#rebel lounge

[elleesaich]

[lobrocker]

The Father Figures Opening for Protomartyr March 20

Local post-punk icons The Father Figures warm up The Rebel Lounge on Monday, March 20 for Detroit post-punk icons Protomartyr. This will be TFF’s first show in 14 months and will also celebrate the release of their next single “How to Ignore Someone + In America” Get tickets HERE. I love these guys. They wrote and recorded a song called “AZPX”!! “‘AZPX” – The Father Figures from “High Rollers…

[mayamelodyegg]

stress painting

[rastronomicals]

8:30 PM EDT July 1, 2024:

Richard Cheese - "Rebel Yell" From the album The Lounge Awakens (December 13, 2015)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

"Live at the Mos Eisley Spaceport Cantina".

[sinceileftyoublog]

Home Is Where Interview: We’re Already Here

Photo by Texas Smith

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“It’s a whale.” That’s how Home Is Where vocalist Brandon MacDonald answered to me, over email, my question, “What’s the story behind the cover art?” referring to the front of their incredible sophomore record the whaler (Wax Bodega). On the surface, given the amount of energy she poured into writing and recording the record--along with performing the songs on a nightly basis--I don’t blame her for the brevity. Dig deeper, and the whaler is riddled with simple verses, or at least direct statements chiding life’s paradoxes. They come sandwiched between comparatively complex verses likening the world to a self-eating organism, an animal or a human devouring its own entrails in an act of desperation. In its 35-minute runtime, the whaler journeys through cultural and sociopolitical history, from 9/11 to the death of Dale Earnhardt (Florida’s 9/11, as MacDonald says). It’s an emo concept record whose concept isn’t that far-fetched: We live in a world where we’re getting used to every day life getting more horrifying.

You can understand why the whaler is a mere reflection of real life for the Palm Coast, Florida quartet. It’s been an emotionally trying few years for MacDonald, who suffered a nervous breakdown in 2021. As the band released their debut album i became birds to critical acclaim, rendering them the unofficial ambassadors of fifth-wave emo, MacDonald transitioned. But as a result of horrific anti-trans legislation passed earlier this year in Florida, both she and guitarist Tilley Komorny, also trans, left the home state they loved in order to protect themselves. With this added context, the emotional outpour of the whaler becomes all the more powerful. MacDonald describes it on opener “skin meadow” as “spilling guts to the gutless;” “Forgive me for giving a shit!” she barks, on a song that contrasts Komorny’s gorgeous, twinkling Midwest emo guitar arpeggios with warbling singing saw, horns, and gang vocals scream-chanting the title. In general, the instrumentation and composition on the whaler thrillingly wavers between emo/hardcore and Americana, sometimes within the same song, emphasizing the band’s influences, and something that’s actually a positive cultural output from this godforsaken country.

The narrator on the whaler--whether that’s MacDonald herself, a character, or a collection of characters--concerns themselves with how we interact with both other individuals and society as a whole. On “lily pad pupils”, the titular whaler kills whales because, simply, it’s what they do. “I am the whaler,” MacDonald repeats as if to give the narrator’s life meaning, over Komorny’s banjo and Dan Pot’s pedal steel. A hangman brings flowers to an execution. Everyone is trying to extract beauty from an ugly situation. On the flipside, the loveless couple at the altar on “yes! yes! a thousand times yes!” are lying to themselves and each other, faking normalcy, getting eaten up by mosquitos as the song transforms from disco beat to hardcore blast, their camouflage wearing off. “9/12″ consists of twinkly piano, a sample of children speaking, and a single line: “And on September 12th, 2001, everyone went back to work.” It recalls the oft-memed picture of George W. Bush reading to a classroom, dumbfounded as he’s being told that planes have crashed into the Twin Towers. Everyone’s numb, and nobody knows how to react or move on. On a smaller scale, the twangy “daytona 500″ illustrates the cyclical aftermath of localized death: “Animal control came to collect last night’s roadkill form the roadside / Where fathers of drunk drivers plant a cross / For their loss when the wreck is hauled off,” MacDonald sings. Her sneer, knotty delivery, and imagery all recall Jeff Mangum, an admitted influence, from fever dreams of fluids and loose teeth to “lips knitted kissin' like pigeons shittin' on windshields.”

If there’s a line on the whaler that acts as the album’s thesis statement, it’s on “whaling for sport”. MacDonald knocks down the idea of a traditional higher being when she sings, “An all-knowing God doesn’t know what it’s like / To not know anything at all.” Twenty three years ago, Isaac Brock sang, “The universe is shaped exactly like the Earth / If you go straight long enough, you’ll end up where you were,” and MacDonald’s pearls of wisdom recall a similar idea. The folks uniquely positioned to comment on our hell-scape are not the usual talking heads--they’re the ones who on “chris farley” watch as a garden grows over a buried body, who on “floral organs” are “spitting teeth into each other's mouths back and forth until we make a smile.” The wheels of their racecars spin and spin, until they lurch into forward motion, even if they crash. the whaler ends on a tape loop, the same as the start of “skin meadow”. We wake up and do it all over again.

In the middle of their tour, MacDonald was nice enough to answer a few questions over email about the whaler, her writing style and mindset, and playing live. Read our exchange below, edited for length and clarity.

Photo credit: Texas Smith (Prairie Creek Productions)

Since I Left You: the whaler imagines a world where every day is 9/11 and we've become numb to tragedy. How close do you think we are to that world in reality?

Brandon MacDonald: Reality is subjective and easily manipulated. I wouldn't recognize it if you pointed it out. We’re already here. We've been here for a long time.

SILY: As sad as it is, some folks become numb to tragedy as a means of self-protection. Would you say that's the case for any of the characters on the record?

BM: I don't see it as self protection, I just see it as what happens after being inflicted with endless tragedy. The characters on the record are all different people, and at the same time, the same person. I don't feel protected by the numbness, just bored and afraid.

SILY: There's some tongue-in-cheek humor on the record, from Florida lore to a song named after Chris Farley. How important is humor to you as a coping mechanism, writing strategy, or both?

BM: My grandmother always says after something rough happens that, “If I didn’t laugh, I’d cry.” That's where some of the funny comes from. It’s hysterical and unnerving.

SILY: Despite the song "9/12", you've posited that 9/11 was the true turning point in our history, a before-and-after type event. Do you feel that way about any other world events or eras, even if not quite as impactful?

BM: When Dale Earnhardt died. That was Florida's 9/11. Praise Dale.

SILY: Were there any newfound musical influences on the record?

BM: Not really. We just stuck to what we like. Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys, Joan Of Arc, Hank Williams. things like that.

SILY: Do you pay attention to reviews of your music or what the general public says about it? Has your relationship to the record changed at all since it's come out?

BM: I see some--I don't really think about it too much. The record is complicated for me because the writing happened during a really dark period, but recording it and touring on it has been the most fun I've had. I like that some folks like it.

SILY: The record has such a wide array of instruments on it. How do you adapt these songs to a live performance?

BM: We have very different approaches to playing them live than in the studio. I want the songs live to be intimate and fun. In the studio, I can't help but want to add layers and mess around. Some of the more dense songs are strange to play at first, but folks don’t seem to mind the absence of certain instruments. Maybe we don’t need them at all?

SILY: You recently shared a tribute compilation for I Became Birds. Even if not part of the same "scene," how would you describe the kinship you feel with the bands that were included on there?

BM: I don't really know what the scene is. I just have some friends, and they make good music. I admire all the acts on the comp. We all owe a lot to Heccra for what all of us are doing with music, whether we know it or not. He's the first.

SILY: What's next for Home Is Where?

BM: LP3. DVD copy of Barnyard.

Home Is Where tour dates:

7/13/2023 Nashville, TN Drkmttr 7/14/2023 Atlanta, GA The Masquerade 7/15/2023 Orlando, FL Wills Pub 9/13/2023 Phoenix, AZ The Rebel Lounge 9/14/2023 Santa Ana, CA Constellation Room 9/15/2023 Los Angeles, CA Knitting Factory NoHo 9/16/2023 Berkeley, CA 924 Gilman 9/19/2023 Portland, OR Holocene 9/20/2023 Seattle, WA El Corazón 9/22/2023 Salt Lake City, UT The Beehive 9/23/2023 Colorado Springs, CO Vultures

[sleepy-lulu]

The Rebel Lounge

[har-rison-s]

whatever you need | coryo snow x fem!reader

a/n: don't mind me, just eating pomelo and writing smut. i daydream about this piece every and all work day i have rn, it's pretty unhinged bcs i'm working as a gift wrapper for the holiday season and just staring ahead thinking of.... things. i'm technically an atheist, but i would need forgiveness for those thoughts. ANYWAY JEEZ. this took me like four days, help. i'm so insecure abt my smut writing, tho so ooohhh god am i actually dreading posting this. i'll just publish and run away from tumblr for a week. happy reading

talk to me about coryo here

previous chapter next chapter

coryo masterlist main masterlist

word count: 7.2k (sawrry)

themes: smut

warnings / disclaimers: smut, unprotected p in v, brief mutual masturbation, cum eating (SCREAMING), fingering, crying, ENJOY jsdfjhsadsd

gif credit goes to owner <3

something strange was happening in the arena. something was being done to the camera feeds that were supposed to livestream every second of what was happening in it. only because something seemed to have gone wrong in the games y/n was stuck to the television screen in her living room slash lounge. her parents were called into urgent work in district three a few hours ago, so it was only her and some of the maids in the house. they kept to themselves, though, and were probably asleep in their quarters at the mansion’s far-end wing. except for the main housekeeper, who was adamantly guarding the entrance of the house, in case anyone came by.

her parents were counting on someone coming by - with the way she was recently behaving at school and with the rebel bombs, they were real worried about her well-being. she was always alone at home, because there was no one to bring home. except the dean, but he came by himself and only to serve his usual scolding and threats about y/n’s rebellious nature and behaviour at school. her parents hadn’t felt such worry for their daughter as they felt now since the war days. 

what soothed her mother’s worried heart and mind was the presence of the maids and the housekeeper. y/n appreciated their staying around and liked hearing noises made by someone else in the mansion, even if it was only a far-away creak of floorboards or a door closing. but she didn’t need anything from them, ever, she’d been very independent since her early childhood, and maids seemed like such an excess right now, an even backwards concept for y/n. her family employing them, unable to live without them, made her feel like the rich princess everyone deemed her being. 

y/n had felt fine being home alone until the feed from the arena turned strange. darker, blacker, and the audio seemed warped or otherwise manipulated. she’d caught sight of a familiar figure entering the arena – who was that? how did he get inside? who can tell... – and then the feed changed. there was nothing much she could see, but her eyes had been glued to the screen of her television for the past half hour, anyway. all the while she was straining her eyes to try to see who it was, and at some point that figure was joined by another by Sejanus’ tribute Marcus’ bruised and wounded body, and then the feed darkened nearly completely. 

she sat in her sofa in an embryo pose, blanket over her stressed form, covering her back and the bare feet and legs that the knitted bedtime jumper couldn’t. she realized the gamemakers or the Capitol were trying to hide something, nothing else could explain the feed changing and audio going wobbly and earning static in the process. 

the bell ringing at the front door startled her so bad that y/n gasped and jerked in her position on the sofa. her head whipped in its direction and she watched two figures entering her family’s mansion from the far end of the hallway. she could already tell who the two were, but she remained sat on the sofa, her legs unmoving out of anxiety. she shut off the television and just watched them walk towards her through the unlit hallway, arms wrapping around her knees underneath her beloved blanket.

“ms y/l/n, a mister Snow is here, for you,” the housekeeper announced as she and Coriolanus entered the living room, Coriolanus stumbling into the room more than walking into it. he looked like he was falling to pieces. his breath was heavy, hair and academy uniform in disarray, face just... bewildered. y/n nodded at her housekeeper, extended her arms towards Coryo like a child reaching for its favourite toy and sniffled quietly.

“thank you, Nora,” she told the housekeeper, “please leave us. you can go to bed, i won’t need anything else for the night.” she said in a hushed voice and the housekeeper nodded, knowing to listen to the child of her employers. y/n hated giving anyone orders, much less this spectacular lady, but she did want to be alone with Coryo. and by the look of him, she could tell he couldn’t be around anyone else but her. he was a man of privacy, after all.

as soon as Nora shut the door behind her and left for the maids’ quarters, Coryo accepted the plea in y/n’s extended arms and stumbled over to her on the sofa. “i—i’m sorry,” he said the first words out of breath, in a voice so broken and frail that y/n’s lips twitched downwards and she felt the need to cry, “i didn’t know where else to go, i couldn’t... i couldn’t f-face anyone else...” as he sat down before y/n’s bare feet peeking out from the blanket, she noticed in the poor lighting of the room that his clothes were dirty. there were cuts in his shirt, dirt, gravel, sand... blood. 

“what happened?” her voice wouldn’t go any louder than a whisper, and her lips were turning into a pout as she looked Coryo over, her meek hands reaching out for him but unsure whether she should touch him or not. he could fall apart like the frailest glass, it seemed, if anything touched him right now. his face was bruised. there were small cuts on his cheek, blood on his chin. she noticed how they had already been taken care of.

Coryo still took heavy breaths, but finally he felt like his vision was real and not fooling him, and he took in his surroundings. the dim lighting in the posh room, y/n’s bare feet touching his red academy pant leg, her legs pulled up to her chest under a cute throw-blanket in the pastel colour of chocolate milk, her small hands reaching out to him, unsure, unsteady. he lifted his head to look at her, and the expression on her face made his heart lurch in his chest. her glassy eyes – no doubt matching his –, the pout on her lips, her rosy cheeks, eyebrows scrunched in worry and confusion. he could never decline that face. “dr Gaul sent me inside the arena to get Sejanus out,” he finally said, and he spoke in a whisper tone that could only be meant for secrets, “but the tributes heard us... i’m not sure i should even be telling you about this at all,” he admitted.

y/n shook her head. “your secret’s safe with me,” she assured with a gentle nod.

“yes, but dr Gaul—” Coryo began, but she interrupted him in the voice of a faint whisper. 

“i know how terrifying she is,” y/n persisted, “she won’t know that i know.” she said even quieter and looked, really looked, into Coryo’s eyes, and nodded gently again at him. he searched her eyes for a few seconds, weighing the risk of her knowing this, trying to decide if he should tell her more or just cut short here. but really. she’s a loose end and she knows it. it’s not like dr Gaul was in high thoughts of y/n or deemed her more valuable than any other student, and her nature played a big part in that opinion of the young girl. how would she know that y/n found out about this night in the arena? she wouldn’t. it would never come up in conversation. y/n wasn’t part of this.

