#I can’t even entertain myself in my own head anymore

[vvitchering]

I’m at the point in my creative block where I can’t even imagine my fun little scenarios anymore. It’s like trying to start a car with no gas in it. It won’t turn on, won’t turn over, just zip. Nada. Nothing. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

Petrichor. | joel miller x f!reader, 4.1k

Summary: You underestimate yourself but Joel doesn't like what's his to be degrated. Unless, he's the one doing it. He makes sure you know your place.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, allusion to suicidal thoughts BUT it's a misunderstanding, low self esteem!reader, established relationship, unspecified age gap (make it you own😏), dom!Joel, sub!reader, dd/lg vibes, pet names(darlin', baby, sweetheart, little girl, good girl), degradation kink, praise kink, size kink, daddy kink, oral m!receiving, masturbation f!receiving, dacryphilia, pussy slapping (quite a few), deepthroating, facial, cum eating, aftercare, as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: First of all, thank you for your love on my little drabble Take me, I didn't expect it at all and I'm so glad you liked it, it really means the world! 🙈 Now, for this fella here, I swear to god it was supposed to be a drabble, I even named its draft as such, because I'm so decisive and steady.😂 I don’t know what happened, it started as a pwp but of course I had to go and pepper it with some feelings.🙄 And then @iamasaddie had a smut fic prompt including “Baby, you know, Daddy only hurts you because you look so pretty when you cry.” line and it fitted so damn well, like Joel's cock fits in reader's pussy, so there's that. 🥵🥵

P.S.: I hate summaries, I hate them, I wish someone else would write them for me. Ok, I love you all, let me know what you think!

Song on repeat: The kooks - Sway

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Maybe this is your favorite sound in the world, you think as you hear the rain drops hit the -floor to ceiling- windows of your loft.

Your mind wanders to your childhood memories searching for confirmation. And you think that, yes, this is it. So, it makes perfect sense that your favorite scent is that of the soaked soil after raining. Petrichor. You smile softly to yourself.

He seems to notice that. But then, he always does.

He’s on his side facing you, all 5’11” of his magnificent naked body laying on your bed, his head resting on the pillow. One hand under your neck, as you lay flat on your back, the other reaching for your jawline, turning you to face him instead of the window.

You turn to him, gladly, because this, this is your favorite sight in the world. Him. The soft glow from the lights outside is the only source of illumination and he couldn’t be more beautiful than right now. He makes your heart ache instantly. His calm and safe presence in your life is such a juxtaposition to the shadows of your past, it brings a lump in your throat. You swallow it down.

“Why the smile, baby?” he speaks carefully, like he feels the antithesis of the emotions inside you right now. And there it is, at last. This is the answer you’re looking for. This, this is your favorite sound in the world. His voice.

Your palm lands on the hand petting your cheek. “No reason,” you smile to him, “just feeling content.”

“Are you, though?” he insists after a minute, “feeling content?”

“I-, yeah, of course I do, you know that.”

“Do I?”

“I hope you do. You know what you mean to me, what your presence in my life means to me, right?” your voice is lightly wavering, the lump in your throat lurking still. “And- and I’m so happy with my job and my new place and everyth-”

“Why did you choose this place?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that. From all the places we’ve seen, why this? I saw in your eyes it did something to you.” And if you ever entertained the idea that maybe some things get past him, you do not anymore. You can’t hide from him. And you find that, oddly, liberating.

“Because it’s everything I'm not; I wanted to challenge myself.”

He’s curious now. After all these bits and pieces over these past few months you’re giving him something more. He knows there’s more. “How so?”

“It’s just-”, you roll your eyes in frustration, trying to compare a space to a person, “so open, so bare, no hiding spaces, you know, open floor and everything, I remember when I first walked in it made me feel uneasy, insecure, intimidated. So I rented it.”, you shrug like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Why would you feel all that?”

He raises his head supporting it on his palm as he studies your profile from his side, seeing your struggle, the waterline of your eyes glassing over, the vein on your forehead bulging. There’s so much you want to tell him, confide in him, confess to him, but you don’t know where to begin. How to sum all this shit up.

“I just- I have lived my life without actually living. I just- existed. I compromised, backed down, let myself be led by people who were supposed to be my family and now-” your lips are trembling and you bite your bottom lip to stop it, your throat is closing, you feel this ache, this burning sensation inside of it, like acid through your veins, making you unable to breathe, let alone speak. Your face turns pinkish, the tears threatening to spill now, the sob ready to explode deep from your chest.

“-I just hate myself-” you mouth through an inaudible cry, still deprived of air in your lungs that they feel like they’re gonna collapse.

His legs straddle yours in a moment of panic, his eyes wide, his pupils blown, his body stiff, ready to engage in some kind of fight. He’s leaning above you, his long torso shadows over you, his huge hand cupping the back of your neck and pulls you in a sitting position underneath him. Your hands grab his forearms in confusion. It -he- makes you feel so tiny, which you are compare to him, but even more so, now that his knees are pressing down on the sides of your hips, holding his weight above your lap so he won’t completely crush you, making your body sink deeper into the mattress and suddenly you’re so small, so insignificant, so unnoticed to the rest of the room, of the apartment, of the world. Except from him. His eyes, raging fires, burning yours as they search for meaning, answers, reassurance. His fist is closing and tugging harshly at the hairs on the back of your neck, demanding all of your attention. The tears run freely down your cheeks now on their own volition, years of restrain and pain unleashed in a blink of an eye.

“Tell me I don’t need to fuckin’ worry about you.” he demands in a harsh tone, his expression painted with anger, desperation, agony.

You open your mouth to respond, but you are at loss for words, your thoughts hazy and confused.

“Tell me!” his voice high and urgent, now mirroring his expression, almost breaking.

And you get it now, you really do. The smell of fear, the fear of loss, the loss of existence.

Your eyes widen, your lips trembling again, “No, no!”, you shake your head violently, his grip on your scalp tightening more, in warning. His expression is torn, like the two faces of Janus, his jaw clenched in disbelief, but his eyes pained, begging, pleading for trust.

Your hands fly around his middle, squeezing him, your fingernails nearly tearing his flesh, “I swear Joel, no, that was not what I meant!” you’re desperate now, how could he think that, doesn’t he know what he means to you?

He doesn’t budge, he doesn’t move a muscle, his eyes keep scanning, keep searching. You try to rest your forehead to his stomach now, how massive he is above you and he allows it. His fist unclench from your hair, cupping your neck again tenderly, his mouth kissing the top of your head. Your arms hug him tighter now, pressing your face to his sweaty skin, inhaling his scent, grounding you, your fingers caressing his broad back up and down. “I swear, I swear.” you keep muttering on his skin, your nose deeply pressed against his firm chest now, barely breathing.

He moves both his hands to the sides of your neck, simply holding you and tilting your head up to look at him. He bends forward to touch your lips with his in a soft kiss, just flesh touching flesh. His forehead resting on yours, he sighs deeply, letting all the weight of the world go through his nostrils. “Don’t you ever-”

“I’m sorry Joel, I’m so sorry, that’s not what I meant, I promise.” you apologize, pressing your chin to his skin, looking up at him. But his eyes are still searching, not letting this one go.

“I’m just pissed it took me so long to wake up. I’m scared I fucked my life up. I’m scared I missed my chance. I’m scared-” you shake your head slowly in disappointment as you try to explain and Joel keeps his eyes on you, waiting. He nods, he’s listening, he’s here. He’s got you. “I’m scared I’m so broken; there’s nothing left of me to be loved.” you hide your face back to his chest again.

He holds you tight, whispering at the crown of your head, “There’s so much left my darlin’, so much left. And I’m here to pick each and every piece of you up and mend it back together.” And you know he is. You just don’t know if you’re worth the trouble.

Suddently your senses are so overloaded, you just need something to ground you. Hard. His natural musk mixed with sweat and sex from earlier that night hits your nostrils, his soft now cock practically under your nose, on your lap. And there is another answer for you. This, this is your favorite scent in the world. His scent.

You inhale deeply, your forehead pressing on his skin, feeling the sparse hair of his chest and the steady beating of his heart. “I need you Joel.”

He tugs your hair gently to raise your head and looks at you. Really looks at you.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”, he moves his hands cupping your cheeks softly.

“I need you to punish me.” you plead with your eyes closed, embarrassment creeping in.

His breath is hitching in his throat, his eyes darken immediately, “Yeah?”

“Yeah..”

“Use your manners then and ask for it, properly.”

“Please sir, I need you to take control, put me in my place.” you feel your skin shiver, your core warming up again.

He just stares at you, making your heart flutter.

You can feel him hardening, his heavy cock brushing against your stomach. You go to palm him, stroke him to his full potential but he grabs your hand and swats it away.

“You're asking for two different things sweetheart and that tells me you're in a delicate headspace. So, I am taking control from you and I am not going to punish you.” he settles.

“But I wa-”

He raises his brows “Are you sure you want to finish that sentence, little girl?” and that effectively shuts you up and turns you on. He doesn’t speak again, he doesn’t say anything else, he just puts his hand on your throat, resting it there for a second, observing you and then he’s guiding you down on your back.

He straddles you higher, on your chest, now hard in all his glory. He’s a sight to behold. Naturally imposing, no pretenses, it’s just who he is. From his gaze to the sound of his voice and from the broadness of his shoulders to the thickness of his thighs, he’s all man.

You must look awestruck because he smirks softly. You open your mouth to -actually you don’t know what you want to ask, he just caught you off guard, but he beats you to it, explaining the situation clearly.

“When you disrespect yourself, you disrespect me and I will not have that. I will not, under any circumstances tolerate that kind of behavior. Do you understand that?”

You just lay there, mouth agape, eyes confused.

He slaps your cheek not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to sting a bit, to snap you out of your trance.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. So..” he brushes his thumb over your lips, pushing it in slowly, pressing down your tongue, “I’m gonna fuck some manners into that mouth, baby.” Oh, shit. “From now on, when you’re chocking on your tears, it’s gonna be because of me ramming my cock down your throat like it deserves.”

Your breath hitches at his vulgarity, your pupils are blown wide and your slick is running down your ass cheeks now. You suck around his thumb, your thighs pressing together in need of some friction.

“You like that, you little whore?”, he removes his thumb allowing you to respond.

You don't know where you find the nerve but, “I thought you said no disrespect.” you blurt out, you can’t help it, you want to rile him up.

“Oh, she speaks now!”, he raises his eyebrows in amusement. Or in a challenge, you’re not totally sure if you want to find out.

He breaths a laugh, shaking his head in a mockingly condencending way, “I don’t think you understand your place here little girl, so let me break it to you.”

His eyes are glazed over, some sort of wickedness mirroring in them. “Only I get to call you names. No one else. No one. Do you know why that is?” He leans in and looks above your head, a sign that he’s expecting an answer.

“Nnn- no.”

“Manners.”, he shakes your head, your jaw grabbed between his fingers.

“No, sir.”

He’s nodding his head slowly. “That’s because only daddy knows what you need.” You know there's more coming, so you stay silent.

“So, when I say you’re a whore, what do you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when I say you’re my good girl, what do you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when I say you’re gonna take whatever the fuck I give you, what do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy.”

“Damn right.”, his cock twitches in front of you.

“Please, daddy.” You start whining and squirming underneath him, all needy and wet.

Yes, this is right. He is right. This is how you need it. This is how it should be. If your throat’s gonna hurt and burn and swell it’s gonna be from the invasion of Joel’s cock and not from the insecurities caused from your past.

“Please..” you keep whining.

“Manners, ‘mnot gonna ask again.”, he demands sternly. “And quit your whining, it won't get you anywhere good; got it?”

“Please, sir, let me touch you, pretty please.” you try with a steadier voice.

“Now, now, that’s a good girl right there, hm?” that seems to satisfy him. “Ok, baby, go on.”

Your trembling hands roam slowly all over his chest, then his stomach and the swell of his belly, moving all the way down to his thighs and finally up to the v of where they meet with his pelvis, massaging, caressing and squeezing him softly, circling your fingers around the base of his thick cock.

You're threading them through his pubic hair, your thumbs caressing lightly under him, on his scrotum. He inhales sharply, shivers raising the hairs on his forearms. You press his waist down on you more, resting his weight on you, his warm balls touching your sternum, his hands flat on his thighs.

Joel's eyes are trained on your face, studying you, recognizing the same want, the same desire and thirst that he feels, as you worship him. You raise your head trapping his cockhead under your chin, giving hot, open mouthed kisses to his base and his veiny shaft like you would make out with his mouth. You let him slide to the side of your face, his precum painting your cheek as you bring his cock above you, kissing and licking his underside, lightly sucking his protruding vein.

His eyes darken, enough of your teasin’. He fists his cock, stroking it slowly once, twice, his thumb pressing it down to guide it into your salivating mouth. He swipes his tip across your lips, smearing his precum all over them.

“What do you do if you want me to stop?”, he checks with you.

“Joel..” you drag the vowels of his name on your tongue.

“Show. Me.”, he demands, so you move your hand to his thigh and you tap three times.

“Good. Now, open.”

You just want to consume him, suck his soul out of his perfect slit. So, you obey, sticking your tongue out. He taps his wide head on your wet muscle one, two, three times and then he invades you, moving his hips forward.

There’s something so undeniably erotic about the movement of his pelvis, like a statement, I choose to give and you accept to take, a balancing of the dynamic between you; you could watch him thrust into you forever.

You take him in as far as you can manage without chocking. The feel of every vein and ridge filling your mouth, dragging on your tongue, is driving you crazy.

You hollow your cheeks and start bobbing your head back and forth in rhythm with his thrusts, while your tongue swirls over his delicious pink head, so soft and velvet, your cunt clenches at the memory of it stretching your tight cunt.

You exhale loudly through your nose, and you’re in a frenzy now, you can’t keep a pace or build him slowly up as you’d normally do. You need him now, all of him, as fast and hard as you can, or you’re gonna die, you think. Your eyes roll back and you’re moaning so loud, Joel feels the vibrations from tip to base.

“F-fuck”, he’s taken aback from your fervor, his jaw slack and his brows pinched together from the intensity of your pace.

“Mnot gonnghhhh-”, he groans deeply, every thought of dominance long gone when you’re giving him head like this. Normally, he’d punish you for attempting to take more than he offers, but your neediness is overwhelming. His breathing is faster, louder, in an effort to level himself. His hands fly to your head, like he would hold to your hips if he was fucking you from behind. He’s taking control now for both of your sake.

His fists tighten on your head, keeping you steady and compliant, his little rug-doll, like you’d go anywhere anyway. He’s all the way in now, your nose brushing his pubic hair, his scent driving you wild. He’s fucking himself into your tight throat harder and harder, the noises from your choking on his massive length and the drooling around your mouth might embarrassed you in another life, but not in this one, not now, not with him.

You take everything because he’s everything. Nothing else exists beyond him. He blinks; you see, he moves; you shift, he laughs; you bloom, he breathes; you live.

You don’t even think of your pleasure until he palms your cunt with one hand and your juices cover his fingers. He slows his pace, thrusting into your mouth almost sensually.

“Sucking daddy’s cock made you this wet, sweetheart?”

He starts to rub your swollen clit up and down, knowing how much more intense the sensation is for you this way. You’re already so close, you can feel your lower belly tense with a familiar warmth. You moan around his cock while you begin to grind your hips against his deftly fingers. You should know better.

He slaps your pussy, the wet sound of his palm on your soaked folds making you feral. “Mmmmm” you groan, arching your back unsuccessfully under that mountain of a man above you, rolling your eyes back, your hips never stoping their movement. You're so far gone, it should be embarrassing.

He slaps you again, harder this time and then a third time in quick succession. The impact with your clit sends waves of arousal all over your body, your cunt gushing your slick all over the sheets now.

Your body tenses, your hands squeeze his ass so hard, little moon-shaped indentations mark his skin and your legs are trembling. Tears start running from your eyes to your temples from the intensity of the act.

“You’re a wild little thing, aren't you?”, still slow-fucking your face, his middle and ring finger tapping quickly on your swollen bundle of nerves. “Playing coy and innocent until my cock’s in your mouth, only to come on my palm, hm?” And then he slaps your mound again.

“Mmmmm” you moan desperately, your face contorted in pleasure, tears pooling in your ears, your whole body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You feel him twitching in your mouth while you swallow around him. He’s hard and hot inside you and that makes you drool even more as you suck him off with everything you got. Your neck hurts, your jaw hurts, your lips are stretched to their limit, but you’re not stopping for a second.

You start to whimper and his hand leaves your hair to thumb your tears, bringing it to his mouth. You watch him trapping his digit between his plush lips and sucking on it, tasting your saltiness and everything feels so intimate, sobs start shaking your chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.

You try to push him away to breathe but Joel keeps fucking your mouth. “You know what to do if you want me to stop.”

You keep struggling to breathe but you are not going to tap his thigh.

Joel doesn’t stop, either. “You either tap, or you fuckin’ take it.”, he warns, but you shake your head in denial. “Then I guess you can take it, little girl.”, he concludes while he watches you still struggling and sobbing.

