#stop stealing from black women

[roses-for-rosalyn]

Cowboys

Ellie x reader (for now)

Part 2

summary: A stranger comes to your door- it turns out it's not one of your usual encounters cw: guns, cowboy lingo, fem! reader, cowboy crossdresser Ellie, eventual smut, blood, injuries, your average confusing lesbianism, eventual smut, no use of y/n wc: 3.6k

for those who prefer ao3 <3 gotchu minors DNI (I will steal all you pillowcases)

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Nothing could beat the beauty of the sunset in the desert. Purples, blues, oranges, and yellows swirled together to paint a new masterpiece every night. And every night you would sit on your small, wooden porch with a cup of tea and watch as the sun slowly sinks into the horizon. Tonight was no exception. 

The sky becomes darker and darker until the moon and the stars come out, bathing the desert in a silver light. You struggle with the stubborn, old front door for a moment before you step into your little ranch house.

A chill runs through you as the temperature outside rapidly declines. You kneel in front of the fireplace and use the little kindling you have for a fire. It was enough to keep you warm for a few hours while you read yourself to sleep. Sometimes you felt lucky that it was a small enough house that the small fire would warm up the whole place. Your bed was just a few paces away from the mantle. 

You stand up and dust off your hands before starting to undress for bed. As you begin to unbutton your bodice a knock sounds from the front door. 

You scramble for your rifle by your bedside and check to make sure it’s loaded. You peek through one of your front windows to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger. At this hour and on the edge of town, your visitors weren’t usually friendly. 

It seems a cowboy has paid you a visit this evening. Haven’t seen one of those in a damn long time. A gun is proudly holstered on his hip next to a lasso, and his black large-brimmed hat keeps his face dark enough that you can’t quite make it out. 

He knocks again, louder. You creep up to the front door and slowly open it. Before he can process who opened the door you aim your rifle right at his chest. 

“Hands up.” You demand, your voice is surprisingly steady. 

“Woah there, I just stopped to ask for some directions.” A deep, yet feminine voice replies. It sounds like she was all too sure you weren’t going to be using that weapon on her, she didn’t even bother to move. You cock the gun, trying like hell to keep your expression blank, unphased while your entire body fills with adrenaline. She takes a step back and puts her hands up. Her hat still covers her face in shadow, it’s like confronting a ghost. 

“You should have stopped somewhere else.” You take a step towards her, closing the door behind you while keeping your vision trained on the woman. 

“You’re much different than the other women I’ve run into out here.” She looks up slightly, the moonlight illuminating pink, slightly chapped lips forming a smug smirk. “Where’s your husband, miss?”

“I swear if you don’t get back on your goddamn horse I’ll put a hole right through your chest.” she steps towards you, the muzzle of the gun pokes right under her collarbone. 

She finally looks at you, silver light exposes a sharp, feminine face dotted with freckles darkened by days in the sun. The sight of her face catches you off guard for just enough time, allowing her to grab the barrel of the rifle and pull it right out of your hands. She drops the gun and it clatters loudly to the ground, echoing through the empty desert landscape. She grabs your wrists before you can start fighting back and pins them above your head against the door with one hand. 

“There,” she grunts as you struggle against her grip, she’s surprisingly strong, “now we can have a conversation.” 

“Go to Hell.” You say, seething with rage and frustration because she was able to overpower you so easily. She shakes her head and laughs for a moment, saying something under her breath like all this trouble. 

You were just about to spit in her face when she said, “Where’s the nearest hotel darlin’?” Your eyes widen at the innocent question, slightly embarrassed. This was a first, she really just needed directions. She uses your stunned silence to talk some more, “I’ve been savin’ up so I could have a bed for the night. And I could really really use a bed tonight, miss.” You stop struggling against her grip and she lets go. She still has that stupid smirk on her face. “So if you could point me in the right direction it would be much appreciated.” 

“Head southwest, you’ll hit a trail that will lead you right into town.” You dust off your dress and straighten it out. 

“Much appreciated, darlin’.” She tips her hat and walks off toward her horse. You watch in shock as she mounts her horse and before riding away she says just loud enough, “I’ll be seein’ you.” And with a nod, she was off. 

You slowly bend down to pick up the Winchester, cradling it against your chest as you watch the stranger disappear into the night. As you head inside you wonder if you ever will see that strange woman again, and fall asleep debating whether or not you would want to.

**  **

The next morning you head to the school house. The steady feeling and sound of your horse trotting along the dirt path always forced your mind to wander elsewhere. Right now you couldn’t stop thinking about the woman from last night. The schoolhouse was right in the middle of town, would you see her again? Would she even recognize you? If she did, would she even try to talk to you?

The interaction was a bit embarrassing for you, but to be fair you had your fair share of vile men looking for trouble and hostile groups of Apache knocking on your front door. Your father had taught you how to use his Winchester rifle, the very same rifle you use now, and you mentally thanked him for it every night. You had only used it to kill one man, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and you gave him plenty of warnings. He didn’t believe your threats so now he was buried about 500 feet from the house in an unmarked grave, you were sure no one would miss a man like that. Most of the time the Apache would just come to ask questions about men passing through the area, they never tried to attack you, thankfully, but they would always come at the most ungodly hours and were quite impatient. 

Last night was a first, you had never had a cowboy knock at your door, and then she ended up being a woman. The idea of her was so intriguing and you couldn’t figure out why. For some reason, she shook you more than anyone else had since you lived out here. And you’d seen quite a lot.  

Your thoughts are interrupted as you reach town, the sound of rickety carriages, hooves against the packed dirt road, and the chatter of men in front of the Sheriff’s Office make it hard to focus. 

“Hello there, sunshine!” you hear a male voice call out. You turn towards the voice to see Jesse making his way past you on horseback, lugging today's newspapers to the apothecary. He made the trip from Sante Fe every morning. He was nice enough, you liked talking to him, but not as much as you felt like you should. The ladies at the apothecary, Dina, and Maria, would always encourage you to talk to him. They desperately wanted you to move on from your husband. He was long gone and you knew that, you were even thankful for it, which is why you were nervous to start again. You didn’t want to have to go through anything like that again. 

You wave back and smile, “Hi there, Jesse.” You decide to be polite, “Hear anything good today?” He tightens the reins of his horse and stops right next to you. 

“They struck gold in Elizabethtown, and there’s gonna be a shortage of tobacco ‘round these parts within the week because of a dust storm over in Tennessee.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll have a panic on their hands pretty soon then. I don’t know a man here who can live without their cigars.” You smile and Jesse laughs politely at your attempt at a joke. 

“Alright, don’t want the kids to show up before I do, I'd best be headin’ to the school.” You yearned to leave this awkward conversation through any means possible. Today was not the day for small talk. 

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then, miss.” Your head snaps towards Jesse. You’re suddenly transported to last night and listening to the way the cowboy’s words would drip from her lips, smooth as honey “Miss”. Calm and sure even with a gun pointed right to her heart. 

You quickly snap out of it and nod politely at Jesse as you begin to part ways. You head to the schoolhouse in a hurry, the kids gave you hell if you were late. 

** **

You’re beginning to lock up the schoolhouse when you hear footsteps approaching. “Well hello there, miss.” You recognize the voice all too quickly, you don’t even need to turn around. “Was really hopin’ I’d find you here.” 

As you fish into your pocket for the key you respond, “And how exactly did you find me here?” you turn around and begin to walk past her toward your horse. She follows you. From a brief glance at her, you can see she wears a bandana to cover her face, you could only see her eyes. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I just asked those nice ladies at the apothecary if they knew the women who lived just outside of town, they were more than happy a “nice gentleman” took interest in you. They told me just about everything they knew, your name, some snippets of gossip. I’m sure if I stayed they would’ve told me your life story” You finally turn to face her, your expression unamused. She took her hat off at some point when she was talking to you, her eyes are green, radiant in the unrelenting desert sunlight. You were almost jealous. She wore a dark blue button-down that sat surprisingly flat against her chest and suspenders. She could pass for a man if she wanted to. “So, I take it you don’t have a husband then?” 

“What’s it to you?” you cross your arms, defensively.

“I was just curious, I asked last night, but you weren’t exactly in a talking mood.” You swear you can make out her smirk under the bandana. 

“No, I haven’t had a husband for quite a while. Is that what you came all the way here to ask me?” She lowers her bandana and steps towards you, backing you into your horse. 

“No, I came to ask a favor.” She hesitates for a moment, “No one here can know that I’m, um, well you know..”

“A woman?” pretty easy to piece together after seeing the bandana. 

“Yea,” She backs away from you a little. Seems like someone is embarrassed to ask a favor. “It’s just easier for me to get things this way and it’s lookin’ like I’ll be staying later than I planned so..” 

“Alright, I won’t say anything.” She opens her mouth to begin to thank you, but you weren’t about to let an opportunity like this pass you by. “But, you owe me a favor then.”

Her excited expression disappeared as quickly as it came, if you weren’t looking you could have missed it, “Um, alright, what do ya need?” 

“You know your little visit last night?” You had been cooking this proposition up all day, hoping she would run into you again. 

“Yes.”

“Well, that happens to me about every other day. I don’t want a husband, but I do need a guard dog of some kind.” You didn’t want a man in your home, but you did want the protection of one, this was the perfect opportunity, almost too perfect. 

“A guard dog?” She seems mildly offended by you comparing her to a dog.

“I’m tired of not being able to sleep because of surprise visitors. And I’ll pay you in two square meals a day, tea, and my homemade moonshine.” She does not look amused. “And I won’t tell anyone you’re a lady.”

“I don’t know-”

“I know you’re almost out of money, I’m sure Tommy is bleeding you dry as an outside visitor. I won’t charge you anything.” Something in her loosens, you can see it.

“So do I sleep on your floor?”

“Or outside if you’d like, makes no difference to me. There’s a fire pit out there for ya” You turn around and mount your horse, eager to get home. “We got a deal?” You reach your hand down towards her. She hesitates before shaking it. 

“I’m Ellie by the way.” You nod

“Alright Ellie, I’ll see you at my house then. I trust you’re familiar with the address” She just nods, slightly shocked. You smile and then head off, the comforting sound of hoofbeats clearing the thoughts in your head. On the way home you tend to just listen to the sounds of the desert. After a day of loud, squealing children it was healing. You’re sure you’d go crazy if you lived in town. 

** **

You had just finished making your evening tea when you heard a knock on your door. For the first time in a long time, you don’t go into fight or flight mode. You open the door with a smile, part of you is surprised she even showed up. Your proposition was a little ridiculous, but that truly shows how desperate you are. 

“Hello there stranger.” You are really pushing it with this attitude, you can tell, but something in you likes it when she gets annoyed. 

“Hi.” She takes off her hat and lowers her bandana, something you’ve observed as a habit of hers, one of respect possibly. “So am I sleepin’ with the rattlesnakes or on your floor?” 

“You get bit by a rattlesnake come to me and I’ll suck the venom out myself. Until then you best set up camp before dark darlin’.” You smile at her sweetly. 

“Figured as much.” She smirks and walks away to set up camp.

“Dinner’ll be ready in 20 minutes. I hope ya like stew.” You call out to her. “Oh, and there’s a spring out back if you need any water!” 

** **

The stew finally thickens up to the way you like it, you pour it into two bowls and quickly slurp up your serving. Didn’t taste amazing, but it was food. 

You open your front door to bring Ellie her food and see that she’s already started a fire, she’s sipping from a silver flask just staring at the flames. 

You approach and wordlessly hand her a bowl of stew and a spoon. She looks up at you “You gonna eat?” 

“No, I- uh already ate.” More like inhaled but she didn’t need to know that. You point at her flask. “What’s in there?” 

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t know what’s in here?” She raises her eyebrows.

“I know it’s liquor, Ellie, I’m just askin’ what kind.” Her confused expression drops.

“Whiskey.” She looks at the flask in her hand, then at you. “Want some?” She clearly did not want to offer it to you. But you sit down next to her and reach your hand out for it. 

“Hand it over.” She hands you the flask. The metal was cool to the touch, almost shocking after the desert heat all day. You take a sip and the liquor burns its way down your throat, and your face scrunches a little. You were used to shooting whiskey, but this was particularly terrible, even worse than your moonshine. “Wow, that’s pretty awful.”

Ellie laughs between bites of stew, “You’re stew isn’t the greatest thing I’ve tasted either.”

“Hey!” You lightly punch her shoulder. She giggles even more. “You’re welcome for the food by the way.” You take another swig of whiskey and then hand the flask back to the cowgirl. 

“Thank you,” she takes the flask, “for the meal.” she hands you her empty bowl. “And a place to stay, even if it’s outside.” 

“We’ll see, maybe you’ll earn your way inside.” You take her bowl and turn to head inside. 

“Is that a challenge?” She calls after you. 

“Maybe.” You call back. 

You step inside and immediately undress for bed, the whiskey making your eyes droop closed. You can barely get your buttons undone before you fall into bed, for the first time in a while, not having to worry about dangerous strangers knocking down your door.  

** **

You wake up to a hasty knock coming from the front door. It’s still dark outside. You weren’t supposed to have to deal with this anymore. You grab your rifle and don’t even bother checking who is at the door simply out of annoyance. Would have bit you in the ass later if it was a surprise visitor. You open the door and cock the rifle. To your astonishment, you open the door to Ellie, holding her side. There’s a dark stain forming under her hands, her face is bloody and bruised. And yet she’s got a smug yet pained smile on her face. “This how you’re always gonna greet me?” 

“Jesus Ellie,” you usher her inside quickly. “What happened?” 

“You got some visitors, a group of Apache men.” She sits down in one of your wooden dining room chairs. You rush over to grab the small medical kit you had managed to fashion over the years. “They wanted to see you in particular, when I told them you weren’t accepting visitors they sort of attacked me. It was one versus six” 

“They don’t trust many people.” You undo Ellie’s suspenders and begin unbuttoning her shirt without even thinking. “Most folks round here shoot first and ask questions later, they don’t have any respect or patience for a stubborn cowboy.” You walk over, grab a candle and some matches, and light it so you can see. “Can’t say I blame them. I am sorry though I’d thought they’d see your gun and back off” 

“That is real optimistic of ya.” You remove her right arm from the sleeve of her shirt. She is wearing some sort of binding around her chest- so that’s how she’s managed to pass for a man. 

“Wow, that’s a big word for you.” You smirk at her as you clean your hands with some moonshine. 

“Really? I’m bleedin’ out and you’re making fun of me?” You press gauze to her wound, she hisses through her teeth. 

“Please, you’re not bleeding out. Shouldn’t even need stitches, just some cleaning and dressing.” You look up at her, you’re not quite sure, but even in the dim candlelight, you could swear she was blushing. You wouldn’t dare mention it when she’s already made herself so vulnerable. 

“Now for the hard part.” You take out a small bottle of vinegar. 

“Alright.” Ellie leans back in the chair, ready for the sting of the vinegar. 

“Here.” You take her left hand and place it on your shoulder. “Squeeze if you need to.” She nods and you take that as your cue to begin. You pour the vinegar on the wound and you watch as her abs contract, her hand squeezes your shoulder, pretty hard, but you know she was trying not to hurt you, even in pain. 

You stand up and gently wrap a few layers of gauze around her mid-section, just in case it starts bleeding again during the night. You were so, so close to her, you could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “You always wear that?” 

“Wear what?”

“The-the bandages, round your chest.” She looks down at them like she almost forgot they were there. Suddenly you realize how personal that question must be. “Sorry, I shouldn’t said anything. You don’t have to answer” 

“No, It’s alright. I don’t mind. Yes, I’ve worn this for a while now, easier to get around when you look like a man.” You nod and finish wrapping the gauze around her and pin it in place. You put a bit of vinegar on a piece of gauze and begin cleaning the cuts on her face. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, miss.”

“Please just let me clean off your face. Were you planning on walkin’ around town tomorrow with dried blood on your cheeks?” She opens her mouth to say something but closes it. She’s quiet as you gently clean her face, you can see every freckle, every scar, her eyes shining in the candlelight. It was odd being this close to her. You had never felt comfortable being this physically close to someone. Her warmth almost invited you in, made you want to press your nose to her neck, run your hands across her skin, feeling along all the freckles and scars, memorizing the spot of each one. you wanted to know her in a way you have never wanted to know anybody else.

“Hey,” a gentle voice grounds you back into reality. “I think my face is clean.” She smiles softly. She was right, at some point, you had gotten her face completely clean, you’re not sure how long she let you drag the cloth across her freckled cheeks before she said something. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You back away and put the blood-soaked gauze in the burn pile. “You should sleep in here. Don’t think anyone else will be coming tonight. I’ll go get your bedroll.” Ellie just nods and you go out to grab her things. 

You hurry back and set up her bedroll on the floor right next to your bed. She makes her way to it and sits down on the floor with a thud, careful to not contort her body in a way that could re-open the wound. She collapses onto the wool blankets. When you’re sure she’s settled you place your rifle back next to your bed and fall into your mattress, knowing you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.

lmk what you think! Likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated!

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Part 2 >>

[kneelingshadowsalome]

the yandere x yandere ask and your answer got me going maaaaaaad....pleeeease just one little story, just a snippet I beeeeg you...

I think I am addicted to your writing ❤️‍🔥

Ok ok you here's your little snippet I am not immune to begging (I am weak)

Word count: 1.3 k Tags/warnings: 18+ only, Yandere!König x Yandere!Reader, situationship with toxic König, light bondage, slight degradation, crazy idiots in love A/N: *sigh* for God's sake.

"No."

Your refusal echoes in the empty hall as you rush toward your room. The one you are talking to is marching right behind you… A giant Austrian killer, a one-man fucking machine, and a terror to women.

You know you shouldn't have said it today – hissed bitterly on the comms how everyone knows König is good with a gun after the new girl commented on what a good shot your foreign lover was. 

You wanted to shoot that girl, and now hated yourself for it. Hated - and loved - how a certain lovesick madman was again following you like an oversized puppy in heat. Had followed you ever since you praised his killing skills (you were the first girl to do that, goddammit), and agreed to go on a date with him. At a gun range, no less.

You try to ignore how your neck tingles as you open the door to your room. Out of breath, you turn to slam it shut, but a strong hand shoots to prevent your strength. It stops the door from moving even an inch.

"No," you repeat while looking up at the blazing blue eyes.

How can such a cold stare scorch your skin? How can those eyes burn your very reason to a crisp…?

"I'll visit you after silence then," he promises darkly, and the tingles turn into a downright shiver.

"No you won't. I'll lock my door."

"I'll break in."

"...You're fucking crazy !"

"You have no idea, Liebling." He steals a peek down at your chest, rising and falling like a wave because you are so riled. You can almost hear how he licks his lips under that hood. "I have to return your strings, oder?"

