#silencing women is their hobby | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

danytar · 1 month

Text

“Always” [ Prince!Aegon X Wife!Reader ]

Warnings: expletives, cussing, Unfaithful aegon,fondle breasts,vulgarity,sex,(m receiving), dark aegon,hedonistic, sm jealous ").

Summary: Your loving husband returns to your room in the middle of the night after his exciting adventures in the pleasure houses.

It is known that your husband had a bad reputation in the court even your marriage to him did not prevent him from continuing his bad hobbies It wasn't a very terrible marriage but also not that perfect.

You and your husband have learned to understand each other he was so kind and sweet to you and when it comes to sex he's an expert and never leave you unsatisfied.

But there was a problem.. your jealousy and your possession you wanted him all for yourself something he didn't know and you didn't show. At first It was okay and you didn't have a problem with his actions because no matter how many women he sleeps with, he will always come back to you. he loved you but this was not enough to stop him.

Even though he told you hundreds of times that he loves you and all those whores mean nothing to him, you still insist that he does not love you.. that you was not enough for him.

It was almost the midnight and you were in your chambers lying on your bed with a book in your hands reading in peace the air was cold and the room was a bit dark just the light of candles that are about to go out a little things made your day.

Your soft air was interrupted by the sound of the bedroom doorknob being turned. and there he was as usual a drunk and barely able to walk his clothes were dirty his silver locks were disheveled he smell reeked of sweat and cheap wine, not to mention the women ofc..

“you still awake? Were you waiting for me, my sweet love?”. He barely uttered his words he dragged himself towards your bed.

You put your book aside and sighed in frustration you looked at him with a disappointed look and a slight frown on your lips. “The brothel again?”.

He looked sheepish, his cheeks reddening, but he didn't seem all that remorseful. though, he had the sense to look away from you, his silence confirming that it was, indeed once again the brothel.

“Don't you feel ashamed of your actions? ”. You spoke to him in a serious tone this time because you were really fed up with his actions he was standing close to your bed but he looked at you and then said in a drunken tone:

“Why should I be ashamed? I did nothing wrong...” He laughed, but it was a nervous, shaky laugh.You could just hear him sigh through the silence following his reply.“I-” He pauses “It doesn't mean I dont love you-” He coughs, wiping the wine stained lips on his robes sleeve. “I cant help it... I just-”

“You have made us the laughing stock of the court”. you replied with a heavy sigh. He shrugs slightly, he's never had a problem with being laughed at before, he simply drank that feeling away too. “It doesnt matter... People laugh behind our backs anyway”.

He looks at you through heavy-ish eyes. He doesnt look at you like you are a mother scolding him, he looks at you like he is a boy getting rejected for the first time. It's a pathetic look, but he cant hold eye contact long enough for either of you to comment on it.

“Why are you here aegon? ”.

“What do you mean? Im here because I-” He sighs, his hands gripping the sheets as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “Because I’m your husband!..”

“My husband changes his whores more than his clothes.”

He chuckles at that, finding your bluntness slightly humorous, not to mention it made him feel like he wasn't in such a hard spot. “...Thats not true”. He says, hoping you'll let it go at that.

When he tries to touch you, you move your hands away from him “Don't touch me or something”. you replied In a firm, almost broken voice.

He is visibly hurt by the rejection, but is too exhausted to even show the emotion to its fullest, he only slightly grimaced when you moved your hands away. He tries again, but doesnt say anything, begging you silently to forgive him for once or at least humour a kiss or something.

“You didn't even try to wash yourself off that shit.”

He sighs. “I...” He rubs his eyes, too tired to even say anything. For once in his life, he was at a loss for words. It was like he knew he was too dirty to even deserve a kiss, and yet his desire and desperation to be loved overpowered that.

You quickly grab your book and ignore his presence. Aegon sighs, he didnt want to be ignored, even in the state he was in. “Darling...” He tried to reach for the book, wanting to gain your attention when you didn't answer him, he placed his head on your shoulder and looked at the page you were reading.

He groans slightly, wanting to at least get your attention.“I missed you y/n ” He sighs “Im tired and drunk and-” He pauses as if searching for the right answer, settling on the most honest one. “Lonely”.

“Why didn’t you bring your whores with you? Maybe they would fill your loneliness.” after your comment he feels himself boil, the rage boiling inside him. “Oh come on, its not the same, and you know it! Theyre not you, and they dont fill the void either, you know that...”

“Don't fool me aegon-” You push the sheets off and get out of bed when he saw you doing that he growls “Damn it, you know what Im talking about!”.

He is too tired to properly have this argument and he was trying desperately to get you to understand him. The silence was getting to him and he was starting to get angry and frustrated because he felt himself not being understood. “All I wanted was your company, and the first thing you ask me is about some brothel?!”

“I'm tired of your behavior! you're.... you're...” You paused for a moment to find the right word.

“I’m what?" He snaps, the anger finally boiling out of him. “What am I? Tell me!”

“A WHORE ”.

He scowls, the words stinging him like fire. "Shut your mouth!" He tries to sit up, but the alcohol makes him dizzy as he falls back. "Youre as much of a whore as I am, you know that right?!". He approaches you and grabs your arm tightly Even if he was a drunk, he is still stronger than you.

“You dare talk back to me! maybe I should put you in your place again wife”. He growled into your ear when you try to look at him he slaps you hard. You are surprised by the sudden slap. This is the first time he has raised his hand on you like that.

You do not let the slap go unnoticed, but return it to him harder which causes him to stumble backwards. He growls in pain when you returned his slap with a greater amount of force, his jaw slightly dropping with surprise.

He takes a step backwards, but only because of the sharp pain that shoots across his cheek. He rubs his cheek for a bit, trying to soothe the sting. His eyes turn to you again, and you can still see the anger in his eyes. This was new.

His hand moves from your arm to your face and he grabs your cheek, his thumb feeling over the spot where he had struck you.

He narrows his eyes as he watches you, his thumb rubbing the mark he had left there. He is still filled with the rage of jealousy and bitterness, but he is also filled with sadness. He leans down, bringing his face only an inch from yours.

When you tried to evade his grip, he held you in place and pressed his lips firmly on yours, whether you liked it or not. The suddenness of his action caused you to stiffen, and in the moment of stiffness, you didnt immediately respond to his kiss.

He could feel every tensed muscle in your body and he relished in the feeling. It was as if you had been a puppet for him to control like they way he wanted to. It was a feeling of pure power, and he loved it.

He was still holding your face, keeping you in place when he wrapped his hands around your wrists, he gently guided them to his neck, wanting you to feel the power he had over you. He pressed his mouth on yours again, pushing his body into yours as his grip on you tightened.

He was feeling completely overwhelmed with power as he started to rip into your dresses. It felt good to finally show you who was truly in-charge. It wasnt your body nor your choice. It was his. He owned you. He tore off your dress, before taking you roughly to the bed.

He began to forcefully remove his clothes as he said “I know what my greedy wife wants.. she wants my cock only for herself ”.

“You know what I want, so why do you keep giving my rights to other women?”. He laughed and lay on top of you "I like to make you jealous." He said before he started nibbling and sucking your neck to your thighs.

"They're nothing...nothing like my wife's sweet pussy”. You mumbled and parted your legs he placed wet kisses on your thighs, reaching your sweet spot which he loves the most.Your breath hitched when you felt his tongue on you.

You tangled your fingers in his hair and let him give you his services. Even if he is clumsy and makes you angry, he has his own ways of making you feel good.

After several rounds, you felt a terrible pain between your legs maybe the most Sweetest pain you have ever felt. Your head was on his chest while his arms were gently caressing your ass.

It was a moment of bliss and calm between the two of you.You were listening to his heartbeat and feeling his chest rising and falling slowly. He broke the silence by saying: “I will never see them again.”

“What? ”. You lifted your head from his chest to look at him. He gently stroked your cheek with his other hand and looked at you “The pleasure houses.. I won't go again, I promise.. I realized how foolish I was.. I love you I don't want to lose you for the sake of random whores ”.

you looks at him with all the love you have.. “I love you too aegon”. He lifted his head to place a small kiss on your lips.

“Will you love me always? ”

“Always my love”.

He smilies.. “Can I pass out now?”. you chuckled and nodded he immediately closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep. You kept your head on his chest, your fingers drawing random circles on it. You stayed like that for a short while until you passed out with him..

♡ – 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @darylandbethfanforever9 @hisfavegiri @callsignwidow @xitsemm @saltytidalwavetyphoon @khaleesihel @credulouskhaleesi @lovelykhaleesiii

542 notes · View notes

neo-percs · 8 months

Text

OVERSTIMULATION:: ( day 6 )

WARNING:: one night stand, fingering, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, unprotected sex, drinking.

SUMMARY:: in which you sit at a bar drinking when the guy next to you begins to ask you questions about yourself instantly clicking. By midnight he's escorting you to his apartment.

WORD COUNT:: 3.5K

The club was buzzing, everyone gathered under clouds of smoke and dancing as sweat gathered on their skin. The walls and floors were vibrating from the hard base booming through the gigantic speakers propped up on the DJ booth. Ignoring all of the drunk women and men stumbling to the bar asking for bottles and shots with chasers. You play with the straw jammed in between the melting ice at the bottom of your drink and occasionally sipping from it. Being left by your friends in exchange to mingle with whoever they could dig their nails into a bitter feeling swirled in the pit of your stomach.

Your eyes attached themselves to the screen of your phone as you scroll mindlessly as you feel a pair of eyes burn right through your side profile, you choose not to look in case the person happens to be some random or worse. "What kind of drink is that" the person besides you finally speaks making you look up in his direction instantly taken aback. He was fitted into a black button up the sleeves rolled to the elbow, his hair a pale shade of blonde and his sharp features make you blink thinking the alcohol was finally taking its toll.

He was looking at you, he was speaking to you and yet you hadn't uttered a single word back only glancing at the glass with a clear drink and lime wedged onto the rim of the glass. "It's a margarita, I'm not very wide range with my drinks" you shrug as you finally let the words ripple through your throat, speaking loud enough over the music for him to hear you. He nods as he waves down the bartender who was cleaning off cups with a white towel. "What can I get for you?" The man asks his eyes are round and his bright magenta hair makes you eye him more at the interesting choice in hair color.

"Can I get the same margarita as her please?" He asks only getting a firm nod and smile from the worker who's name tag had been blurred out due to the bright flashing lights. "Nice manners" you laugh, he seemed to be in your age range and for him to have manners was almost like being the tallest dwarf. "It's the bare minimum, I don't want him to spit in my drink or anything for being rude" he shrugs which makes you bite back a smile. As a minute of sheer silence between the both of you.

"Why are you here by yourself? Shouldn't you be with friends at a place like this?" He asks, although he doesn't mean for it come off in weird way and you knew that and wouldn't take it as anything less than a sheer question of curiosity. "I am here with friends, but I'm pretty sure their off wondering around trying to get laid by some random girls in the corner over there" you wave off to the back right corner where you assumed Mark and Taeyong had wondered off to without even a second glance. He hums "what about you?" You ask delivering with a curious glance at him as he takes a sip out of his drink.

"I came here with a friend to look out for him on his date but he left to get laid too" he shakes his head with a smile thinking of Jaemin stumbling out with his date on his arm and a warm smile. And as time went on you and Jeno learn each others names, ask each other about hobbies, and what you do for a living. It was almost as if you were on a first date over drinks in one of the weirdest circumstances as to why you're both alone.

