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s-4pphics · 11 months

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tag, you're it! (e.w.)

ITS PRIDE MONTH PUSSSSSSYYYYYYY

omg this is kindaaaa…. yeah

imma lil proud LOL hope y’all like it

wc;cw: 14.2k, ceosdaughter!ellie, tagger/artist!oc, ANGST!!, mentions of depression and suicidal ideation, illness, parental death & brief mentions of funerals, descriptions of foster care/homeless shelters and poverty, both oc n ellie have daddy issues, MOMMY ISSUES!!, brief mentions of drug addiction(coke), homophobia DURING PRIDE MONTH🤨🤨, internalized homophobia and misogyny, ellie is a horny touch starved loser n kinda stalkerish?, mentions of criminal injustice(police, prisons, etc.) i hate it here, rich ppl being demons, SMUT!!!!! MDNI!!!!, light descriptions of masturbation, potential dubcon!!, sexual tension😟, bratty subbottom!ellie, mean domtop!oc she carries her dick on her like a glock lol, slight fearplay, KNIFE PLAY/BLOOD, DIRTY TALK, finger and strap sucking, fingering, pussy eating, MOMMY KINK!!, nipple play, squirting <333 n creaming <333, riding, reverse cowgirl, slapping(FACE!!! ass titties), hitting it from the bbbbback, loss of virginity, masochism LOL, a lil ass play LOL, pretty taboo themes catch it

“She’s… I genuinely believe she’s deranged, your honor! She’s… uncontrollable! Look at what she’s done to our city! Civilians can see her tracks everywhere they go, and it’s disgusting! Not to mention she’s a pervert!”

You rolled your eyes as you listened to the high-pitched, ongoing shrieks of one of the wealthiest women in the state as she spat belittlements of you to the judge.

You were… fucked.

You adjusted in your uncomfortable chair, leaning back and crossing your arms over your chest, turning your head to eye your lawyer, arching a brow at him as you waited for his defenses for you. He looked… scared shitless, to say the least.

Yeah. You were definitely going to fucking jail.

Were these pieces of shit really going to treat you like Satan himself for pulling a measly, little prank? Has April Fools truly lost all meaning?

A couple of days ago, on April 1st, you took it upon yourself to spray paint ♡GIRLDICK♡ across the largest building in the city, which just so happened to be owned by the Miller family, if anyone even bothered to call their cultist bond that. Their wealth swiftly accumulated when the now deceased founder of the organization, Joel Miller, discovered some new form of AI technology… or whatever the elders at the shelter told you. His death shook your city years ago; You weren’t sure why it was so moving for people, but R.I.P, you guess.

You assumed they were just another group of elitist fuckers, but he must’ve been decent at the most; You still remember his memorial broadcasting on the small TV at the shelter as the other residents mourned in solace.

Regardless, you hope all their institutions across the nation collapse one day, preferably with the rest of them inside.

The broad in the black, silk suit kept pointing her finger at you, and it took everything in your spirit to not get up out of your seat and rip it clean off her hand and shove it down her throat.

Not every tag you’ve done around the city has been rooted in “perversion”. There’s nothing perverse about… loving girldick. It’s a way of life!

Fuck security cameras.

Unbeknownst to them, you’ve already been coined as a hidden talent in the city, at least according to some people you know at the shelter. You’re faceless in the eye of the public, but that separation doesn’t negate their appreciation for your artwork. You even went viral for the mural you painted of your father for his birthday two years ago, even though the fucker that posted it on Instagram hadn’t included your signature. You could bet millions of people have seen it by now, and you gained absolutely nothing from it.

But, of course, your form of creative expression was being reduced to a jizzing penis. You've created countless mosaics around the city that represent the purest forms of love and sex, and now you are being blasted for being some sort of corrupt sicko. You only drew what came natural to you, and if people felt a way about it, they could choke on the fattest girldick known to humanity. You hate rich people.

Your father didn’t sacrifice everything he had to teach you the complexities of sketching for your name to be attached to outlines of dicks. You didn’t grow up watching your father skip meals so he could get you a new water paint set for your birthday every year for your art to be lawfully ridiculed. The only comfort this situation brought was that you knew he would’ve found the sloppily drawn cock hysterical. You still remember his laugh after all this time.

You miss him dearly. You probably could’ve been just as rich, if not more, as the bitch at the other table if he was still here with you. He would’ve ensured you didn’t stray off into the life you live now.

Being in foster care was the dissipation of your joy. You were considered a problem child very early on: fighting the caretakers when they tried to calm you, cursing at them, stealing, and nobody wanted to adopt you because of that, regardless of your talents. You were set up to fail too early, and you despised the world because of it.

Your record was horrendous, and you were going to jail. You fucking hate rich people.

… Except the Miller's eldest daughter. She gets a pass.

And she keeps staring at you.

Every time you caught her sparkly eyes, she blushed and looked forward, her freckles surrounded by a deep red that rushed down her neck. She was dressed much less… sophisticated than her mother: her hair tied back in a low bun and littered with black bobby-pins, a dark-blue sweater, rings on her thumb, black pants, and clean Vanz.

You knew a lesbian when you saw one. You could barely hide your knowing smirk.

“My child doesn’t need to be exposed to such… nauseating ideologies! Think of the children of the city and what they’re forced to see because of vile people like that,” she pointed at you again. You were this fucking close to stabbing her with that pen in front of you.

Your daughter’s gay, Mrs. Miller.

“With all due respect, ma’am,” the judge started. What kind of backwards shit was this; Wasn’t she supposed to be respecting him? “It’s important that we stay on track. You’re specifically suing her for vandalism— “

“Ongoing, unchecked vandalism! This is not her first charge, your honor, it’s her seventh! She’s… she’s— “

You tried to tune her out, looking around the congested space of the courtroom, and you caught eyes—shiny, green eyes— on you. Again.

She was fiddling with her hands in her lap, her teeth picking at the dry skin on her bottom lip. But she didn’t look away this time. You watched her eyes trail over your face, down to your jaw, your neck, your chest, only to come back up to your eyes.

You did the same, taking in the dots on her soft cheeks, her eyes, her pretty nose, and mouth, looking her up and down, biting your lip, letting her know you were gauging her. She was cute, you had to admit.

“—sentenced to three years in federal prison— “

You looked up in shock, feeling like your body had been dunked into a tub of ice water and left to die, instantly stiffening at the announcement of your sentence, the sound of the slamming gavel nearly putting you six feet under.

You couldn’t do anything but stare at the judge in disbelief as he organized his papers emotionlessly, your lawyer putting his hand on your shoulder. You knocked it off and glared at him. You looked over to the table, the family already up and taking their leave, Mrs. Miller’s hand tightly enclosed around her daughter’s wrist as she dragged her out the wooden doors.

Two security guards were already walking towards you with cuffs, gripping your arms too roughly to pull you up out of your seat and latching the metal around your skin. You started to panic as they walked you towards another set of doors.

“Wait, wait, my backpack, I need my— “

“You aren’t allowed to have anything on you. Your property will be held by the court until further notice.”

“But— “

“No buts, and don’t resist,” you felt the security grip your arm harder, and your anxiety peaked, your panting breaths hardly leaving your body.

You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. Your life was shattering around you in slow motion, loose shards slicing through you with intent to kill.

You allowed the brawly men to drag you… anywhere. You didn’t care anymore; You were tired, and no longer had the urge to fight left in your heart.

Ellie was brought up in isolation.

Homeschooled, no friends, no purpose outside of being the vessel to represent her family name, creating the next line of heirs for her father’s company.

The benefits of his successes had simply… appeared when she was fifteen.

She remembered how he went from being present, gave her the utmost attention, played sports with her, taught her how to sing and self-defense with his past down switchblade, to not, completely cut off from society as he barricaded himself in his study and worked relentlessly on new forms of technology. Being an only child brought nothing but loneliness for her after a while.

But then they were rich. They moved to an affluent neighborhood and into a two-story house in a matter of months, driving Porches and buying out stores. Wealth appeared, but the relationship with her family suffered because of it.

Her father fell ill, and after a multitude of hospital visits, teary farewells, and a memorial, he was gone. Merely a memory that hardly seemed real. Her and her mother’s relationship became even more unsteady after his passing.

Ellie’s mother swiftly took over the company in an almost authoritarian way. She interacted with society in a robotic, rehearsed manner. Mechanical, soulless, the only proof of her humanity exposing itself when she snorted white powder.

Her mother had brought up the idea of marriage the second she turned eighteen, a year before her father’s passing, saying that there were multiple well-off men that were eager to be with her, willing to give her children. Multiple.

Men…. children… having children with men. Money. The empire. Her mother.

It all made her nauseous.

… But art didn’t.

She’d always kept her journals secret. Left in a box on the highest shelf of her walk-in closet where the maids couldn’t find them.

She expressed everything that she couldn’t to her mother on paper. Her depression, her insomnia, her desire for death, her mourning, the need for sex with non-men, any form of physical connection, something—anything that made her feel human, normal.

She needed a fucking hug. A kiss. Sex. She wanted to fuck.

The first time she saw your artwork on an abandoned building as she chauffeured to the museum, she’d nearly fainted.

It’d been two women on top of each other, the most intimate parts of their body covered with the other’s hands and skin. One had her head between the other’s legs atop blankets and flowers as the other… apparently in the middle of an orgasm. Her mother always made the point of sex sound so… stiff. Lifeless. Merely a factor of procreation.

But your art was so erotic. Sensual. So full of pleasure and softness and care.

She’d almost jumped out of the car and onto oncoming traffic to get a closer look at every detail, but the car was too quick. She couldn’t even get a fucking picture.

And she was soaking. How the fuck was she going to explore a museum when she was dripping like this?!

You’d given her one of the strongest orgasms she’d ever had in her life when she returned home that day, and she didn’t even know who you were. She’d spent hours with her hand between her legs as she thought of your creation while her mother was out working, moaning and crying out as loud as she wanted, and she wasn’t even embarrassed.

She would sneak out in the darkest clothes she had when her mother passed out on the couch, and just walk. Specifically in search for anything with your signature that she’d memorized like it was her own. She’d taken pictures of your content, memorized them, got off to the suggestive ones in secret, and appreciated your love and passion for your craft.

She’d even started recreating her own depictions of eroticism. All with women. They never looked the same: different heights, all skin tones and body types, anything that she could think of, she drew it. She’d tried to envision what you looked like after only a few weeks, and she prayed her envisions were at least somewhat accurate.

She never could draw self-portraits with precision, but she knew it was her. She was always in the middle of the raunchiness that she conjured up in her mind, being touched everywhere, tied up, beaten, completely ripped apart and forced to forget the suffocating world around her. Her reimagining's of herself would be drowned in pleasure, sometimes by you, by herself, by faceless strangers. Anything she wanted.

When she saw you for the first time, she almost couldn’t control herself.

She’d felt like a fucking creep as she ducked behind parked cars to watch you paint all over an abandoned freight train behind a trashed building. The streets had been silent as she watched you decorate the metal cart in floral interpretations of pussy, her heart in her throat.

You looked gorgeous and focused and tired. So, so tired, only in sweats and a tank top with a hefty bag strapped to your back. She assumed you kept your art supplies in there.

Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes off you when she’d seen you during your court hearing.

You were just as gorgeous as the first time she saw you, but, somehow, even more exhausted. Far away, not really present, but she couldn’t blame you. And she couldn’t stop staring, enthralled by you. Even in your grayest moments, you made her feel vibrant. And that brought her guilt.

But it also made her lustful. Hungry.

And she couldn’t stop staring.

When her mother dragged her out of the hearing, she was enraged, even more so when she degraded you on the way back to the car.

You fucking stared at that whore the whole time!

Don’t ever, in your life, embarrass me again.

I’ll throw you in the gutter with that rat if you ever disrespect me like you just did in there. Do you understand?

Ellie didn’t even know what she did to garner a response this aggressive, but she was used to it. And, for the first time in her life, she didn’t care. She didn��t give a fuck.

At that moment, she knew what she had to do.

It was your fifth day in prison, and you felt nothing.

You didn’t cry, you didn’t plead, you simply succumbed to your destiny in silence. Your father would be so disappointed if he were alive.

I raised a fighter, so you fucking fight!

But you couldn’t. You were tired, and you wished you could stay asleep, never to wake up again.

You’ve been working like a dog since you got here, and you accepted it. This was your life, and you felt nothing.

Until your cell unlocked. These fuckers were probably here to shit talk you again.

They cuffed your wrists and led you somewhere. You didn’t care where, keeping your head down as they encased your arms in a calloused grasp. You hoped this location would be your last forever.

They led you into an empty room and uncuffed you. You saw the old sweatsuit that you’d received from the shelter, and your heartbeat sped up. You looked at the security in confusion. What the fuck were they doing? What were they about to do?

You could barely hear what the officers were saying, jumbled words of bail bond and cash payments molding together and sounding like a foreign language to you. They undid your handcuffs and pointed towards the clothes, murmuring for you to change so they could transport you back to the courthouse to retrieve your belongings.

What the fuck is going on?

When you returned to the shelter, you inspected your bag. After nearly scrubbing your skin off while showering.

The contents were all in their original condition, each individual item wrapped in plastic with small notes attached to them. Except for your dick. You assumed the court had no comments.

Your paint, your brushes, random hairpins, your notebooks. They were all there in their original condition. Thank god.

What you didn’t expect to see was a new jacket, sweatsuit, and small note wrapped in the same plastic from inspection.

You ripped the plastic open and retrieved the note, unfolding it and… confusion, arousal, and fear rushed through you, shocking your body as all your feelings shot down your spine.

It was a sketch of… you. And a girl bent over with her hands bound behind her back as you fucked her. An… incredibly familiar looking girl.

A freckled girl. A rosy-cheeked girl. The rosy-cheeked girl from a week ago with the psychotic, sadistic mother.

Her expression in the sketch was pure ecstasy. It looked like she was screaming, her cheeks shaded dark with water-paint and her hair a reddish-brown, thrown in all sorts of directions. Her eyes wild and erotic. Yearning. Teary. Her pleasure seemed dream-like.

And you looked just as gone. Head tossed back, sweaty with your dick shoved inside her pussy, your nails digging into the soft skin on her hips, small, but deep, bloody scratches following the painful glide of your fingertips that make the red blotches on her backside. There were small doodles of strap-ons and pussies smudged, erased, fixed to perfection that seemed almost manic. Obsessive.

You looked at the bottom of the crumpled piece of paper, a small signature across the bottom of it.

♡GIRLDICK♡

Come back home. Five days.

E.M.

… Come back home? You don’t have a fucking home. And who the fuck is E.M? Your heart was beating against your chest, climbing up your throat in an attempt to escape your body entirely. You couldn’t stop your eyes from flying across the sloppy penmanship.

… ♡GIRLDICK♡

E.M.

♡GIRLDICK♡

… Miller Enterprise.

Miller.

… Freckles.

…. What in the fuck.

It was almost dark, and you were shivering as the wind blew past you.

It had been five days.

You were eyeing the large building in front of you from across the street, a giant M slapped across the top of it, windows galore, hoodie on your head and trembling hands shoved in your pockets.

You could see the last bit of employees trickling out of the building, clad in suits and tight pencil skirts, heavy briefcases and clicking heels.

You could also see the fresh white and black paint covering where your spray-painted dick used to be, and it made you chuckle to yourself. You were almost tempted to recreate it with your new snagged bottle of acrylic. It supposedly glowed in the dark.

But then you saw a dark shadow in the corner of your eye, hurriedly moving past the glass of the entrance.

Your heart raced instantly at the thought of being discovered, and you followed the body's movement. You could see it was Ellie the closer she got to the glass, dressed in a black sweater and comfortable pants, and her same shoes from the court hearing. She looked antsy, a bit on edge, but curious. She was anticipating seeing you.

You could see her messing with the keypad on the door, the loud sounds of locks clicking over the bustling streets. Flashes of red, swiftly replaced with flashes of green shined through the maxi-glass, and she looked around at all the doors. What was she checking for?

She seemed satisfied with her job, and she slid the entry door open, leaving it slightly ajar so she could slip something between it.

She gave one last glance at the system before bolting back inside and down the lengthy hallway before all the hall lights shut off.

Did she… did she just disable all the alarms for you?

Now, you were the one anticipating meeting her.

You ran across the street the second you got a chance, hurdling through traffic before running up onto the sidewalk and treading the stairs.

You looked down and noticed two pens taped together, holding the door open. You picked them up and inspected them, a glossy, silver M near the gel tip.

You stepped inside before anyone noticed, the door automatically shutting behind you before the same green lights came on, a robotic voice confirming that the doors were locked.

You were inside the Miller Enterprise, and you were terrified.

Ellie was so nervous.

She’d been checking her Chanel watch all day, obsessively monitoring the windows to see if anyone that resembled your form had arrived, but she was disappointed every time she looked. No sign of you, yet.

The later it got, the more anxious she became. Did you see the note she left in your bag? Was it too forward? Did you think she was fucking crazy? Did you hate her for what her mother did? She prayed not.

She was currently pacing around her mother’s—father’s—dark office, every step of her shoes echoing in the nearly empty room. She hasn’t been in here since she was seventeen, and it brought just as much anxiety as it did the first time.

This will all be yours when I’m gone, don’t fucking ruin it.

She hated everything about this space. Every aspect of her dad was completely gone. All his pictures, his vinyl, his pens and pencils, his nameplate. Everything. All of it, completely void of emotion.

She hated it, she hated it.

But then she heard a clang in the hallway, and her anxiety picked up even more before she could process it.

She quickly made her way over to the exit, peeking her head through the doorframe and examining the hallway, searching for you. The noise had to be you! You really came! She could feel her nipples getting hard already.

But she saw no one. No one was in the dark hallway.

… Fuck.

Why did she shut the system off? The lights wouldn’t come on!

Her hands instantly got clammy, her heart racing, and her knees shook. She hadn't felt like this since she was a kid, and she was horrified.

Someone’s here to hurt you, someone’s going to come in and hurt you!

You never leave doors unlocked! He always said to lock your doors, never, never, never—

She couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from taking over her entire body, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her father’s switchblade, pressing its latch down to expose the blade. She slammed the door shut and walked over to the large window and tried to steady her breathing. She looked out of the glass and inhaled harshly.

Keep your grip tight when you strike!

Calm down calm down calm down—

“Boo.”

You saw Ellie jump with a hard gasp before spinning to face you, a fearful look on her face and her switchblade in hand, pointed edge towards you.