“the tributes heard us,” Coryo started to say as he sat closer to y/n, his body turned to face her, and almost loomed over her. he’s always been much taller than her, and sometimes that played a part in their dynamic. he took her hands in his above her bent knees and the blanket. he licked his lips and y/n searched his eyes, his... stoic blue eyes. there was a change in them, “they came after us and i...” he shook his head, “i didn’t want to hurt him,” Coryo’s voice broke and his head dropped onto y/n’s covered knees. 

she heard a sob from him, and it shook her entire form, making her gasp quietly. she’d never seen him cry before. the night on the rooftop, in the garden, she knew he was close to it, but she knew he’d never let his pride down so much that he’d let anyone see him cry. and Coryo didn’t feel so good about crying now, about opening himself up to her like this, he felt disgusted with himself. but he also couldn’t stop. and he couldn’t hide everything from her, after all. 

y/n shuffled around until her legs were tucked under herself and she moved closer to Coryo, taking his scarred cheeks between her small hands and lifting his face up so he would see her. she knew she made him nervous usually, but she calculated that that effect flipped around on itself when he was in this state, or one similar to this. breaking apart. feeling vulnerable. beaten down. she looked into his eyes and he back into hers, not really having any other choice. she had this compelling power over him, even if he didn’t want to admit it, and he didn’t want to hide from her. not really.

his breathing slowed down as he just looked into her wondering beautiful orbs, full of so much determination, courage and kindness. she was almost smiling at him, even though she wanted to cry, too, and her eyes were glassy with produced tears, but she wanted to appear strong for him. because right now he really needed a strong anchor to hold onto, he was the one in need of support. y/n took that role mainly in their friendship-relationship, especially at school, when she got herself in trouble, or at home, when her parents were giving her an earful about her irresponsibility and all the jazz they usually gave her an earful about.

last time Coryo and y/n saw each other, she realized he had the ability to ground her. and now she realized she had the ability to ground him, because by looking into his eyes she could see his emotions and mood changing by the second. and all because she’s holding him, and he’s looking into her eyes. he didn’t need much more than that. 

and yet maybe he did. he didn’t know which part of him had the urge, but all of him acted on it by ducking forward and kissing her on the lips. he could taste the sweat she had made on her lips out of stress, and the blueberry tartlet she must have had as a late snack not too long ago. and his hands couldn’t keep away anymore, either, they were taking hold of her face like hers was holding his cheeks between them. y/n would have gasped at his sudden action if she had any air to breathe, and she sighed heavily when he did give her a split second of air after fiery kisses to her delicious lips. 

he kept his eyes on her as he pulled his academy blazer off and threw it to the ground beside the couch, then came back closer to her, one hand on her cheek and the other pulling the adorable blanket off her legs. y/n placed a palm on that hand of his, which made Coryo furrow his eyebrows and look at her with puzzled eyes. didn’t she want this, too? she gulped, eyes averted from his shyly. “i’d rather we talked about it, Coryo,” she admitted and looked back at him carefully, eyes so un-knowing and yet more clever than most people’s. Coryo tilted his head slightly at her words. 

his hands took the bull by its horns, pulling the blanket fully away and welcoming the night air of the mansion upon y/n’s bare legs, making her gasp again. Coryo used the moment of surprise to his advantage and pushed her down on the sofa, sneaking in between her legs like the slippery mastermind he was, and he slid a hand under her knitted jumper, raising goose-bumps in his wake across her stomach and waist. y/n hated that she felt aroused, meaning she felt exactly how he wanted her to, was right where he wanted her, but she couldn’t exactly pull away. she hated being at someone’s mercy, but.... it was Coryo.

she surprised him when he found she wasn’t wearing a bra under her jumper, nothing was standing between his greedy hands and her naked breasts now, though her not wearing a bra at home wasn’t exactly a surprise. it’s just that his inexperienced self was shocked to find a part of her naked, and right there, at his disposal. watching her face, he placed his palm over one of her breasts and ran his thumb over her nipple, which hardened immediately under his touch. and her face, oh, the expression on it was to die for. eyes softly shut, eyebrows gently spasming as she was feeling something very new to her, her teeth biting her lower lip, cheeks turning more red and no doubt burning up. Coryo placed a kiss on her bare stomach, just above the elastic of her underwear, and watched her still as she whimpered for the first time. her thighs fidgeted around him, feet unsurely digging into the soft cushions of her couch—she really didn’t know what to do with herself and these sensations she was experiencing. 

“i’d rather we didn’t,” he said to her finally, though his actions were more than enough of a response to what she said, but she hardly heard him now. there was a gentle static in her ears, and heat all over her writhing form. her pure, supple, untouched form. all for him to touch, to explore. Coryo took his shirt off in a hurry, as if y/n might disappear if he had his hands off her for a second longer, and returned to her half-naked body a hungrier man. hands raking the insides of her thighs, he kissed her again, hot lips making their conversation just moments ago seem like the far past, making her almost forget it happened. y/n could hardly feel her legs, though she knew this was just the beginning, and she wrapped her arms around Coryo’s frame and held onto him as he moved his slender torso against her chest. she could feel the bones of his hips jutting against her own, his growing crotch pressing against her panty-covered soaking cunt, teasing her, making her pant heavily and whimper like a kitten. 

having her like this satiated the hunger that rose from the deep hole he’d created inside himself, gnawing at him like a big black hole with eager, starving claws. every stroke of his hips against hers beat the monster down but dangled the bait in front of it at the same time, leaving him in quite the paradox. this was more than enough, yet Coryo knew he could go further with y/n, further than enough, and that she’d let him. everything in him wanted to, and he couldn’t stop himself. adrenaline was pumping blood from his heart into his veins, she was available and the only one who could help with the hole growing inside him. 

but y/n couldn’t go further without another word spoken. he was avoiding her question, he was avoiding the whole last hour of this night. “Coryo,” she whispered softly as his lips kissed at her neck, tongue sweeping over a particularly bruised-with-kisses spot on her sculpture-like skin, he was an animal let loose. and his affections almost made her forget what she wanted to ask, and she thought maybe she doesn’t really want to know. but y/n sighed, trying to clear her mind, “tell me what happened,” she plead in a quiet voice and it made Coryo raise his head and look into her eyes again. 

he framed the side of her face with only a hand, his thumb on her chin and the rest of his palm splayed across her burning cheek. he loved seeing the look of lust and confusion on her face, in her eyes most of all. the pads of his fingertips softly pushed into her skin. “no,” he remained stubborn, and y/n would have been surprised to have him do otherwise. she gulped softly, hoping he wouldn’t feel it, but no, he felt every motion any part of her made now. his mind came up with a new idea as he slid a hand of his across her stomach, making a wave across her supple body, and then he reached her underwear. he knew, like everyone else did sort of matter-of-factly, that women were to be touched there. he knew it was the spot in her with which he could get her full attention. and he also knew he’d have to fabricate having experience in this field for y/n. he didn’t want her to think him inexperienced, which he was exactly, or least of all that he’s experimenting with her—which was also what he was doing. so he improvised by cupping her warmest place in the body, and he felt an immediate reaction. her thighs fidgeted around his waist again and her stomach lurched. her eyes shut, but he wanted to see them, “open your eyes,” Coryo urged her, and y/n had to force herself to comply, her beautiful eyes looking into his again. they held eye contact as he ran his middle finger in a straight line between her clothed folds, and he watched as her face contorted, caused by the new strange and pleasant feelings. she felt like warm honey on his fingers, “right now all i need is to feel you,” he told her and did the same motion with his finger again, only this time slower, making it pleasurably agonizing for her, coaxing quiet whimpers from her lips, “and this tells me you need it, too.” 

god, she hated that he was right. at first it was want, she wanted him to stay over, to touch her, to feel her, to do things to her that no one else had ever before. now, she felt so desperate for it that she felt she could explode if she didn’t get what seemed to be promised to her. the want grew to need. she wanted to shake her head, wanted to push him off—that would really be characteristic to her. but instead she brought herself to really look into his eyes and nod in response. Coryo’s lips almost made a smile or a grin, almost, she caught the ghost of it in the corner of his lips before he kissed her again. “alright, Coryo,” she whispered against his lips, “but if you don’t touch me properly right now, i willkick you out of my home.” she said surely, admitting to her desperation without shame and in turn – with pride, and now Coryo grinned. her feistiness was one of the things he liked about her, and it coming out in this setting was more than he could have asked for. in a weird way it got him going. 

y/n placed both of her hands on the sides of his face and kept him close to her as he reached his hand into her underwear, breaching into unexplored territory. she was all the warmer for him, and soaking wet. he hummed, their lips nearly touching, but not completely. it was torture for him. he wanted to devour her lips, her whole face, her whole existence. her lips were like the food of life for him, the sounds she made music to his ears and air in his lungs. “you’re just perfect for me,” he confessed to her in a shudder and y/n smiled lightly. his fingers ran through her naked warm folds, just testing the waters, until they found the opening between them, where the wetness and warmth were seeping from. Coryo would have dropped his head onto her shoulder if her hands weren’t holding it up right, but he just felt like he lost his damn mind at how incredible her walls felt around his fingers, and he could collapse right there on top of her. 

“Coryo,” she sang his nickname in a beautiful moan when two fingers prodded inside her, beating any expectations she had about this beforehand. they were long and thick, touching every inch of her, it felt like, and reaching just far enough. she was barely holding onto him, and her body was reacting to his touches immediately. hips moving, back arching, thighs squeezing his body between them, breaths shuddering. 

“no one’s done this to you before, have they?” Coryo asked, but he hardly needed an answer. by the way she was reacting, he could tell that she’d never felt like this before. y/n shaking her head at his question was merely the last dot on the confirmation, yet it still made him more aroused. knowing he was the first one to do this to her, with her. he grazed her upper wall with his finger pads, being careful not to let his nails scrape her, and it brought a moan from her that he’d never heard anyone make. guttural, coming from the very depths of her lungs, her vocal cords, from her very core. it made him shudder. he repeated the motion, slower one time, then faster the next, all the while watching her reaction. he loved seeing her eyes shut, her cheeks become redder, her lips parting, stretching, pushing breaths and whimpers out from between them. Coryo felt one of her hands sliding up into his hair, and he groaned. her hips bucked and she grabbed onto his perfect curls between her fingers when he reached farther inside her with his two fingers, and it made them both moan into each other’s mouths, y/n letting his lips rest over hers. he’d reached that great point inside her, feeling her hot and spongy against his digits. it’s almost like she was sucking him in. “you’re so good for me,” Coryo told her and y/n whimpered at the praise. 

“more, please,” she begged with no shame and Coryo obliged, picking up the pace of his fingers and massaging over her folds with his thumb all the while. when he accidentally grazed over her clit, y/n made a high-pitched moan of the utmost sensitivity, and he knew he’d done the right thing. and by accident, no less. he was on the winning team, “Coryo,” she cried with her eyes shut and he noticed a tear on her cheek, kissing over it immediately. next his lips were on hers again, lapping at her tongue with his own like the starving man he was, knowing nothing of tomorrow or the next hour, just so engulfed in her that he knew nothing else. she was the perfect getaway.

he could feel her body behaving in a different way, thighs trembling around him, walls squeezing his hand in, hands nearly powerless, chest shuddering. she wasn’t far off her release, he guessed. with another press to the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her cry, Coryo once again watched her reaction in amazement. but he didn’t want to feel her release like this, he needed them both different. Coryo pulled his fingers away, once again making y/n cry out, this time in the most desperation she could manage, and she looked up at him with pleading, tearful eyes. he offered her a gentle smile and moved down her body, dragging her underwear with him. down her legs and away, the light pink garment went, and y/n bit her plump lip in anticipation as she watched him. 

Coryo tucked her underwear into the trousers of his academy uniform that he was still wearing and returned to her body, laying kisses across her thighs on his way up to her. y/n squirmed under and around him, mewled, muttering his name in a mewl here and there, relishing in the feeling of his lips on her untouched skin and his hands roaming all over her body, under her jumper, over it, trying to cover every inch of her. she hated that he had stopped touching her right when she was closest to that one sacred edge she wanted so badly to reach, he was teasing her, taunting her, testing her waters. it was clear to her that he had never done this to another girl before. Coryo was just like her, and yet he’d put up a different façade. 

he dug his fingers into the flesh of her naked hips, which made y/n throw her head back into the sofa cushions, baring her delicious-looking neck to Coryo. he used that to his advantage, licking and kissing at the skin of her neck which he had already bruised marked with his lips just moments ago, he was devouring her with a hunger only she could really satiate, and yet he couldn’t get enough of her. his growing crotch pressed against her bare cunt, and y/n gasped at the feeling. eyebrows scrunched, cheeks and lips red and puffy, she looked up at Coryo again, and he returned the gesture. he took one of her hands in his and guided it down to between them, where he was growing harder and in size, it seemed, watching her face all the while and taking notice of her biting down on her lower lip in anticipation. Coryo made her feel him through his trousers, and he couldn’t hide the effect her touch had on him - shuddering throughout his whole body, eyelids fluttering, he was barely able to utter the next words, but he did so in a quiet voice. “feel what you do to me?” 

y/n nodded with lustful eyes, hungry like the wolf for the boy above her. her boldness came back and with it y/n unzipped Coryo’s custom-made trousers and reached into his boxers to really feel him. he had girth and he was solid, she could feel that all with her hand on him. she was making him a panting mess, giving his length a sure stroke, Coryo’s head falling into the crook of her neck and him moaning, though she knew the piece of his pride that died for him to do that. he hardly let anyone see his inner world, his true feelings, so for him to be this vulnerable with her took a great deal of courage. “do i make you... feel like this often?” y/n asked quietly, and Coryo nodded with a whimper as her finger flicked over his tip, pink and sensitive. y/n wrapped her fingers around his shaft and stroked up and down, slowly, looking at his face all the while, wishing she could see his beautiful eyes now, see the emotions swimming around in the blue of them.

