#River is a very good dad

[projectdivaar]

WHAT okay so I js finished s1 of spn and I think I might not b normal after thos. and i am never ever recovering. what on EARTH

[cerealbishh]

"They are gonna laugh at me at school when I tell them about tonight. They laugh at me anyway, so..."

🎥: @bikinibottomdayz

[doctors-star]

before the beginning

“Are you quite sure?” he says, trying not to look around at the house in case his glances should look doubtful. Unfortunately, he simply is somewhat doubtful of the wisdom of this idea; happy as he is for Peter to be surrounded by other people for the uncertain length of time he will be out in Herefordshire, the May household is already a large one and the May house is not. Peter is already looking slightly daunted by the noise and debris left by various young women between the ages of fifteen and twenty-two, and he’s barely made it past the front door. For good reason does Lesley usually visit them at the Folly, rather than the other way around. And then, of course, there is Molly at home with the dog, probably too well-trained to be cursing their names, but entirely possibly slightly distraught at being left alone. In truth, he is a little distressed at leaving her. It has, after all, been some time since he last did.

“Oh, yes,” Lesley’s mother says cheerfully, weaving in amongst the chaos with expert familiarity to deposit Peter’s bags on the stairs, ready to take the next person to come downstairs out at the ankles. “I’d hate to think of him rattling around in that big place on his own, and he’s a good lad. It’ll be lovely to have him over.”

“We’ll look after him,” Lesley’s dad says - a little wryly, like he too can see the madness that has been made of his home - and claps Peter on the shoulder in a display of manly solidarity. Peter manages a smile, but little enthusiasm; Lesley just rolls her eyes.

“Well, I do appreciate it,” Nightingale says, tucking his amusement into the corner of his mouth where only Peter and Lesley can see it. Peter narrows his eyes, aware he is being laughed at, but his mouth compresses against a grin all the same. “It shouldn’t be for very long, anyway.”

“I should hope not!” Lesley’s mother says, catching Lesley’s head in passing and crushing her close to press a kiss to her head. Lesley squirms uselessly but ultimately must submit to this display of parental affection; Peter looks at him suspiciously, as though to ward off any similar instincts in him. They are neither of them very tactile, even less so now as Peter gets older, but sometimes he does envy Mrs May for her easy affection. “You fetch those girls home, and you’ll be back before we know you’re gone. Peter, I’m putting you in Tanya’s room; Lesley, Tanya’s in with you. I’ll go and make up the beds.”

“Mum!” Lesley objects sharply, unfolding from her slouch against the wall to stare after her retreating mother at this abject betrayal; her father, wisely, beats a hasty retreat towards the living room, leaving them all in the hallway to say goodbye. Lesley huffs enormously. “I don’t know why everyone’s worried about you,” she says to Peter mutinously. “You get your own room.”

Peter holds up his hands defensively. “It’s not my fault. You’re not pinning Tanya’s inevitable demise on me.”

Lesley folds her arms and looks up at Nightingale. “I refuse to be held responsible either,” he says quickly.

“Then don’t be long,” she replies darkly, which is probably the closest he’s going to get to affection from Lesley these days - she’s going through a rather grumpy phase at present.

“As you like,” he says mildly. “Right - the sooner I go, the sooner I’ll get back. Be good,” he tells Peter, more from some kind of parental instinct than any expectation otherwise; Peter rolls his eyes. “Call me if you need anything; I really shouldn’t be long. Don’t let Lesley kill her sisters.”

“You never let me do anything,” Lesley says, trying to hide a grin.

“I know. Look after yourselves.” And then there’s really nothing more to say, except goodbye.

“Good luck,” Peter offers. “You - look after yourself too. See you in a bit, then.”

And then Nightingale reaches out to squeeze his shoulder bracingly, but doesn’t quite make it. Peter ducks in underneath his arm, snakes one arm around his waist, and leans into his side in a sort of half-hug, half-tackle. Nightingale manages to coordinate his arm into wrapping around Peter’s shoulders quickly enough for a brief squeeze before the boy pulls away, resolutely refusing to make eye contact.

“Right. Bye then,” Peter says, still looking anywhere but at Nightingale.

Lesley tips her chin at him in a sort of salute, grinning at Peter’s behaviour.

“Bye, then,” he says, and smiles all the way to the M40.

[muirneach]

BABY ALERT!!

[seilon]

by no means do i regret cutting off my dad but. sometimes i remember experiences with him that are so novel i wouldnt ever replace them. specifically i am thinking about how he’d play this country song sometimes that i have no idea how he found about gay interracial cowboys in love. i never asked him about it. i think about it often

[rafecameronssl4t]

Pretty in Pink || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

gif by @rafescurtainbangz

Summary: Just you amused by Rafe and Ward’s phone call.

Warnings: suggestive, reader n rafe smoking, swearing,

Word count: 742

A/n: these canon scenes are so fun to write 😭 lmk if you want more of these <333

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

"That's rough. I mean, yeah, it could've been anyone, right?" Rafe furrowed his eyebrows, trying to appear nonchalant. "Not really, Rafe. It could be one of a very few people," Ward retorted sharply, his frustration palpable even over the phone.

Rafe shrugged, his indifference almost theatrical. "Well, I mean, you know, we were just giving it away anyway. So, who cares?" Ward let out a loud exhale, running a hand down his face. The annoyance in his voice was unmistakable, and Rafe took a perverse satisfaction in knowing he was getting under his father's skin. "Okay, Rafe, okay."

Just then, you stepped outside, your pretty pink tennis set hugging your figure perfectly. A cigarette was cradled between your index and middle fingers, and you brought it to your lips, inhaling deeply. Your eyes locked onto Rafe as you exhaled a plume of smoke, your gaze unwavering.

Rafe grinned, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your body as you sauntered towards the couch. "That's done for now. I need you to finish the list I gave you," Ward continued, his voice a mix of frustration and command.

Rafe pulled the phone away from his ear briefly. "It's Ward," he informed you, sitting down on the couch, as if it wasn’t already obvious from the tone of the conversation. You hummed in acknowledgment, kicking your feet up on his lap. Rafe put the phone on speaker, leaning back as Ward’s voice filled the room.

Rafe glanced at you, a smirk playing on his lips, clearly enjoying the chaos he was stirring. "I want you to sign for the East River property. When that's completed, shut down the offices—" Ward's commanding tone reverberated through the speaker, each word laced with finality.

Rafe rolled his eyes dramatically, a gesture that made you stifle a giggle. "Yeah, no, I—actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. I'm thinking maybe we should keep the offices."

A heavy silence fell, the kind that made every second feel like an eternity. Rafe's eyes stayed on you, watching as you took delicate puffs from your cigarette, the smoke curling elegantly in the air.

"What?" Ward's voice finally cut through the quiet, laden with confusion and annoyance. "Yeah, I'm thinking maybe I should stay down here for a while, really grow the company. I think it'd be good for us, right?" Rafe's tone was casual, almost nonchalant, but you could sense the underlying cunning.

On the other end, you heard Ward groan, a sound full of exasperation, followed by a long, weary exhale. The tension was almost tangible, crackling through the phone. "He's not too happy about it, huh?" you observed, a wry smile playing on your lips. You extended the cigarette toward Rafe, offering it to him. He leaned in, taking a slow, deliberate drag, the tip glowing brightly as he inhaled.

He hummed in response, a low, satisfied sound that matched the glint of amusement in his eyes. As Rafe exhaled a plume of smoke, his gaze never left yours. You could see the thrill in his eyes, the satisfaction he derived from ruffling his father's feathers. "Who is that?" Ward's voice pierced the air, sharp and demanding, as you and Rafe exchanged a glance.

"Hey, Ward!" you greeted him with a saccharine sweetness, your tone a deliberate contrast to the tension that hung in the room. "Rafe, this is supposed to be a private conversation—" "For fuck's sake, Dad, she knows everything already," Rafe interjected, his eyes rolling in exasperation, a gesture that elicited a soft chuckle from you.

Ward's frustration was palpable, his voice tinged with impatience. "Listen to me, Rafe—" Rafe didn't hesitate to cut him off, his tone firm and commanding. "No. No, no, you listen, okay?" His hands moved instinctively to rest on your thighs, his touch both grounding and possessive. You felt a surge of warmth at his touch, a silent reassurance amidst the tension.

"You listening?" Rafe leaned in, his gaze unwavering as he reached to place the phone on the coffee table, his actions deliberate and decisive. "You remember when you told me to make myself useful? Well, that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm making myself useful, alright?" Rafe's gaze on his phone was intense, his voice commanding, as he asserted his authority.

As Rafe continued speaking, outlining his intentions with a firmness that brooked no argument, you decided to get up and fetch the ashtray from the other side of the coffee table. "I can do shit, you know? Explore options, so for the-" As you walked past him, focused on your task, you suddenly felt the sharp sting of Rafe's hand slapping your ass, causing you to yelp in surprise.

"-for the benefit of all, I think I'm gonna hang out for a while, okay?" Rafe's voice carried on, his words interrupted only momentarily by your startled reaction. The mixture of surprise and amusement danced in your eyes as you turned to face him, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Rafe, listen to me. You are there for one reason and one reason only. You are to act as my proxy to shut down the companies, okay?" Ward's voice had escalated in volume, clearly expressing his displeasure with Rafe's defiance.

"That is our one play. It's—it's our only play. And if you cannot do it—" Ward's words were abruptly cut off by Rafe's interjection, his irritation and anger palpable as he stood up, his movements sharp and agitated. "If I can't do it?" Rafe's voice echoed with incredulity, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Then what? Then what?" he exclaimed, his tone laced with both sarcasm and defiance.

"You gonna hop on a plane? Come down here, huh?" Rafe paced back and forth on the porch as you watched from the couch, amusement dancing in your eyes. "I mean, it'll be like a goddamn Elvis sighting, Ward fucking Cameron, everyone!" Rafe's voice boomed with exaggerated theatricality, his arms thrown wide in mock grandeur, eliciting a snicker from you.

"Oh my god, he lives! He's back from the dead!" Rafe continued, his words punctuated by his animated gestures as you watched with amusement, thoroughly entertained by your boyfriend's antics. With a scoff, Rafe turned towards you, his expression resolute. "I got the family ring now, Pops. Yeah, I'm wearing it, and it's my time to step up, okay? You're dead." And with that, he abruptly hung up the phone, tossing it onto the couch beside you.

You opened your arms, inviting him in for a hug, and without hesitation, he collapsed onto you, inhaling your signature perfume. Your nails traced soothing patterns on his back as he nestled against you, his frustration still palpable as he muttered against your skin, "God, he's fucking annoying," eliciting a chuckle from you.

Checking your watch, you sighed. "Babe, I gotta go, the girls will be waiting for me," you informed him, attempting to disentangle yourself from his embrace, but he stubbornly refused to budge.

"Where'd you get this set from? This new?" Rafe's fingers toyed with the waistband of your skirt, the fabric teasingly brushing against your skin. "Mhm, you like it?" you teased, a smirk playing on your lips.

"Do I like it? Fuck, of course I like it, baby. You're so pretty in pink," Rafe's gaze lingered appreciatively on your body before meeting your eyes once more. "Tell the girls you'll be a bit late," he murmured, his hands trailing up your skirt teasingly, causing you to playfully throw your head back in feigned annoyance. "Fine," you acquiesced, though the mischievous glint in your eyes betrayed your true feelings.

[prael]

Spectacle

Kinktember Day 11: Cuckquean

IVE Wonyoung and Liz x male reader smut

words: 6,118 Kinktember Masterlist

"I love you."

You love her too. That's a long-accepted fact, and you've told each other this a hundred times over. Sometimes it's casually told at the end of a phone call, sometimes it's in some romantic setting like when you're walking out on the promenade under the night sky, but in a way, these ones are the most honest.

It's a little bit special when those are the only words that come to her mind while she is cumming.

She's lying with her head against your neck, still shaking in pleasure. You would reply but you're so focused on grinding into her and you're so fucking close...

By this point, it's all become a little routine. Predictable, maybe. She gets home, you cook together, eat together, watch a film or TV show together, then one of you makes a move and... You get the picture. It's any old weekday.

So maybe this isn't what people would consider to be earth-shattering sex(fuck the critics) but she likes the feeling of your hips bucking and you spilling inside her. And you love the way she struggles for breath in between her moans before she does that same little squeal right before she cums.

These nights have all blurred a little into one. Tonight will become a little section on a page of many; a few lines that are not much more than a footnote.

Silence sets in once you untangle your limbs and lay beside her. Her head is pressed against your shoulder and the post-sex smell hangs in the air.

You look out your window over at the walled gardens on the other side of the river. It's as dull a sight to look at as always and there's hardly anyone out at this time but somehow you're content with looking at this view.

"So, do you think we should visit my dad sometime?" Liz asks out of the blue.

"I know I said I would think about it, but I was a little busy just now." You roll your head over to the side, sacrificing the river view for Liz's flush face. "What's this about?"

"Like I said, he's been asking." Her words trail off and she doesn't quite meet your eyes. She gives an awkward shrug of her bare shoulders, and then scoots over, snuggling up even closer. You give her back an appreciative squeeze.

"I can't do this weekend, busy remember? But we can go next week?"

Her hand stops circling your abdomen and she lifts her head from your shoulder to look at you. "Busy?" Her eyes dart around, searching your face for clues, but she just has to ask: "With?"

"My friend's birthday, I told you last week, and you said, and I quote, 'Okay babe, I'm meeting Wony this weekend anyway, have fun!'" You do your best-worst impression of her which earns you a jab of her fist in your side and a laugh.

"Oh... I'm always forgetting things."

"You work too hard." You cup her cheek and stretch your neck muscles to plant a kiss on her forehead. She coos and moves forward again, returning to her rightful spot snug on your shoulder. You slip your arm behind her back, and both of you lie there together in comfortable silence.

Liz moves her hand up from your stomach to your chest and starts circling her fingers over your skin. The touch is light and soft and very very deliberate.

"I have another question..." Liz eventually says, trailing off her sentence as though she's half lost in her own thought.

You bring your hand up to hers, hooking under her wandering finger and raising her hand, and then you lock your fingers between hers. "What is it? Something on your mind?"

"Am I good?"

"Good? Good person? Good cook? Good girlfriend? Good what?"

Liz laughs gently nuzzling into your body to hide her face and breathing hot breath over your skin. "Good... in bed."

"Oh thank god, I thought you were going to ask about your cooking and I'm not so great at the whole white lie thing."

She tries to punch you with the hand you're holding but you tighten your grip to stop her. "Not funny," she groans with a smile on her face.

She tries to turn her head into the pillow but you refuse to move or say anything until she looks at you. When she eventually peers up and matches your gaze you tell her, "You are the perfect girlfriend in every way," you tell her.

She exhales a short chuckle and raises an eyebrow. "Nice dodge," she tells you, unable to contain her laugh, and you laugh with her. "It's okay, I have a plan."

You pause, her words suddenly throwing you. "A plan for what?"

"You'll see."

She refuses to say anything more for the rest of the night, but she smiles at your puzzlement and laughs whenever you try to playfully nudge the subject. And you do notice that a slight smile seems to stick to her face all night, right up until she falls asleep.

***

Sunday evening transport is so hellishly unpredictable, so you're walking in the apartment door about an hour later than you planned, and about twice as stressed as you should be.

All of that washes away when you look at the girl who's been waiting for you to get home.

The scented (mostly melted) candles have been burning for a while and the smell of them fills the apartment. Not only has Liz picked out one of your favourite bottles of wine, but she's poured out a pair of glasses of it already, though they're both half-empty. And as you near it, the bottle is too.

"Hey, Liz."

"Finally! Welcome home," she says with a smile as broad as your confusion. "I've been waiting so long. So, so long." She's wearing a gown you don't recognise that's soft to touch when you hug her as she throws herself against you.

"Is this new?" you ask, touching at the silk hem.

"Of course it is," she answers quickly. "I was saving it, saving it until a special night. You know... Something special to break it out for."

She moves back in your arms, so she can have a better look at you, and she stares for just a few seconds before she leans back in, this time kissing you full on the lips. There's nothing soft about it. There's no hesitancy, and certainly no tenderness. This kiss is so firmly decided, so purposeful.

She purrs her words against your lips, "I've been giving it some thought, and, I know you would never say it, but I'm a little bit... vanilla, in the bedroom. And, I know, I know," she stops you with her fingers on your lips, shushing you with the tilt of her head and a flutter of her long lashes, "You wouldn't say anything because you love me too much and you're far too kind, but, this is for me too, okay? I want to be good, I want to try different things, exciting things, and this is the best way for me to learn."

"Liz. Liz. I've barely walked in the door and you're throwing this at me. I need a minute."

"No, don't think, we've been waiting so long for you already." Liz is pulling your arm toward the bedroom door. Her soft touch and your own burning curiosity have you willingly in tow.

"We?"

She's smiling the wildest of smiles over her shoulder as she pulls you along. Your heart beats a little harder in anticipation of what lies ahead, and even more at the look of sheer excitement and determination on her beautiful face.

You dropped your bag somewhere in the middle of the room but you hadn't even taken off your shoes before Liz is bundling you through the doorway.

"This is Wonyoung."

Why the fuck is there a girl in your bed?

"Wait. I know. It's weird right?" Liz sounds giddy, almost frantic. She bounces up to you and pulls on your arm until you stand right alongside her, peering down at the young woman in front of you. "You know Wonyoung, right?"

"Of course, I know one of your best friends, but why is she in our bed?" You turn and look at the girl lying there with a similar silk gown over her body, from her neck down to just below the knee. "Sorry, no offence, but I have no idea what's happening right now."

Wonyoung doesn't react but instead chooses that moment to rise. She is sitting with her hands folded on top of her legs. She tilts her head and examines you carefully, with an unmoving gaze that's almost more uncomfortable than the two of you hovering over her.

"It's fine." The deep smooth voice cuts through the silence like a hot knife. Her voice is as cool and calm as you expected, not that you're all that familiar with it, you have only met her a handful of times.

"Liz?" you ask, turning to her again.

"I want to watch. I'm going to watch," she blurts out her response before falling silent.

"What?"

Liz exhales softly, then draws in a steady breath, steeling herself, as her mouth curves in a trembling smile. "I was talking to Wonyoung, about... things. And, well, we were talking, and I guess maybe this idea just sort of popped into our heads. I couldn't just dismiss it. And I've had this fantasy. And well Wonyoung, it's been a while. And you, I want you to. And I can learn." Liz is talking far too quickly and doesn't finish a single sentence she starts.

"What she is trying to say," Wonyoung cuts in with her voice sharp and full of cold steel. "Is that we have come to a mutually beneficial agreement."

"Arrangement." Liz chimes in with the correction.

"That I will," her eyes drift, flickering and moving over both of you, "join you both, for a while, in a few different ways. What Liz is trying to explain is that, well, to be frank, it's been a while for me and I would appreciate some good sex. As for Liz here... It just so happens she has a bit of a fantasy about this whole thing too."

"Yeah, exactly." Liz cups your cheeks and kisses you gently. "It's completely up to you, of course." Her hands rest at the back of your neck and she closes her eyes, resting her forehead against yours. "I love you."

Your hands are hanging idly by your waist. This woman sits on your bed and your girlfriend clings to you, asking you to fuck her. 

"Okay." A single word while your heart is beating hard with anticipation. You reach to Liz's waist and pull her flush against you and plant your lips against her soft supple skin.

She giggles with delight and puts a finger under your chin, tilting your gaze up. "So... We're really going to do this, huh?" Liz leans in, eyes flickering over your own as you exchange a final look. You feel her warm breath just a moment before the warm touch of her lips, pressing against yours, melting your resistance and hesitation, while sending warmth through you, easing you into acceptance, as the idea begins to cement itself in your thoughts.

There's a rustle of sheets as Wonyoung climbs up behind you and presses herself against you. "You're already late," she whispers behind you. "Don't make me wait any longer."

Liz leans away and her delicate fingers ease open your shirt, undoing each button in turn.

