.

“You coming, love?” Steven asked with a gentle squeeze to your shoulders, and you realized the elevator doors had opened. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah…” you trailed off, forcing yourself back into reality. “Just tired.”

~~~~~~

It had been a week since you saw Steven’s suit, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You were having dreams about him in it; fantasizing about him fucking you with it on.

Khonshu was annoying, sure, but at least he had good taste in what he made his avatars wear.

The image of the bright white fabric, a beautiful contrast to Steven’s olive skin. How his dark curls got ever so slightly messed up from the fit of the mask.

He looked so sharp in it, and he seemed more confident when it was on. The way he skillfully flipped around was something you never thought you’d see from him, let alone how effortlessly he manoeuvred those batons of his.

And those damn tight pants. It was nearly impossible not to sneak a peek at his-

“Darling?” Steven’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present.

“Huh?” You responded quickly, snapping your head to look up from your empty plate. “Sorry, I was just thinking about the… um… the… something. From work.”

‘Yup real smooth.’ You scolded yourself internally.

“Oh really?” He questioned, the corners of his mouth starting to form a subtle smile. “And what might that be?”

Oh god, he knew. He totally knew.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You felt your cheeks heating up.

“You weren’t very subtle the other night, love,” he confirmed that he knew, standing from his chair to come and stand behind you. “And you talk in your sleep.”

You swallowed hard.

“Steven, I-“ you tried to explain, but you really had no excuse. “I’m sorry?”

That definitely sounded more like a question than an actual apology.

His hands rubbed up and down your arms, and he leaned down to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. Goosebumps erupted over your skin, sending a shiver through you.

A gentle gust of air came from behind you, and Steven’s now gloved hands found yours.

“No need to be sorry, love,” he whispered in your ear, feeling the fabric of his mask rather than his lips against your skin.

You let out a quick shriek when the chair you were in was suddenly spun around, the wooden legs scraping against the floor.

You were met with glowing white eyes staring into yours, a sight that had you clenching your thighs together.

You curiously lifted your hand and traced your fingers down the seam that ran down the middle of the mask, brushing across the raised crescent moon as well.

Steven brought a gloved hand to your face, resting it against your cheek and letting his thumb brush your bottom lip. The fabric of his glove slid across your skin, creating an unfamiliar but welcome feeling. You shifted in the chair a bit, feeling the unmistakable heat of your arousal growing.

“Come on, love,” he grabbed your hand and pulled you up, leading you to the sofa. “More comfortable here, yeah?”

He sat you down on the edge of the sofa, then knelt on the floor in front of you.

“Y-yeah…” you stammered a bit, unable to pull your gaze away from the glowing eyes that seemed to stare right through you.

He shucked his jacket off carelessly, revealing the dress shirt and vest underneath while you watched shamelessly.

“Enjoying yourself, darling?” He asked sweetly, his hands coming to rest on your knees.

“Yes! Yes, it’s good,” you stumbled over your words a bit, trying to get yourself together as much as you could. “Please, keep going.”

You heard him chuckle a bit, then his hands found the waistband of your leggings.

You lifted your hips so he could pull them down and off, tossing them to the side.

You were sure he saw the wet spot on your underwear when he pushed your knees apart, it must have been blatantly obvious.

He ran a single gloved finger over the thin fabric with a pleased hum, making your hips twitch as he barely brushed over your clit.

He flicked his arms and wrists outwards suddenly, making his batons appear. Your breathing picked up immediately, shaky and heavy.

“Make sure you tell me if it’s too much, alright my love?” Steven’s tone grew more serious, waiting patiently for you to answer.

“I will, promise,” you assured him, feeling a knot forming in your stomach from the anticipation.

He set one baton on the couch beside you, holding the other steady in his hand as he pressed the blunt end against your aching clit.

You gasped a bit at the feeling of the cold metal through your underwear, and at the much needed pressure against you. Your hips started grinding against the baton, letting the end of it rub against your clit over and over.

“Oh wow…” Steven muttered under his breath, watching your movements intently as he felt his cock starting to strain against his trousers.

The little excited breaths he was letting out were driving you insane, slightly muffled by the fabric over his face.

As much as you loved the mask, you found yourself wanting to see the look on Steven’s gorgeous face.

“Wanna see you, angel,” you somehow managed to say clearly, making him look up into your eyes again.

The mask disappeared, revealing his doe eyes and slightly parted lips. His hair was a bit messy again, a few stray curls falling over his face. The low yellow light of the lamp shone against his skin, creating a near golden glow.

