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ynmnrmt · 5 months

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You & Me & Rhea Makes Three: Chapter 4

rhea ripley x m!reader x m!reader's girlfriend

word count: 6,348

warnings: explicit sexual content, rough sex, themes of domination/submission, dubiously consensual nonmonogamy, domestic violence, foot stuff, armpit stuff

a/n: Unlike the jokey viewer discretion warning over the last chapter, if you are disturbed or upset by any of the subjects mentioned in the warnings - and here I'm mainly thinking about the DV, not the paraphilias - then please, seriously consider whether you really want to click that 'read more' or not.

(The story so far: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three)

You are in the fully equipped home gym which was installed at great expense in a formerly unused annex of the apartment, lifting hard. It has been a journey, but you finally think you’re doing it right, these days you do not view the motions as something detached and external to you, but instead have your mind go out to the muscles, there and conscious as the weights go up, and still there as they go down too.

You check yourself out in the full-length ballet mirrors in what might be described as gender euphoria, and smile slightly. There is some muscle to your body, and noticeable, too, noticeable for other people and not just from the inside. Certainly you could do more, obviously you could, but still you think this is progress you can be proud of. And you do want to look good for Jennifer, not to mention keep fit enough for her.

A grunt from next to you makes you turn your head. Somehow you’d missed this while gazing into the mirrors, but now Rhea’s in the room. She does curls, and each of her huge biceps manages to hoist about the same weight you’ve just been benching. The veins bulge in her arms, she puffs out the effort as the weights go up again, and you gradually realise the inescapable fact that you’re staring.

With another grunt she lets the weights fall, not to the floor, just hanging in her hands. She glances at you and says “You can go another set.”

It’s not an order, not even a suggestion, just a statement of fact, because yes, you could definitely do another, and of course you want to look good for Jennifer, that is the goal here after all. So immediately you’re back on the bench and your arms tremble as you thrust the bar upward. It quickly returns to the state of mind when you bargain with yourself, this is enough, you can stop after this one, but then with a glance at Rhea you’re suddenly inspired to keep going to the end.

You emit a few undignified grunts of your own when you finally bring the bar back into rest, and then sit up slumped on the bench. Rhea turns her head to you, each curl an effort but still she manages them comfortably, and between breaths she says, slightly musically, “You can do another one.”

“No I can’t,” you gasp, and she chuckles. The sweat lashes off you as if you’re in a thick winter coat. You can practically feel it as a miasma that extends two inches from your actual body. Meanwhile the slight sheen on her neck and shoulders simply looks appetising. And much as you’d like to get in another set, with the vague idea it’d impress her even as she makes the same thing look easy, you could feel your arms ready to give way with that last press, that was definitely your limit.

“I just find it’s nice to have someone encouraging you, and spurring you on,” Rhea smiles. Maybe it’s this that inspires you to shift over to one of the machines, you can at least not have to be one of those people who skips leg day. And now Rhea does squats, which turn her already spectacular ass into a vision from God, even with your blood rushing to your legs you’re getting a hard-on. She glances at you, as you watch her, and chides “Not now!”

“I couldn’t help it,” you protest. “Also, I don’t know what you mean.” She laughs away, still going, you don’t have the breath to join in. A string in your thigh has started to feel like piano wire. Meanwhile Rhea glows in front of you, she moves as if it’s nothing, and there in the mirror she shoots you the same little smile of encouragement, you half expected a superior smirk, she’s earned it after all, but no, she’s silently willing you to keep going.

When you finally crawl off the machine, that wired-up leg halfway buckles underneath you. You weren’t going to fall over, probably not anyway, but you’ll never find out – Rhea has moved fast to support you, one hand up behind your shoulders and her other in the small of your back, like she’s dipped you in the ballroom. Your erection had basically subsided, you’d dared to dream you could stop thinking about it, now it’s twitched curiously to life again and the swell in your shorts is dangerously close to brushing up against her.

“That,” she says, in close like she’s sharing a secret, “is how you know you’ve earned a break.”

“And, and I started before you, anyway,” you breathe, the words go straight into her mouth. Then she lets you hang a bit looser.

“You’re not about to get all competitive, are you?”

“I’m trying to push myself,” you gabble, suddenly the sweat on your brow has nothing to do with the workout and she doesn’t look convinced, “I don’t know about competitive – you’re stronger than me, that’s obvious.”

Rhea relaxes, and now sets you on your feet. “Sometimes men feel a bit, like, it’s upset the natural order, and-”

“Oh, come on,” you scoff.

“I know! I know, I know. I’d wanted to think better of you, I promise.” She’s let you go now, but when you brushed against her chest you felt her nipples point at you through the thin material of her tank top.

“It’s not that I’m worried about feeling emasculated,” you say, where’s this come from, you’re letting it out as if you can say absolutely anything, “just that it would, well, make me less attractive. I don’t know.”

“Some people like that stuff,” she says with a dismissive shrug that makes you feel better even though you’re clearly one of them. “And, besides, I’m sure you’re very strong.”

“Ah, stop,” you say, and wave her away. Before you can bring your arm back she’s caught it and squeezes your bicep.

“See, you’re putting in the work,” she tells you, almost dreamily now as you dangle in her grasp.

“You don’t need to – I appreciate this, really, but let’s be realistic, you would destroy me.” And at that, she cackles in a way that could have been pointed, but when she’s finished rolling her head around she looks at you with nothing but fondness. “Which I do not have a problem with, I mean, that really doesn’t bother me at all.” As you say it, your eyes rove up along the scenic vista of her arm, then back up onto her eyes, into her eyes, while her cheeks flush further than they already were.

“You,” she says, to break the spell, “are distracting me.” With one last, lingering, beautiful grin, she turns away and picks up where she left off. But the feeling’s mutual, because the way her clothes cling to her body, and the darker patches outline the sculpted shape of what’s underneath, distracts you so badly you walk into the doorframe.

You hit the shower – not with a closed fist, just a tap of your palm, in the vain hope it will knock some cog or valve back into place. It doesn’t, though, the head offers one spatter of rusty water then sits there, taunting you with every drip. You figure you can at least splash down the main danger zones, so you go over to the sink, but when you turn the tap that’s dry as well.

Locked in now, not physically in the bathroom but with this one last hurdle to vault before you can have a shower, you start to follow the pipes around as best you can, and have to open a few cupboards to do it. Yes, the shower and the sink do seem to be coming off the same branch line, so you fiddle with that, and then from behind you there’s the fresh burst of a running shower. But you’ve hardly even gotten your sodden shirt off before the head gives up again.

At the moment it dawns on you to try the sink in the kitchen, Rhea walks in with a towel over her shoulder, glowing and gorgeous, and says “Fuck! Have you not finished yet?”

“Haven’t started yet,” you say, and turn the dial on the shower to demonstrate. It would be awful, wouldn’t it, if it chose now to start flowing like Niagara Falls, but no, it offers up another cough of water and then nothing.

“Aw, man…” Rhea reaches out to jiggle the dial as well, and it’s surely not because she’s put more power behind it, but it does now produce a thin, unhealthy, trickling stream. “I’d – God, it sounds silly – gotten all geared up for a shower, now I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“I could,” you suggest, “fill jugs of water in the kitchen and pour them over you?”

“Forward,” she smiles, in a way that makes it clear she’s as eager about the prospect as you are. But then, moments later, you discover the kitchen sink’s given up the ghost as well.

“For Christ’s sake,” you mutter, as you give the tap another shake, “of all the days for this to-” And then the power goes out as well. The faint breeze of the air-con vanishes completely. Rhea slumps forward and laughs, because what else can you do, but then she starts to fan herself, and her look of amusement fades into a little frown of genuine concern.

“It’s alright,” you say, half-exhausted, the air in the room hotter and stickier already, “we can crack a window.”

“Yeah,” she muses, distracted, still trying to waft the temperature lower. Even when you’ve opened every window available, and you’ve both flopped down on the couch in what little air flow there is, her long, leonine face still looks more downcast than you’ve ever seen her before.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her, and touch her arm – not the one that’s fanning her, whose movements grow yet more frantic as the pink glow spreads further across her cheeks. “Probably the whole city’s like this, stewing.”

“I’m just sorry you have to see me like this,” she says, a shaft of light illuminating where the translucent material of her tank top adheres perfectly to her flawlessly wrought stomach.

“Don’t be,” you say, and mean it. “Anyway, I’ve seen you after working out before.”

“It’s just, it’s different now. If I’m going to make this work, with you and Jen, and I want to, I really want to, then I want to look sexy for you. In the makeup, with the costume on, that’s fine, of course it is, I knew you’d be into me then, but now I’m all sweaty, and,” she lifts her arm and sniffs, “oh my God, I reek, too.”

“Rhea, you’re gorgeous,” you insist, you take your hand in both of yours as if to declare how serious you are.

“You’re just being nice,” she flutters, but at least your touch, that point of contact, has stopped her sudden spiral of despair. Then she pulls her hand from yours, folds her arm behind her head and goes “Seriously, smell me”, with a nod towards her armpit.

You don’t even need to lean in. She’s right, the thick scent of her exertion is very prominent, and when her heavy, sexy aura fills your nostrils, it’s the 1960s and this is your first puff on a joint, first civil rights rally, and first ride in a supersonic aircraft, she transports you in a moment to a place you hadn’t known existed but already feels like home.

You look up at her, feeling your face slacken into an expression of dazed hunger she really doesn’t know what to think about. Now you do lean in, and reach out too, past the iron ridge of her pectoral to that softer glade where the muscles of her arm all meet and end, she giggles when you touch her damp skin and the thought of having made her feel good in any way is one more pulse-jumping thrill in this long and unending series.

“I told you, I reek,” she says, this time not quite able to keep the smile out of her voice. You take a deep whiff and fill your lungs, the word ‘pheromones’ flashes in your mind before the edge in the air arouses you far past the level of conscious thought. Your eyes meet hers again, she’s all fascinated confusion, the same way as you really, and you leap in and kiss her there on her underarm, not a light kiss either, you suck greedily on her darker, textured skin while your mind whirls at this new vista you have discovered quite by chance.

Rhea squeals with laughter. Did you know she was ticklish, had you even considered such a thing? Her arm flails and the weight of her tricep brains you, which might have been nasty if you were using any cognitive functions other than lust and kissing. Even as she thrashes about with all her might, never does she threaten to pull free of your mouth, and one shining golden thought bounces through the echoing space inside your head, she likes this too.

Eventually you must come up for air. She looks at you in a way that seems just as intimate all on its own. “I don’t think it quite replaces a shower,” she says softly, and runs the tips of her fingers behind your ear, along your jaw.

“No,” you agree, “I suppose I won’t need to do your other side, then.”

Rhea’s grin spreads until you think you see all of her teeth. She leans in, ever so slightly, then raises her other arm and with a thump lets it rest along the back of the couch. It’s probably only the lack of blood in your brain that makes it seem a heat haze rises around her shoulder. “I’m just going to sit like this,” she whispers, “and we can see what happens next.”

You chuckle, and you lean in too. The brief chill when you think she might not kiss you back, not after where your mouth has been, melts on the warmth of her tongue – and Christ, when she takes hold of you, your lungs skip a breath and you have to shift sharply to avoid pulling something.

Outside the safety of Rhea’s grasp, somewhere far far away and probably quite meaningless, you hear the door open. Then there’s a gasp, a gasp you know, and you jump like you’ve been found in a bank vault.

