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#she just has this grace and beauty about her
whateversawesome · 1 day
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Spy x Family Chapter 97: An Old Love Story
Okay, say it with me: FOIL!
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You can see it too, right? Looks like Martha x Henry (Henderson)'s story is a foil of Twilight and Yor's story.
Henderson was in Twilight's place; the smart, lonely young man so focused on his ideals that he was blind about who was in front of him and his very own feelings.
Martha was in Yor's place, the strong and graceful girl too young and inexperienced to know her own heart and that she was in love.
This is exactly what's happening with Twiyor, the main couple of the story, and I think we may get to see one of the possible endings for our beloved Twiyor through Martha and Henderson story.
Now, what do we know about these two 🤔...
We know that Henry Henderson has a daughter and a son-in-law. It was mentioned he writes to them, but there was no mention of his wife. This leads me to believe that:
His wife is no longer alive.
He lives with his wife, so there's no reason for him to write to her.
He is divorced.
So, with this information we still can't know what's the current relationship between Martha and Henry, but we can take a guess 😉
From the way the story is being told, it almost feels like it's a semi-tragic love story, doesn't it? We can almost assume that they didn't end up together...or did they?
Theory one: Yup, everyone is right and Martha and Henderson eventually went their separate ways for reasons we'll probably get to know in the next couple of chapters.
If this theory is right, I think it's beautiful that they are getting a second chance 💖They certainly look more mature, confident, and calm (also elegant!). I love the way they look at each other, so much trust and love 😌
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Theory two: I know this one is a long shot (and Henderson just said in that panel that "She is merely and old friend") but maybe...they're actually married. Why am I so bold to even consider that possibility?! Well, there's this panel:
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The matron is clearly teasing Master Henderson, don't you agree? If she does it, it's because she knows something. Either she knows that there was something between those two in their youth or she knows they are married. I don't know, but they way she said the word "partner" and the fact that Master Henderson is married made me think that Martha is his wife. I know, I know...it's a remote possibility, but you have to remember that marriage is mentioned a lot through different characters and couples during the story, so maybe those two were actually married. (But, it's quite possible it's theory one).
Other things to consider...
How long have Ostania and Westalis been at war?
My guess is that we're talking about two different wars between the same countries; very much like WWI and WWII, where there was a brief period of peace before a second conflict. So, probably the first war started while Henderson was in his 20s and the second war started when he was in his 40s (and Twilight was a kid).
It makes a lot of sense that now they're in a period of "Cold War", just like in real life.
The Garden
I am convinced that the Garden is involved in this. I've talked about this before (read it here). After this chapter, I still think the Garden is going to pop up. Want some evidence?
Do you recognize this guy?
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That's right 😏 That's Matthew McMahon. What is he doing there? Too much of a coincidence, don't you think?
And also the way this is phrased:
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Odd that there was a mention of the word Garden, isn't it? And the fact that the whole story between those two takes place in a garden...🤔
In addition to that, in a previous chapter, Twilight observes how Martha moves like a soldier. Franky mentioned earlier that Garden people are like soldiers. And the Garden has a history of recruiting young skilled/strong people, like Yor. Things keep adding up.
The Consequences of War
This is a prevalent theme throughout the whole SxF universe: how war (violence, intolerance, manipulation of information, propaganda, politics) has affected the life of all the characters.
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No matter their background, nationality or education, we've seen it again and again with most of the characters big or small, like Twilight, Franky, Sylvia, Millie, and now we're about to see it with characters from an older generation like Martha and Henderson.
My guess is that this won't be the last time and this pattern will continue while the story lasts. I think what the story is trying to show us is how war is seen by some (politicians and men in power like Desmond) as a natural, inevitable course of action, but at the same time how brutal the consequences are in the smallest stories. That's one of the things that is truly remarkable about SxF.
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the-bensolos · 2 days
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No I’m SO sorry but it’s truly so funny to me that a lot of dudes going to see challengers for the idea that they’ll see a hot naked Zendaya and what they actually get treated to is tasteful and delicate aspects of the male form from the visionary that is Luca Guadagnino (and of course very very explicitly homoerotic imagery.) And there is a healthy amount of sexualization for both forms. But the fact that there is full frontal male nudity in this movie, the only true nudity in this movie is of the male form, marketed the way it is is just so good. Like I work in a theater and the amount of dudes coming out lambasting that this movie sucks is so fucking delicious. The way straight guys have to sit and accept the queerness of this movie that it EXISTS, that it’s beautiful and tender and gentle, and intimate, but also loud, and brash, and seeped into every conceivable corner adds another 10 on top of this already 10/10 movie.
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mellowsadistic · 1 day
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The Flower Girl - Part 2
As Grace stared at Jessica, angry and confused, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her.
“What are you doing?” she mumbled. “What’s going…”
But Jessica’s presence suddenly seemed magnified tenfold. It was as if Grace was looking up at someone much bigger than her, even though she and Jessica were the same height. There was a strange tingling in her brain, a rush of sudden vertigo. She imagined she might fall over, right onto her bottom. She giggled. That would be silly! She shook her head vigorously from side to side, trying to clear it.
“Not your… Not your big day,” said Grace, frowning. “I’m the bride.”
Jessica let out another one of her tinkling laughs. “Silly baby, you’re not the bride! Rob can’t get married to a silly little girl like you. This is my wedding, but I’m being very generous and letting you be the flower girl. Aren’t you lucky?”
Grace felt her head nodding enthusiastically. “Fank you!” she heard herself lisp. What the hell was happening?! The flower girl? Her head was clearing, but it felt as though she couldn’t control herself, like she was nothing but a passenger in her own body!
“Look what I got for you to wear, sweetie,” said Jessica, and she held up the dress she’d been carrying.
It was silly, frilly, and very small. The sleeves were puffy, the short skirt looked more like a tutu than anything else, and it had a large bow on the back.
Grace felt sick at the sight of it. No self-respecting woman would ever wear something so childish, something clearly meant for the youngest of children. But her body seemed to think differently. She heard herself gasp with excitement, and she thrust out her arms and made grabby hands at the ridiculous thing.
“Awww!” Olivia and Caroline cooed.
What was going on?! What was happening to her?! Her head was fully clear now, but Grace’s body still was completely out of her control. Why were Olivia and Caroline acting like nothing was wrong?!
“Alright, Gracie,” Jessica laughed. “Let’s get you changed. Olivia, Caroline, could you help her out of my dress?”
The two women hurried forwards and got to work. Grace could only stand there obediently, smiling vapidly and crying on the inside while her bridesmaids worked together to strip off various pieces of her attire and lift the beautiful dress back up over her head, leaving her in nothing but her underwear – and she didn’t get to keep those for long either.
“I can’t believe we ever thought you were an adult,” Olivia said, unclasping Grace’s bra and letting her large breasts spill out. She tittered at the sight of Grace’s tits wobbling on her chest. “Isn’t it funny how such a silly little girl has such big boobies? These massive knockers must have been how you tricked Rob into thinking you were a grown-up.”
To Grace’s horror, she started giggling and jumping up and down on the spot, making her bare boobs jiggle about madly.
Everyone laughed at her, and Olivia said, “I thought so! You’re just a naughty little brat, aren’t you sweetie? Just like Jessica said. I’m so glad you’ve come to your senses, Gracie. Jessica is clearly the one who’s meant to marry Rob, not you.”
Olivia would never say those kind of things to her! Grace was sure of that. Jessica must have done something to her, and Caroline as well!
Once Grace was standing in nothing but her undies, Olivia went over to Jessica with her wedding dress and started to help her change into it. Meanwhile, Caroline took the flower girl dress and held it up again for Grace to see.
“You’re going to look just like a princess, Gracie!” she said brightly.
Just like before, Grace couldn’t take her eyes off the mirror in front of her. But this time, her transformation was very different. Caroline slipped the tiny little flower girl dress over Grace’s head and started making adjustments to it, brushing down the skirts and squeezing Grace’s tits into the bodice.
Grace winced. It was so tight across the chest that it was painful. Her breasts bulged out obscenely through the fabric, and the puffy, frilly, tutu-like skirt barely reached past her bottom.
“There we go!” Caroline said. “Don’t you look pretty?”
Grace looked at herself in the mirror. She wanted to rip the ridiculous dress off her body and scream at everyone until someone told her what the fuck was going on. She wanted to smack Jessica hard across the face and throw her out of the venue. Instead she smiled stupidly. “Uh-hu!”
“Don’t forget to do her hair,” Jessica smirked, and Caroline nodded.
Grace could only stand there with a dumb grin on her face while her bridesmaid tied her sleek blonde hair into ridiculous pigtails sticking out from either side of her head.
There was a knock on the door and Annie, her third bridesmaid, finally came back into the room.
“Hi girls!” she said.
Grace prayed that maybe, this time, someone was going to come to her rescue. But then she saw that Annie was carrying something. Something large and white and rectangular.
When she realised what it was, Grace felt as though her heart had dropped into her stomach. Even the stupid little girl in charge of her body didn’t like it.
“Don’t need dat!” she heard herself whine as Annie came towards her, unfolding the crinkly, adult-sized disposable diaper as she went.
“Oh yes you do!” said Jessica loudly, and Grace looked over at her, her bottom lip trembling. “Toilets are a thing of the past for you, Gracie,” she said, a malicious look in her eyes. “Stupid little girls like you go potty in their pants, and that means you need a nappy on.”
Annie lifted up Grace’s flower girl dress, slipped a finger into the waistband of her underwear, and started sliding them down.
Grace looked on in horror, a stupid little pout still on her face, as her lacy white lingerie, a sexy surprise for Rob on their wedding night, was tugged down her legs. No, she thought, watching as Annie tossed them aside, come back!
But Annie was already slipping the bulky diaper between Grace’s legs, holding it up while she taped it into place. Grace could feel the soft, thirsty padding pressing against her pussy, ready to soak up all the pee-pee accidents she might have. This couldn’t be happening to her!
“There we go!” Annie cooed. “This suits you much better than that little lacy number. Your undies need to be designed in terms of how many potty accidents they can hold, not sex appeal.”
Once Grace’s nappy was on, Caroline stepped forwards again and, in case there was any doubt about Grace’s new position, placed a flower crown on top of her head.
“There’s just one more thing she needs,” Jessica said, walking over to her old clothes and fishing in the pockets. “Here we go!” She came back over and shoved a bright pink pacifier into Grace’s mouth, where it immediately started bobbing between her lips. “Perfect,” Jessica purred, drinking in Grace’s appearance like she couldn’t get enough of it. “We’ll be ready to go very soon.”
While her bridesmaids made the finishing touches to Jessica’s outfit, Grace toddled around impatiently, her thick diaper rustling noisily between her legs.
Then, without warning, she felt a sudden pressure in her bladder. She clutched her hands to her crotch, but the urge to go had become uncontrollable almost the moment it had appeared. Grace felt pee rushing into her pants, drenching the thick padding between her legs. The front of her Pampers discoloured, sagging until the yellow-tinged padding peaked out below the hem of her dress.
“Uh-oh,” she said softly, wrinkling her nose as the sharp smell of piss reached it. Inside her head, Grace was shrieking in horror. She wanted to throw up. She’d never been so disgusted in her life! It was awful, the feeling of her pee sloshing around in her pants, the sopping wet padding pressed against her nether regions. Someone had to save her! They had to!
At last, Jessica was done. She smirked down at Grace in her ridiculous little flower girl dress, dummy in her mouth, her hair in ludicrous pigtails. “I think someone had better check the baby’s nappy,” she said.
Caroline stepped forward, lifted up Grace’s dress, and probed the front of her diaper.
“She’s done a wee-wee,” Caroline announced. “Should I change her?”
“Is she about to leak?” asked Jessica.
“No, I think it can take a bit more,” Caroline replied, as Grace fidgeted in place like an impatient little girl, praying desperately that her bridesmaids would come to their senses, that someone would rescue her.
“Leave her for now,” Jessica instructed, a note of delight just detectable in her voice. “We don’t want to waste nappies.”
“You’re in charge,” said Caroline, and she actually did a little curtsey.
“That’s right,” said Jessica, her smile widening. “I am. It’s my big day, after all.”
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miley1442111 · 1 day
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Hi my love!
I'm sorry if this is a bother, but I saw you were taking requests and I really wanted to see this one written and you do such amazing writing.
Please don't feel pressured into writing this tho
So, we all know Derek is like, 6'2" is, right, so the girls he talks to are shorter than him, but I was wondering if you could write something with a female reader where she is almost as tall as him, and decided to wear heels to something, like a party or a gala or something, and she feels insecure about being so tall and he's just swooning over her because look at his tall woman, his amazing tall woman who works as an FBI profiler and can literally kick anyone's ass and just look how cool his girlfriend is.
Like, if you wanted to you could write about how some guy made a comment and Derek literally had to be held back because he was full on ready to throw hands for the reader.
Bonus points of she's like really fit, like she definitely hits the gym and you can see it
Again, you don't have to write it if you don't want to/don't feel comfortable, I just thought it would be cute
OMG I love this idea, it's so freaking cute! I had so much fun with this and istg I'm so sick of y/n always being some small fragile little thing in fics, it drives me crazy!!!!
Thank you for requesting my dear ! :)
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my girl- d.morgan
a/n: intended for tall fem!reader but as per usual imagine what you like :)
summary: derek comforts you after something happens at the yearly award show
pairings: derek morgan x reader, (platonic) bau team x reader
warnings: insecurities, suggestive tones, crying, fluff :)
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You loved your body, seriously you did. It was your vessel, your home. You nourished it and took care of yourself. 
But sometimes you wanted to feel shorter. Being tall has its advantages, and yes, you knew you were more than conventionally attractive, but it didn’t stop the nagging feeling in the back of your head, telling you it was weird that when you wore heels, your boyfriend was looking up at you, not down. Derek was 6’2. You were 6’2 ½ with these heels on. You were taller, which was fine, but it played in your mind more than you had wanted it to for the entire night. 
Derek on the other hand? When he saw you in that perfect dress he didn’t think he’d have the willpower to actually stop himself from fucking you before the event. He felt so lucky. His beautiful, ass-kicking girlfriend was wearing a dress that he’d bought her and she looked fucking delicious. He knew you were gorgeous, especially when he was regularly graced with the image of you naked, but this was another level. On your latest mission you’d taken the unSub down on your own and he swore he’d never been more turned on. The way you just overpowered him, getting his knife off him and cuffing him. You were the most beautiful person in his eyes, you always would be.
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Walking into the gala, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, gripping and pawing at you, kissing you constantly. Though, he could see something was wrong. Was this gala too much for you? Did you want to go home early? He wouldn’t have complained.  
“You alright baby?” He asked as another award was announced. 
“Fine,” you sighed, staring into your plate of food as you just moved the mashed potatoes around. 
“Baby,” He placed his hand on your thigh, grabbing your attention. “Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing.”
Derek frowned. You weren’t usually one for keeping things from him. “Baby-”
“I’m going to the bathroom,” you announced to the table, and stood up. You avoided Derek’s concerned eyes and he got up to follow you. 
“How’s the weather up there?” A drunk asshole asked you and he saw the way your face subtly contorted into upset, trying to hide tears. 
He saw red.  
His eyes darkened and his fists balled at his sides. “You wanna say that again?”
The drunk asshole sobered slightly after seeing the seriousness on Derek’s face. 
“Derek it’s fine-” you pleaded, wanting to sink into the floor. 
“No it’s fucking not. Say it again.”
David and Aaron got up from the table, stalking over before Derek swung at the guy. 
They were too late. 
“Derek!” You shouted as the other two pulled him off the man. Other tables were starting to stare and you felt perpetually worse. You should’ve just worn flats. 
“You can shut up next time, yeah?” Derek jeered at the bleeding man as Aaron and David held him back.
“Calm down,” Aaron ordered cooly, and Derek instantly pulled himself out of their arms,brushing them off. 
“I’m calm,” he said. He was not calm. No one got to insult his girl. 
“Can we just go home?” You whispered through shaky breaths. Derek’s attention was all on you.
“Of course we can.”
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The drive home was silent, his hand on your thigh as you attempted to calm down. 
Derek was wracking his brain for why you’d been off all night but came up empty. 
What was wrong?
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You kicked off your shoes, practically running to the bathroom and locking it behind you. Derek sighed to himself as he set down the keys, deciding to grab himself a beer. 
You took off your makeup, your dress, and showered, trying to wash your insecurities away. You knew you were pretty, you knew Derek loved you the way you were. 
Sometimes insecurities just get the better of you.  
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You sheepishly walked into your bedroom and saw Derek on the bed, waiting for you. 
“Can we talk?” He asked and you nodded slowly. “What’s wrong?”
And with that, the floodgates opened. You pushed your face into his chest, crying against him as he comforted you. “I just… I know I’m ‘pretty’ and all but… sometimes I just-”
“Hey, you are pretty, so goddamn pretty baby,” he smiled at you and it eased some of the hurt in you. “But I get that you don’t always feel like it, which is fine too, y’know why?”
“Why?” You snuffled out, looking up at him through running mascara.
“Because I can alway remind you, my pretty girl,” he smirked, and sealed his statement with a kiss. 
You felt better, knowing you had someone who loved you no matter what. 
It’s not like Derek minded, he was so head over heels for you you could’ve had two heads and he wouldn't have cared. You were his.