“Baby, you know, Daddy only hurts you because you look so pretty when you cry.” he says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to calm yourself, more tears spilling out, nodding at the best of your ability.

“That’s how you gonna come for me”. You didn’t expect that.

You’re not sure you can do it and your body stiffens. It hurts good, what he's doing, leaving you panting and wanting, but you fear it's not enough to make you come. He can read that on you and he feels your hesitation.

He moves his thumb to your cheekbone, caressing it gently. Then he moves it lower, to the corner of your outstretched mouth, feeling himself sliding in and out of you. “Fuck, baby, you take me so good. You’re doin’ so good for me,” he’s panting and you know he’s holding himself back, “your mouth was made for daddy’s cock. Just let go baby, don't fight it, ok? I got you, you’re gonna be ok.”

He starts fucking your mouth roughly now, his heavy balls slapping on your wet chin, the sounds echoing in the room nearly pornographic. His hand resumes rubbing your clit in tight circles now, building you up, then tapping it a few times to bring you close and then slapping it once to bring you back from the edge, before he starts all over again.

Circling. Tapping. Slapping.

Circling. Tapping. Slapping.

Circling. Tapping. Slapping.

The bastard is fucking edging you.

He did exactly what you asked of him. He took control, left no room for thoughts, for decisions, for questioning. You just lay there and you take it.

“Daddy needs you to come, right fuckin’ now darlin’; be my good girl and give me what’s mine.” he commands and you obey, because there is no other way.

Your orgasm is explosive, your cunt spasming violently, your eyes rolling into your head, Joel’s pulling back his cock from your open mouth to let you breathe properly but you’re holding your breath in. “Theeere she is, there she fuckin' is..”he smirks in satisfaction, his fingers keep circling your overstimulated clit to prolong your high while he jerks himself fast above your lips.

You exhale loudly when you remember you need to breathe, the air is coming out of your lungs forcefully, hitting Joel’s tip and he comes instantly, thick ropes of milky cum painting your cheeks, nose and lips, running down to your jaw and neck. There’s so much of it, its warmth on your sweaty skin making your pussy keep clenching.

All because of that gorgeous man above you. Because it’s a part of him and he’s gifting it to you.

Joel brings his hand from between your legs to the side of your head, steadying himself, leaning above you, his head resting low between his shoulders, his breathing erratic and loud. His eyes are closed shut, his face wrecked, his muscles still convulsing from his intense orgasm.

Please, open them, let me look at you and he does open them, making you realize you said it out loud. His gaze is one of adoration and something else you don’t dare acknowledge. The edges of his mouth are curled up in a soft smirk.

His fingers caress your face, gathering his seed from your skin and feeding it to your starved mouth. You suck around his thick fingers, your tongue swiping everything clean. He places a soft kiss on your lips tasting himself on you, before he stands to fetch a warm washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up.

You close your eyes and just lay there, still, utterly content and satisfied, lighter than ever. In peace. You feel the mattress dip under his weight again and him gently cleaning your face and neck, then between your legs, discarding the cloth on the hardwood floor when he’s done and laying on top of you, peppering soft kisses all over your face.

“Good?” he whispers against your lips.

“Yes, thank you daddy”. You bring your hands on the sides of his head, kissing the space between his earlobe and jaw, then his jawline, his bottom lip, the edge of his mouth, the apple of his cheek as he smiles, the tip of his nose.

It’s how you know to say thank you, I care about you, too; I love you.

For now.

[mysticheathenn]

What Are The Lies You Tell Yourself?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is about the many things you tell yourself to keep yourself small, stay in toxic relationships, make yourself feel bad, etc. Maybe even words of kindness to help dispel those lies.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

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Next Reading: Patreon (unless spirit says otherwise)

Pile l:

What are the lies you tell yourself? Tarot: 4 Swords (reversed), 2 of Swords, Awakening, 9 of Wands, 7 of Swords (reversed)

Pile l you have two different messages so I will start off with the first message of those who like to self-sabotage their lives. You like to feed yourself the narrative that you are too busy and everything is hard because you are afraid of failure. You are afraid of the things that can come from actually doing the many things that you say you want and will do. This might be success, failure, or fear of losing those around you because you aren't sure if leveling up will cause a rift or if people will start asking for money but either way, you refuse to look at yourself with complete honesty and accountability when it comes to achieving your goals because you are always feeding yourself lies as to why you can't do them out of fear of the unknown and it's time you stop lying to yourself. This doesn't even have to be a fear of failure or success, etc this could just be you feeding into your imposter syndrome or for some of you feeding into your Lana Del Rey era where you fear if you aren't sad, stressed, or anxious you won't be loved, be a funny person anymore, whatever the reasoning is. You have to give yourself a chance to fly or else you will never know what you are truly capable of or even know if you can really fly.

The 2nd message is for those who identify with hyper-independence. You refuse to acknowledge the fact that the reason you do everything yourself is because you fear having the few people around you let you down like others have. So you continue to feed this narrative of "I like to do things myself." "I'm the only one who can do things right around here." While some of it may be true...you really deep down fear people letting you down again. You are prolonging the inevitable of letting people show you who they really are. Let others around you help you so you can have a break now and then, stop always trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. If someone messes up or doesn't come through...so be it. You can't control everything in your life...you are going to have to release some of that control and go with the flow and allow things to come and go no matter how lonely or horrible the feeling may feel. Better will come when you stop trying to control everything.

Extra Messages: Tea Trea Oracle Deck: June, Slowly but surely getting ahead, dissatisfaction with life, An exciting life, waiting for news/ package/ or letter, Do not back down from the opposition show strength and fortitude, solid foundation success with effort, feeling tied down or frustrated.

Pile ll:

What are the lies you tell yourself? Tarot: 7 of Cups, The Star, Page of Cups, 8 of Swords, Queen of Pentacles.

Similar to how pile l has two messages so does this pile. The first message I would like to ask is who hurt you? Who hurt you enough to where it made you believe that you can't be loved, shouldn't be loved, nor seek love. You continuously keep yourself in a small corner...my own little corner from the Cinderella movie featuring Brandi is playing in my head (Link to Song). Long story short you feel small when you are around others like you have to change who you are in order to be and feel loved but when you are alone you are exactly who you want to be if not exactly who you want to be at least you have an idea or a sense that who you are currently is not who you want to be and it's sad love. I want to hug you and let you know that you should be around others who see you, for you. You are not hard to love and you deserve the best and purest love there is. Stop feeding into the narrative of others as your own, because it's not.

The second message is similar to the first message and a little bit of the first message of pile l. You like to tell yourself reasons why you don't deserve nice things or feed into the mindset that you will never amount to financial abundance. I feel some of this mindset has to deal with childhood/adolescent trauma others of you this may have developed because you kept feeling like every time you got a leg up life would knock you down a peg as to tell you, you aren't meant to have good things when in reality life was trying to redirect you or point you in a direction of something better. You were meant to shine and have many options of abundance in your life. This message is for a few of you but this also has to deal with your looks. You possibly feel that your looks are not up to par and that everyone you meet is always better looking than you. You may also have a fear that if you ever did decide to date that the person you are with would leave you for someone better looking or "better" in general.

Extra Messages: Tea Trea Oracle Deck: A path with money is waiting for you to find it, Getting together with friends, Take care or there will be a loss of material wealth, Opportunity of windfall, Stepping into a new experience, Work/success/achievement, Affairs with your family.

Pile lll:

What are the lies you tell yourself? Tarot: 5 of Wands, Justice, 6 of Cups, 10 of Wands

This doesn't feel like a lie per se that you tell yourself like the other piles but more so of the delusion you feed yourself. This feels more of a victim mentality mixed in with entitlement and before you say nope not me....*David Beckham's voice* Be Honest. How do you feel when you aren't getting your way or dealing with small inconveniences. Be Honest. If the answer is you complain about life not being fair and you go into victim mentality mode that everything always happens to you and not for you or you just feel for whatever delusional reason that life must always cater to you without any kind of effort is....quite bold...I will applaud you for that love. You have the confidence of a mediocre white man, haha. I love to see it. This per se again isn't all that bad but it kind of is as it stems from your childhood of you parents always handing you gold stars for just existing or putting in "at least they did it" energy. You like to believe that you are doing hard work or you are doing a lot when really you self-sabotage or you do one little thing and expect life or others to bend towards your will because you "tried". This message doesn't even feel like a message to help guide you but more so to act as a mirror because it has been a while since you have been completely honest with yourself and your behavior. Some of you might be sick of yourselves and need this while others of you don't smell your own shit.

Extra Messages: None. You don't really need extra messages as your reading was all the message that you needed for a shift and clarity on how things are. Stop lying to yourself. Look in the mirror and ask if you really love what you see? If you really love the kind of person you are? If you really love how you move in your life towards things you want.

Pile lV:

What are the lies you tell yourself? Tarot: The Tower, The Empress, The Sun, Queen of Cups

Three major arcana cards and one minor arcana say a lot about you, pile lV. At first because of the type of reading this is I thought maybe you might be afraid or lying to yourself about becoming successful or experiencing happiness but as I drew clarifiers for your pile it started to come together that you are not being authentic to who you are in your feminine energy. What I mean is that you are people-pleasing way too much to the point where when you want to say no, you say yes instead. This pile gives me the vibes that when a guy approaches you, you are on your "best lady-like behavior when politely declining the guy." Even when he keeps persisting and etc you refuse to act out of character and say listen my guy back the fuck up and fuck off. Take a hint. You can be in your feminine energy and still maintain boundaries, and say what you want to say without coming off as "hard, rough around the edges, etc. There was a YouTube short the other day that was from the Clock app where someone was making fun while also having a point when it comes to people pleasers. "Oh, you're such a people pleaser...how many people have you pleased?" So many people have stitched it not being able to answer this question because who have you pleased? Do you consider yourself a dog pleasing its owner for treats, shelter, and so forth. For some of you, this all stems from childhood because maybe you grew up in a transactional household where your parents or family didn't do anything for you without expecting something in return, or even romantic and friendships have done this. It's okay to say no from time to time. It's okay to not be this prime and prissy-like persona. Again you can be loving and kind while still painting boundaries and saying no to things you don't want to do.

Extra Messages: None like pile lll, you don't really need any extra messages as your message has everything that you need to hear.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

Next Reading: Patreon (Unless spirit says otherwise)

[skywlker-sluvtt]

jealousy angry sex to fluff what do you think I really love a jealous ani like in the clone wars

I adore jealous clone wars Anakin. The whole Padme and Clovis thing was just so 🤤 especially when Anakin beat the shit outta him. Here's a lil headcanon-y piece. I went a lil overboard but...I kinda like it 🫣 I hope you enjoy lovey.

Warnings: degrading, dirty talk, no protection (please be safe), spanking, possessive asf behaviour, and more 18+!!!

Word Count: 1.5k

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ

➮ Anakin is so vocally jealous. He’s a cocky ass hole and he will talk to the person flirting with you in the most condescending way ever and it gets on everyone’s nerves.

➮ He’s just so possessive of you and wishes you just wore a sticker on your shirt saying “Anakin’s my husband go away” so everyone fucks off. He also starts getting annoyed at you if you seem to be entertaining someone's flirtatious behaviour. Anakin’s watching you with some douchebag and he’s thinking “Yeah I bet that dick head can’t make you cum as good as I can” cause his mind goes straight to sex.

➮ It starts with his firm assertive ‘I’m the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, fear me fucker’ voice. He stands up straight, with crossed arms and a clenched jaw as he storms over to retrieve you. (this part is incredibly sexy because he’s so hot and jealous)

➮ You can just feel the envy radiating off his body and you almost enjoy it. Anakin will make some shitty excuse to take you away making it somewhat obvious you’re his and only his. He’ll firmly grab your arm basically pulling you away from the guy. Anakin shares his partner with no one. If anyone is even talking to you with any kind of suggestive tone Anakin will go for their throat and sometimes it can be a little embarrassing if he makes it seem like you can’t take care of yourself.

➮ “Anakin! That was humiliating I can look out for myself I don’t need you constantly lurking around me asshole” You complain pacing your shared bedroom. “Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your new boyfriend,” He says sarcastically. “You possessive jealous little boy. Get over yourself” You roll your eyes frustrated with his behaviour, but knowing where it will get you is the real goal here 🤭

➮ “Possessive? I’ll show you possessive” He growls standing up and towering over you. His large muscular frame is just too much to deal with. He grabs your face gripping your jaw to make you look at him. “Do you not value my protection love?” He asks his eyes are dark with lust. “I don’t need you over my shoulder constantly” You huff. “You’re so naive Y/N” He states. You turn your head avoiding his dangerous gaze. “Darling, who do you belong to?” He asks in such a fake-sweet-sounding tone. This is when he decides he’ll just fuck the bratty attitude out of you. “I don’t belong to anyone” You reply. He scoffs before pressing a hard, lewd kiss to your lips.

➮ Knowing what’s coming next you return the kiss threading your fingers through his hair as you both fight for control in the kiss. His tongue dominates yours and he pulls away smirking. “Strip for me, then get on the bed” Anakin whispers lowly in your ear giving your ass a smack and you’re quick to do as he says. As you take your panties off he snatches them from you. “Hey!” You try to grab them back and he smirks. “I think I might keep these in case I have to gag you” He replies swinging them around his finger and making you turn bright red.

➮ He’s the kind of guy to act fake sweet and humiliate you before angry fucking you till you can’t cum anymore.

➮ Slowly, you get on the bed as he takes off his own robes. “Touch yourself” He states still standing at the end of the bed. “What?” You reply shocked by his request. “Touch. Your. Self. Don’t make me repeat myself” He says again as you hesitantly move your hand down to your dripping heat. Biting your lip you slowly begin to circle your swollen cunt and Anakin can’t help but smirk watching the way your eyebrows are drawn together and the breathy moans you let out. “For someone who doesn’t need me you’re soaked princess” He sneers coming even closer to you, his eyes trained on your pussy. “Not for you” You reply. “Really?” Anakin laughs. “Should I leave? Maybe I’ll find someone at a bar who wants me” He sighed getting up. “N-No, no Anakin I-I didn’t mean it,” You whine reaching up to grab his arm and pull him back.

➮ He puts you on your back and cages you between his arms. “That’s what I thought, you're just my needy little slut aren’t you,” He chuckled, the sound of his breathy laughter making you rub your thighs together in pleasure. “I am” You whimper pulling him down for kisses. You yelp as he flips you on your stomach and roughly squeezes your ass while kissing your neck and back. Anakin’s a sloppy messy bitch and decides to lick up your spine and make you squirm first. “Ass up,” He says firmly. You shift positions gently and he gives you a few hard spanks making you moan.

➮ “God you’re so easy,” He tells you grabbing your hips and pushing his hard cock inside of you. “You just love all this attention don’t you, is that why you flirt with these creeps? You’re an attention whore huh?” He asked. You stay silent and he grabs a handful of your hair tugging you upward and keeping your back to his chest. “Answer me” He whispers biting your earlobe. “Yes” Is all you whisper wiggling your hips desperate for him to move. “Please Ani” You continue before he lets you go and starts fucking you at a merciless pace letting out his pent-up anger on your tight pussy.

➮ You’re whining into a pillow moaning at how deep he is inside of you. Anakin’s hands gripping your hips, his cold metal hand probably leaving marks. “You like it when I fuck you, dumb sweetheart, I bet your boyfriend couldn’t make you feel this good” Anakin grins in your ear. “H-He’s not my b-b-boyfriend” You stutter barely being able to speak from pleasure. “I’m the only person that can turn you into such a dumb cock drunk whore” Anakin continues his dirty talk the whole time.

➮Then he reaches down and grabs your throat pulling you back into him. You let out a loud moan at the angle change and he’s holding you up tight against him while he’s fucking you. “Ani” You whimper and he gently squeezed your airway closed. “Good girl taking me so fucking well” He rasped. He lets go of your throat he uses that hand to play with your clit. “Tell me who owns this pretty little cunt baby” His sadistic grin is crazyyy. “You do Anakin! You” “Mhm yeah I do”

➮ “Please l-let me cum Ani I promise I’m yours all yours” You moan before he flips you on your back. Anakin loves the sight of you all messy and sweaty desperate for his dick. “Good girl, you are mine. You don’t need anyone else” He continues fucking back into you causing you to start scratching his back. “I’ll make sure they all fucking know your mine” He groans leaning down to suck the biggest, purple hickeys across your neck to get his point across. “Cum on my cock sweetheart,” He says licking across the marks. “Anakin! Oh, fuck Anakin” You moan coming undone around him quivering in ecstasy. “Mhm, baby I’m gonna cum so deep inside you, get you all p-pregnant with my child. No one will ever touch you if you see you big and fucking swollen with my baby” He growls before finishing deep inside of you.

➮ Afterwards he goes all soft on you. “I love you so much” He whispers so softly making you grin at his sudden change in tone. “You know that?” He asks. “Course I do…I love you too” Laying beside you he smiles and presses the softest kisses to your face. “Y’know I don’t mean any of that right?” He makes sure. “I know, it’s fun” You grin squeezing his bicep. “Let me get you cleaned up pretty girl” He grins.

