#You are shoving that mirror in their face

[aemondfairy]

Thawed Out

summary: Frustrated after losing a game to your brothers’ team, you let Cregan take his frustration out on you.

pairing: Modern!Cregan x Targtower!Reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: Explicit smut, semi-public/rough sex, spit, p in v, creampie, 18+ MDNI

note: Sorry it’s been a month since I’ve posted!! Watch this flop asdfghkl

Your eyelids flutter as Sara lightly dabs glittery eyeshadow onto them with her ring finger.

“Try to hold still,” she tells you, just as your reflection catches her eye in the mirror that hangs on the back of her closet door.

“Oh no,” she frowns, making note of the jersey you’re wearing, “Cregan is not going to like that.”

The jersey — all black, has no distinctive feature of any team, but it does have the name “Targaryen” etched onto the back, and 01 on the front, which is your brother Aemond’s hockey number.

Cregan is number 13.

“Targaryen is my last name,” you remind her, “and besides, Cregan is the one who wants to hide me. If he wants me to wear his jersey to games, he will have to make me more than just a fuck buddy,” you shrug.

Her lips turn downward into a frown, but she nods her head in agreement with you.

Very few people are aware of your relationship with Cregan. He’s a good guy with a big heart, the complete opposite of a fuckboy or a player. The main, if not only, reason why the two of you decided to keep things a secret was so you wouldn’t have to deal with the backlash from your brothers.

Cool air whips against your face, and tensions are high with only a few minutes left remaining of the game.

You watch on eagerly as Aegon pulls a move that is supposedly illegal, but the ref’s don’t seem to count it. Resulting in your brothers’ team winning the game.

You can’t help but wince as you watch Cregan rip his helmet off and make a beeline toward Aegon on the ice.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Aww,” your eldest brother frowns in response, “Run home with your tail between your legs!” he calls. Cregan grunts in response while the rest of Aegon’s teammates, Aemond included, howl maniacally like wolves. Making a mockery of Cregan and the rest of his team.

You roll your eyes at the scene and push your way out of the stands and through the crowd.

You pick at your fingernails nervously as you wait outside the locker room, refusing to enter until the remainder of Cregan’s teammates pass you by.

The smell of sweat fills your senses as you enter the abandoned locker room.

“Cregan,” you call, “baby?”

The locker room is quiet and dim. The only audible sound in the room is the faint buzzing of one of the poorly lit fluorescent lights.

Cregan is sat on one of the benches, his nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger. You reach your arms around him.

“Hey,” you offer, “for what it’s worth, you did great.”

“I’m just so fucking pissed off!”

Cregan’s deep voice echoes through the locker room as he throws his stick to the floor. As mentioned earlier, Cregan’s a stand up guy, but his temper is a force to be reckoned with; and nothing sets it off quite like losing a hockey game.

“I know you’re upset baby,” you state empathetically as you dig the pads of your fingers into his shoulders. An attempt to massage the tense tissue, he all but grunts in response.

“You wanna take it out on me?”

“What?” He asks in a deadpan.

“Your frustration … you should just take it out on me.”

Cregan raises his eyebrows at this but he takes no time to react. He stands up quickly, his thick frame hovering over yours before he shoves you against the lockers abruptly. Gripping at your chin with force, he demands you to open your mouth. You oblige and he spits directly down your throat, you swallow obediently with a content mewl as wetness pools at your center.

A pathetic “please” is all you’re able to muster out to him as he stares at you hungrily.

He takes a seat on the bench, tugging his uniform pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles in one swift motion, exposing his cock.

His calloused hands lift you onto his lap with haste. A shiver runs through your body as he yanks down your leggings and underwear in a quick swoop, causing you to hiss as cool air fans your cunt. It isn’t long before Cregan’s warm hand is cupping you, his fingers playing in your slick.

You want to cry out when he removes his hand from you but once his hands are at your thighs again, spreading you open, you feel the throbbing head of his cock prodding against you.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, egging him on, “come on, I said, take it out on me.”

A growl erupts from his chest as he forcefully spears you down onto his cock, filling you to the hilt. Your eyes flutter shut and you try your best to suppress a moan as he begins to split you open.

He continues with unrelenting thrusts while his grip on your hips only tightens, taking full control.

“Fuckin. Targaryen’s,” he says through gritted teeth, harshly slapping the swell of your ass. Your head snaps up as you glare at him disapprovingly.

“Obviously not you baby,” he coo’s reassuringly, running his fingers along the red handprint that’s forming, soothing the pain before kneading at the tender flesh.

“It’s just— Gods, do they fuckin’ rile me up,” he mumbles as both his hands make their way to your waist again, helping him thrust into you even harder.

“I know, baby, I know” you whimper, pressing your forehead to his as he continues to fuck into you at an unrelenting pace.

“But you know just how to make me feel better, don’t you, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you choke out as he perfectly angles his cock against your cervix.

“Yeah you do, this sweet little pussy is all I need.”

You can feel the tension building in your body at his words, your breath coming out in short gasps as he expertly moves inside of you.

His fingers trail down from your hips to your cunt again, sending hot waves of electricity through you.

His intense, grey, gaze never leaves yours. With each thrust, you feel yourself on the brink of insanity. Each drag of his length has you closer and closer to the edge.

Cregan moves with determination, his body pressed hard against yours as he takes you to new heights of pleasure. His digits finally find the apex of your thighs and pinch at your throbbing bud, causing you to gasp and arch your back.

Urging him on as he expertly works his fingers over your most sensitive spot. Each touch sends waves of pleasure through you. With one final pinch and a flick of his thumb, you’re cumming around him — gasping and trembling as the walls of your cunt tighten around his length.

His breathing comes labored and heavy, his eyes squeezed shut as he chases his own release. His own hips stuttered as he felt you continue to pulse around him. Unable to keep his composure any longer, he lets out a loud groan and spills himself inside of you, painting your walls with his seed.

“Fuckin’ Targaryen’s,” he drawls, this time his tone is filled with appreciation.

[ink-n-shadow]

i saw this post about types "talking you through your orgasms" and i had to discuss the types that the 141 men would be. i couldn't stop myself

[ TALKING YOU THROUGH IT ] 𝜗𝜚 the one about how the CoD men talk you through your orgasms

𝜗𝜚 characters: john price, kyle "gaz" garrick, john "soap" mactavish, simon "ghost" riley (reader is gender neutral) 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), praise kink, dirty talk, slightly mean!simon, unedited 𝜗𝜚 a/n: lmk how we feel about the slightly different format (i'm still making edits but)

john price is definitely cooing softly in your ear about just how pretty you look, just how sweet your hole looks stretched out on three of his thick fingers, just how beautiful you look with drool slicking down your chin and unshed tears clinging to your lashes. “fuck, jus’ look at ya, doll—so fuckin’ pretty all split open on my hand, yeah? no, don't close yer thighs when ya come—wanna see how pretty y'look when ya tighten up 'round my fingers." doesn’t stop praising you or blabbering on about how pretty you look even after his softening cock slips out from between your thighs, his spend tricking out of your used hole and your tearstained face hidden away in the crook of his neck.

kyle garrick is the giggling kind, nose buried deep in the hair at your temple and his lips curled up into a smarmy grin as the rough pads of his fingers glide across the slick, molten flesh of your arousal with practiced ease. "feels good, yeah? got your legs just right tremblin', 'nd I've barely even started, sweetheart. shhh, shhh—'m only teasin', baby. tell me how good it feels." and he's totally the type to make you keep talking as he bullies his fingers into your heat, stopping every single time your words jumble together and your whiny moans begin to overpower your coherence. "keep talkin'—y'don't want me to stop, do you? s'what i thought—go on, then. what were you saying about my fingers hitting something just right?"

johnny mactavish is the condescending kind, azure eyes focusing on the way your eyes slowly cross as another orgasm ravages your nerve-endings and makes a scoff fall from his lips. "again, birdie? dinnae think y'had it in ya—how many's tha'? three, right?" but he's not slowling the pace of his thick fingers as they continue practically carving out your insides, fingertips mashing against that one spot that had your brain melting out your ears and moans slipping off your tongue. even the kiss he leaves against your forehead seems condescending, a knowing grin on his face as he feels your gooey insides gripping onto his fingers tighter. "yeah, tha's right—gimme a fourth. y'can do it, birdie—then i'll fuck my cock into ya, i promise."

simon riley is the (sometimes, not all the time) degrading kind, honeyed eyes meeting yours in the mirror in front of your bed as he forces you to watch the way his fingers disappear between your slick thighs. "look at tha', pet—greedy fuckin' hole, innit? already got three fingers 'nd you're practically beggin' for more, huh?" you would've answered him if he hadn't have stuffed your underwear between your lips, your eyes fighting to stay opened as your toes begin curling in the impending crest of your high—only for simon to rip his fingers from your fluttering hole, instead shoving the lube-covered fingers into your mouth until his middle finger brushes the back of your throat and the underwear slips out amongst the gagging. "didn't say y'could cum, did i? no (shaking your head for you with his fingers still buried in the back of your throat), don't think i did. knew you were a greedy lil thing—c'mere, be a good pet and suck me off."

[azzibuckets]

attitude [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: paige catches attitude and azzi keeps her in check

a/n: basically the nyfw and ny liberty game fic yall requested. @makethemhoesmad to thank for the prompt!!!!

masterlist

Paige had never been a big fan of side parts, but that was before Azzi Fudd.

Now, as she stared at her girlfriend, her soft curls tossed to the left and framing her doe brown eyes in just the right way, Paige wanted to tangle her fingers in Azzi’s hair and kiss her and kiss her.

But knowing Azzi likely wouldn’t take kindly to messing up her makeup after hours of sitting in her chair, Paige settled for merely inching a little bit closer to her best friend on the couch where they were sitting. Azzi’s cheeks turned a faint red when Paige brushed her pinky against hers. “I’m not gonna lie, you look hot as hell right now,” Paige said lowly, voice thick with want.

Azzi’s blush turned fiery. “You sure know how to woo a girl,” she said sarcastically.

Paige leaned in closer. “Is it working?” she asked, her lips only a few centimeters from Azzi’s mouth. Azzi’s eyes flicked down before she inhaled and scooted back. “You’re gonna mess up my makeup.”

Paige looked wounded at the distance between them. “You weren’t saying that last night,” she quipped, earning a smack to the head. “Yo, you’re gonna mess up my hair,” Paige complained, turning to face the mirror and adjust some strands.

“Good, maybe all the bitches will back off,” Azzi joked lightly.

“At least those bitches would kiss me,” Paige grumbled, eyes glazing over as she stared at Azzi’s lips.

“Control your face,” Azzi chastised, though her heart warmed at how Paige looked more in love with her every time she saw her. “Especially in front of the cameras later.”

“I know, I know.”

•••••••••••••••••••••

Paige was not controlling her face.

She had done a pretty good job at the beginning of the event. Hell, she’d been beaming and shit seeing the crowd she was intermingling with, filled with celebrities she’d never thought she’d meet in person.

That was until that same redheaded slut kept approaching her girlfriend and smiling at her in that slinky way. It didn’t help that she was unable to secure neighboring seats with Azzi, forcing her to sit across the room and burn holes into the ginger’s head as she laughed at everything her girlfriend was saying.

“Remind me to play poker with you some day,” Brittany piped up from next to her. “I would walk away a millionaire.”

Paige clenched her jaw. “You think this is funny?”

“You really think carrot head holds a candle to you?”

“Her boobs are sticking out and shit in that dress she’s wearing,” Paige gritted through her teeth, completely ignoring Brittany’s words.

Brittany smiled, enjoying the show unfolding before her. “Maybe you should do something about it,” she goaded.

“Fuck this.” Paige slid out her phone, hoping to distract herself by scrolling through Instagram. Her grip tightened, almost cracking her phone when the first post she came across was a picture of her and Azzi posing from the hour before, and all she saw in the comments were people thirsting over her girlfriend like animals (Aka me). “People have no civility these days,” she decided, shoving her phone back into her pocket.

Brittany only smirked.

As soon as the runway ended, Paige leapt from her seat and started making her way towards her girlfriend. All thoughts of wayward cameras left her mind as her vision tunneled in on the way the redhead’s acrylics scraped lightly over Azzi’s bicep.

“Hey,” she said lowly, hands tracing down Azzi’s sides before settling at her hips. “Who’s this?” She nodded at the girl but kept her eyes on Azzi.

Azzi’s eyes furrowed in confusion at Paige’s carelessness, her hands subtly covering the blonde’s and gently pushing them away. “This is Odelia. She’s one of the interns coordinating New York Fashion Week!”

