#go right on ahead and view that as consent from me

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

The university protests are the result of so many complex socio-political and economic factors, and I genuinely don't want to minimize the presence of other influences

But at the same time, it is REALLY hard not to look at the liberal and republican response to college students exercising their First Amendment rights and hear the sound of decades of authoritarian parenting standing over you and yelling "look what you made me do!"

[yougavememyopia]

Tags: Manipulative masochistic yandere, mean annoyed reader, stalking, yandere behavior, isolating, cursing, hair pulling, choking, he does a lot of stuff without consent.

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"Hellooo~? There you are. I've been looking all over for you. Where have you been? Don't tell me you're avoiding me..." Your stalker whined in that annoying tone, making you roll your eyes almost instinctively. "Because I'll be really, really sad."

You shifted on the grass you were sitting on, debating on whether to stay or flee. It didn't matter. He would follow you around until you gave in and talked to him.

He sat beside you, too close for comfort. You finally looked at him as he made a small whimpering noise. You knew that indicated him crying crocodile tears if you continued your negligence. "You're driving me insane with your bullshit."

"Aww, are you getting tired of little ol' me?" He smirked. He knew you hated when he acted all cocky, so he decided to pout instead. Looking up at you with a soft, innocent look. "But... but I've done so much for your attention. Look, I even wore this pretty sweater for you."

"I don't give a shit. It's not going to change my view of you. You're a fucking nutcase. It doesn't matter what you do, I'm still gonna reject you."

His face fell. A blank look on his face. It was always scary when he showed no emotion. Like you were getting a glimpse of his true self. You shifted your gaze away, unable to control the shivers you got. Were you too harsh? He always acted so fake. You could never tell what he actually thought.

"You say that, but you'll miss me. I'm the most interesting person around!" His cute smile returned. He clasped his hands together and brought it up to his cheek. "You won't admit it because of your big ego. But I know. Under your cold exterior, there's a softie."

"If I want you around, it's not because of that. It's because of your psychological manipulation, dumbass. The love bombing? Ring a bell?"

"Ah, so you admit it! You do care about me! You want me around. I'm your favorite, right~?" He leaned his cheek into his hand. Batting his eyelashes at you to drive you more crazy. "Might as well go ahead and accept me. I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere. It's meant to be!"

"Ughhh, fuck!" You cursed, slapping your forhead. He did this often; twisting your words into something totally different. "Every single fucking day. It's the same thing. You and your delusions. You won't accept my rejections."

"Then we'd never be together." He commented. He furrowed his eyebrows to show confusion, putting his hands on his lap. "We've come so far already. And I know one day, we'll finally be together! Who knows, maybe today is the day."

His head tilted, and he smiled brightly at you. The gesture making your blood boil. He knew how to act right, to seem more attractive to you. His practiced smile and the quiet mumbled voice drew you in. The weirdly submissive side of him appealed to you. As if he was waiting for you to finally take control of him.

Despite all that, you couldn't look past the creepy things he has done. There were the "coincidental" meetings he admitted to being stalking, stating how he couldn't be apart from you for so long or how he was bored without you. The small souvenirs that he collected, like your hairclip, to put on his hair, or even the bigger items that he took, like your hoodie, to wear and show how he was yours. He tried to isolate you as much as he could. Sticking close to you wherever you went. Finding sneaky ways to get rid of other people around you. His unhealthy obsession was slowly ruining your life.

You've gotten used to it all. Not fazed if he did something stupid for your attention. He tricked you into going on dates with him so many times. You were practically dating. It was hard to admit it to yourself, but you had a soft spot for him. For some weird reason, you enjoyed his company. You enjoyed playing with him. He was entertaining. Interesting.

He suddenly crawled behind you, his hands grasping your shoulders. "You're so tense." He leaned in to your ear and whispered. "You've been on edge for a few days now. Do I really scare you that much?"

You scoffed. "What do you think?"

"Please, I'm harmless! I should help you relax. Treat you to a nice massage." He began to rub your shoulders and slowly moved closer to your neck. His hands worked skillfully to press against your tensed muscles. Drawing circles and kneading your flesh. "Maybe more physical intimacy will help. Something different, perhaps?"

He took advantage of your lack of fight and relaxed state. Throwing his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. His face nuzzled against the crook of your neck as he inhaled and breathed out a sigh. "I love your smell. I gotta buy your perfume. Well, I have your clothes, so it's kinda the same thing. I never get tired of smelling you~"

"Seriously?" You mumbled. Your skin pickled from his warm breath. The feeling of him sniffing you with his nose brushing against your sensitive skin gave you small shivers. His grip on you grew tighter as you tried to move. His grasp on you almost suffocating. You kick the grass in exasperation. "Augh... Fuck you."

"Is that a promise~?" He giggled and rubbed his nose against your neck more deliberately. "I love the way you talk to me. Always so aggressive. So passionate~ You only act this way towards me. Like I'm special to you."

"Haah..." You clenched the grass beside you. Fingers poked with their pointy heads while you hold onto your anger. "You always do what you want. I never gave you permission to hug me."

"You need it. It'll calm you down. Take away all that stress. And! And.. I give the best hugs ever." He squeezed you tight against his chest. "But if that's not working, I can always try something else. Something that feels even better."

Before you could protest, he began to kiss your neck. Placing long, soft kisses against your skin. Finding the right spots that made you shudder. "Ah...! Hey-?!?"

You struggled against him, but he was determined. Weirdly strong for his short stature. His hands pulled your shirt lower so he could have more access. Kissing along your neck to your shoulder. His tongue joined in between the pecks. It brushed over your skin, coating everywhere with saliva. He lapped at your skin, drawing a line from the bottom of your neck all the way up. Goosebumps covered your body. Your cursing and protests still being ignored.

You reached a hand up to his hair, pulling it, trying to get him to stop. "You're crazy! Let me go."

"Nngh!" He moaned out. You couldn't win with him. Anything you did, he loved. Treating him like garbage or ignoring him completely. He was utterly devoted to you. "Oh, that felt good. Do it again. But harder. Pretty please~"

"Fucking masochist. How did I end up with someone so messed up?" You tugged his hair again, more firmer this time, making him moan louder. He started doing different things to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the skin. You couldn't control the small grunting noises from spilling. "I swear, if you leave a mark, I'll choke you to death-!"

He seemed to like the threat. His movements becoming frantic. He was definitely leaving a mark. Just to despite you. "Mmh~ Feels good..." His hands started to rub under your shirt. His nails digging into your skin.

He panted against your neck as you stopped. You rubbed his scalp instead, enjoying the feeling of his soft, well-cared hair between your fingers. He nuzzled against you, hugging you loosely. "Ahh... You didn't struggle as much as I thought. Did I change your mind? Do you believe me now when I say that I won't ever leave? Oh, that reminds me. I think it's about time I move in with you."

"What the fuck are you going on about?" You sighed in annoyance. His love was driving you insane. There was so much a person could take until they compromised with the weirdo who wouldn't leave them alone.

"Oh, come on! I've been waiting forever. I'm moving my stuff in first thing in the morning."

You pushed him away with force. Pinning his shoulders to the ground and climbing on top of him. "You're makin' me really angry. I don't want you around. Why can't you get that through your thick skull?"

He chuckled, looking up at you. "I'm not giving up on us. Ever. You're stuck with me whether you like it or not. Plus, you've got nobody else to turn to, remember?"

"Ughh." Your hands close around his throat with force. "You act this way to provoke me. You enjoy this. Do you get off when I do these things to you? Hm? Is this what you want? I can't believe I actually fell for you. Good-for-nothing stalker."

He arched his back and closed his eyes, humming slightly. He was enjoying every second of this. You tightened your grip. The lack of oxygen making him squirm underneath you, but he knew you'd never kill him. His hands grabbed your knees. He just had to touch you in some way. Clingy as ever. The tent in his pants no surprise to either of you.

"I wanna do something that'll make you speechless for once. You're always doing unexpected things to me. Well, how about this?" You leaned down and kissed him. Pushing him further down and roughly shoving your tongue past his lips. Secretly, it was an excuse for you to be reminded of the sweet cherry taste in his mouth. (You knew tasted like that on purpose to lure you in.)

This wasn't your first kiss. He frequently planted small pecks on your cheeks and "accidentally" on your mouth. Though, after the second time, it was obvious he was doing it on purpose. While you kept protesting, you couldn't deny the spark you felt when your lips met. It felt good— unfortunately, it seemed like this batshit crazy guy was your only option. And the only option you'd ever choose.

He groaned softly, relaxing and allowing you to do whatever you wanted with him. Kissing you back with passion and true devotion. He always emphasized how he was yours to use. You pulled away to look at the smirk on his face, your hands cupping his cheeks. Squishing them together. "Don't look so happy. This doesn't mean I'm accepting you. I just, sometimes, like using you. But you're not moving in."

"We'll see about that. I bet I can change your mind." He commented, leaning his cheek to your hands and chuckling. "I have a few compelling arguments. I can cook. I can clean. I can do anything you want me to. So, won't you please reconsider? Pretty please?"

Pt. 2

[florestalio]

JEALOUSY [L.HS] — drabble

warnings — (1.2k words) noncon/dubcon, step-cest, jealousy, shower sex, clit pinching, semi public (?) sex, brief mention of filming but no actual filming, brief cum eating, allusions to/brief oral (f!rec) let me know if i missed any!

it was wrong. it was terribly, terribly wrong. but heeseung couldn't stop himself. he couldn't stop himself before, how could he possibly have even a tiny semblance of self control now?

it wasn't even completely his fault. you were at fault too. why were you always wearing such skimpy clothes around him?

it didn't even stop there. you went ahead and had the audacity to go out on a date with one of the lame guys from your uni, coming back home to brag about it, to him of all people. of course you had it coming for you.

there was no way you didn't expect him to come and find you later, right? especially not when you were taking a bath, when both of your parents were home?

why were you even trying to scream? weren't you aware that he was going to slap his hand over your mouth immediately if you tried? that he would slam the bathroom door shut, locking it? so what if he took his hand off your mouth? didn't you know that your own bathroom was soundproof? were you that much of an oblivious baby?

why were you even trying to resist him? trying to stop him from turning you around, your hands on the glass partition, that was separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom? why were you trying to beg him to stop? did you seriously think he was going to listen to you?

“h-heeseung, please—don’t do this, please—i’m your sister, ple–”

“shut the fuck up. you're not my fucking sister, we are not fucking related. stop trying to deter me from claiming what is rightfully mine, because if you haven't already realised, i am not going to stop until your voice is hoarse from screaming my name.”

if that wasn't clear enough, then he had no idea what else would make you finally understand that you were his, and that he was doing nothing wrong. he was simply laying his claim on his property.

at least that's what he thought, as he ignored your cries to stop, and how this was apparently ‘morally inappropriate’ or whatever the fuck kind of bullshit you were spewing. he could barely hear you anyways, not over the running shower, and the sound of his zipper, as he pulled it down.

he barely even cared about any kind of foreplay—you lost that privilege the moment you went out with another guy—grabbing your ass tightly, pushing his throbbing cock into you. the loud cry from you fell on deaf ears, as he marveled at the way your pussy sucked him in like a glove. it was like it was made to take his cock, and just his alone.

pushing down on your back, he forced you to arch yourself further, pushing your ass up. gripping your ass cheeks tightly, he spread them, giving him a view of both of your holes. he pulled out almost completely, before pushing right back in, burying himself to the hilt. your breath caught in your throat, the muscle almost closing up. this—this was your brother—step-brother, yes, but brother nonetheless. this wasn't supposed to feel good. especially since he was taking you without consent. but… there was no denying that the way his cock throbbed inside you made flames of heat lick your lower stomach, your walls clamping around his length, squeezing him.

heeseung wasn't stupid. he could tell your initial resistance was melting away, and he wasn't going to make you change your mind. not anytime soon. not that you could change your mind, given how he was starting to pound into you, every moan you let out and every slurping noise from your cunt too loud, too real to ignore.

“hng—fuck, heeseung! s-slow down, fuck fuck fuck–!” it was hard for you to keep up with his almost animalistic pace, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, your sinful activities fogging up the glass partition.

he ignored you, of course. did you actually expect him to listen to you? it's not like you actually wanted him to listen to you. it was just the dumb part of your brain babbling utter nonsense. isn't that so?

at least that's what heeseung thought, as his hand sneaked down to your clit, pinching it, before rubbing it furiously. your moans gradually increased in volume sounding like pure sin to his ears. god, he wished he had recorded all of it, your moans embedded in his brain forever. but that's fine, this wasn't going to be the last time he fucks you. no, absolutely not. not after he finally got to experience the exquisite feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock, clenching down on him so fucking hard.

lifting your hips slightly, heeseung angled his thrusts to hit your sweet spot, driving into it with every thrust. as he battered that spongy spot in your walls with his cock, making sure you could see stars, he gave one last flick to your hardened bundle of nerves, making the spring in your stomach finally uncoil. you came—hard—all over his cock, pulsing around it, drenching his length in your juices.

heeseung kept pounding into you through your orgasm, groaning at the sight of the white ring forming at his base. he pinched your clit again, harder this time, drawing your orgasm. with a cry of pleasure bordering that of pain, you clamped down harder on his length, your legs shaking. the way your cunt squeezed him tightly was enough for him to bury himself to the hilt inside your pussy. with a groan, he flooded your inner walls with his cum, painting your insides white. warm ropes of cum kept bursting out of his tip, as he kept shallowly thrusting in and out of you, riding out his orgasm.

after what felt like ages, he finally stopped cumming, pulling his softening cock out of you. your legs were shaking uncontrollably, the glass partition completely fogged up. but he didn't care. not when he had such a wonderfully sinful sight in front of him.

he grabbed your ass cheeks, spreading them slowly, watching his cum drip down your hole, onto the wet floor below, mixing with the water. this was his girl, dripping with his cum down her legs. the sight was enough for his flaccid cock to twitch back to life. but first, he needed to clean up his pretty girl.

which was why—to your absolute horror—he sank down to his knees, already licking a stripe up your slit, collecting the mixture of his and your cum on his tongue. he mixed it with his spit, rolling the mixture around in his mouth, before spitting right back on your hole. you flinched at the feeling, but barely had time to react in any other way, before his entire mouth was on your dripping pussy, sucking the cum out of you like his life depended on it.

well—who knew pretending to not be utterly bitchless would finally encourage your step brother to stop acting like he’s holier-than-thou, and make a move on you?

[ang3lvrse]

JEALOUSY [K.GV] — drabble

warnings — (1.2k words) noncon/dubcon, step-cest, jealousy, shower sex, clit pinching, semi public (?) sex, brief mention of filming but no actual filming, brief cum eating, allusions to/brief oral (f!rec) let me know if i missed any!

it was wrong. it was terribly, terribly wrong. but gyuvin couldn't stop himself. he couldn't stop himself before, how could he possibly have even a tiny semblance of self control now?

it wasn't even completely his fault. you were at fault too. why were you always wearing such skimpy clothes around him?

it didn't even stop there. you went ahead and had the audacity to go out on a date with one of the lame guys from your uni, coming back home to brag about it, to him of all people. of course you had it coming for you.

there was no way you didn't expect him to come and find you later, right? especially not when you were taking a bath, when both of your parents were home?

why were you even trying to scream? weren't you aware that he was going to slap his hand over your mouth immediately if you tried? that he would slam the bathroom door shut, locking it? so what if he took his hand off your mouth? didn't you know that your own bathroom was soundproof? were you that much of an oblivious baby?

why were you even trying to resist him? trying to stop him from turning you around, your hands on the glass partition, that was separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom? why were you trying to beg him to stop? did you seriously think he was going to listen to you?

“g-gyuvin, please—don’t do this, please—i’m your sister, ple–”

“shut the fuck up. you're not my fucking sister, we are not fucking related. stop trying to deter me from claiming what is rightfully mine, because if you haven't already realised, i am not going to stop until your voice is hoarse from screaming my name.”

if that wasn't clear enough, then he had no idea what else would make you finally understand that you were his, and that he was doing nothing wrong. he was simply laying his claim on his property.

at least that's what he thought, as he ignored your cries to stop, and how this was apparently ‘morally inappropriate’ or whatever the fuck kind of bullshit you were spewing. he could barely hear you anyways, not over the running shower, and the sound of his zipper, as he pulled it down.

he barely even cared about any kind of foreplay—you lost that privilege the moment you went out with another guy—grabbing your ass tightly, pushing his throbbing cock into you. the loud cry from you fell on deaf ears, as he marveled at the way your pussy sucked him in like a glove. it was like it was made to take his cock, and just his alone.

pushing down on your back, he forced you to arch yourself further, pushing your ass up. gripping your ass cheeks tightly, he spread them, giving him a view of both of your holes. he pulled out almost completely, before pushing right back in, burying himself to the hilt. your breath caught in your throat, the muscle almost closing up. this—this was your brother—step-brother, yes, but brother nonetheless. this wasn't supposed to feel good. especially since he was taking you without consent. but… there was no denying that the way his cock throbbed inside you made flames of heat lick your lower stomach, your walls clamping around his length, squeezing him.

gyuvin wasn't stupid. he could tell your initial resistance was melting away, and he wasn't going to make you change your mind. not anytime soon. not that you could change your mind, given how he was starting to pound into you, every moan you let out and every slurping noise from your cunt too loud, too real to ignore.