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criminal minds masterlist:)
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pastelchad · 1 year
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Instead of writing fic where you genderbend the ukes and make them str8 couples (😐) genderbend the entirety of sih and make the central conflict about Akihiko and fem!Ritsu's lavender marriage
#sihjr#fem!ritsu's mother would be all about getting her only daughter married and pumping out babies asap#to the point where she threatens to cut her off and get her blacklisted from the publishing industry if she doesnt shack up within the year#ritsu breaks down and cries in front of akihiko abt it and he proposes to her on the spot#of course shes FREAKED bc wtf but then he explains that hes gay and in love w someone he cant have and doesnt want him to know#that he is worried that being outed will ruin the career that his saving grace from his own toxic overbearing family#not to mention the fact that ritsu is beautiful and comes from old money and are around the same age so it wouldnt be too scandalous#and also that he can absolutely tell that shes a huge lesbian so why not just elope and continue living their lives#no one would be able to come up with a reason to disapprove bc they both have similar backgrounds and statuses#their families would be pissed that they married without their 'permission' and just the loss of control over their kids#but they cant admit it out loud so they all would just have to suck it up and play happy family in front of all the cameras#he promises that theyll never share a bed or even a room. she can just sleep in the guest bedroom if she wants#and also hell pay for a nicer apartment with better security#so ritsu is very afraid but her mother has already done some really terrible things to make it so that ritsu would have no choice#but to marry someone. like hiding her passport and promising her daughter to the kohinata family and making it seem like ritsu wants to#marry their son. so she says yes and he goes out and buys her a crazy ring that can be seen from space and sets up a ceremony for later#that month and they get married. this all happens a few years before he meets misaki#misaki ofc is very confused bc akihikos sudden marriage to the beautiful onodera heiress made national headlines years ago so y is he#all over him?? and where IS she?? does she not live in this giant penthouse w her husband and his ocean sized bed?#akihiko tells him not to worry his pretty little head abt all that but misaki just cant be the side piece or a homewrecker!#aki ofc doesnt care bc he knows ritsu doesnt care. theyve both agreed that they can date whoever as long as its discreet and she has#her own life and apartment and only sees him sporadically just to keep up appearances#ritsu and misaki meet at one of his award ceremonies and poor misaki is so confused nd a lil scared bc she is rlly nice#what if its all an act to get his guard down so she can effectively exact revenge for sleeping w her husband? what if she doesnt know??#yknow something like that#headcanons#genderbend
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isekai is such a popular genre right now, and its taken a clear shift from 'i got isekai'd and now im a fantasy hero!' to 'i got isekai'd and now i get to live a quiet and happy life in the countryside/as a librarian/pharmacist' and obviously a lot of it is just......someone wrote this to kill time and draw boobies, but Parallel World Pharmacy was so good???? i cried so many times, and i love the shift in tone the genre has gained with stuff like that
#Maybe because i wish for the same thing but only if my dog and two best friends can come too#but that one and grace of the gods is just devastatingly gentle#its not a power fantasy its just im tired and hurt anf i want to thrive instead of survive because our society doesnt make me happy#but someone or soemthing takes mercy and kindness on them#but that one was especially profound with regards to his sister while maintaining the control of 'end this disease with a physical punch'#and we lack that kind of control we want that kind of control over literally anything in this life#also it was so pretty#not unique but still very soft visually speaking and funny but not taking away from the content#and again the characters are kind#dont get me wrong id totally like reincarnated as a slime too but thats mostly for the non gendered shapeshifting#also dragons and i wanna befriend the orcs and wolves#but id probably end up a goblin in that one....#anyway isekai when done well is so healing even when it has almost no plot#i love intense anime but god some of the gentle and beautiful ones are all i ever need#and i crave fantasy so much i adore magic and creatures and demons so much and the softness of some of these plots#but idk that one grabbed me by the throat and slammed me into the bricks#i didnt actually like ascendance of a bookworm all that much i kond of found parts of it annoying and i didnt love the artstyle#but i did absolutely love the fact she was disabled whether they called it disability illness or magic#she was for all intents and purposes disabled in the same way i am and it was heartening to see how much love they had for her#and how good her family was ngl i cried about her father and i wish mine came even a little close to that but thats a DIFFERENT topic#dont ask me about yakuzas guide to babysitting#i dont like the realizations that one gave me#but the more that come out in this genre the better it is and the more representation will drop into it hopefully in all directions#for gender and sexuality as well as disabilities#because this subgenre is so well equipped for disabilities especially because its soft and slow and so full of love#ranking of kings isn't isekai but i think it could open door for fantasy in general too because its a light genre even when its serious#its just ...pure and light and ready to welcome hardships without trauma#the characters are always kind and the setting is new and magic affords accommodations other genres dont#magical mobility aids that dont erase the disability will always be infinitely more interesting to me than heavy machinery that#that you have to strap into but that also means finding other accommodations too like having bojji read lips instead of getting an implant
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yoshiintheweb · 1 year
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Me when Penelope the Queen of Ithaca
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waitingonher · 4 months
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because i love you — [hoo boys headcanons]
summary: your "thing" with the hoo boys!
author's note: in honor of the pjo series coming out today,,have this rlly rlly short draft from earlier this year! xoxo
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percy jackson — doodling on him
“give me your hand.”
“yes ma’am.”
minutes pass as you doodle gods know what onto percy’s hand. you always resort to this whenever the camp head counselor's meeting begins late—which seems to be every meeting—and giving percy "tattoos" certainly kills time. last meeting, you drew a can of beans and the time before that, was a bouquet of tulips. so honestly his guess being a pair of socks this time isn’t too far of a reach.
“okay, done,” you release his hand, a proud smile gracing your features, “cute right?”
he quirks a brow upon seeing the drawing, “is that…” percy turns his head to the side, gaining better perspective, “is that a flying fish?” 
“wow, you’re good,” you say, giving him a nod of approval, “although, last time you did say that my can of beans looked like a roll of toilet paper…” 
your boyfriend throws his hands in the air, “in my defense, you used a shitty pen so it was hard to tell.” 
“whatever.” 
jason grace — sewing your initials on his clothes
“hi love,” jason says, plopping down beside you on the couch. you give him a bright smile as he places a gentle kiss on your head, “almost done?” 
nodding proudly, you hold up his pair of jeans to show him your work: your initials sewn onto a corner of his back pocket, “yup, just finished actually! what do you think of the color? i think you bought the thread for me on our second date. but i totally forgot i had it until i went digging in my supply box.” 
a grin plasters itself on jason’s face as he nods his head in realization, “i knew the color seemed familiar. i remember wondering why a tiny spool of thread was so expensive. but it’s perfect, i love it,” he kisses your cheek, “all my friends are gonna be so jealous that they don’t have their girlfriends’ initials sewn onto their clothes.” 
you laugh as you imagine jason vehemently bragging about his jeans to all his friends, “tell them i’m charging $50 if they want me to do theirs,” you wink. 
“we’d make more than the stolls’ and their smuggling business if we did that,” he laughs, admiring your work once more. who knew that having your initials on his pants would have such an affect on him, “also, can you do my sweaters and my other jeans?"
you raise a brow, "i might have to start charging you at this point."
leo valdez — impromptu fashion shows
“wow!” you clap enthusiastically, “your outfit even puts paris fashion week outfits to shame!” yes, because a rainbow checkered crop top with a humongous green tutu and a pink boa paired with insanely skinny stilettos beats any and all high fashion runway outfits, “now, leo valdez, can you give us a few words about your new clothing line? and possibly a bit about what it’s like to be so amazingly talented?” you inquire, raising an invisible microphone to his mouth. 
leo oh-so humbly bows and rises with a proud grin, “thank you, thank you, but i honestly must give all credit towards my beautiful muse, y/n, she’s the inspiration behind my new line. and about being so talented, it really is such hard work to be this naturally gifted.”
“ooh, do tell about this ‘y/n.’ i’ve never heard of her but she does sound absolutely gorgeous!” you exclaim, keeping up with the act. 
your boyfriend nods firmly, “oh yes, she’s very, very, very beautiful,” adding a playful wink, “but i must say, she has the worst morning breath i’ve ever encountered!” 
your smile drops and you squint your eyes, “i’m going to choke you with that stupid ugly boa if you don’t take that back right now.” 
“uh ma’am,” leo backs up nervously, clutching his boa, “i’m going to have to call security if you threaten me again.” 
"i'm seriously going to kill you."
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pucksandpower · 6 months
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Fairytale
Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco!Reader
Summary: Charles Leclerc has everything he could ask for (off the track, at least) including a fairytale romance … except no one actually believes that his girlfriend is really his girlfriend
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Charles sighs as he walks into the drivers’ lounge, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. Ever since he had casually mentioned having a girlfriend, and more specifically who the girlfriend in question is, his friends have been merciless.
“Wow, if it isn’t Prince Charles in the flesh! Back from another romantic getaway with his imaginary princess,” Max laughs as he enters.
“Come on mates, lay off,” Charles pleads half-heartedly. He knows it is useless.
“I just don’t get it,” Lando chimes in. “There’s no shame in admitting that you’re single. We’re racing drivers, we don’t exactly always have time for relationships.”
“Maybe his standards are too high,” Pierre suggests. “He’s actually holding out for real royalty or something.”
The others laugh as Charles feels his face grow warm. If only they believed him.
“You know what you need?” Carlos grins. “A nice Spanish girl to set you up with. My sister’s friend Elena is single, I could give you her number.”
Charles rolls his eyes. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because we’ve never seen her!” Max exclaims. “You talk about her all the time but she never comes to races or appears in photos. She might as well be a unicorn.”
“Maybe she’s just embarrassed to be seen with Charles,” Lando teases.
Charles frowns, stung by Lando’s words. If only they knew the truth. The reality is that his girlfriend is extremely famous in her own right and values the little privacy she has left too much to be seen at races. Her life is already public enough without adding the scrutiny that anyone connected to a Formula 1 driver inevitably receives on top of it. Besides, she has her own royal duties to attend to.
“Come on guys, that’s unfair,” Pierre says gently, noticing Charles’ discomfort. “If Charles says he has a girlfriend, we should believe him.”
“Thank yo—” Charles starts to say with relief. At least someone is on his side.
“Even if she is imaginary,” Pierre adds with a smirk.
Charles groans and puts his head in his hands as the laughter starts up again. He can’t really blame them for not believing him.
You are basically a fairytale princess — beautiful, elegant, and kind. Not to mention an actual member of the royal family. Her Serene Highness Princess Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline of Monaco is the type of girl people write epic poems and songs about. Charles can hardly believe his luck that you had chosen him.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Daniel interrupts, taking pity on Charles. “Leave the poor man alone.”
“We’re just joking,” Max says defensively. “Charles knows we don’t mean anything by it.”
Charles gives Max a tight smile. “Sure.”
“Tell you what,” Daniel says, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “Bring your mystery girl to a race soon. We’ll all get to meet her and then you can finally prove these jokers wrong.”
Charles sighs. If only it were that simple. You have been tempted to attend races in the past but the scrutiny both of them would come under is just too much. You treasure the privacy your relationship allows. But maybe Daniel is right. Maybe it is time for you to finally meet his friends. After all, you are the love of his life. There is nothing to hide.
“Alright, deal,” Charles says finally. “I’ll ask her.”
The others exchange surprised looks, not expecting him to agree.
“Can’t wait to meet her,” Carlos says with a wink.
Charles rolls his eyes again but smiles. One way or another, he is going to prove to them that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination.
***
Charles is still thinking about you when he is suddenly accosted by Silvia, Ferrari’s Head of Communications, after practice.
“Charles! Just who I was looking for,” she says briskly. “I need to discuss something rather important with you.”
Charles suppresses a groan. Conversations with Silvia are never fun. “What’s up?” He asks with forced cheerfulness.
Silvia lowers her voice. “It’s about your relationship status. We feel it would be beneficial if you were seen dating someone … compatible.”
Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “Compatible?”
“Yes. A model. Or perhaps an actress. Someone who would look good on your arm and boost your image.”
Charles folds his arms defensively. “What’s wrong with my girlfriend?”
Silvia waves a hand impatiently. “Yes yes, this alleged princess you keep mentioning. The problem, Charles, is that no one has seen her. No one knows if she is actually connected to you in any way. So, as far as we are concerned, for all intents and purposes, you are single.”
Charles frowns. This again. “I keep telling you that she’s really my girlfriend. Y/N is just very private.”
“Private women don’t date Formula 1 drivers,” Silvia says bluntly. “If she really was in a relationship with you, she would be here. But since that is clearly a figment of your imagination, we need to take steps.”
Charles feels his blood boil. How dare Silvia insult his relationship with Y/N? Question their connection?
“Here are profiles of suitable options,” Silvia continues, shoving a surprisingly heavy folder at him. Charles doesn’t open it.
“No.”
Silvia blinks. “No?”
“My relationship with Y/N is off limits,” Charles says firmly. “My personal life is exactly that — personal. Not to be exploited for PR.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Silvia snaps. “This is bigger than you. Your image reflects on Ferrari. We need to be able to control it.”
“No. What you need to do is back off,” Charles shoots back.
Silvia’s nostrils flare. Clearly she isn’t used to such defiance. “Charles, be reasonable—”
“I am being reasonable,” Charles interrupts. “I won’t pretend to date someone just because the team wants me to. I’m with Y/N. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”
Silvia shakes her head in disgust. “You’re making a big mistake. Don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”
She storms off, heels clicking angrily against the floor.
Charles takes a deep breath, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He can’t remember the last time he stood up to Silvia like that. It felt good but also nerve-wracking. He knows she won’t let this go easily.
His phone buzzes and his heart leaps when he sees it’s a text from you.
Heard you had a rough day. Wish I could be there to make it better. I love you 💋
Charles smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing. You always knew just what to say and when to say it.
He quickly types back.
I wish you were here too. No matter what anyone says, they can’t change my feelings for you. I love you so much ❤️
He hits send, imagining your smile as you read his text. It doesn’t matter what his team, the media, or even his fellow drivers think. His relationship with you is real and authentic. Someday he’ll find a way for you to be by his side. But for now, your private moments together are enough.
Charles knows staying with you is the right decision, PR be damned. You are his soulmate — the fairytale princess he never expected to find but thanks God every single day that he did. Your love is worth fighting for. And someday, when the time is right, he’ll finally be able to show the world that what you have together is very real.
***
Charles groans as he notices multiple missed calls from his brothers. He has been avoiding their calls lately, knowing they would just tease him mercilessly about his girlfriend. But he knows he can’t dodge them forever.
Taking a deep breath, he calls Arthur back.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Prince Charles himself, taking time away from his busy schedule of dating princesses to spare a chat with us commoners,” Arthur says slyly upon answering.
Charles rolls his eyes. “Very funny. What do you want?”
“We just wanted to check in on our brother and see how life with Monegasque royalty is treating you,” Lorenzo chimes in. Charles realizes he must be on speaker.
“Oh yes, Princess Y/N,” Arthur says in an exaggerated swoony voice. “Our brother’s one true love since he was 15 years old and had that giant poster of her plastered on his wall.”
Charles feels his face flush. He knows exactly what poster Arthur is referencing — a stunning photo of you in a ballgown from a high society event years ago. Teenage Charles has ripped it out of a magazine and hung it up reverently in his room, gazing at it longingly.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sputters. “I never had a poster.”
“Oh really?” Lorenzo laughs. “I seem to recall you cutting out every picture you could find of her and keeping a little scrapbook.”
Charles cringes internally. Okay, maybe his teenage obsession had been a bit … enthusiastic. But he can’t help that he had recognized you as his dream girl even then.
“Alright, so maybe I had a tiny crush on her,” Charles admits. “But it is not crazy that we ended up together.”
Arthur cackles. “You used to kiss her photos goodnight before going to bed! You were completely obsessed!”
“Remember how he tried to sneak into that royal gala at Salle des Etoiles to see her?” Lorenzo adds. “He was totally insane.”
Charles grimaces at the memory. Okay, not his finest moment.
“Face it Charles, you’ve been in love with the imaginary idea of Princess Y/N since you were in nappies,” Arthur teases. “No shame in admitting she wouldn't even give you the time of day now.”
Charles feels his frustration rising. Why does no one believe him?
“Because your so-called relationship makes no sense!” Lorenzo says, accurately reading his silence. “She’s a literal princess and you’re … you.”
“Gee, thanks,” Charles grumbles. He knows his brothers are just teasing but it still stings.
“Come on, just admit you made the whole thing up to get everyone off your back,” Arthur prods.
Charles sighs loudly. “For the millionth time, what we have is 100 percent real! Just because it seems unlikely doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I don’t care if none of you believe me, I love her and she loves me.”
His brothers are silent for a moment.
“You alright there?” Arthur asks, his voice softening.
“Yes, I just wish everyone would stop questioning my relationship all the time,” Charles admits. “It hurts.”
“We’re only joking Charles, we don’t mean any harm,” Lorenzo says gently.
“I know,” Charles replies. “Doesn’t make it any easier to hear constantly though.”
“You’re right, we took the teasing too far,” Arthur says. “We’ll lay off from now on.”
Charles smiles slightly. “Thanks. And someday soon I will prove to you that it is real.”
His brothers are silent for a moment.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Arthur finally laughs.
Charles groans and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Clearly nothing he says would convince his stubborn brothers that his relationship with you was real and not merely a childhood fantasy.
“Alright, well, I should get going,” Charles mumbles, eager to get off the phone.
“Chin up, we’re only teasing,” Lorenzo says lightly. “Have fun with your imaginary princess!”
Arthur and Lorenzo explode into more laughter as Charles quickly hangs up, his face burning. Someday, he will prove to them and everyone else that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination. No matter how long it takes.
***
Charles sinks into the familiar couch in his sports psychologist’s office, exhausted after a long day on the simulator and endless teasing from his team.
“Rough day out there?” Dr. Anderson asks kindly, noticing the strain on Charles’ face.
“That’s an understatement,” Charles sighs. “The car is just so slow this year. We keep trying new setups and tweaks but nothing helps. And the strategy is somehow even worse than the pace. It’s like the team wants me to fail.”
Dr. Anderson nods sympathetically. “That must be very frustrating. Tell me more about how it’s impacting you.”
Charles launches into a tirade about the endless issues with the car, the incompetent strategists, and the lack of proper communication from his engineers. Dr. Anderson listens patiently, letting him vent his pent-up anger and disappointment.
After a lengthy rant, Charles finally runs out of steam. “Anyway, it’s just been a terrible season,” he concludes glumly.
“I can certainly understand why you feel that way,” Dr. Anderson says. “It sounds like the team is letting you down in many ways.”
Charles nods, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders after unloading. It helps to talk about it with someone whose job is not to judge.
“Is there anything else bothering you lately?” Dr. Anderson asks gently. “Any other sources of stress?”