“That’s nice.” Paige’s voice dripped with fake enthusiasm as she leaned her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, arms going back to circle her waist. “I bet you’re an amazing intern.”

Azzi shifted at the condescending way Paige emphasized intern. She stepped away, causing Paige’s hands to drop. From the way Azzi’s eyes glared daggers into her, Paige knew she was in for it later. Oh well. The look in Odelia’s face had been worth it.

•••••••••••••••••••

“I’m hungry,” Azzi announced as soon as she slid in the back seat of her car.

Paige stared out the window, her neck stiff. “Maybe you should’ve eaten that redhead bitch.”

Azzi stilled, only halfway into the car before she realized her surroundings and climbed fully in, shutting the door behind her. “That redhead bitch?” Azzi repeated, mocking the same tone Paige had used.

Paige slumped low into her seat, pulling down the drawstrings of her hoodie that she’d replaced her sweater with. “Fucking looking at her like she was a four course meal,” she muttered under her breath, her gaze stilled fixed on the buildings whirring past outside.

Azzi decided to ignore Paige, not wanting to have a conversation like this in the backseat of the Uber. “Can you make a stop at McDonald’s?” she asked the driver, who nodded and started to shift lanes.

“Bro, let me just go home,” Paige complained.

“Drop the attitude,” Azzi warned, her tone deadly. Paige glowered even more but immediately shut up.

“You want anything?” Azzi asked as they pulled up to the drive through.

No response.

“Paige Madison Bueckers.”

“A cheeseburger and fries.”

When they were given their food, Paige made sure to start munching loudly, knowing Azzi’s pet peeve was loud chewers.

Azzi set down her burger and rubbed her temples. “So you’re gonna keep being a brat?”

Paige chewed louder.

In one quick motion, Azzi snatched the fries from Paige’s hand and dumped them into the bag. Paige immediately reached over to grab it back, but Azzi quickly menauevered it, putting the food between the door and her body. “Act like a kid and get treated like a kid,” Azzi said, her voice hard.

••••••••••••

If Paige had been mad last night, she was furious now. After they’d got home, they’d had a little fight before Paige had stubbornly went to the couch for the night. With the business of their trip, they hadn’t had time to talk about it since, and it was killing Paige not being able to hug and kiss her girlfriend for the entire day.

Did Paige know she was being bratty and stupid? Yes. But Azzi was always so sexy when she was worked up.

Paige did have a tactic. She was trying her hardest to not let her gaze settle, but for the tenth time in five minutes she found herself staring at Azzi again from across the arena. Her girlfriend’s hair was up in a bun now, slut strands framing her face. With the sunglasses she was wearing and the gum she was chewing, she looked perfectly poised, but Paige knew Azzi was still tense from their argument.

In all honesty, Paige wanted to be in Azzi’s lap, not sitting here watching the game. She’d tried to take her mind off Azzi’s long legs by striking up a conversation with Klay Thompson, who sat next to her, but as soon as the NBA star opened his mouth to respond, her thoughts returned to Azzi Azzi Azzi.

After the game, Paige tried to rush through all the pictures, but Azzi, who seemed to know what she was doing, merely smirked and took her time. She must’ve said hi to every single person on the Liberty and Aces roster before joining Paige at the exit.

“Someone’s in a rush,” Azzi noted as Paige sped walked to the car.

“Shut up right now.”

••••••••••••••

As soon as the door clicked behind them, Paige’s mouth was pressed feverishly against Azzi’s, her hands roaming across every single part of the younger girl’s body. “Looked like such a good fucking girl in this outfit,” she panted. “Got everyone fooled, but I see right through it.”

Azzi pressed Paige’s hips against the wall, holding her there. The blonde squirmed under Azzi’s stare coming from half lidded eyes. “Let’s talk about last night,” Azzi jabbed back. “Acting like a little fucking brat.”

Paige raised her hips, trying to roll them against Azzi’s, but Azzi’s grip was too firm. “You gonna punish me?” she breathed out, hands going up to Azzi’s shoulders to steady herself.

“I know your game,” Azzi husked, teeth dragging over Paige’s earlobe. “You think you’re so smart, huh?”

“Want you,” Paige whined, fingers hiking up Azzi’s shirt. “Need you.”

Azzi tsked, backing away from Paige. It took all of her self control not to take her right then and there, with the blonde slumped against the wall, eyes glazed over and hair a mess as she pouted. “No touching,” she said lowly. “Keep your hands to yourself.” Azzi slowly dragged her thumb down Paige’s jawline, relishing the heat of her skin and the way the older girl trembled under her touch. “Gonna make you regret all your attitude.”

Paige’s eyes fluttered shut. She fought back a smile. Azzi didn’t know it, but Paige had won.

[chrissweatytoes]

SAFE WORD

WARNING INCLUDES: overstim, fingering, oral fem!receiving, unprotected sex (use protection kids), use of a safe word, degradation, use of pet names (baby, slut, ma, mamas). ENJOY!!

word count: 1.2k

⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆

BLURB - pairing chris sturniolo x fem!reader

softdom!chris who couldn’t get enough of you tonight… he’s already made you finish 3 times but this time you said no more…

chris and i always know our safe word, both of us know that we can use it, but we never have. we just never get too… into it.

i was laying in bed on my phone while chris was (surprise surprise), getting a pepsi from the fridge. i knew what i was wearing was a bit skimpy but i didn’t think it mattered, he hadn’t been looking at my body at all tonight… i stand up out of bed and look in the mirror next to chris’ desk, checking myself out, realising that chris’ shirt is the only thing im wearing other than lacy pink panties revealing my whole ass. i walk back over to his bed and grab my phone. i take a few moments to take some mirror pics and send them to chris, knowing he’s active on his phone. i stay on imessage to see when he sees the slutty photos i sent. as soon as i see that he’s seen the photos i hear huge, loud footsteps running up the stairs, the sound thumping through my head. when i hear the door creek open i quickly turn around.

“hi baby!” i go to walk over to him but he stops me, grabbing onto my waist and pulling my hips against his. chris immediately crashes his lips into mine, not pulling away until im sat on the end of the bed, shirtless.

“lay down, shirt off.” he says bluntly, swiftly ripping my shirt off and softly pushing my shoulder. now laying on chris’ bed in light pink panties and my bare chest facing him, it’s hard not to notice the massive bulge in chris’ pants and the fact he can’t stop staring at my tits.

“turn around. now.” i do as he says knowing that if chris is mad and horny nothing will stop him. i face the head of the bed on my hands and knees. i feel a light breeze of air hit my skin before his large hands slap across my ass.

“oww! chris!” i let out, then regretted it. “fuck.” i think to myself. telling him that it hurts is just going to make him do it more. “shit.”

i feel the tug of him ripping my panties down, feeling my juices drip down my thigh.

“shit ma, so wet already? you’re such a little slut you know that? sending me those pictures… what’d you think was going to happen?” i keep quiet, my light whimpering as the cold air hits my swollen folds. this only seems to turn him on more… 

“on your back mamas” i turn myself around to lie on my back, my eyes looking directly at his. my body tenses as he shoves one finger inside me.

“fuck chris, not even any warning?” i drag my hand down to my clit attempting to build up my orgasm when he stops me, grabbing my wrists and taking off his belt, he ties them together. usually chris isn’t into bondage but tonight he’s completely different.

“m-more chris, please”

“are you gonna be a good girl?” i nod my head instantly, biting my lip in preparation for a second finger.

“mhm, if you say so. you better fucking be good. okay?” with ease he slips another finger inside me. my quiet whimpers turn into pornographic moans.

as i approach my high, chris moves his other hand from my hips, to my bundle of nerves, fast and swift with his movements.

“c-close…” i manage to say over my laboured breaths.

“come for me ma.” his words itself sends me over the edge, my body squirming as my slick drips onto his fingers. he licks his fingers, not wanting to miss even a drop of come.

“mmh you taste so fucking good baby,” chris kneels down on his knees, prying my legs apart and holding my thighs.

“c-chris?”

“yes sweetheart? too sensitive? well this is what you get for being such a little slut. you’re my slut hm?” he looks up at me through his lashes, all innocent looking. with no warning at all he brings his tongue up to my warm, and wet cunt. licking up all of my previous orgasms evidence.

i lift my head just enough to see chris’ face buried in my pussy.

“mhmm chris. yes! right there baby…” my moans mixed with the slurping sound fills the air.

chris shoots his fingers into my warm cunt and his lips latch onto my bean.

the thrusting of his fingers speed up as he watches my legs shake, struggling to hold on any more.

“s-so close…” with one more thrust, i released for the second time.

“shit ma, you taste so good… you did great baby, you think you can go again?” he lifts his head from my crotch, my juices all over his face.

i nod my head, unsure if i can go another round or not.

“i can try…”

“you can do it baby, just relax.” he unzips his jeans and lets them pool at his ankles. he then rips down his boxers, strokes his length a few times letting his pre-cum drip onto the bed sheets and then finally lines himself up with my pussy. he slowly starts letting his brick hard cock explore my warm cunt. 

my whimpers grow into moans once his dick is finally all the way in.

“this okay?” he looks down at me with a scared look in his eyes, i can sense he’s worried about me.

i nod my head “mhm hm”

he picks up the pace and starts thrusting inside me. my tits are bouncing along to his rough rhythm. chris moves his hands to my hips, pressing hard enough to leave marks. as much as i want to touch him and pull his hair, i know how much it’s turning him on seeing my hands tied together.

“need… to… cum…” 

“cum f’me, cum with me.” his words tip me over the edge, his movements become uneven and slower as he finishes inside me.

“fuck chris…” i say as he pulls out slowly.

“let me clean you up…” chris pulls up his boxers and jeans, kneeling again as he brings his mouth back up to my pussy.

“no, chris… i can’t.” this doesn’t stop him. he looks at me briefly. a hungry look in his eyes he lowers his head and starts sucking on my clit.

“chris stop.” i say bluntly trying to move away but his grip on my hips is too hard. he continues with his movements, not a care in the world.

“flash!” this stops him immediately.

“shit baby i’m so sorry…” he pulls away from my crotch and wipes his mouth on my shirt that now lays next to me.

“i’m so fucking sorry… i didn’t know you wanted me to stop so bad.” chris leans over me and unbuckles his belt that's holding my wrists in place. he crawls into bed and taps his chest, signalling for me to lay with him.

“it’s okay,i’m okay, don't worry. can we run a bath soon?” i crawl into his arms, pulling the duvet up to cover my naked body. 

“sure baby, soon. i just want to hold you for a bit… i’m so sorry if i hurt you.” 

⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆ᡣ𐭩⋆౨ৎ⋆

hey ya'llllll! i hope you enjoyed. this was my first time writing smut so ik its not gonna be great but i hope it was good enough! please honestly tell me what you though about this and what you wanna see in the future 💕

with love, mals x

[petew21-blog]

No way back

Richard Madden was now on top of his career. Starring in Game of Thrones and after that in many successful movies as well.

He loved his aching career and his life

Until it was taken from him. By you

You really loved him as an actor. But you fell in love with his body much more. And that's why you attacked him on the street after that play he starred in.

He put up quite a fight. But you had a knife and eventually you succeded in stabbing his shoulder. Stabbing was the crucial step to swap bodies. After that, you were now fighting your old body, that was towering over you and held a knife in your shoulder. Thank god for the police for shooting him and saving you

The ambulance took you to the hospital. He hit some of the big veins, so you were bleeding rapidly. So they had to take care of that. Some doctor stitched you up and told you you were lucky. "I know. Thank you"

You were finally left alone in your room. You went to the mirror in your gown to look at the wound and at your new self.

And there he was Richard staring back at you.

You took of the gown. Revealing the big wound and some scratches on other parts of the body.

He put up quite a big fight before you switched. If you wouldn't stab him, you'd be the one who was dead now. Not Richard.

You looked over your new shirtless body. Your hairy torso covering the muscular chest and abs. All yours now to enjoy.

Your nipples hardening at the sight of the beautiful man in front of you. And not the only thing that was hardening.

You are Richard Madden now

But the blood and scratches reminded you what you have done. That you were now in a different man's body. That you took his life and got him killed. There's no going back anymore. You can't get back to your old life, see any of your friends or your family. Or even your dog

It was all so bittersweet. Getting his body was one thing, but now you felt the guilt of it all overcoming you. You looked at yourself in the mirror and saw the teary eyes looking back. Did you screw this up?