“hng—fuck, gyuvin! s-slow down, fuck fuck fuck–!” it was hard for you to keep up with his almost animalistic pace, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, your sinful activities fogging up the glass partition.

he ignored you, of course. did you actually expect him to listen to you? it's not like you actually wanted him to listen to you. it was just the dumb part of your brain babbling utter nonsense. isn't that so?

at least that's what gyuvin thought, as his hand sneaked down to your clit, pinching it, before rubbing it furiously. your moans gradually increased in volume sounding like pure sin to his ears. god, he wished he had recorded all of it, your moans embedded in his brain forever. but that's fine, this wasn't going to be the last time he fucks you. no, absolutely not. not after he finally got to experience the exquisite feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock, clenching down on him so fucking hard.

lifting your hips slightly, gyuvin angled his thrusts to hit your sweet spot, driving into it with every thrust. as he battered that spongy spot in your walls with his cock, making sure you could see stars, he gave one last flick to your hardened bundle of nerves, making the spring in your stomach finally uncoil. you came—hard—all over his cock, pulsing around it, drenching his length in your juices.

gyuvin kept pounding into you through your orgasm, groaning at the sight of the white ring forming at his base. he pinched your clit again, harder this time, drawing your orgasm. with a cry of pleasure bordering that of pain, you clamped down harder on his length, your legs shaking. the way your cunt squeezed him tightly was enough for him to bury himself to the hilt inside your pussy. with a groan, he flooded your inner walls with his cum, painting your insides white. warm ropes of cum kept bursting out of his tip, as he kept shallowly thrusting in and out of you, riding out his orgasm.

after what felt like ages, he finally stopped cumming, pulling his softening cock out of you. your legs were shaking uncontrollably, the glass partition completely fogged up. but he didn't care. not when he had such a wonderfully sinful sight in front of him.

he grabbed your ass cheeks, spreading them slowly, watching his cum drip down your hole, onto the wet floor below, mixing with the water. this was his girl, dripping with his cum down her legs. the sight was enough for his flaccid cock to twitch back to life. but first, he needed to clean up his pretty girl.

which was why—to your absolute horror—he sank down to his knees, already licking a stripe up your slit, collecting the mixture of his and your cum on his tongue. he mixed it with his spit, rolling the mixture around in his mouth, before spitting right back on your hole. you flinched at the feeling, but barely had time to react in any other way, before his entire mouth was on your dripping pussy, sucking the cum out of you like his life depended on it.

well—who knew pretending to not be utterly bitchless would finally encourage your step brother to stop acting like he’s holier-than-thou, and make a move on you?

[yourstrulyamelie]

Part 1 of 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝘼𝙩𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

Summary: A therapist is assigned to help August Walker, but breaking through his defenses proves frustrating. He meets every question with deflection and flirtation. As tension builds, she wonders who’s really unraveling—him or her.

Pairing: August Walker x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Future smut, tension, and banter

A/N: hello!!! this is my first ever story that i'll be posting on tumblr. enjoy!

The office is silent except for the steady ticking of a clock on the wall. The late afternoon sunlight filters through the window, casting a soft glow across the sparse room, wrapping it in a warmth she secretly welcomes. His sharp blue eyes lock onto hers, sending a shiver down her spine—just like every time he sat across from her, that familiar glint of mischief lurking beneath his gaze. A faint blend of jasmine, aged paper, and something unmistakably masculine lingers in the air—his cologne, she’s certain of it.

She straightens in her chair, notebook open, pen tapping idly against the page. Across from her, the CIA agent, August Walker, lounges like he owns the place—legs stretch out, one hand tapping lazily against the armrest as if this whole thing bores him.

She breaks the silence first, “You missed last week’s session.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Thought I’d do you a favor. Didn’t want to bore you with my lovely personality.”

She doesn’t react to the joke, instead she continues, “There’s a lot we need to talk today.”

"Go ahead. I’m enjoying the view," he replies smoothly, his gaze drifting from her lips, down to her chest, before settling on her bare legs. She knows that look. Knows the way his eyes linger a second too long. Today, she’s wearing a crisp white blouse tucked into a form-fitting knee-length skirt. It isn’t the first time she’s caught him stealing glances, and he doesn’t even bother hiding it.

She wills herself to stay still, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her cheeks. Instead, she swallows and his smirk deepens—because of course, he notices. He always does.

She exhales. “How have you been sleeping, August?”

His lips curl into something amused. “Straight to the pillow talk, huh?”

She doesn’t catch the bait. “That’s not an answer.”

“I sleep just fine.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Fine?”

“Fine.”

She doesn’t buy it. “No nightmares?”

August clicks his tongue. “You know, you have this bad habit of asking the same question in different ways. Feels a little desperate, doc.”

“I wouldn’t have to repeat myself if you actually answered, August.”

His smirk widens, lazy and knowing. “Maybe I just like hearing you say my name.”

A long heavy silence stretches between them. This therapy session—like all the others over the past month with him—feels like a game of cat and mouse, an endless loop of avoidance. No progress. No breakthroughs. It shouldn’t be this difficult, she thinks. She’s good at what she does. This isn’t her first time handling a damaged agent. The bureau hired her for a reason, it is because she fixes people like him. And yet, August Walker remains an enigma, slipping through her grasp like smoke.

How can she help him if he refuses to let her? If he keeps dodging her questions? If he challenges her methods at every turn?

Eventually, she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We’re not doing this today.”

“Doing what?” he feigns innocence. “Having a normal, healthy conversation between two consenting adults?”

She meets his gaze, unamused. “Dancing around the real topic.”

Resting his elbows on his knees, his voice dropping just slightly. “What if I told you I’m not much of a dancer?’

“I’d tell you that’s a lie.”

He lets out a short laugh. “Alright, you got me. I’ve been known to move my hips pretty well, under the right circumstances, of course.” His eyes flicker to her lips for the briefest second before returning to her gaze. “Care to test the theory?”

Another warmth creeps out to her cheeks but she ignores it once again, trying to compose herself straight. “This isn’t a game.”

He leans back, stretching and exhaling dramatically. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Another silence, a short one this time. The tapping of her pen on the notebook is the only sound in the room. She continues, “You deflect when things get uncomfortable.”

“Or maybe I just don’t like being predictable,” he counters smoothly.

The gears in her mind turn, searching for the right question—one that might finally crack his defenses, even just a little.

She studies him carefully, noticing how the sunlight catches in his blue eyes, making them seem even sharper, even colder. How his tall broad frame dominates the space, making the room feel smaller, making her feel helpless. And God, she hates that. More than anything.

She tries again, “Do you want to talk about the last mission?”

“Not particularly.”

“Do you think about it often?”

He shrugs. “I think about a lot of things.”

Giving up is not in her dictionary. She keeps pressing. “What about what happened in Paris?”

He exhales through his nose. “I think I liked it better when we were talking about my dance skills.”

“You can’t avoid it forever.”

“Watch me.”

With those words coming out of him, her patience is fraying. She shifts in her seat, adjusting her posture. “Why are you fighting me on this?”

“I’m not fighting,” he replies, but then he tilts his head. That familiar playful glint appears in his eyes. “Though, if you’re offering—”

She shoots him a warning look.

He grins and just like that, she’s hit with one of those infuriating moments where she hates him because he looks annoyingly attractive. She can see his dimples. He continues, “Come on, doc. You don’t really want me to spill my guts here. You like this little game we play.”

“This isn’t a game,” she repeats, firmer this time.

“Then why does it feel like one?” he studies her now, gaze sharper. “You push, I pull away, you try to break down my walls, I make you blush instead.” He leans in slightly, voice low and smooth. “Starting to think you might enjoy the chase.”

She feels her pulse quicken and hates that he can probably tell. She mutters before standing up. “You’re impossible.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Where are you going?’

Avoiding his gaze, she smooths out her skirt. “Excusing myself.”

His smirk is back. “That flustered, huh?”

She doesn’t regard him with a response, turning on her heels and heading toward door. The second the door shuts behind her, she exhales sharply, leaning against the wall.

Damn him. Damn his smirk. Damn his voice. Damn his annoyingly handsome face. Damn his stupid porn moustache. And damn the way he makes her wants things she has no business wanting.

my first story ever!!! let me know what you think 🙂‍↕️

[kisses4kaia]

mmm sub!patrick gripping on your tits when you bounce up and down on him. he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off of ur tits bc of how much they were glistening w sweat

right! (fwb!stanford!patrick x fem!reader, you already know it’s gonna be filthy, mdni.)

patrick never asked for permission. he was unlike art in that way, taking what he wants when he wants it and only stopping to see your consent.

but he was so much like his best friend when he got to touch you. it damn near put him under a hex, the bounce of your tits in front of his face, highlighted by an afternoon glow cracking through the dorm room’s blinds. your sweat gleamed off of your collarbone and a tear swam down the valley of your breasts.

patrick never asked for permission, and he wasn’t going to start as his mouth attached to the inner fat of your left boob, swiping his tongue to catch the salty secretion and knead your right tit with a soft hand. he swirled his tongue around your nipple a few times, not neglecting her twin as his hand flicked and rolled the sensitive bud in tandem with his wet muscle. as much as patrick loved to drink in your sounds, he needed to see you, and this position didn’t provide much a view.

regrettably, his head was soon level with yours, and his hands on your hips travelled to your chest.

it’s not to keep himself on the ground, it isn’t even to pleasure you, but his gripping and kneading of the fat is for no other purpose than to feel you. every part of you fascinated him, and when your tits were shining like a sin, the most worthwhile sin at that, he had to take them in his hands and feel.

you’ve noticed his sounds have died down and his eyes have shut. poor boy, he was being fucked stupid. “open your eyes, baby,” your hands warmed the backs of his, still welded onto your chest. he nodded, a dumb ‘mhm’ muttered, but by his lack of actually obeying your imperative, you knew he hadn’t registered. “eyes, patrick. give me your eyes,” moving his finger on your breasts to run over and button at your hard peaks.

he understood this time, and as his eyes opened lazily, you sped up your pace, hips going sore but never slowing down.

“do you wanna cum?” you ask upon feeling his hips stutter up into yours, and he nods. “ask.”

patrick had the audacity to scoff. “if you don’t ask, i’ll never let you stop coming. ask,” the reiteration of the order is posed as a warning, and patrick groans at your growling tone.

“can i cum?” it seemed to pain him to ask, but you pouted pitifully at him. “what’s the magic word?”

patrick zweig never asked for permission, and he certainly never begged, but with your tits in his hands and your vice of a cunt squeezing his cock, he had no mind to hold to his self-established beliefs. “please—please, may i cum?”

he was so much closer now, so much more desperate, and you simpered at his politeness. he watches for your nod, and upon catching your go-ahead, he’s flooding the condom with warm, slimy spend and squishing your sweaty breasts together, sticking against the other before slowly pulling apart.

“thanks, mami.” he peeled his hand from your chest and kissed the back of yours, just before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“anytime.” patrick gives you a high five after you redress and you’re gone.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes episode 119: Road Trip, part 2

Also Entitled: Promises

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology, including part 1, here!

AO3!

CWs: oral sex; semi-public sex; moderate grodiness; enthusiastic consent

A/N: Not much to say tonight, only that if you have a request, please send it in, and I hope you enjoy the episode

########################################

Ten hours of driving. Almost nine at night. You were both exhausted as you pulled into Blackpool, looking for a cheap hotel with a vacancy. The waning daylight painting the sky a vivid purple.

You looked over at Liam, the gangly, nerdy werewolf in the driver's seat. You wouldn't have thought how barely two hours into the drive you'd already sucked him off. Though, the smell in the car might have been a giveaway. It had stopped bothering you now, even if the mixture of musk and cum was keeping you hot, sitting on a damp patch spreading from your eager cunt.

Liam pulled the car into a neat parallel park, opening his door. The waft of fresh air hit you, cool after the stuffy car. He walked around the slightly shitty Astra, opening your door and offering his hand to you to step out.

You took it and got up "you know, it's a little late to do the whole knight in shining armour bit"

He grinned at you "Aww, I can't be nice to you without you suspecting I have some ulterior motive?"

"Well, somebody forgot their meds, and we passed like, four pharmacies in Blackpool" You both knew he was recently off his rut suppressants, so he was a stinking, wriggling hornball, even for a young werewolf. Of course, you hadn't said anything when you actually could've got some more.

"Why ruin the fun?" He winked. He had a point.

You followed him into the hotel, letting him step up to the reception desk. You felt like you could smell your arousal on you, and just wanted a shower at this point. A card machine beeped and a set of keys were handed over. Liam tossed them to you, putting his muzzle next to your ear

"Go on ahead to the room. Wait on the bed, I'll handle the luggage." He pulled away and went back to the car.

You started up the stairs to your room when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You checked it, a message from Liam

"Don't shower"

You smiled to yourself, climbing the stairs to the top floor. The hotel was old, probably a Victorian building. The hallways smelled of old wood and carpet, winding in a maze of room numbers that seemed to travel in no particular order. You found yours and opened the door.

The bastard. He'd got you a fancy suite. You sat on the king bed, looking out of the window, the sea twinkling in the last light of the sun as it dipped below the horizon. You stepped through a pair of French doors onto a balcony, feeling the warm evening air and taking in the view.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist. That familiar warm musky smell wafted over you. A smile danced on your face.

He nibbled on your neck "You wanted me to return the favour?"

You purred, reaching up to bury your hand in the fur of his neck, leaning your head back into him as he gently bit, being careful not to break the skin. You turned to him, your face less than an inch from his nose

"Out here?"

"If you insist" He pushed you back against the railing before kneeling down in front of you, pulling off your soiled knickers and opening your legs a little. His muzzle was between your legs, sniffing and nuzzling his nose into you. "You smell good"

You giggled, blushing as you held your skirt down over him "It's a bit public, right?"

"Nobody's looking, it's just us up here"

You closed your eyes and took a shuddering breath, centring yourself "You're right, it's just us." You put a hand on his head, holding him to your drooling cunt "Now, you have a promise to keep"

He was shy when you were in the car, even when you were guiding him. Now that bashfulness is gone. He knew exactly what he wanted, and exactly how to get it. His tongue moved over you, vigorously going from clit to hole, lapping at your lips as he worked to replace all the wetness that had got on you in the car with his own drool.

You felt your knees buckle, he was good at this. His wide, flat tongue hit everywhere you could want it to. Your hands tightened on his fur, gripping it hard as you held him to you, whining with every lash of his dextrous mouth.

He couldn't pull away. He didn't want to. You felt him pushing into you, felt his jaws opening to fit your crotch into his mouth as he pressed his tongue against your hole, reaching up inside you to taste your most intimate of places.

You gasped. You'd had sex before, but never like this. He was single minded like none of your previous lovers, determined to draw every whine and whimper from you that he could.

You bit your lip, failing to contain the sobbing, wailing moan that accompanied your orgasm. You felt yourself spraying him as your cunt clenched and your knuckles whitened, holding him in place. He didn't care. His hungry tongue kept lapping at you, even as your whimpers went from orgasmic to painful. You were still holding him there. Soaked in your relief, he carried on, taking you through your second, then third.

Finally you let go. He guided you to the floor on your shaking legs, grinning at you with soaking, matted fur.

"Let's have that shower now"

#######################################

I like Liam, I feel like he's gonna continue being a fun character going forwards.

[ozzgin]

I was pondering on what horrors to write for Halloween and when I remembered how many times I’d hoped for Valak content…I ran and whipped out my Grimoire and started typing in delirious inspiration.

Yandere! Valak x Reader

Featuring the Infernal President and a blissfully unaware reader backpacking through Romania. Warning: NSFW, blasphemy, non-consent

[Horror Masterlist]

“Mommy told me something

A little kid should know

It’s all about the Devil

And I’ve learned to hate him so

She said he causes trouble

When you let him in the room

He will never ever leave you

If your heart is filled with gloom”

"Now, you can't really say you've visited Romania until you see at least one monastery! Most Romanians are very religious, so churches and monasteries are popular attractions for tourists and locals alike." The tour guide is awfully enthusiastic for a cloudy Sunday morning. You nod politely and follow the group, although you can already feel yourself become distracted.

You're mostly interested in the old castles and bucolic hiking trails that Transylvania has to offer. Religious places...not so much. Alas, it's part of the experience. You check the flyer containing today's travel plans and google the location mentioned by the guide. Cârța Monastery. Seems to have some ruins included, and you'll be right on time for the Sunday chorus service, huh. Maybe that's why they picked today for a visit. 