But as you continue the both of you grew to have a flirty banter going, and when you finally see people are starting to leave you both not end the night. Walking around the empty streets talking your arms brush against each other, you could feel the ache in your feet as you both walk down one of the still bustling streets when Jeno pitches the idea to walk to his place as it's closer. By the time you had both reached the front doors your stumbling and giggling holding onto each other's hands in case the other falls. Pulling the door open for you, you both walk to the elevator with dopey smiles resting on your lips without even realizing you had yet to let go of his hand.

Your breathing gets heavier as you realize that you were now alone, holding hands with an attractive guy you met at a bar. "You okay?" Jeno mumbles as he looks over at you with concerned eyes "you look like your burning up" he says as his free hand reaches to cup your cheek feeling how warm your face is his eyes flickers to yours not realizing how close he had gotten and how intimate his actions were. You look up at him nodding without a single word closing the gap between you both.

As your lips collide the both of your press into each other eagerly, not breaking until you could hear the elevator door open, both of you pulling away shyly as you meet the gaze of an elderly couple. You both apologize and scurry out of the doors lighting speed. Jeno guides you to his door embarrassed at the last encounter until he opens the front door. The both of you topple inside smiling as you once again latch onto each other. The room is dark yet the feeling of each other is all you need.

The both of you shedding clothes throughout the halls until you make it into his bedroom with nothing but your underwear on. Your both messily kissing each other until your back is pressed against the bedsheets and your head rests against the pillow.

pulling your panties down and sliding them off your ankle he discards them. The view of your pussy practically shining in all its wet glory. Jeno was desperate. To touch, taste and fill you up in so many ways he couldn't even think straight.

His hands unclip your bra watching your breasts spill out of the fabric and padding. Discarding it his hands palm your chest as leans down to lick your sensitive nipples making you let out a small moan.

Nobody had ever made you feel so good just by barely touching. Until Jeno had decided to drag his face down your stomach, littering small kisses on your sweet supple skin until he stopped at the place you needed him most.

Kissing down your inner thigh sucking hickeys into your skin you shiver at the feeling of his warm tongue giving your puffy lips a small lick. Whispering a curse under his breath he licks again this time he is much more confident.

he holds your thighs when the pleasure starts seizing your limbs, as the feeling of his warm tongue licking from your hole to your clit and sucking needly. You moan as your hand reaches for the back of his head pushing him against your pussy.

Groaning against you sent vibrations all over as you let out a small giggle that broke into a moan feeling the harsh pad of his thumb rub against your clit while his tongue worked to push inside you.

The sounds you make are music to his ears. He presses his nose on your clit, inhaling your scent deeply before his tongue dives inside your waiting pussy. You pull onto his hair, writhing against his face. "Feels so good" you moan as you roll your hips against his face.

You could feel his lips curve against your pussy sending shivers down your spine. The wet muscle repetitively enters you, eager to gather your nectar. It feels like heaven, stomach tightening with each second.

Pulling away his thumb Jeno flattens his tongue against you licking from your entrance to your clit again, kissing it he sucks harshly on the bud with no regard as you moan his name mindlessly.

"Oh fuck" you manage to whimper out you tug at his hair as he groaned, your eyes shut as you "please use your fingers" you moan neediness dripping from your tone.

His hand moving from your plush thigh, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit he pulled away licking your clit once more his middle and ring fingers make way to your entrance.

Pushing in slowly you groan at the penetration, easing your tight walls around his thick fingers as he pushes them deeper you feel the cool metal on his rings all the way at the knuckles of his fingers as it grounds you from the euphoric feeling.

Pulling his head he looks up at you with your juices on his swollen lips and on his chin his fingers begin to move opening your eyes. You look down at him feeling his gaze as he watches you react gasping as the feeling you grind down against his fingers "you like that? Hm?" He says as he licks your essence off of his lips.

His hair now disheveled as his cheeks were blooming with a soft blush, you nod eagerly "yeah? You want me to go faster for you?" He coos feeling you clench around him at the sound of his lewd words, you clench harder "yes please" you say losing your mind on his fingers as you absentmindedly grind down on them.

Without a single falter in his movements his fingers began to rub against the gummy part of your walls at a faster rate as the sound of your sopping pussy getting pounded by his fingers made you squeal.

"Oh my god" you cry out hoping to god he wouldn't stop the rewarding pace he had set. Your hips involuntarily buck against his fingers as his assault of pleasure on your pussy consumed you whole.

"I'm close" you whine as the sloshing sound and the sound of you and Jeno's mixed heavy breathing had been the only thing you could hear "yeah, you gonna cum all over my fingers?" He asks teasingly as his tongue licks a long stripe against your clit that had the feeling in the pit of your stomach churning in anticipation for your orgasm.

"Yes, wanna cum just for you" you whine under your breath as he pushes and pulls his fingers in and out of you faster watching you come closer and closer to the edge waiting for him to catch you. He sucks and licks your clit harshly making you let out a loud moan as you cum all over his fingers.

Not stopping his actions he presses his fingers into your thighs pulling you against his face as you try to wiggle away whimpering. The feeling of pleasure had become overwhelming his tongue and fingers making your legs shake around his head as your fingers found the roots of his platinum hair tugging harshly wishing he'd let up. "It's too much" you moan as your thighs tightly wrap around his head. His fingers moving faster earns a loud moan as your back arches off bed sheets.

You could feel another orgasm building up as you hiccup out babbles and pleas from pleasure. The sloppy sounds make your head spin. one of your hands moves to grip the hair on the back of his head and you push his face into yourself even more.

you breathily moaned his name and that made him piston his fingers in and out of you faster and curling them to hit your g-spot your jaw drops as you let out a silent scream as the knot in your stomach is finally released once again yet more intense than the first one.

"So good" he hummed as he fucks you through your high slowing down as he kisses your clit that's now sensitive making you writhed under him. "Doing so good for me" he smiles as he pulls away from you kissing your thighs as if he was rewarding you.

You let out a small huff that turned into a choked moan when his long fingers pulled out of you. With no hesitation he sucked on his fingers licking off any essence and cum you had left on his digits.

Pulling them away he leans in to kiss you letting his tongue brush over yours to taste yourself. Pulling him closer, the kiss becoming more intense and rough, your hand cupping his jaw as the other rests against his naked back you drag your nails against his skin leaving behind red rails of irritation, groaning against your lips Jeno strips out of his remaining clothes. "Do you want to keep going?" He asks sincerity dripping from his tone, you bite your lip nodding as you take this chance as a poor attempt to catch your breath.

"I do, really badly" you huff. Smiling Jeno presses his forehead against yours as his hand falls between his legs he stroked himself before pressing his tip against your clit teasingly he grinds against you moaning at the slick sounds coming from between you both. Your warmth against his shaft has him eager and twitching in his palm yet he's just addicted to the feeling of how warm and wet you feel.

pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and rubbing his tip against your entrance makes his head spin.

Pressing his hips against yours he watches as your soaked and tight walls envelope him with a choked moan "you feel so good" he says as he presses forehead against yours which makes you giggle. As he pushes into you deeper and slowly you whine your legs without a second thought push his hips into you deeper earning a gasp at your own actions "fuck" you moan at the feeling.

"Such a slut, can't even wait for me to be inside you all the way huh?" He says rhetorically as he begins to thrust into your sharply, your moans are the only thing egging him on to keep going while your hands rest against his shoulders; nails begging to drag against his skin.

Your warm puffs of breath against his face has him in a trance. You smelled of cigarettes and cherries and it was so intoxicating for Jeno who's hands greedily need your hips as he drags them against his. The sound of skin against skin in the air made Jeno's eyes roll back. "So good" you babble as your head falls back against the pillow. Your hair was scattered against the leaning space for Jeno to kiss and mark your neck with purple and red splotches.

"Yeah? I fuck you good right?" He says as he pulls your legs over his shoulders and hits a new spot that makes your jaw slack and mind go blank. "Tell me. Tell me how good I fuck you y/n" he demands making you moan even louder "you fuck me so good Jeno I swear" you whine as your nails drag against his skin leaving behind red trails in their wake.

The bed thumps against the dry wall as your moans cover the sound. The sight of Jeno over top of you with a clench jaw and your legs on his shoulders as you clench around him tighter. The sight of his hair falling over his face as sweat begins to trickle against his skin under the red and blue hues from the window.

"You're so big" you slur seeing how good he filled you up to the brim your arms wrap around his neck your foreheads pressed together as you watch him begin to slowly move. Jeno couldn't get enough of the sight as his cock disappeared inside your Pussy.

His cock buried deep inside you that you moan and dig crescent shaped dents into his skin. set a pace for grinding against his lap. The feeling of your velvety walls tightening around making him choke back a moan.

"Oh- god" you whisper shakily. His hands holding onto your hips guiding a pace, the sound of skin slapping with your small moans could be heard throughout the room.

You looked so good with your chest bouncing and your hair all messy. You looked good with a small sheen of sweat on your skin and your makeup smeared, he was addicted to the sight.

Stopping his hips completely and pulling out you whine at the feeling of emptiness "lay on your stomach" he says his tone low and raspy making you not miss a step as you roll over onto your stomach and propping your knees into the mattress.

Arching your back gives Jeno the perfect sight of your ass. You could feel his palm caressing and needing your skin before giving it repeated harsh slaps that had you quivering. Nothing compared to the beautiful stinging feeling on your skin given by him.

"Want you inside me so bad" you mumbled as your fingers grip the sheets, you were so needy that you were dripping down your thighs and it didn't take much for Jeno to run his tongue over his lips and grab onto your hips pushing his tip against you again letting him bottom out fully.

The sharp grip he had on your hips kept you grounded as he set a steady pace that had you panting and moaning. Hearing yourself made your face heat up, dropping your head into the sheets hoping to muffle the pleasure falling from your lips.

"Don't get all shy on me now" Jeno says as his hand pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling your head away from the sheets "I wanna hear you. Don't hide from me" he says breathily as his thrusts become more sharp and the sound of him pounding into you was hard not to hear.

"I can't help it. It's too good" you slur your words as you begin to bounce and grind against him to meet his hips. It felt like he was in your stomach and you didn't mind at all, your hands clutching the sheets tighter as he used his other hand to wrap around your throat.

"Aw look at you, all fucked out." He asks as his grip around your throat tightens, you couldn't even gather your words as he hits a spot that has you breathing shakily and your moans are even more louder.

"Right here? Does it feel good here?" He asks as he drags his cock against that same spot again and again "yeah, it feels so fucking good Jeno" you moan as your eyes roll back. The feeling of his sweet lips on your skin as you feel like you're in heaven.

Your thighs are practically shaking at the feeling, pleasure practically taking over your body as Jeno pounds you into his mattress without a single care in the world. Pushing your face against sheets while he becomes sloppy and rougher with every passing second you could feel the pressure in the pit of your stomach growing and waiting to be released.

"I can't take it" you moan as you shake your head "I'm gonna cum" you whimper as you feel warm tears slide down your cheeks. "I think you can baby, you wanna cum so bad right? So take what I give you" he orders sweetly in a faux tone. His thrusts are non stop and you can't help but let the pleasure envelope you.

"Oh fuck" you gasp as the feeling of release comes closer "cum on my cock. I know you can" he coos at you while pulling your hips into his harder than before tipping you over the edge as your walls clench around him sporadically earning a guttural moan ripping through Jeno's throat.