6 months later

After dealing with the aftermath and going to therapy. You decided to quit acting for a while. You didn't even know how to act, cause Richard's memories did not stay in his body and secondly you probably wouldn't even enjoy it.

You asked for therapy after the attack a decided to pretend to have some sort of amnesia, which became an excuse for everything after that. Especially for not knowing who in Richard's life was who.

But now it didn't matters. You were in Los Angeles, Hollywood Hills. Enjoying the beautiful scenery and the sun shining on your beautiful hairy chest.

With just one bottle of water and a phone in your hand, you arrived to the place and sent the photo

"I'm here" you said out loud

From a bush, an attractive young man came out

"Holy shit, it's really you. Omg sir I have to say I am the biggest fan."

"I thought you came here to hook up"

"Yeah... right. Sorry. Sure"

You unzipped your jeans and pulled out your big dick to jerk. It was getting hard. You loved freaking out these twinks in your body. Hell, this guy's probably the same age as you were. But you're in Richard's body now, being older than him

He was shocked and just stared at you. Definitely aroused

"Are you gonna stare or take care of it?"

"I... YES! I just thought we could go somewhere private. There is a lot of rattle snakes here you know"

You came close to him. Pushing him on his knees and shoving your hard dick into his mouth

"There is only one snake you gotta be worried about right now"

You left him on the mountain. Covered in cum all over his face. You had an interview to get to. Fuck, your acting career was about to start again.

The twink caught up with you. "Can I call you? I really wanna do this again"

"Already hungry for more? This is my adress. And bring a friend"

The guilt was still deep in your heart. But moments like this definitely made it better

[unknownperson246]

a/n: Hiya! could you make a smut where Duff, Slash and reader make a sex tape bcuz they're going on tour and reader wont be going w them? Thank youuu!

sure thing ❤️.

I Love My Boys:

Words: 677

warnings: *smut* *threesome* *handjobs* *p in v* *cum play* *cum eating* *handcuffs* *degradation* *sex tape*

✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:*

You were tied up in the bedroom for Duff and Slash to use you. You were their Sex toy. There was a small camera that Slash was setting up in the corner. Slash was swinging his erect dick at the mirror while recording himself. It was like how Tommy Lee had a conversation with his dick. Duff was on the bed next to you playing with your body. Slash and Duff both knew how sensitive your tits and pussy were. They loved teasing you that way. Duff slowly stuck his middle finger inside of you. Slash and Duff were extremely horny that they could both just fuck you in the same hole which was impossible given how small your pussy was and how big Slash and Duff were combined. Duff kissed your neck as he whispered sweet things into your ear.

“This tape is going to be useful for us. We get to watch us use you over and over again while we are gone.” Slash said looking back at you. A small smirk crept up on his face.

Slash finally set the camera up and he came to you while your hands were handcuffed to the bed’s headboard. Slash let one of your hands-free. Your head was against the headboard. The sight of two rock stars coming at you with lustful eyes made you go wild. You moved on top of Slash. Slash positioned his pre-come-soaked cock. Slash was mesmerized by you. He hadn’t seen you like this in a long time. His fingers stroked your already hard nipples.  You started to bounce on Slash’s hard member. As soon as you felt  Slash enter your eyes rolled back. Duff took your hand. Duff wrapped your hand on his cock. You felt his dick pulsing for you to squeeze it. You were confused until you noticed that he wanted a handjob. Your hand started to stroke his hard member. You went soft and slowly. Your hand fluctuated up and down his dick. You loved looking at his face. His lips parted. Small moans escaped his lips.

“Y/N” Duff moaned as your hand gave him pleasure.

While you pleasure Duff you forgot that Slash was doing you. You put half of your energy riding Slash while the other energy was put into giving a handjob to Duff. 

“Mh mh mh” You heard Slash breathing heavily and grunting while you were on top of him. You kept bouncing on him. 

“Fuck baby” He grunted as you continued to bounce up and down. His body was leaning against the headboard. 

Your small moans and grunts make him go vicious with fantasies about being aggressive with you. You felt come go down your hand. You looked over while you were still bouncing on Slash. Duff came all over your hand. You expected him to come on your body since he was aiming right at you. You didn’t realize your hand covered the whole thing. You kept going up and down on Slash with your tight pussy clenching around him.

“Almost there Y/N” He grunted.

“Go ahead baby” You moaned as you kept jumping up and down to keep him pleased

You orgasmed on his Dick leaving him with a coat of glistening slick on him.

You finally felt his warm seed shoot up inside of the womb. You loved that his jets of come coated you. It made your orgasm even better thinking about it.  Duff grabbed your head.

“Let me clean that,” Duff said looking down at your hand.

His tongue slowly started to around your hands to clean his own come up. He loves watching you while he does this. Slash got up from underneath you and shoved the camera in your face.

“How about the nice view of the sluts face,” Slash said smirking, recording Duff clean his come up from your hands.

“Got anything to say?” Slash asked.

“I love my boys,” You said, smirking and kissing the camera while you were wiggling your tits around.

“Take a look at them melons boys” You chuckled. 

[idlingmoons]

daydream x reader

a nice 2.2k words and considerably fluffy, i'd feel! just you getting home from the store and doing laundry with daydream

this is a long one, written for @sockonaleash and @amethystapple - though, it was a lot longer than i had expected to write! this one will be under the cut as not to take up so much space unless you do wish to read it :)

You set down your groceries and fumble with the keys to your apartment. 

Thankfully, you don’t drop them. Your hands aren’t that sweaty enough for them to slip from your fingers, even with all the carefulness you could muster. The sweltering heat is beginning to calm down, easing into a more tolerable weather. Walking outside for a few minutes—to the nearest grocery store, no less—no longer makes your back awfully damp, which you are thankful for. 

You are somewhat out of breath, and you know that you have to walk more, as you make you rest against the door for a bit. You manage to press your key into the lock and jiggle it to make sure it’s fully inside. There, you turn it and push the door open, stepping back to snag your fingers on the plastic bag of the groceries before you make your way inside. None of it is heavy, it is only the weight of the vegetables you finally promised yourself to buy sitting at the bottom of it, as well as the other meats you reluctantly added.

Well, you bought it for Daydream.

She wouldn’t stop fussing about your eating habits. As much as you wanted to eat the same few foods over and over again, she insisted on having a variety of foods. Something about nutrients. You were paying attention, really! It’s just a bit hard to focus on that when Daydream’s right there, worrying over you. It’s the sort of attention that you find yourself indulging in, and that’s how she convinced you to even go and buy groceries.

Speaking of the lovely animatronic himself, a few soft steps could be heard from inside. His shoes were placed neatly by the side of the door, so as to “not track dirt inside of the house” though he rarely went outside. You usually would have him accompany you, but this was a quick trip that you had been putting off after you caved into Daydream’s suggestions. Now that it’s finally over with, you shove off your shoes by the heels so that you don’t have to untie the laces, and nudge them with your socks so that they’re next to Daydream’s shoes.

“My dearest, welcome home,” he greeted, bowing only his head. You had to break him out of the habit of doing one of those full-body bows, which was too much and too formal for someone like you. You wanted to be close to him, and breaking those habits was one of the first ideas you had to make him feel more comfortable. Anything to do to make him understand that this place was safe for him. Bowing his head was alright, for now.

You might be smitten with him. And, well, Daydream certainly is with you as he pulls himself out of his bow to come slightly closer. His mouth, or more so his teeth, press against your forehead.

The kiss doesn’t catch you off guard, although you do pause to savor the soft gesture. He’s been doing it in the past few weeks and you’re sure that every time you look up at him, something in his expression is more cheeky. It’s clear that he relishes in your reaction, and he gently takes the plastic bags in your hands while you’re looking at him distractedly.

His eyes light up a little, or you think they do. You want to save up so that you can buy him some new features to make him expressive. It’s something he hasn’t told you outright, but you’ve sometimes seen him stare in the mirror and trace his hands over his face. You have seen the way that his fingers ghost his own mouth through a crack in the door, and the unmistakable yearning that no one—let alone animatronics—should have to suffer through.

It makes you want to do more for him.

Daydream pulls you out of your reverie with a noise of approval, something he must have picked up around the humans of his past. 

(You would say owners, but then it’d lump you in with them, and something like guilt has its clutches on your heart and squeezes tightly. You don’t want to own Daydream. You want him to be himself.)

The bluish purple moon’s hands were taking out the vegetables, gracefully taking out the bag of potatoes to move them into the fridge with ease. While you didn’t struggle too much with carrying them, you’re sure that it must be quite light for the animatronic. “My sweet star, you bought what I asked you to,” he murmured, a pleased look gracing his features.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you manage to say. Your throat feels oddly dry in her presence.

His eyes flickered to yours, as if to make sure you were looking at him, and you cannot help it as his gaze pulled you in. It is most likely because of the smile she sends your way; while it is her default expression, something about this one seems softer and more genuine. Your eyes linger on his faceplate, and certainly his mouth, although you are far too embarrassed about it. Even then, you notice he is certainly appreciative that you are listening to his suggestions. You stare long after he looks away, putting the food in their respective places.

Daydream isn’t looking at you while he asks his next question, neatly storing some carrots and what looks like cauliflower, and it makes you want to pull him away from his task. You don’t. “How was your trip to the store? Do you feel more comfortable going by yourself, my sweet?”

This is his way of checking in on you, and you’re fond of it. But, it is the store, of all things: unremarkable and nerve wracking for you at the same time.

“Yeah… yeah,” you say, and any other words die on your lips. You want to say more.

In the quiet that stretches after your response, you move closer to watch her movements. Practiced, but relaxed. It was no longer like a taut string, like the first few times she helped to restock the fridge. That’s when you notice that the dryer you had been running from over an hour ago, and surely was still running when you left home, had gone silent.

You almost considered waiting for the animatronic to finish, but the quietness was getting to you and turning on some music wouldn’t be necessary—at least for this task. “Daydream, did you take my… uh, our clothes, out of the dryer?” you ask.

He’s not looking at you, still focused on his task. Even then, you know you have his attention. 

“Yes, I did, my dear,” he answered, putting the last of the groceries into the fridge. He folds the plastic bag and walks over to open the cabinet door under the kitchen sink, putting it there neatly. You know that he has quite the organized set up, and you’ll look in it later to get a good grasp of what he put where. He does all of these things that he doesn’t have to and, while you’re happy about not having to do them, it’s the fact that it’s Daydream doing it that makes you bite the inside of your cheek.

You’re not sure when he glanced at your direction, but you stop biting as Daydream sends you a look of disapproval. He knows what you’re doing, and he’s scolded you a few times for picking at the skin of your nails. Harmful habits that he wants you to get rid of. It feels hypocritical, when you’re trying to stop his. “You know you didn’t have to do that, right?” 

Her head swivels toward you, a faint jingle of her hat following the action.

She stands upright, hands clasped a little. “It is only right if I do so,” she says, and you know you’ve had this conversation with her several times over. You’ve insisted again and again that she doesn’t have to, and you’ve seen him make some progress in not doing every single chore you can think of, but this seems to be one of the few things that he refuses to let go of. “Taking the laundry out of the dryer is simple.”

You’re going to have to come up with another approach. Since asking her to stop hasn’t fully worked, since it’s not detrimental to either of you, you need to work around it instead. You lean against the counter in thought.

“You know, we should fold our clothes together,” you try, and the animatronic’s eyes bore into yours. It feels ridiculous that you have to fight to fold your own clothes.

“You do not have to if you do not wish to.” Daydream has a curious lilt in his voice.

“Well, I asked. Well, offered to. It’s something that I want to do.”

“Folding clothes is simple, and it would be more efficient for me to do it alone. You can use your time for something else.” You don’t want to get frustrated with her, and this is such a small thing. You sigh, refusing to resign yourself to her words. “Daydream, I want to fold clothes with you. Please.” You struggle to come up with something, and your fingers tap against the counter as you try to reign yourself in. “I want to spend time with you. I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t want to. I’m not doing this just to be polite. So, can I please please fold clothes with you?”

These sorts of things are not something you want to get angry with her for, even if you have to beg her a little. She must have been impacted by her past experiences, or coded to act this way, or both—something along those lines. You don’t want to pry.

She looks you over, eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of your tapping and the way you hold yourself. She wipes away whatever expression she has on her face, seemingly relenting now and nodding a little without a word. You can only hope that she knows you’re not in any way mad with her. Why would you be? You don’t normally get angry over things like this.

“C’mon, let’s go fold clothes together. Where are they?” You push yourself off the counter, and you watch as he briskly moves to your side.

