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wolfbluebird · 17 days ago

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Little Bunny Heart

Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: You don’t know why your dreams are getting fuzzier, or why your tummy aches when Mommy holds you close. But Wanda does. She knows just what her sweet little bunny needs—warm hands, soft words, and milk to quiet your busy brain. You don’t have to think anymore. Mommy will take care of everything.

CW: Mommy kink / Caregiver x little dynamic (non-age regression), Power imbalance (soft control, magical influence), Non-sexual lactation kink / nursing for comfort, Emotional dependency, Orgasm control / light D/s, Semi-hypnotic language and dream manipulation, Soft possessiveness / manipulation (consensual), Submissive adult reader

Men and Minors DNI

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You weren’t sure when it started. That feeling. The one that bubbled up in your chest and made your thoughts get stuck like thick syrup in your brain every time you looked at her.

Maybe it was the lavender scent that clung to her clothes no matter how many battles she fought. Maybe it was the way her arms always felt just right—like they were made for holding you. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the soft lull in her voice when she called you “bunny” and pressed your head to her chest.

Whatever it was, it made the world feel hazy. Distant. Like the only thing that mattered was Wanda. Your Mommy.

And today had been a hard day. Not for her, obviously—Wanda had returned from work flushed with energy, cheeks kissed pink by the wind, brushing off alien guts from her sleeves like dust. But you? You’d woken up from the kind of nap that left your heart pounding and your face hot, dream fragments trailing behind you like spider silk. You’d tried to watch cartoons, tried to snack, tried to distract yourself from the lingering ache in your stomach and the guilt crawling just beneath your skin.

Because the dream had been about her. Again.

You didn’t remember most of it. Just warm hands. Red light curling like smoke. A voice calling you sweet girl, good girl, Mommy’s girl—until your body tensed in your sleep and you woke up already halfway to tears.

You didn’t want her to know.

But of course she did.

She always did.

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By the time she finds you, you’ve curled yourself into a tight little ball on the sofa. You don’t even hear her footsteps—you just feel her presence, like gravity. And then her arms are around you, warm and strong, lifting you into her lap like you weigh nothing at all.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs, like it’s a lullaby only you get to hear. “Have an icky dream, did you?”

Your face burns. You don’t answer—just nod against her chest and try not to cry. You’re too old to cry over dreams. You’re too old to—

“Shhh,” she hushes, stroking your hair. Her fingers slip through the strands like silk, carding slowly, rhythmically. “Mommy’s here now. You’re safe. My sweet little bunny…”

Your bones practically melt under her voice. You want to say thank you, to apologise, to explain. But all that comes out is a shaky breath and a soft noise—something between a whimper and a sigh as you press closer.

She smells like laundry detergent and burnt ozone. Her red magic hums faintly beneath her skin. It always does when she’s holding you like this. When she wants something.

And even though you don’t understand what that something is, not really—you feel it.

You squirm in her lap, not because you want to leave, but because it’s too much. The heat, the comfort, the quiet sense of wrongness that you don’t have the words for. Her hand brushes your cheek—so gentle it makes your stomach flip.

“There she is,” Wanda whispers. “My soft little lamb. I missed you today, you know.”

“You did?” you croak, voice small and hoarse.

Wanda lets out a soft chuckle. “Of course I did. You think I save the world for fun, baby? No. I do it for you. So you can live in this cosy little house, with your soft blankets and silly cartoons and all the applesauce you could ever want. That’s why Mommy works so hard.”

You nod, ashamed again. You hadn’t even thanked her. You hadn’t done anything today. And here she was, acting like she was the lucky one.

She presses a kiss to the top of your head, lips lingering for just a second too long.

“Dreams getting strange again?” she asks softly, her voice like warm honey.

You tense.

Her arms tighten slightly—just enough to remind you that she’s there. That she’s not letting go.

“Baby…” Her fingers move to your chin, gently coaxing your face up to meet her eyes. “You can tell Mommy. You know that, right?”

You look at her—really look at her. Her eyes shimmer with concern. Her lips are soft and pink. She’s so pretty it makes your head hurt. You want to tell her, but the words curdle in your throat. How can you say it?

That the dreams are about her. That you wake up aching, confused. That sometimes you think her voice is still in your head, whispering things that don’t make sense but feel right.

You blink, and her expression shifts. Something darker settles behind her gaze—smug, maybe. Or knowing.

“Was I in them again?” she asks, and you freeze.

“I—no—”

“Oh, bunny,” she sighs, but there’s no real disappointment in it. Just amusement. “You’re such an adorable little thing. Don’t have a single clue, do you?”

You shake your head slowly.

Her hand slides down to cup your cheek. “Poor thing. Your little brain can’t handle all these grown-up feelings, can it? That’s okay. That’s what I’m here for.”

You should pull away. You know that. But all you do is nuzzle into her touch.

Wanda smiles.

And you never see the faint red shimmer that flickers behind her eyes.

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You lose track of how long you lie there. Safe in Wanda’s arms. Curled up like a kitten, pressed to the rise and fall of her chest, your breathing syncing to hers without you even realising. Her touch doesn’t stop—not for a second. Fingers in your hair, on your cheek, across your back. Always gentle. Always there. Like if she stopped, you might unravel.

You want to speak, but your mouth doesn’t work right. Every time you try to form a word, your tongue gets stuck. You feel… stupid, almost. But not in a bad way. Just fuzzy. Floaty. Like you’re drifting underwater in a dream where everything smells like lavender and feels like Wanda.

“Mmhm,” she hums, as if responding to a thought you didn’t say out loud. “That fuzzy little head of yours is running in circles again, isn’t it?”

You nod slowly, dizzy from the sound of her voice in your ear. It’s like she lives in your head. Always has. But lately it’s gotten worse. Or better. You’re not sure anymore.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whisper.

Wanda pulls back just enough to look at you. Her expression is so full of pity you could cry.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She presses a soft kiss to your temple. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just sensitive. You feel things deeper than most people. And that’s okay.”

“But the dreams—”

“Are just dreams,” she says, cutting you off with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Your little brain’s still growing, still trying to make sense of big things. Of feelings. That’s normal, bunny.”

You shift in her lap, and her hands slide to your hips—holding you steady, keeping you right where she wants you.

“Still,” she says, tone dipped in honey and something else, something darker, “if those dreams are making my baby uncomfortable, maybe we should do something about them.”

Your heart stutters.

“Like… like therapy?” you offer weakly.

Wanda laughs. Full and warm and rich with amusement. “Oh, no, no. Therapy’s for other people. Strangers. You don’t need some stranger poking around in that precious head of yours, do you?”

You shake your head. That sounds awful. You wouldn’t want anyone else inside your head. Not when Wanda’s already there. Already knows you better than you know yourself.

“No,” you murmur. “I want… I want you.”

You don’t even really mean to say it like that. But the way her eyes light up? The little inhale she takes? It makes your stomach twist in that now-familiar, shameful way.

“I know you do,” Wanda whispers, and her hand cups the back of your neck. “You always want Mommy. Even when you’re sleeping.”

Her words send a bolt of embarrassment through your spine. You squirm instinctively, trying to hide your face in her shirt, but she won’t let you. She tilts your chin up with one finger, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“You’ve been dreaming about me,” she says. Not a question. A fact. A gentle accusation.

You nod. Barely.

Wanda sighs again, all softness and control. “You poor thing. You don’t even understand what you’re feeling, do you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise, bunny. It’s not your fault. Your brain’s just trying to tell you something. And it’s too little to make sense of it all on its own.” Her fingers tap your temple, affectionate but firm. “That’s why I’m here. To help.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You don’t even know why.

“I feel weird,” you mumble. “Like… itchy inside.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Wanda purrs, already shifting you closer. “That’s called longing. You want me. And it feels scary because you don’t know what to do with it.”

You blink slowly, like your brain’s catching up one second at a time.

“I do want you,” you whisper, and it comes out like a confession. A sin.

Wanda smiles again. This one is softer. Sadder, maybe. “Of course you do. I’m your everything, aren’t I?”

You nod helplessly.

“Then there’s no need to feel guilty,” she says, leaning in to brush her lips over your cheek. “Your dreams are just your heart’s way of trying to be close to me. That’s sweet, bunny. So sweet.”

Her hand moves to your chest, right over your heart. Her palm is warm. Steady. Your breath hitches.

“You don’t need to be scared of your feelings,” Wanda says, like she’s reading straight from your subconscious. “They’re natural. And you’re such a good girl for telling me. For trusting me.”

You bite your lip.

“I feel bad that they’re about you.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Why would you feel bad about that?”

“Because… you’re my Mommy.”

She leans back just slightly, eyes narrowing—not with anger, but interest.

“And what does that mean to you?” she asks.

You don’t know how to answer that. Your head’s spinning again. You want to curl up and cry and crawl inside her shirt like a baby animal and never leave.

Wanda pulls you forward, your cheek resting over her heart.

“It means I’m yours,” she says. “And you’re mine. That’s all that matters.”

You nod against her chest, the ache in your belly easing a little at her words.

“You’re so lucky to have me,” she murmurs. “Most people don’t get this. They don’t get someone to love them like I love you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Her voice hardens by a hair. Just enough to make your stomach clench again.

“Yes, Mommy,” you say quickly. “I do.”

She strokes your back again, slow and lulling. “Good girl. That’s what I want to hear.”

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You wake up trembling.

You're not even sure what startled you-the dream was warm, not scary. There was no running or screaming. Just Wanda. Her voice. Her touch.

The way she looked at you like you were hers-not just emotionally, but physically. Entirely. Like every inch of your skin belonged to her.

And now you're soaked between the legs, face hot, body aching with a need you don't know how to satisfy.

You whimper softly, trying to shift away, to hide, to think. But you can't. Because Wanda's already awake.

Already watching you.

Like she never slept at all.

"Oh, bunny," she murmurs, voice like velvet and syrup and everything. "You're squirming again."

You try to apologise, but all that comes out is a gasp as her hand moves-down.

"You thought you were hiding it, didn't you?" she coos. "Poor baby. You're always so embarrassed when your body tells the truth."

Her hand cups your cunt over your panties, slow and firm and inevitable. You bite your lip hard, trying not to cry out. It's too much. You're too sensitive. She always makes you too sensitive.

"You're soaked," she says, mock-scandalised. "From dreaming about Mommy. That's what this is, isn't it?"

You nod-shamefully, helplessly.

Wanda's smile could ruin you. "Of course it is. My needy little thing. You can't even sleep without me pressing into you. Holding you. Touching you. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Mommy," you whisper, voice trembling.

"There's my good girl."

She kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips-soft and teasing, like she's so proud of you for admitting the truth.

"You were trying to be good, weren't you? Trying not to wake me?"

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks from sheer overstimulation. "I'm sorry-"

"No, no. Don't apologise," she says, sliding her hand into your panties without warning. Her fingers stroke through your folds, slick and slow, like she has all the time in the world. "Mommy's so proud of you for feeling this much. It means your heart is open. Your body's honest. You're letting go."

Your hips jolt against her hand. You're not trying to grind down. You're not trying to be bad. But your body's desperate, and she's so good at this.

"Shh," she whispers. "Don't fight it. You want this."

You nod, gasping, breath catching in your throat as she circles your clit with a soft, wet stroke.

"Say it."

"I-I want this. I want you, Mommy."

"You want Mommy to touch you like this? Make you come in her bed?"

"Yes-yes, please-!"

"Such a sweet, well-mannered bunny," she coos.

"You're doing so well. Just keep letting me take care of you."

You melt. That's all you've ever wanted. For her to take care of it. Of everything. And Wanda knows that.

She slides a finger inside you-slow, deliberate. You cry out, clinging to her like she's oxygen.

"Good girl," she breathes. "So good for me. My perfect little pet."

You whimper into her shoulder, brain full of fog and heat and her. Nothing else exists. Nothing else matters. Just this. Just her. Just the way her fingers curl just right, pressing into your walls until you're gasping her name like a prayer.

And then she stops.

You let out a sob, hips bucking, frantic. "No-Mommy

—please—!"

"Shh, shh," she murmurs, kissing your ear. "You'll come when I say. You're not in charge of your body anymore, baby. That's my job, remember?"

You nod frantically, tears slipping down your cheeks, thighs trembling around her hand.

"You're mine," she says again, slower. Deeper. Like it's a spell. "Say it."

"I'm yours."

"Again."

"I'm yours, Mommy. All yours."

She smiles. And starts moving again.

The second finger pushes in with ease, and you gasp at the stretch. Her thumb finds your clit. The rhythm she sets is almost cruel-perfect, punishing, loving.

"There you go," she whispers. "Now let go for Mommy. Be a good girl and come for me."

You do.

It rips through you like lightning. A tidal wave of pleasure, guilt, relief, and need. You sob against her as your body shakes in her arms, every nerve lit up like a firework.

She doesn't stop. Not until you're trembling, overstimulated, and still pressing your hips into her hand like a bunny in heat.

"My poor girl," she says softly, pulling her fingers free and licking them clean. "So starved for affection."

You can't even speak. You're crying and whimpering and curled up against her chest like a baby, and it feels right. Like this is who you were meant to be.

Like this is where you belong.

"Shh, it's okay," Wanda murmurs, stroking your hair.

"It's all better now, isn't it? You don't have to think anymore. You don't have to want. You just have to let go."

You nod, delirious. Happy. Empty and full all at once.

"Mommy will keep you safe," she promises, tucking you back under the blanket. "Forever. You never have to leave. Never have to grow up."

And you believe her.

Because your dreams already belong to her.

And now, so does everything else.

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You're still shaking when she lays you down.

Not from fear. Not even from the orgasm. But from the come-down. The emotional unraveling. The way your brain turns to cotton after you've let yourself go that far, that deep, with her.

Wanda tucks the blankets around your body like you're something precious. Fragile. Something she owns, but not in a cold way— in the way a mother holds her child like they're the axis her world spins around.

"Easy," she murmurs, brushing your sweaty hair back from your forehead. "There's my good girl. You did so well for Mommy."

You want to respond, but your throat's tight. All you can do is cling to her shirt and try not to dissolve.

She doesn't rush you. She never does.

Instead, she sits back against the headboard and gently pulls you up with her, until you're resting against her chest, your head over her heart. You listen to the soft beat of it-steady, certain, like it could anchor you even if the world was ending.

Which, you suppose, she's probably prevented a few times this week already. "Breathe with me," she whispers. "Can you do that?"

You nod, inhaling shakily.

"That's it. Just like that, bunny. In through your nose, out through your mouth."

She guides you through a few slow rounds, her hand tracing slow circles on your back, her other hand cradling the back of your head. And little by little, your muscles begin to loosen.

"There we go," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're safe. I've got you."

You nuzzle into her without thinking. Still floating, still fuzzy.

And then, softly:

"I love being like this."

Wanda hums warmly. "Like what, sweetheart?"

"Little," you murmur. "Just... held. Protected. Like you're the only thing I have to worry about."

She smiles against your skin. "That's because you don't have to worry about anything. That's Mommy's job."

You hum, sleepy now. Your head rises and falls with each of her breaths. There's something primal about it-being curled against her like this. Something ancient. Deep. You feel like a baby animal safe in its den. Like you never even knew you needed this until she gave it to you.

"Mommy?" you whisper after a long moment of silence.

"Mhm?"

"..Can I ask something?"

"Anything, my love."

You hesitate. You don't know why you feel embarrassed. She's seen every inch of you. She's held you while you cried, while you begged, while you came apart in her arms. But this feels... different. Vulnerable in a new way.

"I've been thinking about something," you say quietly.

"And I don't think it's sexual. It's just—comfort."

Wanda doesn't press. She waits. Letting you find the words.

"Sometimes," you say slowly, "when I'm like this... when | feel really small... I get this... urge."

You pause. Wanda strokes your cheek, so gently it almost hurts.

"Tell me."

"I want to... I think I want to nurse from you. Not like a sex thing. I just want to feel close. Safe. Like I'm yours."

You go quiet again, afraid to look up.

But Wanda doesn't laugh. Doesn't flinch. She just smiles.

"Oh, bunny," she says softly. "You don't need to be embarrassed about that."

You blink. "

"...l don't?"

"Of course not." Her hand drifts down to cradle your jaw. "Wanting that kind of closeness is normal. Especially for someone like you. You're so emotionally open when you let yourself drop. You crave nurture, not just care. That's beautiful."

You bite your lip. "But I'm not actually a baby."

"No," she agrees gently. "You're not. You're my big girl. My sweet girl. And that's what makes this so special. Because you choose to be soft with me. To let me feed you. Hold you. Love you."

You breathe out a shaky little sigh, the shame in your chest loosening.

"Would you want that?" you ask. "Like….. actually?"

Wanda cups your face in both hands now. Her eyes are soft. Fierce. Certain.

"If it would comfort you?" she says. "Then yes. Without question."

You're quiet again. "You could... make it happen, couldn't you?"

She smiles faintly. "Bunny. I can bend reality. I can defy physics. I think I can manage a little magical lactation."

You giggle-surprised by your own lightness. It feels good to laugh after how intense everything was.

Wanda beams at the sound.

"I'd like that," you admit. "I don't even need it now. I just... I want it to be something we can do. Sometimes. If I feel too small. Or scared. Or like I don't know how to be a grown-up anymore."