You hurry along the cobblestone path until the first traces of a building come into view. Somehow you can't shake the feeling that something is off. You scan over the visible windows, wondering if someone is watching from above. Nothing. Once you lower your gaze again, you notice the tour guide vigorously waving his arm and encouraging you to enter the church with everyone else. You were at the very front of the group, so how long did you stare at walls? You flash an apologetic smile and rush inside. The wooden door closes with a grating creak and you fumble to the first available seat. There's a few coughs and shuffles and eventually the Liturgy begins. Your eyes wander until they find a clear window, so you entertain yourself with the sights outside. It's not like you understand the words of whatever is currently happening, and you're not religious to begin with. 

"How long is this going to take?" you groan internally and switch your focus to your hands, intertwined and resting in your lap. The monotonous chants cause your eyelids to feel heavy and they gradually lower themselves until all you see is black. It's okay, you're not sleeping. It's just a short nap, until...huh...the voices of the singing men diffuse as if distorted by distance and now everything is quiet. 

"Took you long enough." 

You jolt awake. You turn your head to check if whoever is sitting next to you has just spoken, but the room is suddenly empty. You jump from your seat and the thud of your feet hitting the stone floor creates a cavernous echo that sends a shiver down your spine. Ah, could it be that you're dreaming? The candles of the chandelier flicker, as if startled by a breeze, and abruptly go out. 

"I don't like waiting. Especially for mere humans like you."

The same voice as before reverberates through the chamber. It's deep and jarring, sounding almost unnatural. You don't like it. You tilt your head, afraid to find the source of speech but too curious nonetheless. It's a person dressed like a nun. For a brief second you relax your shoulders, assuming it's one of the people living here. But after one step ahead the figure becomes vaguely illuminated, and you can discern the features bearing on this creature's face. Blood drains from your face and you can feel the bile pooling at the back of your throat. A blasphemous deformity, oozing with blight and evil. From within the hollow, dark sockets, two yellow orbs glisten with raw malice. You realize you've held your breath until now as your lungs contract in a pitiful attempt to pump more oxygen. The movement brings back your senses and your flight instincts kick in. You immediately sprint for the door and use your elbow to slam it open, nearly collapsing to the ground. Your eyes squint under the flash of bright light. 

As you pant for air you notice you're back outside. There's people taking photos and talking cheerfully, and inside the church your group seems to have gathered before the iconostasis, listening attentively to a hearty discourse from your guide. The liturgy ended. What on Earth did you just witness? Before you can ponder the event, you feel a tug at your sleeve. It's an old lady, short and comically hunched. She's dressed all in black, with a head covering that hides most of her face, though you can still see the deep wrinkles that cross her features. 

"Oh? Sorry, I don't speak-"

"L-am văzut și eu. Diavolul, maică. Aici nu mai e demult casa Domnului. Pleacă cât mai poți, am să mă rog pentru tine." 

Her voice is shaky and she seems in distress. She strokes your arm once before limping away hastily. You blink and spend a moment trying to collect your thoughts. There's no one else nearby to ask for a translation, so you can only hope she finds help somewhere else. You return to the group and hope you won't have to deal with any other adventures. 

"This is the annex. You can still see some details in the arches." Your guide points around the pillars and mossy brick patches. You take out your phone for some photos and your arms tremble slightly. 

"It's suddenly very cold here, don't you think so?" you remark to your neighbor. 

"Really? I'm quite literally sweating right now" they respond, baffled.

"It's a shaded area, that's probably why."

"Or you're just that excited to see me again."

Your eyes widen. It's the voice. You blink, and you find yourself in the empty church once more. No, no, no, this isn't happening. No. You're dreaming. This is an absurdity. Some hallucination of sorts. You try the door handle, except this time it's locked. 

"It's not often I become interested in a mortal. In fact, this is the only time."

The nun is sitting on a bench, hands together in a praying motion. There's a mocking grin on its face. 

"Maddening, truly. Deplorable, disgraceful, outrageous. Humiliation would await me if they suspected my intentions with a perishable being like you."

"Who the hell are you?" you interrupt the erratic monologue. The nun stands up and locks eyes with you, instantly making you nauseous. 

"The Sixty-second Spirit, President Mighty and Great. His Office is to give True Answers of Hidden Treasures, and to tell where Serpents may be seen. The which he will bring unto the Exorciser without any Force or Strength being by him employed. He governeth 38 Legions of Spirits."

"What?"

"Valac." the creature extends a hand, as if expecting a handshake. "At least that's how they introduce me in the Lesser Key of Solomon." The fingers spread out and you feel a gravitational force pull you closer. It chuckles.

The cold fingers sink into your back and feel like claws digging your flesh. You let out a scream of protest and try to push away without success. It hurts. The touch burns your skin and spreads out like a wicked plague. What would this fiend even want from you? You search your mind for potential meanings and explanations. Truth be told, however, you're not well-versed in theological fantasies. 

"You can't just possess someone's body. I won't accept it. You don't have my permission."

The creature erupts in hysterical laughter and you feel your knees weaken at the sharp, grotesque teeth that creep their way out. Everything about it is vile, scandalous. Unholy.

"If you want to call it like that...Then sure. But for this kind of possession I don't need your input, I'm afraid."

Your limp body is picked up and sloppily thrown over the altar table. The impact of the hard surface against your stomach causes you to gasp. You try to turn your head and look behind, but the large, clawed hand locks around your neck and keeps you in place. You can only glance ahead. You can sense your garments being ripped apart with one swift move and shudder at the unexpected contact with the cold air on your bare body. The creature's other hand slides over your forms before stopping on your bottom, adjusting it. The realization sinks in and you begin to panic. Is this the time to say a prayer? You don't know any. 

"Our Father..." you mumble, trying to remember the continuation. 

"Go on. I'm sure He'd love to hear from you while you're being fucked on His altar. Send Him my regards."

He forces your hips upwards, exposing your intimacy. Without any further delay he thrusts his member in, painfully stretching your entrance around it. Tears well up in your eyes at the sudden discomfort. The iconostasis in front of you blurs and sways with each violent plunge into your frail body. 

"Oh, God" you sob.

"God ends here."

[ateez-himari]

[240927] LOVE & LUST

...

Oh please stop looking at me like that You put me on the spot, wait, wait

CW: Very suggestive contents ahead so MDNI!

The sound of running water crashing against marble tiles echoing across the dimly lit bathroom made the rhythmic scrubbing of the young woman's toothbrush fade into nothing more than background noise, the two lovers simply basking in one another's close proximity. Sleep hazed eyes absent mindedly drifted towards her boyfriend's toned form reflected in the mirror, though the shower's fogged glass allowed nothing more than his blurred figure washing soap off of soft skin to be admired.

"I can feel you staring, angel." Mingi chuckled, knowing her much too well. "It's nothing you haven't seen before...you can take your eyes off me for a second, no ?"

The bold teasing remark sent a burning blush to her cheeks, gaze rapidly flickering down onto the white sink below as she spat out the mint flavored substance, the lack of a hearing aid making the sliding door's opening go by unnoticed. Without much auditory warning wet hands slowly slid around her waist and soon enough one of them strayed from the set path in order to grasp her chin, tilting it up towards the mirror so that their eyes could meet while his thumb wiped away leftover toothpaste.

"Now you can look at me..." He rasped in her ear. "Enjoying the view ?"

Water beads rolled down their matching silver chain adorning the rapper's neck, damp black hair framing an almost starved gaze as his glistening bare chest pressed against the startled vocalist's back, the airbnb provided towel hanging low on his pelvis not leaving much to her imagination. Warmth spread throughout his girlfriend's scantily clad body as thin manicured fingers made their way onto muscular forearms, and within moments soft lips brushed against his neck to trail lustful kisses.

"I'm enjoying much more than the view." She whispered, leaning back against him to sink into their embrace. "It's a good thing it's just us in this house..."

Those words served as enough consent and in one fluid motion his palm wrapped around the young woman's neck, the careful yet firm grasp letting him turn her body around before setting her on the wooden countertop in one fluid motion. The much too wide distance between their bodies was closed by the man's mouth finding her own with an almost feverish sense of desire, their lips moving against one another desperately as she found support against his strong chest.

"How can an innocent thing like you drive me so crazy." He mumbled when they parted briefly. "You're deadly, angel."

His large hand slowly slid the borrowed shirt along the vocalist's body as she giggled only to stop abruptly when catching sight of the undergarments that had been chosen for the night, his rapper tag carefully drawn across the lacey material bringing a smirk to his lips. Having the slightest idea regarding the lingerie covering her upper body, the rapper carefully wedged the white fabric between his girlfriend's lips and let out an involuntary groan while taking in what was separating hungry touches from her skin - his own handprints marking black material right over her chest.

"What can I say, being yours looks good on me~" She teased.

The maknae's dangerously sweet doe eyes flickered up to the man already struggling to keep this sensually slow pace, and the gentle tug at his chain seemed to finally make whatever restraint was there snap for good. Large hands wrapped her soft legs around his barely covered hips without daring to part from their heated kiss for a moment, neither of their lust clouded minds registering the soft mattress now pressing against Himari's back.

"Mingi-" She needily whimpered, fingers trailing down to discard his towel only to be stopped by his own.

"I know angel, but I want to take my time with you tonight...need to feel every inch of you. Be patient for me, okay~"

...............

Streaks of silver moonlight filtered through partially opened blinds, illuminating the couple wrapped in one another's embrace as the vocalist traced the outline of her boyfriend's nose before moving down to his full lips. The man mesmerized by these sweet ministrations absentmindedly ran the hand not serving as a makeshift pillow across her naked waist, the warmth between their bodies only adding to the moment's silent yet loving intimacy.

"Will you marry me one day, my angel ?" Mingi finally asked, loud enough to catch her clearly divided attention.

"I'd be willing to marry you right now in this bed." She hummed in response, dropping her arm down to his chest. "My answer will always be yes to an eternity with you."

The tears brimming the rapper's eyes nearly fell when seeing the cute feline smile adorning her lips, his mouth immediately latching on to her shoulder to pepper tender kisses onto her body, filling the room with soft giggles and squeals. The love between the two artists took many forms, lust, melodies, lingering gazes, but it always held the same meaning; destiny.

[ryuzakemo128]

The Blood Dragon

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Aelora Targaryen

Content Warning: Adult Themes. Dark Content. Targaryen Incest.

Triggers: Incest, Dubious Consent, Drama, Manipulation, Power Struggle.

Words: 1,460

Links: [Dividers] [Masterlist]

Summary: “Do I have your attention now, Prince Daemon?” Aelora purred. “Would you prefer if I had walked into your bedchamber naked?”

[Daemon's point of view]

Aelora looked at him, a stern look in her crimson eyes as she told her cousin to grow up, to get over his petty fears and insecurities. Her voice was like a whip crack, sharp, and stinging. It was a challenge that Daemon found thrilling and irritating all at once. He knew she was right, though. If he were going to play the Game of Thrones, he couldn't be a pawn forever.

“You can't expect to play it, if you don't know the rules, you also can't expect to be allowed to play it if you refuse to play by them.” Aelora repeated. “It’s like a game of chess, sometimes you have to sacrifice a chess piece on the board to get what you want.”

Daemon felt his jaw clench, but he couldn’t argue with her logic. He had been feeling stifled in the shadow of his brother, Viserys, for too long. The whispers in the halls of the Red Keep, the constant reminders that he was second in line for the Iron Throne and always would be, until Viserys changed his mind. His mind filled with the vile words from his hand, Otto Hightower.

He was replaced as heir to the iron throne by his niece, Rhaenyra Targaryen. Replaced by a woman half his age. He clenched his fists, rage pulsating through him, threatening to boil over. Pushed aside, dismissed, deemed unworthy by his brother and the meddling snake.

Unless something changed, something had to change, these thoughts buzzing around. They were driving him mad.

“Daemon.” Aelora whispered, snapping her fingers to get his attention, “You’re thinking too far ahead. You’re putting the cart before the horse.”

“What do you mean?” Daemon snapped, he didn’t mean to snap at her. It was just instinct, his temper wound him up so far, that he snapped at his cousin.

“Power, control and standing can come in many forms, some of those ways lie in what people already know. What if I could tell you, there is another way, a road less travelled and deemed treacherous. As they don’t understand it, nor did they ever seem to want to either.”

Aelora’s smooth voice, silk, whispered sweet nothings and dark promises into his ear, and her hand snaked around his waist, pulling him closer to her.

Aelora’s words were like a key unlocking a door he hadn’t realised was there. He gazed upon the slow forming smirk on her lips, her eyes gleaming with a mischief. Both alluring and alarming. She never looked at him like that before.

What changed? What did she have in mind? When did she start smelling like lavender? Is she trying to seduce me? When did she start wearing revealing attire such as this? She is trying to seduce me, isn't she? The way she smiles, the dress, the lavender perfume wafting into his nose, a scent known to help people relax. But why? Why now? Why me?

“Are you scared of me, cousin?” she whispered into my ear, a shiver ran down my spine as she continued, “Do you not like it when I take what I want? You said you liked it, though.”

Daemon's gaze snapped to hers, a mix of surprise and anger flickering in his eyes. “What are you playing at, Aelora?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“You wound me, cousin, suggesting that I am the one playing games? For all your intelligence, you can’t perceive the possible indication that I wanted to have amorous congress with you. Who else would write you those tiny little notes seeking comfort in the dead of night?”

Her hand traced a line-up his chest, sending a warm shiver through him. Her lips an inch away from his, “It seems you don't actually want to. So, I guess I won't. I’ll mosey my way down to Aegon and take his seed inside of me.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed. The audacity! He grabbed her wrist, his grip firm. “You won’t go anywhere near him, do you understand?” He spat out through gritted teeth.

“What's a girl to do to get laid, Daemon?” she taunted, gripping his wrist, pulling him closer to her. Her warm breath on his cheek. “Did you expect me to go without for so long?”

Daemon felt his anger spike and his grip tightened on her wrist. “If you think for one moment I'd let you—”

“Fuck another man?” She finished for him. “Then why aren’t you doing it then? Hmm? I have offered myself to you over and over. Yet you're not looking at me. You're looking everywhere else.”

Then it dawned on him, the notes, the perfume, the dress, the long gazes in his direction, the rumours about her promiscuous ways spread around deliberately by her, it was all a facade. A cleverly crafted web of manipulation to get under his skin, to get him to react. And she had succeeded. He felt like a fool, but he also felt something else, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, something primal and raw.

Here she is now. Pulling him closer to her, like a captain pulling a sailor from a shipwreck, like a siren pulling a sailor into the depth of the sea.

Daemon’s hand loosened around her wrist, his anger dissipating into something else. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, her breath tickling his skin. Aelora’s eyes searched his, looking for something, anything, to prove that she had his full attention.

“Do I have your attention now, Prince Daemon?” Aelora purred. “Would you prefer if I had walked into your bedchamber naked?”

Daemon’s breath hitched in his throat. “What game are you playing, Aelora?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it was clear that he was rattled.

“Is it really a game if I’m trying to get what I want?” Aelora whispered, inching closer to him. “Are you scared you will not like it, or are you afraid of liking it too much?”

Daemon's mind raced with conflicting thoughts, but his body betrayed him, his heart thumping in his chest. He stepped back, trying to put some distance between them, but Aelora followed, her eyes never leaving his. She reached up and traced a finger along his jawline, sending a jolt of heat through him.

He said, “I'm not scared of anything, least of all you, Aelora.” His voice was calm, but the tremor in his chest gave him away.

“Yet you're walking away from me.” Aelora pointed out, “So you must be.”

Daemon swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. “I’m not walking away, I’m just—”

“Just what? Unable to handle a woman like me?” she taunted.

Daemon felt the blood rush to his face. He was not a man to be taunted, not by anyone, least of all by his own flesh and blood. He stepped closer to Aelora, his eyes blazing with a fiery determination that she had not seen before. “You think you can play me like one of your little instruments?”

“If I wanted to 'play' you, I wouldn't have been trying to get into bed with you.” Aelora snapped as she turned to leave his bedchamber.

Daemon's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. “What do you want from me, Aelora?” His voice was a mix of anger and confusion.

Her lips firmly planted on his as soon as he touched her again, which took him by surprise. Aelora’s kiss was feverish, hungry, as if she had been starving for his touch. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, her body pressing into his with a need both undeniable, her hands exploring his body like it was a foreign country she hadn't been before.

Daemon’s resolve crumbled like the crumbling stones of Valyria, the warmth of her mouth melting his defences away. He had to admit, he enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the dance of power and seduction. But now, with Aelora in his arms, he realised he had been craving this closeness, this connection, this fire. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, as he deepened the kiss, their tongues tangling in a dance of desire.

His hands wandered further down to her legs, gripping her firmly, as if he feared she might disappear again. Aelora's fingers worked their way through his hair, the soft strands a stark contrast to the iron grip of his hand on her wrist. Her body responded to his touch, arching into him, begging for more. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the same heat that burned in his veins.