You smiled down at him, taking in the view.

“My pretty boy,” you purred, making him blush a bit.

You bucked your hips against the baton a bit faster, feeling the wet spot on your underwear grow.

You caught sight of Steven’s free hand rubbing over the tent in his tight pants, slow but steady.

You froze your movements when you felt the rounded end of the baton push your underwear aside, teasing your wet entrance.

“Can I-“ Steven started.

“Yes,” you didn’t let him finish, bucking your hips up to coat the metal with your arousal.

You angled your hips into a better position for what he was about to do.

You tossed your head back and squeezed your eyes shut, going still as the baton stretched you out deliciously.

Steven didn’t push it in too far, careful not to hurt you or make you uncomfortable, but it was enough to send a new wave of pleasure through you.

He stopped once the baton was about a quarter of the way in, holding it still so you could adjust to the new feeling.

The sensation was a bit odd, but not unpleasant.

It was oddly pleasurable.

Once your breathing evened out, Steven started to slowly pump the baton in and out of you.

You lifted your heavy head, looking down where the portion of it disappeared into you. You saw the glint of your juices in the light each time he pulled it back.

It didn’t take long for you to get used to the feeling, and despite the slow pace it made the knot in your stomach twist even tighter.

An idea passed through your slightly dazed head.

Your slightly shaky hand found the baton that had been discarded beside you on the couch, grasping it tightly.

Once you felt comfortable with the weight of it, and once you could steady your hand, you extended your arm to gently rest the baton against Steven’s cheek.

He gasped quietly as the cold metal touched his heated skin, the hand on his crotch losing rhythm for a second.

Right as you were about to run your idea past him, to ask him if it was even okay, he carefully took the tip between his lips. It was like he read your mind.

This man was going to be the death of you.

You let him control how far he wanted to take the baton into his mouth, holding it still for him so you didn’t accidentally hit his teeth.

He started bobbing his head in time with the thrusts of the baton in you, creating a symphony of the squelching of your drenched cunt and his sputtering moans.

His hand was moving quicker over his trousers, giving him the friction he so desperately needed just from watching you.

He angled the baton up a bit, pressing against the spot inside of you that made you let out a surprised but pleasure filled moan.

The sight of your dripping hole clenching around the baton had him more worked up then he could have imagined.

Your moans echoed through his head, going straight to his cock.

He needed you so bad.

He didn’t want to stop what you both were doing, but he was getting desperate.

He pulled his mouth from the baton in your hand with a slight pop, then carefully removed the other from your now thoroughly soaked entrance.

“Steven, what-“ you looked down at him with worry, wondering if you had done something wrong.

“Shhh,” he shushed you gently, making the batons disappear. “Need you so bad, love. Can’t wait.”

He pulled your underwear down your legs, dropping the garment to the floor.

He rolled the long sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, showing off his strong forearms that were so often hidden by his big sweaters and jackets.

“Good lord, baby,” you breathed out quietly, completely immersed in the beautiful sight before you.

Steven looked you directly in the eyes as he took the fingertip of his left glove between his teeth, slowly pulling it off before repeating the action with the right glove.

He swiped two of his fingers along your slit, gathering your wetness before sticking out his tongue and making a show of licking them clean.

You swore you could have passed out right then and there.

He stood up from his spot on the floor, undoing his pants with his trembling hands. He let out a sigh of relief as his achingly hard cock was freed from the confines of the taut fabric, precum leaking from his purple-reddish tip.

You shimmied up the couch a bit, reclining against the back of the couch so Steven could lean over you.

You grabbed his tie, pulling him in for a messy and hungry kiss. Your hands tangled in his hair, holding him as close as possible. You could vaguely taste yourself on his tongue, along with the faint taste of metal.

You yelped in surprise when he hoisted you up from the couch, his hands under your ass to hold you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, looping your hands behind his neck.

Steven walked you two like that until your still clothed back hit the wall, effectively pinning you between it and him.

You broke your lips away from his as he lowered you down onto his hard cock, pushing a small gasp from you.

He let out a heavy breath followed by a quiet moan, closing his eyes as he felt himself stretch you out. The warm wetness around his cock was invigorating.

You pressed your face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him and the now rather dishevelled suit.

Steven pressed you harder against the wall, giving him the leverage to put more power behind the thrust of his hips. You moaned into his shoulder as he started moving in you, your teeth grazing the fabric beneath your face.