Rage and thrill fight for your attention as you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

"You–you took my…" you gasp, hating the way you sound like a pearl-clutching woman appalled by such indecency. Truth is, you are appalled. And aroused. But you're not a pearl-clutching woman.

"Pervert," you spit the word out with hot pride. He doesn't flinch, doesn't even blink at your insult.

"Ist das so? And who wanted me to tie her up last night? Hmm?"

Shit... Your cheeks pang with heat. 

Tight moans and pleas of "Use that paracord on me," and "Fuck me like I'm your prisoner," flood your mind, as does his low growl of "You're mistaken, Liebling. This is no play. You are my prisoner."

You thought he would've tied you into a bed, but no: this pervy lunatic tied your hands to the ceiling, not tight, but tight enough to render you helpless as he gave you a 15-minute edging session with his tongue, followed by more than just one profound fucking session with that ridiculously long Austrian cock.

He raised you in his lap and fucked into you from standing, took you from behind like an animal, used your body any way he wanted to until you were dumb and full of his cum. 

He pulled orgasms, quivering breaths and lewd moans out of you while whispering painfully sweet things in your ear – then left you hanging there after he was satisfied. You thought he went to get a towel, which he did... but he also went to get himself a beer. 

He drank that pilsner in front of you, wearing only and only that stupid black hood. Surrounded by his guns and knives, this man looked like a god of war: muscles sheened in sweat, heavy cock glistening with your juices, looking at you with smug pride as the warm seed ran down your thighs.

"Let me down," you finally broke before him, pouting and throbbing from the multiple orgasms he just gave you.

"Ask nicely, Liebling."

"Please, let me down… My wrists hurt."

He came to release you from that rope immediately, carried you to his bed, and cooed what a good girl you were, taking his cock so many times like you were made for it. Cleaned you up with a warm, wet towel and promised he would bring you food from the mess if you promised to stay put. (You promised, and he did.) He even offered you a sip of that yucky beer and asked if his prisoner had everything she needed.

But what's worst is that he dares to shame you for what happened last night.

"What kind of a woman wants to be used like that...? You're dirty," he slurs, eyes flashing with desire.

"You're the one who's dirty," you half yell, then snap your mouth shut, knowing half the barracks just heard your announcement.

He just tilts his head as if it's quite normal to have an argument about who's more fucked up in the middle of an echoing hall.

"Eh? I bet you're wet even now." His voice is high and tight from anticipation. "Shall I make an inspection?"

"I will slap you if you do that," you declare with a lift of your chin. Your shoulders draw back and your hand squeezes into a fist, ready to deliver on that threat.

He looks down at your tiny paw – nothing escapes him, not even the slightest movement at the corner of his eye. But when he looks back at you again, his eyes are filled with a sinful dare. 

"I'm warning you. If you come inside, I'll–"

He steps forward immediately and catches your punch like it's only a meager leaf in his way. You pout furiously as you send another fist flying, aiming for that hood – quite lousily, to be honest. Of course he catches that too, then spins you around like you two are dancing jive and forces you against a wall with his body.

It's the softest, most loving little shove and pin, and the only thing that's knocked out of air is your pride as his groin presses against your ass and shoves up, hard enough to force you up on your toes. 

"You're not a woman, you're a wildcat," he rasps in your ear as the warm darkness of the hood brushes your neck. His hand rests on the wall next to your face like a warning not to squirm while the other is already traveling up the back of your thigh. 

He's going to make that inspection, no doubt, shove his hand beneath your belt and into your camos. See if you're wearing another pair of "filthy strings" – or that's what this crazy dude calls the revealing underwear he says is "not suitable for decent women."

The funniest thing is that you started wearing them mainly because they clearly drive him mad...

"König..." you moan your want into the air as he slips that hand down your pants. Your hands got trapped between the wall and your chest as he pressed you there, but you wouldn't try to prevent him even if they were free. 

You want to tell him how good he is with his guns, all of them. You want to tell him that you hate the new girl. You want to tell him you'll be his prisoner, always…

He takes a good, long sniff of your neck, causing your ass to grind against the hard bulge in his pants. He doesn't like the smell of gunpowder on you, doesn't like it that you're almost as good with a rifle and a scope as him. He wants to take you away from all harm and make you his little wife. 

(The only harm that has ever fallen upon you is this crazy titan who makes love to you like it's the end of the world.)

"Kleine Wildkatze," he murmurs softly in your ear while agile fingers find your soaked cotton, the fragile shield between lust and madness. "I will tame you. Don't you worry about that. One day you will be purring in my lap..."

[koqabear]

Pretty Privilege (and its complications…)

♫: California Gurls, Katy Perry // Icky, Kard

“You love your boyfriend more than anything; so much so that you decide to pay a visit to him while he‘s on duty, a perfect excuse to gawk at his perfect form and charming self. Unbeknownst to you (like always) the act only causes Taehyun to stress, forced to watch you attract attention like a magnet and have people flirt with you left and right— even your understanding boyfriend has his limits, you know.”

lifeguard!Taehyun x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship, beach au, fluff, smut

Word count: 9.6K

warnings: bimbo/ditzy/feminine mc, mc is called a queencard bc idk, mc gets horny every three seconds, mc has nipple peircings and insane pretty privilege, (I have nothing to say for myself.) everyone in this damn beach wants her, she gets hit on by both men and women. alcohol consumption, (no one gets drunk) use of pet names (baby, my girl etc.)  and the words boyfriend/girlfriend, lowkey public indecency.. teasing, possessiveness, a little jealousy. 

smut warnings: dom!taehyun, sub!mc semi-public sex, marking, thigh riding, degrading, possessiveness (again!), rough sex, biting, breast play, grinding, oral (f. rec) multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, strength kink, tae picks the mc up, praise, dacryphilia, creampie (lemme know if I should add anything!)

Notes: alternate title: my strange addiction (kang taehyun) this fic is nawt meant to be taken seriously!! (I blacked out halfway through writing and editing this) Can you tell that I have tropes that just have a deathly chokehold on me? Embarrassing…

Kang Taehyun feels his heart stop the moment he sees your car pull up. 

A peaceful, thirty-minute break quickly turns into a meditation session the moment he sees your hot pink Porsche convertible pull up, straight from a Barbie movie as the fuzzy dice that hang from the mirror bounce around— even from the top of the hill where the parking lot is at, he’s still able to spot you with eerie ease.

You’re as energetic and bubbly as ever as you exit the car, laughing with your friends as you fail to notice Taehyun’s heated stare; your friends however, are much quicker to catch him, sharing knowing looks amongst themselves and laughing softly. 

His face feels hot as he quickly looks back down, his gaze downcast as he goes to scroll on his phone as a distraction— like instinct, he opens Instagram, your newest story popping up on his feed as he finds himself gulping nervously. 

Beach day!! >v< the picture is captioned, your bright smile practically blinding as you pose with your friends— you practically steal the spotlight with ease however, especially when you’re wearing a pink halter top with a Hawaiian flower pattern that exposes your breasts perfectly, the dip allowing your gold necklaces to rest in between. 

God, Taehyun sighs, running a hand through his hair as he hears your bubbly laugh from a distance, it’s so difficult having such a hot girlfriend.

A hot girlfriend who’s practically an influencer, he adds, counting down the minutes before he has to go back on duty as he remembers how successful your social media page has become. You didn’t mean to do it on purpose— you simply wanted to document your life and style like any other person would— but it seems as though you attracted much more attention than you anticipated.

A few hundred thousand followers and plenty of sponsorships later, however, you quickly found yourself titled a true “queencard”— not that you wanted to be, anyway. 

You took your newfound “fame” with a grain of salt however, living your life as normal and continuing to document your lavish and busy lifestyle— in turn, Taehyun asked you to keep your relationship on the more private side. 

It wasn’t that Taehyun didn’t want to be seen with you; if anything, he adored showing you off, enjoying the way no one could take their eyes off you whenever you entered a room— off his girlfriend. He was very vocal about the love and pride he held for you, but he also preferred to keep his life away from the media. And like the angel you are, you accepted his wishes without any hesitation. 

Like Taehyun, you absolutely adored your partner; you were quite obsessed with him, honestly. If he’d let you, you’d fill your feed with him, your camera roll that was already filled with pictures of him begging to be posted as your mind told you that he could be an influencer as well— because who were you kidding, he’s so smoking hot. 

“Girl, you need to stop staring before you start drooling,” Chaewon says, helping Wonyoung unload the bags from the car as they begin to laugh and tease you. You simply whine at her comment, biting your lip before you force yourself to look away; how could someone look so attractive by just scrolling on their phone?

“I can’t help it,” you cry, taking a beach bag from Wonyoung in order to help, “he’s just sooo hot!” 

“And you let us know every time,” Wonyoung laughs, nudging your side as she gestures toward the beach before her, “don’t you at least wanna get closer?” 

Like an eager puppy, you nod, getting a head start as you walk down the steep path towards the beach; you can hear your friends yelling at you to be careful, but all you can currently think about is Taehyun— Taehyun and his rippling muscles, Taehyun and his tan skin that’ll be left exposed to the hot sun, Taehyun and his chain that you love to tug on when he’s on top of you…

Oh my god, you realize with dread, your thighs rubbing together as you stop to wait for your friends, I’m so horny right now. 

The curse of having such a hot boyfriend— you literally got soaking wet from the very thought of him. 

The last thing you would do is have your friends realize, however, much too embarrassed to let them in on your more intimate thoughts as you scan the beach, looking past the groups of people for a good spot to settle down; lucky for you, you find a spot between the lifeguard tower and a concessions stand. 

“Here here here!” You yell, running towards the spot without hesitation as your friends are forced to keep up; you ignore the feeling of the sand slipping into your sandal pumps, much more distracted by the fact that you’ll be able to see your boyfriend on duty. 

Taehyun, ever the innocent victim of your antics, remains clueless as to where you’re setting up at the moment; he sits at the tables on the other side of the concession stand, still scrolling through his phone as he counts down the minutes before he’s on duty once more— sighing, he looks up from his device, his eyes scanning the hill before him as he inevitably finds your car— he can’t help but frown once he sees that you’re no longer there. 

Where could you have run off to, he wonders, walking over to the headquarters in order to go back on rotation— he’s unable to stop thinking about you, already dreading how much of a distraction you’ll be to him as he makes his way over to his platform— only to stop, his breath stuttering as he sees the very sight he’s been dreading. (See: fantasizing.)

You’re wearing that same denim mini-skirt that always drives Taehyun crazy— actually, you’re not even wearing it anymore, his teeth sinking into his lip as he watches you strip innocently. The bikini bottom you wear matches your top, the same pink with the Hawaiian flower pattern; the shameful excuse of a bottom barely covers you, yet you don’t really seem to notice as you tie a sheer beach skirt around your hips. 

Dangerously, you pull your shirt over your head; and if Taehyun wasn’t flustered enough by your bottoms, the matching top definitely did the trick— how it barely managed to cover you almost impressed Taehyun, his mouth drying as he took note of the way you tied all the strings into cute little bows, adorning your hips and back as your friends complimented you over the cute set— puffing your chest out proudly, Taehyun swore he almost fell to his knees as he took note of the piercings that poked through the thin fabric. 

Oh god. He’s screwed. 

You and your friends are quick to set everything up; you’re eager to lay back against the towel as Wonyoung runs to the ocean, yelling at the two of you to go with her as she laughs with joy. 

“No thanks, I’ll stay here,” you say, getting comfortable as you stretch under the sun, the warmth making you smile as you reassure Chaewon, “Actually, I think the place over there has a mini bar— I might go get a drink.”

With one last goodbye and a yell along the lines of get me one, I’ll meet you there! Chaewon leaves, sand kicking up behind her as she begins to chase after Wonyoung; the two look beyond happy as they enter the water, the sight endearing as you finally get up. 

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyun watches like a hawk; he couldn’t get his eyes off you even if he wanted to, the sway of your hips and the shining sun on your skin much too enticing as he watches you leave, bitterly taking note of the way the men nearby begin to drool over you. 

Taehyun isn’t an insecure person— he’s far from it, and he knows damn well that you’d choose him over any other man on this beach. But he’s also tempted to run after you, to claim you as his and show everyone just how much you like him— but he remains professional, feeling his ears turn red as he snaps out of his lewd fantasies.

You haven’t even talked to him, but he’s already feeling desperate for you. 

Being a lifeguard has its perks— today’s perk comes in the form of his tall seat, being able to get a good look at the whole beach, and you. More specifically, the way you cutely lean against the counter of the bar, pouting like always as you take a second to stare at the menu. 

“So…” you trail off, pursuing your lips before you’re smacking your lips, tapping your ID rhythmically against the wood as you feel the worker staring at you intently, “I’ll just have two margaritas. And a water. Please?” 

The worker before you is bright and quick to work as he nods, stumbling over his feet for a second before he’s making you your drink; you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone work so fast as he hands you your order, sliding over an ice cold water bottle as well.

“Thank you! How much do I owe you?” You exclaim, placing your purse over the counter as you begin to dig for your wallet; only for him to interrupt you, stuttering out a quiet Oh, wait, as you look up at him with innocent doe eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s on the house,” he smiles, watching as you can only let your jaw drop at his words; unsure of what to do, you glance back at your order, left speechless as you take a second, only to look back up at the worker in surprise.

“Really?” You ask breathily, tilting your head as you lean in closer to read their name tag— Jay simply nods, smiling sweetly as they reassure you that you don’t need to pay, “Oh, you’re so sweet!” 

You’re laughing at the way Jay turns slightly red, surprised at his kind act as you ask one last time if it’s really okay— he reassures you once more, opening his mouth to say something before another customer is approaching, taking his attention as he reluctantly leaves your side. 

Taking a sip of your drink, you can’t help but feel the smile stuck on your face as Chaewon finally appears to join you; she’s soaking wet as she stands with you under the shade of the bar, thanking you with a cute smile as she takes the margarita you hand her. 

“How much? I’ll pay you back,” Chaewon says, gesturing at the drink before her as you simply shake your head in response. 

“No need. It was free!” You say, giggling at the way Chaewon looks at you incredulously.

“Free?” She echoes, watching as you only nod eagerly in response, “how?” 

“Dunno,” you say, licking at the rim that’s dusted with sugar, “that Jay guy was just really sweet!” 

“Or attracted to you,” Chaewon muses, nudging you playfully as she gives you a mischievous grin— she laughs as you shake your head defensively, painfully unaware of your pretty privilege as you fail to notice the way Jay glances back at you, clearly hoping to talk to you again.

“I got this for Wonyoung,” you say, gesturing to the cold water bottle that’s currently dripping over the counter, “gonna go give it to her, wanna come with?” 

Chaewon shakes her head, gesturing to her unfinished drink as she tells you to go ahead; watching you go ahead, she waits for you to get out of earshot, turning to the employee before she’s narrowing her eyes at him.

“Can I get a water please?” 

Without another glance, Jay nods— “That’ll be one-fifty.”

Barking out a laugh, Chaewon grins, proving her theory right as she watches Jay turn red from the realization that she caught on— being friends with you proved to come with more benefits than she realized, she thinks, biting back another smile as she goes to drink her margarita. Turning around, she watches you fondly— and more specifically, the way you begin to walk past the volleyball game that’s going on, making your way back to your setup as the men playing begin to take notice of you. 

“Hey baby,” a man calls out, drawing your attention as you simply hum politely in response, “Why don’t you come play with us?” 

You can only muster out a soft laugh at that, shaking your head as you ignore the way your body begins to heat up from all the attention; shyly, you refuse their offer, unsure of what to say as you feel their eyes taking you in slowly. 

“Oh, I’m not that good,” you say, shaking off their amused laughs as you hold Wonyoung’s water bottle close to you, feeling the perspiration drip onto your forearm, “I probably wouldn’t be very useful on your team.” 

Your response is genuine; you know you’re not good at volleyball after countless failed attempts to learn, much more content sitting on the sidelines and watching your perfect boyfriend absolutely dominate during his games— the thought is enough to have you fighting back a fond smile, brought back to reality by the way the man talking to you takes a step closer to you.

“ ‘s okay, I can teach you,” the man grins, spinning the volleyball expertly in his hands as his teammates nod in agreement. You’re unsure of how to refuse them now, but a sudden sharp whistle is taking all of your attention as your head whips to the source of the sound. 

You practically feel like an overexcited puppy as you spot Taehyun, on duty and scolding a group of teenagers for who-knows-what. Without another thought, you run over to him, leaving the group of men who can only call for you to wait— their words fall deaf on your ears as you feel your heart beating faster, calling out his name and watching as he finally spots you running over to him. 

“Hyun!” You say, waving cutely as you watch him smile fondly at you— you think your heart could burst as you practically jump into his arms, feeling him stumble back from the impact as you throw your arms around his neck fondly. 

“Taehyun!! Baby, hi!!” You say, bouncing on your feet as you pull away to pepper kisses on his cheek; all he can do is laugh as he falls victim to you, muttering a soft “okay, okay” as he pats your back fondly. 

“Baby, baby, I’m still working,” Taehyun reminds you, watching you pull away with a small oh right, that tumbles from your lips. His hands are still on your waist as his fingers trace over the fabric of your beach skirt, and you can’t help the way you burst into giggles as you take him in. 

“What, what’re you laughing at?” He asks, brows raising as he tilts his head curiously; you can only shake your head, wiping the bottom of your lip as you attempt to calm down. 

“My lip gloss is all over you,” you say, watching as he simply laughs at your comment, his dimple on display as he reaches up to rub at his cheek— it barely works, but he doesn’t seem to mind much as he finally lets go of you.

“Did you get yourself a drink, pretty?” He says, nodding his head at the water bottle you hold in your hands; you nod, smiling happily as you recount the events that happened in your head. 

“Yeah, the worker there is super sweet,” you gush, glancing back at where you see Chaewon still leaning against the counter, waving at you happily as you’re quick to return the gesture, “he gave me my drinks for free.”

“Did he now?” Taehyun asks, raising a brow at you as he watches you nod innocently. Glancing back at the shop, he sees Jay, who can only avert his eyes and hide from his sight. Looking back at you, his gaze softens as he takes in the way you practically glow under the sun, “that’s very nice of him.” 

Taehyun wishes nothing more than to be able to go back off duty and enjoy his time with you; instead, he needs to wait another four hours before he can properly show you just how happy he is to see you— unbeknownst to you of course, much too eager to be outside on such a nice day as you ramble about things with no clear end in sight. 

“I need to go back to work, baby,” Taehyun sighs, smiling at the way you begin to whine immediately, “I know, I know— I wish I wasn’t working today either.” 

Bringing you in closer, he places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose before he’s taking a step back, the dazed smile you send him enough to have his heart fluttering as he returns it without a thought.

“ ‘m just happy I get to see you.”