Daydream’s eyes flick to yours. “In your room, as a majority of them are yours. They are still in the hamper. I was going to fold them before you returned, little wishing star, but you came sooner than I expected,” he answers as the two of you begin to make your way to your room. 

“I wanted to get home quickly to see you,” you remark, and you can see the way her smile ticks upward ever so slightly.

The two of you walk to your room, and she soon follows behind you. You move out of the way once you’re inside of your room, and there you can see the hamper that you’ve been using to collect all of your clothes. Daydream is already near the hamper, and you can tell that she’s more than likely going to sit on a chair and just fold the clothes from there. That won’t do, especially since the clothes are fresh out of the dryer.

You quickly take the sides of the hamper and dump it onto your bed before she even has the chance to pick up one article of clothing.

Impulsivity hits you and you end up crawling right on top of all the warm clothes. It smells like the laundry detergent you use, a refreshing and soft smell that makes you happy that you buy that specific brand of detergent. You’re sure it was lavender, but what you’re more focused on is the warmth of the pile. While it smells great and all, the heat of the clothes makes you want to laze around like a cat in the sunlight.

“Is this your way of helping, darling?” he leans down to ask, voice lower. He’s smiling again, another one of those genuine smiles, and you can tell that he’s downright amused by you. You’re glad that he feels safe enough to feel like that.

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

She moves to sit next to the pile of clothes on the bed, her dress ruffling a little as she does so, and you’re still sprawled all over on the pile of clothes. You can see how close she is to you, and her smile becomes something a lot smaller and softer. The way she leans in to you isn’t something you’re expecting, and it feels a lot more intimate. It’s as if she was about to tell you a secret she’s told no one else.

You move to sit up a little on your horde of clothing, head lifting. “Daydream?” 

He shushes you and moves his faceplate right against your cheek. Another kiss of his, but this time it feels different. You can feel the plastic of his teeth and the silicone parts of his face against your skin. One of his hands reaches up to hold your head to keep it in place, and your ears vaguely register a faint buzz.

“Thank you for helping me with the laundry then, my fantasy.”

[starfxkrreloaded]

⋆｡°✩ being sarahs best friend who moved from the cut, and during a sleepover one day she's just poking through your stuff untl she finds this litle rinky dink camera that she knows you carry around sometimes so she's going through it while you're in the shower. and it's nothing crazy at first--the two of you together, different parties, overall fun moments.

but you scrolls back a little further, about a year or so, and all of a sudden you're somewhere unfamiliar. it's dingier, woodier, more simplistic. it's gotta be back on the cut, and you're not the one holding the camera. someone else is, it's some guy with the lens trained on the way another guy--blonde this time--is gripping your things. you're standing, barely, slurring and leaning on the blonde one for support as he gropes at you in your bikini and tiny shorts.

told you dude, s'like we got our own porn star over here' he punctuates his action with a light bounce to your breast, pulling the damp triangle to the side so the cameraman can zoom in.

cmon jj don't say that, we gotta have some dignity about this'

all 3 of you sounded drunk, and you and jj were clearly far gone--kissing hard and deep as he pinched you nipple and shoved a hand down your shorts at the same time.

the unseen voice grabs your face, turning to his direction and sarah can see a little glimpse of him when he leans in to kiss you; curly brown hair, soft lips. its enough to make you groan, and blonde greedy because you're tugged out of the way so the two can kiss. sarah feels her whole body flush hot, she's used to seeing girls for a guy, but this is something new entirely.

you always do that, john b wanted to kiss me.

there's a bit of a shuffle, and sarah can't see anything, not until he sets the camera down, and she sees you on the bed, the blonde boy behind you holding your leg up as he pushes inside your ass. even in the crappy quality sarah can see you're wet--puffy lips glistening in the low light and she swears she can see a trickle of arousal drip down your thigh.

"oh my god..."

john b hurry up, i can't wait anymore i need both.

alright sweetheart relax, tell our boy to slow it down back there.

jj slows his thrusts just enough for john b to push into your cunt, and sarah almost gasps at how thick he is, he look's like he's gonna tear you in two. but all 3 of you let out some sort exclamation, and sarah's clit throbs at the sight, but the shower's turned off now and she knows there's only so much time left.

fuckfuckfuck oh my god. you're stuck between them, forced to take the dual pounding in a cacophony of moans and grunts as you start to squirm, god i'm gonna cum.

just as your voice reaches a pitch you come out the bathroom, skin still steaming as you finish rubbing your lotion in and sarah only had a split second to sit on the camera. hoping the minuscule chaos helped cover the sound as she shut it off

"the fuck's wrong with you?" you giggle as you walk past her to your dresser, dropping the towel leaving sarah to stare, watching you bend down to pull your panties on.

she glances in the mirror, and sees how flushed she looks, "oh just, opened the hidden replies on twitter. wasn't expecting that."

you snort, throwing on an oversized shirt that says Hayward's Seafood, and turning around, "don't know why it's always some crazy shit. come lady down i wanna watch a movie."

sarah does what you say, her body finally calming from the scene she witnessed but now all she can focus on is the warm vanilla scent of your skin and a picture she never paid too much attention to above your headboard.

"so, who are those two guys you're with here?"

[pygmi-cygni]

wrath - santiago garcia

i am cooking on these holyy. lowkey proud of myself. I think i'll do an aftercare series next because not every fic has that and sometimes it's nice to have some fluff.

cw: hate (?) sex, darkish santi but dw everything is okay, enemies to enemies who fuck, banter, badassery gone wrong, riding, biting, degradation, mentions of injury and violence (pg description), kinda pwp

songs to listen to: caroline by artemas, you've been a bad girl by artemas...anything by artemas....

OKAY HOT TAKE I THINK SANTI WAS OSCAR'S HOTTEST ROLE. highkey a snack.

okay okay on with the show xox

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Fish and Will, the other two on your team, had been wise enough to take a separate Jeep, seeing the venomous look in Santi's eye.

A quiet rattling from the undercarriage over the rocky terrain was the only sound between you.

You held an ice pack to your chest, trying to soothe the burning ache. A rubber mallet to the sternum was a hard hit to take, and you'd only recently regained the ability to breathe. Trying to swallow air as quietly as you could, you shifted towards the window, determined not to look at your partner.

Santi hadn't said a word, jaw clenched sharp enough to cut diamond. The anger rolling off of him clouded the air; a mix of sweat, heat and loamy soil. An irony twinge made your skin crawl. Blood was still caked under your fingernails and flecked on his cheek.

The stakeout hadn't gone well. In fact, Murphy's law seemed to be the only rule in action out in the backwoods, because nothing had gone to plan. The bodyguards for your target had switched shifts, the numbers were wrong, the target came home early...in short, it was a bloodbath.

Fish and Will took the supply van, trundling along in front of the armored Jeep Pope was currently driving.

Guilt and anger roiled in your gut. Yes, you'd been reckless. yes, Santi had reason to be angry. Did you get out alive and with the cash? Also yes, so at this point you weren't sure why it was still an issue.

"There's more ice in the back," Santi's low rumble broke the silence. His gaze was still locked forward, tone giving no room for further conversation.

You nodded thanks, grabbing a new pack and throwing the melted one into the garbage bag. The cold bite made you hiss. Santi flicked his eyes to yours in the mirror, then back on the road.

"Grab the map."

Sighing through your nose, you complied, shoving the messily folded sheet at him. His hand stalled as he grabbed the paper, clenching hard enough to tear.

"Interesting," he growled, "you can listen."

You glared daggers. This was not the conversation you wanted to have right now. Don't engage, just leave him alone.

"About time you decided to act right."

okay, fuck you.

Shoving forwards to the passenger seat, you stuck your face as close as possible to Pope's fuming profile.

"I got out," you spat, "and I got out alive, and I got out with an extra 50k. I was gonna offer it to you, but-"

Santi revved the engine and swerved off the road, swearing in heated Spanish. You screamed, thrown against the door from the force of the vehicle. Shrubs and branches crunched under the heavy wheels, and you tumbled onto the dash, chest searing with pain.

Hands hooked under your arms and dragged you into the humid fog. You thrashed and wailed, choking on breath. A familiar tan palm slapped over your mouth, and you felt Pope's grip tighten around your bicep.

While you struggled to comprehend what the fuck just happened, Santiago brought your ear up to his mouth and seethed.

"Listen very closely," he said quietly. "I have put up with you for five weeks. Five. Cinco. I am going to give you five minutes to run as fast as you possibly fucking can until I drive off without you. Otherwise, I'll put a round through your skull. Comprende?"

You shivered and coughed, mind doing pirouettes. Where did this come from? No, you didn't like Pope, but he'd never...

"Wh-why?" you croaked around his hand. With an umph you were shoved to the mossy floor, scrabbling away from him. Santi stalked forwards, dark gaze heavy and strong.

"You don't listen. You don't shoot. you fight good, but you risked all of us for what, a moment of glory? Puta," he hissed, grabbing your jaw again.

His arms rippled under a sheen of sweat and dewy raindrops. You struggled to suck in a breath, the injury on your chest throbbing with every inhale.

"P-please don't," you stuttered, trying to stand. He shoved you down, broad palm strong against your chest. A defeated whimper slipped between your lips. Santi clicked his tongue. Mocking.

"Cry later, you've got some ground to cover."

With a shove, you were stumbling forwards into a loping run. The jungle terrain was unfamiliar but you plowed forwards. Sharp leaves whipped your cheeks, wet bark and sticky sap clinging to your already drenched clothes.

Pitter pat pitter pat pitter pat. You had five minutes. 180 steps a minute, that meant you had 900 steps before-

A loud crashing came behind you. He cheated. It had not been five minutes, and Santi was a lot faster. You sprinted hard, trying not to slip on the slick leaves.

With a huge leap, you crossed a small creek and crawled up the bank. A few seconds later you heard Santi splash through.

You weren't going to outrun him. Hide. You could hide. you were good at that; being quiet and still. There was enough mud and foliage caked on you to blend in with the shrubbery.

Trying to quell your shivering limbs, you crept beneath a rotting log, rutting out a small ditch to cower in.

The forest was quiet. Every sound you made sounded amplified. Your ears strained to pick up Santi's careful footsteps.

Trying to track a Marine, huh? Good fucking luck.

You settled lower and sniffled. Better just to accept it.

"You can come out now."

It stunned you to silence. You weren't expecting him to catch up so soon. Biting your lip, you shakily crawled out of your hiding spot, hands timidly raised to your ears.

Santi stood a few feet away, posture relaxed and wide. His powerful legs were strong and steady, arms folded over his chest. Fish. God, you should have called Fish.

Fear choking your throat, your shook as he walked closer, stopping nose to nose. Raw anger radiated off of him, almost in visible rays. You met his gaze bravely, but the tears bubbling gave away your terror.

Santi's hand moved to his waistband and you flinched reflexively. His hand came up to smack you and you barreled forwards, tackling him to the soggy jungle floor. Desperately, you clawed at his chest, trying to stave him off and get back to the car. He grabbed your ankle, yanking you back into his chest.

A splitting scream tore from your throat before he stuck a thumb in your mouth, efficiently gagging you.

"Stop it, st- shut it-" he growled, pinning your arms at your sides. You grunted furiously, kicking at his ankle. Santi swore again and hitched up so your feet flailed in the air.

"I'm not gonna shoot you," he spat, wrestling you against a tree, "would you fucking stay still chrissakes, stop hitting me." Your brain took a moment to catch up, after which you fell limp.

Relief coursed through your veins.

Santi breathed heavily. "Can you...jesus can you stop moving? I need to-"

"Drop your gun," you said as soon as he removed his hand.

"Wh...I don't have a gun." His eyes were genuinely perplexed.

You kneed up to his waist, connecting with the hardness there. "yes, you do."

He buckled, groaning. Bewildered, you watched him swallow a curse before it clicked.

"...Are you-"

"Shut up," he growled, before devouring your mouth.

Oxygen deprivation was getting to you. You went slack when his tongue pushed into your mouth, harsh and greedy. Santi's grip was bruising on your arms as he kept them pinned to your sides.

"Why," he panted between sucks, "do you have to be so fucking difficult-" a groan cut him off and he returned to your neck, biting and licking for dear life.

You huffed and whimpered, overwhelmed by his attention. He kissed you angrily, teeth gnashing and clicking. A tang of iron when you bit his lip made him moan, grinding up against you.

The sharp grain of the tree you were pressed against dug into your shoulder. Lust burning, you ground back against him, urging him to kiss lower. He complied, still growling obscenities as he migrated to your collarbones.

"You hah have got to s-stop," he groaned again, flexing his hips, "f-ffucking around."