Coryo fisted the pillow right beside her, heavy breaths leaving his parted lips, “yes, yes, yes, god, yes,” he chanted in her ear as the pace of her strokes grew faster, and y/n could feel each breaths in his lungs against her own, his chest rising and hitting against her so intensely. she’d made him crumble beneath her so quickly, it surprised her, “i need you, y/n, i need to feel you,” Coryo confessed and managed the strength to raise his head and look at her again. he was too afraid to utter the phrase i need to be inside you, feeling just too shy all of a sudden to say that. the look on his face was pure desperation, he looked like he could start crying the next moment, and y/n’s heart lurched in her chest at seeing that. seeing and recognising that she could make him as desperate as he’d made her. that she could make him small, “no one’s ever made me feel like this before,” he confessed more, breaking his own façade down, and y/n smiled at him sheepishly. she knew, of course, that what he said was true. she knew everything about him.

“you have me,” she assured him and brought him out of the confine of his boxers, making Coryo breathe in relief. he had felt so restricted in his own clothes, “but god, Coryo, will you fit? you feel too big in my hand,” y/n said shyly and bit down on her lip again, a habit that Coryo had noticed her having for quite a while now, and he looked down between them two. y/n knew her comment went straight to his growing ego, but she just couldn’t resist teasing him a little. and when he caught onto it, he looked at her again, with a smile on his lips this time. she grinned wide and giggled before she took his face in her hands and kissed his lips, as if it was her first time doing so. simple, loving, affectionate. 

suddenly she fully took in the look of his naked torso, his amazingly sculpted shoulders and arms, his pearly chest... the sight of him was so breath-taking and delicious that she nearly forgot all her other surroundings. Coryo, though the look her eyes were giving him flattered him so, took the bull by its horns again and pushed the very tip of his hard length through her folds, where her warm opening welcomed him. y/n felt a strain while Coryo felt the beginning of a true release, but he noticed her awkward expression, felt her hold on his face falter, and he paused his movements to just check in. 

“alright?” he asked quietly, as he couldn’t tell what to do next by her face, “too big for you?” he teased and it made them both smile, then erupt into mad giggles in unison. y/n would never have expected Coryo to have humour in a moment like this, but she was relieved that he did, and god did it make the whole thing easier. she wasn’t worried, wasn’t anxious anymore, wasn’t feeling insecure about any aspect of herself anymore. except the thing she’d heard that happened to most women on their first time – the bleeding, the pain, his reaction to it. those were the few things she wanted to avoid happening. but if Coryo was his sweetheart-self, then she had no bad reaction to worry about. she was glad he was the person she was doing it for the first time with, she’d really lucked out.

“just a little,” she finally answered after their giggle fit while holding each other in their arms, “try going deeper,” she urged in a hushed voice, and Coryo complied, adjusting his hips forward, slowly, not to accidentally hurt her more. he couldn’t deny how incredible this felt, how incredible she felt around him, her walls sucking him right in so tightly, “ohmygodohmygod,” y/n pushed the words out in a quick breath, feeling a burn and stretch inside of her at the size of him. she didn’t have anyone to compare Coryo to, and no one else had been inside her before, but he felt big enough. 

Coryo appreciated her arm on his back, her nails digging half-moons into his pearly skin, and her other hand splayed across his cheek, thumb almost digging a hole in his cheek. “you feel so perfect around me,” Coryo praised against her parted lips, and y/n could only look at him with strain and tears in her eyes as he inched himself further and further inside, her face changing by every inch, it seemed, until he had bottomed out with a groan and she’d only felt a momentary sting of pain. and the worst part was over—what a miracle it was that it had been so quick for her, she’d expected otherwise. Coryo could see the immediate relaxation on her features, and he smiled. 

he kissed away her fallen tears, but more kept falling from her eyes and y/n could only explain them as being happy tears, though she scolded herself for being so emotional in a meaningful moment like this. but maybe it was just right. Coryo smiled at her and she could see his orbs being glossy, too, and she was glad. it was no wonder, really, taking how shaken he was when he came into her home and sat down on her couch beside her. he was still in turmoil, but that didn’t matter now. he had her. 

“can i try... moving? you feel alright?” he asked her in a whisper. this slow thrust inside her had already felt like heaven, he couldn’t wait to repeat it over and over and over. 

y/n nodded, “yeah, go ahead,” she said and Coryo complied. she took in the feeling of him pulling out gently, slowly... teasingly. he was grinning, she saw, and she shook her head in disbelief as a beautiful smile adorned her features. and then he thrust inside her again, stuffing her walls with his great length, making her back arch and moans that she’s never made before escape her lips. he could hardly concentrate, but he didn’t want to miss all the different facial expressions she would make, the look in her eyes, while he made love to her now. he made himself keep his eyes open as he began to move rhythmically now. 

y/n’s legs wrapped around his waist, engulfing him in her more and more, and each of his thrusts earned him a squeak from her from the movements. god, he just adored her beyond measure. she was everything he needed now, and later, and forever. Coryo kissed her neck, licked at it, as he had before, and it only made her moan more, each moan in its own unique high or low pitch, and dig her fingers into whichever part of his skin she was holding. Coryo adored her touches, they turned him on, and he wanted her hands on him always, they were a lifeline. his hands gripped her waist, her sweater bunched just above them, only covering her arms and her breasts, though barely even those from how much Coryo was moving her.

“you're doing so good for me,” he breathed into her ear, and the praise only spurred her on. she clenched around him, and it made Coryo break his focus completely, his head dropping onto y/n’s chest, where he breathed hot air onto her skin, “i’m sorry, i think i’m close,” he confessed, and y/n raised his face with her hands, looking at him with puzzlement across her face. 

“me too, it’s okay,” she assured him and then took one of his hands in hers and lead it down to where their bodies met. she laid his palm over the bulge that had formed in her lower stomach from him. the sight and feel of it made Coryo groan, getting him all the more closer to his release. 

“fuck, that’s amazing,” he said into her neck, and y/n nodded.

“you’re so big, Coryo,” she complimented him again and felt his dick twitch inside her at the words, “made a bump in me,” she put it into words and it made the boy nearly lose his mind. then she guided his hand just a little lower and pressed his hand onto her clit, where he recalled was her most vulnerable point, “come on, touch me. we’ll do it together,” she urged him on in the sweetest of angel voices and Coryo didn’t need to think twice before complying. he loved her ordering him around a little, it was much needed tonight especially. 

he pressed his thumb against her clit as his hips had nearly reached their fastest pace, and watched as her face twisted in pleasure. eyes shutting, lips spasming, closing, opening, teeth biting, voice singing out to him. “oh, Coryo,” she called his name and he felt it go straight to his heart. there wasn’t much more that he needed in order to come now, and he prided in himself for lasting so long at all, all the while feeling a little ashamed about it. he wanted this to last longer. but since he could tell she was coming, too, his thumb drawing harsh circles on her clit to bring it on, he revelled in them both finishing at once. 

“fuuuck, y/n, i love you,” he whimpered into her ear as he spilled himself inside her tightly-squeezing walls while y/n all but chanted his nickname like a mantra. her hands almost drew blood on his back from how tightly she held onto him, and she shuddered around him at the feeling of her own release coating his entire length. her thighs trembled and she panted heavy breaths against his neck. she’d almost missed his quiet confession, she’d actually heard it amidst their joined euphoria, but she had thought it a hallucination. 

but that assumption dissipated as she came to and looked up at Coryo, whose eyes were worriedly, with tears streaming from them, looking down at her. she quickly moved her hands to his cheeks and tried to sit up in their awkward position. best she could do was position herself higher on her pillow against the sofa’s armrest, and she gulped. “you love me?” she echoed in the smallest of voices, searching his eyes. they were worried, fearful. what if he’d said the wrong thing? what if she felt different about him, different than what he felt about her? what if he’d said it too soon? what if he’d just ruined all this with her? 

but he did love her. he was sure of it. so he nodded, his curls bouncing with the confirming movement. y/n ran her hand over them and smiled wide at him. 

“you love me,” she said again, surely this time, in a happy tone of voice. as if she’d discovered the best, most well-wishing secret in the whole world. and perhaps that’s what it was. her favourite secret about Coryo was that she knew he loved her, “i love you, too,” y/n told him before he could assume otherwise, and kissed his trembling lips. Coryo felt on top of the world. he had said the right thing, he’d played his cards right, he’d told her how he felt. of course, his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it in words meant the world to y/n. 

“thank god, you had me worried there for a bit,” Coryo half-joked between their kisses, and it made her laugh. she pulled back from his lips and admired the boy above her. forehead glistening from sweat in the dim lighting, curls messily falling over his beautiful face, his pearly chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he took. 

“who would i be without a little suspense, huh?” she asked and smiled at him again. she could see complete love and devotion in his eyes, two things she’d seen on his face only partly or half-meant before, and only towards herself. Coryo used the moment of silence to pull out of her and stuff himself back into his trousers. sitting against the sofa cushions to do it, he glanced at her cunt and saw it leaking with his white substance. y/n looked at him with sultry eyes and her teeth biting her lower lip, arms crossed over her chest, and she spread her legs just a little further to tease him with a wider look, “like what you see?” she asked quietly.

he just gave her eyes of total surrender, he was waving the white flag for giving up and he took a deep breath. y/n giggled as Coryo shook his head in disbelief and lowered his face down to her center, once again giving her anticipation. “you look so pretty,” he complimented and ran a finger through her folds, making her shudder as more of the snow-white liquid pooled out and coated her cunt, “pretty with me dripping out of you,” Coryo sneaked a glance up at her and saw the clear-as-day lust in her eyes. feeling that animalistic urge take over him again, he brought out his tongue and lapped up each drop coming out of her. y/n felt sensitive, sore, and Coryo was giving her a mix of both pleasure and pain as he drank at her. she had him right where she wanted him. the question was – would he stay there? 

his tongue prodded at her entrance just a tad, heightening her sensitivity, and he moaned against her folds at her shudder under him, giving her folds a kiss over once he was done. he wanted to leave most of his spill inside her, only having lapped up and gulped down what was excess. sitting up before her, between her legs, Coryo licked his lips and leaned over her form. y/n pulled him in for a kiss, and could taste something salty and something sweet all at once on his lips and tongue. it was both of them. 

“will you please stay?” y/n asked her in her small voice again, looking into Coryo’s eyes. she hoped to not find any resistance or decline, and her hopes were fulfilled. “please,” she plead more as he teased her with his silence. he nodded, and it made her smile wider than ever. he would stay over, like he promised her he would someday. it meant he didn't view her only as a secret anymore. maybe they could even go to Heavensbee hall tomorrow together, maybe hand in hand... “why did you say sorry? about being close?” she reminded him of the few moments before their euphorias. Coryo bent his head low for a moment. 

“just felt embarrassed,” he answered, “about not lasting long. i just... i just wanted this to last longer for you,” he told her and managed to look at her again. y/n made a comforting face and stroked the side of his face. she understood. 

“yeah, but it’s okay,” she assured him, “there will be other times,” she pointed out and laid a kiss to his cheek, “it was your first time, so please don’t worry your beautiful head over it.” Coryo managed a ghost of a smile just for y/n to kiss him and make his smile more life-like. “you did good, Coryo.” those words of praise went straight to his dick again, and he blushed. she had made him blush. y/n giggled. 

“you did great, too,” Coryo told her and kissed her hair, “thank you. i never would have wanted to do this with anyone else but you,” he confessed as they held tight eye contact. y/n’s heart surged at his words. 

“me too. i’m glad it was you,” she said and it made Coryo smile with shut lips, “now, can i get my underwear back?” she’d made a joke again, and Coryo felt like playing along further. 

“no, i’m keeping it,” he said in a hushed voice, shaking his head and y/n made a playful pout. she’d want to make him think he could keep it and that she’d steal it back later, but she couldn’t. Coryo having her underwear in the pocket of his academy trousers made her feel somehow proud. a piece of her with him wherever he goes. and if he went home and stashed them somewhere in his wardrobe cabinet, that would be fine, too. she loved knowing her underwear was a token for him. 

she only said, “alright,” and took his hand in hers, “let’s go shower and then to bed. you’ve exhausted me.” she admitted and Coryo took it as a compliment. he wanted this treacherous-turned-great day to end, too, and she was the cherry on top of it all. he wouldn’t have gone home tonight for anything. 

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[thetriumphantpanda]

she a bad lil bitch, she a rebel | joel miller

Summary | Joel has to teach you a damn lesson, just like always.

Pairing | Brat Tamer!Joel x F!Reader

Word Count | 4K

Warnings | brat tamer!Joel, softdom!Joel, praise kink, implied age gap, spanking, use of rope restraints, hair-pulling, edging, orgasm denial, squirting, (1) singular pussy slap, unprotected PiV sex, rough sex, oral sex (M&F receiving), face-fucking, fingering, dirty talk, breath play, biting, cum play/cum eating, reader is a bratty menace, aftercare(!), no use of y/n.

Authors Note | All I'm going to say is this came to me in a dream and I had to get it down on paper. Mostly written on my phone with very little proofreading, so any mistakes are my own and I will live and die by them. This is basically just pure filth. Enjoy, and happy birthday to that old man. I love him but I would give him the hardest time, just like reader.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

If there was one thing that you lived for, it was pushing Joel Miller’s patience. The poor man had wandered into Jackson, little girl in tow, looking worn and weary almost a year ago, and from the moment you set eyes on him, you just knew you had to give this old man a run for his money. 

You’d started subtle, flirting with him on patrol, taking his distaste at your attempt to talk to him at every second as a personal challenge to break him, to work him down just enough to make your move. After a couple of weeks, he’s started talking, mainly in single word answers, but you’d managed to slowly chip him down. 

Then came the weekly drinks at The Tipsy Bison, everyone on patrol usually went, apart from those scheduled to be out that day, but he’d started laughing at your jokes and had even opted to sit next to you on occasion. Then one night, he’d walked you home, you’d had one too many glasses of whiskey, kissed him on the porch but agreed it wasn’t right to fuck right then, but he’d come back, that next night, both of you sober, and you’d kissed him again, and the rest really was history. 

It’s late afternoon when he comes through his front door, toeing his boots off as the door slams behind him. You’ve been led on his couch for most of the afternoon, reading a book you’d plucked from his shelf – some nonsense Western that did nothing to keep your attention, but was enough to keep you occupied whilst you waited for him to come home. 

“Afternoon,” You sing to him as he shrugs his jacket off, hanging it on the coat stand near the door, “Good patrol?” 

“Was fine,” He grumbles, just like he always does, he swats at your legs to get you to move them enough for him to sit down, “Scoot,” You lift them up just long enough for him to ease himself onto the couch, before you put them back down on his lap, abandoning the book on the coffee table, “You sort the stuff in the kitchen like I asked?” 

“No.” You say simply, shaking your head, subtly digging the heel of your foot into the front of his jeans. 