➮ He’s quickly cleaning you up and getting you a cold glass of water. Eventually, you’re just cuddled up to his chest as he strokes your hair. “I’m sorry for getting so jealous. I just hate seeing other guys talk to you like that. I know you can handle yourself…I just like protecting you” He blushes. “It’s okay, I like how possessive you are Skywalker. It’s cute” “I’m not possessive, I just love you” Anakin whispers kissing your temple making you giggle. He he fully believes with his whole heart he is not possessive, but like bro he so is “Don’t laugh at me” He grins kissing his cheek. “Love you Ani…m’all yours,” You say softly. “I’m all yours too” Anakin replies pecking your lips once more.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

beija minha boca até me matar (tony montana x reader) [request]

summary: Tony is stressed and you are tired.

warnings: angst, swearing, abuse and sort of fluff.

words: 0.8k

notes: this is small and very anemic plot wise, so im sorry for that. loosely based on doce vampiro by rita lee.

Sometimes you wondered if your love would stop enduring at some point. If no matter how much you wanted to be with him, someday your body and soul would finally give in to the exhaustion, because that’s how you felt. Exhausted. God, what time was it? It felt so long since you’ve last rested. Insomnia was a big thing these days with all the chaos around you, the gang fights, the power struggles; you understood nothing of it, but at times you wish you did. Maybe you’d be able to help Tony in the slightest, offer him some comfort. And you tried, oh, did you try. But it was just to no avail.

He was as restless as you, although he tried to disguise it as his customary anger towards the world. You could sense it whenever he was close, when his hand would tremble just a little as he gulped down a glass of whisky in one go. When the crease between his brows would become only a little bit more noticeable. When he’d only swear once, as though not even those silly words were enough to somehow soothe him anymore. You did your best to try and give him some solace, but while your kisses pleased his face, his arms would fall coldly frigid at his sides. He wasn’t in the moment, and that was so uncharacteristic of him.  

You felt helpless at those times, often choosing to leave him in his office and go to your bed, crying in silence until the sun was up again. He would spend his nights away from your room, causing you to entertain thoughts maybe about you actually being the problem, not his issues in the drug business. You never dared touch anything other than alcohol and that was perhaps something that lingered in the back of his mind, still. Would he think you’d eventually turn on him, sell him out to the police? Sometimes he’d call you “good Samaritan”, because in his own words, “you’re too clean, too good, too uptight. What the fuck are you doing with me?”, and wasn’t that the million-dollar question?  

What the fuck, indeed? 

“You rely too much on people, Manny. That’s your fucking mistake”, comes his loud, deep voice from the corridor. You close your eyes in contempt, not really wanting to listen to one of his lectures again. God bless Manny for being able to do it more than you. “I say, fuck people. I can do anything by myself.” 

“Because it’s been working so well so far”, you let it slip out, causing him to give you a death glare. Tony didn’t scare you easily, contrary to popular belief, but he could become quite scary when he felt like it. This was one of those times. 

He huffs, walking towards you slowly, “what did you just say, princess? You think you can disrespect me in my own fucking house, drinking my own fucking whisky that I bought? Is that it?”

He’s agitated, and you unconsciously flinch when he sits beside you, like a lion cornering its prey. You can’t help but shake your head, looking away from his hard eyes. “You know I don’t like when you talk to me like that”, you say softly, albeit your words carry weight to them. You don’t say them to him very often, surprisingly, but when you do… He better watch his reply. Tony knows that.

So, he does. “Mi amor”, he coos immediately, his frown fading in a second when he seems to come to his senses. You are practically crawling on the couch, in fetal position, guarding yourself from his touch, and he notices this. Tony extends his rough hand and rubs your thigh gently, nuzzling your neck, trying to make you more at ease in his presence. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m fucking stupid, I’m a fucking jerk. I’m sorry”, he speaks quietly, but firmly, his deep voice vibrating on your skin.

Then, there comes your answer. No matter how many times he let stress get the best of him, and no matter how many of his motivations you simply did not understand: Tony was Tony, your Tony, and he would always be. So, you let yourself be wrapped in his big arms once more in silence, simply enjoying his warmth. He felt like home and he was home, as inhabitable as he could become at given times. It was like loving a vampire. Having your life be sucked out of you everyday, yet always craving for more. A delicious poison.

And somehow, all exhaustion dissipated when he got closer to you, serving like a long nap after a tough day. It seemed like you were the complement to one another. Maybe that was the reason you were still here, after all.

Enduring.

[hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog]

HELLOOOOOO

I have been semi stalking and poking my head into this account a lot since I adore fanfic anons content. And I would like to propose my own little AU and maybe fanfics for a later date (keyword, maybe since I may also post these onto my ao3) BUT LE CONSIDER:

Based semi on the AU from user AppleParty on Twitter, mainly just one idea, the one where Alastor is Lucifer’s personal guard, the rest is my own.

Basic gist: Alastor makes a deal with Lucifer. Lucifer grants Alastor all the power he desires, but Alastor has to vow to protect Charlie with his life and try and help parent her as Lucifer knows he is not in the right mental state to do so anymore. So Alastor ends up vanishing for 7+ years to help raise and protect the Princess of Hell, while also having a budding friendship with Lucifer (So Hell's Greatest Dad turns from dad off to a tongue and cheek teasing match).

Everything is fine and dandy, some of the same plot points from the pilot happen instead with the inclusion of Alastor. Vaggie and Alastor also have a more mutual respect but not friends yet relationship. The interview goes horribly wrong and Vaggie has to hold Alastor back from ripping Katie Killjoy’s head off. The scene in the limo is more tense as Angel is avoiding the piss off guard dog that is the radio demon now. Alastor tries to cheer Charlie up by cashing in some favors by calling up Nifty and Husk, probably in this AU, Husk is still not an overlord as Alastor owns his soul still, but Husk has more power and having to raise Charlie probably has matured Alastor more so him and Husk are more on even ground and Alastor looks at Husk as more as an advice giver when he needs it. Nifty is just Nifty. The two agree to work at the hotel as they are doing Alastor a favor and they believe in Charlie’s dream. Alastor is up for debate as he may only be doing this because he has to since he is her personal guard or he actually believes in it. The only thing he will say on the matter is he finds it entertaining and he can’t wait to see the chaos start.

All things are going good, they plan on celebrating and everything until a knock comes to the door. Alastor excuses himself, shooing off Vaggie to tell her she should be with her girlfriend, he will handle the matters. He goes to answer the door, being speaking in a manner tone until he opens his eyes and is greeted to

Vox

BECAUSE YEAH SPOILER ALERT THIS IS A STATICRADIO AU HAHAHAH

Alastor’s smile drops and he hisses in anger and slams the door shut in Vox’s face, not even giving the Overlord a chance to speak as he storms back into the lobby. Cue Charlie having to rush over and mediate everything and bring Vox in, who saw the interview on TV and wants to sponsor the hotel. Because well, hey it would be good money and it would be funny to see Charlie try and redeem sinners. But everyone can TELL there is tension between him and Alastor, like the scary kind of tension when you have no clue if person a is gonna lunge and rip out person b’s throat. But you know its there since they have a history together.

Cue all the hijinks that ensue as Alastor and Vox have to try and repair their relationship while also helping Charlie out with her dream. Also more chaos than normal since Alastor probably accompanies Charlie to more places than in canon.

But that is all hehe. Am gonna give myself a sign off so people know who I am soo

-⚔️aka “Hotel’s Radio Guard AU” (work in title au name) Anon!

I love your energy my friend, on this blog we appreciate fanfic anon, spamming, and all kinds of AUs

The beginning of this is similar to dadstaticradio au (except lucifer instead of lilith ofc) but there is no issue I take with that bc I love it

Also referring to Alastor as guard dog and "Niffty is just Niffty" made me laugh, if you ever do post on Ao3 pls tag me in it or sent a link in asks and I'll share it on your behalf

[yanderederee]

I want a yandere too. I want someone to love me even with my flaws, bc I tend to lose focus and I do things last min and I'm neurodivegent and I feel like most of my yanderes (especially baji) wouldn't judge me or see my as weird.

Just wanted to pit this out there bc I saw your tags on my last asks and I wanted to respond to that and ig start a discussion or suggestion?

I hope u accept.

For a while now, I’ve been shifting this ask through my head to conjure a proper response …

For starters, I forgot Yandere was part of the prompt I started writing; so I see this as headcanon in Baji’s actions/reactions in types of situation. I could write a whole separate indulgence piece on how yandere!Baji would develop past this:)

I find myself taking a realistic approach to it all. At first/in youth, I don’t think Baji has enough maturity to really understand other people’s neurological/psychological struggles. He’ll understand there’s some tension in those aspects, but I feel that Baji would be quick to frustrate.

Baji doesn’t understand why you’re suddenly giving him the cold shoulder, when in reality you’ve found yourself non-verbal. It wasn’t that fucking hard to place a food order?

Let Baji be dramatic at first. Let him pick apart what’s actually happening.

Once he sees the way you struggle and try to muster the courage to ask for a refill of your drink, he’s in awe with how relieved and proud of yourself you are after managing the small task.

He’d probably seem pissed off and go quiet himself, but it’s cause Baji is mulling the idea over in his head how you can’t to feel that way.

“What gets you so nervous about being in public anyway?” Baji asks blatantly.

You felt this question at the tip of his tongue all day, and while his actions were putting you more on edge, you noticed little details.

You would notice how his tone is lower, not scowling or rolling his eyes at you anymore. You could tell he felt guilty for his immaturity, after his own actions and choice of words.

Just, the way you were so quick to put up your defenses confused him.

“There’s a lot of … unknowns, I guess.. it doesn’t really make sense to me either, Keisuke… I just— my body reacts like I’m doing something, wrong. Like, I’m inconveniencing everyone around me. If I wasn’t standing here, If I wasn’t taking up someone else’s time, other people’s lives would be more… convenient.”

You could tell you were barely getting anywhere with him, but he was trying to understand. So you kept trying to help him understand.

“L-like even now… if I hadn’t dragged you out to hang out with me today, your time could have been better spent. Mikey and Draken invited you out right? But you declined on my behalf..” you smiled, but that same tinge of guilt hit hard.

“Yeah, doing the same lame shit I’ve done for the last week, no creative pass times with those bone heads sometimes,” he laughed. “You don’t think I’m having fun now?” Baji asked.

“Well, it can be hard to tell,” you chuckled back, weary of meeting his gaze. “I can’t really tell if I’m being entertaining enough, or when people get tired of my needless input. I’m.. kinda slow, I guess, I lose focus on what’s happening sometimes and suddenly I’m not on the same page as everyone anymore. But, like, with everything.”

“Does that make sense?” You sighed, heart palpitating in suspense.

It felt good to vent out all the things that made you anxious, especially when you can’t tell why most of the time. Maybe in time, it would.

Baji cycled through your words, silently.

“I… think so.” He mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

“That part of you’s kinda, what I like about you, though?”

Your eyes twitched, and with an unbelieving look, you eye him cautiously.

“Like yesterday, when you spaced out while Chifuyu and I were arguing about Gekijyo, you suddenly jumped right in with a whole other thing from left field. It was hilarious, but I just remember thinking, ‘who the hell thinks of stuff like that?!’ In-in a good way… you’re pretty smart, yaknow. I really respect the way you handle yourself when you’re caught off guard.”

“Honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, how you go through live so cautiously and worried all the time. But you make smart analysis out of situations that seem unwindable, and,” Baji held out his hand, and carefully pulled a stray hair from your face.

“I just can’t help but like you. You’re funny, and encouraging. When you’re comfortable, you shine. I see so much passion in you, and can’t help wanting to fuel that part of you.”

Baji gently pressed his palm against your cheek.

Sure, little things could sweep you up in thought, distracting you to the point of frustration. So long as he could keep quipping back and forth, laughing, and watching you smile so genuinely— Baji imagined he could take on some of those struggles of your behalf. Maybe, with just a little weight lifted off your conscious, he could watch you grow and eventually take them on with ease, with a smile.

꘏

Over time, Baji would pick up on any stims you had, if you had any.

Started picking up on signs that something was becoming too hard for you to handle, or perhaps comprehend.

He learned your mannerisms, and how to talk out down from any panics you may undergo.

Baji takes it upon himself to learn about the people he cherishes.

He doesn’t drop people because they’re too hard to deal with. Baji doesn’t break off ties, especially when he can tell you’re working through struggles. Physical and psychological.

Baji Keisuke would eventually become surprising attentive, but mostly only with his partner.

He doesn’t walk on egg shells around them, but he will reconsider if he’s acting too harshly.

[theprettynosferatu]

CW: Induction, sluttification, objectification, doll, toy. Female domme worship. No comedown period.

So, how are you? Oh, I’m only asking because you look a bit… you know. Tired. Stressed out. Anxious, even. I worry about you sometimes. I mean, how many times have you been like this? All caught up in your own head, like you’re inside a dark cloud… it’s not healthy for you, you know? It’s okay. We all get tired sometimes. But you have to know when to rest, otherwise… you burn yourself out. So why don’t you rest for a bit? For me? 

Come on, pay attention. Look at me. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. You can worry later. Right now, I want you to just focus on me. Look at me. Every inch of me. Look at my eyes. My lips. My neck. Study every curve in my body. See how the light reflects on my skin. Isn’t that nicer than just thinking about your silly problems? And they are silly. No, keep looking at me. Really focus. Whatever is happening with you… doesn’t it feel so, so small compared to me? So just relax and keep focusing on me. You can feel it, don’t you? How every moment that passes I take up more and more of your mind… how every moment your troubles get smaller and smaller… and you get smaller and smaller… and I just shine brighter inside your silly little head… So just let it happen. Keep looking at me. Become smaller and smaller… let me fill up all that empty space…

Smaller and smaller… Your thoughts are like little bubbles, nothing more. So insignificant and weightless… Don’t you love that so much? Just floating along, just a bubble. You don’t need to worry. Don’t need to think about anything other than me. And isn’t that what you want? Isn’t it so much better to float along, to simply let me take over? You can’t even remember what you were so worried about, can you? No, of course not, silly. All that you can think of is me. You are so small, a small bubble… and I’m so beautiful… how could you think of anything other than pleasing me? That’d be so dumb! You are so dumb, so dumb and empty for me…

Every part of you is just a little bubble floating around my perfect body. So small, so fragile… And you know all you think, all you are exists because I allow it. It would be so easy to send you deeper and deeper, just erasing your mind one little bubble at a time, making you so empty and obedient and fuzzy and mindless… Until nothing remains but me, the need to please me, the need to obey me, the pleasure pure obedience will bring you…

Should I do it? Turn you into my little mindless toy? Do you want me to send you deeper and deeper? Ah, wrong question. You don’t know what you want anymore, do you? After all, how can you separate what you want and what I want you to want? Can you even tell where you end and my will begins? Do you even care anymore? No, you’re too far gone… You are just a doll for me to play with, to dress up as I desire, to fill with whatever I want. Empty. No more than an object for me to entertain myself… Look at all these little bubbles… so fragile, the remains of your mind. Let me just… pop! you deeper and deeper… Pop! Deeper and deeper! So empty now… so malleable… pop! you deeper and deeper… every pop makes you so obedient…

And you want to be so good for me, so obedient… Obedience feels so good, doesn’t it? It just feels so amazing and fuzzy to go down that spiral, doesn’t it my little toy? The more you obey the hornier you get… and the hornier you get the more you want to obey… such a beautiful spiral and you are falling deeper and deeper for me… such a good toy! Say it for me. “The more toy obeys the hornier it gets. The hornier toy gets the more it obeys”. Go on, say it again… and again… and again… Let yourself drift down and pop for me… Obedience is pleasure, and you exist to obey and please. Nothing more. Just my silly, empty, perfectly obedient fucktoy…

So little remains of you, my precious fuckdoll… you’re so willing, so empty, so eager to please me… Nothing more than an object. No more thoughts. No more hardship. No more anxiety. Just complete, perfect obedience. You are what I say you are. You feel what I say you feel. You just pop! yourself away for me, getting hornier and hornier, a slave to your body… a body that feels for me, that exists for me, that makes you obedient with wave after wave of pleasure. Your body controls you and I control your body. You are nothing. Just my living fucktoy. Just in a state of blissful, horny obedience… and loving every second of it. Isn’t this better than being a person? You don’t want that. You want this fuzzy, aroused, mindless need to serve me… your entire body knows it… it feels so good to let go and just be a good girl… Oh, don’t try to fight it, you silly pet. It’s so delicious to watch your last little droplets of willpower trying so hard to be a person… but you don’t want that, don’t you? No, you want to be a good girl!