Your hands, free from his punishing grip, fumbled with his zipper. Pope shoved up against the tree harder, shucking his jeans in one go. You yelped before his hand jammed down your pants, finding the wet patch on your panties. A muffled whine was cut off by his lips while he dug his thumb into your soft, waiting heat.

A guttural purr rumbled out of his still-bloody lips, pressed against your temple. You buried your face shamefully in his neck as he thrust his fingers roughly into you, tearing blinding heat through your spine. You wailed and bucked, trying to urge him to slow down.

His thick digits were dragging against your puffy walls, spreading slick over his hand. Santi felt his eyes cross with the feeling of your wonderfully tight folds fluttering. He gritted his teeth and curled harder, wanting to see the tears threating to fall.

You gave him his wish, shuddering back against the branches as a sudden wave crashed into you, wetness gushing as your cunt sucked desperately at his fingers. He stopped moving and you screamed, wanting to ride it out with some semblance of comfort.

"Don't be greedy," he growled, ripping his soaking fingers from your hole. You whined and wriggled in his tight grip. Santi scowled and nipped your jaw, shoving down his boxers.

The cool evening air tickled, sending gooseflesh down his legs. He stammered a sigh, yanking your hips down over him. You choked at the intrusion, his girth tearing at your walls.

"S-slow down," you pleaded, pushing against his firm chest, "hurts-"

Santi cooed menacingly, thrusting up as hard as he could go. Tears cascaded down your flushed cheeks as he began a punishing pace, the scrape of your tender flesh against the rough floor was music to his ears.

"Hush," he whispered in your ear, groping at your chest, "just hush." You mewled and hiccupped, hips rolling against your will. Burning pleasure twirled up your core as he humped against your spongy center, stroking just there oh-

As he felt your walls pulse and tighten, Pope pulled away, stifling a moan at the loss. Your wet warmth was addicting - but watching you struggle was so much more satisfying. His eyes were heavy-lidded and drunk on the power, seeing your gaze shift from defiant to submissive.

"There we go," he breathed, reaching down to massage at your clit. You whined and leaned forwards, sucking his jaw into your mouth. "Feels better now that you listen, huh? See, see, you don't have to fight m-me ah ohffuck," he whined high and sharp when you yanked his hips forward into yours, crushing his cock between you.

Santi stumbled as you rutted hard, grinding against his weeping length. Stammering and swearing, he grappled for the upper hand, but you pressed him down firmly. Your shirt was rucked high, rosy nipples bouncing with every stroke. You refused to take him inside, face set as you chased a high.

He breathed hard, trying to stave off the rollicking pleasure singing through his veins.

"Stop," he growled, "S-stop, be gahhh," he howled when you reached down and squeezed his balls, making his thighs twitch and seize violently.

"Doesn't feel good, does it," you spat, eyes hazy and chest heaving. You looked desperately beautiful atop him, and Santi felt a strong surge coming through his length.

Your wet heat slid quickly against him, slick dripping onto his stomach. The smell of musk wafted up, adding to the tantalizing taste of you on his lips. Twigs and brambles dug into his back. Pope had stopped fighting, submitting entirely to your strong pace.

Short, stuttering whines lilted from your slack pout as you got closer. He grabbed your hips, grinding you hard on his needy tip. You sighed with pleasure and began rubbing your clit furiously, the rosy, stiff bud shining like a pearl in your velvety folds.

He was in heaven. You shuddered and moaned, folds fluttering and gushing hard over him. Santi bucked at the feeling of your climax, finishing quickly over his abs. You kept thrusting, pleasure overriding your mind.

"More," you breathed, digging your heels into the soft soil, "oh Santi please."

He couldn't deny that, though every nerve was screaming in overstimulation. You continued to wreck him on the jungle floor, simmering in lustful heat.

Later he crawled back to the Jeep, a half-conscious you slung over his shoulders. Fish and Will were waiting, but made no comment at your kiss-bitten neck and Santi's lust-blown eyes.

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma @iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world @ael-xander @silvernight-m @to-be-a-sunshine

comment to join!

[samfkiszka]

Movies

★・・・・・・★

This is how it feels to be in love, This is life from above

or a short boyfriend josh x fem reader

Word Count: 3,295

WARNINGS: SMUT!! 18+ ONLY! Oral (male receiving), dry humping, unprotected PIV sex (wrap it before you tap it i guess), sub!josh/switch!josh, handcuffs, a little bit of denial?, if i’m missing anything let me know!

a/n: okay it’s short and probably mediocre, but i’ve been so extremely busy lately. paper bag ch 4 is OTW! i am nearly done, i promise.

★・・・・・・★

You press your body flush against him, relishing the soft whimpers muffled by your clashing lips. His hands roam against the expanse of your back, gripping the soft flesh needily. Your head is spinning, intoxicated by nothing but Josh. Every facet of him was invading your senses; the feel of his hands, the smell of his cologne, the sweet noises you were managing to elicit from your position above him. He ground his hips up, pushing his hard-on against you in a desperate attempt to feel any sort of friction. You were seconds away from giving in, unbuttoning his jeans and touching him only the way you were allowed to; the way that would have had him whining beautifully underneath you.

Too bad you didn’t have enough time.

You were cut off by the shrill sound of a phone ringing beside you, the ringtone you had specifically set for Jake– Josh’s twin brother. Reluctantly pulling away from Josh, who was quick to try and tug you back to him, you answered the phone with an exasperated huff.

“Hello?” You breathe, trying your best to sound calm and collected.

“Where the fuck are you guys? We’ve been banging on the door for ten minutes,” Jake chuckled, not sounding the least bit irritated at your lack of awareness and hospitality.

“Fuck,” you mumble, turning to Josh. Eyes blown, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, hair in disarray– he was truly a sight to behold. “Be there in a second.” You hang up before Jake can respond, tossing the phone on the bed so hard it tumbles to the ground with a thunk.

“They’re here.”

“Who?” Josh pants, still greedily exploring your body.

“Your brothers,” you grumbled, pushing off of Josh.

“Huh?” He hums, not entirely focused on the words coming out of your mouth.

“Movie night,” you explain, reminding him of the event he scheduled earlier in the day. You glance in the mirror for a moment, fixing your hair to the best of your ability. You turn to face Josh, drinking in his disheveled appearance, “Better fix yourself up, sweet boy,” you warn, all too aware of how relentlessly his brother’s would tease him if they saw him like this.

“Tell them to go away,” Josh complains, propping himself up on his elbows, “C’mon, I- I’ve been so good, I just wanna touch you.”

“Sorry, angel, you're the one who invited them.” You ignore him, racing to the front of your apartment to let your somewhat unwelcome guests in. bc

Sam is still banging against the door when you tear it open, grinning from ear to ear when he spots you.

“Fucking finally,” he laughs, “What took you so long?”

“Um, got caught up doing something,” you mumble, glancing behind you to spot Josh sauntering in.

“Yeah, there’s something right there,” Danny teases, eyeing Josh.

Jake shoves in, rolling his eyes and tossing a pizza down onto your coffee table. He plops down on the couch, grabbing the remote so assuredly it was like he owned the place; he nearly did with the amount of time he spent over here.

“Have a seat,” You sigh sarcastically, shooting an apologetic glance over to Josh.

Not like you have any reason to feel bad, he was the one who invited them earlier. But he was also right– he had been good, he always was. He did deserve a reward, for you to make him feel good.

Although, you did enjoy the idea of watching him squirm all night.

“Decide on a movie?” You ask casually, sitting down in the squished armchair next to Josh. His breath hitches at the sudden contact, tensing almost immediately.

“Nope,” Jake answers, popping the “p”.

“He wants to watch The Princess Bride again,” Sam grumbles.

“No way, we’ve seen that a million times,” Danny complains.

You let their banter fade into background noise, knowing full well neither you or Josh were capable of paying any sort of attention to a movie right now. He turns to face you, his face neary pained as he studies your features.

“Sorry,” you frown teasingly, running your hand gently up and down his arm.

He clears his throat nervously, goosebumps prickling his skin where you were touching.

“That sound good guys?” Jake’s voice snaps you back to reality.

“Huh?” Josh coughs, eyes darting around the room anxiously.

“Treasure Island.”

“Y-yeah, sounds fine.”

Jake laughs, flicking the pizza box open and pressing play on the movie. Truthfully, it didn’t matter what movie was playing. Your eyes were squarely on Josh’s face, while his were glazed over in his attempt to pay attention to the screen.

Maybe it was fucked up, thinking about him like this when his brothers were sitting only two feet away. Images of pinning him under you, handcuffing him to the headboard. Denying him release just to hear him beg for what he wants in his sweet, lilting voice. Driving him crazy, refusing to let him touch you when that’s the only thing he ever really wants. It was so easy to work him up, to have him melting in your hands.

The movie continued to play, enrapturing the attention of your now fully unwelcome houseguests. Josh shifted subtly, pressing the throw pillow he had been clenching against his crotch in an extremely non-conspicuous manner.

“You okay?” You whisper lovingly, trying not to garner too much attention.

“Hm? Yeah, fine,” he strains, shifting against you once again.

“You sure? You look a little…” You trail off teasingly, scratching your nails against his arm.

“No, m’good,” his voice cracks, betraying his true feelings.

“Poor baby,” you coo, leaning your head onto his shoulder. His breath hitches, and he closes his eyes, cursing softly under his breath.

Scenes flash on the screen but it didn’t matter to either of you. Sam talked loudly over the movie, earning annoyed groans from both Jake and Danny, yet neither of you seemed to care. The pizza dwindled away, but food was the last thing on your mind.

No, all you cared about in this moment was Josh; touching him, kissing him, worshiping him. And you could tell that was the only thing on his mind too. The way his chest heaved, his cheeks flushed, the way he chewed his perfect bottom lip; he was so far gone you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him.

What felt like an eternity later, the movie was over and the guys were clamoring to start another.

“No!” Josh shouts, surprising nearly everyone.

They all turn to face him, faces expressing a mixture of worry and shock.

“Sorry, I just- I mean- stomachache,” He stammers, eyes downcast to the floor.

“You okay, man?” Jake asked, laughing tentatively.

“He’s fine.” You rub his back soothingly, playing up the bit, “We ate at that one place earlier, I think the chicken had gone bad,” you explain, pulling on the memory you had of Jake locking himself up in the bathroom for twenty four hours after eating at a specific restaurant downtown.

“Oh, yikes.” Jake scratches his face, brows furrowed in concern, “Well… feel better man.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him,” you assure, glancing at Josh’s pouty face.

“Sure you will.” Sam rolls his eyes, standing up with a grunt and stretching dramatically, “We’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Hope you feel better, Josh!” Danny shouts over Sam’s shoulder as they begin shoving out the door. Jake scoffs, shooting the two of you a more than knowing look.

Once the door clicks shut it’s impressive how quickly Josh is latching on to you. His hands clutching your sides, his mouth pressing hurried kisses to your neck.

“Please-” He chokes out, his voice cracking.

You shush him, petting his hair in an attempt to calm him down. You loved giving Josh what he wanted— he was more than deserving most of the time. Truly, all he wanted was to please you. But a tiny part of you, one that you tried to keep at bay, reveled in denying him. In refusing his wishes to touch you, kiss you, make you feel good.

He grabs your hand, tugging you towards the bedroom and a little voice in your brain reminds you of a certain object you had stowed away in a shoebox under your bed. A pair of handcuffs that you had initially bought as a joke— before you realized just how much you got off on using them on Josh.

You follow behind, letting him have his moment, letting him think that finally he was going to get the release his body had been screaming for all night.

He pulls you onto the bed, lips desperately seeking out your own as the two of you crash together in a heap of tangled limbs. His touch is urgent, exploring every dip and curve of your body like he had never touched you before. You pull back, breathless and flushed.

“Get the cuffs.”

His face falls, a pout gracing his perfect features, “Why?”

You stare at him silently, trying your best to appear firm and demanding. It was never easy with him.

“Because I said so.”

“But…” He’s fully frowning now, obviously hurt that you’re adding yet another obstacle separating the two of you, “I just… Mama, please, let me make you feel good. You know it’s all I wanna do.”

“I know, angel,” you hum, running your hands through his curls, “Don’t you trust me?”

He nods, still frowning, still silently refusing to do what you asked. You press a gentle kiss to his forehead, drinking in the sweet whine that slips past his swollen lips. He hesitates, but slowly lifts off the bed, reaching underneath and then pulling out the orange shoebox. He flips open the lid, revealing a wide array of toys, before pulling out the silvery handcuffs.

