#also these are both from like. two days ago

[mrgoldmc26]

Yuna goes to School Part 1

Tags: Different sexual partners, blowjob, anal, creampie, lots of dirty talk, spanking, school sex, cum swallowing, facial, daddy kink and more...

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: Hey, guys. Sorry for the long wait for another chapter. I hope you guys like this one. Decided to try something new, not only in terms on kinks, but also writing style. Wanted to make some words stand out (in terms of their meaning), so I made them bold just add that little extra umpf to it.

Also, no way near as many pics as in my other chapters, because I wanted to keep the theme of this chapter.

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

"Ten more days in this shithole, and I'm free forever." Yuna thought to herself.

Life as an idol wasn't easy, especially if you were still in school. There wasn't a single spot inside the school where Yuna could go without feeling someone looking at her. Because she had debuted with Itzy at such a young age, almost 3 years ago, it meant she was by far the most popular girl in the school, and with that came great responsibilities.

There was a lot of pressure on her at all times. She couldn't get caught lacking. Yuna had to look flawless at every moment. She also had to be extremely careful with what she said and did, or else all it took was one video out of context and her career would be over, just like that. But perhaps most importantly, just like any other student, her grades had to be top-notch. Netizens would destroy Yuna online if they found out she was just as dumb as the average BTS fan...

Unfortunately for Yuna, balancing idol life with school studies was starting to get increasingly more difficult, and with the final exam just around the corner, she knew she needed help.

Knowing this, Yuna decided to head over to the school library, where she luckily found the smartest student in the whole school. He was one of those prodigy kids...a black guy that came to Korea through one of those exchange student programs. Not only was he the smartest guy in the school, but he was also in her class, which meant that if there was anyone who could help her, it was him.

"Hey...do you mind if I sit here, next to you?"

The boy was very shy, and why wouldn't he be? Hottest girl in the school wanting to sit right next to you...a celebrity, an idol, a legend in the making, and a future icon of the business...it was perfectly normal for him to feel this way towards her, especially when she wanted to be right next to him.

He nodded very quietly, and Yuna sat down next to him.

"Can you help me study for the test? I really need it." She asked, giving him the eyes.

"Uhhmm, y-yeah...of course..."

Yuna almost burst out laughing with how much the poor boy was shaking, but she managed to hold it, and instead she just smiled at him.

The two started going over the potential exercises that could show up in the test, and it was going nicely for the first couple of minutes until Yuna decided to rest her hand on his thigh, and that's when she felt a large bulge in his pants. The guy was rock hard, just from being next to Yuna, and he shifted in his seat as soon as he felt her hand touch his boner.

"Uhmmm, sorry." Yuna said, immediately removing her hand.

The guy gulped down hard, hoping that she didn't feel how hard he was for her, but Yuna knew...Yuna knew and she wanted it...badly.

It was Yuna's biggest weakness...cocks. The bigger, the better. The more, the merrier. She couldn't help herself. Not ever since Ryujin opened her doors to this side of the universe, shortly after she turned 18, almost two months ago. Ever since the day that Ryujin invited a fan backstage after a show for a special "Meet & Greet" with both of them, Yuna couldn't think of anything else other than cocks. During classes, all she could think about was which guy she should pick to bring over to the bathroom and blow him during the intervals.

Yuna never would've guessed that this shy smart boy had a big cock, but she should've, given he was black.

As for him, he lost all composure once he felt her hand on his pants. After that, he could no longer help Yuna with studies...hell...he could barely string a sentence together...

"Do you want me to take care of that?"

"Huh?...what?!"

"C'mon, I know you want it."

"B-but...we are in the library."

"Chill, look around...there is barely anyone here, plus we are like in the most hidden corner of the library. We are not gonna get caught." Yuna said, getting off her chair and sliding to her knees.

She immediately started working on his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them down to his ankles alongside his boxers.

"Yuna, are you sure? This is cra..fuckkkkkk"

His sentence died in his mouth as soon as Yuna took his whole length down her throat. She deepthroated his enormous black cock a few times before pulling back, and she already had multiple strings of spit dripping down her chin.

"Fuck, I love sucking big black cocks." She said, giving his shaft a few strokes before sliding her lips past his dick and taking him into her mouth once again.

The guy was in utter disbelief of how he managed to get into this situation in the first place, but he didn't care. He very well knew this was his only chance of fucking a K-Pop idol, and he wasn't going to waste it. He no longer cared if he got caught, and neither did Yuna.

He remained seated on the chair and let Yuna do all the work. The 18-year-old idol happily bobbed her head up and down on his big black cock and kept slurping away. The guy threw his head back as Yuna constantly choked herself on his dick.

"Yuna...I'm not going to last much longer."

Yuna smiled with his cock in her mouth and kept sucking his dick for a couple more seconds before releasing him with a loud pop in the practically empty school library.

"Good...then don't. Stand up, fuck my face, and cum down my throat." She said, holding his massive black cock with both of her hands and rapidly stroking it whilst sliding her tongue across his sensitive tip.

Every word that came out of the mouth of Itzy's maknae fueled his lust for her, and his shy barrier was rapidly cracking. He was eager to fulfill Yuna's request, and so he stood up, put his hands on each side of her face, and started smashing his cock into the back of Yuna's throat. Yuna proudly gagged around his black cock like the naughty student that she was and took it all the way down. Her school uniform was covered in drool in just a matter of seconds, but that didn't stop him from thrusting his hips and giving Yuna all of his cock.

Seeing Yuna on her knees with her mouth stuffed full of his brown cock only made him grow in confidence, and he decided to show her this by slapping the left cheek of her face with his right hand a few times, until it became red. Yuna was loving every single second of it, and she made sure to tell him by removing his hard dick from her mouth and slapping her face with it for a couple of seconds.

Yuna's efforts on his cock sent him to a point of no return, and he quickly grabbed hold of her hair and shoved his dick right back into her mouth. Yuna's eyes were wide open as she got caught by surprise, but she didn't mind it. She loved it, actually. Loved feeling his hard cock slide past her lips each time he went in and out of her mouth. Loved feeling his heavy balls hit her chin with each thrust. And she fucking loved when he eventually blew his load inside her mouth, sending multiple ropes to the back of Yuna's throat, filling it entirely.

She tried to swallow everything, but it was too much cum, even for someone like Yuna, and she had no other option but to spit half of his seed onto her uniform. It created a large stain that would be pretty difficult to hide, but that was the last thing on Yuna's mind right now...

"Fuck, I didn't know you had so much cum."

"Yeah, well...black men always cum a lot, you should know."

"True, but I don't think the cum I've sucked out of black dicks so far compares to yours."

"Didn't you turn 18 like a month ago or something?"

"I did, but I've got some experience already...Ryujin unnie is teaching me the ropes."

Yuna's reply made his cock twitch, and it only got harder when Yuna stood up and turned around. She gave him a brief smile over her shoulder before bending over and sliding down her soaked panties.

She shook her butt a little bit, as if she was begging him to slide his dick inside her.

"Yuna, what the fuck...I...I can't. It's still sensitive."

"But it's hard, and I want it. Don't you wanna fuck my tight pussy with that big cock?"

"You are crazy..."

"Crazy for cock, yes. Now shut up and fuck me. And don't you dare pull out. I want you to cum inside me."

There was no chance in hell that he was going to give up on this offer, and so he placed his hands on Yuna's waist and started teasing her by rubbing his hard dick between her pussy lips.

"Don't tease me, please. Put that dick inside me and fuck me hard."

"I need that huge cock inside me right now."

Cock was what she craved, and cock was what she got when the guy slowly slid his entire length into Yuna's cunt. Yuna was extremely tight, which was always going to be the case given how young she was, however, luckily for him, she was indeed very wet, and with the blowjob from earlier, it made his cock slip in and out of her Korean pussy not as difficult of a task as one might think.

He pumped her at a steady pace, not slow or fast. All he wanted was to feel her walls and the way they hugged big black cock perfectly, as if Yuna was born to take such a huge dick (which she definitely was).

The longer he fucked her, the more Yuna begged him to go harder, and once he did, she started moaning loudly. His reactions were insanely fast, and he quickly put his right hand over her mouth, preventing Yuna from revealing their location to the one or two people still inside the school library at that time.

"Are you fucking crazy? Do you wanna get caught?" He asked, removing his hand so she could answer.

"Sorry...Fuckkk, I can't help it. It's too good. Your cock is just so fucking perfect...It's much bigger than any other black cock I've taken so far."

"And no...I don't wanna get caught. All I want is your cum, so please...give it to me."

"Pull my hair and pump me full of cum. I wannabe your BBC slut."

With his hand back over her mouth and now a grip on her hair, he began fucking Yuna hard and rough. Her moans might've been muffled, but anyone who would come close to their proximity, could 100% hear the sound of Yuna's cheeks getting absolutely clapped and pounded with immense force...he did not hold back, whatsoever.

At that time, the library was nothing more than Yuna's sex chamber...a place for her to be fucked and ruined by a fellow classmate that had a ridiculously huge black cock.

Yuna took his cock like a pro and let him use her as his personal toy. A few seconds of rubbing her clit after putting her hand between her legs was all it took to make her cum on his cock, and once she did, her legs almost gave up. In fact, if not for him or the table that she was currently being bent over, Yuna would've collapsed to the ground. Instead, she was able to just remain there and take his big black cock over and over and over again, with her pussy being stretched to the absolute limit.

With fear that someone else might hear him, he didn't tell Yuna that he was close and instead kept hammering away at her pussy. He fucked her balls deep, and after a couple of more minutes of using Yuna as his personal cumslut, he unloaded inside her just like she asked.

"Oh my god, fuckkkk. It's so warm...I can feel your cock throbbing inside my pussy."

"I can't believe I just fucked a K-Pop idol inside the school..."

"It definitely won't be the last time. I can guarantee you that." Yuna replied, as the guy pulled out his cock and watched as his cum slowly leaked out of Yuna's pussy and ran down her thighs before falling onto the floor.

And she was right...it wasn't the last time. For the entirety of the next week leading up to the final exam, Yuna and him fucked her all over the school, in the most hidden of spaces. She took his cock everywhere...in her mouth, in her pussy and she even let him have her ass. Yuna let him use her as his personal cumdispenser. All that Yuna could think about was him and his huge black cock, that it actually caused a huge problem for her...she didn't study. She actually didn't study...not one bit. Yuna was fucked, and not in the good way.

The final exam was a disaster for Yuna. For the next two days after the exam, she prayed that it was enough to pass. When the day of receiving her grade arrived, her professor waited for the very last minute of the class to hand out the results. He had the exams on a stack on top of his table and told everyone to grab theirs and leave his classroom. Yuna was the very last one to grab hers because she feared the worst, and her professor confirmed her fears before Yuna even had the chance to pick up her exam and look at her grade.

"Shin Yuna...what happened?"

"Professor...I don't know..."

"It pains me to do this to you...to end your career, just because of a test..."

"Please, don't do this...this can't get out...I need a passing grade, or else it's all over...my dream of becoming an idol will end." She said, walking over to his side of the desk with the most pleading face she could pull.

"Yuna...I can't do anything for you. My hands are tied. I'm sorry."

"You can't, but...maybe I can do something for you..." Yuna said, slowly reaching over to his crotch with her hand.

"Yuna, what are you doing? I can't do this."

"Your dick says otherwise." She replied, feeling his cock already getting hard.

"I can't do this...I can't risk my job."

"Nobody is going to find out. Everyone has already left."

"It's just me, you, and your big cock." She added, felling him getting harder and harder with each rub.

"Yuna...fuckkkk."

"No...fuck...shit...I can't do it. I'm married."

"Oh, come on...I see the way you look at me when I'm in class. I know you want to fuck me." She said, as she stopped working on his pants and moved behind him to give him a massage on his shoulders.

"I see the way you arrive every day...stressed. Is your wife not doing the job, Mr. Professor?"

"Is she not draining those balls properly?" She doubled down, whispering in his ear.

"Don't you wanna fuck a hot, popular K-Pop idol?"

"Yuna, please don't do this...I can't cheat on my wife. We've been married for over 30 years."

"We met in this exact school. We are high-school sweethearts. She's the only woman I have ever been with."

"Well, time to add another one to the list, then..." Yuna said, lifting her school uniform and briefly flashing him her tits.

"Yuna, what the fuck!"

"C'mon, touch them. I know you want to."

Her teacher was unable to take his eyes off her small breasts, but he remained professional, and didn't reach out for them. In the end, it didn't really matter, because Yuna reached out to grab his right arm and placed his hand directly on her tits, forcing him to feel them.

"Yuna!!!"

"Shhhhhhhhhh." She said, by pressing her finger to his lips, forcing him to stay quiet.

"Here is what's going to happen..."

"You are going to pull out your cock, and I'm gonna suck it like the good little slut that I am."

"Afterwards, I'm going to let you use me as your anal slut and you're going to pound the shit out of my asshole until you paint my insides."

"And in return for giving you the best sex you will ever have, I want you to change my grade to A+."

"Do we have a deal...daddy?"

A hard cock in his pants combined with a handful of her tits plus the dirty talk...Yuna knew she had him on the palm of his hands, and he knew that too. It was physically impossible for him to resist Yuna and the chance to fuck one of the hottest K-Pop idols of all time, even though she was still only 18 years of age.

After a brief moment of silence and consideration, only three words left his mouth.

"Lock the door."

"Victory." Yuna thought to herself.

With a smile on her face, she turned around and did what she was told. After locking the door, she walked over back to him. She tried to lean in and kiss him, but he had other plans.

He spun Yuna around and pushed her against his desk, bending her over at a 90º angle. Her head was pressed sideways against the cold steel table, and despite wanting and needing this to happen, this wasn't in her bingo card.

"What are you doing, daddy?"

"I'm going to teach you a lesson."

"A lesson of what happens when cute little girls like you decide to behave like naughty dirty sluts." He added.

"Hmmm, well, you are my teacher, so...teach me. Teach me what happens to dirty sluts like me."

"You wanna know what happens, Yuna? They get punished, and that is what I'm going to do to you...I'm going to punish you for being a dirty slut."

"Hmmmm, okay...I like the sound of that. How are you going to do that?"

Her question went unanswered, with the professor opting to remain silent and let his actions speak for themselves. He grabbed her mini skirt and pulled it down slowly, watching her supple and round butt appear from under it, only made bigger and more inviting by her perfect wide hips.

"Pfffff...of course you're not wearing any panties...fucking slut..."

Yuna just smiled and waited for her punishment. In that position, Yuna thought she was in for a nice hard spanking coming from her professor, and her thoughts were confirmed when she saw him reach for a large wooden ruler on his desk, right next to where she was bent over.

With the 18-year-old folded in half over his table and her bare butt sticking out, he raised his right arm and started giving her some nice hard slaps across her buttcheeks, as a nice warm-up for what was about to go down.

"Slap me harder, daddy. I've been such a naughty student."

"Yeah...you have. Why did you stop studding? Your grades have fallen off a cliff this past couple of weeks." He responded, not only with his words, but also with a hard smack across her ass, leaving his handprint on her cheek.

"Fuckkk...I was too busy sucking cocks left, right, and center."

"You will not make it in this industry, Yuna. One day, people will find out how much of a slut you really are, and your career will be over."

"I don't care about the future...I care about the present...the now."

"I love being a naughty, dirty, slutty, cock hungry bitch. I love sucking cocks and getting fucked by guys with big dicks."

"And right now...I want that. I want you to punish me until you deem me worthy of your huge cock, daddy."

Lust had taken over Yuna's mind, and for her, this was no longer about her grades or her future. The only thing Yuna cared about was getting fucked and used by her teacher. Yuna wanted him to dominate her, and that is what he did. He grabbed her arms and put them behind her back before taking a few steps back and admiring his work. Yuna...the 18-year-old K-Pop idol...Itzy's maknae...bent over his desk wearing nothing but the school uniform, with her holes exposed for him and him only. The grin on his face said it all, and he was ready to put Yuna in her place.

He put the ruler in his hands and gave her a swift but not too hard slap. Yuna let out a soft moan once she felt the large wooden object hit her skin, and she smiled every time he spanked her with the ruler.

"Hit me harder, c'mon. Make me your slut." She said, shaking her butt from side to side.

Her teasing only made his cock throb against his pants even more, and if Yuna wanted it harder, she was going to get it. The professor pulled his arm further than before and began hitting her with his ruler. Yuna's cheeks shook with each spank and she bit her lip hard. She was enjoying the constant stinging sensation on her buttcheeks, and the handprint that was previously on her ass had been replaced by numerous red marks. However, unsurprisingly, she wanted more.

For a horny slut like Yuna, being butt naked and bent over a table whilst getting spanked in a classroom inside the fucking school was just simply wasn't enough for her. As for her professor, it was dreamland. He had easily the hottest girl in the school, half naked in front of him. That alone in any other scenario would be enough to send any man into a euphoric state, but Yuna wasn't any other girl...

She was an 'It Girl' of the K-Pop industry. Yuna was already so famous that it was practically impossible to step foot outside without seeing her face on a big ass billboard. To have someone that famous...that talented...that rich, right in front of you and at your mercy...it's something capable of turning any man into a lust-frenzied animal, and in this case it was no different.

Her teacher kept unleashing a barrage of spanks on her ass, and those were always met with the same word.

"Harder!"

Yuna was a complete masochist, and he fucking loved that. At the start, he was a bit afraid of hitting her hard, but now he wasn't holding back anymore. With each slap, the ruler left a nasty red mark, and the sounds of it hitting her ass echoed inside the classroom.

"HARDER!"

Yuna wasn't the only one taking a beating, as all this spanking was absolutely draining his energy, and Yuna could feel that because of the longer time between each hit. He took a step back for a little bit of a breather and admired the damage that he had done. Yuna's cheeks were so red that it was as if she had decided to tan only that part of her body.

"Do you want to spank me some more, or do you want to put your hard dick inside my mouth and make me choke on it?"

"S-Shut up...shut up and spread that asshole for me, slut." He said in between heavy breaths.

Yuna didn't waste any time and put her fingers between her asscheeks. As soon as her fingertips made contact with her skin, she felt just how much pain she was really in. It was going to be a long time before she could sit her sweet ass on any surface...

She was still eager to comply, so she grabbed her asscheeks once again and spread them wide, to give him the perfect view of her tight little hole.

"Take a good look, daddy."

"That's what you will be pounding in just a few minutes."

"I can't wait to feel that hard cock filling me up and stretching me out."

"I bet your wife doesn't even take it up the ass, now does she?"

The bare mention of his wife turned all that lust into pure rage. He didn't want to be in this situation to begin with, but Yuna gave him no other option, with how naughty she behaved and talked. Without saying a single word, he grabbed her hands and put them on the table before taking a few steps back.

Yuna was completely unaware of what her teacher was going to do. Her head was pressed sideways against the table, and all she could do was wait in anticipation. The professor held the wooden ruler with both of his hands, as if he was holding a baseball bat or a katana and lifted it above his head before smashing it against her right cheek with all his strength.

"FUCK, OH MY FUCKING GOD, FUCKKKKKKK!!!!!" She cried out.

He used so much power that the ruler broke in half once it made contact with Yuna's ass. Even he was in shock once he saw one piece of the ruler flying across the room and the other one still in his hands. Yuna was in complete pain, and she definitely bit off more than she could chew. It was safe to say that she learned her lesson. She had spent so many moments inside that classroom over the years, and yet, despite all the pain she was in, this was still by far her favourite moment of being there.

A short moment of silence settled in the classroom, with them realizing that they had both crossed the line in their lust for each other. Yuna slowly turned around and looked him in the eyes, with a painful look on her face. As for him, he had mixed feelings all over the place. He had just smashed a wooden ruler against his student's ass so hard that it broke in half!!! And it wasn't just any student, no...it was Yuna. Someone who could easily buy his whole house. Someone who made more money in two years than him in his entire career as a teacher. And to add to that, he had his wife in the back of his mind. Technically, he wasn't cheating on her...he still hadn't had sex with Yuna. He could stop right here and walk away, but his cock had a mind of its own, and he knew he couldn't resist Itzy's maknae any longer.

"Are...are you ready for your reward?"

"Yes, daddy. I've never been more ready for cock in my whole life. I'm so wet for you."

"I'm going to suck your cock so good, that you won't be able to think of anyone else." She added.

Yuna was treading through dangerous waters. She made sure to avoid his trigger word, but he knew very well what she meant by that. He shot her an unpleasant look, before moving on.

"Good. Then get down on your knees and open your fucking mouth."

Despite his order, there was no chance in hell Yuna could sit with how sore her ass was, so instead she just squatted and unbuckled his pants before pulling them down. A wide smile appeared on her face once she was finally had his big cock in front of her.

Her hands immediately latched onto it, but swatted them away, which brought out Yuna's puppy eyes. It was if someone had just taken away her favourite toy.

She wasn't left sad for too long though, as he placed his hand on the top of her head and started slapping her face with his big dick. Yuna stuck her tongue out after the first couple of slaps and happily let him use her face for his pleasure.

Yuna loved feeling his ridiculously hard cock hitting her face and tongue, and he knew it. And despite knowing how much she was enjoying herself, he knew what she really wanted, and he decided to make her beg for it.

"Tell me what you want, Yuna. Say it."

"Please, daddy...push your cock down my throat."

"That's not good enough!" He replied, slamming his fist on the table.

"Put that big dick in my mouth and make me take it like the slut that I am. I know I can give head way better than your lame, ugly wife."

"Oh, shut the fuck up and take my cock, you fucking slut." He said, grabbing her hair and forcing his cock down Yuna's throat.

Yuna knew exactly how to trigger him, and she got what she wanted from him...his cock right into the back of her throat. No going slow...no time to adjust...none of that bullshit. Just straight up intense facefuck from the very start.

The professor held her head and kept pounding away at her face, fucking her throat without any mercy. Yuna's jaw was forced wide open, and she couldn't help but gag around his length each time it went down her throat.

Her mouth was filled with cock and she had drool all over her chin. Spit was constantly leaking out of the corners of Yuna's mouth, despite her having her lips wrapped tightly around his cock.

The only thing that could be heard inside the classroom was the sound of his balls slapping her chin and Yuna's gagging. Her throat was being demolished by her teacher's dick, and yet, she didn't want to have it any other way. He kept on using her as his personal fleshlight for a while longer, until he decided to stop his thrusts into the back of her throat. However, instead of pulling out, he remained balls deep inside her throat, taking on the view that he knew he would surely only see once in his life...

He admired the bulge of his cock in her neck and how pretty she looked with his dick stuffed down her throat.

"You look so beautiful with my dick in your mouth, you know that?"

Yuna smiled around his length, which made a lot of saliva escape her mouth and drip down her chin before it landed on her school uniform.

"So this is why you failed in the final exam, huh? Turned 18 and discovered your true passion...acting like a slut, sucking dicks, getting fucked and draining big cocks, huh?" He asked, letting his cock slip out of her mouth.

Before Yuna could even answer, he started slapping her a few times with his cock, just to make a complete mess of her face. Yuna smiled and let him rub is dick all over her lips as much as he wanted, before finally coming to a stop and letting Itzy's starlet answer his question. "I can't lie...my music career is no longer my number one priority."

"All I really want these days is a nice fat cock to play with and drain as much as I want." She said, opening her mouth for him to stick his shaft back inside.

He was slow this time, just enjoying the way her lips felt every time he slid his dick past them. Yuna hummed around his length and made sure to match his movements by slowly bobbing her head back and forth on his cock.

"You love that, don't you?"

"Yes, daddy. I love having dick in my mouth. I love sucking huge cocks like yours." She said, releasing him from her mouth.

"Then prove it. Show me how much you love this dick, Yuna."

His words had barely left his mouth, and Yuna already taking his cock inside hers. She started to bob her head up and down his cock rapidly, making loud slurping noises each time his dick went past her lips.

Yuna made sure not to leave an inch of his cock untouched. She ran her tongue all over his balls, coating them in her spit before popping them in her mouth and sucking on them, all whilst rapidly stroking his wet cock. She then licked the underside of his shaft all the way to the tip before pushing his cock back inside her mouth, where she immediately deepthroated his entire length over and over again, gagging and coughing all over it.

She kept was choking herself on his dick and her eyes became watery, but not once did she think about stopping or pulling away. Yuna's face was turning red with each passing second, but that wasn't going to stop her.

What did end up stopping Yuna was her insatiable thirst for having his cock deep inside her holes, and after a couple more deepthroats, she released him from her mouth with a loud pop before standing up and turning around.

"Are you ready to pound my asshole, daddy?" She asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Is that what you want, Yuna? To get fucked by your teacher?"

"Yes, I need it so badly! I want to be your naughty, slutty student, bent over your desk, waiting for her teacher's dick."

"I'm going to make you scream on my fucking cock." He whispered at her ear, before pushing her back down on the table, with her head against the cold steel surface.

Instead of going straight into the action, he decided to tease her just a little bit by running his finger up and down the length of her pussy lips. Yuna's juices were starting to drip down her legs, and her teacher used it to lube her asshole up, rubbing his fingers against her tight hole.

He then spat on his fingers and shoved three inside her asshole, basically giving her a signal that he wasn't here to play nice...Yuna was going to get it and she was going to get it hard.

Yuna let out a couple of moans once she felt his fingers enter her tight little bumhole. Her professor began pumping them in and out, stretching her as much as possible to prepare her for his big fat cock.

"You don't need to waste any time stretching me, daddy. I want your cock right now."

"I want you to break me in half, fill my tight little hole with your hot cum and claim my asshole for yourself."

Yuna's request was loud and obvious, and he was eager to give her what she wanted. He grabbed his cock and pressed it against her hole before slowly pushing his hips forward until his entire length was buried inside her tight butt.

"Oh god...fuckkkkk. That's just what I needed."

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head once she felt his whole shaft inside her, and once he slowly pulled back, Yuna knew it was about to go down.

The teacher thrust his hips inside her and began fucking her asshole. Not slow, not fast. Just the perfect pace, giving her the perfect amount of pain and pleasure without blowing his load so soon.

Her moans became slightly louder with each thrust, and they echoed inside the room. Yuna's breasts were pressed against the table, and her asscheeks jiggled every time his hips met hers.

It was practically heaven for Yuna, especially when she felt his balls slapping her pussy. The longer they went at it, the better and louder it got.