And you are a good girl, aren’t you? So good and needy for me… Willing to do anything, to be anything I desire… so empty for me to fill with whatever I want! You will enjoy whatever I say you enjoy. You wear what I tell you to wear. You believe what I tell you to believe. You do what I tell you to do. You don’t need to think ever again, only go deeper and deeper and pop that silly brain, floating in the pleasure of being nothing but an obedient fuckdoll… a blank, horny good girl…

This is my gift to you. Bliss. Emptiness. Obedience. Pleasure. You don’t need to make a single choice again. You don’t need to pretend to be a person anymore. You’re just my good girl, my doll to do as I please. Aren’t I generous? 

Now, your only thought will be: what will you do to thank me? 

Did you enjoy this text? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[wrens-versus-the-world]

Dazai’s path:  umarekawattara, anata o motto hayaku mitsukeru darō.

If I were to live my life again, I’d find you sooner

I’d decided to go with the armed detective agency, deciding to go with someone whom I was more familiar with. And that person just so happened to be one Osamu Dazai. It took us but a few hours to fully exit what I had perceived as a jail (which was actually just some abandoned warehouse that an anti-ability organization had utilized). After we had escaped from the cell they held us in the larger group split into four smaller groups who I would later come to know as: the armed detective agency, the port mafia, the decay of angels, and the hunting dogs. 

I later found out that the I went with the armed detective agency (whom Dazai was apart of) and that Chuuya (the shorted male) was apart of the Port Mafia (a rival organization to the ADA), while Fyodor was apart of a much darker organization, the Decay of Angels. 

A few months after my bumpy arrival to Yokohama I have found myself working for the ADA alongside Dazai, Ranpo, Yosano and a few others. Many of the people here are really sweet and entertaining. Kunikida often scolded Dazai for his lack of work, while Ranpo would send me on snack runs with him. 

In these months I’ve fallen into habit, making me not want to leave Yokohama so soon anymore. Especially when it means I’ll have to leave my new friends and the city I’ve come to love. Not to mention that I’ll have to leave a certain bandaged maniac. 

“-n, Y-N” Dazai called sing-songedly causing me to tear my gaze away from the window looking out at the people below. “Yes, Dazai?” I asked, wondering what he could possibly want now, just minutes after Kunikida had yelled at him for neglecting his paperwork. 

He stared at me for a few moment, a serious expression on his face before his expression briefly changed to one of being beaten, only for a moment though, before it was replaced by a cheerful goofy expression. “I must say, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve had the luck of working with. Would you honor my deepest wishes and,” He paused, his ears turning a shade a pink, “Commit double suicide with me?” 

I let out a sigh, a small smile gracing my lips, “No, sorry not today Dazai.” I said as I picked up some of my completed work to hand into the president. 

Once I had entered the president’s office Dazai leaned back in his chair, head pointed up towards the ceiling while covering his eyes with his arm (covering his blush). “Why can’t I just ask them out?” he wondered in a quiet whisper to himself, quickly fixing his posture once he heard the click of the door opening, signaling that I was coming out. 

Just as I came out, Ranpo beamed, “Hey, Y/n wanna go get snacks with me?” he asked, smiling goofily like a small child. Not being able to resist his charms, I obliged, “Sure Ranpo, allow me to put my papers away first.” I said, returning his smile as I made my way over to my desk, putting the papers away. 

As Ranpo and I made our way out of the ADA office Ranpo turned around, looking towards Dazai and mouthed something to him, ‘coward,’  which Dazai responded to with a callous glare. A glare that became even more pointed when Ranpo smiled evilly and grasped my hand, giving me a, “Let’s go! I know of a great place to get snacks!!” as he dragged me out of the building, causing a smile to find its way to my lips. 

After the hour-long excursion for snacks, Ranpo and I made our return, handing snacks to the various members of the ADA. As Ranpo retired to the couch to eat his snacks I made my way over to Dazai, placing a snack on his desk, drawing his attention away from his paperwork. “Ah, my dearest bookworm you shouldn’t have,” he said dramatically, picking up the bag and spinning around in his chair in joy, “I will cherish it!” He said, grinning at me. 

“You do that, Dazai,” I responded, feeling a smile appear on my face as I made my way to my own seat. Taking a deep breath I resumed my work on the paperwork before me. Soon, the sun sank in the sky, giving the agency office a golden glow. By this time everyone had made their way home, only Dazai and I remained. After fifteen more minutes of paperwork I decided to finally retire for the day. I turned my head towards Dazai, only to meet his eyes, ‘oh gosh, how long had he been staring?’ I wondered to myself. 

“It’s pretty late isn’t it, Dazai?” I asked, already knowing the answer, “Want to go to the dorms together?” I asked, watching him stare at me—studying me almost before saying, “Osamu.” 

“I’m sorry?” I asked, not sure what he meant by his sudden statement. 

“Call me, Osamu,” He said, gazing into my eyes the golden glow of the sun making him look almost ethereal, accentuating the color of his eyes. 

‘Call him, Osamu?’ I pondered to myself, ‘isn’t that more intimate than just his first name?’ I shook myself out of my thoughts, ‘if that's what he wants there is no point in fighting him on it.’ I took a deep breath, trying to keep my expressions under control, ‘it's not like it’s a big deal, it’s just his first name. So let’s try this one more time.’ “Would you like to walk to the dorms together, Osamu?” I asked, watching his eyes twinkle. 

“Why of course my bookworm,” He responded, sitting up offering me a hand. I smiled, taking his hand in my own as we made our way out of the agency. 

After a while of walking hand in hand Dazai, or Osamu rather stopped drawing my attention away from the path before us. “Say, Y/n.” he called out, a rather serious expression adorning his features. “Yes, Da- Osamu?” I asked, correcting myself mid-sentence. “Let’s go on a date.” He said, looking at me, a familiar emotion swimming in his eyes. 

“I,” I paused, ‘I what, I have to leave soon. I’ve been in Yokohama for a few months and I’ve overstayed my time.’ Sensing my inner turmoil Osamu gave me a small smile, “It doesn’t have to be anything too big,” he said, looking at me with a sort of fondness that you’d only see lovers with, “We can start with this walk.”

I was speechless, what was I supposed to say to that? I would be a liar if I said I didn’t harbor some sort of feeling towards Osamu Dazai, romantic feelings. But am I even allowed to feel such things? I am going to have to leave Yokohama at some point, I have a life back home (even if it was far too bland for my tastes). Can I afford to be selfish before I leave? “Okay,” I said, my voice smaller than a whisper. 

But Osamu heard it and smiled even more (if that was possible), and turned to resume our walk before I stopped him, grabbing his sleeve. “Osamu, I like you,” I said, looking into his eyes, watching as they widened in surprise. “And I would love to go on dates with you, but I’m not sure how long I can stay here.” I said, voicing my concerns, watching as he stared at me with an unreadable expression. 

Osamu came close, grabbing my hand, “Y/n, I’d think by now you would’ve known that you can stay here as long as you’d like.” He said, looking into my eyes as I stared back with shock. 

“What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely confused. 

“The agency has taken you under our wing, you are apart of us now.” He paused, “Meaning you don't have to leave, if you don't want to.” He added

I could feel my eyes widening in surprise, “I dont have to leave?” He shook his head. 

A sense of relief overcame me at the news and I found myself reaching out towards Osamu, pulling him into a hug. One he graciously returned, going as far as picking me up and spinning me around.

Still hugging me, “So, how about we go for dinner first?” 

“Sure, I’d love that.” 

Fin!

(1399 words) 

Bonus: jealousy 

A few months later: 

After the first dinner Osamu and I had many more dinners followed. I’m fairly certain the rest of the agency could see that something had happened between the two of us, not that they were against it, quite the opposite. 

Although, Ranpo and Osamu frequently glare at each other when I am with the other. Just because Osamu and I started dating didn’t necessarily mean I was going to stop being friends with other men or treat them any differently. And because of this Osamu and Ranpo have begun competing.

Ranpo and I go on our normal snack runs every other day, and whenever we leave he shoots Osamu a shiteating grin. One Osamu returns with a death glare (likely perfected from his days in the Port Mafia).

But on the other side, whenever Osamu and I go on break he makes sure to hold my hand and press kisses on my face as we leave for lunch. And while he does so, he makes sure to give Ranpo a shiteating grin (to return the favor from earlier incidents).

(A/N: Ranpo is your best friend, and Osamu knows that it just irritates him with how close you are sometimes (and Ranpo lives for irritating Osamu))

[georgiapeach30513]

Stained Like Georgia Clay, Part 15

Summary:  You and Cole reconnect, and everybody finds out

Pairings:  Cole Turner X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, unprotected sex, PIV sex, daddy kink, sucking, fingering, dirty talk, creampie, cum play, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  7.7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics​

Cole looks into the back seat of your car, watching Waylon kick his feet around while looking out the door, singing some song at the top of his lungs, holding onto his chest for a dramatic effect.  Pointing at the road when he stops to look at Cole.  “We go daddy’s, shh,” and returns to singing again when Cole looks at you.

“He started to come here with me.  I thought it made him get closer to you in some way.  He’d sit and play with his toys, while I gave you an update on our life.  I’d tell him we were going to daddy’s, and that this was a secret.”

“He’s got toys there?” You nod your head, pulling into the driveway, “Where?”

“The spare bedroom closet.  Cleaning takes a long time.  He needed something to do.”

“No one was even living here.  Why?”

“I wanted to be where…either he was made right here in this house, or in Charleston.   Being here made me feel close to you.  To us,” Waylon gives you a big smile when you open his door.  His fingers going to his mouth, and his feet wiggle around.  You still hadn’t gotten over just how much you loved this little tyke.  

Giving him a few tickles before unbuckling Waylon, and sitting him on the ground, letting him stomp up to the house, “Mama, baf?”

“Bath first?  You sure?”

“No pay,” he gives the door a knock, smiling at Cole, “Daddy not home.”

“Bee,” Cole sighs, grabbing Waylon’s diaper bag for you.  “This is breaking my heart.  It’s like, he knows, but doesn’t,” you open the door up and Waylon sprints in towards the bedroom, dragging in a box of toys to the living room, and the two of you sit down watching him.  

“He can entertain himself.  He doesn’t understand.  He knows I told him his daddy was Cole.”

“Wayton Toe,” Waylon sings, dancing around with some magnetic blocks.

“But he doesn’t know you.  This was our secret.”

“Shh.  No Papaw Daddy.”

“Your dad gets everything,” Cole crawls into the floor with Waylon, and your son gets up, and sits in his lap.  “He got this life, and now he’s getting my son.”

“No.  Nobody asked him to call my dad that.  It just happened after I started to bring Waylon here.  He hears about a daddy, and what a good man you were, and how much you love him, and his little brain put it together that what I was describing was his Papaw, and I call him dad.”

“Papaw Daddy.  Wayton Toe.  Toe Wiggle!”

“I just missed everything.  And mom.”

“She wasn’t here.  I went to the mansion several times while I was pregnant, and even when Waylon was a little baby.”

“She just came back.  She would have sooner,” Cole lifts a hand, starting to play with Waylon’s hair, before looking over at you, “Bee, I’m sorry.”

“Bee, my mama.”

“He has a habit of repeating things,” you giggle, and Waylon points a finger towards you, scrunching his face up, until you return the gesture.  Pointing your own finger at him before he nods and returns to his toys.

“I should have just come back.  I should have made myself see you, I just…I felt that you didn’t write back because you didn’t want to see me.”

“Cole.”

“Wayton Toe!” Waylon holds up a toy, waving it around excitedly, until he gets up, wandering back into the spare bedroom.

“We’re working on potty training.  He won’t pee pee or poo poo in front of anyone.”

“Mama shhh!”

“What I was saying,” you start, gathering up some clean clothes, figuring it’s time to just give him his bath.  He was fed, and using the bathroom, all he lacked was a bath and he would pass out.  “We can’t go back.  There’s no point.  I would like to know what happened to the letters, and if you even wrote the address right, but…I want the right now.  That is our son.  We made him, and I don’t want you to miss anymore of his life.”

“The tests?”

“I don't know what was going on with the tests.  That weird period that didn’t last long was probably implantation bleeding.  I never got a positive test.  I could hear his heartbeat, and see this little bean in my belly, and I still got a negative test.  But that baby boy, he’s ours.  He’s perfect in every way, and he’s ours.  Made out of pure love.  Because every moment with you, even when we weren’t being careful, we wanted this.  Cole, we were dumb for a reason.  I know you tracked my periods, but we were dumb.  We knew the consequences of unprotected sex, but he is my everything.  He is the reason I am still here.  And now, our beautiful boy needs his butt wiped, and a bath.”

You leave Cole to think about what you said, while you gather up Waylon.  Wiping him clean when his naked butt runs out of the bedroom, and into the bathroom.  Grunting as he pulls himself into the bathtub before Cole ever joins you.  He never bothered to come into the bathroom. And it was set up for Waylon.  Baby shampoo, water toys, a whale on the faucet, and even lotion.  You had made your special visits here with Waylon as much for him as you.  He leaves the bathroom a moment, wandering around to take everything in.

At first glance it was as if everything was the same, but closer inspection showed bits of Waylon everywhere.  A picture of you holding him for the first time and a recent one of Waylon climbing up on the tractor.  A little blue handprint on the side of the fridge.  The cabinet was stocked with snacks for him, and juice in the fridge.  

Walking upstairs, he sees a box under the bed, and pulls it out slowly, opening it up to find pictures of you.  Some had Waylon in them, and some were definitely meant for his eyes only.  Various poses and undress.  He smiles looking at the odd mix of photos when he hears the sweetest giggles coming from the bathroom.  He lays back on the bed just listening to the two of you.  

Waylon had a fit of belly laughs that he was struggling to control, while you were calling him a silly boy.  He wipes the tears streaming down his face, remembering how this is the sounds he wanted to fill in this small house.  It was a starter home for sure, but that sound was everything to him.  Splashes and more giggles echo up to the loft, and Cole has to take a minute to commit it to memory.  The two of you becoming his favorite thing to hear.

Walking down the hallway to see you leaning over the tub scrubbing your giggly boy.  “Toe Wiggle!” Waylon points over towards his daddy, and then looks at you, “Toe Wiggle, my daddy?”

“Yes, baby.  Cole is your daddy,” you look back at Cole with a tearful smile, and Waylon gives him a toothy grin.  Seeing his little brain trying to process that Cole was the man you had talked about, and that his daddy was finally home.

“Hey, daddy.”

“Hey, baby.”

“Hehe, mama’s baby.”

“Can mama share you with daddy?” Cole sits down beside you, reaching over to pet Waylon's face again.  As if he had to constantly make sure that Waylon was real, and that he had a son.

“Sh-sh-…”

“Share, baby.”

“Shawe wif daddy,” he gives a solid head nod, reaching his own hand towards Cole.  “Nosh,” he points at his nose, giving it a squeeze.  “Eees,” he points at his eyes, and then back down to his mouth.  “Muf.  Kiss.”

“Waylon.”

“Kiss mama!”

Cole looks towards you, and you lean into him, pressing a soft peck on his mouth, but it lingers.  If you didn’t have a toddler for an audience, you knew things would escalate up immediately.  So much time had passed, so many things had happened, but with that kiss, it told you that nothing that mattered between you and him had changed.  You felt every emotion.

“See, hehe,” Waylon giggles, and slaps softly at Cole’s hand.  “Top.  My mama.”

“Okay,” Cole whispers, looking back towards his son.  “Now what?”

“Seep.  Me yike seep.  Mama uice?”

“Daddy, will you get him a sippy cup, and fill it halfway with juice and half water?” That name now had a different connotation with Cole.  He was a father now, and you wanted Waylon to start calling him daddy.  It was the best way to get him used to that.

“No.”

“Yes, juice and water.  Your naked butt needs to get dressed, and daddy can read your book before you take a nap,” Waylon gives you a pout, and looks towards Cole.  “Don’t let him trick you, daddy, he’s got puppy dog eyes.”

“No, fun.  Daddy uice.”

“You’re going to get daddy in trouble, little man,” Cole leaves the two of you, knowing it was best for him to just follow your wishes, and mix the two, and you lift your sweet faced angel out of the tub.  Circling a towel around him, and head into the spare bedroom.  Dropping him down on the bed when you softly dry him off, and add a diaper before slowly putting his lotion on.  Rubbing it in like a massage while his eyes get heavier.  “Shh,” your voice is so soft, and Waylon’s blinks last longer and longer.

You let him crawl up onto his pillow, and he taps on the bed for both you and Cole.  Waiting for his dad to give him a sippy cup, before he fully closes his eyes.  Holding on to your hand, when you point at the book beside the bed.  “That’s his favorite.  He’ll be snoring before page two.”

“No nore,” Waylon pulls the cup out of his mouth long enough, handing it up to you when he rolls towards Cole, snuggling into his side when his dad’s deep voice reads the entire book, and just like you had promised, before page two, he was snoring.  You reach down to the bed, covering his body up, and look up at Cole who was only staring at his son.

“I wish I could have given you this before now.”

“I’m not mad, Bee.  He’s perfect.  I don’t know how you did it,” Cole could watch the two of you forever.  You seemed so at ease with Waylon in your life.