"I'm close, where do you want it?" He asks as he continues to fuck into you "inside. Please cum inside me Jeno" you whimper before you feel the pressure in your stomach let loose "I got you, you're okay" he praised as his fingers rubbed down your spine leaving goosebumps up and down your body.

A few more thrusts slow and deep have your toes curling and sending Jeno into an orgasm struck daze. "Fuck you feel so good" he groans as his hands rub against the red warm skin of your ass. Leaning of you and kissing up your spine as you both bask in your pre orgasm clarity.

Pulling out you turn over and lay on your back Jeno following suit on the other side of the bed still wracking his brain he lazily turns to look at you "please tell me you'll stay the night" he whispers and it makes your heart soar in your chest "I'll stay however long you want" you mumbled as you move closer towards him basking in his warmth.

#𖦹—( neo percs )#nct smut #mark smut #nct dream smut #haechan smut #nct 127 smut #jaemin smut #nct x reader #jeno smut #jeno x reader #jeno imagines

1K notes · View notes

ravenslvt · 3 months

Note

Hi! I saw that you're taking requests, so is it okay if I ask for a spoiled city girl! Reader x country boy! Leon?

Reader's father sent reader to spend the rest of the year at her grandparents because he's had enough tolerating her. Eversince she arrived, yeah, the whole town hated her alright. Her grandparents made her do errands and shit and she'd complain and do it lazily.

Leon on the other hand- who's been hearing rumors about this girl, didn't think that she was that bad until he encountered her himself. And hell, she was way worse that bad.

Possible virgin, kinda innocent (only when it comes to ykyk) reader and brat tamer Leon?

Ignore if you're not comfortable with the idea.

🎀 cowboy!leon s kennedy x f!innocent reader 🎀

cw: smut, implied virgin reader, brat taming, sort of hate sex, p in v, oral m! recieving, v fingering, degrating, edging, light spanking

of course there was no cell service in this shithole. you groaned, falling back onto the white sheets of the squeaky bed of the guest bedroom in your grandparents house.

you had taken a gap year off of college, wanting a break and hoping to ‘find yourself’, but you just got unmotivated. your father asked you for months to find a job in the city, but you’d talk your way out of it everytime. of course, enough was enough and when the time came, he had talked to his own parents and decided to send you over to a small little farm town where they retired to, hoping to shape you up a bit. they owned a quaint farm with chickens, sheep, pigs, all a cute little older couple could ask for.

but it was your own personal hell. having to feed, clean, and even pick up after the smelly animals. at least some of them were cute. no technology to ease your mind. it didn’t help your grandparents made you drive their shitty little red truck into town once a week to get supplies, since you were so ‘nimble’ compared to them. to say the least, the whole town was not fond of a bratty city girl storming irritatingly around. refusing to do work, and even when you did, you just half assed it to get it over with.

the local townies and shop workers alike always stared when you’d walk through town with your cute little purse and skirt that rode up your thighs. it was a hot town, what else were you supposed to wear? older women having to slap their husbands when they oogled for too long at the young woman walking into the supply store. that was until you’d start an argument with another customer. they’d either be judging you or too scared to say a word. sometimes both.

in one instance, there was only one stack of bird feed left, and you’d be damned if you weren’t gonna be the one taking it back to the farm. that was until a prudish older lady grabbed it at the same time as you. your eyes met, challenging each-other. she put on a fake smile. “oh sorry sweetie! need this food for my little chickies at home.” her high pitched voice irritated your head. “oh that’s unfortunate, i need it for the same reason. so if you could take your wrinkley little fingers off of it that would be great.” you yanked it from her hands before she gasped.

“what a disrespectful young lady…” she mumbled, turning around to the door of the door, looking down at her hands as she left. you mumbled a quick curse at her before walking up to the register to pay. the store clerk looked a little nervous, so he rang you up in silence in fear of you lashing out at him.

this was just one of the many incidents since you got sent here.

at least you’d found new hobbies. you started going to the small library whenever you were sent into town. there wasn’t many choices, but that along with a few of your grandma’s books from her collection, you were somewhat less bored. that and you took up sketching. sure this place was boring as fuck, but you couldn’t deny that the scenery was pretty beautiful.

it’s been almost a month since you’ve been here. you silently lounged in the room you’d been staying in, reading some god awful romance novel. you heard your grandma call your name from downstairs. you sigh before getting up. “what?” you yell back, annoyed you got interrupted reading your newly picked up book. she didn’t respond, another tindge of annoyance reaching your skull.

as you walk down the creaky wooden steps, noticing the front door open to find the older woman on the front porch. you heard a deep voice chuckling from outside. walking out, you were greeted with a handsome young man. he only looked two or three years older than you, but he was tall and had a good frame. seems like doing work on a farm for years really builds up muscle. the wrinkled woman calls your name, snapping you out of your trance.

“um, what can i help you with?” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. the man gives you a smile before holding out his hand for you to shake, lowering his dark grey hat to reveal some of his dirty blonde hair underneath. “i’ve heard a lot about you miss, names leon.” his large hand extends towards you. you just eye it and roll your eyes. “hi? can i go now, nana?” you plead to the woman. she just sighs and puts a hand on your shoulder. “pop and i gotta go into town for a couple days for this chicken auction he’s been wantin’ to go to. our friendly neighbor here offered to help show you around the farm a bit. teach you a few things” she eyes you sternly.

“teach me things? i’m not twelve. i can handle myself” you retort, glaring at the tall man. he just chuckles. he had heard from around town you were feisty, but it was even better to see in person. he rests his hands firmly on his hips.

“promise i won’t get in your way, darlin’. we’re doin’ some renovations on my own house a few miles down the road. your kind grandmother here offered to let me stay in the guest house while they’re gone.” he smiles assuringly. you were annoyed. you had already spent the last thirty seconds planning on sunbathing or sitting in your room, free of any work on the farm.

“i just don’t think this is very necessary. surely you can afford a hotel?” you retort back. your grandma gives you a light smack on the back of your head. “sorry ‘bout her. not from here” she smiles kindly at the young man. you just pout. “yeah, thank god” you mumble, causing you to get another light smack.

“oh it’s no trouble at all. got myself a little cousin back home that’s a bit of a brat too.” he comments, his eyes never leaving yours. your face flushes. “excuse me? a brat? fuck off dude-“ you start. “language!” she scolds you. you mumble a small apology to her while still glaring daggers at leon.

leon just stands there, entertained by your little outbursts. he could tell you really did not enjoy being here, but he was ready to fix that. his gaze shifts down to your attire, you clearly didn't pack for working on a farm. always in cute little outfits that you'd always wear back in the city.

your grandma changed the subject, asking leon a few questions about his family and his own farm. you were lost in your own thoughts. at least you'd be stuck with a hot farmer instead of some old creep. maybe you could just fake flirt with him to get him to do all your chores for you. that should work, right?

after a few treacherous minutes of standing on the badly painted white porch, you said your goodbyes. leon gives your grandmother another respectful handshake and he just tips his hat at you while you just stare, giving a tiny wave before storming back inside.

about two days later you said your goodbyes to your grandparents, they gave you some hugs and kept repeating the list of chores they'd tasked you with. feed the chickens, take out the eggs, you really just blocked out their words from entering your head. you just smiled and nodded, waving at them as they drove off the property.

you gave a sigh of relief, leon wouldn't be here for another few hours so you thought you'd have some 'me' time. taking a long hot bath (your grandparents always got mad when you used up too much hot water), reading your romance novel while relaxing in the warm water. your cheeks flushed at a certain scene in the book. you didn't expect the library to carry a literal smut book. the main male character in the novel was going down on the pretty girl, the writing made your stomach churn in arousal. you'd never read anything so... descriptive before.

right before you could turn to the next page when things were getting more hot and heavy, there was a heavy knock on the door. you jerk up from your laying down position in the bath and sigh, leon was early. you lay your book upside down so you wouldn't loose your place, wrapping a small towel around your figure before fully stepping out, draining the bath. another knock and a familiar voice calling your name. "you home?" he calls. "yeah, hold on!" you scurry around, cursing yourself for not laying out clothes beforehand.

you carefully step downstairs and opening the front door, peeking out. leon had a duffel bag with him with his things in it. "um, yeah?" you say, trying to hide your toweled figure behind the door. he smiles. "just need the key to the guest house, darlin." oh right. you nod, grabbing the key hanging near the door and hand it to him, your fingers brushing slightly, making your cheeks heat up. before he could open his mouth to speak, you shut the door on him unremorsefully. "thanks." he chuckles out, turning to make the walk to the guest house about a hundred feet away from the main house. and of course you were the one who had to clean it up before he got here.

after putting on your favorite outfit and boots, you make your way back downstairs for some water. sipping from the clear glass cup, you notice leon outside the window. he was already getting familiar with the animals. he looked good in his light blue button up shirt, it really brought out his eyes. the way he had rolled up his sleeves so his veiny arms were on display. he was squatted down next to the new baby sheep and was petting her. you pouted, she didn’t even let you pet her. you sigh, placing your glass down before making your way outside.

leon’s head perks up as he notices you walking twords him. he gives you a charming smile, standing up from the baby sheep. you speak first. “she lets you pet her? everytime i come near she yells at me.” you cross your arms at the man. he looks back down at the small animal who gave you an angry look, running off somewhere. “you gotta' know how to approach em’. plus they sense your vibes” he adds, his eyes back on you.

“my vibes, huh? what’s that supposed to mean, mister?” your eyes squint at him, a hint of irritation in your eye. he doesn’t feed into your attitude. “leon” he corrects you.

“leon” you repeat. the way his name sounded rolling off your tounge made his lips quirk up in a small smile.

“now-“ he starts, grabbing a nearby bag and handing it to you. “- better start on those chores, hmm?”. you glare at him, scoffing. “you’re joking.” you retort. he just shakes his head.

“i’m here for a reason, darlin’. best get to work so you can get it over with faster.” he shoves the bag in your arms and you give him your best puppy dog eyes. “c’mon leon. you’re so big and strong, i’m sure you’d get it done a lot faster than me.” you bat your eyelashes at him. he seemed gullible enough to seduce. he just chuckles. “nice try, you’re cute” he says, walking off to leave you to your chores. you groan. “fine…” you mumble, walking off to to collect the chicken eggs.

over an hour later, you lie in the green patch of grass, playing with your nails. pouting that cleaning the coop made you chip one. you’d finished majority of your chores, hoping it was enough to get leon off your back. whenever you’d start to walk away from a task, he’d appear to show you what you did wrong and how to improve. you wanted to punch his pretty face.

you were snapped out of your thoughts as you heard a deep voice approach you. “takin’ a break?” he says, standing over you. you sigh, not even bothering to look up at him. “i finished for today. i’ll do the rest tomorrow or something.” you continue playing with your nails, still annoyed.

he crosses his arms over his strong chest. “you’re quite the lazy girl, y'know that?” you just scoff. “whatever, asshole” you spit back.

“you got a bit of a mouth on you, don’t ya’?” he squats down so he’s level with you. you finally turn to him, glaring. you angrily stand up, dusting yourself off before gasping. “fuck!” you yell, looking down. your favorite skirt had stains of grass and dirt on them. you didn’t realize the grass was wet before you sat down on it. “are you serious?! this is so gross!” you try wiping the stains off, but only making it worse by spreading them around. you notice leon laughing at you. you turn to glare daggers at the now standing man.