Charles hesitates. He and Dr. Anderson have been working together for years, ever since he joined Ferrari. He knows he can open up to her.
“It’s just … well, besides the team stuff, no one believes me about my girlfriend,” he admits.
Dr. Anderson raises her eyebrows. “I see. Tell me more about that.”
Charles explains the endless teasing from his fellow drivers, the manipulation attempts by the PR team, and the doubtful reactions from his own family. How despite his best efforts, no one seems willing to accept that he is really dating Princess Y/N of Monaco.
“It’s so frustrating!" He bursts out at the end. “I don’t know what else I can do to convince them that we are actually together.”
Dr. Anderson purses her lips, jotting down notes. “I can understand why their doubt would upset you. It must be painful to have your relationship questioned.”
“Exactly!" Charles exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You get it. I knew I could talk to you.”
Dr. Anderson gives him a sympathetic smile.
Charles leaves the appointment feeling much better, confident that his psychologist believes him and is on his side.
As he is exiting, Charles notices Dr. Anderson’s notebook left open on her desk. Before he can stop himself, his eyes scan the page and focus on his name.
He feels his heart sink as he reads.
Charles Leclerc: deflecting from pain of difficult season by creating elaborate fantasy relationship. Fixation on celebrity crush indicates deeper self-esteem issues. Recommend to confront delusion directly in next session.
Charles reels, shock and anger swirling through him. Not even his own psychologist believes him! She thinks he is living in some weird fantasy.
Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, Charles straightens his shoulders and walks out. He has never felt more alone and frustrated in his conviction. But he refuses to give up. No matter what anyone says, his love for you is real. And one day, somehow, he will prove it to the world.
***
Charles is back at his family home in Monaco during a rare few days off. He is puttering around the kitchen while his mother cooks dinner.
“Oh, by the way, Y/N is coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles mentions casually. “I want you all to finally meet her.”
Pascale laughs lightly without looking up from the stove. “Of course, sweetie.”
Charles frowns. “I’m serious, maman. She’ll be here in an hour.”
“Mhmm, I’m sure she will,” Pascale replies indulgently. Charles huffs in annoyance.
Just then, his brothers come into the kitchen, freshly showered after playing football outside.
“Hey Charles, how’s life with your imaginary girlfriend?” Lorenzo immediately teases.
“She’s actually coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles says tersely.
Arthur lets out a loud laugh. “Yeah right! Good one.” He grabs a piece of bread from the counter, still chuckling.
Charles throws his hands up in exasperation. “Why does no one ever believe me about her?”
“Boys, that’s enough,” Pascale chides gently. “Let your brother dream.”
Charles opens his mouth to retort but just then, the doorbell rings. His eyes widen.
“I’ll get it!" He yells, dashing for the door. He takes a deep breath before swinging it open to reveal you standing there casually in jeans and a sweater, looking effortlessly gorgeous.
“Surprise!" You laugh, pulling him into a tight hug. Charles melts into your embrace, all his stress and frustration fading away.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now,” he murmurs into your hair.
You pull back to smile at him tenderly. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages. I want your family to know how much I love you.”
Charles grins and takes your hand, leading your into the kitchen where his stunned family waits.
Pascale’s mouth is hanging open in shock. The piece of bread Arthur is holding falls to the floor with a dull thump.
“Y-your Serene Highness,” Pascale finally manages to stammer out, hastily wiping her hands on a towel. “What an honor, we weren’t expecting you ...”
She shoots an accusatory look at Charles, who throws up his hands defensively. “I told you she was coming!”
Pascale flushes. “Yes, well, I didn’t think … that is … we would have prepared ...”
You step forward gracefully, immediately putting Pascale at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N. I’ve been dying to meet Charles’ family.”
As you effortlessly charm his mother and brothers, Charles stands back watching with a satisfied smile. The shock and sheepishness on his family’s faces is vindicating after so many months of teasing and disbelief.
Charles has never been one to say “I told you so” but … I told you so.
***
The cheers of the crowd are deafening as the chequered flag waves for Charles at the Monaco Grand Prix. He can hardly believe it — finally, a win at his home race!
As he pulls into parc fermé and jumps out of the car, the emotions hit him. Pure elation at ending the long wait for a home victory. Relief at overcoming the team’s doubts. But most of all, excitement for what comes next.
The podium ceremony.
And with the Monegasque royal family presenting the trophies as usual, Charles knows exactly who will be handing him the winner’s trophy.
He can barely stand still through the anthems, eager for his moment with you. The weekend has been agony, so close to you yet having to pretend that there is nothing between the two of you.
But not anymore.
At last, the royal family walks onto the podium led by none other than Princess Y/N. Charles’ heart skips a beat at the sight of you gliding towards him in a figure-hugging red midi dress, sunlight glinting off your carefully styled hair. You somehow manage to become more and more beautiful every time he sees you.
Stopping in front of him, you give him a subtle wink before launching into the customary congratulatory speech. Charles nods along, not hearing a word as he zones out while admiring the stunning woman he gets to call his own.
At last, you turn to pick up the trophy. “It is my honor to present this trophy to our victor, who represents Monaco with pride in everything he does, Charles Leclerc,” you announce, holding it out to him with a brilliant smile.
In that moment, Charles throws all caution to the wind. As he accepts the trophy, he reaches out and pulls you into a passionate kiss.
The crowd below erupts in shocked cheers and screams. You melt into the kiss for a blissful moment before gently pulling back, your eyes sparkling. Charles grins at you breathlessly.
“Worth the wait?” He murmurs.
“Absolutely,” you whisper back, squeezing his hand. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour.”
Turning back to the roaring crowd, Charles wraps an arm around your waist and thrusts your linked hands into the air in triumph.
Looking out at the paddock, Charles sees the priceless dumbfounded looks on his fellow drivers’ faces. The Ferrari PR team looks ready to pass out in horror. Reporters are screaming questions and snapping photos frantically.
But Charles only has eyes for the radiant princess at his side. At long last, he has made your love public for the whole world to see.
Later, after celebrations around the circuit have started winding down in favor of moving to lounges and clubs for the night, Charles and you escape for a private moment together.
“That was quite the reveal,” you say with an amused quirk of your eyebrow.
Charles laughs. “I know, subtlety has never been my strong suit. I hope you don’t mind.”
You caress his face tenderly. “Of course not. I’m happy to finally be by your side. No more hiding.”
Charles kisses you deeply, all the love and longing of the past months pouring into it.
When you finally break apart, foreheads touching, he murmurs, “No more doubts. No more teasing. They all know now that you’re real and all mine.”
“Forever yours,” you whisper back. And seal it with another perfect kiss.
***
“I can’t believe it. I just … actually can’t believe it,” Max mutters, staring at the large screens around the paddock that are showing you and Charles gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes during the post-race interviews.
“Lord Perceval … dating an actual princess,” Carlos muses in disbelief.
“And not just any princess, his teenage celebrity crush!" Lando exclaims.
“I guess we owe him an apology,” Pierre says sheepishly.
“Big time,” Daniel agrees. “We gave him so much crap for making her up.”
“Speak of the devil,” Max mutters as Charles strides into the room, hand-in-hand with you.
An awkward silence descends on the group. Charles clears his throat, enjoying their obvious discomfort.
“I believe you all know my girlfriend, Her Serene Highness Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline, Hereditary Princess of Monaco and Marquise of Baux. But you can just call her Your Serene Highness or Princess Y/N,” he says politely.
The guys mumble greetings, not quite meeting your eyes. You smile graciously. “You can just call me Y/N. Any friend of Charles is a friend of mine and there’s no need for titles around friends.”
Charles narrows his eyes. “Actually I don’t think that will be necessary. I believe they should maintain protocol and address you properly.”
You shoots him a look. “Darling, it’s fine, really. I want your friends to feel comfortable around me.”
But Charles crosses his arms, not budging. “No, it’s not fine. I must insist that they observe the formal mode of address for royalty.”
The drivers shift awkwardly again. You pull Charles aside with a soothing smile.
“What are you doing?” You whisper. “I’m trying to put them at ease.”
“I know but they deserve to squirm for a bit after how much they mocked us,” Charles whispers back petulantly.
You bite back a smile. “Don’t be silly. I know their teasing hurt but let’s move past it. Can you really blame them for thinking it sounds like a made up fairytale? Put yourself in their shoes.”
Charles sighs. “I guess you’re right ... I just want them to respect you.”
“They will, in time,” you say gently. “But forcing them to be overly formal won’t accomplish that. I’m still just me.”
Charles nods reluctantly. “Okay fine, we’ll do it your way.”
You turn back to the drivers who are trying to act natural and pretending that they didn’t just listen in on your conversation with a bright smile. “I’ve heard so much about all of you,” you say. “Charles speaks very highly of his fellow drivers.”
“We’re, uh, happy to finally meet you too,” Max manages to get out.
“Yeah, congrats mate,” Daniel offers weakly.
More awkward silence follows. Charles smirks, deciding to twist the knife a bit more.
“I know you all had your doubts about me landing a catch like Y/N,” he says casually. “But I can’t blame you. Even I can hardly believe someone so incredible would fall for me.”
He gazes at you adoringly as you blush prettily while the drivers fidget uneasily.
“Anyway, as you can now see, she’s real and we are happier than ever!" Charles concludes brightly.
“We’re really sorry for not believing you,” Lando bursts out sincerely. “And all the teasing.”
The others chime in with apologies and congratulations. Charles graciously accepts, reassuring them no hard feelings.
After you have throughly charmed them all and departed, the group surrounds Charles excitedly.
“Alright, you have to give us all the details,” Max demands. “How did you meet? How did you get her to go out with you? When did it get serious?”
Charles just laughs. “It’s a long story. But the important thing is that she’s the only one for me. Despite everyone doubting us, our love was real from the start.”
“Pretty epic to have a real life princess as your soulmate,” Pierre says dreamily.
“Just remember you knew me back when you all thought she was imaginary,” Charles jokes.
“We’ll never live it down,” Carlos groans goodnaturedly.
Charles smiles, feeling lighter and happier than he has in ages. The long struggle to prove himself has been worth it. Now he has everything — the win, the girl, and the utter shock and joy of proving to the world that even his wildest dreams can come true.
And this is only the beginning for him and his beloved princess.
5K notes · View notes
etherealkissed88 · 10 days
Text
how i manifest when i feel anxious •°. *࿐
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i decide i have what i want…
when i feel anxiety -> i let it pass while knowing its only a human reaction
◦ since i am beyond just a human (i am limitless imagination/self), i know any anxiety is below me and it has nothing to do with my limitless self. i have exactly what i decided i have, regardless of any anxiety.
know anxiety usually comes from a fear of failure
◦ so, i cannot limit myself based on what i see or what i negatively assume my future will look like bc i am always beyond the 3d, no matter what feelings/anxiety my human self experiences.
◦ i become indifferent/i dont care about what i see or what i assume i will see because i know everything comes together in the 3d once i change self/know its done. fact: everything always comes together and works out in the end. being indifferent to the 3d = being indifferent to emotions, anxiety and everything that doesnt serve you.
dont fight it, dont avoid it, tackle it head on
◦ acknowledge you are experiencing anxiety bc you are. yes it can feel like shit but it doesnt have to affect who you are being (whatever version of self you are embodying). again, i can choose to be indifferent to this anxiety. you dont have to be scared of the anxiety. it is a natural human response. cry if you need to, let it all out. dont try to suppress it bc that will only come to bite you back in the ass, believe me.
◦ take care of your mental health in whatever ways necessary. when i used to experience anxiety, i used to take walks in the park, clear my head, meditate, express myself and my emotions through art and journaling, etc. remember nothing you do (or feel) in the 3d has to affect who you are being/your state.
"how can i still have anxiety yet still be a desired version of me?"
anxiety has no affect on anything unless you allow it to change your identity. you are the one with power, the anxiety is only an experience, similar to breathing in oxygen and using our sense of touch; its all neutral. when you start surrendering to the anxiety, you are creating and accepting negative stories that you create based on the feeling of anxiety. allowing that anxious feeling to change your state/identity is surrendering to something you view as more "powerful" than you. stop transforming that anxiety into a state that you embody based on the false, negative stories u imagine.
remember a 3d experience or anxious feelings doesnt have to influence who you are being. an example: a model who knows (fulfilled) that she is graceful and beautiful can have anxiety about doing her catwalk. the anxiety is normal, she can experience the symptoms of anxiety (shortness of breath, dry mouth, shaking) but her core identity/state is still a graceful model. the anxiety is only a temporary feeling. usually when we experience these feelings, they occupy all of our attention in that moment which is why it seems so scary but in reality, its not that big a deal. know that anxiety is just a feeling. you are safe. you can still experience shitty feelings while knowing you are a bad bitch!
you dont always identify with everything you experience. for example, a lot of people experience good things and still identify as people who are unworthy of good things. so its really up to you to choose what to identify with.
i know my only job is knowing its done
◦ if i just decided its done, as the operant power, as i say goes, therefore its done. so my job is done. anxiety is part of the 3d, not my limitless self, imagination. so i can be indifferent and experience it without identifying with it, the same way people manifest what they desire while experiencing their shitty circumstances daily (because they do not identify with those shitty experiences).
◦ ive heard/experienced situations were we know its done yet we cried and felt like shit, and what we wanted still manifested into the 3d. bc anxiety is only a feeling. do not allow your feelings to take hold of your state, but if it does, its never the end of the world... just get back in the state. 3d shit/anxiety doesnt have to intervene with who you are being/what you identify with.
kisses, jani ☆
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praeluxius · 3 months
Text
Red Wine - Karina & Natty
Aespa Karina x Kiss of Life Natty x M Reader smut
thanks to @capslocked & @passingnotions & @friskyriskywhisky
Masterlist word count: 9,957 Kofi
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A new girl every week.
Not like you mind it. As long as Karina is having a good time, then that's enough for you. She meets them all at work, and they're all equally pretty.
Of course they are—it's part of the job.
It's just how Karina is—she has always been a fountain of charisma and that's part of what drew you to her—some call it rizz. So, you know all too well how these girls feel when Karina cranks up that natural charm and it leads to her inevitably inviting them over on a Friday evening, an offer they can’t refuse.
A girl's night in. That's what she always calls it—truth or not.
It's a funny thing to call it, given that you're always there. Not that any of them ever complain. You're there. That's okay. You'll join in the chat or stay out of the way—it's all very casual. Most of the time, it’s just that—casual.
Most of the time.
"And then I told him: 'Look, this dress is Dior, and it's worth a year of your rent. So if you think, even for a second, that it's going to end up on your bedroom floor after you buy me a couple of glasses of bottom-shelf whiskey then you can Johnnie-Walk-the-fuck-on-out-of-here because there are a thousand more ways I can spend my night than wasting time on you.'"
The two girls break out into some sort of intoxicated, riotous laughter. The girl with the story? They call her Natty, and she is the latest of Karina's new friends to visit. This one sporting almond skin, eyes with an inky rich hue, thick lips and a smug look on her face that could melt the paint right off the wall, or the clothes off any man.
She has one leg crossed over the other, sitting at an angle towards Karina. The slight canting of her head, the way her black hair cascades over a bare shoulder, all of it conspires together in order to fully reveal her neck line where the loose t-shirt drapes from shoulder to shoulder.
"Yeah, like any dude's got enough bank to buy himself to a night with you." Karina laughs again before taking a drink from her wine.
You are trying to watch the TV, vaguely—your favourite team is on and it's a bit of a ritual for you.
You will never even know we're here. That's what Karina told you. Yet you’ve spent the better part of the last hour listening to them. We’ll be quiet.
As if that's ever true.
They've been reeling off anecdotes all the while, and if you've learned one thing about Natty, it's that she has a lot to say, and a lot if it comes down to either the pleasures, profits, or travails of her career. The stories just keep coming. And each and every one is punctuated by that same laugh from Natty. You have never heard anything quite like it before, and it's that which keeps drawing your attention back to their end of the couch. Much like her voice, it's high pitched, a little nasally and utterly adorable.
Karina laughs along as well; more than a few times a drink threatens to spill onto the carpet because one of them has laughed a little too hard or bumped into one another. Now that would be a disaster: red wine and a white carpet.
"So I got this really nice pink one. It's really pretty, a little sexy, but it's so comfy too." Natty is talking but you don't have a clue what about and Karina, turned away from you, is nodding her head, the ponytail on the back of her head shaking a little as a result.
You don't need to see Karina to know how she looks—as beautiful as ever. That same sharp jaw, high cheekbones and lips glistening pink, hued darker by her drink of choice. Those eyes. It’s always her eyes that captivate.
Her beauty and grace are two things she truly does share with Natty. All the women that come over are all part of the same constellation. Stars in their own right, but Karina is a supernova—or something equally poetic.
Karina says something, but the voice is soft and muffled and lost to you among the animated exchange.
"There's also this blue one. But I don't wear it nearly as much as the others, but it cuts real low. Nearly shows my, you know..."
That lowered voice draws your gaze right over to them both as Natty leans in towards the woman next to her. A gesture and the shape of her voice, the lilt of her accent, makes it sound as if she is being discreet even though you can clearly hear every single word.
"...you know." Natty then tugs a little at her own shirt.
The two giggle again as if they're not grown-ass women; two women who have admittedly drunk quite a lot.
"He loves this one I have, it's part of a set, and I picked it up in Paris last month,” Karina says. “Black and lacy. Super expensive, but it's so worth it."
"That pair would look good in anything," Natty lets out that same laugh again, if a little softer this time, as if the mood shifted a little. You felt this coming all along. If you're honest, sometimes as soon as Karina walks through the door with a girl on her arm, there’s a certain vibe that hangs in the air that tells you it’s one of those nights.
You're stealing glances at the two of them, and it's Natty who's looking towards you, over Karina's shoulder. Your eyes are caught in this awkward collision. Natty holds the stare, her smile shifting subtly from innocent to devilish.
She's a stunner. Even from the angle where you're catching glimpses at her, a glance out of the corner of your eye, there is something seductive and hypnotising.