You squeezed your legs tighter around him, holding on for dear life as he started hammering his hips up into yours. His lips found your neck, nipping and moaning against your sensitive skin as he pounded into you.

“Love I..” he choked on his words, murmuring in your ear. “I’m not gonna last very long. Feels so good.”

Your walls spasmed around him, making him let out a whine into your shoulder.

“Me either,” you managed to get out, pulling your head back to look him in the eyes.

He looked absolutely ruined; beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his hair falling into his face. His eyes were dark and wide, absolutely full of lust and desire. You were sure you didn’t look much different.

You pressed your forehead against his, both of you shutting your eyes as your noses brushed together.

A couple more particularly hard thrusts had you tumbling over the edge, and Steven was falling with you.

You came over his cock as he shot his warm spend into you, making a mess of your thighs as his stuttering thrusts continued.

You both held each other tightly, riding out the high together. His lips found yours again, both of you gasping against each other.

Your mind was buzzing with pure euphoria; every nerve on fire. You didn’t even notice at first that you were back on the couch, still tangled together on top of Steven. He slowly pulled his softening cock from you, still holding you tight against his chest.

The two of you laid in content silence, soothed by the sound of each other’s heavy breathing.

You felt the mess you had made on the pants of his suit against your thigh, and you chuckled under your breath.

Khonshu wasn’t going to be happy about this one.

[ralvezfanatic]

Outfits and Naps

Spencer Reid x FTM!Reader

FEM-ALIGNED DNI - You will be blocked if you interact with this post. This is made for trans men/mascs, not women.

Reader is bored at home, not having much to do. He decided to try on some outfits he bought earlier, and then falls asleep.

Warnings: Mostly focused on Reader. Slightly feminine outfit mentioned. Dysphoria is implied if you squint really hard. Practically just a random drabble I randomly came up with. Reader has a cat because cats are very cool. Also, guys.. please don't sleep in your binder..

Word Count: 1.2k

Spencer was away at work, so it was only you and your childhood cat (that you got at 17.. so more of a teenage-hood cat), Mr. Whiskers the 3rd (and since it was such a long name, you shortened it to Mr. Whiskers. Although you stated his full government name was Furball Whiskers the 3rd.) at home.

You didn't have much to do, it was a peaceful day and you decided you were going to order takeout for dinner when Spencer came home. So, cooking wasn't an option. Having set your mind to takeout, there was no way you could cook. You already knew what you were going to order, so you couldn't change plans.

So there you were, sitting on the couch, your cat next to you, sleeping while you were bored out of your mind. You pet him for a whole, sighing as you tried to come up with something to do. Calm days were actually really boring. As you thought, you scrolled through your phone, switching between apps trying to get an idea.

Maybe you could take a walk? No, too cold, and you felt bad leaving Mr. Whiskers alone.

As you scrolled through your phone, you saw this post which reminded you of some outfits you bought and wanted to try on earlier, but always put aside. Happy that you found something to do, you stood up, rushing to your bedroom, your cat soon following behind.

You threw your phone on your bed, heading to your closet and pulling out some boxes where you stored the outfits. You carried them and placed them on the bed to open and take the clothes out.

You decided to wear your binder while trying on clothes, so you knew how they'd look when you go out. You go get it, and put it on after a few minutes of struggling.

Now you stood by your bed again, your cat sitting in the middle of the bed, waiting for the boxes to empty.

“Which one looks better Mister? This? Or.. this?” You ask him, holding out a cropped turtleneck with the shoulders cut in your left hand, and a white, sleeveless button up shirt in your right.

Mr. Whiskers turned his head to the left, sniffing the air a bit, which had made you think he chose the turtleneck, but then he turned his head to the right, so you thought he changed his mind. Finally, he just spun around in a circle trying to get comfortable on your bed before lying down and not picking anything out for you.

“Thanks..” You mumble, wondering why you even bothered asking a cat for help. You decided you would try both of them, hoping to style them for future use. You set the button up shirt down and put on the turtleneck. You had to find a nice pair of pants now.. which was difficult because you knew this turtleneck would look great with a skirt, but you weren't that comfortable yet.

Finally, you decided on a pair of black jeans, because you couldn't figure out what else to wear. You thought you looked nice, and snapped a mirror selfie of your newly created outfit and sent it to Spencer.

That's how you spent your afternoon, mixing and matching different shirts and pants, trying out different outfits, taking pictures, and sending a few to your boyfriend, asking for his opinion.