You could see her chest rise up and down with every shaky breath she took, her body trembling and cheeks flushed. You felt like your body was going to burst into flames, but you hid it, grinning slyly at her as you stepped forward.

Deep breath.

“Hi, Ellie.”

Another step forward. She took two back, nearly pressed against the glass.

“Y-You,” she stuttered as her eyes darted around nervously, and you could see her cheeks flushing in the darkness, “How’d you get in here?”

“I think you know how.”

You shrugged, the contents of your bag shuffling on your back. You pointed towards the large, stretched windows behind her that oversaw the entire city, the hustling streets and lights beaming into the dimly lit room from the last bits of sunset.

“View’s incredible,” your mockery littered in sarcasm. Don’t let her know you’re scared.

She took a bold step forward as her brows furrowed, anger twisting on her doll-like face. You took two, as well. You saw her eyes dart to your feet before meeting your gaze to hiss at you.

“There’re cameras on every floor of this fucking building! I press that button,” She darted her small knife towards the enclosed, red button on the side of the wall, a large print of EMERGENCIES ONLY directly above it. “And every cop in this city’ll show up and take your ass back to the fucking gutter where you’re supposed to be.”

… How the fuck was she going to threaten you when she told you to come here?! What was she playing at?

She pointed her weapon back at you. You ignored your confusion and raised an impressed brow before walking forward without pause, pulling her mother’s chair out from under the desk, the wheels squeaking against the marbled tile. You saw the grip she had on her knife tighten.

You smiled at her. “You’re pretty good with a knife, honey.”

“Fuck you. Don’t fucking call me that.”

“I dunno,” you scoffed, twirling on your heels as you took in the luxurious space around you. “I can bet my bottom ass dollar that you like it.”

Her glare hardened, and your smile brightened. You finally moved to sit in the chair, the plush leather molding against your body and stuffed backpack. You scooted back under the desk and rested your elbows on the hand-carved rosewood, completely calm. At least outwardly. Your insides were jittery from adrenaline.

You quickly inspected the contents of the desk: her mother’s matching rosewood nameplate, some loose paperwork with large sums of money scattered on them, dark pens and markers, and a signed restraining order. With your name on it.

You’re apparently not allowed a hundred feet within the perimeter of the building.

… Funny.

“Press it.”

Her scowl hardened, “What?”

You pointed a lax finger towards the button as you looked up from the document, “I said press it. You want me gone so bad, right?”

She didn’t reply, her fingers fidgeting around the knife as she adjusted her grip. Her eyes nervously flitted across the room, all over the white floors, back on you.

“You’re not gonna press the fucking button.” You spat with a devilish smile. “And I know why.”

“Fuck you, you don’t know sh— “

“You paid my bail.”

You heard her release a shaky exhale when you sliced through her words, her eyes widening in shock like she saw through you, and you knew you had her. Your smile widened as your nails pattered where you tapped on the desk.

“Uh huh. Why’d you do it?”

Her throat moved as she swallowed, and you almost laughed.

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the piece of paper that kept you company in your small cot during your restless nights, unfolding it and holding up the explicit depiction that she left in your bag days ago. You pressed her as you swung the chair with your foot, “Think somebody’s got a little crush. Mommy’s gonna be so upset with you.”

“FUCK YOU!” She marched towards you until she was in front of the desk, her scent enclosing around you before you felt the incredibly sharp blade against the side of your neck, and you stiffened in terror. You looked at her in shock, studying her expression. She looked pissed, but you saw… something in her eyes that made your core squeeze tight.

It was vulgar, needy, and you hoped she missed your body’s excited shudder at her crude rage.

She didn’t. Curiosity shone behind her lust and fiery, her enraged shrieks shook your eardrums.

“You’re fucking worthless! You really think anyone’s gonna care about you rotting in a fucking cell?! You’re… you’re nothing! You’re a low life! You’re… you’re! —“

You deadened your own eyes as you slowly moved to stand, but she pressed the knife deeper into your skin as she leaned over the desk, your faces closer together. You stiffened and felt a sting on your skin, and a drop of wetness. Your pussy squeezed, and you could feel sweat looking under your jacket.

“Gonna kill me, Ellie?” You glared at her, your heart pounding with fear and exhilaration.

Say you want me. Say it, sayitsayitsayit!

Her eyes were vengeful as she scanned your face, but you saw that glint grow behind the harsh overcast. Something you craved just as badly as she did.

“Really want mommy to see her precious girl killing somebody on camera? Hm?”

“She,” her breath shuddered. “wouldn’t give a fuck if it were you, I promise.”

You barely whispered your reply as you leaned even closer, your nipples hardening under your sports bra and your underwear clinging to your wetness.

“Then do it.”

The heavy breaths she released hit your face in a burning wind, and your core tightened once more. You could see the aggression on her face slowly dissipate, that giddy sparkle in her eye overtaking her pupils as they darkened.

You felt the cold steel pull away from you slowly, her hand coming down on the desk, — unfortunate— and it threw you into action.

Your hand flew up to her throat and squeezed the sides, and you heard the clatter of the object as it hit the wood. You heard her suck in a choked breath as her eyes glossed over, suddenly desperate and wanton and scared like you’d been seconds before. She looked like a neglected kitten, and it made you hold her neck in tighter constriction.

She whimpered aloud as she attempted to gasp, her hand coming up to grab your wrist, but you snatched it away with your free hand, and it limply dropped to the desk, her body submitting.

You leaned in closer to her, and her eyes squeezed shut, lips puckered, silently begging for you to kiss her. You snickered.

You let her neck go and slammed your palm across her blushing cheek, a loud crack! filling the room.

She cried aloud, looking like she was about to burst into tears as she jumped off the desk and backed away from you, her hand pressed against her searing cheek. You rose to your feet and circled around the desk, rushing towards her until she was pressed up against the window. Tears were running down her face. You shoved her closer against the glass, grabbing her cheeks to force her to look at you.

“You’ve been watching me, haven’t you? I got a little fan, is that it?”

“N-No— “

“Yeah, I do. Fuckin’ stalker. Probably gotta whole shrine t’me in your fucking room. Does mommy know that you worship me? The lowlife who fucked up her building?” You snapped at her.

She flinched at your tone before she choked out a gasped sob, “I j-just liked what you m-made.”

“Stop crying, Ellie.”

She nodded as she sniffled, wiping the tears off her cheeks. You grasp loosened on her cheeks as you cupped her face, your thumb brushing away the wetness on her already bruising skin. You noticed how she leaned into your caress. It made your heart jolt.

“Look at me,” you whispered.

She hesitantly met your eyes.

“You wanna kiss me?”

She looked down at her shuffling feet, and you saw her fist clench.

“Answer me.”

“Y-Yes, wanna kiss. Just… just one?”

You hummed in satisfaction, inching closer towards her like you did previously. She stiffened but shut her eyes tightly, her plush lips poking out in a pucker once more as your noses touched. You chuckled and whispered, your lips brushing against hers as you spoke.

“You ever kissed anyone, baby?”

She sighed out an uneven nuh uh, her mouth chasing yours. You grinned wider.

“Oh? M’gonna be your first kiss?”

She whined out a needy uh huuuh!

You stuck your tongue out, slowly running the wet muscle over her lower lip, and you felt her whole body tremble against yours. She brainlessly stuck her tongue out to lick yours, but you pulled back. She tried to follow you, but you yanked her head back by the small bun at the back of her head, the soft strands curling around your fist.

She let out a moan, and your tongue licked up her exposed throat, leaving a trail of spit up her chin, all the way to her mouth.

You relented and connected your mouths, and she let out a shocked noise into your mouth. You slipped your tongue in her gaping mouth, wet, smacking noises filling the room as you kissed her hotly. She couldn’t keep up with your quick movements, her lips and tongue moving sloppily against yours. Her spit was all over the outside of your mouth.

You felt her hands come up to your hips to grip your jacket in a tight fist as she moaned into your mouth.

The noises she let out were so sweet: little, excited gasps and whiny keens as she tried to pull you closer.

You released her hair and grabbed her chin to move her head to the side. You kissed down her neck, and she jerked against you. Her breaths increased in pace as you pecked her sweaty skin, lapping your tongue all over the side.

You sucked into the skin under her ear, right under her jaw, pulling her sweater down to mark her collarbone.

“Pleeease, pleaseplease, ah— “

You mumbled in between gentle sucks, “What, Ellie? Talk.”

You felt her hands grab your hips tighter, but she said nothing. You pushed her hands off you roughly and looked at her with piercing eyes. She shrunk into herself when she met them.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. You understand?”

She nodded quickly.

“So fucking talk,” you gritted out.

“Want,” she whispered with a sharp gasp. “Want you.”

You smirked, “You want me?”

“Mmhm!”

You shoved your backpack off your shoulders, the thud echoing when it hit the floor.

“Want me to do what?”

She paused before looking down at her feet again, twiddling and picking at her fingers as her face burned red.

“Um…”

You rolled your eyes and turned away from her, but you felt her hand grab your wrist and you stopped. You looked at her in annoyance.

She looked at you tentatively, her breathing shaky.

But then she slowly brought your hand in between her legs.

She shivered as she placed her hand on top of yours, making you rub her cunt back and forth. She released pleased sighs as her lashes fluttered, her head falling back against the window as she looked at you up and down.

“P-Please?” She licked her lips. “Wan’you here.”

You scoffed in shock, and her thighs squeezed down on both your hands. You pressed your palm closer against her, and her hips bucked into you.

You moved closer to her, your clothed chests pressed together.

“Move your hand,” you spoke quietly, just for her to hear even though you were alone.

She dropped it limply. You pressed your palm into her covered clit, and she moaned.

You leaned in, your lips brushing her cheek as you spoke.

“Baby just wanted her pussy touched? That’s why you acted out earlier?”

She didn’t speak as she panted heavily. You brought your hand up to slap her cheek again, and she released a pained cry as her hips twitched.

“Talk!”

“Yes! Needa… need t’be touched!”

“Tell me where.” You brought your hand back down to her pussy as fresh tears slid down her cheeks.

She sobbed. “A-Anywhere!”

You leered at her soft face. “Yeah? I get t’choose?”

She nodded quickly, her eyes screaming touch me, please! Make me cum!

“Open your mouth, honey. Stick your tongue out.”

She mewled softly, but did what you asked, her shiny, pink muscle glistening under the beaming city lights.

You brought your hand up, rubbing your index and middle finger on her soft tongue.

“Get ‘em wet.”

She hummed as she sucked them into her mouth with no hesitation. You felt her tongue messily swirl around your digits as she sighed contently, and you pressed an encouraging peck on her cheek.

You slowly fucked your fingers in, pulling them out, only to push them back in again. You almost awwed aloud when she chased your digits every time you pulled out. She was already drooling for them.

You pressed her tongue down as you fucked in, and she gagged on them. Her eyes shot open and they instantly watered, her throat tightening around you.

“Bet you suck a mean dick,” you muttered before you could stop yourself.

She moaned loudly as you fucked deeper into her mouth, pressing down on the back of her tongue.

“Oh, yeah? Want mine down that pretty throat?”

She garbled and nodded as much as she could with your fast thrusts in her mouth. You couldn’t wait to fuck it open.

“Snooped through my shit, didn’t you? Saw my fucking cock and creamed yourself? That’s why you bought me new shit?”

You saw her bring a hand down to touch her pussy, her hips bucking into her own hand, chasing any stimulation. You grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from her.

You finally eased up on her throat and pulled out completely, lines of slobber connecting your fingers and her mouth together. You cut them with your own tongue, her spit clinging to the edges of your mouth.

You planted a smacking kiss on her lips before you shoved your hand down her dark, flared pants and into her boxers.

She squealed when you immediately found her clit with your spit covered fingers, the slippery bud sliding between your already drippy fingers. You watched her hand fly to the white windowsill for balance as your hand went wild on her cunt.

“Such a wet fucking pussy. Feels good, baby?”

Her brows creased as she nodded, her body rocking with your movements. “A-Ah! —“

“Uh huh. You touch yourself like this when mommy’s at work? Hm?”

Her head shamefully jerked in confirmation. You could see her now: her pretty legs spread on her plush bed, her sopping pussy squeezing at the thought of you fucking her just how she needed. She’d be grabbing at her tits as she flicked her clit, desperate to cum all over her blankets for you. Your pussy was so wet.

“You think about me when you do it?” You knew the answer, but you needed her to say it. Confirm that she thought about you just as much as you thought about her.

“Yes! Yes, yes!”

“Fucking whore, no wonder she hates your guts.”

She moaned louder at your degradation. “S’c—coming! “

Your fingers were practically vibrating on her cunt, her clit thumping as her orgasm built. “Get my fingers nice’n sloppy, angel, c’mon— “

She reached down to grab your wrist as she jumped on your fingers, but before you could slap her, her body tensed, and her eyes rolled into her skull. You felt her clit pulsate under your touch, and you knew she was cumming.

“Fuckmemommy!”

You couldn’t stop the shock that appeared on your face as you watched her thrash on your hand, gasping out, asking you to please fuck me, mommy! Need you to fuck me!

You just massaged her through it, pressing your hips up against hers so she couldn’t run from your touch.

“Wan’mommy to fuck you, angel?” you mumbled in your daze as your pussy dripped, your brain barely registering what you just said.

“Yespleasepleaseplease, gimme— “

“Fuck, baby, need mommy inside you?” Your heart was pounding in your ears.

“M-Mhhm!—“

“Gimme your leg,” You lifted it up with your free hand, bringing it up so it came around your waist.

You slid your fingers down to her twitchy entrance and slipped the tip of your pointer finger inside. You almost moaned at how her walls clung to you, sucking you in deeper, milking you.

“Tightest fuckin’ pussy,” you mumbled to her, and she whimpered when your finger arched inside her. You prodded around until she slumped against you, pushing her hips down on your finger. You leaned in, your lips brushing her ear as you cooed right there? yeah? feels fuckin’ good?

She couldn’t even speak. She just plopped her head onto your shoulder and sloppily kissed your neck. Your cunt clenched and you flinched when her soft tongue licked into the small slit she made earlier. You heard her hum as her tongue swiped a line from your collarbone to your cut; She was licking your blood up like a fucking dog!

It made you punch that spot in her harder, and she cried out against your skin, her nails digging into your forearm.

You slowly pushed your middle finger in, and she sobbed as she stretched around you. You arched your thumb out to rub her clit as you poked that spongy spot in her pussy; She was so loud for you.

“Like when I touch you there?”

“I like it, like it s’much!” You felt her nodding mindlessly against you.

“Gonna cum on me again?” you spat at her.

“Fuck yes!”

“Know you’re gonna cum hard, can’t even fuck you like I wanna, squeezing me so tight.”

You dug your fingers as deep and fast into her as her cunt would allow. Her walls were choking the fuck out of you, practically screaming for them to stay where you were pressed inside her. How the fuck was she going to take you fully?!

The thought of breaking her open made you shake, “Gonna make this pussy take me. Can’t wait t’give you this fucking dick.”

Then she started screaming out for you, trying to get you closer, wrapping her arms around you, her leg dropping onto the floor. “Ohgodohgodohgod, m’cumming, mommy, I’mcu—AH!”

You almost fell back when she went limp on you, her knees buckling as her slick coated your fingers, your palm, her panties. You used your weight to push her back against the window, her head thudding against the glass like before, but she seemed too engulfed in her desire to care. You almost brought your hand up to comfort her sore spot, anyway, but you stopped yourself.

You took her in: practically dangling off you as she wailed from orgasm, her face beat red, the bun at the back of her head almost loose, her eyelids fluttering. You sneered at her, a nasty grin on your face.

“Atta girl, so excited for cock, ain’t she?”

She could only grind out yesyesyes between her teeth, her fingers still squeezing down on you as you rubbed her clit, her orgasm slowing down.

“You gotta make me cum first, m’kay?”

“W’na make… mommy cum!” she nodded like a bobblehead as she slurred.

“Yeah? Want mommy’s cum in your mouth?”

She wept desperately, “Yes, please, need it!”

You grinned, catching a glimpse of your desperate reflection in the mirror. You’re so glad she was too fucked out to notice.

“C’mon, honey.”

Ellie stood in front of you as you sat in her mother’s chair, her shoes kicked off.

Your bag was tossed next to you as you stared at her, noting her fidgeting stance. She wasn’t looking at you, at all. She was looking down, specifically at your occupied hands.

You’d picked up her discarded knife from the table, inspecting its rusty, scratched design, slightly bloody blade, retraction. You couldn’t stop fiddling with it.

“W-What’re gonna do with that?” You heard her ask.

You ignored it. “Where’d you get it?”

“It was my dad’s.” Her voice went sharp.

“What kinda father lets his baby play with such sharp objects?” You said in between sarcastic snickers.

“He’s fucking dead, who cares.”

You finally looked up at her sharp tone, examining her tense face, and your playful smile slowly dropped. She tried to appear as if mentioning it didn’t bother her, but you recognized that look in her eye from anywhere. Grief fucking sucks, no matter how much time passed.

“… Hm.”

You looked down at the blade again, then back up at her, “He taught you how to… handle it?”

She shrugged, her brows raising as her arms crossed over her chest. You nodded.

Your arm was suddenly incredibly itchy. “Mine taught me how to… draw n’stuff.”

You looked off to the side awkwardly as you reminisced on the first pack of colored pencils he’d bought you. You remembered how particular he was about the art utensils and their conditions. You didn’t realize that he was trying to ensure their quality because he couldn’t afford another pack until you got older.

Always make sure these bastards are sharpened! That’s true precision!

“… Cool,” you heard her say, and you looked at her, “Were you guys, uh, close?”

“Mhm,” You nodded stiffly, and silence surrounded the two of you. Ellie awkwardly nodded as she stared at the floor, and your lips twitched before you turned to stare out the window.

Some time passed in pure silence before you heard her speak.

“… Still wanna, uh… D’you still wanna fuck?”

You looked at her as she fumblingly scratched the back of her head. Her eyes met yours as her ears burned. You grinned as your shoulders rose.

“Up to you.”

“Like… I still wanna if you do,” She nibbled on her bottom lip.

You leaned back in her mom’s seat.

“Ellie.”

The deep tone of your voice made her look up, her eyes shining like crystals as her arms dropped to her sides.

“Yes?”

“… C’mere.”

She moved, her sock-covered feet padding on the floor until she was in front of you.

You looked up at her, your hand coming up to play with the hem of her sweater.

You spoke softly, “Off. C’mon.”