“what the hell is so funny?” your face has annoyance all over it.

“c’mon, let me help you get those stains out, sweetheart. wouldn’t want such a pretty skirt to be ruined” he starts to walk twords the guest house.

“i’m not your-“

“you want that skirt clean or not?” he sighs. you silently nod, following behind him. he opens the door to the clean little house, holding it open for you and shutting it once you were both inside. it was surely nicer than the place you were staying in. a big bed against the wall and a little kitchen table. you remembered staying in here with your father when you visited as a kid. you loved it here back then.

he sets his hat on the counter, finally giving you a full view of his parted hair. he was even more handsome without the hat. he caught you staring and you quickly look away.

“gotta' take the skirt off so i can run it in the wash for you before the stains seep in.” he says, leaning against the counter with his large arms crossed over his broad chest. your eyebrow quirks. “um, i’m not doing that”. he gives you a questioning look. “i’m not wearing anything under…” you add. you only wore your panties under, not wanting to ruin the outfit with ugly shorts. he sighs. a thought flickers in his mind of you taking your skirt off, your pretty ass on display for him.

“fine. you can borrow some of my sweats.” he walks over to his bag of clothes, rummaging through until he pulls out a pair of plaid blue pajama pants. you scoff. “these are ugly as fuck, this is gonna ruin my outfit.” you hold up the pants. they were way too big for you. but they smelled like him. woodsy and a hint of pine. he steps a little closer to you. “if you’d rather let that pretty little skirt get ruined, then be my guest.” he says. you have to crane your neck to look up at him. you sigh, taking your shoes off. “you could just change in the bathroom, you know.” he comments.

“well you could also just look away, pervert.” you say, carefully setting your boots on the floor. he puts his hands up in defense, turning and walks somewhere across the room. “y’know, some day that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.” his voice is lower now, more serious than before. you roll your eyes, shimmying yourself out of your little skirt. “fuck off. you’re not my father.” you bite back, pulling the loose pants over your hips. “these are too big…” you say, holding the pants up or else they’d fall to the ground. he turns and walks up to you, inches away. he grabs the drawstrings, tightening them so hard that you let out a barely audible gasp.

your eye’s focus on his hands. the way they tied the strings perfectly, patting your hip once he finished. “better now?” he asks, looking down at you. you didn’t say a word, just nodding. he smiles. “no words for me from the mouthy girl?” he says. you huff.

“you don’t know anything about me, leon.”

“i know enough. i know you’re an entitled little brat who needs to be put in her place.” he whispered, leaning into your ear. his hot breath left chills down your neck. you could feel your nipples harden against your top. his arms trapped you against the counter.

your eyes finally pull to his, almost magnetically. “what’s your story then, pretty? refusing to work so your daddy kicked you out?” he guesses. you stay silent. he was right.

“what happened to that little mouth of yours? got nothin’ to say now?” he teases, leaning twords your face. fuck, he knew how to shut you up.

“you- i-“ you stutter, unable to respond. he just smirks. his hand slipping to your waist. “you talk all this shit, but can’t handle it comin’ back to you, can you?” god it was almost like he was getting off on seeing your flustered face.

“fuck you-“

“watch your fucking mouth, princess” he practically growls. his grip on your waist only tightens, making you almost whine. his demeanor completely changing from his lighthearted charming self. you felt yourself getting wet from his words alone.

“or what?” you spit back.

“you wanna find out?”

that’s how you ended up with your shaky knees, pressed against the hardwood floor, leon’s big veiny cock sitting right in front of your eyes. his hand was in your hair as your hands nervously reach out to stroke him. he could tell you were inexperienced.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he coos, looking down at you as your small hand wraps around the base of his large cock.

“i don’t- i’ve never-“

“never had a cock in your mouth?” he asks. you just shake your head nervously. he pulsed at the thought of being the first man to be inside of you.

“ever even kissed someone?” he tilts his head.

“just once…” you pout. you were getting tired of his teasing. he just gives your hair a light tug, making you whine. he uses his other hand to bring his thumb to your bottom, dragging it down. you respond, opening your mouth to suck on his thumb. he presses it into your tongue, you swirl your wet muscle around his finger. “good job, see? you got it” he encourages. he removes his thumb, a trail of spit between your lips and his finger.

“now just open your pretty lips…” his hand cups your jaw, you open your mouth. he slides the tip into your hot mouth before hissing. “no teeth, darlin’.” he warns. you nod, taking him deeper. only halfway in and you’re choking around him. he groans at the way your throat contracts around him.

“fuck, you’re a natural slut, aren’t ya?” he grips your hair, moving you up and down his cock. you whine around him, the vibrations sending more pleasure straight to his dick. he abuses your throat and mouth, watching you as tears well up in your eyes. “look at you. your mouth is so much better around my cock.” he lets out another groan when you suck your cheeks in, sucking him off completely.

“think you can swallow all my cum? or are you too good for that, princess?” his voice was horse and low. you just nod, a tear falling from how deep you were taking him. he curses as his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting his hips to meet with your head. your nose burried in the base of his pelvis. you shut your eyes tight as you feel his warm release down your throat. after a few more thrusts, he pulls out a bit of a mix of cum and spit falling from your mouth. he cups your face. “swallow it.” you gulp, licking your lips and swallowing everything he gave you. you open your mouth to show him.

“such a good little slut, yeah?” he soothes your hair, wiping the remaining tears from your eyes. your cunt was throbbing with need. you look up at him through wet lashes, your mascara was probably running down your face by now. he grabs your arm to help you stand up. your legs were wobbly and hard to stand on. your panties were probably soaked at this point.

your eyes go to his lips and his smug gorgeous face. “you want a kiss?” he asks, you nod. he just chuckles. “too bad” he says, making you whine.

“leonn” you grab onto his shirt, pleading. he just shakes his head. “you need to learn how to be patient, gorgeous.” he warns, grabbing your wrists. “you and that fucking attitude. gotta do somethin’ about that.” his eyes grow darker.

he had a strong grip on your wrists, firm but gentle enough not to break you. it made you shiver knowing how easily he could. fuck it was hot. “i’m gonna fuck it right out of you. got that?” his head lowers to suck marks into your neck and collar bones, making you groan. he bit down in a particularly sensitive spot, making you cry out his name. he pulls away dragging you to the bed. “lay down on your stomach” he commands. your eyes grow wide, about to object until his brows furrow. you lie down on your stomach, your feet dangling off the edge.

you turn to look at leon over your shoulder, yelping when he drags you so your legs hung off the edge of the bed. he quickly pulls the string of your his pants before ripping them down your legs. you gasp at the cold air hitting your bare legs, your panty clad ass on display for him. he gives it a good smack, making you give another yelp into the sheets.

“you’re fuckin’ soaked through your panties. i’ve barely even touched you” he gives a small laugh before pulling your white panties off. his large skilled fingers run through your folds, making you squirm.

smack

“stop moving”

he admired the large hand print he left on your ass, feeling his dick harden again. he started with pumping one finger into your tight little hole, making you gasp. it hurt for the first few seconds, but eventually faded into throbbing pleasure. you let out mewls of enjoyment, crying out into the sheets below you as he jackhammered his finger into your sopping cunt, adding another finger to stretch you out.

“ohmygod leon!” you cry, muffled by the blanket. you’d never felt absolute overwhelming pleasure like this before. it was fucking addicting.

his fingers curled inside of you, hitting a spot that made your belly fill with a hot pleasure. you were so close, so fucking close. right when you were about to cum, he pulls his fingers out.

“leon!” you yell, looking back at him.

“told you i was gonna teach you how to be patient, didn’t i?” you wanted to wipe that smug ass smirk off his face.

you were practically drooling onto the sheets. tears falling down your face as leon edged you for the fifth, sixth time? you’d lost count after the third. “fuck leon! please please please let me cum, m’so close please!” you cry into the bed, resorting to begging. your attitude thrown out the window whenever he curls his fingers inside of you.

“since you asked so nicely…” his thrusts his fingers at a delicious speed, fucking you until you cried out his name. you clenched around his fingers, gripping onto the sheets as your vision blurs. his fingers fuck into you as you cum, coating the sheets and his hand.

“look at you. fuckin' dripping down my wrist.” he groans. he flips you so you’re on your back. you were panting, mascara completely running down your cheeks and a fucked out look on your face. he brings his fingers to your mouth and you immediately open them for him, licking yourself clean off his hand.

“that’s my girl” he praises, making you tingle. you were still coming down from your high, staring at him blissfully. his fingers leave your mouth with a pop. you watch his expression through your lashes.

“you’re so much prettier with your mouth filled.” he smiles, leaning over you. “i think you deserve that kiss now, don’t ya think so?” he asks. you nod. “yes please”

his mouth meets yours in a hot feverish kiss. his hand coming to grip your hair. he bites your lip hard enough to make you gasp. your pussy throbs with need of being filled by him. “leon, please” you beg through the kiss. he pulls away, looking at you.

“what is it, sweetheart?” he kisses down your jaw.

“i-i need you inside, please!” you beg, looking down at your bare cunt.

“aww, you just want my cock so bad, hmm? who am i to deny such a slutty girl what she wants.” he sits up, dragging his long cock up and down your wet folds. when his head caught on your clit, it made you shiver. he teases you, catching his tip on your hole before rubbing up and down again. you whine. he gives you a stern look.

“m’sorry” you pout. he chuckles, slowly dipping his thick head into your tight hole. he eased himself in, making your jaw slack open. once he was fully seated into you, your brows furrowed at the stretch. “hurts, s’too big!” you cry out. he tsks.

“you wanted this, didn’t you?” he pulls out just to push himself back into you with a powerful thrust. “fuck, you’re sucking me in, baby. must be so worked up. is this why you’re such a bitch all the time? never gotten dicked down properly?” he teases as he thrusts in and out of your abused pussy.

you mewl when his cock hits a deep spot inside of you, but it wasn’t enough. he sensed your need, grabbing your legs and putting them over his shoulders to thrust even deeper into you. the angle made you scream out. your fingers grip into the sheets again. one of his hands find your clit, pinching it.

“y’feel so fucking perfect. like you were made for me.” he groans, loosing his composure. his thrusts got more intense, faster, and sloppier. but still felt heavenly. the mix of his cock hitting your soft spot along with him playing with your clit, you squeeze around his cock, about to cum. drool fell from the corner of your mouth as your tits bounced in your shirt as you came closer and closer to the edge.

“gonna-gonna cum!” you scream. he only goes faster.

“gonna cum with you, baby. bein’ so fucking good for me.” he gets more vocal when he’s closer to cuming. he didn’t know what felt better, your hot mouth or your hot tight pussy. there was sweat dripping down his neck. you wanted nothing more than to lick it up, but didn’t dare move in fear of him not letting you cum. he was in full control. with a few final thrusts, you finish around him with a loud moan. he follows suit, his hot seed filling you to the brim.

you are both panting at this point, but he’s still half hard inside of you. you look at him with heavy, confused eyes when he doesn't make a move to pull out.

“oh, we’re not done until you’re begging me to stop, pretty girl.”

“wow! this place looks amazing! you guys did a great job around the farm!” your grandma smiles at the handsome young man. he gives her his classic innocent charming smile.

“can’t take all the credit, m’aam. your granddaughter did most of the work.” his strong hands rested at his hips.