Wanda doesn't answer right away. Instead, her hand moves to her chest, and with the gentlest whisper of scarlet, you feel it shift. A warmth, a pull-something ancient and primal awakening just beneath her skin.

You blink up at her, dazed. "Did you just—?"

"I told you," she murmurs, voice wrapped in love and power, "I'll give you whatever you need."

She reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it up slowly, revealing one soft, full breast, the peak slightly flushed, already responding to you. There's no eroticism in it-just invitation. Tenderness. The kind of gesture a goddess might make to her most devoted worshipper.

"Come here, sweetheart."

Your breath stutters, but your body knows what to do before your mind catches up. You shift up, still trembling, still so small, and Wanda gently guides your head to her chest.

"That's it," she whispers, brushing your hair from your face. "You're safe. Just take what you need."

Your lips close over her nipple slowly, hesitantly, and -

Warmth.

It's warm. Her milk is soft and subtly sweet on your tongue, and your whole body melts as you begin to suckle. Shame evaporates instantly-there's only the overwhelming, complete right-ness of this. Of her hand stroking your spine. Her heartbeat in your ear.

Her soft voice murmuring praise as your breathing slows and the fuzz in your brain dissolves like sugar in tea.

"There you go," she whispers. "Good girl. Mommy's so proud of you."

You feel like crying again. From relief, this time. From how utterly full you feel, in every sense of the word.

"That's it, my little bunny," Wanda hums. "Drink up. Fill that aching tummy. Let Mommy hold you.”

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A/N: I’ve never wrote anything in this style before, so please let me know how I did and if you enjoyed it! And if you guys want more then tell me.

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lieslab · 22 days ago

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Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Og8 X fem reader

Summary: When you struggle being the only woman in the group, the guys will do whatever it takes to make you feel better, even if it means walking in your shoes.

Genre: 9th member AU

Word Count: 5.9k

Trigger warning: Struggles with girlhood/womanhood, self-hatred, insecurities, internalized misogyny, and gender envy (if you squint hard enough)

A/N: There were three of you that requested fem reader stuff and I compacted everything into this long drabble, so it's a triple kill. There are bits and pieces of everything in here, along with my own perspective on being a girl. 10/10 do recommend reading, even if you don't identify with womanhood because things get stupidly silly.

_ _ _

A girl is a gun. The brain is a chamber. Every thought is a bullet. Society is good at labels. The moment you’re freed from your mother’s womb, there’s a label. Everyone tends to see you as blue or pink. Boy or Girl.

Blue is for boys. Stronger and masculine, filled with so much might. They might bow to the side, but they never break. Rigid spines and the strength that women will never have. Not ever.

Pink is for girls. Soft and delicate. Sweet and fragile. Girls are not as strong as men. When they sway, if they topple, they fall apart into thousands of pieces. Men are more emotionally mature, physically stronger, and girls? Well, girls are just breakable.

“I need some big strong boys to help me move some stuff.”

The first words that so many girls hear in their early years. The first acknowledgement that plants the seed of doubt in any growing girl. Staring down at our bodies and then watching the line of eager boys that jumped up at the opportunity to help a teacher. A parent. A coach. The confident stride as the boys rushed forward, eager to accept the compliment from someone we were supposed to look up to.

It always leads to a wave of sadness and what-ifs. Am I not good enough? Do I not share that same strength, despite being a little taller than some of those boys? A product of patriarchy, wrapped in a reminder that women will always be second to men, society judges us before we have the chance to prove ourselves.

And being tossed into a group of eight guys to follow your dreams? Your mindset twisted and feelings blurred before you bloomed.

~ ~ ~

South Korea’s strict standards, you struggled with them. Each interview, questions always bubbled and popped up. Never at you, always directed towards the others, but specifically Chan. The interview’s lips would pull back in a smile and the guys would laugh.

What was it like to boss you around? You tried to brush off the question and pretend it didn’t hurt, but it always did. Why did it have to come down to this? All your talents pushed aside to engage in a stupid question. You weren’t even the youngest in the group, but it always felt like it.

“I tease her all the time.” Chan glanced over at you, the first time it happened. “She listens to us quite well. I have nothing to complain about. The easiest to get along with, the one who actually listens to what she’s told, I respect her a lot. I hope she respects me just as much.”

The response felt lukewarm in your head. Why did you have to be the one to follow orders? A strict routine and bowing down to the guys. It always felt like you had to be the mother. You weren’t, but that’s how so many people viewed it. You were a woman, you were the maternal coddling of the group, even if you really weren’t. Your arms crossed over your chest, but you still tried to smile. It never met your eyes.

It was that interview that the doubt poured in. Everything you thought you knew felt wrong. During the interview, you wore a lower cut top. You didn’t mind it, you felt comfortable, and you got along with the stylist pretty well. If it was something you weren’t comfortable with, you would have spoken up. You always had and you always would.

After the interview and heading home, you spent most of that evening in your bedroom. Scrolling through your hidden twitter timeline, you watched the comments roll in. Not enough curves here, too much there. Why did it matter? It’s not like you could customize your body at the drop of the hat. In fact, you liked your body up until that point.

Each tweet fueled the self hatred within you. Maybe you should have been more insecure of your flat chest. Didn’t you want to be seen as a woman? Didn’t you want to catch the attention of guys? To have them look you up and down in fascination? Doesn’t being a woman mean you want to be wanted? To be needed? To have your body idolized and worshipped?

You threw your phone the moment a knock appeared at your door. “Come in.”

The brass knobbed turned and Chan’s head poked in a small gap. “Hey, there you are. You’ve been missing since we came home from the interview. I came to see if you were okay.”

You hesitated and then shrugged. He frowned, stepped inside the room, and shut the door behind him. Your room had been filled with posters and all the little trinkets that made you who you were. The scent of a favorite candle and bursts of your favorite color. This was your safest haven and your home.

“What’s the glum face for? Do you want to talk about it?” He walked closer, cautiously slipping onto the side of your bed. The hinges squeaked and he reached a hand towards you.

You looked down at it, staring at the lines scattered throughout his palm. A few weeks ago, you all filmed a new Skz Code video where your palms were read. You remembered what the palm reader said about him. Great fortune, good health, and a long life. You wished your own palm reading would have mirrored his.

“Please don’t shut me out.”

You inhaled through your nose and exhaled in a sigh. “It’s kinda stupid, really.” You pulled your gaze away and glanced at one of your posters. “You know when the interviewer asked you how it felt to boss me around?”

“Mhm.”

“It just…”

“What?”

“I guess it just…” You shrugged, trying to find the right words. “It just feels like something like that always comes up in interviews. A question that’s worded in a manner that makes me feel like I’m not my own individual. Like I’m incompetent and unimportant. I know it’s just a question and I shouldn’t assume things, but to me, that’s what it comes off as.”

“I know I’m a woman and I know when I first got here, things were weird between us all, but I’m me. You know? I have talents and a personality and–” The anger came back and your words turned bitter. “It’s like ‘I’m just a girl.’ I’m ‘only’ a girl. Defenseless and useless.”

“None of us see you that way.” His hand snaked over, wrapping around your knee. He squeezed it lightly, reminding you that you weren’t alone. “We never see you like that.”

You blinked rapidly. “What do I have to do to be seen for myself? How do I show everyone that I’m me? Everyone treats being a woman like it’s a curse and when interviewers say stuff like that, it feels like it.”

“We’ll figure it out. The guys and I will answer it in a different way. We’ll try to find the right things to say, so it doesn’t seem like we’re–”

“I know you’re not hurting me on purpose. Maybe I really am just being dramatic. I’m probably thinking about it too much. It was just a question.”

“But if a question hurts you, if the way I answer it hurts something inside of you, that’s not a bad thing. That just means that there’s something in you aching and I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Thanks, Chan.”

He squeezed your knee again and patted your thigh. “So if you feel a little better, maybe we can have you come downstairs now? Minho helped Felix and Jeongin make some food. They didn’t burn down the kitchen and they’re eager for you to try it.”

You nodded, reached over, and grabbed his hand; ready to try and take on the world again.

~ ~ ~

A new concept, another thing to try, and something else to bring to life. You’d all been working so tirelessly recording things and practicing new dances. A fresh batch of interviews and a new comeback date. Your heart jittered with nerves and as the days passed by, excitement grew.

It died the moment the stylist brought out a bright pink dress with ruffles. You sucked in a deep breath, scanning the dress, trying to find one part of it you liked. “It’s very uhm…”

“Pink?” The stylist offered. She laughed and hung it along a rolling rack. “Yeah, the creative team placed it together.”

“So what are the guys wearing?”

“Black suits.”

“Why can’t I wear a black suit?”

“Why would you want to wear a suit? They’re itchy and uncomfortable. This dress is more flowy and pink. Pink! Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Your heart deflated. Why did the color pink feel so wrong? You always switched back and forth upon it. Some shades, you wanted to stare at for hours. Others felt too much. Too bright. Too girly.

It left a bitter taste in your mouth just thinking about it. When did describing something as ‘girly’ become such a bad thing? Too prissy. Too sissy. Something only a girl would do. Why did it feel so demeaning and almost derogatory? To be ‘too girly’ was a curse.

You knew what it was like to grow up and not want to be like other girls. To be just like other girls was to be meaningless. To be the exact same shade of pink; bland, boring, and worthless. A clump of coal whereas some girls sparkled like diamonds. You wanted that, you chased that.

For so long, you didn’t want to be like other girls. Internalized misogyny ran deep. The way it was so easy to belittle your own gender, just because you could. Girlhood is so hard. You rolled your eyes at lip gloss and scoffed at makeup. It took so long to unlearn and retrain your internal thoughts. Maybe other girls weren’t the problem, maybe it was just you.

The way it felt like the way to victory was by stepping on the hands of other girls. Catching the attention of your crush. Doing whatever you could to grab his attention, even if it meant changing yourself entirely. Didn’t you want to appeal to his standards? To be wanted eagerly and be entirely devoted to? To be adored and worshipped like a real life goddess.

When you saw that dress, you damned it too girly. You didn’t want to wear the stupid dress, you wanted the suit. You liked the color better and you liked the idea of blending in with the rest of the guys.

You didn’t want to be the pick-me so much anymore, you just wanted a place to belong.

~ ~ ~

“Yo, what’s up with their new look? What happened to the pink dress moment? This new look is sooo ugly. Ugh.”

“Has anyone else checked out the girl in Stray Kids? Is she trying to be one of the guys? Lmfao.”

Worthless voices cycled your Twitter feed. You tried to ignore them, but the stupid recommended feed kept giving them to you. When you couldn’t take it anymore, you threw your phone onto the ground, causing Changbin and Minho’s conversation to halt.

“Uh…” Changbin’s eyebrow raised. “Did you mean to throw your phone?”

“Yeah, I hate everyone. Everyone is stupid and dumb and I hope they die.”

“Agreed,” Minho nodded. “Who did what to piss you off this time? Did Seungmin eat your leftovers from last night again?”

“No, it’s just everyone on Twitter. They all have a degree in dumbassery.”

Changbin snorted and shook his head. “Why are you even on Twitter? You’re giving power to voices that don’t matter. You shouldn’t listen to them.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say. You have everyone thirsting over your biceps all the time. Everyone keeps picking me apart. I put on that stupid god-ugly dress for that one photoshoot and I hated it.”

“STUPID DRESS?” Changbin’s eyes widened. He leaned over and grabbed your shoulder. “Are you hearing yourself? Stupid dress! That’s the same shade of pink as Dwaekki!”

“You looked good in that dress,” Minho added.

“I didn’t feel good wearing it and I stuck out apart from everyone.”

“Didn’t you want to wear the dress?”

“I wanted to wear the suit.”

“So in other words, you wanted to be one of the bros.” Seungmin’s voice joined the conversation. Your eyes narrowed on the turned off TV. He floated behind the couch, heading out to the kitchen.

“Why doesn’t anyone get it? It’s not like that, it’s my personal preference. There’s nothing wrong with dresses, but I just don’t find I like them. I feel too exposed and too bare without the way pant legs hug my legs.”

“And I wore a pair of baggy basketball shorts and a bigger t-shirt the other day when we came home from the airport. Now everyone is dubbing me as ‘too manly.’ It’s like I can never catch a fucking break.”

“Yeah,” Minho clicked his tongue. “Unfortunately, that’s what it’s like to be an idol. People are idiots and you have to learn how to tune them out.”

Your head shook rapidly, “it’s not that. It’s like, it’s not even what I wear, it’s what I do. Every little thing is examined beneath a microscope. I hugged Felix a little too long? Well, now everyone thinks we’re screwing behind the scenes. I grabbed Jeongin’s hand when we were being mobbed in Australia? I’m a slut and probably screwing him, too.”

Your fingers ran through your hair and you tugged at it. “This hair? I cut it again and they called me ugly. I let it grow out, they say it’s too long. I’m not trying to undermine your idol experiences, but it feels like since I’m a woman, it happens to me so much more.”

“I gained some muscle in my biceps from working out with Chan? Well, now I look more masculine and I must be wanting to be a man. I don’t understand why everyone makes it hard! Why does it have to be black and white? Shades of gray have always existed!”

You huffed and threw yourself back on the couch and jerked your arms over your chest. “It just feels like nobody ever gets it; gets me. I’m not a puzzle that has to be completed, I’m just me. Why isn’t that enough?”

“You’re always enough, society is just stupid,” Changbin started.

“It’s always been stupid,” Seungmin added.

“That’s why you get cats because they can’t belittle you.”

“You little shit, that’s a lie and you know it. You just said Doongie bit you the other day because you weren’t giving him enough attention.”

“It was an affectionate bite.”

Seungmin and Minho started to bicker louder. You glanced over, not in the mood to engage in their stupidity. Changbin tried to calm them down, but you still felt so ignored.

You tried to understand it, but your words weren’t enough and they might never be.

~ ~ ~

You showed up to the new Skz Code set in a sleeveless white shirt and denim jorts. Your hair sat in a messy bun at the nape of your neck. From what you understood, the film crew booked a fancy airbnb. Looking to the director for directions, he gestured for you to take a seat on the leather couch.

So you did. Sinking into the cool leather, you let yourself relax. The rest of the guys had yet to appear and you weren’t sure where they were. They were supposed to be here at the same time you were. They disappeared upstairs and had yet to make a reappearance.

You stayed on the couch quietly, looking down at your worn pair of black converse. Nobody told you what filming was about. The guys said they didn’t know, but doubts filled your head. Surely, they had to know something.

Yet, one more thing you’d been left out of, like your opinion didn’t matter. Thinking about it, you dug your fingers into the denim on your thighs. Your fingers lightly tapped, the film crew chattered in quiet whispers, and you waited for someone to tell you what to do.

Eggshell white stained the wall. The modern living room stapled together via black furniture. A bright white fluffy rug sat tucked beneath a glass coffee table. They left the built-in fireplace turned off. Marbled prints hung behind your head, evenly spaced out along the back wall.

An unknown amount of time passed until the director called out to the film crew. You looked up, glancing around for the guys. He tugged his baseball cap down and headed towards one of the guys running a large camera.

“Wait, what about the guys?” You asked, trying to understand what was going on.

“They’ll be here soon. We’re going to start filming in three, two…”

You stayed in your spot. Your furrowed eyebrows relaxed and you blink. A wide lens zoomed in on your face and you waited. Your relaxation was abruptly cut off by the sound of loud thuds. You jerked your attention to the side and Jeongin strolled down the stairs.

“Good afternoon, mon cheri.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. He strolled down the stairs in a mid-length black skirt and a t-shirt. Long black straightened hair fell down his shoulders and back, like a darkened curtain.

He grinned, showing off two dimples. “Did you miss me, mon cheri?”

“What are you wearing?”

The closer he appeared, the more you could see. Peachy eyeshadow sat on his eyelids. Lip gloss, sharp eyeliner, and a faint dusting of blush. “What does it look like?”

“I’m too afraid to ask.”

He strolled over, sitting down beside you. His hands brushed over his skirt, smoothing it along. “We can’t have anyone seeing my goods, you know?” He looked back up the stairs. “Okay, next!”

“HERE I COME!” The loud voice was immediately accompanied by the sound of Changbin’s giggling. A camera shifted on the tripod and zoomed into the top of the stairs.

“Are you ready, director? Are you all ready?” He brushed black bangs from his face and approached with his hair tied in two long pigtails. A glittery pink mid-thigh skirt and bright pink blush. “I’m such a pretty girl. Look at me!”

You craned your neck, trying to see. He gripped the banister and waddled down step-by-step. When your eyes caught his chest, your eyes widened. You practically threw yourself over the side of the couch. “Are you wearing fake–”

“Nuh-uh! They’re not fake! These things,” he gestured towards his protruding chest. “All nat-ur-al, baby. You wish you could be born with a pair of knackers like–”

At that moment, he chose to jump down a step. One of the fake breast implants shifted and popped right out of the low-cut long sleeve shirt he wore. He yelled and tried to reach for it, but it missed his hand by a mile. Down, down, down it bounced. Step-by-step, soft splats until it landed along the bottom with a final loud sticky thud.