Not that he was helpful, that man said you looked absolutely stunning in each outfit you created. And also he usually stuck with sweater vests and slacks.. so he didn't really know he was supposed to help with.

You gave up after his third, “They both look great.” and his second “It’s you, anything looks good on you.”

Obviously, he wasn't helping, so you just sent him pictures of what you decided looked better, which he still enjoyed.

Finally, you tried out all the new clothes you got, and managed to style each of them. You put everything away, and sat on the bed, telling yourself you were only sitting to think of something else to do, but instead ended up laying down and falling asleep.

Spencer opened the front door, and was surprised when Mr. Whiskers didn't rush over to sniff and inspect him. “Y/N! I'm home.” He called out, closing the door behind him, only to be met with silence. Puzzled on why he arrived home to be met with a quiet house and no greeting, he ventured further into your house. He grew slightly nervous, which was only normal considering his job, but kept calmed.

He walked into the bedroom, slowly opening the door, hoping you just fell asleep and the animals were locked in with you.

As he opened the door, he was met with the cutest view, and he felt his heart melt at what was in front of him. He smiled, taking out his phone to snap a quick picture before walking up to the bed.

You laid in bed, wearing a pair of your boyfriend's sweatpants, which were baggy on your smaller body, along with your binder that you didn't take off after trying on clothes. In front of you was Mr. Whiskers, which you held close, hugging him as if he was a plushie.

He had been asleep, but woke up when Spencer entered the bedroom. He only looked up to him, but stayed comfortably on the bed under his owner's arms.

Spencer couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the sight, finding it absolutely adorable how you slept with your cat. He also saw how you still had your binder on and decided to wake you up, now knowing how long you had it on.

“Love. Get up, you need to get that binder off.” He shook you lightly, trying to wake you up in a nice manner. You grumble and shoo him off, trying to pull your cat closer, but he decided to get up when Spencer started to wake you. “Y/N, get out of your binder..” He insisted, shaking your shoulder now.

You groaned being woken up from your nap and shook your head no. “Mm.. 5 more minutes.” You mumbled, hiding your face in your hands, turning away from your boyfriend.

Spencer laughed and shook his head, finding your sleepiness amusing. “No, get up Y/N. Now.” He laughed, grabbing your arms and pulling you up to a sitting position.

As he managed to sit you up, he smiled at your now barely conscious self. “I was having such a good nap ‘Pence.. you should have joined me instead of waking me.” You mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his own.

“Sweetheart, as good as a nap it was.. and as cute as you look in my sweatpants and your binder, you shouldn't be sleeping with that on! Now go change, I'll give you one of my sweaters if you want too.” He smiled, pressing a kiss on your temple. “And then we can cuddle and nap if you want to.” He added on, knowing that'll be good enough motivation for you to go change.

You turn your head to look at him and smile, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth before getting up to change out of your binder, rushing so you could cuddle up with him.

[perlukafarinn]

Rating Star Trek TOS uniforms because why not!

Pilot uniforms. Pajama ass looking outfits. They look cozy but a little too cozy to be exploring the galaxy in; the underboob sweat must be ungodly. Points also deducted for Spock's TERF bangs, 4/10.

Second pilot uniforms. They look just like the first but somehow even worse. The science division doesn't even get its own color! 3/10.

TOS classic uniform. Now we're talking! The women no longer get to wear pants but honestly I think it's the men who are missing out on the miniskirts. The fabric looks light and breathable and each division now gets its own color. Those fruity little heeled boots complete the look, 9/10.

Red gym tights. They are red, they are tight, and they do not come with a matching shirt. Simple yet delightful, 8/10.

Green wraparound Captain's shirt. She's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment. Perfect for when Kirk is feeling a little slutty or wants to set himself apart from his evil twin, 10/10.

Mirrorverse uniforms. Slutty and tacky, the perfect outfits for going out on Friday night or maybe figure skating in the Olympics. Not giving the guys crop tops was a coward move but I do appreciate Kirk's v-neck vest, 9/10.

Dress uniforms. They look so cute in their fancy little outfits! The golden accents and arts-and-crafts "badges" really tickle me but the uncomfortable looking high collars drag it down a bit, 7/10

[justporo]

The moon and the stars

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies: Part 2

Author's Note: In which Tav and Astarion continue preparing for the ball - and it almost broke me to describe their clothing (this fic really makes me break out a dictionary way too often...)

Song: Suit & Tie - Justin Timberlake

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav Rating: Explicit Warnings: none

CHAPTER LIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