"Don't hold back. I want to see you give it to her." Liz takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, "Please, babe." Then she takes a step back, towards the chair that you're just now realising had been moved from the corner of the room so it had a close view of the bed.

Wonyoung pulls your shirt from behind, dragging it over your shoulders and down your arms. She follows the fabric down your back with a series of gentle kisses over your spine. The light tickle and feel of her hair drag over your skin, as she tugs the shirt free of your wrists.

"Liz..." You look over to your girlfriend who is staring with a grin on her face. Her eyes follow every single movement that Wonyoung makes as if studying them, examining them, processing them.

Wonyoung tugs the shirt free of your wrists and discards it. Her hands immediately reach over your chest and drag downward, making no secret of the way that her little breasts under the silk push firmly, and delightfully, up against your back.

Her nails drag over your skin until she hits the waist of your trousers. Delicate fingers, so precise in their movement, make quick work of the belt buckle, the button, and the zip. All without pausing, all without hesitation.

Under the dim light of the evening, Wonyoung pushes your trousers, and underwear, free from your hips. Down, over your ass, dragging them down your thighs. The cool air passes over your body, and you look to Liz for affirmation.

She smiles and she nods, waiting for what comes next.

Naked, and vulnerable, you're standing before her with another woman wrapped over you. Wonyoung reaches around you with both hands, she takes one confident grip of your still-limp length, and her other hand just a little lower onto your balls.

Liz's eyes light up at the sight.

"Not hard yet. Nervous?" Wonyoung's question is a tease. Her voice, velvet and silky, is whispered into your ear. The smell of her perfume is subtle, but the floral, womanly scent is unmistakable. She moves her hand in a light grip over the base of your cock and moves it slowly, methodically, and without the urgency you might've expected.

"Maybe..."

Wonyoung releases a silent giggle against the skin at the back of your neck. "Just wait..."

You look at Liz and her hands clamp tight over her knees as her breathing visibly hastens, matching your own. Her attention is fully, single-mindedly, upon you, with you, but there is no doubt about where her thoughts and her emotions lie. She's excited. In the comfort of seeing that, so are you.

"There we go," Wonyoung whispers. Her hands work leisurely over you. And yet in no time at all, you're rising in her grip. Stiffening. Aching for more. Your focus is on the sight of the only woman you have ever cared for, but the feeling of someone else's hand on your cock as you watch her is as strange as it is exciting.

She massages with both hands, always rhythmic, always steady. "Liz, do you like to suck cock?" Her question comes out smooth, and refined but pointed.

Liz glances up at you briefly, then down between her knees. She gives her answer as a nod, looking a little timid as her hands tighten their grip even more and her nails start to press into her knees. "I like the way his body reacts to my tongue." She glances up once more with a satisfied smile.

"That's good. And he likes it too?"

"Yes," you both say it at the same time.

You shiver as Wonyoung plants a long trail of delicate, wet kisses over your neck. She draws back her hand and leaves you there, cock stiff in the air. She walks around you slowly, finally that pretty face of hers coming into view. Her dark brown hair falls over her shoulders, the locks blending into the black silk of her gown.

She places both of her hands on your chest and stares right at you, no ounce of shyness or reserve as her piercing eyes dig deep, threatening to carve a hole clean through you.

"See something you like?" she asks. "Liz, if he is so hungry looking at me now, can you imagine what his expression is going to be like once my robe is off?"

Wonyoung rests the tip of her tongue on her lower lip, using it to moisten the pillowy soft, glossy surface. Her fingers rake down your chest as she drops elegantly, slowly to her knees and smiles up at you with those shiny red lips.

"May I?" she asks.

You take in the sight of her, kneeling before you, her lips so teasingly close to your tip that each of her soft breaths kisses it. A lustful, indecent twinkle in her eye.

You force a glance over to Liz, to which Winyoung immediately reacts, "I'm asking you, not her."

And all of the reasons to hesitate are just evaporating.

"May I suck your cock?" she repeats. She remains perfectly, unnervingly, poised on her knees.

"Yes. Suck my cock, Wonyoung."

Your breath catches. Your whole body shudders as she runs the warm, wet flat of her tongue up the underside of your hardness. Her gaze never falters. Wonyoung purses her lips, before lowering herself in her elegant descent, and letting her tongue slide around you as she sinks into the first of many bobs of her head.

Liz shuffles forward on the edge of her chair.

Wonyoung takes you deep, so deep, without so much of a gag or splutter. Her dark, doll-like eyes stare straight ahead, as she swallows your cock with her luscious lips and warm mouth. The warm and wet envelopes you so wholly that you can't stop yourself from hissing a groan of approval and you feel her mouth tighten its grip with a devious grin.

Liz squeezes her bare legs together.

Wonyoung braces herself on your hip, wrapping the other hand around your thigh as she rises and sinks back down again, again, again. Each time she gets a little quicker, a little stronger.

It's so different to when Liz does it. She's normally so playful with her tongue, and she doesn't take a lot of it inside her, but Wonyoung seems to have this sole fixation on drawing you deep into her. The very back of her throat greets your sensitive tip.

The muffled moans that roll from her throat vibrate around your shaft, and her tongue eagerly rolls all over your every inch. Her deep breaths get heavier, and her suckling becomes sloppy and wet. You're getting weak at the knees.

Wonyoung finally releases you with a short gasp and looks up at you with glassy eyes, "Fuck," she groans out before spitting over your shaft.

She clasps her hand over the head and grips you tightly, stroking up and down the length.

You don't dare to tear your gaze from the stunning, lewd woman staring up at you.

"Tastes... Mmm. So good, so good." Wonyoung whines her praise out between kisses and flicks of her tongue on your tip.

Your hands twitch and the instinct to sink your fingers into her hair is a near-unstoppable urge. You gently thread your fingers into her long, silken tresses, and gently grip them. She lets out a satisfied gasp and then says to Liz, "Look at that. See how much he wants me?"

Your gaze shoots over to Liz. Her eyes are transfixed, focused on Wonyoung's tongue, wrapped around the head of your cock. Her breath shudders, then slows.

You pull Wonyoung's head down while staring at your girlfriend. If she wants a show, you'll give her one.

A quiet sound escapes her, and then a sharper inhale, but still she shows no sign of objection. On the contrary, the pleased hum that emanates from her mouth drives you wild. It encourages you. You rock your hips forward, slamming past her lips and prodding against her throat. Your lust swells alongside your confidence.

"Good girl." You know how much Liz likes it when you're the dominant one, she often teases you in conversation about how it's hot when you tell her what to do and you notice her breathing become hitched when you whisper dirty things in her ears.

Wonyoung says nothing but moans her appreciation and rewards your command by relaxing her throat and letting you use her.

For a while you use her, over and over until you're right on the edge, Liz looks practically ready to jump out of the chair, and when you check on Wonyoung, her face is a mess. Tears streaking, saliva dripping. She's taken every last drop of this beating with nothing but an overwhelming desire to serve you.

She opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue. The desperate submissiveness in her act brings you that step closer, "Cum, cum," she moans out between deep gulps of air. "Do it. Give it to me."

She's holding your cock in her fist and pumping it towards her face. With the first hot jet of cum, she cranes forward and takes it onto her eager tongue. She looks up at you as if urging you to keep going, to fill her pretty mouth.

Liz gasps audibly as you empty the contents of your balls into the sweet girl's waiting mouth. Wonyoung does nothing but accept what you're giving.

Your girlfriend just watched you blow a load into the mouth of her friend.

With each spurt into the soft, receptive touch of Wonyoung's inviting mouth, Liz squirms on her chair, her tongue playing on her lower lip.

"That's so hot," she strains to say through heavy breaths.

Wonyoung swallows all of it without instruction and then cleans you off in the same eager fashion that she sucked the load out of you.

"Hey Liz," Wonyoung croons in that smooth, velvety voice, while kissing along your thighs, her breathing quick and light on your damp skin. "You should have invited me sooner. I can think of a hundred ways to fuck this cock."

Wonyoung sweeps her damp hair from her face. She presses her forehead to your thigh, collecting herself. You can feel her taking deep breaths through her nose against the skin of your thigh.

"Show me."

At that, Wonyoung glances at Liz in genuine surprise.

"Show me all of those," Liz pauses, and takes a moment to collect her words. "All of those ways to fuck my man. Please show me."

"Okay, Liz, you just sit there and watch me fuck your man." Wonyoung's lips are sticky with your cum, glistening and tempting in the low light of the room, the remnants of your seed on her chin are even more provocative, as Wonyoung tilts her head and reveals a gorgeous neck and collarbone that draws your attention. "Well?" Wonyoung continues, extending her hand, "Help me up."

"Of course." You reach for her, eager and so, so ready. You pull her to her feet, and into a heated kiss, a little rougher than you should, but she doesn't mind. You lean down, slipping your hands around her thighs and then up to her ass, lifting her against your body.

Wonyoung squeals as you take three steps towards the bed, toss her over the edge, and then stand over her. Her gown has fallen open, framing her petite, naked body in the centre of your bed. It takes no time for her to move back, propping herself up on her elbows, and then giving her body a delicious stretch to emphasise her every feature. She sits there, spreading her legs, knees parted, showing you her bare, wet pussy, flushed and exposed.

"I want you over me so badly. Pushing my legs up over my head and fucking down into me. But not tonight. Tonight I'm going to show Liz how to ride a cock. Would you like that?" The lust in her dark eyes shines, not for you, not for Liz, but for the moment, the experience, the power that Wonyoung wields right now.

"Yes," you whisper.

"Good." Wonyoung raises herself, rising to her knees to look up at you, leaving a lingering, open-mouthed kiss on your lips before peeling the gown off of her shoulders.

In a small, feminine pile, it gathers on the floor. Then she flaunts herself, not so much in an exhibitionist way, though she certainly has every right to, but more of someone who enjoys being admired. It's not just because her body is fucking stunning, but it sells such a sinful promise of how good it's going to feel to fuck, and she knows it.

You hold her waist for that simple purpose. Hands over her narrow body, soft skin and toned muscles underneath. For her part, Wonyoung extends one delicate arm so that she may brush her index finger over your jaw, just making that familiar, if chilling, grazing over your skin. You slide your hand down between her legs and press a single finger inside her.

"Mmm. Don't be afraid," she purrs.

You stroke her smoothly. Two fingers, twisting them, delving into her as her insides react, tightening, dampening around your teasing invasion.

"Already getting me so worked up, and poor Liz over there is being so well-behaved."

"Hey!" Liz laughs playfully. Her playful laughter trails off when Wonyoung's voice lowers, and the erotic, needy sound in her tone builds.

"Lie down, let me show her how it's done. Look at me. Watch me."

Immediately, you melt away. Back to the bed, to the cool feeling of the sheets under your skin. The quiet anticipation, and the expectation. With languid grace, and without her body ever seeming to interrupt its soft, almost perfect curvature, Wonyoung climbs over you. She places one knee on the bed, then the other. A hand on your chest, then the other. The weight of her, what little there is, pressing you down until the moist heat from her lips finds your cock.

She presses your length flat against your body, the lips of her pussy holding it in a long kiss that she gradually eases over your shaft. Grinding back and forth, you watch as your cock disappears under her as she comes forward, only to drag herself back down against it.

"Feel that?" Wonyoung pants quietly.

"Uh-huh," you hum.

"Feel that warmth, that slickness sliding around you. Imagine what it's going to feel like inside, hmm?" She coaxes a twitch out of you as you do exactly as she says.

Her tight abs roll into you, followed by the press of her thighs. Hot and clasping. Higher, her bare chest bears a pair of hard nipples on her little perky tits. Higher still, her face twists in expressions of pleasure, the delight in her shining eyes, the rapture etched across her face. Her lips tremble as something threatens to escape, whether a whine, moan, exasperated breath or a request for something, she never vocalises the sound and it remains nothing more than a sensual promise of a good time ahead.

Wonyoung slows to a stop and throws her head forward, putting her hands on your shoulders. You place yours at her legs, watching her close her eyes, drawing her lower lip between her teeth.

"Feel how wet I am?" Wonyoung moves her hips in tight circles and she struggles to hold back her whimpers. Her warmth flows out of her and over you. "That's me, getting turned on at the thought of having this inside of me," she whispers. She rocks herself again, this time drawing out her whimper.

"God. Fuck..." You gasp and groan. You want this. Need it.

Wonyoung lifts and turns your cock until your head prods against her tight and needy pussy. She pauses to look to the side, her hair falling over her face but you can make out a grin, that very sly smile as she tilts her head towards your girlfriend, no doubt appreciating her breathless arousal.

"I'm going to ride your boyfriend's cock now. Cum all over his cock. Make him cum inside me. How does that feel?" Wonyoung moans softly, tipping her hips up, down, and over again, toying with the head. "Mmm, you like the sound of that, don't you?"

Liz is gripping the arms of her chair, not saying a thing. She just whines with agitation, kicks her feet out and stamps on the floor.

Then, Wonyoung gasps with relief. While your head was turned, Wonyoung surprised you by drawing the tip of your cock into her. You snap you're attention back to her as she settles around your cock. Where her throat was so accepting, her pussy is decisively not. It's so fucking tight that she struggles to take much of you in at first. Such small movements over the tip, tiny motions that rock her. And yet the sensation is something that could, and does, unravel you in an instant.

You're powerless to resist as she takes more and more of you into herself with each and every drive back down. Each little push, deeper inside, the further apart her thighs, and the deeper she descends, pushing herself, forcing herself, upon your cock.

You hold onto her ass, guiding her every bit of the way, rocking her rhythmically back and forth. Deeper, harder, tighter, she stretches, accommodating you until you reach as far as her tight walls will allow.

"You're gonna ruin this pussy." The sultry voice and the crude declaration cause another tremble out of you.

At that, she places both hands on either side of your head, palms flat on the sheet. Her pretty face is so close, just bobbing slightly as she fucks you. She pants heavily, her small, round breasts quiver and bounce up and down in front of your eyes.

She stays like that for a while, fucking herself on you, telling you all sorts of sweet nothings. "Gonna ride that thick cock. Love it so much, feel so fucking good." All the while, her perfectly tight ass is in your rough hands as you knead it and pull it wide.

Eventually, she throws herself back, breaking the intense stare, and making herself a spectacle again. She leans back, far back, her hand behind her for support, and gives both of you a show. Those slender thighs shake just enough to send you crazy each time she slaps them down against your waist. Her cute, shapely tits bouncing and jiggling.

"Fuck! Liz! You lucky girl! Mhm!" You're squeezing and palming her thighs roughly, fingers into flesh. Pulling her down hard, trying your damnedest to force her even tighter against you.

"Sfucking hot," A filthy compliment that is rewarded with another gasp of arousal and a short burst of bouncing as desperately fast as she can.

She slows to a crawl again. One leg moves off you, and then her hips swivel and the movement on your length is breathtaking. She's sideways on you now. One leg between yours, and the other stretched out over your body, her foot by your face.

Wonyoung is looking right at Liz now. "Watch me cum on your boyfriend's cock."

You're holding her by the leg she has over you, and you're using it as the leverage you need to buck into her while she works the lateral movement. The bed shakes and protests under your exertions. Wonyoung pulls her hands behind her neck, scooping up her hair and holding it up, so every inch of her body can be seen.

"Look. Look, Liz." Wonyoung lets out a guttural moan. A throaty, visceral noise of climax catching you off guard. You keep rolling your hips, taking in the way her body tenses and tightens and she trembles all over. "Cumming. On your. Boyfriend." She barely gets the words out as her head falls backwards and you can't take your eyes off of her, or the way she spasms on your lap.

She struggles to keep up the pace and rhythm but still tries her best, her resolve amid an orgasm is worthy of respect. You move her, this time, hands on her waist and twisting her so she faces away from you. She allows you and gasps in delight the moment you reposition her, her hands reaching for your thighs.

You continue the thrusts, with Wonyoung content now to take the punishment. You fuck her in a steady, thumping motion, the slap of skin against skin loud and ringing in the air. Her ass is marked red, compliments of the tight squeeze you had on it earlier. Her taut little cheeks bounce and shake each time you slam into her. Her own whiny moans and squeals mix and add a new melody to the atmosphere.

Wonyoung is nothing but moans now, one orgasm just cascaded into the next, and she shows no signs of stopping. Every now and then her sounds break through, becoming cries. Each time they do, you follow it up with a series of rapid slapping of hips. It's all you can do, just to keep yourself going, chasing that elusive climax that the three of you so desperately want.

Liz is fucking losing it. She's squeezing her thighs together. Grinding. Dancing in her chair. Her fingers, her knuckles, are white with strain as she holds onto the chair for dear life. She's making squeals and gasping moans too—she wants to cum so bad. It is as though her pussy is squeezing on nothing, you can imagine just how needy and wet she is. How painful it must feel, not being able to have that satisfaction that you can give Wonyoung.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Wonyoung wails out her climax with such intensity that it actually leaves her voice a little hoarse and you can't hold it anymore, you have to follow her lead. You have to cum.

So you do.

Wonyoung drags her nails across the skin of your legs as you reach that tipping point and pump a thick stream of semen into her. There is more and more, and she takes it all greedily as if there's no limit. As if she'll never be satisfied.

You let it all out, pump her full of hot, thick, semen. The release is enough that, for a while, you blank out the world. Nothing matters but the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.

Consciousness returns with you lying limp on the bed. Your head rolls to one side and you struggle to stay focused. You gaze down past your feet where Wonyoung lies collapsed, the exact same way as yourself. Still, you watch, and try to keep focus, and you do because when Wonyoung awakes she lifts her head, a sheen of perspiration glistening and flowing in droplets from her dark, silky hair and down her face, streaking her skin and flowing over her red cheeks and flushed lips.

The combination of both exhaustion and arousal as Wonyoung catches her breath causes a wonderful sight before she meets your own exhausted gaze and that smile of hers, all pearly white and perfect and so damn alluring.

"Fuck! I have to! Fuck!" Liz is rampant now, her hand reaches in between her own legs and then her legs are spread apart and you can see her furiously fingering her own pussy, the motion of her whole arm trembling and shaking. Her pussy is wet, and gleaming. And the fingers in it move and dive deeply. "That was the hottest fucking thing... I need to... Cum..."

Wonyoung supports the side of her face up with her fist, a grin on her features as she watches the way Liz acts like she's going insane, out of her mind, she just needs the cum in the worst way, the urgency apparent from the way her fingers disappear, pumping into herself.

Wonyoung starts crawling up you, to rest on you, while transfixed on your girlfriend pumping herself into oblivion. "Oh, Liz, that is beautiful," her eyes light up as she comments, "Now imagine the feel of it... His cum leaking out of me right now. Because he fucked me and not you."

That's what sends Liz spiralling over the edge.

Liz's body twists, writhes, shudders and convulses in orgasm. It's almost hypnotic, her thighs squeeze together so hard that her hand must hurt, but she just goes on and on and on, never easing, and it leaves a hot, sticky mess all over the chair and her fingers. You watch as she rides those waves of blissful gratification, all over a set of digits that aren't nearly enough to satisfy, not even for a moment.

Wonyoung brings her lips close to your face, hot breath washes over you, and she whispers quietly into your ear, "She's going to want this again, you know? Look at her, you even seen her cum that hard?"

"No, I haven't."

"Then me and you? We're going to be having a lot of sex."

[rotdistressxox]

Could you do some bath/shower headcanons or scenarios of the kengan boys with their s/o. (Could you please include wakatsuki and agito pls🙏)

OOOOH I've been waiting for this one

Kengan Men: Bathing with their S/O

Content: Fluff, Intimacy

Ohma Tokita

• This man REEKS Escpecially after training. You have to force him to take a shower, there is no other way.

• He's never gotten used to showering, as he used to just bathe in lakes, rivers, and watering holes.

• Prefers cooler showers because of that. Doesn't mind if it's warm, but If it's too hot then he just takes matters into his own hands and turns it down again.

• He can bathe just fine on his own, but he usually drags you in with him just because he can.

• Just seeing his body with water dripping down his sculpted body is MMMMMMM scrumptious. You never miss out on a chance like this.