His words clearly affect you as you attempt to stutter a response, hitting him with a whine the moment he tries to laugh at you fondly— you can tell he’s reluctant to leave, but the same group of teenagers as before seem to be causing a ruckus once more as he sighs, bidding you goodbye before he’s off. 

You can only stand and stare with dismay, pouting as you watch him turn his back to you— his toned, broad back, with a waist so small you’d do anything to wrap your arms around it— or even better, your legs…

You groan as the same dangerous train of thought begins to hit you, your eyes squeezing shut as you force yourself to turn around— to walk straight to where Wonyoung lays without glancing back at your boyfriend, the task much harder than you’d think as you hear his sharp voice scolding the group of teenagers.

He sounds so hot, you think to yourself, wanting nothing more than to run away with your man and have him fuck you stupid behind the concession stand, oh my god, I want him so bad. 

“Wow, this thing is freezing,” Wonyoung says, taking the water bottle from your hands gratefully. Watching as you slump down next to her, Wonyoung pauses, trying to guess what might be wrong before she follows your line of sight.

“Ah,” she mutters, taking a long drink from her water before she sighs, “Are you sad you can’t talk to your boyfriend?”

“He’s being professionalll,” you groan, throwing a hand over your eyes as you lay back, the pout forming on your face second nature at this point, “I just wish he’d stay over here!” 

“It’d be a danger to the public if he just stopped doing his job,” Wonyoung reasons, watching the way you reluctantly agree with her, “plus, it was your idea to visit while he was on duty.”

“I didn’t think he’d look so fucking hot!” You admit, crossing your arms over your chest in defeat as Wonyoung simply laughs in amusement. Opening your eyes, you’re surprised to find Chaewon looming over you, a smile on her face as she takes her seat on her towel beside you. 

“You always think he looks hot. Also, the bartender over there totally wants you.” Chaewon pipes up, calling Wonyoungs name as she gestures to the water bottle in her hands before gesturing back to the mini-bar.

“Don’t tell me,” Wonyoung says, staring down at the item in her hand as Chaewon nods in confirmation, “wow, that’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s nothing, he was just being nice!” You refute, ever an airhead and your friends simply shake their heads in response, “It’s true!” 

“He didn’t bother looking back in my direction once you left,” Chaeryeong points out, glaring playfully at Wonyoung who laughs at her comment, “not to mention, those guys playing volleyball were literally drooling over you.”

“Wait, I saw that— I was kind of scared for a second,” Wonyoung admits, Chaewon nodding along as she confesses that she was about to jump in when you finally managed to escape, “you’re so lucky you managed to leave before things got weird.”

To be honest, you stopped listening around that last part— well, it’s not like you weren’t listening, it’s more like you weren’t really contributing to the conversation as you take notice of Taehyun, more specifically the way he’s playing with a child around the shallow end of the ocean, watching as he manages to make the child laugh, his eyes bright and fond as he takes good care of the toddler.

The sight practically has you melting, and you’re forced to bite your lip to suppress your smile— but then again, you’ve never really been good at hiding things— especially with the way you find your friends looking in the direction you are, the two of them sporting knowing smiles as they exchange a look. 

“Oh girl,” Wonyoung sighs, going to lay on her back as she puts on her sunglasses, “you’re drooling again.” 

Shit, you totally were. 

-♡-

The next three and a half hours pass by painfully slowly— for Taehyun, at least. 

It seems that you’re finally able to take your eyes off him after a period of adjustment, and he’s able to watch from his post as you enjoy yourself in the ocean, splashing around with your friends as the three of you have fun and remain carefree.

Carefree is probably one of the last words Taehyun would use to describe himself at the moment— it was a given that being a lifeguard was unpredictable and difficult, but being on duty while having his hot girlfriend that attracted attention like a magnet there with him was next-level. 

He couldn’t even begin to count the number of times someone managed to hit on you in the past hour— from what he saw, at least— it was ridiculous, really, even more so because you were never able to pick up on it. Ever. 

Taehyun couldn’t take his eyes off you for one second without a new person approaching you; he chalks it up to both your beauty and the fact that you’re one of the most approachable people Taehyun has ever met.

He’s never been happier to own sunglasses than today— or else you definitely would’ve caught him watching carefully as a random woman your age  offered to put sunscreen on you, your friends back in the ocean as you opted to take a moment to rest under the sun instead. 

“Your swimsuit is so cute,” she told you, her voice filled with a flirty lilt as it managed to travel to Taehyun’s ears; you had been as clueless as ever, holding your top up with your hands as you allowed her to untie your string and lotion your back— he tried to give this random stranger the benefit of the doubt, but it was really difficult to with the way she massaged you gently and leaned over to speak into your ear. 

“Are you single?” The implications of her words barely registered in your head before thoughts of Taehyun were overpowering your brain, a smile involuntarily tugging at your lips as you tried to hold back your giddy giggles in order to answer. 

“She’s not.”

You could feel the woman’s hands still on your shoulder as the two of you looked up, your smile only widening as your eyes met Taehyun’s— at least you think, he was currently wearing sunglasses. (Which he looked really hot in, of course. You think you would’ve jumped on him by now if it weren’t for the risk of you flashing the entire beach.)

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman behind you said, laughing nervously as she quickly went to stand; you couldn’t help but be confused by the way she hurriedly said goodbye to you, but all your questions were answered once you turned around to meet Taehyun’s irritated face, his brows pulled together in a frown as he let out a soft tsk. 

“Hyun, are you jealous?” The question is enough to have him snap out of his daze, blinking wildly behind his shades before he’s pushing them up and onto his head, pushing his wet hair back and exposing his forehead as he did; looking down at you, he can’t help but soften at the sight of you and your cute wide eyes, letting out a soft chuckle before he’s patting your head fondly. 

“No, I’m not.” 

You watch as he settles down behind you, taking the previous woman’s spot as he murmurs for you to turn around. You’re facing forward once more, taking in the pretty sight of the beach as you shift on your knees, sitting back on your legs as you wait for him to do something. 

“You looked pretty jealous,” you muse, looking down to watch as he takes the sunscreen bottle that was left at your side; the smell of the lotion fills your senses once more as you hear him open it, squeezing some on his palm as the sound of his airy laugh reaches your ears. 

“Well, it’s not exactly nice to watch another person feeling up my girl,” he reasons, watching as you straighten up at his comment, “why didn’t you ask your friends for help baby?” 

“Mmmh, they’re busy and she offered to help,” you confess, shivering at the feeling of the cold lotion against your shoulders, “and she was not feeling me up.” 

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyun can’t help but feel frustrated at your comment— your naivety made it difficult to make a point sometimes, and this was one of those moments as he was unable to stop the deep sigh that escaped him. 

“She wasn’t?” He asks, and you can’t help but gasp as you feel his touch become further; fingers digging into your flesh, massaging your shoulders tenderly as he leans in close to whisper into your ear, his hands roaming your body so slowly you think you might melt, “so what do you feel now that I’m doing it?” 

Horny. 

“I… I feel like I’m in the wrong,” you admit, stuttering softly as he begins to come back up to your shoulders, his dainty hands going past your collarbones and down your arms; slowly, he makes his way down, leaning forward as he does so until he’s pressed firmly against your back— his firm chest against your back, his hands reaching for your own as he interlocks his fingers with yours. 

You can feel his hair tickle against your neck as he presses a slow kiss against the back of your shoulder, biting your lip as you fight back the desperate whine that threatens to escape from you. 

“Glad you realize,” he laughs softly, letting go of you and sitting back as he takes a moment to inspect the beach; you can’t help the sadness that fills you as he begins to stand, only to pause as he notices your dejected state.

“Do you need any more help?” He asks slowly, watching as you nod happily before you’re laying down across the towel; he thinks he might lose his job as you look back at him, batting your eyes prettily as you send him a coy smile.

“Do the rest for me?” 

Taehyun hesitates. On one hand, it wasn’t very professional of him to lotion up his incredibly gorgeous girlfriend while on duty— not that the public was aware of the fact that you two were together, anyway— but on the other hand…

“How could I say no to you,” Taehyun sighs, kneeling at your side and taking the lotion bottle from you as he decides fuck it— he has half an hour left anyway. 

Your skin is warm to the touch; both of you are sighing in contentment the moment his hands meet your skin, massaging the lotion into the rest of your back as he tries to remain as professional as possible. 

You, on the other hand, are not doing that great. 

If there’s one thing that tests your self-control more than anything, it’s Taehyun— especially Taehyun that has his hands all over you, his touch firm and soothing as he begins to massage the back of your thighs— if he sees you squeeze them together, he doesn’t bother to let on, your mind fogging with horrible and lewd thoughts that would have your boyfriend red and flustered within seconds. 

The last of your resolve crumbles the moment his fingers ghost over your waist; dipping under the skimpy string of your bikini bottom, reaching toward the back before he begins to cop a feel— you can feel your breathing begin to pick up as he’s moving up, tickling against your sides before he’s reaching past your top; fingers massaging against the sides of your breasts, cupping what he can before he’s squeezing coyly. Flustered, you bury your head into your arms, listening to the way he laughs teasingly, his hands drifting away just as quickly as they appeared before he’s going to ask you if you’re alright teasingly. 

“I need you,” You whine, the words muffled against your arms as you dig your head deeper into your arms.

“Hmm?” 

This seems to be your last straw; sitting up, you scramble to keep your top on as you turn around to face Taehyun, taking him in in all his sun-kissed glory, sure that you look beyond flustered and destroyed by now. 

“Taehyun, I need you so bad,” you whine out, scooting closer to him as you watch his eyes widen with your unhinged rambling, “I’ve been trying to be good this whole time and distract myself, but it’s so fucking hard because I’ve been wet from just looking at you— Hyun baby, I’m so hmmf—!”

Taehyun is impressed by how easily you’re able to fluster him— he’s sure his ears are completely red as he presses his palm firmly against your mouth, taking in the way you look at him with wide, teary, and fucked out eyes. 

He takes a deep breath in order to control the dangerous feeling of desire that flows through him. 

Exhaling deeply, he takes a second to look at the clock posted by the headquarters— he feels his body relax with relief as he slowly pulls his hand away from you, giving you a warning look before he gestures at the time.

“Fifteen minutes,” he says, leaning in and muttering the words in his deep, glorious voice, “can you be good for me for another fifteen minutes?” 

You think you might die if you don’t take him right now. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out shakily, watching as Taehyun laughs at your pathetic state. 

“Good,” he says, standing up and getting ready to leave before another lifeguard realizes he’s been talking to you this whole time, “just wait for me, baby.” 

You’re a bit dejected as you watch him leave you, back to being his perfect and professional self as he spots abandoned swimming equipment from the rental shop; he can feel your heated gaze on him the entire time, forced to stifle a laugh as he glances back in your direction curiously— you’re shamelessly staring, a pout on your face as you carefully re-tie your top once more. 

Please, you think to yourself, choosing to lie back against your towel and clear out your thoughts, your eyes fluttering shut as you take a deep breath, please let these next fifteen minutes pass quickly. 

-♡-

Taehyun knows the exact second his fifteen minutes are up— only because you trot up to him like an excited puppy, your beach skirt flowing in the wind as you wave at him excitedly.

“Will you let me clock out at least?” Taehyun asks, letting out an amused laugh as you immediately attach yourself to his side; you give him a quick nod of your head in response, telling him to lead the way as you refuse to leave him anytime soon.

“Missed you so much,” you say, eyes sparkling as Taehyun can only throw his head back and laugh in bewilderment at your comment, “I’m serious! It’s hard to keep my hands off you, Hyunnie.”

“Don’t worry, I feel the same,” he hums, slowing his steps to place a gentle peck on your cheek, “Wait for me? I’ll only be a moment.”

Nodding happily, you tell him you’ll go get him a drink— you know he could use it, taking in his tired steps as he walks back to headquarters with a sigh— turning around, you spot your friends already at the bar, waving you over as you make your way to them happily. 

“He’s finally off?” Chaewon asks, watching as you nod with a bright smile on your face, “that’s good. You two can spend some time together now— especially now that the sun is beginning to set.”

“Not that you weren’t already,” Wonyoung teases, watching as you try to defend yourself with useless stutters as she continues to poke fun at you. 

“I— can I just get a water?” Giving up on trying to win the argument, you turn back to the same worker from earlier, watching as Jay jumps in surprise the moment your eyes meet his. 

“Oh, of course,” he mutters, placing the ice-cold refreshment before he clears his throat, face turning red as he avoids eye contact with you, “you don’t owe me anything, we’re closing soon and the register is already locked.”  

Letting out an embarrassed laugh, you can’t help but glance at your friends, feeling your face become hot as they send you sly looks; Jay seems to be just as flustered as you, bowing politely before turning around and resuming his closing tasks— biting your lip, you suppress another laugh, your friends already mouthing things along the lines of I told you so, as you simply push them playfully, looking around to see if Taehyun has come back yet. 

“This for me baby?” Taehyun’s hand is warm on your waist as he appears behind you, looking over your shoulder and smiling as you eagerly hand him the water bottle in return. 

He’s quick to drink, much thirstier than he realized as he practically begins to gulp it down; he can feel your stare on him the whole time, fighting back a smile as he closes his eyes in an attempt to ignore it. 

He looks like a model, you think, watching him fondly with hearts in your eyes; the day hasn’t looked nicer than it does now, the beach almost empty now that the sun has almost set and the weather growing cooler as the waves crash against the shore, the golden rays of the sun practically leave Taehyun glowing. Playfully, he pushes you away, unable to hold back his laugh any longer as he scolds you to stop staring! You can only laugh sheepishly as you try to deny doing so, but you know he’d never believed you from how clingy you’ve been with him all day. 

“You’re so sweet Jay,” Taehyun smiles, the said male practically jumping out of his skin at the mention of his name; turning around slowly, he laughs awkwardly, meeting eyes with Taehyun, who snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer as he tilts his head teasingly, “for not charging my girl. I appreciate it.” 

“Yeah, of course,” Jay stutters, eyes downcast as he feels his face burning from the attention, “figured it was for you, so I didn’t bother ringing it up.” 

Taehyun only hums in appreciation at the man’s comment, slightly irritated at the way he’s able to lie through his teeth so easily; turning away from him, he takes the chance to look at you, smiling fondly and leaning in for a chaste kiss that has you melting against him. 

“Gross. Get a room you two,” Chaewon scoffs, covering Wonyoung’s eyes playfully as the two tease you endlessly. 

“Gladly,” Taehyun smiles mischievously, rolling his eyes at the way your friends gag in response, pulling you against him as you steady yourself with a hand on his chest, “mind if I steal her away from you guys for a bit?” 

“Go ahead,” Chaewon says, waving the two of you away with ease, “bring her back in one piece, please.” 

I’ll try, is all Taehyun says, pulling you along and laughing at the way you eagerly follow along with one last goodbye to your friends, clueless to the way Taehyun’s jaw ticks with annoyance as he pulls you away from your friends— and right towards headquarters, making his way to the back of the building, secluded by trees and the hill you came from.

“Tae, what’re we doing here—?” Your sentence is briefly cut off with Taehyun’s mouth against yours, the kiss harsh and desperate as you quickly become a mess of spit, moaning weakly against Taehyun’s mouth as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. 

The string of saliva that connects you two as he pulls away has you whining breathily, steadying yourself with two hands placed firmly on his shoulders as you allow him to corner you, walking backward as his firm hold on your hips forces you to be pressed against the wall. 

“You drive me so fucking crazy,” he growls in frustration, attaching his lips right under your ear as he begins to suck— you’re gasping in response, clinging onto him desperately as you already feel your knees become weak. Pulling away from you, his dark gaze meets yours, heated and sharp as he takes in your fucked out state. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to have my pretty girl get flirted with by everyone that lays their eyes on her?” He asks, shifting your hips towards him as he slots his thigh between yours with ease, “to just watch it happen because she’s too much of an airhead to realize what’s happening in front of her?” 

The whimper that escapes you from his words is downright embarrassing; but it’s enough to have Taehyun’s lips back on yours, eager to keep you quiet as his fingers begin to play with the strings of your bikini.

If there’s one thing Taehyun is an expert at, it’s pleasing you with every part of his body— which is exactly why he’s able to have you turn into a mess under him in seconds, flexing his thigh and bouncing it as his strong hands force your hips down on him more; he’s controlling your every movement, his grip on you bruising as you wonder if it’ll leave a mark on you later.

“You’re already wet,” Taehyun muses, feeling the way you claw at him uselessly, throwing your head back against the wall as you try to set the pace yourself, only to fail miserably, “barely took anything and you’re already dripping all over me.”  

The pleasure becomes overwhelming as Taehyun begins to litter kisses all over you, biting at you softly as he slowly begins to make his way down to your breasts; with a breathy moan, you jut out your chest, the sight making Taehyun let out an airy laugh as his eyes flicker back up to your face to watch your expression carefully. 

“Such pretty tits,” Taehyun grins, kissing on top of the fabric as he watches your eyes flutter shut, his eyes flickering back down to the metal that pushes against the thin top, “which ones are you wearing today baby?”

“The ones you got me,” you reply, biting your lip as you open your eyes, clouded with lust as you grind a little harder against Taehyun’s thigh, “the heart ones.” 

His warm mouth against your breast is enough to have you letting out a sigh of contentment; a hand immediately threads itself in his hair as you feel his tongue laving over your nipple through the fabric, tracing the jewelry carefully as you jut your chest out to him in response. His hand comes up to slip itself under the fabric of your swimsuit, grabbing your breast and squeezing teasingly before he begins to circle your other nipple. 

You feel dizzy, his touch practically everywhere as your eyes flutter shut, trying your best to keep your noises to a minimum as you bite your lip— but it’s useless, especially with the way he’s practically on you, his warm body on yours as you’re able to feel his erection against you. 

Whining hopelessly, you let go of his hair, allowing your hand to trail down as you get a good feel of his body— his strong muscles, his abs that flex in anticipation as you begin pawing at his swim shorts.

“Please please please,” you cry, slipping a hand past the barriers and stroking his dick slowly, your hips picking up the pace as you hear him groan lowly into your ear, “please fuck me Hyun, I need you so bad and I’ve been waiting so patiently for you…”  

“Have you?” Taehyun asks, relishing in the way your hand struggles to keep a pace, shivering slightly at the way you tighten your grip on him for a second, “because all seen today is the way my little attention whore of a girlfriend can’t survive if my eyes aren’t on her for a second.”

“Did you have fun seeing the way everyone else drooled over you?” He asks, pulling your hand away from him harshly before he’s stepping in between your legs, hooking one of them around his waist before he begins to grind against you, “did you like seeing me jealous, sweet thing?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you gasp, feeling him prod against your entrance as he unties your beach skirt with deft fingers, the cloth fluttering to the ground as he begins to grind against you harder, “I didn’t know—!”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” He mocks, taking pity on you for a second before his gaze is hardening again, “you never know, dumb little thing.”