~~~

When you finally left the bathroom, you felt indeed pleasantly relaxed – physically and mentally. Astarion had made you put on a fancy silken robe he had gotten for you as a gift. The smooth fabric felt pleasantly cool on your skin and you couldn’t stop looking at the wonderful floral pattern it had and its deep red colour. Astarion, in the meantime, had slipped into a similar robe made of satin that was obviously the match for yours in pattern and colour.

“Come with me, my love, I have something else for you”, Astarion said with a promising smile and led you to your joint bedroom. Surely, there he had already placed a bottle of wine and two goblets for you on a sidetable next to the chaise longue you had also placed in this room. “You really got to stop showering me with gifts, Astarion, I can’t keep up with you”, you laughed when you saw the dress laid out on the bed. Next to it was a doublet, shirt, vest and pants.

“Firstly: no, I don’t! Secondly, you don’t have to! And thirdly, it was a gift for myself as much as for you, my love”, Astarion responded and went over to the small table to pour you some wine.

“You really thoroughly prepared all this, didn’t you?”, you asked as you walked closer to the bed to take a closer look at the dress laying there. You were intimidated by the thought of wearing something so unusual for you – but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you also felt pretty excited. Wasn’t this what so many girls and women dreamt of? Being a princess, at least one time in your life, dancing with your partner in a castle? In your case with your regal prince?

Just that your prince happened to be a very sassy vampire; but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You giggled at the thought which caught Astarion’s attention. “What’s there to giggle, my love?”, he asked looking at you with suspicion as he came over to you and offered you the goblet with wine. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how you’d make a terrible prince on a white horse.” Astarion looked confused for a second, then snorted: “Yeah well, for that sort of thing you should have chosen Wyll, my sweet.” He took a swig of wine and so did you.

“Nah”, you replied after that and made a face. “I love my snarky little vampire way too much for that.” You smiled at him and gave him a kiss.

“I don’t know where the ‘little’ comes from, but anyways. I love you too, my sweet princess, now go look at the dress I brought you or I’ll take it back”, Astarion teased after the kiss and motioned towards the bed with his head.

So, you finally strode over and took in the garment: It was a striking deep blue that became lighter and a wonderful shade of purple up to lavender further down the skirt – impressively similar to the colours the sky turned when the sun set. It had a high collar that didn’t fully close around the neck in the front, so it allowed for a deep neckline that almost looked like a four-pointed star and long flowy sleeves that from the elbows down became cascading trains of fabric. The bodice was decorated with embroidered bigger four-point stars and smaller sparkles in silver and a few shiny stones. From the slender belt around the waistline down it became a luscious silken skirt that was carefully draped with few more star decorations that became fewer the more the colours lightened.

It was quite frankly stunning. Regal and elegant, but not overly flamboyant which would have been something you would have never felt comfortable to wear. And the most important thing: no corset. You wouldn’t have believed it, but you were actually excited to put this garment on.

You turned to Astarion with a huge grin who carefully expected your reaction. “You delivered on your promise to not make me wear a corset”, you cheerfully exclaimed. “And?”, drawled Astarion raising his eyebrows and lowering his gaze at you expectantly. Shortly, you considered making a joke, but you saw how genuinely excited Astarion looked so you went with the truth: “It’s incredibly beautiful and I am indeed pretty excited to put it on and see what it looks like on me.” To that Astarion’s eyes started shining with joy and love. “Neither can I, beautiful”, he cooed and pulled you in with one arm to nuzzle his nose against your cheek.