“how in the world did you get her to do that!?”

you watch from the porch, wearing a sweater to cover all the marks leon had given you. everytime you’d complain about a task, he’d bend you over and fuck you until you were crying for him to stop at the overstimulation.

the older woman called you over to have you help with leon’s bag. you sigh, walking over as she walked away to talk to her husband.

“you still never gave me my panties back…” you lean against his truck, looking up at him. he chuckles, running a hand down your arm.

“think of it as your parting gift to me, darlin’” he says, giving your arm a squeeze before shouting a goodbye to your grandparents and giving you one last wink and a tilt of his hat before stepping into his truck.

maybe this town isn’t too bad….

masterlist

a/n: i got a little carried away with this i just loveddd this prompt. tysm for this request!!!

#x reader #reader insert #smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy #leon resident evil #re4 leon #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy fanfiction

621 notes · View notes

nouearth · 11 months

Text

an internship at wayne interprises.

bruce wayne x m!reader headcanons.

part ii.

warnings: smut, perverted!bruce, short!male reader, shy!male reader, blowjob (reader giving), slight dubcon (?).

notes: i had bale!bruce in mind only because he looks so... good in a suit (and without one).

—to the surprise of his employees, bruce had become more present in his meetings since you started interning at wayne enterprises. previously, his inputs were typically made over phone calls, then finalized by lucius fox.

—but upon seeing you for the first time, he became smitten rather quickly.

—every day, you stood in the corner, clearly nervous and intimidated by the group of businessmen and women as they debated over decisions you couldn’t care less about. but you were always attentive, efficient in your answers on days where they happened to value your input.

—and on those days, bruce would watch the way you shift on your weight onto either sides of your feet, out of nervousness, but also because your feet ached. he would make a mental note to bring—no—demand a chair for you next time.

—then, he would find himself fixated on the most intricate details of you. the way you took in the lower lip with a small bite and licked them when you interacted with a businessman, a sign of intimidation bruce would decipher. it made his heart beat faster, watching you become so flushed at the simplest socialization.

—he wonders if he could have such of an effect on you. bruce never had a chance to introduce himself to you properly because lucius would always send you out to make some phone calls and arrange another meeting.

—it was extremely annoying, but at least he could admire the way your ass fit in those pants on your way out.

—bruce would shamefully touch himself to that brisk image under the conference table.

—you were like a piece of art under him. he would study you in silence, noting how you would look up at everyone because you were the shortest man in the room, even with insoles in your shoes. and those eyes—frightened and inexperienced—it became one of bruce’s favorite features about you.

—a sick part of him delighted in how timid you were, and he would imagine what it would be like if it was just you and him—alone.

—would you have bitten your lip like that? maybe even harder—until it drew blood—because he was the owner of wayne enterprises? how frightened would you be when bruce towered over you? even more so when he demanded for you to get on your knees and-

—it was inappropriate, bruce would guilt himself. an employee, let alone one that recently graduated university, it was unthinkable to even imagine himself with you.

—he tried to convince himself that he simply found you handsome, that was all to it. a fleeting crush.

—but overnight, you’ve become a perpetual thought.

—it became a routine for bruce to awaken in the middle of the night with an erection. and if he wasn’t stirred awake, he was kept up all night with—you guessed it—an erection.

—on the first night of many, bruce would visit your instagram, and he would then thank the lord for having your account public. you were never an outgoing person, so all you did was post your hobbies.

—and while he would love to learn more about your personality through your feed, what was more important was the situation in his briefs—tightening the more he thought about you, looked at you.

—luckily, your most recent post included a selfie, so he didn’t have to scroll very far one-handed.

—what bruce found endearing was that he could still pick apart your quiet personality from your smile—still timid and inexperienced, like how he met you—and he fondled himself to that.

—bruce would massage himself through his briefs, groping a handful of his bulge as he grew harder in his palm, gazing deep into those eyes he yearned to look into.

—your lips were parted in the photo, only by a bit, and he would imagine how they would look around his cock, specifically the head. upon examining the photo closer, a peek of your tongue could be seen, and bruce’s erection would throb.

—how would your tongue feel? would you be daring enough to even tease him with licks?

—and in that moment, he would wonder if you’ve ever done anything like that before.

—he remembered the way you interacted with people, especially with men. you would always avoid eye contact, stumble on your words when you were called upon—he concluded that you were completely inexperienced.

—and that drove him wilder.

—by then, bruce has completely stripped himself. no longer was he palming his thick cock, but stroking himself to your photo. it was shameful, bruce would admit—the lengths he would go through for arousal. but he couldn’t help it. the thought of you, completely innocent and bare before him, was a recurring image that would ink into his brain.

—he liked to imagine that you only touched your cock, because you were scared of touching yourself elsewhere. you had a dildo somewhere under your bed, but it was only used once because you were intimidated, just like how you were intimidated by the men in office earlier today—akin to a deer in headlights.

—not only that, you were intimidated by your greed. people have always said that bigger was better, right? though, you couldn’t have possibly agreed because a mere centimeter of the large phallic toy made you quit with a whimper.

—the stories in his head would run absolutely feral, and vulgar lust would quickly overcome the feeling of guilt.

—cock whore, bruce would go on to muttering himself, slapping his thick, sticky cock on the screen of his phone, specifically on your cheek and lips—a pathetic simulation of what it would look like to have his dick on you. his pre-cum would stain your cheeks, and the heavy weight of his cock and balls would part your mouth open wider than it was in the photo.

—bruce would want to make one out of you—a cock whore. though only his, because he never liked sharing. he would relish in the thought of you on your knees, looking up at him and batting your faint eyelashes as you were overwhelmed at the sheer size of his cock.

—you would be hesitant, doubtful that you could even take him in your mouth. but you would muster up the courage, comforted by bruce’s support, and do so anyways—clumsily and sloppily as his cock would push drool out of your untrained mouth.

—that’s it, fuck…

—in reality, bruce would start you off slow, gentle cascading strokes to your head as he would settle his palm to the back of it and guide you with gentle pushes and tugs.

—but in bruce’s fictional scenario, he would show no mercy.

—intimidation, the fear in your eyes made him high when he would pull his cock out, swinging heavily before it would be shoved into your innocent mouth without warning, cramping reluctancy down your throat until you would then cough out a choke.

—see? just gotta work your pretty mouth open. nothing to be scared of, hm?

—god, you’re such a good boy. bruce would add onto his mutters as he kneeled on his bed, phone laid flat between his thighs as he jerked himself over your photo. it was just like he wanted—you looking up at him with those eyes. for a brief moment, they looked pleading, desperate for him to come on your face.

—how would you want it? bruce would wonder out loud, a familiar pool of pleasure bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he worked himself harder.

—would you want your first experience with another man’s cock to be concluded by throating down a rush of thick cum? or would you prefer him to paint your handsome face white, shooting all over you until you were dripping wet in warm stick.

—you would be indecisive, bruce expected it.

—so, bruce would take it upon himself to make the decision.

—bruce would hunch forward over the phone when the meter of his rapture filled to the very brim. one arm would be used to support his position as he fucked into his tight fist, desperate and crazed at the thought of you taking him and his cum.

—it wouldn’t be long until bruce would finally come all over his phone with a guttural moan, shooting thick ropes of cum all over your face until the screen had become a sheer blanket of sticky glue.

—face, it is.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

2K notes · View notes

thatbitchery · 5 months

Text

& ladies remember outside your leveling up circles if anyone asks you eat at the drive thru, it's burger & fries, you prefer sweatpants and spend your time watching Turkish Thai dramas and your sexual orientation is pretty kpop boys. Your goal in life is to get married and stay at home and your hobbies are flip flops and watching gmmtv, you're the most basic average Jane there is out there you just dress up because mom makes you. What have we said about keeping your competition feeling safe? In competitive environments so school and office and your local communities and especially your family you're couch potato potato so you're not available because new series just dropped- do you want to cause unnecessary friction? Keep your level up to yourself and your level up groups people are herds herds herds with that crabby crabba crab mentality so any sign you could leave the herd behind is a trigger to Crabb crabbb crabby pull you back into the bucket. Human beings are animals before they are people when will you understand this? Why would you scream in the face of a tiger? Do you want to get bullied? What happened to moving in silence.

Keep your workouts out of social media and your trips to the dermatologist to yourself, your paycheck is between you and your bank and stay away from the brands unless everyone in your group is wearing them so brands are just the average. Why would you sabotage yourself like that? Why would you go telling anyone your goals? Do you want to get laughed at? Haven't you learned your lesson? Hasn't your mother, your own mom, judged you for wanting to be better? Even though you're not in competition? Then why would you tell Betty from HR when it's literally the most competitive environment out there? Do you want to ostracize yourself? Then don't create drifts with your herd and level up in the shadows, when your current friends see you eating healthier its omg lol why? Then the answer is actually I took a blood test, autoimmune diseases are around the corner you don't know how badly I need McDonald's rn but life first. You're dressing elegant lately- girl stop my mom is insufferable she's making me these conservatives please. You look nicer- I'm on birth control, I had that acne issue. I feel the weight creeping up lol. You're taking more classes? Gosh yes there's this scholarship thing I need so you know. Your posture is better lately- baby girl stop my back was on fire last week leave me alone I was dying like- it's never because you're bettering yourself. Never. Ever. As long as they're concerned couch potato potati potata average Janey.

Human societies are competitive in nature especially among women because resources are so scarce and we know this and herd mentality makes us detest people that place themselves in positions to have better access to these so once you start getting better its underhanded compliments and what's app groups and side glances as you walk, learn to keep people comfortable and do you in the background, don't buy into whatever self soothing we are all good people bs you're being sold, we are only as supportive as you're below us once you start doing better your own sister and best friend have a lot to say. Move in silence & keep your life away from public view and have believable excuses for what you can't always hide & find a way to say you're better than me. Why cause unnecessary friction?

528 notes · View notes

lingerina · 5 months

Text

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐁𝓐𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝓦𝐒 ／ julie han

➛ g!p maid julie x fem!reader ➛ 847 words !!! adultery, creampie, squirting, multiple orgasms ➛ you have confronted your husband about checking out the maid, and now you confront the maid. ➛ A/N happy belated new year? lol i’ve been rediscovering some hobbies lately, hence writing has been on the back burner again. but i’ve updated the list of women i write for. if you have seen julie doing that part in ‘nobody knows’, then you’ll understand how i was possessed to write this. those clips have graced my tiktok fyp and ig explore page multiple times. i just had to. 😮‍💨

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

You’ve heard of the stories where a family will hire a young maid or nanny to care for the kids and the house while the parents work. Nannies aren’t needed because you don’t have kids, but you still have pets and a massive house that needs to be cared for. Hence the hiring of a maid who urgently needs some quick cash while she searches for bigger jobs.

Julie Han is a young woman straight out of college.

Straight out of a magazine too.

With the looks of a doll and the charm of a girl next door, Julie can easily have anyone wrapped around her finger.

Your cat, who’s wary of strangers, immediately took a liking to her. Your friends who have come over and met her have asked for her to watch their kids or animals as well. As envious as you are of the attention she gets, you can’t help but be one of the victims of her spell too.

You just can’t be heinous to someone who’s nice and goes the extra mile for your pets.