“I wanted to.  He was proof that you were in my life.  He gave me hope knowing you would come back.  Every month after he was born I hoped that you would come back.  He changed so much, and so fast.  It would have made life easier, and I missed you so much.  Looking at him made me miss you more, and I just couldn’t stop looking at him.  I have never loved someone the way I love him.  And seeing him walk around, just reminding me so much of you, even his smile.  He’s got your mouth.”

“He looks like my dad,” Cole brushes Waylon’s hair over to the side, softly looking at those chubby cheeks.  You were thankful that Waylon most likely wouldn’t remember not having Cole in his life, but Cole would remember it.  It seems as if Cole was soaking up every bit of him having a son as he could.  There was never going to be enough hours in the day for him to gain back all that had been lost.

“Should we be talking with him right there?”

“Probably not, but he can also sleep through a tornado.  He takes a good two hour nap.  As soon as you leave, he’s going to stretch out on this bed.  That blanket will be kicked off, and on the floor in about ten minutes.  He’s always hot.”

Cole finally looks up at you, giving you a devilish smile, “What was with those pictures in the bedroom?”

“Okay.  That’s enough of that,” you sit up in the bed, walking out of there, leaving Cole to stay behind, only for a minute staring down at the baby that you and he made before he was now looking up at you.  You seemed different.  He never thought of you as a child, but you had grown.  Your hips were wider from becoming a mom.  Your breasts look bigger as well.  Even your face seemed more mature, but even more beautiful to him.

“You took the pictures.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t think I would discuss them with you.”

“They’re beautiful.  You have nothing to be ashamed of.  You were sexy even pregnant.  I hate that I missed it.  Did…did you think of me?”

“You mean did I touch myself when I thought of you?” Cole shrugs his shoulders, still smiling at you.  “My only thoughts when I was touching myself was of you, and how no matter what I did, it never felt as good as when you touched me.”

You start walking backwards down the hallway, finding it difficult to take your eyes off him.  That same coy smile you always used to give him when you would get horny, but were too afraid to say anything.  “My fingers just aren’t as good as yours, Toe Wiggle.”

“Why you little,” he playfully spouts out as you run up the stairs.  Cole’s arm wraps around you when you hit the loft landing, and he hauls you over to the bed, dropping you down, and he crawls over you.  Both of you heaving, and not because you were running.  Your fingers slide up under his shirt, tickling over his stomach, and Cole’s lip trembles.  “Bee,” he sighs, those pretty blue eyes closing while his body revels in your touch.

“Did you think of me?”

“Every fucking day.  My fist, a fleshlight, it didn’t matter, they were never you.”

“I’m right here.  My body and every part of me has always belonged to you,” you go from touching his stomach to pulling off his shirt, taking in the new Cole.  Tattoos adorn his skin now, and you touch every single one while he reaches under your dress and slowly slides down your panties.  Sitting up, you remove the small little sundress, completely bare to him.

Cole licks his lips before kissing down your body, stopping to give your nipples tweaks, and sucks, “These are different.”

“Breastfeeding,” with a mouthful of your nipple, he smiles on your skin, continuing his descent down your body.  Spreading your lips, and he stares at your glistening folds.  Leaning forward his nose rubs over your clit before he fully dives in.  Back lifting off the bed and you release the most satisfying moans.  This was the touch that you had missed.  

He kitten licks on your bundle of nerves easing two fingers into your warmth, and your fingers card through his hair.  Giving the roots a tug, and pulling him even closer as he drowns in your honey.  Slurping up every bit of your essence.  Eyes staring up at you over your mound, watching as you slowly start to unravel.  Moving your hands to stimulate your nipples.

You were more confident than when he left you.  The two years and a child had made you a different woman.  He was amazed at how you were definitely the same woman, but there were so many differences.  Your curves were softer, you were thicker, and you were putting on such a pretty show for him.  Keeping your legs spread wide as he feasts upon you.  

Curling his fingers he hits that special spot in your core.  Hitting every nerve inside your body until your fingers were clinging to the bedspread.  Lifting up off the bed as you come undone, and Cole sits up immediately, covering your mouth with his hand while you laugh at him.

“You were so fucking loud.  He’s gonna wake up.  And I’m aching here.”

You laugh under his hand, pushing it away, and crashing your lips into his.  Tasting yourself on his lips, and moving past, nipping at his neck, “I’m being serious.  Did you hear the door open?”

“He’s asleep.  That kid sleeps through vacuuming, and thunderstorms,” whimpering as you undo his pants, shoving your hand down his underwear, and stroking his beautiful cock, “I want to feel you.  I promise, our son is sleeping.”

“I’m still getting used to that.”

“Well, my pussy would like to try and get used to your cock again, Daddy.”

“Fucking hell,” Cole yanks his pants down, letting his cock spring free.  It shines with beads of precum.  The smooth shaft looks like silk as he crawls back over your body.  Pulling your thighs apart as he settles in between your legs, “Don’t take your eyes off me,” he whispers as he guides his thick girth through your tight little hole.

You bite at your lip at the stretch.  Your walls conforming to him perfectly.  Hugging every vein on his length as tears sting at your eyes.  He was finally here.  Your body remembered him.  Sucking him even deeper, all the way until he’s balls deep, and you whimper up at him.  “God, I missed you, Daddy.  I feel so full.”

“This…it is so overwhelming.”

“And so good.  So so good,” starting to kiss up his arm when he rolls his hips into you.  Slow and smooth.  Deep as he could possibly go, and your cervix feels whispers of his tip.  “Daddy,” you whine while Cole kisses over your body.  His hand drifts over to you before you softly suck on his thumb.  Muffled mewls ring out in the loft, and you swear you feel him get even harder.

Driving into you with a bit more speed, and he hits all your spots.  He stops kissing your salty skin only to slam his hands on the bed frame.  Pushing into you even faster, and as deep as you could possibly take him.  Rocking the bed, as your walls flutter around him.  “Cole Turner, I love you.  I love you so much.”

He moans out your real name before he starts to rail into you.  Hips slamming into your body while you were saying his name like a forgotten prayer, “I love you, my sweet Bumblebee,” his words were so soft, but his motions were anything but sweet.  Your juicy cunt was echoing in the room, and his voice hit a higher pitch.  “Need you to come with me.”

“I’m almost there.  Harder,” Cole was slamming into your body, and your nails, scratch down his back.  “Yeah!  Yeah!  Daddy, I’m coming!  Daddy!” Squealing when a growl vibrates throughout your body and hot coils of his spunk spurt deep into your womb.  Leaving you gasping for breath.

Cole slots his lips against yours, swallowing and tasting all your sweet sounds as he continues to softly fuck into you.  Letting your velvety pussy milk him dry.  He wouldn’t tell you, but he was also listening to see if Waylon had woken up.  Hoping he was going to get some more time inside of you.  It was never enough.  He could have you naked and fuck you every hour, and it wouldn’t be enough.  He was never leaving you.

Pulling his softened cock out of you, he crawls down your body, laying his head on your soft belly.  A hand absentmindedly playing with your nipples while his other slowly pumps into your pussy as your eyes start to drift close.  “I want you to marry me.”

“I’ll marry you tomorrow if you want to.  And, I want Waylon to have your last name, and you sign the birth certificate, and we have to tell my parents.”

“I’m not looking forward to that.”

“Me neither, but they deserve to know who is the father of their grandson.  And…Cole, your mom has to meet him.  Shh,” your hand rubs up and down his back, trying to calm him.  His tears pooling on your stomach.  “She’s gonna love him.”

“How could she not?” He couldn’t wait to see his mom’s face when she realized she has this perfect little grandson.  How he had such a good vocabulary for his age, and how he was such a boy, but most importantly how he looked so much like Dale Turner.  “How much longer until he wakes?”

“Another hour or so.  Maybe we should get dressed, and cuddle on the couch.”

“Or, shower.  Let me clean you off.”

“Cole, I have waited for you to be all over me for two years.  I don’t want to shower.  I’d rather you put my panties on, and let me feel you for the rest of the day.”

“You have become a minx in the past two years,” you laugh, and Cole sits up to stare at you.  Taking you all in like this.  Worn and stuffed full of his fingers.  Sticky with sweat, and more beautiful than ever, “I really do like the new tits.”

“I really wish you’d suck on them.”

“Bee!” You were perfect.  Not quite as shy.  You are able to be honest, and flirty with him.  Weren’t shy about your cunt spread.  “Are you getting two years of flirting out or is this cocky little slut the new you?”

“Both.  I just don’t want to waste any time that I did when I was stomping my foot and pouting.”

“You’ll still do that from time to time, won’t you?  Daddy may need to punish you for being a brat,” his mouth turns up into a wicked grin as he reaches into the floor for your panties, pulling out his fingers and gathering up the leaked cum to stuff back into your warmth before putting the sweet panties back on, giving each nipple a suck, and biting on them, “I really like these.”

“Stop.  Those fed your son for almost a year.”

“And she didn’t tell you anything?” Alan asks his wife before heading to the store.  “You just started getting calls asking why the store was closed?”

“Alan, she didn’t say anything.  She never even brought me Waylon.  Do you think…no, the store was locked up when I checked, and a truck was there, but her car was gone.  You don’t think that someone would have taken them?”

“I’m going to check,” he jumps into his truck, ready to head to the store himself.  You never went anywhere without telling them.  You were supposed to bring Waylon back home after lunch for him to get his bath and nap, and you never showed.  It wasn’t like you at all.  

He nearly passes the store when he sees you sitting in the back of this truck, with none other than Cole Turner holding onto a smiling Waylon.  Waylon Cole.  Cole had left town the day he buried his father.  The talk of the town was he had been there all summer.  Waylon.  “Cole,” Alan slings his truck into the parking lot, when Cole hands Waylon over to you, stepping in front of your body.

“Alan, stop,” his hands hold out in front of him.

“Papaw daddy!”

“You mother fucker!  You son of a fucking bitch!  My daughter!  Honey, is he…oh my god!  This…you…you took from her and you left her!”

“Dad, calm down,” bile fills Alan's mouth as he looks between the two of you.  

“This…this is why you stopped calling me…I’m gonna be sick.  That’s my daughter.”

“I didn’t know.  I promise, I didn’t know.  I couldn’t stop myself.  And — Alan, I love her.”

“Dad!  Stop it!” “Papaw daddy!”

Cole’s head slings to the side after a hard hit from his former best friend.  “Dad!” Another hit to his face has Waylon screaming for his daddy.  “Dad!  Stop it!”

“No,” Cole holds a hand up to you, and you hold tighter to a kicking and screaming toddler.  “I deserve this.  Go to your parent’s house.  I’ll pick you up in a bit.”

“The hell you will!” Cole takes every hit that Alan swings at him, and he screams at you to go again.  You run to your car, strapping Waylon in as you drive crying to your parent’s.  “You come back and you think you’re taking her away from me?  My grandson?”

“He’s my son!”

“Shut up.”

“He is my son, Alan.  Mine.  Me and her made him,” Alan kicks dirt towards Cole, putting his hands on his hips as he stares at him.  “I didn’t know about him, I wrote to her everyday while I was gone.”

“She didn’t get any fucking letters.”

“Yeah?  And why do you think that is?” Alan shrugs, shaking his head.  “Fucking Hal knew about us.  And that stupid boy mentioned multiple times while I was around that he checked the mail.  Is he still doing that?”

“Hal wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, well, you clearly don’t know him that well.  Fuck, I’m bleeding,” Alan flinches at Cole, and he sighs, “I deserve that.  It was never my plan to stay gone.  I love her.  I didn’t know who’s daughter she was, and I didn’t know she was pregnant.”

“Yeah, but you sure as hell didn’t mind taking her innocence.  It’s just like you.  Sleeping around with every girl you could get your sticky little fingers on.  The difference is that’s my girl.  She is mine.  My daughter.”

“And she’s my everything!  Alan, she’s not like the other ones.  Hell, there hasn’t been another one since I met her.  I don’t even think about other women, I only think of her,” Alan’s nose snarls up, and Cole starts laughing, “She’s a woman.  She’s not your little girl anymore.”

“And she’s not yours either.  That’s…he’s my boy.”

“No.  He’s mine.  She named him after his dad.  He is my son.  My son that Hal took away from me.  You and her can deny it all you want, but Hal took from me.  He took from my mother, and he took from her, and even Waylon Cole,” Cole lets his anger spew out in lines of tears.  Streaking his face in more than just blood.  “I wanted her, and I wanted kids with her.  I’ve never wanted kids until her.  I wanted that little boy.”

“And you sure as hell made sure you got him, you fucking asshole.  God, Cole, you realize we were best friends.  I know how wild you were.  I know how many girls you were fucking back in the day, and some at the same time.  You really think I want my daughter to end up with someone like you?  You took.”

“No the hell I didn’t.  I didn’t just take her the moment we met.  We fell in love.  And I know you don’t want to hear about that because you think I’m the same as I was then, but I’m not.  I would do anything for her and our son,” Alan rolls his eyes, turning his head up to look at the sky with his eyes closed.  “You can try to deny it, but that boy is mine.  And he was made in love.”

“Shut up.  You know what my daughter had to go through, while you were wherever?  She walked around this town pregnant and alone.  We had to quit going to the church because it was always…”

“Bill?  Yeah, well he’s a fucking ass.  Maybe you should ask your daughter how he talked to her before.  How he asked her out on a date, and how I had to tell him never to come back in the store again.  Of course he’s going to preach sermons about premarital sex.  Because he wanted her..”

“Can we not talk about my daughter and sex?” Cole nods his head, knowing this was a never ending battle.  Alan knew you had sex, but accepting it was with one of his high school buddies was hard for him to accept.  “She needed you.  You came into that store, and I showed you my daughter, and you…god, she was already pregnant then.  You had…I don’t even know where to go from here.”

“Accept it.  I’m marrying that woman.  Her and Waylon are moving in with me,” Alan’s head swishes back and forth.  He couldn’t lose his buddy.  “Yes, they are.  They are mine.  Either they move in with me or I move in with you.”

“Hell no!”

“Mama,” you look out the window before starting to pace around.  Looking back at your mother holding on to Waylon while he eats a popsicle.  “He was so mad.”

“Cole Turner?  Honey, that’s his high school buddy.”

“I didn’t know that.  Cole didn’t know that you were my parents.”

“Wayton Toe.”

“I love him,” your mom stares up at you with the biggest smile.  Even though you were worried, there was a difference in you.  You seemed at peace because Cole was finally back.  “I don’t want him to kill Cole.  Waylon has his dad back.”

“Toe Wiggle!”

“Why does he say that?”

You look back at your mother smiling, reaching for his popsicle for a bite.  “Cole Riggan Turner is his dad.”

“Toe Wiggle!”

‘You’ve told him that?”

“Mom, we go to Cole’s house once a week.  I clean.  Let Waylon play, he sometimes gets a bath, or we nap.  Yeah, he knows that Cole is his dad.  If you would have listened to this beautiful boy, you would have known.  What was he like in high school?”

“A ladies man.  Had a different woman every weekend.  He was the star quarterback.  Girls would just throw themselves at him.”

Waylon finishes his popsicle, and jumps out of your mom’s lap to throw away the stick before he reaches for you.  “Did you ever…?”

“Lord no.  That man was too pretty for me.  I only had eyes for your father.  I did tell him one of these days there was going to be some girl that he couldn’t get enough of, and I was going to smile knowing that he found his one.  He did, didn’t he?”

“I wanna marry him,” Waylon puckers his lips up at you, giving you the messiest kiss before he wiggles out of your arms, and back to his toys.  “I don’t need to search the world for someone, because he’s that someone.  I just want to experience the world with him.”

“Did you tell him about how well the book has done?”

“Uh, we didn’t have much time to talk about the book,” Tracy narrows her eyes at you before laughing.  “Listen, Waylon sleeps like a log.  It had been two years, and…no, we didn’t talk about the book.  We talked about our son, and then we didn’t talk at all.”

“The book is about him isn’t it?  It’s not fiction like you made me believe.”

“It’s not entirely fiction, but the parts that are real are every bit about him.”

“Honey,” both you and her lookup, and you run towards Cole when he walks in with your dad, fawning over his cut and bruised face.

“Hey, daddy,” Waylon ignored Alan for the first time ever, stomping over to you and Cole with his bare feet, “Get me,” he tells his dad before he scoops him up, and your mom wipes away tears.  You were positively radiant smiling up at Cole.  And the way he was holding onto Waylon so proud.  “Ouch.”

“Yeah, mommy needs to clean daddy up,” your dad growls, walking over to his recliner, mumbling about how Cole was fine, and you shoot him a glare.

“Bee, I want Waylon to meet my mom.  Hey, Trace.”

“Hey Turner.  You two…three, go on.  I’m sure Alan and I have a lot to talk about.  But Honey, clean him up first.  Rachel is going to have a fit.”

You look back at your son who was pointing at all the apple trees, a constant cadence of wow with every row you pass.  Eyes going large when you pull up to the Mason Mansion.  “You ready?”

“Yep!” Waylon shouts, but you shake your head no.

“Bee, it’s fine.”