It’s almost shameful how hard your pussy clenches at his words; you’ve made a mess of your bottom as Taehyun groans, eyes catching the way you’ve left a damp spot already. 

“God, you really can’t control yourself, hmm?” He asks, cooing at you softly as he takes in the way you’ve already begun to tear up. The sound of distant voices has him pausing, and you feel as though you’re afraid to breathe as your wide eyes meet Taehyun’s.

“Did Taehyun leave already?” The voice is immediately recognizable as Taehyun narrows his eyes, listening to Yeonjun, one of the other lifeguards on rotation today, talk to someone else. 

“Yeah… he left a few minutes ago,” Jay responds, and you can’t help but raise a brow as Taehyun takes a step away from you, about to mouth what are you doing? before he’s sinking to his knees before you, throwing a leg over his shoulder as you can only watch helplessly.

“With that one girl?” Yeonjun asks, your eyes widening as you glance over in the direction the sound comes from; you’re quickly brought to the man in front of you as he begins to litter kisses all over your inner thigh, biting the skin softly as he murmurs eyes on me. Shakily, you nod, letting out a shaky breath as the conversation from the two filters back to you two once more.

“Yeah, you saw her?” Jay says— Taehyun’s nimble fingers are undoing the ties of your bottoms with such ease that you can’t help but gasp as the fabric slips off, your pussy left for display as your boyfriend takes in how needy you are with a satisfied smile.

Taehyun’s tongue is warm and teasing as he circles it over your clit, letting his spit coat you freely before he’s pressing firm kisses against your bud— you're forced to slap a hand over your mouth as he begins to suck on it, his tongue running over the sensitive bud as you feel your thighs shaking around his head; his hair is wet and ticklish as it touches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you’re forced to concentrate in order to not let an embarrassing sound slip from your lips.

“Man, of course I did— she was fucking hot,” Yeonjun’s confession is enough to have Taehyun working harder, fingers prodding at your entrance and eagerly stretching you out as you choke back on a moan— in any other situation, you would be loud enough that Taehyun would have to stop to tease you about it, but the thought of either of them hearing you was much too mortifying as Taehyun began to slowly pump his fingers.

Your body said otherwise, however.

“I saw you give her those drinks for free,” Yeonjun teased, and you listened to the way Jay simply groaned at the reminder; you, on the other hand, were forced to remain quiet, your eyes rolling to the back of your head the moment Taehyun added a third finger, picking up his pace and bringing you closer to your high as you began to rock your hips against his face subconsciously, feeling his tongue beginning to wander as it licked all over your pussy— curling his fingers, you sighed, feeling the way he flattened his tongue against your clit before he began to pump his fingers once more. 

“I thought I’d try to make a move on her or something,” Jay confesses, the embarrassed tone to his voice not lost on you as you feel yourself grow hot— your hand presses harder against your mouth as you reach down to thread your fingers through Taehyun’s hair, pulling him closer against your pussy as you subtly try to communicate that you’re close; he seems to get the hint as he does his best to keep his ministrations up, your eyes squeezing shut as their conversation continues to flow into your ears. 

“But that was before I knew she was his girl,” Jay says, sighing as Yeonjun replies with an incredulous seriously? “Yeah, you should’ve seen the way he looked at me when he caught on, man. I was scared for my life.”

You’re sure you know how Taehyun was looking at him— at least, if it’s any resemblance to the way he looks at you now, his eyes filled with pure possessiveness and anger that it has you coming undone in seconds, a weak moan escaping through your hand as you squeeze your eyes shut. Taehyun helps you ride out your orgasm diligently, the lewd sounds of his tongue cleaning you up making you flustered as you cover your face in embarrassment. 

He’s sucking teasing marks all over your inner thighs once more before he’s standing back up, prying your fingers apart gently as he whispers for you to look at him; your eyes are needy as you blink up at him, and Taehyun swears you’ve never looked more beautiful as you practically glow before him, his eyes darkening at the reminder that you’re all his— his coworkers could only dream of getting close to you, let alone having you in the position he does now. 

“My pretty girl,” he sighs out, smiling at the way you throw your arms over his shoulders, bringing him in closer until you’re pulling him in for a tender kiss— it doesn’t last long however, your breathy whines making Taehyun press against your cunt once more, feeling how much wetter it’s gotten as he begins to kiss you senseless.

“My girl,” he repeats, pulling away to trail his kisses down to your neck, beginning to suck carelessly as he feels you reach down to pull his cock out, “all mine. Mine.”

His sudden possessiveness is new to you as you can only remain pliant under him, allowing him to do whatever he wants with you as he finally aligns himself at your entrance; biting your lip, you bury your head in the crook of Taehyun’s neck, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel him tease you— rubbing the head of his cock up and down your slit, feeling the way you clench around nothing as he grinds against you subtly— it’s enough to have you digging your nails into him, whining into his ear that you need more as you feel his tip begin to nudge at your clit; you think you might lose it as you feel his precum drip all over your cunt, your hips shifting toward him involuntarily to try and chase the feeling. 

Your mouth is falling open the moment he’s entering you; stretching you out, sliding in inch by inch as he feels your pussy fluttering around him uncontrollably— he can feel the way you’re gasping against his skin, and he’s hooking your leg over his waist once more as he presses you firmly against the wall of the building. 

You’re shaking like a leaf against him; whining for more, biting and kissing at his skin absentmindedly as you grind against him, your cunt dripping and sucking him in as the thought of keeping quiet slowly escapes your mind.

It’s enough to have Taehyun tugging you back, pulling on your hair teasingly before he’s planting his hand firmly over your mouth— his eyes never leave yours, the conversation of the two men nearby muddled in your ears as Taehyun begins to move. 

It’s slow at first, the grind of his hips against yours allowing his cock to hit deep into you, the wet sounds of your cunt around him making you feel slightly shy before the thought is completely thrown out the window— you could care less of what’s happening around you as he begins to thrust roughly against you, your body rocking from the motion and your eyes threatening to flutter shut as you feel his cock hit against your sweet spot; but you refrain from doing so, much more entranced by his gaze as he slowly begins to pick up the pace, the sounds that come from you getting more difficult to muffle as you feel yourself getting overwhelmed by the pleasure.

The reminder that there are two people that could hear you has you looking over to where they stand, feeling your heartbeat pick up from the anxiety as you eye that direction carefully— you’re quickly snapped back to reality the moment Taehyun is jerking your head back to him gently, tightening his hold on you as his gaze darkens.

“Eyes on me,” he whispers, rolling his hips just the way you like as though to make a point.

Eyes on him. Eyes only on him, you think, struggling to think anything coherent as his hand reaches up to pull your breasts out from your top, the flesh spilling out and beginning to bounce freely from the way Taehyun is fucking you— the heart jewelry that adorns your nipples shine at him, the sight making your boyfriend let out a weak moan as you feel him twitch inside you. 

“So lucky to have you,�� Taehyun sighs, reaching over to your other leg as he briefly lets go of your mouth— not before taking one of your hands and placing it over your mouth, pressing his hand firmly over your own as he gives you a stern look— and he hoists you up, leaving you completely at his mercy as he begins to bounce you on his cock, the feeling making you slap your other hand over your mouth as you eyes roll back from the pleasure.

“Stupid little airhead, only has eyes for me,” he rambles, laughing quietly to himself before it breaks out into another moan— he’s practically driving you into the wall behind you as he fucks into you roughly, able to set a much faster pace as he watches your tits bounce in his face lewdly, “god, so glad to have you all to myself— you’re perfect, cute little pussy was made for me.”

You clench down on him at that, feeling as though you’re going crazy from the pleasure— that, and the way your boyfriend looks, feeling your nails dig into your cheeks as you take in his messy, wet hair, his tan skin and muscles that flex from using his strength on you, and his face that’s contorted with pleasure as his lips become bruised with how much he’s biting on them— in an effort to keep himself quiet, he hovers over you, placing his head directly next to yours so he can moan and whisper to you freely. 

“Wanna cum?” He asks, feeling the way you’re beginning to clench uncontrollably; frantically, you nod, tears beginning to pool in your eyes as you look at him with pure desperation in your eyes.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he grins, knowing that you’re too fucked to even speak correctly, “mine, and only mine.” 

You’re trying to choke back on your sounds as you wonder if doing that is even possible— then he slows down, grinding into you and burying his cock as deep as possible as it begins to kiss your cervix— coyly, he leans down, his hair tickling your collarbone as he wraps his mouth around your breast; circling your nipple with his tongue lewdly, covering it in his spit and tracing over the heart-piercing before he’s blowing air on it— you’re shaking from the feeling of him, unsure of how you’ll do what he asks without blowing your cover completely. 

“Hyun…” you whine out quietly for him, sniffling as he slows down his pace, almost stilling inside you as he watches fat tears run down your cheeks with cruel eyes, “Hyun, I’m only yours— I only want you, no one else, promise I only think of you, love you so much…”

The way you’re hiccuping from the effort to choke back on your sounds has Taehyun groaning, taking a deep breath in order not to come before he’s pressing his lips firmly against yours— then he’s resuming his pace, watching as you quickly quiet yourself as your body bounces from how hard he’s fucking you. 

It’s too much— you’re falling apart the moment he’s bringing a hand over to circle your clit, supporting you against the wall and holding you up with his other arm as he watches you fall apart, his mouth opening in a silent moan as you tighten around him, pleading breathily for him to cum inside as you do so. 

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up?” He asks, riding out your orgasm as he buries his head into your neck, “have you dripping with my cum while other people try to flirt with you? Give you a little reminder of who you belong to, fuck…”

With one last harsh thrust, he buries himself deep in you, finally coming undone and filling you up with his hot cum as you moan against your hand— the harsh bite he leaves on the juncture of your neck has you whimpering weakly, hands becoming limp and falling against his chest as he presses the rest of his body against you, holding you up as the two of you pant and try to regain your composure. 

“You’re too good to me,” Taehyun finally sighs out, placing soothing kisses over the place he bit you, listening to the way you laugh softly in response. You’re throwing your arms over his neck as one of them moves to his nape, pulling him away from your neck and bringing him in for a sweet kiss— you’re reluctant to part as you speak, unable to hold back from pecking him between your words as you do so. 

“You’re too good for me,” you say, pausing to give him a kiss, irresistible as always as he laughs breathily at your words, “you’re always putting up with me.” 

“Not your fault you’re irresistible,” Taehyun smiles, watching as you grow shy under his comment despite the fact that he’s still bottomed out inside you, “I still love showing you off.”

“I wanna show you off too, you know,” you pout, hitting his chest gently before you’re pausing, biting your lip uncertainly as you tilt your head, “if you’re okay with that.”

Taehyun realizes quickly what you’re referring to, unable to stop the fond laugh that escapes him as he takes a second to think.

“Sure. I’d like that.” 

It takes a second of you celebrating cheerfully to finally sober up and ask Taehyun to put you down— your legs are wobbly as you feel your face grow hot, his cum immediately leaking out of you as you whine in embarrassment for him to not stare— he can only shake his head in amusement at your antics, helping you clean up with the only thing he’s able to find at the moment. 

“Wait, that’s my favorite beach skirt,” you whine, not putting up much of a fight as Taehyun kneels before you, your leg thrown over his shoulder as he cleans you up, placing gentle kisses along your inner thighs as he does so. 

“I can wash it,” he replies, unable to hide his grimace as he tucks it away in his pocket; the sight is enough to have you giggling, readjusting your swimsuit and fixing your appearance before you’re hiding behind Taehyun, asking him if his coworkers are gone yet.

“The coast is clear,” he hums, scanning the nearly empty beach as he spots your friends sitting by the ocean, chatting idly amongst themselves.

“You don’t think they heard us, right?” You ask, blinking at him innocently as the belief that you did a good job keeping quiet runs through your head— the sight is enough to have Taehyun soften, letting out a sigh before he’s nodding his head.

“Yeah. You were so good for me.”

Taehyun knows better, though— but he doesn’t really mind, because now he knows that he won’t have to worry about either coworker flirting with you the next time you come to the beach. 

[scarlethexelove]

How about a WandaNat fic where both are slightly dark and kidnap R. R isn't too worried about it though and soon grows to actually love both of them. Maybe something angsty with a happy ending 🙂

We'll Keep You Safe

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 1546

Warnings: Domestic violence, kidnapping, allusion to drugging, murder, I don't think there is much else.

Part 2 Save You

A/N: First I want to thank @abbyromanoff for the help on a bit of the story idea. I was struggling to come up with how they get to the point so thank you Abby. Hope this is what you wanted I'm not really sure how much I like this one myself but I hope you enjoy.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You run from your house. Your wife is screaming at you to come back but you don't, you just run to your neighbors house. They told you if you ever needed anything that you could come to them. So that is what you did. Tears streaming down your face, your right eyes almost swollen shut and a gash on your cheek. You cradle your right arm with your left pretty sure that your wrist is broken. 

This wasn’t the first time she hit you, but this was the worst. You said you would leave but every time you were about to she promised to change to never hit you again. All she did was give you broken promises. So this time you ran her anger being heard even as you got to the front door of your neighbors. 

You banged on the door with your left hand as you looked back, scared she would follow you. You kept knocking even as the door opened, startling you and almost hitting the woman at the door. “I-I’m sorry.” You stuttered out. 

The beautiful brunette looks at your concern and anger swirling in her eyes. “S-sh-she” you stutter more, not able to form words. “Help” your voice sounding so small, your legs giving out as pain starts to spread through your body. The adrenaline wears off making you feel the full force of your injuries. Wanda catches you in her arms slowly helping you to the ground and pulling you into her. 

“Natasha!” Wanda calls out to her wife. Natasha comes around the corner, as soon as she sees you there is fury in hers. Your face is buried in Wanda’s neck as you cry. Natasha tries to make her way past you both so that she can teach your wife a lesson but Wanda stops her. Instead Wanda passes you to her wife. Sharing a knowing look. Natasha cradles you in her arms and carries you into the living room sitting down with you on the couch. Burying yourself into her she holds you tightly as you cry continuously apologizing to her as you soak her shirt in your tears. 

Natasha shushes you as she rubs her hand up and down your back. Wanda making her way into the kitchen. A few minutes later as you start to calm down Wanda returns with a tray. A tea pot and some tea cups sit on the tray. She pours a cup for you. Natasha coxes you out of her neck as Wanda extends the cup of tea. You take it hesitantly and take a few sips. Both women give you a sad smile. 

“Honey, do you want to tell us what happened?” Wanda speaks gently as she sits down on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. You lightly nod your head before speaking. “I-I came home and Lila was pissed. S-she found the divorce papers I had hidden. I tried to tell her I wasn’t going to but she s-started hitting me. I-I ran here as soon as I could get away.” You tell the woman. “I’m scared.”

“We won’t let her hurt you again.” Natasha says. You can feel her anger but also her concern. You lay your head on her shoulder starting to feel sleepy and your body feeling numb. The pain fading away. Your body feels heavy as you try to speak again but no words come out. That is the last thing you remember before everything goes black. 

You blink your eyes open, your body feeling weak and heavy. It’s hard to keep your eyes open but you're able to look around. You are wearing different clothes which freaks you out. Did someone change you? What the hell happened? Why are you here? And where is Wanda and Natasha? All these questions run through your mind. Panic setting in.

You start to look around again. This room is not one you are familiar with. The walls are wooden and a few paintings scattered around. There is a bedside table next to the bed you are laying on. It is soft, softer than anything you have been on in a long time. One of your wifes punishments for a long time has been sleeping on the ground. You notice the water on the bedside table which makes you realize how thirsty you are. Your mouth feels as though you have cotton in it. So you reach out grabbing it, but as you bring it to yourself you drop the glass and it shatters on the ground. 

Just then the door swings open and you see a panicked Wanda with Natasha behind her. They both quickly rush towards you. “Are you ok? Did you hurt yourself?” Wanda questions quickly come up next to you grabbing your hands and looking you over to see if you have any new injuries. “Where am I? What are we doing here? Why am I wearing different clothes?” You send out a rapid array of questions to the woman.

Wanda gives you a soft look. “We brought you here.” She told you, placing a hand on your check which you flinch from before letting her touch you. “We had to get you away from her.” Natasha added as she bent down cleaning up the shattered glass. “H-her, y-you mean my wife?” You question starting to push Wanda away and scrabble out of the bed. She grips you tightly and doesn’t let you up. 

“Ow, Wanda you're hurting me.” You tell her as her grip loosens on your good wrist. That is when you realize that they have tended to your injuries and cleaned you up. “Sorry detka. We just want to keep you safe. We never want to hurt you. You deserve so much better than that woman can provide you. We just want to keep you safe and give you the love you deserve.” Wanda gently tells you, holding your hands in hers. You let yourself relax and stare at her. “She can never hurt you again.” Natasha adds sitting down next to you. 

You can’t help but admit that you have had a crush on the women since you met them, but you have a wife and they were married to each other. So you always push down those feelings, but sitting here with the woman feels just right. Natasha’s words echoing in your head which causes you to think. “What do you mean she will never hurt me again? You can’t know that. W-what if she finds me?” You quickly panic at the thought. 

“She won’t be a problem anymore Y/n I promise you that.” Natasha reassures you, but something still doesn’t sit right. “Did you hurt her?” You question the woman sitting next to you. You can see an evil glint in her eyes. “No one will ever hurt you again and no one will ever find her.” Natasha said, trying to lessen the blow to the fact that she inadvertently admitted to killing your wife. You should be scared and you should try and run from them. They did kidnap you and murder your wife but you can’t find it in yourself to do any of that. They seem to care so much about you and you wouldn’t be surprised if they actually love you. 

“I-I I don’t know what to say.” You stutter out. They have already done more for you and made you feel so safe in such a short amount of time. So you accept it. You accept that they have killed your wife and brought you somewhere to keep you safe. They have taken care of your injuries. Your wrist has been set, they cleaned your cheek. Your eye doesn’t seem to be as swollen anymore. They really care for you. 

“You don’t have to say anything Y/n we love you so much already and we just want to give you everything you deserve.” Wanda gently strokes the back of your hand with her thumb. Natasha leans in and kisses your forehead. “You mean the world to us detka.” Natasha adds. Tears spring into your eyes at their words. They do love you and they are gentle with you. A stark contrast to the life you have been living. So you let the rational part of you go and you listen to the warm feeling in your chest. Leaning your body into Natasha as she wraps her arms around you. 

You feel tired again, your body relaxing with the safety you feel for the first time in a long time. You can’t remember the last time you felt like this. As you relax into Natasha she starts to guide you to lay down. She shuffles you and herself back on the bed pulling your body fully into hers. Wanda slides in behind you and wraps her arms around your waist as she gently kisses your shoulder. 