"He's a really lucky guy." She says to Karina, keeping her eyes fixed on you.
That is usually the cue, one you're very familiar with. A flirty little comment, maybe an innuendo, something meant to test the waters—see where the land lies, the rocks you can stand on before stepping any further out into the surf. It's how so many of your Friday evenings play out. You are just that—an object of curiosity and interest to Karina's friends, and you have to credit the sales pitch she must deliver about you.
"You're damn right," Karina replies with a chuckle as she tilts back the remainder of her drink.
"Do you think he would like mine?"
"Of course, he would. But if you want, I can be the judge." Karina takes Natty's almost empty glass and sets both down on the table. Her expression and attitude—lips and body language—communicate her invitation far more eloquently.
Karina is reaching over and Natty's meeting her hands with her own at the hem of her shirt. A teasing lift and you can already envision what she's about to show. See, Natty's a dancer—you know that much, and a good one at that. That kind of talent comes with the blessing of a body that turns heads. Your girlfriend knew that well too when she had invited her back home.
"Go on then."
The shirt lifts off Natty's skin, with the help of Karina’s hands running up the side of her body, exposing a pierced belly button. You try, very valiantly, to pretend not to be watching, but you can't help it. Natty raises her arms and lets Karina pull off the shirt fully revealing her in her lace bralette. It's pink, it's pretty and a little sexy—just how she described it.
"They really are nice, wow," Karina leans in close and for a moment you think she's going to start kissing Natty right then and there.
Natty doesn't say a thing. She lets the next moment happen, and with their bodies so close you can feel the anticipation, there’s an agonising pause, but, just a moment later, Karina is running a hand up along her belly, cupping a hand over one of her breasts.
"Really nice," Karina repeats the compliment.
And you're all in now. Fuck the TV. You can't peel your eyes away from whatever the hell your girlfriend is about to do.
"Thank you," the girl purrs as she arches her body to push herself against Karina's hand.
A flirtatious hand and those slender fingers of hers begin to move delicately over the fabric. It's a good touch. You've experienced first-hand all the wonderful things Karina can do with it. She touches how she dances—passionate and precise.
"What do you think?" Karina's finally acknowledging you over her shoulder—your official invite to the fun.
"Gorgeous," you mumble, and Natty's smiling like a minx as Karina continues in a way that you should probably be offended. Your girlfriend runs her hands down to the girl's waist, round to the small of her back, and then all the way back to where she starts again.
"Come, take a closer look. What do you think?" Natty follows her words with a wink and a flick of the hair.
"Fuck yes." You whisper under your breath.
"What was that?" Your girlfriend's smirking to herself as you rise from your seat.
"Yes." You take a step towards them both.
"Yes?" Natty repeats, one of her dark brows arching.
"He thinks you're fucking beautiful, sweetheart. Gets a little lost in the moment sometimes." Karina is leaning her head in close, one arm around the girl. She has a finger running up along Natty's slender back as she pulls at the clips holding her bra together. "Isn’t she perfect, babe?"
"Something like that," you confess. You're standing in front of the girls, looking down at the topless Natty, at Karina who's still snaking her hands around her. And Natty looks up at you, eyes wide, inviting, smouldering with passion. She really is something else.
She peers beneath those bangs of hers with a look that says: why don't you sit right here beside me?
"There we go," Karina says and there's suddenly some slack. The weight of her pair is taken by gravity and Natty catches them into folded arms. She sinks back into the couch. You take a step, and taking her lead, you sit by her side.
Karina reaches down, pats you on your leg, then turns back to face Natty. "You were saying you thought he was pretty cute too, weren't you, Natty?"
"Pretty cute, yes. Hot too. Moreso now that he’s up close." Natty says while Karina's got her hands on her shoulders, taking the straps of her bra between her delicate fingers. And then her bra is gone—the last semblance of her modesty lost along with it. Her small nipples jutting, stiffened with arousal, ready and waiting.
"God, he's practically drooling."
"That's hot," Karina comments as her lips descend onto Natty's shoulder and she starts laying kisses up and along her neck, trailing all the way to her ears.
"Sit behind her, babe, let her make it easier for you," Karina says. There is something entirely different and erotic in the way your girlfriend commands you. It’s so often like this, the dynamic, the guest and you are equals but Karina? Karina is a level above, the one in control and setting the pace.
You move yourself further onto the sofa and seat yourself back, then Natty slides over your lap. She takes her place, just as Karina wants, in front of you. The look in your lover's eye tells you exactly what to do, while her hands give Natty some hands-on guidance. Holding her shoulders, she’s placing Natty’s back against your chest. 
You lay your own touch on the starlet’s waist, coiling them around her body. Dragging them up towards her smooth tits causes her to respond with a shudder. You keep your touches slow, leisurely, tentative and exploratory, but with no lack of appreciation.
Natty refuses to shy and settles firmly into your body. Karina, meanwhile, sets herself in front of the two of you, resting her hands on Natty's knees. Your beautiful guest parts her legs a little as Karina slips her hands between them, urging her thighs to open wider. Wider until she has to lift her legs over yours.
"Is this okay with you?" Karina is looking up into Natty's face and the woman simply nods."How does she feel?" Karina's asking you now, placing her hands on the back of yours, guiding your touch over her breast into a rougher pace.
"Perfect." The word slips from your mouth, followed by a throaty groan. Among all of this, Natty's ass is against your crotch, the weight of her pushing your manhood to swell and strain against your clothing. You are thankful she's wearing a thin enough pair of yoga pants that enhances it all.
Karina has planted her knees between yours and Natty's legs. She's pulling her own shirt over her head and you already know what's beneath. For all the talk earlier about bras, Karina isn't wearing one; she never does. "Fuck, Karina," Natty coos at her bare chest. "He likes it too. I can feel him twitching."
Natty’s hands are all over Karina as she pulls her in. There’s grace, there’s tension and there’s a coy giggle from Karina as their lips are only inches apart. The hammering of your heart echoes within as you take a front-row seat to their show. It always triggers something inside you when she first lays lips on someone, it always heightens that delicious, tingling, primal feeling.
"Oh shit, girls..."
Your girlfriend's the best kisser and you love watching her like this—exploring another woman's mouth. Natty is matching her tempo beat by beat, kiss by kiss. Her body arches as you squeeze her breasts. You swear Natty's making little whimpers as the two make out.
Her body is all action against you: ass grinding back, rolling slowly and languidly as your hands pull at her breasts—squeezing them together and then apart. You dip into her neck with your mouth. The sweetness of her skin fills your mouth and the richness of her perfume fills your nose.
You lower your lips and gently nibble at her neck, dragging teeth over her flesh until she gasps from a gentle bite and you work your lips on her skin. Tongue roaming as you feast on her taste. Karina's pushing forward now, Natty sandwiched between you, their pairs of tits pressing together with your hands somewhere between.
They break, and Natty naturally moves to your girlfriend’s neck. Karina has her sights set on you, prying your mouth from Natty's shoulder and catching you in a deep kiss. Tongues battling, clashing. There's the familiar fading taste of red wine in her mouth, and the unmistakable flavour of something foreign to you, the lingering taste of Natty.
She pulls away from your lips, staring down the two of you. There's dissatisfaction on her face. "Why aren't the two of you naked yet?"
She pulls at Natty's hips, relieving your cock of the pressure of her sitting on it, and you hold Natty so as to not let her slip too far away. You and Karina work Natty's yoga pants, and her panties, from her hips. They slip effortlessly down to her ankles, leaving her decidedly bare.
No one speaks and you all know this isn't the time to explain anything or ask questions. When her clothing is out of the way Karina descends upon Natty again, kissing her hard and you catch the dying whimpers of Natty's moans into Karina's lips. Karina's hand is snaking down Natty's back, reaching for your crotch. She unbuckles and opens your belt all the time fighting against Natty's movement as she tries to grind her ass back into you.
"Stop moving." Karina giggles into their kiss as her hand delves beneath your trousers. She breaks her kiss again. "Need some help."
Natty's peeling herself away from you, turning to face you. Natty's naked, Karina's halfway there, you're the one slacking. Not for long. Soon the two are tugging away all the unnecessary clothes until all three of you are equally exposed. Your cock stands heavy and ready under their gaze.
"Woah, you weren't lying." Natty's figuratively licking her lips, hungry and wide-eyed, and you'd bet your last dollar she's got an idea in mind. "Can I...?" Natty turns to ask Karina.
"I'd hate to be selfish." Karina shrugs her shoulders and winks. You're transfixed. There's natural magic about the way they move as if it is rehearsed; the way Natty sinks to her knees and the way Karina pulls your hips to the edge of the seat, then rises above you.
Karina hovers and watches, Natty leans in, and then your balls disappear into her mouth. She’s handling them with her tongue expertly as she takes hold of your cock.
"God, what a pro. She wasn’t lying when she told me she knew her way around a cock," she exclaims, savouring every second as the air rapidly leaves your lungs.
It is beyond explanation, the way Natty's tongue is dancing along the underside of your balls as her lips caress each one. Her eyes occasionally flick up and flash mischievously—it's the kind of look that means she could get away with absolutely anything, and there is no way you are going to stop her.
"She's got the face for it, doesn't she? Like she just gives the most amazing head." Karina's on her knees by your side, sliding a hand between her thighs.
"Y-yeah." You manage to reply. "S-so... ahh! Good."
Karina leans forward, cupping one of your cheeks as she looks into your eyes.
"He's speechless!" She laughs, moving a hand to the back of your head and tugging gently at the strands. "Natty baby, give him a few words or something, will you? If you can?"
It's hard to look at her, but you crane your neck and you catch her looking at you again—one hand upon your inner thigh, the other wrapped around your shaft. "That's a good boy," Natty murmurs.
She teases a thumb over the surface of your glistening wet tip. "She loves that shit. Watch her..." Karina explains, smiling, the delight on her face all you can look at for a moment or more.
She guides your chin and you follow your girlfriend's direction, then you see, Natty's taken her mouth from you for a second and she's licking your pre-cum from her thumb; her gaze on the pair of you. She repeats her motion once more and the grin on her face grows bigger as you leak another pearl for her.
"How does he taste?" Karina asks for both of you.
"Delicious." Natty answers—now she's literally licking her lips.
You'll believe anything this woman tells you.
She's running a teasing tongue along the underside of your shaft, and as she reaches the peak, she catches the snow-white trickle you drip right there. You close your eyes in ecstasy, but before long, you’re feeling a finger poke against your lips.
You part them open, letting Karina's two fingers inside, and she's running her digits over your tongue as you suck her fingertips. The taste is so undoubtedly her, nectar straight from her source, your mouth salivating for more.
The feel of Natty's soft plump lips against the end of your cock is incredible as she moves them in an inch, teasing, testing, and then she withdraws just the same and you want to cry out. But you can't, Karina still lubricating her fingers, your tongue swirling around the digits.
She withdraws and your eyes open. And as much as you wanted to see Natty ready to settle her mouth around your cock, she's got something else in mind. She has her tits in her hand. "Are they still gorgeous?"
"Yeah, totally," you sputter.
"Natty girl, let him fuck them." Karina tells her and then she turns to you, mouth to your ear. "You want your cock between them, don't you? Tell her." Karina's not leaving this up to interpretation. "Tell her you want them."
"Oh yes..." you blurt out, without even really thinking. Karina giggles—it's her sign of approval, a tick. "Your tits, Natty. Fuck. Please."
It's not something you haven't done before. You love Karina's pair too, after all. It would be hard for anyone with a dick to resist a pair of round tits like hers. Luckily for you, tonight she's brought you a girl with a pair to match her own.
"He asked so nicely."
"He's a real gentleman," Natty teases and she raises her breasts a little, then pushes them together. As your head slides into her cleavage, she puts her hand around them, and as the skin squeezes the sides of your member, you are reduced to shuddering. Karina knows exactly how this gets you, knows just how this can bring you undone. It doesn't even matter if the actual thing feels nothing like sex—you'll always go crazy over a great pair of tits.
As the tip of your manhood peeks out through the crease between them, Natty lowers her tongue to it and you swear you nearly cum right then. Then the words echo inside your brain: he wants them, Karina's voice and as soon as she says it, your subconscious concedes to the reality.
"Look how easy and willing he is," she says to Karina and both girls giggle, then Natty forms a mock pout. "Such a good boy. I really want to make him feel good."
"He does deserve something." Your girlfriend runs her fingers into your hair as Natty plants a soft kiss onto your cock-head. Instinctively, you reach out but before you can touch anything, Karina's hand finds your wrist. "Tell her what you want."
She's leaning in closer again and Natty looks up from where she's teasing your tip, sucking, tonguing and lavishing affection and attention. "Ask Natty nice. Tell her you want a blowjob. Tell her you want to cum. Tell her what you want," Karina purrs her words.
And god, if anything makes it impossible to think straight, it is Natty's gaze up at you. She wants to make it easy for you, impossible to do anything but give in to your wishes, whether it’s her intention or your deep-seated desire making it seem so.
"Natty... can you suck my cock?" Your mouth's dry and the words grate in the throat.
"Anything," she says with a twinkle in her eye. And now it's all one motion. Her tits clamped against the sides of your length. Your cock drives between them and into Natty's waiting mouth. She's all tongue, bobbing her head a little and taking the tip of you in and out of her mouth.
Karina's all over you—kissing your neck, holding a hand behind your head, caressing, squeezing. "Aren't I just the best? Always doing this for you with all these girls." She's muttering away in your ear. The heat of her breath is constant and burning. She continues with sweet nothings in her deep, sultry voice.
You're sinking deeper into the couch, like you're laid on the shore and the tide is enveloping you. Wave after wave crashing against you, rolling, engulfing you and drawing you out further and further. Natty is pulling you under; every time she takes you into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around you, it's another wave over you. Karina is a life rope. You're grabbing onto the strands of her ponytail, trying to keep your head above the water. All her touches, her words, her encouragement, that's the air you need.
But the torrent grows ever more intense and powerful and the riptide is too great, Natty's drawing the last vestiges of resolve from you. You lose grip of everything—of reality.
You're lost.
Lost in her mouth, lost between her tits.
Karina knows it, she's seen it all before, so many times, for her and others. "Feel like you're gonna cum?" Karina's in your ear asking you the obvious.
Your answer's a growl.
"Cum!" It's a low-roar in your ear.
You don't say a word.
"All over those perfect fucking tits. Her mouth, her face, look at her," and then that's it. You're drowning in pleasure. Every sense abandons you—hearing, touch, and sight, all surrendered.
You can't think or do anything, because every fibre of your being is focused on a single action—pouring out cum. You're rigid and straining.
Your eyes regain focus and you see it all. All of it smearing her tits and just a little on her face, and then more streams erupt. Natty doesn't shy and she doesn't stop. She is milking you for every single drop.
And Karina's ever the encourager, ever full of pride. "Just like that, yes. Empty all of it right there on her chest."
This is her thing now. Has been for a while, ever since she convinced you to try it just one time. Her imagination was fueled by all those dirty little stories she read online about voyeurism and the like. It opened her eyes and redefined your relationship. It started with an experiment. With her best friend, Winter, all those months ago. It was the first time she took enjoyment in her friend getting you off.
Now it's a regular surprise. Sometimes they're girls you met many times before, almost like she was dangling them in front of you, teasing you. Other times it's just like Natty. You barely say a few words to them and before you know it, you're covering them in your cum.
Truth is, you always get the gut feeling when it's one of these nights, as soon as Karina and whichever girl it is start their first drinks of the night; you know it's one of those nights. Then it's just a case of waiting.
Natty didn't take long to get on her knees—she must have been excited.
And lucky for her, you're nowhere near being finished.
Karina is prowling and on the move, towards Natty, and she reaches her with both arms as she locks her into her grasp. A kiss, deep, hungry. All tongue. Seeing is believing; some of you ended up inside Natty’s mouth and now she’s sharing, distributing to Karina. Back and forth it goes between their mouths, with some spilling from their lips. As it’s shared, it’s swallowed bit by bit between them.
"Your turn Natty. I want to watch you cum for me." Karina announces she breaks away, then lapping up what remains on her lips and she has a hand on Natty's chest, playing with the mess you made of them.
You're lying there, spent and watching, as Karina guides Natty to her feet.
"There you go," Karina is pushing the girl towards the couch and she gets to the edge, then places a knee on it. Your eyes drift over her body as Karina bends her into place, her sticky chest planted against the cushions. Her juicy ass is in the air and the light in the room highlights every line and contour. Her flawless curves are accentuated to their perfect best.
"Legs wider, yes, yes. That's perfect," Karina's voice cuts through the air. She's behind her, hand on the small of her back, urging Natty into position. Lower and lower, Natty's head pressed into the cushion; she's turning to look at you, face full of excitement, of yearning.
A quiver passes through her entire body as Karina's lips descend upon her lower back.
Then lower, kissing her tailbone.
Her ass.
Lower and lower, peppering her skin along the way, Karina finally nestles between the two cheeks. Then she places her hands on Natty and starts parting them. "Perfect. Isn't that so perfect?"
Karina doesn't wait for any reply from you.
She doesn't need to. You are fixed there, utterly mesmerised, entranced and completely undisturbed, watching this gorgeous woman lay tongue on her newest conquest. Karina, meanwhile, can't contain her excitement. She's feasting on Natty, lapping at her sex, diving lower and lower with her tongue. "Oh yes. You taste so good."
Everybody's taste is unique. Just as her aroma earlier was something you couldn't put into words or compare, you can only imagine how sweet Natty must taste. And as if she reads your mind, Karina adds to the narrative, "So sweet."
And the sounds.
Fuck. The sounds. 
Natty moans, loud, sharp and high. You should have known it, her voice being what it is—the tone; so unique, so unmissable. You should have expected the melodic composition. The pleasure is pure, crystal-clear music. It's perfection in sound. It's the kind of musicality people work their entire lives to compose, to play, to express.
To do all without a care in the world.
With as much freedom, spontaneity and energy as possible.
The tone shifts, and the octaves change. And it's Karina, playing her, burying a pair of fingers into Natty.