“Did you do the embroidery yourself?”, you asked while you wrapped your arm not occupied with wine around his waist and kept looking at the dress. “Well, of course”, the vampire replied. You could feel his chest rise with pride – and rightfully so.

“Let me take a look at your outfit before I get dressed”, you said after a while and took a sip of wine. You untangled yourself from Astarion and stepped closer to the bed again to where his clothes were laying next to yours.

Quite obviously his shirt, vest, doublet and pants were made to match your dress – or maybe it had rather been the other way around. The shirt was simple: white, with a high collar and some lace details at the hems. The pants already were more intricate: black leather that at first looked quite plain but patterns of swirls and undulations were pressed into it all over. The vest was very similar to your bodice, also with a high neck but the shade was an even darker blue and it closed at the front with intricate silver clasps all over the chest. Of course, it had some embroidery as well.

But the doublet was the centre piece of it all: You could see that the satin cloth – being the same shade of blue as the vest - had the same swirls as a pattern as the pants but it only became visible in the right angle of light. The front was intricately embroidered with silver stars. Smaller stars formed bigger stars and those an even bigger symmetrical pattern. Smaller parts of embroidery were placed on the sleeves and the hems. The button border was completely worked in silver thread, every silver button had a star on it and was closed with silver cord.

You were in awe. You were pretty sure you had never seen a finer piece of clothing. And knowing that Astarion had done the embroidery work himself – your jaw dropped. “You’ve outdone yourself”, you whispered, still awestruck.

“Ah well, I mean, I only picked out the pieces and did the embroi-“ “Shut up and take the compliment, Astarion, humbleness doesn’t become you”, you immediately stopped him with a raised finger and looked at him. He closed his opened mouth and shrugged: “I mean, we are going to look gorgeous.” “Better! Now then – time to dress?” You looked at Astarion who only grinned at you and nodded.

You put down your remaining wine and carefully lifted up the dress while Astarion sat or rather laid down on the chaise longue. Leaning back on one of his arms, his robe opened up and you could see his bare chest beneath. When you looked at him quizzically, he said: “Don’t mind me, my love, I just wanted to get comfortable to enjoy the show.” He grinned at you lewdly and you immediately felt some of the heat from earlier come back.

You decided to just get going. You looked at the dress in your hands for a few more moments and then put it back down to free your hands when you saw that there had been something else laying under it.

Obviously, Astarion had picked out some lacey underwear to go with the dress. It was intricately worked, the same shade of blue as the dress – also an awful lot of nothing. You blushed and threw Astarion a glance whose grin only had become naughtier at you making the discovery.

“This looks more complicated to put on than the dress to be honest”, you whispered a bit coyly suddenly – almost more to yourself than to him. “You don’t have to, my sweet, call it merely a suggestion if you would”, Astarion said and got up to stand behind you. He grabbed you by the waist and leaned down to whisper to you: “If you don’t feel comfortable with it, that’s absolutely fine.” He pressed a soft kiss to your pointy ear. “No, I want to”, you immediately exclaimed.

“Good, because I’d love to tear it off you with my teeth later”, Astarion responded with a husky whisper and a tone that dripped with sinful promise like molten chocolate. He pressed another kiss to your cheek and went back to nonchalantly lounge on the chaise longue while you felt your blush grow and your eyes widen.

“One of these days you’re going to kill me saying stuff like this”, you breathed out. The vampire chuckled: “Only by saying? My love, I haven’t even started the doing.” By all the Gods – you had to turn away from him as he kept laughing and sipping his wine.

You carefully put on the lingerie while you were painfully aware of Astarion’s gaze burning into your back. But you didn’t turn around again – firstly, because you wouldn’t give him that present yet. And secondly, because you were scared the evening would be over way too quickly if you did.

Then you put on the dress. It had a long row of buttons down the back, so Astarion had to come over again to help you. And he did so by giving your neck a kiss for every button his fingers closed.

When he was done – the last button had earned you several kisses – he stepped back. “Turn around for me, darling?”, he asked almost shyly. You did, slowly while you looked down at yourself and could already feel yourself getting giddy.