“We have you sweet girl and we promise to never hurt you.” Natasha kisses the top of your head. Your tired eyes closing as you nuzzle into her chest. You can get used to this. Living safe and sound with two women who love and care for you. “I love you.” You whisper as you drift off into a deep sleep. 

[milliesdiary]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐒

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; you’re a general's pants-wearing daughter: a skilled fighter, headstrong, and teased by others for not being feminine. during a sparring session with your friend, aemond, you two make a bet: if you win, he has to show you his eye. if he wins, you have to wear a dress — and kiss him.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; aemond being aemond, confessions, just some good old sweetness ✨

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; thank you so much to the amazing person who asked for this :”) i hope i could do it justice! to be as inclusive as possible, i do not mention the reader’s father’s descent. i also do not specify her skin tone, body type, eye/hair color, or hair texture ♡ 

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍’𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄.

Not like any other woman, at least. You’re strong-willed. Unshakeable. Not as naïve. 

As a child, you made mud pies, climbed trees, and kicked boys who made fun of you for acting unladylike. You would return to your parents with grime under your nails, grass stains on your pants, and a twinkle in your eyes. Blood never bothered you; you could get slashed open, bruised, and filthy, yet still make it home. 

Maybe it was because of your father — a stubborn general hardened by war, with a sharp way of speaking and a stern sentiment. He taught you the way of the sword at the age of 9, and instilled you with a sense of discipline. Not once did he try to force you into the stereotypes of being a woman; the fancy clothes, the manners, the expectation to give birth at any chance possible. 

That’s just not you. 

You're not the kind of girl who crumbles beneath the weight of insults, who loses her mind, who cries. You give the same treatment to those who hurt you. You are Bloody Mary, the venomous spider, the wicked snake. You are a creature that can wander through flames without getting burned.

So no, you are not like the other women.

And the townsfolk are always willing to remind you.

The second you step onto the training grounds, all eyes are on you, and there’s an intense discomfort at how they look you up and down.

They are taking in your appearance; your black flowy cape, leather pants, and the tunic cinched at your waist to match. It’s not the style they are used to seeing, comprised of silk dresses and chiffon gowns. 

People gossip about how you could steal the hearts of every man in Westeros if you just put on a skirt — if you sat with your legs crossed, prim and proper. If you smiled more often. 

“Such a waste of a pretty girl,” they whisper.

How stupid.

You shrug away their stares and try to focus on something else.

It’s a beautiful day, perfect for sparring; the November sunlight veils the world in a golden shawl, and the cool air is sweet as a mandarin. The temperature has risen enough so that you can train without getting numb or going home with an earache from the wind.

You’re more than ready for a fight, to get your hands soiled and feel sweat bead down your face. 

Walking over to a table where swords and blades of all kinds are spread along the surface, you feel that familiar rush of excitement. You’re about to grab a dagger until you hear someone call your name. 

It’s Ser Criston. He walks over, armor clicking with every stride and gleaming in the autumn sun, only to stop beside you. “I was waiting for when I would see you again. Have you come to train?” 

“Of course,” you say simply. “Did you expect any less?”

“Maybe not,” the knight replies, an accepting expression on his face. He knows that you enjoy playing dirty. 

Luckily, you and Ser Cristin get along. He is outside a lot of the time helping to train the others, so it was not unusual that you both talked from time to time. You aren’t sure if he is bothered by your lack of femininity, but he never mentions it, so you do not mind him.

You focus your attention back to the blades, picking up a particularly sharp sword. You weigh it in your hands; the grey metal is dense and heavy, brand new. Your reflection stares back at you in the steel. Ser Criston catches your hum of satisfaction. 

“That sword was gilded just days ago. A work of art,” He nods.

“Indeed it is,” you agree. Then you smile knowingly at him. “Is there anyone I can spar with?”

Ser Criston responds with a curt nod. Admiration dances in his brown eyes; he’s definitely not like the others. “Plenty.” 

Eager, you follow Ser Criston to the patch of land reserved for sword fighting. People are gathered in a circle around two men who are already sparring; the crowd cheers, made up of men who are desperate to make a good impression and women who have come to watch.

You glance at the pair of individuals who are currently engaged in a duel, following their sharp steps as they parry each other’s hits. You remain near the back of the crowd, bringing the tip of your sword to the ground and resting both hands on the hilt. 

You’re trying to act casual — but you’re actually itching for your turn. Impatient.

The fight turns out to be pretty boring. You’re able to guess every move before it’s done and correct every miscalculated block inside your head. It might be unfair to judge them so harshly; you’re a skilled fighter and have trained for years. The advantage is yours. 

But you also can’t bring yourself to care. These are the same men who boast about their power despite being weak.

You’re genuinely relieved when one of the men knocks the other down, leveling their sword at their opponent’s face. The people around you clap for awhile, and then the crowd slowly breaks apart as some leave to continue their duties. 

It’s fine; you don’t need the validation of a crowd during a match.

“Alright,” you say gruffly, ripping your sword from the dirt and skirting through the gaps of people, stepping onto the sandy soil of the sparring area. You turn to face a few of the trainees’ expectant faces. They are waiting for you to choose someone, though all of them seem pathetic. Might as well get it over with.

“Would you like to duel?” You finally ask a man toward the front.

For a second, he remains still. And then he smiles; fucking smirks like he’s a serpent and you’re a lamb ensnared between its teeth. He thinks you’re an easy opponent, all because you’re a woman. 

Beating him is going to feel good, you think. Beating all of them.

Balancing the sword in a hand, you spit into the dirt just to spite him — which is successful in making multiple people cringe. Good. You have to bite back a smile and prepare yourself for your opponent’s first strike. 

And you were right, of course.

They’re all useless, each more powerless than the last. There’s no challenge, no threat. Not even child’s play with any of them. You have more than half of your competitors on their asses before they even get an opportunity to attack, making every clang of your sword against another seem meaningless.

You ought to take pride in it, thinking back to their breathy chuckles as they whispered about how deluded you were. How unwomanly.

But you don’t. You don't feel prideful, self satisfied, or any emotion of fulfillment. It’s too easy. 

The blows from your adversary are repetitive, almost as if he is rehearsing a list of strategies. The movements are easy to predict, giving you the upper hand. It’s not difficult to knock him on the ground, sweeping his legs out from beneath him with a blow that you wish he would have jumped over.

There is someone who definitely would have dodged it, though.

The enigma, the cunning raven, the Prince — Aemond Targaryen. The one man who doesn’t judge you or stare condescendingly. The only person who you consider an equal, an acquaintance. 

Aemond is a man of honor. His eye is the shade of lavender, and every syllable that falls from his tongue is sliced apart by the sharp quirk of his lips. High cheekbones, fair skin, an eyepatch making a home over a scar that sits where his eyelid once was. 

A dark serpent. 

Just as you struggle with your identity, he does, too. You are aware of Aemond’s lack of restraint, lack of faith, lack of fear, and his internal conflict. You know why the man is the way he is.

Aemond had told you what happened once, after you had finished having a nice conversation with his nephews. It’s tragic: when a person doesn't feel valued as a member of a family, they develop a sort of outcast mentality. Childhood experiences of neglect paves the way for lifelong isolation, and as a result, Aemond withdrew. He started spending time alone.

But out of every person in the world, he chose to keep a spot open for you. It’s an honor, really.

The man you are sparring with gives in, standing to his feet with a grunt of humiliation and shooting you a glare. You return it with one of your own, ready to pick another opponent, and then—

“You have been busy, I see,” A familiar voice says.

You turn toward the sound of it, the lull and the accent — only to be met with Aemond standing in the front of the crowd. You size him up, sword dangling at your side. 

Aemond’s arms are crossed behind his back in a casual fashion, head held high with interest. His white hair is in a half-up half-down style, the ends flowing over his broad shoulders like a silk scarf.

“My Prince.” There’s no stopping the grin that blooms on your lips. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you always find excitement in his presence. “Dare I ask how long you have been watching?” 

“Long enough.” Aemond is silent as he scans you up and down; there’s not a single streak of dirt on you, nor a single cut. He takes notice. “Pray tell: how many men have you made fools of?” 

“I don’t know,” you dramatically sigh, acting indifferent. You retreat from the center of the sparring ground to stand in front of him. “I have not had the luxury to count. I was too busy winning.”

Aemond exhales a sharp breath from his nose — his way of conveying amusement — and slightly tilts his head. “It seems that they have not prepared themselves for a woman of your caliber.” 

It’s a compliment; a bit cheeky, yes, but a compliment nonetheless. It has you rocking back and forth on your heels in anticipation. “A woman of my caliber? I must say, My Prince, I am flattered.” 

“I would not say it unless it were true.” 

“Well, if it is of any comfort, you are not like any man I have ever known," you jibe. "You're like a character in a folktale. Someone from a history book.”  

"The prince, I presume." 

"No, you're the dragon. A magnificently evil dragon." Your tone becomes teasing. “How could anyone lead a regular life with a beast like you?”

“I should inquire the same, My Lady.”

“You just don’t understand a woman that dares to be different, that’s all.”

Aemond lets out a simple ‘hmm’ at that. You slap him in the arm playfully and he doesn’t flinch. He only graces you with the tiniest smirk.

The prince does not enjoy being touched, though the aversion seems to disappear when it comes to you. He can tell; he knows by how he does not scowl at the idea of your hand on his shoulder, or cringe at the feeling of your arm brushing against his. You do not give off negative energy. 

Perhaps this is why you have remained in contact with each other; you don’t judge one another for the things you are and for the things you can’t be. Somewhere, deep down, you both think the same thing: take me as I am, or watch my back as I go.

You know of Aemond’s true nature, and he realizes yours.

Much like him, you cannot be picked and thrown away like a flower or an old manuscript. You are a hurricane: ferocious, unflinching, and authentic. A dagger that will slice through the flesh of anyone who dares to cross you.

Though he will not publicly admit it, your spunkiness delights him.

“Come then,” Aemond says. 

You’re confused at his words — unsure of what he’s talking about — before he saunters to the center of the sparring circle. He brandishes his sword from a holster wrapped around his hip, the metal screeching into the air. “We have yet to train together. Demonstrate your skills to me.” 

It’s true. In the years you’ve known him, you have never once challenged each other. You know what Aemond is capable of though, so it’s intimidating. It’s probably the main reason you have never asked to spar. 

Maybe it’s time to change that; you’re not about to back down from a fight. It would hurt your pride too much. 

“Fine,” you agree, slinking forward to stand before him in the training area.

There’s so much you want to know about Aemond, you notice. So much that you’d like to learn. Your gaze is focused on his face, and his eye, and then that eyepatch — and you realize that he has never showed you what’s underneath the leather.

You’ve heard the rumors: how the socket has been replaced by a sapphire, a deep, saturated blue that reflects the light at every angle. You wish so badly to see it. For him to trust you with the imperfect parts of him. 

It gives you an idea.

“I will spar with you,” you begin, maintaining a serious tone in your voice. “But only if we make a bet.” 

The look on Aemond's face changes from being neutral to intrigued. He slices the earth open by shoving his sword into the soil. “And what would that be, My Lady?”

“If I win,” you quip, “you must show me your eye.”

The silence is deafening.

Aemond frowns then. You’re scared for a second; scared that you went too far and bit off more than you could chew.

Looking back on the past can be very frustrating. You have to let it go, you want to tell his younger self, clapping him on the back. If you did that, he might get angry. Or maybe cry. Maybe you would, too. 

You open your mouth to revoke the words, yet close it just as quick, unable to get a single syllable out. 

But then he speaks.

“Then it shall be,” Aemond says firmly. He leans his weight on his sword, crossing one ankle over the other. You aren’t sure if he actually doesn’t care or if he’s just hiding his anger. He’s always been an expert at keeping his emotions at bay. “If that is what you wish.” 

Relief is a godsend in that moment. You fix your surprised expression into one that is more calm. “…And if you win?”

Aemond seems to think it over.

Finally, he decides on something; with the mischief that glints in that one eye, you know it’s going to be less than satisfactory. “I propose you wear a dress for an entire day.”  

“What? There’s no way—“

“And kiss me.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise. 

Is this how he plans on winning? By threatening you with something so strange in the hopes that you will give up before you started? Like hell you’re going to kiss him. Fuck that. “You cannot be serious.”

“But I am,” he says coolly. Taunting. 

In that moment, you consider your options. One, you could retreat. Two, you could fight him and win, effectively seeing the thing he hides most. Third, you could lose, and have to wear a dress, and…

The thought has you reeling. But, at the same time, you do not want to run away from a challenge. You never have. And never, ever will. 

You’ll just have to win.

“It is settled then,” you nod, trying to remain composed. Your voice wavers a bit; if Aemond notices, he does not comment on it.

Aemond’s mouth creeps into the slightest smile. He tears his sword from the earth and spins it in the air with a flick of his wrist. “Whenever you are ready, then,” he deadpans.

“I have been ready,” you tease, stepping sideways as you both begin to circle each other. Your footsteps are light and airy in a silent prowl, a show of the expertise your father passed to you. “Are you?” 

“The first to hold the other at sword-point wins,” Aemond states, ignoring your question. There’s a sharpness to his words as he tries to draw a reaction from you. Provoke you. “I hope you do not hold back.”

“You must think lowly of me, My Prince,” You retort. “I would never do such a thing. Are you worried that I am going to beat you at your own game?”

Aemond licks his lips, fixing you with a predatory stare; it looks as if he wants to use his canines to rip apart the air, the world, your body that stands before him.

It urges you into action.

You lunge with your sword, but Aemond knocks it to the side with ease, spinning his own in a hand and making a swipe at you.

You don’t hesitate to deflect it — once, twice, three times — before parrying another of his blows. You manage to hit Aemond’s sword particularly hard the fourth time, and you catch a glint of surprise in his eye.

You take a quick step back, before confidently transferring your blade from one hand to the other without breaking eye contact. Your head is buzzing with exhilaration.

“Did you think it would be that simple?” You grin arrogantly. “As a man who studies the way of the sword, I thought you would be more of a challenge.”

To your chagrin, Aemond doesn’t gift you with a reaction. His profile remains composed, although there is a fire in his eye; he has finally found someone who tests him. 

You are about to say something else before he lunges for you.

Aemond is fast and skilled, the swiftness of his steps impressive, with a strength in his arms that could send you to the ground if you gave him an opening. With every clash of your swords, you know he’s evaluating your endurance, your attacks, the likelihood of you slashing him with your blade.

However, Aemond is not attempting to boast his power; not like the other trainees who argue like idiots about whose sword is the sharpest or who has the best balance. That’s what you like about him.

Aemond’s jaw is set and confidence keeps his chin held high, even as you deliver another strike to his blade. Your attention is drawn to the way his knuckles are white from the grip on his sword; veins protrude from the pretty skin of his hands, emphasizing the slender length of his fingers.

Focus.

Strike. Block. Dodge. Slash again. You score another hit, but Aemond follows it immediately with a jab at your chest, which has you losing your balance. You respond with a stab at his side, though he dodges it. 

This dance of blades feels like it lasts forever; if it were anyone else, you probably would have won by now. Every second feels like a minute, each one longer than the last. 

Just before a leap, Aemond tightens his grip on the weapon’s hilt. Before you can react and fix your stance, the sword swings towards your feet, his speed and skill working together to knock you off-balance. You land on your back in the dirt, your blade flying somewhere.

You’re fast, yes. But he is faster.

Quickly you try lift yourself up and grapple for it, but suddenly Aemond pushes you back down. He straddles you, careful not to place his entire weight on your body, and then the pointed edge of his blade is at your throat.

You’ve lost.

Aemond lets out a breathy pant, a wicked grin on his lips — it sends a chill branching down your spine, all the way to your feet. Spite coils in your chest, your nerves trembling with adrenaline, and you see the thrill of the fight reflected in Aemond’s eye.

You are both the same in that way.

“You do put up quite a fight,” Aemond jests, his tone low and deep. You let both arms lay flat across the ground, every breath labored as your heart punches the inside of your ribcage. “Though I am afraid it was not enough.”

You've never experienced energy like this before. You’re trapped underneath him which is exciting in a strange way. You respond with sarcasm in an attempt to hide your embarrassment.

“You offer to spar with a woman only to fling her into the dirt,” you pant. “How polite of you.”

“And you spar with a dragon.” Up close, Aemond’s iris is a startling violet, and the pupil reflects streaks of shadow and light. He’s agonizingly gorgeous. It makes you feel warm. “Is that not what you called me?”

“You are a man of the most preposterous kind.”

“And yet you still wallow in my company.”

There’s nothing you can really say about that. In a final act of defiance, you stare him down as long as possible; in this small way, you feel undefeated. “You can release me now.”

Aemond hums in acknowledgment, letting his sword hang at his side and slowly standing. In a rare act, the prince offers a hand for you to take, but you slap it away. He is entertained by your glare. “You never fail to reject kindness when it is given.”

“Kindness does not serve me.”

Aemond is amused at your annoyance. He spins his sword between his fingers before sheathing it back into its holster, and you pick up your sword to pass it to an observing knight. When you turn back around, Aemond is staring at you. “What?”

“You owe me a debt.”

There was the bet; you’d almost forgot. Gods, you were going to have to wear a dress for a day, and — and…  

“Regretting your choices now?” The taught line of Aemond’s mouth evolves into a smile, coy and demure.

“No — no, of course not,” you snap. The words don’t come out as calm as you need them to, and it’s all because of him; he has a way of being frustrating. Always doing something to make you tighten your fists. But as much as you would like to blame him, it was your idea. You reap what you sow. “I never break a promise.”

“Good,” comes Aemond’s response. You both stare at each other for a bit, and then you realize: he’s waiting for you to kiss him. For real. Right here, right now.

“What is wrong, little bird?” He teases. “Do not fly away from me now.”

“I—“ you start, unsure of what to do. A split-second decision is made. “I am not doing this here.” 

Before Aemond can say anything, you are grabbing him by the arm and tugging him along. You pull him past clusters of townsfolk, ignoring their curious stares and keeping your gaze forward. He does not resist you.

After peering around an empty alley and inspecting it for any stragglers, you drag him into the stony darkness and nearly slam him against the wall. It’s not on purpose; you’re just reacting to the aftershocks of adrenaline. 

You need to be alone to do something like this. 

You’re so close to Aemond now that you’re breathing the same air as him, nearly pressed against his chest. You can smell his jasmine shampoo, can feel the warmth radiating from his body. You try to slow your breathing: in and out, to clear your head and push every doubt away.

When you find the courage to look straight at Aemond, you find that he’s already gazing at you. 

The light is dim, though you can still make out his profile. You expect his violet eye to be full of mirth, akin to a wild animal staring back at its prey — but what Aemond offers you is righteous and noble. It causes you to prickle with eagerness and anxiety. 