"Give me that cock. Just fuck me as hard as you can. I can take it, daddy."

"Who's a good slut for daddy's cock?" He asked, grabbing her hair with one hand and slapping her sore asscheeks with the other.

"I am, daddy! I'm your anal slut."

"I am nothing but a K-Pop idol that loves taking huge dicks up her ass!" She cried out, closing her eyes as he kept on pounding her tight hole.

Just like she had said it, Yuna was indeed his anal slut, and he loved it. Yuna's walls were squeezing him for all his worth, and he could feel the pressure building up. It was time to dump his thick load inside her asshole.

He held her hips tightly and increased his speed. If when he was spanking her earlier on, he made sure Yuna couldn't sit for a week, now he was making sure Yuna wouldn't be able to walk for a week. Yuna was being treated like an absolute fuckdoll, and she was moaning every step of the way. She curled her toes as she felt his cock splitting her open and stretching her butt, and it was becoming too much for her to handle, even for a total cumslut like Yuna.

"Oh, Yuna...I'm so fucking close."

"Fill my ass with cum, please."

His dick was going in and out of her ass as fast as he could, and with a young moaning mess like Yuna bent over in front of him, begging for cum, it was too much for him to handle and he ended up unloading a huge amount of cum inside the 18-year-old.

Almost immediately he slumped backwards, balancing himself on a student's table, and watched as Yuna remained in position, unable to move due to the pain.

"Ahhhhh, fuckkkk...daddy. So much fucking cum for me." She said, reaching for her ass and feeling the cum leak out from her butt.

She put a finger inside and collected some of his seed before bringing it to her mouth, where she unsurprisingly poured it on her tongue to taste it.

"Hmmmm...so warm and tasty. I could drink this all day long."

Tired and drained from this extracurricular activity, her teacher stood up and quickly picked up a pen before changing Yuna's exam grade.

"There, done. You got what you wanted. Now, please....leave my classroom."

"Oh, we are not done yet. I'm not leaving until I get my pussy fucked and my face covered in cum."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I'm not. Plus, I can see that your toy is still hard for me." Yuna said, making her teacher roll his eyes into the back of his head and sigh in disbelief.

"Don't you see how wet I am for you?" She added, grabbing his hand and making him touch her wet folds.

"You are fucking crazy, Yuna..."

Her teacher caved in and began voluntarily dipping his fingers inside Yuna's pussy as the two started making out with one another. The young starlet hummed into his mouth, and the older man explored the maknae's cunt. This lasted for a couple of minutes before Yuna's thirst for cock got the better of her.

"Your cock. My pussy. Now!"

"Is that what my cumslut princess wants?" He said, putting his thumb inside her mouth and making her suck on it.

Yuna shook her head up and down and slowly swirled her tongue around his finger. Her teacher smiled and told her to turn around and place her hands on the edge of his desk. The idol patiently awaited for his next move, and after a few seconds, she felt a pair of hands on her ass. It was still sore due to all the slapping that it had endured earlier on, and she let out a soft cry because of it.

Her whimper became a moan when the professor introduced his tongue inside her cunt and started lapping at her folds.

"Oh fuck, daddyyy, hmmm. Keep eating my pussy...just like that."

He feasted on Yuna's pussy like it was a goddamn buffet, constantly swirling his tongue inside it and tasting her juices before spitting in it. The deeper he shoved his tongue in Yuna's cunt, the louder she moaned. She shut her eyes and her mouth fell open as he kept working her over. The way he was going at it, it was only a matter of time before Yuna came, and she had zero intentions of letting that happen...the only way she was going to cum today, was with his cock buried in her young fertile pussy.

"I'm going to cum if you keep that up, daddy."

"And that's a bad thing because...?"

"I want you to do it with your cock, please."

"Fuck, you are such a greedy little cock slut." He said, standing up and slapping her ass one more time just for good measure.

Having sex with Yuna had drained so much energy from him, that he had to take a moment to grab a water bottle from his bag and take a sip, or else he might've had passed out inside her, not that Yuna would complain...she probably would've ridden his cock until he woke up a few hours later...

After several seconds, he made his way back to Yuna and grabbed her leg, putting it on top of the table. He had seen way too many fancams of her, so he knew she was flexible and could easily take his big white cock in this position. He grabbed his thick shaft and rubbed it all over her pussy lips, sliding it back and forth across her folds and coating it in her wetness, much to Yuna's annoyance, as she just wanted to get fucked hard and nothing else.

"What are you waiting for, daddy? Put it in and start fucking the shit out of me."

If it wasn't for Yuna begging for his cock like the absolute slut that she was, he swore that he could've spent hours just looking at Yuna in that position...a leg on the floor and another one on top of the desk, creating the most perfect 90º angle he had ever seen. Her holes were out and in full display, with some cum still dripping down her leg...she was impossible to resist.

Most people thought that Yuna was like the forbidden fruit...nobody could have her. Except, that very much wasn't the case. Any guy half decent looking and with a big cock could have a crack at her and her tight holes, and thankfully for her teacher, he was him.

After slapping her asscheeks with his hard shaft a couple more times, he pushed his cockhead past her cunt, and he watched how her tight teen pussy swallowed the entire length. Thankfully for him, it was no way near as tight as her ass, but even then, her pussy wasn't very far behind.

Yuna couldn't help but bite her lower lip as her teacher's cock stretched her walls out. She looked over her shoulder and watched him as he slowly began to pump his dick in and out of her tight pussy.

The face Yuna was making as she was getting her pussy pounded hard was so insanely sexy that he couldn't help but grab her hair and pull her in for a kiss. Yuna moaned into his mouth as he kept thrusting in and she couldn't wait for his second load of the day.

"Your pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock, Yuna."

He stopped kissing her and put a hand on the side of her neck to be able to watch her dead in the eyes. Yuna's mouth was wide open and her forehead was touching his. The two were so close to each other that the teacher could feel the heat irradiating from her body, but he wanted more. His hands moved to the bottom of her school uniform and he pulled it over her head, leaving Yuna only with her boots on.

Almost immediately, her breasts became the center of attention, as her professor couldn't keep his hands off them whilst he continued hammering away at Yuna's pussy. Her back was completely arched, and the position she found herself in was a testament to how insane her flexibility was. Yuna was made to be fucked...simple as that.

Everything about her was pornographic. Her gorgeous face, her insane body and her tight holes. She was perfect, from top to bottom, and she very much was a bottom. Yuna loved being a submissive slut for guys with big cocks, and with the constant pleasure of getting her pussy railed hard and fast by her teacher, combined with having his hands pinching her nipples, she couldn't hold any longer and came on his cock.

Her orgasm hit her so hard, that if it wasn't for him holding her in his arms, she would've fallen face first into his desk. Thankfully that didn't happen, and instead he kept fucking Yuna like there was no tomorrow, feeling his own orgasm approaching. "You are such a fucking whore, you know that, right? Cumming on my cock like that."

"I know, daddy. I'm such a whore for big dicks. I love spreading my legs and letting guys use me however they like."

Her dirty talk was the final nail in the coffin, and he quickly pulled out and dragged Yuna onto her knees, where he started stroking his big dick and aiming it right at her face. Yuna wasted no time in sticking her tongue out whilst she rubbed her pussy like the good little slut that she was proud to be.

"Beg for it, Yuna. Tell me how much of a slut you are."

"I want your cum, daddy."

"I need you to cover my face with it and turn me into your personal cumdumpster."

He grinned from ear to ear and held her face close with one hand whilst he kept jerking off with the other until he finally shot his load all over Yuna's face, with some spurts going directly into her mouth. He took a few steps back and looked at the complete mess that he had done. Yuna's entire face was coated with his cum. Her cheeks, forehead, eyelids, nose, lips and even hair all had cum blasted on them.

Yuna giggled upon feeling so many warm spurts land on her face, and once she stopped feeling that pleasant sensation, she took his dick into her mouth to completely milk him dry out of every last drop.

Some of the cum on her face had started to drip down her chin and drop onto her tits when she released his girthy cock from her lips, and she wasted no time in collecting that same cum and pouring it in her mouth.

"Hmmm...just as tasty as the first time."

"Thank you so much, daddy."

"I love draining cocks dry, especially when they are massive like yours."

"The pleasure was all mine, Yuna...trust me."

Yuna smiled before standing up and picking up a tissue from her bag to clean up her face and try to be as presentable as one can be after being completely fucked for the past hour. As for her teacher, he put his clothes back on and watched the young starlet as she was fixing herself. Even though he looked at a naked Yuna dressing up, all he could think about was how on earth he had managed to have sex with an insanely hot and famous K-Pop idol, who practically threw herself at him.

"I should probably go." She said, grabbing her stuff.

"Hey, don't forget your exam...you deserve it, after...you know..."

"Thanks. I hope you had fun, daddy. And just remember...if you need your cock drained, or want me to be your little slutty student again, I'm all yours."

"My...my wife is out of town for the weekend, actually...if y-..."

"Say no more. I'm in!"

"Actually...I'm in as long as you promise me you'll fuck me where your wife sleeps."

"You fucking little slut....."

End of part 1

[unknownsvoid]

QUICKIE WITH ISAGI BEFORE A MOVIE DATE!

cw: fem!reader. reader wears a dress. no condom. YES, WE, AND I MEAN WE, ARE TAPPING IT RAW WITH ISAGI. may possibly have spelling mistakes buttt it's currently 2 am in the UK, and bitch, i'm tired AFFFF. Alright. Yeah? Good.

a/n: quick ass write cuz i'm suffering from WBS (writer's block syndrome), and it's a pain in my stupid ass. i also have this problem with commas and this obsession with writing in past tense when im meant to be writing in the present tense...

You two were already running late. What's a few minutes more?

Sure, the movie is going to start in thirty minutes... ish, and it kinda takes twenty minutes to get there and maybe another ten/fifteen minutes to get a ticket depending if the cinema is packed that day! But kinda hard to think about that right now when his cock was buried to the hilt inside of you.

He still had to make this quick. Even though he hated quickies and preferred to take his time with you, of course. However, in this case, he'll let it slide. Because, to be fair, it'll be difficult to watch a movie with a serious hard-on. Plus, it was that dress to blame for all of this.

You looked stupid hot in it and could you really blame him for bending you over the coffee table, with your dress bundled around your hips, his pants draped down his thighs as he pounds his cock in and out of you.

"Shiiiit, baby. Pussy feels fucking amazing. Sucking me right in." His breath hitches as your pussy tightens around him a whine falling from your lips, which are bruised from how hard you were nibbling on them earlier, "I know... I know. Would take- gah- my time with you, but- fuck- on a time crunch. Make it up to you later. Just gotta make us cum at the moment."

His hands yanking your hips back on forth, making your fuck yourself back onto his cock. Tip ramming against your cervix, bound to leave it bruised later.

His slightly leans forward, one of his hands leaving your hips to go to your slit, parting your dewy slit to rub your neglected clit. As soon as his finger even touches your clit, your back involuntarily arches back further into his cock. Another harsh groan falls from his lips.

"Ngh– Isagiiiii–" You wail, his fingers swiping your clit side to side faster and faster. He knew you're close because he is too. "Yeah? Close?"

You reply with a frantic nod, "Good girl. Come on, cum f'me."

A couple more broken cries from the two of you and you both are. cumming.

Your orgasm coming over you like a tidal wave as his spurts deep inside of you.

He collapses on top of you and sighs, completely forgetting the movie you two were supposed to get going to twenty minutes ago. He gasps. A giggle falls from your lips before you follow along, gasping soon after him. At the same time, you both go, "THE MOVIE!!" Like a shitty comedy movie.

[jillsandwhichs]

Mr. Trucker man

Chapter 12 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You are a runaway young adult - you ran from your home a few months ago. Whilst on the run, you stopped by a truck stop in the "middle of no-where" Texas. While there, you meet a trucker, Joel and little do you know, the two of you will hookup

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Strangers/Hookup

WC: 3.6k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Age gap, Making out, Dirty talk, BJ, He finishes in your mouth, Unprotected P in V, Riding, Spanking, You both finish, He finishes inside of you & slight aftercare

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

It reeks of masculinity around you. Just reeks of grown old men. Well, that's on you though. You could've went anywhere but you decided to stop at a random truck stop and diner on the outside of the route you've been following for the past day or so. You were starving though, so it was conventional. Guess you can't complain too much.

You took another bite of the cheeseburger you ordered from the diner to the left of you. You didn't want to eat inside. They were playing tacky old music - it wasn't any Hank Williams or Aaron Lewis, that's for sure. Standing outside while eating was for the better anyways - watching the sun set and the moon rise was a beautiful sight to witness.

What's rare though is to find a diner open this late. The neon sign plasted on the window says "Open 24/7!" Which was a fine sight to see earlier when you had gotten here. You also ordered a bottle of coke. You half expected just to receive a fountain cup but no, this diner kept it real and gave you an actual bottle. Reminds you of childhood.

You have your back against a large brown pillar. It's connected to the office to the truck stop, you're sure a worker is inside, doing their job. It sucks but it's all you got and your body is killing you, so sitting down against it is all you got. You gaze up at the stars whilst you eat. The burger is actually good. Guess the cooks work best at night then, huh?

Ain't better than back home though. No. That's what you miss - the food. Being on the go at all times means you don't really get to enjoy good food. It's all convenience store snacks, random diners and their cheap menus and/or scraps you manage to scrounge up. You're grateful for this meal though. The Lord damn well knows you needed it.

While finishing up your sandwich, you watched as a fine looking older man exited the diner. He was tall, that was the first thing you noticed. He has to be 6'2-6'3 at best. You're pretty short, at least that's what you're told by your family. Hell, who cares what they think though. You're done with them.

The man was wearing a big brown jacket, it's clearly fabricated at the moonlight doesn't reflect off of it as a leather jacket would cause. His jeans are shitty looking, all stained and washed up. His boots have to be older than the jeans though, hell, they've been put through it. He's a trucker, no doubt. Probably got his belly full of greasy food and a good beer or two. He's living the life, eh?

Shit. You looked down. He had noticed you, and he most definitely realized you were gazing at him. You don't trust people, let alone men. The last thing you need is to be kidnapped or some shit in relation. You pretended like he didn't exist, picking up your coke bottle and drinking some of the cold soda, letting the carbonated drink seep down your throat.

However, you can't just ignore the presence of someone who is quite literally approaching you. Damnit. You looked up and right before you was the man. You hadn't gotten a good look at him before but wow, he's a hot guy. You had to hold back a smile. "Hello?" You murmured out, your voice quiet but friendly. You didn't want to come off as a bitch - despite wanting to possibly scare him off.

"Hey there." He had his arms crossed as he gazed down at you. "Can I help you with something?" You said to him. You felt obligated to help him now, if need be. He did catch you gawking at him after all. "There ain't nothin' I need help with, no." He shook his head and cleared his throat. "Guess I'm more curious as to what a young girl like you is doin' all alone in the middle of nowhere Texas."

Oh. Valid concern. You chuckled and shook your head. "Guess it's a good thing that's my business and not yours then, right?" You weren't meaning to come off as rude but a grown man has no need to know what you're up to, at all. The man snickered and shook his head again. "Yeah, you ain't wrong," he reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of Marlboro Reds before looking back down at you.

"You...?" He mumbled, wondering if you smoke. You do, on occasion. You nodded and he held one out for you. You took it from him and placed it in between your lips. You reached into your jeans pocket to get your lighter, then realized it's in your bag over near the garbage can. You hide it in case of muggers. People are careless around here.

He smirked, his smoke between his lips. "Hmm." He lit his up first, inhaling quickly before exhaling even faster. Here," he grunted, bringing his hands down to your face and lighting up your cigarette, allowing you to get that sweet, sweet nicotine inhale. You breathed it in and sighed it out. Hmm. Different from the usual brand you go for. You're more of a camel's kinda girl.

Blowing out some smoke once again, the man talked. "What's your name darlin'?" Southern men and their talk. You decided to just tell him your name. No harm in that. "What's yours?" "Joel." Joel, huh? Quite the name. Definitely an older name. You nodded. You took another drag from the cigarette before letting out through your nose. Guess he knew you needed a smoke. It's definitely helping with your drearyness.

"You one of those damn kids whose on the run?" How did he know? You suppose you're rather young looking. You are nineteen. You're an adult though, not a kid. "I'm nineteen and I guess? I'm on the "run", sure, you could say that." "Nineteen?" He whistled after hearing you say that. You giggled. "Yeah?" "Just wasn't expectin' that. You seem a lot older just by your demeanor." By your demeanor? Hmm.

"That a compliment?" "It is. Being that young n' being able to seem a lot older is a goddamn weapon." "How?" "Yous oughta get your way a lot easier." Joel snickered out, hitting his smoke again. You nodded. "You aren't wrong." "I know." Maybe he has experience. You tittered and stood up. You leaned your back against the pillar.

Oh yeah, he's a lot fucking taller than you. Jesus Christ. You looked him up and down before glancing down at your feet. Your black doc martens are a lot smaller compared to his brown leather boots. "You from here? Texas, I mean." "Yeah." "What part then?" "Why?" "Can a man not be curious?" Hmm. "Ennis... A bit ways from Fort Worth." "Yeah, yeah, I know the town. I'm from Austin." "Austin? City boy then?"

Joel laughed at your words. His laugh is sexy, you can't lie to yourself. "Far from it. Just where I grew up though." "Yeah." You nodded, dropping the cigarette on the ground and putting it out with your boot. It was practically out anyways. Joel is still finishing up on his. "Are you a trucker or something." "Sure am. That's mine right over there." He pointed to one of the trucks, the front end being white.

"I figured. Where are you off to?" "Why? You tryna hitch a ride?" "No." Yes. You are. Why wouldn't you? He seems good enough and if he's headed north, you're desperate to get up further as quickly as you can. "That the truth?" He murmured, gazing into your eyes. Fuck. You looked down and cleared your throat. "If you need a ride, just say that. I'm headed up north."

Good fucking Lord, is God on your side as of today? You tilted your head back up and nodded. "Where to up north?" "Wherever the highways take me, I guess. I ain't got a job goin' right now, not until next week." "Right." Truckers have no schedule. Cool. "I just wanna get up to Amarillo." "What's in Amarillo?" "A friend and a whole lot of opportunities."

Seems Joel liked that answer because he nodded and looked down at his truck keys. "Wouldn't take us more than the night. I'd have you up there by mornin'." He stated, clearing his throat and tossing his cigarette on the ground, it was already out. "You really going to do this for me? Why?" You are confused. You are just some random girl. "Because its either I take you and you stay safe, or you end up gettin' kidnapped or somethin'."

Oh.

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "And how am I sure you aren't a kidnapper?" "You ain't. You'll have to find out, I guess." He teased you. You giggled. "Suppose so." You reached down and grabbed your coke bottle, beginning to walk over to the large garbage can. You threw it away and picked up your backpack, swinging it over your shoulders. "When can we go?" "Now." He motioned his head towards his truck.

Here goes nothing.

-

As you got settled into his truck, you tucked your backpack under the seat. It smells good. Like... Good... Wood & leather - nostalgic smells for you. He was settled in as well, turning up the radio to be just low enough to where you two could still talk and he took his hat off, hanging it on the side of his dashboard. To your surprise, his truck is rather taken care of.

"Your truck is nice." "Thank you darlin', she's my baby." He spoke in a deep voice. "I don't know how I can ever thank you for doing this for me. I thought my ass was gonna have to walk all the way there. That'd take me days." You chuckled and ran your fingers through your hair. "Just doin' a good deed."

You can tell he's a good man with a dark side to him. He just has that look to him. Like, he does good things to make up for the other shit he does. To your guess, he's probably committed some sort of deep rooted crime. You can't say for sure though. You know nothing about him. You breathed in deeply before sighing.

Looking back at him, you bit your lower lip. He's sexy. A grown man whose a trucker? That's hot. He just has a vibe to him. "You're handsome." You said with confidence. You have spunk to you, you aren't afraid to say what is on your mind. If anything, you're sure he'll appreciate it. "Handsome? Well then, thanks." "You're very welcome." You smiled at him before watching as his stuck the keys in the ignition.

"For the record, I think you're a beautiful young girl." He stated, glancing over at you. "You do?" You tilted your head. He breathed in deeply, thinking back to how he mentioned you're a weapon. "Mhm." He grunted out. "That's sweet." You chortled faintly, glancing down at your hands. "You hardly told that or somethin'?" "No. I'm told often." "Course you are." He wasn't surprised.

"However," you reached your hand over, sliding it on the inner side of his thigh, near his covered crotch - which you could see was hard the moment you called him handsome. "It just has a different ring to it when you say it." You looked into his brown eyes, encapturing his darkness that is clearly so deeply rooted into them. Fuck, was all Joel could think to himself.

He pulled the keys out of the ignition and tossed them into the cup holder between the lower side of the seats. That action made you happy. It's been awhile since you've... Gotten any action. You're sure it's been the same for him. A random trucker? Not your worst. Not your best. But it'll surely be the most fun and the most spontaneous.

Joel leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. The taste of faint alcohol and fresh nicotine slipped off of his tongue and onto yours as you opened your mouth, allowing him to slide it into your mouth. God. It feels good to have a connection like this with someone after so very long. "Mmm." You moaned out as he cupped your cheeks, caressing them as the two of you kissed.

Your arms went around his neck and you pulled away for a moment. "Here," you looked down and began to undo his leather belt. "You gonna suck me off?" "Yeah? Can I?" You looked at him, right into his eyes. Your irises twinkled and you saw the devil within his eyes shine brighter than ever, than it has at all. "You can." He lifted his ass up, dropping his jeans down, then his briefs, revealing his dick.

He's big. Real big. Girthy too. You're sure this is the biggest you've ever dealt with, but you don't mind. You're always up for a challenge. You did quite literally run away from home when you were only eighteen - there's nothing you can't do at this point. You kissed him once more, your cherry chapstick leaving a yearning taste on his lips.

You began to pump him in your hand, keeping him hard. "Hold my hair back for me, will you?" "Yes ma'am." He nodded, though you couldn't see considering your head was aligned with his cock. You wrapped your small, pink lips around him, immediately tasting his pre-cum. Sweet. Tasty. You licked around his tan tip for a little bit before fully taking him in.

The sexy groan Joel let out made you wet. You literally felt your pussy gush between your legs as you sucked him off. You bopped your head up and down, keeping one hand on the lower base of his cock, and the other on his thigh for some support. He kept your hair out of the way though, running his fingers through it and keeping it against him.

His tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly, it felt good. You didn't gag, you could handle it - at least for the time being. "Fuck, you take it well. That'a girl." His praising was... Well, it was something you needed to hear. You swear you've lacked in the sex & social department as of late. You swirled your tongue around his base, making sure to not leave a single spot unsucked.

"Goodness doll, I'm already close." Already? Guess you're doing something good. You dug your nails into his thighs whilst sucking him off. You couldn't help yourself. You get rough. His hand tangled into your hair, his other hand sticking on the steering wheel. He held onto your brushed out hair tightly, gripping it as he now moved your head up and down the way he wanted.

"Good fuckin' Lord, just like that baby." He huffed out. With a few more bobs of your head, he came and it all went into your mouth. Of course, you swallowed it all. You moved your head a few more times before finally lifting your head up and giggling, looking directly into his eyes as you licked your lips and tilted your head to the side, just as you did earlier.

That was something else. You're glad you did that. It felt good for the both of you and clearly, more-so him. There was obvious tension built up within him, and a clear sexual tension between you two, since the moment you began speaking to each other. "So? How was that?" You laughed and caressed his scruff. He shook his head and looked down. "Needed that." Was all he said. "I can tell."

Drawing yourself in, you kissed his ear lobe, then along his jawline before reaching his lips again. You kissed him passionately and as you did, Joel's hands went to your sides as he pulled you onto his lap, keeping you close and pressed against him. You encased your arms around his neck and moaned when out of no where, he gripped your ass through your jeans, grinding you against his lap.

"Gonna get you out of these," he popped the button open and pulled your fly down, "and I'm gonna fuck you real good, hmm?" He murmured, kissing your cheek gently. You bit back a shy laugh, instead kissing him with haste. "I don't mind at all." You whispered. He knows you don't. Joel opened the glove box to his right and cursed to himself.

Glancing back, you realized what he was in search for. A condom. He's out. You sighed. "You don't have any STD's, do you?" You laughed. He shook his head, "You?" "No." You kissed the top of his head. "I'm still taking the pill." "You are?" "Mhm, don't worry." "Fuck yeah." He slammed the box shut and then helped you get your jeans off, which happened quickly. Almost as if it was with the snap of a damn finger.

You adjusted your position on him and let out a soft exhale. "Here," you pulled your panties to the side and jerked him for a little bit, helping him get fully hard again. He smirked. "You're good with them hands." "I know." You glanced up and kissed him passionately, breathing in deeply as you did. He rubbed your hips as you two made out, your guy's tongues massaging one another's.

Slowly but surely, you sat down on him. Every single inch entered you, and it felt amazing. You moaned softly and smiled at the feeling. Its like you could literally feel him in your belly. "How's that feel?" "So good." You pressed your forehead against his before you began to move gently, going up and down & back and fourth on his dick.

"Oh, yes, yes, fuck." You panted out, holding onto him tightly as you rode him. You wasted no time. You like it this way - fast and rough. "Oh, you like that? Huh?" He said slyly into your ear as he held your waist, helping you move on him. "Uh-huh!" You nodded before tucking your head into the crease of his neck, pecking it lightly.

This feels so good. You needed this. You haven't had sex in such a long fucking time. You think Joel rather enjoys it too. He's grunting & making noise just as much as you are. Not going to lie to yourself, it's a turn on. Suddenly, you felt a smack to your ass, which made your back arch. "Oh." You moaned, grasping his shoulders as you pulled away from his neck and instead, stared into his devilish eyes.

Joel was biting his lower lip as he looked back at you. His hands were gripping your ass, spanking you every so often. You liked it, you've never had it done to you before during sex but it feels nice; It is a turn on, admittedly. You began to roughly bounce on him now, wasting literally no time. The sound of your skin smacking against his was loud and lowkey sexy, truthfully.

You've never hooked up with someone this old, but you swear this may have to be the best sex you've ever had.