His big palm circles your ankle, gripping in warning, “What about the sheets, you wash ‘em?”

“Did you see them pegged out when you came home?” You ask, sweetly, using your other foot now to dig into his jeans. 

“Will you fuckin’ quit it?” He seethes a little, other hand gripping your other ankle to still you, “What have you done all day, huh?” He implores, “I don’t keep ya around to lounge about lookin’ pretty.” 

You chuckle, “That’s exactly why you keep me around, old man.” 

“Shut up,” He squeezes at your ankles, “I asked you a question, you gonna answer me?” 

You shrug, “Woke up late,” You hold up one finger, “Felt horny so I got myself off,” Another finger, “Had a shower, used the last of that nice soap,” Another finger, “Made lunch,” Another finger, “And then led here reading one of your stupid books until you came home.” A final finger raised so you’re holding up and entire hand, palm facing towards him. 

You’re looking at him, all scowling face and dark eyes as his fingers wrap even tighter around your ankles. If you didn’t know him like you did, you’d be frightened, but you know he’s just thinking about the best way to deal with you. You wonder which of his lessons he’s going to bring out today as the look he’s giving you shoots straight down to your core. 

“I ask you to do two things,” He sighs, like he’s tired, “I ain’t exactly expectin’ slave labour from you, and you sit here and treat it like the Hilton?” 

“What’s the Hilton?” You ask, genuinely curious, thinking it must have been something from the times before all this, the times you were too young to remember. 

“Forget it.” He growls, and you think any minute now he’s gonna move to drag you off and show you just how bad you’ve been, but he doesn’t move, just sits with your ankles clasped in his hands, staring at the wall in front of him. 

“I’ve been so bad Joel,” You goad, trying to wriggle your ankles free, “Aren’t you going to teach me a lesson?” 

“No,” He spits, “I ain’t, because you like it too damn much, ain’t teachin’ you anythin’ because you never learn.” 

You pout a little, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “Promise to listen real hard this time Joel,” You promise, “Try and learn and much as possible.” 

“No,” He speaks, stern tone, with a warning squeeze to your ankles again, “Been a long day, don’t have the energy to bring you into line.” 

“Ah, I see,” You muse, “You’re feeling too old today.” 

“What did you just say t’me?” He’s incredulous now, good, you’ve got him just where you want him. 

“Oh, nothing,” You giggle, “Don’t worry.” 

It seems to do the trick though, because he’s pushing himself up from the couch, gripping at your wrist now to pull you up as well. He pushes you gently by the small of your back to get you to walk in front of him, “Upstairs.” Is the only instruction he gives, along with a playful swat to your bottom as you start up the stairs. 

He’s crowding behind you, always following just one step behind as you make your way to his bedroom, suddenly aware that you didn’t make the bed when you rolled out of this morning. That’s surely another black mark to your name, you think, as he sits down on the edge of the bed. 

“Get undressed.” 

This is new, normally Joel liked to be the one to unwrap you, but you start working on the buttons of your shirt, undoing it and dropping it to the floor, followed closely behind by your jeans, leaving you standing in front of him in your underwear, “All of it.” He demands. 

Your hands shakily reach behind you to unclasp your bra, dragging it from your body to land with the rest of your clothes. You drag your panties down your legs and step out of them, wrapping your arms across your chest to try and cover yourself a little. Joel reaches out a hand to you, which you take timidly, expecting him to pull you into him so he could put his mouth on you, anywhere, but instead, you find yourself pulled to him and folded over his lap so quickly you let out a surprised yelp. 

“So fuckin’ naughty, all the damn time baby,” He speaks softly, running his fingers down the length of your spine, “Don’t ever think you’ll learn how to be good.” 

His hand trails down to your bare ass, gripping the skin with his hands, using his other arm to press you down into his lap, rough material of his jeans rubbing against the sensitive peaks of your tits and the soft skin of your tummy. He rubs his rough palm over the globes of your ass, anticipation building in your body. Then, he pulls away, bringing his palm down onto your ass with a satisfying ‘smack’ ringing through the air. It takes a while for your brain to catch up with what’s just happened, but then the stinging sensation settles across your skin and has you wriggling to get away. 

“Keep still,” Joel chastises, free hand digging further into the small of your back to keep you from moving, “That’s one, how many do you think you deserve baby?” He muses, “Fifty?” 

“W-what?!” You exclaim, “N-no Joel, that’s too much.” 

“Forty then?” His palm is cradling at the skin he’s just spanked. 

“T-ten?” You offer feebly. 

“Oh baby girl,” He tuts at you, “Aim higher.” 

“Fifteen?” 

“How about we settle for twenty, baby?” He asks, all soft and sweet, “Twenty seems reasonable to me.” 

He doesn’t give you time to agree, it would seem the bargaining time is over, as he brings his palm back down onto your ass, harder than before, but in the same exact place. It jolts you on his lap, makes you cry out. The front of your body dragging against his denim. 

“How many?” He asks, rubbing his hand over the skin he’s just spanked. 

“Two.” You reply quietly, trying to keep the whimper you want to let out to yourself. 

“Good girl,” He praises, raising his hand again, “Keep count for me, okay?” 

Smack.

“Three!” You shriek, as his palm yet again connects with that same patch of skin. 

Smack.

“F-four.” 

Smack.

“Oh fuck,” You groan, trying to wriggle away unsuccessfully, it’s already too much, “Five!”

Smack.

This one doesn’t hurt as much; Joel’s shifted the assault of his palm onto the virgin side of your ass for you. You suck in a deep breath, try and blink away the tears that have formed in your eyes, as his hand massages where it’s just struck. He gives you another four on that cheek, and then switches back to the original, bringing his palm back down onto the skin that you’re sure is reddening by now. 

“Joel!” You cry out, tears dropping from your eyes now, but your body betrays you and arches your back for him, pushing your ass up like you’re asking for it, “E-eleven.” 

It carries on like that, five spanks to each cheek until you’re practically sobbing over his lap. You count the twentieth spank and a feeling of relief washes over you as he bends over you to press a light kiss to the sore skin he’s left. It makes you hiss, the contact, no matter how gentle he is with it. Then, he’s shifting you off his lap and onto the bed, letting you scurry away to the top of the mattress as he stands. 

The stinging of the skin of your ass is still making you sniffle as Joel shuffles to the bedside table, digging around in it. You’re not quite sure what he’s looking for, focusing mainly on trying to keep the red raw skin of your ass off the sheets, when he stands, throwing what he was looking for onto the sheets next to you. You turn your head and see the length of rope that he keeps in his drawer just for moments like this. 

“Arms up.” He short with you, sitting on his knees next to you. 

You do as you’re told, raising your arms above your head, still pushing your ass off the bed, but knowing soon enough you’ll be focused on something else that isn’t the stinging sensation of your ass. He takes your wrists and binds them together deftly, like it’s a walk in the park for him, like it’s something he does all the time. Then, once he’s sure your wrists are safely encased in rope, he takes the other end and ties it to his bed frame. He tugs slightly to make sure the way he’ll have you thrashing soon means that you won’t be able to pull yourself free. 

“That okay?” He asks gruffly, to which you nod, “Words, baby.” 

“Y-yes,” You stammer, “It’s okay.” 

“Remember your word?” He asks, stepping off the bed to partially undress, shucking his jeans and flannel off, but keeping his t-shirt and boxers on. 

“I remember.” 

He hums in approval, settling himself on the bed between your thighs, using wide palms to spread you open for him. You’re absolutely soaked, pussy dripping with slick from his palms and the way he’s trussed you up to his bed. 

Joel lets out a low whistle, letting his thumb rub up the length of your folds, “See,” He murmurs, using his thumb to gently spread the lips of your pussy to reveal your clit, already swollen and begging for attention, “Told ya that ya liked being punished too much,” He lets his thumb make a single swipe over that bundle of nerves, chuckling as you cry out, hips bucking to try and follow his finger, “She’s already fuckin’ soaked for me, baby.” 

You let out a high-pitched mewl, a begging sound that you hope tells him that you need him to touch you, you need to feel the pleasure you know he’s capable of after the pain he’s just inflicted. Mercifully he obliges, pressing the calloused pad of his thumb back to your clit, slick gathered there from before, as he starts rubbing in fast, precise circles. You’ve been so worked up that you can already feel the coil tightening in your tummy, and you know Joel can sense it as well, the way your hips are moving in time to his movements and the way you’re arching your back off the bed are a dead giveaway. 

You can feel yourself reaching that peak, so fucking close to tipping over the edge when he tears his hand away from your core and sits back, watching as you try and move back towards him, moaning in frustration at being left high and dry. You’re wriggling about, trying to close your thighs to rub them together to get yourself off, when he pushes a wide palm into your belly. He’s so powerful in the best way, stilling your movements immediately as you look up at him, face serious. 

“Remind me what the second thing on your list was this mornin’, baby?” He asks, voice as innocent as pie. 

You’re wracking your brain, lust making you more confused about what the fuck he’s even talking about. Then it dawns on you, what you’d told him downstairs. Felt horny so I got myself off. 

“You’ve got a big brain baby,” He coos, one palm squeezing your thigh, “I know you remember, so go on, tell me what you did.” 

“I g-got myself off.” 

“And is that what good girls do?” He asks, hand ghosting back to your pussy, knuckles of his hand brushing over your skin there. 

“N-no?” You question. 

“That’s right,” He hums, fingers slipping between your folds once more to gather some of the insane amount of slick that’s pooling at your aching entrance, “And besides, gettin’ to come is a reward, and I ain’t sure you deserve that right now.” 

His thumb is back on your clit now, moving in exactly the same way as before, with just the right amount of pressure to be building you back up. It feels so fucking good already and you know the way it feels when he tips you over the edge, you know how delicious it is and God, you want it so bad. 

“Please Joel,” You beg, all throaty and lust-filled, “I’ll be so good, I promise.” 

“Maybe ya should’a thought about that earlier,” He growls, “Before you came without me, thought you could do it better than me, huh?” 

“No!” You exclaim, because that’s definitely not true, you could never make yourself feel the way he does, “Oh God, please Joel.” You’re so fucking close, just a few more passes of his thumb and you could do it, you know you could, but so does he, which is why he’s tearing his thumb away from you again. 

You actually cry now, tears of frustration building in the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over as you thrash around on the bed, hissing when the rope around your wrist digs in but not caring all that much. 

“Quit your cryin’.” He chastises, hand on your hip to keep you still. 

You whimper, lip wobbling, trying to keep your cool. All you want is to reach out to him. You think if you could touch him, he would give you what you want, so you’re pretty sure that’s why he’s got you tied to the damn bed, to keep himself in check, to see this through, because Joel Miller always folds to you when you put your hands on him, weak man that he is. 

“You’re being so mean.” You cry out as he shifts, lying flat on his stomach so you can feel his breath on your aching pussy. 

“You were the one beggin’ to get punished baby,” And it smarts because it’s true, “I’m only givin’ you what you wanted.” 

He leans forward, tongue licking a stripe through your pussy, all the way up to your clit where he sucks the little bud into his mouth, rolls it between his lips and then lets it pop from his mouth like an ice-pop. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue a few times and you suck in a breath, your fingernails digging painfully into the palm of your hands as you focus on trying to reach the cliff edge and fall over it this time. 

You’re holding your breath, hips working in time with the movements of his mouth, eyes screwed shut just trying to focus on how good it feels. You can hear the rustling of sheets, which means if you were to open your eyes and look down at him, you’d find him grinding himself into the bedsheets for his own relief. He pulls off you, and you’re about to curse him out when he speaks. 

“You wanna come, baby?” He asks, punctuating it with a flick of his tongue. 

“Oh please Joel,” You beg, and even to your ears it sounds wrecked and pathetic, “Please let me come.” 

Then, you’re shrieking because the palm that has dealt so much damage to your ass this evening, has now swatted your aching cunt, “No.” He says simply, pushing himself back up and onto his knees. 

He pulls his t-shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere behind him. You’re squirming as he shucks off his boxers, moving awkwardly to kick them off, before he’s mounting your body, those strong thighs straddling your chest as his throbbing cock rests just millimetres from your mouth. He reaches down, let’s his fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head forward roughly. Your mouth, like muscle-memory takes over, opens, and the head of his cock slips over your tongue. You can already taste the salty beads of pre-cum as he shuffles forward a little, easing his cock into your mouth until it’s hitting the back of your throat. 

He holds your head steady with the fingers tangled in your hair as he fucks your throat. The sound is obscene, practically pornographic, the wet sounds that come as the head of his cock meets the back of your throat on every thrust. He pulls out of your mouth every now and then, when he’s thrust too hard and makes you gag on him, but fucking hell it’s turning you on so much. You can feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets, you don’t think anything has ever made you this wet before. 

He pulls his cock out of your mouth one last time, a string of saliva connecting him to your mouth until he pulls away enough for it break, laying wet across your chin and down your neck. Joel shuffles back down your body and you think finally, you’re going to get some relief. 

He hooks your knees over his arms, pushing them forward to your chest as his throbbing cock slips through your folds. He rocks his hips a few times, the bulbous head of him swiping over your clit, before he unexpectedly buries himself into your soaked cunt in one go. 

You actually sob at the feeling. You’ve been so empty all night, and now you’re so full of him, so crowded by his body, that you finally feel some kind of relief. He’s still for a moment – once it would have been to get you used to the heft of him inside you, but right now, you know it’s because he’s just as fucked as you are, and he wants to make sure you’ve truly learnt your lesson. 

Once he’s collected himself, he sets a bruising pace. Cock dragging out of your slick heat and slamming back into you. He revels in the way your tits bounce with every thrust, so much so that he leans forward and bites at the flesh, sucking bruises into your skin as he pounds himself right into the very depth of you. 

“Doin’ so good for me baby,” He groans out against your skin, sucking your nipple into his mouth, letting it go with a wet pop as he pushes himself back up for me, “Takin’ your punishment so well.” 

The angle he’s got you folded into means the head of his cock is brushing against the spongy spot inside you every time. Your pussy is clenched so tightly around him that it’s a miracle he’s held on for this long. He finally brings his thumb back to your clit and you’re begging this time that he’ll let you finish, because if he doesn’t you’re pretty sure you might actually die. 

“Joel,” You mewl, “I’m g-gonna – holy shit – m’gonna come.” 

“Go on baby,” He finally relents, you let out a sob of relief, “Come on my cock for me, like a good girl.” 