There is no question here. The two are in sync. Karina, a performer by profession, plays your guest as if Natty is merely an extension of herself. Your girlfriend, in her element, her playground, her stage and her domain. You are her audience. And she has never sounded, looked, or acted so majestic in her role.
Natty sings a string of profanities, nonsensical and fragmented phrases.
"That good?" Karina exclaims, teeth digging into her butt cheek as Natty spills into the cushion. Her legs quiver. Karina smiles into her ass, nipping her a second time and then she turns to you, staring at you with the same dark hunger, the same thirst, you always see.
"You still with us, babe?" she asks—rhetorical, she know’s you’re fixated. There's no question in her mind. She can read you and she knows how captivating this performance is.
"God yes," you whisper in reply. She's smiling wide.
"Good." That one word response, so laden with meaning.
It's a dangerous smile. It means only trouble. Good trouble.
"Come here," she's beckoning you behind Natty. Your legs feel weak and like jelly, yet you crawl up and behind her, your hand slips up to her thigh, pressing, pawing and grabbing her flesh. She purrs at your touch, and Karina, too, responds with delight.
"Natty," you begin, feeling her ass under your touch. "Do you want me inside you?"
"Mhm. Yes."
Karina slips a hand around your erection, her wet, lubricated fingertips meet your skin and when she says, let me get you ready for her. That alone could have done the job. But, damn, her hand feels so good as it strokes. The motion's just the right pace and when her grip gets tighter, a tremor courses through you.
"You did such a wonderful job already." Her praise is just as nice as her tongue running along the side of your length and then her lips, pursed, locking onto the tip.
"Karina..." it's a long-drawn groan. She lets her tongue swivel over you, each stroke lasting longer and longer. The more she continues, the more feels you grow and get hard—she works you until the last ounce of sanity leaves your brain.
Then she draws away and finishes her sentence, "I told you, you're the best. Now look at her, look how needy she is." Karina's still got a hand on your cock and the other caressing Natty's cunt.
Natty’s now the girl in the center of it all. Her beautiful face turned, eyes closed. She's twitching, aching, longing. She whimpers, and then gasps in desire as you angle your cock at her slit. Her folds open gratefully and the wet warmth of her sex embraces you. Her groans rise again, heightening ever more in the satisfaction as she backs herself further onto your length.
You move, thrusting into her, and she breaks into a tempered moan.
"Oh yes! God, yes."
And you feel a hand grab at your backside, encouraging, guiding, demanding more of you. She partners her touch with an all-telling grin. Karina's about as happy watching you fuck someone else as she is being fucked.
"That's it... You like it like this Natty? Does this feel good to you?"
It's a silly thing to ask, but it still makes Natty stir. It makes her hot—burning hot. As soon as the words are out of her, and she follows with a moan, she becomes tighter around you.
"Ah! Yes, yes, yes..." she trails into several more repetitions as you angle deeper into her.
Your girlfriend is dancing her fingertips over her skin. "So amazing," your lover is still muttering her words. "So fucking hot," Karina says as she tracks her kisses up Natty's back. Gentle kiss after gentle kiss to her glistening back as Natty keeps driving her ass back against you. 
There is the unmistakable look of an idea forming in Karina's mind. She's climbing onto the sofa, crawling past Natty onto the back of it, where Natty's head is pressed against the fabric. Natty grows hesitant at the expectation of what's to come, and it allows you to take over. A hand on either side. You're gripping her hips and really fucking her, pushing your cock fully into her and stretching her.
You see Natty's fingers wrapping around the bottom of the sofa cushions in an iron grasp, trying to bear the surge of bliss. She shudders and clenches up as Karina runs a set of nails up her back.
"Yes, baby, you take her, don't be afraid," Karina hisses her words, raking at Natty's back with her claws. "Harder." Karina demands and you pull on Natty's hips, pulling the gorgeous young woman into your hips as you fuck.
Karina's sliding into where she wants to be, right in front of Natty's face, sitting where she rests it. She's handling her like the toy she currently is, pulling her head exactly where Karina wants it, and coercing Natty's mouth onto her. To bury her in and make her satisfy Karina's craving.
And Natty wastes no time, sliding her lips onto Karina, exploring her core the way she has explored her mouth. "Just like that," your girlfriend cries as she rests a hand on Natty's head and rocks back against her. "See, I knew you'd be perfect for us."
You have to admit, Karina nailed it with this one. Before any of the girls even step into the apartment, they know why they're there, but none of them are as ready for it as Natty. It must be a deep, dark fantasy of her own, maybe something she's played out in her mind over and over. It must have been burning inside her before even that first taste of red wine.
Red wine.
That's it. That's how you knew it was always going to end up like this. Fuck, you must be a fool for having missed it all those times before. It's so obvious now that it's when she drinks red wine with them—that's the signal of how the night's going to end. Your subconscious had made the connection, now you realise.
You smile to yourself in the moment of clarity and Karina has noticed, breaking through her moans to ask, "You look a little lost back there, babe. Something funny?"
She's got a coy grin on her lips and her hand gripping Natty's hair, grinding the woman's face further into her pussy. It's a stream of muffled moans from Natty between her hungry licks of Karina's cunt. She's all action between you and Karina's stare. "Nothing."
You raise a hand and spank Natty's ass; the echo fills the air and her cheek ripples. Karina flinches with surprise and she's drawing the young woman further into her body. "Jesus, fuck. Again."
Again and you lay your palm on Natty. Harder. She mewls in pain and Karina shivers in bliss. Her fingertips dig at the younger woman, grabbing her by her scalp and pushing her harder.
A final time you spank her ass, planting your hands and digging your fingers into her soft flesh. Using the strike on your mount to signal one thing; faster.
You're reckless now—manic. Grab her ass and pound; that’s all that is on your mind. You're rabid—not holding anything back. This is the sole reason that girl's here tonight and you're not letting her down, nor Karina.
You hammer against her body, deep into her depths. Her cries echo over Karina's. Each hit a satisfying smack to Natty's cheeks. Slaps and claps and cries. Sounds fill the room. The wet squelch, the grunt of every stroke to the backing track of Karina's rich mewls.
It's a symphony, eroticism on an epic scale.
Your eyes roll upward, over Natty's body and land on Karina. She's bouncing on Natty's tongue. Head back, face creased with pleasure. A grimace so beautiful that you swear it is the definition of raw sexuality.
Natty's struggling; her legs are giving way and she keeps reaching with her hands. To the couch, the cushions, Karina's legs, to anything. There is no steadying her, and it looks like she's barely clinging on for dear life. She has only her waning strength and determination holding her together.
You think she's cumming. But fuck, it is hard to be sure. Maybe you should slow down, but if she is cumming once, better to make it twice. Or thrice. So, you pick up the pace instead. You become wilder, stronger, faster, more forceful.
She's not even eating Karina's cunt anymore—she just can't. You grab Natty's arms and pull her upright so she doesn't slip. Chest to back now—she’s against you and your thrusts drive upward into her.
Natty wails and all the while, Karina is sliding down the couch onto her knees, face to face with Natty. She brings a hand to Natty's throat, grabbing and pushing to pin her against you. And her other hand is sinking between Natty's legs.
Karina's teasing Natty's cunt with the soft caresses of her fingers, and you're sliding between those fingers and into the girl. "Look at you," Karina's saying between clenched teeth, then a loud hiss passes her lips. "Oh, fuck."
A fire blazes across the brunette's eyes—you swear it is an inferno. Fingernails and knuckles are going white in her grip of Natty's neck, and the same could be said of yours holding her arms.
"Oh, Karina!" Your newfound fuck toy screams your girlfriend's name out at the top of her voice.
Karina responds by rubbing her fingers on Natty's clit, then pressing hard, strumming it at a maniacal pace. She's whispering into Natty's ear, words only the girl can hear, coaxing something out of her.
Natty screams again and again. Your name then Karina's.
She's cumming. 
Not just that, she's fucking squirting.
Her body's a boneless jelly in your arms as it spasms. And your girlfriend just won't stop her mischievous act, not a single pause until she's dragged more from the young beauty. She's dragging her second and then a third eruption.
It pours. It flows. Eruption is exactly the right word. 
Natty's spraying onto your cock— 
onto Karina's fingers— 
down your legs— 
on the couch— 
everywhere.
You've got an ardent geyser in your grip and her voice cracks, the climax too much for her, for any of you.
In a flurry of a moment, Natty falls, slipping from your grasp and collapsing and sinking against Karina's chest. Limp. Saturated and dripping, sweat and cum.
The girl has come undone.
You've slipped out of her, set her free, but you're ready to burst. Staggering behind her, a mess and almost drunk on sex, you catch your breath. "Karina... I..." you begin.
"Look at the mess she made." Look at the mess she is. 
Karina's laying the girl down to the side; Natty is almost lifeless aside from the aftershocks still tearing through her.
"Karina..." you try again. "Karina, please..."
"Come here sweetie," and that's enough. You sink to your knees on the edge of the seat. Karina's in front of you, grabbing at your erection and lying back. You're collapsing over her, propping yourself with an arm. She's pulling at your cock. It doesn't take much and you're about to fire.
"Please Karina, please" you growl and Karina whispers back the sweetest reply, 'I love watching you do this'.
She's tugging your cock, aiming it at her wet cunt, freshly eaten.
Then your legs grow heavy and stiff, it's impossible to move, muscles tense, locking your body in place. Karina's jerking your cock and it's impossible to hold it.
Release.
It comes.
You can't explain, words can't describe it, the sheer, earth-shattering and mind-numbing rush as it pours. Spurt after spurt, you feel it all come out, and through your hazed vision you're watching it pour over her cunt. Some on her abs, some on her thigh, but most of it coating her pussy. It is all you want to see before you fall, slipping onto her, your head in the nook of her neck. Her words are just a noise in your ear.
"Stay with us," it's her soft voice that you feel vibrate in your ears as her chest rises and falls beneath you. "Natty? Darling, you too."
There's this moment of near silence. Three sets of heavy breaths.
There are things you know to expect before long, but in this space between you don't really know where it'll go. It’s all wild in the night.
"That was... fuck. Intense," you begin, laying the seeds to push the three of you to the next course, "Wasn't it?"
Karina's responding with a push at your shoulders, making you look at her. Her features, still so sharp, she's still so elegantly composed, the dark and playful look hasn't left her eyes. Her smile endearing. "We're not done," she begins, a whisper into your mouth as you lean over her.
Hand grasping your cock, firm, and she’ squeezing a drop or two more out. "I want you inside me." She demands it of you, of your spent dick. This is always the danger. You're just a single cock in a game that demands more.
It hurts as she rubs your cock. No matter how gentle her touch, it feels rough and you wince in her hold, it's raw pain and all you want is to draw back, but you stay. You have to stay. You want to stay. Refusing to let the pain, the momentary sting and discomfort end it. "Give her what she wants," it's Natty's voice, from beside the two of you. Who knows where the young girl even got the strength?
“Please,” It’s rare that Karina pleads, but her mouth is on your ear, nibbling softly. Her hot tongue traces the shell of it and the whole motion gives you a shiver that makes the hair stand on end. "Come on." She coaxes in a sultry, yet playful, sing-song voice. It makes her intentions unmistakable.
You draw your body back and rest on your knees, looking at the two girls, side-by-side, one melting and the other keening. Your heart is still trying to get out of your chest, but somehow the sight of them has calmed you. They make it all feel a little easier.
"I'm sure your cock can still work for me," Karina's words are undisguised lust.
Natty reaches a lazy arm, working her fingers into the cum you left on Karina's body, playing with it. She begins painting Karina's belly, streaking it over her skin. "So much," she purrs, adding a moan as a compliment, her tone soaked in desire.
Karina takes her own finger to it too, dousing it in your fluid before taking it to Natty's lips. It's a question that goes unspoken, not one word, one command, just a mere motion. Natty's reply is perfect; she opens her mouth and accepts it eagerly, slipping her tongue onto Karina's digit and suckling it. 
Natty returns the favour, her finger into Karina's mouth. They're both sucking, tasting, swirling their tongues as you watch, drinking the liquid, gulping it down, savouring the taste. Their eyes locked in an impossibly sinful gaze. Neither can bring themselves to break it.
They only give in and finally end it when their bodies move instinctively, rolling in to a desperate kiss. Mouths together, sharing the fluid back and forth in a series of dirty, noisy kisses.
Natty's running her hand down Karina's body, running it through your cum and heading right for her cunt. One finger sinks inside, met by a silent whimper from Karina and a second finger joins the first as the girl's now twisting inside your girlfriend. She draws in and out, each time pulling more of your cum into Karina's hole.
And your cock, exhausted moments before, now wants to wake. It's stiffening, not too far from hard once again. You're a moth to a flame and Karina's burning brighter than ever. 
Natty's insatiable thirst is getting the better of her and her finger fucks your lover relentlessly.
Karina's mewl of satisfaction turns into a blissful howl. And when you climb between the girl's legs, finding them parted, you grab her behind the knees. Karina moans once more when you move to slip her ankles over your shoulders and Natty is forced to concede. Your stiff shaft, the one Karina has yearned for, drives into her.
Karina absorbs you, clinging, squeezing, and she holds you, embracing you. Her body is soft against yours, yet inside she's hotter than molten iron. She's even wetter, every slick and intimate part of her is grinding against you. "Yes, fuck yes," she's slurring, muttering nonsense.
She's a fucking mess between her legs—there's some of Natty's, there's some of hers, and there's a lot of yours down there, and you're fucking it all into her as lubricant. Natty's forced to watch as you're pressing Karina's knees up to her chest. She's riding the edge between pleasure and pain and enjoying every bit of it.
And there's no better feeling than when you press her even closer, and now her ankles lock at the back of your neck. Every thrust from you forces her ass to rise from the cushion and her cheeks meet your hips in a way that resembles Natty not long ago. Her tits are pressed almost flat under the weight. She is so open to you—so, so willing. 
Her thighs tremble. Her hands claw. She's losing everything inside herself, everything but the one thing she wants most, a violent orgasm.
It's Natty's turn now, a role reversal, as she tries her hand at the encouragement, the guiding partner, "Harder," her first order. "Deeper," her second. Both punctuated with her nails scoring along your flesh. And in an act that's so entirely Natty, she's now spanking your ass and laughing as she does it. She's playfully flirty and full of giddy enthusiasm.
"Faster." Natty's clapping her hands and she's watching your thrusts drive Karina wild. Every stroke, every strike, all of it Karina is crying out for. Every push forward makes her twinge, a sensation, a mix of pleasure and pain, each jolting through her. "God, isn't she great to fuck?"
"She's the best," you groan, struggling to reply with the only response you can formulate. She is, of course, better to fuck than anybody else. There's no question about that.
"And you," Natty turns to her, "are you going to cum for us now?" Karina's hair sways. Her mouth is full of cries and whimpers. Every roll of your hips, every pull back and every plunge into her pussy steals every breath.
"Yes," she says. "Fuck yes. Right there, baby. Don't stop."
Natty relaxes to enjoy the show. She can see your shaft thrusting. She can see it when you withdraw, almost the full length and then every inch into Karina. Each time, your girlfriend's body jiggles and twists and writhes.
Karina's face grows contorted. A contortion of pure delight.
It's what Natty's been waiting for. Watching. The expectation she couldn't express. The feeling inside her core growing.
"Oh. God!" Karina squeals. She's seeing white spots explode in her vision. A flash of colourful patterns swirl in her head. The white heat rises higher and hotter, so high and so bright it consumes her. She's gone in it. Next comes a sound following a deafening gasp that stops the air dead in her lungs, the release as an equally loud scream.
You hear it, and the heat burns inside your ears, as if sound could cauterize. Every cell of your skin sizzles. It's electric, this passion.
Her cunt turns to water and floods. Your cock is saturated. That's all the reason you need to lose yourself. To slip back and slide yourself deeper into her, pumping. Her eyes squeeze shut and a loud, sonorous gasp is swallowed by her lips. She's never seemed sexier. She is utterly engorged with desire.
"Ah! Ah!" 
You know Karina's at her limit. A dire need for respite, for air to fill her lungs—for relief.
You know what you're going to do. Natty is oblivious, so when you pull out of Karina, and slide over Natty—who's lying on her side facing Karina—it catches her by surprise. One that brings a look of elated shock to her face. You push up one leg and mount her from the side, driving your cock into her.
Karina's drowning in air as she opens her mouth to take all she can. Her vision clears. It focuses on Natty.
The young woman is caught, once again, and in the best way possible; she's lost and helpless beneath you, she has to clutch and clasp whatever's available—the cushions, her own arms—and take it. She's face down to the couch; her body twisted. Her tit's pressed underneath her but her waist rotating, one knee pointing at Karina and one leg straight between your own.
And Natty has taken this all in stride. She's dug her nails into her own scalp, grabbing at her hair. And there is no uncertainty or indecision within her body, nor in her mind. She revels in her vulnerability. She loves the feel of you inside her. Loves the thrill that floods through her entire being as you dominate and ravish her.
Karina makes her move. To join Natty, she slides in on her side, lifting Natty's leg over her own hip, turning Natty fully onto her side to face her. You relent for a moment and Karina does what she needs to. She pulls her own leg up under Natty's and hooks it around her ass. The girls pull each other close. Pull each other into a kiss. Their mouths together. Their breath shared.
Karina whispers, but loud enough you can hear her, and says, "Told you," and her words are all wrapped up in a smirk, the smile of satisfaction.
You slap the length of your cock against Karina's ass; teasing her but not sliding into her. And only when Karina has worked herself up even higher do you lower yourself and slide in, penetrating, filling and stretching.
You're fucking in and out of her. This might be a new favourite of yours. The girls tangled together, sharing kisses and bites and tongue. Both their holes are there for you—each available whenever you want it, and each is only a hair width apart.
It's hard for you to keep a focus on everything like this. But you fight through, burying your shaft inside Karina. Once, and twice, and a final time again. And it's ever so easy to just drag yourself out, driving it between their cunts for a few short pumps and then slip it up into Natty.
"Fuck. I wish we'd done this sooner," Karina is mumbling more, but her words are rolling together and coiling into nonsensical verbal splashes of pure want and need.