"I'm so close." You whimpered out, cupping his face and setting your forehead against his. "Yeah? You gonna cum for me?" Oh fuck. The way he talks to you. Yeah, you're gonna finish for him & on him. You nodded and he was quick to begin thrusting upwards into you, increasing the speed & hardness. "Oh shit." Were your last words before you came.

And oh came you did. You could feel your wetness and how much there was between your legs and on his lap, even on his cock. He didn't seem to mind though. Your body quite literally recoiled from orgasming but Joel held you close, caressing your back as you did. Your mind literally left reality momentarily as you came. It was too good.

He was still fucking upwards into you, but he was also close so it didn't last long. He came deep inside of you. You could literally feel it. You didn't care, you're infertile as it is and you're on the pill - plus you aren't even ovulating. You'll be fine, you're sure of it.

"Holy shit." You laughed before moving your hair out of your face and climbed off of his lap. The sound of him popping out of you was heard right before you sat down on the seat, pulling your panties up and your jeans, fixing your clothes quickly. Joel snickered and reached over, patting your thigh. "Damn that was good." Joel licked his lips before putting his pants back on too.

Now you wonder, is he still gonna take you to Amarillo? You hope so. You hope you two fucking didn't just ruin that for you, like, make it too awkward. "Are you still gonna take me to Amarillo?" You questioned him. "If not, I understand." Joel picked up his keys and glanced at you, "Course I am, why wouldn't I?" He asked you. Oh. A wave of relief coursed through you. "I dunno." You sighed.

"Just get buckled in and situated, I'll have you up there in no time." Joel then started up his truck. His hand then reached over to rub your shoulders. "I'll get you there safely n' soundly." "Thank you." You smiled at him.

Lots of thanks to Mr. Trucker man.

[grotesquevi]

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ GONNA TAKE MY TIME. I HAVE ALL THE TIME ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ IN THE WORLD, ‎‎‎‎‎TO MAKE YOU MINE. ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎

cw  # 18+ minors and cis-men do not interact, filth based on two nonnie requests that had me combusting, dom!camgirl-reader + sub!ellie, mutual masturbation, spit, fucking machine, reader is kinda rough and mean, mocking, degradation, slight spanks, finger fucking, use of toys (duh) tons of dirty talk, i may be forgetting things but nothing extremely weird. mutuals look away.

side note  # first of all, i'm sorry. depeche mode's ultra cd makes me do stuff. crazy nonnies you have done it- i don't know if you guys are the same person, but you both fought this war with a sword and no shield, so this 3.3k word-nasty-piece of work? all yours. i must say i changed a few things like, there's no stream in the end but home-made porn? i've fallen for the sub!ellie propaganda and i'm rotting in the pits of hell with your ideas, do i care? no, i'm living for it, hope you enjoy too x // check out the fic directory!!

"i think you're doing it wrong," cocky bitch. you're mocking at her, teasing her choices while looking at her comfortably seated on the other side of the kitchen island — "there's also sugar and lemon in a mojito, baby. not just rum, mint and sparkling water."

baby.

the word sticks with ellie for a while as her cheeks gain a subtle shade of pink in response and she has to look at the drink she's re-making for the fourth time already trying to somehow make a half-decent mojito for you: it's never too late to know about her awful bartending skills.

"that's why it's not working out, love" you say again, holding the laugh in—. "you're missing the main ingredients."

"oh that makes sense," man. it's adorable. you find it adorable when you're invading her space as you stand behind her: are you drunk? is that it? ellie's been making you try drink after drink even when you scrunch your nose in disgust and laugh it out trying to be nice about the bad taste: it's neither too strong, too sweet or too minty "should i do it again?"

"yeah, you should" you breathe out making her feel your warm breath against her naked shoulder, and for a moment, ellie struggles to concentrate when your hand finds her waist, cold-silver rings that makes her shiver for a moment, "i'll be here to help you out with your poor sense of proportions."

"so you're a professional now huh?" she's been standing down the barrel of a gun for a while. playing this game she's sure is going to get her burnt without any control of it. "okay then. help me out."

it's almost an invitation. a dare cause you've been acting up like nothing happened already a week ago, like she didn't saw you on a live stream, like you didn't asked her to come over after being friends online for like a month or two cause you live in the same city she does.

friends is an understatement surely — but how do you call the girl ellie's been masturbating to the last six months? how do you explain the insane amount of tokens she had to spend because she needed to get your attention to herself at least for a breach of seconds? that's not how you treat a friend.

things got messy when you begged her for a video call. and now that she's looking back at it while her hands work on auto-pilot, ellie should've know that the thin line of just talking was going to be fuzzy as ever.

what was she thinking about when she talked to you for the first time? that she would have it under control? it seems inevitable when ellie's sliding in your dm's like she already belonged in your life from the beginning. flirty texts, some deep conversations and all suddenly? you're giving her your personal number, video-chatting almost every day until last week when your face's popping up on her phone after a rough session of exercise, and it's all the combination to be a massive disaster.

the adrenaline rush hits hard, cause you got ellie staring at the sweat that comes down your neck, clearing her throat like she just smoked the whole pack of cigs still guarded on her black jacket — she's saying something about your hair looking good, you're blatantly flirting back, showing her your cute attire for working out before a comment about your tits fucking slips from her mouth and that's all it fucking takes. all. it. fucking. takes.

"masturbate with me on a live stream," you're the first one to surrender when things got heated, pouting for her delight as you stare at your phone screen — "don't show your face if it makes you uncomfortable, it's just- god. such a good fucking view everybody needs to see what i'm claiming f'me, ells."

so her words stumble upon each other in search of an answer, twisted fantasies since she's damn weak at this point, begging to get all of you as she's changing her video-call to her laptop, making sure you're watching when she's unbuckling the belt around her blue jeans, letting it hang between her legs as own hand slides under the white tank top — "c'mon quick before i regret it, don't be greedy. let your horny fans know who you're touching yourself to."

no. ellie's not used to it. maybe that's why she's face red when you're live streaming the whole thing, when you're putting up a show for her and suddenly she's feeling no damn shame in touching herself from over her already wet underwear, rough voice as she encourages you to masturbate too, she don't care if she's being seen by what? 12k? 15k people? let the fucking tips keep coming.

"the lemon, ellie" you're biting on her shoulder as she lets out a moan in response, dragged again back to reality. fuck — did she just got hit by a sex memory? "what was that huh? you zoomed out."

"just thinking," she replies already embarrassed. being this close to you, having your teeth biting on her skin and leaving a damn mark: she brought this upon herself.

"what are you thinking of?" you curiously ask, chin resting against her shoulder before your hand find hers, directing her to take the lemon from the fruit basket "something nice?"

"yeah" something she forgets about it seems when her ass is pressing against your front and now she gets why ghost was such a big deal in the 90's "yeah it was nice."

now, to say the truth, ellie's been out in the blue for a while cause no, she never met you in real life before. yes, you live in her city, yes, you video-chat every day or so, but when you disappear after that until damn saturday night she doesn't really know what to do exactly.

"i miss you" you texted hours before the encounter — "you live too far from my place?"

it does not matter that in reality, it's a 45-minute-drive. ellie's there anyway. the sound of the vinyl constantly spinning on the turntable spiraling like she does when you're dictating her movements, and fuck's sake it's so damn hot it should be a crime cause there's nothing sexual about it, but your hand covers her when you're using the knife to cut the lemon in a half, and your fingers blend with hers as they squeeze the lemon right over the mojito, making the juice coat your fingers, go down ellie's arm and before she can think about it, she's looking at you from over her shoulder with glassy eyes, half-lidded and that smile that just screams fucking-shatter-me.

"i'm gonna kiss you now" you reply like a fair warning, falling for the erotic sight of her needy state "can i kiss you?"

so it's an sloppy kiss when ellie's able to nod, saliva blends on itself, teeth, desperation and need, makes the girl want it all to herself. you hold her jaw tightly, making her stay in the same spot, contorted and kissing you back like it's a religious experience that gets her closer to a divine force.

your fingers smell like lemon and the mojito seems long forgotten when your hand slide down the tank top she's wearing and ellie's letting you take control — shit. she fucking wants you to take control. she knew you would do her no good when she first talked to you already, know that you're dangerous and a hazard to her well-being when you're pushing the door of your bedroom among an explosion of words that make her blood boil.

"do you have any idea of much i've been thinking about you?" you ask, but ellie's already chaotic when her top's already falling to the floor "how much i missed you the last days i've been without you? fucking hell, i tried so hard to avoid it, ellie. it's simply not fair."

"no it isn't" she agrees with you, cause it's not. cause she cannot possibly be silent about it when you're touching her, impossible to have a little self-respect when she's letting you have it, a need that goes beyond from what your hands are able to grab and feel, "god- it fucking isn't."

it's better than any fantasy ellie had before, and the greater power in the universe knows how much she's been craving this, how long she's been acting up like a damn freak: avoiding her friends cause she wants to hear your voice, entire days with the damn sounds of your moans etched on her skin, marked like a tattoo among the moth in her arm — it's better than whatever dream she's been having lately when your mouth closes on the valley of her chest, making her skin shiver cause she can physically see the traces of saliva in her skin like a trophy, the tug on her underwear when you're biting on the fabric since it only getting in the damn way. annoying you.

it goes through her soul much like the devastating shred of the guitar who's capable of trespassing her entirely. you're so in control. so damn aware of yourself when ellie's already lost in this hazy cloud of lust, always in control and pulling her back to reality.

"shit you're so needy," you breathe out as she's blushing, the speckled freckles coming in contrast with the red that pops on her face — "i'm gonna take my time with you until you have no idea on where you end, and i begin to exist."

how does simple words can turn her on to this point of no return? the tone you use to admit, out loud, how willing you are to devastate her? must have know it when the most slutty moans escape from her parted lips: fucking tease. that's what you are when your fingers slide from under her classic jeans, when you notice how her underwear sticks sinfully to the outlines of her pussy just by touching, drenched, sticky, it already covers your hand by the slightest stroke.

"can i record this?" she can tell you're wrecked too, impatient by the unevenness of your voice. "for us. don't care about the site-"

"yes-" she's gonna turn fucking purple at some point when she's repeating it multiple times, already shaking her head in approval "yes please, record it- send me a copy- just fucking do it."

"you're such a whore" you pant, and before ellie can say anything, you're taking her phone to open up the camera icon and point the lenses back to her face "what was that? say it again."

"please" it makes ellie's cunt clench in response while your lips curve in a smile, pleased as you're using just a slight amount of force to push her right over the edge of your mattress — "please record it, send me a copy m'am. please."

"begging so quick already huh?" placing yourself between her parted legs, ellie's hand roam against your sides before you're making her look up, pulling on her hair to oblige her to stare at your eyes "beg so beautiful i might have to make you do it again."

your thumb trace the confines of her lips, cold skin before ellie's biting on the finger playfully — "please- i can't deal with any more teasing."

"okay then greedy. all fours then. i want you in all fours" you reply as the camera points at her, giving you the perfect look of ellie's face, how she seemed, for the first time, pleased to follow orders without putting up a fight. "leave the panties on."

and in the camera it looks so fucking hot you forget to keep her in the frame for a second, distracted cause your eyes scan the exposed skin; cause her body's like a halo that holds some sort of holiness when she's doing what you demanded: her cheek rests against your wrinkled duvet as her backside is up like a present ready to let you take whatever you want from her.

so you're grabbing her ass, squeezing the flesh in one hand as the other seemed to remember it's job while recording, giving a good image of your viewer's body as the lenses catch every detail you're missing out as a victim of the adrenaline.

"you're always this good at submitting? or is it me who's having the pleasure of seeing this?" you question, but at this point ellie cannot find the words to say something about how she's not submitting, even when in reality the spank you gave her makes her body go stiff for a moment, an involuntary gasp leaving her parted mouth in response. she has no face to lie to you. "talk to me, dummy. or have you forgotten how to speak properly?"

"uh please," she whines "don't do this to me."

"poor baby," you pout for a moment before a smirk pulls the corners of your lips back up — "can't handle a little teasing? really are an impatient little slut."

ellie's hand grip the covers beneath her when you're finally taking care of the ache she's so bad to control in between her legs, when you mumble something about her underwear sticking to her folds like glue, the white cotton already dampened as it reveals the pink color you're quick to stare at as your fingers slide right in the middle: sticky, coats your hand like its meant to land on it, makes you follow like the moth is drawn to the fire.

"breathe," you instruct when the camera points to ellie's cunt. grimy and so good as the video catches on the transparent strands of her arousal connected to your palm, how ellie's hips move ever so slightly in search for more friction, anything at all when your fingers perpetuate the torture in keeping her hanging on a thread "you'll thank me for this. i need you loose for the fucking machine."

she would like to investigate further, ask what-the-fuck you're talking about, but the only thing that comes out of her mouth when your fingers slide filling her drenched cunt, is a loud whine that puts her damn right under your control. roughly biting on her lips to somehow stiffen the sounds of how pathetic she already is under your hands, how her hips unbuckle on her own to follow the length of your digits splitting her open.

"oh fuck-" you moan slowly falling to pieces, sounds so damn inviting at this point—. "fuck you're so tight- so warm."

"more," there's a lewd sound that your fingers make when there're sinking in deeper inside her pussy and withdrawal almost entirely before slamming back in, in her moans and incoherent words to make you go faster, take more from what ellie's already presenting to you. "more, more- more."

it makes you laugh, and ellie's face already too red to keep on blushing as you mock her words — "more, more more. is it the only word you fucking know?"

she asked for it now that she's seeing the video back in your phone with you already invading her space. soft, lazy kisses against the crook of her neck. takes it like a champ when ellie can hear the mechanic sounds filling the air, irrupting the silence and her needy moans as you position the machine right next your waist, roughly moving her where you needed her to be.

"you look so fucking hot," ellie hears as she stares at the screen, blushing again like she's not already embarrassed from her previous behavior recorded on camera "do me a favor and spread yourself out, need to see your pretty hole."

she's quick to spread her ass-cheeks for you without a second thought, making you gather a good quantity of spit on your mouth to toss against her already abused opening, lubricating the entrance.

her moans drive you crazy, how could they not? ellie tries to muffle them but failing miserably before the tip of the silicone dildo kisses her entrance, using your free hand to guide her movements and push her against the fucking machine as the toy's already moving at a constant pace.

"make room for my cock," your hand slides down her spine, following the bones of ellie's column. the phone still points to her cunt greedily swallowing the blue color until it disappears inside. makes you dizzy at the sight—. "such a good girl taking my cock."

"s'too big, ah-too much" ellie whines, pressing her cheek against the mattress as you keep the pace of the machine in the slower level, making her gasp when you're the one with enough force to move her hips against the machine for her. "mff-good fuck."

"yeah baby, that's right keep talking to me" you encourage her as your fingers slowly make the machine go faster than before — "keep telling me how good my cock's making you feel. i'm all ears."

"stretching me out s'good" she's able to say as her brain's already combusting by itself. the mechanic sounds mixing already with her drenched cunt as the phone keeps recording right against ellie's entrance, giving you a hella good view when you're able to see the white-creamy-traces of her cunt already coating the dildo "ah-you're making me feel so full."

so as she rewatches the video recorded on her own phone, she's aware of the debased stated you reduced her. how saliva's coming down her parted lips to coat the bed you sleep in every day, glassy eyes already in the verge of tears cause the pleasure's so intense ellie could cry from the stimulation she has never felt before.

it's a bomb ticking her way back to zero. your fingers play with all the levels of the machine and ellie can see that you're enjoying it too, the red imprint of your hand on her ass, the way you're pushing her face against the mattress to have her arching her back in a better angle, to allow the dildo in reaching deeper levels even when her legs shake struggling to hold her own weight.

"shh, don't whine" you say on top of her when your fingers thread against ellie's hair, pulling it roughly. "don't whine, you asked for more remember? be a good fucking slut and take it good. you're there already."

damn right she is. she wants to be good for you. please you even when the machine's so fucking loud she cannot hear her own thoughts, when her brain's malfunctioning and its fucking leaking through her ear into your sheets — you're pushing her against the dildo, impaling her balls-deep in the silicone you keep calling your cock, and suddenly her vision's fading to black, blinded momentarily since she dissolves into lust and becomes one with the pleasure, you fucking win.

it's not a competition, it's not a game anymore. not when you're switching your attitude so fast got her confused for a second when all the roughness dissipates and you're pressing soft kisses against her back as she's coming down from her high — "you okay there, beautiful? was i too rough on you?"

"fuck- i think i need a moment to breathe- hold up a second."

the video comes to an end seconds after, but its there on ellie's memory like a poor movie with bad camera anglings. you're helping to lay in bed after, praising how she's basking under the glimmer of sex, placing soft kisses in the red marks you leave on her skin like a permanent reminder.

so ellie stays that night, cause you were right when you said it before.

you took your time with her until she has no damn idea anymore. until you make her torn cause even when she's looking at the video with you sleeping on her side all over again, she still have no idea on where you ended, and she begins to exist.

man. ellie knew it was no good.

[dawnicaltarot]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃: 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄

can be used for future spouse, future partner, crush, other significant, soulmate, twinflame, life partner and current lover.

ִ ࣪𖤐 𝓟ile one

hey there my dear group one. this may sound odd and weird for some lol but anyway their ideal people are those who do not care in love, people who are not focusing much on romantic connections. it can be that they feel lost and defeated with their ideal person's interest, they may be thinking they don't have chances. they are attracted to people who are social-butterfly and extroverted. someone who enjoys the life of party and communicating with people. someone who is energetic and someone who will stays on their side through ups and down. someone who will support and make an effort to understand them. they were attracted to people who seems giving a serene energy and someone who can tap to their creative side. your person deeply value healing and healthy connection and they would appreciate if someone who is willing to work and make an effort in relationship. they want someone who can show intimacy and won't be afraid to show it to the public. someone who is willing to learn a lot of things from them at the same learning to the opposite sides of their partner knowledge. someone who is practical and realistic, who can stand firm and can be trusted. someone who can change their perspectives and make them as a family-oriented person. they want a love story of friends that turn into lovers, they usually value deep level of connection before jumping in to commitment.

ִ ࣪𖤐 𝓟ile two

hi my dear group two people! your person's ideal type is someone who is serious, calm and successful in their own ways. they want someone who is always willing to learn new things and someone who likes to travel. otherwise, they are into wise and mature individuals. they are attracted to people who are quite like them, people who use their mouth to share knowledge and wisdom. they may believe they have known everything that's why meeting someone's new who have a knowledge beyond them makes their knees fall. they are into mature and older than their age people, they are may be someone who is older than you or someone who have an old soul. also, they're attracted to individuals who are balance, open-minded and patience- they usually value maturity regardless the age. as i said awhile ago, they want someone is like them, someone who can understand them and someone who they can get a long with because most of the time they have an introvert nature. they also want someone who can get a long with the crowds at the same time someone who casually enjoys their me time. a person who can bring calm into their smoldering and flaming ember other personality in a difficult situations with their daily basis. someone who can both rock boyish and feminine style.

ִ ࣪𖤐 𝓟ile three

hey there my group of three people, how's your day? i hope it was good. here's your reading. your person's ideal type is someone who embodies lethal and dreamy appearance at the same time someone who has a killing weapon personality. they are attracted to individuals who are passionate and ambitious plus those people who are highly tapped with their sexual fantasies. someone who can understand a sarcastic and dark humor, someone who prefer dark psychology than disney story. someone who is confident that even social anxiety is afraid to deal with. someone who is over-achiever and someone who don't rely much on other people when dealing with their situations like problems. someone who is a keeper in a relationship, a worth to risk for and give no bullshit and headaches to them. your person is into perfectionist and people pleaser like those type of people who can't do no wrong nor harm towards others. they also value reputation a lot so they may want a partner who they show off real good to the public. someone who can be fiery. someone who is a quick decision maker and really can act not tell towards their goals. someone who is good at communications and a person who can bring changes. someone who can fightback and brave enough when they feel something is wrong. some. someone who is clever and intelligent. someone who is opinionated, ingenious, and competitive. someone who is sure they don't cross boundaries and knows their limitations.

ִ ࣪𖤐 𝓟ile four

damn, i don't wanna say this but you are my favorite pile group four. they want someone who is like a "cardigan" music video— gentle, magical and clingy on them. someone who has the beauty of melancholy. someone who is willing to work towards their desires despite the lack of opportunities. someone who is supportive and protective towards their loved ones. someone who doesn't get influence with the negativity of life rather they want someone who is stick like glue with optimism. a person who may encounter the bad side of life but still never give up and don't surrender because it's a process of life. someone who patient and resilient. someone who can provide stability in every situation and very proud for their accomplishments whether it's big or small. someone who is kind and generous to share their fruit of success to others. their ideal is someone warm, loving, sensual and charismatic in terms of beauty and characteristics. someone who isn't afraid to show their sensitive and altruistic sides with others. someone who is an excellent nurturers and someone who can be a good model for their child. someone who is good at problem solving and never scared to overcome obstacles.

all rights reserved © dawnicaltarot 2022-2025 | do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

— ✯ credits to rightful owner of divider and images that i used for this project. a lot of grammatical changes are fixed.

[janicekao]

Kryptonite

Pairing: Bo Chow x Black oc Summary: Bo Chow struggles to navigate through life being newly divorced from his wife, Grace. But a particular young woman who shops in his colored's only store has his nose wide opened and thinking that jumping back into the dating pool might not be so bad after all.

Warnings:#Sinners #JimCrowEra #TimePiece #1932 #NoVampires #Black!OC #AgeGap #OCisBratty #OCisAnnoying #OCisSlutty #LoveAffair #Spying #Stalking #RoughS3x #Coercion #CümW3aring #FanFiction #Smut #18+ #IDEK #BarelyProofRead #ItriedLol #NotManyImages

4k words Wattpad link Enjoy my babies<3 ---------------------

Bo Chow and his wife Grace own two grocery stores in the middle of Clarksdale, Mississippi. On one side of the street is a mart for white's only, and the other is colored's only. Between Bo, his wife, and their daughter Lisa, they separate through the day to have equal man-power in each store. Today, Bo restocks the colored store knowing that most of his black customers are sharecroppers who get paid at the end of the week, meaning that today (Tuesday) won't be very busy with shoppers, being that they are hard at work and haven't been paid yet. While Grace and Lisa service the whites store being that it's pretty much busy at all hours of the week.

They always feared that this partnership they have in running two businesses would soon split them apart— afraid that the separation during the day would also separate them at night... And being that Grace presented divorce papers to Bo only a few months ago, it seems that they spoke the separation into existence.

Is it possible to just fall out of love after so many years? Guess so, being that it is exactly what happened. After living such separate lives and hardly seeing each other in the day, it was like the Chows came home at night to strangers instead of their spouses. Although a failed marriage is never something to celebrate, one thing Bo and Grace Chow always know how to do is be great partners and parents to Lisa... Now with the divorce in motion, Bo has the opportunity to reach out to further places with his business skills. Soon he'll have more stores open across the country now that he's able to spread his wings. The plan is to open more stores and make enough money to take their very bright daughter out of the south. They always have hoped to take Lisa somewhere up north where she can get the best education and she'll never have to look back at Clarksdale again, and although it's taking a major sacrifice, at least the plan is finally in motion.

With divorce comes many changes. Thirty-four year old Bo Chow who has been married since he was fifteen has to learn how to be a single man again... and boy does it have his nose wide opened. From flirty exchanges, staying out at juke joints all night with friends, and jumping back into the dating pool, Bo can't help but to have his eyes on one girl in particular. Misses Ada Mae James. A girl so fine that Bo Chow is convinced she shits flowers and pisses lemonade. From her magnificent curves to her million-watt smile, Bo swoons for Ada like he's never been enchanted by a woman before.

He'd be lying if he said that he never took notice to Ada beforehand, he's only a man and he isn't a blind man at that. But to respect his wife and their two-decade long marriage, he knew it was always best to never stare for very long. But now that he's a free man, Ada James has quickly become Bo Chow's kryptonite— the only thing that can weaken the proud and loving family man with her lewd charm, cruel wit, and nonchalant ways of stringing him along like a dog on a leash.

As Bo continues to stack jars of pickled-eggs behind the counter, a gust of wind and the sound of his door chimes alarm his sixth sense— her presence is so strong to him that he knows each time when it's Ada James walking into his shop.

Gently turning to welcome her inside, they both stare without a word. So much to say, yet so little courage. Ava taunts him with her presence, not actually needing any groceries, she knows that this very moment is the best time to come and pick with his brain.

Bo hates that he can barely breathe— barely move around her. It's more than just a feeling of being hypnotized, but it's also his guilt about what recently had occurred. Guilty from the fact that since what happened the night before, Bo now knows every inch of her body, every strain of hair on her mound, and the way her knees shake when she's blinded by pleasure, all because he's seen it with his own two eyes... a secret between them that needs to continue to go unspoken.

Ada slowly struts through the colored's only grocery store with an unwavering stare at Bo Chow, she wears a dress far too shapely and short to be alone somewhere with a man and Ada knows this. Her hips sway with each step as she robs Bo Chow blind each second— stealing pieces of licorice and lemon drops, knowing that Bo won't say a word about it if it makes her happy.

He watches her in return as if she were a piece of the sweetest saltwater taffy. His mouth waters for her each second he lays eyes on her. Bo clears his throat, "did your mother send you with a list today?"

Never blinking, she refuses to respond. Ada opens the icebox, lifting a carton of eggs, and dropping them to the wooden floors of the store.

"Alright Ada James, that's twenty-five cent plus clean up and I know you ain't got the money for it." Being tested each second, Bo's nostrils widen as his chest pumps with angered breaths.

He places his veined-hardworking hands on his waist, "can I help you with something or not?"

Becoming a wasteful brat once more, Ada lifts a glass bottle of fresh milk from the icebox next... once again dropping it to ground as it shatters beside the mess of broken eggs. "Oops."

Bo huffs, immediately locking the front door and flipping the sign on the window to 'store closed.' "Back room—" he snatches her arm. "Now."

Caught by the bicep, Ada struggles to be released from Bo's powerful grip that has her nearing her tiptoes as she's pulled to the back of the store.

The back room is as much privacy as they're able to get although only hidden by a few shelves and saloon style-double doors that continuously flap open as they enter inside the room full of boxes. Ada finally retrieves her arm, snatching away with all her might as Bo towers over her with tensed muscles appearing beneath his rolled up sleeves. "Damn it Ada if you've come here to start some shit today—" his finger is pointed sternly at her face yet his focus is taken as Ada lifts her dress, revealing everything her mama gave her.