This is going to be a long night.

He was going to enjoy it.

No matter what happened.

[carminecherry]

inked | kazutora hanemiya

this is PART TWO of the series PUT A COLLAR ON YOUR PET

⇝ PAIRING: timeskip!kazutora hanemiya x bff fem!reader

⇝ SERIES SYNOPSIS: kazutora has wanted a neck tattoo since middle school. after you get a tattoo apprenticeship in the city, he wants you to be the one to do his neckpiece. however, the neck is an awfully sensitive spot. especially for a first tattoo. some people handle pain better than others. some people even enjoy it...

⇝ PART TWO LENGTH: 6k words

⇝ PART TWO WARNINGS: fem reader, heavy nsfw (18+ minors do not interact):

all characters are 20+; AU! where kazutora never got a neck tattoo; angst, teasing, power play, tattooing sub!kazutora, confession, Y/N and kazu are both switches, dom!kazutora, possessive!kazutora, jealousy, kissing, hickeys, licking bug bites, nipple play, oral sex, fingering, safe sex, penetrative sex, orgasm denial, biting

⇝ AUTHOR'S NOTE: it's smutty, hot, and heavy, enjoy 😘

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING ADULT CONTENT.

When you got to the shop today you talked to your boss. His enthusiastic approval for Kazu’s neck tattoo didn’t make you as excited as it might have otherwise. Something about last night wasn’t sitting right with you.

The way he had lingered at your door, an unfamiliar look in his eye. Knowing you’d see him again so soon had that flurry of emotion stirring in your chest. Maybe that’s why the message sat unsent as you picked at your lunch.

“I got the go ahead, when do you wanna do this?”

You reread the short message for the nth time, your lip long since tender from anxious nibbling. You lock your phone and put your head in your hands. Before you could spiral, your boss, Rei, pops his head around the corner, “Hey newbie.” You sit bolt upright.

“At ease, soldier. I’ve gotta head out early today, how do you feel about locking up the shop by yourself tonight? You can stay and practice, just clean up before you head out.” “Oh… Yeah, sure, that’d be great!” “And if your friend wants to come in for the neck piece, you can stay as late as you need.” He says with a wink. Damn. 

“Dope… Thanks, Rei.” He tosses you the keys with a jingle. You swipe them out of the air. “Have a good day, boss.” With a salute he turns and exits the shop. You sat there, alone in the not yet familiar space. It’s now or never. You finally hit send on the message.

His response is immediate,

“ASAP! When is the earliest you can do it?”

“Today if you have time”

“Fuck yeah it’s on! Is it cool if I come after work?” 

You hesitate before confirming,

“If you have nothing better to do, playboy. I’m in the studio all night”

He reacts to the message and you lock your phone, taking a deep, steadying breath. Your phone buzzes with a string of messages from Kazu. You open them and see a chain of tattoo inspiration pics. They’re done in a kind of tribal style.

From your buzzed conversation last night, you remember he wants a tiger in that style. You crack your knuckles and get to work, sketching up a design on your ipad. You’re immersed in your drawing when you feel a puff of air against your ear, “Boo.” 

You jump, to Kazu’s delight. “You should lock the door if you’re in here alone, anyone could come in.” “I- When-” You look and see it’s grown dark outside. He laughs, pacing around, sizing up the space.

“Just now, you seriously didn’t hear me come in?” Your silence is answer enough. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your boss you little liability.” He says with a wink. “That looks perfect, by the way.” He gestures to the device in your hand. 

“Oh, thanks, um I’m almost done if you wanna- '' He plops down on one of the worn leather couches. “... make yourself comfortable…” He flips through the TV channels before settling on one for background noise, a horror flick. You return to your work, adding the final touches. 

When the credits are rolling on the TV, you finally stretch in your chair, drawing his attention. “How’s this look?” You turn the screen to him. His eyes sparkle. “It’s… It’s perfect! God, I knew it had to be you.” The compliment and sincerity in his voice had your heart acting up.

“Of course, I’m basically a genius.” You say dismissively. “So you said neck piece but what size are we talking?” You roll your chair over to him, wheels squeaking. “Like around here.” He palms the space on the side of his neck, bringing it down slightly to his chest. 

“Oh… So, like, huge?” “Gotta keep it on brand.” You scoff at his innuendo.  Let me add some more for the chest. You turn your attention back to the screen, adding some swirls to the edges that would extend the tattoo. He watches over your shoulder, occasionally humming with approval. The theme music of another horror film plays on the TV. “Okay, how’s this?” He gives two thumbs up and a toothy smile. “Ok, I’m gonna print it.”

You look up and meet his golden eyes. “Say, have you ever gotten a tattoo before?” “Nope, you’ll be my first.” He says with joking seduction. He’s on your turf here. A streak of confidence flashes through you with the realization; the power balance is shifting in your favor.

“Oh~ I don’t know if you’ll  be able to take it. The neck is very sensitive” You tease back. “If it’s just about endurance, I’ve never had any complaints.” His body leaning towards you. “No shame in tapping out, tickle boy.” You match his lean “That’s not a thing, you just play dirty.” He shoots back in a low voice. “That’s not all I do.”

The air in the shop turns heavy with your comment and the two of you simmer there. His eyes have a dark look. Your face feels warm. You clear your throat and rise. “Ok… Printing.” You tap across your screen as you walk to lock the shop door, flipping the sign to closed.

“Ohhh~ after hours, what an honor.” He says in a saccharine voice. “You don’t know how many other guys would kill to get an after hours session with me, don’t you feel lucky?” His taunt from last night turned back on him. 

There is a fire behind his eyes and you avert your gaze quickly as the printer buzzes out the stencil, the distant screams and tense music from the TV washing away into the background. You swipe it up, the transfer paper still warm between your fingertips.

You take your time cutting out your design, hoping the extra moment may diffuse the tension in the air as your senses come back; you have tiptoed the edge of that boundary again. With a final snip you make your way over to him, he’s reclined in the plush sofa, legs spread in a confident, imposing way. His eyes trace your every move but you can’t meet them. 

“So… For the placement… Since it goes down so low… It’s probably easiest if you take off your-” You don’t even finish the sentence before he peels off his shirt, placing it on the arm of the sofa as he looms over you. “Shirt… If you’re comfortable…” You look away, an effort to spare yourself from his relentless teasing.

He has a lean, muscular frame. Ghosts of scars littered on the defined planes of his chest and abs. “Like what you see?” His voice drips with honey. “Shut up and sit down.” You say, fully not facing him. He laughs knowing he’s gotten under your skin. 

That swirling anxiety clenches in your chest. He plops back down on the sofa with a chuckle, spreading his arms across the back, giving you a full view. “Sit up, I’m gonna sanitize your skin.” You huff. “Oh! And sign this.”

You shuffle around some papers on your workspace and produce a consent form. Slotting it into a clipboard and thrusting it in his direction. He flips through the pages halfheartidly as you pull on some latex gloves. There’s the scratching of the pen on paper as he signs the form. 

You grab the disinfectant and some wipes and finally face him. He catches your eyes as you do, a devilish grin on his face. “Let’s do this.” You pour some of the disinfectant on the wipe and get to work cleaning his skin. With a sharp inhale he says, “Fuck, that’s cold!”

“This is gonna be a long night.” You mumble. You laser focus on the space on the side of his neck, how the muscles and tendons flex under your touch, visualizing the tattoo there. You wipe down to his collarbone, trailing across the hollow space there before moving lower to his chest. 

His silence is uncharacteristic but you welcome it, getting lost in your work. When you’re satisfied you withdraw the wipe and use your hand to fan the space you’ve cleaned. “Let’s let it dry for a second.” You turn around to grab the stencil and when you return you catch the final ghost of a blush leaving his cheeks. You choose to categorically ignore it.

“I’m gonna place the stencil, so try to hold still.” You hover over him, lining up the paper. Silence hangs in the air as you bring the top of the stencil paper to his neck, working in slow, firm strokes to lay the paper nicely.

You can feel the heat of his neck bleeding through the paper as you stroke lower to his collar, his chest. Your hand lingers, you can feel the flutter of his pulse. When it’s laid with no crinkles, you give a few more firm sweeps across the whole thing, bringing out a sharpie to mark the final stencil placement.  

“Alright, let's see.” You peel the paper back and admire your work. The weeks of practice you’ve put in at the shop have paid off. “Take a look, do you want to adjust any parts?” He makes his way to the mirror across the shop. He twists and admires the stencil. You can’t help it when your eyes scan the muscular back, flexed, the one you felt last night. “Perfect…” He says softly. 

“Let’s get into it then.” You say with a clap. Turning away from him before he notices you staring. You gesture behind a nearby privacy screen to your station’s tattoo bed and he reclines on the papered surface with a crinkle. You set up your ink, vaseline, and tattoo gun among other paraphernalia. He watches you attentively as you do. You grab the bottle of black ink and portion some out. “Ready?” “Ready.” 

“Ok, so if you need a break, feel dizzy, or if it’s too painful, just say the word.” “What? Like a safe word?” “Sure, if you want one, tickle boy.” You can’t control the teasing tone in your voice. His nose scrunches in distaste at the nickname. “Hmm how about strawberry.” He relishes the word.

You cringe at the memory, an inside joke. A night spent over imbibing on strawberry vodka with the gang. A night that ended with you kicking off a two month sobriety stint after the violent vomiting and epic hangover that ensued. 

“Strawberry it is.” You confirm, gagging on the word. “So, it’s gonna suck for like five minutes but after that… Well I might be weird, but for me it starts to kinda feel good.” “Yeah, that’s what makes you weird.” “Ha ha, he’s got jokes.” Your tattoo gun buzzes to life in your hand. “Here we go.” You swipe some of the vaseline over the spot you’re sizing up as the starting point. 

Your gloved finger glides across the skin, the vaseline slick and warming quickly. He locks eyes with you and a crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. The little shit looked excited for this, total masochist. You bring the needle down, feeling a small pushback as it breaks the skin. He inhales sharply and groans. “Jesus fuck!”

“I know.” You say in a low, comforting voice. You continue, the gun hammering the ink into the sensitive skin of his neck. His eyes close and he bites his lip. “You ok?” He nods in response. You do a wipe to clear some of the blood and excess ink. His hand finds your leg over the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the fleshy part of your thigh. “Fuck” he exhales.

“Dude we’ve barely started, you sure you can handle this?” You tried to sound comforting but you can't help the smug taunt from seeping into your voice. It’s wrong, you know that, but something about this felt so good. A kind of revenge for the torment he’s put you through over the years, finally being the one in control. 

“I’m going to start again.” You say in a low voice. He nods. You continue the line over the milky column of his neck, the skin around where you’d just tattooed turning a pretty red. His hand kneads the skin of your leg.

If it were anyone else you would’ve pried their hand off in seconds. But his touch… Felt warm. Familiar. You continue like this until the outline is done. Small noises occasionally bitten back by the man beside you. The hours pass by in a flash. 

***

The buzzing stops and you place the gun down on your station cart, stretching. “Let’s take a quick break.” “Oh~ and you were worried about my endurance.” His words come out, slurring together pleasantly. That tattoo adrenaline high that you are good friends with. He must be feeling it after sitting so patiently through those first few hours.

You rip off some paper towels and do a dry wipe. He gasps, a little whine escaping at the end. His hand shoots up to grab your wrist, halting your movement. You freeze, face hot. His breathing comes in heavy puffs. With effort he opens his eyes, meeting yours.

His pupils are blown so wide they devour the pretty gold of his irises. He looks you up and down in a hungry way, bare chest rising with each breath. You try to ignore the way the rosy buds on his chest rise have grown hard and perky. “Ha- you weren’t kidding. It does start to feel good, really good after the first few minutes.”

His smile is feral, you feel a knot tighten in your stomach. “G-good. That’s, uh, that's good.” He pushes his torso up from the tattoo bed, the paper crinkling underneath him. You can’t help but notice the prominent bulge in his pants as it enters your peripheral vision. He tugs your arm, your stool rocketing towards him. 

“Kazu-!” “Hmm~ You like this, don’t you, you sick little freak. You get off on this, huh.” “What the fuck are you talking about?! Kazu, let me go!” “You act like I can’t see you, see the way you look at me, do you think I’m stupid?!” “Time out, Time out.”

You feel a flash of anger, panic, taking your usual defensive stance. “God, come ON, when are you gonna get it?!” His grip tightens on your wrist. “Jesus! Strawberry!” You yelp. With a grunt, he releases your wrist. You shoot back in your chair, clattering into the cabinet behind you. 

“Oh my~ Y/N, are you… scared?” He says with a glint in his eye. You feel yourself flush, “You’re seriously acting fucking weird, Kazu… More than usual. If you don’t feel well we can stop here for today.” You spit out venomously. “Why do you do that? Run away from me…”

His eyes widened in a strange way as he hops off the bed. “Is it cause you like to make me chase you?” You rise as well, squaring your shoulders, head spinning with the shift in energy, your eyes feel glossy with the prickle of angry tears. “Seriously, shut the fuck up. You’re pissing me off, for real.” 

“But you’re so cute when you’re pissed off. You’re even cuter when you cry.” He says towering over you. You give a firm push to his chest to make space between the two of you. “God! Back UP! You’re such a dick Kazu! Why are you acting like this?” You hate that your vision blurs with unspilled tears. “There they are~” He swipes a hand up, thumb wiping one of the tears that threatens to overflow your lashes. You slap his hand away but he brings your tear to his lips, licking the digit slowly. The knot in your stomach tightens further. 

“Come on, Y/N, this little dance is getting old. Why won’t you just admit it? You want me, just say it.” You feel that nauseating twist of emotion in your chest, arrogant ass. You want to swing, to cuss him out, but you feel yourselves balancing on the ledge between safe and new again.

Instead you ask, “What… Are you saying, Kazu?” You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You’ve been dreading this. He sighs, leaning his head back with a curt laugh. “You were always slow to notice things, huh.” He says to the ceiling. “Such a sadist under that cute facade…”

He takes a step back, giving you some breathing room.  “Now don’t get me wrong, I do love the chase, but after so long… I can’t understand why you’re still running…” “... Kazu… You… Uh, we…” You let out a frustrated sound. “It’s just… I’m not gonna be another notch in your belt… Another name on your list of fair maidens… What we have is special… I don’t want to lose you… as a friend.” The words pour out reluctantly. Choppy after being bitten back so many times. 

“Hmm, that’s too bad. Maybe I really need to spell it out for you. I’m serious about this, us.” You feel your face heat anew with his sudden confession. “Frankly, I don’t know how I could make it any more obvious to you. That I want you, I need you. I’ve wanted you all to myself for years.” “You sure have a funny way of showing it, fucking anything that bats their eyelashes at you.” You feel tears threaten to spill.

“Baby, I have needs… It’s awful, but I meant it. Those other girls didn’t mean anything to me. But you… This-” He gestures to the completed outline of his tattoo, “It’s a piece of you, I’ll get to have it with me forever. Sorry for tricking you into putting a collar on me. I wasn’t sure how else to get such a selfish owner to claim their pet.” His mouth ticks into a smile, like he’s told some inside joke with himself. 

“I’m sick of waiting… God, don’t just stand there.” He averts his gaze from you, blush dusting his cheeks. “Kazu… I… If this is some sick joke I’ll never forgive you.” “Joke?!” He leans in dramatically. “What other motherfucker is out there making me blush?! I feel SICK.” He snaps back. 

“I… Kazu, if you know, if you can read me so clearly, don’t make me be the first to say it… Just-” He’s over you in seconds. His lips parting yours in a feverish kiss. You don't hold back, meeting him there, lips, hands, teeth. You are careful not to touch your masterpiece on the side of his neck, running a hand through his hair and another up the exposed skin of the toned muscles of his core. One of his hands is tangled in the hair at the back of your head, adding pressure to the kiss. 

He moans into your mouth, “fuck my neck, it hurts… It… feels really good.” This sparks something in you, leaning into the kiss with more passion. You nip his lip and then smooth the irritated flesh with a firm swipe of your tongue before returning to the kiss. He groans at the action, pressing you up onto the counter of the cabinet, grinding against you. You feel the bulge in his pants against your stomach. So hot that the warmth seeps through the layers of fabric between you.

He’s brought a hand down to play with the hem of your shirt, the light touches tickle. The two of you break your kiss, gasping for air. He chuckles, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” “Yeah… That was… amazing.” You look up at his hazy eyes, thick heavy lashes, that perfect beauty mark. You crane your neck and place a soft kiss there, the intrusive thought that's haunted you for years finally fulfilled. 

The air is heavy, like the space around you was holding its breath. You move first, locking your mouth on the other side of his neck where the skin is unmarred. You swirl your tongue over the sensitive skin, giving a nip and sucking gently on the skin. “Fuck, you’re gonna mark me there too? I never pegged you as the possessive type. Letting me run around all these years.” His voice is low and lazy. You hum into his neck feeling the bulge against your stomach twitch.