It’s so overwhelming when it finally happens. Your vision blurs and blood rushes to your ears, blocking out any sound that isn’t the beating of your pulse. Your pussy clenches impossibly tight around him as pleasure finally floods through every inch of your body. You feel yourself literally gush on his cock, soaking his skin, your skin, the bedsheets beneath you. You think you might even scream his name as your body convulses and shakes, arches up into him. 

You’re slightly aware of him pulling his cock from inside you, letting your knees drop. You can hear the slap of his fist on his skin as he fists his cock, and then he’s growling out your name, his cum spattering over your tummy, lying hot and thick on your sticky skin. It’s silent for a good few moments, the only thing you can focus on is the sound of you both sucking in breath to your lungs and the burn of the rope around your wrists. 

“Look at me.” Joel demands, and you do, your eyes meeting his, which are almost black with lust, his face flushed, sweat pooling at his hairline. 

He drags a finger through the pools of his cum, bringing his fingers to your mouth. He presses them into the flat of your tongue, letting you swallow, which continues until you’ve cleaned every inch of him from your skin. He then works quickly to untie the knots that have you bound to the bed, freeing your skin from the burning feeling that’s settled there. 

“Stay still,” It’s still demanding, but it’s softer now, as he gets off the bed, dropping the rope to the floor, “I’ll be right back.” 

He comes back moments later with a glass of water and a cool cloth. He rolls you over onto your tummy, pressing the cool material to your ass, trying to soothe the red welts of his handprints that have already started to form. He presses soothing, open-mouth kisses to the skin before he rolls you back over onto your back. 

He moves you because you’re pliant now, to rest against the pillows, handing you the water to drink as he runs the last of the cooling cloth over your lower tummy and through the folds of your spent cunt, then it’s discarded to the floor with everything else, and you’re being pulled to his chest, kiss pressed to your forehead. 

“Too much?” He asks quietly, checking to make sure he hasn’t crossed some line with you. 

“Just perfect.” You reply, eye-lids heavy with sleep. 

He brings one of your wrists to his mouth, letting his tongue lick soothing stripes along the reddened skin there, kissing every now and then, but keeping you pressed tightly to his chest, you own arm draped around his waist.

“You learn your lesson?” He asks then. 

“Probably not,” You hum against the sweaty skin of his chest, “I don’t think you’re ever going to fuck the attitude outta me, Miller.” 

[short-yandere-stories]

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

CW: Yandere behavior, forced imprisonment, brief mentions of NSFW / Non/Con, threats of violence

This is a yandere work. Proceed with caution and please be mindful of your own triggers.

Happy birthday Aizen! I couldn't help but write a short little thing I love him. The Rock Musical is living rent free in my head and has done so since I watched it. The "Smile, Orihime" scene was in it too and I almost fainted seeing that in front of me on stage.

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

The warmth of the palms of his hands burned through the white silk of the gown you were wearing, placed possessively on your waist.

Aizen was lounging in his throne, you perched uncomfortably on his lap in just the way he liked to have you. There was just something about having your soft, warm body close that stroked his ego just right. It was as much of a display of his power and authority for both the Espada and you alike -- a show of ownership.

Any time Aizen summoned the Espada to a meeting, you would be dragged into his lap, spending the meeting trying not to squirm around as large hands held your waist or fingers traced patterns into your thigh. It was humiliating, but there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

Making a scene wasn’t an option anymore. You’d tried to protest the first few times the ruler of Las Noches had forced you to sit in his lap during meetings. He’d been amused, but not at all bothered. A few words whispered into your ear in his smooth, baritone voice had your body freezing as your heartbeat picked up in fear before you reluctantly fell quiet and stopped squirming.

You knew all too well that Aizen made good on his promises and threats. You didn’t want your remaining family to suffer at the hands of Hollows or any of the Espada, nor did you want to spend more nights than you absolutely had to folded into a mating press as fucked you until he was satisfied.

There was no escape from Las Noches, after all. You couldn’t open a portal, and even if you somehow managed to get one of the Espada to open one for you, there was nowhere in the world that you would be able to escape Aizen. All you could do was obey and try to minimise the damage done to yourself or the people you cared about. You were no fighter. You had no powers. There was nothing you could do but let him do as he pleased.

You could feel Aizen’s smile press against the sensitive skin of your neck, no doubt knowing exactly what was on your mind. There was no hiding anything from him. You’d long since stopped trying. 

“Feeling powerless, pet?” Aizen mused, ignoring Nnoitora making a jab at Harribel, trying to rile her up. 

You didn’t grace him with a response, rebelling in one of the only ways you could. He chuckled, chest rumbling in amusement pressed against your back.

“If anyone, you’re the person with the most power here.” You turned your neck, looking back at Aizen with confusion on your face. He merely smiled.

“You’re the only one who controls my heart.” 

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

[ki-yomii]

baby, don't go | myg

➥pairing | ex!min yoongi x f!reader, mentioned f!reader x omc ➥word count | 5.1k ➥warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, squirting, hand job, finger fucking, porn w/ plot, angst w/ a happy ending, alcohol, exes to lovers, implied cheating (omc is a fuckboy), implied getting back together (reader & yoongi still low key love each other), idol!yoongi ➥summary | "hii can I request for an exes to lovers trope with yoongi 😭💖 lovee your ficss" you find out your boyfriend is cheating on you. thankfully your ex Yoongi is more than happy to distract you. ➥notes | hope you enjoy this anon 😘💚 omc & ofc are named after characters from one of my favourite k-dramas (personal taste iykyk)

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Standing beside you, your friend Kae-In takes a swig of whatever's in her cup - a sickly sweet concoction of fruity soju and Chilsung, most likely - and coolly surveys the backyard.

Small groups of people dot the manicured lawn, others lounging by the fire as they catch up with one another. It's been far too long since everyone's schedules aligned like this.

Years in fact, and there are several who came in from out of town.

Ordinarily you'd be over the moon, but as it were you can barely drum up enough false excitement for your best friend. Let alone others you haven't seen in forever.

Cocking her hip, Kae-In puckers her mouth. "The alcohol isn't even that good." She sighs, pretty face scrunching in disappointment. "Some party this is turning out to be."

Your hard cider, still more than half-full, hides an awkward, ill-fitting smile.

Having nursed your own drink for the last hour, whatever might've been enjoyable about it is long gone. Any refreshing coolness and bright, punchy taste replaced by amber liquid far past room temperature in your clammy palm.

In fact, the fizzy warmth and tart aftertaste of moldering apples turns your stomach with every half-hearted sip.

"At least there's cute guys here - some of them have really grown up."

Her breath ruffles the fringe of her bangs when she huffs, casting an eye to the glass bottle strangled in your grip.

"Are you sure you don't want something a little stronger?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine - gotta be the DD just in case, y'know?"

"Girl, you're ALWAYS the DD. C'mon, you gotta live a little sometimes."

The nonchalant scolding stings, even if it's meant almost entirely in jest but it's not Kae-In's fault. She doesn't know. No one does. You couldn't muster up the courage to tell her the truth.

Not yet.

It's still too fresh. The wound too raw to go poking around with clumsy fingers.

"Don't be like that," you say with a faltering smile. "I'm having fun."

LIAR.

In actuality, you're a few frayed threads away from snapping. Stuck clinging to the edge of sanity by the fingernails as you battle back tides of crippling grief and blinding rage.

Have been since the first few messages came rolling in; questions with videos attached. There's a part of you grateful they reached out, while another altogether wishes you hadn't seen.

At least not until morning.

Would one more night spent in ignorant bliss have been too much to ask for?

Now you're riding a corkscrew of emotion, one that roils and chafes as ceaseless images parade past your eyelids with every blink. Each one as crisp and clear as the first time you pressed play.

The swirling lights, the heady thrum of bodies. A darkened corner. Your boyfriend of three years who said he couldn't make it. His hand sneaking beneath the hem of a cheap, glittery skirt. The dip of his head as he tucks into the curve of a neck, mouth open and smiling against bare skin.

You shudder, stomach rebelling. When you swallow, it's like trying to down buckets of sand.

Kae-In, none the wiser, flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Well, that makes one of us. I guess." Shrugging, she turns to you and asks with a furrowed brow, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem... a little off."

Panic grabs you by the throat.

This was supposed to be a night full of fun and laughter. You're not supposed to be suffocating in a crowded backyard. On the brink of tears and trying to act like your life hasn't imploded.

Alone - by your own doing, which is even worse - to deal with the crushing weight of an inevitable breakup. The painful extrication of two lives entwined.

How a relationship three years in the making can be shattered in a minute and forty-five seconds is mind boggling. You had it all, and now...

You thought you were going to marry him.

The whiplash of it all almost makes you laugh but only so you don't break down in great, heaving sobs. A heartbreak you're not sure you'll ever recover from. Not for the loss of him but rather the decimation of your trust.

"I'm okay, promise! No need to worry."

The lie weighs heavy on your tongue. Tastes of ash as the words you really want to say hover in the back of your throat, a breath away. Only they can't make it past your lips, stuck to your teeth like hard candy.

"It's just been one of those days."

Your shoulders shoot towards your ears when she hums in response. Fingernails picking at the corner of the sweating cider label so you don't have to meet Kae-In's piercing gaze. You know she can see right through you, and you hate it.

What started as a fun night of planned mayhem turned into desperate distractions though this party has done very little in terms of brightening your mood.

Instead, watching everyone you know have a good time while you stand on the side lines, a stranger in a sea of people, feels more akin to rubbing salt in an open wound.

Miserable but acting like you’re not; waves of bitter loneliness threatening to pull you under because you don’t want to ruin the night.

“Is this because Chang-ryul couldn’t make it?” Kae-In pats your back sympathetically. “What bullshit excuse did he give you this time? I swear, he always does this. Just wait. I’m gonna hit him next time I see him.”

Oh, you don’t even know, you think. You’ll definitely want to do more than hit him.

Your heart throbs at the sound of his name, and isn’t that funny? Such a simple thing - nothing but syllables and letters strung together - and yet it has the power to unmake you completely.

Your tongue swells as you struggle to swallow. Words burn like bile as you force out a laugh; brittle, scraped up from the depths of your chest

“I’d pay to see that,” you croak. Your knuckles ache from how tightly you’re gripping the bottle. “But - no. C-Chang-ryul has nothing to do with it.”

You hate that you stutter over his name.

And perhaps that’s why you don’t want to tell Kae-In just yet.

She’s always hated him.

Always said he was no good. Just another fuckboy looking for beds to warm and hearts to break. And she’s right.

God, why does she have to be right?

You know she’d never hold it over you, but the thought of admitting it - out loud - makes you want to vomit all over your shoes. You need time to stitch your edges back together. Too raw and ragged.

You only just found out.

Your pride can’t handle any more hits right now.

She thumbs her nose with an inelegant snort. “Whatever you say. I could take him in a fight. That boy ain’t shit.”

Your laugh startles you - the first genuine one of the evening - and you shake your head fondly. A soft smile tugs at your lips.

“Oh, no doubt. But really, I’ve just been in a weird mood.”

The twist of her lips shows she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but she’s kind enough not to press. Instead, she spends the next while distracting you with tales of her various escapades of the week.

And it helps for a time, truly.

But then you feel a buzz against your thigh, a ding echoing up from your pocket. Your stomach turns to lead, drops to your feet. Without looking at the screen, you pull the cell out of your pocket with shaky hands and quickly flick the ringer off.

Meanwhile, Kae-In watches silently with sharp eyes, and an even sharper frown though she declines to comment on your behavior.

“Anyway,” she continues once she has your attention, “as I was saying, did you see little Ji-Seok? Dude shot up like a tree! Last time I saw him he was as big as a bean sprout.”

You hum, worlds away.

“You could at least act like you’re paying attention,” she sucks her teeth before a smirk starts to slowly tug at her lips, “How about we talk about something - or someone - I know you’ll be interested in?”

Guilt sparks but slowly gives way to dread. You know that expression. Have gotten into trouble more times than you can count because of it.

Heart tattooing a rhythm against your rib cage, you sputter, “Oh no. No! Do not look at me like that.”

“C’mo-on!” she wheedles. “You’re absolutely right. We should be talking about,” she points at someone across the yard with her cup, “Yoongi instead.”

Currently leaning back against a stone wall making up part of the fence, Yoongi nurses a beer. Sticking out like a sore thumb now that he’s making it big as an idol, no longer as mundane as the rest of them.

Hushed whispers follow his every move, his bleached hair and flashy outfit commanding all sorts of covert attention.

The sharp cut of his shirt flatters his lean frame, the black leather jacket over top emphasizing the width of his shoulders. Dark jeans cling to his legs, as tight as a second skin, and causing your attention to stray where it shouldn’t.

And his eyes - oh, how you ever forgot is beyond you.

Dark, hooded, deep, and hungry; intense as they drag over the planes of your face like the caress of his fingers.

Shit.

You shove Kae-In’s hand down with a loud smack before she makes an even bigger fool out of you in front of another ex.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hiss. “That’s so rude!”

Not to mention embarrassing as fuck.

“Y’know,” she pauses to wiggle her brows and shoot you an impish grin, “I bet Yoongi would be more than happy to remind you of how rude he can be.”

You smother a groan in your hands, heartache temporarily forgotten. “I can’t believe you. Seriously. We’re no longer friends.”

“Bitch, you love me. And anyway, you know what I can’t believe?” She asks. “You!”

She gestures towards him again amid your flailing attempts to stop her. “Look at him. Like goddamn, you had it good.”

You take a sip of cider to give your hands something to do, nearly blanching at the warm liquid. Refusing to respond or look up as the topic of conversation watches like a hawk, gaze heavy.

How can he still make you weak-kneed after all this time?

He wasn’t even touching you and you still feel his presence down to your toes, setting your teeth on edge.

You hear your own heartbeat, your breathing shaky, sparks of awareness dancing along your spine. Heat creeps into the apples of your cheeks.

“Knock it off, I’m serious.”

“No, when are you going to get that Chang-ryul isn’t good for you?”

You swallow roughly, all the moisture leaving your mouth.

“Yoongi was the best boyfriend you ever had and treated you the way you deserve. And you know he’s never been interested in anyone but you. Hell, he’s barely looked away from you since he got here and the break-up was years ago.”

You shift, perspiration breaking out on your brow. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“When will you give it up?” She blows a raspberry, shaking her head. “I know you regret how it went down between you guys. Now that he’s here - when you finally have a chance to make it right you just - just - ugh!”

Shooting her a weak half-smile and a shrug, you turn your attention to the small glowing fire pit.