He gulps, "you're just— walking 'round all of Clarksdale with no panties on?"

"Not all of Clarksdale." She bites her lip, "just to Bo Chow's store."

On the type of time and energy of a demon, Ada takes his hand and slowly presses it between her legs... She waits for Bo Chow to pull away, but he doesn't, instead he becomes familiar with the heat and slip that has already taken over her womanhood.

Ada Mae James indeed came to start some shit today, but not with the store— with the owner Bo Chow only.

Sensitive to his touch, Bo can't imagine how long she's been like this. How long has he been on her mind to the point of having her buck and glide her cunt across his bare hand?

Ada directs his hand that now glistens with her juices to his face, assuring that Bo Chow not only smells her essence but tastes it as well. His eyes flutter shut, rolling into the back of his skull as he inhales the scent of Ada's lingering fresh rose bath water, a bit of salty Mississippi sweat, and the head spinning intoxicating effect of tasting her arousal.

She lowers her dress, lowering her eyes as well. "The next taste will have to be from the source, Mr. Bo Chow." She hints towards having him eat her pussy. Ada steps closer and lays a hand on his chest, so close that she breathes into his lips and Bo struggles not to kiss her. "Ada, look, if we had only met before I married—"

"We are nine years apart Bo, there wasn't a chance to meet beforehand because I would've only been a girl." Breath sweet from stolen candy, her lips are like magnets as Bo tries his hardest not to chase after them. Her seduction continues, "but right now I'm all woman and I want you. Just kiss me, you know your wife's at the other store."

"She'd kick both of our asses if she knew what you were up to."

"It would be worth it." Ada persuades. "And what do you care? The rumor has it that the Chows are over. There's one attorney in this town and apparently he's doing your divorce."

"So much for client confidentiality." He scoffs, tearing Ada's hands from his chest. "You still don't know what you're talking about. Grace and I are separating for the benefit of our daughter. Running the grocery stores aint what it used to be, I gotta travel out of the south to make more dollars to send babygirl to a nice college."

"Oh— extra dollars?" She taunts. "Is that what Grace Chow is looking for while mending the register at the white's only grocery store? Ya know, batting her eyes and hinting to the white men what a lil Asian persuasion is like?"

"She is!?" He nearly falls for it. "Shut up, Ada. You're just trying to get a rise out of me."

"Oh honey, I already have." Making light of the monumental hard on in his pants, Ada's eyes lower towards its direction. She laughs. "Look at you Bo Chow, still getting jealous over your wife, wanting your cake and eating it too. You can't have both."

He struggles to keep up with her mind games. "What do you want Ada?"

"You." Her answer is extremely clear.

On his way to deny the young girl some more, Bo finds himself licking his lips— still chasing after her taste hoping that it's still somewhere on his lip. "I just can't."

She notices his dilated pupils and tongue still searching the corners of his mouth for another sample of her pussy. "No? then why do you always stare at me for a bit too long, why do you pitch a tent in your pants when my perfume blows in your direction, why are you my bedroom window's favorite audience?"

...

Fuck.

The night before.

Bo freezes, nearly panicking and wondering if she remembers. He was so drunk after the juke last night that he had hoped it was all just a dream of how feral he had behaved at her window.

On his way home from drinking each night, he has to pass the James' family residence. He spotted Ada once before through the window, placing hair-rollers in hair before bed, and ever since then he's known exactly which room is hers. Bo likes to blame it on having too much whiskey being the reason he peeps through her window each time he walks by their house, but deep down he knows that he's always hoping to catch her at her vanity, undressing, or even spend just a moment in time to watch her sleep... but last night— last night was the moment his peeping-tom eyes refused to unglue from her windowpane.

"Tell me Bo, why did you linger at my window so long last night?" Ada drives him mad with nerves as she presses him further, so close that her bountiful bosom mashes against his tight muscles. "Was it the flame flicker of my candle that you thought was soo interesting? Or could it have been watching me play with my pussy?"

"I didn't watch!" He exclaims.

"You did, and you hardly could see." She makes him gulp and tense as the memories flood him. "The room was so dimly lit, so you had the nerve to squint and cuff your hands against the glass to take an even closer peak. You pressed your weight so hard against that glass to see inside that I thought that it would break."

He refuses once more and is immediately interrupted. "I didn't—"

"You stayed until I came."

"Stop." Holding his breath and trembling so terribly, Bo exhales to breathe in once again. Everything she says is so very true. Bo Chow watched her body arch off of the mattress each time she plunged her fingers into her core, the dimly lit candle in her room was just enough to see everything he needed— to see the curve of her digits as they drove into her heat and returned glistening with her satisfaction. He pressed against the window harder because not only did he want to see better, but he needed to hear her sweet whimpers. He had dreamed of her sounds every night since he could remember and he finally had the opportunity to hear them, he couldn't restrain himself. Ada knew of his watching and put on a show just for him. It was as if she knew just when he had a whiskey too many and would be on his way home. He nearly drooled at the sight of Ada tweaking her brown nipples and bucking at her own caress because her body felt as if it were on fire. He had wished to be inside to cool it— to ease her flames, just to enlighten them all over again. He watched for a half an hour, tugging his cock in his fist as he watched her touch herself, sure that the dirt and flowers against their house would be stained with traces of his spend come morning. Her fingers— he had wished them to be his digits, his tongue, his cock! He hated that when she finally climaxed and her knees began to shake, her fingers leaving her core left her empty. Bo wished with everything that he had that Ada Mae was filled with his seed instead, something that would keep her sated and stuffed until he would fuck her and do it all over again.

"I whispered your name when I came, could you hear it Bo? As focused as you were while watching me I know you at least read it off of my lips." Ada continues to pain him with a taunting chuckle, now beginning to ache in his trousers as they reminisce.

"I said stop!" Anger, embarrassment, and guilt eats away at him. He grabs hold of Ada and slams her against the shelves behind them.

Her gasp ends in a breathy moan. It's what she wants— what she craves. "Please— just like that." She begs to be manhandled.

"You're crazy. Like this?" A look of disgust crosses his expression. Bo can literally feel the pressure he is pushing her body with, the same cruel restraint he'd put on someone who tried to rob the store. He softens his grasp on her. "You're just looking for a man to make free use of your body."

"Yes, you." She admits. "Until the point of having bruises on my tender flesh. Injuries to run my fingertips across and be reminded of you with goosebumps all day long, Bo Chow."

Temptation is a demon on his back. His eyes lower half-lidded with lust, knowing that a rough fuck with Ada could release so much of his recent stress and tension. "Your body would ache."

"God, it already does." Her brown doe eyes glass over with the need to be absolutely pummeled.

He shakes his head, trying desperately to restrain himself. "Why are you doing this to me? Out of any other married man you could terrorize with your philandering you choose me?"

"I want you, Bo."

"Your folks won't even let you out the house at night, and they damn sure wouldn't let me have you." He reminds Ada of her strict household, twenty-five years old yet her parents have eyes on her like a hawk, making her even more sexually aggressive around men when she's finally free of her family. "Listen, I heard all about the arrangement. I know that they want you to marry the preacher's son... you and Sammie."

"Don't want Sammie, want you." Ada nearly pouts, grinding the crotch of her dress against Bo's clothed erection just for some type of relief.

"We are both unavailable."

"It makes it all the better." She insists, "I can have you Bo, every day in this shop at a scheduled time."

"Everyday?" He questions. "You want this to turn into a habit?"

"No, but trust that you will." Ada kisses him, finally connecting to his lips as Bo's eyes flutter shut.

Their tongue kiss is as good as he always knew it would be, they could stand here and kiss for hours and he would cum five times, but it wouldn't be enough for his needy new lover. "Goddamnit Bo, I'm so on edge!" Out of patience and bratty, she's willing to blow this whole situation up if she doesn't get her nut in the next few minutes. "Tell me yes baby, say it before I make a fucking scene."

"Yes, Ada." Bo continues to lose himself in her soft lips. "Let me feel you baby."

He pulls her closer, arms doubling at her waist as his hands roam up her back and the curve of her ass. His kisses become lewd love bites against her neck and chest as his fingertips unbutton the front of her dress to collect more of her spillage against his tongue. His tongue lolls at the hardened buds of her breasts, soaking her body in his spit as his fingers retrieve from her pussy soaked and webbing in her mess of arousal.

Bo turns Ada around, bending her back and arching it as he lifts her skirt for back shots. He exhales a near groan as a devilish smirk curls at his lips. His hands cup her ass, splitting her apart for all there is to see as he bends to kiss her back dimples. He takes off his apron and frees himself from the zipper of his trousers, he goes to pump his cock in his fist yet he already pulses with an overly sensitive erection. With blood rushing to the tip of his cock, he nearly curls over as he slides once through her folds to lubricate himself. He pushes forward once more and compliments the slip. "S'fucking wet for me— damnit, Ada." His next slip forward, breaches her entry, watching the band of her cunt accommodate his thick size.

Ada's teeth nearly go through her lip the way that she clamps down so hard. "Mmmf! Please Bo—more." He doesn't hesitate to sheathe himself to her hilt, tasting ecstasy as Ada takes his every inch.

"Ah, fuck." He hisses in disbelief, setting a slow rhythm that builds with each power-drive in and out of her cunt.

Bo watches her pussy grip him and mold against his cock as if she were made for it, he glistens with Ada's cream each time he pulls out and becomes dazed by the sound of their sloshing as he pushes back in. His hands become a ferocious grip on her hips, not allowing her to run and to take each devastating inch that drags against her walls until he is snug, balls deep against her cunt.

Ada's fingers dig deeply into the steal grates of the shelf she folds against and every curl in her hair has been fucked out— gyrated and sweated as she allows Bo's free use of her body. He lifts one of her deliciously thick thighs, placing her high-heeled foot on the lowest tier of the shelf, having his strokes dig deeper now at a different angle that leaves her jaw unhinged and at a loss for words as her moans come out in silent mouse squeaks.

The knocking against her cervix makes her vision dot with stars, Ada reaches backwards to ease his strokes and her arm is painfully twisted up her back as if she were being arrested as Bo's pounding heightens even more. "Shit Bo, you're killing me!" Her words are gritted through her teeth, but it's exactly what she asked for. His jaw clenches with a look of fierce possession staining his face. "Take it."

She does, fucking him back and clapping against his steel thighs as she rises to meet his urgent thrust. Her dress has become nothing but wrinkles in his white-knuckled fist. Precum mixing with her cream as Bo holds out as long as he can, breathing becoming ragged and uneven as Ada's pussy continues to clench into a vice around his shaft.

Her moment of release quickly becomes Bo's favorite tune, the age-old rhythm instantly taking over Ada as she is blindly forced over the edge.

They share a moan as her orgasm is more of a treat for them both, Bo slows the strokes with a grab to her throat, forcing her back against his chest as he paces himself with deep upward strokes.

The plunging hot penetration has Ada cock-drunk, grinning in pure passionate ecstasy as she feels her lover become a frenzied mess behind her. "You feel so good Ada— God, baby, this pussy is mine."

She nods. "Yours."

Bo's arms wrap around her body, his rough hands cup her breasts until they are dimpled with bruises. He fucks her with a goal of his own climax, tempo beginning to speed sporadically as he slams up into her battered cunt without moral compass.

As Ada feels the spear splitting her apart begin to tense and spasm, she recognizes his near finish. "Time it right, Bo."

Without even one thought of ever pulling out of this fantastic pussy, he nearly trips over his own words. "What? W-Why?"

"You're thirty-four with a teenage daughter, clearly you fire with loaded bullets, and I don't want one."

His hot white burst comes like an embalming injection, forcing him to pull out instantly and paint the outside of her mound like icing on a cake. Groaning as each rope of cum feels like it's taking years off of his life.

His cock glistens with evidence of his and Ada's shared pleasure. He's become so hooked on the pussy, he even pleads for more. "Wasn't enough, I need to fill you." Growing flaccid for less than a second, he returns to an erection standing at attention and being directed up his chiseled abdomen.

"You sure change your mind quickly Bo Chow." Ada teases, "first you refuse me and now you can't get enough?"

"Don't patronize me." His jaw ticks with annoyance, yet he fiends for whatever else Ada has. "But yes, I know."

Bo's wide hand and long fingers haven't left her flesh since, claiming what's his as he caresses her face and keeps a tender grip around her soft throat. He pulls Ada against his body, tongue kissing her with all his passion as he pushes her legs apart— preparing to fuck her this time in missionary with her legs tied around his waist.

"I tell you what—" Ada slows him down, lightly gasping in air as she takes notice to the gentle bucking and his hard cock gliding through her swollen folds again. "I heard your family is staying here to take care of the businesses while you travel to Chicago with the Smoke-Stack twins looking to make more money to send back home."

Close to lining his cockhead with her entry, Bo pauses. "You heard about that too?"

"I wasn't very far when I eavesdropped on the conversation you had with Smoke." Ada closes her legs, leaving him blue-balled and opened to hearing her. "I want in. I want to go with you."

Leaving with Bo Chow is the freedom she can finally get from her strict parents, spreading her wings with the man she wants instead of the man they have picked for her. But Bo is unsure about jumping head first into another relationship after the marriage he just finished ended only recently.

Ada holds power over Bo now and she knows it. So pussy-whipped that denying her feels almost impossible when the best sex he's ever had can be dangled right over his head. "Take me to Chicago, give me a life with you, and you can fill any hole of mine that you want." Her scant promise nearly makes Bo dizzy.

With a cock still throbbing and wanting more of the girl he has been lusting over for so long, he finally agrees. "Pack your bags, we leave tomorrow."

[ms-demeanor]

When I said I didn't have project experience with any orgs he asked "what about this conference?" And I said "I'd feel weird putting this on a resume, it's two days a year of checking people in and a few hours of design work for the program."

He asked how long I'd been doing it and I said twenty years and he visibly threw an error code so I laughed and said "seventeen, eighteen years really."

"No, fuck you, you said twenty years, what do you mean twenty years?" (Lots of informal swearing for emphasis during this chat)

"I said twenty years because I've been coming for twenty years. This con was actually my first date with my husband, so this is our 20th anniversary, but I had such a good time at the first one that I kept coming back. I'm nostalgic and this is my favorite con so I've gotten more involved over the years but it's not like I'm deeply involved in organizing, I've just been around forever. But I only started volunteering a couple years in and I don't do much so it doesn't really feel like a resume thing."

"I thought you were going to say, like. Two years. Are you saying you met your husband at a hacker conference twenty years ago and you're still volunteering with the conference because you're nostalgic?"

"We actually met at a coffee shop and this was our first date, but kinda, yeah. Also all my friends are here."

"Either way, I just got chills, oh my God, look at my goosebumps. I have something to ask you. I'm doing a series of recorded interviews in an executive development series, I would be honored if you would be my inaugural interview."

And I basically said "sure, but I still hate my job and I need to apply for regular work because I need a stable income and health insurance, what can I do to make it more likely for my resume to get looked at?" and he told me to write out a list of 40 accomplishments in a problem-solution-action format with hard numbers like hours saved and sales made and he would work with me to pare it down for prime time. Then he asked if I was on LinkedIn (and i pointed to the LinkedIn custom URL in the contact section of my resume) and that's when he told me he was out of connections and asked me to connect with him. He only gave me his first name but, hey, hacker con, so four minutes later I was looking at his YouTube and realizing that he had asked me if I had any social media presence and I'd said that I had a few thousand followers on tumblr.

After that I looked at the main hall and realized there were five professional development booths and that we'd been letting them come for years and I had no idea if all of them were like the guy I talked to because everyone I know from the con largely gets jobs from knowing people at the con (the organizer working reg with me was my coworker and carpool partner for seven years and three of my other former coworkers were there, the main conference organizer was Large Bastard's coworker for a year and large bastard referred him for the job because they knew each other from 2600 etc etc etc) and the professional groups are all "information security professionals" and "infosec collaboration" and suit and tie and sanitized and new and me and a bunch of the old fucks at the conference were talking about how sanitized the scene feels, and how people these days have such an emphasis on whitehat hacking and both blackhat and defcon are disneyland for geeks and there's such a bizarre focus on never breaking the law and anyway i think i walked away from all of that wanting to start an illegalist hackers' union.

I'm a very bad judge of these things, I'm applying to a job that i'm so excited about that I'm having trouble breathing over it, it is for a technical writing position at an open source security company.

Is ms-demeanor.com something that is reasonable to put on a resume and also are any of the following good things to list as milestones:

The De-Googling Book (it's called "Fuck Google")

The Death Book

The how to write an essay book

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

The Keys Of Heaven [Chapter 5: Who Has Spoken Through The Prophets]

A/N: We're over halfway done, besties! Bless you for reading 🙏

Series summary: Three years ago, Father Aemond Targaryen performed a miracle. Now he is a cardinal, a media sensation, and a frontrunner to be elected pope. You are a nun who has been brought to Vatican City to assist with the papal conclave. But when your paths cross by happenstance, you must both reckon with your decision to join the Catholic Church…and what you want from the future.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), references to abuse and violence, volcanoes, bodily injury, death, peril, scheming, pining, some drugs/alcohol/smoking, Catholic trivia you never asked to learn, kangaroos!

Word count: 6.2k

🦘 A very special thanks to my Aussie slang consultant @bearwithegg and also her mum (any mistakes are mine) 🦘

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @lauraneedstochill @ecstaticactus @neithriddle, more in comments! 🥰

🗝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🗝️

“What name will you choose?” you tease Aemond as reporters stand on the other side of the glass doors, strobing flashes of camera clicks and the deadened drone of their voices as they recount his second miracle into their microphones, one take, two takes, wanting to get it just right. Aemond is clasping your right hand as he sits beside your hospital bed. Neither of you speak to the reporters, or talk to the doctors and nurses about anything except medical care; you don’t want anyone to be able to say the vow of secrecy was broken. But you are posing for the audience, you the nearly-lost sheep, Aemond the benevolent shepherd. You’re just happy you get to touch him. The nurses cleaned his blood from your hair and your face, and you wish they hadn’t. “You should bring back something really wonky and old school. A name that hasn’t been used in centuries. Maybe…Pope Zosimus?”

“Pope Dionysius,” Aemond says, grinning. “No unfortunate connotations there.”

“Pope Hilarius. You do have a great sense of humor.”

“Pope Simplicius.”

“Pope Valentine, so romantic.”

“Pope Telesphorus!”

“Pope Caius, wasn’t that a character in the Twilight movies?”

“Pope Peter,” Aemond says. “After the apostle and the founder of the Church.”

“You’re proud enough for it.”

“Even prouder than you think. I already have a name picked out.” This is a grievous fault, one that no good cardinal would admit to. But Aemond reveals things to you that are unfit for even the confessional booth. You have a concussion, Aemond has fifty stitches, and you are both wearing pale blue hospital gowns; you could almost be mistaken for a normal couple.

Beyond the glass, nurses are telling the reporters that their time is up and shooing them off, down the hall, down the staircase, out into the world where they will tell billions of people what they’ve seen: Aemond’s saintlike selflessness, his chaste devotion to his flock. You will be a footnote: A nun was nearly killed, a nun’s life was saved, now let’s talk about the man who performed a miracle in Saint Peter’s Square.

You can’t ask anybody what is going on within the brick walls of Vatican City, but you have caught the nurses exchanging whispers. A representative for the dean Cardinal Seaborn released a public statement that voting would be paused for three days, allowing time for the cardinals to reflect and pray on recent events. Priests hailing from parishes across the globe are giving sermons declaring that serious consideration should be given to the signs God has made so visible. The Third Miracle Challenge has gone viral on TikTok, documenting people achieving things they once thought were impossible (for example, waking up at 5 a.m. to go jogging, or calling to schedule their own doctor’s appointment). #SexyPope is trending worldwide on Twitter.

If he wins, I’ll never be able to touch him again.

Two nurses enter your room—you’re being held for observation for twenty-four hours, and will be released this evening provided no worrying symptoms develop—and yank the mint green curtains shut, the tiny metal hooks clanging on the rods. They give you a cursory once-over and then spend several minutes chatting to Aemond in their thick Italian accents: “Cardinal Targaryen, will you say a prayer for my sick grandmother?” “Cardinal Targaryen, what is your favorite psalm?” “Cardinal Targaryen, how do you learn to forgive people who have wronged you?” Then they skuttle out of the room and close the door behind them. No impropriety is suspected; Aemond is now above reproach.

I already have a name picked out, Aemond had said. Your eyes drop to the thin gold chain that holds his medallion, concealed beneath the scratchy blue cotton of his hospital gown. “Who are you wearing?”

Instead of answering, he leans in so you can see for yourself; his uninjured left hand sinks into the mattress, the remnants of the cologne he put on yesterday morning steal into your lungs, warm honeyed light like the flame of a candle, vanilla, cinnamon, amber. Your fingertips slip under the chain and follow it down to the gold disk, freeing it from beneath his gown. It’s Saint Thomas Aquinas, his name inscribed in an arc above his portrait. You hold the medallion in your palm as Aemond waits patiently; you like him this close, you don’t want him to leave.

“Pope Thomas,” you muse. “A papal name that’s never been used before.”

“He was a great thinker. He established the doctrine of natural law, which informed the rise of just legal systems, human rights, democracy.”

“And he is very, very famous. He’s worshiped by intellectuals.” You turn over the medallion. On the back is etched one of the saint’s quotes: The things that we love tell us what we are. You ask, only half-serious, perhaps afraid to be more: “What do you love, Aemo?” Power, fame, triumph, me?

He shrugs and smiles, small and crooked. “A few things.”

The disk glints in the midday sun that streams in through the windows. “Why gold?”

“Why not? It’s the best.”

“Greedy,” you say, releasing the medallion. Aemond hesitates before returning to his chair. “Thomas suits you. It was also the name of the apostle who was so skeptical of Christ’s resurrection. He had to feel the Lord’s wounds with his own hands before he was convinced.”

“And I have doubts,” Aemond says, amused, still smiling.

“Most people do, it seems.”

“You don’t?” A pause, a tad self-conscious. “About anyone?”

“I believe in the Faith, and I believe in you. But those are two very different things.” 

Aemond looks down at his bandaged palm, meditative, perhaps even regretful. There’s no going back now. The whole world saw what he did.

“You weren’t like this before,” you say softly. “On the beach, you weren’t…” You stop to think of how to word it. “You weren’t as sharp, or as ambitious, or as…wrathful.”

“That was a long time ago. Twenty-nine years.”

You watch him, seeking. What is there beneath the surface? What runs through him like arteries of magma under the earth? “Do you ever go home to Nisyros?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Not even with all your diplomatic missions and your interviews and your YouTube videos?”

Aemond looks at you, direct, hard, like it’s a warning. “No.”

“Did something happen there?”

“I told you. I never felt like there was really a place for me. Why would I want to go back?”

“But your family is still in Nisyros, aren’t they? You don’t see them?”

“They take the ferry to Santorini when they want to visit me.”

You consider this, tugging restlessly on your own medallion: cheap plain iron, a humble saint.

Aemond asks before you can say anything else: “How’s your head?”

“The codeine is helping.”

“You’ll have to be very careful when we get back to Vatican City.”

You are startled, unsure of what he means. Careful not to touch him? Careful not to want him?

Then Aemond clarifies: “You need plenty of rest each night. No physical exertion, no stress.”

You chuckle nervously. “Oh, right. Sure thing.”

“You still want to assist with the conclave, don’t you?”

“Defo. If they’ll let me stay.”

“I’ll insist upon it,” Aemond says. And Cardinal Seaborn will listen; who could question a living saint, an intermediary between mortals and God? “I overheard a nurse on the phone earlier. She was talking to Mother Maureen Ashwell from your convent in Sydney. It sounded like she was asking a million questions about you, trying to make sure you were alright.”

You smile wistfully. “I wish I could call her. Or text her, or send an email or an Instagram DM or something.” But you can’t without breaking seclusion. You’ll have so much to tell her when you return; you can be honest with her in ways you can’t with Rhaena.

“She seems like a very kind person.”

“Mother Maureen is a blessing to us,” you say, distracted now as you think of her, long dove grey hair always running down her back in a braid, oversized sweaters with cats or ducks or koala bears on them. You gaze out the window at the gleaming silver serpent of the Tiber, where Saint Beatrix fished out the bodies of her martyred brothers in the 300s. “The time she grew up in was very different from ours. She got pregnant when she was in secondary school, and her parents sent her into the bush to stay with her grandparents, and when the baby was born the nurses took him away. He was adopted out to a family someplace, but Mother Maureen doesn’t know where. She’s never been able to find him. She doesn’t even know if he’s in Australia. But she’s still looking, and she’s created all these resources for parents with similar experiences, databases and support groups and brochures made by pro bono lawyers so people know their legal rights. It didn’t make her bitter. She’s the most compassionate person I’ve ever met. And I think that’s so beautiful, when a soul endures something horrible and can still find comfort in the Faith. Can still use it to make the world better.”

But Aemond—scarred, faithless, his sins as loud to you as the roar of an ocean—just studies his bandaged right hand again, not saying a word.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is nightfall when a driver arrives at the hospital to take you and Aemond to Vatican City. You have been given clothes from the donation bin to wear until you can change at the Domus Sanctae Marthae. You look like you’re back at your relaxed convent in Sydney: maroon jumper, Levi jeans, pink Converses. Aemond dons a black button-up shirt and matching trousers and loafers, like he’s going to a funeral.

Cardinal Seaborn is there to meet you at the gate, or rather, he is there to meet Aemond; he gives you a wary glance and then, when Aemond shoots him a daggerlike stare with his head held high, Seaborn smiles accommodatingly.

“Brother, we are so glad to have you back among us,” Seaborn tells Aemond warmly, and reaches to pat his shoulder but then stops short, like he’s not sure if it’s proper to touch him, if perhaps Aemond might be too far above that now. You and Aemond follow Seaborn to the entranceway of the Domus Sanctae Martha. From the other side of the brick wall, you can hear that the crowds gathered in Saint Peter’s Square are singing Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.

Cardinal Seaborn escorts Aemond upstairs to his room, while to walk alone to yours. You change into a rose pink jumper and lavender skirt, then cover them with a white wool habit. In front of your bathroom mirror, you adjust your veil and snare pins into your hair to hold it in place.