She grabbed the back of her top and lifted it over her head, her bare chest jiggling with her movements. She tossed the fabric to the floor.

You eyed her chest like you were going to swallow her whole, her perky nipples urging you to reach out and pull on them. Her pussy is so fucking sensitive; Were her nipples just as bad? Worse? Could she cum just from you touching them? Fuck, she probably could—

“Are they… Do you like them?”

Her soft whisper cut through your gawking. You met her eyes through your lashes as she squirmed in front of you.

Your hands came up to grab her hips, massaging them gently.

“Yeah, baby. They’re so pretty, fit you perfectly.”

She sighed in content, “T-Thank you.”

You planted a soft kiss to her tummy as you looked at your thumb around the elastic of her pants to pull them down.

Her stomach jerked with every sharp breath as your lips moved on her bare skin. You felt her hand come up to your shoulder to grasp it as she stepped out of her pants.

Your hands traveled upward to grab both her tits in a rough squeeze. She wheezed and arched her back so you could get closer. You heard her murmur a quiet fuckme, and you looked up. She was watching your every move with wide, curious eyes. You held her gaze as you licked up her torso, and she whimpered.

You brought your hands back down to grab the back of her thighs, moving her closer to your lap. She placed her hands on your shoulders as she climbed on top of you, and you sucked her nipple into your mouth.

She grinded down onto you and moaned, and your eyes fluttered shut. Your tongue made circular movements on the pert bud, and you hummed at the taste of her soft skin. Her head fell forward as she gasped right in your ear, and it made you suck on her hard.

Her hips were jerking on top of you, trying to fuck down onto your clothed thigh as her nails plunged into your back.

“Feels so… mmh!”

You brought your hand back up to her other tit and played with her nipple with your fingers.

And then you slapped it. Hard.

She let out a sharp squeak and mindlessly bounced on top of your leg; You could feel a slight dampness building on your jeans, and you scoffed at her, sneering when you pulled away. You hit her other tit just as hard, your spit transferring onto your palm.

“Ah! Fuckfuckfu— “

Smack!

“Yes!”

SMACK!

She squealed. “M’gonna cum!”

You reached up to slap her face before pulling her hair to the side with a tight fist.

You quickly grabbed her switchblade off the desk and unlatched the blade, the sharp edge popping up. You instantly pressed it to her neck, and she choked on a ragged pant.

The lust in her eyes was accompanied by fear, and you grinned.

“Don’t get scared now. You were waving it around earlier. So ready to fight, huh?”

She shuddered, rutting down on your leg again, and you pressed the sharp edge into her skin harder. Her eyes shut tight, and two fat tears fell down her cheeks. She nearly bounced on you.

“I could fuck you up right here, you know that, right?”

“Please, mommy, needa cu—!”

You moved the knife away and released her hair, slapping her in the face again. “Shut the fuck up, you nearly slit my fuckin’ throat and now you wanna fuck. I should leave right now, fucking brat.”

She sobbed, “Nonono, please don’t leave, mommy don’t go, m’sorryI’m— “

“Mommy, don’t go!” you mocked. “Get on your fuckin’ knees.”

You kept the blade pressed against her jugular as she clumsily shuffled to the floor, her cries shaking her body.

“You wanna apologize?” She nodded jerkily, minding the silver edge on her vein.

“Yeah? Wanna make mommy feel better?” You said with a mean pout.

“Mhm!”

You sloppily kicked your boots off and shoved them under the desk.

“Take m’pants off, baby. C’mon.”

She moved quickly, unbuttoning and tugging your jeans and underwear down your legs as she sniffled. She yanked them off with a hard tug, and her eagerness made you giggle as you lifted your hips. You unzipped your jacket and pulled it off your shoulders, tossing it to the floor, leaving you in your black tank top. You could’ve sworn you saw a glimpse of a grin on her face as she eyed your breasts before she dived towards your cunt.

You shoved the knife closer against her, and you saw blood pool at the edge of the blade. She looked up at you with an anxious expression.

“I didn’t say you could touch me. Ask nicely.”

She looked confused as she mumbled brokenly, “Ask you what?”

Your brows furrowed at her, “My mistake. You probably never had to ask for shit in your life.”

Her bruised cheeks glowed red as she looked down in embarrassment.

You grinned slyly. “Say, mommy, may I eat your pussy, please?”

Shock overtook her expression before she rolled her eyes at you and looked to the side.

“You’re fucking cra— “

You yanked her dark hair back and pointed the end of the blade against her bruised jaw. Her ragged breaths hit your face.

“Say it.”

“Y-You're not gonna hurt me,” she stated unsteadily.

“You don’t know shit about me, and even if I did hurt you, you’d want it. Admit it.”

She avoided your gaze and her lips quivered.

You continued. “You’d let me do anything I want because you’re disgusting. A filthy fucking slut with a silver spoon in her mouth.”

You huffed at her with a frown. “And you like girls. You’d be just as worthless as I am in her eyes if she found out.”

You nodded over to her mother’s nameplate, and her eyes shut like she was a child getting scolded for stealing candy at the store.

“I’m right, baby? You don’t want a husband? Don’t wanna get bred for the empire like she wants?”

She shamefully shook her head as tears fell down her face. You didn’t even know if she was in that circumstance or not, but by her reaction, it seemed to cut her deep. You ignored the searing pain in your chest.

“Mhm, so,” you turned her head so she could look at you, her red eyes burning through yours. “Something you wanna ask me?”

Her mouth dropped open in submission.

“M-Mommy, may I… May I eat your pussy, please?”

You smiled in satisfaction, placing a gentle kiss on her wet forehead.

“Yes, baby, you may.”

You pulled the knife away from her and set it on the desk, grabbing her chin to plant a kiss to her mouth. She whined happily into yours.

You pulled back and adjusted your position, leaning back with your legs spread, the underside of your knees hooked into the armrests of the seat, your cunt on full display for her. Your sopping pussy was right next to her face, and you saw her eyes flutter in delight.

“Want me t’show you how?”

She nodded intensely.

You brushed away the flyaway hairs on her forehead, your hand planted on the back of her head.

“Spit on my clit, babe. Get it nice n’wet.”

She released a glob of spit right onto your pulsing bud,

and you sighed as it dribbled down to your hole. You tilted her head back, remnants of slobber collecting on her chin. You gathered spit in your mouth and pulled her lower lip down, her mouth falling open. You spat onto her tongue, and she moaned, tilting her head down to spit it out all over your pussy. You bit your lip so hard; you almost drew blood.

You reached down and spread your lips, your throbbing clit poking through. You could see her trembling as she eyed you.

“Wanna taste, Ellie?”

“Yeah, please, mommy,” she choked out.

“Lick me, then, honey.”

She wasted no time, the tip of her tongue circling around the nub instantly. Your mouth fell open at the sensation. The pink muscle was so soft, the licks slow and gentle, barely there.

“Doing so good, baby, take your time,” you sighed out.

She keened at your praise; her lashes flitted like butterfly wings in Spring as she rubbed your clit in deep licks.

“Fuck, Ellie, s’so sensitive,” she whined against you, eyes begging for your approval as she watched your expression. You caressed her burning cheek with your pointer finger, and she licked deeper.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it, making me so happy,” her eyes rolled shut as she tongued you, sliding her tongue all over your pussy in slow strokes.

You moaned out every time she came up to lap at your clit. You guided her head down to your hole, and her tongue slipped inside, slurping up all your slick. You were gasping her name out as her tongue wiggled inside you, swirling all over your walls.

“Such a good girl, fuck, El!” you groaned out as wet sounds filled the room. “Wanna make mommy cum?”

She hummed excitedly and nodded, her tongue moving back up to massage your clit. You tightened her grip on her head, forcing it to move back and forth her hums shaking your clit.

She moved her head faster against you when she sucked your clit into her mouth, and your head fell back against the chair as your eyes rolled back. Your thighs were shaking, toes curled as you squealed out encouragement. You needed to cum, she was going to make you cum!

“Get me there, pretty, m’— gonna make me fuckin’ cum— “

“Wan’mommy’s cum, please?” she sloppily murmured against you.

“Gonna get it, baby, m’right there! —“

She was fully moaning all over your clit, “Gonna fuck you so good, angel, fuck yes!”

You peeled your eyes open and looked back down at her when she released your clit to moan aloud. Her drool and your pussy juice were all over her pink lips as she sighed and whimpered in pleasure. You couldn’t see what she was doing, but her forearm was moving frantically as quiet shhlcks filled the room.

“Ellie.”

“Mommym’gonnacum— “

“I swear to g— “

“S’so wet, oh god, please!”

SMACK!

Her head flew onto your thigh at your hard slap to her face, and she screamed out as her body tensed up. You watched her with a scowl as she squealed out m’cummimgsohardmommy against your skin, a puddle of drool forming on your skin.

You yanked her hand out of her boxers, and she whined in protest as her orgasmed died, her hips bucking back into the air. You stood up, pulling her up by her waist and bending her over the desk, holding her down by her neck.

“Stop fucking with me, Ellie.” You pulled her boxers down under her ass, taking in the sight of her still pulsating cunt and her twitchy ass.

She spat at you over her shoulder, “Or wha— “

SMACK!

She groaned out in pain against the wood when your hand connected with her asscheek in a fiery slap, your hand burning.

“Motherfuc— “

SMACK!

You hit her and hit her. And hit her again. And again. Until she was jerking away from you, her hips bucking against the desk and your handprints covering her ass in a cherry-red tint.

You don’t even remember how many times you slapped her, but she was sobbing out apologies against the desk, asking for your forgiveness over her tears.

“You done fucking around?” Your hand felt like it was in flames when you dropped it on the desk.

“Yesyes, mommy, I won’t—sob— won’t fuck up again!”

“I was actually gonna eat your pussy out,” you scoffed out nastily, and she only cried harder at the insinuation that you weren’t anymore. “You don’t want that, you don’t want me fucking nice.”

You pulled away and walked towards your discarded

bag on the floor, digging through it and pulling your dick out, stepping into and adjusting the straps as you watched her bruised ass jiggle with each wail.

Your dick stood up as you walked back over to her. You gave her one last hard slap on her marked ass and pulled her up by her arm, shoving her onto her knees in front of you so she was trapped between you and the desk.

You could see her wiping away tears, but you grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at you.

“You want dick so bad? Get it wet so I can fuck you.”

Shock appeared on her face.

“Y-You’re gonna fuck me with that?” You watched her inspect the size of you. The length, the girth, all the ridges. Her breathing got heavier the longer she stared.

“Now you’re fucking scared, really, Ellie?”

“I’m not sca— “

“Talk back again, and I’m leaving. You’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

She glared at you, but looked down, straight at your tip, then back at you.

And then she spit on it, a fat glob of saliva dribbling down the sides of your cock. Her hand came up to wrap around the base, rubbing her spit into the silicone. She held eye contact with you as she stuck her tongue out. You reached down and placed your hand on top of hers, slapping your tip on her slobbery muscle.

“Good fucking whore, good n’sloppy,” you let go to pat her still-red cheek with a heavy hand, and her pretty eyes hardened, her blush deepening. She dropped her mouth open, her lips curling on the tip as she sucked on it. You bit your lip as you watched her tongue swirl around you.

She moaned around the silicone, her eyes filthy. Her hand spread her spit up all over you as she took in your inches slowly, jerking you off and slobbering on you at the same time. She looked like a fucking pornstar, like she practiced for this, like she wanted to impress you, and you shook like you could actually feel her mouth. Your pussy was desperate to cum, but you pushed it aside and watched her.

She released you with a wet pop, her tongue flicking around your tip like she was lapping at your cum, and you couldn’t stop the moan that left your mouth.

“Nasty slut, goddamn— “

She smiled like you just called her the prettiest girl in the world before sucking you back in, her head bobbing up and down as she slurped you up. There was so much spit on your length that it started dripping onto the floor.

You bucked forward, your hips moving on autopilot, and she choked on you, her hand coming up to your thigh to squeeze it. You ignored her grasp and fucked into her mouth harder, pinning both her arms above her head on the desk. She gargled around your dick, and you could only imagine the tightness of her throat with each gag.

“What, baby? Don’t like it? Want me t’stop?” You gritted out. And you thrusted deeper. She moaned and her mouth opened wider.

She was making wet noises around you, her head thudding against the top drawer of the desk when you fucked in. You fucked your entire cock down her throat, and she gagged hard.

You pulled out and let her go.

She fell forward and coughed hard, her drool pooling down on the eggshell floors as she choked. You watched in irritation as she heaved.

“Get up,” her gasps slowed as she breathed in deeply, and she lifted her head to glare at you from her hunched position.

“Get up.”

“Fuck you,” she spluttered.

“I’m gonna. Get up.”

Despite her bitterness, she slowly stood and instantly bent over the desk with her scarred ass poked out towards you. You chuckled when you saw both her holes pulse in excitement.

“That’s how it is?” you slapped her asscheek, and her hips bucked back against your hand.

“Uh huh,” you heard her crackly mumble dazedly. “Need you t’make me cum.”

“Seemed alright doing it yourself a few minutes ago.”

She ignored you, and you smirked, “Need your cock, mommy, pleeease, please— “

You reached out, running two fingers over her drenched slit, and she pressed back on them as she sighed in pleasure. You slowly slid your fingers down to her clit, and she moaned aloud, her thighs jerking.

“Look at this fucking pussy, jesus.”

“I-It’s pretty?”

“Yeah, baby, fuck,” your mouth watered when you saw her walls clench. “Can’t even be mad, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Then fuck me,” she whined out sweetly, looking at you over her shoulder.

You leaned down until you were eye level with her pussy, her walls squelching and squeezing repeatedly. You bit your lip and kitty-licked her cunt, her slick painting your taste buds as her smell surrounded you, and she jumped at the feeling.

“Taste like fucking honey.”

“So do you, made me so wet,” she exhaled as she shivered in anticipation.

“S’gonna hurt,” you whispered, more to yourself as you eyed her tightness.

“Don’t care.” She pushed back on your face.

“Put your hands behind your back. Don’t move them.”

She shuddered and obeyed instantly, her hands overlapping at the wrists at the small of her back.

You pressed one last kiss to her pussy before standing upright, “You move your hands, I stop.”

“Not gonna move, mommy,” she whispered in between unsteady breaths. “Make me feel good, please. Please, please.”

“Shh. Got you, baby. Open your legs,” you caressed her back and she squirmed. You felt goosebumps rise all over her skin, and you smirked.

The gap between her thighs widened even more for you, her cunt on full display. You could hear her beckoning you to pop the tip inside her in tiny, desperate whispers, and it made your core clench.

You inched closer to her until the back of her thighs pressed against the front of yours. You wrapped a hand around your wet dick and brought it up to her slit, soaking it in her gooey slick and sliding it between her silky lips. Her cunt was already soaking your entire length and you didn’t even fuck her yet. She was subtly pushing back on you, trying to get you inside her.

You heard the enthusiasm in her voice when she keened, “Mommy, please, it’s right there!”

“Mhm, I know, I see it,” you mumbled wetly, her gooey cunt looked so pretty under the light of the city, shining like glitter.

“Making mommy so wet baby, such a pretty girl,” you brought your cock back up to her slit and pushed forward, slowly popping the tip in her snug opening. She squealed loudly, and you saw her fists clench at the end of her spine as her walls clung to you, pulling you in.

“Yesyesyes, oh god, mommy, fuck, uh huh!”

“Yeah, baby? It hurts?”

“Nooo, feels s’good, oh shit! —“

You slowly pushed in another inch, gauging her reaction for any discomfort, your thumb moving on her hip softly. She tried to push back to take you deeper, but you held her hips down.

“Fuck mefuckmefuckme— “

“Gonna be my good girl, baby? Gonna take it nice’n deep?”

“Yeah, mommy!”

You pushed in even deeper, and you could feel the resistance of her cunt the more you slid in. You couldn’t stop the moan you released when she said your name.

“Y-You’re splitting me open, ffuck— “

You pressed in the last bit of your dick, her ass resting at the top of your thighs, your hands propping you up on the desk as you leaned above her, placed on either side of her head. She was sighing heavily in satisfaction, and you could see her glossy eyes rolling.

“Feelin’ good?”

She nodded slowly, “U-Use me, mommy, please use me t’cum, fuck.”

“Gotta take care of my girl first,” you fucked out of her slowly before snapping your hips, fucking all your inches back into her, and she screamed. “Such a tight pussy.”

You bent down to kiss her pretty back, down her spine as you stroked her deeply. You’d barely completed your fourth stroke before you felt Ellie tense up under you, her body shuddering as she moaned quietly to herself. You snickered at her.

“Baby’s cumming?” you licked up her spine again.

You could only see her nod in jerky headshakes from where you stood, her cheek pressed against the desk. You looked down at where you were connected, and you could see how her walls struggled to choke your dick. You grabbed her wrists in one hand and fucked her through her orgasm, your free hand sneaking under her hips to rub her clit.

The second her body relaxed, you saw the muscles in her back flex again, the arch in her back deepening, “Mommy, think—m’cumming again, oh god, motherfu— “

“How many are you gonna give me, angel?” you rubbed her clit faster, fucking in harder.

“I feel it, I feel it, fuck!” She wasn’t listening to anything you were saying as she yelled in her pleasure. You could see how much she was wetting your cock, lines of her slick forming every time you pulled out of her. You angled your hips downward when you fucked back in, and she shouted your name out, her warnings of her orgasm echoing in your ears. You released her clit and pinned her down by her neck again.

“Like it right there, baby? That’s the spot?” You could feel your core squeezing with every cry she let out, her voice completely broken, her squeals scratchy.

She was babbling about something, but you weren’t listening, the squelchy sounds of her cunt increasing in volumes as you forced your dick in her, stirring her guts up.

You looked down and saw her ass squeezing with every quiver of her cunt, and you licked your lips. You let her wrists go and brought a hand to your mouth, sucking your thumb in to wet it before rubbing her ass with it.

She let out a loud slew of ah ah ahs before you felt a burst of wetness on your thighs, dripping down onto the floor. Her entire body was jerking back onto your, her rosy ass jiggling every time she hit your hips.

But then you heard a slam above her shouts of pleasure and mommy!

You looked up to check on her unsteady form as she continued to drench your lap, her hand resting on the back of her mother’s nameplate, her fingertips digging into the wood as she screamed in her euphoria.

It made you fuck her harder and pull her hand away from the dog tag. You didn’t even care about punishing her anymore, you needed to cum. You’d been riding that edge since you got here, and you knew you were going to cum so hard.