The stares from your husband that lingers a little too long on her don’t go unnoticed though. It’s hard to decipher Julie’s body language when she catches his gaze but you confront them separately because things will only escalate if you dismiss everything that is deemed small and insignificant. Some people masquerade their intentions well behind a blank or stone cold face, so you can never be too safe.

Your husband denies staring but Julie is more truthful.

Except you had it all wrong.

Julie’s hand is tightly clamped over your mouth, muffling your moans and cries as her cock hits in all the right places. The confrontation has led to you being shoved onto the bed and your flimsy loungewear being torn off by the woman who actually had eyes on you. You can’t risk your husband hearing the maid fucking his wife’s brains out as he’s showering right above her bedroom, but she knows how to wield what she has—a feat that he has yet to achieve.

The guilt lingers in your chest but your cunt drips for her. The sheets are soaked in your essence, courtesy of her skillful mouth and fingers that wouldn’t stop bringing you to orgasm. The more you try to persuade her to stop, the harder she goes on you.

Because you both know that you don’t want her to stop.

The water cuts off, leaving the residence to be engulfed in silence. The smacks of hips clashing with every fervent thrust is like a pin dropping, causing the tightness in your chest and the pit of your stomach to swell. Your clammy hands clutch at the crumpled sheets beneath you, your walls closing in on her as she fucks you harder. You don’t have the conscience to stop her because god, you want this.

You need this.

She grins, her long hair curtained over your face as she hovers closer to you.

“You think I want your lame husband?,” she snickers.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your back arches.

“You clearly don’t want him either.”

There is no cue given, but her demeaning words bring you to ecstasy. Your eyes roll back when her thumb on your pulsing clit works you into overdrive. Your body spasms beneath her, tremors coursing through your limbs as you gush around her cock, further soiling the sheets. You can vaguely hear your husband calling for you in the kitchen but all you can focus on is Julie’s cock drilling you, and the filthy squelches of your cunt accepting the abuse.

Your heart rate picks up as his voice gets progressively louder but she is clearly unbothered. She has other priorities to fill.

Like you.

She buries her face in your neck. With a whine and a tremble, you shudder as warmth fills you. A shallow thrust pushes her release deeper, reaching depths that can taint and break you—just as she intends to.

You sink back into the mattress with a quiet sigh when she pulls out. Your head feels at the mess that you’ve both caused—figuratively and literally.

The man that you have sworn your heart and life to is on the other side of the door, never expecting his wife to cheat on him with their maid. You have committed the very act that you swore you would raise hell about, and a part of you feels shameful about the hypocrisy.

On the other hand, Julie is proud of her work. She grins as her cum seeps out of you: a testament to prove that the man is not always wanted.

“You don’t need him,” she taunts as she slides back into you, harder than ever.

Your eyes widen as she raises your legs and folds them over your chest, testing your flexibility.

“This pretty pussy is mine.”

Your mouth falls open after she bottoms out.

“And she clearly agrees.”

Weak. Shameful. Needy.

You can’t argue with her. You can only accept that you’re terribly wrong.

#girl group smut #girl group imagines #kiss of life smut #kiss of life imagines #kiof smut #kiof imagines #julie han smut #julie smut #julie han imagines #julie imagines

754 notes · View notes

neptuneschldd · 8 months

Text

☀️ Small Astro Observations P.1☀️

Hi! You can call me Neptune, this isn’t my first time posting about astrology but heres a couple small takes on some observations of mine.

☀︎ People say Cancers are “babies” ans “innocent”, however they are the COMPLETE opposite; Esp. when mixed air and scorpio placements, some of the most hilariously ruthless and honest people.

☀︎ Libra and Taurus women are usually really concerned with their health and environment, they may want to lead a more cleaner life.

☀︎ Before maturing 1H placement individuals may be very insecure, however as they get older they tend to work on themselves and their confidence a lot more.

☀︎ People with pisces mixed with 8H placements are more likely to be secretive and paranoid of other people.

☀︎ Speaking of the 8H; Individuals with Leo/Aries/Venusian/Aquarius placements with 8H placements tend to have to keep their hobbies and aspirations a secret, and these people tend to move in silence a lot and suddenly pop out into the spotlight in the future.

☀︎ 12H/8H Suns are the most resilient people I know, these people go through so much more than other people know about, they’re often even misunderstood but they seem to have a “it is what it is” kind if approach to it all.

☀︎ Moon-Saturn Individuals have decent control over their emotions unless influenced otherwise. Especially positive aspects, these people are the type you rarely or never ever see upset.

☀︎ Venus/Neptune hard aspects have people that assume and spread rumors about them a lot, people like to assume a lot about their personality.

☀︎ For people with 11H/8H/6H, Virgo, Sagittarius placements, how often do you ghost people in life?

- Neptune. ☀︎

#astrology #astro community #astro notes #astro observations

760 notes · View notes

henrioo · 30 days

Text

°•*⁀➷ MY TYPE: CROCODILE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Even after years Crocodile could never figure out what was his type of woman. At least with you he could figure out he wasn't even interested in women in general"

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : MALE! reader, MASC! reader (can be trans or not), HOMO RELATIONSHIP, CROCODILE IS GAY HERE, Mihawk is also gay, LIGHT HOMOPHOBIA, LIGHT SEXISM, Crocodile is a old man with old morals (not defending him), Gay club, a little joke with crocodile name, light description about reader clothes but still free for you imagine your own way

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,8k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : After years I'm posting again, I'm not in my better mood and things have being hard for me, so I'm kinda didn't any of my hobbies, like writing and posting, sorry for that. Hope you guys enjoy it, fem blogs/blank blogs/no pronouns = block

Now imagine Crocodile who refuses to have a lasting relationship regardless of the woman who throws himself at his feet. He takes them to some events, some photos of the most beautiful and chic women in his arms, maybe even some flirting without commitment, but a second date or even something more serious? No way.

He can't explain why he can never stay interested in a woman for more than a few hours. What if he tries? Well the things he would say to try to justify why no woman is good enough would be something like:

The lipstick was too strong, the lipstick was too weak, the dress was too exaggerated, the dress was not flashy enough, the smile was too simple, the smile was too fake. Too tall, too short, too thin, not thin enough, didn't wear high heels, wore high heels, uncultured, knew too many things, too independent, too dependent, etc.

“More it seems like you don't like women” Doflamingo laughed in his face as he drank again, the man in the burgundy suit was already tired of hearing his friend's endless excuses about why he didn't have anyone. “Who likes women likes all types of women, simple as that” what he said was true, reinforcing his point by opening his arms, making the two women who were sitting next to him throw themselves onto his chest.

Crocodile couldn't deny that he also believed that statement, he thought men who wanted to demand crazy things from women were stupid, but he wasn't like that... he just hadn't found the right woman. Of course Doflamingo was very different, in his arms were now two completely different women, style, body, color and height, but he knew very well that the demon would give the two equal love and attention. Although it wouldn't make much difference since he would forget about them both the next day.

“Not all men want easy bitches, that doesn't mean I don't like women” he spat with venom, seeing one of the women become embarrassed and the other look at him with hatred. Of course he just ignored it and continued drinking his wine, becoming even more stressed about the situation.

“Don't be mad now fufufu” Doflamingo laughed seeing how angry the other was.

“What’s wrong with you not liking women?” Mihawk asked with a raised eyebrow and for a moment the other two men forgot he was there due to the silence. Crocodile bit his cheek remembering that his friend was gay and would probably be offended by the conversation.

“None, but I like women, I'm just demanding” Crocodile explained the situation and Mihawk seemed to accept the excuse but he still hadn't given up on the subject.

“If you don't find any woman that pleases you, perhaps you can find a man that satisfies you” was all Dracule said.

God. Crocodile wanted to kill Mihawk, after that damn sentence all he could think about was that. What if he actually liked men? Of course not... he's always been with women his whole life, so he liked them, it didn't make any sense for him to be attracted to men.

He tried to convince himself of this as much as he could, but god it felt like someone had opened Pandora's box. For the next few days he couldn't stop noticing the men in the office, the way they moved, the way their bodies acted, the way they also had their own beauty. Hell! He was sure Daz had caught him looking at a male employee's ass more than once! He couldn't have his reputation ruined like that!

So he forced Mihawk to meet with him again, he had some questions, he just needed some proof that he was completely straight. Once he had reaffirmed his sexuality he would be fine and could stop acting like an old pervert.

“Being with women all your life doesn't mean being straight, we're old, we grew up in a time where that was the only way, the correct way” Mihawk said without much emotion sitting at the bar with his friend while they enjoyed a whiskey “Maybe now you’ve finally gotten tired of pretending and your body is just showing signs that you were never attracted to women.”

“And how do I find out if I like men?” Crocodile asked, almost ashamed of what he was saying, he would definitely kill someone if this was exposed.

“Go out with one.”

And that's where you get into the story. Crocodile locked himself in his office for weeks without knowing what to think or do, how the hell was he supposed to go out with a man if he never even considered it before?! That was until he received an invitation to a nightclub, Circus Royale Club, he thought it was a prank until he received a message from Mihawk explaining what it was.

“The clown has a gay nightclub, completely discreet, if something gets out he already knows that you won't forgive him. He talked to a few people and said there’s someone you might like to meet, I figured you wouldn’t make the first move alone, give it a chance.”

He almost jumped from the top floor of his building but his friend was right, he was too nervous to make a move alone, he didn't even know where to look for it. Regular nightclubs and dating sites were out of the question, but perhaps Buggy's nightclub was an option. He would actually kill the idiot if anything like that got out in the media, so he was confident that his privacy was protected… Now he just didn't trust the clown's taste in finding Crocodile a romantic partner, but it's not like he had any other option.

He tried to dress like he normally would, a simpler suit, nothing vibrant or exaggerated. For a moment he thought it wouldn't suit the location and he was right and wrong.

The nightclub inside was truly another world, it was extremely chic and in shades of red and dark blue, giving a very sensual depth to everything. The problem was the people, the employees all wore white shirts with blue or red vests, too circus-like for Crocodile, in addition to the masks that only covered their eyes to separate them from the customers. And the customers? Heavens… It really looked like a circus, he saw people wearing wigs bigger than their own heads, colorful and extravagant clothes, fantastic makeup, was there someone wearing wings and horns?!

He felt a little… overwhelmed, to say the least. He thought gay people were like Mihawk, extremely discreet, or just a little more cheerful and feminine, not like that... Okay that was a terribly homophobic thought, he needed a drink.

He picked up something strong and sat down on a table, his foot tapping anxiously on the floor but being inaudible due to the music playing. He quickly sent a message to Mihawk asking what the hell that place was and wondering if it was gays or some real circus.

“Don't worry about them, the people at the clown's nightclub are more exotic, not everyone is like that” thank God because Crocodile didn't see himself dating a walking rainbow “I only chose this place because discretion was guaranteed, your partner wouldn't It’s like the ones you see”

He thanked him mentally, not that he judged people for dressing how they wanted, sometimes he did, but being a pink Barbie just didn't suit him! If he was going to have someone, he wanted someone who suited his discreet and formal style more, man or woman, that wasn't a discussion.

He was about to “thank” Mihawk for the terrible place when he saw you walking in. You were stunning. You wore nice dark pants and a lighter shirt with a nice print that suited you perfectly. The outfit wasn't discreet gothic level like Mihawk or vomiting rainbows like the others there, it was just... you. It was an outfit that made you look amazing and you knew it, he could see your confidence, you were beautiful and you knew it. And heavens, Crocodile had to admit that it was the most attractive thing he had ever seen.