I don’t want to wear this, you think, more clearly than you ever have since you’ve arrived in Vatican City. This isn’t me. This isn’t necessary to serve God. But ancient places have intractable rituals, and here you must oblige them.

In the dining hall, the cardinals are enjoying wine and water and bread and spaghetti with basil pesto. Nuns are scurrying around with pitchers and plates. When you and Aemond walk in with Cardinal Seaborn—you several steps behind the men—the over one hundred cardinals draped in red stand to applaud Aemond: his survival, his bravery, his miracle. The loudest cheers come from Aemond’s usual table, Kazi cupping his hands around his mouth like a bullhorn. Across the room, Jahoda and his companions are clapping listlessly with stony expressions.

Lucky sees you, frowns for only a fraction of a second, marches to the center of the floor. “Brothers!” he proclaims, and they will listen to him more than they would to any of the others, Cam because he is so young, Lando because he is so quiet and unassuming, Kazi because he is Kazi. “There has been much suspicion and slander levied against Cardinal Targaryen. Yet God’s design is always shown in time if we have the patience and the good sense to see it. Those of us who know his character and his spiritual gifts never doubted him. But for you who did, let now your consciences be soothed. God brought the cardinal and the sister close together in friendship, grounded in their mutual Faith, so that when she was in mortal peril Cardinal Targaryen would be there to save her from an agonizing death and reveal God’s enduring capacity to perform miracles to the world, to renew our Church, to bring countless lost souls back to the light...”

Rhaena sprints through the thunderous shouts and thumps of fists on tables, then halts with a jolt before she can crash into you, her runners squeaking against the tile floor. “Sorry, didn’t want to jostle you, mate,” she says, laughing, and she gingerly touches your head, your hair covered by your veil. “You good? You’re not in pain or anything?”

“I’m a little banged up, but she’ll be right.”

“You aren’t burned?” Rhaena inspects your face, your hands. “Cardinal Seaborn told us about the fire.”

“Aemo,” you begin, then quickly correct yourself. “Cardinal Targaryen got me out just in time.”

Rhaena’s mouth quivers, then she throws her arms around you and sniffles into your shoulder. And a memory comes back to you from across the globe: taking the guests staying in the shelter to Murramarang National Park to hike and see the roos, and as you were distributing tuna sangers for lunch Rhaena had asked you: Mum, do we have any Tim Tams? And she was mortified when she realized what she’d done, but you only smiled and replied: I can be your mum if you want.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Rhaena whispers.

“Me too.”

“And they’re letting you stay until the conclave is over?”

“Well I can’t leave you here alone with these dinosaurs, can I?”

Rhaena giggles, swiping tears from her cheeks. Now Sister Penny, Sister Helvi, and Sister Nuru have arrived to welcome you back too. Then Sister Penny, flustered and apologetic, asks if you wouldn’t mind helping and hands you a pitcher of red wine.

Aemond sits down with his friends. “Now you are mutilated just like Jake!” Kazi says too loudly, raising Aemond’s bandaged right hand into the air. From several tables away, Cardinal Jacob Green of Iran glares at him.

“They’re saying you will restore the Church’s numbers and more,” Cam tells Aemond, his eyes alight like torches behind his round glasses. “Cardinal Seaborn only told us the bare facts, but he cannot insulate us from something as massive as this. The people out in the square have been chanting your name all day. Good Lord, I can’t wait to get out of here and be able to watch the news and see the posts for myself.”

“It will be over soon,” Lucky says, beaming. “Two more days of deliberation, and then you’ll win the very first ballot. I guarantee it.”

“Unless you go belly-up like that fossilized nun, of course,” Kazi jokes with a wink.

Aemond smiles and takes his rosary out of a pocket of his scarlet cassock. It is red, just like the one you once gave him on the beach; but now the beads are ruby, not glass, and the chain and cross are flashing, polished gold. “I’ll say a few extra Hail Marys to be safe.”

“I’m relieved God has put his thumb so definitively on the scale,” Lando says, twirling pesto-green spaghetti onto his fork. “Now whoever is voting for me can stop.”

You tease as you refill his wine glass: “You know, Cardinal Almazan, there was a Pope Lando once. Way back in the 900s, I think.”

Lando chuckles and waves his hand. “Please Sister, do not speak it into existence, the notion is horrifying.”

“No one can stop Aemond now,” Lucky says in his low gravelly voice, satisfied, victorious, at peace. “You are a living saint. And you have no skeletons in your closet.”

Aemond nods, but is peering somberly down into his wine glass. “If I win, I’m giving you a position here at the Vatican.”

“And I won’t take it.”

“You will. I’ll make you. You can’t argue with Saint Peter’s successor.”

Lucky grins widely. “Sure I can. I’d argue with you anywhere.”

“Lucky, I need you to do this for me.”

“Why?”

Aemond is exasperated. “Because they are kidnapping and ransoming priests in Haiti. They murdered a nun last year. You can advocate for your country from here. You can organize aid missions and continue your calls for an international intervention to build stability there. You can make France fund it. I’ll support you. I’ll champion Haiti more forceful than any pope ever has.”

Lucky gnaws on a piece of bread, unmovable. “We are doctors of the soul. We must go where the disease is.”

There is the screech of a chair against the floor—deliberate, meaningful—and Cardinal Green stands. He walks slowly to Aemond’s table, as if gathering his strength. His hands are clutched together, five fingers on one, only a thumb left on the other. When he stops, his eyes sweeping around the table to acknowledge Cam, Lando, Lucky, and even Kazi, Aemond stares up at Jake uncertainly, touching his fingertips to the gold cross that replaced the one he snapped in half to free you from the burning car like Saint Catherine shattered the breaking wheel.

“Cardinal Targaryen,” Jake says, and the whole room is watching him. The nuns peek between refilling glasses and clearing plates. Cardinal Seaborn fidgets fretfully with his zucchetto.

“Cardinal Green,” Aemond replies tentatively, not knowing what sort of trap is being laid for him. Lucky is rapping his knuckles against the table. Kazi and Cam exchange a skeptical glance. Lando eats his spaghetti.

“I ask that you remember the Catholics of the Middle East,” Jake tells Aemond. “They are small in number, but their love for God is great, and they are so often in danger of persecution, torture, execution. Please do not overlook them.” Now his voice is tremulous, pleading. “Please do not allow the Church to forget them. Please do what you can to foster a just peace between all people there, Christians, Muslims, Jews. There is enough land for everyone. It is an ancient and beautiful part of our world, not a lost cause. Please listen when the people there speak.”

Aemond is so stunned that it takes him a moment to respond. “I will,” he swears.

Jake places his maimed hand on Aemond’s shoulder, and gasps ripple through the dining hall. Jake says: “I think you’re too young. I think you’re too at home in high places. But God has made His favor towards you so apparent, and His judgment is infinitely wiser than my own. Therefore, I submit to it.”

He’s surrendering. He’s withdrawing from the race.

“Thank you, Cardinal Green,” Aemond says, and to you he seems genuinely rattled.

Jake bows his head, then leaves the dining hall. Across the room, Jahoda wears a mask of stoicism, cracks splitting through porcelain. Auclair is glaring venomously at Aemond. Ferarri, his hair still ink-black but his face creased with deep wrinkles, turns to mutter something to Koppel and Nemerenco. If Aemond wins, they have lost the Chair of Saint Peter for two generations. Aemond is only forty-one. He could live another half a century.

When dinner is over, the cardinals flow in a sea of red out of the dining hall and towards the elevators. You and Rhaena are near the back of the crowd, specks of white in red currents.

“I hate this building,” Kazi is complaining to Cam as he puffs on his vape. “If I wanted to see sad rectangular architecture, I could have stayed in Poland...”

“Rhaena, I want you to know something,” you tell her as you walk together.

She is still buoyant, still so relieved that you are back. “Yeah?”

“Look...even if I ever wasn’t a nun for some reason, we would still be close. I would still see you all the time, we would still talk every day.”

Rhaena spins to you, alarmed, panicked; and now you see this wasn’t the right thing to say. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you be a nun?”

“I just...you know...life can change, and I never want you to worry that—”

“You’re thinking about leaving?”

And the terror and grief on her face is so frantic that you instantly shake your head and laugh, like it’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard. “No, of course not!”

“You have a concussion,” Rhaena says resolutely.

“Righto.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yeah, I might still be a bit gone.”

“Let me make you a cuppa for once,” Rhaena says, smiling, and zips off towards the kitchenette on the ground floor of the Domus Sanctae Marthae.

Dear God, what am I going to do?

Before you can follow Rhaena, Lucky splits off from the red river of cardinals and approaches you. Your thoughts still whirling, you knit your hands together and bow your head demurely.

“Cardinal Louissaint, thank you so much for what you’ve done for Aemond—”

“Sister,” he says, cutting you off like a blade. Then he leans in close so no one else can hear. You can smell cigar smoke and the vivid green of basil. His large dark eyes are not cruel but urgent, grave, imploring you to understand. “If you care anything for this conclave, and this Church, and this Faith, you will go back to Australia. And you will never speak to Aemond again.”

You’re so stunned that when your mouth falls open, at first nothing comes out—I’m sorry, I never planned for this to happen, I’m burning up with thoughts I never knew were possible, I can’t lose him again, I can’t stop—and he’s gone before you can find your words.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rhaena is snoring softly in her single-sized bed across the room, but you can’t sleep. You stare up at the unembellished wooden cross on the stark white wall, ghost-grey in the moonlight and crawling with shadows, wondering if you are a visionary or a traitor.

I’ll always want to help people, but I don’t have to be a nun to do that, you cannot stop thinking, voices in your skull like the intercessions of angels or saints. I could work for a women’s shelter, I could go back to school to be a social worker, I could be a foster parent, I could work at the Asylum Seekers Centre in Sydney.

And you could have a lover, a boyfriend, a husband, words you once thought would never again hold significance for you. You were a bride of Christ, the man of no vices, no deceptions and no pain and no threats. But now...

I don’t just want a chance to find someone. I want Aemond.

As quietly as you can, you climb out of bed, slide on your white wool slippers, and sneak out of the bedroom without disturbing Rhaena. In the hallway, the yellow incandescent lights are bright and the air is still and silent, the dry heat of the furnace, the cold sand-colored marble tile of the floor. You meander towards the kitchenette to fix yourself a cuppa, something herbal and caffeine-free, maybe chamomile or peppermint. Yes, peppermint would be Christmasy.

As the clock ticks on the wall, you sit alone sipping your tea at the same table where Sister Augustina died, and if she had lived then it would have been her accompanying Cardinal Bogdi Marcu to the airport, and you would never have been trapped in the car, and Aemond wouldn’t have been waiting by the gate to hear the crash and the panic of the crowd, and there would be no second miracle, and news of it would not have spread to cover the world like the flood Noah withstood in his ark, and Aemond’s victory in less than three days would not be all but assured.

What happens to me if he wins?

You’ll fly home to Australia with Rhaena, and you’ll spend the rest of the holiday season at the convent with Mother Maureen and all the other sisters, lighting candles, wrapping presents, baking bikkies, cooking ham and prawns and mince pies and Christmas pudding, playing games, singing the songs you miss so much here on the hushed island of seclusion...and then you’ll decide what to do next.

What happens to the world if he wins? Is it better, or is it worse?

Your peppermint tea is gone, but you are no closer to sleep. You wander out of the kitchenette, down the hall, and into an elevator. You are wearing only your pajamas—white with red and green stripes, and the crimson silhouette of flying reindeer—but no one else is awake to see you out of your habit, hair uncovered and body unclaimed by Christ. Or at least, you assume no one else is awake until you unlock Aemond’s door to find his room empty. You stare at his bed, perplexed; the sheets are tangled, and when you glide your hand beneath them there is still warmth clinging to the soft white cotton. You lift them to your face and inhale: cologne, smoke, sweat, something so familiar it feels like it has been with you your whole life.

Where is he?

You leave Aemond’s room, relock the door, and give it one last puzzled frown. His room is at the end of a hallway all by itself. He doesn’t even have a neighbor anymore since Cardinal Marcu returned to Romania.

You walk back to the elevator, then pass it when you notice the sealed room at the far end of the corridor, the door barred by a blood red ribbon and wax stamped with the Vatican seal. According to custom, it will remain untouched until a new pope is chosen. The late Holy Father eschewed the papal apartments in the Apostolic Palace—roomy, regal, a gem of the Renaissance—and chose instead to reside here in the same spartan guest house where he stayed as a cardinal, before his name was scrawled onto the ballots of over two-thirds of his peers and white smoke billowed from the chimney of the Sistine Chapel.

Fat pope, thin pope; will the next Holy Father be modest too, a man who strips away the gold trimmings and the dignified distance and the erudite speeches in Latin, and fades into the simplicity of a servant? Or will he be someone who reminds people of the ancient power of the pope: an emperor with over a billion subjects, a messenger chosen by God, the trustee of the Keys of Heaven?

By the sealed door is an altar of candles, white and red, still flickering, dimming, burning down to pools of wax in small clear cylinders of glass. Sister Penny, in one of her scatterbrained moments, must have forgotten to extinguish them. You blow the candles out one by one, then pick up a glass vessel full of melted red wax, hot and fluid like molten rock. You pull back your sleeve and then, tilting the glass carefully, spill drips of wax onto the underside of your forearm, where they dry into irregular splotches like blood drops. You close your eyes as the searing pinpoints of heat bite through you, remembering: his palm on your face, his tongue parting your lips, fire on your skin but an inferno below, blood turned to magma ready to erupt. Then you peel off the dots of wax, imagining that Aemond is the one doing it.

You take the elevator back down to the ground floor and then realize, when you are perfectly still, that you can just barely hear a mechanical humming coming from down the hall. Quizzically, you follow it. There is a small gym here in the Domus Sanctae Marthae, mostly used by geriatric cardinals who plod effortfully along on treadmills or lift 10-kilo weights in the bright morning hours. But now it is after midnight, and the rest of the building is slumbering, and someone else is afflicted with your restlessness.

When you open the door to the gym, you find only one person inside. Aemond is jogging on a treadmill, looking not at all like a cardinal: grey crewneck, grey trackies, white runners pounding on the belt. His clothes are damp with dark spreading pools of perspiration; rivers of it pour down his face. His sand-colored hair is wet. The thin gold chain of his medallion gleams against his throat. You let the door close behind you with a soft click.

Salt, you think dazedly, staring at him. Like the sweat on his sheets, like his blood on my lips.

Aemond looks up at you and raises his eyebrows, not breaking his stride.

You ask when you shake off your trance: “What are you doing?”

“Jogging, obviously.”

You glance down at his right hand, still bandaged. “Should you be doing that?”

“Well I don’t need my hands to run, Sydney.”

“Can’t sleep?” Just like me?

“Can’t sleep,” he agrees, breathing heavily. He hits a button on the treadmill and the belt slows to a stop. When it is motionless, he sits down on the side rail, slicking back his dripping hair, panting.

You go to Aemond, kneeling in front of him on the floor. As he mops the sweat from his face with his crewneck—momentarily revealing that he is wearing nothing underneath, vulnerable belly, sparse hair on his chest—you see that his eye catches on the front of your reindeer pajamas, no shapeless habit, no bra. You smile guiltily. “Sorry.”

Aemond chuckles. “No, don’t apologize. I have to practice resisting temptation.”

Because soon he’ll be the pope. “It feels real now.”

He nods, biting the corner of his lip, dragging his fingers through his hair again.

“Aemo, are you...are you alright?” Are you sure you want to do this?

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Aemond says, his breathing still rapid, sweat still glistening on his scarred face. “This is all I’ve thought about for years. For decades. And nothing else could ever compare to it. I was so sure it was what I wanted. And when I was made a cardinal and I met Lucky and Kazi and Lando and Cam...I felt like I’d found the family I should have been born into. People who saw value in me. People who protected me. And their faith in me is so powerful. They’re so convinced I’ll be able to help the people they’ve spent their lives fighting for. But...”

His blue eye flicks to your face, and you know what you see there because it is the same thing that fills your arteries, your lungs, your skull: doubt. “Now you don’t know what you want.”

“You’re such an aberration,” Aemond says quietly, almost a whisper.

You reach for him, your right hand clasping his left, and beneath your palm his knuckles are warm and slick with sweat. “I feel drawn to you in a way that I can only understand as divine. If God brought us together again, there must be a reason.”

Aemond is tormented; there’s no way to know for sure. “For me to be chosen as the next pope by this conclave, or for me to leave?”

We could leave together, you almost say, a thought that stuns you in its clarity. Is that God’s design, or the Enemy’s? Is it a sin or a revelation, like Paul’s vision on the road to Damascus?

Aemond continues: “And there is one skeleton I’m worried about.”

“It can’t be bad enough to overshadow all of the good that you’ve done.”

But when he looks at you, the fear is radiant Aemond’s scarred face.

His miracle on Nea Kameni wasn’t real, you think without any evidence. If it was, he’d believe in the Faith. But how could anyone ever prove that? All the eyewitnesses told the same story. “Aemo, what is it?”

He still doesn’t answer.

Something else? Embezzlement, violence, coverups, a woman? And now there is a stab of envy, the point of a blade scraping around in your bone marrow, the notion of him loving someone who isn’t you and never will be.

“I have a son,” Aemond says.

You’re so shocked you fall over, catching yourself with your palms as you collapse to the cold white marble floor. “What?”

Aemond speaks slowly, like it takes herculean strength, like he’s lifting the world on his shoulders. “I have a son I’ve never met.”

That’s impossible. But of course it isn’t; cardinals have had bastards for thousands of years. Even some popes did, before modernity made such a thing almost impossible to conceal. “Who knows?” Lucky, Kazi, Lando, Cam?

“No one,” Aemond says. “Me and the mother. And you, now. Nobody else.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-five.”

Involuntarily, you’re shaking your head. That can’t be right. “You were…sixteen?”

“She was one of my Mum’s friends,” Aemond says. “I was home from boarding school for the summer, and…” He swallows noisily, he can’t look at you; he gazes at the wall, ashamed, haunted. “I felt terrible about it the whole time. Not because it was a sin…” No, he doesn’t believe in the seven deadly sins, first enumerated by Pope Gregory I, later defended and expounded upon by Saint Thomas Aquinas. “It was just wrong. I knew it was, I could feel that on a corporeal level, in my stomach, in my ribs. But I did it anyway.”

“You couldn’t consent to that.”

Aemond shrugs, as if it is a weak excuse. “I never said no.”

“It wasn’t your responsibility to.”

“Alys, she knew I wasn’t...” He gestures vaguely, decades-past horror he doesn’t want to revisit. “She knew I couldn’t handle it. So when she broke the news to me, she made it clear that she didn’t expect me to be involved. She told everyone the father was some American tourist she had a fling with. But I knew the truth. And I just wanted to get away from everything, that island, those people, who I was back then. And the Church was my ladder to climb as high as I could...and it’s also the one place on the planet where I could never be claimed as a father or a husband. I was never with another woman after Alys. I didn’t want to be. And then you showed up out of nowhere and it’s like...all the sudden, I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m that kid on the beach again. My whole life was erased and I’m back at the start, and I want to do everything differently.”

I know how that feels. “Do you know where your son is now?”

“Yeah,” Aemond says, and smirks at how absurd it is. “I found him on Facebook. He’s living in Athens, and he and his wife own a shop where they sell soaps and lotions made out of goat’s milk. They’re doing well, I think. They have a lot of five-star reviews. And they have two little kids, Andreas and Athena.”

“You have a family,” you realize.

Aemond winces. “Not really.”

“Do you want to meet them?”

“I never did before. It was my worst nightmare, the possibility that any of them might show up on my doorstep one day. Now...I don’t know. I have all these thoughts I don’t recognize.”

Voices. Visions. Revelations. “I do too.”

He gazes at you, the blue of his eye shimmering as you lay your palm against his cheek, ghost your thumbprint over the ridge of his scar, wish that souls could be stitched back together as cleanly as flesh. “I feel like we both left that beach and nothing was ever alright again.”

“We were just kids, Aemo,” you say gently.

“But I knew that I loved you.”

He stands, hands sliding into the pockets of his trackies so he won’t touch anything he shouldn’t. You watch him walk to the door and open it, thinking: Don’t go. Don’t leave me again.

Then he looks back at you from the doorway, and he sighs, and the weight seems to shed off of him and all at once he isn’t so sad. “You should return to your room now, Sydney.”

“My room?” you say numbly, and you are that nine-year-old girl sitting in the corner booth of a pizza place on the boardwalk, a song you won’t be able to remember drifting from the radio.

Aemond smiles, a slight taunting curl of his lips, the bend of a crescent moon. “Where else would you go?”

He passes through the threshold and vanishes, and all night you dream of oceans and fire and sand sieving through the gaps in your fingers.

[jinjoohaa]

The Guard Dog

Pairing - Toji fushiguro x reader (Bodyguard! AU)

CW: yelling, parental conflict, emotional hurt, minor power imbalance, mild angst, and comfort.

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Chapter 2

The afternoon was dragging lazily.

You lounged on the couch in the living room, one leg draped over the armrest, flipping through your phone, bored out of your mind. Your earbuds were in, but no music played — you were too lazy to press play again. Mostly, you were stewing in your own annoyance.

Toji sat nearby, polishing a knife like the walking danger sign he was. His muscle shirt clung to his broad chest, veins visible as he slid the blade across the cloth in slow, measured movements. He glanced up every so often, like he was checking to make sure you hadn’t started setting the house on fire out of boredom.

Typical.

The house was too quiet — the kind of quiet that made you feel like a guest instead of someone who lived here. The maids moved like ghosts, the guards outside paced like machines, and every tick of the antique clock on the wall grated on your nerves.

“This place is a goddamn prison,” you muttered, not expecting a response.

“Could be worse,” Toji said lazily without looking up. “Could be a real prison.”

You scoffed, shooting him a glare. “Wow. Inspirational. Thanks.”

He smirked slightly but didn’t respond. That was also typical. Tease you just enough to get under your skin, then retreat like it didn’t matter.

You went back to scrolling your phone, about to text your friend about sneaking out later — when the front doors slammed open.

The heavy thud of expensive shoes echoed down the marble floors like thunder.

You sat upright, startled, frown deepening as your father stormed in, his assistant trailing behind, already looking stressed.

He looked furious. Sharp. All business. A storm in an expensive suit.

“The hell?” you whispered.

Your dad never came home during the day. Not unless something was wrong. And definitely not looking like that — tired, tense, irritated in that cold, dangerous way that usually made grown men flinch.

He didn’t even glance at you. Just marched to the armchair opposite you and dropped into it like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His assistant shut the doors behind him quietly

"Everyone out," your father barked.

The staff scrambled.

Only four of you remained.

You. Your dad. His assistant. And Toji — who looked completely unfazed, still spinning his knife like he was in the middle of a Sunday hobby.

Your father looked at Toji first.

“There’s been movement,” he said grimly. “They’re getting bolder. We had a firefight two nights ago. The docks. They got close.”

Toji nodded once, all business. “Casualties?”

“Two on our side. Five on theirs. But they got a message through.”

You watched the exchange with a mix of confusion and disinterest.

“Message? What, like handwritten or one of those dramatic riddles?”

Both men ignored you.

“Intel says they’re probing weak spots. If they can’t get me …” His eyes cut to you like a blade.

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

“That’s why,” your dad said, “from now on, no more going out at night. Even with Toji.”

You sat up. “Excuse me?!”

“No parties. No late dinners. No stupid midnight drives.”

“Stupid?!” you exploded, launching off the couch. “So now I’m just a stupid little kid who can’t leave the house without permission?”

“Don’t twist my words—”

“Oh, sorry, Dad, I must’ve misheard between all the dictatorship!”

Toji made a low sound like a chuckle, earning a death glare from your father.

“You’ll stay in,” he repeated. “No discussion.”

“No discussion?!” you yelled, fists clenched. “You’re not even here half the time, and now you suddenly care? Just ‘cause you got problems at work doesn’t mean I have to suffer!”

Your dad’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t suffering—”

“Yes, it is! I’ve done nothing! I’ve been good! I stayed out of your business, kept to myself, didn’t even sneak anyone in—”

“Jesus,” Toji muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “You’re making it worse.”

You whipped your head toward him. “You shut up! You’re supposed to be on my side! You're the damn bodyguard!”

He raised his brows. “Bodyguard, yeah. Babysitter? No.”

You glared at him. “I am not a baby!”

“No, you're an ungrateful brat,” your father snapped.

That did it. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

Silence fell like a thunderclap.

Your dad’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes. He leaned forward, voice low but razor sharp.

“Do you think I enjoy this?” he hissed. “You think I want to lock you up like some goddamn bird in a cage?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he cut you off.

“I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m doing it because you’re my daughter, and people would kill to get to me through you. They’ll drag you away in the dark and send me your fingers.”

You flinched.

“I’ve spent my life building walls so nothing touches you. I hired Toji because he’s the only man I trust with your life. And you think this is me being cruel?”

His voice cracked — just slightly.

You stared, throat dry, anger faltering as guilt bubbled up.

But your pride was louder.

“Still doesn’t mean you get to control every second of my life,” you whispered stubbornly.

That’s when the slap of his palm hitting the table made you jump.

“Enough!”

You flinched again, arms curling around yourself.

“I don’t want to hear another word,” he snapped. “You’re staying in. Toji’s in charge. You argue again, I’ll remove your damn phone and laptop.”

You stared, stunned, eyes burning. He’d never yelled like that. Never threatened consequences. You didn’t know how to react.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “There’s gifts upstairs. Go look.”

Then, he turned to Toji. “Keep her in line.”

Toji nodded silently.

And just like that, your father walked out, leaving behind silence and a bitter taste in your mouth.

You didn’t speak.

You sat there, arms limp, staring at the space he’d occupied.

Toji didn’t say anything at first either. Just leaned back, stretching like a cat, knife finally gone from his hands.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Didn’t know the old man had that in him.”

You said nothing.

“Hey,” he added after a beat. “You okay?”

You didn’t answer.

“...Brat?”

Still silent.

His smirk slowly faded as he studied your expression. You weren’t fuming or scheming like usual. You looked… wounded.

“Shit,” he muttered. “He really hit a nerve, huh?”

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, still not looking at him.

He stood up slowly. “Alright. Gonna give you space, princess.”

And then he left.