“And the jealous type.” You add, before moving lower and repeating the process,  crimson blooming on the skin of his neck as you nip and suck and bite your way down his collar bone. “That feels so fucking good baby.” He grabs you by the waist and lifts you, maneuvering you back to your tattoo bed, pulling you to straddle his lap as he sits. He takes advantage of the new position to tug you firmly by the hair, exposing your neck to him. “My turn” he says, licking a hot line up your jugular. 

He kisses down the side of your neck. “Mmm yeah, Kazu.” He sucks gently before his teeth graze your skin, the pressure building with a wet, slurping noise. You groan, it hurts in a delicious way that makes your stomach flip. “Mmmore, more Kazu.” You whine. “So needy.” He says into the throbbing spot before moving lower, making a twin bruise there, pulling your head back further, the skin taut. “Nnng” “Yeah babe, fuck.”

He goes lower, eyes locking on the small circle of raised skin, slightly pink from irritation and itching. He licks the bug bite, making you yelp. “Fuck, thats.” He licks again, the spot warming, the sensation is strange. Tingly, itchy. He starts to suck, “O-oh my go- that’s-” It feels strange but not bad, like scratching an itch too hard where it hurts in the most satisfying way.

You feel that knot again in your stomach, wetness spreading between your legs. You lower yourself in his lap, grinding into him. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through you. “You like that? Little freak.” “You’re one- to talk- you’re the one sucking-” his hand releases your hair, bringing both to your hips, grinding into you hard. “Ah- ha- fuck babe you’re so hard.” You say breathily.

“Mmm yeah, that’s your fault.” He says into your chest. He drags you down again, you feel the seat of your pants growing uncomfortably wet. “Kazu… Please I…” “Say it, say what you want baby, it’s done.” “Kazu… I want you.” “Mmm finally.”  He flips you easily, laying you on the tattoo bed with a harsh crinkle of the paper. He pins you there, eyes devouring your flushed face and he pretty marks he’s left on your neck. Your hand comes up to absently play with his earring. It jingles between your fingers. 

“You're so… Pretty, Kazu.” “Yeah?” He tugs your shirt up, over your head, letting it gather by your wrists, using it to pin you there with one hand. “You’re so, god. You’re so beautiful Y/N. I mean it. You don’t know how long you made me wait.” He trails a finger up your side, a featherlight touch that makes you squirm. “Hmm, ticklish, Y/N?” He asks, mimicking your voice from last night. “Dick” You laugh. He traces the edge of your bra, making your breath hitch. 

He continues, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. You adjust yourself, wriggling under his grip, offering a better view of your chest. “So eager Y/N.” “So slow, Kazu.” your mouth ticks up in a challenging smile. When he sees it his own smile turns animalistic.

He rips the undergarment up roughly, your chest bouncing free as he forces it up to join your shirt around your wrists. He eyes your chest hungrily before using his free hand to palm one of your breasts, massaging it. The flesh spilling out in the space between his fingers. He drops his head to lick around the sensitive flesh of the other.

 He presses a knee between your legs, knocking them apart harshly to give himself space. You welcome it, finally having something to apply pressure where you really want it. You grind up and down his leg building the feeling there. He gives a hard flat lick over the sensitive bud on your chest before sucking, grazing his teeth along the puckered skin. “Oh fuck, Kazu, that feels so good!” 

You toss your head back, closing your eyes, savoring the feeling growing. Your body feels heavy and fuzzy, a pleasant buzz in your head. He releases your abused nipple with a pop, the skin pink and glistening with his saliva. He gives a soft blow, savoring the view of the bud pebbling in the cold air.

He grinds his knee into you, earning him a breathy whine. “Kazu, please. I want you.” “Hmm? You made me wait so long I plan to make it last.” “Ha- nng- and I’m the sadist?” He releases your breast and trails a hand down your stomach, toying with the button of your pants. You grind up his leg, encouraging him to continue. “Patience, you vicious little thing.” He chides.

He pops the button of your pants open with one hand and drags the zipper down painfully slowly. He pulls the waist of your pants down, the task proving to be difficult one handed. You raise your hips to help him shimmy them down your thighs. “Fuck” He releases your wrists to pull your pants all the way off, tossing them to the floor. You start to sit up before he shoves you back down by your wrists, situating himself between your legs again. 

“Now, where were we?” “Well, I was falling asleep while you took your sweet time undressing me.” “Oh, well that won’t do. Let’s wake you up, shall we?” He trails his free hand up your thigh, squeezing the fleshy part at the top, humming with approval. He traces his thumb against the edge of your panties, dragging down a glistening trail of your wetness. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, babe.” He swipes his thumb up again, gathering some of your juices as he brings it to his lips, sucking on the digit. “You taste so good.” 

“Yeah? You like it, sicko?” “Mmm, love it. Let me taste you, pretty girl.” He slides down the tattoo bed, dragging you with him. He spreads your legs apart, hooking them over his shoulders. You take this chance to free yourself from the clothing around your wrist, snapping off the latex gloves in the process.

He runs a finger up and down your slit through the fabric of your drenched panties. “Fuck” He pulls the garment to the side watching you twitch and flutter being exposed to the cool air of the studio. He brings his head down, lapping up the wetness between your legs.

You can’t hold back the moan that comes out with the sensation, tangling your fingers in his silky hair. “Mmm babe you taste even better than I expected.” He says from between your legs. You can’t string together a coherent sentence. Between the teasing and his skilled tongue circling your clit, you feel yourself tumbling towards release.

“Ah- Kazu- ha- I’m-” The words come out high and breathy as you feel like you’ve been dipped in honey, your limbs heavy and warm. Right as you’re at the brink of your orgasm his movements slow. You let out a frustrated whine. You swear you can feel him smiling there, between your legs.

“Wha- Why?” “Hmm? Is something the matter?” He teases. “You’re… insufferable.” You pant. “Am I?” He challenges, bringing a finger up to your hole, testing the water there. Your breath hitches as he pushes it deeper, his long fingers curling in a tantalizing way. 

He licks the sensitive bundle of nerves again, swirling his tongue. You feel the sensation building again. “Kazu, please, I want you.” You whine. “I know you do, pretty girl. I’m getting you ready, just relax.” “How can I relax when you’re-” He adds another finger and you feel the stretch before a third is inserted. You moan, grinding into him, fucking yourself on his face and fingers.

You feel the tension rising again, your breathing getting heavier, the knot in your stomach about to snap. As you feel the sensation swelling, fuzziness crawling over your skin, he removes his fingers, leaving you so empty. You choke on a frustrated cry as you feel tears prickle in your eyes, having been denied twice. 

“Kazu, please, I’m so close. Let me come.” “Eager as ever, darling.” You hear the tearing of something not-quite paper. You peel your eyes open, looking down at him. A small, square wrapper reflects the light in a metallic way, dangling from his mouth. The sound of a zipper directs your eyes down to his pants. He lets the clothing drop to his thighs. There is a prominent wet spot spreading through the fabric of his underwear beneath. You can see his size through the thin material. It is formidable. 

You eat up the view, his flexed abdomen, the defined lines low on his stomach that disappear beneath his waistband, his blown out pupils, his flushed face, the hickeys you left him on one side of his neck, and the tattoo outline on the other. You feel a deep throb inside of you.

“Kazu, baby, you look so good.” He leans over you, brushing his lips to yours, “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking hot.” You taste yourself on his lips as you draw him in to deepen the kiss. He pulls back, an hungry look in his eye. He makes a show of pulling his waistband down, freeing himself from the restraints of the undergarment. Your eyes widen. 

Maybe he wasn’t exaggerating all of those times he’s bragged about his ‘big dick energy.’ “Think you can take it, princess?” He goads with a lazy smile. He gives himself a few firm strokes before rolling the condom over his sizable member. “Think you can actually make me come this time?” You quip back. He steals a quick peck from that bratty mouth that he loves.

“Mmm, this time, and the next time, and the next time.” He punctuates each word with a kiss to your jaw then your throat and your chest. He positions himself over you, “so if you need a break, feel dizzy, or if it’s too painful, just say the word.” He imitates your voice, repeating your earlier statement back to you. “Shut up and fuck me.” You say breathily, taking a firm grip of his silky hair and pulling him into a feverish kiss. 

He moans into the kiss as you nip at his lower lip. You feel his tip, prodding at your entrance. You grind down on it, urging him to continue. You feel that delicious stretch as you adjust to his size. It’s been far too long since your last time and he is huge. His ministrations earlier had done little to prepare you for his actual size.

He moves slowly, working with you as you grind up to meet him. You can’t fight back the little noises bubbling up in your throat any more. Small whines and whimpers. “Fuck, good girl, let me hear you.” You moan louder as you feel your walls stretching to take him. 

You can feel it, the tip pushing against your cervix, making your breath hitch. He pauses there. A string of praise and profanities spilling from his lips. “I’m gonna move.” He pants. He props himself up over your face, looking deeply into your eyes. He’s slow, so excruciatingly slow. You feel like he could split you open. Your face twists in pain and pleasure.

He peppers your cheeks and forehead with light kisses, a jumble of, “good girl, you’re taking me so well, you’re so tight, fuck, babe you feel so good, you’re gorgeous.” Are whispered with every kiss. “Look at you, pretty girl.” He says, staring at the space where the two of you are joined. Your hazy eyes drift there too. To the swollen, sensitive spot that is sucking him in. You’ve almost taken all of him. 

“Y/N, I…” He bucks unconsciously. You gasp sharply. “I can’t… It feels so good.” He groans, bucking again, so close to being buried inside of you. You whine, completely stuffed. He moves, shallow ruts, picking up speed. “Fuck, Kazu, you’re so deep, you’re- it’s so big.” You whimper. You flutter around him, making his movement stutter. He continues with fervor. He’s so deep, with each thrust you feel him brushing past that spot that makes your toes curl before pressing into your cervix. 

He adjusts his position, bringing your legs up to hook over his shoulders, folding you in half. He grabs the edge of the tattoo bed, gripping it so hard his knuckles turn white. You cry out as he buries himself even deeper. Your cry melts into a moan as the rush of pleasure spreads from the pain.

You can hardly see him through the blur in your eyes. You feel yourself unraveling as he fucks freely into you in this new position. Each stroke is more intense than the last. Lewd, wet noises spill from your puffy entrance with each thrust. You feel it coming, huge and intense. Your arms and legs are blanketed in tingles, your head is light and dizzy, release hurtling towards you.

“Uhhng, Kazu, don’t stop, I’m gonna.” He grunts, snapping his hips into you, fucking you down into the crinkled paper of the tattoo bed. He brings a hand down, grabbing one of your breasts, bullying your nipple with a harsh pinch. The sensation is too much. You cry out, clenching around him, vision going white as your release washes over you. A slurry of curses and affection pour from you as the waves of pleasure wrack your body. He continues his deep, cruel thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm, drawing it out of you. 

You flutter and clench around him, a whimper then laugh leaves the man over you. “Y/N, You’re sucking me in, you want me so bad, huh, baby? Fuck, I’m gonna come, pretty girl. You’re gonna make me come.” He mutters, his thrusts becoming frantic, your bruised cervix opening, swallowing him deep inside of you.

“Oh, FUCK!” With one final, brutal thrust he’s pouring himself into you. He latches onto your collar bone, biting hard. You yelp, feeling the sting of his teeth breaking the skin and his tongue swirling.

He moans, grinding into you, riding out his own release. Stuffing the condom full of his seed inside of you. Fucking into your womb. His grip on the tattoo bed loosens, as he lays himself over you. Lazily thrusting. He snakes his arms around you, embracing you as he grinds the last of his cum into you.

You bring a hand up to play with his fluffy hair as he slackens his jaw, planting sloppy, wet kisses over the bite mark. Your chests rise with heavy breaths, reveling in your shared releases. Your limbs feel like lead and your head is still fuzzy. Every nerve in your body is shot, tingling pleasantly.

“That was so much better than I could’ve imagined.” He hums. “Yeah… That was… Worth the wait.” You say, burying your face into the crook of his neck opposite his tattoo. “I think that’s enough of a break.” You laugh as he kisses your temple. “Mmm, yeah, let’s finish this up.” He gestures vaguely to the outline of his tattoo.

“I’ve got some big plans for the night.” He says in a low voice, pulling out from you as you quiver around the emptiness, missing him. “I should probably finish what I’ve started this time, and the next time, and the next time.” You tease him with his earlier flirtations, earning you a playful jostle. You reach absently over the edge of the tattoo bed, feeling around for your discarded garments. 

“This is gonna be a long night.” He laughs, passing you your clothing as he grabs some paper towels from your station. cleaning himself up. “Promise?” You joke, masking a deeper desire. The animalistic way he smiles at you is answer enough.

[ang3lvrse]

JEALOUSY [H.TS] — drabble

warnings — (1.2k words) noncon/dubcon, step-cest, jealousy, shower sex, clit pinching, semi public (?) sex, brief mention of filming but no actual filming, brief cum eating, allusions to/brief oral (f!rec) let me know if i missed any!

it was wrong. it was terribly, terribly wrong. but taesan couldn't stop himself. he couldn't stop himself before, how could he possibly have even a tiny semblance of self control now?

it wasn't even completely his fault. you were at fault too. why were you always wearing such skimpy clothes around him?

it didn't even stop there. you went ahead and had the audacity to go out on a date with one of the lame guys from your uni, coming back home to brag about it, to him of all people. of course you had it coming for you.

there was no way you didn't expect him to come and find you later, right? especially not when you were taking a bath, when both of your parents were home?

why were you even trying to scream? weren't you aware that he was going to slap his hand over your mouth immediately if you tried? that he would slam the bathroom door shut, locking it? so what if he took his hand off your mouth? didn't you know that your own bathroom was soundproof? were you that much of an oblivious baby?

why were you even trying to resist him? trying to stop him from turning you around, your hands on the glass partition, that was separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom? why were you trying to beg him to stop? did you seriously think he was going to listen to you?

“t-taesan, please—don’t do this, please—i’m your sister, ple–”

“shut the fuck up. you're not my fucking sister, we are not fucking related. stop trying to deter me from claiming what is rightfully mine, because if you haven't already realised, i am not going to stop until your voice is hoarse from screaming my name.”

if that wasn't clear enough, then he had no idea what else would make you finally understand that you were his, and that he was doing nothing wrong. he was simply laying his claim on his property.

at least that's what he thought, as he ignored your cries to stop, and how this was apparently ‘morally inappropriate’ or whatever the fuck kind of bullshit you were spewing. he could barely hear you anyways, not over the running shower, and the sound of his zipper, as he pulled it down.

he barely even cared about any kind of foreplay—you lost that privilege the moment you went out with another guy—grabbing your ass tightly, pushing his throbbing cock into you. the loud cry from you fell on deaf ears, as he marveled at the way your pussy sucked him in like a glove. it was like it was made to take his cock, and just his alone.

pushing down on your back, he forced you to arch yourself further, pushing your ass up. gripping your ass cheeks tightly, he spread them, giving him a view of both of your holes. he pulled out almost completely, before pushing right back in, burying himself to the hilt. your breath caught in your throat, the muscle almost closing up. this—this was your brother—step-brother, yes, but brother nonetheless. this wasn't supposed to feel good. especially since he was taking you without consent. but… there was no denying that the way his cock throbbed inside you made flames of heat lick your lower stomach, your walls clamping around his length, squeezing him.

taesan wasn't stupid. he could tell your initial resistance was melting away, and he wasn't going to make you change your mind. not anytime soon. not that you could change your mind, given how he was starting to pound into you, every moan you let out and every slurping noise from your cunt too loud, too real to ignore.