You stared at it, Jeongin stared at it, and the guys hanging out along the top of the stairs stared at it. Changbin screeched and rushed down the rest of the way. “My boob!” Hyunjin’s hands clapped together and he broke first. You soon followed, watching with tears in your eyes as Changbin rushed forward, trying to grab the pale implant and shove it back in his bra. He couldn’t replace it the right way. One sat too high and the other sat too low.

“Oh, no! I can’t fix them!” He looked up and his eyes met the director’s. He screeched and jerked around. “Don’t look at me, I’m vulnerable! Innie, come help me fix my–”

“I’m not going anywhere near your man-boobs.”

“They’re not man-boobs. Today, these are women’s boobs. I am one with woman. I mean women.” He grabbed the top of his shirt and jerked it. “Someone help!”

“I’m coming!” Felix rushed down the stairs with blonde extensions blended into the back of his hair. “Don’t worry, help is on the way!” He giggled and clipped his fingers together. Plastic acrylic nails faintly clicked. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

You looked away, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“Noona, you love us.”

“Make way losers, it’s me. I’m the prettiest princess at the party.” Hyunjin straightened his spine and waltzed down the stairs. A bright pink glittery dress hugged his frame. Black straps poked out through the sleeveless sides, holding up fake breasts.

When you glanced over, you snorted. A blonde bob framed his face. To add to the ambiance, a silver tiara sat on top of his head. Diamond earrings dangled from each earlobe.

“Don’t laugh at me, you’re in the presence of royalty. It’s Princess Hwang to you, peasant and if you want to–”

“Outta the way, princess.” Minho hip checked him and pushed past him.

He gasped and screeched. “You’re going to ruin my nails! I just spent a fortune getting a pedicure and–”

“Shove it up your ass. Anyway, it’s me again, Auntie Lee Know. No sign of my pathetic husband. It’s a girl’s day and I think I need a drink.”

Sweatpants, a t-shirt, and an oversized comfy green and black plaid flannel. He glanced over at Changbin and Felix. “See, that’s why you do your research before you get a boob job. Next thing you know, they’re exploding and–”

“These are all natural!”

“Sweetheart, if I wanted to deal with something that stiff and hollow, I’d borrow your brain.”

Changbin gasped, clutching his heart. Felix grimaced and stepped back. “You little shit, it’s so–”

“Oh, cat fight. Anyway, hi, hello, it’s me. I’m Hannie. Do you guys like my dress?” Han appeared in a flowy sage green dress. Two yellow barrettes held back his long hair from his face. “I’m the prettiest princess at the party.”

“That spot is held for me!” Hyunjin cried out.

Chan called your name and appeared down the stairs lastly. Black bangs were covered with a baseball cap. Red nail polish, a red and white letterman jacket, and a cropped white shirt. Paired with denim jeans and a wig tied back in a ponytail, you blinked in shock.

“How do we all look?”

“I don’t know if I should be amused, or offended.”

“Well, we decided to give womanhood a try for a few hours. Obviously, it’s not–” He paused to adjust his fake breasts. “Totally accurate,” he continued, “but we have some ideas.”

“Where’s Seungmin?”

“Busy being a boss woman.” He appeared from the kitchen. A black pencil skirt, white dress shirt, and a black blazer. Bright red lipstick lined his lips and he narrowed two smoky eyes at you. “I’m grinding, as they call it.”

“Oh my fucking god…”

He threw the long blonde hair over his shoulder and turned around. “If you’ll excuse me, I think my assistant is calling.” He huffed, grabbed his phone from his pocket, and turned around. “Didn’t I tell you not to bother me?”

Felix came over to grab his arm, but Seungmin’s hand shot up. He gestured for him to stop and turned to the side again. “Excuse me, someone is currently in my line of vision and begs for my attention, I’ve gotta go.” He pretended to hang up and looked at Felix. “Don’t you know what manners are?”

“Sorry, I just wanted to compliment your skirt.”

“You wish it was yours, huh? I thrifted it from my deceased grandmother’s closet.”

“Wow,” Minho mumbled. “Sounds like something my husband would say.”

“Auntie Lee Know, you should break up with him. He’s a dead weight in your life.” Hyunjin fluttered his mascara-filled lashes and adjusted his crown. “I’d never let a dead-beat man ruin my life. Mama doesn’t need a man.”

“Okay, okay. So we’re all having a quest to feel more womanly. You get to be the judge. Tell us how to do it right and whatnot. First up, we have the heel walking competition. Like that one time the company put you in six-inch heels.”

You groaned, “Changbin, don’t remind me. I had blisters for like a week afterwards. It was one of the worst days of my life.”

“That’s why we had the staff members buy us each a pair of heels that they thought would look good with our outfits.”

You stayed on your spot on the couch. Jeongin got up and headed over to grab the pairs of heels. You stayed quiet, eagerly watching, knowing that this would go wrong. No matter what they did, it’d never go right.

“Okay, so it seems we have run into our first problem,” Han looked over at Seungmin.

Seungmin glanced up, “which is?”

“You’re flashing the entire camera crew in your skirt.”

His cheeks flushed red and he quickly closed his legs. His hands jerked together and he bowed. “I am so, so, so sorry. See? I’m not good at this woman thing. I’m not cut out for it.”

“I think I am.” Hyunjin shoved his feet into a pair of black heels and tried to get to his feet. “I’m ready to go talk to the townsfolk. Lead the kingdom and– oof!” His ankle shifted as he stood up, unsteadying his balance. “Ow! Stupid shoes!”

“See, it’s not nearly as easy as you all think.”

“Wrong.” Felix stood up with ease and walked around with his arms straightened. “It’s all about the core and engaging balance.”

Chan followed, trying to stand. He managed to take one step and then another. Four steps in, his ankles wobbled, and he struggled to stay upright. Across from him, Jeongin shimmied, trying to get his foot into the heel. “Another problem, these don’t fit my feet.”

“Too bad. Suck it up and keep trying. Curl your toes, it’s the pain of the patriarchy.” Minho rose up without incident. His hands fell to his hips. “If I can do it, anyone can do it.”

“How the hell are you all doing that?” Han managed to get half up, before tumbling over. “Oh, this is so hard. Women are so brave. Life must be so hard for them. I’m sorry, women.”

One of the staff members handed you a bottle of water. You sipped it and watched, probably enjoying yourself a little too much. “Changbin, the point of heels is to take a step and walk forward.”

“I can’t! I’m scared!” He stood stiff with his hands balled into fists down at his sides. “Yongbokkie, how are you-”

Felix spun around in a circle and threw his hair over his shoulder. “Some of you didn’t have sisters and they clearly didn’t force you into wearing plastic princess heels.”

“That’s not fair! I don’t even have a sister!” Jeongin called out. He shoved his foot into the second heel and struggled to get up. He wobbled, exactly like a newborn giraffe. Just when he thought he made progress, he slipped, landing over the arm of the couch with a groan. “Noona, I can’t do this.”

“I can see that.”

“It hasn’t even been two minutes and my feet hurt.”

Minho took the point of his stiletto and poked Seungmin’s calf. “Get up and try to walk again. Up, up, up. We don’t have all day for you to sit there and be lazy. Stay wants to see you saunter.”

“Oh, ah, hee-hee.” Chan’s squeaky laugh filled the air. Dimples poked out and he took two steps. “Look at me now, Hannah. You said I could never walk in heels. Look at me now! You owe me!” He pointed at the camera. The gesture was just enough to catch him off balance.

One foot slipped beneath him and he crashed hard. Your hand curled over your mouth as you winced. “Hyung! Are you okay?” Clicking sounds rushed over. Pigeon-toed, Han reached a hand down. “I don’t think we should have you in these anymore.”

“Are you calling me old?”

“Well, he’s certainly not calling you young, meemaw.”

“Shut up, Seungmin!”

Jeongin reached down and slipped off his shoes. “Can we try something else? What else do girls do?”

“Girl talk?” Han offered.

“Guys!” Hyunjin spun around with a hand on his hip. “What’s your biggest insecurity? Personally, I’m afraid that–”

Changbin gasped. “My ass! The bathrobe incident on live! Oh, it haunts me all the time.”

“Big and voluptuous,” Felix mumbled beneath his breath. “So soft and fluffy, like a marshmallow.” His hands appeared in front of him and he pretended to squeeze air. “Nothing’s wrong with your ass, it’s perfect.”

“One time I cried during a car commercial,” Jeongin announced. “It was a really bad day. I don’t know what it was, but that Ford commercial really struck a chord within me.”

“Wooow,” Minho piped up sarcastically, “the patriarchy is quaking.”

You snorted. The guys continued their antics and your amusement grew. Behind the cameras, even some of the staff members had to cover their mouths and try not to laugh. Some of the things they came up with, it was outrageous.

“Look at what’s in my purse!” Hyunjin strolled over and picked up a small white handbag. “This is the latest from Versace. Donatella Versace. You all wouldn’t know her. I have chapstick and gum in here.”

“What about tampons?” Han blurted out. “Where do you keep those?”

“It’s not that time of the month for me.”

“I always carry around tampons.”

Changbin raised an eyebrow and slowly spun around. “Huh? Are you roleplaying, or are you–”

“Like for my ass, you know.” Han’s head swung your way and he winked. “Girls always look out for fellow girls.”

“You think…” You trailed off, unable to find the words. “You think tampons go up the ass?”

“Well, duh! They’re like a plug!”

“This fucking baffoon,” Minho whispered.

A crinkling of paper caught your way. You looked over to find the director crouching on the floor. A sheet of paper fell over his face, hiding it from your view. Burly shoulders shook behind it, trying to keep his laughter silent.

“Who wants to give Han an anatomy lesson?”

“I know plenty about women’s anatomy! The uteruses, the ovary, I know it all. Don’t underestimate me. Just because I’m a man, I’m not like other men, I’m knowledgeable!”

“You’re right, you’re not like other men. You’re worse,” Seungmin grumbled.

“Felix, what are you doing?” Chan asked. Behind him, Felix stood in the mirror with a variety of objects in his hands. He clutched them and spun around, still in his heels.

“You know that claw thing that women can do? I’ve always thought that was so cool. They can carry so many things at once. I wanted to try it out and what do you know? I can do it, too. Being a woman is wonderful.”

Without a mistake, he sauntered back across the wooden floor and approached you with outstretched hands. He appeared in front of you and handed you a variety of objects. His phone, a few bottles of nail polish, dorm keys, a chapstick, and a phone charger.

“I think I’ve seen enough. Felix wins this competition. Felix wins the whole entire thing.”

“Hooray! I knew I’d be a wonderful woman!” He spun around beaming and waved at the cameras. “I’d like to thank my mom and my sisters.” His hands collapsed together and he bowed. “Everything I know comes from you.”

Minho’s hand went to his hip. “I can’t even argue with that. He has the full getup and everything. Good job, Yongbok.”

“Do I have to take these off?” He looked over at the staff and wiggled the pink acrylics. “Because I really like these. I have to get used to them, but I think I can make it work.”

Something snapped. To the side, Hyunjin threw the broken tiara onto the floor. “I’m beheading all of you. You’re done. Guillotine.”

“Boooooooo! Point and shame!” Jeongin’s finger stuck in his direction. “Not a girl’s girl!”

“Boooo!” You agreed and pointed.

Seungmin leaned over, grabbed his ankle, and tugged. It was enough to send Hyunjin wobbling. He screeched, wobbled, and hit the ground hard. He landed with a faint “oof” and glared at the ceiling. “I hate all of you.”

“Don’t blame me, I didn’t tell you to do this.” You leaned over and lightly flicked his forehead. He winced and rubbed his forehead. A tongue stuck out at you and you rolled your eyes.

“Seriously though, did we do a good job at being women?” Jeongin asked.

“Yeah, rate us out of ten,” Han agreed.

“Well, you’re certainly not getting told to walk in heels by the company any time soon.”

“Thank god,” Chan jerked off a heel, “these are modern day torture devices.”

“I think we should burn down the patriarchy and put women in charge. I think my mom and my older sister would be great leaders. They taught me so much and I love them.”

“That must be nice, Changbin. My brothers would threaten to steal my food and let me starve for dinner. I was fighting for my life every day. I don’t know how my mother did it.” Jeongin glanced to the side, thinking about his mom. “I should call her after the shoot and thank her.”

Felix called your name. “I think we should be thanking you as well. You take really good care of us, despite us not deserving it. People say some unkind things about you and you don’t deserve it at all.”

“I think,” Chan started, “you should just be whoever you want to be. Feminine, masculine, soft, or strong. It doesn’t matter. It’s all a spectrum and where you land shouldn’t matter, as long as you’re happy.”

“How sweet. Anyway, I think you should have a free pass to curb stomp people in heels. Especially, when people say ‘you eat a lot for a girl.’ What does that even mean? Women need food and what anyone eats is nobody’s business. You should get a free pass.” Seungmin laid back and stretched his arms above his head. “This is too hard for me. I don’t know how you do it. I’m going home to stuff my face, you should join me.”

“Can we go live?” Felix asked. “Can we go live in our woman outfits? The first time someone says something about her food intake, I’m going to give them my middle acrylic. Women should be able to ravish like men, too. Today, we’re all women and we shall feast loudly and proudly.”

Hyunjin hummed softly. “Yeah, eating a full rotisserie chicken with your hands, that’s something that feels collectively feral and filling across the board. Everyone should try it at least once. I connected with my ancient ancestors that day.”

“Um, Seungmin?” Han leaned over. “You’re flashing the cameras again.”

“For fuck’s sake!”

The guys busted into a fit of laughter and your own smile appeared on your face. So maybe womanhood really was full of highs and lows, but you weren’t alone. Maybe one day, you would be given free reign to terrorize those that did you wrong, but for now, you could flick Hyunjin in the forehead again for whining about girlhood.

When he didn’t stop grumbling about the entire thing being rigged, you leaned over, let your finger fly, and landed a hit directly between his eyebrows again.

He screeched, high and shrill, just like a girl and it was the best sound you ever heard.

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mirainwonderland · 4 months ago

Text

Content: MDNI, jealous Leon, afab sub, m dom, Leon x reader, cunnilingus (f receiving), unprotected, p in v, smut with some plot

Words: 3.4k

A/N: via request to expand on my headcanon of jealous Leon I come bearing this offering. (Thank you @daliastar) I hope I expressed how I think he would react well. If you enjoy it pls like and let me know, I love hearing from people ☺️ oh and if you have a request, send it over, I love ideas! :D okie bai have fun RIP you

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“What was that all about?” Leon tries to make his tone sound controlled and unbothered. It’s not working out so well. He tugs off his jacket trying to feign nonchalance, but there’s a fire burning beneath his rib cage.

“Hm?” Your oblivious little response makes the jealousy flare up even hotter, but he bites it back. It’s not like it was your fault. He doesn’t want to be that kind of guy anyway—that immature little prick that takes his insecurities out on his girlfriend.

You turn toward him, unbuttoning your dress as you do, and he finds his gaze drifting low over the sliver of your chest and bra that’s becoming visible with each button freed.

Goddammit. That’s his. That’s all his! Every inch of that goddamn gorgeous body is his and his alone, and nobody or nothing is gonna get a sneak peek at his girl.

He snaps himself out of it before you notice his internal petulant tantrum that he’s desperately trying to keep just that: internal. He takes a deep breath and tosses his jacket onto the back of the chair, reaching for his belt next, hoping you won’t notice how he’s all but yanking it off like a sulky kid.

You haven’t noticed a thing. Hell, you’re not even looking at him as you focus on changing out of your outside clothes.

“That guy we ran into.” He tries not to spit out the words and make it obviously venomous. “Where do you know him from again?”

He’s attempting to sound interested rather than interrogating. And thank god you’re not paying close enough attention to see the boiling jealousy behind his eyes.

“Oh. I told you. Knew him back in college. Same classes as me or something. Can’t really remember, actually.”

Leon watches your back as you walk over to your vanity and pull your hair back, dress hanging open.

“You… go out with him or something?”

Your little laugh tells him that you haven’t caught on to the slight cyanide in his tone.

“Oh god no! He wasn’t really my type. I don’t think he sees me like that anyway.”

Leon stares at your reflection in the mirror hard, like he can’t even wrap his head around how fucking dense your big beautiful brain is sometimes.

“Oh he definitely sees you like that.”

You pause in taking off your makeup to look at his reflection in the mirror with that dry, disbelieving expression you give him. The little pink on your cheeks that’s not from your blush doesn’t make him feel any better. You shake your head with an unconvinced smile.

“Don’t be silly Leon.” You return to scrubbing off your makeup.

He watches long and hard while you do your skincare. Your face glows as your delicate fingers apply that face oil you love so much. He feels his dick stiffen with mixed feelings of jealousy, possessiveness, and thoughts along the lines of, Only I get to see her naked like that. Face, body, everything. Just me.

Dammit, he hates himself. More than anything right now, he hates himself. But it’s like something else is possessing him as he watches you slip out of your dress and go into your closet for something more comfortable to wear.

That’s it. He really can’t stand it anymore. He tosses aside the belt in his hand, not caring where it lands, and follows after you. He corners you in the closet, approaching from behind you where you can’t see him just as you’re pulling a pair of your favorite lounge set from your drawer. He catches you, big arms wrapping around you from behind.