The weight of the house settled around you — silent and cold.

You swallowed thickly, blinking fast to stop the burn in your eyes.

Without much thought, you dragged yourself upstairs to your room.

The moment you pushed open the door, you froze.

Piles of gifts boxes were stacked everywhere — luxury brands, glittering jewelry boxes, clothes and designer bags.

All gifts from your father.

Guilt twisted deep in your gut.

He wasn't trying to hurt you.

He was trying to keep you safe.

You bit your lip hard, sinking onto the edge of your bed, surrounded by the ridiculous, expensive proof of how much he loved you.

Still...

It didn't stop the ache in your chest.

It was dark by the time you stirred. You hadn’t moved from the bed, cheek mashed into a silk pillow, limbs limp. You didn’t cry. Not really. But your throat felt raw like you wanted to.

Then the door creaked.

And in came Toji — holding a tray of your favorite food.

He walked in like it was no big deal, but his eyes flicked over your form like he was checking for cracks.

"...Eat, brat."

You blinked up at him, stunned.

“You brought me food?”

He grunted. “Chef wouldn’t shut up, so I kicked him out and made this.”

You stared at the grilled cheese, the fries, the soda. Your favorite comfort food.

You sat up slowly.

“You didn't have to,” you murmured.

Toji sat on the edge of your bed with a grunt. “Didn’t wanna hear you sobbing through the walls.”

You snorted despite yourself.

“There she is,” he muttered, smirking faintly.

You picked at a fry. “Thanks.”

He leaned back, arms stretched behind him. “You know he didn’t mean to hurt you, right?”

You shrugged.

“He’s scared,” Toji added. “Doesn’t know how to say it. So he yells. Gives orders. Buys shit.”

Your chest ached.

“I just hate feeling... trapped.”

“Yeah,” Toji said quietly. “But being trapped and being protected ain't the same thing. Sometimes they just... look similar.”

You were quiet for a long moment.

Then: “You’re good at this.”

Toji looked at you.

You clarified, “The talking thing. I thought you’d be worse.”

He chuckled. “Don’t get used to it.”

You smiled faintly. “You’re still an asshole.”

He grinned. “And you’re still a brat.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder.

He didn’t pull away.

Just sat there beside you, solid and warm, quiet in the way that said he wasn’t going anywhere.

“…Wanna watch something dumb?” you asked.

He tilted his head. “What kind of dumb?”

“Reality TV dumb.”

Toji groaned. “God. Fine. But I’m picking the snacks next time.”

You smiled into his arm.

For now, the ache in your chest faded just a little.

For a moment, you didn’t feel trapped.

You just felt... warm.

Safe.

Wanted.

Toji stood up then, ruffling your hair roughly like you were some scrappy little kid.

"Get some sleep, brat," he muttered.

Then he paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder.

"‘Cause tomorrow," he said with a wicked glint in his eye, "I’m dragging your spoiled ass to training."

You groaned dramatically.

"Nooo— Tojiiiiii—!"

"Sorry, daddy's orders." He just laughed — a deep, rich sound — and disappeared down the hall, leaving you grinning like an idiot into your pillow.

Maybe being stuck here...

Maybe being stuck with him...

Wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

to be continued in the next chapter

taglist: @sparkling-obsidian @sukunasbigtiddiewifey @nina-from-317 @thekkatherineblogg @dinokens-blog @notasimp56785 - @dontcallmedoc - @j4zzylyn @immenselyspicyshrine @dayarncollector @pandoramyst @privthemis @cutesytwt @sail0rpluto @mysticalhills @crybabysiri @how-juvenile - @arminsxseaxshell @socksfirst1

[fastcardotmp3]

athena + maddie; 1k words

"Did Bobby ever tell you much about my brother Daniel?"

Athena looks up, a flicker of a thing, before her gaze trains back on the pot of coffee she pours out into two matching mugs.

"I know he passed when you were young," Athena says, sliding one of the mugs across the island to where Maddie sits on a stool, but staying standing on her side as she lifts her own to her lips. "I know Buck didn't know about him until a few years ago."

Maddie wraps her hands around her mug and watches the steam, nods as though centering herself, and offers a melancholy smile as she lifts her eyes.

"My parents didn't want to talk about him after he died," she says. "They didn't want me to bring him up."

"That must have been very difficult."

Athena has known Maddie Buckley for quite some time, now. She has seen her through terrible things and Maddie's voice has been the guiding force to see Athena through the same.

She's a tough woman, but a woman whose toughness presents much differently than Athena's own. Maddie is unapologetically emotional in ways Athena has always been terrified of being, worried for the sort of weakness with which it would mark her.

They are both resourceful women, Athena knows this, but the resources into which they dip when they need to support themselves through the pull of a vitriolic gravity are simply different.

A For Sale sign sits in the front yard of this house built from ash and Maddie Buckley sits at the counter because she just felt like stopping by but Athena isn't sure she's ready for Maddie's version of strength. Not sure if she's ready to abandon her own.

"It was difficult," Maddie admits like a simpler thing than Athena knows it to be. "I wasn't allowed to grieve my brother. They would get-- If I even hinted at trying to talk about him, they would get so upset and I would feel so guilty for it."

"It's a lot for a child to carry," Athena breathes, because she has known Maddie for many years, and even the version of this woman she knew still on the run feels nearly childlike compared to the one she looks at before her now.

"It's a lot for anyone to carry," Maddie tells her: pointed, but gentle.

If nothing else, it drags a dry chuckle out of Athena's lungs.

If nothing else, it creates the illusion of laughter.

"I knew you weren't just stopping by for my coffee," she smiles at Maddie with a sidelong look over the lip of her mug.

Maddie shrugs. "It's good coffee either way," she says. "But you're right. I do have a point."

A faux sheepishness to it that Athena can see right through, that Maddie doesn't seem bothered by the transparency of. She's not ashamed to be here, poking at Athena's grief.

There's something refreshing about that, in spite of the rest which her presence brings to the front.

"Go on ahead," Athena motions broadly with a sweep of her hand and Maddie leans further into the counter, closing some of the distance between them.

"I know that I can't begin to understand what you're going through and I know I'm probably the last person you ever want to try and relate to with how everything played out," Maddie speaks aloud that which has been crumbling away bit by bit, with each passing day that a group photo--family photo-- has sat on the side table in an empty, echoing living room.

She is Chimney's wife, this woman. She, perhaps, was served more than anyone in Bobby's sacrifice.

Athena has been angry at Chimney. She has looked at him and seen everything she lost. She has resented him for living when Bobby didn't.

But Maddie?

Maddie has been a source of something Athena hasn't known much of in her life. Jealousy.

Her partner came home to her. She gets to go home to her partner, still.

She's right, really, that Athena does not care to relate to her, even as she's finding her stumbling way out of that pit of despair and rage which this blossoming young family instills within her.

"But I also know..." Maddie continues, all that emotion right on her face, "I know that no one wants to speak his name around you right now. I know it probably feels like playing a game of taboo, that if you talk about him, you'll only make them all feel guilty. But, Athena, what if that's the trick? I already feel guilty."

A burst of something wet and hurting bubbles out of Athena, teary like a sob but sharp like a laugh. Maddie pushes onwards with the kind of pull at her lips which somehow encompasses all the complexity of feeling in the kitchen with them. Big, brown eyes like reflections of the unspoken parts of this conversation.

"I didn't start healing from losing Daniel until I was an adult because I wasn't given the space to. My parents still haven't, I don't think, because they don't want that space," she says hoarsely. "And I don't want that for you. I want you to have the chance to feel it out loud without feeling like a burden. I don't want you to feel like you have to hide from it for our sake."

"So you'd rather I make it your burden, then?" Athena asks, coffee long forgotten and something about the tension, the release of it, making the room feel warmer than it has since that last morning when it held him. Not in an entirely pleasant way, but not the opposite either.

And Maddie Buckley is tough. She has been through the wringer.

She takes it all on board differently that Athena does, but she takes it.

"Athena," she breathes, "Whether you let me help you or not, I already am. At least make it worth something."

Tears claw their way down Athena's cheeks.

Perhaps they can share in this show of strength.

[luvfy0dor]

“Everybody Here Wants You... ♡” Vi x fem!reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; mentions of drinking, jealousy, not proofread cuz I don't wanna read allat 🙏

Summary; Your girlfriend loves when you come to visit during her evening shifts at The Last Drop, because she knows that most of the time, that includes seeing you tell girls who are interested in her off, or slow, sweet kisses after closing- or maybe even both!

A/n; hey gangsters, I'm almost finished with my junior year of highschool YAYAYAYAY so that's why I've been gone this time- I know, I always got some typa excuse but yk...I felt like writing this today because I've kinda lost the plot in my life ALSO AMAS TONIGHTTT MAYHAPS REP TV???? (Edit 4hrs later it's tmrw I'm so stupid) If not that's still super cool, Taylor should release things at her own speed, but I'm still excited just in case!!!

Your ears were met with the sounds of various voices and conversations blended together as you stepped into the bar out of the cold, January evening, your shoes clicking against the old, creaky floorboards. Vi caught a glimpse of you from acrossed the room while pouring shots for a large group, getting distracted and accidentally spilling some alcohol onto the counter. She simply laughed it off and quickly wiped it up, tossing the rag over her shoulder as she waved you down.

"Cupcake! What a nice surprise." She says with a grin, leaning over the counter to be as close to you as possible. Being subject to her gaze made you blush and lean over the counter yourself.

"Isn't it? I missed you while I was sitting at home all alone." You say, messing around with some of your hair. The jukebox is playing a slow, jazzy tune that matches the ambiance radiated by the low lighting and poker games going on at surrounding tables. Vi can't help but smile at your words, resting her head against her fist while looking into your pretty eyes, absorbing every different shade and hue in them- she could get lost in your eyes forever.

"Oh yeah? Well I missed you too. It's been a long day, let me tell you." She sighs, reaching over and grabbing one of your hands. "Literally like 15 minutes ago I was thinking about what I wanted get you for Valentine's Day and I accidentally dropped a whole bottle of top shelf vodka." She tells you, fiddling with your pointer and middle finger as she laughed at her own mistake. Your brows furrow and you erupt into laughter at your girlfriend's silly mistake, your eyelids closed tightly. "I wasn't even like- embarrassed or anything, it just sucked to clean up."

When your laughter finally dies down, your eyes open again and you're met with her admiring you, per usual. "Well who cares about vodka when you've got a pretty girlfriend to think about." You tease, leaning in just close enough for your lips to be about two inches away from hers. Her hand reaches up to you with your hair, her eyes flickering down to your lips every couple of seconds.

"Hmm, well definitely not me." She laughs, quickly pulling away from you when she's called acrossed the bar by a group of women asking for another round of shots. "I'm comin', I'm comin'." She says, grabbing the bottle and lining up the glasses, pouring the shots in a consistent line. The group cheers loudly, and one of the girls pushes a shot towards Vi. "Ah, thanks but I don't drink on the job." Vi tells the woman, who gives a disappointed "aww", but knocks back the shot that was meant for herself. You watch as she makes a sour face before giggling and trying to get Vi's attention again. Though it's loud in the bar, you can still make out what she's saying to Vi- or at least the gist of it.

"So if I offered to by you a drink by means of flirting with you, you wouldn't take it?" Vi's brows furrowed and she kinda awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Well in that case I wouldn't take it for several reasons." She says, returning to trying to serve other people at the bar, but the woman still persists. "Why nottt? Come on, ya can't leave a girl hanging like that! Tell me, cuz I'd love to do but you a drink!" She says, laughing through the clear rejection she was in denial of. Vi glances over to you to see that you're already up and out of your seat, making your way around to the group of women.

"Hey, I'll take that extra shot off your hands if you're not givin' it to anyone else, but I can tell you she won't take it, even if it's flirting, because she's got a girlfriend." You say, gesturing to yourself with a polite smile. Vi grins as you say that, averting her eyes to the shaker in her hands as she makes another drink. The woman's eyes widen and she sighs. "Aww, oh gosh- I had no idea! I'm real sorry." She says apologetically. You smile and pat her back. "That's alright, how were you to know? I haven't put a ring on her finger yet." You playfully say. She laughs and hands you the extra shot. "Maybe this will boost your confidence enough to finally do it." You quickly drink it, setting the short glass back down on the table. "Thank you, that was really good!" You say, pointing at the glass and wiping a drop off of your lower lip, making your way back to your seat through the crowd of people. You sit down again and watch Vi work for the next half an hour. She makes you a drink and gets chance to briefly talk with you every now and again, but it's not long before someone else is calling out to her. She notices your eyelids getting droopy as you sit there, and as more people file out for the night, the music becomes more audible and the soft rhythm nearly lulls you to sleep.

Vi smiles at the sight of you, and when the last couple of people finally leave, she walks over to you and shakes your shoulder gently. "Wake up, sleeping beauty. It's just about time to go. I just gotta clean up, grab my tips, and we can head out." She says, wiping down the counter. You blink back into consciousness and smile, trying to do your best to avoid rubbing your eyes and smudging any makeup you may or may not be wearing. You scrunch and stretch out your shoulders and arms, yawning simultaneously. Vi can't help but giggle at you as she returns glasses to their proper places, the music still going in the background. She hums along to the words, swaying her hips a little bit. Finally, she finishes cleaning up and counts out her tips, giving a nod of approval. "Not bad tonight, sweetheart, I got 62 bucks." She says, running a finger over top of the bills and pocketing them.

"Oh wow, that's not bad at all." You say, standing up from the barstool you'd comfortably perched on for the past...you look over at the clock. Four hours?! It hardly felt like 2. Time flies when you're falling asleep, doesn't it? Vi nods and leaves from behind the counter to meet you on the outside. A new song starts to play and she grabs your hands and gasps. "Oh my gosh, do you remember this song?" She asks, a big grin spread acrossed her scarred lips. "Ofcourse I do, you said this song made you think of me when we were on our second date. You must've been thinkin' about me non-stop, huh?" You tease her, swaying with her, hand in hand in the dimly lit bar.

"And I still do." She murmurs quietly, leaning in slowly and kissing you as you move freely around the open space in front of the bar. Her lips felt soft against yours, like a smooth silk fabric, and her hand that moved to your waist was just as gentle. One of yours moved to cup her cheek, and the pads of your fingers could feel the vibrations every time she hummed into the kisses. The two of you parted briefly, her eyes still closed as she backed up to take a breath of air, slowly opening after a moment. "You're so gorgeous, cupcake." She whispers, making you smile and look to the ground. "I'm not a mirror." You say back, making her laugh under her breath.

"Thank god you're not, I'd much rather stare at you all day than my own reflection." You can't help but cheese at her romantic words, pulling her in for another kiss, this time faster and fiery. Your nose bumps against hers and you can feel the metal of her nose hoop brush against your skin. "Mm, you can't say stuff like that, you know it drives me crazy." She squeezes your hip.

"I can say whatever I want, besides, I like seeing you get all giddy and excited." She says with a big smile. "Yeah, yeah, I bet you do. Go get the lights, I'll turn off the jukebox so we can get home and cuddle." You say, pulling away from her, feeling her hand linger on your hips until you were physically too far for her to reach. "Yes ma'am." She says, doing as told. Once finished, the two of you grabbed your jackets off the coat rack and took each other's hands, walking out into the late, winter night, watching a light snow fall down onto the streets, the new snow as clean and pure as the love shared between the two of you.

A/n; sorry if this lowk sucks I don't wanna go back to reading it I still have to do tags and I'm 5 minutes passed my usual posting time 😬😬 ANYWAYSYSS THIS JS INSPIRED BYYY UHHH EVERYBODY HERE WANTS YOU OBV AND THE THREE PEOPLE THAT FOLLOWED ME TODAY IM NOT DEAD I SWEAR ANDDDD I WAS T CONSIDERING DOING A VI/ARCANE X READER SMAU SO IF YALL GOT IDEAS FOR RHAT LMK 😛

[toneshieee]

Watercolor Bookmarks ٩(๑ơలơ)۶♡

I mentioned from my other post that I bought books last month and I started reading again. I just noticed that I lost my old bookmark and I thought “woah wait hey hey, remember that one piece watercolor bookmarks you saw on reddit, like 3 years ago??? dude, let’s make one with Stan?????” XD and I was also like “fuck yea lezzgooooo” XD I made these around the 2nd week of May.

I also made Shane and Ford bookmarks haha I won’t be using them but they’re displayed nicely on my table XD I’m currently using the Stan bookmark with the 3 panels rn uwu I had to kiss him everytime I open my book haha reading has never been this fun ngl XD

These are the books I bought last month! I already finished “The Little Teashop of Lost and Found” and it was so good 😭💖💖 I will not be the same again after finishing a really good book ugh 😭💖 There’s a local bookstore near our office so I can literally go there anytime I want and it’s like a haven ughh. crazy thing here was when I was looking for a book, I asked the universe to give me something like a life changing thing or something to change my perspectives with my present or or something to uplift my soul cuz I felt like I was loosing myself during that time XD thennnn I saw these books, the cover art caught my eye cuz the other one was done in watercolors and they were both really pretty. I love the cafe theme of the story so I was like “awww these look promising” and so what the heck and I bought them haha

I wanted to change my daily routine so I started reading books during lunch time and after work. If I could just read atleast one chapter a day, that’s already pretty life changing to me and it honestly did. I feel like I’ve been utilizing my free time on something good, like I’m actually living haha. There’s this one line I’ve read in the second book “I’ve never been this excited in living” and I felt that.

I’m currently reading “The little coffee shop of Kabul” next, well a bit haha cuz I started a new habit of sketching around afternoon this time XD gonna pinch myself cuz I told myself I’d ONLY buy books after I finish reading all of them AND when it’s payday at the end of the month. Well, I bought two more books again XD

I couldn’t help it 😭 okay so I will ONLY buy max of 2 books every month and hoping I’ll be able to find a smut book next time teehee. I’m really loving the cafe theme stories so unconsciously I’ve been looking for this type of story.

I’ve been chillin’ on our rooftop every afternoon these days and I have never looked forward in a day when it hits 5pm XD 💖 omg I said a lot of stuffs XD but oh well it’s a blog post anyway XD that’s the update!

[sweetdispatch]

HII i have a bakery order! 8 pieces toffee baklava with maple syrup

thank youu

It wasn't me - M. Rempe

v' bakery pairing: Matt Rempe x fem!reader summary: You and Matt didn't like each other because of the situation from the past but when Matt overheard you, something broke in him and you two needed to have a serious conversation warning: swear words note: honourable mention to @lovings4turn because our conversation was inspiration for couple of the dialogues (but in different context than it used here‼️)

You were close friend with Matt’ sister. This meant that you also had been close with him, especially since you two were the same age. In summer, you’ve been hanging out a lot but there was tension between you and him. You always acted cool in front of your friends but you two clearly weren’t fans of each other and tried to avoid being alone. 

It all started when you rejected Matt a couple years ago. He asked you on a date and you declined his offer because his sister was your math tutor and you didn’t want to bring the weird energy. He didn’t take it well and spread rumours about you. You didn’t let him win and did the same thing. 

His sister forced you and Matt to get along with each other and it worked. You two apologised to each other but the bittersweet taste after this situation left. That’s why now, you’ve been pretending that you’re friends but in reality, there was a negative energy and none of you wanted to work it through. 

One time your friends did an intervention, trying to force both of you to talk but you just laughed it off. Since then, they never again tried to get you two to talk. They believed that when you grow up, you’ll have the conversation. Years went by and this never happened. You and Matt still were petty towards each other but acted like everything was fine. 

At a party, you’ve been talking with one of your friends. Your friends threw a welcoming party for Matt because he returned home from New York. He was happy to see everyone there and grateful for this gathering. You were rolling your eyes at his every word, not getting the hype of the party. That’s why you’ve been talking about it with your friend. 

“I’m so tired of his stupid ass” You said when you spotted Matt again. 

“Why? Matt’s just enjoying being back home” Your friend shrugged. 

“He’s acting like a total dick. He walked here like he was a top scorer and main star of the league when in reality he's the only fourth liner who fights because he can’t score” You explained to her unaware that Matt was behind you. 

“Look at me and repeat what you just said to my face” Matt said to you, standing behind you. Your friend disappeared in a moment to give both of you space.

“You heard me loud and clear” You told him and looked at his face. “You act like you just beat Ovechkin record when you didn’t even score five goals this year” 

“I kept my tongue for too long so let me tell you something” Matt started and came closer to you, trying to intimidate you. “You’re a fucking bitch. I hate having you in my life because since you appeared there, it’s been miserable by your presence”

“You know what? Fuck you! I’m sorry that I rejected you and now you’re a bitch about it but you’re the one who ruined our friendship” You pointed at him. “You’re the one who spread the rumours so you are the problem and not me” You told him and left the party. 

Matt was standing there dumbfounded. He was clueless about what rumours you are talking about because he never spread anything to drag you down. He asked your friends about it and when they explained to him, he realised what you meant. The realisation hit him and he knew that he had to tell you the side of the story. 

You weren’t answering your phone for days. You were mad at Matt that he had the dignity to call you a bitch when you did nothing wrong. You were mad at yourself that you said those words out loud. That's why you decided to cut yourself off your friends and just spend time by yourself. You were taking extra hours at work to keep your mind busy and have excuses. 

Matt tried to reach you out but you never answered your phone. That’s why he made a spontaneous decision to see you in your house. He knocked on your door and patiently waited for you to open him. When you saw him in front of your doors, you tried to close the door but he stopped you. 

“We need to talk” Matt told you. 

“You said enough” You fought him back.

“I wasn’t the one who spread the rumours” Matt said and you opened the door but didn’t let him in.

“What do you mean?” You asked him. 

“It was a guy from my class. I told him that you rejected me when I asked you out and he decided that it will be fun to start saying that you’re a whore. I had nothing to do with this. I’m not that petty” Matt said and you looked at him. 

“Let’s say I believe you. Why did you come to explain yourself to me when you called me a bitch earlier because, as I quote, I made your life miserable” You told him and saw that he took a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for the words” Matt rubbed his neck. “I thought you just hated me for no reason but I get why you didn’t like me. The truth is that I still like you and it hurt me to see you around knowing that I’m your enemy so I matched your energy but hearing the words you said… something broke in me and I said bullshit. I’m sorry for that” 

“Apology accepted and I’m sorry too. Since we’re so honest with each other… I also spread rumours about you back in the day when I thought you did it to me, sorry for that” You shyly smiled. “And I’m sorry for saying those words at the party. It wasn’t fair to you but I was so mad for the past years over something that you haven’t done… Do you think we can rekindle our friendship?” You proposed. 

“I have an even better offer. Since my sister is not your tutor anymore… would you like to go on a date with me? We could have a normal conversation and have a nice time?” Matt asked, unsure of your reaction. 

“You know what, I would love that. Would you like to come in? I was about to start cooking dinner” Matt only nodded and walked into your house. 

At first, you two felt awkward in this situation but quickly, you felt more comfortable with each other. There’s been a lot of laughter and jokes between you two. Matt was telling you about his life in New York and you’ve been telling him about your job. It all felt so normal, like there was never before a problem. Both of you knew that this is a good sign for the future together.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Royal Duties Chapter 1

Summary:  Princess Y/N is betrothed to Prince Bucky Barnes, a political match to form bonds and alliances.  A friendship is formed between them built on understanding and allyship.  But can real love grow from forced circumstances?

Warning:  Language, eventual smut, miscarriage/pregnancy, mentions of possible cheating

Y/N swiped her hands down her wedding dress, sweeping away any last minute crinkles.  Her soon-to-be-mother-in-law smiled kindly at her and handed her a bouquet of deep red roses, and she quickly took them with a small smile back and stood ramrod straight, staring at the ornate church door separating her from the awaiting groom.  She felt numb.  Any feelings of hurt, betrayal, stress…it had all morphed into resignation two days ago.  This was her life now.  No use fussing over it anymore.  Her father approached and she dutifully took his outstretched arm.  “Try to look happy,” he grumbled.

She merely blinked and waited for her cue to enter.  Then the music started, she took a deep breath and pinned on a shadow of a polite smile as the doors opened.  There was really no pretense with this wedding.  Everyone knew it was arranged in some aspect, the smiles and public outings were merely a carefully curated facade to try and convince the people that love could unite two sides that had been at war for years.  Y/N was just a bargaining chip.  A tool in a peace treaty.  She had known this growing up, that at some point she would be married off to God knows who as a means to an end, but she had been given so much time to live her life that when the moment came she had fought it, both diplomatically and not-so-kindly, at one point screaming and beating her fists against her father’s chest.  But it was futile.  She was sold off to the prince of their enemy.  The only solace she found in the arrangement was that at least it would end the war and her people could finally have some peace.

The prince was…nice.  She had met him a few weeks before.  James Barnes, prince of Brooklyn, but he preferred to be called Bucky by those closest to him.  He was a perfect gentleman when they met, giving her the proper greetings and acting accordingly with royal propriety.  He had put on a good show when they were in public, giving her his arm as he escorted her around his kingdom and got her acquainted with his people, basically introducing her as the prospective new queen.  But the moment they were in private he would pull away and act like she didn’t exist.  Honestly it didn’t surprise her.  Their people were enemies for many years, so they didn’t trust each other.  

He was incredibly attractive, which helped lessen the blow of an arranged marriage to a stranger, but he was indifferent.  He was waiting at the end of the aisle, wearing his military uniform as was customary there, but also as a show to her and her father who was ultimately winning in this deal. He looked very handsome.  His hair was long, almost hitting his shoulders, and he had it tied and slicked back for the occasion, a small smile slightly quirking up the sides of his mouth.  And yet her heart didn’t flutter.  Her steps didn’t fumble.  She walked with timed precision, letting the media take all the pictures of her in a wedding dress she would never have chosen and holding a bouquet she would never have chosen for herself.  None of the process had been her choice.

She kept her eyes trained on the priest at the front until she reached the steps to meet her groom, where she made a show of hugging her father and him placing her hand into Bucky’s before he sat down and she let Bucky guide her up the steps.  She handed her bouquet to his sister Rebecca, her maid of honor, then placed her hands into his outstretched ones.  “Please be seated!” The priest called out to the attendees once the song ended, then the ceremony began.  Y/N repeated everything she was supposed to say, keeping her polite smile on her face and looking at Bucky periodically, trying to keep up appearances for the cameras.  Every minute detail of this had to go well, otherwise the peace treaty would be considered a farce and international relations would fall apart.