Natty strains a response, "I'd... love... to... join you. Often."
"Perfect." Karina is happy as she shifts, arching her body to make a point, to tell you who to fuck now.
And you slip, and then you're inside Karina. As easy as that. Buried as deep and hard as you can, she's mouthing a silent cry and her hair falls over her face.
Natty's got a handful of Karina's tit now, caressing her nipples. It's hard not to envy the beauty that's in her hands. Soft, round, pert, perfectly curved, her breasts are works of art, beautiful beyond anything you could ever put into words.
And all of a sudden, Natty has shifted from Karina's mouth, planting her lips on Karina's soft pillows. Natty is suckling at them and Karina's mouth is twisted open in a soundless gasp, then she speaks, "I could do this forever."
Her arms draw along Natty's body until she finds her ass, slipping down and around, and then her fingertip sinks between her cheeks. It makes Natty lurch as it caresses her taint, presses lower, and touches her tight rear entrance.
Then she does it, a manoeuvre only the confident would have considered, a twist and she's pushing a slender finger into Natty's ass and causing the girl to nip at Karina's breast. "Fuck," Natty hisses, giving a breathy shudder. And her reaction draws a grin onto Karina.
And they keep going like that, they are perfectly attuned to each other. And you swap again, seeing the opportunity to really punish Natty. You're angling towards her again, sliding into her soaked cunt.
You push up inside her. With no time or inclination to start gentle, you're instantly fucking her fast. In and out, hard and deep, over and over, you hammer her cunt. She's muffled with a mouth full of Karina.
"How's that Natty? Both your holes are ours." It's Karina, whispering her dirty words again, "tell us you're going to join us again. Tell us."
Natty nods her head against Karina's chest. It's not a verbal answer. But it's an affirmation that, fuck, yes, she'd like that—as would you all. You could have this again, and maybe soon, a replay with a fresh twist.
Maybe next time you can be the one inside Natty's ass. For now, it's Karina's finger working her, and it looks fucking amazing as it drives into her and withdraws in the exact same rhythm that you're giving her.
You both keep the pace, driving Natty into nirvana, and at some point, it's clear when the climax hits. But it's an awfully hard thing to gauge the passage of time while being wrapped and caught and tangled with these two vixens. All you know is that all too soon, your balls are beginning to churn.
And that's when you switch back again, driving into your girlfriend's cunt with no time for a rest.You're going for broke. Slamming yourself fully inside and Karina knows the instant you do what your fate has become. She laughs and squeezes Natty, pulling the girl tighter.
It's only natural that the rising tide, the bubble of the climactic force, grows and grows and grows. Your ears pound in the beat of the blood racing and your breaths come in fits and starts. The noises escaping your three mouths become louder than before, more frenetic, more unchecked. More lustful.
"Karina— I— Natty—" You're losing the fight against your own body. The rush, the pressure, all the sounds, sights, and smells have put the signal in the green. There is no stopping it. No controlling it. It's all building, coalescing, into one pinpoint of space and time, right there between their legs.
Karina's pulling Natty into position as you're pulling out of her cunt. They both turn to face you, their cheeks pressed together, tits too, and their legs in a knot. They're lying in such a manner that they feel to you like an oasis in a hot desert, inviting, like a promised paradise, and it's calling you, tempting, and you can't hold yourself any longer.
You're rubbing yourself over the edge, and they're calling out to you in a desperate tones, still riding some faint traces of orgasms, "On us."
"Go on."
"Please cum on me, on us."
"Cum for us."
You barely hear their calls, and there's no fucking way you know who is saying what. It's just words of need spilling from two filthy mouths.
It takes only a handful of seconds, and then it happens. 
With a harsh spasm from head to toe, you feel it shoot forward, ripping free from your body, and pulsing as you paint their flesh. Spurts and ropes and slivers shoot up and over the girls. A little on a thigh, on their bodies, over their tits and all the way to their pretty little faces.
They're smiling like idiots as you cum. They're proud of it. They relish it. Natty's tongue moves around inside her lips, just getting another taste—a droplet or two. Karina's teasing as always, "Is that all?"
You're still forcing every drop out you can, the final bits dropping to their thighs.
"There's no way that's all of it, huh," Karina continues to tease. And then it ends, and your body lets go and you fall beside them. You simply can't stand any longer.
"I think that's all of it, Karina," Natty's giggling to herself. She's twirling her fingers over Karina's nipple, playing with the rope of cum that landed there. And Karina is humming out an almost silent cry, twisting under the touch. "Here, taste," and the offer is clear, and again Natty is surprising you.
She offers her own tit to Karina, willing her to lick your cum from it. And the act brings a gleam to Karina's eyes as she cups it, bringing it to her mouth to taste. She's sucking and licking and Natty's gasping at the sensation, and at the way Karina nibbles just a little—just a little too much for it to be painless.
You're laying and watching in awe at the debauchery of the scene and wishing you could watch it forever, or at least capture it. The girls are just lapping at each other now, filling their mouths with your seed and swallowing. Laughing. Panting. Moaning. Sighing. Gasping.
Their limbs tangle. Their tongues too. And it's then you realise, no matter how drained you are—completely fucking bone-dry—these two aren't even close to finishing. There's still a show to be enjoyed yet.
You shift just a little to find the most comfortable view, and Karina's taking control now. Slowly she rolls Natty onto her back, their legs still tied, in such a way that Karina can mount her. Natty's got a playful smile across her lips, looking up, seeing the glistening of cum and sweat shining against Karina's neck and cheeks and mouth, her entire gorgeous face soaked in the stuff.
Karina's getting rougher, her nails cutting into Natty's skin. A hungry bite here, a nip there, another scratch here. She's threatening to draw blood as red as the wine she drank. Right on the edge of true pain, but Natty's relishing it. Her eyes roll back, and she lets out a small squeal. And you watch her buck and writhe. 
Karina grows ever more forceful—pinning her and keeping Natty in place. She's starting to drive her hips against her. The desire is clear; she wants Natty to a delirium.
You can do nothing but marvel at the sight. You may be raw, you may be sensitive, but you're here to enjoy the show that may yet last a whole night.
"Me and you now, Natty. Are you ready to cum for me?"
"Yes," the whimper slips out of Natty. "Yes, anything for you."
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jyoongim · 2 months
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You have so graciously written multiple of my asks 🫶🏻🫶🏻 thank you for doing them justice!!! 👁️👅👁️
I’m living for the alastor with cannibal reader!
What about the gang at the hotel sees alastor with a pretty new thing around his arm and she is just !!!!stunning!!! Like dark elegant (yet terrifying) grace. And everyone is like ????how did this old ass radio demon pull someone like you???
But they realize exactly why they fit so perfect when she kills someone (maybe defending the hotel) and just munches down on their corpse crazy style. Turning around, blood on their face, in their teeth with a wide smile like “I helped!!!” And then it clicks that she’s also a cannibal like him.
Everyone is all grossed out by it but Al thinks she has never looked prettier all covered in blood from her kill and meal. He even Wipes her face for her 😗😗😗
IM HAPPY THAT I HAVE DONE SO MANY OF YOUR REQUESTS AND YOU ENJOYED THEM!!!! I hope that i did this one justice.
Truly there was no way.
Their eyes HAD to be deceiving them.
Alastor had left the hotel to go on one of his outings but the gang was just too curious as to where the Overlord was going.
So like the mischievous nosy bunch they were; they followed him.
They followed him to a lovely restaurant and watched in shock as the waiter seated Alastor and the most beautiful demon they had ever seen.
Truly there was no way.
There was no way that ALASTOR was chatting up such a beautiful dame and NOT being creepy.
They watched from afar as Alastor pulled out a small box, presumingly a gift, and give you a genuine smile as you gawked and playfully glared at him before accepting it with a soft smile.
You were stunning!
 You must have died from an earlier time period as you were dressed in very modest attire.
A puffy white blouse tucked into a long black skirt, waist tapered by a corset to show off your curves. 
Your neck and ears wore pearls and your hair was curled and pinned up.
The epitome of grace and elegance. 
How the hell did that old fossil bag you???
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
”Oh Alastor! You didn’t have to!” You gasped as he presented a small gift box to you.
The red charmer demon smiled as you opened the box to see he had got you some customized jewelry.
The Radio Demon had been courting you for a while.
Sending you flowers and taking you out on several outings throughout the Pride Ring.
It took you a while to warm up to him, but he did have a way with persuasion Rosie told you he was a great guy and your bestie would never lie. Plus Alastor had been asking her about you
“Oh it was nothing my dear! A beautiful lady should have beautiful things. I thought it would compliment that new dress you got” Ah what a charmer.
As the two of you chatted and enjoyed each other's company, you had an eerie feeling you were being watched.
You shook off the feeling, it wasn’t too off putting as many people often staring as you accompanied the demon.
Besides, no one dared to approach the two of you anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alastor had asked you to come to the hotel so he could show you around.
He really only wanted you to meet the Princess, but the whole hotel was in attendance when Alastor opened the door to reveal you.
“No way Freaky Face bagged a broad like this?” Angel commented, causing Nifty giggled while the rest of the gang watched as Alastor showed you around.
All was going well…until there was a loud banging at the door.
rude much?
“Angel we know you’re here!” A voice shouted as the banging got louder.
You turned to see the tall spider start to shake a bit. 
You patted his arm and motioned him to take a seat and reassured him that all will be well.
Vaggie hissed as a window was knocked out.
”Oi come on out! Valentino wants to see you! We don’t mind using force whorebug!”
You felt your eye twitch.
the gang was trying to think of a way to get rid of them.
They were going to tear the hotel apart at this rate.
Charlie protested as you made your way to the lobby double doors and swung them open.
”Why hello gentlemen, is there a reason for such distasteful actions?” You smiled, but it was anything but friendly.
You took a step forward, a dark aura manifested around you as your eyes glows and teeth sharpened.
”Take her out boys! I’m sure the boss man would like a new toy!”
oh poor things.
You launched at the unexpected demon, sharp teeth at his neck and with a quick yank, his head was gone.
You heard horrified gasps as you moved to dispatch each disgusting creature.
”Ooh my dear you shouldn’t have” you heard Alastor say.
The gang had poked their heads out the front door and was shocked. There were dead bodies everywhere on the front lawn, bodies parts littering the ground. 
Angel and Vaggie gagged as they saw you, teeth deep,in a poor demon. You were shaking it like a dog would with a toy, until it flung out of your mouth, leaving your mouth bloody.
”OOH that’s sick so fucking sick!”
You grinned at Alastor, sharp teeth white a pale contrast to the bright blood smeared on your face .
You shyly tucked a strand of loose hair, standing to dust yourself off. “Ooh i do apologize Alastor. They were just being rude and ruining the exterior! Such disgusting things! They didn’t even deserve the grace to be eaten! How dare they try to-”
You were pulled from your murderous ramble by a soft cloth on your face. You blinked, eyes focusing on Alastor’s smiling face.
”Knew you would look good in red” 
You blushed as he wiped the blood from your chin.
”Oh stop it. You know red doesn’t suit me” you playfully hit his chest. He hummed, ignoring your comment as he cleaned your face.
”I think you look ravishing’ he purred as he licked your blood-stained cheek.
You giggled and held up a liver for him to bite.
In the background the gang was flabbergasted.
so that was HOW Alastor bagged a bad bitch?
shes a fucking cannibal…huh who would have knew?
Well you had to be some sort of freaky to be entertaining the Radio Demon.
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peachesofteal · 5 months
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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader
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Amends, Simon learns, are harder to make than he thought. 
At first, he tries to catch you in the hallway, or in the lobby of the building. It’s started to get cold, and you’re not out on your balcony much, so he resorts to sulking around like building like a ghost, miserable and downright creepy, waiting. Watching. 
He begins to memorize your routine. It's not intentional, just a hazard of his profession, but he can't help but work everything you do into a schedule that looms at the back of his mind. What time Emma wakes up, what time you usually take her somewhere with you on your lunch, what time the sound of your dryer buzzes to signal it's cycle complete, what time you turn the TV off and the lights go out for bed. Knowing your schedule so well relaxes him, makes him feel reassured, and he waits for every part of it with bated breath, ensuring you're home and safe with each mental check in.
He tries to sync with you, run into you in the hall or outside the building somewhere, but you're elusive, and at night, before he falls asleep, he resorts to daydreaming about a future where he didn't screw everything up, and you already lived with him. Where you shared a bed with him, where Emmaline slept in her room down the hall. Where he has his girls under one roof with him, his roof, safe and tucked away from the rest of world. He can't fall asleep without it now, this daydream, and sometimes, if he's lucky, it stays, gracing his subconscious with beautiful false memories, the kind that linger a little, in the morning when he opens his eyes.
Still, he can't have any of it, dreams or reality, without making amends.
His first real try, after the initial failure, is when he manages to catch you in the lobby. It's right before your lunch is usually over, and he strategically positions himself to enter the building around the same time as you would. Emmaline is in your arms, and when she catches sight of him, she squeaks, swinging a chubby little fist in his direction. You look over your shoulder at whatever has caught her eye, and when you see him, your face twists, smile shifting into something full of apprehension and worry.
“Hi.” You say, when he gets close, inching towards you like you might run off. Emmaline coos, arms stretched out towards his body, and he lets his hand drift, pointer finger finding the grasp of all five hers, wrapped around him.
“Hey.” I miss you, he’s desperate to say, I’m so sorry. But nothing comes out, and something sad stretches across your face when Emma smiles so big at him.
His phone rings, loudly. Johnny. When he looks back up from the screen, you’re gone.
The next time he tries, is in the supermarket.
You’re pushing Emmaline in the buggy, leaning forward to talk to her in the soft little baby voice that you make, and he stops himself at the end of the aisle, just out of sight. You look exhausted, eyes tired, moving slowly, and his heart aches.
“What about some yogurt?” She bobs in the stroller, and you smile. “Yeah! Yogurt! It’s good huh?” You're not paying attention at all, not cognizant of your surroundings, or his proximity to you. If he was someone else, someone who wanted to hurt you, take you... it'd be a non issue. The back door less than ten meters from where your back is turned, someone could have you incapacitated and vanished before you even knew what was happening. His stomach flips uncomfortably just imagining it, anxiety tossing his breakfast around, everything in him screaming at him to wrap you up in his arms and never let you go again.
You turn the corner to his position, still focused on the baby, half paying attention to where you're walking. You manage to glance up once, right before you nearly run into him, and you jerk backwards in confusion, surprise. "Hey."
"Hey, sorry. I uh... wasn't paying attention to where I was going."
"That's alright." He scrounges around in his empty fucking head for something else to say, before landing on: "How are you?"
"Oh, good. Alright, yeah. We're... we're alright."
"That's good." There's a beat of awkward silence, and you chew on your bottom lip for a second.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine." Just do it, he screams at himself. Just say it. "I've been thinkin' about you." Your eyebrows raise.
"You have?" What? Of course I have, sweetheart. You're all I ever think about now.
"Yeah. A lot, actually." He says softly, like you're not standing in the middle of a grocery store, in between the hustle and bustle of everyone else. "I ah... I know this really isn't the place but I wanted to talk to you. It's... I have something I need to tell you. Are you... free tonight? Can I make you dinner?" He practically rushes it out, like water from a spigot, flooding free, too fast and without aim. It's a cautious request, more of a hopeful thing than anything else, and when you take so, so long to respond, he prepares himself for the disappointment.
"Okay." You whisper, with a nod. "Yes. We... we're around tonight."
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eraenaa · 1 month
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Birthday Present
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Feyd-Rautha x Lady Reader
Synopsis: During a state visit, you, a daughter of one of the great houses, have captured the attention and fatal attraction of the Na-Baron and were quickly turned into his promised wife. 
Warnings: ¿Enemies to Lovers-ish?, Arranged Marriage, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Blood Play, Fingering, Choking, Violence, Murder , Over Stimulation, Not Proofread
Word Count: 5,900 (pls bear with me)
Finally watched Dune: Part Two and needed to make a quick little fic because another psychopath to obsess over with has been unlocked.
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You dreaded for this day to come. You begged your father and brother to just leave you in the safety and comfort of your home, but still, they insisted— practically forced you to join them in the business venture they will partake in Giedi Prime. You walked out of the royal ship with your brother by your side, trying hard not to let the frown slip your face, especially when your fine dress had lost its color due to the planet’s black sun. Your eyes trailed around those who were present as a welcoming party for your kin, “Why are they all bald?” You whispered to your brother, who could not help but snort a laugh at your question. It was unnerving to look at them; no warmth nor life was evident. You were escorted inside the palace and it was barely different from the outside, still bleak and dark and plain. 
You feel curious eyes trail you as you walk with your family, who are being escorted to meet Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. You clenched your jaw and held your breath as you were met with the head of House Harkonnen. You heard tales about him and his state, but none could prepare you enough to be met with him face to face. If you had thought his subjects were already unnerving to look at, you would gladly give up the gift of sight just as long as you no longer had to see nor remember the image of the gruesome Baron. You quickly planted your eyes on the ground, having looked enough at the man who floated about in the middle of the room that you had missed the way that dark blue eyes were planted steadily on your frame. 
“Welcome to Giedi Prime, your Grace,” You hear the Baron greet your Duke father, and you stay silent and hope that they would be quick with the pleasantries and let you retire to rest after the long journey to their dreary planet. You hear the baron address your brother, making him step forward, and you pray for your presence to be ignored, but alas, your name was called, and you feel all eyes upon you. “A beauty this one is, your grace… she looks just like her mother,” The Baron mussed, and you could only offer a tight smile at his praise because you had no recollection of what your mother looked like because the price of your life was hers. You backed away and took your place next to your brother once more as the Baron began to introduce his kin. 