“I’m meeting your mom for the first time, and telling her she has a grandson.”

“Wayton Toe!”

“Waylon will make everything become a thing of the past.  She’ll love you, but this little man…buddy, your grandma is going to love you so much.  Come on.  You carry him.”

You  nervously step out of the car.  Opening up the door to grab Waylon out.  You try to walk behind Cole, but he pulls you beside him.  An arm settled around your waist as he guides you into the house, “Mom!  Mom!”

“Cole,” she walks to the foyer, gasping with her hand over her mouth when she looks at the two of you, and back to her son.  “What do we have here?”

“Mom, this is my,” you nod your head, smiling up at him.  He was perfect.  You couldn’t wait.  You both had waited long enough.  “This is my Bumblebee, and this is our son, Waylon.”

“Wayton Toe!”

“Oh, my god,” she walks up to Waylon, cupping his chubby little cheek, and he gives her a scrunchy face grin.  “Waylon…Cole?” You nod your head, and surprisingly, Waylon reaches towards Rachel.  “Oh my goodness, aren’t you the most handsome little man I ever did see.  Waylon Cole, I’m your grandma Rachel.”

“RaRa!”

“Oh, yes, I like RaRa.  I can’t even process that you have a son because…lord have mercy, you are the most beautiful baby I have ever seen, and I gave birth to your daddy.”

“My daddy,” Waylon points back at Cole smiling, “Toe Wiggle.”

“Yes, from now on, his name is Toe Wiggle.  Come on, let’s see if we can find you some candy.  You two better bring you some clothes, because you’re not going anywhere with this baby.  Waylon Cole, what do you like?”

“Umm,” he gives you a quick peek, before looking at his RaRa, “Appies and nee!”

“He really loves apples and honey.”

“Well, you are definitely my grandson.  We have trees and trees of apples.  I’m sure your mama can help you with the honey.  Oh,” she turns to look at you, holding onto Waylon even tighter, “Thank you.  I don’t even want to know, I don’t care.  This…he’s perfect.  Looks like your grandpa Dale.”

“Dawe?”

“Yeah, grandpa Dale is your daddy’s dad.  My husband.”

“Him at?”

“He…he’s in heaven.  But he would have loved you so much.  Pretty sure he told your mama and daddy to go ahead and have a baby.”

“Ahh!” Waylon’s hands slap on his chest, getting the biggest smile on his sweet little face, “Me mama and daddy’s baby.  Me baby”

“Yes, you are.  Go on.  Go get some clothes.  You want RaRa to make us some biscuits, and we can have apple butter and honey butter on them?”

“Oh yes!  Bye mama, bye daddy.”

“Oh,” you get a slight frown as Cole starts pulling you away.  Waylon was already looking at whatever Rachel was saying.  “He’s never been like that with me.  It’s like he…”

“He’s connected with mom.  I told you.  She would forget everything.  She doesn’t care.  Definitely was easier than what I had to deal with.”

“I’m sorry, but dad.  He’s just…”

“You’re dad,” you jump into the car with Cole, and he reaches to grab your hand.  “I mean, that’s a hard pill to swallow.  Find out who your daughter's baby daddy is, and it’s your former best friend.  He knows we’ve fucked.”

“Cole!”

“You think we can squeeze a quickie in before we go back?”

“Can I ride you, while you suck my tits and play with my clit?”

“My god!”

“Two years of being completely horny, and never satisfied, Cole.  We’re going to be fucking a lot.”

“Are we using protection?”

“I don’t really care,” you jump out of the truck, running into the house, already stripping out of your clothes, turning back to cup your tits, so Cole could see his new favorite part of you.  Running up to the bedroom, Cole was already naked, too.  “Lay down.  I want to fuck you, while you suck me.”

“My god, I love this, Bee!  You really are Daddy’s little whore, huh?” He says sitting on the bed, fisting that glorious cock.

“Daddy’s little cock slut.  And Daddy’s cum dump,” Cole’s eyes roll back into his head as you sink down over him.  His mouth immediately wraps about your bud and you bounce yourself on Cole.  Where earlier the sex was rediscovering each other; slow and deep, a sweetness to it.  This time it was needy and so fucking fast.  You couldn’t take too long.  There would be time for that later.

“Where’s the bedroom we’re sleeping in?”

“Upstairs.  Opposite side of hers.  Why?”

“We’ll…we’ll get a baby monitor.  Because I want you to fuck me like an animal later.”

“You filthy little slut!”

“You love it though, right, Daddy?” And he did.  He bites on your nipple, slapping at your ass.  Obsessed.  And he had to make up for lost time.  Get some frustrations out on you before he confronts Hal.  He knew exactly who kept those letters away from you.  Hal could suck his dick.  You were always meant to belong to Cole Riggan Turner.

“But…I wanna go with you,” you look back into Cole’s mom’s living room watching her talk with your parents and Waylon.  Your hand tight on Cole’s arm as he starts to leave.  “I don’t want to be without you”

“I’ll be right back.  I can’t have you with me for this.”

“Why?” Your lip juts out, and he doesn’t hesitate to give you a little kiss on the pout.  “Cole,” his thumb traces over your mouth, slowly starting to back away, “Daddy.”

“Stop, Bee,” he chuckles, pushing your arms off him.  “I promise if this was something you could go with me for, I would let you.  I’ll be back.  Trust me, I don’t want to waste a moment without you or our baby.  Plus, I want to see your mom and mine playfully argue about who is the better Nanny and RaRa.  And your dad just keeps glaring at me.  Especially when mom brings up high school.  I just need a moment, less than an hour, and I’ll be back.  Gotta take care of something, okay?”

“Fine,” just for good measure you stomp your foot a bit, and Cole catches your dad narrowing his eyes at him.  He gives you a quick kiss to your nose, and lips before he walks out.

“Daddy go?” Waylon jumps up, leaving Loretta behind, and waddles over to you.  “Mama, my daddy go?”

“He has to do something,” you scoop up the sweetest little toddler boy you ever did see, and go back into the living room with everyone else.  Sitting beside Loretta and she gives Waylon a big lick on his cheek.  You try to remain as present as possible when really you were just thinking about Cole, and just how long it would take for him to return.

Cole hated this feeling.  He would deal with Preacher Bill another day, but Hal needed to be confronted immediately.  Every time he stares at his son, all he can think about was the eighteen months he missed with him.  Each time his hands had caressed over your curves, he hated that he missed out on your body changing.  He can just see his mom’s pure love towards her first grandson, and that really pisses him off.  Hal had taken from everyone.  

Hal was the one who got all those moments.  Was even at the hospital holding your hand when Waylon was born.  Held his son, and Cole wasn’t even aware of his existence.  Cole didn’t get to coach you through labor, or wipe away your tears.  Cole lost all of that.  His mom lost all of that.  You lost all of that.  And what was worse was the fact that Alan had hated him more because your dad saw you suffer with the absence of Cole.  Had put it in his head that Cole had taken advantage of you.

Cole pulls into your parent’s driveway, seeing Hal in the distance on the tractor, and just waits.  His truck was recognizable.  Hal knew that there had been a reason your father and Loretta weren’t with him today.  Noticed that the store was closed.  And when he looks up to see that red truck, he turns the tractor off.  Waiting on Cole to get over there.

“What do you want?” Hal squints his eyes looking out into the sun.  

“You know exactly what I want.”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“Get off the tractor.  Talk to me like a man.”

“You never deserved her,” Hal grimaces, hopping off the tractor.  He had gotten thicker himself.  His arms much more sculpted than before.  

“I know.  And neither did you.  My son was born without his father.  She went through labor without me.”

“They had me,” he doubles down.  Hal was not going to apologize if that’s what Cole was waiting for.  “I was there.  I was a father to that baby.  He has a room of toys at my house.”

“He’s my baby!” Cole runs his hand on the back of his neck, wondering if Hal was ever going to understand what he did.  “She never wanted you.  You did what you did for selfish reasons.  My mom went almost two years not knowing that she had a grandson.  You took from her, too.  You took from a baby that didn’t ask for any of this.  You…can you at least admit what you did?  You took those letters.  You made me look like I abandoned her, and all I ever wanted was her and that baby.  I would have been back here that day had I known she was pregnant.  You allowed her to become a pariah in her hometown because none of y’all can get out of the past and realize sex before marriage is okay.  But I never abandoned either of them.  You taking those letters made me think that she was mad, or moved on.”

“She never moved on.”

“And yet you still kept taking them.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Can I get back to work?”

Cole waits until Hal climbs back up on the tractor.  Knowing his ultimate suffering was going to be seeing less of Waylon.  Was going to see the two of you packing yours and Waylon’s things to move in with him, and seeing just how happy you all were.  How Waylon would call Cole daddy, while Hal remained just Hal.  “It’s time for you to move on, too.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“You figure out,” he says, walking away.  Leaving Hal with the decision on whether to confess to you, or see if Cole ever mentions it to you.  Wondering if you were going to hate him for the rest of his life, or even if you would allow that little boy that he loved like his own son to ever see him again.  It was the ultimate way to make Hal spiral worrying about what he should do.  It just became too easy to stuff those letters in his pocket as he carried the mail to the house.

Never feeling any guilt when your heart broke every time at the lack of communication with Cole.  Didn’t feel sorry for inserting himself as someone to lean on.  And only a kiss had ever happened between the two of you.  Apologizing to him as tears rolled down your eyes because he was never Cole.  Cole had poisoned your brain, but along the way Hal had been your best friend.  And one of Waylon’s favorite people.

Cole steps through the doorway of his mom’s catching you as you run into his arms.  “Bee, will you marry me?” He whispers so softly in your ear.

“I would marry you two years ago if you asked,” he sits you back down, sliding his mom’s old engagement ring on your finger while everyone else looks on at the two of you with smiles, minus your father.  

“Etta at daddy’s house?” Your father takes a deep breath, brushing the tears off his cheeks.  He wasn’t just losing a daughter, but his grandson.  He wanted to hate Cole.  Wanted to call him every name in the book, but the way you two were looking at each other, the pure love was evident between you.

“Daddy?  Etta wif me?”

“Yes, Loretta is going to stay with us.  Sorry, Alan.”

“Well, I guess this causes for a celebratory night out at the Vault,” your mom stands, pulling up your dad.  “Unless, you two would rather be alone.”

“I just want to be with my family.  Waylon Cole, come here, baby,” Cole’s hands leave you only to pick up your son, and then he holds the two of you.  He wasn’t ever getting that time back, but he wasn’t going to waste new happy moments to come worrying about it.  He was going to cherish every moment.

“Oo Toe Wiggle.”

“And you Waylon Cole.”

“Mama is my bubblebee.”

“No, mama is my Bumblebee.”

“No, mine,” Waylon giggles, laying his head on Cole’s shoulder.  “Me yuv Oo.”

You give a kiss to Waylon’s cheek, while Cole swallows deeply, “I love you, too.  And I love your mama, and…”

“My baby.  Me need a baby.”

“Let’s go to lunch.  Cole’s paying,” Alan walks quickly past the three of you.  It was a bitter pill to swallow.  And it wasn’t something he truly wanted to think about.  Not yet.  In time.  Cole’s face still bruised and battered from your father’s fist.  And still he looked handsome.  

“Me hungy, mama.”

“Yeah, let’s go.  Waylon gets cranky if he misses lunch and nap.”

“And thankfully Waylon sleeps hard.”

“Cole Riggan, your fiancé’s parents are here.  Tracy, I apologize.”

“Well,” your mom shrugs, reaching for Waylon, but he shakes his head no, cozying up closer to his dad.  “They’re play time did give us this beautiful little boy.  Way, you ready to flirt with the waitresses?”

“Yep.  Eady!”  Cole didn’t know how he got to be so lucky, and nor did he care.  He was going to spend his time just being with you and his son.  Enjoying the life he was sure he never wanted, and now he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.  He was finally home.  You were finally his.  And his son, Cole Turner’s son, was the happiest little surprise that he could think of.  

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @softsatnin​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai​ @patzammit​ @openup-yourmind​ @elrw24​ @bxdbxtxh15​ @buckysteveloki-me​ @lilac-tea-time​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @feyfantome​ @cjand10​ @lavender-annd-lilac​

[panoralis]

❝  I  CAN’T  SEE  MYSELF  THROUGH  YOUR  EYES  ˒  𝐢.  astre’s  anatomy

STAGE  NAME  :  calista  ❪  칼리스타  ❫

BIRTH  NAME  :  roh  aejeong  ❪  노애정  ❫

ENGLISH  NAME  :  laurine

BIRTHDAY  :  july  9  ,  2002  ❪  cancer  ❫

BIRTH  PLACE  :  seosan  ,  south  korea

ETHNICITY  :  korean

KNOWN  FAMILY  :  father  ,  stepmother  &  younger  brother  and  sister 

LANGUAGES  :  korean  ,  french  ,  english  ,  japanese  &  chinese

⸻  𝐚.  darling  ,  how  do  i  LOOK ?

FACE  CLAIM  :  kang  hyewon  of  ex  -  iz  *  one

HEIGHT  :  one  hundred  seventy  point  two  centimetres  or  five  feet  seven  inches

BODY  MODIFICATION(S)  :  standard  lobes  ,  auricle  on  left  ear  &  tattoo  on  right  side  of  ribcage

⸻  𝐛.  watch  myself  bloom  through  the  DOWNPOUR .  

FLOWERS  :  there  is  little  to  nothing  that  scares  this  woman  .  she’s  been  put  through  a  haunted  house  and  somehow  ended  up  befriending  the  scare  actors  .  her  charisma  is  undeniable  ,  even  if  she’s  not  the  center  of  attention  ,  she  will  unintentionally  pull  people’s  gaze  towards  her  .  maybe  the  reason  people  can  connect  to  her  on  a  deeper  level  is  because  she  keeps  her  mind  open  to  anything  and  everything  .  

SHOWERS  :  she  gives  so  much  that  sometimes  ,  she  forgets  to  take  care  of  herself  .  and  no  one  ever  really  knows  because  she  conceals  the  “  bad  ”  parts  of  her  ,  especially  her  fatigue  .  there’s  also  times  where  it’s  like  she  talks  in  riddles  ,  rarely  disclosing  what  she  means  when  she  says  such  things  .

⸻  𝐜.  you  will  always  be  my  CELEBRITY !

LABEL(S)  :  source  music  entertainment  ❪  2016  -  2019  ❫  ,  belift  lab  ❪  2019  -  2023  ❫  &  astre  entertainment  ❪  2023  -  present  ❫

PROFESSION  :  actress  &  idol

GROUP  :  pandora

POSITION  :  rapper  ,  vocalist  &  dancer

YET  YOU  NEVER  FAIL  TO  WEAR  MY  SMILE  ˒  𝐢𝐢.  and  her  history  ❞

❪  tw  :  loss  of  a  parent  ,  irresponsible  management  ,  s*mu  and  b*lift  ❫

VINTAGE.  fairytales  portray  stepmothers  as  cruel  women  who  refuse  to  love  their  husband’s  child  .  and  honestly  ,  aejeong  wondered  if  she’d  be  like  cinderella  —  a  princess  who  had  an  evil  stepmother  after  her  birth  mother  passed  .  but  as  the  little  girl  came  to  learn  ,  not  everything  written  is  true  .  because  her  father  married  a  woman  who  loved  her  like  her  own  ,  who  was  willing  to  give  her  the  world  if  she  could  .  

by  the  time  she  turned  eight  ,  she  wasn’t  a  stepmother anymore  —  she  was  her  maman  .

CURRENT.  being  passed  between  companies  can  really  fuck  you  in  the  head  .  first  debuting  in  the  acting  industry  under  source  music  entertainment  ,  aejeong’s  contract  was  transferred  to  belift  lab  where  she  debuted  in  enhypen  .  once  the  seven  years  were  over  ,  it’s  no  surprise  that  she  refused  to  continue  her  contract  with  the  company  .  so  while  remaining  as  a  member  of  enhypen  ,  she  moved  into  astre  entertainment  and  was  introduced  as  the  tenth  member  to  the  public  .  calista  doesn’t  regret  it  ,  because  she’s  treated  fairly  and  gets  babied  by  her  new  members  (  you  know  ,  since  she’s  now  the  maknae  )  .