• Prefers to face you while showering. You usually do your own separate things instead of being all over eachother like washing his hair and back. But sometimes you have to remind him to do things like wash his under his armpits and put conditioner in his hair.

• And he just likes to look at you (oogle at your body nonchalantly). He can get a little handsy at times, but that's because he's curiously admiring you

Lihito / Ichiro Nakata

• He begs you to take a shower with him, or you seduce him into take a shower with you.

• Likes showers on the warmer side. He does work in cold storage, so it makes sense.

• Most of the time it ends it heavy petting and a make out sesh. Or going a little further. It's one of his favorite places to do it anyways....

• "Wash my back for me?" "Is that even a question?"

• Is good at getting the knots out of your hair with his strong fingers. He just really likes how your hair looks and feels when you put conditioner in it.

• Sometimes he just hugs you and holds you in his arms while swaying gently from side to side. You could just fall asleep because of his body AND the water temperature.

• His hair is extremely fluffy when it dries off. He looks like a pomeranian and it's adorable.

Raian Kure

• Prefers to shower alone. That's just how he is. Until you're in the shower alone and he just barges in or sneaks up on you.

• Likes to use the excuse that he's just saving water by showering with you. Like BOY- your dad is paying the bill.

• His showers are HOT, be warned if you ever want to join him in one. Unless you also take hot showers, you're his soulmate then.

• He takes showers when he's angry or upset at something just to let off steam. Sometimes he just drags you in and then [REDACTED]

• Buys you your own shampoo / conditoner / hair oils / etc in his bathroom for you just incase. Until you guys live together that is

• It's the best to cuddle with him right after he showers cause he smells like coconuts and aloe. You can't get your nose off of him and he appreciates the attention very much

• He doesn't take baths, but if he walks in on you taking one the clothes are coming off and he's diving in.

Gaolang Wongsawat

• Another Alone shower-er. He considers showering together to be intimate and romantic. It has to come naturally, he has to be in the mood, otherwise no dice.

• Has the best hair washes, to keep his long hair silky and clean. You don't need to ask twice to use them, what's his is yours.

• Cold showers. But will turn up the temp when you're in there with him.

• Can take care of himself and also take care of you while showering with him. Your back pressed into his chest. Him slowly and sensually scrubbing your skin with a cloth as he kisses your neck.

• Likes to massage your scalp with shampoo, seeing you sigh in bliss as his fingers gently rub and knead your hair.

• Neither of you have to say a word, just look at eachother passionately and feel the water on your skin. My god this man with wet hair is such a turn on.

• Date Night baths. Reserved only for date nights. No other times will he take a bath.

Saw Paing Yoroizuka

• Is also used to bathing in watering holes / lakes as he did in Burma and his village. So you have to teach him shower etiquette. He prefers baths to showers anyways.

• He's always excited for bath time, and will always ask you to join him for one. Makes a pouty face if you say no.

• Warm baths all the way. Cause he's always all fired up anyways.

• Usually talks your ear off, but in a quieter tone of voice instead of his usual yelling. He usually sits on one side while you sit on the other.

• If he's feeling extra cuddly he'll pull you into his back. Maybe give you a back rub as you tend to your hair.

• Onces he's in, he never wants to leave. Same with showers, so you have to figure how to coerce him to come back out.

• Maybe some sweet talking will do the trick, he's like a puppy when it comes to that stuff.

Kanoh Agito

• It is very rare that you'll ever shower with him. Ever. He is very strict when it comes to his whole shower routine. But when that rare chance comes, it comes.

• If you ever shower with him, that means he's feeling extra vulnerable...and I guess you could say passionate.

• When showering with him, he likes to show his companionship to you by washing your body, shampooing and conditioning your hair. Hell he'll even shave your legs, the man is skilled with a razor.

• Showers, then soaks in the tub for maybe 15 minutes. He likes both pretty hot, not as scalding as Raians though.

• Sometimes gets the hot and cold faucets mixed up. The look on his face when cold water rains down on him is *chefs kiss*

• Don't expect anything else to happen though. Shower time is for showering, and bath time is for bathing

• You come out feeling sleepy and relaxed. Like you just had a day at the spa. You fall asleep as soon as you hit the bed, which Agito finds to be fascinating yet attractive.

Wakatsuki Takeshi

• Will either ask you straight up if you want to shower with him. OR make sure you get the hint that he wants you to join him by walking past you in only a towel.

• Nothing makes him more happy than his s/o, naked, and willing to spend time with him even in the shower.

• Shower temp depends on his mood, but let's you decide anyways.

• Takes every ounce of his will not to put his hands all over you. He absolutely adores your body and wants to worship every inch of it.

• Can't take baths in a normal tub because of his muscle mass / density. As soon as he sits down in one the water rises and the floor is flooded.

• Let's you shave his face for him once you're done with everything else. Sits you on his lap and let's you gently scrape away the stubble. Will not let you shave his goatee though. Attacks you with kisses afterwards.

• Draws messages on the steamy mirror for you. Sometimes they're sweet, sometimes they're dirty.

BONUS

[dr3amfyr-e]

moon, river - c.s. ( w. 1049 )

꒰ cregan will always defends your daughter’s claim ꒱ — cregan stark x reader

୨ ⎯ period typical misogyny. implied trouble concieving children. reader is written to be very influenced by her environment, and therefor uncertain of herself and her self worth. girl dad cregan. cregan's kind of a medieval feminist. i named your daughter for you, sorry. this is very cregan pov, not many of reader's thoughts. umm maybe not canon cregan but it’s my cregan. uhh dialogue heavy. tbh i don't even know what i was writing here. fem!reader. ⎯ ୧

i advocate for creganwives who don’t want to have ten children.

Cregan wasn’t nearly as physically imposing underneath all of his armour. 

You had observed as much before — watching keenly as he unclasped his cape and slid out of the thick leather armour. It was a sight to behold, the muscles in his shoulders and arms as he fought to disrobe. 

He was much different here, in your shared chambers. Lord Stark shed with his dayware, Cregan stood in his wake. 

You had been married for years, and still, your heart fluttered like an infatuated girl when he loomed over the bed, hair damp from the bath. 

Married for years, with two children, and yet — sprawled across the bed in naught but a thin nightgown, you ogle him as he makes his way to bed. 

He's hard to wrangle; he walks the keep and checks on your daughters, among other mindless tasks, before finally getting into bed every night. It gives him ‘time to think’, and makes you senselessly anticipatory. 

Most nights are the same. He curls into you, head on your chest, to decompress. It's sweet, to see such an intimate side of him.

Tonight, in lieu of the typical mindless drivel that lulled you both to sleep, you had been quiet. Cregan could feel the tension of whatever weighed on your mind, but he had not wished to pry.

You rub aimless little circles against his back before finally speaking, “Are you content with this?”

Cregan looks up, lifting his head from your breastbone. He doesn’t speak for a moment, reading your expression, “Content?” When you don’t reply he continues, “Of course I am content. What has prompted you to ask such?”

He can see the solemn, contemplative expression written across your face; the way you gaze down, as if through him, “It is just…” You hesitate, he keeps firm in his stare, “We have been married years, and I have not given you many children. And, no boys.” 

He doesn't reply, unsure how or what to say. True, it is, that in the years you have been married there have only been two children — both daughters. 

“Do you think,” He begins, sitting up more, “That I am discontent because you have not given me a son?” 

Silence hangs heavy in the room. You look guilty; he cannot tell what it is you feel guilty for, but he wishes you did not feel guilty at all. 

Cregan says your name once, his voice low and soft. When you meet his eyes he can sense the resignation — you wish you had not brought this up.

“I just worry, that is all,” You reply, quietly.

His expression stays set. There is solace in knowing him well enough to read his microexpressions; he isn’t brooding, he is concerned. 

He speaks, “What is it that you worry about – my discontentment?”

“Perhaps I have not performed by duty,” You shrug, as if to pass the comment off as nonchalant. Maybe it is; ladies raised to believe their self-worth lies in their good stock and ability to breed and please can talk about such matters with a level of insouciance. 

Frustration blooms in the space between his lungs. He understands the way polite society worms into young women’s brains, and how hard it is to remove that sickness once it's taken root. Still — you surely must know that your worth does not lie within your womb, he thinks.

“Your duty?” He asks, tone firmer now, “And what duty is that? To be bred like a milking cow?” 

The abruptness and near vulgarity of his words are enough to leave you taken aback, blinking at him. Cregan was certainly not one for eloquent metaphors. 

When you seem not to have a response, he begins to feel bad. This isn’t your fault. You were raised to think like this.

“I have not given you an heir,” You’re quiet, almost embarrassed. 

“You have,” He counters. 

“You have no son,” 

“I have Lyanna,” 

A log in the fireplace shifts and crackles as you sit in silence; a scullery maid shuffles by in the hallway. 

He watches you gather your composure before you speak, “And you do not mind?” You sound unsure, he hates it. 

Cregan reaches, sliding his fingers under your jaw to make you look at him fully, “Tell me — if we should have a son, would you be content to strip Lyanna of her birthright?” 

The question feels harsh. He watches guarded confusion swirl into your eyes.

Of course, you would not wish for your daughter to have her title taken from her. But so many others, men in Cregan’s council, mocked the idea. They rued Lyanna’s power, the status she already held above them as a girl of all but five. So it would be no shock if someone insisted she be stripped of her title as heir to Winterfell, and it was frightening. Frightening to imagine someone stealing your daughter’s future and freedom. 

“If it is what you wished,” You answer, resignation thinly veiled. 

“I asked you a question,” He’s firm but gentle. 

You gape for a moment, before answering, “No, never. I could not imagine doing that to her.” 

“And do you think I would?” 

“No,” 

He nods, sliding his hand up to cradle your face. You look ashamed, he tries to soothe it away with his thumb over your cheekbone. 

“Do you think you’ve disappointed me, pet?” He doesn’t wish to subject you to the humiliation of answering such a vulnerable question, so he continues, “You need not worry so much. I do not need a boy; I am more than pleased with things just how they are,” He strokes his thumb slowly, “Do not agonize over something so trivial.” 

He catches the tear that rolls down your cheek.

When you speak your voice is quiet, “You are so good,” And then, “Many lords do not care much for their daughters.”

The thought makes his chest burn; to not care for his daughters? Unthinkable, “Do not praise me for loving my children. Those girls are my world, as are you.” He feels lighter when he sees the edge of your mouth tick up, so he speaks again, “I care not that I have daughters in place of sons — I have, and for that I am lucky.”

He has and he is lucky.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 44 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley swallows his pride and seeks out a conversation with Admiral Simpson, but he's surprised by the response he gets. You keep everyone on their toes, and you do it so effortlessly, Bradley knows it's time to go shopping. And he uses Skittles as the perfect cover.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

When Bradley parked at work a little early on Monday, he sat in the Bronco for a few extra minutes. He had just witnessed you and Noah making breakfast together, and it was making it really hard to be away from you right now. When he walked into the kitchen, you were brewing coffee and singing the dinosaur song with his son while the two of you spread that weird avocado stuff that you liked so much on some toast. He had started to love it, too, and Noah would eat anything you made. 

He removed his aviators and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was so much he wanted to get done this week, including looking at a few engagement rings, but he knew better than to make any sort of excuses to get some time alone. That had nearly backfired on him when he went to get Skittles. He was going to have to get creative somehow.

When he pulled out his phone to call the animal shelter about getting Skittles' cast removed, he froze. Across the parking lot, Nat and Javy were both getting out of his car. "Interesting," he muttered to himself as he watched his best friend groping their coworker, and he grimaced. He'd already seen too much. 

"Hello, this is the San Diego shelter. How can I help you?"

Bradley nearly dropped his phone; he'd forgotten he was making the call. "Yeah, hi. I need to schedule an appointment to have my dog's cast removed?"

"Oh! Are you talking about the Yorkie?"

He smiled as he climbed out onto the already hot pavement. "Yeah. Skittles. I'm hoping she has sufficiently healed."

"Why don't you stop in on Wednesday and we can check her out."

"Sounds good, thanks," he replied, following Nat and Javy at a very conservative distance. But apparently he wasn't cautious enough. 

"So," Nat sighed once Bradley joined her in the hangar, "you saw Javy and I in the parking lot." It wasn't a question, so he decided to just nod and roll his eyes in response. "Oh, come on, Rooster. I'm just having some fun."

"Look at him," Bradley muttered, glancing to where the man in question was smiling at Nat. "Are you serious right now? You want to make him cry or something?"

Now she was the one rolling her eyes. "I'm not taking advice from you. You're historically terrible at dating."

"I'm doing a pretty good job now," he said, smiling as he thought about you.

"You can't even get Cyclone off your girl."

Bradley covered his face with one big palm. "You noticed that?"

Nat laughed. "Everyone at the botanic gardens on Saturday night noticed that."

"Fuck," he groaned. "If she wasn't so young and so fucking hot, I wouldn't be about to embarrass myself by trying to get him to let me fly in the air show."

She just shook her head as she reached for her helmet and muttered, "Oh, cry me a river."

"Hey." Bradley turned just in time to see Javy greeting the two of them like a puppy looking for Nat's attention. He was honestly worse than Skittles at the moment. "The guys are talking about a beach day this weekend. You know, since the summer is ending."

"We don't need to do another beach day. We live in San Diego," Nat replied as she sipped the coffee she wasn't supposed to have inside the hangar. "It's the same season all year round."

Javy laughed like she was a comedian, and Bradley looked back and forth between the two of them, completely baffled by this dynamic. There's no way you and he made a couple this wild. 

"Yeah, but it's still the end of August," Javy said, now smiling at Nat as if she was the most adorable thing in the world. "Rooster, you can bring your girl and your kid. It'll be fun."

"You know what," he replied, "I think I'll go if Nat goes."

Then Bradley strolled away as they started arguing, because he saw Admiral Simpson on his way to the tower. He just needed to get Cyclone alone for a few minutes, swallow his pride, and try to head Jake off for the air show. The opportunity arose after lunch when Bradley caught him checking his phone outside the rec room door.

"Admiral Simpson, sir," he greeted before grinding his back teeth while he thought about you. "May I have a word?"

Cyclone glanced up before pocketing his phone, a look of vague amusement on his face. "Lieutenant. What can I do for you?"

"It's about the upcoming air show. Sir. I was hoping you could tell me if you'd made selections regarding who would be flying in it."

His look of amusement grew. "I have not. I believe that was on my agenda for today or tomorrow." He paused before adding, "I've been meaning to thank you for that glass of bourbon on Saturday night. Woodford Reserve is one of my favorites."

Bradley remained unflinching. Although he had no idea what Admiral Simpson was talking about, he thought it better to simply agree with him. "Yes. The Woodford Reserve." 

He nearly took a step backwards when the other man started laughing. "You'll have to thank your girlfriend for me, too. And I'm assuming the reason you're here is because you want to fly in the air show?"

"Yes...sir," Bradley replied slowly, feeling very off balance now that Cyclone was being so agreeable. 

Still chuckling, he said, "I'll see what I can do," before turning and walking away. 

Once he was out of earshot, Bradley pushed through the door to the rec room as he muttered, "What the fuck was that?"

-----------------------------

It was almost fun for you to pick Noah up from daycare now. Not that you would ever admit that out loud. But the enjoyment you found in the way Casey pouted at you was a bit of a guilty pleasure, and besides, you got to have Noah greet you like you were the most exciting and interesting person in the world.

"Mommy!" he called out as he ran across the lobby and into your arms. "Guess what my craft is!"

"A dinosaur?" you asked as you shot an extremely fake smile at Casey before heading outside.

"Nope."

"A... dog? Did you make Skittles?" you asked as you put him in your car.

"Nope."

"The solar system?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. Will you give me a hint?" you asked, brushing his soft curls away from his forehead and giving him a kiss. But he was already unzipping his bag and pulling out his newest painting. There was a big, light blue shape that looked like it could have been Bradley's Bronco along with a man who appeared to be sporting a mustache. "Is that Daddy?"

"Yes!"

Then you noticed a little brown blob. "Is that Skittles?"

"Yes! She's his best friend!"

You laughed, because Noah wasn't wrong. Skittles seemed to love Bradley the most, and as much as he tried to fight it, the dog won him over. "She is," you agreed before buckling him in. "She's his best friend besides Aunt Natasha."

Noah shook his head. "She doesn't count, because she's an Aunt."

"Right, right," you said, not wanting to fight his childhood logic when Skittles wasn't even a human. "You're completely right. Should we go home?"

You started singing the dinosaur song as you drove, and because of a detour, you had to drive past the park where Meredith had chased you down. A shiver rippled through your body as you remembered falling and scraping up your arm in your haste to get Noah safely in your car. You hated coming home this way. There was a reason you never did it.

"Mommy, why did you stop singing?"

You glanced in the mirror at Noah's face. "Sorry! Where were we? The part about how the dinosaur stomp, stomp, stomps?"

Bradley was already home when you pulled into the driveway, and you found him dozed off on the couch with Skittles curled up on his chest. Two seconds later, he was jolting awake with the dog in his hand as Noah ran for him. "Daddy! I made you! Out of paint!"

"Cool," Bradley told him, pulling Noah onto his broad chest as well. "And how's Mommy?" he asked, his voice a little raspier just for you. "How was your day, Princess?"

You shook off the last remaining thoughts of Casey and Meredith as you leaned down to kiss him. "Pretty good." He chased your lips for more, but his arms were too full of Noah and Skittles for him to be able to reach for you. "Looks like you're still tired from the weekend," you said with a wink.

"I had a nice conversation with Cyclone today." 

"Oh? About what?" you asked as you started to head to the kitchen to make dinner. 

His expression remained completely neutral as he told you, "Bourbon. Woodford Reserve, to be specific." When you said nothing, he added, "We can chat about it later."

So you made spaghetti, knowing you'd been found out. You had been tipsy on Saturday night at the retirement party, but you were pretty sure you remembered what you did. Probably. You hoped Bradley wasn't mad at you over it, but he seemed to be in a good mood as he ate dinner and offered to give Noah a bath while you walked Skittles. 

She was stubborn for you at first, plopping down on the front porch and whimpering for Bradley while you tugged gently on her leash. "Come on. You're making me look bad! You were my idea. Mine and Noah's." When she remained in her spot, you had to reach into your pocket and say, "Treat?" That did the trick, and you got her to take a slow lap around the block with you while you broke a milkbone into little bites and gave it to her. 

When you returned home, Skittles bounded into the house to get to Bradley where he was sitting on the bathroom floor, looking comically enormous with Noah's rubber duck in his hand. You stood in the doorway and watched him automatically reach down to pet the little pup, taking caution with her casted leg while he rinsed the shampoo out of Noah's hair. 

"You want to go to the beach this weekend, Bub?" he asked softly. "With Aunt Natasha?"

"Can Skittles come?" Noah asked, and you watched Bradley place a soft kiss on his wet forehead that left you reeling. Suddenly you couldn't wait for Noah to be in bed so you could have him all to yourself. 

"Maybe. If she gets her cast off on Wednesday," he replied softly as the dog fully plopped down with her head on his thigh. 

"Daddy?" you asked from your spot in the doorway. It was almost a whine, and when he looked up at you, you were certain he knew what you were thinking about by the little smirk on his lips.

He reached into the tub to drain the water as he asked, "Do you need some attention?"

You just nodded, still in your scrubs from work, but you felt too warm now as you pressed your thighs together. "Yes."

"Fifteen minutes, and then you can have it," he replied with an edge to his voice. "Can you wait that long?"

"I can try," you murmured before you turned to go into Noah's room and get his dinosaur pajamas ready. Anything to expedite bedtime. You listened while Bradley took his time reading three stories, and then you kissed Noah's forehead before you tried to pull Bradley toward the hallway.

He chuckled and whispered, "I'll meet you on the couch."

"Oooh, the couch," you said before running from the room. Before you could even decide what you wanted to do, Bradley was behind you wrapping his arms around your waist and tickling your neck with his mustache.

"I kind of miss those nights when I would help you study."

You moaned softly. "Anatomy really is your specialty."

You felt him pull his right hand away from your body, but before you could complain, it reappeared in front of you with a bag of Skittles on his palm. When you spun in his arms and kissed him, you whispered, "You're so sweet."