“Rhea?” demands Jennifer, framed in the doorway, awkwardly carrying two big bags of shopping.

“Yeah?” says Rhea, quite casual, as if this could be a question about anything.

“Are you wearing my tank top?”

“Yeah,” in the same easy tone as before. This does explain why it’s that tight on her, she bulges out from inside it, the damp material taut across her chest.

Jennifer’s about to say something. Then the bags in both her arms split, almost simultaneously, and she shouts “Fuck!” as the groceries spill all over the floor.

“Oh no!” cries Rhea, and she leaps up, you follow clumsily in her wake, immediately she moves to gather up the fallen perishables. But Jennifer steps forward, into her path.

“Can I not,” says Jennifer her jaw tight, “come into my own fucking house without finding you fucking my boyfriend?” And in one thoughtless motion, her arms empty now, not much power behind them beyond simple rage, she gives Rhea a shove.

Now you have a real chill. Rhea is frozen, stock-still. Jennifer clearly already regrets it, and the colour trickles out of her face, as if she now remembers that Rhea is twice her size. “That was not okay, Jen,” you say, you step forward, ready to throw yourself between them if you need to. Then Rhea staggers back, her eyes turned glassy, she drops back onto the couch and hides her face in her hands and weeps.

Immediately Jennifer looks wretched – she flings herself to the floor in front of Rhea and reaches for her, but in one jarring movement Rhea throws up a hand. Not a blow, just to keep her away, quietly Rhea says “Please don’t. Not,” she chokes on her tears, “not now.”

“I’m so sorry,” pleads Jennifer. “I should never have done that.”

“No, I – I’m sorry,” sniffles Rhea. “You’re right, it’s a fucked-up thing to walk in on.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Jennifer insists, clutching Rhea’s hand. “I just get so jealous, because you’re pretty and sexy, and those aren’t the same thing but you’re still both, and it’s too hot today, and,” now she’s on the verge of tears too.

“If you’re jealous,” you say, crouching next to your girlfriend, no clue what kind of depths this might open up “then I don’t know if this whole, this dynamic, is really healthy.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she says while she looks at the floor. It’s not as bad as you expected, just a little disappointing that you won’t get to – well, that doesn’t matter. “I’m sosorry, Rhea. I never meant to hurt you.”

“You,” Rhea’s eyes are still red-rimmed, but now she manages a little chuckle, “you didn’t really hurt me.”

“And I wasn’t jealous like that, either, I was jealous because, because you’re everything I want to be.” The sentiment seems eerily familiar. “I was the one who wanted us to be a thing in the first place, and – please don’t let me have ruined it, please let me make it up to you.” By now she’s favouring Rhea’s hand with tiny, penitent kisses. Rhea looks a bit alarmed at how quickly this has turned around, or maybe that’s simply how you feel.

“Clean up the groceries,” she finds herself saying, “and I’ll think about it.” Jennifer springs to her feet in delight and gets busy. You’re about to help her, but Rhea has a finger hooked around your collar, there’s no realistic way to resist that, so you end up back on the couch with her. “And you’d better not stay on your high horse about me wearing your clothes,” she calls over, as Jennifer scoops up some battered fruit and shoots you both a fragile, tentative smile. “Remember, I know what you were doing with mine.”

“How’d you know about that?” you ask Rhea, trying to keep it good-humoured, and she just laughs. Then you add, “Are you okay? I figured you weren’t physically hurt, but, still.”

“It just caught me by surprise,” she says, and you can see that beneath the veneer she’s still shaken. “Like, I didn’t expect that, at all. You – you wouldn’t do anything like that, would you?”

“Of course not.”

“Promise?” A winsome little smile, that seems too small from anyone her size. You give her a hug, you want only to reassure her and make this better. But when you break apart, she’s giving Jennifer a wicked glance, and you see, and she sees that you see. “I think she’s learned her lesson,” says Rhea, her eyes still puffy and pink. “How about you?”

“I-” Your voice catches in your throat. “It’s not up to me.”

The groceries on the counter, Jennifer now approaches nervously. “I don’t mind you wearing my clothes,” she says, softly, not willing to get too close as if she doesn’t trust herself, “not really.”

Rhea arches an eyebrow. “You don’t mind that,” she says, and slips a beefy arm around your shoulders. “Do you mind me kissing with your boyfriend?” Before you can react or protest she bangs her mouth against yours. Now you definitely can’t say anything about it, there’s not even that much tongue, but she has your lips completely occupied.

When Rhea finally releases you, and moves her head away, Jennifer’s unbroken gaze is there to meet you. Her expression is one of longing, you hope and pray not longing for revenge. Then she looks to Rhea and shakes her head.

“See, I don’t believe you,” says Rhea, not accusatory, if anything slightly sad. “I really think on some level this still bothers you.”

“I think I still feel a lot of shame around sex,” Jennifer blurts out.

Rhea nods sagely. You’re just appalled, not with Jennifer but for her, and stutter out “I had no idea you felt this way.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s...being caught on the horns of being pushed into it but also being shamed for even thinking about it,” she explains. Maybe you did have some idea she felt this way, the residual background radiation, you’re slightly disappointed with yourself when you think how the other half live. “And then there’s the whole business of what to wear, and – oh God, this is no excuse, I’m sorry, Rhea, really.”

Rhea extends a hand, the one that isn’t resting by your neck. Jennifer kneels again to take it, and smothers herself against it, and mouths slightly at Rhea’s fingers. “You only hurt my feelings,” Rhea reassures her. “I’m glad we can talk through this stuff.”

“You don’t need to feel any shame about this situation,” you add, and she grabs for your hand too. “Not with me. With us.” That hasty correction came out sounding oddly poignant.

“I still want to do something, to show I’m sorry - what if I kissed her feet?” Jennifer asks you. “It’s an internationally recognised gesture of supplication.”

And you look to Rhea, who just looks startled. “Interesting suggestion,” she says eventually. “I mean – you don’t have to, we were just,” she laughs a little, “we weren’t actually having sex when you came in, we’d just finished working out.”

“Oh yeah, also the water’s cut out,” you add.

“So we haven’t showered, but – should we tell her what we were doing?”

“Oh jeeze,” mumbles Jennifer, her eyes flashing from Rhea, to you, down to your mouth, as if she already knows.

“Come here,” Rhea offers, and Jennifer crawls up between you, along the length of your bodies, lower and closer than she needs to be or is really practical. Even after having struggled home with the groceries she seems fresh and unblemished, at least by comparison, as if the crawl up onto the couch will taint her as well. Then Rhea turns her head and whispers softly in Jennifer’s ear. Now it’s Jennifer’s turn to look startled, in fact her face twists through all kinds of conflicted feelings. Rhea lifts her head, and concludes “What do you think?”

“W-would that really make you feel better?”

“Yeah, it would.”

With surprising force Jennifer leaps forward, face-first under Rhea’s arm, the side you hadn’t gotten to yet. From the centre of this frenzy you hear loud sounds of kisses and smacks and slurps.

“Well! That solves that, then,” Rhea notes idly, as she turns back to you with a cheesy grin. When she shows her teeth like this, you don’t feel especially intimidated. She pulls you in close, this time there is some tongue, since you’ve been walked in on once already again you wonder how some stranger would take this, an established couple all over their pretty young roommate.

Initially this had seemed like a diversion waiting for the basic amenities to work again, but the lights don’t pop back on, before you know it the shadows are longer and it’s darker in the room. Jennifer wriggles up, she tries for a kiss too, but Rhea pushes her playfully away.

“You’re showing you’re sorry, remember,” Rhea chides her, and she nods in acceptance, she seems to bear it with the same playful spirit. Then she slips back down your bodies, and goes after Rhea’s feet. She peels one sock off, and takes entirely too long about it, it’s a sock, not a pair of handcuffs, but someone none of you seem to mind this absurd display of her clumsily rolling the fabric past Rhea’s ankle and then over her heel. Even though you’ve long since cooled down, at least from the workout, her skin is still flushed pink, it glows in the lower light.

Rhea’s sock is still halfway on her foot when Jennifer leans in to kiss her, aimed roughly for the centre of her sole. Then it becomes a lick, Jennifer’s tongue following the sock the rest of the way. It occurs to you the taste is probably like that of Rhea’s armpit, plus general foot aura, topped off with stray fibres from the sock.

“I think you’re enjoying this,” gloats Rhea. Jennifer mumbles something in reply rendered incomprehensible by now having three toes in her mouth.

“If this really is you wanting to explore, in, in ways,” you say, “then honestly I’m relieved. I know this is stupid but I was really worried there was some kind of unhealthy dynamic going on here."

Rhea’s toes pop from Jennifer’s mouth, and she tells you “Of course not, I’d have said.”

“Like, if you felt you were somehow obliged, or forced to do any of this-” Rhea thrusts her foot forward, and Jennifer parts her lips to accept it. “Yeah, alright, I get it.”

“She is such a sweetie-pie,” Rhea tells you, hanging on you with both arms now, her mouth perilously close to yours, when she speaks it grazes your cheek.

“I know it’s still ridiculously early,” you say, the hard-on in your pants really starting to make itself known, “but since everything’s off, why don’t we get an early night?” When she hears that, Jennifer trills with delight around the foot in her mouth.

“I thought you’d never ask,” intones Rhea. You rise from the couch and hold a hand out to help Jennifer up – but as she climbs awkwardly to her feet, suddenly Rhea has physically interpolated herself between the two of you, and she says “Well, hold on a second, if you were enjoying getting your tongue all over me, I don’t think we can really call that an apology, can we?”

You’re about to say something, to object, when in delicate tones Jennifer suggests “I could kiss your ass, too?” and then you can only think Christ, leave some for me.

“I don’t think so. I think your punishment is that you’re not allowed to sleep in your bed any more.”

“Oh!” Jennifer trembles as she tries to hold Rhea’s gaze.

“You have to go and sleep in my bed. And you just get to listen. That way you’ll know how it felt for me, all those sleepless nights I had to hear you two banging.”

Jennifer actually wrings her hands. She told you, if she was bothered by any of this, that she would say so. “I hadn’t even thought about that. You’re right. I deserve this. I’m trying to learn my lesson, I promise. I want to be better for both of you.” Then she bats her eyes at you, it’s a clumsy gesture but the meaning and sincerity are unimpeachable, and she adds “Will you at least tuck me in?”

“I love you,” you tell her, as you lay the duvet over her, despite how thick it is you can make out the shape of her body beneath it, yes, you really do still love her, “you know that, right?” You kiss her on the forehead, then she gives a sharp intake of breath as Rhea draws the covers tight across her.

“Do the other side,” Rhea tells you. You obey without thinking, and wrap the bedclothes around under the mattress, now you can definitely see the shape of Jennifer’s body with the fabric tight over her, now she really is tucked in.

“I hope Rhea makes you feel good,” Jennifer gently invokes, just a talking head on the pillow. “I hope you make her come, a lot.” By now you have no doubt at all she is enjoying this, but still it makes your heart ache a little. Then Rhea lends over and gives her a smack on the forehead too. Jennifer beams snugly up at you as Rhea links her arm with yours, and while she uses no force you can still feel her sheer raw strength when she leads you from the room.

Instinctively you move for the bathroom, only to remember that with the water still off you can’t brush your teeth. But when you say this Rhea just replies “Oh well” with a smutty smirk, and yes, suddenly it hardly seems like a concern.