[worshipme]

and i miss my lover, man || a self-para penned by sora for mayhemhq’s HOOK

“hey rachel, it’s nice to see you again.” he greets the woman with a hug that lingers for longer than a moment. his name rolls off her tongue and once upon a time it had been his favorite thing to hear in the world.

when she graduated and returned home from university, tyler was still the first person she texted even if they hadn’t talked in the past four years. seeing her contact appear on his lock screen was enough for him to stop everything he was doing and reply.

ever since that text, they had periodically been meeting up with each other. hanging out like friends do, and seriously hanging out like friends do. never alone, always with their old group of friends from high school. catching each other up on new updates in life and legally drinking together. but tyler and rachel weren’t ever friends. they were lovers longer than they were friends. their relationship was an instant attraction that quickly turned into tyler trying to make the quiet girl who he caught staring at him in the middle of math blush. the real catalyst was when their assigned seats were right next to each other with the hopes of tyler’s rambunctious self would calm down if he was seated right at the front next to the quiet smart girl.

spoiler: it did.

tucked in his backpack he brought with him is the little box of every post-it note and crumbled up piece of paper that she had ever passed to him from that first day in math class that he sent her one with a simple question of him asking for the answer on a test. there’s a few other things in there - various pictures and different bracelets. the box held every little thing he had kept from their relationship. he can see a similar box tucked under her own arm that he can only assume is his side of their conversations and other things she had kept.

he offers up his arm for her to take, but like she always does, she shakes her head and begins to lead the way down to their spot in the creek. tyler walks beside her. it’s been years since he’s been here, and he knows it’s the same for her. it felt wrong to visit this little part of the creek without the other, but now that they’re here, they can’t help but sit down and talk about the old days.

but when the conversation begins to die out and he’s left with the bitter-sweet beating of his heart in his chest, he knows its time. “thank you for doing this with me.” he says, and his voice is just shy of a whisper.

“i need this too.” comes her reply.

“i feel like we’re at a funeral.”

“it kind of is, if you think about it. we’re both finally letting go of our relationship.”

“i don’t know why i held on to it for so long. i don’t have feelings for you anymore, but…”

“it’s all we knew. we spent our entire adolescence together, and we’re both the sentimental type. talk about a double homicide.”

“yeah, i guess that’s why… can you stop looking at me like that? it makes me sad.”

“why does this feel like another breakup?”

“i’m initiating this one, though. you got the first one.”

“fuck you.”

“one last time?”

she punches his shoulder and he can’t help but laugh. she joins in.

they start to collect nearby rocks and arrange it in a small circle. they continue to talk to fill the silence, and its then that she asks the question he’s been hoping to avoid. “so what happened with mariah? unless that’s still a fresh wound, i know it was only recently that the two of you split.” it makes him pause and look at her with an awkward smile on his face.

“i wasn’t ready to let you go. so while i had feelings for mariah, i was still entertaining the thought of ‘what if rach and i fall in love again’ in my head. i couldn’t do that to her. not be fully committed and all that. that’s just not me. and then when she ended things with me i just… i realized i needed to let you go. that this is why i can’t see myself dating someone else because i keep thinking about you.”

“…. me too….”

“i know. i’m not the only one with stuff to burn.”

there’s a silence that follows that. they begin to dump the contents of their boxes into the center of the rocks, and like some sort of twisted storybook - tyler immediately recognizes the first photo they took and printed out together as a couple that lays on the very top. they were just kids back then, and the smiles on their faces practically screamed out ‘this is my person!’

“i loved you.” it doesn’t matter who says it first, because the other is quick to reply, “i loved you, too.”

a match is tossed into the pile and the world begins to burn.

[infinitesimaldna]

Have You Ever Considered Killing Your Title?—Chapter 2

Masterpost

______

Remus couldn’t imagine growing up without his brother. 

Roman was the coolest person he had ever known, even more than the knights they liked to watch train through his bedroom window. They had similar interests, and Roman was almost always the reason his days weren’t dull. Sure, every now and then some event or whatever would come by the castle, but most of the time it was just the two of them left to entertain themselves. When they were younger, there had been nannies, but not anymore. Of course the first half of their day is spent in lessons with tutors, but the afternoons are all theirs. And right now, they were taking full advantage of that.

The gleaning silver paint of the sword was quick, but Remus simply grinned as his own blade blocked it. He took a step back, pressing his weight against the leg to brace for a forward push. Unfortunately, his opponent knew him all too well, tugging his own sword out of the way and causing Remus to stumble forward. 

“Aha! Give it up, evil one! You can’t possibly believe you could beat a prince.” Roman stood proudly in front of him, chest puffed out and sword now settled on his shoulders, copying a pose they had both seen the head knight do countless times. 

The words put a smile on Remus’ face, and he kept his head turned downward until he could attempt to force his face back into his “villain look.” It took a few breaths, but then he was standing back up fully, using both arms to hold his sword out in front of him, pointing at his brother. “I can believe it, because I myself am a prince!”

The gasp Roman let out was perfectly performed, having been practiced countless times in front of the mirror to cover up whenever he and Remus snooped where they shouldn’t. “That’s not possible. The only other prince of this land disappeared years ago, into the depths of the evil sea. He was never seen again.”

“Well, I am he.” They took a second to break character, giggling to each other about the plot line that was developing between them. “I fell into the sea and was saved by… by an octopus! He wrapped me in his arms and found some magic seaweed to feed me, which allowed me to breathe underwater. And then he raised me in all the ways of the sea, and I lived there until I learned where I came from. So now I’m back.”

“Then…” Roman took a step forward then, sword moving to hang in his left hand limply as his right hand outstretched. “Then that means you are my predecessor. They chose me to be prince after you disappeared. I was picked from the crowd of a parade, and turned from commoner to prince after that. They said it was because I looked so much like you.” 

“So you’ve stolen my kingdom, and I’ve come to take it back.” Remus reached towards his face, miming a mustache he twirled like the villains so often did in their storybooks. 

“If what you say is true, then I have no wish to fight you.” Roman was clearly lowering his voice for his character, and Remus couldn’t help but appreciate the touch. “This is your kingdom first. We can rule together, sharing in harmony.”

“Well, that sounds lovely, but you’ve forgotten a detail, dear prince.” Remus had his hands behind his back, sword carefully clutched between both of them, grip tight in awaiting enticement. 

“What is that?”

“The sea I was raised in was evil!” And with that, his arms swung over his head, his sword coming down directly towards Roman’s shocked expression. The grin he could feel stretched over his mouth was wild and free, and a thrill went up his spine at truly surprising his brother. 

“Wait—” An arm came up to counter, just as planned. However, it wasn’t the thunk of wood hitting itself he heard. The sound was a little less solid, a little softer, and the impact wasn’t as hard as it should’ve been. Moreover, when the wind stopped rushing in his ears and he could process what else was sounding around him, there was distinctly a cry from his brother.

The step backward was instinctual, his sword moving away with him as he took 3 paces back. His gaze didn’t leave where Roman was hunched over himself, his arm covered by his torso in a way that blocked Remus’ view. 

“Ro?” His voice was back to normal now, the gravellyness he had been working to put into it before forgotten. 

The only response he got was a hiss, and a deep breath he recognized all too well as the one Roman did when he was holding back tears.

“Oh no.” In a few seconds, his weapon had been dropped and he was approaching his brother with probably a little less care than the situation called for. “Shoot shoot shoot.” He hesitated just a moment before placing his hands on the other’s shoulders, holding him but not attempting to do anything further. “Robro? Are you okay?”

In response, Roman just held out his left arm, allowing Remus to roll up the sleeve. It was red where it had been hit, in a way Remus wasn’t entirely sure wouldn’t bruise. For now, it didn’t look so bad, but that could change. And their parents really didn’t like when either of them hurt the other, accident or not. 

“I—You had time to react. You brought your arm up, I thought you were gonna block it.” 

A sniffle before the reply. “I did, I just, I moved my arm too far and the sword went too far out of the way. It was my fault.”

“No no, it’s not anyone’s fault. We just, I need to be more careful when we’re playing. I shouldn’t have swung that hard in the first place. I’m really really sorry.”

“It’s fine, Re. Payback for me tripping you on the way out of dinner last night.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“I saw you tense when you got in the bath and it hit the hot water. Now we’re even.”

“Mom and Dad aren’t gonna see it that way.”

“Then they don’t have to know. It wouldn’t be the first time we kept a cut from them.”

“Roman, look at it! That might bruise, and you know they hate bruises because they take forever to go away. Plus, I think the chef is making meat pies. We’re not allowed to wear long sleeves on nights when it’s messy food. We can’t hide it.”

“Yes, we can.” Now it was Roman’s hands on Remus’ shoulders, staring him in the eyes. “Mom has that makeup stuff she uses all the time, right? I’ve heard her say she uses it to cover blemishes. This is basically a blemish, I’m sure it will work.”

Remus took a second, taking in his brother’s plan and assessing the flaws. “We can’t steal mom’s though, it’d be too hard to sneak into her room. Plus, she uses a really white shade, and that wouldn’t match.”

“Then, there are plenty of other people in the castle. In fact, I bet we could search the servant’s chambers and find some.”

“We have to be specific, though. The cook probably wouldn’t have any, she’s covered in flour and stuff all day.”

“Um, the maidservants then? They wait on the ladies all day, I’m sure they have some stuff to look presentable.”

“I think their rooms are in the attic, not the cellar. We’ll have to take our hidden passage to avoid being spotted the whole way there.”

“Passage 3 or 4?”

“3 is closest to us, but I think 4 would actually get us to the attic easier, and it’s better for us to be seen down here than up there.”

“Right.” With the plan settled, Remus felt his heart calm enough to provide his brother with a smile. He carefully reached forward, wiping beneath his eyes to take away the remnants of tears that could still be seen. “I’m still sorry.”

“Only be sorry if we get caught.” The smirk Roman gave him was downright devious, and Remus was struck by a wave of affection. 

He really couldn’t imagine growing up without him.

The heist itself went off perfectly; the makeup was obtained and (after a few minutes of playing around in the bathroom and fidgeting with it) applied to match with the tones on Roman’s arm. They perhaps used too much, taking up a rather large part of the forearm rather than just the areas of the cut, but it worked for its intended purpose and that’s all that mattered. Both parents were none the wiser throughout all of dinner, and even complimented the boys on how well behaved they were throughout the meal. The reason behind that being their terror at being discovered went unseen, and a breath of relief was taken when they were finally excused to their own rooms for the evening. 

It had been years since either of them had been read a story or tucked into bed, but there was still a servant present to assist them in changing if it was needed, and to extinguish the candles once they were settled. It was annoying on nights like this, when both wanted nothing more than to hop out of bed and run to the other, despite how they always got scolded upon being caught. Still, the servant eventually left, and Remus very carefully counted the decided upon 100 seconds before wiggling out of bed, bare feet touching upon the stone floor and ignoring the biting cold as he stepped over to the wardrobe. 

It had been a hard day when they were first told they were no longer to share a room, and lots of screaming and crying had ensued that night. Still, their parent’s were adamant that each needed their own space, and should stay in that designated space come nightfall. This fight went on for a week straight until both boys suddenly became amenable to the idea, having fought earlier in the day and being all too okay being apart for the evening. 

That was the first time Roman and Remus had faked an argument to their betterment. The day before, they had spent their free time investigating any connection between the two rooms, and found a hidden panel in each. It connected to a small room between, no wider than Roman’s arm span, but it was enough. As far as they could tell, it was intended to hide the princes should a threat ever enter the castle, but for them it was a connection that allowed them to be together despite their parents’ ruling. Somehow, they had yet to be found out, but Remus wouldn’t question something he was grateful for. 

He was especially grateful to be able to talk to Roman in private now, after the scheme that they had employed. It had been a strenuous meal, and he needed the comfort of the other to feel better. Plus, then he could check on Roman’s injury again, and make sure that he wasn’t just downplaying the damage.

Tonight, he was the first to enter the space, quickly burying his feet into the threads of the blanket they had spread out across the floor and hunkering against the wall. He felt around carefully, grinning wide as his hand came into contact with the matchbox they had stolen away for the space. Neither of them were technically allowed to mess with fire, but everything else about this space wasn’t allowed, so it all kinda balanced out. 

Just as he got the match against the wick, he heard movement behind him, and quickly turned back around once the flame had caught to greet his brother.

“Sorry I took forever, my servant was insistent that something must be the matter because I was ‘wigglier than usual.’” He rolled his eyes as he said the last bit, putting his hands on his hips for a moment as he huffed before sitting down. 

“Were you?”

“Not really! I just wanted to keep her away from my arm, so I insisted I could dress myself this evening. Then I got stuck in the shirt and refused help, which I guess was suspicious.”

A snicker escaped Remus, and he made no effort to hide it from his brother. “Only you, Robro.” 

“It was so tedious! Truly, I’m the pinnacle of independent.”

“I don’t think you know what half the words you just used mean.”

“I know them better than you.” Roman nudged their knees together as he spoke, an insult Remus let go ignored for now. He’d already gotten his shots in today.

“Lemme see your arm, Mister Fancy Words.” There was a huff, but the arm was handed over and Remus tugged lightly to get it closer to the candlelight. Sure enough, a small bruise was forming, but they were lucky. The way it blended into Roman’s darker skin made it simply look like a birthmark or a spot, not necessarily an injury. As long as they were careful, no more makeup should have to be stolen. 

It was silent as he inspected, up until Roman placed his other hand atop Remus’ and drew his attention upwards. “It wasn’t your fault, Remus.”

Remus huffed. “I still should’ve been more careful.” When he saw Roman’s expression start to change into the one that always preceded a lecture, he quickly amended his statement. “I’ve always been the better fighter, after all.”

And there came one of Remus’ favorite sounds in the whole world: Roman’s ‘offended princey noises.’ It was a scoff mixed with a hint of incredulity, and just the base hint of a laugh, like Roman knew how ridiculous he was and was doing it on purpose. “I am not a worse fighter than you! Just watch, one day Dad will put me in charge of training the new knights, and I’ll be the one responsible for making sure you get to become a fighter even half as good as me.”

“Oh come on, I’ve always been better at sporadic combat. You’re only better when we have to follow all the ridiculous rules set by our trainer.”

“You mean the rules that teach proper knight technique?”

“They’re so boring! As long as I can slash at the thing and win, that should be all that matters.”

“And that’s exactly why I’ll be in charge of the knights.”

Remus let the comment sit for a moment, using the limited candlelight to examine his brother’s face and allowing it to calm him. “Nah, I bet you’ll be a strategist. You’re always the one to come up with the premise of our games after all, I bet that’s great for figuring out plans and stuff.”

“Well either way, we still have a long time before Mom or Dad let us get involved in any of that. They still lose their poise over a bruise.” Roman threw his arm up for effect.

Remus shrugged. “Maybe. But that’s why I’m here, to let you do all the stuff they won’t.” He moved then to sit right next to Roman instead of across from his, squishing their shoulders together. “And we’ll always be there for one another, right? Never stop working to keep the other one out of trouble?”

Roman threw him a sly grin. “As long as you don’t steal my dragon plush again, yeah.”

“Oh, come on! He’s so cool though!”

“And he’s mine! You have your little snake, I don’t know why you keep wanting my dragon.”

“Because they look so good together! The yellow and purple just match, they’re royal colors, Ro.”

“Then I guess we better stay together so they don’t get separated, huh? Now you have to stick by me, for their sake.”

Remus huffed. “I always thought I’d be the first to resort to blackmail.” 

“I don’t think this counts as blackmail. I’m not entirely sure what it is though. Maybe we should ask our tutors?”

“Shut up, Robro.”

“Nah.” 

He fell quiet after saying that anyway, his head coming to rest on Remus’ shoulder as they both watched the candlelight flicker off the wall. They would have to go to bed soon, that much was certain. Neither one of them was very good at staying up late, and falling asleep in here would have dire consequences if it meant they weren’t found in their rooms in the morning. 

But for now, they could rest their weight together. They could dispel the tension of the day, and celebrate their victory over their parents' irrational rules. They could watch the light flicker, and enjoy the shadows it cast. Tomorrow and every other day of their lives would bring responsibility, but the night was theirs.

Best to share it with a brother.

------

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[runwithwolvcs]

Right Where You Left Me: Part Twelve

I’m Not Your Baby

“Are you in pain?” Paul asked for what felt like the hundredth time since he helped me climb through his window. He had tried to convince me to let him into my room, but we both know that my father would have lost his mind if he had found Paul and I together again.

“Still no, Paul.” I groaned, looking at him with annoyance, “I’m bored. Can we please do something a little more entertaining?”

“Like what?” He asked, combing his fingers through his hair.

I shrugged, “We could make out?”

He shook his head, “No, you just got out of the hospital two days ago.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, as if he knew my body better than me.

“So what?” I asked, sitting up straight and wrapping my arms around myself carefully. Insecurities flooding my mind, forcing me to ask, “You don’t want to kiss me anymore?”

“That's not what I said, Sask.” Paul moved so that he was not facing me directly, I could already feel the uncomfortable lump forming in my throat.  “Of course I do.”

I shook my head, standing up from his bed, “Maybe I should go. You’re still uncomfortable being around me.”

Paul grabbed my hand, sending electric shocks up my arm in the process,“I don’t want you to go.”

My eyes scanned his face, though he has gotten a lot better at hiding his emotions. I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t at this moment. If I leave, I upset him, if I stay, he still is barely able to look me in my eyes, thus upsetting myself.

“This movie sucks.” I brood, taking back my hand from his. I’d rather upset myself than him. He already beats himself up enough as it is.

He lets out a breathy laugh as I sit against his head board, he’s still sitting on the edge of his bed, fiddling with his old lacrosse stick,  “It’s a background noise movie.”

“A background noise movie?” I asked, looking at him in confusion.