“Do not look at me like that,” you mumble.

“In what way?”

“That way.” You don’t even know what you’re referring to. You just want him to stop staring; it’s burning you up from the inside. “You always act like this when you feel like you have won.”

Aemond’s smirk grows before your eyes. His gaze flickers to the sliver of space between you, and then back to your face. “Sometimes I feel that you know me better than I know myself.” 

You would let out a sneer if you weren’t so terrified; you need to uphold your side of the bet. You know it. And you definitely don’t want to give him the chance to tease you for your hesitation. 

“Maybe I do,” you breathe. Then, grappling with every single piece of boldness you can find, you press your lips upon Aemond’s. 

The kiss is resolute — there’s no way you were going to half-ass it — and you fall into him roughly, slamming each emotion you feel onto his mouth. He tenses a little, but then his hands rise to your arms, thumbs pressing into the sleeves of your tunic.

And then it’s over. 

You break away from Aemond, almost shocked at yourself. Did that really just happen? Your blood pressure is through the roof, pulse thumping like a war drum.

You stare at him, and he stares right on back, both of you saying nothing. You can't look away, as frightened as you are. His expression is soft. So soft that it scares you, yet his eye darkens with interest.

You try to make a joke out of it, to rid yourself of this awkward feeling.

“With the way you are looking at me, My Prince, I would assume you actually like me,” you jest. It doesn’t work. Your brain is mush and the words are flimsy. Gods, you feel overheated. 

Aemond only blinks, those silver lashes fluttering against his cheeks. It seems like he has come to a realization, and you don’t know what that is. He’s testing the waters; waiting to see if you will run away.

“And what then, My Lady?” he finally replies.

Your body gets hotter in an instant. The implications behind his words are enthralling, holding you in a death grip and making it impossible to speak. You’re searching for something to say, anything, but come up empty handed. Part of you is glad when he fills the silence. 

“I must admit,” Aemond says slowly. “There is a certain quality to you. You seem unbreakable.” 

“You know that’s not true,” you whisper.

“Perhaps,” he says. “Though there are times where I am not so certain.”

“Aemond…” 

“Tell me: what do you think of me?” Aemond suddenly asks. It’s not commanding, not a demand. It just feels…personal. You’re not sure how else to describe it, the sound of him speaking so softly. Your ears are accustomed to your father's stern instructions and peoples’ jeers of your boyish antics. His tone sultry, he asks, “Do I make you nervous?” 

“No—you don’t make me nervous,” you stutter. It’s hard to look him in the eye as the lie comes from your lips. “I do not really think of you much, honestly.”

“Hm.” Whether or not Aemond knows you’re lying, you have no idea. “You would be astonished then if you knew the ways I have thought about you.” 

“What do you mean?”

Aemond takes in your expression, gaze flitting down to your mouth and then back up to your eyes. “Would you like to know?”

“Yes,” you say automatically. You’re not sure why you’re hoping for something more — something other than just empty insults and jests. Almost as if he knows what you’re thinking, Aemond leans in. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks.

“You are alluring when you ache for chaos. The flesh of your opponents are beneath your nails and their blood stains your teeth, and I can see you are a woman on fire.” His voice just above a whisper, breath hot against your cheek. “We are both made of flame. You have stolen my attention, my love.”

My love. He has never called you that before.

And it’s in this very second that you have an epiphany. How could you not have noticed it earlier? Felt it? How did you ignore the passion whenever this man talked, the warmth he conjured within you, how grateful you were that he treated you differently than others? 

Aemond has feelings for you. And judging by how you are instantly filled with a massive amount of satisfaction, happiness, and excitement, you hold affections for him too.

But what is love, anyway? It must be the imprints someone creates inside of you—bruises, scars, gashes. Maybe he had maimed you in the same way, except you turned a blind eye to it. Truthfully, you never even thought you would experience something like this. 

After all, love makes humans do terrible things, and you do not consider yourself to be that bloodthirsty. So much of it is violent; there’s the desire to be split apart, defiled, twisted, and reinvented by another person. 

You have seen lovers approach one another in a wolflike manner, ravenous and feral for their attention. People who challenge their love get dragged in between them and flayed open without mercy. It’s terrifying, though it’s not watching the wolves tear others apart that scares you. 

It’s knowing that you would do that for him.

Aemond boldly stares you down. “You are unaware to the extent I defend myself and my sentiments. How you manage to get the truth from me is rather peculiar.”

He suddenly reaches out and touches your cheek; he does it slowly, almost as if you are a beast trapped in a snare and he might scare you away. 

Then Aemond moves his thumb to the corner of your mouth, before skimming it over your bottom lip and pulling it down slightly. He stares down at the inside of your lip — the sensitive, shiny flesh — wishing that he could brand his name there. If anyone tried to entertain you after, you could simply tug your lip down and show them who you belonged to.

This is not a simple bet anymore. 

The urge to kiss Aemond again breaks free from within your system. Against your control, the impulse expresses itself in dirty thoughts that invade the most intimate parts of your body.

Quickly, you grab Aemond’s wrist and tug his hand away so you can press your lips to his once more.

“I hate you,” you breathe against him, holding his face between your hands as your noses brush together. “I hate you so much.” 

Aemond retaliates accordingly; the way he licks into your mouth sends a shiver that ricochets throughout your body. He’s hot. So, so hot. His fingers cup the back of your neck to keep you close as your hands fly away from his face to hold every inch of him possible. 

Aemond’s chest is warm, and his lips are scorching when he trails them over the corner of your mouth and then down your throat. You let your fingers roam to his hair, exploring the softness of each strand that drapes over his shoulder blades.

Aemond knows he’s getting a reaction out of you, that you are starting to feel the prickle of lust. It’s humiliating. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing you can be riled up so easily. It is not like Aemond would give in to your primal desires anyway; he cares too much about duty, about honor. The man follows house tradition — marriage comes before anything else. He is just toying with you now.

You break apart from him, something he surprisingly allows. You want to tell him that you love him, just so he knows. If only you had the ability to articulate such things. 

“Is this all you wanted?” You ask instead. “A kiss from me?”

Aemond places his hands on your elbows to coax you back a bit further; he wishes to see you entirely. His hand then rises to your cheek, where his thumb strokes at the underside of your jaw. “I did not want just a kiss, darling,” he reassures. 

“And for how long have you been thinking like this?” You steel yourself and continue more quietly. “How long have you loved me?”

“Since the boar hunt,” Aemond says without hesitation. “You begged your mother to let you join, and a girl said you might as well be a townsboy. You tackled her to the ground.”

“But that was the day we met.”

“It was.”

“…That is…quite a long time.”

Aemond only hums at that. The confession makes your heart flutter and threaten it to stop; you swallow down his words, grateful, and then try to collect yourself. You clear your throat. “My Prince—”

“Aemond,” he corrects. 

“Aemond. I need you to know something.” 

“And what is that, my love?”

“You can’t sweet talk me into wearing a dress. I will not do it.”  

“You will.” 

Damn it. He is really not going to give this up.

“I hope you burn in the Seven Hells,” you mutter. It’s a joke, of course. You can’t really be mad at him. 

Aemond’s lips threaten to twitch into a smile. An emotion akin to pride rests in his eye. “I shall only go if you accompany me there.”

And maybe, just maybe, you were meant to burn together. Whatever your destiny is, one thing becomes very clear:

You will ruin him, and he will love you for it.

[usedpidemo]

Parasailing (Kim Minju & Jo Yuri)

> You're lonely and feel sad because your favorite idols are gone and never upload any pictures in their Instagram. You're really missing them because Minju and Yuri are your favorite underrated ship in Izone. When you decided to drinking alone in tent bar you recognize Minju and Yuri are there having their good time. You're so shy to be at the same place with them and stealing glances. Until you realized that you're drinking with them and told them how you miss them. Because of too much drinking alcohol and being bratty Yuri, she flirt with you and shy Minju try to stop her and after that they are in your place with Yuri kissing you and Minju watching it. being shy but enjoy it. And you fuck bratty Yuri and shy Minju. After that you're kissing their forehead and tell them that your so lucky to be with them and tell them that they are so loveable - @quietfallendemon

—————

There is no other way to put it: you’ve hit rock bottom. You’re down horrendous. It’s a sorry state your family or friends can drag you out of, no matter how hard they try—and that’s if you still have any friends left. In the eyes of randoms, they see a zombie, a soulless husk of a man—one who used to be brimming with life, with nothing but anguish and despair filling his soul now. Each passerby looks on with one of two expressions: concern and pity or apathy and indifference. Some with a little disgust. They’ve got lives to live, obligations to attend to, and some divine purpose given by higher powers to fulfill. So do you, but there’s a difference: you’ve lost the will to live.

Barely functioning, everyday life has turned into a nightmarish hell. Days, then weeks, and eventually months, fly by in a loop. You slog through your office job, receive income, then you carelessly splurge on lavish drinking bursts afterward. Your liver absolutely despises your guts by now. Night after night, you drink away the ceaseless pain hurting your heart more than the alcohol you consume. It’s become too numbing at this point. The morning after, you don’t bother cleaning up the mess you unknowingly made from the day before, especially when you throw up on the floors of your apartment rather than on your toilet. 

So it goes. Not a single day passes by without digging your grave a little deeper with your alcohol addiction, but Fridays were particularly special. It’s when you decide that your place shouldn’t bear the brunt of your rampant alcoholism for one day. Instead, after another monotonous shift, you head to your favorite place—your other place of solitude—a tent bar that treats you like their best friend, mainly because you’re their most loyal customer, but otherwise, you enjoy the fresh air, grilled food, and the patrons’ attempts to sing their hearts out—with hilarious results.

Of course, the drinks were also part of the experience. You usually end up passing out quicker compared to every other day.

You’re partially through your first drink when two particularly mesmerizing girls walk in holding hands. Tipsy or not, their beauty immediately captures your attention. Even dressed in all black, they’re shining, like angels descended from heaven to grace this cursed earth, sent to remind people of their higher purpose and walk in them. 

Gradually, you’re staring, drooling. Your brain’s in complete shambles, unable to comprehend how divine creatures like them casually walk among mere mortals, partaking in lowly, sinful activities like drinking and hanging out at bars. They take their seats across your table; a perfect position to hold your attention in permanent captivity, without any obstruction. 

A waiter approaches the two women, and he should’ve been a distraction, but instead, it becomes a showcase. The girl in the black dress, seated on the left, shoots these playful, childish stares at the waiter, basically flirting with the guy while she stating her order. Her partner is much more reserved, sharing hers in an orderly manner before they’re left to talk with themselves again. The older girl slaps her friend’s shoulder, as if correcting her, which the younger woman simply brushes off with a laugh. From just one interaction, you’re hooked. You had to have her. This night won’t end without their names etched in your head, and if you’re lucky, their number, maybe even more.

Another waiter arrives at your table, bottle in hand, asking if you want a refill, which you absentmindedly decline. You’re drinking in the sight of the two girls, even as they do casual activities while waiting. They’re exchanging conversations, hiding suppressed giggles, but it doesn’t mute the younger woman’s boisterous laughter. It should be a nuisance, but it isn’t; it’s a treat to watch her cheeky, bright personality. Even her friend, whose disposition is a complete contrast, has some charm to her reserved nature, and they bounce off each other seamlessly. 

In the midst of this space between you and the girls, someone else is singing karaoke, much to the girls’ amusement. That’s their source of laughter, the very grating voice of that poor soul. Even the older girl’s starting to lighten up, despite repeatedly tapping her friend’s shoulder while she laughs along. Their waiter arrives with their drinks, and they immediately down two glasses each in rapid succession. You’re not even halfway through your first.

“Hey, you think I should try to sing and make these losers second guess about performing next time?” asks the younger girl, staring at the next patron performing on stage.

“Please don’t.” The older woman replies, face flushed bright red from embarrassment. “We shouldn’t make a scene here—”

“C’mon, no one cares. Why are you such a killjoy, Minmin?” she retorts, making a cute pout. Minmin’s dismay is your enjoyment.

“I know you want to sing so bad, Yul. Believe me, you’ll be back on stage soon, but you just have to be patient—”

“Says the loser who hasn’t gotten an acting job, actress!” 

You’re amazed Minmin hasn’t tried to physically restrain her—at least, not yet. Instead, she’s dragged along by Yul to the stage so they can perform. The older woman reluctantly follows without any resistance, simply grabbing the mics without any fanfare, not even announcing who they are or what they’ll perform.

The music starts. The girls begin to sing. It’s after the first verse that the pieces begin to come together.

Somehow, this girl, Yul, with her childish attitude, flirty face, and sharp tongue, has the most soulful voice you’ve heard in a very long time. She looks effortless; she runs through each part with minimal strain and her expressions convey the emotion of the ballad very well. Minmin isn’t far off either, but her vocal does not hold a candle to Yul’s. If they were bar singers, you’d be cursing at the earth giving these two unfortunate circumstances, because such talent shouldn’t be constrained to the confines of an open bar. These two are truly angels.

When the song ends, Yul reverts to her mischievous persona, shooting winks and flying kisses at the audience as she walks off the stage, followed by her best friend, shyly bowing at every turn. After returning to their seats, the younger woman’s wearing this prideful, triumphant expression on her lips, basking in the glory, eager to gloat. Minmin’s nervously smiling, still gently bowing at everyone while cutely gesturing with her hands in a plea to make everyone stop. 

Then it’s business as usual at the tent bar again. Copious drinking, out of pitch singing, and you mindlessly staring at the girls that it’s outright criminal.

Until the thought finally hits.

“Yul…Minmin…Yuri…Minju,” you silently mouth. Your eyes suddenly widen, and the realization finally dawns on you.

At first, it was a complete coincidence. They looked too similar to be truly them, that it’s a convincing impersonation or face job at best. The real evidence was in their vocals. They sounded too similar, close to a near-perfect impression. You’ve never heard such divine singing in a very long time, and now it's clear why. 

Jo Yuri and Kim Minju performed for you. 

The day they disappeared just so happened to be the same day your life began to fall apart. While they’re out here living their best lives and enjoying their down time, you were at your lowest, your breaking point. Some part of you understands they bear no blame; it’s fate, an inevitability of any temporary group. Yet, no matter how much you prepared for the end, you couldn’t endure the loss. The other members have successfully transitioned to their new careers, whether it be in new groups or even solo, but those two—Minju and Yuri— essentially went off the radar. They barely posted on Instagram, so you couldn’t even keep up with them on a consistent basis like their former members. Their last shared photos were eight months ago. Minimal social media messages, even fewer magazine shoots or advertisements, and no music, movie, or show to get excited about. 

To see them together again not only brings nostalgia, but also revives your sense of purpose again. 

Every girl in that group was special, but in your eyes, Minju and Yuri were different. Yuri had her standout vocals, Minju with her divine beauty, but you loved them beyond those traits; you loved everything about them. You promised you’d support their endeavors after disbandment, but so far, there was nothing to support. Their absence from the spotlight hurt you more than it hurt them. The worst part is the realization that you’ll likely never see them after tonight, that you can’t do anything to convince them to further their careers—to do something. After all, you wanted them both to thrive like their other members. 

Of course, you can’t approach them casually. You’ll probably melt into a puddle mere steps away. So you whip out your phone and take rapid-fire photos. It’s dangerous, but fuck it, this is a once in a lifetime scene. They’re preoccupied with their drinks and conversation to notice your camera. You gather a gallery that will sustain you for months, even if they disappear from the public eye again. At first, you’re delighted, overjoyed even, but the immediate realization clouds your mood. 

You sigh. You put your phone down, staring at the twosome once again, but this time, with a yearning desire. They’re within your grasp. Uncertain of the future, you slowly reach out with your hand, imagining a scenario where you pour your heart out to them—how you missed them so badly, how much their disappearance has affected you, and how you’ll wait for them till eternity, even if realistically, you’ll break long before that no matter how long it takes for them to make a song, be in a movie or show, anything. Sure, this all sounds ridiculous, alarmingly disturbing, and should be shared with a therapist instead of two celebrities, but to you, no one would understand more than Minju and Yuri can. 

When you draw your hand back, Minju’s eyes are locked right at yours. She’s gently smiling and waving back. Yuri notices her gesture, recognizes you, and waves along with greater energy. The younger idol giggles at you. She catches you in a moment of weakness, cheeks puffed up and tensely flushed. The two girls exchange a brief glance, Yuri’s eyes alight with a new opportunity to cause more mischief, smirking at her, essentially screaming that no one, not even Minju, can stop her. 

Yuri cocks her head to the side, shoots you a wink, a flying kiss, sticks out her tongue; she flirts with a tinge of both cuteness and sexiness that heightens her attraction—and awakens a bit of your lust. Minju facepalms, awkwardly chuckling, wanting no part in this act. You’re left frozen, in awe at how unabashedly coy she is. She was the resident brat, but now she’s taken her friskiness to a whole new level. Proving your point, she pulls the strap of her dress down, teasing, expression mocking, quietly mouthing, “I know you want it.” Just as shocked as you, her friend’s eyes widen, her hand covering her mouth before tapping Yuri’s shoulder, telling her to stop. Surprisingly, she complies obediently, pulls her thin strap back up. 

Hopefully, no one else besides you saw that.

Averting their gaze for a moment, you take a moment to let the small interaction sink in. You got more than you bargained for: a serenade, a gallery’s worth of photos, and flirty fanservice from your favorite idols. Perhaps this is what you needed to finally bring yourself out of your self-inflicted funk and back to normalcy. Maybe this is what you really need all along: closure. They won’t be in your life moving forward, but your fond memories of them are always there to look back on, and you’re grateful for the joy they provided you during those difficult times.

When you look back up, Minju and Yuri have disappeared from the table across yours; they’re directly seated right in front of you. They’re carefully watching your every move, Yuri’s expression brazen as ever, constantly searching for opportunities to pick you apart, and Minju, her enabler, despite the light admonitions and warnings, shyly following her junior’s eyes. All it takes is one turn before it spirals into a car crash of disastrous proportions.

Thankfully, you’re not the one to break the ice. “Sup,” says Yuri, casually feigning innocence. Your lips move in the shape of hello, but only air comes out. They’ve seen this reaction from fans hundreds of times.

“Hello,” adds Minju, sweetly smiling, as pure as her brightly lit face. “Did you enjoy our little performance?”

It takes a minute—maybe four—before an answer forms in your head. You’ve seen them from afar, you’ve seen them up close, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine them talking to you on an intimate level. They’re patient, softly giggling over how overwhelmed and speechless you are to respond back. Anyone else in that space would react the same way; you don’t need to move your neck around to feel the jealousy from your fellow patrons. You’re not only carrying your own burdens, but the expectations of others.

“Yeah.” The word comes out natural, without second thought, while your thoughts are focused on them and them alone. Fuck, their skin looks flawless, is your sole noteworthy observation. Even if you had the full capacity to think coherently, you’d end up with this exact same answer. 