In the bedroom, she strips off Jennifer’s tank top and then the rest of her clothes in neat and practised fashion, like she’s gone skinny-dipping, but it’s the bed, your and Jennifer’s bed that she dives into. Is it absurd to think of it as halfway to the marital bed, that this is some additional layer of betrayal on top of the already-complex levels of it you’ve racked up together? Rhea lies on her side in a pose more like a lingerie model, and pats the mattress, inviting you in. You fumble with your own clothes, and she stalks you with her eyes the whole time.

When you get under the covers, now it feels like a betrayal, Rhea lying there where Jennifer should be, smiling at you the way she would. “It was so sexy when you went right in on my pits,” she confesses. “I thought you’d be disgusted.”

“Come on.”

“At work, after – well, that is what it is, but I wouldn’t go out in public like that.” In the semi-darkness of your bedroom, the sheen of sweat that’s still on her skin glows with unlikely-seeming inner light, the kind of thing that could so easily be mistaken for angelic.

“Rhea-”

“If you smelt me fresh off a match, you’d probably never want to touch me again.”

“Rhea, you don’t need to give it the self-pity, everything about you is sexy.” For a moment you feel her hot breath in your mouth, then her lips are on yours. She didn’t seem to shift in the bed but suddenly you’re pressing against her belly.

“Do you think we could do something special, tonight?” she asks you, and glances away shyly halfway through.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Could we, um,” she swirls her finger cutely on the pillow, “could we have rough sex? Like, really rough, and loud, so Jen can hear it? I don’t want her to feel left out.”

Your mind spins, half of it trying to negotiate what ‘feel left out’ could possibly mean here, the other frazzled by the idea that some of the things you’ve done together didn’t count as rough sex. But she is here in your bed and so close, so you say “Yeah, sure we could.”

“Cool,” she glows – then rolls up on top of you and grabs you by the elbows. Immobilised completely, your cock ready to burst out of your underwear, you reflect she really knows what she’s doing.

For some reason you had been teeing yourself up to get on top, and to be the rough one. In a moment of the insecurity borne of being genuinely desired you ask, because it’s the kind of thing that you cannot shift from the back of your mind, “Would you like me better if I was stronger than you?”

“See, you assume that because I’m a woman, I naturally want to be in second place,” she says, with an air that demonstrates she’s thought about this stuff too. “Try to conceive of the fact that I might have exactly the same impulses as you do, and on some level want to be top dog.”

“Yes. That’s fair enough. Sorry.”

Rhea immediately turns playful again. “I forgive you,” she flirts, and squeezes your biceps. “And I understand that on some level, there’s more of an impetus for you to – well, never mind that. We don’t need to worry about that stuff.” She rolls her hips over you, and glides her pussy back and forth, over the flimsy cloth that’s all that keeps your erection out of her.

“Rhea,” you try to keep the painfully aroused whimper out of your voice, “if you keep hold of me like this, I can’t pull down my underwear.”

Rhea does not reply. She simply brings your arms up against the headboard, so gentle with that immense strength, then manacles your wrists together with one hand – and reaches the other down to your waist. You shiver when she takes hold of your cock, and then you gasp when she slips it into her.

“Oh, fuck!” she booms, and shakes dust from the ceiling. It’s exaggerated, you should know what noises she makes when she likes it by now, but your dick doesn’t know and finds itself buoyed by the sound. “Fuck, yes! Ngh! Fuck me harder!” But of course she’s the one who fucks you, propped up where she grasps your wrists while her hips slam down against yours.

Does the sound travel in here? Did Rhea really spend nights alone, listening to you, dreaming of this? Too hard to imagine now as she looms over you in motion, in her element, that one sculpted arm stretching over you like the vault of heaven, and there where it meets her torso the place Jennifer had kissed her what seems like only moments ago, you fancy you can still see the wet mark Jennifer’s lips left on her skin.

When you wriggle your hips, only to reposition yourself, she bursts out with “Yes, yes! Give it to me!” At this point you think the neighbours must be able to hear it too. So with nothing left to lose you now thrust up into her like you mean it, and prompt a “Yes, there, right there! Fuck!”

“Fuck,” you agree with what little breath you can exhale. She’s so wet, but so tight, if it was your throat she had a grip on you’d be going blue. And looking up at the undignified expression of pleasure on her face, her mouth hanging open, hair out of place over her eyes, you’d probably enjoy it, too.

When there’s a crack somewhere below you, you figure it must be a rib – but there is no pain, not beyond the heated pressure that surrounds you the way nature makes diamonds. It’s only when one corner of the whole bed drops that you realise it’s giving way beneath this onslaught.

“Fuck, ye-he-hes,” Rhea croons, spanning three different octaves. “Fuck, you’re so big, it hurts, but I want you to keep going, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” No thought in your head that you would not obey. The wood splinters under you while you use any and all leverage you have to push back, every lunge of her body is like a punch in the face only you crave more each time. “Fucking-” She punctuates this with one of her fiercest kisses, even without any teeth it feels like it’s left a mark. “Come on, come on baby, I’m nearly there.”

“Mnuh,” is the best you can respond. Your mind is beyond any romantic witticism or sweet nothing now. You may even be beyond a mind, beyond a body, you float free-form in the shattered void of the bedroom, and all there is in existence is Rhea, every fibre of her body illuminated with that dark sheen, every motion irresistible.

Your orgasm streams out, and you barely notice – until the clutches of her vagina go past blissful to unbearable, all your nerve endings protest at the continued stimulation. You thrash about in an instinctual hindbrain attempt to get away and she laughs, her beautiful carefree laugh, which turns into a scream as she seizes up around you. Her movements get shorter, tiny little jerks, until with one final cry she freezes completely – then topples off you and crashes down onto the ruins of the bed.

When the blood rushing round your skull calms down enough for you to hear again, to perceive any of the world around you, Rhea is curled up around you, and she gently asks “Was it good for you, too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, spent in a way that makes you really understand the word. Even though you were hardly moving compared to her, there is no energy left in your body, and you are all ready to sink into sleep when you hear a tiny little knock on the door.

Jennifer peeps in, for a moment she just takes in the scene, the broken bed, the swirling mess of the blankets, then she asks “Can I come snuggle up with you guys?”

“Of course you can,” you say, before Rhea can start with any more business about punishment – but Rhea whisks the blankets aside, to let Jennifer get in on your other side. She settles in contentedly, Rhea sweeps the blankets back around you, and all the dark warmth suddenly seems perfect.

“That sounded so hot,” Jennifer secret-whispers to you, but there’s no way Rhea won’t hear it as well. She caresses your face and adds “I got turned on listening, and, um, I ended up, um,” as her fingers brush your lips you can tell that yes, she certainly did.

“In my bed?” Rhea responds in sleepy mock-outrage, that’s turned into a low chuckle before she’s even finished saying it.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it too,” you say, and immediately worry you’ve said too much.

“Of course, her punishment was to sleep in my bed,” muses Rhea. “And now she’s disobeyed.” You can feel her hand grip Jennifer’s arm. “So we’re going to have to punish you again tomorrow night, and maybe the night after that too, and maybe even all the nights after that.”

By now Jennifer’s kissing at your neck, at your jaw, and she lifts one corner of her mouth to dopily mumble out “Every night”. On your other side Rhea kisses you too, and before you know it this becomes you all kissing each other, and then you sink beyond the wall of sleep.

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x you #rpf #rhea ripley fanfiction #rhea ripley smut

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clarkes-and-god · 9 months

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"Ladies and gentlemen, for our guest segment this evening, we welcome back a couple we first had on over ten years ago when they were newlyweds! Antonio and Joanna Ricciardi, from Colossians, join us today with their 9 year old son, Gabriele!"

[applause]

"Thank you for having us again! We really appreciate you giving us these opportunities to spread our message, and it's so great to be back after the birth of our daughter, Valentina. Gabriele is so excited to be here for the first time, too."

"Well, it's a pleasure to have him on. And his shirt is fantastic! Little Valentina is a little too cranky to be filming today, but I met her earlier and she is so precious! I'm sure they'll put a photo up for all the ladies at home. Anyways, let's hear from her big brother. So Gabriele, tell us about yourself."

"Uhhh, I'm Gabriele, I'm 9 years old and I live in San Sequoia with my mom and dad, and my baby sister. I play baseball for the Park Paradise Junior Team, and I'm on my school's soccer team. When I grow up I want to be a football player and play for San Sequoia. Me and Dad like to watch their games."

"Sounds like you like your sports, and I'm sure Dad likes the cheerleaders! [laughter] I'm sure in ten years our friend David, over in the Sports section, will be talking all about you! Anyways, Joanna, we all know that San Sequoia has one of the most left-wing school systems in the country. Children as young as 4 are being exposed to homosexuality and liberal ideals through books such as Like You For The Time Being and Toy Tales. So, how do you prevent your little boy from being corrupted by that? And any advice to mothers in San Sequoia, and other liberal areas of the country?"

"Well, Gabriele is actually enrolled in a private Christian school, which has been great. The curriculum entirely aligns with our faith and morals, and they're not made to follow any "diversity" or "inclusion" policies the government may put on schools. But not everyone is as lucky as us, which I understand, and if that's you I really recommend making sure your children are involved in church, and put them in church-led activities instead of after-school ones. And make sure that the Bible really leads your home and your parenting, because children listen to their parents before they listen to woke teachers. Plus, we have Colossians kids groups! There's no need for you or your partner to have been involved with us before, we just want to offer, good, wholesome, fun for children that encourages Biblical femininity and masculinity, not the woke nonsense."

"Sounds wonderful! I'm sure all the mothers at home will appreciate your advice. Now, Antonio, your life sure has changed a lot since the first time you sat on that couch. You're now very established in your role as a husband and family man, and how do you think that's impacted your leadership of Colossians? I'm sure having your wife and kids has really given you some insight on how to help others struggling with homosexuality."

"Hmm, that's a good question. I really think it's emphasized to me how different men and women are, especially after having my kids. You know, Valentina is only one but she's already so different to how Gabriele was at her age. She loves her little baby dolls, and she's much gentler than he was. Gabriele was always throwing his toy cars around and scaring his mom with all his climbing, you know how boys are. [laughs] And of course my lovely wife has been such an asset in helping me with this. Not only with her support of the other ladies involved with Colossians, but there's nothing better than coming home after a long day of hard work to some hot food and a beautiful woman. It really just emphasizes how we're so different, but of course compliment each other perfectly."

"And I'll sure agree with you there! I think that wraps up this segment, thank you very much for coming onto our show. Now, I'll hand our viewers off to Patrick for tomorrow's weather report, and then we'll finish for tonight. We'll be back, tomorrow at 6am!

#joanna #fundie snark #fundie sims #quiverfull sims #fundie simblr #modest sims #satire #homeschool sims

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rikeijo · 1 year

Text

Today's translation #266

Febri vol. 40. Kubo Mitsurou's interview

Part 11.

--- The most extreme example of that is the rings scene in episode 10 - it was shocking. After listening to what you've just said - was is also a spontaneous development?