“My nephews, Glossu Rabban,” the baron introduced, and your brother nudged you to raise your gaze and show your host respect and recognition. You did as told and locked eyes with the dark blue orbs that had been entranced upon you ever since you entered the throne room. “And Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” You swallowed thickly and turned stiff as the heir to House Harkonnen stepped down and walked toward your direction. Your linked arms with your brother tightened as the Na-Baron paused before you, bowing and taking your hand into his cold ones before placing a kiss on your knuckles. Feyd-Rautha wanted to smirk at the wide-eyed and blushing state he placed you in. The only greeting you gave him was a quick curtsy and a mumble of “My Lord,” The Na-Baron returned to his place at the right hand of his uncle and kept his gaze tranced on you. 
“How long are we to stay here?” You asked your father as he and your brother escorted you to your chambers. “Until the treaties are settled,” your father replied, and you scrunched your nose as the eyes of Harkonnen subjects followed you wherever you went. “They’re all staring at you,” Your brother mumbled, noticing the curious gazes as well. “Maybe they haven’t seen anyone with color or hair yet,” You distractedly said as you looked behind, the pair of dark blue eyes still haunting and following your every move. “Did I really have to come here?” You asked your father with a frown. “Yes. We could not leave you alone for an extended period— what will happen if our planet suddenly goes to war and you were there, left alone?” Your father asked, his protectiveness shining through. “Then I’d be surrounded by our army and best warriors.” You replied and earned a stern look from your father. “What am I even supposed to do here?” You grumbled and ceased by the door of your guest chambers. “You can explore the planet— do some sightseeing.” He answered, but that only severe your frown. “Sightsee what? Everything here is either black or gray— either bleak or depressing” You said, making your father sigh. “Just get ready for dinner,” He said, and you gave up on fighting them and their decision to drag you to the planet. 
A knock sounded out in your barren chambers. You understood that the palace was pushing some kind of aesthetic, but they took it to an extremity. There was literally just a bed and an armchair in your chambers. A very stark difference from your own room or even the guest chambers in your planet’s palace. Your handmaid opened the door whilst you looked at yourself in the mirror; you were to be escorted by your brother and were expecting him by the door, but hearing the gasp from your handmaid told you otherwise. You looked toward the chamber room door and saw the Na-Baron standing by its threshold; your maid stood by the side, head hung low, and was quietly trembling in fear. 
“Can we help you, Na-Baron?” You asked and smoothened the fabric of your gown. Trying your best not to appear unnerved by his dark gaze or his imposing demeanor. “I am to escort you to the dining room, my lady,” He said and offered his arm for you to take; you made no move to do so. “Oh…my brother was—“ you slightly frown as he cuts you off. “He is already there with your father,” He said, and you licked your lips and hesitantly nodded, having no choice but to take his offer to escort you. 
Feyd eyes curiously at the gown you fashioned and the decorations in your hair. You were a deep and vivid contrast between him and his planet. Your dress made of velvet trained behind you, the heavy and overflowing cloth cutting through the silence between you and the heir of House Harkonnen. You did not know if you should converse with him or just remain silent. And if you did choose the former, what topic of conversation would you even propose to the fearsome— psychotic warrior that is the Na-Baron? 
“How are you finding Giedi Prime, my lady?” His deep and raspy voice cut through the silence, and you thought of an embellished reply that would not offend the warrior. “Different… I— it is most unique, Na-Baron,” You manage to say after a short while, Feyd noting how you struggled to give a kind reply, your brows in a furrow, and your lips would open and close as you thought of what to say. 
You finally could breathe freely, and your stiffened form turned lax when the Na-Baron escorted you to your seat next to your brother and let go of his hold on your hand. You tried your best to keep your gaze away from any of the Harkonnens as you feared they would immediately see the fear and agitation in your eyes. “Is this human?” You lowly whispered to your brother, poking the cut of unidentified meat on your plate. Feyd smirked to himself as he heard the fear in your voice— overly wary, and it would seem the tales of their house had been implanted in your pretty little head. “It is cattle, my lady… but if you do prefer human flesh, our cooks could arrange that for you,” Feyd-Rautha relished at how your eyes widened and your cheeks blossomed with color once more. It was an interesting reaction that he had never been accustomed to see. “No, this is fine,” You quickly said and did not miss the amused smirk on the Na-Baron’s pale lips. 
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The following day, you were set to tour around the planet with your brother along with the Na-Baron. You three had just stepped out of the palace and into the light of the black sun when your brother was suddenly summoned to attend the negotiations. You took a sharp breath and turned to your sibling, widening your eyes and silently willing him not to leave you alone in the presence of the Na-Baron. Your brother could only shrug and place a quick, chaste kiss on the top of your head as he ran back inside the castle walls. 
An awkward and uneasy silence followed you and your host as the tour began. Guards following the both of you in the direction of a large structure— that is as specific as you can get as the resident of the planet has still said no word as to where he was leading you. 
“This… is the arena,” the Na-Baron finally said, and you could hear the delight in his tone as if the brutal and triangular infrastructure had brought him calm and serenity. You nodded your head and wandered your eyes upon the high walls and countless seats that surrounded you. “You shall return here soon enough, a special celebration to take place in a few days,” You hear him say as your gaze was still stuck high above where you were guessing private boxes were placed. When Feyd did not hear your reply, he stepped closer and boldly placed a hand on your waist, making you jump in shock and quickly step away. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He asked. He usually was quiet, only speaking when he thought it necessary and the silence he provided brought an additional sense of mystery to him. But with you… he could not restrain himself as he felt the want— the need to speak. An urge he had never had before, an urge he could not control. 
“I prefer more to listen, my lord,” you answered, a white lie on your lips. You love to talk and blab about anything and everything, but you just did not want to exercise such habits with or around him, fearing he’ll grow annoyed by your yapping and slit your throat— a habit you heard he was fond of. You heard the Na-baron hum, and you avoided his gaze as he stared you down, as if trying to deduce if what you had said was the truth.
You followed the Na-Baron as he led you to more sights and structures that the Harkonnens take pride in. But everywhere you two went, you could not be rid of the curious and wondering gazes that followed. It was not a new scene; being a duke’s daughter meant you had been accustomed and exposed to the public. But being exposed and stared at and gawked at by people so different than you felt entirely unnerving. It made your skin crawl and your body tense uncomfortably. Your once proud and straight stature turned demure and small as you walked the dark and gray halls of the castle, you being the only thing of color and vividness in there, making you feel out of place and suffocated by the plainness.  
The Na-Baron escorted you back to the guest wing and paused by your door; you quickly curtsied and disappeared behind the metal doors to finally put some space and distance between you and the lord you had been forced to spend the day with. Feyd’s jaw clenched as the metal doors closed upon him; if it were anyone else, his patience would have run thin, and he would not looked kindly upon your impertinence. But even in your boorish actions, the Na-Baron could not help but find it amusing— possibly even endearing. 
As you were finished being prepared for yet another dinner, you turned to the doors once more at the sound of the opening, revealing your brother. “How was the tour?” He asked and sat by your bed as you stood in the mirror and adorned yourself with the precious metals and jewels. “When are we to leave? I… I would very much like to return home.” Was your reply as you still felt your skin crawl at how the eyes of the Na-Baron would asses you and your every move. “That bad, huh?” Your brother mused, and you sighed heavily. “I do not like it here, brother… I cannot… this place is entirely bleak and depressing.” You reasoned, and your brother only shook his head at your bellyaching. 
“They barely even have furniture! Their sun is black… there are no gardens or greenery and flowers to admire— I am quite literally the most vivid thing here!” You suddenly exploded, but your brother could only laugh. “Just a few more days, sister… we were most productive earlier. You’ll only have to endure this planet and its plainness for a few days more,” Your brother said, and you solemnly nodded your head, willing yourself to endure and be patient as your whole being wanted nothing but to return home. 
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True to the Na-Baron’s words, you and your kin were in the triangular arena a few days later. A grand celebration for the birthday of the heir of House Harkonnen. Feyd-Rautha stepped out into the black sun and walked onto the pit with the screams and cheers of his house’s subjects. His eyes cast above and searched for only one being— an attention he seeks to be entranced upon him. The Na-Baron felt his lips curl wickedly as your eyes were upon him, seated in the royal box next to your brother. Your expression trying not to show contempt or disapproval. The Na-Baron was known for his skills in fighting— he is the greatest warrior there is. Everyone was impressed and in awe by his skills in combat, and he was certain that it, too, would impress you. 
You clenched your jaw and turned your head to the side as the Na-Baron was relentless in fighting the remaining members of House Atreides. You planted your gaze on your lap and fisted the fabric of your dress as you hear the land of steel and the grunts of prisoners. You took a deep inhale as your brother nudged you once more, urging you to watch the scene as it would be an offense if the Baron caught you ignoring the efforts of his favored nephew. You swallowed thickly and returned your eyes towards the men who fought; there was only one opponent now. 
Feyd-Rautha returned his gaze to you, delighting as you still had your eyes upon him. There was only one prisoner now, only one more man between him and the amazement he thought he would garner from you with his violent display. But as Feyd-Rautha set his eye on the final prisoner, his jaw ticked, and his hold on his blade tightened as he noticed that the Atreides prisoner was not drugged. He turned his spiteful gaze to his uncle, the vile man simply smirking and giving a nod of his head. Dark blue eyes flickered at you, who had her lip between he teeth in anxiousness. The Na-Baron squared his shoulders and refocused; he could not be made a fool nor a failure when the eyes of his planet were upon him— not when your eyes were upon him. As always, Feyd-Rautha emerged victorious in battle. 
“The slave wasn’t drugged,” Feyd said as he stood before his uncle, his form rigged still with the pestering feeling that he might have failed and been humiliated under your gaze. You tried to kill me?” he gritted out, but his uncle was merely amused. “Tonight, you are a hero… my gift to you,” The Baron explained, but that did not sedate the rage in the Na-Baron’s being. “I ought to drown you in that tub,” he snarled, but his uncle chuckled at his threat. “Don’t be hasty… I have another gift for you,” that piqued Feyd’s interest. “A bigger one,” his uncle added. “The girl, the duke’s daughter.” With just the mention of you, the Baron noted the quick shift in his nephew’s temperament. Desire shining through his rage. 
Feyd’s lips staggered as he thought of a reply, as he thought of how his uncle was able to acquire you for him as if you were some mere whore and not a daughter of one of the great houses. “Her father approved?” He asked and saw as a smirk rose to the lips of his uncle. “He had no choice but to… if he wanted the treaties to take place and for war to not come to their planet— he must offer his daughter to you.” Feyd let a rare and sincere grin slip his lips with the thought of you being bound to him. 
By the guest wing, an ugly discussion was taking place. “Father, you cannot be serious,” You all but cried, “To that psychotic Na-Baron!?” You screamed with tears streaming down your face. You knew it; you knew coming to Giedi Prime was a mistake— your intuition warned you greatly, but you ignored it and complied with your father’s wishes and orders. “There was no other way. I’m sorry,” Your father sighed and tried to take hold of you to calm you down. “You would leave me here to be his bride? You would leave me here vulnerable in the desolate walls of these Harkonnens?” You cried in pain, but your expression turned confused as your father shook his head. 
“The Na-Baron, your betrothed, will be heir to Arakis… you shall stay and rule there with him.” You hear the hopeful tone in your father’s voice as he tells you that you will be the lady of the most coveted seat and planet in the universe. “You… you cannot do this to me— please do not do this to me, father, I beg of you,” You cried, only crying harder as your father took you into his arms and offered you his apologies once more. Nothing can be done; you were now promised to the fearsome and formidable Na-Baron. 
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They arranged for you to acquaint yourself more with your soon-to-be husband. Servants of House Harkonnen escorted you to him, and you followed mindlessly, but your stomach pitted in fear as you realized you had been led to the Na-Baron’s chambers. Your lips agape, and looked behind to see the servants hurriedly shuffling out of the Na-Baron’s room. You felt yourself grow cold and the life in your face went pale. You cautiously looked around the chambers and saw three women by your right, dressed and styled differently than the servants. The presence of women used to always bring you comfort in uncertain scenarios, but the three present did not aid your raging fear. 
“What’s so special about her?” You hear one of them drawl to the other, and you feel your lips upturn in confused fear. “Such a pitiful thing… weak and so fragile, could not even stomach to watch our lord handsomely fighting those puny slaves,” You frown and finally turn to them, the three just as eerie and disturbing to look at as any of their people, maybe even more so. “So what does she have to be rewarded with our great master Feyd-Rautha?” A third girl asked, and that is when you realized what their roles were. They looked at you expectantly, trying to know what you possessed to be rewarded or punished with the title of the Na-Baron’s betrothed. “I do not know,” you began, “Perhaps hair? Or sanity? Take your pick.” You boldly replied and watched as their teasing and amused looks turned scathing and jealous. Before any of them could make another remark, the sound of the door opening and boots walking the floor echoed through the room. Your expression was hard as you watched the three girls lower their heads demurely and out of respect as their master entered. 
“Ah, my future wife… I see you have met my darlings,” You turned to your betrothed, a smirk on his lips and his dark eyes sickeningly delighted as he was in a room filled with women he was certain would bring him much pleasure. You licked your lips and crossed your arms across your chest, your gaze flying to the three women who brazenly insulted you just mere moments ago. “You whores,” You boldly stated and let a fleeting smirk fly to your lips as you heard them hiss at your true statement. “My darlings.” Feyd-Rauth corrected, defending his loyal pets. You hummed and nodded your head. Finally, matching the fiery gaze of the Na-Baron. Every second you held his gaze, Feyd felt himself tighten against his trousers. You had always shielded your gaze from him, never letting him stare deep into those enchanting and lively eyes, and now that he did, all he wanted to do was stare into them, watch as tears would form when he made you cry in pleasure. 
“I always thought whores are acquired after marriage, but I suppose the Na-Baron is always one step ahead,” You bitterly mused at the man across from you, expecting him to grow enraged as you called his ‘darlings’ whores once more. But instead of rage, you only saw the smirk on the Na-Baron’s lips widen. “Are you jealous, little wife?” He asked and threaded closer, you let a frown slip your pretty face and a scoff left your lips. “Do not call me that,” You gritted. “And no, I am not… in all honesty, I am relieved in their existence if it means that you would be preoccupied and far from me and my bed; you could have a hundred ‘darlings’ for all I care,”  You stood your ground no matter how your mind went alarmed at the murderous look on your betrothed’s once amused expression. 
You chewed your cheeks as the Na-Baron silently motioned for the three women to step closer. You thought he was testing you, to see if you were truly unbothered and not at all jealous that your future husband was being satisfied by other women, but you gasped in horror as Feyd-Rautha swiftly took his dagger and slit the throats of his three pets. They fell at your feet, and you could only watch and step back in horror at the scene of black blood pooling and spewing from their throats. You were trembling, and Feyd-Rautha took you into his arms, forcing your face to look at him, enjoying the horror in your eyes. “Now, nothing will keep me from you and your bed, wife,” he lowly whispered, and you were defenseless as he captured your lips. Hungrily kissing you and pulling you impossibly closer to him to feel the softness of your frame as blood flooded under your feet. 
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All was quick to fall into place. One moment, it was announced you were to be wed to the heir of House Harkonnen, and the next, you were being prepared for the actual ceremonies. You felt bile rising and tears falling as you stared at yourself in the mirror. A gown of white in the make and design of your home planet rather than the fashion of Giedi Prime. “You look beautiful, sister,” Your brother complimented quietly. He, too, turned solemn as he had no way to protect you from the arrangements made behind closed doors. “Let’s just get this over with,” You mumbled and took his arm for what you believed would be the last time. 
You were being escorted down the aisle by your father,  Feyd-Rautha’s eyes upon you impatiently; he could no longer wait any further and suffer through the ceremonies and banquets before he had you alone in his chambers. After your kiss two nights prior, you quickly left the chambers and left the Na-Baron to want and desire more. Each moment that had passed has left him hard and strained, with no other outlet for his needs to be quenched and met; his only choice was to wait for you to be his wife. 
It should shame you to admit, but the kiss you shared with the Na-Baron didn’t leave you disgusted. It was alarming to note that your body had turned warm, and throughout the night, your thoughts strayed to wanting more. You had been kissed before, once, but it was nothing compared to the way Feyd-Rautha kissed your lips. 
You stood by his side as a man in front spoke in a language you could not comprehend or understand. The only thing your mind could focus on was the way the Na-Baron’s hand held yours. Cold and calloused palms enclosed around warm and soft ones. You raised your gaze as the man in front of the two of you finally spoke words you understood, announcing to the room that you and the Na-Baron were officially husband and wife. You set your eyes upon Feyd-Rautha, whose dark eyes were on your lips. Letting go of your hand and taking hold of your face to kiss your lips without warning. It was a quicker kiss than the one shared the previous night, and you were dismayed yourself as your body wanted more, so much more. 
Feyd smirked as he saw color bloom onto your cheeks and felt its warmness against his cold touch. No word was exchanged as he escorted you through the aisle, the cheers of his subjects ringing loudly; absent were the reactions of you and your kin. You were still silent during the banquet, only offering a ghost of a smile when you two were approached and presented with ‘congratulations.’ You tried to ignore the way your body responded when your husband placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze now and then through the fabric of your gown. “You look ravishing, my darling,” You hear him whisper in your ear, his warm breath sending a chill down your spine. 
“Do not call me that,” you gritted as you had no wish to share an endearment he used with his whores. Feyd smirked as he believed that heard a hint of jealousy in your honey voice, “And what would you like to be called, wife?” He asked, and you clenched your jaw and thighs as that brought a surprising twist in your core. Your reaction was not missed by the Na-Baron, a wicked smirk spreading to his lips and his hand inching higher from your thigh. “Tell me, wife… are you too as excited as I am for the bedding?” He teased and nipped your ear, making you gasp, turning to him with shock and wanting-filled eyes. Your eyes shifted from his dark blue orbs to his plush lips, and the desire for it to be against you became increasingly prominent. You gulped as his eyes turned impossibly darker and his jaw clenched, you took a sharp intake of breath as he abruptly stood. “The feast is finished, leave.” That was all he said before he urged you to stand and dragged you to his chambers. 