Bradley lifted you up and took you the few steps to the couch where you settled in straddling his lap while you opened your candy. "If you're this excited about something I picked up at the gas station, I wonder what you'll do if I buy you something a little more expensive."

You met his soft eyes and leaned in to kiss him. "How much more expensive are we talking?" you asked, treating him to the orange Skittle you pulled out of the bag. He parted his lips and you slipped it between them, watching his jaw work as he chewed it up. 

"A lot more expensive," he replied as you ate three candies. "Hey, this is a 50/50 relationship here, Princess."

You shoved a small handful into his mouth and kissed his cheeks as he sputtered and chewed. "I'll share everything I have with you. Too bad I don't have much."

Bradley swallowed down the treat and reached for your free hand. "You give me everything I need. Everything I want, too."

You basked in the warmth of his words as your eyes closed, and a welcome heat crept into your cheeks. "I love you."

"Then I think you'll love what I'm planning on buying for you," he whispered as his mustache grazed your chin and jaw. 

You grinned, hoping you already knew what he was talking about, but too afraid to say it out loud. So you pushed the thought from your mind and scooted a little closer toward him on his lap. "What's this I'm hearing about a beach day? And Skittles getting her cast off? This is all news to me."

He didn't miss a beat as he wrapped his big hands around your hips and said, "What's this I'm hearing about some bourbon at the retirement party? It's all news to me."

"Oh," you whispered softly before eating more Skittles, buying yourself a little time to think. "Well, you see... I wasn't exactly sober."

"You're joking," he deadpanned. 

You rolled your eyes and shoved more candy into his mouth. "I may have had a glass of bourbon sent over to Admiral Simpson, courtesy of Lieutenant Bradshaw and his girlfriend..."

After a few quiet blinks, Bradley's head tipped back in laughter so loud that Skittles the pup came running into the room. "You didn't!" Bradley said. "I have to work with that man!" 

"Somebody had to make the big move, Daddy! It cleared the tension!"

He met your eyes, still shaking his head and smirking. "It also made you look like Daddy's good little girl."

Your heart skipped around in your chest at his words, and you set your candy aside in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck. "Am I not? Daddy's good little girl?"

"Oh, you absolutely are," he replied as he lifted your top inch by inch. "I just never thought my boss's boss would see it that way." 

You raised your hands up in the air, eager to lose your shirt, but he took his sweet time about it. "Daddy."

"You can be patient," he whispered, smiling when he saw your purple bra. "Pretty." Your top dropped to the floor as he cupped you through the lace, finding your nipples right away. "You feel like going to the beach on Saturday?"

Bradley's lips found the tops of your breasts, and you could no longer formulate real words. You just hummed in response already knowing he was going to take expert care of you right now and on Saturday as well.

"You could wear your purple bikini and tell all the other guys to fuck off," he said as he ran his nose softly along your skin while he unhooked your bra and let it fall next to your top. 

"Would you like that?" you asked as your fingers tangled up in his hair. He answered you by nodding as he took your nipple between his lips. Bradley was all big hands on your bare skin and just the perfect amount of roughness. "Oh god," you whined. 

And then he had you on your back in the middle of the area rug with his body over yours. His thigh was rubbing you through your thin pants, and you bucked up gently against him as his heavy weight pressed deliciously against your body. "I love you," he grunted as you tugged at his hair. 

"I love you so much, Daddy," you gasped as he yanked your pants and underwear down and off, leaving you in only your socks. He fumbled with the front of his pants for just a few seconds before pulling his length free, and you spread your legs wide for him.

His lips and tongue were wet on your neck as you held him close, lost in the domesticity of having sex here now. Just like your first time with him. Right next to the snag in the rug. But this time you could hear Skittles' claws tapping across the kitchen floor, and you could see some of Noah's crayons that had rolled under the couch while Bradley fucked you. You could smell the lingering scent of the pasta sauce from the dinner you made. You could taste Bradley's now familiar tongue as it met yours. And you could feel his rough hands on your hips and belly where he'd now touched you hundreds of times. 

You fell in love with the flood of familiarity he brought to your senses, and it left you smiling up at him when he broke the kiss. "Jesus," he grunted, cupping one cheek in his hand. You kissed the side of his thumb as he stroked your skin, and you watched him slowly come undone for you. "I'll get you there," he promised, changing his angle so he rubbed your clit with each movement.

Just like the first time, he filled you up as soon as you came, and your name was all over his lips as you smiled at the lost crayons before closing your eyes. Bradley collected you against his body as he eased himself down onto his side, and you sighed contentedly. You held onto his wrist as he ran his hand along your hair and kissed you. In that moment you would have agreed to anything he said. 

"Baby, I'll be a little late on Wednesday night. I have to take Skittles to get her cast off, and then I need to stop at the store."

You hummed softly in response, pressing your lips to his. "Sounds good."

------------------------------

The only time Bradley heard from you on Wednesday was when you told him that one of your patients came in with an emergency, and you wanted to let him know you'd be helping Dr. Kelly with a minor surgical procedure. He was excited for you, but he didn't want to bother you. Even though he had good news.

"Congrats," Jake drawled in the locker room after a very long day of flying. "Don't know how you managed to pull this one off, but I heard you're flying in the air show."

Bradley ran his towel over his chest before tossing it into his locker. "Thanks," he grunted, trying not to smile. He'd be able to take you on the tour of the hospital with him, and then you and Noah could watch him fly. His son had never seen him in the air before, and it gave Bradley goosebumps knowing that the two of you would be able to do that together. 

Jake gave him one last appraising look before he got dressed. Honestly, it was probably the fact that you upped the ante with Cyclone that Bradley was chosen over the others. Perhaps now things could be called even. You managed to keep everyone on their toes in the best way, and it made him smile even now. 

You were in rare form this week, luring him in for living room floor sex when there was a perfectly new bed in the bedroom. And then last night, you got him to watch a Disney princess movie with you, even after Noah was in bed, and Bradley had begrudgingly enjoyed it. You were laying across his lap on your back when the end credits rolled, and you said, "If you're a good boy, I'll make you beignets just like Princess Tiana."

Bradley had smirked. "Do those have cream filling?"

"No," you whispered as he eased your shirt up so his palm was flat on your belly. 

"Do you want some?" 

He had been thinking about getting you pregnant as he made you bury your face in the couch pillows to keep you quiet.

And that was just one of the many reasons he was about to leave work and head home to grab Skittles before stopping at the jewelry store across town. If Casey managed to bump into there and ruin this surprise as well, he would probably lose his mind. But the jeweler near the animal shelter was one of the best in the city, so that was where he would go. 

Bradley awkwardly held Skittles while he drove, and eventually she curled up with her head on his thigh while he sat in traffic. She seemed to be doing great, so he hoped that was a good sign that the cast could come off. You and Noah were delighted with her, and she somehow made Bradley fall in love, too. 

"Yeah, you're sweet," he told her, scratching her behind the ears while he drove. He parallel parked the Bronco with one hand while he continued to pet her, and when he took her inside the shelter, he held onto her a little tighter. It was hard to believe she'd been here just a few weeks ago, completely unwanted. 

Bradley pressed kisses to the top of her head as he waited for the receptionist to finish her phone call. When she hung up, she asked, "And who do we have here?"

"Skittles Bradshaw," he replied, nuzzling his nose against her fur and wondering how on earth he had gotten so attached to this little pup. "Hopefully she can get her cast off today."

He only had to wait a few minutes, and then he watched as they examined her before cutting into the cast plaster. Once she was free, Skittles took a few tentative steps across the exam table, and then she jumped right back into Bradley's arms. 

After he paid the monstrous bill for such a small creature, he carried her down the sidewalk, enjoying the cooling temperature as the sun set. When he checked his phone, he saw that you'd finally texted him again.

My Princess: Noah and I are going to play at the park near the beach. Leftovers when you get home?

He typed out a quick message letting you know that sounded perfect. Thoughts of you and Noah together filled his mind as he entered the jewelry store, and two women looked up at him and Skittles. "Is it okay if I have her in here?" he asked, but they both immediately rushed over, practically screeching about how cute his dog was. Honestly, the pet would have probably worked out better than the dating app had for him.

"What are you looking for?" the first woman asked as she petted Skittles on her head. 

A soft smile made its way to his lips as he said, "An engagement ring."

"Oh! Of course, let's just head over here to see what you like best. Do you have anything specific in mind?"

Bradley followed behind her as he nodded and said, "A princess cut diamond."

------------------------

A princess for a Princess. Also, there is no way Skittles wouldn't be a magnet for all the ladies. A big man with a small dog... just fuck. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 45

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[yeyinde]

Seen your layla frost mention - any good dark romance books you would recommend? 👀

oh, absolutely!!! though, fair warning - my ideal dr is a horror/thriller moonlighting as a romance so! def read the warnings.

Little Dove by Layla Frost. Maximo, honestly, is my ideal mmc. cold, collected, cunning, unflappable, with a cruel and sadistic side (but never directed toward the the fmc), and wholly devoted to Juliet on a level that would probably land him in jail irl

Then, Earth Swallowed Ocean (book 1) by Shiloh Sloane

"Southern Gothic Werewolves Fight the Devil" that's it. this is the book for me. Shiloh Sloane is my favourite author. genuinely, truly. i love her writing, i love her characters. i love her for her tiktok bio alone: I write love stories whose trailers would have Ethel Cain music in ‘em. obsessed with her. i stalk her daily on insta and tiktok. but the book: it's more horror erotica than DR, but to be totally honest, this is so far up my alley, it was practically written for me. werewolves, the devil, smut, an INSANE mmc (obsessed, mean, possessive), a strong fmc, and it's set in post WW2 Appalachia. instant fave. when i die, bury me with this book.

Cracked Blue Sky (book 2) by Shiloh Sloane

features a native fmc and i know Shiloh Sloane is white, but how she shapes Howie Black Elk was pretty realistic. i loved how much she reminded me of a few cousins, aunties. love this book!!

Snuff by Bonny Capps

dark horror erotica that you absolutely should heed the warnings to. i loved it. 5*. but it does end up on several dnf lists for being brutal and disgusting. fmc goes to Russia to discover her roots, is taken by the Bratva to feature in their "passion projects" (snuff films!), but the mmc decides he wants her all to himself. if you're queasy about totally irredeemable mmcs (sadistic, vile, possessive, obsessed, cruel), then this probably is not for you, but lucky for me, i'm into that. def on my "i couldn't look my therapist in the eye for a while" collection, though.

Lemonade by Nina Pennacchi. mmc is irredeemable (cruel, vile, obsessed). historical romance (Victorian). also on the collection. Little Mouse by Emily Rose. mafia. age gap. A Stone's Throw by Stevie Sparks. age gap (dad's best friend. Scottish hero. auction. weird rich people doing weird rich people shit. God Of Vengeance by Michelle Heard. age gap. mafia. found family. i re-read the bound series this week and my favourites are Bound by Vengeance (Growl and Cora), Bound by Duty (Dante and Valentina), and Twisted Pride (Remo and Serafina). anything by Lilith Vincent. Brutal Husband is dropping in October and i cannot wait. The Devil's Vice by Mindy Paige. trauma bonding. motorcycle gang. age gap. Little Stranger by Leigh Rivers. revenge (fmc sends mmc to prison and he gets out and comes for her). insane mmc. Spectre by Shiloh Walker. kidnapping. violence. neuro-atypical fmc. Slashed by Thalia Sanchez. fmc wants to become a Final Girl. Slasher!mmc gives her just that.

also, not a romance but if you're into dark books with compelling characters, Break Her by BG Harlen was sooo good!!!! the premise is that a professional rapist is sent to break the fmc and it's such a good psychological thriller. def not for everyone though. A Beautiful Evil by Eris Belmont has no HEA but a very brutal and malicious mml. God's Eye by Ansa Reads is brutal. loved it, dgmw. but it's def not for the faint of heart.

[mr-cha-n]

The Pen Pal Project

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x reader

Genres: Fluff, fluff, and more fluff

Warnings: Profanities, sappiness, cheating (third party), a tinsy hint of angst

Word Count: 10.2k

Summary: Over a decade of handwritten letters later, you can happily say that the Pen Pal Project was your greatest success.

Reaching up into the top shelf of the wardrobe, toppling onto your tiptoes in order to do so, your fingertips brush against a satin, bowed box. Pulling the box down to your chest, you perch at the edge of your large, periwinkle-sheeted bed, gingerly untangling the pretty blue ribbon and lifting the lid off of the top. Leafing your fingers through the stacks of paper inside, you feel a wave of nostalgia enrapturing your body. Your head rolls back, eyes falling shut as your mind is overtaken by memory.

"Honey, the guests will be here soon!" Your husband yells out from down the stairs.

"I'll just be a few minutes! Can you take the cake out, my love?" You call back, praying you have the time to reminisce before everyone arrives.

You gently pull out the first letter from the top of the stack.

April 5th 2007

Dear pen pal,

I am writing to you because my class has signed up for the Pen Pal Project this year. Because I don't know who you are or anything about you, I am going to answer some of the questions my teacher has given us, and hopefully you can answer them too in your reply!

1. What is your name?

My mom said that I shouldn't give out any personal information, so I can't actually answer this question. My friends all call me Dusty, so you can call me that too.

2. What hobbies do you enjoy?

I am really into skating, starcraft, hockey and rocks. Yesterday, me and my friends went out to the outskirts of the city to see if we could climb the big oak trees, and I found a piece of dolomite next to the river! I really want to find a meteorite but they're very rare so I think it'll take a lot of searching. I also play in my school's field hockey team - my mom wants me to stop playing because last week I cracked one of my teeth, but I think she's going to come around when she sees our tournament next weekend.

3. What do you want to do when you grow up?

My dad is a teacher and my mom is a nurse, so my parents want me to go to university and become a doctor or a professor, but I'd quite like to be an astronaut or Indiana Jones, whichever pays better.

4. What's one thing you want to know about your pen pal?

I want to know everything about you (more than one, sorry)! What's your school like? What year were you born in (mine is 1995)? What do you do for fun? Do you like dogs? Do you have a phone?

I'm not sure if I'll get a response to this letter, but if you do want to, I hope we can keep in touch for a long time :)

Yours truly, 

Dusty

May 21st 2007

Dear Dusty,

I'm really glad I got your letter. Some of my friends got letters that didn't even have a return address, but thankfully I get to write back to you and answer some of your questions. I was also born in 1995 so we are same-age friends. I'm finding this year in school a bit harder because of all the tests we are doing, but we just started doing football again in Physical Education so it's not too bad. Sports are my biggest hobby - I do football and basketball and I want to start wrestling this year. I mostly like to go and play with my friends at the park. I'm on some of the school teams, but my friends tell me I'm too competitive to play professionally.

I also really like gaming and reading. I finished the Protoss campaign over the winter break, but I've had to stop now that school has started again. My friends are all really excited about the announcement of Starcraft II, are you too? Will you keep going with the original or switch to the new one?

When I grow up, I either want to do sports or I'll study to work a good job in business or finance. Being an astronaut would be so cool! You'd definitely be able to find a meteorite then.

About your other questions, I don't have a phone yet but I do love dogs. When I'm older I want at least one dog, if not more. Do you have any pets?

I hope that we can keep writing to each other too - it's fun to have a secret friend.

From,

Cherry

January 4th 2011

Dear Cherry,

Sorry it's been a while - I've been really busy over the winter break, but I just had my tonsils removed so I have a bit of free time in recovery to write this letter. Before you ask, no - I didn't wake up during the surgery which I was a bit disappointed about, but I did manage to swallow enough blood to make me throw up after waking up so that was kinda crazy.

I can't believe that your friend did that! One time my friend Jiwoo got suspended for unscrewing all of the lightbulbs in the science classrooms, but that was because of a dare, not her own free will! I've never been suspended before, but I came close for tardiness last year. Have you ever been suspended?

I also appreciated your inquiry into the Heiran - Hyunki situation. I can't believe I forgot to update you in my last letter, and you'll be glad to receive it! Unbelievably, they got back together. I know it's what we feared would happen, but apparently Heiran has made some of her own mistakes in the relationship, so she's willing to overlook the whole thing. Absolutely crazy - I think that she's just scared to break up with him, which I suppose is a fair concern - just not for a 16-year-old. The whole situation really made me think about the purpose of relationships and love. All of my friends keep rushing into relationships this year, and I feel like I'm being left behind. I just don't care as much as they do, but they act like I'm some alien creature for not wanting to make out with someone in the school locker rooms. Perhaps this isn't something you can relate to, but it would be nice to know if you think I'm justified in my opinion or if there really is something wrong with me.

The thought of starting school again after the break is actually making me want to run away to the mountains. My sister is leaving for university and I don't want to go to school without her. Of course, I can't tell her that, but it's going to be really lonely walking in on my own. Plus, my parents' attention is firmly on me now, so I can't mess up in exams this year. The amount of pressure is going to make my head explode. How are you feeling about the year? I guess because you have the football season to look forward to your mind is probably focused on that?

I'm thinking about rejoining hockey this year. Even though it was too much last year, I did really miss it and I think I can better manage my time now that I don't have to be in the choir anymore. I think my mom might have a fit when I tell her, but the way you talked about sports really made me miss playing. Plus, apparently, I need an outlet for all these teenage hormonal emotions seeing as I'm not getting it on in the McDonald's parking lot.

Anyways, I need to get going now so I have time to blend some fruit up before lunchtime.

Yours truly,

Dusty

A chuckle leaves your lips as you read back over your letter. You'd been so worried about who was dating who and, more importantly, who you weren't dating. You were always so grateful for someone to discuss your fears with - your friends at the time certainly didn't understand. You'd had your first kiss a few weeks after you'd sent the letter. A party at a friend of a friend's house had devolved into typical teenage party games and you'd been pressured into kissing a boy whose name you couldn't remember. In fairness, you remembered that he was cute - curly dark hair and sharp cheekbones - but you'd made a joke about not being able to engage in tonsil tennis and he hadn't laughed so you'd known he wasn't the one.

June 27th 2011

Dear Dusty,

I finally asked out Myunghee and she said yes -

Nuh uh, skip that one.

October 23rd 2013

Dear Dusty,

All the kids in the year have planned a big Halloween party to celebrate our last your of high school. It's pretty exciting - apparently, they've bought some major decorations and they're going to set out the host's house to have scary surprises in all the rooms. I wouldn't be surprised if someone dresses up and decides to chase drunk kids around all night. It's a bittersweet feeling - our last Halloween party, but perhaps our best? Do you have any plans for Halloween and the holidays? I'm thinking of doing a Superman costume, but I'm wondering if that's a bit too obvious?

I put off writing about it first because I didn't want to open the letter with bad news, but I wanted to let you know that me and Myunghee broke up. Even though it's pretty sad, I've known it was coming for a while. If you remember my last letter, I told you about the fight that we had about next year, and I think that was really the beginning of the end. I was hoping that we could make it work a bit longer, but she said that we'd just be dragging out the inevitable and I guess she's right. I think I'm still a bit annoyed about the rollercoaster of the last month seeing if she's known the whole time that we should break up but I'll get over it. It's mostly just weird not having her around all the time. Everywhere feels a lot emptier now. I'm glad I can write to you about this - it's a bit awkward talking about it with my friends because they are also friends with her, but I can actually be honest with you. 

Anyway, I hope you are doing a bit better than me. Your date sounded pretty cool - I've always wanted to go on an ice-skating date but I'd be a bit scared of falling over and making a fool of myself so I admire your confidence. If you are still seeing him, I hope he's treating you well. Chocolates and flowers at least once a month - and you can tell him I said so if he asks. If you're not seeing him, I (pre-emptively) can't believe he did that to you! What a jerk...

Are you watching the AFC Champions League final? A few friends and I are going to go down to the bar to watch it together and pray for a good result - either way, it should be fun. I suppose your dad will have it on in the house, but I'll be shocked if you tell me you're going to watch it with him after last time. Best to avoid the flying wrath of a TV remote. There's something about dads and sports, isn't there? I wonder if I'll be like that when I'm an adult. I hope not, but I already get too into it so maybe it's inevitable.