"Not spontaneous - it was inevitable! At least this is what I was thinking, when I was drawing the storyboards. I was looking forward to draw that scene at the end of episode 9., where Yuuri and Victor meet again at the airport in Fukuoka, and at that point in time, me or Yamamoto Director, we weren't really planning to set up any bombastic tricks in episodes 10 or 11. However, because episode 10 is the last breather before the Grand Prix Final, we wanted to make it as fun as we could. To do that we were putting forward different ideas and I was wondering if it would be possible to make the relationship between Yuuri and Victor even deeper. By that point in time, they had already hugged and done things straight out of Monday 9PM TV dramas, so I was thinking that probably doing more would be impossible. But then, a thought came to me, that it would be nice to have an item that could be a kind of boost for the Grand Prix Final. When I was looking around websites of various rings brands, I found the information that engagement rings are not only for people who want to get married, but also something that you can gift to your soulmate. I thought: "That's it!". Plus, among the reference materials we have gathered during our location hunting in Barcelona, I found photos of a church and choir, so I thought: "That's the place!".

--- Everything just came together, almost as if you were guided by something/somebody.

"I was almost at the end of my wits at that time, but that scene, I drew on impulse. It was before the anime started airing, so I didn't know what the response was going to be like, and how people were going to interpret it. I was like: I don't really care if people are going to think that "this scene is just absurd!" (laugh).

--- As a result, the viewers went crazy.

"If it was a manga, I think that much less attention would have been paid to it, surprisingly. It was very interesting for me to see, how impactful it was when it was made into animation.

[Notes: Many TV dramas that aired at this time slot, Monday at 9PM, on Fuji TV gained huge popularity, so it's a sort of "brand" for TV dramas. It's already a well-know fact in the fandom, but for newer fans which happened to stumble across this translation - she meant the airport scene.

---

"When I was looking around websites of various rings brands, I found the information that engagement rings are not only for people, who wants to get married, but also something that you can gift to your soulmate."

Many people would probably feel a bit weird if somebody important to them gave them a ring saying that "it's an engagement ring", but then said: "But it's not an engagement, we are not engaged" - the classic "words have specific meanings" problem. I'm sure some jewelry brands use the word "soulmate" in their marketing, but I'm not sure they encourage people to gift "engagement rings" to people who they don't want to get engaged to. There are others types of rings, too, after all.

In Jp, she kind of "solved" this problem using the English-Japanese word "engage rings (engeeji ringu)", where engage is short for "engagement", instead of Japanese "konyaku yubiwa", lol. Both mean exactly the same thing, but people who don't speak English may not know what the word "engagement" means - like, "engeeji ringu" is the ring the bride-to-be may get from her partner, but maybe it has different meanings in English, who knows? 🤨 If she said "'konyaku yubiwa' are not for 'konyaku'" instead, then you'd immediately think: "eee, what are you talking about? Why call them "konyaku yubiwa" then?"... At least, no clubs for after-school activities were mentioned this time 😂 (The "rings are for bukatsu members" explanation was from Pash!!! issue published on February 10th 2017, and this interview was published on March 1st 2017.)]

#yuri on ice #yoi translations #yuri on ice translation

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empiredesimparte · 2 years

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Journalist Léa - How to respond to the doubts and impatience of the French? Our Prime Minister, Charlemagne de Maupas, explains himself tonight! Welcome to the political program. Good evening to all! Good evening Monsieur Prime Minister, we are happy to welcome you for the first time on the set. Here is tonight's program: our investigator, Thomas Salto, will come to question you on the hot topics of the moment.

Charlemagne - Good evening Madame Salamé, Monsieur Salto. I will answer all your questions. Léa - Questions, the French have them! After the interview with Thomas Salto, you will be questioned by two French people in our audience and finally, you will come face to face with your political enemy, Madame Annie Gérard. Charlemagne - Very well.

Léa - At the end of the programme, a percentage will indicate how many of our viewers you have convinced tonight. First of all, we approached His Majesty the Emperor to get his opinion on your work and your commitment to the French. Watch

Journalist Thomas - What is the Prime Minister's involvement? Does he reflect the values of the Empire in your opinion? Emperor Napoléon IV - Charlemagne de Maupas was appointed among the deputies of my party to represent the French. He is a legitimate politician with experience. I have confidence in his ability to lead the French government. Thomas - The Third Party accuses him of opportunism, and of being a republican rather than a monarchist. I quote: "he is one of those men who pass so easily from one side to the otherwhen there is only shame to step over". What do you think? Napoléon IV - I will answer you this: I am a republican. The Empress is a socialist. My Prime Minister is the only simpartist in power, isn't that crazy!

Charlemagne de Maupas laughs at the Emperor's words

Thomas - A reaction to the Emperor's words? Charlemagne - His Majesty has seen right through me. He is an enlightened person!

Thomas - The Minister of the Interior of your government has revealed that 16 attacks against the Emperor have been foiled since the beginning of your mandate. For the past few days, an angry demonstration has been spreading throughout Francesim. The protesters blame you and the Emperor for many things. Listen to

Journalist - Today, what do you want to say to the higher political class? French citizen - Let them listen to the people in the streets instead of brutalizing them! The police make abusive arrests, the French League for the Defense of Human Rights is bludgeoned here! Journalists investigating the army and its arms trafficking are interrogated in secret by police services, and we are surprised that nothing goes on! We demand the protection of our fundamental rights!

Thomas - According to the organisers and the unions, the protestation has two million participants. What do you have to say to this citizen and the protestators? Charlemagne - Several things. The violence from the police side as well as from the other side is unacceptable. We will investigate potential abuses.

Charlemagne - Nevertheless. Our services counted 800,000 participants, which is less than 2% of the French population in mainland Francesim. I call for appeasement: there is no civil war, and the democratic institutions will work to strengthen social cohesion. There is no need to give in to panic, or to create it...

Léa - Are you implying that the protesters are "creating panic", that they want to be seen as terrorists? Twenty years ago, the monarchy had 80% of the polls in its favour. Today, 65% of French people remain in favour, while 28% are clearly opposed. Charlemagne - Some protestators leading certain groups are known to the police. These dangerous protestators may encourage attacks against imperial dignity. Attention: we will not make any amalgam. I am only pointing out the dangerousness of certain movements.

Léa - Thank you very much Thomas for coming to interview the Prime Minister on set. After a sequence of commercials, we will allow two Frenchmen to interview Monsieur de Maupas live. Finally, the Prime Minister will confront his political rival on the set. At the end of the programme, we will ask the French people if they were convinced by the Prime Minister this evening.

▬ Version Française ▬

Journaliste Léa : Comment répondre aux doutes et aux impatiences des français ? Notre premier ministre, Charlemagne de Maupas, s'explique ce soir ! Bienvenue dans l'émission politique. Bonsoir à tous ! Bonsoir Monsieur le Premier Ministre, nous sommes heureux de vous recevoir pour la première fois sur le plateau. Voici le programme de ce soir : notre investigateur, Thomas Salto, viendra vous interroger sur les sujets chauds du moment.

Charlemagne : Bonsoir Mme. Salamé, M. Salto. Je répondrai à toutes vos questions. Léa : Des questions, les français en ont ! Après l'entrevue avec Thomas Salto, vous serez interpellé par deux français dans notre public et enfin, ferez un face à face avec votre ennemie politique, Mme. Annie Gérard. Charlemagne : Très bien.

Léa : A la fin d'émission, un pourcentage indiquera le nombre de nos téléspectateurs que vous aurez convaincu ce soir. Tout d'abord, nous avons approché Sa Majesté l'Empereur pour recueillir son avis sur votre travail et votre engagement pour la Francesim et les français. Regardez

Journaliste Thomas : Quelle est l'implication du premier ministre ? Reflète-t-il les valeurs de l'Empire selon vous ? Empereur Napoléon IV : Charlemagne de Maupas a été désigné parmi les députés de mon parti pour représenter les français. C'est un homme politique légitime, et avec de l'expérience. J'ai confiance en ses capacités à mener le gouvernement français. Thomas : Le Tiers Parti l'accuse d'opportunisme, et d'être un républicain plutôt que monarchiste. Je cite : "il fait partie et tous ces hommes qui passent si facilement d’un bord à l’autre quand il n’y a à enjamber que de la honte." Qu'en pensez vous ? Napoléon IV : Je vous répondrai ceci : Je suis républicain. L'impératrice est socialiste. Mon Premier ministre est le seul simpartiste au pouvoir, n'est-ce pas de la folie ! - Charlemagne de Maupas rigole aux propos de l'Empereur -

Thomas : Une réaction aux paroles de l'Empereur ? Charlemagne : Je m'attendais pas à une telle argumentation. Sa Majesté a vu juste en moi. C'est une personne éclairée ! Thomas : Le ministre de l'Intérieur de votre gouvernement a révélé que 16 attentats contre l'Empereur ont été déjoués depuis le début de votre mandat. Depuis quelques jours, une manifestation de colère s'étend dans toute la Francesim. Les manifestants reprochent de nombreuses choses à vous et à l'Empereur. Ecoutez

Journaliste dans la manifestation : Aujourd'hui, que voulez-vous dire à la classe politique supérieure ? Citoyen français : Qu'ils écoutent le peuple dans les rues au lieu de le brutaliser ! La police procède à des arrestations abusives, la Ligue française de défense des droits de l'Homme est matraquée ici ! Les journalistes enquêtant sur l'armée et son trafic d'armes sont interrogés en secret par des services de police, et on s'étonne que rien n'aille plus ! Nous demandons la protection de nos droits fondamentaux !

Thomas : Selon les organisateurs et les syndicats, la manifestation compte deux millions de participants. Qu'avez vous à répondre à ce citoyen et aux manifestants ? Charlemagne : Plusieurs choses. Les violences du camp policier comme de l'autre, sont inacceptables. Nous enquêterons sur les potentiels abus.

Charlemagne : Néanmoins. Nos services ont compté 800 000 participants, ce qui équivant à moins de 2% de la population française en métropole. J'appelle à l'apaisement : il n'y a pas de guerre civile, et les institutions démocratiques vont travailler à renforcer la cohésion sociale. Il n'y a pas lieu de céder à la panique, ou de la créer...

Léa : Sous-entendez-vous que les manifestants "créent la panique", qu'ils souhaitent être perçus comme des terrorites ? La monarchie obtenait il y a 20 ans 80% des sondages en sa faveur. Aujourd'hui, 65% des français restent favorables, pour 28% d'opposition claire. Charlemagne : Certains manifestants à la tête de certains groupes sont connus des services de police. Ces manifestants dangereux peuvent encourager les attentats contre la dignité impériale. Attention : nous ne ferons pas d'amalgame. Je souligne seulement la dangerosité de certains mouvements.

Léa : Merci beaucoup Thomas pour être venu interroger le premier ministre sur le plateau. Après une séquence de publicités, nous permettrons à deux français d'interroger M. de Maupas en direct. Enfin, le premier ministre affrontera son rival politique sur le plateau. A l'issue de cette émission, nous demanderons aux français s'ils ont été convaincus par le premier ministre ce soir.

#simparte #gen 1 #ts4 royal #royal simblr #sims 4 royal #sims 4 fr #sim : charles #sim : charlemagne #politics #emission politique #interview #sims 4 #sims 4 royalty #royal sims #sims royalty

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forgetfulminks · 3 months

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Why I Started Posting

I wanted to share a few videos that inspired me to start posting on tumblr! I grew up with the internet, so I've always wanted to make content of some kind, but I've been too shy to commit to it. I've made blogs, channels, and accounts in the past, but I would never be consistent because I was scared that what I was doing was not good enough.