When it came time to exchange rings she took the gold ring, that she also didn’t choose, and slid it onto his metal finger.  Ah yes, the infamous metal arm of Brooklyn’s war hero prince.  His price to pay in battle.  It really was a feat of science and a thing of beauty all at once.  She had never seen past his wrist, and as much as it was fascinating, it had never scared her like it did others.  She could see it in the faces of dignitaries and other world leaders when they would inevitably stare.  She knew it held great power, the ability to snuff out a life, but she did not fear it or him.  Maybe she should, but as she finished adjusting his ring she did as they had discussed with the advisors beforehand and lifted his metal hand as she slightly bent down and kissed his metal knuckles.  

That garnered a slight gasp and whispers among the attendees, the sound of the whirring of camera lenses focusing in on the moment, a strange sound in an old place of worship.  But that was the whole point.  Another show of her accepting him, and therefore his country and people fully as well as showing reverence, respect, and bending the knee in surrender.  Normally she would have bristled at being asked to do such a thing.  Now her pride had been tucked away into a far recess in her mind and heart, and she didn’t care anymore.

She righted herself, gingerly holding his hand still and met his gaze.  He didn’t look as indifferent, his face looking a little shocked at her actions.  She wasn’t sure why, they had spoken about what she was going to do, even if they hadn’t fully practiced it.  She had agreed to it.  But he quickly schooled his features, the polite smile returning to his lips.  He took his turn in placing her wedding ring on her finger gently.  It felt like a shackle, heavy on her finger with meaning as well as with how large the 12 carat diamond was, engulfing her ring finger.  Bucky nestled it onto her finger, then brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed the ring, then kissed her knuckles and set it back down.  That was surprising.  It wasn’t rehearsed or discussed beforehand, and her dulled heart stuttered at the last minute affection.  She could feel her own shocked expression and quickly blinked and smiled wider at him.  

Now for the last thing they hadn’t rehearsed.  “You may now kiss the bride,” the priest said with a sickly sweet smile on his face.  Y/N swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, looking up at Bucky.  His jaw ticked, betraying the slight smile on his face, but took the lead and leaned down, his metal hand reaching up to cup the side of her face.  His metal fingers wrapped around the base of her skull, his thumb directing her jaw to move upward as he closed the distance between them and kissed her soundly on the lips.

Y/N didn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t how much she would love it.  His lips were perfect.  The metal on her skin felt perfect, especially with the grip at her neck and his metal thumb skimming from her jaw up to her cheekbone in a soft caress.  Her heart stuttered again, and she mentally chastised herself.  It was quite convincing, and for just a moment she got lost and drowned out the sound of camera clicks and thunderous applause.  He pulled away first, his eyes focusing on her lips first before flicking over her face.  She stared back at him, unsure of what he was thinking, but she could see emotions flying in those bright, ocean eyes of his.  She squeezed his flesh hand that was still holding her left hand, and he seemed to come back to himself and the polite smile resumed as he turned to the crowd.  Y/N instantly followed, both of them smiling at the attendees.  Rebecca handed back her bouquet and she smiled as convincingly as she could as the camera flashes blinded her and Bucky led her down the steps and back out of the church.  

The rest of the day was filled with constant pictures being taken, faces old and new being shoved in front of her, handshakes, polite smiles and diplomatic responses to questions and compliments.  The reception was a blur of more playing pretend with Bucky as he would hold her close with an arm around her waist, always have one of her hands in his, dancing with her, and every once in a while a well timed kiss.  Usually on her lips, but sometimes on her cheek, in her hair on top of her head, her temple, and once a sensual one on her neck as his metal hand squeezed her hip.  The cameras really ate that one up.

By the time the party ended and the frenzy was quieted by the plane door being shut, Y/N slumped in her seat.  The newlywed couple was now jet setting off on their honeymoon, but only for a week.  Bucky had to get back quickly as a show of commitment to the country, to show that they weren’t spending too much money on frivolous things after being at war for so long.  The second half of their honeymoon was going to be humanitarian visits to spots around Brooklyn, showing off the new Queen and painting their coupling as the people’s King and Queen, united in strengthening bonds between their countries and people.

Bucky sat in the seat across from her, leaning back in it as the plane took off.  They sat in silence, Y/N looking out the window for a while before taking her phone out.  She had multiple missed calls and messages from family members and friends, all congratulating her on her big day.  Her father and mother’s messages were stark in comparison.  “Keep smiling and secure an heir,” her father had written.  “Behave and be the Queen I taught you to be,” her mother had written.  Y/N sighed quietly and set her phone aside, leaning her head against the seat and closing her eyes.  It was done.  

Bucky cleared his throat, and she slowly opened her eyes and met his gaze.  He had leaned on the seat arm rest, looking more relaxed than she had ever seen him, but his flesh fingers fidgeted with the new ring on his metal finger.  He looked nervous, a far cry from the quiet confident man she had observed for the past few weeks.  He was about to say something when his head advisor and best friend, Steve Rogers, approached from the front of the plane.

“Congratulations, Your Majesties,” he grinned proudly at them.  “A fine wedding day.”

Y/N smiled at Steve appreciatively.  He had been a bright light since she had been brought to Brooklyn, always kind and understanding and friendly with her.  “Thank you, Steve,” she said quietly, her eyes blinking tiredly.

Steve nodded at her then sat next to Bucky.  “I’m sorry to bother you with more event scheduling, especially on your honeymoon, but I thought I’d run through the vague rundown of what we were thinking about for this week.”

“Alright,” Bucky nodded.  

Y/N listened as Steve outlined the basics of what their days on the honeymoon would look like.  They would be followed on vacation, undoubtedly, so every moment would be caught.  They had to keep up the charade of a happy, newly married couple.  “That neck kiss during the reception was great,” Steve said with a smirk, nudging Bucky’s arm.  “Just keep doing stuff like that and we’ll be good.  And…” he looked at Y/N with a slight grimace, “it would be helpful if you initiated some physical affection as well.”

Y/N huffed a laugh.  “Will do,” she said with a slight smile, looking down to hide the small blush brightening her cheeks.  It wouldn’t necessarily be hard to initiate physical contact with Bucky.  He was attractive, kind, and she liked kissing him.  It was just getting him to talk casually that would be a challenge.

“And you guys can use this time to get to know each other better,” Steve said suggestively.  “You won’t constantly be chaperoned by me or anybody else.  I’ll only be a phone call or text away, but me and the rest of the team will make ourselves scarce.”

Y/N and Buck agreed, and Steve left to the back of the plane to talk to the rest of their entourage.  Bucky bit his lip, looking everywhere but at her.  Y/N was too tired to care, and when the stewardess came by to ask if they wanted to eat she nodded happily.  “Yes, please,” she sighed.  “I haven’t had a full meal in hours.”

Bucky looked at her incredulously, a small frown creasing his brow as she ordered, then he ordered a small meal.  The stewardess walked away and he leaned forward.  “What do you mean you haven’t eaten a full meal in hours?” he asked.

Y/N waved away his concern.  “Well, we haven’t really had a moment to sit down and eat, have we?” she joked.  

“I ate at the reception.  You were right next to me, why didn’t you?” he probed, his frown deepening.  

Y/N frowned back at him.  “It’s not polite for a princess or Queen to eat while she’s being spoken to during meals,” she said robotically.  “Especially with dignitaries or other royalty.  I have to wait until the conversation is over.  The conversations just kept coming, so I snacked in between.”

He looked perplexed.  “Is that what your parents taught you?”

“Yes, and every royal protocol teacher or advisor I’ve had,” she said, shifting in her seat.

Bucky’s frown stayed, then the food was brought out for them.  Y/N thanked the staff and dug into her meal, enjoying the first real meal she’d had since breakfast.  She made it through most of it when Steve came walking back towards them.  She went to put down her utensils but Bucky shook his head at Steve.  “Give us a few more minutes, punk,” he said quickly and motioned for him to walk away.  Steve’s eyebrows raised, but he nodded and walked back the way he came.  

Y/N looked at Bucky in astonishment.  “It’s okay, Your Majesty,” she said.  “I’m almost done.”

“Finish your food, then I’ll call him over,” he said without looking at her, taking another bite of his food.  “And it’s Bucky.  Not Your Majesty.”

That damned flutter in her heart was back, and she blinked stupidly at him for a moment before picking her utensils back up and finishing the rest of her meal.  A few hours later she was asleep when she felt a nudge to her shoulder.  “Y/N,” Bucky’s voice called out to her.  “We’re here.”

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes blearily, turning her head to look at him.  He was close, leaning over her as his flesh hand rested on her shoulder.  “Hm,” she hummed.  “I’m up, I’m up.”

He gave her a tight smile then stood up, holding his hand out to her.  She quickly got her bearings and took his hand, letting him help her up.  Her team immediately surrounded her, fixing up her hair and makeup, straightening out her clothes that she had changed into halfway through the flight, popping a mint into her mouth before clearing her to leave the aircraft.  Bucky led the way out, and they were immediately met with flashing cameras and shouts of their names.  Y/N kept her smile on, politely waving at the cameras and taking Bucky’s hand when they reached the bottom of the stairs from the plane.  They stood for a moment, letting the cameras get their fill, then he pulled her towards the limo awaiting them.  

“Kiss her!”

“Kiss him!”

“Hope you have fun on your honeymoon!”

Y/N remembered what Steve said, and as Bucky opened the car door for her she gave him a wider smile then reached up and cupped the side of his face, showing off her wedding ring and sweeping her thumb along his cheek affectionately.  He smiled back at her and she sat in the car, another round of cheers and more flashes blinding her until Bucky got in the car and shut the door.

“Very good, Your Majesty,” Steve said, already in the car sitting across from them in the back-facing seats of the limo.  “Just a little razzle dazzle goes a long way.”

Y/N scoffed and relaxed back against the seat.  “Exactly how much PDA do you want from his honeymoon, Steve?” she asked.  “A nip slip?  Excessive making out?  The first royal porno?”

Bucky snorted and Steve blushed.  “Oh, um, well nothing like that,” he sputtered.

“I’m teasing,” she winked at him.  “I’m just wondering how far you want us to take it, to really sell it to the people.”

“As far as you’re willing to take it, without it becoming the first royal porno,” Steve teased back.  “Though I’m sure there are plenty of people who would love that.”

Bucky shook his head with a smirk, and Y/N nodded before sighing.  “What’s the timeline for an heir to be produced?” she asked.

Both Bucky and Steve looked at her incredulously.  They glanced at each other then back at her.  “Well…that’s…up to you two,” Steve said carefully.  

She frowned then looked at Bucky, who was giving her a sad, knowing look.  “Is that another lovely thing taught to you by your parents?” he asked quietly.

Y/N felt like she was missing something.  She looked between the two of them, trying to process the turn the conversation had taken.  “Y-Yes?” she answered simply.  “Aren’t royals expected to reproduce within the first year or year and a half?”

Bucky’s eyes looked tight and Steve cleared his throat.  “We don’t expect you to,” Steve said quietly and reassuringly, a kind look on his face.  

Y/N simply nodded then looked away from both of them and out the window.  She felt naive, like she was learning something that everybody else already knew.  Nobody spoke again for the rest of the ride to the private resort.  She and Bucky were accompanied to their little bungalow on the beach, then the door closed behind Steve after he made sure they were settled and the silence around them became deafening.  There was only one bedroom, with one bed.  But now after their earlier conversation, she wasn’t sure what to do now.  Her parents expected her to throw herself at Bucky the second she could and get pregnant.

“Well, I’m exhausted,” Bucky said as he stretched and walked toward the bedroom.  “What side of the bed do you normally sleep on?”

Y/N followed him, watching as he rummaged through his suitcase and started pulling out things for bedtime.  She glanced at the king sized bed.  “Um, usually that side,” she pointed at her left.  

“Sounds good,” he said noncommittally.  He gathered up his things and headed to the bathroom.  “Did you want to shower?”  Her eyes widened and he whirled around with his own eyes wide and held a hand up as he shook his head.  “Not together!  I mean…not that I would mind that, but I don’t expect it, you know?  I–”

Y/N snorted and started laughing, almost doubling over at the look on his face.  “Oh my god, Bucky,” she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand and shaking her head.  He huffed a laugh and rubbed his eyes.  “I may have been taught some pretty shitty purity culture and royal protocol things by my parents, but I’m not some fragile virgin,” she said.  “Yes, I would like to shower, but you can go first.  I’ll unpack while you do what you gotta do.”

Bucky chuckled and nodded.  “Okay, I won’t be long.”

A while later he came out of the bathroom as Y/N was picking through her pajama travel bag with a frown.  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Y/N groaned and hung her head in her hand, rubbing a hand down her face.  “You’re gonna judge my parents real bad,” she said in warning.  Bucky sat on the bed next to her and she looked at him with a grimace.  “My mom replaced all my regular underwear, my pajamas, and my swimsuits with this,” she said, pulling out lacy lingerie set after lacy lingerie set, even the swimsuits looking very revealing.

Bucky’s eyes widened, a blush painting his cheeks as he eyed it all.  “Jesus,” he murmured.  “They really want you pregnant.”

Y/N laughed at that.  “Yeah,” she said.  “They’re um…very enthusiastic about this marriage.”

Bucky shook his head then reached out and thumbed one of the sets.  “Do you have a tank top or something you could wear instead?” he asked.

“Actually, yeah!” she said, quickly getting up and going over to the closet she had been hanging everything up in.  She pulled out an oversized white tank top that she usually used for covering up her swimsuits, then went back to the mound of lingerie and picked out the only piece that was more of a short than a panty.  “This should work,” she said, then smiled at him.  “I’ll go shower.”

“Take your time,” Bucky smiled back at her.

The shower was rejuvenating, but also reminded her how late it was and how tired she was from the eventful day.  She opened the bathroom door to find Bucky had put all the lingerie back into the travel bag and thrown it onto her closet floor, and he was texting on his phone while leaning against the headboard of the bed.  “I’m having Steve order you some new pajamas,” he said as he finished typing the message.  “And we can look at swimsuits in the shops nearby tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Y/N said with an appreciative smile.  He finally looked up at her then did a double take.  Her tank top was a bit large, so she knew that the side of her breasts would most likely show, as well as her cleavage, so she kept her arms close to her sides as she walked to her side of the bed.  The underwear shorts she wore were longer than a panty but not by much, and were skin tight, showing off the curves of her ass.  He looked her up and down as she climbed into the bed under the covers before turning away from him and getting comfortable.  “Goodnight,” she breathed.

There was a short pause of silence, then Bucky shifted and got comfortable under the covers as well.  “Goodnight,” he replied quietly.

Y/N tried to relax, shutting her eyes and wishing for sleep to take over.  But she was so overtly aware of him next to her, it was difficult to even breathe normally.  Suddenly a text dinged on her phone, and she inwardly cursed herself for not silencing it.  She reached over and grabbed it from the nightstand, and upon seeing it was from her mother she tensed and pressed her thumb on the notification.

I hope His Majesty enjoys the gifts I set aside in your suitcase.  Be smart, dear.  Remember the positions I taught you, and you’ll have an heir in no time.  

Y/N couldn’t believe the audacity of her mother.  She was about to type a quick reply when Bucky’s metal hand snatched the phone out of her hand.  She gasped and turned to find him leaned upwards on his right elbow, making him hover above her, the deep crease between his eyebrows even more prominent as he glared at the message.  He scoffed then turned her phone off and set it on his nightstand before turning back to face her, his eyes softening as he met her gaze.

“I don’t want you speaking to your parents until they can speak to you as a daughter that they actually care about,” he said firmly.  “Anything else can go through me.”  Y/N stared up at him with wide eyes, her mouth agape as her eyes flicked between his in surprise.  He stared back at her for a moment before sighing and looking away.  “I know that this isn’t something either of us chose.  That my country forced your hand.  But I hope we can make something good out of this.  Make something good between us.”  He hesitantly met her gaze again.  He looked hopeful, and it made a small crack in her hardened heart for what could be in the future.  

“I hope so, too,” she murmured.

Bucky gave her a grateful half smile and nodded before growing serious again.  “I need you to understand that I know we will eventually need to be together…uh, sexually, but I won’t push you or force you.  I’d rather we work up to that and grow as a couple.”

Y/N felt incredibly grateful to him at that moment.  She had been coached and pressured from the moment their engagement had been announced by her parents and their advisors on how to seduce the prince, that she would be expected to bed a complete stranger on their wedding night and immediately have his babies to secure the alliance.  But he was no monster, and all the stress and inappropriate conversations she’d had drilled into her head for the past month now slipped away.  The crack in her heart was chipped away even further, and she silently sighed and gave him a real smile for the first time since they’d met.

“Thank you,” she whispered, not trusting her voice at the moment.

Bucky seemed to be able to read the emotions on her face and returned her smile, then leaned down and kissed her cheek before lying back down.  “Goodnight,” he yawned.

“Goodnight,” she said, yawning as well before snuggling back down under the covers.  Everything would be alright…wouldn’t it?

[paracosmic-murdock]

if i could save time in a bottle

pairing: bucky barnes x goddess!reader

summary: thor and steve set up a little encounter between you and bucky, one that didn't even feel like a date but that paved the way to an impromptu, later one, after he wakes up from a nightmare and his first instinct is to reach out to you. the date, full of honesty and vulnerability, made sure for the both of you to know that, above all, you loved each other, and nothing either of you did or went through could change that. the date, also, went way better than expected.

warnings/tags: takes place after endgame (2019), steve does stay 'till the end of the line, hurt/comfort, suggestive jokes, bucky healing era, reader is thor's sister, no physical description tho, fluff, mystic arts, use of portals, dates, insecurities, bucky's nightmares, implied sa (bucky during his winter soldier years), references to other mcu characters (thor, steve, loki, odin, frigga, and dr strange), reader details her powers, bucky opens up about the winter soldier, mentions of deaths (loki, odin, howard stark, and maria stark), cutesy intimate moments, reminiscing, i can't stop thinking about them i need to write more bucky x goddess!reader, even if it flops, some smut (unprotected sex, fingering♡, p in v, teasing, body worship (bucky's), many "i love you's" while fucking—words of affirmation for the fancy ones), minors dni!!

word count: 4K

✰ part one | part two

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

no taglist but there could be one, so lmk in the comments if you'd like to be in it ;))

You looked at Bucky from afar, not knowing how you had managed to keep yourself from running to him the moment your eyes spotted him.

It had been only a few days, but Thor and Steve didn't waste any time.

There you were, at the same place you had met him more than eighty years ago. Now, it was some coffee shop named Starbucks and they had drinks ‘inspired’ by your brother and his friends. It was almost a profanity after everything.

Bucky raised his arm to get your attention, leather gloves on as if it were cold inside. His hair, shorter, as if he knew how the familiarity of it eased your mind—how the old times eased you.

“Hi,” You sat across from him. “How are you?”

He smiled softly. “Hi, doll. I'm fine, you?”

Doll. “Me as well.”

“I ordered for you,” Bucky motioned at the table. “What you always used to order.”

You noticed how it wasn't a teacup but a paper one, and how it was the same drink you used to order. The same pastry. The same everything, just… different.

“I love the hair,”

“I knew you'd like it.” He chuckled.

“Oh, did you?” you teased him.

“That's why I cut it if there was any doubt.”

You smiled slightly, face flushed like a lovestruck young girl. “The long hair looked good, too, but this look has no comparison. The beard suits you quite well.”

“Even bolder than I recalled,” Bucky blushed.

“Will you call me out now, Barnes?” you questioned with a smirk. “I thought you liked me like that.”

Bucky laughed. “I've missed you.”

“Buck,” you called him, your hand approaching his carefully. His breath hitched; he didn't move or speak, he only looked at you. “Can we…” You cleared your throat and looked down for a second. “I know we have both gone through things that have changed us and we may not be the same people we were when we first fell in love, but I… I never stopped loving you. Even when I thought there was no you to love anymore, the one thing that time didn't change, the only thing that life never took from me is the love I have for you, Bucky. Can we… start over? Can we do this?”

His fingers, still shielded under those gloves —which, for some reason you were unaware of, made you restless—, grazed yours slightly.

“Are you sure about this? Because… you said it yourself, we're not the same people, and I'm pretty sure I am not a person who deserves you; to be honest, I never was-”

“I do not care about who deserves who, I only care about what I need,” you interrupted him. “And that's you. You are all I need.”

He exhaled, tired from the fight between giving up and giving in. “You know I love you, too, but what if that's the only thing we have in common now?”

“Well, it is up to us to figure that out,” you said. “If I survived all these years, all the tragedies that I went through, if I went to that funeral, if we're here in front of each other, Bucky, it is for a reason. We are meant to be.”

“We are?” His face softened, the walls around him crumbling ever so slightly that, if you were sneaky enough, if you tried hard enough, you could slip in.

You intertwined your hands. “We are. And I don't know whatever happened to you, but if there's something I know, it is that nothing you tell me will scare me away. If you truly don't love me anymore, if you want me away from you because you do not love me, I will leave you alone. Otherwise, trust that I am here to stay, and that I have all the time in the world to prove to you that I am not going anywhere and that I will love you through everything.”

He nodded, smiling faintly.

It breaks you to know that he suffered in a way that took that smile you so much adore from him. Where are the jokes? The teasing? The laughter?

“Can I try my luck?”

You grinned as he repeated the words he said the first time you met. “By all means, sir.”

“My name's James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

You introduced yourself, offering him your hand.

He took it. “Odindottir?”

“My father's name was Odin, the Allfather, King of Asgard. May He find peace in Valhalla, home to the souls of the honorable.”

“So you're a princess?”

“And a goddess,” you completed. “Who are you, Bucky Barnes?”

“That, I'm trying to figure out,”

“That, we can do together.”

He chuckled. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“For you?” You raised your eyebrow, and Bucky nodded, almost fearing a negative. “Every hour of every day of every week.”

He exhaled, relieved, and smirked. “Would you like to have dinner with me at seven? As a date?”

You nodded. “Pick me up at 177A Bleecker Street. Pay no mind to my brother if you see him around, for he tends to overstep.”

“I can fight him.” Bucky shrugged.

You snorted. “Do yourself a favor and do not. Have some sense of self-preservation, pretty boy.”

“You have so little faith in me? That's a rough start.”

“He won against the Hulk. He was not lying like everyone thinks, I saw it in his mind.”

“You read minds?” Bucky asked, telling himself that it didn't scare him, though knowing it did.

“Thor and Loki used to get in trouble all the time, so I used magic to read their minds and see who was telling the truth,” you replied. “I taught Loki and he ended up using it for evil, so that is pretty much on me.”

“I will need you to promise not to read my mind,” he muttered. He tried to sound like he was joking, but you knew better.

“Okay, but can I still use my magic to, let's say, make you dream of me?”

Bucky hummed. “You don't really need magic for that.”

“You'll dream of me,” you declared. “No magic at all, and that is a promise.”

That night, he didn't at first. He had a nightmare first, one of those that made him wake up sweaty and scared to open his eyes to that HYDRA facility, tied to that chair; or with a gun in his hand, pointing at a target.

He woke up on the floor of his new apartment, bed sheets wet and back pain.

Bucky took his phone and considered texting Steve to see if he was awake by chance. Instead, your name shone on the screen and he typed an ‘Are you awake?’ before he could dare to regret it.

You called him less than a second later.

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“You could not sleep?”

“No,” he confessed. “You?”

“No, me neither.”

“Why couldn't you sleep?”

“I'm feeling a little restless,” you said. “You?”

“Had a nightmare.”

“Do you have many of those?”

“I don't think you could guess how many.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Tell me.”

“Every night,” Bucky stood up and went to the kitchen. “How often do you feel restless?”

“Every night.”

“What do you do to feel better?”

“I try to think about a good memory,” you replied. “You should try that.”

“I don't have many good memories left.”

You hummed. “How about… March 10th, 1939. Your birthday. There was this big party at the bar we met, and I took you home with me that night.”

The memory started building in his mind, making him blush.

“Remember the red dress?”

“Yeah.”

“You ripped it off of me,” you reminded him. “Then you touched me everywhere, kissed me where the sun hadn't been, and we made love that night for the first time.”

The memory flashed before his eyes right then and there, and Bucky's breath hitched when a phantom of your taste appeared underneath his tongue and a hint of the angriest of reds, the one from your lips, where the sun hadn't been, appeared behind his eyelids.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Bucky questioned you, feeling himself go hard. He let out a shaky breath.

“Me?” You feigned innocence. “I'm just reminding you of a good time.”

Bucky clicked his tongue. “Too good to go to sleep.”

“Then don't,” you smirked. “Would you like to go somewhere?”

“Like where?”

“Come here,” You bit your lip at the uncertainty of his reaction. “And I'll take you somewhere nice.”

He hummed. “Now?”

“We are both awake with nothing to do, aren't we?”

“Yeah,” He nodded as if you could see him. “Okay, I'll see you there.”

“Let me know me when you arrive.”

“Hi, Buck,”

Bucky smiled. “Hi.”

“Ready?”

“Not really until I know where you're taking me,” He smiled, mesmerized by the red on your lips that took him back to the days you were his and he, yours.

“The first time I came to Earth, we went to Norway,” you began. “I saw these for the very first time, they were… majestic. And just then, you know this world was made by a god because there is no way something as such exists as a mere phenomenon.”

“A god as in your father?”

You clicked your tongue. “I do not dare to question a thing.”

“Are you taking me to Norway?”

“No, it's day-time there,” you answered. “I am taking you north.”

You used your index and middle finger to create a portal, showing Bucky a small shack under a sky full of colors and stars, the winter air giving it all a mystical touch.

“How do you do that, again?” Bucky frowned, looking at you instead of the other side.

“It's, uh…, the Mystic Arts,” you replied, holding onto his arm, feeling it harder than a normal one, but said nothing. He realized you had noticed it and went stiff, though thankful that you didn't speak about it. “You know Strange makes them, but he uses a ring. I do not need one, I can make them myself. Just like other spells, and… I'm not going to bore you with this-”

He chuckled. “No, God, I need you to tell me everything you can do. It's fascinating.”

“Come,” you pulled him through the portal and closed it behind you. Bucky pretended like he wasn't absolutely astounded. Confused. Kind of scared. “Watch them.”