“hng—fuck, taesan! s-slow down, fuck fuck fuck–!” it was hard for you to keep up with his almost animalistic pace, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, your sinful activities fogging up the glass partition.

he ignored you, of course. did you actually expect him to listen to you? it's not like you actually wanted him to listen to you. it was just the dumb part of your brain babbling utter nonsense. isn't that so?

at least that's what taesan thought, as his hand sneaked down to your clit, pinching it, before rubbing it furiously. your moans gradually increased in volume sounding like pure sin to his ears. god, he wished he had recorded all of it, your moans embedded in his brain forever. but that's fine, this wasn't going to be the last time he fucks you. no, absolutely not. not after he finally got to experience the exquisite feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock, clenching down on him so fucking hard.

lifting your hips slightly, taesan angled his thrusts to hit your sweet spot, driving into it with every thrust. as he battered that spongy spot in your walls with his cock, making sure you could see stars, he gave one last flick to your hardened bundle of nerves, making the spring in your stomach finally uncoil. you came—hard—all over his cock, pulsing around it, drenching his length in your juices.

taesan kept pounding into you through your orgasm, groaning at the sight of the white ring forming at his base. he pinched your clit again, harder this time, drawing your orgasm. with a cry of pleasure bordering that of pain, you clamped down harder on his length, your legs shaking. the way your cunt squeezed him tightly was enough for him to bury himself to the hilt inside your pussy. with a groan, he flooded your inner walls with his cum, painting your insides white. warm ropes of cum kept bursting out of his tip, as he kept shallowly thrusting in and out of you, riding out his orgasm.

after what felt like ages, he finally stopped cumming, pulling his softening cock out of you. your legs were shaking uncontrollably, the glass partition completely fogged up. but he didn't care. not when he had such a wonderfully sinful sight in front of him.

he grabbed your ass cheeks, spreading them slowly, watching his cum drip down your hole, onto the wet floor below, mixing with the water. this was his girl, dripping with his cum down her legs. the sight was enough for his flaccid cock to twitch back to life. but first, he needed to clean up his pretty girl.

which was why—to your absolute horror—he sank down to his knees, already licking a stripe up your slit, collecting the mixture of his and your cum on his tongue. he mixed it with his spit, rolling the mixture around in his mouth, before spitting right back on your hole. you flinched at the feeling, but barely had time to react in any other way, before his entire mouth was on your dripping pussy, sucking the cum out of you like his life depended on it.

well—who knew pretending to not be utterly bitchless would finally encourage your step brother to stop acting like he’s holier-than-thou, and make a move on you?

[child0feden]

BRING YOUR FRIEND

bård “ faust ” eithun x reader x vegard “ ihsahn ” tveitan

- nsfw headcanons for threesomes with bård and vegard!

this will probably flop because i do not know if there is even anyone who wants this aside from me but who cares? i want it so i shall write it <3

- view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: goatcraft torment by urgehal - beyond the great vast forest by emperor

* 18 + content ahead, please do not read if you are a minor *

- the very first threesome between the three of you happened when you were all drunk!

✩ well, i say drunk but you were really just kind of half drunk, more so tipsy and just teetering on the edge of either being sober or drunk…

- basically all three of you were drunk enough to even think about having a threesome, drunk enough to have a major boost of confidence but sober enough to consent and sober enough to go about it properly!

✩ you and bård had already been dating for a while before this happened and the three of you had just come back to your shared apartment after a concert, vegard was only really with you guys to save himself the trip of going back to his own apartment that was much further away and he was fully prepared to just sleep on the small couch in your living room for the night…

- but when you make it into your apartment, after drunkenly tripping up almost all of the apartment block stairs on your way up and failing to unlock the apartment door for about a minute due to your depth of perception being all muddied, you and bård decide to stay up for a bit longer with him to watch a movie on the couch instead of taking yourselves right to bed like you had originally planned!

✩ and vegard is completely cool with it, he had actually been wanting to watch the new and overly obscure horror movie bård had snagged on vhs for a little while now but had been putting off borrowing it due to other things coming up in his life

- you and bård do not even make it ten minutes into the gory and grisly movie before the two of you are sloppily making out with each other right next to vegard… he continuously rips his eyes away from small tv in front of the couch just to curiously side eye you guys but does not say anything at all in fear of making things incredibly awkward…

✩ when bård eventually pulls his mouth away from your own, he is quick to almost awkwardly and shyly apologise to vegard before telling him that you two are “ going to bed ” but you stop him in his words and quietly ask if vegard wants to join the two of you for the night

- bård just starts laughing as he dart his eyes down to the floor, knowing you were being completely serious as the two of you had discussed this topic of inviting one of his band members into the bedroom with you guys before but vegard really does not know if you are playing some really weird joke on him…

“ what, are you serious? i can’t tell if you’re serious or not… bård! stop laughing and tell me if she’s serious… ” ( he does not stop laughing at all and just tells you he will be waiting for you in the bedroom, parting from your side on the couch with a soft kiss to your warm cheek and a stern head not towards vegard )

✩ and so with bård gone, you just tell vegard all about what you and him had been thinking about doing for a while now, letting out small laughs at the mixed looks of curiosity and almost shock on his face in between your quiet and soft sentences, you make sure he knows that bård really would not mind and it has been something you both wanted to try for a while now and who better to do it with than vegard? someone so close to both you and bård?

- of course, he is majorly skeptical but would absolutely be lying through his teeth if he said you were not one of the most beautiful girls he had ever even known, he had always felt ever so slightly jealous of bård whenever he saw the bruise bloomed markings on your neck left behind by him after an obviously eventful night between the two of you

✩ so vegard quickly agrees, letting you take his bigger hand in yours and lead him into your shered bedroom with bård…

- when you enter through the thick wooden bedroom door, bård is almost completely still dressed, only having taken off his black leather boots and heavy bullet belt, letting out an obviously humoured chuckle when he sees the excited grin stretched across your face

✩ you are quick to pull both of them over to the bed, drunken and hazed giggles being shared between the three of you as you undress from your now constricting clothes, with you constantly having to move your head from side to side in order to make out with both of them equally and not rouse any jealousy between the two friends

- they spit roast you, of course they do! it is the easiest position that comes so naturally to a first time threesome between friends with bård fucking you raw from behind as his hand pushes your head down further down onto his friends cock whilst vegard softly strokes your warm cheek and clean away any drool that drips down from your mouth as it stretches to fit around his hard cock

✩ both of them whisper gentle and caring praise down towards you, bård mumbling almost incoherently about how heavenly your soaking cunt feels wrapped tightly around his cock whilst vegard makes sure you know just how deep you are managing to take him in your warm throat in between deep groans and breathy moans

“ fuck… i’m so deep in your throat, pretty girl… you’re doing so good, taking me so well ” ( you try to give a response in the midst of taking him deeper in your mouth which only causes him to groan louder, the sudden vibrations from your throat feeling euphoric against his sensitive cock )

- there is not all that much aftercare following your first threesome together, it is not because they are horrible, it is just because basically right after they both cum alongside you as you reach your own high and tighten like a vice around their cocks, they simply pull out of you and lay back on the bed before they pass right out into an exhausted sleep, as are you with their bodies on either side of you and each arm thrown over your waist…

✩ all three of you are just too spent to even attempt any real aftercare right now, all three of you craving a good sleep more than anything else

- but in the early and misty morning, bård wakes you up with some breakfast in bed which is really just some almost completely burnt toast and way too sweet tea, vegard remains deep asleep beside you, an arm still lazily thrown over your naked waist with long fingers dipping just a little too low towards a temporarily sensitive area

✩ both of you are almost entirely silent for a couple of minutes as the morning drags on with you taking tiny sips of the warm tea every couple of seconds before bård finally speaks up and breaks the almost awkward silence

“ so… last night was good, wasn’t it? you liked it, didn’t you? ” ( you absolutely did, of course you did and you made sure to tell him that even long after vegard had left your shared apartment later in the day )

- eventually vegard wakes up too and you guys have a quiet chat with him as he sits up in your bed, bringing one of his hands up to rub his tired eyes and fix his somehow even more frizzy morning hair… you all agree that last night was good, even better than good… it was amazing…

✩ threesomes between the three of you become much more common after that one drunken night, all of you going home to your shared apartment together after an eventful concert and fucking into the extremely early hours of the morning, their corpse paint smudging all over your face and body as they press their lips against any part of you they can reach

- usually it is bård who is the one penetrating you with his cock whilst you suck vegard off but after a couple more threesomes and after the three of you get even more comfortable with each other, he absolutely lets vegard fuck you for once whilst he gets to takes your mouth

✩ vegard is obviously different to bård and not just in size nor shape but even just his speed and general movement is so different and unfamiliar to you…

- bård is so fast and so deep as he tightly grips your hair in a messy ponytail from behind but vegard is so slow but still so deep whilst he gently holds your hips in his warm yet rough and calloused hands! the first time you guys ever did double penetration, it felt like you had simply just died and gone right to heaven! it was the perfect mixture of both rough and soft

“ oh fuck! oh god! fuck, you feel so good, you’re so tight… ” ( you thought bård was loud in bed? vegard is somehow even louder so good luck with the noise complaints you are sure to receive from your neighbours )

✩ however, bård does make vegard at least wear a condom whenever he gets to penetrate you for a change

- because no matter how good friends they are, no matter how they see each other almost as brothers, there is just absolutely no way in hell he will ever be raising vegards kid…

✩ real aftercare with the two of them consists of them giving you a whole lot of soft kisses whilst they have a warm bubble bath running for you as bård gently cleans you up a little with a damp towel in the meantime, being very mindful of just how sensitive you are!

- when your bath is ready and overflowing with bubbles thanks to bård poring in way too much bubble bath, bård will sit by your side as you bathe, offering to wash your hair for you and softly praising how well you did for them

“ did so good for us, baby… took us both so well, hm? ” ( seriously, he needs to know that you know just how well you took them and how good you did, he needs to make you feel loved and appreciated after times like this otherwise he feels like total shit )

✩ meanwhile in your shared bedroom, vegard is busy putting your old bedsheets into the washer before making a fresh new bed for you, choosing the softest bedsheets he can find as he wants you to have a clean and comfy bed to sleep in when you get out of your bath

- you really do often wonder what exactly you did to be able to get fucked and treated so good by not one but two gorgeous men <3

[cosmogyros]

New song release! This is a song that’s very special to me, so I took a while to get around to recording it because I wanted to do it justice. Y’all know by now that I write a lot of dark, creepy, disturbing songs. They are my children and I love every single one of them ❤️

However, sometimes I also like to write a sweet, wholesome song, and that’s what I’ve got for you today.

This is a song about young love, from a new angle. I’m sure many of us remember that feeling, when you’re first head over heels for someone – maybe in your teen years – and the sense of urgency that often comes along with it.

Let's face it: teens in their first serious relationship are often very excited to get to the having-sex stage. However, one partner may be ready for it sooner than the other, and sometimes this unfortunately leads to pressure, or to one person giving in and “going along with it” before they actually feel ready.

In this song, I wanted to write from the point of view of a young person (gender unimportant) who is perfectly content to wait as long as their datemate wants before taking this big step. At this stage of a relationship, there’s often a lot of anticipation and “living in the future” – but the narrator of this song is happy to live in the present and appreciate the stage of the relationship they’re currently in, for exactly what it is and nothing more. After all, anticipation can feel wonderful too – so why not enjoy that feeling while it lasts?

Because, as the bridge says: “What are we waiting for? / How about everything and then so much more!” You’ve got the rest of your lives ahead of you – no need to rush. In this song, I wanted to capture that over-the-moon, giddy feeling of first love, coupled with joyful respect of boundaries and consent. I hope I managed it okay :)

(With a bit of squinting, this could also be interpreted as an ace-spectrum love song, and I am very happy with that interpretation too! 🖤🩶🤍💜)

Lyrics below:

If You Call

Didn’t I tell you this before? Didn’t I make it clear that night at your door? Whenever you’re ready I’ll be ready too

I can let well enough alone I won’t be waiting by the telephone But I promise you I’ll answer If you call

If you call If you call

Isn’t it perfect just like this? How many nights I counted before your kiss I’m still counting And I like the score

What about moonlight walks and talks? What about sneaking out and jimmying locks? And then you come back home still burning And alone

What are we waiting for? How about everything and then so much more When you breathe good night and it takes a while Till I turn away, riding on my smile And I walk home sharing my secret with every star Forget about “waiting” I think I love right where we are

Didn’t I tell you once before? Didn’t I make it clear that night at your door? Whenever you’re ready I’ll be ready too

I can let well enough alone Might not be waiting by the telephone But I promise you I’ll answer If you call

[bluestar22x]

July

Sweet Summer - July

Summary: An evening at the Peña ranch turns into a night to remember.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Virgin!F!Reader (She’s in her 30s, just late to the game)

Rating: 18+ series, explicit chapter

Warnings: Explicit smut, fowl language, reader is insecure, then not, Javi being a consent king and literally perfect.

Word Count: 5,879

Author’s Note: This is the most spicy piece I’ve ever written (appropriate for Javi) and yet also one of the sweetest. I melted writing it.

xxx

“I knew dating you was a smart choice,” you joked as you stroked the thick neck of the chestnut gelding tied up to a post just outside of the Peña barn.

One of Javier’s eyebrows shot up and he folded his arms, an expression of mock disapproval on his face. “You only dated me to get access to the horses?”

“Not only,” you replied, drawing out your words.

He chuckled and let his arms hang loose. “Well, let’s hop on. I’ve got an idea of where we could go for a nice view. Do you need a boost?”

You smirked at him and easily swung up into the saddle on the horse’s back.

“Show off,” Javier muttered, but he wasn’t annoyed. His eyes only held amusement.

He walked around your mount to get to his, a blue roan mare, and climbed onto her, his movement a bit less smooth than yours. “You confident about your riding skills?”

“It’s like riding a bike, isn’t it?” you said, not really asking. “I’m confident it’ll come back to me. See? I already have my heels down and everything.”

You both glanced at your boot covered feet in the stirrups and he smiled. “You’ve got the beginner stuff down at least.”

“So what are their names?” you inquired, scratching your mount’s neck. The gelding groaned and leaned into your touch, causing you giggle.

Javier smiled softly at the bright sound bubbling up from you. “He’s Red. And this mare’s Stormy.”

“Plain and simple,” you noted.

“Yeah, well, my dad’s a simple man,” Javier told you as he gave Stormy a pat. “You ready to head out?”

You nodded, and he led you away from the main yard of the ranch at a walk, out into open country. As you set out, you took time to bask in the fading sunlight, eyes closed, the heat from it finally tolerable.

July afternoons in Texas were often too hot to work horses, so Javier had suggested you come by later in the day for a ride, just as things were starting to cool down. It turned out to be the perfect time.

Red turned out to be perfect too, or as perfect as any horse could be anyway. You’d ridden several beginner horses in your lifetime, but none were both laid back and responsive like he was. You barely had to tug the reins to redirect his head, you barely had to dig in a heel for him to pick up his pace slightly, into a faster walk, and he had an air of calm that made you trust him like no other horse before. He made you feel confident, and that was important to have as a rider.

Javier must’ve sensed it because several minutes into the ride he suggested loping. “If we want to make it to the spot I have in mind before the sun fully sets, we’re going to have to pick up the pace. But only if you’re ready.”

You nodded. “I am.”

To prove your point, you clicked your tongue at Red and leaned slightly forward, encouraging him into a faster speed. He arched his neck immediately and his gait swiftly changed into one of a rocking motion. You were instantly reminded why the lope was your favorite horse gait. It was smooth, predictable, and yet still speedy enough to give you a thrill. You gave a yip to the darkening sky above and dared to steal a look at Javier, who had urged Stormy to keep the same stride as Red.

When you had first met him five weeks ago, you’d teasingly endowed him with the nickname cowboy, but it wasn’t until that evening, when he was riding a horse beside you, that he’d actually looked like one to you. Eyes focused ahead, seat steady, dressed in a red plaid shirt, dark blue jeans, and a tan pair of riding boots. He might have looked like he stepped right out of an old western, if he wasn’t missing the cowboy hat, but even without it, he sold it.

You felt a flame ignite in your belly as you observed him. You had a thing for cowboys, and you had a major thing for Javier. His broad shoulders, his strong nose, his large hands, his kind eyes, and his rumbling low voice. You’d found yourself totally distracted by him when Red suddenly stumbled over a rock in your path, lurching forward enough to unseat you, nearly causing you to flip over his neck. Luckily, you’d latched onto the saddle horn the split second it occurred and managed to steady yourself, a gasp flying out of your mouth as you did so.

“You alright?” Javier asked, as he slowed Stormy to walk alongside Red again, concerned.

You tilted your head away from him, trying to hide the embarrassment you had over letting your attention get drawn away from the ride. It really wasn’t the time.

“I’m fine,” you answered. “Does Red look okay? I don’t feel him limping but it’s not like I’m an expert.”

Javier studied the horse for a few moments, eyes scanning over his legs, shoulders, and hips and he shook his head. “He looks good to me. He didn’t stumble too badly.”

“Yeah, I just wasn’t paying enough attention to stay balanced,” you huffed.

Javier shrugged. “Happens to the best of us.” If he knew why you’d been caught off guard, he didn’t show it. “We’re here.”

You peered between Red’s ears and spotted a few hills up ahead, right along the border of wire fencing surrounding the Pena property. When Javier pointed Stormy at the middle hill and began climbing it, you followed suit on Red, smiling. Of course. Watching the sun set on a hill. The range of view it provided probably made it the best scenic spot on the ranch.

You were pretty certain of it after you watched the last of the sun’s rays dip behind the horizon at the top, no light left except for a few lingering streaks of gold and orange highlighting the clouds in the sky. It was far from the first time you’d seen a sunset, but it was the first time in your memory that you’d witnessed the exact moment day became night. The sight of it over the arid landscape, from Red’s back, left you sucking in a sharp breath. It was funny how something that happened every day could be so beautiful.