Yours,

Cherry

That date had been a good one as far as you remember, but the memory has become blurry after all the times your husband has taken you ice-skating since. You'd dated that guy for a few more weeks after this, but he made a weird comment to one of his friends when he didn't think you could hear it so you knew he wasn't the one.

Finishing high school and moving on to university had been a formative time for you. You gained a sense of identity that you'd lost as a teenager, and reconnected with your younger self. A smile crinkles your lips as you think about that time. The stupid escapades of adults let loose on their own for the first time, the lifelong friends you'd made, and the wealth of knowledge you'd gained about yourself and about the world. Your husband never attended university so he never experienced any of that, but you suppose he did have his own life-changing revelations during this time.

February 8th 2015

Dear Cherry,

I'm in crisis and I need your advice! I haven't spoken to anyone else about this yet, but I have a feeling building in me that needs to be released and you always give me the best advice. I'm thinking about dropping out of my program. 

I know this sounds super rash and stupid, but I really hate it. I find it so dull and confusing, and everyone else is much better at it than I am. And, if I'm really being honest, I only chose medicine because my mother wanted me to. I would feel so stupid revealing that to anyone else, but I think you already knew that was the case. I'm struggling to keep going with it without the passion that other students seem to have, and when I hear about my friends' courses they sound so much more interesting.

If I actually go through with it, this may be the last letter I write to you. But, given that I survived my mother's wrath, a life studying literature or archaeology sounds so much more fulfilling to my brain even if not my pockets. What do you think about all of this? Is it worth following a passion that may lead to nothing or sticking it out with a stable, reliable path to future success without enjoyment?

As you know, I make very impulsive decisions, so I need your help in deciding whether or not this would be one of those.

Yours truly,

Dusty

P.S. I got asked to the dance by this really attractive guy who works at the coffee shop on campus so not everything is going wrong.

P.S.S. I found a rock which I thought was a meteorite but it was actually a magnetite - better luck next time!

You'd dropped out of your medicine major the moment you'd received the reply. Of course, your pen pal was a lot more supportive of your decision than your parents were but they got over it in time. Your fate had been decided the moment you'd stepped out of your first archaeology class - heart beaming and mind brimming with all of your plans for the future. Despite your parents' apprehensions, it had been the right decision. It didn't take long for your burning enthusiasm and insatiable appetite for learning to be picked up by your professors, and by your second year in the major you'd been invited on an exclusive trip one of your professors was going on with a handful of other students. 

It was around this time that you'd started wondering more about your pen pal. The flutters of your heart each time the small envelope appeared in your dorm pigeonhole had been drowned out by the rush of university life. Reflecting back, your obliviousness to your own emotions makes you shake your head in disbelief. But then, you'd met Daejung. He'd taken you out dancing, brought you flowers and laughed at your jokes, and you began to wonder if he was the one.

May 16th 2017

Dear Dusty,

Officially, you may know me better than anyone else. I know I already sent you a letter this month that you probably haven't even received, but I realised that it is the tenth anniversary since I received your first letter. Not to be soppy, but it truly means the world to me that we've been able to keep up this correspondence this whole time. 

As far as I'm aware, we won the Pen Pal Project. No one else I know stayed in touch with their childhood pen pal for nearly as long as we have, and I think that we deserve some kind of reward for it.

But, beyond any records we must have broken, I'm most grateful for the friendship we have developed. In any other circumstances, I would have said that it was impossible for people who have never met to be each other's closest confidants, but I can confidently say that there is nothing I wouldn't tell you. If it turns out you've been some 60-year-old man this whole time, consider me logged off from this life. 

My wish is that we can keep doing this for as long as we are able to hold pens in our hands, and even then I'd consider getting a scribe to write the letters for me.

As a gift, I feel that it's about time that I tell you my name - my real name. If you (and your mom) still don't feel comfortable sharing yours then Dusty is still perfectly fine for me, but the fundamental disconnect between telling a person your deepest secrets and not telling them your name has gotten too overwhelming for me, so it's time to rectify that.

Yours, 

Seungcheol

P.S. If you still want to call me Cherry that's also a-okay!

The first time Seungcheol revealed his name to you, you remember you'd dropped the letter in shock. As if knowing his name changed things, as if he didn't live a completely separate life from you already. It wasn't like knowing who he was would change anything about your life - you had no connection to him other than your letters - but the intimacy of his name had you staggering a few steps backwards, eye bulging from your head at the fallen letter. It seems rather overdramatic now, but in hindsight it always does.

This letter had been a bit of a turning point in your relationship, beyond the end of the nicknames you'd used for ten years. You'd always felt close enough to Seungcheol to pour your heart out to him in writing, but the closeness you felt was compounded in this letter. You wipe a few rogue tears from your eyes as you read back over it, moved by the raw declarations Seungcheol had been brave enough to express. If you really think about it, this letter was the first time you'd truly tried to picture what your pen pal looked like. Up until this point, you'd been enflamed by his words and unloaded all of your deepest thoughts to him in return, but this was the first time that you'd realised that your pen pal was a real man your age that you were already deeply connected to. The thought had been scandalous in your mind, and the shame that overwhelmed you when you'd met up with Daejung later that day made it hard to look him in the eye. Fantasising about a man you had never seen before had felt as bad as cheating, and the various forms of him that had appeared in your dreams for the rest of the week only compounded your guilt.

August 4th 2018

Dear Seungcheol,

Happy 24th Birthday! It's actually shocking to me to think that we're this old already, but I think mid-20s is a label that suits you well these days. Jokes aside, I hope you have a really lovely day doing whatever it is you have planned. I'll assume you're off bungee jumping with Jeonghan or on an all-inclusive golfing retreat until you tell me otherwise. In all cases, I hope that you are surrounded by friends and family to remind you how special you are.

Also, congratulations on your new job! I can't believe you didn't tell me that you were interviewing for it, but I suppose you didn't want to jinx anything by putting it into writing. I always thought that coaching would suit you - you could scare me into coming to practice any day! You should be really proud of yourself; I know that I am.

You'll never guess who got in contact with me this week! All out of nowhere, I got a message from Heiran of all people inviting me to her and Hyunki's wedding! I guess I was really wrong about that one... For their sake, I hope that their relationship is a bit better than it was in school. I was very surprised to be invited seeing as we haven't spoken in years, but I suppose it'll be nice to see everyone from school again. Perhaps I should tell Daejung that he can't come and you can be my plus one instead - I think you know the couple better than he does!

Another one of my friends just gave birth to a baby boy. All of this marrying and birth-giving is really screwing with my head. As far as I was aware, that's a thing that proper adults do and we're nowhere close to that yet. Even if I know that 24 is a very common age to be doing that stuff, it's still more than my brain can process. Once again, I am left behind as everyone else moves on to the next stage of life. I'm grateful, at least, that Daejung is pretty relaxed about all of that stuff. Hoping we can have a few more years before we start thinking about any of it - I still have so much travelling to do, things to see, and meals to eat before I flush all of my money down the toilet.

Jiwoo got really excited this week because she thought she saw Lee Byunghun walking past her work, so that made me feel a bit better about my life priorities.

Yours truly,

(Y/n)

P.S. I'm spending extra money to make sure this gets to you on time, so if it doesn't you cannot blame me.

P.P.S. My new address is - XXX

That year you and Daejung had finally moved in together. The apartment was small and in a less-than-nice area, but you'd been ecstatic at the chance to live with the man you loved. It had been a rough year before that - Daejung had missed out on a job offer for his dream role and you weren't able to go abroad on an excavation because he didn't want you to leave for months just as you were moving in together - but you'd seen the new apartment as symbolic of the new beginning you two would get together.

You'd also thought a lot about meeting up with Seungcheol that year. Looking back, it was crazy that you never did. Both of you expressed a will to do so, but something had always prevented you from actually doing it. You were completing your postgraduate degree part-time and working a service job that was supporting both you and Daejung at the start of the year, moving in together in the middle of the year, and Seungcheol had gotten busy with his new job in the latter half of the year. Even though you had never met up before, that you weren't able to that year was the first time it felt like a loss.

December 12th 2019

Dear (Y/n),

I've been thinking about you a lot recently. Writing to you has been the highlight of my month for a while now, and I'm so proud of you for everything you've achieved. It's amazing that you're already being asked to go on your first excursion as a proper expert, and I hope that Daejung comes around to the idea of you being away for so long. I'm sure that I'll miss your letters so I can imagine he's feeling much worse about it - but that shouldn't stop you from going. You might find an ancient vase and accidently release a curse upon the world, or discover a new dinosaur! Even if you go and are just digging up dirt with no results, I'll still be impressed.

One of the kids I mentor asked me if I knew what Starcraft was yesterday, and at that moment I really felt my age. I think it's led to some level of introspection I usually avoid, but one thing that has become clear to me is that I'm very grateful for this friendship. I hope that one day soon you can perhaps travel to Daegu and visit, or I can come see you in Seoul. Or perhaps it will take away the great fun of having a pen pal if we meet - you may be expecting someone completely opposite from me and seeing me may ruin the magic?

But the main reason I've been thinking about you is because I finally finished Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. You were very correct in your recommendation - I can't believe it took me so long to read it! Summary of thoughts: I'm raging and also apologising to my mother and grandmother every time I see them. You have to send me another recommendation now that I'm finished - maybe some sort of mystery or thriller if you know any?

Yours,

Seungcheol

P.S. I suppose I should send you a whip and brown fedora and then you can officially say you're Indiana Jones. 

January 7th 2021

Dear Seungcheol,

I'm glad you had fun on your trip! The picture you sent of the mountains was absolutely gorgeous and was a hilarious reminder that I have no idea what you look like. I keep saying I want to go to Japan but can hardly find the time, but after seeing the picture I really must go now.

I have some big news.

Daejung proposed and we're getting married!! 

I know it's a bit out of the blue - I was surprised too. He's been putting off any mention of marriage for the last few months so I assumed he just wasn't interested but I guess that was all a cover to stop me from suspecting the proposal. It happened a few days after I got back from Vienna. It was really sweet - he threw this big party with all of our close friends and family to celebrate the end of my project and proposed at the end of the night. I was pretty shocked which I suppose was the point, but I'm really just excited that we're taking that step together.

My main purpose for writing is that I wanted to invite you to the wedding. It's a big step, but it wouldn't feel right to get married without one of my oldest friends there. If you decide you don't want to and you want to keep our friendship strictly on paper then I'd totally understand. But if you do want to come, we'd love to have you with us. I'll cover any travel and hotel fees if it means I can have you here.

Your continued support via letter means the world to me. 

Yours truly, 

(Y/n)

The wedding. Oh, the wedding.

A few nights before your wedding Daejung had come to the hotel you'd been staying in that week to finalise all of the preparations and observe some old-fashioned pre-wedding rituals your mother insisted on as if you and Daejung hadn't lived together for years before that. He'd given you a marriage gift a bit early because you were supposed to go straight to your honeymoon in Japan on the day of the wedding. Your heart fluttered in excitement as you opened the box, electrified at the surprise of what your future-husband could have gotten you to symbolise your union together. The reality had been, you could now admit, disappointing. The necklace had been pretty, and certainly not cheap. A silver heart set with a gleaming diamond to match the ring that Daejung had picked out for you. You'd smiled, thanking him for the gift and tried to ignore the discontent brewing in your own heart.

The first time you saw Seungcheol was at your wedding reception. Because of his job and the distance, he hadn't been able to make your morning ceremony, but the fact that he even chose to come all that way meant a lot to you.

"Who's the hunk with the green scarf?" One of your bridesmaids, Jiwoo had asked, pointing out a man standing alone by one of the drinks tables. 

For a moment you didn't want to believe that it was him, but who else would be at your wedding that you didn't recognise? Tall and broad with fluffy hair and a handsome-beyond-belief face, Seungcheol had been a picture to witness. All dressed up in a suit, you thought he looked rather like a super spy or a CEO from one of those corny romance books. In any case, you were shocked to your core that that was the man you'd spilt your darkest secrets to for over a decade now.

"Oh, I think that might be Seungcheol," You breathed, voice wavering with uncertainty even though you were now certain it was him.

"Seungcheol - hmm, why does that name sound so familiar?" Your other bridesmaid, Mirae, pondered, her brow crinkled as she tried to identify the name in her memory.

"Oh my god, you invited your pen pal to your wedding?!" Jiwoo exclaimed, spinning on her heel to give you an incredulous look. 

"Of course I did, I've known him for almost as long as I've known you!" You stuttered, your head still trying to play catch-up after the dizzying appearance of said topic of conversation.

"Why didn't you tell me that your pen pal was so hot?" Mirae scoffed, mock fanning her face in a way that made you feel shamefully irritated.

"Surprisingly, he didn't mention it in his letters." You responded, offering her a deadpan look and an eyebrow raise. She shrugged, but you'd known that wouldn't be the end of that conversation.

About 15 minutes later, you'd finally managed to make your way over to Seungcheol's perch. It was hard to decipher if your delay was because of all of the people trying to talk to you at the same time (perks of it being your wedding) or because of the unexplained fear and anxiety that was bubbling inside you at the prospect of finally meeting him face-to-face. As you finally made eye-contact, and he'd flashed his teeth at you in an infectious grin, you'd felt all of that melt away from you.

"Hi," You greeted, not able to wipe your own smile from your face.

"Hi," He responded, a peace settling between the two of you. "You look really beautiful."

Your face was all ablush and you felt a sense of dread at what would happen if you started like this. Starting down at your dress, you were unable to look back up at him.

"Thank you, I had it specially made," You smiled, your eyes gleaming as he chuckled at your joke. "I really appreciate you coming all this way, it means so much to me that you're here. Please let me know if there's anything you need - have you eaten yet? I can get you some-"

"It's okay, I'm feeling great." His hand reached out to still your own, which you hadn't realised was nervously picking at at skin around your nails.

"I can't believe that this is how we're first meeting," You breathed, a sense of shyness overwhelming you at the feeling of his skin against yours.

"If you ask me, we've definitely met before. Just not physically." His words had your head spinning so much that you were struggling to remember that you were both at your wedding.

"Poetic," You agreed, trying to present at least outwardly calmer than you felt inside. 

"Oh! Before I forget, I got you this." Seungcheol extended a hand out with a small, wrapped box in his palm. "It wasn't on the registry, and really it's only for you so I thought I should give it to you personally instead of putting it on the gifts table."

"That's really generous of you, you didn't have to." You offered him a shy smile, taking the gift from him. The neatly wrapped box had been laced shut with a pretty blue ribbon, and you remember the thumping of your heart in your chest as you undid it. A small gasp involuntarily left your mouth, your hand moving to cover it in shock. 

"Important backstory - I found it a few years after you told me you were looking for it. I wanted to just send it to you then, but I thought that I should keep it for when we met. I never thought that it would take so long to do so, but I hung on to it just in case."

A small chunk of dark meteorite sat in the box in your hand. Looking up and down between Seungcheol and the rock, you felt your eyes well up with tears that you had to force back down to not ruin your wedding makeup.

"Oh wow," Your voice cracked, "Seungcheol, this is seriously so sweet. I'm shocked that you kept this for me."

You felt unable to tell him all of your emotions, hoping that the gratitude in your eyes was enough to express them all to him. The sweet, adoring expression on his face told you that he understood without you needing to say any more.

That, unfortunately, had been the highlight of your wedding.

Not an hour later, it had all gone to shit, starting with a well-intentioned comment from your best friend.

"The wedding is so gorgeous (Y/n), I'll have to take notes for my own." Jiwoo gushed, pointing at all the flowers that had now been revealed as people moved into the outside area of the venue.

"I know, Daejung did a really good job picking out this place." 

"I'm so happy for you two, especially after the whole Vienna situation."

A bolt of alarm rang through your bones as you a struck still by the comment. You didn't miss the panicked look Mirae sent Jiwoo, who looked equally as confused as you felt.

"What-" You tried to compose yourself amongst the rushes of fear that were threatening to render you completely useful. "What do you mean the Vienna situation?"

Jiwoo was now floundering, looking between you and Mirae with a gaping mouth.

"I just meant - I mean, nevermind - I thought... I thought you knew?" The last whispered part had your heart sinking to the bottom of your chest. Mirae was refusing to meet your gaze, and that was telling you all you needed to know.

"Did something happen when I was away?" You demanded, your voice slick with emotion.

"(Y/n)..." Mirae started, but the withering look you gave her immediately stopped her placating.

Four words later and your entire life had exploded. He cheated on you. Whilst you were away, no less. And then, as if it would magically make everything better, proposed instead of telling you.

The look on your then-husband's face when you stormed up to him demanding to know the truth was enough to convince you of the reality of your friend's words. You could now admit, amidst all of the hurt, anger and disgust you felt towards Daejung at that moment, your overriding emotion was utter panic at the thought of having to tell all of your guests that the wedding was to be stopped and annulled. A trivial emotion amongst the personal grief you were experiencing, but undoubtedly the cause of your greatest distress at the moment.

You didn't see Seungcheol as or after it all happened. Any pretence of calm instantly slipped the moment you began speaking to your family and friends - a speech which ended with you in floods of tears being escorted away from the hosts of shocked guests. It was only hours later that you realised that you hadn't said goodbye and, worse, that you'd invited him all of this way just to witness the shitshow that was your failed marriage. Too ashamed to burden him further, you chose not to write to him for months afterwards He gave you space too, and you weren't sure if you felt grateful for it or utterly alarmed that he may just never want to speak to you again.

May 6th 2021

Dear Seungcheol,

I'm deeply sorry for my complete silence, although I suppose I do not need to explain to you the reason for it. My hand has been itching to pick up my pen and write to you every month that goes by, but only now have I overcome my own shame and disgrace to do so. First of all, I have to sincerely apologise for making you waste your time coming to such an awful event. I can only hope that you managed to get a slice of cake before it all fell apart so that I could at least offer you the condolence of a delicious snack. I also must apologise for completely abandoning you during your trip to the city. I was really looking forward to showing you my favourite spots, and I let my own misery get in the way of being a good host.

I hope you are well. As I haven't heard from you in a little while, I don't know what's going on with you so I have little to comment on. But, at the very least, I wish for your good health and general happiness. If you are worried about me, you don't need to be. I have taken the last few months to put my life back together, and I feel like I'm making better progress these days - hence the letter writing. I'm thinking of getting a dog for companionship since I have vehemently sworn off men for the foreseeable future.

I also wanted you to know that I treasure your gift. As it turns out, meeting you and getting a meteorite was the best part of that night, if you'll believe it. I have it kept in a special box on my desk just to make sure that it's safe and that I'll never lose it. I wish I could have given you something in return. If we end up meeting again I'll have to start planning now to make sure my gift is just as good as yours was. Speaking of, you are welcome to come and stay with me any time you want, and we can rain-check that city tour. Alternatively, if you want to ignore this letter and never speak to me again, I'd also understand.

Yours truly,

(Y/n) 2021

May 19th 2021

Dear (Y/n),

I'm so glad to have heard from you, and that you are doing okay. As much as I appreciate all of your apologies, none of them are necessary. If anything, I feel that I should be apologising to you for leaving you in the dark for just as long as you left me - you had a much better excuse too. Although I didn't want to overwhelm you with letters after such awful news, I realise now that leaving it so long was not the right course of action.

I think getting a dog is a fantastic idea. Company is something you'll never lack with a dog around, and I can agree that dogs are much better companions than men.

As for me, I am doing well too. It's mostly just been a cycle of work and sleep, so I haven't got much to report, but I'm hoping for a more eventful summer. Visiting the city would be a wonderful way to achieve this, so perhaps closer to the time I'll write again to arrange coming to stay with you. I would love to see you again soon. My only other news that I know you'd be interested in is that Jeonghan has seemingly met someone. He's keeping all of the details close to the chest, so I'll have to update you in the next letter when I know more, but it's an exciting revelation. He seems very happy, which is all I can hope for.

When I told you that I wouldn't stop writing to you until I could no longer hold a pen in my hand, I meant it. I hope that you will never again think that I wouldn't want to speak to you -it's the highlight of my day.