“We missed performing on stage, so we felt that it would be nice to go up and—” Minju pauses, repeatedly turning to her friend, silently observing you, trying her best to look diplomatic. “Sing a little bit. We were a little nervous, but I’m glad you liked it.” 

“Well, why haven’t you done that?” you ask, the nervous smile on your features gradually shifting to a frown.

“Done what?”

Leaning forward, the stare you shoot is sharp, cold. “You haven’t been on Instagram in months. Both of you. The other members have been on TV, they’ve been releasing music, they’ve been doing photoshoots, they’re in commercials. They’re being successful, but you—” You pause, aware of your surroundings, trying your hardest not to make a scene. “Where the hell have you been?”

Both girls’ reactions split down the middle as your temper flares ever slightly. Yuri leans back into her chair, turns to her friend, surprised by the sudden shift in tone, anxious of what happens now. Minju remains calm, gently rubs her hand on hers, reassuring her. 

She takes a moment to formulate a response. “It’s been harder than we thought.”

“How come?” 

Another pause. Minju sighs pondering the thought. “You have no idea how much we want to perform, you know. Believe us. We really tried. I’ve auditioned for a few big name projects, got a few scripts from some web dramas. They were glorified cameos at best. You don’t know how painful it is to see the news that someone else got the role in those big projects—”

Yuri nods in agreement, equally as dejected. She adds, “They promised me I’d debut soon. They never specified exactly when. They have this boy group I’ve written songs for, they debuted and made two comebacks already with another one lined up in a few months. I’ve written and recorded so many songs that I absolutely want to perform. Waiting this long, I—”

Yuri pauses, then sighs. Her eyes are glassy.

“I don’t even know if I want to do this anymore.”

The revelation pierces through your heart like an arrow. It’s heartbreaking. Unbelievable, hearing it directly from their mouths. You simply cannot believe they’re struggling when everyone else has been able to successfully continue their careers. Even shittier agencies recognize the treasure they have and at least try to make something happen, but this is completely absurd. It sounds too painful to be true.

Only one word can perfectly describe it. “How?”

“We honestly don’t know.” Minju replies, solemn, downtrodden, defeated. “We might just give up, honestly. Our management won’t do anything to help us. Maybe our time in the spotlight is just meant to be short-lived.”

You remember the rumblings from a while back, how Minju was scouted and offered a seven-figure deal to join her other members in Le sserafim. She declined. In retrospect, she could have saved her career and two months’ worth of migraines with what eventually became a disastrous debut. Fuck, even the thought of seeing her with Sakura and Chaewon together in that alternate reality sparks your imagintion.

“You should have taken that deal, Minju. You really should have.” You put it to her straight, almost mocking, very damning, as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

She sighs through the thought, completely despondent. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The mood is cold, grim. Alcohol releases your most intrusive thoughts, no matter how harsh or intimate they sound. That isn’t to say you don’t regret them; you’ll ponder the consequences in the morning, as usual. At the very least, you find common ground with your two favorite idols, drinking it up through life’s challenges as a coping mechanism.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly blurt. “I—I just really miss you both on screen.”

“It’s all right,” adds Minju, trying to form a smile through the pain. Seeing the vulnerability in her eyes makes the gesture even more heartbreaking. “I’m just glad you’re still waiting for us. That anyone still wants us.”

“God, you can’t imagine the jealousy I feel whenever I see the others nowadays and immediately wonder what are you doing. I mean, I don’t hate them, I just—” 

“Oh, I understand that feeling very well,” Minju replies, her grin slowly widening, suppressing a chuckle. Yuri takes the bottle on your side to pour a drink on your cup, which she also steals. “We still keep contact and they’re also asking what the fuck are we even doing.”

“Look on the bright side, they don't have time to have fun these days, am I right?” Yuri interrupts, followed by boisterous laughter from her. Minju tries, but gloom gets in the way. You try to laugh, but it hurts to laugh right now, among a multitude of other feelings, particularly, pain, despair, and regret.

“Well, it’s not been fun for me ever since you’ve been gone,” you say.

You slip your phone concealed behind your hand, slide it across the table. The two women smile at what’s on screen; it’s memories from their past. It’s a treasure trove of funny, embarrassing, and endearing captures that border on obsession. If they didn’t know any better, you’d certainly be under a restraining order after seeing the bogus gallery saved on your phone.

“Damn, we looked quite cute,” says Yuri, scrolling between pictures. Their heads inch a little closer, while their free fingers trace around each other’s edges.

“Yeah.” Minju lightly nods. “I’m glad we still have each other, even now.”

The older woman slides the phone back to you. Two pairs of eyes gaze at you, both with piqued interest, but Yuri’s eyes widen, with much bigger intentions in mind.

“We really appreciate that you’re still waiting for us,” adds Minju, humble in tone and demeanor as ever. “Just give us your order tonight. It’s all on us.”

You’re briefly taken aback. Even with your sorry state, you feel as if you don’t deserve to be rewarded. Panickedly, you shake your head, “No—no—please don’t. It’s all right, I’ll pay for my own—”

“We insist; please let us take care of you tonight,” Minju interjects. Yuri glances at her, intrigued by her answer, as a new idea dawns upon her.

“Yeah, you should listen to her,” the younger girl adds, returning her gaze at you with a smirk.  “Let us handle it.”

That was your first mistake.

—————

Actually, the first mistake was focusing on them to begin with, and the second was allowing them to close the space in your heart.

Yuri leads the way back to your apartment and is the first one in; that’s when you realize the mess you’ve gotten yourself in—both literally and figuratively. Empty food packs and spilled beer bottles make up most of the litter that fills every room in your once decent flat. It makes you look even worse than you already are. Mentally you’re apologizing, growing more flustered as your two uninvited guests explore your place. Minju’s been reserved the entire time that the expression she makes is nearly indistinguishable, even though her mouth gradually slacks seeing the shitshow you’ve been living in for a while.  

“Your place is really cute!” Yuri knocks off some of the mess on the living room table before hopping on the desk, completely disregarding the wet puddle that now stains her black dress. 

Minju’s mouth opens, but not a single word is uttered. It’s no longer her problem. 

It’s yours.

“I hope you don’t mind us hanging out for a bit,” she says, and you’re not opposed to the notion in the slightest. Anything to liven up your place. 

You and Minju leave Yuri by herself on the desk—for now. From across the table is the only piece in the apartment left untouched. Dusty, but unsullied. It’s a shelf filled with merch, albums, and group pictures. 

“You took this?” She reaches her hand out to a particular photo, a framed picture of her and Yuri doing fanservice during one of their concerts. You quietly nod.

She smiles wider at the shot. “Would you like me to sign it?”

As you’re about to reply, Yuri swoops in between you both, tired of being ignored for at least five minutes. 

“Hey! What are you doing—” she notices the framed picture, disrupting her train of thought. “Ooh! I remember this! We look cute here, Minmin!” Without any consideration, the younger girl snatches the framed photo from her friend.

“Can we keep this?” 

“No.” Minju tries to take the photo back, but Minju brushes her away. “That’s his photo, you can’t just—”

“I’ll buy it for lots of money!”

“Stop! No amount of money can buy the sentimental value it has. Just give it back.”

“But money can’t buy this pussy though.” Yuri lifts the bottom of her dress, teasing her panties. Minju immediately pushes it back down.

“Yuri!”

“What?” Yuri asks, lips pouting, tone innocent, as if unaware of the stunt she just pulled off. “You know how horny these fanboys are.” Turning to you, she reaches the photo out for you to reclaim. “Your choice.” 

There’s no resistance when you take the photo back and return it from the shelf. Yuri’s hands are itching to grab at her dress again, as if daring you to prove her point. Minju’s on edge, on the cusp of bailing, ready to take her friend with her before this messy situation leads to something worse. It’s a little tense, the mood a little suffocating, and none of you are able to make the best judgment calls.

“Sorry,” mutters Minju, now holding her friend’s hand. “I’m really sorry about that. We should leave—” 

“No you’re not—” Yuri blurts out, before Minju places her other hand on her mouth, visibly irate by her malicious behavior. 

“It’s all good,” you mumble, still fixated on the very notion that they’re in your apartment. One way or another, you want them to stay a little longer. And then you make your next mistake. “I mean, in all honesty, it’s about time I should get rid of these. Like I said before, I haven’t been able to move on, but you two are getting by just fine.”

“Right.” Minju’s gaze is sympathetic, enchanting, endearing—everything that reminds you of simpler times. The thought dawned on you at times, when you really considered burning it all—no, not even considering selling it to more sensible people—but actually burning the bridge connecting you and them. Though you say you want to move on, you understood it would haunt you for the rest of your life if you actually followed through with such an impulsive decision. “But you shouldn’t.”

Yuri pushes Minju’s hand off her. “I think you just need a little pussy. It’s not that deep.”

“Yuri!” Minju faces her with an even more annoyed glare. 

“Maybe you’re right,” you blurt, capturing the girls’ attention. “I’m not free of sin, I do think you’re hot. Both of you.”

“Told you.” Yuri gloats, shaking her other hand free of Minju’s grip. She then approaches you, caresses your shoulders up to your cheek, lightly brushing the sides of your hair. “Tell me: am I the most fuckable member of the group?”

Knowing that Yuri has won, Minju stops trying to intervene. Admittedly, it was, in fact, Minju you thought was the most fuckable, and that’s no easy feat in such a stacked group, but to appease her, you nod. 

“Come here,” murmurs Yuri, her fingertips rubbing around your chin as she drags you down for a sinful, deep kiss. Your fingers thread on her dress, the very same one she threatened to pull, now in your possession to grip. Her leg wraps around your hip as she pulls you closer, yearning for more of you, at the expense of your balance. It’s all falling into place, close to falling apart. 

Then she says the two words that ultimately end you.

“Fuck me.”

And that’s when everything breaks.

You both end up in your bedroom, pushing Yuri onto the mattress, then hastily ridding yourself of your clothes: tie, coat, and shirt in that order. She kicks off her heels, smirking, tongue sticking out—teasing you with glimpses of her legs, panties, and pussy as you struggle to push down your pants. I know you want it, she mouths, and you’re inadvertently nodding in agreement. From the onset, you knew her dress wouldn’t come off on its own; she’s challenging you to rip it off her body, which you had every intention to do.

Your pants are still halfway down your legs when you join her in bed, completely removed after you shake the now useless heap off your feet. Yuri pulls you while you’re still approaching her for another passionate kiss. She recognizes your desire to undress her just as quickly, too. From lips to lips, she lightly brushes you down, your lips landing on her chin, neck, and collarbones. Your hand tries to grab a piece of her clothing; she parries your every attempt at her dress. 

“You won’t make this easy, will you?” you say, aware of her daunting challenge but worked up regardless.

“Of course,” replies Yuri, visibly smug, getting amusement from riling people up. She rolls to the side and wraps her arms around your waist in a tight embrace. Kissing your forehead, she adds, “Show me how bad you wanna fuck me.”

It’s the right combination of seductive words, tone, and taunting demeanor that causes you to wrestle control over her. Reciprocating her kiss to your forehead, you return the favor, whisper an equally filthy reply that makes her squirm with excitement. “I’m gonna fuck this pussy so hard. Gonna fucking wreck you.”

“Try me.”

You slip both straps of her dress down her arms, enough to reveal her round, perky breasts without any cleavage. Without any further hesitation you keep going; nose, lips, neck, down to her chest—you leave a sloppy trail of bite marks, not even kisses in your wake. Yuri shuts her eyes, whines, folds like a deck with your arousing touch. Her body’s feeding your aching, hungry soul better than any meal ever could.

If it were up to you, and if it was in your capacity, the rest of her garment would be ripped in half through your teeth. Instead, they’re bunched up halfway around her waist, with the bottom half pushed up with your hand as you take hold of her panties. Digging your fingers between them, she winces, groans sympathetically, as your thumb presses on her folds, twisting her legs between yours uncomfortably. A single touch informs you that she’s wet at her core, aching, throbbing. She told you it wouldn’t be this easy; you’ll make sure it stays that way.

“Goddamn, Yuri. This wet already and I’m barely getting down with what I wanna do with you,” you mumble, your thumb lightly nudging against her folds. She’s trembling, breathing rapidly, fingers now gripped on the edge of your sheets, unable to keep still, her lips forming incoherent babbles. Add your other hand in the equation, take a handful of her chest, palm it around your grip for you to play with. It doesn’t do much that already overwhelms her senses, but her flesh is so squeezable, so malleable, so delicate to grasp, it becomes almost impossible to let go.

You dig your fingers around Yuri’s clit, her hips slowly grinding in tandem with your efforts to pleasure her. Her thighs involuntarily spread, providing more space for your fingers to be swallowed up by the tightness of her folds. With each pump and withdrawal, your digits are coated in copious amounts of slick. The sensations in her aching core pull your hand in like a magnet, allowing you to indulge in the erotic sight of Yuri quaking, screaming, tossing her head back beneath you. 

“Yes, yes, yes—keep going—fuck—” Yuri makes her blissful cries loud and clear, enough for your neighbors to hear, way past any subtlety. Maintaining a steady rhythm fingering the mewling woman, you move your other hand back and forth between her shapely breasts, squeezing and kneading them, your eyes inching closer with each ripple, bounce, and jiggle. Something about the way she melts with every move you make on her slowly drives you wild, your mind racing with countless sinful desires you’ve been quietly suppressing ever since you first laid your eyes on them.

If not for how addicting it is to feel her soft flesh in your hand, it’d be hardening your cock right now. Doesn’t matter; you’ve been slowly gliding your legs, positioning yourself directly atop her, your bulge aching against her thighs, yearning for her skin. Can’t grow too comfortable, even as she squirms, yelps, writhes beneath your grasp. She adjusts, becomes acclimated to your fingers as it draws more slick, airily begging for more. Even before she considers the thought, you’re one step ahead of her, quickening your pace, generating a sloppy, satisfying sound while she leaks on your sheets.

You’re losing it, reveling in this newfound power you have over Yuri, that her orgasmic screams of pain and pleasure go overlooked. It isn’t clear whether she wants you to keep going or to stop. Your fingers never relent, even while she makes a quivering mess of your bedsheets and wetting your thigh and boxers. Eventually, you withdraw your digits from her torrentially drenched cunt. Another sticky waterfall drips on already inundated sheets. She can’t stop cumming. She doesn’t want to stop, body willing.

Yuri tosses her legs around, weak legs still violently trembling from her orgasm. The room returns to its usually quiet setting—except the gentle sound of sloppy flesh lingers. A bit quieter, more subdued, but your ears recognize a familiar sound. 

Oh, right.

Somehow, you completely overlooked Minju’s presence. While you were focused on pleasuring Yuri, she had quietly leaned against the bedroom door, one of her hands following yours to that same pleasurable spot, watching with glazed eyes, enjoying the sight of her friend getting her rightful punishment. An unforgivable offense, but anyone else in your position would have done the same thing, especially when a half naked Yuri’s offering herself up on your bed. 

“I was expecting you to go all the way,” she drawls, breathing heavily between words. She doesn’t care that your eyes are looking down, following her hand deep between her underwear hypnotically. “I hate to say it, but I was feeling a little jealous of her.”

Without a word, you quickly slide down her already unzipped jeans, her panties to follow. Holding her active hand, you draw it away from her core, your eyes intertwined in a passionate gaze. Time slows to a crawl. Your lips inches apart from sparking another fire. The whole time you’ve known her, she’s been quiet, reserved, nervous to make a move—that she’d ask you seven times before finally going for whatever move she wants to make.

She pulls you for a deep kiss, her other hand tugging down your wet boxers. Pressing your weight against hers, she strokes your hard cock, rubs it against her aching core, moans seductively in your ear. You’re biting down on her neck, collarbones, anything that marks her, tells the world you fucked her. Your hands latch onto her hourglass shaped waist, lightly pushing her on the bedroom door, lightly taking her off the ground without any grace, her skin another addiction to ruin your life.

Kissing down her clothed chest, you make quick work of her off-shoulder shirt before you dive back into her perfect body. Minju whimpers and whines,her nails digging into your back as you peck your way toward her core. She feels so right in your grasp; her ridiculous proportions, her slender legs, her unreal navel that warrants a prolonged kiss—everything about Kim Minju’s body was meant to be worshiped. She brings you to your knees, down to your lowest. It was easy to ruin Yuri, but this is something far beyond your level. 

How do you deserve something like this?

Looking between her spread legs, you contemplate the thought. Minju’s achingly wet, just like her younger friend. She regains a little composure and realizes you’re on your knees, frozen in place. The graceful and patient woman she is, she gently caresses your cheek, forcing you to meet her gentle gaze. “Take me. Even just for tonight, I’m yours.”

Her lips draw yours like a magnet. Minju breaks eye contact at the first touch, moaning as your tongue familiarizes itself with her deliciously soft folds. Her head repeatedly thumps against the door with a thud, Digging your hands on her thighs, you’ve got Minju exactly where you want her to be: wrapped around your head in a suffocating lock. It doesn’t matter that your words come out as corrupted babble; your tongue is doing all the talking, and it loves her pussy.

“That’s it, that feels so good.” She rubs her hands on your hair, gradually shifting into a grip of the back of your skull as you acclimate to her velvety walls. “Doesn’t fucking me feel better than Yuri does?”

You’ll make your final comparison when you’re done with them both. For now, you’re focused on devouring Minju’s cunt, or dying by thigh asphyxiation—whichever comes first. Her approving moans encourage you, as if you needed any further motivation, and even if you lacked the desire, which is a completely absurd thought, her legs are there to make sure you drink up till she has nothing left.

Her juices taste so sweet, so divine, that even if your tongue dries up, you'd still be relentlessly eating her out. Soon enough, your tongue digs through every sensitive nerve and spot, setting every nerve in Minju’s body on fire. Little by little, you’re chipping away at her dainty facade. Her volume and pitch rises and rises; her grip on your hair and face tightens further. She’s exactly like her friend: a screaming mess that loves getting fucked. 

There’s no tempo, no constant pace in the manner you take Minju—only a need to devour. Her patience knows only one thing too: the reward of an inevitable climax. She’s slowly grinding her hips against your face, pulling you further into her wrecked folds. It’s too fast and too sudden; you’re amazed at how she’s this alarmingly drenched—

“Fuck!”

Minju cries out, pulling you harshly by the hair, turning your face into a canvas of sticky nectar. From your vantage point, her eyes are slammed shut, mouth agape, stuck in suspended animation while her body violently trembles, even shaking your foundations. She’s completely lost in the high of her release, basking in the powerful sensations washing over her. As the lewd scene plays out, your tongue eagerly gathers up her juices. It overflows, drips down your chest and spills all over the floor even when you carry her to bed, flippantly tossing her beside her freshly fucked friend.