You leaned over her body and grinded into her, moving her hand away from the plate and sitting back up in its position. You grabbed her by her spit-coated chin so she could look dead at her mother’s name. She whimpered and tried to look away from it, but you tightened the grip on her face to keep her still.

“Look at it, baby— “

She sobbed, murmuring how hard she was about to cum again, her eyes fluttering as she stared at it, her cheeks glowing like apples.

You bent down to her ear, “You embarrassed, angel? Huh? Wanna close your eyes? Gonna squirt on me again?”

She was looking dead at the plate, “You’re so deep, mommy, fuck yes, m’gonna!—“

“Nasty fucking slut, taking it so good,” You looked up at the clear window as your thrusts picked up pace again, the entire city shining through the glass in all its glory. Every light of every building, people roaming, honking, noises of construction. It was all beneath you, and it was all theirs. The strap was bumping on your clit with each thrust.

“Look at your city, baby,” you lifted her weightless head by her wild, knotted hair and made her look into the distance as you groaned in pleasure. “Gonna be all yours one day, can do whatever you want with it soon.”

“Fuuuck— “

“Uh huh, you like having that power? You can get whatever the fuck you want— “

“M-Mommy!”

“Just need a baby, right? Gonna g-give her what she wants? Gonna give her that precious heir, that golden child?”

“Yesyesyes! Wan’your baby, ge’me fucking pregnant!”

You moaned at her begging as you babbled mindlessly to her, “Gonna cum in you, fuck, need it… t’catch— “

She was screaming about how your seed was going to catch in her womb, how hard she was going to squirt again, begging you to fuck her harder, hurt her, make her bleed, make her scream. You could feel your senses leaving as your orgasm built as she pushed back on you, and you moaned her name in her ear.

“Fuuuck, Ellie,” your clit jerked, and you let her go, her head falling onto her arm in front of her as she yelled in euphoria. “Gonna make that bitch raise my fuckin’ kid while I’m gone? Huh?”

She didn’t even react to your slip of your departure, “Yeahyesyesyes! Fuck, I’m cumming!”

You felt another spray of liquid drip down your legs as you drilled her, and it triggered your own orgasm. Your clit jerked as your release rushed through you, your walls clenching as your body shook on top of hers, grinding against her to ride it out. You could almost feel the sensation of filling her up, her cunt sucking your cum deep inside her.

She was still moaning above you, wringing the last bits of her orgasm out on your cock. You whined against her sweaty skin, the aftershocks moving through you.

You felt her go completely lax underneath you, heavy sighs leaving her parted lips.

You both caught your breaths in soothing silence.

After Ellie asked you to show her how to kiss properly, the pounding of your heart refused to slow down.

You were seated in her mother’s chair once more, her wetness still coating you in stickiness as she straddled your lap, her arms around your neck as she gazed at you nervously.

“We just fucked, why do you look like that?”

Her brows creased, “Like what?”

“Like you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips before looking back up at you.

You only hummed at her, brushing your noses together before leaning forward, grabbing the back of her neck to pull her down to you. Her eyes shut tightly, and her lips puckered in front of yours, and you pulled back, grabbing her face to stop her.

“Stop doing that, just relax.”

“… What’d I do?”

You mimicked her, poking your lips out stiffly before breaking out into a grin. She huffed with a tiny smile, shaking her head, “Sorry.”

You shrugged, uncaring. She looked down, “Where do I put my tongue?”

You snorted, “Nowhere yet.”

You craned your neck up slowly and connected your mouth with hers gently, your lips molding against hers. She sighed and leaned closer into you, her arms tightening around the back of your neck. You felt a sharp sting in your chest at her delicate touch, and you pulled away. A soft smack filled the room when you separated. She smiled softly, “That was cute.”

You nodded stiffly, murmuring a mhm, before looking down. Out the window. Behind her. Anywhere but her eyes.

You felt her nuzzle against your cheek, kissing it gently, “Are we… uh, fucking again?”

“You want to?” The pounding in your ears was giving you a headache.

You felt her nod. Another kiss to your cheek. Another pull in your heart.

Your hands planted on her hips, lifting them so she could sit on you, but she grabbed your wrists to stop you.

Her hands latched onto the hem of your shirt, attempting to pull it up and over your head, but your hand caught her wrist. Not harshly, but stern.

Her eyes softened at your masked expression, releasing the gentle grip on your shirt, “I’m, uh… I’m sorr— “

“It’s fine. Ready?” you grabbed the base of your dick in your hand, and she mumbled a quiet yes.

You felt her hand come on top of yours as she helped you guide it to her entrance, and your breath shook as you exhaled.

Her hips came down on you at her own pace, your free hand resting on her hip. She gasped when it slipped inside, her hands coming to support herself on each armrest.

“Feels different like this,” she whispered huskily.

You smirked, “I know, take your time.”

She nodded, slowly sinking down on you. You saw her eyelids get heavy as her walls caught on every ridge of you, her head falling back in her pleasure. Her soft locks disheveled all over her head, her bun nonexistent as her bobby pins stuck out from every direction.

She slid in too deep, though. She let out a pained gasp as she caught herself on the chair, her brows furrowing.

“Okay?” you checked in.

She nodded, her lip in between her teeth, “So deep like this, fuck… don’t know if I can go all the way down.”

“It’s fine, babe, make yourself feel good.”

“H-Help me?” her breathing was picking up as her hips bucked.

Your other hand flew to her hips, digging into her soft skin as you guided her hips on you. You eased her into a deep grind, and her hands flew behind you, landing on the headrest behind you.

Her head rested in the crook of your neck as she followed your movements, her wet moans hitting the side of your neck. The sensation of her breath on your skin made your pussy clench.

“Am I—gasp—doing good, m-mommy?”

“Fucking me so good, baby, shit,” you whispered in her ear, and she moaned aloud in yours. She sped up on you, the harness digging into your clit with each swivel of her hips.

Your hands moved down to grab her ass, spreading her cheeks before slapping them, grabbing the plush of them in your hands. She fucked you harder, and you felt her spit drip on your neck as she wailed into your skin. You threw your head back on the headrest when she sucked on your neck, right on your open scar.

She lifted her head up and looked at you with gentle eyes, her hands moving down from the headrest to grab your cheeks in a soft touch. She was panting on your mouth, her lips brushing against yours with every jump on you. She was so close and she smelled so good, her lips soft.

She whispered dreamily, “Can’t stop cumming— “

Your eyelids fluttered, “Then don’t. Give it to me, m’so close— “

She grinded harder as she leaned down to connect your lips in a honey-sweet kiss. You reciprocated against your brain's desires.

Push her away. She’ll never be yours! This is all she wants from you!

Tears built in your eyes as your peak approached, her moans increasing in urgency against your mouth. You sucked on her bottom lip, biting it hard. This is the most eager you’ve felt since you touched her.

“Cum with me, pleasepleaseplease— “

“I’m gonna, baby, fuck me hard!”

She was going crazy on your dick, full-on bouncing on you, taking it all despite her protests earlier, and you felt yourself tipping. Your pussy squeezed and soaked the harness as your orgasm pulled in your gut. You looked down at your cock, and it was drenched in her white, sticky substance. She was creaming all over your cock as she used you. It made your eyes cross in your skull as your euphoria hit you.

You were so loud as your nails tore into her skin, your moans matching hers in volume. You felt another splash of fluid on you, and you came harder, another wave crashing through you. You would’ve curled in on yourself if she wasn’t on top of you.

You felt her tongue slide into your hungry mouth, swirling around yours as you shouted through your high. She was making you feel so good, and you couldn’t fucking think.

You felt like you were cumming for minutes before the harsh pulses slowed into soft twitches, her hips slowing, and she bent down to kiss you. The touch was soft, sweet, undeserved. You stiffened, on guard immediately.

She was close, she was too close. Her soft caresses on your face snapped you out of your intoxication, pulling away from her mouth and grabbing her hips to pull her off your dick.

“T-Turn around, Ellie.”

“Huh?” she asked softly, her eyes teary and delicate.

“T-Turn around,” your voice trembled.

“O-Okay.”

She was too fucking close.

She lifted off you, planting her feet on the ground and you spun her. You pulled her down on your lap, her ass in front of your cock. You grabbed your tip, pushing it past her entrance, and she mewled. She took it with ease, mewling out as her back arched into you, swallowing you whole as she sunk down again.

She planted her hands on your knees and immediately bounced on you, her toned ass meeting the base of your harness with every jump on your cock.

You could see her pussy suck on your inches, suffocating your girth, her walls clinging to you.

You grabbed her neck and pushed her forward slightly, and she cried out in painful pleasure. You planted your feet on the floor and fucked up into her.

“Fuck! Your dick feels so fucking good! Oh my—agh!”

You saw even move cream spread over your dick with every fuck inside her squishy walls. You were moaning with her, fucking her harder, faster, the hand on her neck moving up to pull her hair hard. The sound of wet skin slapping accompanied the sounds you both made in your pleasured state.

You were going to cum so fucking quick, “Fuck, Ellie, shit— “

“I’m gonna cum so hard, mommy!” your hand in her hair flew down to her hip, grinding her down harder on you. You moaned at the feeling.

“Yeah? Already?” You were right behind her, those euphoric waves pulling in your gut.

“Fuck—fuckyes!”

“Want it so bad, get it all over this fucking dick, baby— “

Her hand that'd been playing with her tits flew down on top of yours on her waist, her fingers lacing with yours tightly as she shouted, screaming your name. She met your harsh thrusts as she bounced, and she squirted on you again, and you watched it gush out of her, wetting your stomach and harness and the chair beneath her, the sound of splattering liquid on the floor making you cum the hardest you ever had. Your vision whitened as your orgasm crushed you.

She kept cumming on you, and you kept cumming for her. The pleasure didn’t stop, and all you could do was scream her name out like she did yours, hold her hand tighter as your brain melted. She rocked back and forth on you, prolonging your orgasm, making you cum harder. It just kept building in intensity, the aggressive pulses wracking through you, your toes curling as she milked you, and all you could do was take it.

You blacked out in her mom’s chair, the last thing you remember seeing was her pulsing, squirting pussy, pulsing ass, and the auburn stars that painted her entire back.

Some time passed, your lashes fluttering open as you felt soft touches on your face.

You were met with delicate, green eyes, Ellie looking at you with a softness you hadn’t seen in years. It felt foreign, deep, and it made your heart pick up in panic.

You pulled away from her touches and looked around unsteadily.

She was too close. Too fucking close.

The office was a mess: clothes everywhere, the floor was soaked, the whole room smelled like sex and pussy, desk askew, its contents thrown everywhere, Ellie’s tears and puddles of spit all over the surface. You could even see splatters of… her on her mother’s restraining order against you.

You were suddenly terrified, moving into action and guiding her off your lap so you could stand. You undid the straps of your dick and stepped out of it, cringing at the drying stickiness, and throwing it into your backpack.

You heard her speak from behind you, “Hey, hey, you okay? What’s wr— ‘

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine, I gotta go,” you said tensely. Unwelcoming. Guarded.

“Did… did I do something?” She sounded too soft, too gentle.

“No, Ellie, I just, I gotta go,” You dressed erratically, pulling your underwear up and jeans on, wincing at your cum sticking to your garments.

You could hear the crack in her voice, “Can I… do you need help or— “

“Ellie, I’m fucking fine. I’m fine, okay? Forget it.” You spat over your shoulder as you repacked. Don’t look at her, don’t fucking look at her.

She sounded just as anxious as you did, “W-Why are you so upset with me all of a sudden? What’d I do— “

“You didn't do shit! Can you fucking drop it please!”

Her breath shuddered, “I thought… I thought we were… okay?”

You whipped around to face her, an incredulous look on your face. Your heart shattered when she flinched, but you yelled at her anyway. Why the hell did you look at her?

“Why the fuck would we be okay?! Did you forget how we fucking met in the first place!” You pointed behind her to the soiled court order, “We’re never going to be fucking okay! Get that through your fucking head.”

You reached down to grab your heavy bag, throwing it over your shoulder in a hurry. You felt like you were going to suffocate. You needed to go. Right now. You turned towards the door. You hadn’t even shut it all the way when you came in.

“I’m never going to see you again, am I?”

Your own tears fell at the dejected acceptance in her voice. She sounded so broken, and it was all your fault.

But you knew this was for the best. The two of you could never exist together in bliss, even though meeting her was the most human you’ve felt since you were a child. Since your father was alive.

But you were too different, too damaged. All you would do is hurt each other, you would resent each other, grow to hate, to regret. The world was too cruel, and she was not prepared for its harshness. You were barely prepared, and you lived it every day. And you promised yourself to never go through the despair of loss again. You walked towards the door and heard her release a quiet sob.

“No,” you pulled the knob, the spacious hallway being another reminder that you didn’t belong. Not here, not anywhere. Her mother was right.

You were worthless. Held no value in this society.

In another life, you could’ve been something great. Your cards could’ve been different, better. You could’ve made your father proud. The two of you could’ve been happy.

“You won’t.”

You left the same way you came, moving in urgency before her sobs lured you back to take her in your arms, against your will.

Maybe in another life.

hi lol OOOOOOWEEEEE

this was heavy sorry gworlies i love sad shit

don’t hate me too much?

omg tell me what y’all thought or whatever *looks away shyly

thank u 4 reading if u did :3

hi taglist love yall @cherriessxinthespring @ellieswifee @elliespookie @belovednanami @sevikasimp @saturnsellie

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams angst #ceosdaughter!ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #lesbian #ellie williams x you #works 𖧧࣪

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enmi-land · 16 days

Text

ATTENTION

📄 ◜ ────𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.

ʬʬʬ. 2024 pairing. poly!ot7엔하 x f!ocmember req. april fool’s prank gone wrong + enha ignoring ml + ml seeking txt & kiara for comfort cw. minor jealousy, drunk mila being a drama queen ( LIBRARY )

IT TOOK ABOUT TEN MINUTES INTO THE DAY FOR MILA TO REALISE THAT SOMETHING WAS NOT RIGHT.

It was not a crime or wake up to an empty bed, even if she had spent the night cuddled up against Jake’s chest, since the urge to use the bathroom could strike any time. That was easily forgivable. But the really odd things started happening once she left the comfort of her bed and wandered into the kitchen, where everyone was gathered for the usual morning routine of a group breakfast.

She was surprised, however, to find that the kitchen was absolutely empty, save for a note left on the kitchen top in Jay’s handwriting.

We decided to go to the company for some extra practice but i made some breakfast for you so make sure to get something to eat <3

They left? Mila tore her eyes away from the paper, instead searching the silent dorm. Placing the note back on the bench, she visited the doors of each of the boys’ rooms, knocking on the door. No response. She frowned as she checked her phone, only to find that there were was not a single text sent to her by on of the boyfriends. They must be busy…

Mila shrugged as she sat before the delicious plate of French toast prepared by Jay. She wanted to take a break before her scheduled in the afternoon, but the others were working hard. Kiara had a scheduled solo photoshoot so she was also out of the dorm today, leaving Mila alone in their home. She hummed in delight as she ate a piece of toast, using her free hand to send a text to the group chat.

You: I just woke up hope everyone slept well 🩷

You: and thank you Jay-oppa for the food 😘

Mila shut her phone off. Staring at the fridge across from her, she began to think. Since she was free this morning, she might as well do something nice for her group members. Maybe I should make a cake!

Mila nodded. That was a good idea. And so, she did exactly that— after cleaning up the mess left behind by the others before they went to the company building, she found herself sitting in front of the oven as she watched the chocolate cake inside begin to rise. She looked down at her phone.

It was a few hours since she had sent her initial text, and she still hadn’t received a reply. She didn’t mind if they were busy, but she hoped they weren’t working too hard… The last thing she wanted was for one of them to collapse from exhaustion.

Mila jolted form her thoughts when the timer of the oven went off, signalling that the cake was ready. She smiled she pulled it out of the oven with her mitt, leaving it on the bench for cooling. A quick sniff of the air instantly made her mouth water form the sweet scent. She just knew the others were going to love this.

Opening her cameras, she snapped a quick picture of her creation to send into the group chat.

You: make sure to get lots of rest, okay? i have a cake waiting for you at home ❤️

Maybe that would help raise their spirits, she thought.

Mila was humming happily as she strung on her bag in preparation to go to her next schedule, until she saw a new notification pop up on Weverse. And all of a sudden, she didn’t feel so good anymore. Because she was so sure that her boyfriends were busy, and that was the reason why they hadn’t been responding to her texts all morning—only to see that they had made a new post on Weverse for their fans to see.

It was this moment where she started to wonder if something had happened, if she had done something wrong. Because if they had time to post something on Weverse, surely that meant they had time to respond to her texts, right? Even if it was a single emoji, to let her know that they had seen her messages, she would take it. But….

Mila shook her head. Maybe they just didn’t read all her messages yet—understandable, considering she did send quite a lot of them. She would give it some time and see if they would respond later.

But they didn’t. And it ate away at Mila for the rest of the day, until she had time to call her number one confidant about her—her one and only unnie, Kiara.

“So they haven’t responded to even a single text of yours?” Kiara asked with furrowed eyebrows, a finger on her chin. The two were currently in the TXT dorms, the members of the group watching from the kitchen as Mila and Kiara spoke. “They’ve been responding to mine, though…”

Mila swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes stinging. “Oh…” She lowered her head. She felt sick to the stomach, feeling as if she might lose all the lunch she had eaten not long ago. If they were responding to Kiara’s text and not hers, then wouldn’t that mean that they were…. ignoring her? But why? Did she do something wrong? “I must have upset them for some reason, then, right? They wouldn’t ignore me for no reason…”

“Hey, hey, don’t jump to any conclusions.” Soobin slid onto the couch next to Mila offering her a box of tissues and helping her blow her nose. “We don’t know that they’re ignoring you.”

Mila looked at him in doubt. “Unnie literally just confirmed that they were responding to her texts and not mine. How is that no ignoring me?”

“Wait, he might be right,” Huening Kai spoke up. “Have you looked at the date?”

Mila furrowed her eyebrows. She opened her phone to check it, only to frown even further. April the first? It took a few seconds before everything clicked into place. She jumped up from her seat on the couch, the box of tissues falling to the floor. “It’s April Fools Day!” she exclaimed, in a mixture of horror, realisation, and disgust. She brought her hands to her hair. “And I’ve been fooled! Ugh! I can’t believe I almost cried because of a prank!”