You looked around and stopped when you saw Crocodile, your eyebrows arching in surprise as if you didn't believe that Crocodile existed and was really there. You smiled and instead of going to the table where Crocodile was, you went towards the bar, where you stayed for a few minutes, talked to the bartender, got your own drink.

Crocodile had never felt so nervous before, he was used to having all the attention just on him, women threw themselves at his feet for a chance. And here you were, knowing he was the one you were supposed to meet but you were purposely ignoring him. His heart was beating fast and he felt the sweat beneath his thin suit. He had an absurd urge to get up and force you to pay attention to him, to show you that he was the only one who deserves your attention, when he had become so desperate and needy for someone's attention? Even more of a man?

After all that you finally took your glass of drink and went to the table and sat in front of him, you crossed your legs and sipped your drink before leaving it on the table, then you faced him, in complete silence. Hell this was totally different from what he was used to, here you seemed to be staring at him as if to say “prove to me that you are worthy of my attention”. This wasn't what he was used to, he was no longer a hunter, he was prey.

“I thought you didn’t realize I was your date” he said softly, composing himself while drinking his drink.

“Of course I noticed, it's not very difficult to know who I should meet here, just look around and see how you differ from everyone…” you laughed “You're like a fish out of water… in fact you are more to a crocodile in the middle of all the fish” you looked at him sensually biting your lip.

“Hah… And you look like an animal photographer, completely camouflaged in the environment… but if you look closely you know that you are someone superior to any animal” he said with a determined smile and the victory was his by the way you blushed and squirmed in your place.

“Crocodile, right?” You had now abandoned your malicious and even evil manner, now you seemed completely open and genuine to trying to have a date with him “(y/n), it’s a pleasure”

“The pleasure is definitely all mine” he said genuinely. Maybe dating men wouldn't be so bad, maybe being a gay man wouldn't be so bad… Maybe having you as his partner in a serious longterm relationship with you… yeah, it didn't seem so bad.

157 notes · View notes

randombush3 · 2 months

Text

a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken?

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible.

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier.

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.”

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.”

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?”

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.”

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.” You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.”

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to.

“I am always on your side.”

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be.

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase.

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

…

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted.

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you.

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad.

And… you, apparently.

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door.

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.”

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously.

“Of course.”

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence.

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft.

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.”

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?”

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this.

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration.

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection?

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor?

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility.

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.”

“Maybe she only likes men.”

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.”

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.”

…

You are more than a little confused.

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend.

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much.

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you?

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world.

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar.

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?”

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.”

“I cried for months.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.”

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes.

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself.

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.”

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving.

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said.

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone.

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.”

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.”

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy.

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more.

Do you regret it?

It’s unclear.

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here.

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become.

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date.

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official.

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face.

There are many reasons why you go out with him.

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied.

He’s not Ona. You know that.

That's the whole point.

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care.

But you just… don’t.

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head.

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself.

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago.

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them.

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.”

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday.

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona.

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger.

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?”

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country.

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.”

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen.

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited.

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially.

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming.

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it.

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun.

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced.

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything.

It won’t. (It does.)

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight.

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden.

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun.

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible.

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk.

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up.

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore.

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit.

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom.

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’.

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right.

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier.

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.”

It’s not true.

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again.

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done.

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit.

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill.

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents.

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again.

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam.

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off.

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams.

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.”

“Why?”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.”

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona.

She picks up.

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

“Are you back at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.”

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles.

“Need me to show you around the city?”

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no?

…

Your visit goes very well.

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend.

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life.

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery.

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement.

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?”

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa.

“Who do you care about, then?”

“You.”

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day.

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend.

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter.

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before.

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back.

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly.

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.”

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers.

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her.

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh.

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs.

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?”

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly.

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.”

Ona blushes.

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless.

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on.

And that’s when she whispers it.

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering.

It has taken years but it does not matter.

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home.

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle smut

281 notes · View notes

why-animals-do-the-thing · 1 month

Note

If you don’t mind sharing, since you don’t work for a zoo what is your job situation like? Making a living while working at a definitely zoo seems tricky. Is your main income zoology/animal related or is that more of a side thing?

Sincerely,

- a curious zoology student

I have a (mostly) unrelated jobjob - I’ve never actually been affiliated with a single facility, unless you count college internships before I started this blog. I freelance, working as a science media fact-checker and taking paid research contracts occasionally. I do work on a lot of animal / biology related fact-check content, but it’s not my entire scope of work. I also have the privilege of having family assistance, as I have chronic health issues that interfere with the normative 9-5 grind.

Everything I do in terms of blog writing/research, zoo industry research and publication, and photography is unpaid and pretty much a hobby at this point.

Prior to the pandemic I was trying to find funding for the intra-industry research and public-facing outreach I was doing, but there was never any money for it. (The industry is very used to expecting labor from young women for free. There was and is a lot of interest in the work I do, but the number of people/orgs that have ever provided compensation or financial support is in the single digits). The pandemic actually gave me the chance to pivot to focusing on professional fact-checking.

The only funding I get for any of this work is through a somewhat defunct Patreon I set up years ago when I was trying to make this blog / scicomm a full time gig. I’m terrible at updating it, and I’m conflicted enough about that to have been considering deleting it entirely. (For those of you who have stuck it out despite the radio silence, you’re incredible. You’ve facilitated the donation of my time to write a really cool paper with a zoo disaster response org, which will hopefully get through peer review soon).

To make something like this blog and everything else I do in the field actually financially sustainable, I’d need to fundraise and market more. The thing about a fact-checking career, though, is that it’s reinforced the need to make sure everything I write/say publicly is completely and 100% correct - because that level of rigor is what supports my professional reputation! Which means I’m slow to produce research and reticent to talk about it before it’s finished. My work comes out all the better for it, but it doesn’t fit into a content model that produces revenue.

So yeah, all of this is a side thing that I fit in around my paid work and my health. Because sometimes I just need to go see a tiger and smell an elephant, y’know?

#personal information #zoo job almost always require multiple incomes or family support #or generational wealth #otherwise you live in poverty #I am on a very non traditional industry path and it definitely does not pay either #but it’s a passion project

149 notes · View notes

femsolid · 6 months

Text

Had a little exchange with a client that started fine, she was sorry to see me go because I'm quitting my job. I thanked her and said I enjoyed working for her too, but the work was causing me health issues and was not doable with my disabilities. I said I was starting a new job right away, a desk job which will be a nice rest for me. And then she said "oh I understand, I too realized that health is really important and need to be protected when I had children. It's such hard work, you need to be physically prepared. Do you have children?" And I said no. The usual awkward silence happened. My concerns for my own health and comfort suddenly appearing selfish and unjustified. She said "oh well, you still have time, how old are you?" They always say that because they think I'm 25 or something. I said "I'm 34." Another awkward silence. "Well uh, you never know, you'll probably want to have children someday and you'll need all the preparation you can get right?" Why? Why can't a woman prioritise her health for the sake of it? Why does it have to be in anticipation of mandatory motherhood, the great martyrdom? Feels like being prepared for a ritual sacrifice. Rest, eat, be beautiful and adorned before they chop your head off. In some culture they literally force-feed the bride to fatten her up before the wedding. They'll make foie gras out of you. Made me think of that post saying the most feminist thing a woman can do is refuse to suffer. I'm quitting because I refuse to suffer any longer. The end goal is not to be better at suffering later on. It's not to suffer at all. And somehow they'll make you feel selfish for it.

And one last thing, it's the awkward pause everytime I say I don't have kids. A lot of women try to bond with other women not by talking about common interests, opinions, hobbies, it's just "do you have kids?" and the expectant "yes" which prompts the following script "how many? What age? Boy or girl? Which school?" And on and on. And you can understand why, their kids are central to their lives and it's a sacrifice they expect, even wish to share with other women. So when the answer is no they don't know what to say next. They say nothing. I used to justify myself "no, I never wanted it for some reason, I'm fine with them I've worked with children, I just never wanted to have any." Now I just say "no :)" and it's a conversation killer.

302 notes · View notes

soberscientistlife · 30 days

Text

I'm pro-choice & pro-life.

I'm pro-Barbara who found out at her 20 week anatomy scan that the infant she had been so excited to bring into this world had developed without life sustaining organs. I'm pro-Susan who was sexually assaulted on her way home from work, only to come to the horrific realization that her assailant planted his seed in her when she got a positive pregnancy test result a month later. I'm pro-Theresa who hemorrhaged due to a placental abruption, causing her parents, spouse, and children to have to make the impossible decision on whether to save her or her unborn child. I'm pro-little Cathy who had her innocence ripped away from her by someone she should have been able to trust and her 11 year old body isn't mature enough to bear the consequence of that betrayal. I'm pro-Melissa who's working two jobs just to make ends meet and has to choose between bringing another child into poverty or feeding the children she already has because her spouse walked out on her. (Maybe one of those is a minimum wage job at Hobby Lobby, and she can't afford birth control because her employer went to the Supreme Court to make sure her insurance plan doesn't cover it.) I'm pro-Brittany who realizes that she is in no way financially, emotionally, or physically able to raise a child. I'm pro-Emily who went through IVF, ending up with SIX viable implanted eggs requiring selective reduction in order to ensure the safety of her and a SAFE amount of fetuses. I'm pro-Jessica who is FINALLY getting the strength to get away from her physically abusive spouse only to find out that she is carrying the monster's child. I'm pro-Vanessa who went into her confirmation appointment after YEARS of trying to conceive only to hear silence where there should be a heartbeat. I'm pro-Lindsay who lost her virginity in her sophomore year with a broken condom and now has to choose whether to be a teenage mom or just a teenager. I'm pro-Courtney who just found out she's already 13 weeks along, but the egg never made it out of her fallopian tube so either she terminates the pregnancy or risks dying from internal bleeding and horrific pain. I’m pro-Renee who developed eclampsia and in her third trimester and had to terminate her pregnancy or else she and her much loved baby would die. Also pro-Lorraine who found out two weeks before her due date that her baby’s heart wasn’t beating anymore, and had to be induced so she wouldn’t develop a life threatening infection. You can argue and say that I'm pro-choice all you want, but the truth is: I'm pro-life. Their lives. Women's lives. You don't get to pick and choose which scenarios should be accepted. It's not about which stories you don't agree with. It's about fighting for the women in the stories and the CHOICE that was made for them, by them. Women's rights are meant to protect ALL women, regardless of their situation - or how big their bank account is. Because, let's face it, rich people's daughters and mistresses (yes, even the ones who voted for anti-abortion bills) will always be able to find safe abortions. They did before Roe v Wade. Most poor women will still get abortions too, whether from centuries old, unsafe home methods or from opportunistic untrained, unsafe people. Roe v. Wade didn't create abortion. It ended poor, desperate women and girls dying from them and making decisions about their lives.

Author Unknown

119 notes · View notes

riayawrites · 2 months

Text

Something Different ~

Pairing: Archeron!reader x Azriel

Summary~ When reader gets dropped into the cauldron they emerge as something different and ancient, As they struggle with fae life and their new body she learns that maybe she isn't alone in her battles.

Content Warning: mentions of trauma, depression, ed, fluff and trauma-bonding

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I knew my life was over the moment me and my sisters were forced out of our newly made home by brutal force, and dragged into another land.