“No.” He says, voice sounding tender in your ear, but laced with an intensity you pause for. He intercepts your hand, taking the pjs from you and tosses them back in the direction of the drawer. “Don’t put on anything else.”

His lips trail over the back of your neck.

“Leon…” You kind of laugh, bewildered. Your hands come to wrap around his forearms. “What are you doing?”

One hand reaches behind your hair to pull out the clip you’d pulled it back with and let your soft strands fall down around your face again.

Beautiful.

“You didn’t see the way that guy was looking at you?” He forces his voice to sound more concerned than jealous. “He was undressing you with his eyes.”

His lips and nose brush your temple as he stares straight ahead, remembering the interaction from earlier.

“You really need to be more careful, Y/N. Guys do stuff like this all the time.”

He gives your temple a kiss. He feels the jealously bubbling in his gut, making him clench his teeth and hold you a little tighter.

“Leon, he wasn’t—“

His jaw clenches so hard, he’s surprised that his teeth don’t shatter in his mouth.

“C’mere.” He says more lowly and calmly than he even expects to. He tugs you around to the mirror he’d hung in your closet, just for you. He makes you look into it with him behind you, your body clad in nothing more than the bra and panties you’d put on this morning.

“Look at her.” He refuses to let go, even a little bit. He nuzzles the back of your neck again, mouth at the skin there and nuzzling your hair aside so he can reach more.

“Watch her face.”

He slides a free hand around the front of your throat, holding your jaw securely in his hand to make sure you’re watching. You watch as your eyes lid and your cheeks flush the color of obscenity. Your lips part but nothing comes out. He noses your hair aside and nuzzles the side of your neck.

He bites down on the skin, and holds you a little tighter when you jerk. Your mouth opens in a silent ‘Oh!’.

“Leon, what are you-“

“Tell me to stop.” He blurts, cutting you off. His face is lifted from your neck and he’s staring you down in the mirror.

“I-“

“Tell me. To stop.” He says, slower this time, emphasizing every word. He feels like an absolute asshole. He feels like even if he asks for consent a million times he’ll never truly make you realize that what type of feelings you allow him when you say yes. Do you know you’re consenting to his jealous tantrum that makes him wanna smother you with his body?

“You… don’t have to stop.” You say carefully, a little curious and bewildered of whatever this is that seemed to come out of the blue.

It didn’t really of course, you’re just a sweet little oblivious girl—his girl, and he loves you to death. But sometimes. Sometimes he wishes you could know how he feels. Not to make you feel bad but so that you can give him the reassurance he doesn’t know how to ask for.

But he’s too good at hiding things from you.

He grits his teeth, studying your expression in the mirror.

“What am I gonna do with you…” He sighs, shaking his head almost disappointedly. You feel a pang in your chest. He’s not disappointed with you of course, but with himself.

He grabs your jaw with more intensity than before and forces it to tilt to the side so he can kiss at your neck. You grimace, waves and waves of shivers migrating down your spine to pool in the bottom of your panties.

He wants to prove it to himself. That he’s it. That he’s the one you come to for everything. That you won’t ever need another man again. He knows it’s awful, but he wants you to rely on him for these things. He wants to be the one you come to at the end of the day and curl up with, or take your clothes off for. Whichever one you’re in the mood for, he’ll be here. He’ll do it.

He kisses your neck and your shoulders, and massages your skin with a firm touch of his hands. You wince a couple times when he’s too forceful, but you never open your mouth and say anything. You never complain. Secretly, you kinda like it; and part of you can sense that this is something he needs.

He’s too lost in his own internal conflict and jealousy to even register his own strength. He can’t stand it. He didn’t want to be so direct and vulgar, but you’re not moaning enough. You’re not squirming enough. Not making enough of those faces he loves to see.

His hand slides down your stomach and disappears into your underwear. You gasp and stiffen when you feel his fingers brush you, and wide eyes meet his blue ones in the mirror.

“Tell me no.” He whispers, his breath fluttering your hair. His heart thuds so hard in his chest he fears you might feel it. He’s challenging you, but deep on the inside he’s afraid he’s pushing it. He almost wants you to push him away and smack some sense into him.

But you don’t. You just maintain eye contact with him and slowly shake your head.

“Fuck.” He breathes, low and drawn out in your ear as his hand cups your mound and his thumb brushes over your clit.

Your reaction sends waves of satisfaction through him, and for a moment it’s enough to numb the feelings of self-loathing and jealousy. You jerk against him, letting out the sweetest moan as your face twists into one of those expressions he loves so much. His arm muscles twitch, holding you a little harder to keep you still and anchored to him, unable to bear the idea of you even having a millimeter of skin not touching him.

“How are you already wet, baby?” He hums in your ear, almost not sure how to feel about it. Was it him? Idiot, of course it was. But… you didn’t like that guy at all… did you? That guy didn’t turn you on, even a little bit, did he?

With all his compliments and flattering language and-

He grunts again, this time a more aggressive, irritated sound. He shoves his nose against your ear, breathing heavily into it. Your spine twists in his hard grip.

“It’s me. I made you like that. Didn’t I, hm?” He feels stupid. He know’s he’s out of his head with even thinking this, and he feels so guilty. He almost feels like he’s not even worthy to be touching you.

Almost.

“Tell me baby.” He growls into your ear.

“Y-yes, Leon. Wh-“ You don’t even know how to react. You’re sort of lost on what’s going on. Why he’s suddenly like this out of the blue. Who else would do this to you?

“Damn right I did.” He stuffs two fingers into you, loving the sharp little cry you make and the way your body snaps in his arms. He tightens his grip and brings you back against his chest.

“Leon, what the hell!?” You cry out, but it comes out on more of breath of ecstasy than any real sort of scolding. What the hell has gotten into him?

“Don’t question it, baby. Just tell me how good it feels.”

You moan again.

“That’s right. Just like that.”

He grunts in frustration as he watches you in the mirror. As he watches the way his hand moves underneath your panties and how he can’t see anything with the fabric in the way. He pulls his hands out just long enough to tug the cotton down off your legs and watch them slide down around your ankles. Then he’s plunging the two fingers back inside you.

Your back curves against his chest and he catches you, wrapping his free arm around your chest, pinning your arms with it, and dragging his nose and lips up the side of your face.

“That’s it.” He praises as he closes his eyes for a minute, just listening to you and breathing you in. He opens them to look back in the reflection and watch his fingers slide in and out of your twitching channel. He watches with tightening jeans how willingly you take his fingers.

He feels a pang of insecurity. He knows his brain is feeding him lies, but he thinks about how easy you are for him. Would you be easy for someone else?

That’s stupid, Leon. You idiot. He scolds himself for having the intrusive thought. He immediatly feels horrible for even thinking it. He knows you’re not that kind of girl. He remembers how hard it was to get you to open up to him when you guys first started exploring intimacy together.

That coaxes a sense of pride into his chest. How willingly you give yourself to him. No other guy could be as lucky. No other guy would ever have this. Such a pretty girl, moaning and clenching on his fingers. His pretty girl.

“Look at you, dripping down those pretty legs.” He breathes in your ear, making you shudder. He pulls his fingers out with a little whimper from you.

“Can’t let it go to waste, can we?”

He licks his fingers clean.

He spins you around and sinks down to his knees, letting your back hit the cold surface of the mirror. You writhe and pant against it as he throws a leg over his shoulder and licks up all the trickles of nectar down the inside of your thighs, making his way centerward. He nibbles on the soft skin as he goes, making you gasp and choke and shudder, over and over again.

He places a confident, flat tongue against you and licks the entire surface of your opening. The tang of your juices slides down his throat, and the noises you make force his eyes closed as he savors taste and sound.

“Leon!”

“Easy, baby. I know it feels good.”

He does it again a second time. Fucking hell, you taste good. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. It makes your insides clench, and you double forward at the intensity, catching yourself with a hand on his shoulder. You grip it, hand fisting into his shirt.

“Mm.” He moans against your heat, sending vibrations through the already swollen and puffy bundle of nerves.

He’s determined. It’s the only revenge he knows how to enact at this point. It’s too bad you’re on the receiving end since you didn’t even do anything wrong. But he knows that you’re not ever gonna actually complain about this later.

He swirls his tongue around your clit, bringing two fingers to prod more gently into you than the first time. He takes his time, gently probing around inside you for that sweet spot. He knows he finds it when you practically melt on him like ice cream.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Give me more of that. C’mon.” He pulls away from your puffy clit long enough to murmur that gentle encouragement. He returns to sucking and biting gently on the sensitive nub, as he rubs his fingers encouragingly against the spot inside of you.

If he can’t make you cum with nothing more than his mouth and two fingers, he isn’t a man worthy of the title.

Every breath is a moan from your lips at this point. You feel the tension in your tummy growing tighter, and you’re desperately trying to reach that peak. You focus on his ministrations and his coaxing words, chasing that illusive feeling.

“Leon!” You’re fingers fly to fist into his hair for something to anchor to and feel like you have a little bit of leverage; even if control is just an illusion at this point. But you’re okay with that, you don’t want control.

You want to lose it.

“Please please please please!” You chant quietly under your breath as you focus on the rise. It climbs higher and higher and each breath fills your lungs to bursting as your mouth falls open wider.

“That’s it, baby. Give it to me, sweetheart. Come on.”

He can’t take his eyes off your face. He grinds the pads of his fingers down on that sweet spot inside and sucks on your clit with everything he’s got. And he watches you explode.

It’s mind-numbing. Your body jerks hard and suddenly against the mirror and your wails of ecstasy fill the small walk-in like a symphony to his ears. He laps up your release like it’s a fountain of water and he’s a man dying of thirst.

He stimulates you through it until you grow limp against the mirror. He’s on his feet as you pant against the reflection and his mouth is on yours in a blink, forcing your taste into your mouth as he grips your arms tightly.

All the fight has gone out of you anyway, and you feel weightless. You just take it, allowing him to hold you there as long as he wants. You gasp for a deep breath when his lips finally release yours, and slump into his arms.

Fuck. He looks down at you all dazed in his arms, and he immediately feels like such a dick. He does feel a little self-satisfied though as you nuzzle your face into his chest and cling to his body like you need him to stand.

Because you do. It’s all thanks to him and he feels good.

“I’m so sorry baby.” He murmurs in your ear as he gathers you up in his arms, because he knows it’s not over. He can’t just leave it here, much as he knows in the back of his mind that he shouldn’t be so pushy and cruel. But he just can’t help it.

He carries you over to your guys’ bed, and lays you down more gently on it. His clothes are abandoned on the bedroom floor and as he sheds the remainder of yours off you, he kisses your forehead.

Your hands slide gently up over his arms, and it makes him feel so strong and powerful, and desired.

“You want me?” He whispers softly against your lips.

“Mhm.” You nod your head against the pillow as he positions himself over you.

“Spread them a little wider for me then, baby.” His hand grips your thigh.

You obey and he settles between your legs. You feel his tip brush against your sensitive folds and you jump.

“Shhhhh…” He hushes, his hand coming down to grip your jaw and run his thumb over your cheek. He takes your bottom lip between his in a deep but gentle kiss, and holds you there as he slides himself in.

You gasp into the kiss, twitching and sucking in over-sensitive breaths through your nose as he takes it inch by inch. Your toes curl, and your nails dig into his biceps. When he bottoms out, he finally releases your lips, letting you pant beneath him and catch your breath and your bearings.

“Mm… nn-… Leon.” You breathe, your tongue feeling thick and your head feeling numb. All you can do is breathe heavy and look up at him through pleasure-lidded eyes.

It’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

“I know, baby. I know.” He coos as he gradually starts to move. He leans down to kiss your lips again, to leave them all over your cheeks and jaw.

“Tell me how you want it.” He rumbles against your skin.

“I don’t—“ Your head lulls back and forth on the pillow as breathing takes precedence over words. “—I don’t care. Jus’… it jus’ feels so good.”

God, he could explode right now. You feel him twitch inside you when you give him free rein to do what he needs to do.

His hips speed up a few notches. Skin slaps against skin as he pushes your legs open wider to an intense moan from you. Then he increases the harshness of his thrusts, slamming into you until he feels like it’s a rhythm that matches his frustration with every bit of himself that’s afraid of another man taking you away from him.

He nips your kiss swollen lip.

“You’re my baby.” He breathes.

“Your baby.” You echo, eyes as starry as your brain feels. Not a thought in your head except how he feels inside you.

“Mhm. Fuck— yes you are, aren’t you? My good girl.”

“Your good girl.” Your arms come up to wrap around his neck. “For nobody else.”

The tightness in his chest soothes a little bit, the tension he’d been carrying pushing out through his lungs. He watches as you succumb a second time, crying out his name as you shake underneath him and cling to him like he’s your anchor.

He doesn’t even mind the scratch marks. God knows, he loves them.

A semblance of peace washes over him, and he almost doesn’t even care about the release when it washes over him too, a moment later.

He got the release he was looking for.

#leon kennedy #help me he’s so ugh #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 leon #smut #MDNI #writing #fanfiction

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eccentricallygothic · 1 year ago

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Strict Mommy!Abby Anderson | Sadistic Miss!Ellie Williams | Naive Little!You.

Warning(s): Heavy d/s dynamics, mommy kink, miss kink, slapping, rough stuff, sadism, praise kink, use of strap ons, cunnilingus, allusions to anilingus, ass play, you are a slut sandwich, dacryphilia, humiliation, degradation, power imbalance, nipple play, infantilization, hair pulling, spit play, puppy kink, allusions to face sitting, they're both possessive and competitive over you, pure brain rot because I do and write stupid shit when I am in a real mood. Minors do not interact.

Yes, Abby and Ellie hate each other and for good reason.

But if they were to make a truce? What– no, who would be the common interest?

Why, sweet little too dumb to even breathe by herself little you, of course.

Your legs that are covered in glittery pink stockings dangle from the sides of Abby's muscular thighs as your knees bob up and down each time she jostles your form upwards by the breathtaking push of her pelvis.

A sob curls in your throat from how one of her favorite strap ons hit you deep in your sensitive spot but before it can make its way past your lips, the sound dies down because of how your mouth stretches around Ellie's cunt.

Your fucked out mind feels as though it is melting out of your ears and eyes in the form of heat and tears that stream down your cheeks. You choke and gurgle on Ellie's juices while your tongue obediently laps at the hot, cherry red stripe of flesh between her pretty milky white petals, nose flared to the max as you try to breathe through them as much as possible.

Abby's hot lips come to hover next to your ear, one hand tightly holding your wrists behind your back and the other toying with your much sensitive and sore nipples that are in their tender state due to the women's cruel sucking and biting at them.

“Fuck yeah, pretty girl, just like that” Abby is the softer one of the pair, although it is more of a lesser of two evils situation if you are being honest. “Your sweet little pussy is taking Mommy's cock so well” if it weren't for Ellie holding you in place by the hair on the top of your head with her cunt further nailing you all the way down to Abby's balls, the force of the blonde woman's thrusts would have required her holding you by the waist so you wouldn't fall off her cock. “Such a good babygirl for your Mommy, aren't you?”

Your pussy is so wet and stretched around the strap on that you whimper into Ellie's opening as your tongue fights to make an opening for itself, but the strain that the girth of Mommy's cock is putting on the band of your hole only adds to the heat in your clit. Your hips are pulled taut against one another with strings of the orgasm that steadily builds in the pits of your abdomen. It will be the first of many.

“Dirty fuckin' slut” Ellie rasps when she pulls you off her pussy with a jerk. Your mouth falls open and worked up tongue hangs past your lips like that of a dog. “Crying like a stupid little baby but fucking herself silly on Mommy's cock and slurpin' up my cunt like a bitch in heat” her sadistic fingers cracked across your face and your face dangled to the side, flush cheeks smeared in her juices. “Just so innocent, aren't you?” You cry out as Abby twists your nipple between her fingers while her hips pounds your pussy harder and harder. “You can put up the act for others all you want, but I know what you are” you flinch when she spits on your face, the blob landing on the crease between your nose and under eye. Ellie leans down a little to whisper her words, your racing heart leaping up in anticipation as your back arches from how Abby feels for your pussy with her free hand to rub it. “A filthy little doggy slut” another slap lands on your face and though you cry out, your pussy only clenches harder around the textured girth of Abby's cock. “That's all you are.” They never say it out loud anymore. The last time they had done so had ended up in a fight. So now they choose to claim their ownership over you in less verbal and more physical ways.

It is always a competition between the two of them.

And you're both the playdough and the trophy.

“Aw, look at this pretty little cry baby” Abby tries to divert you toward herself by wrapping her fingers around your throat for grip. “Such a sensitive little thing for Mommy” when she tries to push you further back against herself, Ellie's dark eyes flash with anger and your scalp burns with how she pulls you closer to herself.

“Where do you think you're going?” Ellie doesn’t look at Abby and nor does she acknowledge the older female. Instead, all of her ire and reproach gets directed towards you; their ragdoll. “No, you dirty little cum dump, I am not done with you just yet” though Abby says nothing, she growls and increases the force of her thrusts -if it's even possible-, her warm lips attacking your neck to suck new marks into your delicate skin. “Here, take it!” Ellie slaps your tits this time, clapping them together before she turns and then reaches behind her to coil your hair around her scarred fingers in such a way that both sides of your head are in her grip. “You like it, don't you, you dirty little pup?” She starts to roll her hips in rapid succession, as a result of which your lips and face bury in her ass cheeks and your head swishes from side to side from the facial her ass is giving you.