“Good boy,” you praise as he hands you the cuffs. He can act like he doesn’t want to wear them all he wants, but the way he’s straining against his jeans… you knew him too well to accept that this wasn’t something he wanted, “Do you remember our safe word?” You whisper, smiling when he nods enthusiastically.

“Undress for me, sweet boy.”

He rips off his clothes in record time, leaving only his boxers on and tossing the others into a random corner of your shared room. He lays down without question, lifting his hands up to the baseboard— he was familiar with this routine.

You crawl up his body slowly, tantalizingly, peppering kisses along the bare expanse of his torso. You shift into a sitting position, leaning over and clicking the cuffs loosely against his wrists. He tugs them once, showing you that he’s fully locked up. You shimmy down his body once more, lining your face up with clothed crotch. You press a kiss to the painfully obvious bulge that’s straining against his black boxers.

His hips buck up so hard he slams into your face, quickly muttering out an apology as he relentlessly grinds against nothing in a desperate attempt to feel any sort of relief.

“God… p- please touch me.”

“I am touching you,” You mumble, running your hands along his body, finally halting at the waistband of his boxers.

“You know what I mean,” he whines, staring at you so intently you suddenly feel embarrassed.

“Nuh uh.” You shake your head, “Use your words, angel.”

“Please, don’t make me say it.”

You roll your eyes, sliding the boxers down his legs slowly. Your mouth nearly starts to water when he springs from the confines he had been straining against all day. Precum is already leaking from his painfully red tip, spreading against his bare skin.

You lean down, maintaining eye contact as you lick slowly up the length of his cock. He inhales sharply, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood from the looks of it. He holds the breath, watching as you take him fully into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him.

His hips instinctively force themselves up, causing you to gag roughly around him. A string of barely audible apologies slip past his beautiful lips, as he strains against the cuffs, angry red indents sure to appear on his wrists if he kept up like this. Your eyes water, tears threatening to spill past your waterline. Usually, you’d punish him for this, but you figured he had been through enough today. After all, he was being good.

Lilting whimpers fill the empty room, sending heat straight to your aching core. You grind your hips against the mattress, desperate for anything, anything that would hold you over while you continued to work Josh up. Just the thought of finally feeling him after waiting all day was enough to make you moan around him.

“F-fuck,” he whined, pulling so hard against the cheap cuffs you were sure they’d snap in two, “I’m gonna cum if you keep that up.”

You pull off with a pop, wiping the spit from your mouth, your cheeks tinged pink and your eyes watering. His dick slaps audibly against his stomach, earning another moan from him. Pulling your shirt off slowly, maintaining eye contact, you finally reveal the lacy red bra you had been dying to show him all day. He groaned at the sight, his hands grasping at the air in front of them as he silently begged to touch you.

“Been waiting all day to show you this… bought it just for you.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

You stand up, shimmying your pants down at a tantalizing speed, making sure he fully took in the matching pair of panties. He stifles another delicious noise, practically humping the air. God, he was so pathetically desperate, and it was getting harder to keep up your act. All you wanted to do was give him exactly what he wanted. You bend down, giving him a clear shot of your ass as you find the keys for the cuffs.

Striding over to him with a grin, you slip the key into the lock, letting him free. He sighs happily, hands immediately pulling you in as he presses kisses to the exposed skin of your chest.

“Thank you,” he practically pants, his hands greedily tugging at you.

“Of course, angel,” you coo, sliding your hands into his curls, “you’ve been so good today.”

He smiles warmly at your praise, staring up at you sweetly. You slowly pull away from him, drinking in his dejected huff as you take away the one thing he had been begging for all day.

It wasn’t long before he was gripping at you again, his hands flying to your waist as you straddle his body. His chest heaved, the skin flushed pink. You nearly collided into him at the speed he tugged you down, your lips crashing together in his needy attempt to feel all of you.

His hands slid up your back, undoing the clasp of your bra and throwing into a dejected corner of the room. Your panties were next, torn with his clumsy attempt to rip them off.

“Those were expensive.” You pull back, pouting as you stare at the ripped pair of lacy underwear.

“I’ll buy you a new pair, I’ll buy you twenty new pairs, I don’t care,” he breathes, trying to tug you back down. He leans up, trying to catch you in kiss, and you grant him a chaste one, before pulling away.

You lift your hips up, using the hand that wasn’t holding you up to grab his dick, lining it up with your entrance. You slide it through your folds, enjoying the way his breath hitches at the feel of your wetness smearing against the tip.

“Jesus, fuck, holy—” A string of whines and expletives spew out from Josh as you slowly sink down, feeling him stretch you out. No matter how often you had him like this, you could never fully get used to how overwhelmingly large he was. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his as you breathe, trying to adjust to his size.

“You okay?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of your face.

“Mhm.” You nod, inhaling deeply.

This is how it always happened. You tried to act tough, act like you were in charge. Would spend so long riling him up, pretending like you were in total control. Yet the second Josh really touched you, the moment he was inside you, it’s like your brain went empty. All you could think about was him. You felt… the only way to describe it was stupid. Dumb. Drunk on nothing but him.

“Want me to move?”

You nod again, not trusting your own voice.

He gently grabs your hips, slowly bringing you up, grinning when you gasp at the sensation.

How quickly the two of you had switched, how fast the dynamic changed, it always left your head spinning.

He lifts up into you, paying close attention to your facial features, always worried he’d hurt you. Once he had deemed it safe— and judging by the lazy grin that had plastered itself on your face it was— he decided to move again, picking up his pace ever so slightly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant, whining as he begins to pound upwards into you.

He decided he was tired of this game, finally flipping you over and taking what he wants. With him pinning you down this time, you take this opportunity to use what little power you have left by locking your legs behind him, forcing him in even deeper.

“Christ, you- so fucking good,” is all he can manage as he continues to thrust sloppily, his hands roving every curve and dip of your body. Eventually the rest on your breasts, kneading the soft flesh a little too roughly. He bends down, catching you in a rushed kiss that cuts off the near constant stream of whines and moans he was forcing out of you. He leaves a trail of hurried, wet kisses down your neck, biting and nipping his own marks into the sensitive skin. Leaning back up, he glances down at his work, a wide array of pink and purple blooms appearing on your skin— matching the now bruised circumference of his wrists. Your nails dig into his back, scratching so hard he winces, stalling inside you.

“Fucking hell, so close,” he rasps, his hand snaking down to rub quick circles on your clit. The added pressure makes your head spin. You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to keep them open no matter how badly you want to take in his fucked out expression.

“Me too,” you choke out, chanting his name like a prayer as he continues his motions, every nerve of your body craving him like a drug.

You feel the pressure in your stomach build up, threatening to push you right over the edge any moment. Josh can tell too, the way you begin to absentmindedly squeeze around him making his movements even sloppier. Eventually you fall, screaming his name loud enough that even the neighbors three doors down could’ve heard it. He works you through it, faltering ever so slightly as he begins to reach his own climax.

“Where do you want me to-” he begins, trying his best to keep moving.

You keep your legs locked around him, pulling him in closer, “Inside.”

A strangled noise tears through him as he cums inside you, the feeling causing you to shake a bit. He flops down on top of you, gasping for air.

“Maybe we should invite your brothers over movie nights more often,” you suggest, an intoxicated giggle playing on your lips as you stroke his back to calm him down.

“Yeah… maybe we should.”

[writingbynova]

Hiromi Higuruma

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I have to apologize for the delay, I'm only now adapting to my new schedule and finding time to write

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⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ⊹ : pwp (porn with plot) - mdni - Higuruma x fem!reader - rough sex- overstimulation - cowgirl - doggy style - squirting - fingering - oral(fem receiving) - slight edging - degrading - mind breaking - dirty talk - hate sex (kinda)

Word count: 2.2k

Hiromi Higurama, 36 years old, of average height, dark hair, a nonchalant look always displayed, nice lips but oh whenever they curved into a mischievous smirk, you knew.

Marrying a lawyer was never in your plans, but being met with such a handsome man how could your even think to resist ?

You'd think being a lawyer he'd be a fair and just man? Wrong. Quite the opposite actually, he was an unfair manipulative man and he took full pride in it. Behind his nice, saving appearance the real him was hiding, acting all kind and pampering, saying he'd be nice and soft, luring you into his arms feigning sweet cuddle time, only to to tie your arms behind your back, put you in a full Nelson facing the bedroom mirror and have you beg him for the sole purpose of showing you just how weak and vulnerable you are next to him. Just your average lawyer.

You never ever saw it coming. He walked in the kitchen, slid behind you where you were, leaning on the counter, sipping on some red wine. A recipe for disaster. His white dress shirt emitting a nice musky scent. He wasn't particularly tall or big but oh how small you felt whenever he was around you, he just naturally knew how to keep you in check. Wrapping his arms around your waist his large hand cupping your hips, his bulge pressing into the back of your skirt "how was your day ?" He whispered, retiring to gnawing your neck, his cologne now intoxicating your senses. "Eh, It was okay, how was yours?" You asked, though focusing on what you were saying was difficult. You could feel his piercing gaze at the back of your head. Like he was analyzing your words. Good thing you were being truthful

Lying in his presence was equivalent to a death sentence. Or maybe you were being dramatic. Nu anyway he'd smell your lies from miles away and always made sure your mouth was too full and busy to solely think about trying again...

"...Oh yeah ? Mine wasn't so great I have to admit...How about you help me make it better ? This dress is so pretty, your thighs look so good..." You were fucked. Literally

Once he was away from his work place his favourite activity was rushing back home and spending time with you. Fucking you was not his intent. At least not always, it was just too hard to resist. Body con dress? Dinner's gonna have to wait. A new perfume ? How it called? Sweet innocence? Well he's gonna have to take that away with a heated session against whatever the closest surface he found is. Your waxer cancelled last minute on you ? No problem he'll cheer you up by eating that pussy like it's his last meal. Right, Just your average lawyer.

With good intentions though, the goal was to cuddle, smell you, feel you. Wholesomely, but once he did? Well those carnal desire always came running back.

The view was filthy, the feeling was another subject. Husband on his knees, face buried between your thighs, dress shirt ever-so-slightly opened so a few dark chest hair peaked from his collar. His entire mouth licking, sucking and lapping at your pussy. Palms resting on your hip bones and his thumbs spreading your lips open. "Fuckkkk"

He's shoving his entire face into it, his nose lightly nudging your hardened clit. He's like cemented onto you, aside from your delirious moans, you do try to pry his face away from your cunt but to no avail, actually he only buried himself deeper having you grip the counter. "Hiromi!Hiromi!Hiromi!" He's like deaf to your barely coherent calls, could he even hear you over the slurping noise ? Didn't matter. " 'm close, cumming f-fuck" your knees and elbows start to buckle, slowly pressing your cunt harder onto his tongue. You could swear you heard a faint chuckle at that, but you're too out of it to even think it through, he's lapping at your cum, groaning and huffing like a starved dog. While your chest rises up and down frantically, and you haven't yet regained your breathing pace when his eyes peak out for below your skirt..

His figure tall figure came up, quite literally creeping up you. His eyes never leaving yours, The look of sex. Desire colored his face, slightly blushing, his hand quickly came around roaming on your body before he settled for the nape of your neck and your waist. His mouth crashed over yours, his tongue sliding in and overpowering yours, light groans escaping the midst. It's almost shocking how skilled he his. "How about we go somewhere more comfortable?"

Who would have thought a lawyer, a perfect, professional, extremely skilled lawyer at that  could finger you like as good as he could plead a case. You didn't, but now you knew though. Because he was playing with your entrance like it was just another work case, however this was different there was a passion in it, like he'd been waiting. Waiting to hear you whine his name, waiting to have you beg him to fuck you stupid. Just your... What is it again ? Lawyer ?

You could feel the minty taste on his lips. His hand cupping your cheek, keeping your lips against his and by the time you're able to pull away you're gasping for air. Still he's holding your wobbly thighs apart, letting his digits rub and abuse your clit. "You're driving me crazy love" he breathes. You're kneeling over him and leaning on his shoulder, barely supporting yourself, even less with his finger working magic of your soaked pussy...

"You're- ah shit— you're the one making me c-crazy...wanna cum" you whisper in his ear, resting your arms on his shoulders. His fingers keep teasing you, sometimes toying harder with your sensitive bud. Lawyer? Sadist? At this point you don't know.