Then, I watched these two videos:

youtube

The first is by Alivia D'Andrea and it's titled "How glowing up ruined my life". It's a video about how she started posting videos on youtube documenting her glow up journey. She analyses her journey and concludes that she wanted to glow up because she hated her present self and wanted to be someone else. After overcoming many struggles and combatting many mental and physical issues, she decides that she is instead going to learn to love herself. I found her story really inspiring and I related to a few parts. I am currently on my own self-love journey and it helped me see what good forms of self-love are and what toxic forms of it are. Towards the end of the video, Alivia D'Andrea mentions that there is not much content online on how to love yourself, or anything documenting someone's journey for self-love. This made me think that perhaps I could contribute to the conversation even in a small way. I am not as inspiring as this video, so I definitely recommend you watch it if you haven't already!

youtube

The second video is this one called "the mindset shift that broke my perfectionism" by itsamelinda. She is a lesser known channel, but her video had a big impact on me. In it, she explains an event in her life that changed her perspective and allowed her to think that she didn't need to make something perfect as long as it helped people. She then encouraged the viewers to create something even if they don't believe it is good quality, because the point is for it to help people, make them laugh, let them learn, whatever it may be. The point is not about you, it is about those who engage in it. I found this really inspiring and it helped me see that I didn't have to create something perfect, I just want to create something that might help people and make a positive impact on this world! I also encourage you to watch it if you haven't already! :)

So, for anyone reading that might want some motivation or just something to watch, here are some videos! I hope they inspire you just as they inspired me!

#Youtube #inspiration #my post #thoughts

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no6secretsanta · 1 year

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The Painting of Mao

A/N: For @glorifiedscapegoat from @a-still-small-vox.

[Ao3 link] (now live!)

This AU popped into my head when I was doing the matches, and I was like, ‘Who likes AUs? Ah, I know. Mira!’ so I assigned myself to be your gifter. I understood your request to mean “if you write angst, give it a happy ending”, not “please write me angst with a happy ending and not something else”. I hope I interpreted that correctly, because this story is not very angsty. It does, however, have a happy ending. I really hope you enjoy it, and happy holidays!

P.S. The name of Shion’s town in this story, Maceria, means “wall”.

⁂

Shion sat before his easel, frowning as he idly scraped his palette knife back and forth against the edge of his palette. The said palette was a riot of colour, adorned with daubs of all the rainbow colours and splashes of all the unnameable colours in between. Blues and greys predominated, however, giving the impression that Shion might be painting a mystical ocean, perhaps under a sunset or struck by a fiery storm.

Shion’s smock was similarly adorned with flecks of colour, which he hadn’t even noticed before. This particular painting tended to cast a hypnotic spell on him, blotting out great chunks of time and holding his focus against all the needs of his body. Hunger, thirst, and exhaustion were no problem when in front of this canvas.

The trouble was, Shion didn’t actually know what he was painting. It wasn’t that he had no plan. Most, if not all of his artworks, were carefully planned beforehand. Clients had certain expectations after all. Shion specialised in portraits, and because paintings were expensive, they were usually portraits for the wealthy, so they had to be done right. So maybe this painting was a portrait? Shion didn’t know.

He didn’t know because his brain simply could not comprehend what he put down on the canvas every time he sat down before it. He could see shapes and colours, but when he tried to focus on them, they went fractal, kaleidoscopic.

The only thing he did know was that the painting compelled him. Every time he thought of discarding it, he got a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. It was irrational to feel like painting over, discarding, or donating a canvas for re-use was a crime akin to murder. And yet.

There was a knock on the doorframe behind Shion, and he turned his head to see his father standing there.

“Still working on that enchanted canvas, son?” he said.

“Dad…” Shion groaned, setting down his palette and palette knife on the table beside him. The canvas probably was enchanted or magical in nature. But he felt like his dad didn’t take that possibility seriously, and was just saying that to tease him.

“Still haven’t figured out how we can turn a profit on that thing. Maybe if it turns out to contain a long-lost prophecy or ancient hero. Then it’d be worth a pretty penny,” Shion’s dad continued.

“Daaaaaad…” Shion groaned again. “You never change.”

Shion’s dad laughed and winked. “Nope. And that’s why we’re the most profitable studio in Maceria.”

Although Shion’s mother had been born into a wealthy merchant family, she had chosen to marry a young woodworker instead of a person with an equal social standing to her own. Fortunately, her parents had given her enough money for Shion’s father to apprentice to a woodworking studio, where he learnt to make decorative frames and canvas stretchers, among other things. He had then encouraged his young son, Shion, to apprentice to a master painter so that they could establish their family business, where both painting and framing was done in-house. It wasn’t the first career that Shion would have chosen for himself, but he liked the intellectual aspect of it, the meticulous attention to detail, the analysis of the painting subject, the puzzle over which techniques to use to create the impression that he wanted the viewer of the painting to have. And he liked working with his father as well, for all the mischief he caused.

Shion rolled his eyes at his dad, who looked not the least bit discouraged.

“I’m done for the night. I’m heading up to see your mother and to have some of that leftover apple crumble she baked. Better hurry up or I’ll have the whole thing.”

Glancing back at the canvas, Shion felt a tug in his gut. He found his hand closing one of his paintbrushes before he even realised he’d moved. “I think I’m going to stay here for a while. Please don’t eat all of the apple crumble.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Shion’s dad said, although Shion suspected that his dad would save him some anyway. Shion’s dad turned towards the stairs that led to their apartment over the studio, and then paused. “Son… be careful with that thing.” He gave Shion a heavy look.

“It’s not evil…” Shion began, glancing at the painting out of the corner of his eye. “He – um, it is just… nervous. I think.”

“Well, it’s probably not evil because it hasn’t consumed you,” his dad said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. I think it’s probably fine, but you know how your mother worries.”

It’s enchanted, not cursed, was on the tip of Shion’s tongue. Instead, he just sighed.

“It’s fine, Dad. Go have your dessert.”

After lingering for a moment longer, Shion’s dad shrugged and then disappeared from the doorway. Shion heard the thuds of his footfalls on the stairs, until the door at the top of the stairs creaked open and then shut, and there was silence.

Shion closed his eyes. He took a deep, fortifying breath. Then, he turned back to the canvas with the paintbrush and palette in his hands.

“I’ve done everything I can to help you,” Shion muttered to the painting. “What do you want from me?”

The canvas with its mystifying swirl of colours failed to respond. But Shion noticed, for perhaps the first time, that the central form of the painting seemed to be very much akin to the shape of a human face.

So it is a portrait, then.

Shion resisted the urge to brush his fingers over the still-wet paint to feel the shape of it, as if by touch alone he could determine what colours were really underneath his fingers, and if the face that they might form was a kind one or a cruel one. He had a feeling that the person who was perhaps represented here was just as mysterious as the painting he – um, they were depicted in.

Before he had really anticipated it, Shion was gathering paint from his palette once more. His hand moved toward the canvas, and he fell into a soft oblivion.

Some time later, Shion let his aching arm drop with a sigh. He looked out the window, expecting to see a thick black swathe of night. But to his total shock, he saw a blush of pink on the horizon. It was the morning of the next day. Shion had painted all through the night, something that had never happened before.

It wasn’t just his arm that ached, but his whole body. His head throbbed. But when he looked at the table beside him, he saw a half-full glass of clean water and a plate with what looked suspiciously like crumble crumbs on it. Apparently, he’d gotten up to get food and water at some point, and hadn’t even known it. That had never happened before either.

Shion felt a pit in his stomach. Was I wrong about the portrait? Is it evil after all?

He couldn’t help but turn towards the portrait, to try and re-centre his understanding of it. When his eyes met the gleaming, river-grey eyes on the canvas, the room... stopped.

It was like being held in the centre of a crystal. Cocooned against the outside world in glass and in silence. All was still, the dust motes hanging in the air and the breeze that had ruffled the branches outside instantly pausing. Shion was caught between two breaths, suspended.

And he could see, really see, for the very first time, what he had painted.

As he had suspected, a portrait. A man with grey eyes, at once dark and yet silvered with light. Shion had never seen eyes like that before, though somehow he had painted them – or the man had compelled him to paint them that way. He had pale, delicate skin with long, blue-grey hair tied up in a curious ponytail knot behind his head, its soft strands charmingly framing his face. Another colour Shion had never seen.

Behind the man was a verdant forest. But the sky was not blue, but grey with smoke that rose from the trees in plumes. Here and there Shion caught glimpses of the red and orange of fire. Seeing it made his stomach turn, for reasons he didn’t understand.

“You’re beautiful,” Shion couldn’t help but softly say to the man in the portrait. “And mysterious…” he sighed, running a hand through his already-messy brown hair. “I wish I knew your name.”

The man’s grey eyes seemed to gleam.

There was a word on the tip of Shion’s tongue.

“Hmmm,” Shion hummed. Yes. It came to him all in a rush, then – “Nezumi.”

The man’s dark eyelashes fluttered.

“Hello, O Mighty Painter,” said Nezumi. Shion could hear the playful irreverence in his voice. Like Nezumi’s face, his voice was mysterious and beautiful. His words were formed more like a song than like speech.

“My name is Shion. And you’re amazing,” Shion breathed.

“No vocabulary, and no sense of self preservation. You should be worried that I’ve been stealing your will.”

Shion shook his head. “No you haven’t.” It was true. Although Shion had felt uneasy about being compelled, he’d never felt that he wanted to stop working on the painting, that he couldn’t get free. He’d known he was under a spell, but he’d been okay with that.

Nezumi raised an eyebrow, and Shion caught his breath as he noticed the elegance of the simple movement.

“Who are you – really?” Shion said.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Nezumi said, but then relented. “Fine. I owe you that much.”

Shion looked into Nezumi’s grey eyes, and he began to speak.

“I am a nymph, a forest spirit, bound to a tree in the Mao forest. My tribe lived there in peace until a fire was started by greedy humans who wanted the land for their cattle. We all hid our spirits away in our trees, knowing that our magic and their strength together would make them resilient against the fire.

“Most of us survived, but our trees grew sick and weak when their leaves were burned. Some of my tribe and my family were able to escape, but I was too weak to leave my tree. The humans came back and saw an opportunity. They cut down all the trees that had not been turned to ash by the fire, some of them with spirits inside them and some of them without.

“The tree I was in was made into a canvas stretcher. So you see, it isn’t actually the canvas which is ‘enchanted’, but the stretcher. And it’s not enchanted, but inhabited.”

Nezumi smiled a dangerous smile, his white teeth gleaming. “And that is how I came to be in your painting, human.”

Shion didn’t reply, but simply stared.

“Well?” Nezumi said. “Are you an idiot? Speak.” The sting in the words was lessened by the slight tinge of worry in his voice.

Shion blinked. Then, he was wiping his eyes with his sleeve, heedless of the thin purple paint streaks he was leaving across his cheeks and nose.

“That’s horrible!” he burst out. “Didn’t those humans know that you lived in that forest?”

Nezumi looked taken aback, but then shrugged. “It’s not like they would have cared.”

“They’re worse than scum!” Shion burst out, still watery. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Nezumi. It was a travesty! But –” And here he was struck with a thought, “Now that I’ve painted you, can you come out of the stretcher? Can you go find your family?”

There was a pause, where Nezumi looked Shion straight in the eyes. “With the grace of the one who painted me, I can.”

“Me?” Shion said. “Of course I’ll help you, Nezumi. But what do you need me for?”