Ellie loves to sit on your face.

And you sit on Abby's.

“Such a brave little girl for us, aren't you honey?” Abby's reassuring words are the bridge that you need along with Ellie's rough handling. You can't take any one of the two extremes without the balance of the other. It simply isn't your preference.

Your Miss and Mommy aren't wrong, you are a dirty little slut.

“Stop whining and take it like a good pup” Ellie grunts as she pushes her ass against you until your face has fully tucked into it, your lungs scream for air while your head spins from how Abby is abusing your g-spot with her fat cock.

Sticking out your tongue against Ellie’s holes, you go to work just how your Mommy and Miss have taught you.

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glowettee · 19 days ago

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✧・゜: 10 little things that made me feel pretty this week :・゜✧

hey lovelies! mindy here,

i don’t know if you’ve felt it too, but lately i’ve been so in my head about how i look. not in a full-on spiral way, just a dull background noise of “ugh” every time i catch my reflection. i hate when i forget that beauty isn’t just the mirror, it’s the way i feel when i move, speak, breathe, exist. so this week, i started keeping track of anything that made me feel even 1% prettier, and these are the ten things that worked.

not changing myself. just noticing. soft little shifts. let me share them with you 🤍

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 1. washing my face with warm water, not hot ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

i used to blast hot water like i was trying to scrub off a personality. this week i slowed down. warm, gentle water. i massaged my cleanser in for a full minute. patted dry. my skin looked calm, not red. i looked like i loved myself.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 2. adding a pink flush to my cheeks ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

no foundation. just my usual skincare, then a soft cream blush dotted on the tops of my cheeks + a little across my nose. it looked like i had just run into someone i liked. fresh and kind of flustered. so feminine. so alive.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 3. actually brushing my hair slowly ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

i’ve been lazy with my hair lately, messy bun, forget it exists. but this week i took my time brushing it out every night, oils through the ends, even trimmed little flyaways. suddenly my reflection looked soft, intentional. kept.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 4. whispering affirmations while doing mascara ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

yes it sounds corny. yes it works. i looked into the mirror while curling my lashes and whispered: you’re magnetic. you are allowed to be beautiful. you’re allowed to take up space. i don’t know. it landed. my eyes looked gentler after.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 5. walking slower ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

i always walk like i’m late. this week i tried slowing it down just a bit. shoulders relaxed. jaw soft. head up. even just going to the kitchen felt like a scene. being pretty is so much about energy. about carrying yourself, not rushing through it all.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 6. switching my perfume to something powdery ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

i rotated out my citrusy scent and went back to my soft powdery vanilla one, and every time i caught a whiff of it on my sweater or wrist, i felt... soft. like someone you’d lean into during a movie. it wasn’t loud. but it stayed.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 7. eating fruit in pretty ways ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

hear me out: cutting strawberries into hearts? peeling clementines like a flower? it’s silly, but the ritual of it made me feel delicate. not in a weak way, in a romantic way. i stopped eating over the sink like a raccoon. i ate like i was art.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 8. putting on lip gloss before bed ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

no one sees me. no one needs me to do it. but that’s exactly why i did. shiny lips while reading at 11pm = ✨ main character behavior. it made me feel like a girl who loves herself. and a girl who loves herself glows differently.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 9. replying to texts like a soft girl ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

instead of apologizing or over-explaining or pretending to be chill, i replied with grace. with pauses. with energy that said: i care, but i’m not begging. and you know what? my voice in my own head softened too.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 10. talking to myself in second person ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

“you’re okay.” “you’re doing good.” “you’re so beautiful when you’re just being.”

something about saying “you” instead of “i” tricked my brain into hearing it like it was from someone else. a version of me who believes in me. and that version? she’s always right.

if you’re feeling off lately, not ugly, just a little faded, try noticing what makes you feel pretty again. not for them. for you.

you’re glowing. i swear.

xoxo, mindy 🤍

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gor3-hound · 1 year ago

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over again

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dark content, heavy dub-con, forced ddlg, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, fingering, p in v, creampie, mentions of past drugging, daddy kink, lots of pet names

a/n: took me forever n ever to write this ahhh sorry :/ hope you all enjoy it !! feedback always appreciated !! hopefully the writers block will finally perish.

word count: 1.6k words

14 weeks. 98 days. 2352 hours.

Leon leaves the house at 7.30 am every morning, except for Sundays. From Monday to Thursday, he's home around 6 pm. On Fridays, he isn't home until around 9 pm. Saturdays are the worst because he's home just after lunch.

Usually, when he comes home, he goes to the bedroom and unlocks the door to let you out. He threads his hand in your leash to take you upstairs, giving you a kiss on your forehead as he takes you to the kitchen to eat a meal. He gives you your food on a pink, plastic princess plate with plastic cutlery, and cuts the food into bite size pieces. More often than not, he hand feeds you.

You don't fight it. You'd learned your lesson. You refused food from him once. For 2 out of your 14 weeks locked up in his home, he'd underfed you to the point of starvation until you were begging him to feed you. He sat you in his lap, cooing all sweet as you chewed and swallowed every mouthful he'd given you. That day was the first day he slept with you.

It wasn't all bad. He was sweet. Gentle. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was a loving boyfriend. Someone who cared for you, not the creep who'd snatched you from the street after you had a few too many drinks at your friend's party, promising you a better life, safe from the world.

But he isn't sweet, or nice, or kind. He didn't do this for you, despite what his twisted brain tells him. You can pretend all you want that he's something other than what he is, but it doesn't change what he is. A monster.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Where's my little princess?” Leon's asking as soon as he walks into the house, kicking his shoes off and hanging his jacket up at the door. You recently got free reign of the home for being on your best behaviour. Didn't even have to keep the leash attached to your collar anymore. Lucky you.

“Here, daddy.” You say meekly, poking your head out of the living room to approach him, fiddling awkwardly with the edge of your shirt. Head down, so he doesn't have to see the defeated expression on your face as you force out the words, swallowing thickly to hold back your tears.

“You have a good day, sweetheart? You do any coloring in those cute little books I got you?” Leon's hands come up to your cheeks, gently stroking his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. You shake your head, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from saying something.

“No? Why not, baby? You don't like them? I got the one with lots of kitties. Pretty girls like you like cute things, don't they?” He coos, squishing your cheeks in his hands to make your lips all pouty so he can lean down and give them a little kiss, letting out a loud ‘mwah’ as soon as his lips make contact.

“You eat at least? I left some food in a lunchbox for you.” You shake your head again, and this time it seems to elicit a worse reaction. His brows furrow, and his hand grips your face even tighter. “No? Silly baby… can't do anything without daddy, can you? Come on. Daddy'll feed you, cutie.”

He heats up some food for you and puts it on a plate. The pink, plastic princess plate. He sits you on his lap and feeds it to you from a fork. Pink, plastic fork. The routine is the same, no matter how much you wish for it to change. When you finish eating, he presses a tender kiss to your head and rocks you in his arms.

“Such a good girl. Good girls get rewarded, princess.” He murmurs, pressing soft kisses against the skin of your neck, trailing them up until he's nosing at the hair behind your ear. His hand slides up your thigh and under your skirt, his thumb swiping your swollen bud through the already damp fabric. It didn't matter if you didn't want it. Your body didn't seem to understand what was happening - all it knew was Leon made you feel good. You hated how compliant you got when he touched you, how any thoughts of defiance melted away.

You go limp when he touches you. Docile. You let him do what he wants to you, just like a good girl should. Back-talking daddy is a big no-no. He wrote that in big writing on the rule list that's pinned to the fridge. Escape didn't use to seem impossible, yet now the thought never even crossed your mind. You'd tried, but he kept a tight lock on you. You wouldn't be surprised to find out one of the many injections he gave you when you were unruly had a tracker in. He always seemed to know exactly where you were.

You whimper as he dips his hand under the waistband of your panties. He parts your puffy lips with practiced ease as he continues on with the next part of his routine. 98 days later and he's mapped every inch of your body perfectly - found out everything that has you keening under his touch. Your hips buck as he runs his fingertip between your folds, gathering slick before rubbing small circles into your clit.

“Poor, dumb baby. She's soaking me already. You couldn't make yourself feel good when daddy was gone, huh, sweetheart?” His words are followed up by a finger burying itself in your tight heat, curling to find that gummy spot that has you clenching around him and bucking your hips. “Pretty princess cunt's been drooling for me all day.”

A choked sob leaves you when he pulls his cock out and sits you on top of it. He pulls you down until he's buried to the hilt, groaning as you tighten around his length. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, peppering it with tiny little kisses. You can't help but cry whenever Leon fucks you. 98 days later and you still sob whenever he bullies your cervix with his dick. No matter how many times he makes you cum or makes you go dumb on his cock, it doesn't change anything. He took everything from you - your family, your friends, your job.

You hated yourself more than Leon. For letting him break your walls down. For clinging to him as he tightens his grip on your waist, manhandling you on his cock, lifting you up and down. For finding yourself missing him when he's at work.

“Love…love you, daddy…” Your words come out more like a cry, nose all runny and cheeks wet with tears as he fucks up into you, his head shifting to hang back in pleasure. His fingers dig into your waist as he hears the words, a breathy laugh leaving him as he smiles - all toothy and bright like it always is when you say that.

“Love you even more, princess.” He grunts out, leaning back on the seat to force himself deeper into your pussy, guiding your hips back and forth so you're grinding his cock inside of you, rubbing your pretty clit against his happy trail. You gasp at the sensation, your hands gripping into his shoulders as your brows furrow in pleasure.

“Daddy… daddy…” You gasp out as your orgasm hits, your lips parting as you gush all over him. The look on your face as you cum is enough to have his balls tighten, his teeth gritting as he starts to shallowly thrust into you once more, chasing his own release. You always cry when you cum, and Leon always kisses the tears away when you do, his lips pressing against the wetness on your cheeks repeatedly. Another part of the ritual, another moment repeating day after day.

“Want daddy to fill you up, sweet girl?” He grunts, nipping at your neck as he wraps his arms tight around your waist in a bear hug, holding you steady as he fucks up into your drippy cunt. “Gonna warm you up right in that cute lil’ tummy.”

His hips stutter as his orgasm hits him, his jaw going slack as he presses the tip of his cock right up against your cervix, filling you to the brim with his sticky cum. He slides a hand under your shirt, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into the skin of your tummy.

“That's it. Keep it all in, okay? Daddy doesn't want to see his little angel spill a single drop.” He says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He holds you there for a couple of minutes, cradling you against his chest until it's time to go to sleep.

Before bed that night, Leon ushers you into the bathroom. Like every night before this one, he gently grips your jaw with one hand as he stands behind you, his other hand gripping your pink princess toothbrush as he brushes your teeth, his eyes locked onto you through the mirror. At bedtime, he tucks you in and curls up behind you, spooning you with one hand on one of your tits, and the other wrapped tightly around your waist.

Tomorrow is a Friday. He wakes you up at 6.30 am with a kiss to your head as always, a warm cup of milk in one hand and your breakfast in the other. He feeds you off of a pink, plastic princess plate and presses a kiss to your lips before leaving at 7.30 am on the dot.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #tw dark content

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daenysx · 10 months ago

Note

I absolutely love your time stamp works, could I request one?

11:11 pm with remus lupin... a soft cozy night slowly turns passionate as they cuddle in bed together?

-🪻

11.11 PM | REMUS LUPIN

"dove-" remus murmurs in between kisses. "taking my breath away-"

he's the sweetest thing with pink lips and half closed eyes. he looks like he's drunk on love, can't even keep his hands to himself. the blanket slips from your shoulder, leaves you bare in your tank top.

"it's so hot in here, do you think i should take this off?" you ask him with slightly curled lips. remus can feel his stomach tighten.

"you know you're a little minx, don't you?" he kitten licks the skin under your ear. "do you need help with it?"

"i can do it myself." you say, moving your hands quickly to free yourself from the fabric.

remus has long fingers, he knows how to use them when he wants to drive you crazy. he'd usually be more insistent, but it feels like the mood in the air is different tonight. he's tired and you're no better, you'd be fast asleep in bed if you couldn't feel the desire pooling between your legs.

"kiss me." you whisper, his lips are soft like silk.

remus moves his wrist to rub your hipbone fondly. he kisses you the way you want, you close your eyes and let yourself be mindless as you lean to him. your brain already feels like a mush, it's all remus now, and his scent. his kisses and lingering touches. you sigh in contentment.

his hands are on your skin, they feel like they belong there. you place yourself on remus's thigh, squeeze your legs and press yourself subtly on him. "remus-"

"come here." he pulls you to his lap properly. "using my thigh is not gonna help you, sweetheart, i can take care of you better."

"it's too much." you whine softly when a wave of pleasure hits you. "i feel like it'll be over so soon."

"it won't." remus assures you. his voice is promising, possibly the hottest tone of him that you've ever heard. "i'll help you take your time."

it all feels like softened liquid, seconds stretch, remus plays with you. he's undeniably hard under you, his fingers rubbing your swollen nub with determined fingers. you tilt your head back. his lips suck tiny circles on your chest.

you pull his sweatpants to reach him. he obeys, free of every restriction. he looks beautiful, so pretty like this for you. you touch him, your breath catches on your throat.

"i don't want this to end." you whisper, leaning close to his face. he rubs his hand all over your back, makes you shiver. "do you want to stay in me for a bit?"

he smiles. he looks at you like you're the most precious being, something to be admired. lifting his hips suddenly, he pulls you down. you clench, it's a good fit. remus hugs you to his chest.

"i can stay in you forever, i guess." he jokes, kissing the soft flesh of your neck.

"oh my god, remus." you roll your eyes back, half in pleasure and half in disbelief.

"you don't even know how safe you make me feel." he confesses silently. "fuck- baby, you need to-"

"i know." you sound sorry for clenching involuntarily around him. "i just can't stay still when you're saying things like that."

remus fixes your hair to give you a kiss on the side of your head. it's nice to stay like this. a deeper connection forms between you, you think.

"i'm gonna keep my thoughts to myself then." he says. "until i fuck you properly at least. i can't have you finishing me so quick just because you get turned on by my words."

"so rude." you say, loving how good he is at teasing. just your type of man. "i'm gonna fall asleep and you'll never get what you want."

"i already got what i want, silly girl." he presses you to his chest. "this is perfect."

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shroompette · 2 months ago

Text

141 x Clown Girl!Reader is eating my brain <3 (Also thank you all so so so much for helping me achieve more than 100 followers, I love you 💜)

Thinking about 141 who babysat Johnny's little nephew together ONCE and somehow ended up invited to his birthday party. The non-related men would have declined were it not for Mrs. MacTavish's insistence on feeding them something good (and perhaps have them introduced to some of the single women from the MacTavish clan.)

When the day comes and they show up with gifts, they're quickly separated by a swarm of Johnny's relatives who are curious about the friends he brought in.

Price ends up in the kitchen and volunteers to help with making lunch to which Mrs. MacTavish objects at first, but he manages to persuade her into at least letting him keep her and her sisters company. He swoops in here and there to hand one of them an utensil, spice or just a cup of water, gradually taking over each of their tasks and having them rest while he simultaneously keeps an eye on the beef and potatoes in the oven, mixes the cookie dough and casually chats with the women watching him, charming each and every one of them to the point one of Soap's aunts seriously considers poisoning her husband just to have a shot with John.

Gaz, meanwhile, was asked by Soap's sister - the mother of the birthday boy - to help with blowing up a couple more balloons for the little ones to play with. He obliges, spurred on by all the pretty cousins cheering him on, realizing after about half an hour that they've been staring at his arms bulge the entire time he's been operating the air pump (not like he's complaining, he's proud of what he's rocking).

The other half of the female relatives who weren't currently drooling over Gaz's body were in the living room swooning over Ghost, specifically the fact all the kids flocked to him like curious kittens. Last nail to the coffin was someone handing him a baby - although he looked as if someone just gave him a ticking bomb, he tried his best to entertain the tiny wiggling thing in order to keep it from crying, even gave it an awkward little bounce (call him The Ovary Whisperer the way the women who swore did not want another child suddenly changed their minds).

Johnny watched all of this occur with a wide grin, eventually taking pity on his buddies - though Price didn't seem too bothered - and plucked them away from their respective tasks to lead them out into the garden, picking up a few beers from the cooler and handing the cans to them.

While enjoying their break, they notice the kids rush from the blow-up castle to you, a Clown Girl that Soap's ma hired to entertain the kids in the afternoon.

Price arches an eyebrow, glancing at Johnny who seems just as surprised.

"Strange, usually my uncle Thomas dresses up as clown for the bairns."