Yours,

Seungcheol

P.S. I'm sure you don't want to talk about the wedding, but just so you know - he was a fucking fool to let you go.

You remember the relief you'd felt at getting that letter. The uncertainty of whether or not Seungcheol still wanted to talk to you was enough to keep you on edge for the entire 13 days that it took for you to get his response. But, as always, your friend was reliably there for you.

The time you'd taken over those last new months, and the few months afterwards had been tumultuous, but cleansing. In your post-marriage clarity, you'd realised all of the opportunities you'd missed because of Daejung. Deciding that you wouldn't let him take anything else from you, you'd arranged to go on a long excursion you'd waved off for wedding planning when you'd first heard about it. Learning about the project from one of your old professors who'd transferred to Cairo University, you were offered a position on the ongoing expedition in Saqqara. Although Egyptology was not your speciality, your master's dissertation on the mummified scarab beetles found at Saqqara in 2018 and your tutor's reference got you onto a low-level position on the expedition.

Six months in Egypt had been exactly what you needed to move on from Daejung. At that time, your relationship with your closest friends was also on the rocks, and it was really only Seungcheol and your family that you missed during your time abroad.

December 23rd 2021

Dear Seungcheol,

I've finally got some time off over the holiday break, and I'm ready to give you the download of everything that's happening here in Saqqara! But, first, I'm going to have to beg you for the details of your double date with Jeonghan and Jooyeon. How was it!? Was Jooyeon's friend nice? Were there sparks? How many times did Jeonghan bring up embarrassing stories about you as a kid?

I hope it went well - you deserve all of the happiness in the world.

Now, onto the important stuff!

I'm not sure if you saw on the news, but we've made some pretty huge finds since I got here, Obviously, I can't give myself all the credit, but just being part of the team that made it happen is pretty incredible. We've found multiple tombs of dignitaries from the reign of Ramses II. I'm doing a bit of research on one of the tombs, belonging to a military leader called Hor Mohib, but I have to keep taking breaks every 20 minutes to pinch my arm and remind myself that this is reality.

My Arabic has gotten significantly better now - I was rather rusty when I first got here. I'm able to have reasonably complex conversations with the Egyptian members of the team and the locals helping out, and it's pretty cool for my nerd brain to be surrounded by a group of people equally as excited to be digging up ornamental graves as I am.

I'm really glad I came. It's hard to admit, even to you, but my life really fell apart after the wedding. Honestly, I didn't even know if I wanted to keep working in archaeology or if I wanted to jet off to Iceland and buy a farm. And the worst bit is that it's been so lonely since. Losing Daejung was one thing, but I haven't spoken to Jiwoo or Mirae since. I can't bear to look at them knowing that they hid that secret from me for so long. Maybe one day I'll be able to forgive them, but it certainly won't be now. Your letters have been my only sanctuary of human connection in these past few months, and that's something I'll have to add to my list of neverending gratitude I hold for you.

I realize now that I haven’t been very good at expressing how much your friendship means to me, how it's been my lifeline in this mess. Your letters are the only constant, the only thing that feels like home even when I am surrounded by ancient wonders and new colleagues.

And so, I have a confession. I want to see you again. I want to tell you all of this in person. I can't say what will come of it, but I know that after all of these years, after all the letters and confessions and secrets shared, we owe it to ourselves to meet in a way that isn't rushed or overshadowed by anything else.

Maybe we could meet halfway between Seoul and Daegu, or I could take the train down to visit you? I need to see you again, not as a guest at my ruined wedding, but as Seungcheol, the one person who’s known me at my best and worst, and still chooses to write back.

Let me know what you think.

Yours truly, 

(Y/n)

P.S. I've included a small rock I found on the dig - nothing special but it reminded me of our old conversations. I hope it makes you smile.

P.P.S. Please don't feel pressured to say yes, but know that I would really like to see you again.

You can't quite recall what possessed you to write such a bold letter. Perhaps it had been the desert sun, the thrill of discovering something new in something old at Saqqara, or simply your immense loneliness.

Days had turned into weeks as you anxiously waited for a response, checking your makeshift mailbox daily. Then one morning, there it was—a simple white envelope with Seungcheol’s familiar sloping handwriting.

January 17th 2022

My Dear (Y/n),

I've thought about meeting you countless times since our first encounter. After reading your words, I realise that I've been waiting for this just as much as you have. How's this - I'll take the first train up to Seoul when you're back and we can spend the day together. No distractions, no interruptions - just you and me, finally getting to know each other beyond the pages of our letters.

I'm looking forward to me, more than I can express. Until I see you again, take care, and know that I'm counting down the days.

All yours,

Seungcheol

P.S. the best bit about the date was spending time with Jeonghan. No more needs to be said.

You stare down at the letter, your heart pacing as fast as it had the first time you'd received it. Beautiful words from a beautiful man with a beautiful soul.

You'd gotten back to Seoul by the end of March 2022, and, as promised, Seungcheol came to visit you that first weekend in April. When he'd stepped off the train in the bustling station at the heart of the city, you were there to greet him. You'd spotted him standing there, taller even than you'd remembered, with that same easy smile that had always leapt off of the page.

The world around you had seemed to blur as you walked toward each other, nerves fluttering in your stomach but quickly dissolving as he pulled you into a gentle, lingering hug. The connection between you, once confined to words on paper, felt more real than ever.

You spent the day wandering through the city, visiting old bookstores, sipping coffee in quiet cafes, and talking as if no time had passed since that fateful wedding reception. Every shared laugh, every story swapped, deepened the bond you'd forged in ink.

June 14th 2022

Seungcheol,

It feels like only yesterday that we were wandering through Seoul together, but at the same time, it feels like a lifetime ago. I keep finding myself replaying that day in my mind - how easy it was to talk to you in person, as if we'd done it a hundred times before. It's strange, isn't it? How someone can feel so familiar, even when they're a whole new experience at the same time.

I've been thinking about our conversation in the bookstore. You said something about how some stories are better left unfinished, that sometimes the best part of a tale is imagining what could be. I can't stop thinking about that - about how some stories do need an ending, and how others are meant to keep going, even if we don’t know where they’ll lead.

There's something I've been meaning to tell you, but I haven't found the right words yet. I guess I'm still figuring it out myself. It's just that being around you feels different to how I expected. There's a comfort, yes, but also something more, something I can't quite define. It's like we're on the edge of something new, and it's exciting and a little terrifying at the same time. I'm not sure if you feel it too, but I hop you do.

Anyway, I don't want to get too ahead of myself as usual. I'm just really glad we've reconnected, and that we've managed to keep in touch after all these years. 

It means more to me than I can say. Let’s make sure our next meeting isn’t too far off—I’m already looking forward to it.

Until then, take care of yourself, and don’t work too hard. I’ll be watching the clock until I see you again.

Yours, 

(Y/n)

That day in April 2022 hadn't been the last time you saw Seungcheol. You'd made that mistake once in the past, and neither of you was willing to do so again. He continued to come to Seoul to see you, and you travelled down to Daegu to meet him and his friends. Your letters ceased for a while over this time due to the frequency you were seeing each other, but for the first time that didn't bother you.

You remember, with teary eyes, the day that you finally confessed your feelings.

It was 25th September 2022, after a whole summer spent together, and the air was tinged with the first hint of autumn's chill. THe leaves were just beginning to turn, painting the streets in warm hues of amber and crimson as you walked side by side in a quiet part in Seoul. The easy laughter and conversation that had marked your friendship over the years felt heavier that day, as it something unspoken was lingering in the crisp air between you.

You had spent countless days together that summer - visiting museums, trying new restaurants, even embarking on a spontaneous week trip to the coast. Each moment with Seunngchaeol had felt like a dream, a slow realisation that your heart was no longer just content with friendship. But with that realization came a fear you hadn't expected. What if this was enough for him? What if risking everything by confessing how you truly felt would unravel the beautiful bond you had spent so many years cultivating?

That evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the park, you found yourselves sitting on a bench overlooking a small pond. The water was still, reflecting the fiery colours of the sky, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. Seungcheol had been quieter than usual that day, his expression pensive as if he, too, was wrestling with unspoken thoughts.

You felt your heart pound in your chest, each beat louder than the last as you tried to summon the courage to speak. The words were caught in your throat, but the fear of losing him if you didn’t say them was stronger. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, you turned to him, your voice trembling as you broke the silence.

"Seungcheol," you began, your hands nervously fidgeting in your lap. He turned to look at you, his eyes soft and attentive, encouraging you to continue. "There’s something I need to tell you… something I’ve been feeling for a while now."

His gaze didn’t waver, but you noticed the slight hitch in his breath, the way his fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the bench. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, everything else fading away as you gathered your thoughts.

"I—" You paused, trying to find the right words, but there were none that seemed adequate to express the depth of your feelings. "I think I’ve fallen in love with you."

The admission hung in the air between you, a fragile confession that you could no longer take back. For a moment, time seemed to stop, the world holding its breath as you waited for his response. You searched his face for any sign of what he might be thinking, every second feeling like an eternity.

Then, without a word, Seungcheol reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped down your cheek. There was a tenderness in his touch, a warmth that radiated through you, calming your racing heart.

"I’ve been waiting to hear those words," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Because I’ve been feeling the same way for a long time too."

His words washed over you, a wave of relief and joy so overwhelming that you felt your breath hitch. You had been so afraid, so uncertain, and now, with his quiet confession, all those fears melted away. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull back if you needed to, but you didn’t. You closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a gentle, tender kiss that felt like a promise—one of many yet to come.

Hearing the doorbell ring down below you, and the sound of your husband's voice calling out to say he'll get it, you rush forward to reach your favourite letter - just one more before you return to reality.

November 3rd 2023

My dearest (Y/n),

I'm so glad you're having such a good time in Rome - I'm rather jealous of all of your sightseeing and pasta-eating. Kkuma and I are holding the fort down at home, although I had to be scolded yesterday for breaking the toaster when I tried to make Kkuma some breakfast. I sent some more suncream over in the mail because I know you've already run out and forgotten to get some more - I'm not sure if this letter will reach you first, but if it does look out for the parcel.

Now, I'll admit, the main purpose of my letter is something a little different than simply catching up, as much as I love those letters too. I thought about doing this once you returned home, but you've already had one man declare his everlasting intentions to you after you returned from an excursion, so I thought it better to avoid rehashing those memories (we'll do this again when you're home, but I thought it might be fun to do it this way).

If you have the suncream box already, then you may have a sneaking suspicion of what I'm about to say.

I've loved you for as long as I've known you. As a twelve-year-old kid, I didn't know that was what it was, but the level of obsession I had with writing to you and receiving your replies was beyond any normal friendship. You were always so fascinatingly cool, out of reach, and genuinely yourself. Being in love with your pen pal isn't always an easy thing - the cold sweats I would wake up to after dreaming about meeting for the first time, the constant updates about a life that I wasn't a part of, the announcement of your engagement to another person. I tried to pretend it wasn't real for a long time, see other people, because of how silly I felt about being in love with someone I'd never met.

And then I saw you standing there, in that beautiful white gown with your hair up and that gorgeous smile on your face. Did you know that my hands were sweating when I gave you that gift? I don't think I've ever told you that before. I became certain then that I was completely screwed. Entirely head over heels.

I'll never be happy that that marriage didn't work out for you - all I've ever wanted is your happiness, be that with me or someone else. But I won't lie and say that nothing has made me happier than the consequences of it.

This past year has been the happiest time I've ever known. Every moment with you is filled with such joy, and every moment without I'm left with a record of memories to remind me of the time we've had together. When I look at you, I don't just see my past, but also my future. I see a lifetime of shared experiences, of laughter, or quiet moments that mean more than words ever could. I see us growing old together, supporting each other, and playing trash hockey on the wooden floor of our kitchen.

You are my best friend, my partner, the love of my life. And I want to spent every day making sure you know just how much you mean to me.

So, that being said, will you (Y/n) (Y/l/n), do me the honour of marrying me?

All yours,

Seungcheol

P.S. Please don't feel pressured to say yes, but know that I would really like it if you did.

You fiddle with the precious ring on your left hand, your fingers lingering over the smooth chunk of dark stone in the centre.

A gentle brush of a hand on your shoulders brings you back to the real world, tears now flaking on your cheeks as you sniffle at the words on the page.

"Are you okay, darling?" Seungcheol asks gently.

"Yes, sorry, I know the guests are here now - I just wanted to look at these," You reply, holding up the letters for your husband to see.

You watch his expression soften, a suggestion of moisture in the corner of his eyes as he looks over the written words.

Swooping down, he places a long, loving kiss on your forehead, letting your bodies rest together in harmony for a moment.

"I can't believe they still make me cry," You huff, letting out a soft laugh. "And I don't even think I can brush it off as hormones."

"Seeing that just looking at them has me tearing up, I don't think I can either." Seungcheol smiles, stroking the back of your hair affectionately.

"They're probably getting antsy downstairs, right?" You say, beginning to pile the letters back up into the box.

Standing up, you lean forward to press all of your passion and adoration onto your husband's lips. You can feel his intensity matching yours, his hands finding the side of your hips to keep you stable.

"They can wait," Seungcheol replies, his forehead leaning softly against your own. "They're not the ones who are pregnant after all."

You laugh, a sound filled with both joy and contentment, feeling the warmth of his love surrounding you. "I suppose you're right," you say, a smile spreading across your face. You take one last glance at the box of letters, a testament to the incredible journey you've both shared—one that began with innocent childhood exchanges and blossomed into a love story more profound than you could have ever imagined.

Hand in hand, you and Seungcheol make your way downstairs to greet your guests, the letters safely tucked away in their satin box. As you step into the room, you know that no matter what the future holds, you'll always have those words, those memories, and most importantly, each other.

[anonymous-dentist]

Despite what Apa Roier says, Pepito knows a great many things about the world.

Like:

The Ocean is big. It's where Pepito and Apa Roier and all the other Pepitos live, but there's still room for SO MANY other Pepitos!!

Pepito's gills don't work right all the time, so Apa Roier and Pepito's other dads all have to swim slowly so they don't lose him. This is called "asthma", and Pepito is probably gonna grow out of it soon!

Water Pepitos live in The Ocean. Sky Pepitos live outside of The Ocean. Pepito hasn't ever seen a Sky Pepito before, but Apa Roier has, and he says that Sky Pepitos are all ugly and they smell bad.

Apa Roier will return Pepito to the bottom of the ocean and get a new Pepito if Pepito isn't a good Pepito.

Pepito knows that last thing very well. He pretends that he doesn't because it makes Apa Roier said every time Pepito mentions being traded in for a new Pepito, but it's true. It has to be! Apa Roier and Apa Mariana both say it, and they're never wrong!

So, when Pepito does the Very Bad Thing, he doesn't wait for Apa Roier to find out. He swims himself to the bottom of the sea, and he curls into a ball, and he pulls his glasses off so he can cry without getting them all gross, and then he cries.

There's blood under Pepito's claws; he can't get it out no matter how hard he scrubs at them with the sand, it won't come out and that just shows how evil Pepito is, because Pepito is a bad Pepito and now Pepito may as well just die. Apa Roier will get a new Pepito, and they'll be much happier together because that Pepito won't be a monster like Pepito is.

The bottom of the ocean is silent, because the only people who live there are lost little mermaids (like how Pepito and Sunny and Empi all used to be) and bad people. Bad Pepitos, just like Pepito is now.

The worst of the bunch is the Sea Witch, known for his eight long scary tentacles and his glowing white eyes and his evil magic. Apa Roier says that the Sea Witch eats lost little Pepitos, and Pepito believes him, because Apa Roier is always right.

Pepito sniffles and rolls onto his back, staring blindly up at the sun rippling above. It's blurry, and its light barely reaches the bottom of the ocean, but it's pretty. It looks... warm. And Pepito is very, very cold.

Normally when the water is a bit too cold, one of Pepito's dads or Ama Rivers will take Pepito into their arms and hold him real tight until he's warmed up. He always treats it like a hug even if Apa Roier doesn't usually hug back, but that's fine because all the others hug back.

("He's a good boy," Apa Roier says. He glares over Pepito's shoulder at Luzu. "Not a killer. Can you get that through your skull, hmm?")

Pepito's lip wobbles and he covers his eyes with his hands before he gets any bright ideas. He doesn't deserve bright ideas, he's a villain. He doesn't deserve the sun, he doesn't deserve to be a son. He's no better than a... than a... than a pirate!!

Pirates are evil, Apa Roier says so. He met a pirate once when he visited the Sky, and he says that he never wants to see a pirate again. They stink and their teeth are rotten and their nails are blunt and they don't even have tails. All they do is kill and steal and fight and they're horrible- villains!

Maybe that's where Pepito belongs, with the pirates, not in The Ocean. He deserves to have stinky breath and bad teeth and whatever the heck "legs" are (Pepito doesn't know, but Apa Quackity always starts laughing when he describes them, so they have to be stupid.)

The Ocean is where all the Good Pepitos live. Pepito isn't a Good Pepito anymore, so he needs to leave.

There's only one person who can make Pepito into a Sky Pepito, and he lives at the bottom of the ocean.

Pepito whimpers at the thought, but he quickly wipes his eyes and sets his jaw into a firm, determined expression. He slips his glasses back on, and he pushes off of the ocean floor and goes in search of the Sea Witch.

It's what he deserves.

-

The Sea Witch isn't too happy to see Pepito, but he lets Pepito into his house and sits Pepito down with a plate of fish on his couch, and he listens.

With a frown on his scary face, the Sea Witch asks, "Okay, but what did you actually do?"

Pepito's eyes start watering at the thought, but he answers anyway, because he has to if he wants the Sea Witch to help him.

"I... I did a Very Bad Thing," he whispers, curling in on himself. He wipes at his eyes and looks away to the side. "If I don't become a pirate, then I'll have to go to jail down here, and I don't wanna go to jail, Mister The Sea Witch. Pepitos aren't meant for jail."

"Pepitos aren't meant to be pirates, either. You're a good kid! What happened?"

Pepito just shakes his head in response. He's crying again, but that's fine. Apa Roier always cries, and nobody ever notices, so the Sea Witch probably hasn't noticed Pepito's tears. Maybe he's blind? He doesn't have any eye holes in his eyes (what are they called, pupils?)

There's quiet, but eventually the Sea Witch lets out a long sigh and nods.

"Fine," he says. "But-" (He cuts Pepito off as Pepito snaps his head up and starts thanking him.) "-I get to pick the pirate crew you go with. I know a bunch of pirates, I'll find a super evil one for you to go with."

That sounds... scary. But Pepito has to be a Brave Pepito. If he says no, then the Sea Witch might eat him, and Pepito doesn't wanna die. Pepito just wants to live in misery agonizing over his mistake for the rest of his unholy, evil life. That's all.

So Pepito nods and reaches out to hug the Sea Witch (it's how Pepito thanks his parents at home, and they like it well enough.)

The Sea Witch hums and hugs Pepito back. "There, there. It'll all be fine, Pepito. This big, scary pirate is going to take good care of you, I promise."

And that sounds scary, but it's fine! Pepito is brave!!

A moment passes, and then the Sea Witch pulls out of the hug and leaves to go get his spell ingredients.

Pepito sits on the couch, and he closes his eyes, and he imagines feeling the sun for the first time in his life, and he pretends that he doesn't already have a big hole in his heart from leaving his parents.

(But, really, they were going to leave him if he didn't leave them. So it's fine.)

-

(Meanwhile, Roier gets home from visiting Bobby's grave to find an empty house. He, of course, panics. Mariana and Quackity are both on vacation, and Rivers is across the reef sparring with Fit, and gods only know where Carre is, and Pepito literally doesn't go anywhere without one of his parents so. So.

Roier's halfway through searching the house when the entire reef shakes. He dashes to a window and looks out just in time to watch a huge column of light erupt from the drop-off point to the bottom of the sea.

He swears and grabs his bag and rushes out the door, not bothering to close it behind him.

Fucking BadBoy...!)