“You are the only one who really sees me. You are the only one who can speak me into reality once more. But beware, Shion. If you don’t truly know me, I may not turn out to be the person I’m supposed to be.”

Shion drew back, pondering the weight of Nezumi’s words. “You mean… if I just expect anyone to appear, it won’t work? Or… if I imagine you wrong, you’ll turn out wrong?”

Nezumi only shrugged enigmatically.

Narrowing his eyes, Shion tapped one finger against his lips. How could he know Nezumi, when he’d met him just tonight? Shion wanted to help him get out of the painting as fast as possible, but what if he needed more time to get to know him?

But now was the singular moment. Somehow he knew that this crystal moment was perhaps the only chance he’d get to speak Nezumi back to his rightful existence.

It’s now or never.

“Alright,” Shion said, talking aloud. “I’ll do it. Just… stay still.”

Nezumi rolled his eyes. “Shion, I’m a painting.”

“No, you’re a canvas stretcher. Be quiet.”

But Nezumi kept chuckling as Shion closed his eyes and tried to think.

What did he know about Nezumi from all those days he’d sat before this canvas with a palette in his hand, drawn to complete it without really knowing why?

It came to him, from the depths of his mind. He did know who Nezumi was. Someone who was sarcastic and prickly, distant, and yes – hurt. But at the same time, someone with a quick intelligence and humour, interesting and clever. And beneath his cool exterior, there was someone who was warm, who cared.

Nezumi could have driven Shion to complete the painting at a back-breaking pace, and Shion would have told himself it was the fire of inspiration, and let him. And yet, Nezumi hadn’t taken advantage of him. In fact, he’d sent Shion packing off to bed more than once when Shion had wanted to keep working, to hasten the uncovering of the mystery. Looking into the depths of Nezumi only reinforced what Shion already knew.

This painting is not evil, it is not cursed. It is good. And Nezumi is my friend.

“Alright,” Shion said, opening his eyes and giving a sharp nod. “I’m ready.”

Nezumi let out a breath. Although it was subtle, Shion thought he could see the muscles around his eyes tighten.

“Then hold me in your mind, and reach out for my hand.”

Shion closed his eyes, and held thoughts of Nezumi behind them like water held in cupped hands. He reached forward, farther and farther than he should have been able to with a canvas and easel in front of him. Then his fingers brushed warm skin. Nezumi’s hand tightened around Shion’s, and Shion pulled.

The world turned upside down. There was a clattering sound as wood hit tile. Shion opened his eyes, and there was a man standing in front of him, head and body and arms and legs and all, taller than Shion and still clutching his hand.

Nezumi.

“You’re here,” Shion breathed, and then a bell rang, and then the crystal silence shattered.

The world turned right again. Shion and Nezumi were standing in Shion’s studio, the easel and canvas lying on the floor behind Nezumi. Behind him, the sunrise had reached the top of the sky, burnishing the room with warm morning colours.

“You’re here!” Shion said again, delight suffusing his voice. He dropped Nezumi’s hand and threw his arms around him.

“Oof,” Nezumi huffed out. “Is this how you treat every stranger you meet?”

And yet his arms came up to enfold Shion’s body, and gripped tight and warm and real. And Nezumi pressed a kiss to Shion’s brown hair.

#no. 6 #no.6 #no 6 #no6 #nezumi #shion #nezushi #the painting of mao #glorifiedscapegoat #a-still-small-vox #a still small vox #voxiferous #vox

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bestworstcase · 2 years

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You're not wrong about RWBY's online fanbase letting the most strident "critics" basically frame the goddamn debate. I think part of it's the sheer mental fatigue of seeing the same rant points get thrown over & over again, which is where 'look at Other Stuff already' comes in.

yeah and like granted the hatedom does feel very…everywhere sometimes and it can be one thing to know in the abstract that it’s just a vocal minority of entitled weirdos with nothing better to do than tear a piece of fiction they don’t like to shreds and quite another to really feel that, so i do get the impulse to get defensive and engage seriously with/make rebuttals to hatedom content but. the point of a hatedom is not to make good faith criticisms or foster good faith discussions of whatever it is to feed superiority complexes about not liking something by tearing it to shreds hfkfbdks

i keep an eye on hatedoms because i find observing them entertaining in and of itself, but even on that level you really gotta be able to just close the tab and do something else the instant it starts to irritate instead of amuse, otherwise it becomes. just an unhealthy way to waste time

and, idk, there’s a sentiment i’ve encountered with some regularity in rwby spaces that the hatedom is creating a popular perception (among people who don’t watch it) that rwby is just schlock and that makes it hard to recommend to new people, and therefore the hatedom needs to be rebutted, but 1. i think rwby fans wildly overestimate how much exposure the average non-viewer has to the rwby hatedom, and 2. if the goal is to encourage new viewers to jump in really the best way to do that is to be unapologetically enthusiastic about liking the story? fkgdksbs

“i know people say this sucks but—” no one is going to want to watch it if you say it like that! “oh it’s a great story with a slow-boil beginning and it does xyz really well” is a posture that invites interest this is not. rocket science

the hatedom doesn’t matter except when it’s funny to laugh at them !

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spoilertv · 1 month

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#SpoilerTV

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mahdithemagician · 1 year

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The Best Platform For A Virtual Event

WHAT IS THE BEST ONLINE PLATFORM FOR A VIRTUAL MAGIC SHOW

Before I started performing online virtual events like my virtual magic show I did research and observed what others were doing both inside and outside of my industry. One of the common things I saw events doing was streaming the event on multiple platforms simultaneously. For instance, let’s say that the main event was taking place over Zoom the host would also be streaming the event live over Instagram, Facebook and Youtube at the same time. The idea is simple; each company, brand, or school has different people following their accounts so if you want them to all see the event live then it’s best to stream it on all these platforms so that you have more eyes on the event.

The problem is that even though you technically have more viewers, a portion of them do not get full functionality and participation. Some streaming software is able to pull live comments from Facebook and Youtube and send them directly to you in real time but how does that compare to them part of your online video conference?

Let’s take a look. When I have an online virtual show I am usually using Zoom or Google Meet and I instruct everyone to turn on their video and microphone is they can. At certain moments I may spotlight individuals or groups (pin their video and display them to the room) to feature our interaction. During this time I may be giving them instructions with a deck of cards or other small objects or reading their minds. I encourage the audience to react appropriately and let everyone know their applause or amazement is not intrusive to the show because just like an in person event I generally know when people will laugh or applaud and it adds to the atmosphere of the event. Some people may choose to respond during the show through the chat feature and type their response and reaction and send an emoji to all of us. We appreciate all the interaction and participation but at the end of the day we know that the more we use the technology to bring us closer together the better and more personal the event will be. Typing a few words and emojis is nowhere near as powerful as looking into people’s eyes and engaging with them face to face.

When I studied the data I found that audiences and groups were more responsive, engaged and passionate when they are in the moment of an event and taking part in it. I decided that the best way for people to enjoy my online virtual magic shows is to require them to be in the room with me live while the event is happening.

I stopped offering my clients to stream it live on all their different social media platform accounts and instead focused on having the best possible online event take place over one platform. That way I can see everyone in the room, talk to them and have them engage me over video live. This was not a tough decision to make because instead of seeming to offer less I am in reality offering more. I am offering everyone to come together and have an equal opportunity to costar in our online event. They don’t need to just be an anonymous commenter they can share the screen and co-star in the magic show or inspirational event.

At the same time I didn’t abandon all the other social media platforms available to us but instead I focused on working with my clients to using those specific platforms as effectively as possible. I created content specifically tailored to Facebook, Instagram, and Youtube to engage their followers and promote our events. On Instagram, we would make visual 15 second videos for their Instagram Stories and on Youtube we would post a 5-10 minute video with an interactive piece of magic and promote our event. Everything that we made was designed on brand with how my clients present themselves and want to be seen. We used every single platform to preview our events and funnel people to our live, online virtual events.

Now I perform my virtual magic show, Magic In Your Hands, through Zoom, Google Meet, or a video conferencing platform of the client’s choice. We keep the event on a single platform and use every other platform as a driver to our show and events.

#magic #magic show #virtual event #zoom #google

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lonelier-version-of-you · 2 years

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"Have you thought of a name?" (s36e20)

#BBC Casualty #Dylan Keogh #Paula Kettering #my edits #my gifs #gif warning #ep: s36e20 Ena #disabled characters #disabled representation #imagine having characters who actually get to make their own jokes about their disabilities #encouraging the viewers to laugh WITH them instead of AT them #a certain other show could never #ok the certain other show did like once or twice but that's it #while casualty gave us so many disability jokes actually made by disabled characters in this one episode alone #(i remember the blind woman patient made a few jokes about being blind too)

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stormgardenscurse · 3 years

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Hewoooo, can I request for dorm leaders, pleaseeeee 🥺? How they will react when they find out their girlfriend is a gamer streamer? She was very scared horror game, but they still play, does someone in them donated really much for her? Thank you if you take my request 💕

Riddle

He wasn’t really sure about the appeal; is seeing someone scare themselves with a horror game truly that entertaining..? When he saw you tensed up trying to brace for a jumpscare, all Riddle wanted to do was be by your side to offer his presence or words as comfort.

He knows he shouldn't disturb your stream though, so instead he waits until you log off before visiting you with a snack and drink. Riddle tries to help you take your mind off that stressful game, chatting or suggesting that you play something more lighthearted together.

Leona

He tunes in to your streams when he has the time. More often than not, Leona watches it sleepily after stirring from a nap, mainly as a way of checking where you were if he was looking for you (in your room, or out and about?)

At one point you started playing relaxing games that had nice bgms and ambience - Leona listens to these as he starts drifting off to sleep on his bed. If he's gonna have to hear something as he falls asleep, it might as well be your voice or little laughs as you progress through a game, right?

Azul

At first, Azul was really curious about the technicalities of your work; how you knew which hours would be the most active, or what kind of challenges would attract more viewers...

He does enjoy strategic games though! Whenever you’re streaming those, you may or may not see Azul in the chat (with an alias username) encouraging or nudging you in the right direction!

...He hates watching or playing horror games. Yes, the ocean was dark and full of threats as well, but when your only senses available were sight and sound with headphones on? Not something he’d do for fun!

Kalim

Definitely donates often! Kalim likes how you light up with a smile when you see his familiar name on the screen, along with a sweet message wishing you luck! He’s really active in the chat too!

Jamil and your viewers on the other hand… may or may not be having a crisis over the amount and frequency of his donations. Oh and if you’re really scared while you’re playing a horror game, Kalim would ask if you’d like him to come over in person for moral support - even if it’s just by sitting beside you, he’s happy to help!

Vil

He would know better than anyone how much work it is to entertain an audience - while Vil might not be involved with this field himself, he does respect that it’s something you enjoy doing and committed time to. Vil doesn’t tell you this, but he does check your streams sometimes (just a short while, mostly to see how you were doing)

And if he made a donation… you might not even realise it until you double-back on the message he left you! (Just a bit of praise - reminiscent of something he’d say, but under a username that masks his traces.)

Idia

Okay so… What if you streamed while playing with Idia?

Sure, he might choose an avatar instead of showing his face, or only make an appearance on your screen in multiplayer mode - but it’s nice to share this part of your hobbies with him!

After you finished streaming, you and Idia continued going through the horror game since you were on a roll! It’s not often he’d lean into your side that much but when one is faced with really effective sound effects and visuals… they tend seek the comfort of another as they brave through a game so unsettling.