"Maybe he wanted to be a part of the audience this year," Gaz hums, sipping his beer. Ghost doesn't say anything, only watches as you crouch to the kids' level and smile at them brightly, chirping about something that he's too far away to hear. On the enigma spectrum, you'd be on the opposite end from him; donned in a white button up with a flower in your pocket, rainbow suspenders and a frilly tutu accompanied by silly shoes, you're a picture perfect goof. You pick up the birthday boy and tickle his sides before making a show of not knowing your way towards the house standing just a few feet away, causing the children to giggle and tug on your sleeves, dragging you to the backdoor. The closer you get, the more the men notice what a cute little thing you are. Your make-up's not too heavy, some white foundation, pink cheeks and, of course, a big red nose. As you pass them, you flash them a bright smile and honk it, making the children giggle and nearly stomp over one another with how they skipped and begged you to let them have a go too.

The four men exchange a look and then gaze back at you, so lively and sweet. Neither says anything for a few moments before Soap speaks up:

"Ye think her titties honk too?"

The only reason Price hadn't smacked him on the back of the head was because Ghost was faster.

They quickly finish their beers and go back inside, following the trail of confetti and glitter that Johnny KNOWS is going to be a pain in the ass to vacuum later (he likely will pester Gaz into assissting him). They find you in the living room, expertly twisting long balloons into dogs and giraffes and whatnot, making sure every child has one to play with. It's sweet, the way you try to include everyone in your silly games, letting every child have a turn sitting in your lap and talk your ears off. You even get to hold the baby that Ghost was handed earlier, naturally softening your voice and calming your bouncy gait while maintaining your image as an entertainer, shoes squeaking loudly as you go round jokingly asking the parents whose pet bean it is.

With every passing moment, the men find you more and more adorable; you're funny, obviously good with children and your costume does very little to hide all your assets. And the way you smile so warmly? It makes Gaz want to go back to middle school, retake his geography test and change the answer to the question about the cause of ice caps melting to your full government name.

For the second time that day, the men's eyes meet in an unspoken agreement. They've shared pretty things before; and you'll certainly be the prettiest one yet.

masterlist

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ghostgirl-22 · 8 months ago

Note

Art getting GANGBANGED💜

This made me giggle when you sent it anon, I won’t lie <3 Then I thought oh god now I have to write it. So here you are. I am so sorry for this. I don’t know what this is (it’s quite nonsensical). Honestly, feel like I flew too close to the sun. I need to retire from writing smut and start writing an older Art living peacefully by the sea. (Decide if that makes you want to read it or run away) But I digress…

CW: 18+ !NSFW! EXPLICIT bimbofication, feminization, objectification, D/s vibes if you squint, there can be the perception of CNC but I promise you everyone really wants this, especially blondie, but please avoid if things like gangbangs trigger you. Can feel a bit AU…let’s be generous and say canon drift…

Your reference is this post about a negligée (an impossible word to spell btw so watch me fuck it up repeatedly along with all my other spelling and grammar mistakes).

—-

It’s a game of truth or dare. That’s how the whole thing happens.

Regular and completely normal Friday night. Patrick’s visiting Stanford. The girls team is at an away game, traveling back tomorrow and the boys just finished a tournament playing the same team here and Art sends him a text.

Hanging out with friends probably gonna play video games, you should come and bring drinks.

And then 10 minutes later: I think my roommate wants to fuck me lol

Patrick has to laugh because this is actually the kind of stupid thing that could only happen to Art.

Art is already dizzy and flirty when Patrick arrives at his dorm with the alcohol. His cheeks are already coloring, his eyes are dilated. And it’s no wonder because he’s already getting way too much attention. There are three other boys in the bedroom with him, his roommate Carter who Patrick could tell, so very obviously wanted to fuck Art since he first met him. But it’s worse now ever since he woke up once in the middle of night and heard Patrick doing it.

And then two others Patrick doesn’t know but Art calls them Jamie and Max, “friends” from the Stanford tennis team. Patrick clocks them right away as having the same desire to fuck Art that Carter has.

That kind of male attention makes Art go silly. At this point Art doesn’t even need a drink. He’s half lost, giggling at things that aren’t even funny just because some cute boy is touching his knee, pinching his cheek, calling him pretty. Patrick’s hard immediately.

It’s truth or dare, Carter’s idea, and Patrick’s probably drinking too much. The game gets nasty pretty quickly. Art can’t sit still, he’s on his hands and knees when Max says “I dare you to kiss me.” Can’t stop himself when Jamie dares him to do it again, but with tongue. He’s in his t-shirt and boxers, ass sticking out as he crawls over Patrick’s lap to kiss Jamie. Carter’s adjusting himself, mouth open, staring at it. Patrick thinks once or twice about letting them pass him around. Shit like this is usually foreplay for him but right now he’s feeling so buzzed he might just want to see how deep this rabbit hole goes.

He’s horny as fuck, but his brain doesn’t actually break until Art’s roommate says, “Truth or Dare, roomie, is it true you stole your ex-girlfriend's lingerie?"

“I didn’t steal it,” Art hiccups, he’s distracted because Max runs his fingers through Art’s hair on his way back to the circle, with a new drink which he hands to Art. He cups Arts cheek, fingertips brush against his lips. Art’s whining “stop it,” but Patrick sees the way he follows the touch. Art doesn’t even notice it when Patrick takes the drink out of his hand, because he’s dangerously close to spilling it everywhere. He’s not even drunk, barely even tipsy and still just so empty headed.

Carter goes to Art’s Stanford issued dresser and pulls out this thing from the first drawer. Barely a thing. A pink little slip of a thing. “What’s this?”

“She let me have it,” Art says, voice pitched too high. He’s sitting on his knees, hands pressed between his thighs.

”Why?” Carter asks, like he knows something they don’t know. Patrick thinks he likes him the least.

“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone,” Art says, it’s too whiny and playful.

Patrick’s mildly annoyed now, “Share with the class,” he says. He doesn’t really want Art keeping secrets with roommates that aren’t him.

Art goes all compliant and he’s squirming on the floor as he looks at Patrick, “She said it looked better on me.”

Both Max and Jamie start snickering.

Patrick thinks of himself as a genius. He generally thinks he’s the smartest person in the room most of the time, but this has to be one of the smartest things he’s ever said or done ever. In ever. “Okay…I dare you to try it on.”

“You want me too?” Art asks, glassy eyed, as he gazes at Patrick.

Patrick grabs at his t-shirt and he doesn’t even have to pull. Art just gravitates towards him, closing his eyes, parting his lips instinctively and Patrick thinks he’s in love with him. Like one day he’ll probably marry him, move him into a house with a white picket fence and fuck him so full of come that… etcetera etcetera. The American dream.

“Yeah, put it on sweetie.” Patrick says gently. “Call me when you’re done… I want to see it first.”

Art licks his lips and opens his eyes again before he stumbles to his feet. He tries to take it from Carter but Carter hides it behind his back which means Art’s got to reach around him, touch him, play with him. When Art manages to get it away he’s already blushing. He goes in the bathroom, telling them no one better laugh. And Patrick needs a cigarette. Needs to run a marathon or climb a mountain for all the pent up energy inside him right now.

“You his boyfriend or something?” Max asks, curiously.

“Or something,” Patrick says. Truth is Art only started putting out after he found out Tashi was. And as long as Patrick has wanted to fuck Art he’s never really stopped to think about why Art chose now. Patrick isn’t picky. He’s not picky at all. He’ll fuck Art, he’ll fuck Tashi, he’d fuck them both at the same time if they wanted it.

“Can you share?” Carter asks.

Patrick shrugs, “I think I have been.”

“No I mean really share,” Carter says and he stares at the bathroom door.

Patrick smirks. “I think I need another drink.”

He can hear Art calling for him and when he taps the door to let himself in he’s pretty sure that’s the moment— the exact moment— his brain fully and completely short circuits. From that point forward he’s actually an entirely different person.

“It’s just too…” Art whines, unable to think. He’s sitting on the toilet lid bouncing his leg. The blush goes everywhere. Down his chest to the pink lacy teddy. It fits like a glove. It’s hugging his waist, see through sheer fabric over his chest embroidered with with some kind of threading that would barely hide his tits if he had any. Patrick can clearly see his nipples, taut and erect through the sheer fabric. It’s not the only part of him that’s erect. The equally sheer lace panties underneath the negligée are straining to keep him contained and he’s fucking soaking the lace with precum, so wet, Patrick thinks, leaking through his panties like a fucking girl.

Patrick thinks he’s gonna fuck him right there. Pull him on his lap and go fucking crazy.

“Patrick I—I wanna— I need—“ he stammers, helpless. He’s gone full, if I only had a brain.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Patrick says, swallowing thickly. “I know what you need. Come here.”

Art’s still bouncing his leg, he’s got pretty legs, soft and smooth and toned and so long. Still in his nearly knee high white socks. Fucking slut. Patrick guides him to his feet, and immediately Art’s wrapping his arms around Patrick. Patrick can feel the way he’s starting to rub himself along Patrick’s thigh. The wet hot heat of him. Patrick shoves Art up against the wall to stop him and he takes a deep breath, coming to the distant realization that he’s actually shivering. “Can you hear me?” Patrick asks, probably trying to calm himself down more than anything else.

Art nods.

“You hear my voice?”

“Mmhm. Patrick—- Patrick please I need—“

“I know. You need to be fucked, don’t you baby?” Patrick’s not sure what he’s saying but Art just moans. “Fuck. You don’t even care who fucking does it. You’d let anybody in right now.” Patrick continues.

Art is nodding his head. ”Mm, yes Patrick please, please, please—” he groans, begging, pleading. For one terrifying minute Patrick thinks he’s gonna get on his knees in that slutty little slip and break Patrick forever. His eyes are all glassy and wet and he’s trying to get friction, attention, something, his blonde curls falling into his eyes.

“Oh fuck it, come on,” Patrick says and he opens the door. Art walks timidly into the bedroom. Patrick stays a second longer to look for the lube under the counter and finds a box of unopened condoms too. The second he stayed was too long. Carter’s already got Art pressed up against the wall, tongue in his mouth, Jamie’s got his hands inside the fabric of the negligée, rubbing his nipples like he’s got a full set of tits or something. Max is watching, touching himself, idly over his boxers.

The whole time Art’s moaning helplessly moving his hips. Needy like he’s in heat. Patrick makes them wear a condom if they want him. And holy fuck do they want him.

Patrick starts it first on the bed, pulls Art on his lap just to get him wet, get him loose. He’s careful about it. Art’s so horny he’s trying to lose it quickly so Patrick has to grab onto him, slow him down. Even him out.

“Fuck,” Art’s whining, mindlessly. “Fuck, Patrick it’s so big. It’s so big. It’s so fucking… much.”

Patrick’s rubbing his tummy through the fabric, he’s flexed so tight, barely breathing. Patrick moves up to brush his nipples and he moans.

“Hey gorgeous, you wanna try this?” Max whispers, pressing his cock to Art’s lips. “I dare you.”

Art doesn’t need the dare. He takes it in his mouth eagerly. Patrick can feel him squeezing, clenching, grinding as he sucks on it… can feel the overwhelming heat of his tight little body. Patrick grips him tighter to steady him. “Take your time,” Patrick whispers.

He’s taking so much in his mouth. Max starts groaning, “Oh fuck. Yeah, take your time gorgeous, holy shit.”

Patrick kisses on his throat where he’s swallowing and tries to coax him off. If he stays inside much longer he’s going to lose his mind and that’s the last thing he needs right now. They need at least one working brain between them.

Art’s breathing heavy when he opens his mouth, drool spilling everywhere. Patrick pushes him to get up and Carter grabs him next. He pushes him on the bed on his hands and knees and goes to town, so eager he barely lasts. As Carter’s fucking him Art is licking Jamie’s cock, and then swallowing on Max’s, occassionally both at the same time. Patrick is sitting on the other twin bed, trying his best not to lose it untouched for how fucking hot this is. Art is so far gone Patrick wonders if he even realizes how much of a fucking mess he is.

He’s got it all over him, hands, tongues, cock. They’re all kissing, touching, putting fingers in his hair, in his mouth, in his ass. Jamie and Carter both fighting to get a turn. Jamie fucking him till he’s coming, hot sticky ropes of it dripping, dripping slowly from his soaked panties onto the bed. He’s overstimulated taking Max, but he doesn’t stop. He’s pushing back on it, moaning in a way that sounds like he’s vacillating between pleasure and pain.

Carter starts kissing him and eventually Arts just moaning into his mouth.

“You’re so goddamn pretty,” Jamie’s cooing, jerking himself. “Gonna make me wanna nut again, fuck.”

Art’s making pleasure sounds only now. His cock filling up again just a few minutes before Max is finishing inside him.

“Shit, that felt so fucking good,” Max breathes. Art looks around dizzy as Max pulls out and starts tying the condom off. And then Carter’s on him, kissing him again, so he sits up and crawls into Carter’s arms so he can be held. But Patrick grabs him by the waist.

“My turn, come here, princess,” Patrick says, teasingly, pulling him back onto the second bed. His bed.

“Patrick—I think I— I need to—“ Art’s climbing onto him all doe eyed and wet, wet lips, wet eyes, wet with sweat and come and lube. The lingerie falling off one shoulder and his pretty pink nipple just exposed. Patrick nibbles at it gently.

“Patrick,” Art whines.

“You wanna come?” Patrick asks softly. His voice doesn’t sound like his own. He pulls Art onto his lap and eases himself inside and Art’s moving right away. He feels looser than Patrick’s ever felt him before but he’s still so nice and warm, and too fucking tight for him. He’s not ever to be trusted alone with boys, Patrick decides. Not boys like this at least. He just barely gets Art over the finish line when he’s losing it. It’s not even 5 minutes and he’s losing it. Does it raw just to spill it all inside him. If Patrick had something to prove he might be embarrassed but he is the one holding onto Art in the end, soothing him. Calming him down as he comes back to reality and in that reality Art is his…even if Patrick is more than willing to share when Art needs it.

When the other boys have left and Carter’s in the shower and they’re finally alone together Art is mostly back to himself. They’re eating leftover pizza and watching Sports Center. Art is devouring his, probably starving after using all of that energy. Patrick tangles his fingers into Art's hair, it’s still a little damp from the shower.

“Truth or dare,” Patrick says

“Truth,” Art says, his mouth half full.

Patrick sighs. “I don’t know what that was but you’re fucking beautiful.”

Art turns to look at Patrick with a little smirk, still chewing. “I know.”

“And you can’t ever do that when I’m not there.”

“I know,” Art says again.

“So I’m keeping the lingerie.”

Art shrugs, “I know.”

“Okay know it all,” Patrick gazes back at him and then takes the rest of the pizza crust out of his hand, smiling as he takes a bite. “Good.”

#art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fic #challengers smut #art x patrick #artrick

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quimichi · 4 months ago

Note

Can I request Dr ratio with power play? Pretty please?

↳ ❝ [WELCOME HOME] ¡! ❞

TW: Sir kink, uhh idk if this is power play tbh, p in v, some slight degration that is not meant as degration

SUMMARY: He finally came home to you after being away in Penacony...

CHARACTERS: Dr. Ratio (Veritas) x F!Reader

WORD COUNT:

A/N: 1. I barely write smut. 2. You're lucky hes one of my favs thats why i was so fast lol and 3. Gotta apologize if its too soft or something i literally have no idea what power play is and wanted to leave my search history clean lol

"Already this wet? I haven’t even touched you. Have you waitin for me?”

Like he didn’t know you were gonna get excited just from seeing him back. And he’s sliding your panties to the side, slipping two fingers in so they’re knuckle deep and thrusting them right at your spot. Well Veritas is desperate. Desperate to get his aching dick inside your pink walls that’s shapped for him.

That doesn’t mean he’s not getting you to cum for him once, get you to melt under his touch was his simple muscle memory. He looks away from your pussy, that’s load and soaking his fingers to look up at you. He tsks, slapping your hand away as you whimper.

“Not gonna let me hear you? After I’ve been away soooo long?” He fains a frown, curling his fingers into you more, fingering you faster, harsher. “You're so greedy, my love. And yet, you refuse to let me hear you? After all I've done for you? Truly...I must've spoiled you too much.” “N-no sir.” “No? Then let me hear how much you’ve missed me, brat." the moans leave your mouth like a second language, grinding your hips against his fingers.

“I wanna- lemme- cum. Sir please-“ Veritas rolls his eyes, flicking your forehead with his free hand, “Silly thing, just come.” And you unravel so beautifully, thighs shaking, pulsing around his long fingers. It’s almost dizzying how good you cum so much so you lose yourself while Veritas connected your lips, it’s so sweet but so brutally harsh. Bewitching, getting you all worked up all over again.

Usually when you’re taking him, he has to give you a swat on the thigh or ass so you dont try to take all of him at once, but you were taking it nice and easy today. Just like he taught you. What a good teacher you have. Slowly taking his veiny member inch by inch, practically choking his airway by how tight your cunt was.

He’s kneading at you hip, other hand caressing your your stomach up to your jaw before gripping it. “Look at me, keep the eye contact.”

And it’s so slow when you start moving, his head of purple hair resting against your forehead, shuddering breaths leaving his mouth. Like a wave, he’s drowning in the feeling. Drowning in you. Addicted to whatever mystical being that you were. He’d drown a million times if it meant being with here in his big arms, holding you so you’d melt into each other.

“Missed you so much Sir mmph- You're we're an ngh-asshole for going to Penacony for so l-long,” you gasped, you were completely and utterly full of him. “It couldn't be helped.”

