Belonging || Yan! Lisa Lisa Drabble
Once again another daydream that soon became something I write about. EDIT: it’s been a while since I’ve written something omg, this is super all over the place. Hopefully, this is a nice lil taste before I write full one-shots again. Enjoy!! ^^
Warnings: minors dni, fem reader, yandere behaviors, burning (with cigarette), flirting with Caesar, abuse of power, kinda short
“Again.”
The older woman demanded as she placed the cigarette butt directly onto your arm. You cried out in pain. Despite this not being the first time you’ve been burned, it still hurt like hell. This had been going on for what felt like an eternity.
What did you even do that warranted this sadistic torture from your mistress?
Oh right. You disobeyed her.
.
.
.
Lisa Lisa had been your mistress for just a little over a year. Really it was just supposed to be for a couple of weeks. You had only decided to work as a maid and attendant to cover for your(at the time, sick) sister, Susie Q. However, your sister got too attached during your visit that she has begged you to stay; so you did.
And boy do you regret it.
At first, things were normal. You weren’t expecting to build a close bond with the older woman. But you soon started to notice how much Lisa Lisa was spending time with you. You assumed that was okay right? Surely it was normal. After all, your sister spoke very highly of Lisa Lisa, you knew the two could be considered close friends. You knew she loved this job, it wasn’t really appropriate to question anything about it. So you just shrugged it off.
Then things started getting weirder when your mistress had asked if you wanted to bathe with her. Huh..? That was odd. It was such an out of no where proposition you had to refuse. You couldn’t exactly forget the look she gave you. It was a dominating glare that lingered, and scared the absolute shit out of you. Surely there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that right? After that interaction you gave in and joined her for a bath.
From then on Lisa Lisa pulled you aside for all kinds of different reasons. Some of which were way too personal for the relationship the two of you had.
"Give me a massage darling, I've had a rough day.." Normal enough.
"Won't you join me for bed sweetheart?" Okay..odd.
"I don't want you talking to Caesar anymore." Wait what?
Your mistress had forbidden you to talk to the blonde-haired Italian. But why? Sure you had a small crush on him, and you may or may not have returned his advances towards you a couple of times, but why should that be any of her business?!
"Lisa Lisa-"
She gave you a nasty look, "That's mistress to you", she said lighting a cigarette without looking away from you. You gulped as you made eye contact with her. Sweat started to go down your face, was it worth it to even call her out on this invasion of privacy?
"Mistress, with all due respect, I don't think it's an issue that I'm talking to Mr. Zep-"
"Are you disobeying me?" Lisa Lisa asked in a stern tone. Even when she was livid, her face still looked relatively calm. "I didn't ask you to stop talking to him, that was a direct order. By the looks of it I see you hold no respect for me anymore" she said crossing her legs ever so elegantly.
You didn't know how to react. "I'm sorry mistress I didn't mean that-"
"Are you sorry?" she cut you off once again. You nodded. She signaled you to come closer to her. Reluctantly, you did. And now you were standing right in front of her.
"Sit down on my lap darling. That's also an order. Unless you're not sorry. And if you aren't there's the door, and your sister can go with you" she stated, and that alone made you obey with no hesitation. You didn't want Susie to lose her job...
"That's a good girl..but you still need to be punished, don't you?"
.
.
.
"Again darling, I couldn't hear you clearly the last time.."
You were crying horrendously. So much so your tears were blinding you. Lisa Lisa was not kind whatsoever. You were growing sick of smelling the strong scent of her favorite brand of cigarettes. Your arms were covered in burns, while your neck was filled with hickeys. You wanted this to stop, you had enough.
"I'm still waiting," she said in a low voice.
You whimpered as you felt Lisa Lisa bring another cigarette close to your arm again. "I-I'm sorry, I won't talk to Mr. Zeppeli anymore," you said closing your eyes.
She gave you a small smile, "And?"
"I will never disobey you again.." you said. "M-mistress" you whispered opening your eyes and facing her.
Lisa Lisa smiled, you trembled above her. She looked at all the burn marks and hickeys that were now on your body. All physical signs that you belong to her.
You were officially hers, and no one could take you away.
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looking at the sleepover prompt list and..
[ JOY ] sender getting louder than usual which makes receiver start laughing affectionately, taking the opportunity to check in.