Malleus

Malleus likely doesn’t get surprised by jumps cares because to him, it’s blaringly clear that the moving pictures on a screen can’t hurt him in any way.

However! That doesn’t mean that he’s completely unaffected. When you flinch or yelp from being scared as you play, Malleus can’t help but get a little startled or start to mimic your reactions in return.

While he probably wouldn’t be able to play alongside you, Malleus is definitely fond of how you light up whenever you talk about it. If you have trouble falling asleep after that horror game, he’d be willing to cast a simple spell to help you drift off for the night.

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seita · 4 years

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— miscommunication | m.

pairing: matsukawa/f!reader

wordcount: 4.860

genre: smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

cw: camboy!mastukawa, established relationship.

tags: masturbation (m.), dirty talk, cam sex, daddy kink, pet names, praise kink, soft!mattsun, fingering, cock riding, big dicked mattsun, multiple orgasms, creampie, use of the word cunny.

note: repost from my other blog!

+ summary: your highschool sweetheart makes a lot of money as a camboy. however, when you start watching his streams, things he says instills insecurity within you.

The second you met Issei Matsukawa, you knew that you were going to fall completely, irrevocably in love with him. There was just something about him; he was sweet, kind, attentive, and strong – among other things.

Since you knew him in high school, word swirled around that when he was older he would be a dream man. They were right.

You have no idea how your little puppy dog crush managed to catch his attention, but you were happy about whatever you did.

When he graduated, he learned he could make money off of his body. He was tall, over 6 feet tall, and fit with a dominant personality and sweet voice that made you want to do anything he asked.

It started off with him simply selling nudes and short videos of him simply stroking his cock. You were both baffled by how much people paid for a 15 second clip of him jerking off – not even finishing.

He had sat you down one night and asked how you felt about everything. You would never tell him he couldn’t do something. Especially because it was his body. Besides, it’s not like it really bothered you.

It didn’t take him long to evolve, creating a camming account that quickly blew up due to his good looks and dominant charisma. The spare bedroom, which had previously been a simple study room, had been turned into a studio for him to film in.

He made good money, becoming one of the top creators on the platform. Things were going very well for a long time, you never really watched his streams either in real life or on the phone. His occupation wasn’t really something you ever thought too much about – he kept everything mostly to himself, never really talked to you about it or anything of the sort.

But one day, you got curious. As any normal girlfriend would.

You sat in your shared bed, the lights dimmed with your phone in your hands. As you tuned in to his stream, you were greeted with a familiar sight. The studio was exactly the same as always and your boyfriend was more than familiar – but it still felt so surreal. Like you were an outside looking in, despite the fact that he was just down the hall from you.

You had spent a little while procrastinating, debating on whether you really should watch it or not. Issei had never told you that you couldn’t watch. But he never really encouraged you to either. Truthfully, his career behind that door was sort of a mystery to you.

Due to your back and forth dilemma with yourself, the stream was already well in progress by the time you started watching.

His body was a familiar sight – but it was different seeing it from an outside perspective. Right now, you weren’t his girlfriend. You were a viewer.

His fingers, adorned in metal rings, were wrapped around his thick cock. It made your mouth go dry at the sight. His cock was so pretty, long and thick with a blushing red head that glistened under the ring lights from the dripping precum.

Your gaze fell to the comments, seeing people complimenting him – as could be expected. After all, these were people who were paying for the privilege of watching him stroke his cock.

‘Your cock is so big!’

‘I’d cry trying to take it but I’d still thank you.’

‘His hands look like my favorite necklace.’

A strange feeling settled in your chest as you read all these people’s thoughts on your boyfriend. They gushed about how perfect he was, how amazing his cock was, how much they’d die to be stuffed full by him.

He grinned and laughed, giving flirtatious comments in response to them.

“Yeah? You think you could take my cock?” he chuckles, breath shuddering as he squeezed his length, “I don’t think you could handle it.”

“Ah, I bet you’d be such a good little girl for me,” he whispers, eyes lidded, “You’d cry and take my cock like you’re supposed to, huh?”

As he says these dirty things, the tips continue to rise. The words are familiar as they fall from his lips because they’re things you’re used to hearing.

You’re not sure how to feel knowing he’s talking to these nobodies the same way he talks to you so you click out of the app before the feeling becomes too much. You place your phone down and sigh, feeling your heart ache in jealousy as you replay the recycled words you’d heard him say night after night to you.

You know it’s stupid to feel jealous; it’s his job. He talks that way so he can make money. But it still instills you with an unfamiliar feeling of insecurity. It almost felt like everything he said and did to you wasn’t as special as you thought it was – because he just turned around to say the exact same things to faceless nobodies who paid him.

Issei is the only man you’d ever dated. He was your first boyfriend, your first kiss, and he was the one to take your virginity. You’d never even held hands with anyone else.

But you know he had fucked around a lot before the two of you got together, when you were just a shy, pining little girl for him. Of course he had, there was no way a man like him wouldn’t have girls all over him, feral for the opportunity to sit down on his cock and make him fall in love with her. After all, he’d made a job out of it.

It was never something that made you insecure. Issei never did anything that made you question his feelings or loyalty to you. So jealousy and possessiveness wasn’t a feeling you were familiar with. And you weren’t quite fond of it, you were learning.

You wanted to storm into the studio and sit on his cock, make all of his viewers see that his cock was all yours and they only had the privilege of watching him — put them in their place.

You sat with the negative feelings for the entire night. He finished his stream and took a shower, helped you cook dinner, and you sat on the couch with him as you watched a couple movies together.

He didn’t notice anything different in your demeanor. You weren’t mad at him so you had no reason to be passive aggressive.

But when you crawled into bed that night and laid beside him, tucked against his body, you thought back to all those women who were probably touching themselves to the sight of your boyfriend’s perfect cock and pretty words.

You frowned and tossed your leg over his waist. He looked up from his phone in surprise, a brow raised before he smiled.

“Can I help you with something, babygirl?” he placed his free hand on your bare thigh, stroking the skin gently.

“I wanna ride you,” you demand softly, making him laugh.

“Since when are you so bold?” he teases, locking his phone before tossing it to the side. You pout and push the band of his sweats down to pull his cock free. He reaches out and grabs your wrist with his eyes narrowed, “I think you know better than that, pretty girl. Is that how you ask Daddy for his cock?”

You shrink a bit under his gaze and lower your head, “N-No Daddy…I’m sorry…”

He smiled, “It’s okay, baby. Why don’t you ask politely, hm?”

You swallow thickly and nod, “C-Can I ride your cock, Daddy?”

He licks his lips and relaxes against the pillows with a sigh, “Go ahead and get me hard then, pretty baby.”

It wasn’t a difficult task, just the fact you were so eager for him was enough to have him getting harder by the second. You eagerly spit on his length, using it so aide in the slick movements of your hand as you jerked him off.

“That’s a good girl, fuck,” he breathes, body trembling as he stroke him with practiced ease, “Lift up, sweet girl.”

You do as you’re told, sitting up on your knees, keeping your hand wrapped around his length. He bats your hand away and you pout, but he pays no mind as he instead decides to strip you. He pulls the thin nightshirt you were wearing, dropping it off the side of the bed before sitting up properly to eagerly wrap his lips around your pert nipple.

You whimper, tangling your fingers in his hair as he circles the bud with his tongue. He pulls away for a second, nipping your breast before breathing out, “Are you wet, babygirl?”

You nod, “Yes, please Daddy…I want your cock.”

He clicks his tongue, “You know better than that. Let me see your pretty cunt, hm?”

Your pout deepens but you do as you’re asked and sit between his thighs, pulling your panties off before handing them to him. He hums, thumbing the material to see how wet it is before tossing them away. He looks expectantly at you and you immediately let your legs fall apart.

“Let Daddy see,” he whispers, wrapping his hand around his cock as you reach between your legs to spread your folds apart.

A couple years ago, you would have never been able to do something so lewd. You always felt so embarrassed when he wanted to look at your pussy but you eventually learned how turned on it made him. You still felt shy but you enjoyed the way his cock throbbed when you let him look.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” he whispers, grabbing your arms to tug you back into his lap properly, “Fuck, you are wet.”

Your cunt is pressed against the underside of his cock. It’s hot and throbbing against your clit, an addictive feeling that makes you grind against him. He groans, head falling back as you move along, coating him in your juices.

“Can I have your cock now Daddy, please?” you whine but he shakes his head, making you whine.

He pulls you against his chest and slips his hand between your legs, leaning up to press his lips against yours. His fingers circle your clit before prodding your little hole, slipping two inside easily. It stings but it’s a feeling you’ve learned to accept eagerly.

“Let Daddy stretch you out,” he whispers against your lips. You start grinding against his fingers, fucking yourself on the pretty digits as he curses, “Fuck, ride my fingers, pretty girl. Just like that.”

“Daddy…” you sob, head dropping against his shoulder as he curls his fingers, tapping your sweet spot. The stimulation makes you gush and you sob, clenching around him before you reach down to find your clit, “Y-You’re gonna make me cum…”

“I sure am, sweet girl,” he coos, choosing that moment to mercilessly fuck his fingers into your poor little cunt, abusing that tender little spot inside that has you creaming and dripping down his wrist.

A mantra of ‘daddy’ falls from your lips as you cum hard, trembling and sobbing against him as he fucks you through the high. He slows but doesn’t stop until you’re begging him to.

His hand is soaked in your cum and he can’t resist popping his two fingers in his mouth to taste. You suddenly remember the first time he ever did that, the way you squealed indignantly and hid your face in the pillow out of shame. He’d laughed and spent 20 minutes explaining how much he loved it and how he wanted to eat you out so bad now that he got a little taste of your sweet cum.

Before you could fully come down from your high, you reach beneath you and take his cock in your hand. He opens his mouth to speak, probably to stop you or scold you, but before he can, you’re sinking down onto his length. It burns as usual but the fiery pit of jealousy still burns bright and you want him to think of you too. You know it’s silly because there’s no way he’s thinking of faceless girls who comment on his streams but you still feel like you need to lay claim to him.

He’s your boyfriend.

“Jesus, baby,” he moans, his eyes rolling back in his head as you immediately begin bouncing on his cock, “What has you so riled up?”

“You’re mine, right, Daddy?” you pant.

He grips your waist, aiding in your movements as you fuck him like a toy, “Fuck yeah baby. Daddy is all yours. My cock’s all yours.”

You grin at his admission, feeling satisfied. That was all you needed to hear.

He looks at you, having no idea what this behavior was all about. But he had no complaints in the end.

Despite the negative feeling watching his stream had caused you, you continued to watch them. The outcome is always the same; you wind up ending the night staking your claim and making him remind you that he is yours. And he remained more or less ignorant to your behavior.

The night things take a turn is when you tune in to find him in his usual position, fucking his cock into his fist. He’s panting, more of a growl than anything, and muttering things you’d never quite heard before.

“Fuck, this feels so good,” he grunts, teeth gritted as he watched the comments, “I don’t give a shit about a good girl. I want a bratty little girl I can let some steam off on, put her back in her place.”

He grins as the comments fly by, viewers pleading to be that girl for him. Telling him they’d be perfect for him, the best sub he could ever dream of.

“I don’t think you could handle it,” he threatens with a narrowed gaze, “You’d let me slap you around? Let me treat you like filthy little whore? How pathetic.”