Mila face palmed, causing Kiara to shush her. “Hey, don’t say that. It still would feel bad even if it wasn’t a prank. I know I would feel sad if Yeonjunie-oppa ignored me.”

“Which I’ve never done,” Yeonjun suddenly spoke up from the kitchen bench, earning unimpressed looks from both girls. “Just saying…”

Mila sighed. “Congrats, oppa. You’ve won the best boyfriend of the year award. Mine are no loner in the running.” Yeonjun had a look as if he wasn’t sure whether to be happy or not. But Mila wasn’t looking his way. She narrrowed her eyes at her phone instead, plotting what to do with her newfound information. Since they wanted to prank her so badly, maybe she should let them have their fun…

She huffed as she sent one last text, before muting their chat. If that was what they wanted to do, then fine; she could give them the same courtesy. She turned to the TXT boys. “Do you want cake?”

“I can’t do this anymore!”

Jaaeyun flopped dramatically against the floor of the practice room, clutching his hand to his chest after reading the latest text from Mila. Riki shot him an unimpressed look from beside him, raising an eyebrow as he slapped the older’s thigh. “This was your idea, you can’t be the first one to fold.”

The said idea that Riki mentioned was, in fact, a prank that the boys all agreed on, considering it was April the first—also known widely as April Fool’s Day. Jaeyun had been the one to suggest that they all pretend to ignore their girlfriend, at least until they saw each other later one tonight, when she would be back home from her schedules, and they would be finished with theirs. But all it took was the endearing messages from her as she spammed them with pictures of the cake she was baking for them and random little updates during the day, and it felt like torture to continue the charade any longer.

“Just look at her!” Jaeyun said with a groan, as he showed them the selfie Mila took, with her fluffy smile after decorating the cake she was so excited to have them try. “Ugh… I can’t. I have to text back. My heart hurts.”

Heeseung sighed as he stared at the photo, his fingers subconsciously reaching to pinch her cheeks through the phone. Why did he agree to this in the first place? Everyone knew he had the worst case of cuteness aggression and clinical clinginess towards his girlfriend, and he wasn’t even interested in proving otherwise. He should have just turned down the idea the moment it was proposed. And yet…

“Drop out if you want, man,” Sunghoon said, “No one’s stopping you.”

But of course, Jaeyun couldn’t. “Shut up. You’re just saying that because you want to spend more time with her.”

Sunghoon laughed.

They had childishly agreed that whoever could last the longest would have the reserved cuddle sessions of everyone else to themselves for the next three days (they tried bargaining six, but some members—as in Sunghoon and Jungwon—were quick to refuse). It seemed like a great idea at the time, seeing as they were confident they could go at least a few hours with no contact. But they forgot to factor in the fact that they were incredibly down bad, for their equally down bad girlfriend.

“Now she’s saying she misses us,” Sunoo said as he read the most recent text, adding fuel to the flame. “‘I know you guys are busy, but let me know if you’re okay. I miss you lots, heart emoji, heart emoji.’”

Jake groaned, causing Jay to kick him slightly in the butt as he rolled over. “This is the worst day of my life.” He held up his hand as Sunoo went to read another text. “Don’t. I’m suffering enough as it is.”

Jungwon sighed, massaging his temples while shaking his head. He normally wouldn’t even entertain the idea, despite the so-called ‘prize’; Mila would definitely fold and given him extra cuddles if he acted cute, so he didn’t need to steal from the others. The only reason he agreed was because he had a feeling that Mila might have already planned to prank him anyway, so he might as well make the best of the opportunity to get her back and to get more cuddles in the same day.

He turned to look at the eldest, who was staring at his phone so intently that there may even be a hole drilling through it soon. At least he wasn’t the only one.

Only a few more hours, and they’d be able to put this behind them.

Or so they thought.

It was a few hours later when they arrived at their dorms to find that she was nowhere in sight. And it was then that they realised she was nowhere to be seen. All that was left of her was a note on the fridge saying, I won’t be home tonight, don’t look for me. The only thing that could describe the events that followed the discovery of the ominous note would be the gates of hell breaking loose on the dorms.

“She’s not picking up her phone,” Heeseung said panickedly, after calling her number for the fifth time.

“Or her texts,” Jungwon replied with a frown. Jaeyun and Jongseong turned up hopeless results as well, receiving not even a peep from Mila since the last text she sent, over an hour ago. It didn’t seem like anything was out of the ordinary; it was just a text letting them know that she had finished her schedule. So it only made their word even more that she had suddenly dropped off the grid with no warning other than the hastily written words on the sticky note.

“Wait!” Jongseong suddenly exclaimed. “Her manager just texted. Apparently, she dropped Mila off at the Tubatu dorms earlier on.”

The others heaved sighs of relief. “That scared me,” Sunoo said with a hand on her heart. “For a second I thought she was kidnapped and the perpetrator made her leave a note behind so we didn’t get suspicious.”

There was a moment of silence.

Riki side-eyed his hyung. “I think you just watch too many horror movies.”

Sunoo shrugged, before turning on his feet to go to the bathroom, seeing as the ordeal was sorted. It wasn’t unusual for Mila to visit the TXT dorms, considering her unnie was there a lot of the time, and it could get old being cooped up in the Enhypen dorms every day. They didn’t worry if she was with their seniors; they knew the TXT members would watch over her, if anything were to happen. They were just surprised that she didn’t seem to notice their prank on her.

“I thought she would be spamming our phones,” Riki said absently as he opened the fridge. “She usually catches on fast…”

Especially on April Fool’s Day, of all days. Mila was usually the type to figure out their odd behvaiour and call them out as soon as she noticed. The fact that they didn’t hear anything from her meant she probably was none the wiser. So maybe, they didn’t need to feel so bad about their little prank, after all…

Still, it didn’t make it any less disappointing for some of her boyfriends who wanted to bask in her affection as soon as they got home from a tiring day of practice. Sunghoon pouted as he flopped onto the couch, zoning out into the distance since Mila wasn’t here to occupy the empty space of his thoughts with her little rambles.

“Ugh, I could use some sugar right about now,” Jaeyun said as he opened the microwave. Mila’s final text had been to let them know she put it there for when they got home. But to his surprise, there was nothing there… except another note, which said: “‘I took the cake for the Tubatu-oppas?!””

His voice was utterly mortified as he turned the note, as if expecting a ‘Gotcha!’ to be written on the other side. But no. The cake was indeed gone, and it seemed she really had taken it for the TXT members, even though she said she explicitly made it for them.

“Naur way,” Jake said in disbelief. Heeseung looked over his shoulder and started to draw lines inside his mind in order to reach a conclusion.

Maybe she did know about their prank after all… He sighed as he called Kiara’s phone. As soon as she answered, he was greeted with what he could already see as an eyeroll on the other side of the phone.

“You finally called,” Kiara said. “Can you pick up your girlfriend? She’s completely insane.” Before Heeseung could ask what she meant, he heard Mila’s voice in the background saying something along the lines of, “No, I don’t wanna go home,” in her obviously drunken voice.

So yes, they might have pushed her a little too far this time…

Sunghoon and Jongseong weren’t sure what they were expecting to see when they got to the TXT dorms, but Mila crying on the couch while bundled up in a blanket burrito was somewhere near the bottom of the list of possibilities. The two friends shared a glance, which didn’t go unnoticed by Huening Kai, who had been the one to let them into the dorms in the first place. He rubbed the back of his neck while they watched Beomgyu try to entertain Mila like she was some child, only to be smacked on the back of the head by Kiara.

“Your face is only making it worse,” the older female scolded.

Yeonjun (who was standing the furthest away from the scene as possible) noticed the two Enhypen members as soon as they walked into the room and looked at them as if they were his guardian angels sent from above. “Hey, you made it! Come here, come here…” Yeonjun called to Mila over her shoulder. “Your boyfriends are here now! Why don’t you head home?”

Kiara massaged her forehead with a perplexed sigh while Jongseong and Sunghoon were practically dragged by the older male towards their crying girlfriend. Soobin simply laughed, before excusing himself, since he had to leave for a schedule. Sunghoon and Jongseong bowed to the older as he left, the member simply wishing them luck dealing with the drunken Mila.

Mila sniffled as she glared up at them. “What are you doing here?”

Yeah, okay, they probably deserved that.

“Come on, Angel, we came to take you back home.”

Jongseong reached out slowly to take the blanket from Mila’s head, as if she were a puppy about to bite his hand off if he moved too suddenly. But before he could even graze the blanket with his fingers, Mila huffed and inched away, before lying herself down onto the couch so she looked like a caterpillar curling into a ball.

“I don’t want to.”

Sunghoon couldn’t see her face, but he definitely knew she was pouting. He would have usually found it adorable, but it was a little awkward when his noona and three seniors were watching him from the side with a slight sense of judgement for being unable to coax his own girlfriend into returning to their home with them. He cleared his throat, before shaking Mila’s lying figure.

“Come one, you’re going to bother noona and the hyungs,” he ushered gently. But he must have chosen the wrong words, because while Mila was shooting up in her seat—her eyes were watering and she hiccuped.

“Is that why you were ignoring me today?” she asked, her voice shaky. “Because I’m a bother?”

“No, no, no!” Jongseong immediately rushed in to save Sunghoon, who had frozen at the heartbroken look in Mila’s eyes, his chest constricting as if someone had crushed his heart in their palms. “That’s not it at all, Angel.”

Fuck, he thought. He should have never agreed to the prank. He was going to beat Jaeyun’s ass for managing to convince him—and then himself for ever letting himself be convinced in the first place. Jongseong clearly had the same idea, because he was instantly jumping on the first excuse that came to mind in order to save them from being target’s of their girlfriends (well-placed) disappointment.

“It was Jake’s idea!” Jongseong exclaimed. “He wanted to prank you since it’s April Fool’s Day—we tried to warn him, but he really wanted to do it… It was our fault for agreeing, but really, none of us were angry at you. It was just a really bad joke—We’re sorry, angel. Don’t be sad, okay? You can pay us back however you want?”

Mila sniffled. Her tears had been blinked away, but she still had that kicked puppy look on her face that made Sunghoon simultaneously want to wrap her up in a blanket and also run outside so he could scream to the skies. “Really?”

Jongseong and Sunghoon nodded a little too fast. Mila didn’t get to respond before Taehyun was walking into the room, smiling at the new arrivals. “Oh, you guys made it. Are you here to take Mila home?”

“No.” Jongseong almost fell over at the strong denial in Mila’s voice. “Since they ignored me all day, it’s only fair that I get to–” she hiccuped. “--to do the s-same…” She lay back down on the couch. “I’m staying here and I’m never going back.”

Good gracious, why did his girlfriend have to be so stubborn? Jongseong was on the verge of going gray because of today, and this was not helping. He sighed, not knowing what to do. Fortunately for him, Taehyun seemed to have an idea, because he was kneeling beside Mila, a gentle smile on his face.

“Hey, Mimi, want to see a trick?” Mila’s eyes brightened with curiosity as she looked at the TXT member. She nodded enthusiastically. “But if I show you, you have to agree to go back home with Sunghoon and Jongseong. Okay?”

Mila looked conflicted, before sighing and nodding. “Okay.” She then glared at Taehyun. “But it has to be a really good trick!”

Sunghoon and Jongseong exchanged looks as Taehyun nodded and patted Mila’s head gently. They didn’t want to be ungrateful, seeing as he was doing them a favour… But did it have to involve patting their girlfriend’s head? Unfortunately for them, that wasn’t the full extent of the “trick” that Taehyun had planned. Because before they could say anything, his hand had moved from the top of her head, to behind Mila’s ear, lingering there for a bit, before he pulled away to reveal a flower in his previously empty hand.

Mila gasped in wonder at the sight of the flower. “Wah! It’s so pretty!”

“Right?” Taehyung asked. He held it out to the younger female while smiling charmingly, causing alarm bells to ring in Sunghoon’s head. “Then make sure to take care of it properly, okay? At home.”

Mila nodded and reached out to grab the flower from his hand. But before he could, she was suddenly flipped upside down, thrown over Sunghoon’s should like a sack of potatoes—blanket burrito and all. “Okay, thanks, hyung! We’ll be going now.”

“Hey!” Mila kicked her legs around, but struggled since she was still wrapped in the blanket that constricted her movements. She looked at Kiara, who was watching with a flat expression while waving. “Unnie! I’m being kidnapped!”

“Sorry, Mimi, but it’s time you head home home now,” Kiara said with a wave. This prompted the others to do the same, watching with barely concealed amusement when Jongseong rushed to grab Mila’s things, before following Sunghoon out the door.

“My flower!” Mila called in protest, holding onto the door frame to stop Sunghoon from walking out with her.

“You can come back and get it tomorrow,” Taehyun suggested.

“Respectfully, but no!” Jongseong yelled in reply, before prying Mila’s hands away from the door frame. The door shut with a loud bang, and the sounds of Mila’s protests died out in the distance as they got further away.

“How do they have so much energy?” Yeonjun asked in amazement.

Beomgyu snickered. “It’s because they’re not old like you.”

By the time Mila was taken home, her boyfriends were all clamouring to her, explaining their side of the story (which, despite no negotiation, somehow all involved blaming Jaeyun for everything) while she sulked on the couch. It took a while, but in the end, they came to an agreement before Mila fully sobered.

“No more cuddles for you,” she said.

The boys shared looks, but agreed with reluctant sighs.

Well, that was pointless.

"Now can I have my flower?" Mila asked.

Sunghoon and Jongseong were subject to five confused gazes. "Flower?"

Oh boy. The dorm (and the world) wasn't ready for the mess that would come from the Enhypen members learning magic tricks to impress their girlfriend...

TAGLIST @em1ejiee @menichoi @dracoslovergirl @rosas-in-the-garden @blossominghunnie @lovelypham @cornenhapovs @nee-issaire @jwnstars

NOTE a bit of a rushed ending but i really didn't know what else i could write so it felt approperiate to just end it there before it trailed on and got too long XD

#◌ 🌸 ˴ milana bai . ˚◞ ★̶̲ ꒱#enhypen 8th member #enhypen added member #enhypen eight member #enhypen extra member #enhypen fem oc #enhypen female addition #enhypen oc #enhypen female member #enhypen addition #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x oc #enhypen poly #enhypen female oc #enhypen ff #enhypen au

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katyaromanoffpetrova · 29 days

Text

The only fool on April Fools'

Natasha thought she came up with the best prank ever. But she forgot exactly who she was trying to prank.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 2.7k • Warnings: suggestive talk Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

A/N: a late birthday post from me :)

2028

Natasha could not stop looking at her hands on the steering wheel. More specifically, she couldn't stop looking at her nails. Every time they caught her eye when she went to change the song on the radio or flick her blinker, the smuggest smirk took over her entire face.

She'd been thinking long and hard about this year's prank. April Fools' Day was a serious occasion for her and Katya, a holiday they planned for for months. It started in 2010 when Natasha had been brave enough to prank her girlfriend at the time, and it developed from there. The only rule they had was that the pranks shouldn't be too humiliating. Just funny. So there was a lot of creative freedom.

This year, she really nailed it. It was hilarious. She was hilarious, and Katya was going to be so pissed. She thought Natasha had just gone to get a haircut, but she'd be getting the worst surprise of her life when she showed her what she'd actually been doing in the city.

Was it cruel? Yes. But Katya replaced all the Oreo cookie filling with toothpaste last year. Natasha's Oreo cookies. And she filled a donut with mayo. So Natasha wanted to let her feel that same pain. Only more subtly.

When she walked into the house, pushing her smirk aside for the sake of the prank, the smell of cake filled her nostrils. It smelled delicious, like chocolate and butter. A special recipe that Katya had been meaning to try. Too bad that Natasha wouldn't be eating a single piece of it, considering there was probably salt in it instead of sugar, but at least she knew where to find her darling wife.

Prepared to feel incredibly smug and pleased, she strolled into the kitchen. Katya stood with her back turned, softly singing a song as she mixed something with the handheld electronic mixer. The noise drowned out the sound of Natasha's footsteps, so she didn't hear her come in. It only prolonged the excitement. "Smells good in here."

Katya jumped, quickly turning off the mixer. "Oh. Hi, baby!" An adoring smile spread across her lips as she turned around. Natasha almost felt bad for her upcoming prank. Almost. "Let me see your hair." A crease formed between her brows as she studied Natasha's long red locks. "It doesn't look any different," she said carefully, as if she was afraid to offend her new haircut.

Natasha smiled sheepishly, glancing down at her hands. "Yeah, well, you know… I was planning on getting my hair done, but then I passed a nail salon, and, well…" Instead of explaining, she simply brought her hands up, holding her nails out for Katya to see.

When the nail stylist asked her what shape she wanted, Natasha told her to go for the pointest, most stabby looking nail she could do, and she hadn't disappointed. Two inches long, all of them ended in a point that could seriously poke somebody's eye out. The deep red color and the black details turned them into the sexiest murder weapons she'd ever had. The sexiest, most inconvenient weapons ever. They were lowkey homophobic.

She saw the different emotions cross Katya's face one by one. Excitement, at first. Probably because she was happy Natasha spoiled herself, or she liked the nails. Then hesitation. Then realization. Then anger, which manifested with a slight twitch of her brows. And lastly…

Actually, Natasha couldn't decipher the emotion that slid over the anger. It was like Katya mentally paused before she could get really angry, and then decided on a different course. All of it happened within a second. Her brain was just that fast at assessing a situation.

An excited gasp flew from her lips. "They look so good, honey!" Katya exclaimed, carefully taking Natasha's hands in her own to see her nails better. "The design is so simple yet so elegant. It really suits you!"

Natasha inwardly frowned, her smugness plummeting. This was not the reaction she had been hoping for. Not by miles. But she wasn't giving up yet. "What do you think about the length?" She smiled, mirroring Katya's excitement. "I wanted to go even longer, but I've never had nails before so I didn't want to overdo it."

"No, I love it! It suits your hand shape really well."

To Natasha's even bigger surprise, Katya let her hands go to grab her cheeks instead, pulling her close to press a sweet kiss to her lips. Her blue eyes sparkled joyfully. "I'm so glad you treated yourself to something nice. You deserve it."

Then she turned around and went back to making the icing for her cake.

Natasha stood there, lost, wondering how this had gone completely the opposite way of how she wanted. Katya was supposed to be upset, asking her what she was thinking, getting long ass nails as a woman in a lesbian relationship. With those weapons on her fingers, she could not use them for her favorite activity whatsoever.