The first few minutes of the cauldron were somewhat... peaceful. A stark contrast to the screams of my sisters and her faerie companions. The dark muddled water seemed to become light and airy and warm as I forcefully was thrown into the ancient, deceitful thing. Not like I decided to put up much of a fight anyways, at that moment I chose to let the cauldron invade my body and mind. It's not like it mattered anyways. As the cauldron sensed my relent towards its actions it decided to make things worse; ten-fold. A sharp piercing pain ripped its way through my torn and battered nightgown and all through my back, it was truly a pain like no other, the sounds of bone breaking and skin tearing sent me over and I lost conscience in a blink of an eye.

"She's been out for so long.." I distinctly hear as I awaken from my week - no probably month slumber since the cauldron. I open my eyes and squint from the warm beaming sun on my skin and the soft cotton sheets on the rather large bed I am resting on. I turn my head and open my mouth to speak yet no words come out.

A while goes by of me staring at the ceiling in silence before a figure comes into sight. "I see you are up miss." I turn my head to the side to see a tall woman with skin as dark as the night sky, with ears pointed and long with cascading black hair. She was truly a sight. I finally say my first word "Where am I.." I ask in my dazed confusion and slight emptiness. "You are in High Lord Rhysand's town house in the Night Court miss." "Your sisters and the others are all downstairs if you wish to join them I will help you ready." I take heed of the mention of my sisters and a great wave of relief washes over me when I realize all 3 of my sisters are safe. Ive always been the caring and nourishing one of all my sisters, being the 2nd eldest daughter I stepped in and took on a role of a mother in the absence of our own. My duties all arranged from making sure our old cabin stayed together by cooking and cleaning and even taking desperate jobs in town to make a pitiful income for my father and sisters to survive. In my spare time I loved to bake, but that was before we lost our fortune. My main hobby became singing as that was a way to express myself without it costing.

I gently arise from the bed with the help of Nuala- as she calls herself. My first steps in months to the bathing area and I realize something is off.. My steps glide almost gracefully and I seem to be, lighter and smoother with my motions. As I get to the bathroom I take a look in a full length mirror in my bathing quarters as I gasp as I see what is staring back at me.

I look in the mirror to see a beautiful fae woman with pointed ears and locks of long healthy hair that seemed to grow down to my lower back. I take a closer look at my body just to admire it, I've never been a bone skinny girl even when we were poor, always having curves on my hips and slight hourglass figure and fuller breasts compared to the women in my village. But now those features are gracefully implicated and only seem to heighten my new body. I hear Nuala compliment me and start to run water for me to get into and wash.

After a few minutes of an annoying bath with painful reminders of the cauldron, I'm faced with tons of beautiful dresses sparkling and shining each one better than the other. I choose a shimmering black off the shoulder long sleeve mermaid dress that was comfortable to walk in and has soft material. I sit at the large vanity whilst Nuala brushes my long wavy hair and pins it to the side, letting it freely fall down my sides. I take one final look in the mirror and mentally prepare myself for whats awaiting down at dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My chest feels heavy and my steps dragged as I walk down the many steps of the town house, taking my sweet time to admire my sisters many paintings carefully hung on the walls of the house. I hear chatter and laughs coming from the dining area as I make my way down. I step into the light of the dining area, an aura of glitter and.. light? seeping from my pores and around me. All conversation stops and heads turn my way while I assess the room.

There's my sister, Feyre and her husband Rhysand. A smile graces the corner of my mouth before I drop it and look at everyone else. It's a beautiful fae woman with curled blonde hair and striking blue eyes near Cassian; the war general. I believe her name is "Morrigan". I see a pair of captivating dark blue eyes staring at me almost assessing me in a way that makes me avert my eyes from his gaze.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

AN- sorry to end like this lol first fic, planning on making more parts with her power

#azriel shadowsinger #az x reader #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #acotar #acosf #acomaf #acowar #elain archeron #rhysand #cassian #amren acotar

89 notes · View notes

camilaxmartin · 2 years

Note

Can you make an shuri x reader fic out of the scene where her and okoye went to the collage to find riri but instead of riri it's just y/n or something

ღ the scientist

this. right. here. idk why but it just gave me so much motivation skdhsjsk soo let’s get down to business.

navigation // request // me and find the rest!

summary: shuri and okoye went to to college to find the person who made the machine to define vibranium who happens to be you.

warnings: SPOILERS FOR BP: WAKANDA FOREVER !!!

notes: i hope i remembered this scene correctly. tbh i don’t know why it turned out shorter than i expected😭 i may write part 2 to it one day👀 with more fluff and stuff.

part two // part three // part four

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>•<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

“one thousand” you said to the boy standing in front of you.

“one thousand?! yesterday it was eight hundred.” he protested, while you rolled your eyes.

“inflation darling.” you responded fluttering your eyelashes, it was his turn to roll his eyes. in the next moment you heard the sound of notification coming from your phone.

“done and thank you.” he said annoyed and turned around to walk back to his friends. you smiled to yourself and headed back to your room.

what you didn’t know was the two women standing in the parking lot watching your every step.

“she’s a literal child.” said okoye looking at shuri.

“she’s a genius.” the girl corrected her, eyes still glued to you.

“i will handle it” the woman said wanting to follow you, but shuri stopped her with one of her hands.

“let me do it. no one will suspect anything, i can blend into the students” she argued still not letting go of her.

“why? do i look bad?” general asked which took shuri by surprise. “it’s the shade isn’t it? i thought it looked good.”

“noo you look great.” shuri sayid being a little amused by the sudden direction this conversation have taken.

“you sure?” the woman asked wanting to be assured.

“yes. now, let me talk with the girl.” shuri said gesturing to the building which you disappeared in a moment ago.

“you got five minutes. then i come in.” okoye smiled with her most loveable smile, but shuri knew better than that.

you just came back from one of your lessons and started to prepare for another one, when suddenly you heard knocking. guessing it was one of your to-be clients you rolled your eyes while approaching the door.

“i don’t take requests in person. i’ve got a whole damn website for it.” you said but your mouth went dry when you saw who was the person standing before your room. it was shuri. as in princess shuri. as in shuri princess of wakanda. and as the most pretty girl you’ve seen. wait-

“you… i-i mean princess-“ you started but shuri silenced you by putting a finger on her lips and quickly slipped into your room.

“you are the genius who constructed the vibranium machine, right?” she asked even tho she knew the answer. you just nodded your head, being a bit nervous because of the way she called you a genius.

“shuri” you stated still not believing your eyes and ears. “what are you doing here? i-i mean has i done something bad? did i annoy wakanda or something?” you started rambling but shuri got into your words.

“not only us.” she stated looking around your room, being too distracted by it to be only looking at you. she noticed many posters on your walls and many pictures of your hobbies and current hyper fixations.

“then who else?” you asked getting a little anxious by this whole situation.

“for your own safety i can’t say. but i need you to pack up your things and go back with me to wakanda.” she said finally landing her eyes on you.

“but princess, when?” you asked still being unable to believe in all of this.

shuri felt her cheeks warm up a little when you again, used her title. not that it was something new to her, almost everyone in wakanda used it, but just the way you said it, have changed something in this sentence. “right now.” she explained looking into your eyes.

“what?!” you screamed not being able to control your own voice in that moment. “but i can’t! i got differentiation lesson in a few minutes! i can’t just leave like that.” you protested and shuri bit her lower lip starting to worry.

“trust me. you’re not safe here but in wakanda nothing bad will happen to you. i can promise you that.” she was trying to convince you, but you felt like you were in some kind of a dream.

“i assume that, princess.” you said noticing this time how shuri reacted to the title. she scratched the back of her neck, looking away from you for a minute, needing time to think on how to finally convince you. “but i can’t just leave.” you argued also needing to think for a bit.

“y/n listen…” she started, but you stopped her.

“no.” you said rubbing your eye with one hand. “i- i need to refresh myself.” you said going straight to the bathroom.

the moment you entered the room, shuri heard your scream. her attention instantly turned to you who were now running away from the bathroom while okoye was walking slowly behind you. you ran to your desk and grabbed the first thing you could find, which was a loudspeaker.

“one step closer, and you’ll regret it.” you said, which made the woman laugh. “i’m serious!”

“oh, sure you are.” she said looking at you like you were some kind of an idiot. “look shuri, she got a loudspeaker!” she imitated you which made your blood boil. “listen little girl, there are two options: you come with us to wakanda conscious or unconscious.” she smiled at the end what gave you another dose of anxiety.

“you must’ve been unconscious when you were putting on makeup today.” you said, the first thing that came to your mind. woman in front of you was clearly surprised, but the princess started to laugh.

“that’s funny?” she asked the girl, with murder in her eyes.

“no, no it’s not.” she answered trying to control her laugh.

“i told you i looked bad.” she said, gently hitting shuri’s arm.

“you look good.” shuri said, trying to calm down okoye a bit. she just rolled her eyes. “hey, hey, listen.” she stepped a little closer to you. “we just want to keep you safe.”

“you know what?” okoye stepped in again. “let’s leave her here and let her deal with namor himself, alone.” she smiled and your blood ran cold.

“stop it.” you whined. “i don’t know what to do.” you said mostly to yourself.

“so let us help.” shuri came even closer, now standing right in front of you. “nothing bad will happen to you while you’re with us.” she assured you, also taking one of your hands in her. you uncontrollably blushed.

“i think it won’t be that hard to convince her.” okoye stated looking amused while looking at you and then at shuri. you blushed even more at her comment at this time even shuri noticed it.

“don’t listen to her.” shuri said, while looking right into your eyes. “it’s just her thing” she smiled at you and you felt your cheeks warm up more.

“thank you princess.” you said being hypnotised by her eyes. this time, shuri gently smiled at your response.

“i see what’s going on here, princess.” okoye commented again. “but please, focus on the mission first and then you will be free to flirt as much as you two want to.” she added, waiting for your reply.

“okoye, get a grip.” shuri scoffed her, but okoye just acted hurt.

“we’re not flirting.” you protested. “i wouldn’t dare to do such a thing with the princess.” you added what made both woman laugh but shuri’s face stayed a little red.

“don’t miss your chance. i can guarantee you, the princess wouldn’t mind it.” she said, specifically marking shuri’s title.

“she’s insane.” shuri commented still looking at your face and then into your eyes when they landed on her again. “but she’s not wrong.” she whispered winking at you. if you think you were already red, i don’t know how you looked right now.

“girls, seriously.” okoye broke the tension again. “pack. up.” she said with a very strong accent.

“will you go with us?” shuri asked you, with hope in her eyes.

“i don’t have a choice apparently.” you said breathing out hard.

“you will love wakanda, i promise. and we will be able to keep you safe there.” shuri repeated herself, while letting go of your hand.

“the princess will make sure of the first part.” okoye added smiling at the both of you. shuri only rolled her eyes at this.

“fine, i will go.” you stated, which earned a smile from shuri. “but we need to go to my workshop first. i have all my projects there.” you said, making the conversation serious again.

“we got you.” shuri said smiling at you even more, when okoye shook her at the two of you.

#request #reqs open #shuri #mcu shuri #queen shuri #shuri fic #shuri imagine #shuri request #shuri x reader #black panther wakanda forever #wakanda forever #black panther imagine #black panther #black panther shuri #shuri black panther #request open #send reqs #reqs #black panther request

1K notes · View notes