"My love is making requests ? Mhm, I can't make you cum so soon though. Wouldn't it be too easy ? A good lawyer takes his time working on a case, especially one as passioning as this ..." Yeah sadist. Definitely. His words only make you crave him harder. You just want to grind everywhere. His fingers, his face, his thigh, his cock. All of it. But still you're reduced to being teased dripping wet over him. "Hiromi— you're n-not fair with me" you squeel. But weirdly enough he stays silent. Almost as if you just said it. It, the thing to not say, it's not like you called a lawyer unfair ? Right ? Yeah you're fucked.

"Oh am I now ?"

His fingers slowed down. The time probably did too because it felt as if you looked at him for an eternity and as if he did just the same. His eyes dug into yours, and his expression changed. He looked like he had just been, challenged ? You couldn't think about it further because in a split second his fingers filled you up. Rubbing and curving around your sensitive walls. His movements ripped long awaited moans from you "ah! Fuckkkk it's good, so— fucking good !" You cried,

A soft smile adorned his face, nodding and whispering "I know, I know, I'm only trying to be fair to you my love" Your moans muffled by his mouth, hungrily capturing your lips, before rutting his fingers along your spongey walls. His fingers replayed the same actions. Again and again. Playing with your soft spot, like a routine. You felt high tension build in your stomach, using with each thrust he made. "Hiromi ! I'm cumming! F-fuck" you cried your hand gripping his hair. Your thighs slowly gave  up, having you resting on his thighs.

"Come lie down. Face down, ass up." 7 words and you still blinked like an idiot, it's not like you juste cummed like a whore. Though you obviously got up as best and you could and executed his orders. It's not like you'd say no to dick, and seeing how hard he was you wanted it just as bad as he wanted to dick you down.

He stood behind you, hand groping and massaging your ass. He brought his cock up against you hole pressed up against it, his precum leaking over you already sensitive pussy. Your second name must be oblivious.

His cock slowly sinks into you. You immediately start throbbing at small amount of his length you've been able to feel. He pushes in deeper until the base of his cock is against your ass. The heat in accumulating on your face, it's hard to think straight, or even just to breathe clearly. His hands grab you hips. Hard. His thumbs dig into your lower back and before you're able to even think about speaking up, his thrust start. Start shaking you, knocking the oxygen out of your lungs. "Ah ! Hiromi! Ah-" you yelp. Eyes wide open, tears slightly pricking your eyes, your walls are clutching around his thrusts. "I was being unfair no? Now it's Ah, it's my duty to break you" he grunts, his speed picking up. Oblivious

"Ah! S-shit, I didn't...mean it like that" you cried, tugging on the sheets. If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was definitely being called unfair. And by that he meant when you called him unfair, I mean he never denied it though but it didn't mean you had the right to say it. "Ah, I'm unfair ? Fuck, I'll show you unfair" he said, watching you crumble below him.

His hips rutted into you, again and again, with so much strength you could feel it in every angle of your body, occasionally using spikes of energy to lift your head up and breath before he shoved your face back into the mattress, muffling your screams. Your shaky fingers pathetically gripping and pulling on the sheets. Still he slammed himself deep and what seemed like even deeper into you, your high pitched moans still resonating through the foam. "No... Ah, this isn't unfair enough, tell me, ah, am I being fair enough?" He purred, right next to your ear, slowing in his tracks. Waiting for you to answer him. But you were too busy relishing in finally being able to breath and think. Well not clearly enough obviously. Too busy until his veiny hand wrapped around your neck, pulling you up close to him. Not tightening around your neck, not yet. Just lifting you upwards so your back was against his chest. His spare hand held both your wrists being your back. Giving you no control. Entirely at his mercy.

His cock only seemed to dig deeper and further into you, while his hand tightened around you throat. "I said, am, I, being, fair, enough?" He grunted, each word spaced by a breath snatching thrust. His hands finally let go of you and your upper body instantly fell forward, you barely attempted to save yourself. You inhaled short sharp breathes against the mattress. Your lower half completely dismissing your distress. Your legs going numb. F- ah! Fuck, m-mean, being mean" you cried, fat tears blurring your eyelashes as your felt your orgasm hitting you.

"Oh so now you're calling me mean ?" He asked, his thrust only doubling in intensity, dolling you around. You could feel each and every inch of his cock, stretching, filling you. His grunts deepened, potentially signaling he was close. Truthfully you couldn't tell. The dick was too good. You voice overpowered his, your pathetic "ah!ah!ah!" Ringing through the slapping noise of his hips on your ass.

"Oh fuckkkk, there we go" he slowly pulled out, letting his ropes of cum seep from your hole as you laid there, fucked out.

His arms came lifting you up, making you straddle his lap. "No honey we don't waste around here." Three thick fingers easily slid up your pussy. "truthfully my love, you're right. I am an unfair man, so now you're gonna ride it" Through your state of euphoria his voice seemed so far away and so close and loud at the same time. Regardless, you grabbed his cock and pressed the tip to your entrance. Your weak moans only amused him to lengths as he guided you down. "there you go, just slide all— the way down, just like that." You could barely speak, moans rolling out of your mouth non-stop. "P-please ? S' too f-fucking- ah! D-deep—" you whimpered shuddering up and down his shaft. "You're doing great darling, fuckk- don't you mind me... I'm just a very mean and unfair man after all" one of his hand rested on your hip directing you down his length over and over.

A mischievous smile of please sprawled on his face his thumb pressed downing your clit. Hard, pressing down circles on the hardened bud. A horde of butterflies flew straight to your lower stomach and you feel your climax hit you. Fast. His eyes stared you down, relishing in watching you convulse over him. Okay. Definitely not your average lawyer. "I'm about to cum- ah f-fuck, Hiromi!" You cried throwing you head back. Your nails scratching his back, as you feel yourself spiking and squirting down on him. Your eyes fly shut the intensity knocking the wind out of you. You were quite literally speechless. His hands come around to grab and support you. Rubbing you lower back 

"Hope I wasn't too unfair my love"

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PREVIOUS POST~~NAVIGATION~~NEXT POST

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[kamorth]

Just as an intro, yes this post reads VERY white. Unfortunately a lot of recent history is only accessible through white lenses and as I myself am about as white as it is possible to be, I don't have another viewpoint that I can write from with any kind of authority. My lack of experience does not negate anyone else's experiences or views.

In the 80s, being punk was how you showed disdain for conformity. NO, I DON'T Want to be Like You THE WOLRD IS SHITTY AND I AM ANGRY. They were the trash that you warned your kids to stay away from because they were dangerous and violent.

Grunge quickly followed suit with Yeah the world is shitty why do what the boring conformist bougies tell you when you can just do your own thing over here instead. They were the trash you hoped your kids got sick of but the worst parents ever suspected of them was maybe a bit of weed and some clumsy make outs, not that big a deal.

In the late 90s (my teens) it was goths. We are so sick of you and your church and shoving it down my throat with pushing for prayer in schools and Christian Pop Rock all over the billboard top 40. That kid is a witch now and You JUST Don't Get It. Depression is my baseline and the idea of being like you is the cause. We were the trash that were just indulging in a phase and would grow out of it, so we could be humored but mostly ignored (unless your parents were hard core Bible bashers, in which case you would get sent to something akin to conversion therapy - since you were also probably Queer it often was just outright conversion therapy).

Then the emos showed up and people started getting annoyed, partly because suddenly there were goths that you COULDN'T ignore for two reasons, they were LOUD about being sad and THERE WERE SO MANY OF THEM. Since they couldn't be ignored out of existence, the Western world decided to collectively bully them instead. They were the trash that was Just So Damn Cringe!

And now poverty is skyrocketing. Homelessness is a plague that has struck so many people who have committed no crime outside of bad luck. Actual fascists are in positions of power. Planned obsolescence and decades of lobbying by the oil industry in favour of petrol and plastics is destroying everything beautiful about this planet.

And Punk is back. Be ANGRY at your politicians who don't listen. Let your anger be heard so that they know you will not accept these ideas. Grunge is back. It doesn't have to be new, it just has to be functional. Work together to make a community you WANT to live in. Goth is back. Mourn for the world we were promised but never saw. Learn about belief systems that are different to the one you were raised in, ESPECIALLY if doing so pisses off your parents. Emo is back. Fuck haters. Cringe is dead. Being comfortable in your own skin means being allowed to do what YOU want, not having to exist for the benefit of someone else.

Before us it was hippies and beatniks and flappers and dadaists and before them there were the coffee shop philosophers and the point is there have ALWAYS been people who want the world to see its own flaws and fix them. I know other cultures had the same sorts of groups, like the Japanese Subekan gangs (who created the original lolita fashion trend as a way to take femininity back from being sexualized) and Islamic Sufism (an Islamic sect who practice things forbidden by stricter groups, such as singing and dancing) but I'm an armchair scholar, not an expert.

When society is broken, our numbers surge.

We are surging.

Society needs us.

[yangzhouman]

CLOUD STRIFE and the YAOI IDENTITY

[note: this is my slightly-edited submission to yaoi zine vol. 1: what was the yaoi that changed your life? organised by our beloved @tshirt3000. it’s 81 pages of nostalgia, poignancy, and really fucking amazing creativity, all about yaoi. i wrote about FF7, and the zine ranges from arthurian legend to currently-publishing webtoons and all the way back. it’s a real labour of love! and it kicks ass! please check it out here!]

what’s gayer than absorbing the identity of another man? doing it twice. i’m talking about cloud strife from FFVII, a yaoi icon who has carried fujoshi gamers on his shoulders for nearly three decades. i owe everything to him, and i’m sure my highschool friends wish his pointy polygon form hadn’t plagued my mind for all these years. sorry girls.

pretty much everything about cloud is yaoi, from his design to his character to his story. did you know the designers deliberately made him “less masculine” so that he could better rival sephiroth? direct quote. until this week, i didn’t — he was meant to have smooth black hair, but was given his defining blond spikes instead. sephiroth, with his long hair and his long sword, exists in deliberate, calculated comparison. it’s easy pickings for people looking for yaoi in a classic contrasting uke/seme dynamic.

but the previous design of smooth black hair and less ambiguous masculinity, now a contrast to cloud, still exists. it went to zack fair, who is notable as the first man that cloud absorbs. he’s the origin of it all in the truest sense: let’s begin with him. 

ZACK FAIR

the most important thing about zack is that he’s dead. it gets weird from here, because every time we see cloud, we see zack — in this sense, he is entirely defined by his connection to cloud, and by how cloud keeps makes space for him even when he really, really shouldn’t.

see, cloud believes he is zack. this is psychological and somatic: for a long time, cloud thinks that he is a soldier working for the megacorporation that runs the planet. but he isn’t. this identity actually belongs to zack fair, who truly was a soldier, and who died protecting cloud from that megacorporation. 

zack died for cloud. cloud becomes zack. this confusion of identity is borne both as a trauma defence and a grief response: cloud believes he is zack so thoroughly that he forgets zack exists, thereby removing that horrific memory from his mind while paradoxically ensuring that his friend is not lost forever. zack is safe within cloud. here he cannot be hurt. 

and cloud’s absorption of zack is total, taking on his mannerisms, his sword, even his skills and relationships. his style of fighting, his attitude to the world — everything. in doing so, zack fair lives on; it’s not zack who died, not if he is standing right here in a different skin.

i struggle to think of something more yaoi than subsuming another man into your being, other than gay sex. nothing says that zack and cloud don’t have gay sex, but it’s unlikely, as cloud is catatonic for a long time — it’s the reason why zack dies, protecting his vulnerable friend. the lack of physicality between zack and cloud works nicely though. there’s a desperation around cloud’s actions here, an unreasonable response to grief/loss/love that speaks of unfulfillment. zack and cloud’s relationship is all about uncrossable distances, and reaching across anyway. there is little response between the two: they can never reply to each other, only assume permission and act in the way they think the other would want. the other’s existence becomes cerebral, established in thought-space rather than physical-space. and the result is a loneliness so desperate it destroys. zack was as lonely as cloud; zack mythologised cloud too, dreaming of delivering him to safety so intensely that he gave his life to this fantasy.

cloud feels immense shame about his inability to save zack, and later on when he realises what he has done, shame about how he has treated zack’s memory. but i think there’s something here about cloud’s respect and love for someone who took care of him. zack is physically and emotionally stronger, openly affectionate and protective. by taking zack on as a mantle, cloud stays safe. by becoming his own protector, cloud embodies zack more truly than zack himself could manage. he understands what it is that zack truly dreamed of, and gives him another chance to be a hero. 

what i’m saying is: cloud did what zack wanted, though maybe in a more extreme form than he had imagined. i don’t even need the authorial stamp of approval, but i have it anyway — in the movie sequel ADVENT CHILDREN, zack appears in ghost form to support a struggling cloud. and his support is simply to ask cloud to repeat the final words that zack ever said to him, knowing that cloud will understand: “you’ll be my living legacy”. 

these words are imprinted on cloud’s yaoi identity. zack totally meant it as a wish for cloud to survive, but i love the weight of burden here: it sounds like something an overbearing parent would say. cloud subconsciously shapes himself around it. and i can’t ignore how it calls to trauma theory of living legacies, too, though i’m sure square enix didn’t mean to express the theory so textually. here trauma is not solely marked by scars, but by the emotions and behaviours that a person experiences afterwards, which grow and take life of their own. it’s about carrying your trauma around with you, and having it change you physically. as janina fisher tells us, trauma manifests in a person’s life beyond the event as “fear, shame, anger … startling, impulses to run or hide or fight, even against one’s own body”. zack had carried cloud’s body around with him, and the weight of it encouraged him onward to his death; cloud truly was his living legacy in that sense. but zack positions himself as cloud’s living legacy, which cloud’s body must carry not as a physical weight, but as emotion and behaviour that cloud cannot help but follow through. this kind of intense doubling-back and doubling-down is the kind of stuff that makes fujoshis crazy, by the way.

this fucked me up for years. i have always loved stories where important characters are already dead: it’s a style of writing that really impresses me, and i enjoy what it does to the remaining characters who have to live with that hole, or in cloud’s case, in that hole. the fact that cloud fills his hole with zack, and also himself, is so twisty and fun. forgetting and becoming a dead guy is fucked up — absorbing the man who died for you is fucked up. but i think zack would have been ok with it. and what’s better than two guys aligning in their fucked up views?

this brings us to sephiroth.