You gasp at the harsh, degrading words. Issei had never spoken like that before, it was strange to hear it. You find yourself being thankful you weren’t on the receiving end of that language because you were sure you’d probably end up crying.

“Yeah,” he chuckles again, “I’m sure you’d be such a pretty little brat for me.”

You sit back, his words fluttering around inside your head.

What did he mean he had steam to blow off? Why would he be unsatisfied? Is it because you were too…easy? You never fought him, he always whispered praise and sweet words to you. He’d never called you a name like that before. Is that what he wanted? To call you a dirty slut instead of his sweet girl?

Insecurity festered within you. In fact, you barely even noticed the fact you’d started pulling away. You didn’t consciously realize you were questioning yourself – doubting his attraction to you.

He was at a loss, baffled by your seemingly sudden rejection of him. It was almost as if you kept shying away from him when he tried to touch you – you had never denied him like that. You avoided his gaze in bed, choosing to cling to the bed sheets instead of burying yourself in his chest like you usually do.

Things progressively began to feel more awkward for him. He wasn’t sure if you felt it too, but he started feeling more apprehensive about touching you because he thought you didn’t want him to.

When he stopped trying anything with you, you started to feel even worse. Every insecurity you felt festered more and more until you felt like you were holding back tears just by looking at him. You were convinced, especially now that he crawled into bed with his back to you instead of peppering your face with kisses and slipping his hand down your panties so he could make you cum before bed, that you were no longer what he wanted.

Another night, you were sat curled up in bed. Issei hadn’t even told you he was going to start streaming – the only clue you had was the solid click of the studio door.

So you sat there, curled up in bed, leaning against the headboard with your phone in your hand as you watched him grin at the camera. He read the comments, slowly palming himself over his sweats – one of your favorite pairs that you’d seen him wear.

“I seem tense?” he mused, reading a comment, “I guess so. My cock’s been hard for days,” he tosses his head back and laughs but you can tell it’s not as genuine as it could be.

Guilt eats at you, knowing that you were the reason he was so tense – he wasn’t coming to you to get off anymore.

“Hmm,” he sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. You track the way his tongue slips over his bottom lip and his cock twitches visibly beneath the fabric of his pants, making him grunt, “No, I don’t have anyone to take care of my cock,” his words make you shrink in on yourself, tears pricking at your eyes, “Oh, you wanna take care of it, huh? Come here then.”

Something about his words has you jumping to your feet.

The only time you’d ever stepped foot in his studio beyond to clean it every once in a while. Otherwise, it was completely his space that he took care of. So to stand in front of the door, located at the very end of the hall, was strange. Especially since you could hear his muffled voice from within.

Taking a deep breath, you twist the knob and push the door open. Issei jumps from where he’s on the bed, leans forward and hits a button on the keyboard to mute himself before looking at you in confusion.

“What’re you doin’ in here?” his tone was almost curt and for a moment you second guess yourself. He watches you shift awkwardly on your feet and his gaze immediately softens, “Baby, what is it?”

The pet name makes you look up, tears stinging your eyes at the tender look in his eyes. His gaze flashes to the computer for a second before moving back to you.

“I just…” you pause, tugging awkwardly at your oversized t-shirt before blinking your tears away, “Am I…still what you want?”

He blinks, confused for a second before cocking his head. You can see the wheels turning in his head and you can tell the exact moment he realizes what you mean. Clicking his tongue, he holds his hand out, “Is that why you’ve been actin’ like this? Because you thought I didn’t like you anymore?”

You look in confusion at his outstretched hand and take a step forward, “I-I thought…maybe you felt I was too easy a-and you wanted someone brattier.”

He laughs, a genuine one, and you can see his eyes light up when you finally place your hand in his. In the blink of an eye, he’s tugged you into his lap, making you squeal before he’s silencing you with a kiss.

“I think I would go insane with a brat,” he chuckles, “Besides, I love you exactly how you are, my sweet girl, hm?”

You shift where you sit, feeling his cock is still hard beneath you and you bite your lip, “I really missed you.”

“God, I thought you’d never say that,” he whispers, brushing his lips against yours, “Let me just turn the stream off and I’ll make everything up to you, hm?”

You stop him before he can, however, shaking your head, “I…”

He notices the bashful look in your eyes and groans, “Is that how it is, baby? You want everyone to see who owns my cock?”

You eagerly nod and he hisses as you grind your hips against his cock. He leans around you and taps the button again, unmuting himself.

Neither of you waits even a second longer. He holds your hips up, letting you pull his cock free from the confines of his pants as he yanks your shirt over your head, laughing at the way it messes up your hair.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he coos, cupping your breasts, “Prettiest fuckin’ tits, huh, baby?”

You whimper, wrapping your fist around his cock, giving him a few squeezes to make him shudder. You can feel his precum drooling from the head, leaking down to meet your fist so you can stroke it into his skin.

“You’re so hard, Daddy,” you breathe, making him groan as he nods his head, “‘M sorry…”

“Don’t worry at all, pretty baby,” he huffs, thumbing at your nipples as he looks down to watch how you stroke him.

“Can I have your cock, Daddy?” you ask, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

He nods, unable to formulate words. It feels like it had been months since he had last properly felt your slick little cunt around his fat cock. His eyes are lidded, biting his lip as he watches you sit up to slip your panties aside. Neither of you think twice about even looking at the chat to read comments.

Right now, this is about the two of you – about showing everyone that Issei does have someone there to take care of his cock every night. Someone who he adores. And anyone with eyes can see how enamored he is with you.

As you position yourself above his cock, he narrows his eyes at you and with a firm grip to your waist, tosses you onto the bed beside him.

“Daddy!” you squeal, bouncing on the mattress, “Why–”

“You know better than that, babygirl,” he huffs, manhandling you with ease into the position he wants, “Silly of you to think I’d let you take me without prep, hm?”

You purse your lips in a pout but don’t offer a rebuttal, making him laugh as he knows he won. He spreads your legs and knees between them, making a show of stripping himself. As you look to the side, you can see that the two of you are in perfect view of the camera.

You had thought you were going to feel self-conscious with so many people watching you but instead, you feel confident.

Once the both of you are completely bare, he shifts down the bed before laying on his stomach between your spread legs. His large hands cup the underside of your thighs and push them upwards, reveling your glistening little cunt to his view.

“Fuck,” he huffs, using his thumbs to spread your folds apart, “I missed this perfect little cunny, you have no idea. So fuckin’ pretty for me.”

“Please, Daddy,” you whine, tangling your fingers in his curls. The gaze he gives you let you know exactly what he wants and you flush as you whisper, “Please eat my cunt.”

“That’s my good girl,” he sighs, leaning forward to run his tongue between your folds – collecting your slick on his tongue with a groan before swallowing, “So fuckin’ sweet.”

Once he gets that first taste, he wastes no time on going in. His tongue prods at your entrance, making you sigh at the little stretch that it gives before he leans up and finds your clit. His tongue is hot and wet against the sensitive bud, making your whole body twitch at the sensation. When his thumb finds your clit, he pulls the hood back and before you can even blink, his tongue is attacking the sensitive little bud beneath.

You squeal and instinctively kick out, squirming at the overwhelming sensation. He laughs, wrapping his lips around your clit and you sob at the feeling.

“D-Daddy, please!” you whine, “I-It’s too much!”

He hums and finally pulls back, returning his tongue to your little hole. His hand abandons its hold around your thigh in favor of finding your entrance. You hold your breath, looking down to watch as he sinks two fingers in – biting his lip as he keeps his own gaze on the way your little cunt swallows them down.

You spasm where you lay, the feeling of him just barely missing your g-spot nearly painful. You know he’s not doing this to make you feel good but you still can’t help but whine.

“What is it, baby?” he whispers, giving your hard little clit a sweet kiss before his eyes flick up to find yours. “You want Daddy to make you cum before you take my cock?”

You desperately nod, “Yes, please Daddy?”

“Fuck, anything for you, my sweet girl,” he doesn’t waste a second in wrapping his lips around your clit, crooking his fingers expertly to find your sweet spot,

The way Issei can drive you to the edge, to orgasm, is almost terrifying. It takes very little for you to feel your body tensing up. The lewd, slick sounds of his fingers stuffing your cunt along with the way you can see his tongue working over the cute little bud of your clit has you flying over.

Your back arches in the most beautiful way that he loves as you cum with a soft whine of ‘daddy’.

When you finally start pushing him away, he comes up panting. Catching any of your stray slick off of his chin before licking the pad of his thumb clean.

“Pl-Please, Daddy,” you whine, reaching out to wrap your hand around his cock, “C-Can you put it in now?”

“Fuck,” he groans, letting you direct his cockhead to your entrance, which was still spasming in the aftershocks of your orgasm, “Yeah, pretty baby, ‘s all yours.”

“All mine?” you giggle, gasping as he begins to press into your tender cunt.

“My cock’s all yours, fuck,” he groans, making sure the viewers can catch what he says.

It makes you flush and throw your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. The change in closeness makes his cock sink even deeper inside you and you moan in his ear as he quickly bottoms out.

Usually, he takes his time and lets you adjust. But this time, both of you are so needy for each other that you can’t resist grinding your hips up to rock yourself against his cock. He hisses, taking the hint quickly and easily.

He pulls his hips back only to swiftly roll them forward again, sheathing his cock back into your spasming little cunt. His eyes are locked on his cock and the way your pussy swallows him over and over again – he can’t sink all the way in but you take most of him and he loves the sight of it.

Your precious little cunt creams so beautifully around him, coating him in translucent, milky white every time he pulls out. You’re moaning and whimpering for him so beautifully that it makes his hips falter every once in a while.

“Daddy!” you squeal, finally releasing your hold around his neck, “Please, make me cum again!”

“Yeah, baby? You need Daddy to make this pretty pussy cum?” he huffs, moaning when you nod and eagerly spread yourself open for him by hooking your arms around your knees and pulling them back.

He rests his hand on your pelvic bone, stretching his thumb down to circle at your twitching, excited little clit as he continues to stuff your cunt nice and full. You claw and cling to the sheets desperately and he can’t help but cup your bouncing breasts with his free hand.

“C’mon, pretty baby, cum for me,” he huffs, licking his lips as you gush around his cock, “Lemme feel this pretty cunny cum.”

You sob for him, back arching as you cling to his arm as he continues to grope and tease your tit. He feels your pussy clench desperately around him as you finally cum.

“That’s a good girl!” he praises, “That’s it, just like that. Keep cummin’ for me, I’m almost there.”

“Please, Daddy, gimme your cum!” you cry, your nails biting into his skin but neither of you notice as he reaches his high as well.

His balls throb and he groans, his body slumping over yours as he gives a few more, lazy thrusts of his hips as he spilled his cum into your vulnerable cunt.

The both of you finally fall still, panting and sharing soft kisses as he smiles and whispers promises of love. The sound of donation chimes on his computer finally draws you out of it and he sits up, pulling out of you.

He bites his lip, his cock twitching at the sight of your cunt drooling a mixture of yours and his cum before he moves to the end of the bed.

He doesn’t even spare a glance at the comments or donation total before turning the stream off. When it’s officially just the two of you, he crawls closer to you and pulls you into his arms with a side, giving the top of your head a kiss.

You know that you’re going to have to talk more about everything, but you both know that can wait at least until morning.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa smut #issei matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei smut #issei matsukawa smut #afton.writes

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