But instead of getting pissed, Katya got the opposite. She happily sang, swaying her body as she finished mixing her icing. Not a care in the world.

Natasha's prank had dramatically failed.

"Look how good this looks." Katya suddenly turned around, a big scoop of chocolate icing on her pointer finger. Slowly, she brought it to her lips, sucking her finger into her mouth and pulling it out. "Hmm, so good," she moaned.

The very bottom part of Natasha's stomach twisted into knots. She couldn't find her words as she watched Katya lick off the icing in a way that was incredibly sensual. And not by accident.

''Yep, that's done!" She beamed. Katya covered the bowl with some foil and put it in the fridge, happily twirling around to a still frozen Natasha. ''I'm going to lift some weights. Could use a spotter.''

''I—'' Natasha mentally slapped herself, swallowing thickly. ''Sure.''

Katya perked up. ''Okay. Give me a minute to change.''

She wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what those nails meant. It meant her wife was an ass. An ass who didn't want to get laid for a few weeks, apparently.

Her first instinct was to get pissed. Get pissed at Natasha for partly ruining their sex life. Because while they owned many replacements, Natasha's fingers would always be her favorite, and they were not going up there looking like that.

But then Katya realized that getting angry was exactly what her wife was after. And what better way to ruin a prank by pretending not to see it? In fact, she was going to throw Natasha's own prank right back at her, make her miserable. Show her that getting these nails would come back to bite her in the ass. Fast.

Nobody messed with her.

Choosing her smallest sports bra and tightest cycling shorts, Katya threw her hair up and returned to Natasha. The woman seemed to be disoriented, or at least deep in thought. She was in the exact spot Katya left her ten minutes earlier, frowning at the countertop. When she did look up, Katya purposely flexed her biceps as she tightened her ponytail, drawing Natasha's gaze directly to her arms.

Her green eyes darkened as they took in Katya's figure. Everything that wasn't bare skin was skin-tight. And while her body didn't look the way it did when she was twenty-four—duh—Natasha still thought it was hot as hell. She wanted to grab it, bend it over the counter—

''Earth to Nat.''

Natasha rapidly blinked, pulling her head out of the clouds. ''Hm?''

Katya had a huge grin on her face that she tried to hide. ''I said; are you coming?''

''Oh, yes.''

She didn't even try to not stare at Katya's ass as the brunette walked in front of her. It was right there, shaking in those spandex shorts. The urge to grab it and press her nails—oh. With a frown, Natasha looked down at her pointy nails. She couldn't grab Katya's butt and press the top of her nails down at the same time.

''Hmm…'' Katya stopped in the doorframe of the garage—their home gym. ''What do you reckon I should do first?''

''Ass.'' Natasha was just in time to bring her gaze upwards when Katya spun around, staring straight into her raised eyebrow. Her cheeks heated up when she realized what her half-horny brain had thrown out. ''I meant squats.''

''Squats it is.'' Katya smiled.

Even the process of setting it all up drove Natasha up the wall. To get the weights on the bar, Katya had to lift them, and because she barely wore a shirt, her back, shoulder, and arm muscles visibly flexed for Natasha to see. Her hands itched, but she suspected Katya was playing a game, and she wasn't going to give in.

They both weren't going to give in. So it was going to be a game of who can hold out the longest.

If things progressed this way, Natasha was one hundred percent sure she was going to lose.

''Okay.'' Katya excessively bent over to put her resistance band down. She'd warmed her muscles—doing some very deep deep squats—and secured her ponytail once more. ''I'm ready.''

Natasha knew it was going to be a mistake when she stepped behind Katya. She knew she was digging her own grave. The brunette pressed her ass into her front and flexed her muscles way more than necessary as she adjusted her grip on the bar resting on her shoulders. Natasha clenched her jaw to keep still and quiet, but the frustration started to build.

Down Katya went for the first squat, pausing a few seconds before she went up again. Natasha squatted along with her, forcing herself to pay attention to the bar and only the bar. She wondered if she could even close her hands around it in case Katya needed her help. Those damn claws of her were probably in the way.

She was about to breathe out in relief when Katya didn't pull any stunts on the way up.

Then she let out the sexiest grunt ever.

Natasha nearly collapsed through her knees. Dirty memories of times where Katya grunted like that flashed through her head. Half an hour of teasing and she was on the very edge of damning it all to hell. Screw her dignity. She wanted something else to screw, and fast.

Down, Katya went again, audibly breathing out as she went down, and grunting when she straightened up. Down, breathing out. Up, grunting.

Three times, Natasha kept herself together with great difficulty. On the forth grunt, her sexual frustration snapped.

''Put it down.''

Katya smirked to herself. She expected her wife to keep it together a bit longer, but obviously her plan was working. ''What? Why? I've just started,'' she said innocently, pretending to be extremely confused the same way she'd been pretending to be stupid.

''Put the thing down.''

Carefully, Katya racked the bar, furrowing her brows as she turned to face the fuming redhead. Before she could blink, Natasha had her pinned against one of the squat rack's poles. She felt all that frustration in the way her spine bumped against the metal. ''What's going on?'' Her eyes widened like that of a deer in headlights.

''Stop playing dumb.''

''Playing dumb?''

Natasha took one good look at her and knew she wasn't going to give in. Katya could play the innocent persona as long as she wished to, no matter what threat Natasha would sling at her head. Torture training as a kid clearly worked better for her. The only thing she had to do was grunt a bit and Natasha was a goner.

A groan of frustration filled the garage. This was cruelty in the most ruthless way. Dangling the richest, most tasteful, most expensive wine in front of an alcoholic but not letting them have a taste. Collecting all her self-control, Natasha backed away, stalking off without so much as another word.

Katya snickered proudly, smirking as she turned back to the squat rack. Her plan was going amazingly so far. These weren't the only tricks up her sleeve.

The torture continued throughout the day. She was doing the dishes? She accidentally got the front of her shirt all wet, and didn't happen to wear a bra. The dinner table needed a good clean? She was bent all over that thing trying to get the spots in the middle. She was vacuuming? She was on her hands and knees on the floor trying to vacuum underneath the couch.

Wherever Natasha went, she also miraculously had to be. The redhead could not escape her. It was torture training. But in a way she'd never been tortured before.

The weapons on her hands had gone from ''the funniest things ever'' to ''I'm going to rip my whole nail off if it means I get to stuff my hand down her pants''. She couldn't take it anymore. Sexual frustration built and built until her stomach was in a permanent knot and her hands were constantly sweaty.

Two hours before Maya was meant to be coming home, Natasha couldn't take it anymore. The groans, grunts, and sighs, and the positions Katya bent her body in finally pushed her over the edge.

Fine, her wife had won. But taking a hit to her ego and pride was worth it if she could finally get her hands between those legs.

She didn't even bother soaking her nails off. She simply took nail cutters to them and cut them all off as short as possible. Then she filed them down roughly, paying extra attention to the middle three fingers of her left hand, and tossed everything in the trash.

Katya heard her coming from miles away, her rushed footsteps before Natasha cornered her in the laundry room. She saw them immediately; her nails. Or the lack thereof.

Concerned, she dropped a t-shirt back in the laundry basket, trying to reach for her hands. ''Oh, no, what did you do to your nails?''

But Natasha wasn't taking this innocent bullshit anymore. ''You drive me absolutely nuts. You pest,'' she grumbled. Her voice lacked serious anger as she slowly backed Katya up against the washing machine. Instead, it was laced with reluctant defeat and annoyance. Annoyance at herself.

A sly smile overtook Katya's features as she gripped the edge of the machine for stability. It looked like her wife had been through it. ''Ready to admit you made a mistake then?''

''I hate you.''

Katya chuckled softly. ''You dug your own grave, babe. Worst prank ever. Well, for you then. It was so much fun for me.'' She smirked teasingly as she slowly trailed her fingers up Natasha's arm. The game was still going on. Even now. The glare Natasha sent her was weak at most. ''Don't forget who you're messing with.''

Natasha rolled her eyes, leaning forward to connect their lips, thinking this was it. But Katya jerked her head back, amusement swimming in her eyes.

''Nuh-uh. Say it.''

''Say it?'' The redhead grumbled impatiently, seconds away from throwing a fit.

Katya nodded smugly, her fingers slowly trailing down Natasha's arm. ''I need to hear it. I…''

Natasha clenched her teeth together to swallow back the vile words and accusations that Katya would only laugh at. She didn't think she would be this cruel, giving her dignity another slap in the face by making her vocally admit her mistake like a child. Unfortunately, Natasha didn't have another option.

She squinted her eyes, placing as much displeasure in her words as she could. ''I made a mistake thinking I could outsmart my mean, cruel wife.''

Happy, Katya grinned, grabbing Natasha's hips to pull them flush against her own. This victory tasted sweeter than her chocolate cake downstairs. She won April Fools'. And she didn't even have to do anything for it. ''You know, it's really not my fault you get so riled up.''

Natasha usually loved to bicker, but she couldn't take it anymore. Her gaze kept drifting down from Katya's eyes to her lips when she talked, and if she wouldn't get her mouth or hands on her body right this instant, she was going to explode. ''Respectfully, shut up. You had your fun, now it's time for mine.''

''Yeah, those nails aren't going up there looking like that.''

#katandnat #katyaromanoffpetrova #forgotten ghost series #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!oc #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #black widow #marvel #mcu #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #natasha romanoff fluff

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c-t-r-l14 · 29 days

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This Audio Is SICKENING.

Ya’ll—I don’t even know where to begin.

When I tell you that I physically FLINCHED upon seeing Alex’s face in the thumbnail, the way my heart started beating, the way I started SHAKING while putting my AirPods in—you guys would’ve thought that I’ve gotten some terrible news or something. And—I don’t even know what’s CRUELER—the fact that Saku posted this audio on April Fools day, making us go back and forth between “is this cannon?” or “nah, this is definitely a joke!” Or him making it all lovey dovey at first, giving us a false sense of security—waiting for us to finally let our guard down so he could get ready to strike. But I do know that it broke me, and made me feel for listener even more.

I think one of the biggest reasons why it broke me so much was because we can see how much listener blames themselves. How much they think the breakup is all their fault.

And you can see how much its impacted them.

You see the thing with Alex is that he is really, really bad with communication. He’s rather quiet about how he feels, and doesn’t voice it out loud. A person like this—who doesn’t talk about their own feelings, who’d rather stay silent—usually are alone with their own thoughts. And that’s when things get rocky, especially in a relationship. One of the things that I noted in the break up audio (besides all the gaslighting, manipulation, and reality distortion), was the fact that Alex has had that argument on his mind ever since it happened, and not ONCE has he said something about it until the day they broke up. He was alone with his thoughts the entire time up to that point—mulling over the argument, his feelings, his future—and I feel like him doing this, instead of actually talking to listener to see how things can work out deadass lead him to believing that they couldn’t be together, which lead him to not tell them about the job offer until the very last minute. I wholeheartedly believe that if he sat down with them, and told them—“hey, I know you said sorry, but I still feel like shit because you made me feel this way,” if the thoughts got to be too much, then maybe things would’ve been better. But he didn’t—and just like listener, he assumed the worst, and on top of that— gave up without even trying to fight for the person he claimed to love so much. Instead, all he did was make excuses, act hypocritically, gaslight them, and blame them for everything—all the while not realizing that there was a whole bunch of things HE could’ve done better too.

And we can see how much it took a toll on listener—considering the fact that they were ridden with so much guilt that can’t even sleep well at night.

I can feel how much they hate themselves through Alex’s words as he tore into them, and this is honestly partly Alex’s fault, because he reduced them to a mistake they made. Dream Alex (who will now be referred to as DA from now on) was taunting listener—and throwing the words Alex said to them during the break up back to them. He kept on reminding them of their mistakes, and that THEY are the reason why he left. He kept on reminding them of the worst parts of themselves—and that’s high key what Alex did during the break up too. I feel like we all need to acknowledge that what DA said to listener in this audio is most definitely not a reflection of the way the real Alex would talk and act—simply because DA is a figment of listener’s imagination. And since listener is filled with so much hurt and heartbreak right now, of course their own guilt and self hatred is going to distort how things operate in their mind. So, let’s not take the things he has said at face value.

Listener has a lot to work on. Their trust issues left a wound that ran deeper than they initially thought. In a way, they are too much in their own head as well—and do end up going to the worst case scenario, and this behavior stems from the trauma they sustained from their former partner. This leads them to do irrational things, like invading Alex’s privacy and accusing him of stuff that only happened in their head.

Both of them have a lot of shit they need to work on. Alex needs to learn how to actually talk about how he feels, learn how to take accountability for the things he’s done wrong, and maybe grow a damn backbone, and listener needs to go get some damn therapy, get their trust issues sorted out, and learn all the facts before they come at people with any assumption they might have about them. I feel like this dream was kind of the point where listener realizes that they simply just can’t let their relationship end like this, because through this dream sequence, they realize that there was still a lot of stuff that was left unsaid, and are now seeking for some closure. I think now it’s the best time to go for it, considering that Alex apparently didn’t go to NYC and stayed in London instead (this is still very much unclear). And I am hoping and praying that his ass has the same nightmare listener had as well. Listener can’t be the only one who has a wake-up call (pun intended).

Their downfall was caused because these two idiots don’t know how to convey their emotions to each other properly. They could’ve had it all if one just actually opened their damn mouth to speak, and the other would just simply think before they open theirs.

This confrontation can go two ways: they cut each other loose and go about their own lives, or they find a way to make it work, (granted that they are BOTH willing to work on themselves).

Do I think their relationship is a lost cause? I don’t know. Something tells me that this probably isn’t the end, and a part of me (as much as I talk shit about how much I want listener to be an absolute bad bitch and leave him to drown in his regret), doesn’t want it to be the end.

With this being said, I still don’t like Alex. It’s gonna take much more than a damn walk down memory lane with a bizarre, brutal, dream version of him to get me to like him again.

Oh and by the way, Saku if you’re reading this—sleep with one eye open tonight.

Masterlist

#zsakuva alex #zsakuva #alex zsakuva #why did the beginning make me miss him a lil!??#this audio was so damn sad bro #poor listener dude #I still don’t like Alex though #sakuverse #They are both hurting #as much shit as I talk tho #I want them to end up happy together #this shit actually broke my heart

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northwest-cryptid · 1 month

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Hey all, sorry for hitting a depressive slump lately. I was planning a whole April fools stream and various things regarding collabs but a lot of that has fallen through unfortunately due to health complications. Those same health complications are making my employer refuse to give me hours, and he's had me on unpaid medical leave that he refuses to take me off of until a doctor clears me for work; which they won't because I have long form mold exposure infections due to working in the back rooms where they have really bad mold problems they refuse to do anything about.

This is all to say that I'm unfortunately dealing with a ton of bills coming due this month and I genuinely literally have -$100 in my bank account. I have done fund raising streams and such in the past when I've desperately needed money and I've always felt awful about them. I hate asking others for money, it doesn't sit right with me. However when I made the post mentioning my financial situation there were a few individuals who specifically either replied to the post directly or asked in my inbox/DMs if I happened to have a donation link.

The thought hadn't crossed my mind because I'm someone who would rather just say "I'll figure it out" when in reality I have no idea how I'm going to get out of this. I can't go back to work without a doctor's note, I can't even get to a doctor without money; I have rent, credit card payments, and car payments due on the 2nd and I'm already $100 in the red. I'm stressed beyond belief and at this point, as much as I hate to ask for anything. If anyone is WILLING and has spare funds, anything helps. I've dug up my old Ko-fi if you'd like to make any sort of donation. Thank you to everyone who has shown support and concern for me, it's nice to know there are people out there who are in some way willing and able to help with this sort of thing.

If you'd like to donate and help me out, the link to do so is: https://ko-fi.com/nwcryptid

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toji-girl · 2 months

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for hire | s. hanma

synopsis: Being a model was harder than you expected, trying to get an agency to hire you seemed to be the main issue that is until you meet the infamous Shuji Hanma.

wc: 2k

tag: dark content + 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + not beta read + repost from my old blog + your model name is vixen + blow job + consensual picture taking + noncon video recording + I think that's all + reblogs & comments are appreciated + for kinktober '23 | I've posted this before but it's one of my favorites I've ever done so I'm reposting it!

Everything inside you was exhausted, worn down to the bone really, no matter how many modeling gigs you applied for every single one rejected you for one reason or another after you finally got your career up and running only for it to come crashing back down it felt like.

However, things really never seemed to go the way you thought because as soon as you were about to click the ‘apply here’ on the screen your manager called to deliver more bad news that you knew was about to be said, you almost didn’t answer.

“Shuji Hanma wants you to model for him! Jewelry of the sort and maybe some lingerie if you’re comfortable with that!” Her voice crackled from her high-pitched squeal, no hi or hello like usual.

Your eyebrows pinched together in confusion, was this a joke? It has to be because there is no way she was serious, the Hanma wanting to photograph you? There has to be some sort of condition or something to this whole thing.

“It’s not April Fools.”

She tutted and shook her head clicking the video chat button and leaning back watching your face pop up with a look of uncertainty. “I know that, I’m serious. I guess he saw you in a file.”

You stared back at her and stood from your couch heading straight to your bedroom unable to wrap your head around it still. “I haven’t been able to get any job for months and now Hanma wants to photograph me?”

“Yes, how many times do I need to tell you this? I sent you everything over via email and it was signed off by him, not his assistant.”

If you had to count how many times you’ve read the email you wouldn’t be able to give anyone a correct number, by now you memorized it and were able to recite it when you did your daily tasks.

Dear, Vixen.

That’s the name I was given by your manager and after seeing the pictures she sent over I knew I had to have you in front of my camera, everything you need will be delivered to your house Thursday evening. Please show up at my studio the following night at seven p.m. sharp, and a car will be there to pick you up. Wear one of the outfits and sets when you arrive.

Thursday night you sat on your couch bouncing your leg up and down waiting for the knock to come on your front door, the thought of wearing only jewelry while Shuji took photos of you made your stomach curl into itself, not to mention your nipples tightening against your shirt.

You’ve seen plenty of pictures of him plastered all around, and he’s very sexy, but you also know he was part of a gang growing up, something he was sure to boast about, and the thrill of being with a bad boy was enough for you to send him an email back stating you’d be there.

A knock pulled you from your thoughts, quickly you got up and made it to your front door in record time to grab the box from the delivery person with a grin as you scribbled your name and took the package inside, once the door was shut you stared down at feeling warmth flush through you.