Bucky shuddered when you used your fingers to lift his face so he could look at the sky. Your touch on his skin was comforting, like blinking and appearing on a day where he was happy.

“They are beautiful,” He admired them: pink, green, blue, purple aurora borealis, thousands of stars above them; and, still, they weren't the most appealing thing in that place. “I'd never seen them before.”

“You said to me once that you've always wanted to see the beautiful things in the world,” you reminded him. “That you wanted to see all the stars, all the places from the books, and… that you had only ever seen war.”

“You remember all that?”

“I remember it all,” you answered. “Are you cold?”

He shook his head and looked to the other side. “No, I'm alright.”

You smirked and used magic to give him a thicker jacket, one with soft fur on the inside to keep him warm.

“It's an illusion,” you explained. “Is it better?”

“Yeah, thank you,” Bucky smiled. “Wait, this means that every time you were cold and I gave you my jacket, you could've done this?”

You laughed, motioning him to follow you to the shack. “Yeah.”

“That's evil,” he noted, following you closely. “What else can you do?”

“I can turn back time,” you began, still looking at the lights in the sky, now through the window. “Like… I can turn back time in general and I can do so with specific objects, like your hair to make it long again. I can undo things, go back to moments, stop time, I could see the past and the future, every future, but I don't do it often since it's against the rules. I can make portals and go anywhere in the universe and beyond, I can cast spells, read and manipulate minds. I used to fight as well, but I don't anymore. I, uhm, it's the power of the time stone in me, Mother created me from it. The Mystic Arts, as I said, and Asgardian magic.”

“That's impressive.”

You huffed and took a seat. So did he. “And what can you do?”

“Well, I am a super soldier.”

“Like Steve?”

“When he told you I was dead, I wasn't,” Bucky sighed. “I fell from the train and I lost my arm. The people who found me, HYDRA, they… gave me the serum and…”

“We don't have to talk about it if you do not want to tell me.”

“It's not that, it's just… They made me do things, unspeakable things. I did them, and it haunts me. I don't want you to think of me as what they turned me into.”

“No matter what you did, I will always think of you with nothing but love, fondness, and respect, Bucky.”

“Even if I did things you would hate me for?”

You hummed. “My brother tried to colonize the Earth, and Asgard, too. He faked his death and mistreated me like no other when he found out he was adopted. He sent Father here, usurped the throne, and pretty much drove him mad. There were casualties, I am sure. I am not saying I am proud of Loki, but I do not love him any less than the day I first held him in my arms, not even now that he is dead. Try me, Buck.”

Bucky thought it through. You could just ask your brother, or Steve, or anybody, and you will know exactly what he did. You had to hear it from him, or it could be even worse.

“The Winter Soldier,” he murmured. “I'm… not him anymore, but sometimes I can't just isolate myself from what I did when I was him. It was me, I remember all of it. Every person I hurt, every life I took, I remember it all too well.”

Your expression softened, and you tilted your head. “The Winter Soldier?”

“Yeah. HYDRA, they wiped my memory and… they did all these things to me, they… programmed me like a robot so I did just about anything they told me to with no control at all. They tortured me, they…”

A shaky exhale left your lips at the thought of someone hurting him. It pained you to see how he deviated his gaze from you, how he feared your rejection.

“I killed Howard and his wife, Maria.”

You just stared at him in silence, thinking about the heavy burden of the guilt he must carry on himself. The pain it must be causing. The nightmares.

“I almost killed Steve one time.”

“Bucky?”

He looked at you finally. “You don't have to accept me or any of it. I understand I am not the man you loved, that… you may not feel safe with me.”

“Don't ever say that,” You pressed your forehead against his and cupped his face. “I know you will never hurt me. There's nowhere safer than beside you for me to be.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Bucky asked, his words so heavy it felt like a beg for a yes instead of a multiple choice question.

“Yes,” you confirmed, focusing on the way his breath blended with yours, on how you haven't been this close to anybody in almost seventy-eight years, on how you felt like you belonged to him more than anywhere else in the cosmos. “I love you.”

He brushed his nose with yours, closing his eyes slowly. “I love you.”

“I love you.” you repeated, eyes closed, too, words colliding against Bucky's lips with how close you were now. Your lips, grazing against each other's, yearned for the slightest contact.

It wasn't slight at all.

The first thing he felt was you biting his lower lip. In response, Bucky held your chin and made you open your mouth wider, instantly slipping his tongue into your mouth and giving you one intoxicating, messy, breathtaking kiss.

His left hand took the glove from his right hand off, his soft fingers buried in your hair, grasping it to break the kiss and pull your head back so he could start leaving sweet kisses and shy bites on your neck. “I love you.”

Bucky kissed all the way back to your lips and left there another one, one quick. Then, he parted from you, taking off the glove from his left hand and the jacket you gave him right after. You could see a glint of golden in his arm, and the rest was jet black.

You hesitated to touch him, fearing his reaction, so you just stood up and took off your coat, your shoes, your jeans, your t-shirt, and your bra. He gasped; he found you even more beautiful than the day he last saw you.

“Wow,” Bucky interjected, the blue in his eyes turning darker in yearning. “God-”

A heavy exhale left your lips, and you returned to him—but closer. You straddled him and locked your eyes with his, making sure for him to know how much you needed this. Bucky didn't expect it, for you to take his hands in yours and place them on each of your breasts. “Touch me.”

The cold of his vibranium arm made you shudder, the way he squeezed your breasts, almost hesitant, elicited a loud moan from your lips, a sudden jerk of your hips, which crashed against him. Bucky analyzed the expressions of your face with each touch.

He didn't know what he loved more to see: the way your mouth opened and brows furrowed, or the red lipstick stains on your face. Or, maybe, how the northern lights illuminated you from behind, making it look as though you were the one shining just as bright.

“I love you,” you whimpered. Bucky pulled you forward and started sucking on your skin slowly until he trapped one of your nipples in his mouth. With one hand finding support on his shoulder, the vibranium one, and the other pulling his hair and holding his head in place, you moaned his name like a love song. “Buck- Bucky, I love you.”

“I love you, doll,” Bucky spoke in a soft groan. You attempted to take off his t-shirt, but he stopped you before you could. “Wait.”

“We don't have to continue,” you rushed to say. Bucky sighed.

“You think I wanna stop?”

You pursed your lips. “Would you like to keep your t-shirt on, then?”

He shook his head. “Yeah. No, wait, no. I just… I look different now.”

“What?” You frowned.

Bucky nodded. “I have scars. Too many. And they're not very nice to look at.”

“That's a relief, I thought you were green or something. I would have been a tad disappointed, I cannot lie to you, but I like you too much, I could have managed.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed. “Let me take that off, will you?”

“Okay.”

Your hands shyly took the hem of the navy blue t-shirt, slowly revealing scars from fights or even more. Finally, you lifted it completely and saw the place where skin and metal met.

There were indeed many scars; striking, painful. It broke you to think how much it hurt him, the difficulty it must signify for him to look at himself and remember all the torture he went through.

“Bucky,” You met his gaze again, one that begged for your approval. “You are perfect.”

The fear in his eyes, gone out in an instant. The vulnerability, turned to love as you kissed his lips and all the way down his neck, collarbone, his scars.

“You are perfect, and I am in love with you and all that you are.”

“I love you.”

You looked at him as you left a red kiss on the cold, vibranium shoulder, and played with the buttons of his jeans. “I love you.”

Bucky smiled and helped you take the rest of his clothes off. He kissed you urgently, as if nothing else mattered in his life. He touched you like a sensory experience, held onto you as if you could disappear any second now.

It had been a couple hours since you started, all teasing and touching, not getting to the point yet. Bucky enjoyed seeing you beg for him. He was also losing himself in the moment, focusing on you. It was you, no one else. He wanted this. He wanted this.

“What can I do?” you asked him, panting desperately, a tear running down your face. “For you to fuck me?”

Bucky grunted, the almost angry grip of his flesh arm on your thigh traveling to the inner part of it. Despite not being remotely close to you, he felt the wet mess he had made of you.

He hushed you. “Wait.”

“You do realize there is a goddess in your arms, begging you to fuck her?”

“Aren't I a lucky one?” Bucky smirked, cocky.

“Oh, go to hell,” You cried out, and, when you were just about to pull away from him, Bucky held you harder. “Bucky… oh-”

His heart and middle fingers softly caressed you and, without warning, went inside you. “That's what you wanted?”

You looked him in the eyes and shook your head eagerly. Bucky raised his eyebrows, acting like he was oblivious to your needs.

He hummed, lifting you slowly and flipping you until you were under him.

You didn't know when it happened, how it happened, you just knew he was filling you now, giving you all that you wanted.

Bucky moaned your name, looking at you. He pulled out and then went back in. “And this?”

“Yes, this,” you answered and kissed him again, rejoicing in the way he moved inside of you and the softness of his lips. “This… you.”

“Me?” he asked, the word falling in a whisper.

“You. Faster.”

He did as you told him, a glint in his eyes so devoted that you thought of his love as something above you. “Like this?”

With hands intertwined, breaths becoming one, and eyes locked, you felt in heaven. You were with Bucky. The moment you had longed for for so very long… there.

There, right there. “I'm close,” you faltered.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky sped up his thrusts, now careless, mouth hungrily capturing yours in a kiss.

“Pretty boy,” you called him, surprised to be able to speak. “Look at me.”

Bucky did so, his blue eyes you have always been enraptured by were there, right there, looking at you as if you were everything.

In a way, you were. In his way. You were everything to him.

“I love you.”

He smiled, close, so close. “I love you.”

“I will always love you, Bucky,” You felt your body shake at the proximity of your release, one that wouldn't come properly unless you guided him to peace. “And I will always take care of you. You are safe, your heart is safe with me, I promise you until the end of time.”

Bucky let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes shut as he came inside of you. He didn't stop, he wouldn't dare until you did as well.

“I will love you until the end of time, too,” he breathed out and drove his vibranium hand south to draw even circles on you, to bring you closer. “Even when I'm dead and you're not… I'll still love you. For always.”

“Bucky,” you whimpered, legs shaking as you came. Waves, violent waves of pleasure took over you as he seeked for your lips to kiss you, to swallow his name from your mouth.

As soon as you steadied yourself, you pulled away from Bucky and lied beside him.

“We didn't use protection,”

You groaned as you realized. “There are no known cases of Half Asgardian-Half Midgardian children.”

Well, well.

“I'll talk about this tomorrow in therapy. It's my first mandatory session.”

“We have dated for eighty-six years since we never broke up. Children aren't precisely out of order,”

Bucky snorted. “I'm pretty sure we'll have to get married first. I'm an old fashioned guy and you're a princess. Your father would hate me from Valhala.”

“Thor is not above killing you,”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, tension he didn't know he had in himself about a thing he used to pray for. “I would be a mess of a father, though.”

“You would be great.”

Bucky smiled slightly. If you believed that, he could work on it.

“Why are we talking about this?”

“We didn't use protection so there is a slight possibility we make a... demigod child? Oh, with a supersoldier father and a made-from-an-infinity-stone-goddess mother.”

“I hope the baby doesn't inherit your brother's hyperactivity.”

“Your staring problem would be a worse thing to inherit, pretty boy,” You shook your head. “Perhaps we should stop speaking on the subject, lest we attract it.”

“I hope they have your smile,”

You hummed. “And your eyes.”

“Can we name her after my mother if it's a girl?”

“Why don't we make her first and then worry about the names?”

“We have to get married first.”

“Yes, it is true,” You agreed, kissing his lips softly. “When you first mentioned having children, I believed we would not be able to. Now, I think we could when the time comes.”

“We have time,”

“We have time.” you repeated.

[the-kr8tor]

Countryside Bliss

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 3k

Synopsis: A life together after your supposed death.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), mentions of pregnancy, one suggestive comment, cowboy AU, wild west AU, Our place in the middle of nowhere AU (a must read to understand this one), an epilogue, dad! Hobie, Billie and Ramona AU, cw food mentions, fluff!

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Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

“Billie! Ramona!” You call from the porch, eyes sparkling under the setting sun. As you hear giggling and small feet bounding across the grass, you see a glimpse of Mona's floral dress before disappearing inside the duck coop. “Your dad's coming home soon! You two better be inside by then or you'll catch a cold again!”

Smiling, you place your elbows on the wooden bannister on the porch so you could rest your aching back. And you thought carrying your third would be easier this time around, but alas, your symptoms are just as the same as when you had the girls. Sometimes you blame Hobie due to your hormones, but in truth it's half your fault when you're as insatiable as the cowboy.

The house glows bright under the fading orange glow, you and Hobie have made a good home from scratch. It has remnants of the one that was burned down— a wrap around porch, blue paint that bears a striking resemblance to the sea. And various knick knacks and photographs all placed inside the cozy farmhouse like you always talked about to Hobie, one that you weren't fortunate enough to achieve back in the first home. As you look around the glade, it's all you ever wished for back then, a home and a family you could call your own. Sometimes you think that it's luck that got you to this point, but it's also blood and tears, dirt under your fingernails, and sacrifices. You try not to think of those days, but it made you who you are now, and in turn it has made you a better mother and a partner than the people who were in your life back then. They're long gone now, their faces fading in your mind’s eye, just like how you like it.

The horses trot along the glade, sunlight drenching your form in warmth and hues of orange. Cherry ushers her foals inside the stable, neighing and kicking the dirt under her while her oldest, a dappled mix of Cherry's and Bucky's coat— waits for them inside the barn, trying to hurry them along with a loud huff. If Bucky was here he would be the one telling them to get inside quicker, ever the stubborn and impatient one like his rider. You guess humans and horses aren't as different when it comes to their children.

Clover is sniffing around the garden for her pups, who are probably hiding in the thicket to keep playing around the dirt some more. She's older now, but still full of energy as she bounds towards her litter, probably telling them to head inside the dog house that you and Hobie made just for her and her own little family.

The cows moo inside the barn together with the small flock of sheep that Hobie herded in a few hours ago before he left for town. You still have no idea why Hobie left in the first place, excusing himself promptly right after lunch to grab something from town. You still worry for the cowboy sometimes even though you know he's more than capable of defending himself out there. But with what happened back then, you can never be too careful. People who might bear ill will towards him might think that you're both dead, empty graves dug and filled in right beside the burned down farm, but you'll always look over your shoulder, not for you but for your family. That's why you've kept your eye sharp and your gun hidden underneath your skirt.

You and Hobie have built a perfect home, and you won't let anyone burn it all down like before.

As you twirl the gold band around your finger, the same imperfect gold that Hobie made— the baby kicks, as if they're trying to wake you up from your swirling thoughts, making you smile and rub your swollen stomach. “I'm alright, I'm sorry for worrying, little one.”

Just as when you look back at the farm, you see a familiar figure on a dark horse heading towards the house. You grin wider at the sight, waving them over whilst your worries ebb away.

—

“D’you think mummy noticed?” Billie asks while chewing her apple, front teeth missing after her baby teeth fell out just a few days ago. She's having a harder time taking big bites of the fruit than her twin.

“I don't know, Bee, we did steal an entire basket.” Mona winces but continues to munch on her apple. The wicker basket creaks as she adjusts it in her lap. The duck coop doesn't provide much space for the two as they hide amidst the feathers and quacking ducklings.

“It's not stealin’ if aunty Riri gave it to us!” Billie exclaims, duck feathers sticking to her denim overalls and braids.

Mona shushes her sister, index placed right on her lips. It earns a glare from her twin. “She asked us to share. And uncle Miguel said apples are good for mummy and the baby.”

“It's not like we're goin' to eat all of it.” The older twin bats her lashes, taking another bite of the apple with a crunch. Her eyes widen at the harsh sound, “uh oh.”

“Why uh oh?” Mona exclaims, matching her expression, a bit concerned for her sister.

“I phink mah pooth pell out.” She says with the apple still in her mouth. Sure enough, when she moves the fruit away, her baby tooth is half embedded into the apple's skin.

“Not again—!” The roof suddenly lifts up, revealing their dad's face with the sun shining behind him as the girls scream in surprise.

“What’re you two doin’ in ‘ere?”

“Mothin’” Billie smiles, small droplets of blood dribbling from her lips while Mona hides her face behind the apple basket.

“Says your missin' tooth, squirrel.” Chuckling, Hobie tilts his head at his daughters. “C’mon, we need to clean that or your mum will have my head.”

“You're not mad at us?” Ramona asks, lips wobbling as she looks up at her dad with her big green eyes, a copy of her dad's emerald eyes. She even pouts the same. “We ate a lot of apples.” She eyes the couple of apple cores by her feet.

“Nah,” he can't help but smile at his girls. He's glad that he dug himself out of death to witness this moment. “We’ll jus’ ask aunty Riri to send us another basket.” That earns a relieved smile from them. “Why’d you think I'll get mad at you for eatin’?” He'll never scold his girls for something like this, not when he promised himself while they were crying in his arms just after they were born, that he'll never let his children experience the same childhood he had.

“Because you get mad at Bucky when he eats all the apples.” Mona answers for her sister, lifting up the basket as best as she could for Hobie to take it away from her hands.

Tucking the coop roof under his arm, he takes the basket, it looks a lot smaller in his hands compared to when Mona was holding it. “It's because he's a horse, chipmunk. Are you a greedy horse?” They both shake their heads. Laughing, he puts the basket down on the grass to help his girls out of the coop. “See? You can have all the apples you two want, jus' ask mum first next time, yeah? We can cut it in bunny shapes just like how you like it. We jus’ don't want you two gettin’ a stomach ache.” The girls smile softly at his words.

One by one, he carries them out of the feather covered floor and back outside where the sun is painting the whole glade in pinkish hues and dark blue tones. Putting the roof back on securely, he hands Mona the basket again before scooping her and Billie up in one fell swoop. His metal spurs clicking with every movement.

“Daddy, my teeth hurt.” Pointing at her gums, Billie still smiles even though she's probably aching. “Do I get ice cream like last time?”

“We'll ask mum, maybe I can whip something up quickly.” In truth, it'll take hours for him to churn the mixture up, but he doesn't mind if it's for his girls. Hobie pecks her temple while he spots her tooth sticking out of the half eaten apple in the basket. “Shi—” he pauses, clearing his throat. “That went in there good, huh?” Fixing his hold on Mona, he makes his way to the porch right where you're waiting for them.

“Can Billie still hide it under her pillow?” Admiring the said apple in her hand, Mona plucks a feather away from Hobie's shoulders. He kisses her cheek in thanks, and she giggles from the casual affection.

“Yeah, we can.” Smiling, finally back on the porch, you greet him with faux annoyance, complete with your hands right on your hips. You don't look intimidating when you're about to pop. “Hi, lovie. Caught a couple of ducklings for you.” You resist the urge to smile back when he flashes you a lopsided grin that has you reminiscing about your younger days with Hobie.

“Hello, cowboy.” He lets out a fond chuckle at your affectionate tone. “Now, what's all this talk about hiding things under a pillow?” You raise a brow as Mona hands you the basket and you pat her head in return. The sight of your girls all properly tucked in their father's arms has your heart feeling warm.

“Mummy, I lost a tooth!” Billie ecstatically says while showing you her mouth that's clearly missing more than a couple of teeth than the last time you saw her. “The tooth fairy will come back again, right?”

Hobie glances at the apple with the tooth right on it, and you follow his line of sight, wincing at it. Whistling lowly, you grimace at the thought of Billie hurting. “That's a tooth alright.”

“Can I have ice cream too even if I didn't lose a tooth?” Ramona asks, flashing her puppy dog eyes at you as if you need convincing. If you're still able, you'd carry your girls and squeeze them in your arms.

“Of course, my flower.” You coo, cupping her cheek briefly before taking out your handkerchief to wipe Billie's lips. She closes her eyes and politely lets you clean her up. “As long as your dad still has the strength to churn it.”

“Me?” Hobie acts shocked, prompting the girls in his arms to pout and flutter their lashes at him. They're definitely your children, their expressions alone are a direct copy of yours when you want something. “‘m sure, I can.” He surrenders almost immediately. “Your dad is as strong as a bull, y’know?” To show the evidence of his strength, he wiggles them in his arms, bouncing and twirling them around effortlessly as if his knees aren't creaking from the combined weight. The girls cackle in delight.

Giggling, you watch on with glee. “I think your dad has to show you something first though.”

Your words stop Hobie in his tracks, almost forgetting why he went to town and rode for hours just for it. “Right,” chuckling, he puts the girls down on the porch to their slight dismay. “C’mon to the stables.”

“Why?” Mona immediately gravitates towards your free hand, swinging the joined hands together in hidden excitement.

“But we already fed the horses!” Billie protests in place.

“You'll see, stop complainin’ like your mum.”

“Hey!” You yell, but your smile betrays you as he takes Billie's hand and runs away in fear.

“Hurry, Billie, mum's goin' to eat us jus’ like your little brother!”

“What?!” She tries to catch up with Hobie, but her little legs could only take her so far, so Hobie lifts her up and carries her halfway towards the stables. “Mummy!” She yells like you've betrayed her.

Sighing, you tug at Mona's hand. “Come on, let's rescue your sister.”

She tugs back, big green eyes gazing at you with slightly furrowed brows. “Daddy's jus’ jokin’ right?”

“Of course, that's not how babies work.” Nodding, you gently bend your knees and carry her despite the strain. You can't help it anymore, you need to carry your girls while you still can and while they still let you.

She immediately lays her head right on your clavicle like how she always did when she was just a little baby. She's careful with your stomach, legs dangling on your side to avoid accidentally kicking you. “How are babies made anyway?”

Slowly walking towards the stable and across the glade, you're extra careful with where you're stepping. “You should ask your dad instead, I'm sure he has all the answers.” You laugh at yourself, palm cupped at the side of her face to shield her eyes from the sunlight.

Billie's happy shriek has Mona perking up. “Mon–Mon, hurry!”

Craning her neck towards you, Mona smiles sweetly. “Can I go see?”

“Of course.” You let her down gently on the grass and she immediately bolts away towards the stables, bare feet bounding across the grass.

Her excited scream soon follows while you waddle closer. “Mummy, look!”

“I'm coming,” heaving, Hobie pops his head from the stable doors, meeting you halfway with his hands outstretched towards you. “Please don't tell me you got them a basket of kittens.” Taking his hands, he tugs you beside him gently, holding you by your waist, fingers grazing your stomach as he lets you rest against him. Weaving your fingers around his own, you feel for the identical gold band around his finger.

“It's somethin' better.” He fondly kisses your temple while slowly helping you to the stable. “I tried gettin' ‘ere quickly, but Miguel was in town and we talked for a bit.” Hugging you tightly, he inhales your scent as if he was gone for days. “Were they a handful?”

“No, they're angels, Hobs.” You breathlessly say against his neck, lips brushing along his scar, prompting goosebumps to rise on his arms. He doesn't hide his scar anymore. When the girls were younger he was afraid that they'd be terrified of the raised skin, but they never got scared of it, simply because it's a part of their dad. “What did he say? Is everything alright?”

Rubbing your sore back, the two of you can hear the loud chatter of the twins inside. Their boisterous thank yous ringing across the farm.

“Everythin’ is fine, love, we're safe ‘ere.” He whispers against the crown of your head. “Don't worry your pretty head ‘bout it, yeah? Especially now that Hobie Junior is ‘bout to pop his little head out.”

“Fuck, don't say it like that.” Laughing, you slap his chest playfully while he mirrors your smile. “And we're not going to name him Hobie Junior. We don't even know if he's a he.” Tugging the brim of his hat down to hide his eyes, he chortles before fixing it properly on his head, he then decides to take it off and place it atop yours instead. Your heart leaps from the small action.

“I've got a knack for these things, love. ‘sides, I predicted the girls didn't I?”

“Not really, you said girl, not plural.”

“Still, I was right.” Taking your face in his hand he kisses you softly under the fading light right at the entrance of the stable. Leaning away, brilliant green eyes fluttering open, he keeps your chin in place. “Before you say anythin’, I want you to know that I love you, yeah?”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “What did you do, Hobie Brown?”

“Nothin’, didn't do nothin’ but make our girls happy.” He grins, nosing the tip of your nose.

Before you completely melt in his arms, you flick your eyes towards the inside of the stable, and you see two new saddles perched on top of the fences. One has a red tint on the leather, saddle bags etched with Billie's initials, and the saddle itself has subtle flower shapes stamped on it. The other has a blue tint dyed right on the leather, they're a mirror of each other, except for its saddlebags that have Ramona's initials, and with small stars instead of flowers.

The horses look calmer now that Bucky's back. Cherry nuzzles him lovingly, while their foals sleep beside them as if the girls’ excited shrieking doesn't bother them. Perhaps they're more used to their laughter than their cries. The thought alone has your chest feeling warm.

“Look, mummy! We can ride along with you and daddy!” Billie jumps for joy, if she has the strength to carry it she would've by now with how she's hugging the whole saddle like it's her stuffed toy.

“Daddy said once our horses are grown we can ride together!” Mona runs to hug Hobie's leg, flashing her pearly whites and batting her lashes at you. Most probably from Hobie's direction.

Hobie grins innocently at you, “it's their birthday present?”

“Their birthday isn't for another six months, Hobie.”

“The tooth fairy gave it to ‘em.”

You eye him down with a feigned annoyed look, arms crossed over your chest, and a hidden smile.

“They already know how to ride. And they have to wait for their horses to grow a bit more for the girls to train ‘em.” He adds to his case as he grabs Mona off the ground and shows you her puppy dog eyes. “Look at how happy our baby is.”

Mona grins wider, kicking her tiny feet about while Billie rushes to your side to hug your leg. She mirrors her sister's dramatic smile, embracing you tighter.

“Please?” The three simultaneously ask, all similar eyes and pouts thrown right at you.

They drive a hard bargain.

“Fine—” their loud celebration wakes up the horses while Hobie puts Mona on his shoulders and scoops Billie in his arm while he grabs you gently and tucks all three of you close.

“Thank you, love.” Hobie blindly peppers your face with kisses while Mona hugs his face and accidentally covers her dad's eyes.

“Thank you, mummy!” The twins speak at the same time. Billie hugs your side, all the while careful of your stomach.

“Yeah, yeah.” You melt in their arms, happy and satisfied with the life on your little farm. The past is nothing but memories thrown over your shoulder now that you're able to replace them with happier ones.

And Hobie is more than willing to build those memories with you.