The real reason he was able to continue his job with such incompetent idiots was coming home to you, his silly little girl that gets her silly little brain get put to mush by him.

“y-yeah,” you whined, fuck, you were barley thinking. Babbling.

“Yeah?...I said keep your eyes on me, if you want to come you do what i tell you to, understood?”

#hsr x reader #hsr smut #Hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio #veritas ratio #veritas x reader #dr ratio x aventurine #dr ratio honkai star rail #Dr ratio x reader shut #x f!reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #Smut

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angelqueef · 3 months ago

Note

i am IN LOVE with your forbidden fruit!simon. if you ever have anything that has more stoner ghost i would cry fr. luv u~

forbidden fruit, prologue

wow thank you!! here’s a little blurb about when the horny stoners first met, just 4 you!

cw: simon is retired, drug usage (weed), dom/sub undertones if you squint, not proofread, 18+

willow tree, plush moss, a marshy pond less than ten feet in front of you. it’s the ideal spot. a little bit of a long walk from the main park, but it’s secluded, quiet. the chances of you getting caught are slim.

you lay down your picnic blanket under the tree and curate the perfect spread: a fruit bowl, warm sandwich from your favorite hole-in-the-wall café, ginger ale, and two fat joints, rolled and packed with love—sealed in pink paper.

you sigh contentedly at your work and take a cross legged seat on the soft blanket, music playing in your ears. it’s not too loud, but loud enough that you can’t hear him, the man that takes a seat on the bench just some feet behind the willow tree.

simon doesn’t see you either. he thinks he’s just stumbled upon a beautiful, unoccupied smoke spot. the stump of the tree is wide enough to hide your slouched figure, and his own earbuds blare music that envelops his ears enough that he doesn’t hear you unwrap your sandwich and spark up.

it’s not until the wind blows that he notices someone else in his spot. the earthy, citrusy scent fills his nostrils, with the undercurrent of something musky and warm, vanilla sweet. you.

he watches smoke billow from behind the tree, chuckling to himself. someone else found a perfect spot, huh? he lights his own joint and leans back, sighing as the first puff melts the stiffness in his joints.

you’re munching on a strawberry and taking long drags of your joint, adoring in the way the fruit flavors the smoke. you sniff, for some reason the smoke smells stronger. it’s heavy and savory in your lungs. much different from what you’re smoking. you lean back and peak behind the tree to find the source. you catch a huge, burly man clad in black, spread across the bench.

you two barely make eye contact before you squeak, hiding back behind the tree. god dammit, your secret isn’t so secret anymore.

simon’s eyes widen at the glimpse of you, curls springing from your head like a crown, eyes and skin brown and glossed, glowing under the evening sun.

suddenly his booted feet are dragging his body to you.

you’re a bit scared, but you’re so high that the anxiety just simmers in your stomach, unable to rise to your brain.

“hello,” he greets, voice low and gravelly.

you study him with worried eyes—blonde cropped hair under a black hoodie, gold lashes that traced around his amber eyes, a crooked nose, frown lines that wormed their way between his brows, a scar that trails down his right cheek, soft but equally large muscles that strain against every inch of fabric. you swallow the heat that pools inside you. he’s handsome.

“hi,” you say back, chirp barely audible.

“sorry t’bother ya,” he starts, also shy. “couldn’t help but notice someone in my secret spot.”

you let out a giggle, one that lasts longer than it should, “this is my secret spot.”

he pauses his music, hoping your laugh can imprint itself on his eardrums and stay there forever, “really, now? hope you don’t mind sharin’ then.”

“i don’t mind,” you scooch over on the blanket without thinking. what the hell were you doing, letting a stranger, let alone a man, this close?

“you’re not gonna kidnap me, are you?” god, this weed makes you chatty.

simon cocks an eyebrow at you. silly girl, so naïve. he has no wants of hurting you, in fact quite the opposite. but your lack of self preservation makes his chest tighten. he gets the primal urge to protect you.

“no, luv. got no intentions of botherin’ you. i’ll leave if you like.”

part of him hopes you’ll tell him to leave, he wants to believe that you have some semblance of common sense.

but for some reason, your heart sinks at the thought. as wary as you were, there was something about his presence that you liked. it was dark, weighted, grounding. you didn’t even know his name, but he felt comfortable.

“n-no, you can stay,” you push the bowl of fruit to him and offer him your joint, “tradesies?”

“huh?”

“you hit mine, i hit yours?”

“oh, sure. thanks luv,” your hands swap joints, his big, tattooed hand dwarfing yours, “name’s simon, by the way.”

you smile, “hi simon,” you give him your name and hold out your hand. he takes it in his, but doesn’t shake it. just holds it. calloused thumb rubbing over your knuckles. you laugh nervously and take your hand away.

his heart thrums, you’re soft.

you hit his joint a couple times, the flavor harsh in your mouth, making you drool. you feel yourself sinking in the blanket, body glued and weightless at the same time.

“woah, this is different,” you blurt out, eyes locked on the pond in front of you.

“it’s for m’joints,” he states, taking a long drag from your spliff, the sight of the pale pink dwarfed by his hand is comical, “got old military bones.”

“oh, uhm, thank you for your service,” you say, handing his smoke back to him. he gives you yours.

“nah, luvie. nothin’ to thank me for,” his voice is low and laced with sadness, regret.

you hum, knowing you couldn’t begin to understand the horrors he’s seen and probably committed.

simon intrigues you. in any other event you would’ve made your voice low and curt, shoo’d a man away and out of your sight. but the way he approached you, calm, hesitant, no innuendo. there’s something different about the big lug.

you spread your limbs out on the blanket and turn to him, knee hiked up, making the curve of your hip pop. it’s clear you have no intentions of seducing him, you’re stretched and laid out like a cat, but simon can’t help but swallow as his eyes trail up and down your figure.

he mimics you, laying down on his side to face you. he can’t stop the hand that reaches out and trails down your hairline. you can’t stop it either, too relaxed to move.

“y’pretty,” he murmurs, reddening gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips.

you inhale sharply, startled at his advances, “thank you.”

you’re both pretty blazed, unable to stop staring at each other. his hand hasn’t quit trailing up and down the side of your cheek, occasionally pinching and pulling the fat, like a mother would do to her baby.

you both sit there for what seems like hours, breathing in each other’s new and strange presence. the sun is almost completely gone. you’re comfortable, he’s lulling you to sleep until reality sets in, making your eyes snap open.

why the hell are you letting a stranger touch and lay with you? and for so long? do you have a death wish?

you shoot up, clearing your throat, “‘m sorry simon, i just- i just realized i have to go, got something- got stuff to do at the house.”

your fear is clear to him, even if you didn’t say anything he could smell it. maybe you do have some survival instincts. he sits up with you but scoots away while doing so, putting some distance between you.

“tha’s alright, luv. didn’t mean to scare ya,” he says softly, he knows being scared while high is intense, so he’s being as gentle as possible.

“n-no it’s okay. i just, i mean, you know how it is.”

“i’m a strange man laying on your blanket n’ carressin’ you. i get it,” shit, he’s scaring you off. right when you were safe and warm under his palm.

he watches as you swiftly pack your things, scurrying like a little animal. he comes to a stand to help you fold your blanket. you reject him, “i’ve got it.”

he backs off. he notices the wall you put in front of him.

you’re all packed up when you face him again, eye contact unstable, “it was really nice meeting you, i uhm- i’ll see you around.”

simon nods, “nice talkin’ to ya,” he wants to tell you how nice it was to meet a pretty thing like you, tilt your chin up and kiss the corner of your plump lips, but he doesn’t. he can’t.

“listen, uh, before you go,” he starts as you go to turn away.

“yes?”

“go ahead and give me your number,” not a request, a command, “i got this real good plug, y’see. wouldn’t want you to miss out on the good stuff.”

you nod, pressing your lips together to keep from smiling, “y-yea..that would be nice, thank you.”

you’re unsure you’d even respond if he reached out, but you take a chance anyways, putting you number in his old phone.

“on you go now, luvie. get home safe.”

you give a shy, closed mouth smile, “thanks for, the uh, you know,” you mime a smoking motion with your hands.

simon chuckles.

“anytime.”

he watches you prance away from him, almost skipping. he smiles to himself.

he’d get through to you eventually.

#cod x reader #x black reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod fluff #stoner!reader #stoner!simon #stoner!ghost #forbiddenfruit!simon #cw drugs

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shsl-simp · 24 days ago

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tetro pink normal album artworks postmortem

under the cut will be a full post explaining (almost) all of the choices i made in the process of making my tetro normal album art series now that ive finished it, as well as things i dislike about the finished products and what i might change. enjoy!

tw // major tetro pink spoilers, blood, gore, nooses, suicide, sh

1 -- suburbia / chiba

this is one of my least favorites, but it makes sense as this was my first one PLUS i drew it while actively having an anxiety attack/mental breakdown while trying to hide it because i was on vc 😭

on the positive side, i really enjoy my color choices on chiba! her hair looks WONDERFUL, the background not so much ... !! idk what id change really.

suburbia chiba was one of the first ones i decided for this project. it fit her SO well, from the happy town turned bloodbath to the "blonde, blue-eyed baby" line. my initial plan for this piece was to have chiba walking/skipping down a classic suburban street covered in blood and guts, but i couldnt get it to look right, so we got this. i ended up making a magazine just for sillies :P

the quote i chose for this piece was "It takes a village to fake a whole culture. Your ear to the playground, your eye on the ball. Your head in the gutter, your brains on the wall." i chose this because the eye on the ball/brains on the wall line encapsulates the feeling of the song i wanted this piece to represent, as well as the first part of the quote which i really wanted to include.

2 -- 222 isono

choosing a character for 222 was surprisingly hard??? i fully believe that okazaki fits this song better but ... laplace's angel .............. isono was the cloest.

besides that there's just something about this piece that feels wrong. might be the color pallet or the way i rendered the hair. it just feels ..... off. i dont like it.

there are many references in the posters !!! the first one is meant to imply the shape of noose, the next one is chiba's piece, the 3rd is an inside joke between my friends (mizucest ..), and the last one is a sticker in the server i drew this on vc with! i really dont have much else to say about this piece. not the worst but definitely not the best.

the quote i chose here was "Now to row, row, row my boat over the falls. and maybe wake up from but a dream." i felt this was the lyric from the song that best fit isono, so i chose it.

3 -- laplace okazaki

i dont think i need to explain why i chose okazaki for this one. just look at the lyrics.

the dotted line across her neck represents kamimua, and the red string tied around her waist represents tsuno. i may have chose red string bc of the red string of fate and okazakis odd homoerotic villain yearning for tsuno ..... maybe ............

this one im not as happy with just because i didnt really include the song at all. it was just .... okazaki. if i were to redo it i'd definitely add a much more apparent reference to laplace's angel. overall, not bad, but couldve been better.

i was initially going to choose "it doesnt take a killer to murder, it only takes a reason to kill," for this, but i decided to go for something i bit more fun, "If you were in my shoes, you’d see I wear the same size as you."

4 - i/me/myself wada

oughhh wada :(

this was really the point where i think this series took off and got GOOD. experimenting with collage elements here really helped make this one stand out.

the reason i chose wada is pretty obvious - tfem wada :( poor girl never got her awakening ..... sigh

this was one of the fastest ones to make, but all of them only took about an hour each. this one was very unrendered, but i still like how it looks. i love this one, no notes!

"I wish I could be a girl, and really, I'd prefer it if you would use I/Me/Myself," the classic line of the final chorus. not really any hidden meanings or anything.

5 - better than the alternative watari

this one was straight fire, no pun intended. the hands are meant to represent her siblings, clinging onto her for dear life. the hand on her head is meant to represent her mother. the candle shes protecting represents her livelihood :3 i love this piece a lot. no notes!

the quote i chose was "She’s gonna be a lot like me, but I don’t wanna be at all like me," the context of this lyric in the song is the speaker character talking about their daughter, but in this context i thought of it more as watari and one of her younger siblings. sigh ily watari

6 - oultliars ken

this one. this one. i have so much to say.

first of all, i had some deliberation between ken outliars and ken laplace but im REALLY glad i ended up doing outliars bc i love this piece. as soon as the idea of a worm borrowed into his eye came to me i was obsessed.

the worm is blue to represent how kamimura would never leave his mind, even after he died. i remembered seeing an excerpt from the odyssey while searching for stuff for wada's piece, so i dug it out and used it here. i really love this one. it might be my favorite. this one is so fun ......

7 - blackbox warrior hiroaki

okay this one is my least favorite so im not gonna talk about it much. i genuinely hate this one so much its not even funny

the idea was good but i .... just didnt execte it well. sorry. the ivs tying into a noose was cool tho

i chose the quote "You've lost your mind and almost lost your life before, so you'll be fine," in reference to hiroakis suicide attempt in canon.

8 -

this one is my actual favorite, right next to ken's. i don't really have much to say, just ... ough. kamimur.

the "bled out in the bath" line of the song really caught my eye, and it gave me the inspo for this piece! i really relate to kamimura in a lot of ways, so this one was kinda personal for me. i think it turned out really well!! i dont really have much else to say lol

9 - love me normally ojima

this ones a bit boring, but i still enjoy it! i was intending to do something a lot more ... colorful. but i think this still conveys the message i wanted.

fuck ..... ojima ........ again, i relate to him a LOT so this one was kinda personal as well, just less than kamimuras. i wish i had a bit more obvious inspo from the song, but thats about it. love you (normally) ojima <3

10 - memento mori hayashi

i had a REALLY hard time with this one, and if im being honest i still dont like the composition or pose. bleh. i dont even want to look at it 😭

the perspective is entirely wrong, and it .. sorta tells the story i wanted? i really needed to show the horror in her expression tho ... i think that was the main problem.

the book page is from the raven by edgar allen poe, and if im being honest i just searched for morbid book pages on pinterest 😭🙏

aaaand thank you! this is the end :) i really wanna do something like this again, maybe with tdrb. this was incredibly fun even if i dont like how most of the paintings came out. after all, for every masterpiece that artist has 100 fucking horrific artworks <3

edit: forgot to do my ranking lmaoooo

kamimura

hasegawa

wada

chiba

ojima

watari

hayashi

isono

okazaki

hiroaki

#tetro danganronpa #tdrp #tetro danganronpa pink #✦ tea's art #tetro danganronpa spoilers #tetro danganronpa pink spoilers #not tagging everyone im eeby

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akari-of-moonlight · 2 months ago

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HELLO GUESS WHO'S GOING TO TRY TO WRITE A REGULARLY UPDATING FIC!!!

I don't have ao3. uh. here.

Kamimura Kazutoshi and the Unfortunate Reality of Interpersonal Socialization

Chapters: 7/17

Fandom: Tetro Danganronpa Pink

Relationships: Kamimura Kazutoshi & Everyone

Additional tags: Alternate Universe - Dorm AU, Fluff, Humor, Some emotional stuff will probably find its way in here but this is a silly fic, 5+1, kind of, it's more of a 15+1, I don't know how to tag fics help

In which Kamimura Kazutoshi slowly and unwillingly gets to know the fifteen other freaks in his dorm building.

I'll try to update this weekly on Sundays but this is my first ever consistent fic and I'm Nervous. to say the least.

Thank you to @thewhimsicalenderdragon for betaing I love you

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7

Prologue (How the Fuck Does One Get In This Situation Anyway?)

Kazutoshi was going to bash in someone’s fucking skull.

That was the only thought in his head as he slouched against an empty wall.

It might’ve been a bit overdramatic, but sleep-deprived, dehydrated, and altogether full of spite and malice as he was, he didn’t have the patience for another painfully optimistic orientation just for the freaks in his dorm. He didn’t exactly come to university to fuck around and socialize.

Unfortunately, he didn't exactly have a choice.

Wonderful.

He gazed around at the unfamiliar faces around him, registering them each in turn.

The first person he saw, a brown haired guy dressed in eyeball-scorching, headache-inducing red, was engaged in equally as eyeball-scorching, headache-inducing argument with a raven haired girl whose voice sounded unequivocally patronizing. A third glasses-wearer stood behind them awkwardly, rolling his eyes every time one of them made a particularly pointed jab.

On their right, another group buzzed with a cacophony of exchanging exceedingly louder personal information. Kazutoshi groaned internally. If he was going to live in the same building as these people, they’d better be able to fucking shut up.

Within the group, Kazutoshi’s eyes skimmed over a short blonde girl whose violent arm waving had probably been on the receiving end of several manslaughter charges, a willowy girl who wore the bright red against her dark skin much better, if Kazutoshi were to judge, and a tall, slender figure hidden under an altogether unnecessarily large coat. He shivered as his eyes fell upon their painted kitsune mask, looking away before the slits of those eyes could catch him staring.

In a farther back corner of the room, another trio was gathered. This time made up of a tall, broad shouldered guy whose tattoos made him look like he should be on the poster of a movie Kazutoshi would rather die than watch, a tiny blonde girl who looked at most, like, twelve, and a large straw hat. There was probably a guy under the hat, but Kazutoshi didn’t get that far before registering a much more significant detail about the group.

The guy in the hat had open a backpack, and peeking out of it like a housecat was a fucking tiger.

Kazutoshi blinked, hard. Who the fuck let this guy have a tiger? How did this get past the administration? Better yet, was he planning to keep the fucking thing?