Other’s are gathered around it, relishing in the glow of warmth that wars against the balmy summer breeze cutting through the air. Focusing on the dance and flicker of the flames is a needed moment of peace in entropy.

Though you know it isn’t going to last - not with a motormouth for a friend.

“So-o, what are you waiting for?”

“Sorry?”

She nods towards Yoongi subtly.

He’s finally busy with his own conversation, his gummy smile a quick flash of brightness. “When are you going to stick it to Chang-ryul and hop on that dick?”

“Oh my god!”

Kae-In shrugs. “What.”

“Don’t 'what' me. Seriously?”

A bony elbow digs between your ribs. You wheeze.

“C’mon,” she says, “You already know it’s good with him, and you deserve someone who’s there for you 110%. Someone who will treat you right. You know I worry about you.”

A wave of emotions threatens to completely drown you in that moment, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Her tender concern - her care - feels altogether too much and not enough.

As overwhelming as a tsunami; your heart a raw, exposed nerve.

All you’ve ever wanted was to be loved.

To feel like someone’s first and only choice.

You used to think Chang-ryul was someone who could provide that. What a fool you’ve been. Men like him don’t fall in love, they only pretend to.

They sneak inside your heart and take what they want from your bed. To him, you’re nothing but a fun little stop; a footnote, read and forgotten.

Your heart squeezes, shuddering from a pain your palm can’t soothe away.

It’s a terrible idea.

But maybe…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lick your wounds with someone you know cares about you. Has always cared about you, and probably always will.

Clearing your throat, you consider his profile from beneath your lashes.

Yoongi's always made you feel wanted. Looked after you as though you were something rare and precious.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt that.

Somehow, some way, he senses you looking because he pauses mid-sentence.

Turns to meet you head-on, tracing your face with what can only be called greed. Stopping short when they catch on the lip trapped between your teeth.

Something akin to hunger cuts across his face.

His brows dip low, a palpable heat flooding the inky depths of his eyes. Shadows deepen the lines of his face, the shifting firelight highlighting the flex of a jawline for days, burning halo gold in his hair.

It’s a look you’re intimately familiar with.

Usually preceding a hand-shaking, mind-numbing fuck session where his cock gets as deep as it can, rutting hard and fast, bringing you over the edge again and again until you’re left a wrecked mess. 

Your heart jumps, gallops headlong into a rapid beat.

You feel the rush of blood in your chest, every breath stuttered, stomach lurching. Shaking. Jittery. Tongue tied in a thousand knots and you haven’t even said a word.

It was much easier to pretend you weren’t so magnetically drawn to Yoongi when you weren’t riding the single’s train. When he was away in Seoul chasing after his dreams.

Now that he’s got downtime and your relationship has hit a brick wall? His mere presence sears you to the bone. Drags you in like a black hole.

And that?

So not good.

Swallowing roughly, you tear your attention away. You’d forgotten how intense and blindly bright he can be.

There’s a throb developing in your temple, sharp little darts of pain lancing through your skull. An impending headache if you don’t get some air that doesn’t taste like wood-smoke and cheap alcohol.

“I think I’m gonna head in for a bit. Need to get away.”

You shake your head and toss your bottle into the bin on the way inside, Kae-In shouting her acknowledgement with a thumbs up. Makes you promise to contact her in case of any change in plans.

Nearly everyone’s outside so it should be less crowded, more quiet. Most importantly, away from Yoongi and that penetrating stare which makes you more flustered than you care to admit.

Alas, the kitchen isn’t empty not for long.

You’re lounging against the counter, elbows bent, head rolled back and stinging eyes closed when the back door creaks open. Biting off a groan, you swivel your head to the side.

When you see it’s Yoongi who follows you in, you almost slip and brain yourself on the tile. Mouth dry, palms sweaty, heart beating out of control; scrambling into a more flattering posture while patting down your hair.

He chuckles, his nose scrunched and smile coy.

Seeing him happy always makes you tender, weak.

It seems that hasn’t changed a bit.

No amount of pictures or videos do it justice. Granted, Yoongi looks good any time, any day. But seeing his whole face light up like that in person? Utterly priceless.

It’s a struggle to breathe properly around the lump forming in your throat.

Of course, it has to be him.

Wiping your palms off on your thighs, you greet him with an awkward wave, “Uhhh, hey - hey there, Yoongi.”

Oh my god. Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.

“Y’know what,” you say, “I was just about to head back outside…”

As you pass by, he catches your arm.

Long fingers curl around your wrist, callouses dragging across your pulse. Your gut clenches, an unexpected bloom of warmth shooting through your core at the sight of his broad palm holding you captive.

His grip is firm but loose enough that you could pull away.

All it serves to do is remind you of nights spent beneath his body, the slide of sweat-slick skin, the taste of him heavy on your tongue, pussy filled to the brim with cock. His rough voice music to your ears, prideful as he gloats about how well you’re taking him.

"Leaving so soon?” He asks silkily.

A hard tug sends you slamming into the wall of his chest.

Air rushes from your lungs, your hands trapped against his collarbones. Firm muscles contract beneath your palms, his body shoving into your touch.

Twisting your fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt, you look at him from beneath your lashes. Your voice whisper soft when you say, “Yoongi…”

His dark eyes, the colour of a rich espresso, track the path of your tongue as you wet your lips. Fingers drag over the soft line of your neck, tracing your fluttering pulse.

Touch feather light as it stops by the corner of your mouth, pressing down on the swell of your lip.

“I haven’t said hello yet.”

Eyes wide, all you do is watch and wait with baited breath. Stunned into silence at his proximity. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close, the smell of his expensive cologne nostalgic.

Your body recognizes his, responding all the same. The connection between you electric, overwhelmingly so.

His head bows, bleached strands brushing your forehead. The tip of his nose rubs yours. You get lost in counting his eyelashes, tracing the bridge of his nose to the carved slope of his cheeks.

Surrounded by him, the urge to resist what’s happening is nearly non-existent. Though you wish it wasn’t so easy to be caught by him.

“One of the guys said something interesting,” he says, his breath ghosting across your face; mint and beer. “It's about you actually.”

He flashes the smile that sends your heart soaring, your stomach flipping.

The slightest peek of a metal chain resting in the crook of his neck, surrounded by a very tempting patch of skin you want to taste, has you a little dumbfounded, absentminded.

“Oh?”

You really hope you don’t sound as frazzled as you feel but the haughty superiority of his slow appraisal of your body, the cocksure smirk on his lips states otherwise.

You really wish you could knock him down a peg but confidence looks amazing on him.

Always has.

“They said you have a boyfriend now. Is that true?”

You manage the slightest shake of your head in the negative - no, not anymore - your heart thundering in your ears.

Your breath catches in anticipation just before Yoongi closes the remaining inches between you with a hum of approval.

His head tilts to the side as he slots your mouths together in a kiss that’s got your toes curling. A filthy wet slide of lips, his the slightest bit chapped, send you under, liquid warmth filling your belly.

You inhale sharply, a moan vibrating against his lips.

Melting into the cage of his arms as his hands clamp down on your hips possessively, tugging you closer. Pressed stem to stern like this there’s no hiding the evidence of his desire.

He’s already half-hard in his jeans, his erection pressing against the zipper.

His eyes are hooded when he pulls away.

“Wanna take this somewhere a little more private, baby?” Yoongi asks, running his nose up the length of your neck and inhaling.

How is this my life, you think, dazed.

His hips grind forward against you so there’s no mistaking what you’re dealing with. “It’ll be just like old times.”

After an awkward fumble and an elbow to the side, you settle on the downstairs bathroom. He follows, quickly pinning you to the door while struggling to toss his leather jacket over the sink.

With a flick of the lock, you’re finally alone without any possible interruption. The door muffles most of the ruckus outside, leaving you hyper aware of every hurried breath, every low-throated murmur.

For a long while it’s nothing but a mess of lips, his body molding to yours. Easy to fall back into the old rhythms of your relationship as though you never left it.

He holds you down.

His fingers in your hair, on your jaw. His tongue gliding over your lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it slide back out through his teeth.

You meet him kiss for kiss, your hands finding their way into his back pockets, tugging, groping, loving how he bucks up into the cradle of your hips in response.

A sweet ache settles low and deep.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. “Fuck, I forgot how much you like to tease.”

His thumb circles your nipple through your shirt, teasing it into a sensitive, stiff peak that shows through the thin fabric.

The caresses send soft pulses straight to your clit, the intensity getting stronger and stronger the rougher he is.

Before long, you’re aware of how achingly empty you are.

Yoongi nips the corner of your jaw.

“Never forgot how fun teasing you is,” he murmurs into the silk of your skin. “How wet you get for me.”

“Shit, you can’t just say something like that.”

“Can’t I?” His laugh, genuine and vibrant, sounds through his chest and into yours. “You can bitch all you want, but I know you love it.”

A smile, all teeth.

“Isn’t that right, baby?”

You glare at him weakly through half lidded eyes.

Two can play that game.

“Fuck!” Yoongi bites out, those impossibly dark eyes sliding shut when you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

His breath whooshes from him in a loud exhale, his jaw working back and forth. “That’s cheating.”

You smirk, feeling him throb in your hand.

”What were you saying, Yoongs?” Humming, you rub your chest against his, using a fingertip to trace the outline of his shaft. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Spearing you with a weighted look, Yoongi shoves you back into the door harder than before, the wood creaking under the pressure. Fist resting on the frame next to your head, his body cages you in.

Every shuddered inhale has the planes of his firm chest pressing into yours with the expansion of his lungs. His hips buck up into the softness of your palm with a grunt.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, pretty girl,” he cautions.

Competitiveness is a gift and a curse.

Not one to be outdone, you brush away any lingering reservations - which being honest, there weren’t many left. His relieved groan when you tug out his cock reverberates through you.

Shit, that’s so unfair.

Yoongi already sounds wrecked yet you’ve barely touched him. How the fuck are you going to get through this without completely combusting when he actually cums?

Thinking that maybe focusing on what you’re doing will help, you look down.

Big mistake.

Dark designer jeans circle his thighs, low enough for his cock to spring free.

Flushed, curved towards his belly, the head swollen and sticky with pre-cum. The shaft a decent handful that pulses when your palm skims the side.

Feminine appreciation at the sight has velvet heat pooling between your thighs, pussy clenching at the thought of him inside you.

Sex with him was always stupidly good.

All those veiled lyrics about his skill in the bedroom far too accurate for comfort.

Since you broke up, you haven’t been with anyone that comes close to his ability in getting you off.

He’s ruined you.

His face burrows into the crook of your neck with a low groan. His breath puffs across your skin, shivers racing down your spine.

Low voice full of grit, he says, “Shit, baby, that feels…”

Hot palms anchor themselves to your hips.

“Wait a sec,” he says, body twitching with aborted thrusts, strong fingers kneading. “Wanna do you too.”

Heart jumping, you let go of him long enough to yank your shirt over your head and kick off your pants before returning your hand to his cock.

In the meantime, he rucks his shirt up under his armpits. You can’t help but make a noise in the back of your throat as the length of his torso is exposed.

All that soft, smooth skin stretching over his stomach as he flexes. You have to fight down the urge to run your tongue along the outline of his hip.

Mouth slack, Yoongi pushes up the cups of your bra. Watches laser-focused on the bounce of your tits as they drop free, subtly swaying with every jerk of your wrist.

His hips fuck up into the circle of your hand while one of his own inches down to brush the crease of your thigh. Your hips tilt towards his touch, desperate for friction.

“Oh god.” He moans, calloused fingers dipping between your folds. “You’re so wet for me.”

You wiggle, whining against his lips as you meet in a messy kiss. His touch is light, gentle, barely there as he traces the length of your slit.

You’re trembling, skin too tight, body feverish. “Stop teasing, I want you inside me.”

Those seem to be the magic words because Yoongi gives a rumble of approval, using his thumb to spread slick over your swollen clit in tight circles.

Heat coils in your belly, electricity racing down your spine. Your thighs splay as wide as they can, making room for his hand.

His knuckles brush your skin.

Dipping down to your entrance, Yoongi works on spreading you open with shallow thrusts until you take three fingers comfortably.

Your needy sighs and soft moans bounce off the walls.

His low murmurs right in your ear as the pads stroke your walls, his wrist flexing. He’s hitting all the right spots, still remembering how to get you off years after the fact.

You’re quickly turning weak-kneed and wet eyed.

“Fuck, Yoongs, right there,” you keen, baring down on the digits nudging your g-spot, your grip tightening around his shaft.

You grind your palm over the swollen tip, gathering beads of pre-cum.

He hisses, thrusts off beat.

Fingers nudge up suddenly, pressing deep and holding in retaliation. White lightening crackles behind your eyelids, thighs twitching, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah, just like that, pretty girl.”

Your world narrows down to every filthy slide of his cock in your hand, every gush of slick as he stuffs fingers into you over and over again until you’re a writhing mess against the door.

Your nerve endings are alive with pleasure, the stimulation too much and not enough.

“Please, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, doubling his efforts, wrist working faster.

Dapples of sweat litter his brow, his eyes staring into yours, glazed over and lusting.

Fuck, he’s handsome like this.

It’s a little embarrassing how bad he’s got you but between the blissed-out expression he’s wearing, the weight of him in your hand, and how full you are, you know this orgasm is going to be quick, messy.

The pace of his hips pick up, his breath hitching in his throat, length twitching and thickening in your grip.

He’s getting close, his touch rougher, more force behind the snapping thrusts of his hips, teeth nipping at the side of your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you say, breathless, twisting your hand on the upstroke. He smothers a grunt in your shoulder. “Give it to me.”

It doesn’t take much more to bring him to the edge.

A particular spread of his fingers has you jolting, a sudden, intense spike of pleasure shooting right to your clit.

In turn, you unintentionally massage his cock, knuckles bumping the underside of the swollen head.

He’s a goner.

Cumming with a low, wounded whine and a shuttered thrust, Yoongi smacks the door with his free hand. Thick spurts of jizz make an absolute mess of his stomach and your knuckles.

Sagging forward like a doll with cut strings, all his dead weight bears down on you.

He pants, small tremors wrack his frame. “Baby,” he murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw, “I missed you s’much.”

“Missed you too,” you reply, using nice, languid strokes to wring the last of his orgasm out of him. “More than I thought I did.”

In lieu of a response, Yoongi wiggles his fingers inside you, rebuilding the rhythm he lost. He flutters them, curls up against your walls, peppering kisses along the length of your jaw with a hum.