“How do I look, my love?”, you asked coyly and softly swayed from side to side while gazing at Astarion through your lashes.

The vampire was speechless, his face was basically in shock as his eyes wandered up and down over your body. And then up again. And then down again!

“Like a goddess, my heart, like a vision”, he finally said while still unable to rip his ruby eyes off you. “Give me a twirl, my love”, he then exclaimed and clapped his hands. You happily fulfilled his wish. In fact, you did one or two bonus rounds and kept laughing the whole time. You could feel the skirt fly around you. “On this exception I would have loved a mirror to take a quick peek at how I look”, you said as you stopped turning, your cheeks flushed.

The vampire softly grabbed your hands: “Oh, way ahead of you, Tav.” He made you turn to the far corner of your bedroom where you saw what must’ve been the big heavy package, he had brought home yesterday with all the other stuff.

“You bought a mirror?”, you asked and furrowed your brows. “I thought we did agree on no mirrors in our house.” “Surely, my sweet, and I appreciate the notion, but… I wanted you to be able to look at yourself!”, Astarion replied and strode over to the floor-length mirror he had thus far kept covered with a sheet.

“Voilà!”, he exclaimed as he dragged off the cloth and revealed your reflection in the mirror as he stood beside it. You were stunned as you looked at yourself.

Thankfully, you still recognised yourself. It was still you. But you looked regal and elegant. Unconsciously you straightened your back and lifted your chin up a little which made Astarion grin – he knew exactly that he’d done an incredible job.

You lifted your arms, watched as the trains of cloth flowed down beneath your elbows, you watched the skirts move swiftly as you turned. Safe to say you had probably never felt this beautiful in your life. Astarion beamed at you. “Come over here, sweetheart, take a closer look”, he encouraged you. Then he quickly leaned over the rim of the mirror. “Ah, sadly still nothing”, he quipped and then went off as you stepped closer and admired the details of the dress.

“I still feel bad about having a mirror now”, you shouted back at Astarion while you leaned to your reflection to admire the craftsmanship of the embroidery. “Oh, don’t be, love. I’m used to it by now and you’re only going to make me sappy”, he answered from somewhere from the other corner of the room.

You kept looking at yourself, not fully believing that this was really happening, when suddenly something was dangling in front of your face.

Astarion had snuck up on you – and of course – there had been no reflection in the mirror to spot his arrival. Now, a piece of jewellery was lowered onto you slowly.

“Really? Another gift, Astarion?”, you asked mockingly in anger. “Hush, this is the last one, now look!”, he scolded you as he closed the clasp at the back of your neck. Then he let his hands softly rest on your shoulders.

It was a necklace with a round and beautiful moonstone set in gold, though the colour of the stone matched nicely with the decorum on your dress. It sparkled softly in different colours where it perfectly sat at the dip of your collar bone – and a perfect centre piece for your neckline. You reached at it with your fingertips. It wasn’t even incredibly excessive or flamboyant, just very delicately beautiful. And you immediately knew you would wear it every day.

“You’ve become my sun, Tav”, Astarion spoke solemnly. Surprised by his sudden mood change you threw a quick glance over your shoulder. The vampire looked longingly at your mirror image. His red eyes were glistening with warmth and almost seemed like they were tearing up. He didn’t stop looking at you in the mirror.

“And then… you gave up the sun for me and became my moon as well. The light of my life.” His eyes lit up even more saying that. “If I only can make up for that a tiny bit by showering you with gifts, adoring and loving you every day of my immortal life and keeping you safe and happy, then I’ll happily provide you with that as long as I am able to.” His voice almost broke but his eyes were incredibly bright.

Your eyes welled up. You turned around and grabbed his hands off your shoulders, looking deeply into his eyes. “It’s not all me though. You changed my life, taught me that I was worth more”, you spoke, your voice barely coming out as more than a whisper. You pulled his hands to your chest as he leaned his forehead softly onto yours. You felt the tears coming and saw that his eyes were almost running over as well: “You’re the one that’s guiding me. You’re my stars, Astarion, my whole firmament!”

Tags: @aurasyn @margoteve @usuallyunlikelyfox @hollowmasque @worryknotdear