“You’re lucky to have this place,” you told Javier. “I’d kill for a view like this.”

He chuckled. “Hopefully not in a literal sense.”

You snorted and his expression turned serious as he sighed. “When I was a teenager, I wanted nothing more than to get away from here. I found it boring. I wanted to see the world.”

“Did you?” you questioned.

His mouth twisted into something like a grimace. “Not in the way I wanted to.”

“Do you still find it boring here?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But being bored isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a man.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know what Javier had gone through during his time as a DEA agent, he wasn’t very open about it, didn’t willingly divulge much about it except occasional stories about his old partner Steve and his family. And your relationship was still too new for you to feel like you had the right to dig. You didn’t need to know, after all. Whatever had happened when he was taking down cartels in Colombia, whatever he had done, that was in the past.

You had fallen into a quiet spell after that, but it was quickly broken by your stomach growling loudly.

You felt your cheeks heat up again as Javier laughed at the noise. “Guess we should head back.”

You agreed quietly and followed him back to the ranch at a jog, as the sky darkened enough for the first stars to come out, content with not saying anything else. Javier didn’t seem to mind your silence, but he did break it as the ranch house came into view.

“Do you need to get home to feed Trix?” he inquired, his eyes darting over to you.

“No,” you replied quickly. “Actually, I had a friend take her home tonight, in case I was late getting home tonight.”

Tomorrow morning late.

Do not get embarrassed, you chided yourself mentally.

You’d been pondering over it a lot over the last week. You’d thought about how easy things were with Javier, how much you’d come to trust him in the last month you’d been dating, and how he had never asked for anything more than you’d been willing to give.

It wasn’t like a month was that long, right? But you felt like it had been long enough. Too long taking your situation in consideration. You’d decided you were ready to take the next step with him if he was, but you being you, you couldn’t just spell out your intentions for him.

The way Javier tensed in the saddle for a moment, you guessed your intent was clear enough. You reveled a little when you noticed him swallowing hard.

“So do you want to join me in the house for supper after we untack the horses?” he inquired. “I can’t promise much, I’m not exactly a cook, but I think we have some eggs I could scramble and a loaf of bread for some toast. We always have enough coffee on hand.”

“Your dad won’t mind?” you prodded. You’d figured you’d go out to eat and end up at your place, not in the ranch house shared with his father.

“He’s actually visiting his sister for the weekend,” Javier informed you. “Not that he would’ve.”

You couldn’t believe the timing. Your heart fluttered at the idea of you and Javier having the whole house to yourselves. No neighbors like at your apartment. Not a single pair of prying eyes or ears to worry about. You bit your bottom lip.

“I’d love to,” you said, hopping off Red when he was a few feet from the front door of the barn.

Javier’s lips curled upward slightly. “Great.”

He swung off Stormy’s back and guided her into the barn, leading you by example. You brought the horses into the two empty stalls at the back the barn, the other two occupied by slightly shorter horses, a paint and a dapple gray that was built very similarly to Red. You both made quick work of untacking your mounts, grooming them, and giving them hay for the night, along with the other horses.

With a goodnight kiss to Red’s velvety muzzle you strolled down the barn aisle side by side with Javier, anxiety starting to pool in the pit of your stomach over how the night might turn out, your self-confidence seemingly plummeting to an all-time low as you overthought. But you were too stubborn, too tired of taking the easy way out, to let that shut you down so fast.

After you exited the barn, stepping back on the dirt drive to the Pena household you cleared your throat, simply to get Javier’s attention. When his eyes met yours, you nodded at your car. “I’ve got a change of clothes. Would you mind if I used your shower to get cleaned up before supper?”

His eyes widened slightly, and surprise was written all over his face. “Uh, sure. I’ll cook the eggs and get the coffee going while you do that.”

You stood on your tip toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks.”

x

The Pena house was ancient as far as houses in Texas went, but it was well kept and maintained for a place that hadn’t had a woman’s touch in at least a decade. It was cozy, if not a little stuffy, made worst by the lack of air conditioning. 

As soon as you’d entered the house, Javier had gotten to work getting out everything he’d need to cook the eggs and you’d climbed the stairs to the second floor, following the directions he’d given you to find the bathroom. Not that it was hard to find. First door to the right of the stairs.

It felt strange stripping bare in a household you’d never been in before, even in the bathroom with the door closed. It was different than being in a hotel room with friends or family. You weren’t used to being naked in the home of a person you didn’t know a month ago. You may have trusted Javier, but the awkwardness was still there. You shrugged off the feeling. Afterall, if you couldn’t take an innocent little shower in his house, how would you fuck him?

You used the cheap 2 in 1 shampoo that was on the shower shelf for your hair, making sure to work it into your hair until there were plenty of suds, then rinsed and used one of the new bars of soap you’d found in the room’s cabinet to clean your body. It took maybe six minutes before you were out of the shower and wrapped in a towel, headed for your bag on the countertop.

You hadn’t just packed some fresh clothes in it, but also a toothbrush and toothpaste, and you used them then, just in case you wouldn’t have time to brush after the supper, though you planned to take a moment to do so.

Another three minutes and you were downstairs, the smell of eggs and toast and coffee filled your nostrils way before you reached the kitchen.

“Smells good,” you called out as you turned the corner to enter the room.

Javier smiled at you as you plopped yourself down at the table. “Better?”

You nodded as you pulled a hair tie out of your left front pocket to tie back your damp hair. “Much. And I thought New York summers were hot.”

“Food’s done,” he announced, shutting off the stove burner he was using and pulling a pair of plates out of the cabinet next to the sink. “Come eat.”

As if you hadn’t hinted at deepening your relationship, you and Javier talked over supper like you typically did on your dates, about anything and everything that popped into your heads. Something a family member had done, a friend, people at work, or about the animals. You hadn’t seen each other since Sunday afternoon, six days ago, and Javier wasn’t big on phone calls, so there was a fair bit to catch up on.

After you’d eaten your fill, you both stood to dump your plates in the sink.

“Leave the mess for now,” he told you. “I’m going to go take a shower and get into clean clothes too, then I’ll pick up. There are movies on the shelf by the TV in the living room. If you want, you could pick out one and we could watch it when I’m out?”

“Sure,” you said, having no intention of leaving the mess alone, nor watching a movie after.

“Make yourself at home,” he shouted back down as he disappeared up the stairs.

As soon as he was out of sight, you got to work, shoving utensils and plates into the dishwasher and scrubbing the pan he’d used for the eggs under running warm water. After washing the pan and anything else that couldn’t be washed by machine, you wiped down the stove and tabletop before taking to the living room to pace around.

For the hell of it, you took a couple minutes to look through the pile of video tapes by the TV, mostly old westerns and 80s cop shows. You decided to pick one out just so you had something in hand when Javier returned, settling for The Magnificent Seven. You hadn’t watched a lot of westerns growing up, but you’d heard that was a pretty decent one, so you planted yourself on the couch with the case in hand.

He joined you less than a minute later, hands on his hips. “You didn’t need to clean up.”

“I wanted to,” you declared. “In my house growing up the cook never washed the dishes after.”

He shook his head. “So did you choose out a movie?”

You raised the hand grasping the video tape.

“Good choice,” he said approvingly, flopping down beside you. “You ready to watch?”

“After I use the bathroom,” you told him, pushing yourself back up onto your feet.

As soon as you were out of sight, you raced up the stairs, taking time to pee and to brush your teeth one more time, afraid any remnants of supper would ruin any possible moments. 

You cursed the wayward curls on your forehead when you looked in the mirror and chose to let your hair hang loose again so they blended in better. After you’d brushed your hair out with your fingers so it wasn’t so flat from the tie, you made your way back to the living room.

“All set now,” you announced, hoping the nervousness in your voice wouldn’t give away what you were about to say next.

“I already popped in the movie,” Javier notified you as you sat back down, one of your knees brushing against his as you twisted in your seat to face him. “We just need to press play.”

You nodded, putting on a thoughtful look for show. “What if I don’t want to watch a movie?”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead and he smirked, amused. “Impatient, carino?”

“I knew you’d gotten the hint,” you murmured as you leaned forward to let your lips nearly brush his.

“It wasn’t exactly subtitle,” he informed you.

“Oh well.” You pressed your lips against his and he immediately opened up to you, letting you slip your tongue inside as you eagerly pulled yourself onto his lap.

This much you were used to, this much you’d done with him before. He’d helped you refine your kisses with practice, and you’d quickly become confident about your techniques once you’d gotten good enough to draw a groan from him and that is what you set out to do again on that couch.

When the sound slipped out from somewhere deep in his throat, you jerked away from him just enough to speak. “Show me to your room.”

“Are you sure about this?” he asked lowly, cupping one of your cheeks with a rough hand, his dark brown eyes searching yours earnestly.

“I think the slow burn’s gone on long enough,” you joked, kissing him again, nipping at his bottom lip. He grunted at that and deepened it once more.

After a few moments he led you upstairs, to the second room on the left, dragging you inside and grabbing you by the waist, his lips never leaving yours for longer than a split second. He walked you to his bed, sitting on the edge and patting his legs. You got the message and straddled him, sitting on his lap more directly than you had on the couch.

With nothing but moonlight to guide you in the dark, you reached for the hem of the clean gray t-shirt Javier had worn after his shower and removed it, throwing it to the ground as you placed your mouth back on his and splayed your hands over his bare chest.

What a dream he was, and it was only just the beginning. Every muscle in your body already humming with anticipation, with arousal. You let him tug your shirt over your head without a second thought, and closed your eyes as he nibbled the delicate skin along your collarbone, shivering at the pleasant graze of his teeth and his tongue on you. You gasped a little, lost in the moment.

But you quickly snapped out of it when you felt his hands reaching to unclasp your lacy bra, the one you’d specially bought just for him. You stopped him with your hands over his biceps, gripping them firmly.

He glanced up at you, confusion written on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’d rather keep the bra on tonight,” you answered breathlessly.

He frowned, lips almost forming into a pout. “Why?”

You could tell by his inflection that he wasn’t trying to pressure you with the question or make you feel stupid about your reluctance, he genuinely wanted to know your reason, to understand it, but it still made you feel more self-conscious than you’d ever felt before in your life.

You didn’t want to lie, but you did try to shrug it off like it wasn’t actually a big deal to you. “They just look better like that.”

Your breasts had never been as perky and well-shaped as the ones women tended to have on TV and they were your least favorite part of your body. You’d been hoping that, for at least one night, you could avoid...flaunting them. You’d thought it would be easy enough to avoid if you bought a fancy bra to contain them.

Javier’s eyes softened a bit, and he kissed you along your jaw, drawing a quiet moan from you. “If you’d rather keep it on for comfort, that’s alright, but don’t do it because you’re worried about my opinion of them. I promise I’m not a picky man, carino. And I’d like to touch you there. To kiss you there.”

He dipped his head down to kiss the center of your chest, as if to give you a preview, and you sucked in a deep breath. God, you wanted him to. Despite your reservations about the condition of your breasts, you desperately wanted him to explore them, to know what it felt like.

You swallowed hard. “Okay. Yes.”

He easily unclipped your bra and set your breasts free, watching them fall onto your chest, and you watched for his reaction, breath catching in your chest with apprehension.

You saw the exact moment his eyes darkened with lust, and you gnawed on your lip upon witnessing it. Your breasts turning him on was the last thing you’d expected on that night.

“Can I touch them?” he inquired, his voice raspier than before.

You whined at him. “Yes, Javi.”

He cupped them in his hands, kneading them, and his thumbs found your nipples, massaging them, moving in a circular pattern. You gasped and arched your back as they hardened, eyes closing to the pleasant sensation his touch sparked in you.

The next thing you knew his hot mouth was on your right one and you moaned loudly as his tongue dragged over the bud. He took his time to work over it, then the left, before returning his mouth to yours and pulling you in close, palms pressed against your bare back.

“You are perfect just the way you are, baby.” He grunted. “So damn sensitive. You sound so good.” His voice was strained, and it wasn’t the only part of him that was. You could feel his bulge through his jeans, and as he started grinding against your own jean clad center, your stomach did a flip when you gave recognition to the fact that he was hard for you. For the longest time you hadn’t believed you could be that attractive to anyone.

Your biggest insecurity about your body overcome, you felt empowered after, untouchable by your other, less notable ones, like the one you had for the faint stretch marks that ran along your belly and thighs, and the puzzle shaped birth mark on your right thigh that made that part of your skin lighter than the rest. They all faded to the back of your brain as your focus became single minded.

You stood and pushed off your jeans, kicking them aside in a beat, and your hands impatiently reached for the top button on his. He let you undo it and lifted his hips so you could peel his pants off. They were so form fitting the move nearly pulled his boxers off with them, revealing the happy trail between his hips as they rode dangerously low.

With your next kiss you were back on his lap, hands gripping his strong shoulders tightly as his hands found your hips.

He nibbled on your neck, and his mustache lightly brushed the delicate skin there, making you pitch forward with a giggle. “That tickles.”

“Sorry,” he apologized under his breath, though a grin was plastered on his face.

You grinned back at him. “No, I like it.”

You kept kissing each other, mouths mapping whatever skin you could easily reach, and somewhere during that time you’d shifted, positioned your body so that one of his thighs was straddled between your legs, pressed to your cunt. It took you a minute to realize you were rotating your hips, rubbing yourself against the firm muscle underneath his skin and your thin lacy underwear.

Your cheeks heated when you noticed and you immediately stilled your hips, redirecting your passion to mouthing at his neck.

He groaned his disappointment. “Don’t stop, hermosa, keep going. Try to get yourself off on my thigh. I want to see it.”

Your breath hitched and you nearly bit down on the slope of his shoulder when those words tumbled out of his mouth. “Fuck, Javi, don’t tell me that like that.” You might as well have been struck by lightning.

He chuckled and beamed up at you unapologetically, tightening his hold on your hips a little more to help you keep balance as you started back up again. You felt a bit silly dry humping his leg at first, but the way he stared up at your face reverently, with his pupils blown wide open, erased it and you fully embraced the situation, digging your nails into his shoulders for purchase as you moved.

The friction between your folds, your thin underwear, and his thigh caused by your rolling hips felt so good you got completely lost in it, eyes half mast, breaths catching. You could feel something building within you, making the pit of your stomach burn and the space between your legs throb. Your heart began to race, sweat broke out over your brow, and you let out a loud moan.

“You’re so fucking hot like this,” Javier told you with a moan of his own, eyes glued to your face except for the occasional glance to where you were riding him. You felt a thrill coarse through you after hearing his admiration, and felt yourself get tantalizingly close to climaxing, but after a while you realized getting yourself to tip over the edge was going to be impossible. It just wasn’t quite enough.

You blew out a frustrated sound and Javier pursed his lips. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I can’t, not like this,” you admitted regretfully. “It’s not enough.” If only it was.

He stroked his hands up and down your back, like he was trying to soothe you. “Can I try something? Can I touch you here?”

One of his hands went to the front of your underwear and your heart jumped. You’d wanted to know for so long what it would be like for a man to touch you there, so long that you didn’t even hesitant to agree to it. He slipped his hand under the fabric after you gave him permission and you felt his thick fingers start to circle your most sensitive bits, getting coated by your wetness as he did so.

You lurched forward at the extra contact, and in under a minute his fingers had you flying over the edge, crying out his name as you came harder than you’d ever on your own. You clutched to him for several seconds after before you pulled away to kiss him heatedly.

“Felt so good,” you panted against his lips. “But I want to feel you in me, Javi. Please.”

“You don’t have to beg hermosa,” he said with a groan, his hands cupping your face. “I want it just as bad. But I gotta know first, is this your first time?”

You froze, suddenly reminded of that other big insecurity that had managed to not rear its ugly head until he’d brought it up. You chewed your lip nervously. “How’d you guess?”

He smiled at you softly. “Our first kiss hinted that might be the case.”

Your eyes fell away from his. You knew you shouldn’t be, but there was a part of you that couldn’t help but feel ashamed. “I didn’t want to bring it up.”

“Why not?” he prompted, expression nonjudgmental.

“Cause it’s embarrassing, a woman my age.”

“Nothing wrong with waiting,” Javier assured you.

“You’re not bothered by it?” you asked, hopeful. To your knowledge, most men preferred women who were experienced, who knew what they were doing. Certainly a man like Javier would be one of them?

He shook his head firmly. “I promise I’m not, carino. I’d like to make you come one more time before though. With my fingers inside you this time.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck and groaned. You had to be living some kind of fantasy. This couldn’t be real. “Fuck, go for it.”

He laughed and shifted, scooping you up and twisting around so you were laying on your back against the bedspread. He crawled between your thighs, kissed the spot right over your heart, and his left hand wrapped around the back of your neck as his right wandered down between your legs.

He removed your underwear swiftly and started working you up with his fingers again, and you gasped when he slipped a thick finger inside you, then eventually two, taking his time to stretch you out. It felt indescribably good as he pumped them in and out of you, the rest of his fingers pressed against your clit, making your core flood with heat again.