-

The sun is warm. Pepito thinks he loves it, and he thinks it loves him back with how much sunlight is on him as he and the Sea Witch walk through the Sky Pepito town.

It's a shame he can't say as much. His throat hurts, but it isn't from asthma this time. It's from magic.

"Remember, Pepito, you can't talk when you're on land," the Sea Witch reminds him. "I got you legs and lungs, but you had to give me something in return."

A pause.

"If your dad asks, it was your idea. Not mine. I had nothing to do with this."

Pepito nods, duh.

The Sky Pepito Town is huge, though! So many Pepitos, all wearing different outfits and with legs.

Pepito looks down at his own legs thoughtfully. He doesn't know what to think of them quite yet. They look goofy, but he almost likes them better than he likes his tail.

...Liked his tail. Because he can never go in The Ocean again. If he does, then the magic will run out, and he'll have to go home and watch his parents all interact with the new Pepito they'll have gotten while he was away.

But the buildings in the Sky are so tall! They're taller than even Apa Mariana, and he's HUGE!! And all the Sky Pepitos are tall, too! Taller than Pepito, anyway...

Maybe Pepito would be taller if he got shoes. The Sea Witch had managed to magic up some clothes for him before they got into town, but apparently shoes are hard.

Pepito wiggles his toes as he walks. He smiles. Now these? Really silly.

Pepito walks obediently beside the Sea Witch as the Sea Witch leads him through the town's winding streets towards the docks, which is where the pirates live. Supposedly.

"Now, remember, this guy is super evil," the Sea Witch warns him. "So you need to watch out."

Pepito nods, though he only halfway listens as the Sea Witch continues talking about this super scary pirate captain they're going to. Because, really, how much worse can the pirate captain be than Pepito? It's not like he did the Very Bad Thing.

Pepito isn't paying attention, so he doesn't notice the enormous ship in front of him until he's being led up to a bridge leading up to its... roof?

(What are the parts of a boat, again?)

"Cellbit!" the Sea Witch calls, one hand cupped around his mouth. "I have a present for you!"

Pepito winces at the volume, but he doesn't cover his ears. That would be rude, and he needs to make a good first impression if he wants to show how evil he is to the captain.

Pepito watches the ship's roof until he sees a sign of movement. And then... there he is. The pirate captain, the evil one. Captain Celbi.

According to the Sea Witch, Captain Celbi is the most wanted pirate on the seven seas. The Sea Witch says that Captain Celbi eats people, but he didn't say that Captain Celbi murders them, so maybe he isn't that evil after all. Pepito's probably worse than he is.

Captain Celbi looks small when he's on the roof, but he gets bigger and bigger as he walks down the bridge, and then he's huge when he's standing in front of Pepito with his hands on his hips.

He has a sword, is the first thing that Pepito notices. Second is the scar stretching across his face from his left eyebrow down to the right side of his chin. His hair is long, tied back and hidden under a bit, three-pointed hat; but where are his ears? His eyes are so blue that they remind Pepito of The Ocean.

He looks down at Pepito with his mouth twisted into a worried line.

Pepito tries to look intimidating. He puffs his chest out and stands up tall and furrows his eyebrows the way Ama Rivers does before one of her fights.

Captain Celbi looks to the Sea Witch with a couple of rapid, confused blinks.

"Bad," he says, "what the fudge is this?"

Pepito can't introduce himself, so he just waves. Evilly.

The Sea Witch answers for him, how nice!

"This is Pepito," he says, putting a hand on the top of Pepito's head. "He said that he wants to become a pirate."

Pepito nods.

Captain Celbi blinks again before looking back down at Pepito.

Slowly, the captain crouches in front of him, hands on his knees to brace himself.

"You really want to be a pirate?" he asks.

Pepito nods again, firmly. Evilly. He's evil, just like Captain Celbi is.

"It's very dangerous," the captain continues. "Can you handle that?"

Pepito nods a third time. He squeezes his mouth into a determined line. He's got this.

The captain stares at him, and then he stands and grabs the Sea Witch by the arm and says, "Bad, can we talk?"

The Sea Witch doesn't get a chance to argue before getting dragged away and into the crowd.

Pepito watches them go. There's... a lot of people.

A lot of people.

Who knew there were so many Sky Pepitos!?

Pepito steps backwards until his back is against a tall barrel. He looks down at his hands and immediately tears his eyes away from them because there's still blood under his nails even now that his claws have been dulled into weird beige flat things.

Suddenly, and for whatever reason, Pepito misses Apa Roier. He's good with people. He'd be friends with the entire town by now, because he's a good person. Pepito isn't, though. His only friends are going to be the pirates on Captain Celbit's boat.

Yay.

Eventually, Captain Celbi and the Sea Witch come back.

Captain Celbi looks... less confused, but he still looks a little puzzled. He looks at Pepito like he's the puzzle, which is silly. Pepito's Pepito! Nothing crazy about him.

The Sea Witch, though, looks pleased. He bends down and ruffles Pepito's hair briefly before standing and cracking his back with a wince.

"Welp, I'll be on my way. Pepito," he says, looking Pepito in the eye, "take care of Cellbit for me. He might be a super evil pirate, but he can be a bit silly sometimes."

"Hey!" Captain Celbi protests, lightly smacking the Sea Witch's arm. "Fuck you, man!"

"Language!" the Sea Witch snaps.

Pepito giggles, surprising both himself and the Sea Witch. Huh, guess the magic only took away his voice, not his noise.

Captain Celbi's mouth twitches. He blinks slowly, crouching again and extending a hand.

"Pepito, right?" he softly asks.

At Pepito's nod, Captain Celbi continues, louder, "After you shake my hand, you'll officially be part of my crew. There's no going back, okay?"

Briefly, Pepito considers going back home. He never said goodbye; his parents would've said goodbye before abandoning him for a new Pepito, at least.

But he bites his tongue and takes Captain Celbi's hand, anyway. His hand only manages to hold four of Captain Celbi's fingers, but that's fine. Pepito will be a big Pepito soon.

Captain Celbi nods, and he stands.

He looks at the Sea Witch and says, "Tell Foolish I say hi, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." The Sea Witch nods. He glances down at Pepito. "Be careful, okay?"

"Please," Captain Celbi scoffs. "I'm always careful."

The Sea Witch rolls his eyes, and then Pepito blinks his eyes, and then the Sea Witch is gone.

"What a creepy guy," Captain Celbi comments.

He looks down at Pepito and smiles- he has fangs, what!? So cool...

"Come on, Pepito, we should get on board before my crew leaves us behind."

Pepito's eyes widen in panic, and he runs off for the bridge up to the ship's roof, accidentally pulling Captain Celbi behind him because maybe Pepito forgot to let go of his hand. Maybe.

But Captain Celbi doesn't say a thing. He doesn't pull his hand away, either. (He has to be soooo scared of Pepito!)

Pepito gets to the ship's roof and gasps, eyes flicking from the ship's big stick to the big wheel to the group of people watching Pepito and Captain Celbi back to the big stick.

There's another kid in the group of people, Pepito notices. He's glaring, arms crossed.

Pepito shrinks back and steps behind Captain Celbi; he may be evil, but this other kid seems scary. Cool, but scary.

"Everyone, meet Pepito," the captain announces. He's still holding Pepito's hand despite the stares, wow, he's tough! "Bad brought him up from underwater so he can learn how to be a pirate."

A woman in the group raises a hand. "Are we pirates now?"

Captain Celbi shrugs. "I guess. Can't be that hard, can it?"

What?

Pepito snaps his head up to stare at the captain in shock. What?

But...

Oh! They're lying. Just like Apa Roier said pirates do, they're all scumbags and liars!

That makes much more sense.

Pepito pokes his head out from behind Captain Celbi and offers the most evil smile he can muster. He even waves, evilly; to his confusion, most of the other pirates smile back. Except the kid, who huffs and looks away moodily.

(Captain Celbi is the captain, but this kid must be the boss. Hmm...)

"Baghera, can you help Pepito find a bunk downstairs?" Captain Celbi orders. "I need to finish taking inventory with Pac before we can get going."

The woman who had spoken up earlier grins and salutes, stepping forward and taking Pepito by the hand.

"Come on, Pepito," she says. "You can sleep near me. Unlike some people, I don't snore."

The captain starts shouting in protest, but Baghera just giggles and skips away with Pepito by her side.

As they head down into the bowels of the ship, Pepito takes one last look up at the sun. He waves goodbye to it.

(He just wishes that he got to say goodbye to Apa Roier...)

-

(Meanwhile, Bad hums as he tends to his plants in his garden. He's just returned from dropping Pepito off with Cellbit, and he's exhausted.

He doesn't look up as a shadow falls over him.

"What the fudge did you do to my Pepito?" Roier demands.

He levels his sword at Bad's Adam's apple; its point digs in slightly, drawing sickly green blood.

Bad calmly pulls his neck backwards.

"Look up," is all Bad says in response.

And that's when the shadow of Cellbit's ship passes over them. They'll have been sailing for, what, an hour now? Just long enough for Pepito to have gotten settled in. (Hopefully, Richarlyson hasn't gotten jealous yet...)

"Fuck," Roier swears. He drops his sword into the sand and runs his fingers through his hair, pacing through the water in frustration.

In a flash, he turns back to Bad and demands, "Me, too. Take me up, too."

Bad hums. "I don't know, you'll have to give something up."

"Yes, yes, I know, just- take this."

Roier points to his bottom-most pair of eyes. (Honestly, Bad hasn't figured out what the heck kind of fish he is.) Without those, he'll be down to two eyes, and he'll basically be blind.

Eh, it'll work.

"Oh, fine," Bad sighs. He gives Roier a look. "But we'll have to wait until they make port again. I can't just stick you up there like this, it'll scare him."

Roier frowns. "What?"

That settles Bad's suspicions, then. Roier really doesn't know what Pepito did, huh.

Well. He's going to find out.

Bad just hopes Roier doesn't scare the poor kid when he gets to the surface and realizes that Pepito's new best friend is Cellbit of all people. All those feelings, ew.)

-_-_-_-

A/N:

Hey guys!! PLEASE reblog this! And leave an ask or a comment or a tag or a whatever telling me your thoughts and questions! Let me know if you want more, because there is more!

[vampiricgf]

Home Is Where the Heart Is

stepdad leon kennedy x stepdaughter reader

wc: 2k+

warnings: stepcest, masturbation, fingering, intoxication, creampie, hickies, use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, good girl), reader is in their twenties but he's older

I need him so bad somebody has to step up and shoot me with a tranquilizer dart or something before I become completely delusional

You sigh as the door clicks behind you, the final death kneel of yet another failed, miserable date. The sound of low, canned tv voices drifts from the living room and you feel yourself deflate even further, not wanting to have to go through the motions of telling your stepfather about yet another boring, unfulfilling date. 

Maybe I should just throw my phone in a fucking river and become a crazy hermit-

“Hey, you just get in from the date?” His voice reaches you from around the corner in the foyer and there's no avoiding it. Time to tell him yet again that his step child has basically zero prospects and is doomed to be living here until she’s an ancient crone. Surely he’ll be thrilled about the idea of having to support you forever. 

“Yeah, it was fine.” You shrug, leaning against the wooden open frame of the archway as he meets your gaze and your bag drops from your loose grasp to rest against the wood flooring. He's unfocused, a little disheveled. 

Looks like we’ve both had shit nights if hes already drinking. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he gives you a sympathetic expression, “but plenty of fish in the sea, right?” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” You sigh, turning to make way for the stairs, for the refuge of your bedroom and a few solid hours of unconsciousness where you could pretend you weren’t an embarrassing, lonely burden. “Good night, dad.” 

“Night hon,” you hear from behind you as you ascend to the second floor, debating on if you should wash your face or if you could get away with skipping it for at least tonight. 

Plenty of fish in the sea, yeah easy for him to say. Even if it had always felt weird you knew your stepfather was attractive, good looking and a little mysterious with the whole government agent thing. Not even you really knew the specifics, weren’t sure if even your own mother had known at all before her passing. The sudden thought of her makes your throat tighten up and you decide that yes, you can skip the stupid skincare tonight because sometimes you just have to lay in bed miserable for a bit. 

Maybe masturbating will help, at the very least it’ll get you closer to being exhausted enough to pass out and if Leon is downstairs you don’t have to be as paranoid about noise like you are most nights. 

As you flop against the plush surface of your bed once the door shuts behind you your hand fumbles blindly at the nightstand on your right, searching for the drawer handle. With a huff you prop up on your elbow, yanking it open to reveal the sight of a sleek, glass dildo. It had been a treat purchase, something to reliably cheer you up on nights like this, of which there had been more than you cared to admit to yourself. The only thing you were really sad about, as you peeled off your shirt and slid down your jeans, was that you wasted a nice matching underwear set on no one. 

Eyes closed you let your mind drift as your hands run over your own skin, touching and teasing in just the way you enjoy, already biting your lip at the prospect of wearing yourself out on the little glass toy. But as your fingers brush over the dampness of your underwear, legs spread, you can’t help the way your mind drifts back to him. Your stepfather, all dirty blonde hair and eyes like the tides. It wasn’t fair. If you weren’t related by marriage he would be the type you’d be salivating over, desperate to drag into bed just to let him-

You failed to hear his footsteps on the stairs, failed to hear the doorknob being gripped and the heavy wood being swung open until it was too late. With a strangled cry you scramble back, hands pressed uselessly to your heaving chest, legs squeezed together and eyes wild as you stare at him in the doorway, holding your bag you’d left sitting in the open archway. 

“Oh my god dad-”

“I’m sorry, sorry, you left this and I, I figured you’d want it.” his voice trails weakly, lame, as his eyes look everywhere but at you and your skin burns with embarrassment and something else that makes your ribs feel like they’re being crushed. The secret shame of the fact that you’d been about to finger yourself to the thought of him and now here he is, in the flesh.

“Thanks but can you get out, like right now?” 

Despite your attempt at firmness the words fall flat somehow, betrayed by your still present desire and you can feel it. Feel the way his eyes now stick to you like your body is made of gummy taffy and he’s helplessly caught in the trap of it. The silence extends, growing heavy on the strange tension now gathering in the air like storm clouds. Your nerves are alight in a way that you can only describe as primal, high strung and waiting for some sign, some movement to indicate where this is going because suddenly you’re aware that you’re not the only one in control of it. 

“You’re too good for any of those guys anyway,” he speaks like a man deprived of water for hours, slightly hoarse and you can’t help the little shiver that quakes down your spine at the compliment. 

“Thanks, but… I didn’t mean for you to, you know, see.” 

“I’m sorry,” and hes stepping across the threshold and you know, you know this is descending into dangerous territory. The sort of thing you can’t come back from once it’s started. You feel your lip wobble, feel the familiar sting of tears about to gather in your waterline though from the humiliation or not is unclear. What is clear is that your stepfather at least has a semi at the moment, the slight bulge in his pants stroking your ego. “I could help you, if you want?”

You can hear it, naked desperation, and not for the first time you feel a pang of sympathy for him. You know it’s been hard, lonely, after all this time and not just for you and it’s like your body is suddenly attached to marionette strings, shyly nodding your head and uncurling from yourself. It’s strange, being so conscious now of the underwear you have on and the fact that you’d used a little of that sparkling dust stuff that makes skin look just an extra bit more tempting when it’s on display. 

You wonder if he’s ever thought of you before now, in this way. 

He lifts one knee, moving slowly, pressing down on the mattress next to your trembling legs, and his eyes don’t stop wandering your face, searching for any sign you’ve changed your mind before completely kneeling between your legs that have practically spread themselves. As one of his palms meets the blazing flesh of your thigh you can’t help the gasp that escape you, the way you reflexively move your arms to hug yourself, hide yourself again. 

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he says it like he’s soothing an anxiety ridden animal but it helps, the familiar affection of his voice immediately making your muscles relax minisculely. “It’s just you and me.”

And those words, just you and me, speak to the now overblown need pooling in your belly and you can’t help the way you unfurl for him, like some night blooming flower with all of it’s most tender parts exposed. The air feels balmy and thick against your skin as his hands, both now grasping your legs, run up and down your thighs in a relaxing rhythm. 

You watch as his eyes flick down to your underwear, you can feel how damp they are and you bite your lip as you see his posture shift as he takes in the sight of your barely clothed pussy, needy and already soaking the thin material. 

“What were you thinking about?” he asks as one index finger starts tracing the hemmed edge of them, barely touching where you ache for him to put his fingers. Your hips squirm in response, trying to move so that his touch will land where you need it. But he can see what you’re doing and evades your attempts, making you whine. 

“If you want me to touch you, you gotta answer.”

“Was thinking about you,” you trail off, hesitant, “I wondered if you think about me.”

Finally he gives you what you want, running his finger over your slit , pressing down right on your throbbing clit just hard enough to make you gasp, your back arching ever so slightly against the mattress. “Shit, you’re so wet.”

He doesn’t answer you and you don’t need him to, already knowing the answer would be that he has and it makes smug satisfaction practically ooze from your body as you preen under his touch. Those calloused, thick fingers slipping past the barrier of your panties, making your mouth drop open and loosely you can recognize that the situation is beyond fucked, getting fingered by your stepfather isn’t something you can just come back from when daylight breaks as if it had never occurred but for now, none of that really matters. 

All that matters is the way his fingers slip inside you so easily, curling just right against your slick walls before pumping in and out, a steady pace as his other hand rubs circles against your hip to calm your twitchy muscles. The sounds of your harsh breathing and the faintly wet squelching of your pussy makes you lightheaded, delirium dripping down the back of your throat and acting like lighter fluid for the kindling of lust inside your gut. 

It feels like you’re being scorched, branded, from the inside out as the pace of his fingers gets more rapid, his thumb pressing against your clit to make you see stars behind your squeezed shut eyes. 

You can hear yourself babbling but it feels distant, far away and dreamlike as the tether between brain and body gets yanked tighter and tighter with each pass of his fingers, unrelenting even as you writhe and gasp against the sheets. 

“Kiss me,” you manage to squeeze the demand from your lungs and he’s quick to oblige, not leave his little girl begging. As your lips pressed together in a mess of rushed teeth clicking and spit slicked movement you feel him pull his fingers from you, hurriedly pulling down his waistband just enough for his cock to spring free. 

And you’re so eager for him, hand snaking down between your bodies to wrap your hand around his shaft and the moment you do he buries his face against the side of your neck with a groan, hips jerking as your thumb smears the fat beads of precum over the tip that you’re sure must be all flushed, a pretty shade of pink. His other hand is pulling your panties to the side and you know what he’s asking for without a word, rubbing the tip through your wetness as he shudders against you, teeth scraping the delicate skin of your throat. 

Feeling bold you angle your hips upward at just the moment when he moves his hips to push through your folds, but the motion makes his tip push deliciously against your entrance, the slide made effortless by the way he’d worked your pussy just moments ago. 

The feeling of it, being so completely full of him, the way he crowded every sense from sight to sound to touch was transendant. Rapturous, like being made whole after not even realizing you’d been incomplete, not realizing there was an entire missing piece. 

And suddenly any remaining guilt you felt for this vanished, dissipated like a wisp of smoke being blown away from a freshly extinguished candle. All that mattered in the world was the present moment, the two of you in this bed and your eyes rolling back as your spine arched at the feeling of him bottoming out inside you, the way he sucked at your neck in between little nips from his incisors. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he gasped against you, moving from yout neck to your lips as his hips began to move, caging your head with his forearms. 

You can’t make your mouth form words, tongue feeling heavy and useless as a wad of cotton in your mouth as you moan in response, fingers twisting into the material of his shirt as you urge him on and the edges of your mind fray with every hit of his tip against the spot you can usually only reach with the dildo in your bedside drawer. 

His rhythm is sloppy, nonsensical, but you don’t mind, not when your own fingers are circling your clit just the way you like and you can feel yourself tightening around him, feel the way your bodys pulling him back in voraciously. This was what you needed, not some random asshole from an app that wouldn’t be able to fuck you half as well, no. A part of you always knew your stepfather would take better care of you, he always has. 