You were like putty in his arms as he pushed you up against the cold wall of his chambers. Your lips roughly danced against each other, and his hands hiked up your wedding dress, leaving fire with his cold touch. For days, you had convinced yourself you felt no attraction to the man who had his lips on you’re neck and hand against your cunt. “You are a great actress, wife. Making me believe you hated me— wanted nothing to do with me, but that cannot be true, not when your cunt is so wet and ready for me.” You gasped as he inserted his finger inside you without warning— the feeling foreign, and you did not know if you should embrace the uncomfortability or the prospect that pleasure was quick to bloom. “So tight… my little wife had never been defiled— that shall change,” He mused against your lips, swallowing your whine when he inserted another finger inside your wet cunt. 
“M-My lord,” You cried at the curl of his finger; you heard him ‘tsk’ and rub his thumb against the sensitive bundles of nerves on your cunt. “Enough with the formalities. I am your husband, and you will call me by my name— you will scream my name when you come.” Your eyes rolled back as his other hand clasped around your neck, your husband thrilled and overjoyed as you only clenched tightly around him, and a pleasured moan slipped past your lips. He thought he’d have to be gentle with you— that he would scare you with his savage desires, but as he felt you cling and clench to him as he added more pressure around your throat, he knew you would be able to take and would be grateful for his brazenness in fucking. 
“Feyd… Feyd!” You cried as you felt your thighs tremble and your core painfully twists in want of release. You whined and cried as you felt his fingers slip out of you, your knees weak and your body desperate for release. “Patience, little wife,” Your husband cruelly mussed, his eyes locked upon you as he licked the essence of you clean from his fingers. You moaned as his lips met yours again, tasting yourself as his tongue teased yours. You whimpered as he placed his rough hands tights on your hips, imprinting his mark and making it known to you that he was yours. You groaned as he bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, him pulling away to admire the red the beaded on your plump, sweet lips. “Such a pretty color…” he murmured and bought his finger to wipe away the blood and taste it, you growing more aroused as a rumble emerged from his throat. Feyd watched as more blood dripped from your lips, and he wasted not a drop of it, kissing and tasting all of you. 
Feyd moved the two of you to his bed, pushing you down on the soft, silk-coved mattress. You swallowed thickly as he took out his dagger once more, a grin on his lips as he saw a speck of fear in your eyes. “Such a beauty you look in this dress… but I know you’ll look better without it,” He took the dagger and cut through your fine gown, nicking your stomach on the way. Feyd zeroed in on your sweet blood once more, his eyes hungrily taking in your body that was now exposed to him. “Oh…” You moaned as his tongue soothed the cut he made, his tongue teasing you as it would thread lower but would return to the cut every time it oozed blood. “Feyd… please,” You finally relinquished and let your needs be known. He hummed as his cock grew harder at your moans. 
“What do you want, little wife?” he hummed and took a deep breath of your scent. You whined as his tongue teased your navel, and his lips threaded further south but quickly moved north again. You moaned as his black teeth gently bit your bosom, his cold hand pawing at the other, your nipples taut by his cold hand and hot tongue. “Tell me, little wife, what do you want?” You whimpered again as nipped your skin once more, “You. I… I want you,” You finally said and yelled when Feyd flipped you to your stomach. Anticipation sat heavily as you heard him shuffling to remove his clothing. You breathed harshly as you felt his hands on your behind, kneading the smooth, plump flesh; his thumb teasingly brushed your cunt, and you were quick to moan. 
“What did you want again, my pretty wife?” He hummed by your ear, his toned body pressing against your back, his throbbing cock resting on your derrière. “You, I want you. Please, Feyd… I— please just fuck me,” You cried and let go of any pride you had in exchange for feeling pleasure. You howled as his thick and large length pushed its way inside you. Feyd hissing as the tip of his cock was being squeezed by your cunt. You were wet, galaxies, you were wet. But not wet enough for your husband’s cock to slip inside comfortably. Friction and resistance were prominent, and Feyd enjoyed that tremendously. Excruciating pain first had to be felt before you could feel the pleasure that you were desperate for. 
You gasped and felt tears rim your eyes as a cold hand found home around your neck again. “So fucking tight… all fucking mine,” Feyd hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you; his hand felt the trickle of pained tears, and he was determined to turn it into tears of pleasure. “Such a good wife taking all of me,” He praised and squeezed your neck tighter. You whimpered and raised your gaze, only now noticing that the wall that your husband’s bed rested upon was entirely reflective that you could see him in all of his glory. Knelt behind you and a pleasured expression on his face as he gradually moved his length in and out of you. 
It felt like eons before you finally felt pleasure, but when it finally came, it was the most blissful feeling you had experienced in your life. The way he harshly gripped your throat, the way that his lips would pepper kisses on your shoulders and back, was enough to quickly drive you into climax. One where you screamed and called for his name, begging him to slow down, but he did no such thing. Only increased his speed and moved his hand to draw circles upon your bundle of nerves, coaxing another climax from you, making you scream his name louder and your body over-sensitive. “Feyd, Feyd, no more, please,” You cried as your whole body was already exhausted and trembling. 
“I do not understand you, wife. Just earlier, you were begging for this… you were begging to be fucked by me.” He grunted as he, too, felt his peak to come. He moved his hands to bundle your hair, the texture so soft and foreign, his fingers running through the locks and pulling it to make you groan. “Such a perfect cunt, such a perfect wife. You will sire me many heirs… you will always be my side.” Feyd groaned as you squeezed his length tighter and tighter to the point he felt pleasurable pain. You hear his animalistic growl when he finally spills himself deep inside of you, watching through the reflective wall as his face contorted into sheer pleasure, his rasping voice repeating your name as you feel both of your essences drip on the inside of your thigh.
He moved your head for your lips to meet with his again, him biting down to draw blood once more. You pulled away and gasped for air as well as gasped in shock as you felt his once limped and just emptied length grow erect inside you. “Did you truly think we were finished?” He asked against your lips. “I’m going to fuck and breed you until you’re unable to walk, little wife.”
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autolenaphilia · 5 months
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Edit: as hoshi9zoe pointed out, the original version of this post needlessly berated other transfems like Jennifer Coates, for which I do apologize, and I have toned it down in this edited version. The original version survives in reblogs.
Some months ago, I was searching through this transandrobro blog to see if they posted a callout of me, and i found this reblog, which I couldn't really write about for months, because what do I even write. I recently wayback machined it for posterity, and I guess this is my attempt to write a post about it.
It's saint-dyke himself, the coiner of transandrophobia, saying that the infamous (at least for me) article "I am a transwoman. I'm in the closet. I'm not coming out" is what made him coin the fucking word. It's literally bolded and underlined: "Reading this article is what made me coin “transandrophobia”.
The reason I put off writing this post is that reading that article makes me feel like i'm drinking poison. And it is poison, make no mistake, it's internalized transmisogyny brainworms dripping out of the writer's brain and onto the page.
It's a justification for why the author, known by pseudonym Jennifer Coates, doesn't want to transition, despite knowing she is a trans woman. And it's the exact kind of internalized transmisogyny that keeps trans women in repression and not transitioning. "I'm not going to pass, i'm forever going to be an ugly freak who will at best be humored by other women, the closet is uncomfortable but at least it's safe"
It's the same exact bullshit a lot of represssed trans women tell themselves because it's what society tells us about trans women, that we are freakish parodies of women, that we will never pass, and if we don't pass we have failed and are ugly freaks. It's all to scare us into staying in the closet and make others hate and fear us. Transmisogyny permeates our society, and the majority, maybe all transfems will absorb and internalize some of it.
Coates says that it all is just applicable to her, but again so many transfems believe this shit before transitioning and realizing it's a pack of lies. If this bullshit was in any way valid, a lot of trans women shouldn't transition, because before we actually transition many of us believe it word for word. And "it's only true for me" is how we justify it to ourselves. We tend to be way harsher on ourselves than others. This kind of self-hating transfem tends to think: "Other trans women are beautiful graceful goddesses, earthly manifestations of the divine feminine, always destined to be women, while I'm an ugly forever male ogre who just has a fetish."
It's all bullshit, it's poison, it's internalized transmisogyny.
And the rest of the article is bullshit too. It is not some insightful mediation on gender as some people say, it's the author confusing and mixing up actual transmisogyny with an imagined problem of misandry. She does this because she has gone full repression mode, and decided she has no other choice to live as a man, so her dysphoria and experiences of transmisogyny are actually men's problems.
It's a bad article, excusable because as Coatas points out, it's "essentially a diary entry." that was meant to be a way to "vent frustration" and she "did not intend for anyone else to actually read it." It is clearly not the product of a healthy mind.
I hope the author sometime in the past seven years eventually did transition, and that for whatever reason she didn't want to publicly repudiate her own article. Maybe she lost access to the medium account so she can't delete it.
Far worse than the article itself is the response to it. I've seen it passed around as some insightful commentary on gender by the "feminists are too mean to men, misandry is real" crowd. I have argued against this before. And other people have made insightful comments about it.
And learning that saint-dyke claiming that he was inspired to coin the word "transandrophobia" because of this article is the cherry on top of this shitcake of transmisogyny. For my thoughts on "transandrophobia" theory and how transmisogynistic it is, see here.
Of course, Saint-dyke absolutely could be bullshitting here. Claiming that Coates's article is what inspired him to coin the word might be a lie to claim that transandrophobia theory is not transmisogynistic because it came from listening to trans women.
This is why "listen to trans women" doesn't work. Because TME people will always choose a trans woman who confirms their prejudices. Blair White has made an entire career out of this. And Coates article is popular because it says that misandry is real and trans women's issues are partly caused by it, misgendering herself and other trans women.
And it's popular for another reason. Coates has thoroughly internalized transmisogyny, and thus her article presents a trans woman that is exactly as transmisogynistic patriarchal society wants her to be. She is suffering, but ultimately accepts her assigned role. She truly believes that her biological sex dooms her to forever be male. She literally "manages her dysphoria by means other than transition" as conversion therapy advocates want us to do. She never makes an social claim on womanhood by actually transitioning, so she doesn't invade the sacred women's spaces. Yet she performs the role of woman perfectly by serving men, by defending them from supposed feminist misandry. And she fulfils the ritualistic role that the rhetorical figure of "trans women" sometimes serves in progressive spaces, of giving a blessing to TME people's pre-existing views and actions, all while actual flesh-and-blood trans women are destroyed by those same deeply transmisogynistic spaces. This time it's a blessing for the same "misandry is real" soft-MRA bullshit that has infested the online left and created the transandrophobia crowd.
That is why this article and the positive response makes me sick, makes me feel like i'm drinking poison. This is what its fans want trans women to be like. I'm acutely aware this kind of self-denial is exactly what transmisogyny wants from me and tried to indoctrinate me into doing it. And I want none of it. I want to live, I want to be a woman.
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dantakeyoman · 1 year
Text
Neteyam Has Something Important To Tell You As You Patch Him Up (SFW)
Reader is Fem! Omaticaya
CW: fluff, Neteyam is smooth asf, little bit of blood, Neteyam is a simp, Mo’at is an awesome wing-woman, Utral Aymokriyä is where Jake and Neytiri mated
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“Be sure that mushroom is ground well, (y/n). We will need it when the hunting party return,” Mo’at instructed, implying the bioluminescent fungi that sat next to you.
You nodded firmly, placing the plant into something that was the earthly equivalent of a mortar and pestle, and promptly starting your work.
You loved your job as a healer, and took it very seriously. Even more so since, recently, Mo’at has been giving you lessons in perfecting your craft.
The right way to turn your wrist when grinding ingredients, how one’s blood can tell their origins, better methods to connect with Eywa.
Because of her, you have become 10x the better healer than you were before, and you were beyond thankful.
Throughout your childhood, you had dreamed of becoming a healer and helping your people. But once you met a certain Sully, who was next in line for Olo’eyktan, that dream slightly warped throughout the years.
Of course you still wanted to heal your people, there was no doubt about that. But instead of being a healer, you wanted to be the healer.
His healer.
“Not too much, (y/n). You don’t want the paste to be too thin,” Mo’at calmly reminded, keeping her eyes on her own grinding.
You snapped yourself out of it, slightly embarrassed that you let yourself become so lost in thought.
“Sorry,” you apologized, quickly putting the bowl down.
“Is there something on your mind, child?” she asked, a slight smirk on her face.
Just by your flustered face, she could tell what you were thinking about. 
Or rather, who.
She wasn’t blind to how you looked at Neteyam, or how Neteyam looked at you. She had known about your feelings for each other since you were children. 
And since her grandson was fast approaching the age where he would become Olo’eyktan, she figured refining your healing abilities would improve your candidacy for Tsahik.
Not like anyone else held a candle to you in Neteyam’s eyes anyway.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I am just-.” You suddenly remembered why you had busied yourself with medicine-making in the first place.
“Nervous for the hunting party,” you told a hafl-truth, sighing as you picked up the next mushroom, dropping it in the bowl.
Jake was letting Neteyam lead the hunting party for the first time.
And to say you were nervous was an understatement.
“He will be fine. His father taught him well. And he has a fine healer waiting for him at home,” she knowingly smiled, pouring this small satchel of powder into her bowl.
You blushed, focusing back to your bowl at the woman’s implications.
Surely you hadn’t made it that obvious.
And by the grace of Eywa, the familiar scent of the man you love ( he had completed Iknimaya a while ago ) filled the healing room.
“Grandmother! (y/n)! You must come and see what we have brought back. You will never believe it’s size!” Neteyam exclaimed as he quickly opened the tent flaps, his voice beaming with happiness
You quietly laughed to yourself at his excited manner, feeling foolish for ever being worried in the first place.
You giddily turned around, only to be met with his proud, bloody-faced smile.
“Neteyam!” you worriedly gasped, frantically getting up an rushing over to him.
He had large scratches on his cheek, and one big slash on his chest, all of which left large stains of blood on his skin.
You quickly, and carefully, held his face in your hands, ignoring his insisting that he was fine as you turned it to see if there was any more damage. 
“Are you alright? Does it hurt?”
Neteyam smiled to himself, stupidly, relishing in the feeling of your soft hands on his face.
He could feel himself heating up just by your closeness. And by this distance, he could see every beautiful feature on your face perfectly.
“Why are you smiling? This is serious! Please, sit down,” you ordered, taking your hands from his face and grabbing his forearm, walking him in the middle of the room and sitting him down.
Mo’at smiled, carefully placing her bowl on the floor and standing up. “I shall give you two a moment.”
And with that, she walked out the room, but not without shooting you a wink before closing the flaps.
You sighed, grabbing the bowl she put down and sitting in front of Neteyam.
“It does not hurt as bad as you think. Truly,” he smiled, your fussing over him making something stir inside his stomach.
“Well pain or not, I must put this on your wounds so they may heal properly,” you dismissed, scooping up a small glob of paste with your two fingers.
When you looked back up at him, you realized that you were too far away. In order for this medicine to work, it must be rubbed in well.
Neteyam looked at you, confused, as you took a deep breath, quickly sitting yourself in his lap, practically straddling him.
His breath hitched.
He had never had his crush sit on top of him before. Hell, you had never even been this close to him before.
Every part of him that was touching you was now heating up by the second, so much so that he’d thought he’d burn.
But looking at your face, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world, like you had done this a million times before.
“I’m sorry, but I have to rub this in correctly,” you apologized, beginning to massage the paste into the cuts on his face.
“I have no complaints,” he smiled, resting his hands on your waist so you wouldn’t fall off.
When you got to a particularly large cut, he winced, the paste making the wound sting.
You smirked, giving him a soft flick on the forehead. “I know the future Olo’eyktan is not taken down by a little medicine.”
He smirked off the pain, looking you right in the eyes. “Never.”
You chuckled, moving on to next cut, when the mention of the position reminded you of your thoughts earlier.
But your thoughts soon turned for the worse. 
“You are going to become Olo’eyktan soon. How do you feel?” you asked emptily, placing your two paste covered fingers on his chest.
He was concerned with your sudden mood change, but also loved the way your fingers felt on his skin, sending another stir to his stomach.
“It is exciting. And scary at the same time. I have so much to live up to,” he truthfully answered, looking down at himself.
You scooped some more paste on your fingers, giving him a quick glance.
“Well, you are not alone. You will have a Tsahik,” you sadly smiled, halting your massages on his wound.
You did not want to cry in front of him, but the tears were beginning to well.
“We have many that will surely be a good fit. Eyati is a strong hunter. And beautiful, too.”
It all clicked for Neteyam.
That was why you looked so sad. You believed he was going to chose someone else as his mate ( like he would ever ).
Amused, he laughed, slightly offended that you would ever think that anyone could take your place in his heart.
“What is so funny?” you asked softly, looking at him sad eyes, quite hurt that he was laughing.
He smiled, cupping your cheek in his hand. 
“You talk of me mating with another woman as you sit in my lap, massaging my chest. My love, that is funny.”
My love?
His thumb caressed your cheek as he pulled you in closer, resting his forehead on yours.
“(y/n), I see no one better fit than you to be my Tsahik. You may not be a strong hunter, but you are a strong healer. And more beautiful than any woman I have ever seen. Eyati may be a good fit, but you are the one I wish to mate with, not her,” Neteyam spoke sincerely, his eyes not leaving you for a moment.
You were flustered to say the least.
You’d never thought you’d hear those words coming out of his mouth. And boy, did it sound amazing when they did.
“(y/n)...I see you,” he finished, smiling as you cupped his cheek, placing his hand on top of yours.
“I see you, Neteyam,” you smiled back, a few happy tears managing to slide down your cheeks.
That was all he needed before he roughly kissed you, pulling you in by the nape of your neck.
You kissed just as roughly, moving your hands down to his chest as he tilted his head, getting better angle on you.
He wrapped his tail around your thigh, you doing same, trying to keep each other as close together as possible.
But sooner or later, you had to breath.
The both of you separated, panting with smiles on your face as you rested on each other’s forehead again.
“Forget dinner. I want to take you to Utral Aymokriyä right now,” Neteyam seductively growled, wrapping you in his arms and standing up, twirling you around the room.
“Neteyam! You still have to heal!” you blushed, resting your hands on his chest as you buried your face in his shoulder in embarrassment.
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