You dug your nails into his back, but he didn’t seem to care, if anything it seemed maddening for him. You’d later distantly recall that he had ground himself against the mattress because of it, desperate for a tiny bit of relief, right before your second orgasm hit you. 

Chest heaving, you lifted your hands to palm your sweaty face afterwards. “Holy hell Javi, you’re good at that.”

He smirked down at you, pleased with himself. “Think you’re ready now?”

You were already reaching for the waistband of his boxers, even though you’d barely recovered from your last high.

“Wanna answer the question, baby?” he inquired, though his eyes danced, amused by your enthusiasm.

You growled lowly. “You can bet I am.”

He helped you remove his boxers and when his cock sprung forth you ran a hand down its hard length, curious to know the feeling. 

He bucked into your touch reflexively and you beamed at him almost wickedly, riding a high of confidence. “That feel good?”

“Will feel much better in a minute,” he hissed. “Lie back.”

You did as ordered and he fished a condom out of a tin box that was on his nightstand, rolling one on and lining himself up with your entrance within a matter of seconds. 

He planted his lips against yours again and met your eyes. “You ready?” he murmured.

You nodded, though you tensed up immediately after, more so from anticipation than worry. You’d imagined this moment for so long, yet you still had no idea what to expect.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Javier said softly, having felt your muscles bunch up. “I’ve got you.” He braced himself with one arm over your head, and you took a calming breath as he used his other hand to guide his cock into you slowly, inch by inch.

You gasped from the intensity of him stretching you out, and you buried your hands into his hair to ground yourself, but there was no pain.

“You okay?” he asked, stilling for a moment as he kissed you, the hand above your head caressing your hair.

“Yes,” you whimpered. “You feel so good.”

Reassured, he slid even deeper inside you, and you gripped his shoulders tightly, snapping your eyes shut to focus on the feeling of his firm shaft dragging along your walls. You bit your lip again, and you wondered if it would be sore later, if other parts of you would also be sore. Not that you cared.

Your focus turned to Javier after he finally bottomed out in you with a raspy groan. “So tight, carino. You feel amazing.”

You moaned softly, loving the praise pouring out of his mouth, loving that he was enjoying this as much as you were. You curled a leg around his hip and made the first move, shifting your hips down and back up to meet his, causing an intense friction that made you both moan and inhale sharply.

He started to gently pump into you after, teeth skimming your jaw as he did, tongue tasting your skin here and there.

You watched him with half lidded eyes as he moved above you, gazed back down at you, eyes filled with heat, desire, and an unspoken love that made your heart soar. It wasn’t just sex you were participating in, there was a deep emotional connection involved too, one that had snuck up on you both.

Knowing that heightened your own desire, your need to reach your peak, and you sought a faster pace until he was matching you with full thrusts into you. Your sharp cries mixed with his low grunts, and you thought it was heavenly, especially when you realized your climax was nearing again.

“So close,” you hummed, eyes fluttering shut.

“Good,” he panted. 

He surged into you one more time and you felt something inside you burst, making you fall apart. You felt like Jello after, limbs useless and mind lost in a haze of bliss.

Javier joined you after a couple more quick strokes, groaning loudly into your ear as he filled the condom. He nearly collapsed onto you as he came down, but managed to keep his weight off you as he shifted his focus to kissing your neck tenderly.

You weaved your fingers through his thick, unruly hair and smiled happily, basking in his affection.

“Everything you hoped for?” Javier inquired eventually, one of his hands coming up to brace your neck gently.

“And more,” you admitted, laughing. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never.” He pressed a kiss to your chin.

“You?” you asked. His satisfaction was as important to you as your own.

He caught your mouth with his briefly before answering. “You had nothing to worry about,” he told you, pulling out with a grunt after.

You whined at the loss of him, and he gave you a disastrously playful wink. “More later.”

You grinned, elated by how light his mood was, proud to be the cause. “Better be.”

He kissed you one more time then helped you pull off the covers of the bed and slip underneath the sheets. You’d both have to get up to clean yourselves later, but for the time being you curled up together instead, inhaling each other’s scents and taking comfort in each other’s arms.

And for the first time in your life, you understood what it felt like having someone who felt like home.

xxx

Masterlist

tagged: @angelofsmalldeath-codeine​

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

The ABLEIST mindset within Wings of Fire

TW: Ableism and Ranting.

Within wings of fire, I noticed that there’s a bad, and even ableist mindset within Wings of Fire that assumes that disabled characters - or at least, the part of them that’s disabled - is ‘broken’, and that the disabled character would be happier being ‘fixed’ of it. But before I explain this, here’s some disclaimers:

Please note that while I am neurodivergent, I’m NOT physically disabled, so if I say anything bad and/or wrong within this confession, please inform people about it in a non-harassing and hopefully civil manner. I did learn that there are disabled people that dislike this mindset and/or trope, resulting in me to be upset about it as well, so I came here to inform people and rant about this mindset in this confession.

Do NOT hate and/or harass Tui., anyone who agrees or disagrees with this confession, and people within the sources and/or evidence I’ll leave for this ask. I advise people to instead inform and/or educate people instead about why this confession is good and/or bad, instead of hating and/or harassing people because they agree or disagree with it.

I’m NOT telling anymore to the characters I’ll be mentioning here, which specifically Turtle and Anemone. I honestly don’t hate or dislike both of them myself, and feel like the problem with them having mindset is more so the problem of the writing within WoF than the characters themselves instead, which unfortunately negatively writes them in the series.

Within Part one of Talons of Power, after Tamarin tells Turtle that he’ll keep the fact that Anemone being a animus a secret, Turtle thinks about his animus magic. And while he does so, he thinks…this:

 “He’d been keeping the same secret his whole life. Was it hard? Maybe sometimes - like whenever something bad happened that he knew his magic could fix, but he had to go ahead and leave it broken. Like Tamarin’s eyes.

I could fix them. I could do it right now . . . I could enchant that bandage so when she takes it off she can see for the first time of her life.” - Talons of Power, Page 24.

Turtle stated that he views Tamarin’s eyes as ‘broken’ because she can’t see out of them. Something that he could ‘fix’.  And what’s more icky and even bad about this is that Turtle DOESN’T even THINK about whether or it Tamarin actually WANTS to be ‘fixed’. Her consent and/or agency in this quote ISN’T even CONSIDERED.

And what’s even WORSER about this is the fact that she was literally mentioned to have literal SERIOUS BURNS AND INJURIES that she gained only a few DAYS or ONE WEEK ago.

And within the same book, she was mentioned to have these injures literally a few PAGES AGO: 

She’s “covered swathes of bandages and streaks of bandage marks. A poultice of damp leaves is wrapped around her eyes.” - Talons of Power, Page 19.

And despite this, he doesn’t even THINK or CONSIDER healing Tamarin’s literal SERIOUS INJURIES despite the fact that he has a literal ENCHANTED rock that can heal wounds and is KNOWN to work, like when Turtle healed his tail after the cactus bomb explosion in Possibility, and saved Winter’s literal LIFE from the SEVERE BURNS that Peril accidentally gave Winter.

So the fact that Turtle thought about ‘FIXING’ Tamarin’s disability, something that she was BORN with and lived with her ENTIRE LIFE, and has already ADAPTED to living with it so well to the point that she taught Starflight how to fly and navigate while blind at the age of THREE, without even THINKING and/or CONSIDERING to heal Tamarin LITERAL RECENT BURNS AND WOUNDS, despite her probably having actual physical PAIN from them, is honestly feels quite upsetting, and GROSS even.

And Turtle’s not the only one to have this negative mindset…Anemone does to.

ANEMONE. The dragon that has a literal CRUSH on Tamarin, and is confirmed to be DATING Tamarin too! 

Because later within Talons of Power - the same book that Turtle said the stuff mentioned above in - after Darkstalker ‘heals’ Flame’s face, Darkstalker and Anemone have…THIS conversation: 

 “You know, I offered to cure Starflight’s blindness once, but Tsunami said no, that my soul is too vauleable, whatever, whatever.” She touched her neckband. “But now I can! Or you can! One of us can. Won’t Starflight be exciters?”

“I’m not sure.” Darkstalker said kindly “It’s a generous idea, but in my visions, he’s reluctant to have a magic cure from us. Maybe if we give him a little more time to get used to the idea.”

“Reluctant? Why?” Anemone demanded. “We can fix everyone now!” - Talons of Power, Page 63

❗️“Reluctant? Why?” Anemone demanded. “We can fix everyone now!”❗️The way Anemone reacted to Darksthonestly feels like she’s ignorant to the fact that there’s disabled dragon in the world that are HESITANT to be ‘cured’ of their disability. Let alone DON’T want to be ‘fixed’ of it. Maybe even viewing disabled dragons as ‘broken’ because of their disability, and assumes they would be happier being ‘fixed’ of their disability.

And within the prologue of The Hive Queen, Turtle mentions that he and Anemone attempted to ‘cure’ Starflight and Tamarin of their disability, with Turtle attempting to do this to Starflight, and Anemone attempting to do this to Tamarin. And Turtle DOESN’T even mention whether or not Starflight and Tamarin actually WANTED to be ‘cured’ or not.

And you maybe asking: “Why is this such a bad thing?” Or at least “why or how does this mindset fall into such a bad and even ABLEIST trope?”

Well, because there’s unfortunately a common but bad trope within media that believes - or at least implies - that disabled characters - disabled PEOPLE - are ‘incomplete’ because of their disability, so they need to be ‘fixed’ healed’ or ‘cured’ of it in order to become ‘whole’.

And while Wings of Fire doesn’t 100% completely fit and/or believes in this trope - It still implys that disabled dragons - DISABLED PEOPLE, since dragons are equally as intelligent and complex as humans IRL within Wings of Fire - as ‘broken’ because of their disability, and assumes that disabled dragons would be happier or maybe even better if they’re ‘fixed’ ‘healed’ or ‘cured’ by it, which is…yeah. Still pretty damn icky.

Of course, I do understand that it may make sense for Turtle and Anemone to have these thoughts, especially for how young they

Turtle is mentioned to see wounded soldiers in The Garden of the Wounded within the Sea kingdom, which had dragons that recently had lost one of their limbs from fighting within the war, not knowing how to swim - yet - while recovering from the trauma of their injuries. I suppose that this possibly made Turtle mistake being and/or living as disabled as a bad and/or negative thing through his childhood, rather than the TRAUMA and/or the TRAUMATIC EVENT that caused those soldiers to lose one of their limbs.

While Anemone is a traumatized and abused young child and/or tween, who became a “bratty” and “ignorant” dragon within Arc 2, not just from the trauma she experienced, but possibly from Coral’s ignorant and/or angry behavior negatively impacting Anemone as a dragon as well.

However, regardless of the case to why these characters have these mindsets about disabled dragons, or even how common this point of view is within media, it does NOT stop the fact that thinking this way about disabled dragons is NEGATIVE. Is BAD. And that it even falls into a ABLEIST mindset within media.

The main problem about this though is not the fact that Turtle and Anemone have these thoughts about disabled dragons, or even the fact that it falls into a ableist trope within media.

It’s the fact that the characters or even the writing doesn’t ADRESS that these thoughts about disabled characters are a NEGATIVE or even a BAD thing.

These thoughts could’ve even been OK as long as the characters and the writing implied and even stated that this mindset towards disabled dragons is a NEGATIVE or even a BAD thing! But it’s NOT. Not even in areas within the plot and/or story that this mindset COULD’VE been written and be ADDRESSED about being negative and/or bad. 

Turtle wasn’t written to possibly feel uncomfortable about Darkstalker ‘healing’ Flame’s scar. Because while yes, he did want it healed, Darkstalker mentally PUSHED and MADE his scar becoming ‘healed’ instead of convincing him to do so with his “kindness” that he has towards Anemone.

Turtle wasn’t written to feel uncomfortable about what Anemone said to Darkstalker, and then think about Tamarin and wonder whether or not she actually wants to be ‘fixed’ of her blindness, and maybe even guilty for thinking about ‘fixing’ her eyes without even considering her consent for it. Possibly even wondering whether or not he’s bad dragon for thinking about her disability in that way.

Anemone’s mindset about disabled dragons is NEVER confronted by ANY disabled character, whether it be Clay, Starflight, or even Tamarin. Or by a character who’s friends with one of them, like Fatespeaker or Sunny. Anemone’s mindset about disabled dragons ISN’T confronted BEFORE she started dating TAMARIN, a dragon which has the SAME disability as the one that Anemone has IGNORANCE to when to comes to dragons being hesitant about being ‘cured’ of their blindness, let alone don’t want to be ‘cured’ of their disability.

The fact that Turtle and Anemone attempted to actually ‘CURE’ or ‘FIX’ Starflight and Tamarin isn’t ADDRESSED or even WRIITEN as bad if those characters don’t want to be ‘fixed’ of their disability, or at least whether or it they actually WANT to be ‘fixed’ or not.

TURTLE’S AND ANEMONE’S MINDSETS TOWARDS DISABLED DRAGONS IS NEVER ADDRESSED OR EVEN IMPLIED TO BE NEGATIVE OR BAD WITHIN THE WRITING. 

And because of this, these mindsets on disabled dragons are treated as NORMAL, or OK mindsets to have on disabled dragons. But they’re NOT.

And because of this, it can result into people reading this to believe that these thoughts about disabled character - disabled PEOPLE - are NORMAL to have. That they’re OK to believe in. And that’s very upsetting, especially since this series is directed towards literal CHILDREN, specifically around the ages of 8 - 12, who also probably will absorb this and believe in this bad mindset towards disabled characters - and possibly disabled PEOPLE even - and that it’s a ok mindset to have MORE than the older fans reading it.

And the negative impacts of this mindset in Wings of Fire can be seen within the WoF fandom - whether it be from young fans, older fans or fans of ANY age - with some parts of the fandom even believing in this harmful mindset towards disabled characters-

With people making fanfics about Anemone ‘curing’ Tamarin’s disability, and with people wishing that Starflight’s and/or Tamarin’s disabilities are ‘healed’.

Disabled characters - disabled PEOPLE - are NOT ‘broken’ because of their disability. People with disabilities don’t need to be ‘FIXED’, and may not even want that.

Disabled people can STILL live a HAPPY and GOOD life with their disability, despite the struggles it gives them.

The problem is NOT the fact that there’s people that are disabled - rather the negative struggles that come with their disability.

And ESPECIALLY the fact that a LOT disabled people around the world unfortunately live in a society that’s more likely to prejudice them for being disabled, even wishing that they’re more “normal” and/or “fixed” rather than accepting disabled people as they are while helping them with the struggles from their disability.

And if you still don’t believe the information within this confession, I HIGHLY recommend the video called “Why You Shouldn’t Heal Disabled Characters”, which can be found on youtube. Because while it does NOT talk about this ableism within Wings of Fire, it DOES talk about why this trope and/or mindset with media is ableist, and that you should NOT put it within your own stories.

I’ll mention some of the disclaimers again:

Please note that while I am neurodivergent, I’m NOT physically disabled, so if YOU are physically disabled, and noticed I said anything bad or wrong within this confession, let people know about it in a non-harassing and hopefully civil manner.

And if you want to add in your own input about this confession, and even link sources to support this confession, feel free to do it if you want!

Also, do NOT hate and/or harass Tui, people who agree or disagree with this confession, or anyone who created the evidence and/or sources in this confession. INSTEAD, if you agree or disagree with this confession, please inform and educate people about it instead in a civil manner.

Anon asked me to add some images, which will be below the divider.

Anon's notes and sources:

Essay about dragons wanting ‘fix’ Tamarin’s disability:https://www.deviantart.com/amphibiian/status-update/one-problem-with-wings-of-922342904

Notes: A essay that someone posted that talks about dragons thinking about ‘fixing’ Tamarin’s disability, and why Tamarin doesn’t need to be ‘fixed’.

Why You Shouldn’t Heal Disabled Characters:https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=h203v5ZTqBo&feature=youtu.be

Notes: The video I mentioned within the confession. The video explains the ableist trope that I mentioned within the confession and why you shouldn’t believe in it and/or not put it within your stories.

Disability in Warrior Cats - ❕time stamp 7:56 - 9:15❕:https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=c7mL2Y3rezw&pp=ygUZd2FycmlvciBjYXRzIGRpc2FiaWxpdGllcw%3D%3D

Notes: The reason why I also included this video is that within the time stamp, it explains that disabled warrior cat characters are ‘healed’ or ‘fixed’ in Starclan - the cat characters’ afterlife - and why that’s a bad and/or negative thing to be written within the books.

Ableist Tropes 101: Miracle Cure:https://luminositylibrary.wordpress.com/2021/07/13/ableist-tropes-101-miracle-cure/

Notes: A essay that explains why this trope is negative, bad, and ableist within media.

All the people who created the sources within the links - excluding the Tamarin essay - are people who are disabled.