Just as quick as you stood up and you sat back down leaning into the cushions and tearing into it, the thin paper that kept the clothes and jewelry intact you were careful about taking them each out and laying them on your couch wondering if you should call your manager but didn’t want her to ruin the moment so you decided against it.

“Oh, my.” Your mouth dropped open seeing the diamonds shining under the harsh light of your living room, your fingers stroked them watching them glitter as you moved to the other set, most were earrings, necklaces, and a few bracelets but it mostly seemed to be sets of them.

You moved from the jewelry to the clothes carefully to unfold them to get a better view. “No way in hell.” You muttered to yourself looking at the crotchless panties paired with a see-through bralette, soon enough more fabric joined the pile and it was a bunch of lacy and silky and frilly outfits, one skimpier than the last until you were wondering what the point of the last outfit was.

The different colored fabrics along with the jewelry boxes sat on your couch overnight and all day until six pm the night until you were quick to pick the one that didn’t show everything you had to offer, with your trench coat on and shoes you stepped outside looking for the car Shuji sent.

Shuji was demanding even in his email. You noted he only used please once, and you knew he was a man who was used to getting what he wanted whenever he wanted, your blood fizzled in your veins as the car pulled away from the curb driving into the heart of the city.

You watched out the window growing excited at the prospect of this launching your career, it could either make or break it so you were down to do whatever Shuji told you to do at this point, and it didn’t help you find him extremely attractive and with his tattoos, you wanted to know if he could punish you.

Thoughts of his open palm striking your bare ass melted away when the car stopped in front of a highrise building, it looked modern and sleek with dark tinted windows and a bright sign on the side but from here you couldn’t make out whatever it said.

Soon you were shuffled into a small room by yourself which screamed expensive, everything was bathed in a maroon and gold aesthetic and the couches you were sure cost more than the whole building you lived in, so you opted to walk around the room instead while ooking at the million pictures on the wall until you you heard a door click and heels on the floor.

“Vixen?”

You turned to come in direct contact with Shuji, his strong cologne overwhelming you as he peered at you through his glasses sizing you up as you almost swallowed your tongue nodding at him. “Yes, and you’re Shuji Hanma?”

“The one and only, let’s get started. What are you wearing under the trench coat?”

He turned on his heel and walked through the double heavy doors guiding you into his studio which was different than his waiting room, the room was modern and sleek with hints of gray and white peaking out from the dark colors. “One of the outfits you sent.”

“Good girl, now let’s get started, are you wearing any of the necklaces?”

His use of ‘good girl’ made your cheeks pool with heat as you looked over at the couch he was referring to, you made your way over on slightly wobbly knees and sat down taking your coat off. “I am, yes.”

Shuji turned around from his desk to look at you with his camera in his hand, his shirt now unbuttoned midway as he listened to you. With long quick strides, he stood in front of you, towering really as he bent at the waist hovering above you.

You could smell the whiskey on his breath that fanned over your face, he grinned as his fingers touched the jewelry lifting it up off your neck, Shuji was sure to touch you but barely. “I’ve seen your other shoots, and those poor bastards didn’t know how to capture your beauty.”

“Oh?” You squeaked unsure what else to say, the proximity of him being this close and his smell all you could think about what he looked like under his clothes. He nodded and stood up again to help put you into position.

He crouched down in front of you snapping a few pictures before another change, this time you were bent over with your ass on full view. “They make these heart-shaped plugs for that cute hole of yours, would you be interested in that?”

With the choice of underwear he could see everything you had to offer and it made him twitch with wanton desire, did he stalk you a bit before this after seeing your file show up on his desk a few months ago? Maybe. Something about you called to him and he was a greedy bastard who wanted what he did and he always got it.

You’re so cute and fell into his trap letting him lift your hips up so he could graze his hard-on against you, or when he needed you in a different outfit you let him dress you like his own personal doll. “This is the one, and after I’ll give you payment for your time.”

Shuji set you on his desk this time, showing off the bracelet you wore, your hand resting on your breasts as he stared at them. “Can I give you something as a thank you?” You asked once he put everything away except for one small video recorder but you didn’t know that.

“Thank me?” He asked with a chuckle as he sank down on the couch watching you meekly walk over to him, his presence made you want to submit and do whatever he said it was to do, not only did he make you feel like the only girl in the world but the touches left you wanting more.

You dropped to your knees still clad in his favorite outfit rubbing his thighs with a shy nod. “Yeah, you know for helping me with this? You’re so big and everyone knows you, you helped me a lot.”

Shuji chuckled darkly as he patted your head like a dog with a smirk. “Then get to it, you were very obedient and listened well.” He watched you unzip his pants before glancing at the camera making sure it was angled to get the whole thing, it wasn’t for anyone else to see but himself.

He would use the video later to jerk himself off in his bed before calling you to see if you were busy, but for now, he was going to let you blow him or whatever it was you were going to do, you pulled his cock out after taking his belt off. Shuji’s cock matched him, pretty as hell.

It was on the slender side but still had enough girth to make you feel full and the length to bully your g-spot, your eyes went into the shapes of hearts you were sure as you wrapped your fingers around his shaft giving him a few experimental jerks before lifting yourself up more off the floor to suck on his head.

Shuji watched you fully now, his eyes trained on your lips wrapped around him and the pretty diamonds glittering as you hollowed your cheeks out letting your spit dribble down making a mess, he groaned when you took him to the back of your throat gagging. He wanted more and fast, so with his hand on your head you let him control everything.

His studio was filled with wet sucking sounds and you moaning around him like you were getting pleasure from this, your hands cupped his balls making it messy and sloppy, the sloppiest you’ve ever done for any guy in your life, your drool covered your chin and tits now making them shine under the light.

He was quick to move his hand to cup the back of your head thrusting his hips up further gagging you lewdly, the way you sputtered around him made him grin. “You can handle it, you’re doing so well for me.”

With his praise you amped up your performance making out with his flushed head and tapping it against your tongue while looking up at him, the shy reserved woman he first met was nothing like the woman you are now sucking his cock like there was no tomorrow.

His balls tightened when you used your spit to jerk him off while bobbing your head up and down sitting on the balls of your feet to suck him in deeper until you heard him groan deep in his chest. “Such a good little cock sucker, might make you my professional one.”

Little did you know when you pulled away swallowing it all he got it on video, he leaned in capturing your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Need a new job?”

#tw: dark content #tw: noncon recording #shuji hanma smut #hanma smut #shuji x reader smut #hanma shuji x reader smut #hanma x reader smut #tr shuji smut #shuji smut #shuji hanma x reader smut #Hanma smut #Shuji Hanma x reader smut #Hanma Shuji smut #tokyo revengers smut

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cleolinda · 23 days

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Weekend links, April 7, 2024

My posts

This week feels like it has been a hundred years long (not in a bad way).

Somehow we joined together to balance the seesaw just right so Ava Gardner and Jean Seberg could both go through in the Hot Vintage Lady polls (percentages rounded). Like, I’m wearing the Ava jersey and even I encouraged people to vote Jean when necessary. Honestly, I just wanted to see if it could be done. And it COULD.

Round three has begun. It is already horrific. This is the first round that’s really going to hurt because we spent the last one really getting down in the dirt and championing our ladies, or learning about actresses we’d never heard of before and getting attached to them. And now? We are reminded: memento mori. Everyone loses but one.

(I personally pitched in for Sara Montiel. “BUT JUST LOOK AT--” Yeah, I did, thanks.)

Reblogs of interest

April Fool’s Day: You were here for the Boopening, yes? The whole thing was that you only got badges for giving boops, not receiving them, which is a great way to not reward popularity contests, but also means that every last one of us was out here trying to figure out who to bap with a cat’s paw 1000 times. I said, listen, my notifications are already trash garbage today. I’ll take the bullet. Boop at will.

The Activity graph isn’t too clear on this point, but it looks like I had something like 65,000--hits? engagements? boops?--that day. Listen, I got the black paw badge too. We all did what we had to do in the Boopening.

A Shakespearean boop of goodly length: “And, Meowntague, come you this afternoon, to know our further pleasure in this case, to old Food-bowl, our common judgment-place.”

I had to go lie down awhile after a pun like “The Purrge.”

I had just gotten up from that pun and then I had to go lie down again.

Account security gothic

The Canada griffin

Dinotopia nostalgia

Two pairs of spectacles, one made from slices of emerald, and the other from slices of diamond

An old favorite: Cerberus as a puppy, guarding the gates to heck

I feel like these two posts have the same energy: Time cops will not let you travel back to the Titanic and bloodthirsty gazebos are currently in a dormancy period.

The birds are still troubled

PSA: The best sunscreens for your face

Video

A collection of various American Indian/indigenous American languages, including Navajo, Tlingit, Lakota, Colville Okanagan Salish, Cherokee, Yucatec Maya, Greenlandic, Mohawk, Yup'ik, and Mi'kmawi'simk.

A trans health-and-wellness fundraiser (Mercury Stardust, Point of Pride, and friends) kept getting banned off Tiktok due to assholes. Here’s how to donate; I saw a few “here’s how they helped me” notes, so it seems like these programs are both legit and effective.

You think you’re going to sit staring at this video because Chocolate Guy is weaving chocolate. Then you get into it, and it just keeps going.

“Too Sweet” is doing hilariously well on the charts for a song that didn’t even make the album proper. Hozier’s bees would like to thank you for your support.

I know I said that Stevie Nicks would make you sing backup on your own haunting, but late in this 1997 live performance of “Silver Springs,” she makes Lindsey Buckingham, the man she wrote this song about, look her in the eye while she belts it at him. This specific performance was released as a single (I was there, Gandalf) and nominated for a Grammy. Watch the video and you will see why.

The Women Those ‘Evolution Of Beauty’ Videos Leave Out

I don’t really know how to describe this rubberhose-style cartoon of Cab Calloway as a singing nightmare clown. Betty Boop is also there. “You just described it!” No, I really didn’t.

How movable type worked 1000 years ago, from scratch.

Unrestrained seasonal yak fun

A snowy raven photoshoot

The sacred texts

I don’t know how to explain this double Sacred Text about ominous dreams that comes with its own comic, except to say that they’re so iconic that I first saw both posts in lo-res Pinterest screencaps.

April Fool’s: The ultimate sacred text.

Personal tag of the week

Wet beast Wednesday, which had both a headshake stickflip and bears on a swan boat.

#weekend links #odds and ends #linkspam

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morning-sun-brah · 1 year

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Below is my TMNT Master List, but I have some thoughts I wanted to make sure were apparent since this post is pinned!

So! Thoughts/rules of engagement for this blog.

- Saying hello is always great! And asks are fine too! That said, I cannot promise I will always respond, nor that I will write anything for an ask. It’s gonna have to really speak to me.

-I write a lot of smut! I am a whole adult! Anything I write with explicit content is between consenting adults and will be tagged as such. PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW ME IF YOU ARE A MINOR. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG! If you are here for the Rise/HP Crossover, follow my secondary blog that is SFW, here!

- Pro BLM, LGBTQIA+, Woman/Feminism.

-This blog is pro LGBTQIA+ and will not tolerate any homophobia or terf talk. Period. Easiest way in the world to get a block is if I see even a hint of terf leanings from a person engaging over here. I am currently in the midst of a Rise/HP Crossover and we are UNKIND to the original author. If you share any of JK's opinions concerning the validity of Trans Women and Men, this blog isn't for you! Anything HP related I highly recommend you steal. Do not give that monster any of your money.

🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢

TMNT Master List!

So, I'm not sure that I have *quite* enough works to justify this, but I'm gonna do it anyway and just keep adding to it! Fic's are linked under the cut!

*The turtles are all adults in the NSFW fics*

🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢

Rise TMNT:

When I Say Forever NSFW, Leo x Reader

Nothing to Say SFW, no romantic pairing, Leo and Casey, angst

Thick Thighs Save Lives- Part 1 NSFW, Donatello x Reader

Thick Thighs Ruin Lives- Part 2 NSFW, Donatello x Reader

Thick Thighs Attract Eyes- Part 3 PREQUEL! SFW(ish), Donatello x Reader

Thick Thighs No Lies- Part 4 NSFW, Donatello x Reader

Worth the Wait NSFW, Leo x Reader, fits into the Thick Thighs Storyline but can be read as a standalone

A Romantic Comedy, Starring Leo Splinterson SFW(ish)- (cursing, mild description of medical procedures, some angst), Leo x OC, any smut will be presented as one shots, multi-chaptered, ongoing

On a Scale from One to America NSFW(ish), Leo x Reader, Entry for the All 4-1 Challenge, I chose the prompt; Reader continually uses TERRIBLE pick up lines on your choice of turtle, trying to drop the hint.

Send it NSFW, Tactical!Donnie x Spotter! Reader, inspired by all of @donathan's tactical art- go and follow them!

Once More, With Feeling (Tactical Donnie Part 2!) NSFW Tactical!Donnie x Spotter! Reader

And They Were Thick Thighed Lab Partners NSFW, Donnie x Reader, A collab with the fantastic @buthowboutno! It... it might be an April Fool's fic. BUT, if you stick with the cringe, there's real smut towards the end lol. ALSO!! There is a podfic! You can listen to it here!

Silk NSFW, Mikey x Male OC, Long hair Mikey and his journey from enemies to lovers.

Marked NSFW, Donnie x Reader, A gift for @unknownfanartist. Eventually will have a second chapter. Hate sex with a little bit of feelings at the end.

Hunger Pains NSFW, Donnie x Reader, A gift for @unknownfanartist. Donnie enjoys his favorite meal.

Spare Change NSFW, Donnie x Kendra (Kendratello), Complete, 2 chapters.

RISE! COWBOY/WESTERN AU (ongoing);

This is a series that was SUPPOSED to be a two-chapter fic about Donnie robbing a train. It is... no longer that.

Flight of the Dove NSFW, Donnie x OC, COWBOY/OLD WEST AU. The series is currently ongoing. Companion art is done by the absolute gem that is @unknownfanartist

The Pigeon's Perch NSFW, Leo x OC, COWBOY/OLD WEST AU. The series is currently ongoing. Companion art is done by @gemini-forest

Of Starlings and Sparrows NSFW, Raph x OC (OC is owned by @beckerboopin), COWBOY/OLD WEST AU.

art by @unknownfanartist

RISE! HARRY POTTER CROSSOVER AU (ongoing);

Until I Reach You Again, a ROTTMNT/Harry Potter Crossover, Collaborative Work with @alycornz, and @stormy-nyx SFW- (cursing, mild canon typical violence, general unkindness for JK Rowling because she is a terrible human).

Bay! TMNT:

This will probably have ~more~ because I do love these boys.

Like You Mean It NSFW, Raphael x Reader, A gift for @turtle-babe83 and a "tumblr exclusive" Whoo!!

03 TMNT:

Aaaalllll the way back on 2007 I wrote a Reader x OC fic. It was finished, but since it's 16 years old the plan was to re-write it on AO3 and make it less terrible. It is a slow process and it may not even happen considering how fixated I am on the rise-verse atm, but if you wanted to cringe you could find it on ff net. Either way, the one I am updating is linked below!

A Light in the Dark NSFW (eventually), Raphael x OC

#rise of the tmnt fanfiction #leonardo x reader #rise leo x reader #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt x harry potter crossover #rise of the tmnt harry potter crossover #fanfiction #donatello x reader #03 tmnt #03 raphael x reader #raphael x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2k3 #2k3 ninja turtles fanfiction #pwp #rottmnt fanfiction

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jesuisici33 · 5 months

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2023 Writing Round Up!

Writing Round-Up: Share what you wrote this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you wrote or just the ones your most excited about.

i honestly didn't think i wrote/published a lot of fic this year, but that actually turned out to be a lie when i went back and checked out my stats this year so i'm pleastantly surprised and impressed with myself! so here's my writing round up!

January

Drabble Life 2023 - Jan 2nd, 2023 - (Schitt's Creek, 1.9k)

new year, new drabbles! drabbles based on weekly prompts from schittscreekdrabbleblog on tumblr

A Lesson in Flirting - Jan 3rd, 2023 (Schitt's Creek, Teen, 1.9k)

a 5+1 fic where patrick is oblivious when women flirt with him and 1 time where he knows when a man flirts with him

Public Relations - finished Jan 31st, 2023 (Schitt's Creek, E, 38k)

Patrick Brewer and Rachel Davis are everyone's favorite rom-com actors, and since this is the sixth time they're playing a couple and with the public demanding when they're going to start dating, their PR manager, Alexis Rose has them perform a PR relationship for two years to help promote their latest movie. Patrick, however has recently been casted in the new book to series adaption of The Thief and the Prince alongside David Rose, making his fake relationship with Rachel go into jeopardy

February

Month of Love - all month long (Schitt's Creek, 11.8k)

My attempt at doing 28 drabbles in 28 days!

Patrick vs. The Sexy Vets - Feb 7th, 2023 (Schitt's Creek, Teen, 461 words)

"Smiling quizzically at Dr. Miguel, Patrick was about to ask what he meant but his question died on his tongue when Miguel set the kennels down so he could take off his shirt."

Or, a little drabble of what if Patrick was there when Miguel shot that photo for that add of his?

April

Keep My Hands Tied - April 4th, 2023 (Schitt's Creek, E, 2.4k)

Right now David was on his knees in his and Patrick’s bedroom, taking steadying breaths as Patrick loped the blue rope around David’s body slowly around him. It wasn’t often David asked Patrick to dominate him. When they first got together, David found out his inclination of Patrick to be slightly wrong. But the way Patrick said, “Oh, I’m gonna get the money,” or, “You’re going to sit here and think about what you’ve done,” that time when they got back together… That tone never failed to leave David’s vivid imagination or fantasies.

June

What We Don't See At The 118 - June 20th, 2023 (911, 381 words)

Prompts I've received on tumblr*

*lol this only has one entry so far, this fic was supposed to be for little drabbles but some prompts i've recieved have grown to one-shots in my wip folder whoops

It's Photoshop - June 30th, 2023 (911:Lonestar, Teen, 567 words)

TK meets a friend who also likes bearded dragons. And Carlos' secret comes out.

July

cause i believe that we were supposed to find this- July 10th, 2023 (911: Lonestar, Teen, 3.2k)

As soon as they are at the scene a cop is already there waiting for him. He’s younger than TK expected. He greets his dad before letting him take the lead of the scene. TK doesn’t get a good look at him, doesn’t bother interacting with him - too busy to do his job of getting Allison out of her car. In fact, he even forgets about the timer on his wrist.