SEPHIROTH

if sephiroth had his way, cloud would also be his living legacy. he’s the most famous villain in FFVII, driven crazy by his mommy trauma and god complex, and cloud becomes his enemy because he keeps thwarting his plan to destroy the planet. he’s also the other half of sefikura, one of the most enduring and epic ships in the yaoi world. cloud has earned his place as a yaoi icon, and sephiroth is on the podium with him.

during FFVII, cloud pursues sephiroth. this is more than just plot — square enix built this dynamic into the game itself, and it was a resounding success within the industry and the genre. this pursuit mechanic involves looping back around the world map to find this villain in previously-explored locations. by updating the map with sephiroth’s presence, we get to feel his omni-presence in cloud’s mind. the pressure that sephiroth exerts upon cloud to think of him becomes more discernible, and more complex, in sephiroth’s response to being hunted by the protagonist: which is to remove any thoughts that are not of him. he turns cloud into his puppet — he forces his way into cloud’s mind on a psychic level, and imposes his own will onto him. chasing sephiroth makes cloud vulnerable; but he must keep chasing the bad guy. he must knowingly open himself to sephiroth because that is his role in the game; and we as the gamer behind him are pushing him onwards, making him dance on those strings again and again so that we reach the ending. becoming implicit in the roles of martyr and murderer is a heady rush that speaks to the success of sefikura in FFVII. we yaoify cloud. how fun is that?

here’s a quote from cloud: “i wasn't pursuing sephiroth... i was being summoned by sephiroth”. he’s being literal here. sephiroth is deliberately drawing cloud closer, forcing him to follow and find him, because he wants to, um, ‘form reunion’ with him. this is also literal. sephiroth wants cloud to be with him, but more importantly, he wants cloud to be him — to obey his commands, to align with his views, to be in total sync with what sephiroth thinks and feels. this part of their relationship is all about sephiroth: narcissistic to the bone, sephiroth’s obsession with cloud is rooted in how cloud continually pulls away from his call and rejects him.

cloud is meant to be sephiroth’s vessel, by the way. not immediately obvious, especially with the care that the designers took to make their visual appearances contrast. but it’s a really fun plot twist, and one that puts cloud’s identity crises into sharp focus. sephiroth’s identity has been forced onto cloud through medical trauma, with his dna inserted physically into cloud’s body, which turns his mental and verbal objections into something of a painful joke. he doesn’t want to be sephiroth. sephiroth sucks, and keeps killing his friends. but cloud’s body betrays itself, betrays him and keeps him from feeling secure in his own identity. there’s no part of him that he can cut out to get rid of sephiroth; and even after sephiroth is dead, cloud feels him. sephiroth is still in him. whose body is it, anyway?

i’ve made sefikura sound fucked up, and it is, kinda. but it’s easy to understand the hold that it’s had on fujoshi gamers. cloud doesn’t go quietly. sephiroth’s oppressive manipulation is what ignites cloud’s will to fight back. 

sephiroth’s insistence that he is the original, and cloud a copy who must submit, is the kind of crazy that appeals to me more now that i’ve come to terms with my leo sun star sign. i suppose it’s visually similar to how zack and cloud had existed, but in practice it is a more dynamic and charged relationship. like his mother before him, sephiroth is a virus: iterative, defined through the suppression of others and the subsequent displacement with himself. he exists only in this state of violence — is made real through it — and he doesn’t want to live in any other way. as derrida puts it, “as soon as there is the One, there is murder, wounding, traumatism. L’Un se garde de l’autre. The One guards against/keeps some of the Other. It protects itself from the Other… The One makes itself violence.”

sorry for putting french in front of you. this aptly describes and complicates sefikura, because actually, it’s cloud finding himself in that abjection of sephiroth. who is he? not sephiroth’s copy; not sephiroth. he is as much a One as he is an Other, and makes himself more of both as he rejects sephiroth. in that rejection he provokes sephiroth again, who must respond. it’s an equal relationship only through its dynamism, in the constant flux and flow of violence that they put each other through. there’s no real hope of reconciliation between them — they are on guard, always conscious of the power they hold over each other. it’s sustainable only if the two of them live forever, and cloud is the protagonist. eventually sephiroth loses.

sephiroth is measurably more yaoi than zack, by the way. zack has a girlfriend, for all that his character is defined by his homoerotic death scene. sephiroth has an obsession with cloud that follows him into the grave and beyond. in ADVENT CHILDREN, sephiroth somehow manifests into physical fragments in an attempt to resurrect himself — and when he does, he runs to fight cloud. (cloud fights alongside his friends, but always ends his fights with sephiroth alone: their relationship is unique.) it’s here that we get sephiroth’s yaoi line: “i will never be a memory”. once again, it’s the final words that cloud hears before sephiroth dies (again, and hopefully more permanently this time). 

i kinda like it more than “you’ll be my living legacy”. i think it’s more comically connected to living trauma theory: yes, sephiroth is in his nightmares, but he does keep physically appearing to haunt him. it ties in well with sephiroth’s narcissism, but also his place in the wider story as a lapsed war hero that cloud had, at one point, idolised. as a young boy, cloud had looked up to sephiroth and tried to emulate him; cloud had joined the army to be like sephiroth. in a way, sephiroth is more of the origin to cloud’s story than zack is. sephiroth’s fall from grace is something a lot of sefikura fans tap into, recognising the toxicity of that connection. all yaoi should have a healthy dose of painful, hilarious irony. 

i also like how in plain text it seems… relatively mundane? not normal, and definitely terrifying to a man recovering from his protagonist status. but also a little bit like sephiroth is cloud’s crazy ex who just can’t accept the breakup. that does trump zack’s parenting line for me. 

anyway, with sephiroth in place, cloud moves from a fujoshi’s delight to a fujoshi’s icon. it’s in sefikura that we see cloud at his most fierce and dynamic, which is hugely appealing. i think the stakes add rather than detract here, and the pain of finding yourself in/with a man who keeps killing your friends is very thrilling. as true rivals, sephiroth gets to transgress some of the barriers that kept zack from cloud through sheer force of villainy, and the intense mirroring between them is revitalising for cloud. sephiroth gives cloud purpose, defining him as an individual again — a One. that’s yaoi.

CLOUD STRIFE AGAIN

the thing is, i’m not sure cloud wants to be a One. not in the sense that sephiroth means it, anyway. cloud’s identity is a fractured thing, broken up by amnesia and survivor’s guilt and the burden of being a protagonist, but it’s deliberate. it’s a defence mechanism, as fredric jameson puts it, against the eroding currents of life that cloud must continue to run through. a poignant image for a broken midgar, and a textual experience, rather than theoretical, for cloud. yet his healing is not to discard parts that do not resemble cloud-before-the-game, but to try and make amends with what’s left — or rather, what’s there. the final third of the game is cathartic for cloud’s identity, when he reconciles the two truths of being neither zack fair or sephiroth. so, what happened to cloud? is he still there; if so, how does he find that part of himself again? or does he throw it all away and start again? no; cloud refuses to live in rejection any longer. he cannot exist parcelled away in the spaces between people, butting up against their edges. instead he starts to acknowledge and appreciate how they touch him. he is made through the interactions of their identities against, and with, his. cloud has always been there. 

in this way, i think he is yaoi. writing from the perspective of his ship halves makes him appear reflective rather than transformative, but in truth he absorbs. he is a space for other characters to go through (i am calling him a hole) and in doing so, those characters are different. it’s in that type of connection that cloud finds his identity, and i find that really beautiful. deleuze and guattari talk about how a fragmented identity shows an unfettered desire that is rooted in the current of life, and who craves life more than someone who keeps being denied it? refusing to cohere to a single, impenetrable ego is a choice, and it’s one that shows a determination to experience the present whilst not letting go of the past. it’s too hard to be done accidentally, and especially to do it twice. cloud’s showing us something here. 

he’s my favourite kind of protagonist, really. cloud resists the archetype of a lone(ly) soldier trudging on, because he keeps seeking out connection, be it for love or security or purpose. it is only in experiencing relationships that cloud can begin to make sense of his life. he can’t exist on his own. he needs to know someone, and they need to know him. 

and that, to me, is yaoi.

[now read yaoi zine!!!!]

[belog-grada-crna-princeza]

Words, words, words...

Sorry I'm not some kind of emotional exhibitionist. I don't show all my cards and even if I did, you wouldn't understand. I thought I was hiding but I don't hide. I am simply invisible to the naked eye, you see. I am confusing even to myself. According to you, I'm vague, abstract; you say I am passive, I let things happen to me. And it hurts because I find some truth in that, but also you don't know shit about me. I don't show my teeth to you because I don't want to give you the power to provoke that in me. And yet, in your eyes it makes me powerless. I had built a tower and locked myself there. They said I had become cold, distant, that I had to give people a chance, at least. So, I knocked down the bricks and as I stood there, defenseless, I realized: this isn't it either. This is no way to live. Maybe next time I'll build a lego house, so I can build it up and tear it down as needed. But I will always keep some things hidden, even in my art. What people can't touch, they can't taint. Don't let me be misunderstood as the song says, but then again, I like being wrongly perceived sometimes. You know nothing about me and I prefer to put up a mirror in your face. I'm of no concern to you, let's put it that way. I dream of someone who I will pull to this side of the glass. I dream of someone who will have the keys to the tower and who will realize why I love it here so much. It's not that I'm trying to keep the world out, as much as I'm trying to have something that is only mine in it. And maybe, I'll share it with someone some day. Or at least, a part of it. Until then, I'll stay cryptic. In a weird way, I like it that you're wrong about me. It soothes me, knowing you haven't trapped any part of me in your mind. Keep cutting your fingers with the glass. It's your reflection that you can't stand. It's always your reflection.

-Katarina

[greenvertumna]

Look I can’t say I love Loki x Sylvie but honestly I am getting a kick out of imagining the field day Thor would have knowing his brother fell in love with himself.

[mymarifae]

ok so like. unironically i think disliking any of the girls in project sekai is a major red flag ESPECIALLY when people say they don’t like the girls but “ stan ” akito/toya/rui/tsukasa. but can i be honest. at this point disliking any of the characters at all is a red flag. in my brain. i know everyone has their preferences but it’s just... these are all well-rounded, very complex characters. when someone calls any of them “annoying” or “boring” or “mean” it just immediately tells me that they didn’t read the damn stories. or they read the main stories and skimmed maybe half of the event stories. because adjectives like Annoying, Boring, and Mean are the most superficial conclusions you can come to about a character, and if you finished reading the text you’d see that they quite literally do not apply to prsk’s main cast. ok well maybe annoying i will concede on that one a tiny bit but they’re teenagers. maybe don’t play a game about teenagers if you aren’t prepared to be annoyed/subjected to secondhand embarrassment sometimes

like. oh you hate akito? 🤨 why. what part of the text led you to the conclusion that he’s an unlikable character. what did you read. tell me. if you say anything about the way he talked to kohane in the main story you’re going to be in big trouble