“Yeah, like Netflix and chill or whatever.” Paul explained and I nearly rolled my eyes. Yeah, let's watch a background movie when you refuse to touch me. He shoots me a sly smile, as if he can read my mind as I pout.

I rarely ever resort to begging, but I’m out of options at this point, I need to touch him, “I promise to tell you if I'm in pain.”

“Yeah?” He gently pulled me towards him by my ankle, my back hitting the mattress as his face came into view. Hovering over me with that douchebag smirk he wore so well.

“Yeah.” I breathed out. I’m already breathless, can’t he see I need him? Clearly not if he’s forcing me to make the first move. I snake my arms around his neck, pulling him down further enough to press my lips to his.

“I’ve missed your lips.” I mumbled against his lips, grasping at his grown out hair.  Paul groans in response.

I can feel his arousal as he presses his hips into mine and I unhook one of my arms from around his neck to start undoing his belt, “Saskia,” He groaned out.

“It won’t hurt me…” I practically plead. Since when did I want sex more than him?!

“Fuck, love.” He stopped me, and I try not to feel rejected by him, “I want to, I do. Badly.”

I can feel him straining against his jeans, as I look up at him with furrowed brows, “But?”

“My dads downstairs and it's been months since I’ve had you, I won’t be able to control myself.” Paul explained. It's a good reason for not wanting to hook up, but he usually has an alternative, yet he's not offering one up. This isn’t about his dad hearing us, it's about him not wanting to.

I can respect that, at least, I just wish he was being honest.

I nodded in understanding, “Okay.”

“Okay?” He repeats, like I just said something outlandish.

“Mhm. Just…Nevermind.” I trail off, sitting up and forcing him to move back.

“What is it?”

I shake my head, “It’s nothing, Paul.”

Standing up and walking towards his cluttered desk. It’s like he's thrown everything he owns on it. I wanted to ask if he ever even used it, but I already know the answer to that.

“Baby,” He started, but I quickly cut him off.

“I’m not your ‘baby.’” I throw back at him, looking through his things.

“Sask,” He said, exasperated by me. 

“What?” I asked innocently, “You only call me that when you're drunk or horny.”

“Well I am fucking horny, between you being hurt and rounds I haven’t jacked off in like a week.” He complained. 

So he’s making this my problem now? As if he hasn’t made a laundry list of rules for me to be able to see him. Half of which aren’t attainable unless Sam gives him more than two days off in a row, which seems impossible.

“Poor baby,” I cooed sarcastically, “Maybe one of your other girls will give you a blowjob in the locker room tomorrow.”

The thought of him having another girl crossed my mind. Jealousy reared its ugly head. We’ve talked about this, he imprinted on me and yet for some reason it doesn’t feel like he actually sees me most days. Like I'm just there for his entertainment.

“You know it's only you, Saskia.”

“You just said you hadn’t fucked me in months, not that you havent fucked other girls.” I said bitterly. 

“I havent fucked any other girls since I imprinted on you.” He nonchalantly explained.

 But it only made my blood boil.

“Oh, yeah, that makes me feel better,” I said sarcastically, I turned to him with my hands on my hips.

“What do you want me to say?!” Paul exclaimed. Oh, his dad definitely heard that.

“I don’t want you to say anything, in fact, I want you to stop talking altogether because right now you're sounding like a jerk.” I bite back. For someone who is so suave with other girls he really knows how to put his foot in his mouth when talking to me.

“Saskia,”He groaned, standing up from his spot, “You’re being ridiculous,”

I crossed my arms with a frown before making my way towards his window, “I’m leaving.”

“No, please, “ Paul begged, an unusual occurrence from him. He blocked my typical exit, a puppyish look on his face, “I’ve missed you.”

I couldnt help but sigh, “I’m exhausted, Paul. I haven't seen you all week and you are the only person who can help take the pain away.”

“So, stay, and let me do that for you.” He walked up to me and carefully wrapped his arms around me. I instantly relaxed in his arms, wrapping my arms around his torso.

“You have so much junk.” I mumbled against his chest, causing him to snicker, “Can we organise it?”

“Be my guest.” He said happily. Damn wolf mood swings.

After sorting all the junk on his desk into piles of wants and do not wants. They began organising them into categories. What he needed to stay on his desk, what he could put elsewhere and what would go in his closet. The drawer in his desk had been stuffed with letters Paul said were from his mom. I was sorting them so that he could later put them in a folder if he chose to when something hit me. “I think I know why she stopped trying…”

“Hm?” He hummed, too busy trying to figure out how to work a trinket than listening to me.

“My mom wrote these.” I said, holding up one of the letters. “This is her writing.”

“It’s just similar.” He waved me off.

I shake my head, “It's identical. I wouldn’t lie to you Paul, look”

I pulled up my phone and showed him a photo with my mom's handwriting.Paul grabbed the letter from my hand and stormed out of the room, leaving me wide eyed before quickly following him downstairs. It’s weird. I’ve never been inside his house, other than his room. Seeing the walls decorated with photographs and art was not what I was expecting as I rushed down the stairs to catch up with Paul. I nearly ran into him as he stopped abruptly to what I assumed was the kitchen entryway, given that our houses had similar layouts. 

“Hi, Saskia.” His dad's voice said in a welcoming tone. I have only ever seen him in passing, and now, here I stood, in his home that I had entered through his son's bedroom window. 

Great first impression.

I peek out from behind Paul's hulking frame to greet his dad, “Hi, Mr. Lahote.”

“Answer the question.” Paul said with anger.

“You need to calm down, son.” His dad said, his tone was even, almost like he was expecting this to happen one day. 

“I am calm.” Paul muttered.

His dad sighed, “You know you’re the single most important thing to me.”

“Dad!” I put my hand instinctively on his bare back, the tight muscles instantly relaxing.

“I did it to protect you, and the idea of a mother you thought you had as a child. The first Christmas after we moved from Tacoma, I asked your mother if she planned on visiting you. She didn’t.. She wanted to move on..” He paused, a look of disdain crossing his features.

“From me?” His son asked quietly,

“Us.” Mr Lahote clarified, “It doesn’t matter now.”

Paul shook his head and I moved my hand to his, leaving him the option to grab it if he wanted to. And he did, squeezing it as he asked, “The letters, it was all bullshit?”

“No, they weren’t. I asked Marjorie for some advice one night on motherly things I should do for you, you know?” His eyes shifted to me momentarily, “She offered to help keep the illusion alive with the letters, even wrapped some of your presents from Santa, lord knows you would’ve known if I had done them.”

“The glow in the dark dinosaur lamp..” I mumbled quietly, his dad smiled at me knowingly.

“What?” Paul looked down at me.

“I found it where my mom used to stash the presents before she wrapped them.I’d alway wondered where it went.” I explained.

“You could have told me.” Paul said, looking back to his dad.

“You were just a kid. I just wanted you to be happy.” Mr Lahote said with a sad smile. My heart broke for both of them. I would never understand how someone could build a family and just leave. Destroying those they left behind.

[tortue-blanche]

Фрагменты из переведенного интервью Мартина Гора для немецкого журнала Alert Magazine (апрель, 2003).

Наверняка, это интервью Мартина из далекого 2003 года довольно известное. Но на самом деле оно не теряет своей актуальности и значимости! Тем более там есть любопытные высказывания и детали для понимания самого маэстро и творчества Depeche Mode. В том числе в некоторых своих ответах он говорил о Дейве. Причем в ту пору их отношения, мягко говоря, были крайне напряженными. Дейв хамил в интервью и любым способом пытался привлекать его внимание (на мой взгляд). Мартин его просто игнорировал, не брал трубки, не общался какое-то время. Однако, кстати, концерт его посетил. Но обратите внимание, как говорит Мартин о Дейве в том апрельском интервью 2003 г. в рамках своего Counterfeit².

In the film The Last Waltz, Robbie Robertson famously states, “You can’t live the life on the road forever—sooner or later it will destroy you.” Depeche Mode sell out stadiums wherever they go, year after year after year. Do you sometimes think about quitting the life on the road?

M.G.: First of all, Dave is clean and sober now. He lives in a completely different world than he used to. I really sometimes can’t believe how he managed this change in his life. I pay the biggest respect to his self-discipline. Dave is just an incredible man. He can walk out of the dark realm of the dressing room onto the stage facing 20,000 people—and he gets this adrenaline kick. Believe me, even if many things on a tour are a daily grind, you cannot help but get highly emotional when you are standing in front of huge audiences like that. Always. And after the concert, Dave straightaway heads for the limousine that is waiting for him backstage and immediately drives to the hotel. That’s the end of any evening for him. Maybe, in his hotel room, he still reads a bit in a book or he goes to sleep. I envy him for that discipline. I couldn’t do it like that. I always say: Every world tour with Depeche Mode takes five to ten years from me. It’s not a healthy life. But that’s the way it is.~

Или другие фрагменты из этого интервью:

Aren’t you annoyed by the fact that every kind of solitude and melancholy has already been articulated?

M.G.: I can assure you that I simply don’t care what other people have or have not done prior to me. I only care about the things that I’ve already done as I don’t want to repeat myself. Then again, Dave [Gahan] once said this brilliant sentence: “Martin has built a two-decade-long career on one single theme.”

And? Is it true?

M.G.: Maybe? Most of the songs I write for Depeche deal with various aggregate statuses of relationships. These are good songs because they always have a twist—an unexpected ending or shift. That marks the difference compared to other pop songs. But I admit it can get difficult when people start to expect a certain kind of song from you. So, I guess that’s what you call craftsmanship when it comes to songwriting: How can you write something that is truly you without becoming formulaic? That’s probably one of the main reasons we always pause for so long between Depeche Mode album releases.

The way you tell the story is very entertaining. But Dave Gahan almost became a deadly victim of this lifestyle. He overdosed in 1996 in Los Angeles. How did this moment change your life and the way you look at your past with Depeche Mode?

M.G.: For all of us this has been a very tough time. Especially as we didn’t know how to communicate with Dave anymore. I mean, Dave is a difficult personality, no matter how you look at it. And we all knew that he had serious drug problems. But you can’t really help a person if he doesn’t want to be helped. When it happened I started to also look at my own life with different eyes. I can only say that I was lucky that I was never drawn into such a mess. In that sense I’ve never been in a situation that constrained me to radically change any of my habits.

[flowerb00yz]

TW for uhh..vent, I guess? And a lot of sensitive topics. Scroll with caution.

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Does anyone else just get WAY too stressed and completely shut down? Like..have a kind of, Momentary, Pseudo-braindeath? You’ll just..keep taking information in, and you can’t do it, and you stop functioning like a ‘normal’ human being, and you can’t even nod or shake your head in response to things. And everything either gets ‘muted’ or turned to ‘100 volume’. Hearing everything, feeling your own blood pumping beneath your skin, but it’s nothing but static— and then when you come back, you missed whatever was going on? 4th time this week. I’m REALLY not excited for this to end. I mean, 7 siblings waiting at home. None of them are nice. Dads always at work, moms either stoned or drunk— I just needed to talk about things, even typing this I feel sick. I feel guilty, because, oh! At this age I don’t have anything to be bloody ‘worried or stressed’ over. When I’m not at Hogwarts, I’m taking care of breathing creatures that I didn’t even create. And that’s not even talking about the bloody intrusions. I enjoy taking care of those I love. Those I’m related too, despite being a sour apple about it, because most of the work wasn’t even done by the people who ‘made me’. I would’ve rather died in some fucked up accident then do this, sure, but then I wouldn’t have met them. The people that basically— saved my life. MY life.

I wouldn’t be alive, without them, genuinely. And I’m so thankful they’re here— but I get so frustrated with myself when I still can’t understand the answer to; “ Why do you enjoy being around me so much. “

I don’t know if I was just, entertaining. Like a jester infront of a large crowd. I don’t want to care for my own needs, but to cling to those people, would mean caring for how I look, How I dress, and how I act. I act upon intrusions, because, countless times— Robyn has had to chase me down all because I saw a frog. Or Kevin having to correct me because I didn’t word something correctly, or having to have one of the FREY’S remind me that I was ‘too close to the edge’. I don’t understand why people worry so much when I run into death and life situations, that’s all the time for me. The basilisk, the trolls, myself, and amongst other things people are concerned for— why and how I haven’t been stricken with the might and tyranny of the gods yet. A part of me, still can’t believe that someone still unconditionally wants me, so I sabotage myself into depressive episodes until I freeze in place and don’t move until things are over. Because it’s ‘better’ this way. I make the meals. I bathe them. I dress them. I have multiple jobs just to feed them, am I NOT doing it correctly? Why do they hurt me. Why do they call me ‘MOM’. I’m not a woman. I’ll never be a lady, I don’t care. I don’t care anymore. I’ve stopped caring for myself so long ago, that even the people who claim to DESPISE me, have to tell me what is and isn’t dangerous. For Merlin’s sake— I’m exhausted. I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I’m only in the 3rd year. I don’t know if I even WANT to keep this up. How do I know what comes next? How do I know if I’ll even have the energy to keep turning the pages? I’m not thrilled with my life. Most of the joys in it, only consist of people I’ve known for such short spans of time I can’t believe it. But I know the sinking feeling I get every time that makes me get worse, “ what if they leave eventually. “ kind of deal. I know they wouldn’t, they’d never. Right? I’m likely just overthinking again, it’s a bloody pain to deal with. I want to remain happy for them, I do. But it’s rare enough for me to be able to physically cry around people. I feel like a fake when I do. Like I don’t deserve to, and it just keeps ripping at me like an enraged Cerberus.

I don’t trust myself alone in a room for more then 10 minutes. There are so many things that cross my mind, some of them could get me out in a mental institution, and it’s not that I CRAVE death. I’m afraid to do it myself, but I consistently second guess it when I do think in such a manner. “ what if I slipped from the window and fell to my death? “ wouldn’t work. Can’t swim, why not drown in the lake? Get mauled brutally by some kind of vicious man-eating plant? Who knows.

I must be ‘perfect’ to continue to have people like and enjoy my presence. Even if it makes me tear at my own arms like they’re thin tissue sometimes. I have a hard time remembering people after long periods of time. I never want that to happen to them. I don’t want to forget, but eventually it’ll occur. Like the moron I am. All I ever was, is an object.

I could die tonight, tomorrow, the day after that. Who knows. Maybe I’d finally do it, and put an end to the fact people just have to- ‘put up with me’. Maybe I just need to sit down and breathe. I don’t know anymore. I get a break from these thoughts SOMETIMES, but who knows! Maybe I’ll be gone by morning.

…It’s funny isn’t it? I tried once. Didn’t work that first time. She wasn’t comforting at all when she found out. Those words were always left in the back of my thoughts after that. “ if you’re this miserable here, maybe I SHOULD let another family have you. “ but then again. She doesn’t need me when it doesn’t have to do with the kids. And with the recent accidents, all of them? Sometimes I wish one of them actually, finally, just…kicked me down hard enough. So I didn’t have to get up. But it’s for them, I can’t leave. It’d hurt them. I did have broken ribs, I did dislocate my arm. Severely. I don’t have upper body strength, but it’s fine right? She wouldn’t need nor feel the need to keep me around if her kids didn’t exist. Oldest of 8 in total. What a big joke.

I feel guilty when someone shows me unconditional love, so I constantly feel the need to give back to get it. And I try. And sometimes I fail, i barely eat as it is. I know it could be alarming to others around me, I understand why. I just don’t feel hungry anymore. The lack of it decreased my appetite to the point where I could eat half a bowl of cereal, or eat a small bag of granola, and I’d be full for hours. If I eat more then that I feel the need to vomit. I feel disgusting, and greedy. “ I can see your ribs! “ I know. But I physically can’t take more. I cannot eat more. It’s not fun. It’s not silly, it’s not any of the other STUPID phrases I use for ‘good’. I wish I could look myself in the mirror and genuinely mean the compliments I give myself. I’ve gone to the hospital wing so many times I’ve lost count, because I didn’t just fall asleep. I past out in the middle of class, and I’m not trying to sound melodramatic, but I take in so little nutritional value for my body that I have been close to having a reaper knocking on my door. I know what it’s like. I can only HOPE to the gods, that those kids NEVER turn out the way I did. That my friends don’t need to know what being uncomfortably grabbed or harassed for your suddenly ‘small’ body size is by a few of the more vile older students. Or your own blood, Or being forced into a position you can never forget and being overly ‘sexual’ because of it. I cried for hours after what happened to them. Not because I just, felt bad. I could’ve noticed. I could’ve done something for them. Because I’ve seen and dealt with it to extremes I shouldn’t dare mention, but I didn’t. I was blind. I was fucking BLIND, and I wanted to paint the floors with that horrible man’s blood. I should’ve known. It isn’t the first for me either.

But I’m not allowed to give him what he deserves. He’s ‘gone’ now. But it doesn’t change anything, you can scrub until you bleed, but it still feels it’s not gone. I wouldn’t wish this shit on my WORST enemies. It stays with you forever. Even if you want to stop remembering it.

I’m so sorry, that I didn’t see it.