“Want you to come inside, please,” you whine out and hear his little oh fuck muffled against your mouth as you swallowed down his groans like they were the finest vintage as your own orgasm rushed in, like high tide when you least expect it, flooding the shoreline in a relentless barrage. It’s not hard to tell he’s particularly powerless against the way your pussy squeezes around him, growing ever tighter like you’re trying to wring every drop from his body and gives it to you readily, eagerly, with one last harsh thrust before his balls rest heavily against your ass and hes panting, struggling for breath against you as you feel warmth spreading, flooding hot and sticky inside as you two stay locked together. 

When the sun comes up, maybe you’ll feel a modicum of shame for what happened but in this moment all you can feel is a boneless type of bliss as his arms slide underneath you, hold you tight against him in a perverse pantomime of a hug with his cock still inside you as he mumbles into your hair. 

“You’re such a good girl, always been my good girl.”

[sagstelliums]

Where does your future spouse come from (pac) *follower request

Pile 1

I see that they come from the west/southwest. They may have come from somewhere with a lot of forests/sticks/trees/dry dirt/heat. They come from a single mother or they spent a lot of time with their mom, I see that their mom depended on them and they kept peace on their home. They may be the only child, they’re over protective of their mom or family in general. I see that they could like dark colors or they used to when they were younger, they’re someone who didn’t have alot of people around them growing up so they can be awkward around others. They may have grew up in an empty home or in a home with poor lighting/it got dark fast where they live. They may have been more pessimistic, they had to work hard from an early age and they get burnout easily. People may have taken advantage of them a lot when they were younger and misused their power. Signs- Pisces/cancer. Initials- T, F, B

Pile 2

I see that they may come from the northwest/west, they come from somewhere with a lot of insects/snakes/river snakes/animlas/insects with wings or nature/rivers and tall trees. They may have come from a single dad or they spent a lot of time with their dad, they may have had a controlling family but they always knew how to find the silver lining in the worst situations, they’re very forgiving and they’re good with criticism/reflection. They’re someone who’s free and playful, they may be very physically attractive or a lot of people from their hometown thought they were attractive. I see that they like to have a lot of freedom and they don’t always like to follow the rules, they may have had to suppress their true self’s growing up but now they’re confident and authentic. Signs- Aries/taurus. Initials- Q, K, E, N, F

Pile 3

I see that they come from the east or northeast, they may come from a city or from somewhere with a lot of bridges. They may live near water or an ocean, there could be a big bridge by an ocean in their city. They may live somewhere with caves and water/big caves/big bodies of water/big animals, they come from somewhere with a lot of a lot land. They may grew up in a spiritual home or they changed their spirituality/religion when they grew up, they could be very intuitive or connected with spirits/the divine. They may have come from a dysfunctional home, they depended a lot on God/their spirituality to get help and be stable. They’re secretive and don’t open up easily, they have a high guard and they have many layers to them. They have nice hands/fingers, they may be very touchy and affectionate once they’re comfortable with you. They may seem isolated when you first meet them but that’s because they don’t like to get attached too easily. Signs- Aries, Capricorn, Libra, Aquarius. Initials- J, I, G

Personal readings always available

Pngs by @ghiblisnoopy Divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

[weirdfangirly]

Fatherless ─⊹⊱ ☆ ⊰⊹─

Dark-Fiction Central ©️

Dark!Joel x Reader

Summery: You offer yourself to a complete stranger in order to survive.

⚠️ : dark content. Dub-con. Age-gap (reader is not a minor). Dark Joel. Mean Joel. Loss of virginity. PiV. Slapping. Reader sees Joel as her dad. Painful sex. Joel enjoys seeing Reader hurt. Reader has daddy issues. Blood. Name calling. Degrading sex. Mention of suicide. Joel is NOT a hero in this one.

A/n: Well damn. If you want more, let me know.💓

─⊹⊱ ☆ ⊰⊹─

What a beautiful day to die, you thought when you opened your eyes this morning. You had spent the night in the woods—just like the night before, and the night before, and the night before...

You didn't dare set foot into the city. It was full with infected and raiders.

Sweat was dripping down from your forehead, even though you wore a light summer dress. Your legs were shaking from exhaustion, you were afraid they'd give in at any moment. You didn't know how long you had been wandering through the woods. Alone and lost. Your stomach was empty, as were your supplies. The only thing that kept you alive was the water from the river flowing through the woods.

Every day was a torment of uncertainty. You wandered between the many trees. You wandered with no destination in mind, with nothing in mind other than to put one foot in front of the other. Basic bodily functions like keeping your eyes open became harder with every passing day. The forest was rough and unpredictable, and you were not dressed appropriately. You were lucky that you hadn't broken an ankle with the footwear you were wearing. Yesterday you had stepped into a ditch and fell, you couldn’t find the strength to pull yourself out of it, so you just lay there and cried yourself to sleep.

Hoping to never wake up again.

Hunger made you grip your stomach in pain. You wished you could just cut it out, so that you didn’t have to put up with the cramps any longer. You had tried to catch squirrels and rabbits when your supplies became thin, but it was hopeless. You felt mocked by them. They led you deeper and deeper into the forest before seemingly vanishing into thin air, leaving you behind exhausted and still hungry. Your starving mind was trying desperately to come up with solutions. At one point you’d even eaten tree barks. Feeling full felt good, but it was short lived.

Suddenly your eyes caught something very promising. You stopped in your tracks, thinking that maybe this was yet another sick joke of your mind…

A berry bush.

Your eyes widened at the mere sight of the thick juicy berries. A miracle.

You ran to the berries. You couldn't remember the last time you had enough strength to actually run, but the mere thought of eating real food gave you the energy you needed to do that. You eagerly started to pick up as many berries as possible. Your hands were shaking in anticipation, your mouth watering, your mind running wild.

You were about to stuff the handful of berries inside your mouth when you suddenly heard the clicking sound of a gun.

*click click*

Your body froze.

„I wouldn't eat those if I were you.“, said a deep masculine voice.

The man was standing a few feet behind you, barrel of his gun aimed at you. The sight of you deeply confused him. When was the last time he’d seen a girl wearing a summer dress?

25 fucking years ago?

„Turn around.“, he said. „Slowly.“

You did what you were told, carefully turning around.

The first thing you saw was death lingering at the barrel of his gun. You slowly raised your shaking hands and looked up at your possible executor. A tall man, older than your father had been when he had passed. His old age didn’t match with his body. He had board shoulders and strong arms. His legs were long and steady. Fit. Invincible.

He looked like someone who would survive the apocalypse. Ruthless.

What a beautiful day to die, you remembered your thoughts from this morning—you weren’t so sure about that anymore…

He on the other hand, didn’t know what to think of you.

“Pokeweed berries..”, he pointed his gun at the berry bush behind you. “..are poisonous.”

“T-thank y-you.”, you stutter, unsure what else to say. You opened your palms and let the berries fall to the ground like little pearls.

It was comical that you were thanking the man who had a gun pointed at your face, but he appreciated your good manners.

“Now, tell me what are you doing on my land, girl.”, he demanded to know.

“I-I didn’t know...”, the last time you’d spoken to someone was your father. Your voice sounded brittle. You cleared your throat. “I-I didn’t know I was trespassing, s-sir.”

Joel had a way of dealing with trespassers; putting a bullet in their heads. No exceptions. He had never encountered a trespasser looking quite like you though. You were clearly malnourished—the gun in his hands weighted more than you. Your legs were covered in little scratches and nasty bruises. Your long hair were covering half of your face like a curtain—he could still make out enough to confidently say that you were too young and too pretty to be anywhere out here on your own. He saw no weapon on you neither. He raised his eyebrow when he spotted your painted toenails…You were wearing fucking sandals. You made no sense to him. Hadn’t you realised in what times you were living?

He could feel his pants getting tighter—which annoyed him greatly. It clearly had been a long time since he’d fucked a cunt when the mere sight of painted toenails and a pretty face excited him this much.

You were oblivious of what was happening inside the man’s pants. Your only worry was the gun pointed at your face. You wanted to run away, but your head was dizzy, your vision foggy, your stomach hurting and your mind running crazy.

It was a miracle that you were still standing at this point.

“Where are your people?”, he doubted you were traveling alone. You were probably just lost and people were already searching for you.

You shook your head.

“Bullshit.”, he spat. “Don’t lie to me, girl.”

He quickly scanned his surroundings, expecting someone hiding behind the trees and waiting to attack him. He took a step closer to you, which made you take a step back. “You gon’tell me that a girl like you is up here all by herself? I ain’t buyin it.”

“I-I swear, sir.”, you sobbed. “I’m…I have no one.”

Hearing the truth hurt. It took a lot of you not to break down crying. This was the first time someone had ever pointed a gun at you and it reminded you of the death of your mother. This is how she must’ve felt during her last seconds on earth? Scared and helpless.

Joel wasn’t sure if he believed you or not. By the looks of your physical state, it seemed to him that there was some truth behind your words.

“What’s in your backpack? Any weapon’s?”, he wanted to know. He thought about making you hand it over to him, but he doubted that you were carrying anything of use in it.

You shook your head. “Just my-my pocket knife.”

“Of course.”, he murmured, getting more and more frustrated with you. What a stupid girl. Walking around like this not even armed. He lowered his gun and turned around.

“Get lost.”, he said, before walking away. “Before I kill you.”

You were standing there perplexed, hands still up. You watched him walk away. He was the first human interaction you had in weeks. Your first human interaction besides your family. You shook your head in disbelief.

He was leaving you.

Leaving you alone.

Leaving you to Die.

Alone with your hunger and pain.

Your only chance of survival was literally walking away from you.

“Wait!”, you called out after him, but he kept walking.

No, no, no.

You started to run after him, almost tripping over your own feet. You couldn’t let him just walk away like that.

You had to do something.

“Please.”, you begged, not even sure for what.

But the man kept walking. His face was stone cold, looking right ahead.

“Please, sir.”, you tried again. “Please don’t leave me alone. I’m…I’m hungry.”

You sounded pathetic to him—something Joel barely tolerated.

“Not my problem, girl.”

You grabbed his arm, trying to stop him from walking any further—big mistake. He turned around in a heartbeat and grabbed your wrist. Your wrist felt like a toothpick in his iron-like grip. His first instinct was to break your fucking arm, but he stopped himself from doing just that, reminding himself that you were just a stupid kid.

Tears started to swell up from your eyes and your plump lip started to wobble. Fear was written all over your face and you immediately submitted to his strength. Knowing it was pointless to fight against it.

“Ouch.”, a sob escaped your throat and you begun to cry. Fat ugly tears started to run down your doll-like face.

He frowned, disgusted by your weakness and himself for finding it arousing…He let go of your wrist and you collapsed to the ground. Your shoulders started to shake uncontrollably. “I-I miss my d-daddy.”, you suddenly hiccuped.

A wave of feelings washed over him. He was annoyed of your showcase of weakness in front of him—a total stranger. He wanted to pull you up and slap you across the face, to get you back to reality. He was angry at himself for feeling sorry for you, just because you reminded him of his daughter in one way or another. Equally as innocent. Sarah never got to get used to the brutality of the world, she died an angel. Sweet and pure. He hadn’t felt this type of emotion for a long time. Sadness. Sarah—No. He shook the thoughts of his past life away. You weren’t Sarah. You were a nobody. Just a stupid girl that clearly didn’t know what was good for her—because Joel clearly wasn’t, especially since his pants got even tighter after hearing you cry out the word daddy.

Sick son of a bitch.

He decided that every feeling was easier to deal with than sadnesses. He wanted to forget, so he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you up. He slapped you across the face. Hard. Pain shot through your body and made you shut up immediately. His slap had put you in some kind of shock like state. The only other person who had ever done this to you was you father.

His hit felt so familiar, you almost wanted to beg for more.

“Consider this a warning, girl.”, he whispered close to your ear. “Have you any idea, what a stranger with a gun could do to a girl like you during times like this?”

You didn’t say a word. Your brain was still trying to regulate the pain that was radiating from where his hand had collided with your face.

“Last chance, girl,”, he said, voice dangerously low. “Get lost, before I blow your pretty face away.”

After a pregnant pause, you opened your mouth to speak. “You find me pretty?”

He has called you pretty.

He frowned at your words. Bewildered at your question in a situation like this

“Do you?”, you urged to know.

“I slapped you a little too hard, sweetheart? Seems like you’ve lost you goddamn mind.”

“Keep me.”

“What?”

“Keep me.”, you repeated, now silent tears running down your face. “Take me with you, I’ll be good to you. I-I promise.”

Your words angered him deeply because they sounded so goddamn good to him.

“I don’t want to die.”, it came out as a whisper.

He grabbed you by your throat. If you were scared, you didn’t show it. Your eyes seemed dull, disconnected. You truly looked like a lifeless doll to him. He brought you closer to his face. Observing you intensely.

You were so easy, so submissive. He didn’t know what to feel.

“You don’t know what you are getting yourself into, kiddo.”, he whispered. You could feel his hot breath on you skin. “You will not like what you recive..”

And he was right. You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. You didn’t know anything. Your father had kept you sheltered away from reality. You never left the parameters of your fathers farm. You’d never spoken to anyone but him since the death of your mother. You didn’t know anything about the real world—but you’d read books. Many of them. Romances. You once read that “the female body is the most powerful weapon against a man.” At first you didn’t understand, but now you do. You knew what men wanted…it was the only thing you had to offer to him in order to survive.

He waited for you to say something. To apologise and beg him to let you go, that it was all an misunderstanding and that you were just a stupid girl who didn’t know any better— but you stayed quiet.

He saw desperation in your eyes, behind all the dullness.

Fuck.

He tossed you to the ground like a rag doll.

He was circling you like a lion, while throwing his weapon aside.

The man crouched down and spread your legs. He pulled your dress up, revealing your clothed cunt. He could see the outline of your plump lips through the thin fabric of your underwear. He nearly fucking came just by the sight of it. He tore your underwear apart with a grunt.

This wasn’t at all how you’d imagined your first time to be. You’d hoped it would be more like how it was in your books; with a guy you trusted and loved. Sweet and innocent. Exciting and nerve-wracking. Silly and dumb. Kind and loving.

Sadly, your really looked different; The forest floor was rough and uneven. Sticks and stones poked you in the back. It was uncomfortable. The man in front of you, who was currently slowly unbuckling his belt, was twice your age and far away from being your boyfriend. In fact, he was a total stranger. You were hungry and utterly exhausted. You felt disconnected from the situation—which was a good thing considering what would happen next.

„Fucking perfect.“, he whispered. You watched him stare at your most private parts. You felt ashamed and closed your legs again, blocking his view. His eyes snapped up at you, frowning.

„Open them.“, he said calmly. Chest falling up and down.

The sight of him in a state like this scared you. You nodded, scared of the sudden shift of his energy, and opened your legs for him again.

„Try this again and I’ll fucking cut your legs off.“, he warned.

He was slowly losing himself, losing control. The rational part of him knew that what he was doing was wrong for so many reasons. He was taking advantage of an starving girl. You were young, he didn’t even know how old. Definitely way younger than Sarah would’ve been now had he not failed her...

Stop.

A sudden wave of rage overcame him. This had nothing to do with Sarah. You had nothing to do with Sarah. It pissed him off that you made him think about her while being in a state like this.

You shook your head in dread. „I-I just…I…can I know your name?“

You hoped that maybe if you knew his name that this would feel less dirty, more intimate…

“Shut up.”, he just hissed. He grabbed inside his pants and freed his member. Your eyes widened and you let out a little whine of protest.

It was your first time seeing a man’s cock. It looked unnatural to you. It looked wrong. Thick and veiny. Too big. It was painfully red, throbbing.

He rubbed his hand over your little cunt, sending a shockwave through your body. He then put his thick finger inside you to feel you up.

„Are you scared?“, he asked.

You nodded. Scared and hungry. So hungry.

„I can tell, you’re fucking dry.“, he murmured, annoyed. He spit inside his palm and stroked his throbbing cock—this was all the preparation you would get from him.

Without wasting any more time, he slammed his thick cock inside you—or at least he tried. The size of his cock was too much to handle for your body, your cunt was rejecting him, working against him—but Joel kept pushing, forcing his length inside you. All of it.

Meanwhile, you were chocking on your own screams.

“Good job, cunt.”, Joel praised after making you take all of his cock.

He watched you cry for a second. Your face was painfully distorted and you were holding tightly onto his forearms for support.

“Fuck!”, he hissed. You were so tight, it was almost painful for him too. Almost.

He started to fuck you hard but slow. He was on top of you, holding himself up on his hands. After a few of his thrusts your body’s natural instincts kicked in and your cunt started to become wet for him, making this feel even better for him.

“Do you like it, baby?”, he chuckled darkly.

You didn’t. You had started to remove yourself from the situation by focusing on the branches of the leaves above you. So pretty.

Joel didn’t like that. He wanted you here. He wanted you to learn—too see what happens to dumb girls like you if not careful enough. He slapped you across the face again. This time hard enough to cause your nose to bleed—he didn’t mean to do that, he was pumped full of testosterone and adrenaline.

“I said, do. You. Like. It?”, with every word his hips snapped into yours, hard. Seeing you bleed for him like that only made him want to hurt you even more. Your were so goddamn sweet.

You looked up. Your vision was blurry, but he still looked so handsome to you. “Yes, dad.”, you whispered, confusing him with your father.

You had missed being close with someone. You had missed being loved. You had missed the warmth of human interaction. You were alone and scared for so long now. You never wanted to go back to that—even if it meant to suffer.

Hearing you call him dad, angered him. He stilled abruptly and grabbed you by your throat, making you chocke. “M’not your goddamn father, you fucking whore.”

He spit in your face. How dare you call him dad?

„Say it.“, he demanded.

You tried to but he was choking you too hard. He removed his hand from your throat.

„Your-your not my dad!“, you choked out.

He continued to fuck you, but this time his thrusts were even more unforgiving. His hips snapped into yours, bruising you up.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”, you cried out. “Please, ah!”

Joel didn’t care about your cries. It only turned him on more. Your father had clearly never explained to you how dangerous this world was for girls like you. You were lucky that it was him fucking you. It could’ve been much worse for you. You should thank him really.

Joel was fucking you like a beast, grunting and hissing in your ear. His sweat was dripping down your neck. He was hot, yet you felt cold. He kept his unforgiving rhythm; hard but slow.

You didn’t know how long it took him to find his high and finish, but he eventually came all over your stomach and dress. Growling like a wolf. You didn't even realize it was over. You could still feel him all over you.

“Fuck!”, he needed a few seconds to calm down. Kneeling over you and trying to catch his breath. His half-hard cock was hanging out of his pants. He wiped the sweat from his forehead while watching you lay beneath him covered in his hot cum.

He raised an eyebrow when he saw that blood was dripping down from your abused entrance. He looked down at his cock just to see it painted with your blood…

“Virgin?”, he whispered. You were a fucking virgin?

“What kinda fucking virgin whores herself out like this?”, he hissed at you. He was still panting heavily.

You didn’t respond, too stunned with the mixture of emotions you were feeling.

He got up and put his cock away, mumbling words to himself. He picked his firearm up from the ground.

He looked down at you. You still hadn’t made any efforts to get up. Your dress was still rolled up, cunt on display, cum all over you. He felt disgust by his handiwork.

“Get up, girl.”, he said. “C’mon.”

“It hurts.”, you just whispered, looking up at the dancing leaves.

He crouched down and rolled you dress down, covering you up before helping you in your feet. You looked down at yourself, your virginity was dripping down your slander legs. Your cheeks turned red out of shame as if it was your fault.

He cleared his throat. “M’name is Joel.”

You looked up at him and cracked a small broken smile. “I’m very hungry, Joel.”

He nodded a few times. “I know. Can you walk?”

He felt bad for even asking.

You tried to make a baby-step forward and pain shot through your body. “Ouch.”, you hissed and cupped your private part.

“C’mon. Hold onto me. S’not far.”, he offered you his arm and you looked up at him for any indication that he was just messing with you and that he would push you away the second you would touch him.

“Thank you, Joel.”, you said and grabbed his arm for support, looking forward to your meal.