Slick drips down his wrist, the sloppy sound of him finger fucking your cunt blending with a surge of desperate moans.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Yoongi says against your chin. “So fucking hot, wanna see you cum.”

Your back arches, your fingers digging into the width of his shoulders, head smacking the door with a dull thud.

“Can you do that for me?”

Nodding frantically, you fall apart with a broken gasp. Clamping down so hard he can’t move, the cramps softened by the throbbing heat washing over you. Blood rushes in your ears as your pussy gushes around his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, tone heated. “You did so well for me.”

By the time your brain comes back online, you’ve forgotten all about Chang-ryul and the constant vibration of your phone where it’s shoved - forgotten - into your pocket.

The only thing that matters is Yoongi with his tender kisses and greedy hands.

[bookclubforme]

My favorite part of the new bonus chapter?

“By Dunne, did he just put his dirty-ass boots on the briefing table?”

Xaden’s out here absolutely flabbergasted by Ridoc’s audacity. Mr. Big Bad Rebel is so affronted by Ridoc kicking back and lounging. Granted, Mira is also annoyed enough by it to send Ridoc ass over tea kettle, but there’s something so funny about Xaden being all “oh my god he didn’t just put his feet up on the table”. Especially when you know he’s low key a neat freak based on how Violet always describes his bedroom(s). The ‘raised to be a gentlemen’ really pops out right here. You just know he was never allowed to put his feet up on the furniture.

I just need to much more of Ridoc being his goofy irreverent self and Xaden just absolutely clutching his pearls about it.

[third-generation-female-warrior]

While lounging on the beach of Pabu, enjoying the sun and listening to an underground Rebel News Frequency, Hunter hears that a "courageous blond pilot blew up an Imperial space station/super weapon, making an impossible shot after disabling the targeting system of their x-wing."

And, upon hearing this news, he calmly goes to the nearest long-range comm relay, gets in touch with Rex, where the following conversation happens:

Hunter: SHE DID WHAT?!?!?!

Rex: What? Who?

Hunter: I KNOW OMEGA BLEW UP THAT SPACE STATION! I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU'D KEEP AN EYE ON HER!

Rex: OH! Oh, no, that wasn't Omega, nor did she have anything to do with it. Yeah, I was shocked too, until I learned that the pilot's name was Skywalker- yeah, that Skywalker. My General's son- yeah, no, crazy, you knew about the secret wife, too, right? Yeah, small galaxy, but it wasn't Omega. No, she was hijacking an Imperial freighter on the other side of the galaxy. Of course, she still blew up a shipping depot while doing it, but she didn't blow up the Death Star, totally different mission.

[mayawakening]

Okay but like, what if there was an Imperial that was familiar with Kallus pre-defection that ALSO defected sometime during Season 4.

They get to Yavin 4 and have a MASSIVE moment of culture shock because here's perpetually scowling, married-to-his-work, stick-up-his-ass Kallus in a kriffing T-SHIRT, lounged across the lap of a beefy alien, smiling and drinking a beer.

He's still definitely all of those previous things, but it's so DIFFERENT.

And then there's a moment when Kallus locks eyes with this newly minted rebel that he recognizes, who now has their jaw on the floor and they just stare at each other in silence like- 👁👁

(@thehonorableones)

[forestdeath1]

Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 1. Appearance

In the canon, he's described as handsome 3 times from Harry's point of view - but never pretty. By the way, Harry has only described four people as handsome (+ Tom Riddle, Cedric Diggory and Gellert Grindelwald).

"Sirius was tall and handsome. He loped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face."

"Beside him was Sirius, carelessly handsome, his slightly arrogant face so much younger and happier than Harry had ever seen it alive."

"Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so."

"Sirius was lounging in his chair at his ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was very good-looking; his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James’s nor Harry’s could ever have achieved, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn’t seem to have noticed."

"He's still handsome, isn't he, even after Azkaban?" (Tonks about Sirius, Pottermore)

So, Sirius was handsome, but definitely not pretty. The word handsome can be used for all genders, highlighting attributes like strength, elegance, or a more classic form of beauty.

His height is described as tall several times. James is described as the same height as Harry in the Deathly Hallows, meaning at the time of his death James was as tall as Harry in the 7th book: “James was exactly the same height as Harry”. He was described as tall in later books but not as tall as other characters like Dumbledore, Ron, Sirius, Draco, Tom Riddle, Bill.

In England, as in most Western countries, a man is usually considered tall if he is over 6 feet. Typically, very tall is considered to be 6 feet 3 inches and above. So, James could be somewhere from 6 to 6'3", and Sirius taller, say 6'3"-6'4", Remus possibly under 6', but not short, since Harry doesn't note his height at all.

"To Sirius’s right stood Pettigrew, more than a head shorter, plump and watery-eyed, flushed with pleasure at his inclusion in this coolest of gangs, with the much admired rebels that James and Sirius had been."

The average head length of an adult, regardless of gender and age, usually about 8.7 to 9.8 inches. So, Peter was noticeably shorter.

6'3"-6'4" is indeed very tall. (When fanon gives Remus a height of 6.7, I wonder, have you often seen such giants in real life? My granddad is 6'8" – and he's huge to me, frighteningly so.)

After Azkaban and in the fifth book, he has long hair, but in the fourth book, when Sirius is doing well and is relaxing somewhere in the south, he has short hair.

"Sirius looked different – the hair was short and clean now, Sirius’ face was fuller, and he looked younger, much more like the only photograph Harry had of him, which had been taken at the Potters’ wedding."

"Sirius, when he still had short hair" (Moody about Sirius in the Order of the Phoenix photo)

Though in the story about Sirius and James for the auction, Sirius had long hair in 1977:

"The one who had been driving had long black hair; his insolent good looks reminded Fisher unpleasantly of his daughter’s guitar-playing, layabout boyfriend."

I prefer him with long hair, so that's usually what I go with.

Build isn't described. We know Regulus was definitely smaller than Sirius, but nothing specific about Sirius himself.

"Regulus was instantly recognisable as the boy sitting in the middle of the front row: he had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, though he was smaller, slighter and rather less handsome than Sirius had been."

His animagus form is a bear-like dog of huge size, but that’s a weak argument.

"The enormous, bear-like dog bounded forwards."

Perhaps canonically Sirius was naturally inclined to muscle (i.e., tall and muscular rather than lanky, because lankiness usually suggests skinniness. Regulus, likely, was lanky), but since he probably didn't engage in activities like workouts, he wasn't exactly buff. Muscles don't just appear out of thin air, but some people are naturally more muscular. Basically, a normal build that doesn't need any special description (not bulky, not skinny, just normal, but tall).

He definitely doesn’t have any tattoos described, but it's unlikely Harry would have inspected every part of his body for tattoos... So, I don’t quite get it when someone says "Sirius didn’t have tattoos". It's a blank slate.

[rastronomicals]

4:23 PM EDT May 19, 2024:

Richard Cheese - "Rebel Yell" From the album The Lounge Awakens (December 13, 2015)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

"Live at the Mos Eisley Spaceport Cantina".

[sadly-never-after]

God this escalated but I had so much fun with it

Some headcanons about duchess relationships

Canon (kind of) Friends

Sparrow Hood

Sparrow gave her the earrings she wears with her main outfit. 

They were friends since they were kids but they started drifting apart on their first two years of high school because of the royal vs. Rebel conflict and Duchess growing bitterness over her destiny. Their first real and biggest fight was on True Heart’s Day and they later had another falling out because of NTV. However shortly after they started reconciling  and by the time the Spring Unsprung Festival came they were back to normal. 

One time during one of their quarrels, Duchess transformed into a swan and left angry. Later he found her and tried talking to her. They had to do some throne work together and eh was too tired to keep being angry. He tried to talk with her but she wouldn’t transform back so he took her in his arms and carried her to their classes. She still refused to transform back and he was getting annoyed because she pecked and batter her wings at him the entire time. The teachers asked him why he brought that bird to class and he was just like “It’s Duchess. She is just honked off” He basically dragged her to lunch and sat them down with Kitty & Faybelle. He explained and they smiled. Faybelle said “I hope she gives you hell” and Kitty giggled to his annoyance. After classes were almost finished he saw her eat a bug and he started getting worried. He thought for some reason her curse had taken hold of her and was terrified. He asked Cupid which Princes at school had just gotten in a relationship because maybe if he broke them up Duchess would go back to being normal. Among other people, when he was borderline desperate, he realised Dexter (epitome of a “failing” prince) had finally gotten together with Raven. He tried to break them up because maybe Dexter was meant to be Duchess’s prince. When that didn’t work the two tried talking to him. He explained and Raven agreed to help him break Duchess spell. They want to pick Duchess, whom Sparrow had left in his Treehouse. Her magic didn’t work, probably because it was a benign spell and Sparrow almost broke down, they then headed to the students lounge to get Farrah. As soon as they entered they saw Lizzie, Kitty, Faybelle & Duchess playing cards together. His first emotion was immense relief and he gave her a hug so hard he ended up lifting her in the air. He was so happy he didn’t care when she called him bird bray and yelled for him to let her go. Then he realised he had been carrying some random bird around school the entire day and that people had seen him cry because of Duchess. He was less relieved. Embarrassed…slightly confused over how much the entire thing seemed to affect him. 

Duchess has only taken two people to see her mother. When she took Sparrow, she didn’t tell him about her mother, she just took him to the lake. He got bored really fast because of how quiet she got and because she told him not to make any noise. Then he started commenting on the swans and was like “what’’s up with that one?” when he saw one that was further away from the others and hissed at nothing. Duchess didn’t answer and just kept feeding the other swans. Then she started crying “Man someone should put that thing out of its misery.” and she responded with angry tears on her eyes, “That’s my mother.” He didn’t say much for the rest of the day. They just stayed there and he put a hand on Duchess shoulder when she started crying, he sat next to her, played some of her favourite songs and after a while she rested her head on his shoulder. Later they walked back together and they haven’t spoken about it ever since.

After that happened, he started feeling a bit weird around Duchess and then after some soul-searching he realised he was a bit in love with her. Not a crush, didn’t feel as passionate as a crush, but maybe equally intense. He decided not to act on it though because he is not that stupid and knows it would be really destructive and unhealthy. He told Tucker about it and told him he and the band always suspected it but they didn’t want it to be true. 

Duchess’s grandmother dislikes him a lot. She is always relieved when they get into a fight and always disappointed once the two start hanging out again. However, since this has never negatively affected Duchess’s academic performance she lets it pass. As strange as it is, he does find it weirdly touching that she defends him.

They usually spend parents weekend together. Maid Mariam is busy as she is part of the teaching staff and Sparrow’s dad is dead. The two just hang out together and judge (secretly envy) every student who is having a sweet time with their parents. 

It annoys her a lot but she has never missed a single one of his concerts. At first she would claim she just happened to be around and din’t know they were going to play. Later when he started playing for the school she excused herself saying it was because she couldn’t just avoid it. As of now she usually claims that she has nothing better to do but no one believes her. 

However, she always does his makeup for the stage. She knows about that stuff, being a ballerina, and she claims she doesn’t want him to look ridiculous because it will affect her reputation (pls take that hat off). At first Sparrow hated it because he thought it was girly but there was something relaxing and cozy about closing his eyes and letting her use brushes on his face. By now he actually likes it a lot and even wears eyeliner with most of his outfits.

He got Duchess into listening some of his favourite bands and recurrently makes her mixtapes that consist mostly of rock versions of classical music, some of his newest songs. They have spats about infamous female punk rock Idol, Courtly Love. Duchess defends all of her actions. 

Faybelle Thorn

They met at spellementary school and became fast friends by neither of them being intimidated by the other. It was a welcomed challenge that developed into genuine friendship over the years. Initially, Duchess’s grandmother wasn’t very approving of their friendship and was even rather unnerved by Duchess’s two main friends being the lazy son of a known criminal and the very competitive daughter of a known evil-doer. She isn’t overly fond of Faybelle but has seen how happy this friendship has made Duchess and became a lot more supportive of the two when she realised how their competitive side got them to be on top of their classes. 

They have quarrels about the differences between being a cheer hexer and a ballerina. Faybelle tried to convince her to get into cheer hexing but after thinking about it more deeply she realised that could be detrimental to their friendship since they would get overly competitive

Their second year at school distanced them a little because they have very few classes together and each of them is also giving their 100% on throne work and extracurriculars so they made a promise to try to have a sleepover/friendly date every Sunday and pick each other as partners for class assignments as often as possible. Once Bunny was assigned as Fay's roommate it, Duchess & Bunny just switched dorms so the wondelrandians could have sleepovers at Duchess & Lizzie's dorm. 

They are the sort of friends who can spend months without talking but still refer to the other as "my best friend forever after" when talking to other people.

Mutually judge each other over Briar/Sparrow.

They borrow each others jewellery all the time to the point sometimes they don't know who it actually belongs to.

Fay has a tendency to do cheers for Duchess after she's done with a performance. Duchess is usually embarrassed by how inappropriate they are for a ballet function but she always gives her a hug and thanks her for it.

  Faybelle is the friend with whom she is never sad when she is around. She knows how to cheer her up, how to be so mean that Duchess can take it as motivation. She knows how to provoke her into action

Duchess has only taken two people to see her mother. Sparrow is one, as already mentioned, and Faybelle is the other. Unlike with Sparrow, Duchess told her that she wanted to take her to meet her mother. Faybelle immediately knew which swan was Duchess's mom. How could she now? Looking all scared and aggressive? With all that bare skin from plucking its own feathers? Something was  obviously wrong with that animal. It was a really difficult thing to see and they didn't say a word while Duchess threw bread crumbs and fruits at the swans but Faybelle thinks of it as "The moment she knew she would never forsake Duchess". She hugged her mother extra tight the next time she saw her.

Duchess told Faybelle about the entire deal of her ending up in General Villainy class and of the possibility of her becoming the evil queen and Faybelle was charmed. She knows that’s not Duchess’s ideal ending but come on!!! We could rule the world together! She isn’t pressuring her or anything but man she would love it if Duchess embraced a destiny of villainy instead one of punished selflessness.  

Lizzie Hearts

First they both thought that the other was too loud and talked too much. Now they send each other “the yapper-the listener” memes but both of them are convinced of being the listener and think of each other as the yapper.

They started warming up to each other as the months passed by. Lizzie felt more at home with Duchess brutal honesty and sarcasm than with the other princess and Duchess started spending a lot of time with her and Kitty. It was really nice for her to finally have a fellow princess to bond with. 