If he did, he would’ve noticed that the countdown is less than a minute.

When the 126 find out that Allison has another baby - one not still inside her - it doesn’t take long for Paul to figure out the baby miraculously landed in a tree. And isn’t that a news story. The cop comes up to TK and asks, “How the hell-” when two distinct buzzing sounds go off.

Both men look down at their wrists.

Or, you're born with a timer on your wrist that counts down to when you meet your soulmate.

Castles Crumbling Down- July 14th, 2023 (911, Teen, 1.5k)

Eddie sits down on the bench, laying his head back against the cold stone wall. With his eyes closed and arms crossed, he hopes it fools the guards into thinking Eddie is more calm than he really is. That they can’t tell how much his heart is pounding or how his skin itches to start punching things. Again. Just like how they found him when his hood fell off and people let out cries that the Princess Assassin is here amongst them.

OR: i had a tumblr prompt in my ask box and when i watched nimona things finally clicked.

You Can Take the Man Out of the Midwest... - July 29th, 2023 (911, G, 1k)

At first, Bobby gets trolled for all things midwest, it isn't until later he can use his teammates non midwest knowledge to his advantage...

September

yes i know that he's my ex but can't two people reconnect? - Sept 25, 2023 (911:Lonestar, E, 2.8k)

seeing him tonight - it's a bad idea, right?

(fuck it, it's fine)

tagged by @wikiangela and @hippolotamus

tagging @malewifediaz @911-on-abc @eddiebabygirldiaz @monsterrae1 @daffi-990 @rmd-writes @spotsandsocks @liminalmemories21 @aroeddiediaz @disasterbuckdiaz @loserdiaz @giddyupbuck @bonheur-cafe @wandering-night19 @alrightbuckaroo @tyfinn @lizzie-bennetdarcy @your-catfish-friend @pirrusstuff @carlos-in-glasses @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @eowon @apothecarose @mammameesh @heartshapedvows @fortheloveofbuddie @cultofsappho

#can you tell when college got the better of me? lol #anyways hopefully the writing bug will bite me again soon!

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suddencolds · 8 months

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Fool Me Twice [5/?]

Hello, remember this series? This chapter took me like six months to write. It was very embarrassing opening up the google doc again to see that the last edit was in April (back when I rewrote this chapter from scratch five times over before giving up entirely.) Anyways, I need to post it before I lose my nerve. 😭

Part 5 ft. fake dating, a cold, and an intervention

You can read part 1 [here]! (No context is needed aside from the previous 4 parts).

—

The drive to Good Day Diner is uneventful. Francesca recommended it to him awhile back, when they were both still in college, and he’s been trying to puzzle out their recipes ever since. Though, even with the ones where he’s come close, he rarely has the time to make them properly, in between work and everything else, so he’s been back here a few times since then.

Yves picks up two pint-sized containers worth of soup—chicken farro and miso with ginger—and strikes up a conversation with the cashier while he waits.

“This isn’t your usual order,” she says.

“Yeah,” Yves says. “It’s for a friend.”

“They’re a fan of miso?” Yves considers this. They’ve gone to more than a couple work outings together, and though Yves hasn’t paid particularly close attention to what everyone else has ordered, he thinks he remembers Vincent getting miso salmon on one occasion, a few weeks back. “I’m not sure,” he says. “I hope so.”

“Your friend didn’t tell you their order?”

“He doesn’t know I’m getting dinner for him. I just happened to be passing by, so I thought I might as well.” That part’s not entirely true—the restaurant is a twenty minute drive from the office, and it’s not really on the way home, either.

“So it’s a surprise,” the girl says, leaning back with a smile that looks a little too knowing for Yves’s liking. Whatever she thinks she’s figured out, he’s sure she has the wrong idea. “That’s awfully nice of you.”

“It’s not like that,” Yves says. “We aren’t that close. I’m not even sure if he’ll be happy to see me.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s done a lot for me, and I think—” I think I might’ve repaid him in the most ungrateful way possible, his mind supplies unhelpfully. “I think all I’ve done, in return, is cause him trouble.”

The girl finishes ladling soup into the containers and reaches over the counter for two caps. “Usually when people do a lot for you, that means they like you.”

“Or it means they’re just really nice,” Yves says. “I think that’s closer to it.”

“So you’re getting him soup because you feel indebted to him?” She sets the soup containers carefully into a brown paper bag, slips in two plastic sleeves worth of utensils, then slides it towards him.

“Something like that,” Yves says, taking the bag from her. “Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes the next time I’m back. Have a good one!”

“You too,” she says. “I hope your friend appreciates it.”

It’s not as nice as treating Vincent to dinner, but maybe what Vincent needs right now is convenience, not luxury. if he’s already made up his mind about working late, then at least he can work late with dinner on the side. Yves doesn’t even have to talk to him, really. He can just leave the soup on Vincent’s desk with a note, as unobtrusively as possible, and then take his leave again.

The drive back is shorter than expected. Yves turns on the radio, if only to not be left with just his thoughts, and listens to the newscaster talk about traffic, and the weather, and a local festival that’s going to be held on friday. When he puts the car into park and pulls the keys out from the ignition, the silence that follows is not reassuring in the least.

He pockets his keys and heads up the stairs, into the office building, and takes the elevator up to the fifth floor. The office is well-lit, even this late at night—it gives the impression of it being perpetually daytime, even though the clock on the wall says otherwise.

He takes a post-it note off of Cara’s desk, scrawls on: Figured you wouldn’t have time to get dinner, so I got you soup, and signs it: -Y. He sticks the note onto the paper bag, regards it for a moment, and then—after reconsidering—staples it on, just in case.

Then he heads off—past rows and rows of desks, around the corner and through the hallway, past the break room, to stop at the doorway which overlooks the room where Vincent sits.

Vincent is still at his desk, paging through documents with one hand, scrolling through what looks to be a long list of email correspondences with the other. From this distance, it’s hard to tell that anything is off, except—

He looks exhausted. It’s subtle, but once Yves notices it, he can’t stop noticing it. It’s present in the way Vincent holds himself, as if the wiry frame of the office chair is the only thing keeping him properly upright. It’s in the way he blinks hard at his monitor, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if he’s been staring at it for hours.

There’s a mug of what looks to be black coffee on his desk, half empty but still steaming, which seems to imply that he plans on staying much later. Yves clears his throat.

“Still working hard?” he says.

Vincent’s gaze snaps up to where Yves is standing. “Yves,” he says. “I thought you left.”

“I did.”

“Did you forget something here?” Vincent dog-ears the page he’s flipped to, then sets the stack of papers off to the side. “I can help you look.”

“No,” Yves says. “Well, not exactly. I know you said you didn’t want to be bothered. I promise I’ll be out of here soon.”

“Okay,” Vincent says, expectantly.

“Have you eaten?”

“I ate,” Vincent says. The relief Yves feels, at that statement, is unfortunately short-lasted. “Lunch. A few hours ago.”

“Lunch was eight hours ago.”

“I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“Will you catch up on sleep tomorrow too?”

“If I manage to finish this by then,” Vincent says, “Then yes.”

Yves stares at him. Does Vincent really, truly think there’s nothing wrong with any of this? With whatever sleepless, miserable late-night work session he’s already seemingly resigned himself to? “So what? You’re going to crash on the couch here?”

“I’ll head home around 4,” Vincent says.

4am. “And what? Lay down for fifteen minutes?”

“Three hours, maybe,” Vincent says, turning aside to muffle a cough into his elbow. “I don’t live that far.”

He says all of this in earnest, as though none of it strikes him as even the slightest bit unreasonable. Yves can’t help it—he doesn’t think he could hide the incredulity in his voice even if he tried. “You have to be kidding me.”

Finally, Vincent’s face shifts to show—something. Something other than the utter blankness from before, something past the civil, perfectly drawn business facade. Yves doesn’t have to look for very long to register it as frustration. “What part of my answer was unclear?”

“None of it is unclear,” Yves says. “It’s just… exceptionally unreasonable.”

“By some arbitrary metric of yours, sure.”

“Ask anyone else at the office and they’d agree with me.”

“What you—or anyone else at the office—think about my sleep schedule doesn’t concern me.”

“Let me help,” Yves says. “Please. We’ll get it done twice as fast if I help. Or if you really don’t trust me, hand it off to someone you do trust.”

“There’s no need. It’s my work to get done.”

“You should be at home right now, not working overtime on your first day back,” Yves says. He looks over all of it, now—over the desktop computer and the monitor, the charts and graphs laid out on screen, the piles of paperwork currently occupying Vincent’s desk. There’s a pang in his chest that he hadn’t quite accounted for. “It can’t be pleasant doing all of this with a headache.”

Vincent blinks at him. “What headache?”

“The one you’ve had since before I left.” Vincent can attempt to deny it if he wants. But between Leon, Yves’s younger brother, and Victoire, his younger sister—who’ve caught their fair share of colds throughout the years, between the other members of the crew team he’d spent his 6ams with—who he’s seen frequently tired and occasionally under the weather—Yves thinks he’s well equipped to recognize a headache.

And Vincent looks as put-together as always, for the most part—he looks like he could’ve just walked out of a photoshoot for some classy magazine, his hair neat, his tie done neatly, his suit jacket criminally well-fitted to his shoulders. But Yves doesn’t miss the stiff set of his jaw and the tension strung through his posture, the way he tilts his head ever-so-slightly away from the bright overhead lights as if it hurts to look at them, the way he rubs his eyes or pinches the bridge of his nose, always subtle enough to go unnoticed. The way he holds himself, now, as if it’s taking all of his energy to appear so presentable.

“I don’t,” Vincent starts. “I haven’t—”

“I can tell, you know,” Yves says, a little dejectedly. “I’m pretty sure it’s my fault you have one, anyways.”

Vincent frowns. “Talking to you hasn’t given me a headache.”

“Not that,” Yves says. “But I’d imagine that spending all of New Year’s Eve next to me when I was under the weather might have.”

Yves watches the surprise flicker across Vincent’s face.

“So that’s what this is about?” Vincent says slowly, his eyebrows furrowing. He looks—confused, now, taken aback by Yves’s admission—and then a little sad. “You’re just here because you feel guilty.”

“I do feel guilty,” Yves agrees—that much is true. “But that’s not why I’m here.” he feels hopeless, suddenly, attempting to explain himself to someone who would probably have preferred it if he never bothered. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come. Perhaps it was presumptuous to think that he could help in the first place. “I realize now that I can’t change your mind on any of this. But even if you plan to stay here all night, I— I just thought maybe I could—”

He’s interrupted with a harsh, “hhHh’NGk-t!” which jerks Vincent forward in his seat. Then a soft, wet sniffle, and then another— “Excuse m—Hhh’GKT!”, neatly pinched off into his hands. Vincent’s eyes flutter shut as he cups both his hands over his mouth, his eyebrows drawing together as his shoulders tremble with an inhale: “hih… hiIIh… hI’GKSCHHuuh-! Snf-! hH… HEh’DZSSChhUH!”

It’s immediately followed up with a few harsh, grating coughs which leave Vincent hunched over slightly, his glasses slightly askew, his hands still cupped to his face.

“Bless you,” Yves says, a little stunned.

Vincent doesn’t say anything to that—he just reaches across the desk for a tissue and blows his nose quietly into it, before he discards the tissue into a small metal trash can under the desk. The tips of his ears look a little red.

His throat probably hurts too, Yves realizes, with a jolt. Yves really shouldn’t be prolonging this conversation if he can help it.

“I, uh, brought soup,” he says awkwardly. The paper bag crinkles slightly as he lifts it. “Just so you wouldn’t have to skip dinner entirely. That’s why I was gone earlier. I initially meant to just drop it off here, not—” he clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to argue with you.”

Vincent is quiet for a moment longer. Then he says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Bring you dinner?

“You didn’t have to come back at all.”

“I know that,” Yves says. “But I wanted to.”

Vincent takes the bag from him, lifts the post-it note so he can read the few lines Yves has scrawled onto it. He turns aside to muffle a few coughs into his sleeve. “This must have been a lot of trouble.”

“Not more trouble than attending a New Year’s party on someone else’s behalf, that’s for sure,” Yves says. It’s a wonder that Vincent agreed to that arrangement in the first place—Yves doesn’t know how he’ll even begin to make it up to him. “If we’re keeping count, I still owe you.”

Vincent regards him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I never thought that you owed me.”

“Okay,” Yves says. “Then I’m doing this on my own accord.”

“What do you possibly have to gain from that?”

Is it not obvious enough? Yves sighs. “Nothing. I care about you.”

Carefully, slowly, Vincent opens the bag, shifts his documents over to the other side of the desk, and takes out the two containers of soup. Yves regards them closely—hopefully they’ve still retained most of their warmth, even after the drive here.

“I’m not sure if they’ll be to your taste,” he says, a little sheepishly. “If you tell me what you like, next time I’ll try to keep it in mind.”

“I’m not picky,” Vincent says. He rummages through the paper bag for a spoon. “I think I’d like both of these. Have you eaten already?”

“Not yet,” Yves says. Perhaps he should’ve picked up dinner for himself at Good Day, too—he’d been so preoccupied with getting something for Vincent that he’d forgotten. Either way, it’s inconsequential. There’s probably enough in the fridge to last a day or two before his next grocery run.

“You also got dinner for yourself, right?”

Yves must hesitate for a moment too long.

“That’s a little hypocritical,” Vincent says. “Do you want to pull up a chair?”

“What?”

“You haven’t eaten. You brought two soups.”

“They were both supposed to be for you.”

“You’re already here.” Vincent says. He shuts his laptop and leaves it off to the side, clears a space on the table, and sets the chicken farro soup in front of Yves. As if it really is that simple.

Yves stares down at it, a little perplexed. I thought you didn’t want to speak to me, he wants to say.

“Unless you’d just prefer to take this home,” Vincent says, misinterpreting his silence as hesitation.

“No,” Yves says. “You’re right. I’ll pull up a chair.”

—

Yves ends up dragging over a chair from one of the tables nearby—he makes a mental note to put it back before they leave. Vincent shuts his laptop and leaves it off to the side.

“Now we’re both staying past nine,” Vincent says.

“Yes,” Yves says. “I’ve always wanted to see what this place turns into at night.”

“Does it live up to your expectations?” “It’s a bit of a ghost town,” Yves says. “But not in a bad way. Feels like I could take all the snacks out of the break room and no one would bat an eye.”

“That’s the real reason why I’m here right now,” Vincent says, so deadpan that it barely sounds like a joke. Yves laughs.

Something about this scene—about sitting with Vincent, here, having dinner on the only corner of his office desk that isn’t occupied by documents—feels a little nostalgic.

“This is just like when I first joined,” he says. “When you were helping me with all the onboarding stuff.”

Back when he first joined, Vincent’s desk was a frequent destination. It’s not that Vincent is particularly friendly—it’s more just that Vincent is really, really good. He has expertise in things that he’s only done once in his life, and he can spot mistakes at a glance. He’s patient, too, even though Yves thinks that if the roles had been reversed, anyone teaching Vincent anything would never have to exercise any patience at all.

He can’t blame Angelie for looking to Vincent for help, either. It wasn’t that long ago that Yves was the one hovering at his desk, watching Vincent go through relevant work over his shoulder.

“The first couple weeks are - snf-! - always difficult,” Vincent says. “But you picked things up quickly.”

“I can’t imagine you as a beginner at anything,” Yves muses.

“Everyone’s - snf -! - a beginner at s-some— hH-! Just a second—” Vincent turns his head away sharply, burying his nose into his shoulder before— “hh’GKt-! Hh… Hhh’IIZSCchuhH! snf-! Hh-! hhih… HiH’GKT-!... Hh… hHih… hIH’IKTSHhh’uuh!”

“Bless you,” Yves says reflexively.

“Thank you,” Vincent says, with a small cough, which he muffles into his sleeve. He sighs. His voice has held up pretty well, but Yves can hear the muted edge of congestion in his voice, softening his consonants. “What was that you said to me? ‘You’ll get tired of that phrase really quickly?’”

“I won’t if you get over this cold soon,” Yves says. “Maybe that’s the real reason why I brought soup.”

“So that’s why you’re being suspiciously nice to me,” Vincent says, with a laugh. “I’m relieved to know you’ve had ulterior motives all along.”

Everything gets easier, after that. Vincent seems to enjoy the soup, for the way his eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, after he takes his first bite. (“So I was right to think you’d like miso,” Yves says, and Vincent laughs and says, “Am I really that predictable?”) When Yves offers again to help, after dinner, Vincent wordlessly hands him a small stack of business proposals. It’s not much, but just the fact that he’s agreeing to let Yves help is already a step in the right direction—give Yves an inch, and he’ll take a mile.

Yves looks through all of the documents he’s handed, scrawling notes in the margins, and then goes through another third of the stack of unreviewed paper on Vincent’s desk, while Vincent scrolls through pages of spreadsheets, processing data and creating new graphs. Vincent is almost frighteningly efficient, even when he’s not feeling his best—they lapse into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the occasional, near-inaudible hitch in Vincent’s breath, always followed by a wrenching sneeze, or two.

There’s the coughing, too—always muffled tightly into his sleeve, after Vincent turns to face away from him, which must be exhausting. Yves doesn’t know why he bothers. It’s not as though he can catch this cold again.

(“Bless you,” Yves says, after the tenth-or-so sneeze, trying not to let the concern creep into his voice. “I think the pharmacy near 59th is still open. If you want, I can stop by and grab you something for your symptoms.”

“No need,” Vincent says. “If it - hh-! - gets bad enough, I’ll — Hhh-!”

“Bless you again—”

“hihH’IZSCHhhuh! - snf-! - I’ll get something myself.”

Yves wonders what his metric for bad enough is. Then again, it’s probably better not to press.)

It’s nearly eleven before Yves decides to head home at last.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Vincent says, with a rueful sniffle. “You must be tired.” “Not really,” Yves says. “I usually sleep pretty late. If you’re still feeling this bad tomorrow, take the day off.”

“I’ll think about it,” Vincent says.

Yves sighs. “At the very least, promise me you’ll head home sooner rather than later?”

“No promises,” Vincent says—though at the disapproving look Yves gives him, he amends, “But I’ll try.”

He sounds like he means it, at the very least. Yves supposes he’ll take what he can get.

[ Part 6 ]

#snz fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #i cannot decide if i want to write another chapter of this where vincent gets even worse or if #i should advance their story in the plot sense #i do like these two and want to write more of them in the future if people are still interested in reading more of them :')#my fic #yvverse

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