THAT IS SO REAL!! wbk steve gets incredibly loud and honestly sounds pained when he’s about to reach o-town so having his partner giggle and check up on him is just.. CHEFS KISS!! he’d get go embarrassed abt it too you can’t even deny it
oh hey ali :) thanks for sending one in! this is so totally meant to be sweet (and it is!) but it's also like tehe, a lil bit mean MDNI this entire blog is 18+
You would think, with his face buried in your neck, Steve can't make that much noise.
That would be wrong. There's already so much noise, the subtle slap of skin meeting skin, of your thighs hitting against his with every roll of your hips and the wetness. Your slick leaks out, squelching lewdly as his cock fucks in and out, smearing it across your thighs and his. And yet, there's nothing you can hear more than Steve's raspy low moans.
He's especially vocal tonight — though you have a feeling that's because of the distance from earlier, spending a couple days apart. It makes you feel all the more hot and bothered, listening to his guttural moans that seem to be getting louder and louder. His praise, which he;s been showering you in since he worked you up on his fingers earlier, moaning about how wet you are for him, hasn't stopped either.
"Yeah, f-fuck, good fucking girl, so wet— so, fuck," His hips buckup into yours, his pace ravenous and you try match it from the top. You're bent over him, chest to chest, sinking down on his cock while Steve fucks up into you. His cock fits snug in your cunt and you're taking great pleasure in fucking out cute little noises out of him, including his pussy-drunk rambles. "S-so pretty and wet just for me, mhm. Pussy so good, this pussy's all mine."
You moan at his possessiveness, your cunt gushing at his claim on you— it eggs on another louder moan from Steve as he fucks into the new slick faster, his noises beginning to get more high pitched. You take a page out of his book.
"All yours," you whisper, just to test the water. Steve whimpers and you take it as a good sign. "M'all yours, Steve. No- uh, nobody can treat me like you, baby— no one fucks me as good as you, mhm."
Steve shudders, a loud throaty moan that gets pressed into your shoulder. He tucks his face in closer, his thrusts getting sloppier as he gets closer to falling apart, your name falling from his lips.
You rake your hand down his chest, scraping your fingernails in a way you know he loves and this time, when he lets out another loud gasping moan, you can't help the little affectionate giggle that titters out of you. He's being so loud tonight, so much louder than usual.
Steve slows his hips just a bit, digging his face out of your shoulder to look at you.
"What?" He slurs, voice sounding a bit wrecked. His cheeks are pink, his lips pinker still. You clench around him purposefully just to see him moan and revel in the cute expression he makes, eyes scrunched closed for a second.
"You're so noisy tonight," You coo at him, bringing your hand up to card through his hair. Steve surges to press a kiss to your skin as you do, his lips dropping wet kisses along your forearm. He hums at your words. "That's all, baby. You all good?"
You're so glad he's looking at you so you can see the pure rush of blood to his face, embarrassment creeping over his features. He nods a bit sheepishly.
To drive your point home, you sit up a bit to take away his hiding place and start really fucking yourself down on him. It's glorious, watching him struggle for the first few seconds of you bouncing to try contain his noises— but when the first moan slips out, whines and whimpers follow it, building in volume.
You stroke down his chest again, harder, your fingers toying with his chest hair and smirk at him beneath you. "That's it. Lemme hear it, baby..."
Steve whimpers, loud, in response.
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Dogstock are typical of what are often deemed the ‘evil’ races in many other fantasy works. They were created by some higher force to be slaves, they are carnivorous by nature, they resemble animals other than human in dentition and build. They growl and bite and walk behind.
The Uhasr (a dogstock culture) are descendants of such slave-infantry that was abandoned when the empire that used them to capture the steppes decided the land wasn’t so profitable after all, and more pressing matters drew their attention elsewhere. Like tools left spent on the ground, the unneeded, excess dogstock were left to survive on their own in Hochkiskuph. The native peoples, of course, did not welcome them any more, or see them any less as oppressors when the hand released the lead. To the Hochkiskuph peoples, the Uhasr are a predatory ghost, an echo that consumes them even in absentia. To the Uhasr, one human is much like another, differing in number and equipment, but never in essence. Uhasr are a species of wild animal with a human face. Humans are prey on two legs. Humans smoke and poison uncovered dens on principle, Uhasr abduct and consume men and women and children all the same.
A common trend I have noticed in media which aims to humanize monsters, is that it often relies on passivity. Humanity is contingent upon kindness. The monster that is A Person only so long as they are a harmless thing at heart, something which can be understood and befriended. Their violence is reluctant, their hearts noble. Grace is a concession to the dominated. Only the toothless beast, declawed and pinioned and caged, is one which has earned its personhood. The ontological enemy supersedes the ontological man.
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