They had a massive fall out due to Next Top Villain. Even after Duchess saved Lizzie, it was still a bit awkward around them. Just when things were getting almost back to normal…the thing with Daring happened. It distanced them even more and brought a lot of conflicting feelings for the two of them. It took a lot of time for the two of them to mend their friendship again.  

After they got over the entire fiasco with Daring , they decided that from then on they would take each other on a date to the cinema once or twice a month. They loved “Lost in Riddlish”.

Only four people know about what happened with Lizzie, Daring & Duchess at the cinema; Kitty, Lizzie, Daring & Duchess. The two of them have talked about it quite often to the point where Duchess thinks Lizzie was maybe flat out in love with Daring. One time she asked her, months after it had happened and Lizzie started crying and didn’t answer.

Duchess knew they were back to being friends, perhaps even better friends than they had ever been, and that she had been truly forgiven, when Lizzie gave her a present. It was her Birthday Ball dress, sewn by Lizzie herself.

If Faybelle is the friend with whom she is never sad when she is around, then Lizzie is the friend with whom she can allow herself to be sad. Their history has been turbulent and perhaps because of it, there’s an air of melancholy but coziness when they are alone. Sometimes they just lay on the carpet and talk until the late hours of the night. Lizzie doesn’t necessarily feel understood when she tries telling her about her issues with having to flee Wonderland, but she feels seen and acknowledged.  

They know each others orders both for Hocus Latte and Wonderland Haberdashery & Tea Shoppe. Sometimes when they know the other is stressed out because of hexams they will pick up something for them without asking. It’s a small detail they cherish in their friendship. 

During their summer vacations after their second year, Duchess invited Lizzie to her Grandmother’s home and they spent the holidays together. Out of Duchess’s few friends, Lizzie is by far her Grandmother’s favourite. The two spent a lot of time swimming around the lakes, Lizzie taught Duchess how to play croquet (with custom swan looking mallets), and she also found a lot of fashion inspiration in the scenery. It was Lizzie’s favourite trip since she left Wonderland. (She sent her mother pictures)

Lizzie is now teaching her how to speak riddlish because she would eventually like to take her to Wonderland one day too. 

Family

⛸️･:*:｡Duchess’s Grandmother

She is her paternal grandmother. Her father is currently spending the rest of her life happily married to his Odile and him and Duchess have never been allowed to contact each other. She isn’t affected by it as hardly as she should be. It has been like this for generations, so she doesn’t question it much. Duchess’s Grandmother doesn’t talk about her son, she had to break contact with him as well the day she started caring for Duchess. The fact that the Book of Legends chose him as the next Prince Siegfried is proof that he wasn’t an appropriate Prince Charming and she takes this as her own failure in raising a proper prince. This is why she is strict in regards to Duchess being the best possible student she can be. She is quite proud of Duchess following her advice and being a top student. She still misses her son.

One of the few things she truly dislikes about Duchess are her friends. She would have much rather liked it if Duchess had been more amiable and well-mannered, maybe spending time with Apple White or Darling Charming; princesses of good families with actual respect for tradition and propriety. Instead she gets a common thief with no taste for the arts, a mediocre gymnast (she considers cheer-hexing a bastardised and clearly inferior version of ballet) and a homeless princess with anger issues. 

She deeply loves Duchess, even if she’s sometimes a bit cold towards her, she considers her the daughter she could never have and deeply fears the day her fairytale begins because she doesn’t know how she could bare having to lose another child. Sadly, Duchess’s rebelling wouldn’t solve any of this. She would be too ashamed of both of the children she raised being “failures”.  

  She heavily discourages Duchess from dating, not wanting her to get attached to anyone knowing what awaits her at the end. She knows of her crush on Daring and doesn’t mind letting her daydream because she knows a son of the Charming Family will never pay attention to her, so it’s not like she’ll have any false hopes. 

  They love ice-skating together. It was Duchess’s Grandmother who taught her and it’s their favourite winter activity. . 

  She used to attend every single one of her ballet performances and was on the first row smiling reassuringly. Her health started declining once Duchess started her time at EAH but whenever she can’t be there, she sends her a bouquet with a letter and has the school film the act for her.  

  Duchess gets her snark, sarcastic and mean side from her and both of them love that. They like to judge other people’s outfits together and always share gossip with each other.

‎♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ Odette (Duchess’s mother (I want to call her Bella Swan. Stop me.))

  She started writing a series of letters for Duchess after signing the storybook of legends, knowing that her end was near. She asked Milton Grimm to give them to her once Duchess started attending EAH but once students started to rebel against their destiny he felt that it could mislead Duchess into trying to rebel so he decided to burn them. 

  During the first months of Duchess’s life, the first months of Odette’s transformation, she was still conscious of her life and of being a woman trapped in the body of a swan. She would fly up to Duchess room and would settle next to her sleeping body, letting her baby hug her neck. 

  Sometimes Duchess’s grandmother brought Duchess to her mother’s lake and would watch as Odette & Duchess splashed around the water.

  When Duchess was four she once ran toward her and Odette instinctively batted her wings at her and hit her hard enough for Duchess to fall into the water. She didn’t know why she did. It just felt natural to her. When she tried to soothe her by rubbing her peak next to her daughters face her daughter backed away and for some reason Odette hissed and raised her wings as a warning once again. That very same day she realised how strange her feathers felt. They itched and she started plucking them away with her beak but the skin was still left raw, burning.

  When Duchess was five she still went to the lake as often as she could but Odette no longer truly recognised her. She felt some sense of affection for the kid but didn’t know who those people were to her. Whenever she saw her or the Grandmother she started plucking her feathers, completely confused and irritated by something she couldn’t quite identify.

  When Duchess was six the swan didn’t approach her anymore, not at all. It wouldn’t get near her or her grandmother when they started throwing crumbs at the lake and she would hiss if they tried to approach it. It seemed to avoid the other swans as well and it’s skin was bare, a little bloody. 

    Duchess’s grandmother stopped taking her to that lake after that. Duchess goes once or twice a year on her own now but most of the time she avoids it. 

Not friends but honorary friends/people she treats better than she treats most people

Courtly Jester

Ok, hear me out, Courtly considers Duchess her friend, even her bffa. Duchess DOES NOT consider Courtly her friend, they don't know each other that well on her opinion, but Duchess undoubtedly admires Courtly even if she knows she shouldn't.

This is the girl who had the guts to do what Duchess has been dreaming of doing. Take the destiny you think you deserve! To hell with those who are given that which you are denied! Even if by doing so you endanger the friend I deeply care about and whom I have already fucked up with badly! Twice!

With this in mind, obviously Duchess was a bit more open to Courtly when she enrols at EAH. Not overly friendly but more of "the one not straight up mean kid". She was concerned because of her fragile friendship with Lizzie and how this could affect it. Courtly kind of attaches herself to Duchess due to this minimal act of kindness.

Nevertheless, Duchess will admit that she likes it when Courtly sits next to her at class. 1. Because that means all of Courtly's fucking bells won't be in the way of her seeing the board and 2. Because she will make nonsensical and funny remarks about the other students and it will make her giggle. She finds it a bit sweet to realise most of the people she draws in are like this (Faybelle, Sparrow).

Kitty Cheshire

They barely interacted until Duchess & Lizzie became roommates. Kitty was amiable at first since Lizzie didn't talk too badly about her and they even became fast friends, going for tea dates at the Wonderland Haberdashery & Tea Shoppe, hanging out at the lake together and overall just hanging out together. Lizzie was their union most of them time but they liked each other.

....Then Duchess publicly humiliated and betrayed Lizzie because of the next top villain assignment...Kitty couldn't stand her anymore and would have made her life impossible had it not been for Lizzie. When Lizzie & Duchess reconciled Kitty kept being cold but wasn't on attack mode.

....And then the thing with Daring happened... and even if Lizzie knew it wasn't Duchess fault and it didn't fully strain their friendship, it did affect Kitty & Duchess's slowly recovering friendship... And then just when things were getting better between them and they were back to sitting together at the casstleria...Courtly called Duchess her BFFA... Kitty is now hostile, even if it's one-sided and even if she and Courtly get along pretty well. Duchess & Kitty can be in the next room and spend time together with Lizzie, but Kitty will not answer any of Duchess comments unless it's with malice. You don't find them alone anymore.

Duchess actually really misses her. Sometimes she talks to Lizzie about it in their shared moments of nostalgia and Lizzie doesn't reassure her. Duchess still misses her.

Nathan Nutcracker

Had to partner once because Duchess was sick the day the partners were assigned and her teacher “forgot” about her. It was a catastrophe. She was already frustrated and when he almost dropped her, she took it out on him and treated him badly. Later, after prompted by Lizzie, seeing how sad he was + the fact that they still needed to work together for a dance she ended up apologising. Nathan then convinced her of exchanging their roles and costumes! Although Duchess was initially very reluctant they did and it was a success.

After that, they were short guy in ballet/tall girl in ballet solidarity.

They have very sassy pretend-mean debates on classic ballet vs modern ballet, and on whether ballets is an art and sport or only an art. Nathan is a defender of modern ballet and considers it to be also a sport.

They tease each other about their love lives; Duchess teases him about Briar & Cedar (he denies both of them but blushes and stutters) and Nathan teases her about Daring & Sparrow (She openly admits Daring and vehemently denies being into Sparrow but seems a lot more passionate when talking about Sparrow for some reason. )

Maid Marian

When Duchess & Sparrow were kids it was Mariam who encouraged them to befriend each other. She knew Duchess mom and felt sad upon seeing this lonely girl. This backfired somewhat because they became menaces together and started bullying Raven.

She loves how responsible she is (and how Sparrow becomes a bit more responsible when they are on good terms) and is one of the few teachers who treats her justly, often involving her in the class and sometimes even showing some slight favouritism (although Darling is her actual favourite) by making snarky side comments.

Suspects Sparrow might be into her but has never said anything about it because she doesn’t want to get in the way of their relationship regardless of how it develops.

Is rooting so hard for her to rebel. She has thought about it so much, is daydreaming of plans and subtly tries to inspire her to do so by telling her about how she got her happy ending by going off page. She even sets her up with Darling in partner assignments to try to influence her (this is what Duchess lets down her hair should have been about).

Melody Piper

Had a warm but not particular relationship. The two of them regarded each other as "that other girl who hangs out with Sparrow sometimes".

But! after Melody asked her dad to help her mix some of his classic music with her beats, Duchess became one of her biggest fans. The two would hang out together to plan choreographies for Duchess to dance so Blondie could advertise Melody's newest album on her MirrorCast. Melody still considers her to be too dramatic and high maintenance for them to become friends but it was a cool thing both of them experience and it made them think more fond of each other. It established a type of warmth.

After that they became two snarky menaces for Sparrow to suffer. They annoy the hell out of him and usually they even get the support of the merry men...sometimes even his mom's.

(She lowkey likes Melody's music more than Sparrow's but she won't hurt him that bad.)

Humphrey Dumpty

After Humphrey helped her on Muse-Ic class, he decided to follow her on MyChapter. To everyone’s surprise, she followed him back. Sometimes she even comments or likes his posts.

They share tips on how to help with each others chronic pain and complain about it together. Duchess gave him a pass through her spa membership and he recommended her a good physiotherapist. 

Duchess sometimes asks him to film her practicing when she is trying to improve on something or when she realises that she’s making certain mistakes on her steps. He’s been teaching her how to work with a camera because of it.

He wrote a rap for Meeshell and decided to perform it for Duchess since she was a girl and he wanted to know what she thought of it. She didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth because of this being one of the first times someone who isn’t Sparrow, Faybelle or Lizzie cares for her opinion, and also because she figured Meeshell would probably like it regardless.

Littlest billy goat gruff

He is her abhorrent admirer, alright, but she knows what that’s like and quite honestly it’s just nice to feel like someone likes her a bit. She feels weird around him because he is one of the few people she doesn’t want to be rude to but she also doesn’t want to date him.

Sometimes she sees him eating grass and flowers around the lake and it makes her chuckle a bit because it reminds her of how she would eats water plants and insects when she was a kid. One time she eats a lily flower in front of him and he is so astonished his mouth hangs open. Then the two laugh.

Protective over the little guy.

One time he heard about Sparrow inviting her to one of his concerts and he asked if he could go too. It was a lot more fun than anyone expected.

Tucker

Ok listen it’s not that Tucker hates her or anything but he’s so tired of all the unnecessary drama surrounding her and Sparrow’s friendship/love life/situationship/whatever the fuck is going on between them.

However when the two are co-existing alone they can be pretty amiable with each other.

He actually really likes working with her as a partner in muse-ic class. Since she is pretty bad at it she allows him to take the lead on the creative aspects while she acts more responsible about the theoretical and more objective parts of the assignment. And it’s refreshing to play “the face of the band” for a short bit even when he usually prefers to stay in the shadows as the second guitar.

When Duchess gave him a mood rose after they were shot with cupids arrows on “Heart Stuck” it turned yellow and although they’ve never talked about it, he was kind of touched by it.

The Dark Fairy

They Have a good bond over both of them loving Faybelle.

Although Duchess’s Grandmother is irreplaceable, Duchess sometimes thinks that, had she gotten to meet her mother as a person, she would have liked her to be like The Dark Fairy.

The two planned a party once and didn’t invite Faybelle. When Faybelle discovered it and irrupted in an overly dramatic way she found out it was her birthday party. It was the only reason she didn’t curse Duchess and instead gave her a really hard hug and The Dark Fairy was extremely proud of her daughter.

Dark Fairy has sometimes wondered if perhaps she can break or at least twist Duchess future curse after all the necessary parts of her destiny have been acted out.

Meeshell Mermaid

Was very weary on the new kid but once she found out about her destiny, Duchess became more soft-hearted around her because of how both of them are so very doomed by the narrative and a prince who chooses another girl

She once went to her lake to dance and found Meeshell already there, swimming and singing gleefully. Meeshell wanted to leaves, she was embarrassed and a bit afraid since she had heard of (and witnessed) Duchess's cruel reputation. Duchess however, very surprisingly told her she could stay if she wanted and the two just ignored the other as each indulged in their respective passion.

The more time passed the more the two started warming of to each other even if they didn't talk much.

One day Meeshell was oddly happy and excited and Duchess commented on it, which lead her to tell Duchess about her Date with Humphrey. The two had an oddly intimate and long conversation that day about what it means to have a future in which you are meant to be unloved and how this influences them to become unloveable while deeply starving for validation. They didn't become immediate friends but it was one of those things that neither of them forget about and ever since there is a sense of mutual understanding between the two