Kazutoshi had heard stories about exotic animals found and kept as pets in college, but he’d expected, like, a peacock or something. He flinched as the tiny girl reached to pet the tiger. He wasn’t exactly ready to see a small child get her fingers bitten off by a tiger. Miraculously, the tiger just pushed its face into the girl’s hands, like it was a cat urging scritches. He looked around, baffled that no one seemed concerned about the apparently very real threat of getting mauled to death by an oversized housecat in the middle of their dorm hallway.

Then he did a double take. He squinted at the tiny girl’s bouncy blonde twintails, vague memories floating to the surface of his now aneurysm-riddled brain.

No fucking way. No fucking way the live fucking tiger was somehow still not the most insane guest in that trio. The girl turned to say something to the tattooed guy, and Kazutoshi caught a glimpse of her face. Yup. That was Chiba fucking Airi. In his dorm. Playing with a fucking tiger.

Sure, why not? Why the fuck not.

Kazutoshi quickly turned to look over the rest of the gathered crowd. He needed something to cool down from whatever he’d just seen. No such luck with this crowd.

Leaning against a far wall, a blonde guy with sparkling blue eyes who looked like he belonged in a hotel staff lineup and a bright, bouncy girl wearing a fucking cape chatted as if either of their attire was normal.

A little further down the same wall, a small boy who looked like he’d blow over in a small breeze fidgeted with his stained jacket as his eyes fixed on the ground like he was waiting for a hand to reach up from it and pull him down into the depths of decade-old carpeted hell. He was the third person Kazutoshi had seen who made him wonder if he had somehow stumbled into a fucking middle school somehow.

The boy glanced nervously at the person closest to him, a girl with bright red hair who surveyed the room in a similar fashion to Kazutoshi, eyes flicking around with more analysis than nerves behind them. Her bright tattoo and toned arms made her look like a stereotypical delinquent, but she didn’t seem aggressive or hostile. Her eyes met his for a second and she raised an eyebrow. Kazutoshi looked away, caught, as he focused his gaze onto the last set of people in the hall.

A girl with vibrant orange hair tied up in twintails and a tall, awkward looking guy with soft brown eyes sat in vague silence next to each other. Kazutoshi couldn’t exactly read the air between them, and he didn’t think he wanted to. The brown eyed guy adjusted his overly formal suit – why would he wear a fucking suit for this? – and cast a glance around the room as well. He caught Kazutoshi’s gaze for a second and an awkward, nervous smile slipped onto his face like a greeting. Before Kazutoshi could respond, the suit guy turned away, looking like he’d remembered something. He fished around in a bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out something Kazutoshi couldn’t see. He hesitated, then offered it to the girl sitting next to him, who accepted it, the two of them starting up a less awkward conversation.

Kazutoshi looked away, opting to glare around at his more inanimate surroundings rather than be caught staring again. His eyes fell upon a slightly obnoxious sign declaring that he was going to have a stellar time in the Fujioka dorm. He rolled his eyes, wondering if it was set up by a member of the staff, or by one of his overly enthusiastic dormmates.

Behind the sign, the ominously cracked walls of the building displayed flaking light blue paint. The entire room they were in, which seemed to once have been a dining commons, but now was a fissure-riddled, weirdly barren lounge room. Kazutoshi glanced at the thin but vaguely threatening cracks, wondering how many students before him had prayed under this roof that the building would wait to fall apart until after they graduated. Not like he was going to break the tradition.

A high pitched whistle cut through his thoughts and his eardrums.

Around him, the others flinched at the same time, before turning to see the source of the sound.

“Jesus, Sasaki. Are you trying to give us all tinnitus?” The guy cosplaying a stop sign snapped, covering his ears.

The raven haired girl next to him sighed. “I’m trying to get their attention, Hiroaki.”

“Well, give me a warning first next time!” Hiroaki whined, red sunglasses flashing and practically radiating an obnoxious air as he crossed his arms.

“I literally– No, I’m not going to do this,” Sasaki said, shaking her head and turning to address the group as Hiroaki glared at her. “Okay! Thank you all for coming out here!”

“We… didn’t really have a choice,” the masked figure from the right corner pointed out. “The dorms are still being… cleaned.”

“Wait, what’s wrong with the dorms?” her blonde compatriot asked. “I just went straight here cause I thought it was, like, a get together.”

Sasaki tried to cut in over the murmurs of a lot of people who really didn’t know how to whisper. “It is, and nothing’s–”

“No, the dorms are fucked,” declared the red haired girl, still leaning against the wall. “Apparently the wildlife got to it over the summer. Rooms are trashed.”

“That’s not–” Sasaki tried, but she was interrupted by the chatter of overlapping voices.

“Are we sure it was wildlife, and not, like…” the girl in the red uniform piped up from behind the blonde girl, trailing off and gesturing in the direction of the tiger guy.

Chiba Airi leaned around the backpack that was blocking her view, proclaiming, “Sawa would never!”

“Is that a fucking tiger?” Hiroaki screamed from the front of the room.

The blue haired boy standing next to him shook his head. “How did you not notice that before?”

Hiroaki glared at him. “Oh, I don’t know, I was a little distraced by Miss High and fucking Mighty–”

“Okay!” Sasaki yelled, flicking her hands exasperatedly. “If you would all let me speak, I have a few things I’d like to clear up, as the only one here with information from actual staff.”

“She takes one summer of prep classes, and she thinks she’s queen of the school,” Hiroaki muttered.

“I heard that,” Sasaki snapped.

“Oh no, you did? I was praying you wouldn’t. This is a nightmare,” Hiroaki said, sarcasm thick enough to stop a bullet.

Sasaki muttered something that sounded like “You’re a nightmare,” and continued.

“Alright, well, as you all have been informed, the dorms are…”

“Fucking trashed?” The tattooed boy suggested.

“Temporarily out of commision,” Sasaki corrected. “But they’ll be ready by tonight, I’ll make sure of that. In the meantime, you all can get to know each other a little bit, and I’ll do my best to make sure all of you can unpack as soon as possible.”

“And it will definitely be ready by tonight? Like, actually ready?” Hiroaki prompted.

Sasaki turned to him with a tight lipped smile. “Yes, Hiroaki. They will be. Give or take… a few mattresses.”

“What?” Hiroaki demanded in time with a few others from the crowd.

“Just yours, Hiroaki,” Sasaki half-singsonged, the vocal equivalent of smoothing down a skirt. She turned to the rest of them with a forced smile, raising her voice to be heard over Hiroaki yelling about being an insomniac. “In the meantime, get to know your roommates! A good relationship with them is very important.”

The room dissolved into a gradient of panicked or excited chatter, everyone mimicking freshly dropped marbles in both movement and cacophony. Kazutoshi spotted the tiger being stuffed back into the hat guy’s backpack and breathed a sigh of relief. In the corner of his eye, he noted the guy in the suit glancing in his direction, before being pulled into a conversation with the orange haired girl.

Sasaki tapped the blue glasses guy, pulling him aside. Now a lone fire alarm in the buzzing crowd, Kazutoshi saw Hiroaki glance around at the others, as if he was looking for someone. Then his eyes fell on Kazutoshi, And he started walking.

Kazutoshi almost ran. He had the feeling he was about to regret not going for it.

“Hey you. Blue,” Hiroaki said, sauntering up to Kazutoshi with impenetrable smugness.

“Hey you, asshole,” Kazutoshi retorted, mimicking his tone. “Who the fuck starts a conversation like that?”

“Excuse me?” Hiroaki said, sounding appalled. “Do you know who I am?”

Kazutoshi rolled his eyes. Unfortunately, he’d seen the fashion designer’s name on a magazine or two. Assuming this was the same guy, though, he couldn’t exactly act all high and mighty if he was going to university here.

“I don’t care who you are. Fuck off,” Kazutoshi growled, eliciting a gasp so dramatic he was surprised there was any air left in the room.

“What the hell is wrong with you? And how do you not know me?” Hiroaki said, aghast. “What is your problem?”

“Well, currently, it’s that a fucking stranger won’t stop bitching at me,” Kazutoshi retorted.

“You’re so crass!” Hiroaki yelped. “And so uninformed. You seriously don’t know who I am? My heart bleeds, Kashimura.”

“Kamimura,” Kazutoshi corrected on instinct. Then he narrowed his eyes. “Wait. How the fuck do you know my name? Why the fuck do you know my name?”

Hiroaki crossed his arms, “Why should I tell you?”

“Oh, fuck off!” Kazutoshi snapped, mind racing. He hadn’t told anyone his name. He hadn’t even talked to anyone.

Luckily, Hiroaki obliged, his apparently bruised ego sending him back to his blue-haired human support blanket’s side. As he glared over his shoulder at Kazutoshi, he “whispered” something to the other boy. Kauztoshi heard the word roommate slip.

Oh fuck no.

Kazutoshi glanced around across the room like anyone in there could save him.

No such luck.

Maybe he could just live in the lounge room.

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xzaddyzanakinx · 1 year ago

Text

Study Buddy pt 2

Stepdad!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: heavy breeding kink, cheating, stepcest/inappropriate relationships, unprotected PiV, condescending/demeaning tone, manipulation, gaslighting, age-gap, medication/medication alterations, baby trapping, ddlg, innocence/purity kink, praise, reader is over 18

Info: reader acts more innocent/naive than they are, Anakin is just a little bit evil but in a kind of tee-hee he’s so cheeky way, trophy wife? yes please, princess treatment forever

🕊 dead dove do not eat 🕊

“What?” You asked with your head in a confused tilt.

A blank look glazed over your face as you tried to connect the scattered dots. The post-haze of your orgasm was making your brain fuzzy, Anakin’s cock still buried in your puffy pink pussy wasn’t helping keep your train of thought on its track either.

“Wait. No I’m on birth control.” You shook your head and laughed, he must’ve forgotten.

“Oh, silly girl.” He tsk’d, his hands gripping your thighs. With a low and rumbling chuckle he began tracing slow circles around your bellybutton before slipping between your legs, his thumb teasing your swollen clit.

"You're mine now, aren't you?” He asked sweetly, accompanied by a little kiss to your forehead that had your heart fluttering.

“Anything I want you’ll give me… won’t you?”

“Anything?” You parroted back at him, glancing down to his hand between your legs. “It’s only fair, you do get me anything I want.”

“That I do princess.” He grinned. “Anything for my girl.”

Anakin's eyes bore into yours, a heated gaze of possession. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your neck, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

“My princess gets everything she wants… so it’d only be right if you gave me this one thing wouldn’t it?” He asked, kissing the softness beneath your jaw.

You couldn’t argue with that logic. That was a solid deal. One little request of his compared to the lifetime of spoiling he’d given to you… that was a steal. Besides, you’d always wanted to be a mother, it might as well be now shouldn’t it? Anakin loved you, you loved Anakin, and your mom always said- wait.

“But what about-“ You started.

“Shh, no don’t worry about anything else okay?” He silenced you with a kiss.

“I’ll take care of everything. Just like I take care of you princess.”

His lips trailed down your neck, his strong hand massaging the squishy flesh of your waist and rocking you on his half-hard cock.

“You want to be with me don’t you babydoll?” He breathed out.

“Of course I do Ani.” You whispered, unable to think clearly, not that it would matter if you could.

“That's a good girl." He praised, sucking lightly before biting down ever so slightly, drawing out a moan from you. His hand moved lower, massaging and rubbing your ass cheek, squeezing and kneading gently.

“You trust me don’t you sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, starting to slide up and down his cock as it grew harder inside your cum-coated walls.

“And you know I only do things to make you happy, keep you safe… only ever things that are good for you right?” He asked while pinching and rolling your clit between his thumb and forefinger, the one little movement sending a *zap* straight to your brain.

“I know Ani.” You mumbled, leaning in to kiss him.

He chuckled, smoothing your hair from your pretty face, peppering your soft skin with sweet chaste kisses.

“N’ you trusted your daddy enough to help you with your medicine every night didn’t you?” He asked, slowly moving you both so that you laid flat on your back with your lower half held up by his muscled arms.

“Yeah I did- do I mean.” You nodded, eyes fluttering shut while your bottom lip was trapped between his teeth. The change of position was a heavenly new angle. His massive palms on each ass cheek, keeping your lower half suspended so he could kneel between your legs.

“Yeah you do don’t you pretty girl?" Anakin chuckled, his voice rich and deep.

“Cause you’re alittle forgetful right?” He teased, and you nodded with a giggle.

“So my girl didn’t even notice when I stopped giving her that little pill huh?” He cooed, not giving you time to think before sucking his thumb and covering it in spit to swipe over your hardened nipples.

“N-no I didn’t.” You gasped, eyes rolling back in your head at the dizzying stimulation.

“That’s right baby. Just another reason for you to let me take care of you right sweetheart?” He said, his voice honey smooth.

“Y-yeah Ani.” You nodded. He was right. You could hardly keep up with your own things, let alone remember to do something like taking your medicines. You couldn’t even do your homework by yourself, you needed him, he took care of you.

"That's a good girl." He praised, his hand moving back to support your weight as he began to thrust harder into you, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythmic beat.

"Open your eyes and look at me." His command broke through your haze of pleasure, and you did as he asked.

"Isn’t it nice? Knowing it’s all taken care of for you?" He asked, his breath coming out in short, ragged gasps.

You felt your stomach tighten up, your hands smacking the carpeted floor and searching for something to hold onto. “Y-yeah Ani… I- I think I’m gonna- oh gods.”

“I know baby, I know.” He said, low and soothing as he rocked into you.

“You need me to make you cum don’t you?” He smiled softly. “I will doll, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you in every way. Always.”

“Treat you just like the princess you are m’kay?” He moaned, his forehead resting on yours as you whined and wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles to rest just above his ass. “Gonna fuck you full alright baby?”

“Gods… please?” You whined, nodding your head. “I want you to… please I want your cum.”

“Damn right you do.” He groaned, a triumphant grin on his lips.

“Gonna make you the prettiest little mommy.” His hips stuttered, resuming his previous quick circling of your clit with his calloused thumb. “that’s it, come on sweetheart I feel it. I know you wanna cum don’t you?”

“Yes!” You cried out, back arching, legs shaking as you squeezed his cock, your pussy fluttering.

"That's it baby girl." Anakin growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you harder, faster. "Cum for your daddy."

His cockhead slammed against your G-spot relentlessly, the thick tip brushing against every ridge along the way.

"You're so fucking tight, so goddamn tight." Anakin groaned, his eyes glazed over with lust as he neared his own climax. “Like I’m fuckin’ a vice when you squeeze me like that baby.”

“Fuck. God you’re so fuckin’-“ He cut himself off with a low groan, his hips flush to yours “take my cum baby, damnit”

You felt his cock twitch, leaking hot semen deep inside you, rope after rope painting your walls a creamy white.

Anakin’s breath was shaky as he rocked into you slowly, like he was trying his damndest to massage every bit of his essence into your used and abused cunt.

“You’re so pretty.” He breathed out, looking down at you with a crooked grin. “you know that? All red in the face, panting, cute little fucked out cunt…” He let out a chuckle.

“You feeling okay doll?” He asked, gently swiping some drool from the corner of your mouth with his thumb and bringing it to his mouth to lick off.

“M’ feeling perfect.” You sighed, too exhausted to move.

“Good.” He laughed. “I need you to stay right here okay? Don’t move.”

He slowly slid out, dripping cum and juices onto the floor beneath you. Taking great care in propping up your hips with a few pillows. He slipped his boxers back on and patted your tummy before walking to the kitchen.

“You gotta lay just like that for at least 30 minutes okay? Gotta make sure all that hard work sticks don’t we?” He teased.

You giggled, blissful and giddy in your after-orgasm glow. Anakin came back with a water for you, helping you prop yourself up on your elbow to take a sip.

“Here, you need one of these everyday now okay?” He showed you a large bottle of gummy vitamins. “You go ahead and take one now, I know you’re picky. So let’s see if you like these ones and if not I’ll get you some different ones.” He smiled, popping one of them into your mouth.

They were a bit tangy, but overall not terrible. You gave him a thumbs up and swallowed the rest of the vitamin before letting yourself collapse back onto the floor. Thankful that you were naked and equally thankful Anakin had the forethought to turn on the overhead fan when he’d gotten up.

“Do you need anything doll?” Anakin asked sitting down near your head and picking it up gently to rest on his thigh, carding his fingers through your hair.

“Mmm… no.” You sighed, leaning into his loving touch. One hand of yours reaching above and behind your head to run your fingers along his bicep.

“Alright sweet girl. You just relax okay?” He beamed down at you, pride etched in every line on his handsome face.

He flipped on the Tv, searching through the different channels until he settled in a shared favorite of yours. A true crime drama, The First 48.

“Oh hell yeah this one’s new.” He said setting the remote to the side.

‘Oh that’s nice.’ You thought as you turned your head to watch along with him. ‘They usually only show new episodes at 5:00… 5:00?’ Your eyes flew open.

“Wait…” You thought for a second, looking over at the clock. “Moms gonna be home in like 10 minutes Anakin!”

“Huh, would you look at that.” He said calmly, a tiny smirk curling his top lip as he heard a car door slam shut. “I think she’s home early.”

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