You take a breather to taste them both at once. Euphoric.

—————

The sight in front of you is enough to make you cum. Your two favorite members splayed on your bed, at their barest, in a state of coming undone because of your handiwork. And you still haven’t put your dick inside either of them. Deciding which one to slide your cock in first is a life or death decision. You’ll make your choice after you flip them on their backs.

You’re stroking your cock as you join the two girls on the bed, your other hand caressing Minju and Yuri’s skin back and forth, grabbing a pair of handfuls of ass. Time is a nonfactor; you’ve got all night to do every fantasy you’ve imagined with them, yet they’re still reeling from their initial orgasms, taking longer to recover. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” you whisper against Minju’s back, adding emphasis with each word, send a shiver all over her spine. Yuri feels every word too. “I dream about this exact scenario often. You, completely naked on your back, as I fuck you and cum all over this hot pussy from behind—” you follow, before you’re overcome by the urge to kiss her shoulder. It’s better than whatever dreams you’ve conjured up, because it’s real. You rub your cock against Minju’s folds, and it’s an immaculate sensation that not even your imagination can conjure up. 

The tension hardly stretches for more than a few precious moments. Even without words, you understood they were impatient, and so were you. Deep in your gut, there’s a fear that if you wasted a little more time, this once in a lifetime opportunity will disappear in a blink of an eye. 

“Fuck.” Minju’s pussy feels so incredibly tight, you never want to pull out from the uncertainties of tomorrow. It’s all the more intense when you draw yourself out, then thrust back in, watch as your cock enters and exits her cunt at a steady tempo. The bed gently rocks in harmony with your motion, moving like the ticks of a clock. The longer you fuck her, the longer the fantasy remains. 

You grab her by the shoulder, by the waist, by her hair. Any part you haven’t marked red, you see red. Minju remains motionless, body lightly rippling, reduced to a groaning heap with each stroke. In this prone position, she’s nothing but a toy for your pleasures. You’re dominating her. You can tell she hasn’t taken dick this hard in a long time by her rising tone. You have plenty of filthy things to say, but you’ll let your hips do all the talking for you. 

She feels so fucking good, so fucking hot.

It only seems appropriate that you almost lose yourself in Minju’s heat when suddenly, Yuri cries out for you. “Please.”

You don’t relent. Instead, by instinct, your pace quickens. Snaking your hand on her shoulder, you inch closer to Minju’s head, gently nibbling her ear. “God, Minju, you’re such a delightful fucktoy. So much easier to handle than your friend.”

Yuri’s hand reaches out to yours, and it snaps you from your lust-fueled haze. Her eyes sparkle under the dim light, cutely whimpering, “Fuck me please.”

Can’t hide the smirk on your face after she pleads. You face her, relentlessly pounding into Minju’s pussy, to prove a point. Assert control. You know she has no power over you. You’re threatening to undo yourself before she even gets a hint of mercy.

“I’m yours too,” says Yuri, looking penitent, even though in reality, this was her plan. “You said you were my favorite too, right? Please.”

Something about cutie Yuri tugs at your heartstrings. Cruel as you are, you’ve still got a soft spot. Maybe you fold this easily for cute girls like her. Maybe you’re not as assertive as you’ve projected yourself. 

Your shadow hovers atop her. You have a hand gripped on her throat, your wet, hard cock lining against her slick folds. “Brat.”

There’s a subtle smile when you say the word. Her title. Her claim to fame. No matter how submissive she may act, deep down she’s a true brat and prides herself as one. A point made deeper when you impale her pussy with your cock. She screams—a sharp contrast to the subdued Minju. A way to make her point.

“Deeper! Harder! Fuck me hard!” Her voice comes out strained due to your palm firmly pressed on her neck. You lift her slightly upward, snake your suffocating hand down to her breast. Soft, pillowy flesh you squeeze, claim as yours. You’re crooning against her neck while adjusting to her equally hot tightness. Her pleasured-wracked face sticks a rebellious tongue out, darting in your direction as her hand frisks your torso. “You know deep down I’m a better fuck than her—fuck!”

She yelps, falls down to earth without grace. Her hands press on the sheets as you fuck her—ravage her pretty little cunt. No tempo, no slow burn, only raw, unadulterated pounding. Your palm tightly presses her tit, twists her face into even more lewd, unbearable pleasure. The words she has are lost, turned into deafening screams that echo throughout the room. “So! Fucking! Deep!”

It’s sinful, it’s hot, it’s perfect. You have her exactly where you want, propped on all fours as you mindlessly fuck her into submission, hands roaming her chest, her waist, her ass, lips kissing her shoulders and neck. She’s reduced to nothing but a high pitched mess; God, you’re sure everyone knows you’ve got Jo Yuri in bed now. Oh well. You’ve got a story to tell over coffee break on Monday.

It’s only when you force yourself to stop—and this is no easy feat—that she quiets down. Your cock is upset; you’ve edged yourself inside their hot pussy twice now, you can’t keep yourself in limbo forever, among other possible implications. The thought of protection never really bubbled up until this point, but you’re so far gone, far past the point of no return. 

You’ll play with fate a little more before leaving yourself in its unpredictable hands.

The tango goes back and forth; Minju then Yuri, in that order, a few minutes at a time, which stretches into hours. You’ve twisted them in positions you fantasized and beyond your imagination, fucking both former idols till your cock can no longer bear with you. So when you have to make that fateful decision, it’s merely an illusion. Even as they make their deepest pleas for you to claim what’s rightfully yours, you reject the notion and take your own path.

It only seems right that the share of warm load is spread over their toned stomachs. In the aftermath of your long overdue orgasm, you fall back and wonder if it was the right decision. Initially, their faces are shaken with disbelief, utterly shocked that for once, the fan never came inside either of them, before all three of you eventually succumbed to their soreness and exhaustion. 

—————

By some miracle, you’re standing on your two feet, holding onto Minju’s shoulders as she turns on the shower. Running water gushes over all three of you as it flows down your bodies without moving with the intended purpose of cleaning yourselves up. The older woman tilts her head at an angle where your lips find solace in her collarbones, gently pecking her skin—not the rough, sloppy lovemaking you’d been doing for the past hour, but intimate, sentimental love. She eventually turns around to rub her hand across your entangled arm, sharing in your warmth. Yuri hugs you from behind, her arms wrapped around your waist, nuzzling her head against your back like her favorite pillow. It’s your innermost desires at its most raw, fully realized. 

You feel content. You feel grateful. 

The same three words repeat in your mouth over and over, spaced between the occasional kiss to both idols, deeply imprinting how much they mean to you. “I love you. I love you.”

You barely scrub each other for over ten minutes before you leave the shower. The two girls crash back into your bed after a rushed effort to dry up, completely overlooking their wet hair. You quietly follow, putting yourself in the center as your two biases instinctively wrap an arm around you, the now quiet mood in the room a far cry from the loud mess it was when you first entered. The last image saved in your head is Yuri’s gentle smile, her finger reaching out to brush away a little strand of hair before you all eventually pass out from exhaustion.

You’ve never been in a better position to die happier.

—————

The morning after is the first after a long time that you don’t feel like complete shit. 

The room reeks of sex—a smell that will permeate for a long, long time. Thankfully, it’s the weekend and you’re in no rush to put on your typical office wear. Minju and Yuri are long gone, and so is any trace of their presence in your apartment, except the lingering scent of last night’s activities. Just like that, life goes on.

Mostly.

The day after, you’ve tidied up most of your apartment. By Monday, to the surprise of your employer, you start working past the usual 9-to-5. He makes a little comment about your sudden change of heart walking past your cubicle. “You’re usually the first one out.”

The snarky remark goes overlooked, mostly because you’re preoccupied with thoughts of Minju and Yuri, as usual. You drown yourself in monotonous officework with the purpose of collapsing once you go home. It works. You’d rather be anywhere but home or holding a bottle.

A week passes. Rumblings of your character development spread like wildfire around the workplace, but you pay no heed to it. Friday arrives, and it pains you to hear that you’re not allowed to work overtime hours because of their employee friendly policy. Your mates invite you for a night at some club downtown, but you decline. Some part of you clings to the little hope that they might be there tonight.

The place is mostly empty, save for a few early patrons. You’ve got all night and the weekend, but you didn’t have to wait very long. 

As soon as you put your menu down, ready for dinner, the two women have taken seats right in front of you. No words necessary, only warm, easy smiles. 

You smile back. “Is this going to be our thing now?”

Now armed with dangerously alluring blonde hair, Yuri briefly kisses you, followed by an inviting smirk shared with Minju that tells you everything you need to know. “We hope your weekend schedule is empty. We have so much in store for you.”

—————

(A/N: I really love fan x idol stories, so this particular one hits all the right notes for me. Apologies once again for taking too long, this was supposed to be done when Taxi dropped (great comeback, go stream!). It's amazing to see Yuri potentially hitting it big globally with her Squid Game 2 casting news, here's hoping Minjobless can find big roles in movies and dramas as well! She deserves it. Thank you for reading!)

(PS: College started up again and I'm drowning in intensive research and assignments, oof. Currently, the only day I have free time is Sunday, since I have school stuff six of the seven days of the week. Expect more lengthy gaps of this magnitude between fics. Additionally, the Pokémon DLC is coming out real soon, which definitely will occupy my spare time more. However, this will change sometime around mid-to-late September, so here's hoping I can get a few more fics out for you. Appreciate you as always <3)

[the-floral-perspective]

More creepypasta headcannons!

+the women this time! Also these aren’t sexual, but there will be references to drinking, drugs and sex

And in most of these I am ignoring what is actually cannon so I’m sorry, I just like thinking more on the wholesome side of this fandom.

Also, I understand that Sally is like not at all like her OG story, but this is how I like to interpret her so please don’t hate!

Jeff the killer

Age: 22

Wine Problems: got citric acid rubbed into his healing mouth scar by EJ and Ben. (He splattered paint all over Ben’s gaming system Bc he wouldn’t give him free weed. EJ joined because of the “Tear-alliance”)

Head-cannons

“erm actually ☝🏻”

-He buys a lot of flip phones to prank the pastas. Specifically Ben, Jane and Hoodie. Tbh kind of a big bully. Also definitely steals slenders money.

-Lactose intolerant

-eats hot Cheetos like an mf

-he’s oddly spiritual??? But in a scared way, he thinks the gods are coming for him just cause 🤷🏻‍♂️

-he thinks he’s slick whenever he steals Slenders money, but slender knows.

-one time for a TikTok, he tried getting one of the pastas to do the candy man dance with him but no one wanted to join him except for Hoodie Bc he felt bad 😭

-every normal person thinks his TikTok is a devoted cosplayer, but he’s not.

-he’s actually really depressed about Liu, but he never rlly addressed it with himself. He just ignores it and him Bc he doesn’t know how to react.

Jane the Killer

Age: 23

Wine Problems: Sally accidentally got shoved by Jeff during a quarrel and now she has to get Sally to stop crying before Slender comes back from meeting his brothers.

Head-cannons

-makes so many funny faces to herself and actively talks to herself in front of people (and mid convo too)

-you will catch her pacing down the main hallway with headphones in when she’s angry.

-AWFUL BAKER idk HOW she just can’t bake. It always burns.

-her natural hair is shoulder length, black and curly.

-Her wife is a normal person (granted immunity from slender), her name is Lillian.

-Toby was the ring bearer for the wedding, Sally and Lazari (when she was young) were the flower girls. Lillian’s brother walked her down the isle, Toby walked Jane down the isle afterwards. Jeff at the reception gave a surprisingly good speech about Jane and their marriage… but then he got destructive drunk and had to be carried out Frank Gallagher style.

-she has a separate house and identity that she uses away from the mansion to be normal with her life and be the adult she couldn’t be.

-she’s never rlly at her other house tho.

-she loves having deep scientific talks with people to see their ideas and to read them better.

-she’s a really good person to talk to about passion projects Bc she’ll engage in your thoughts and use her knowledge to help you with whatever your stuck on or thinking of. She also hypes too.

-her and Kate are like the main watchers/caretakers of new pastas to make them feel comfortable.

-she is actively the only pasta who has seen Slenders human form.

Ben drowned

Age: 19

Wine Problems: Jeff and sally creating a doll out of Ben’s hair. The hair from his shower drain. Then them harassing him with it, trapping him in the livingroom TV.

Head-cannons

-The house dealer

-Everyone is trying to get all up in his business

-it takes him 20 minutes every morning doing his hair and skin routine.

-his favorite video game is RDR2

-chronic Jacksepticeye fanboy. Has attempted to see him on tour awhile back ago.

-his room is clean, but so weird. Like he has Minecraft posters and odd shit like that. He also has those LED lights on his walls and a really fucking expensive gaming setup.

-does not punch his walls.

-he has a pet tarantula named Bea.

-he chronically enjoys Pepsi. It’s kind of gross. Also he is HUGE on snacks, like he has a mini fridge.

-also to be allowed in his room you have to cashapp him 5$ if you’re in their for longer than 15 minutes for “wasting his time”

-he listens to a lot of French music and video game soundtrack to fall asleep.

-he LOVES Skyrim.

-he knows a lot abt tech since he’s a video game ghost/glitch, but it’s not his only personality.

Clockwork

Age: 20

Wine problems: recently started hearing voices after accidentally eating one of the special brownies in the kitchen. She’s in the corner in the living room having a bad trip. Lazari is behind her comforting her. (Clockwork currently doesn’t think she’s real)

Head-cannons

-asexual and aerosexual. They just are rarely attracted to people.

-LOVES low-rise jeans

-she’s like hella sarcastic and definitely has disorders (undiagnosed)

-for the most part she’s pretty quiet, speaks more with her hands than her mouth.

-tall af, like 5’11.

-whenever she gets a migraine you might as well shoot her since she has the clock in her eye 😭

-her favorite movie series is SAW. She has actively built some of the prototypes like the reverse bear trap.

-she collects animal teeth and bones.

-her room gives very much teenage dirtbag.

-after awhile she starts hating people she hangs around Bc she’s bad at setting boundaries. That’s one of the reasons she broke up with Toby.

-very passionate about politics and her assignments.

-she has a cat named Bubble, she’s a Siamese cat and she surprisingly cuddly. Bubble hates everyone but clockwork and sometimes she sits on Clockworks shoulder.

Ticci Toby

Age: 22

Wine problems: he was out getting groceries for the pastas and then a group of 13 yr olds started harassing him (he bought one of those lobsters in the water) until he went to his car.

Head-cannons

-buys the house groceries once a week.

-genuinely careless. Like he is so straight faced tbh. Unless you’re really funny and he’s seriously caught of guard.

-eats so much chocolate it’s insane. LOVES hot chocolate.

-his stutter does get better, but it’s still pretty present.

-he does not like Jeff. At all.

-sometimes he can be such an accidental dickhead. He does not know timing like at all.

-you will see him awake at 5AM eating salad.

-he love’s Hollywood undead almost an unreasonable amount. Borderline stalkery.

-excellent organizer and party planner, typically helps Kate with designing shit.

-he doesn’t really know how to feel about the pastas, he just rlly like Jane though. She reminds him of everything he’s lost.

-he loves to draw birds and birdwatching.

-he only kills his assignments.

Judge Angels

Age: 25

Wine problems: she spilled a glass of milk on smile dog and is currently hiding in her room until he goes away. Also got caught gatekeeping by Lazari.

Head-cannons

-can’t handle certain writing styles. Like she hates commas and all capitalized letters. They just grind her gears.

-her favorite food is mangos.

-tbh shopping addict. She’s always buying small trinkets and organizing boxes. On her way to becoming a horder. (Not really but kinda)

-probably one of the funniest pastas (if you unlock her first)

-sometimes she’ll randomly turn to a southern accent but she doesn’t realize it.

-easily cringable. She’s either giggling, lost or just staring. It’s kind of funny tho.

-She’s so bad at scheduling. She makes plans on plans and forgets other plans and it’s highly irritating. Almost every pasta gets annoyed at her for this.

-she makes a mean French toast.

-her closet consists of the same outfits repeated and she lacks confidence. She doesn’t gain much until she became friends with the girls of the mansion and they started introducing her to different feminine/masculine styles. She now comfortably represents androgynously.

-she has dimple piercings.

Puppeteer

Age: unknown

Wine Problems: the clown-posse (LJ, Jason and Candypop) are all on his ass because the past week all of them have seen him steal something of theirs at least once. LJ lost 5 items, Jason lost 2 and Candypop lost 3.

Head-cannons

-mischievous fucker.

- ‘swiper no swiping’ my ass.

-he’s seen the entirety of paw patrol and kind of loves the show?? It’s just so stupid, he loves making fun of it.

-has literally 0 sympathy and will laugh at your misfortune to your face.

-he can eat anything spicy without feeling it. Sour candy tho? You might as well shoot him.

-can’t handle his alcohol.

-calls the mansion his trap house.

-has a bit where he calls the pastas his whores since him and slender have similar powers.

-He’s not that much of a dick though, he won’t attempt to control someone unless they sign a contract.

-hates looking into mirrors, they make him depressed.

-has phases of sleeping 24/7 and staying up for days on end.

-don’t bother him when he’s snug as a bug in a rug, he will kill you if you interrupt him.

-he LOVES a good soft blanket. No matter where you will catch him with a cute blankie, as long as it’s soft. His favorite blanket is from Liu during their secret Santa Christmas celebration. It’s a navy blue blanket with white tiny flecks representing stars.

-sometimes he thinks really deep and looks at the sky at night, but he doesn’t understand much since he’s the personification of self-deletion. He has trouble understanding emotion and how he feels sometimes so he lashes out.

-sometimes he takes it bad when he thinks about how the pastas think he’s an asshole bc he wants to be seen as more than that but he never really shows that.

-British 😏

Nurse Ann

Age: 25

Wine problems: she woke up with both of her legs missing, someone (she doesn’t know who), stole her needle and thread. She can’t attach her legs until then, so far she’s been in her wheelchair. No luck.

Head-cannons

-her eyes are completely black.

-her favorite hobby is cleaning and sewing. Both of them just calm her down whenever she’s feeling jittery or anxious. For Christmas she sees a bunch of sweaters for the pastas.

-when she was 13 she worked at a local restaurant as a waitress.

-her legs come off if her stitches come undone. Sometimes the Pastas will purposely cut the thread as a joke. (It’s all in good fun tho, shes okay with it).

-plus sized

-can speak Spanish and French! She was one of those hella smart girls in class.

-she plays a lot of LoveNikki.

-she was a theater kid in highschool. Her school did sweeny Todd and she played Mrs Lovett.

-her and eyeless Jack are geniuses of the mansion. Ppl tried setting them up, but neither of them felt the vibe. They’re good acquaintances tho.

-Slender doesn’t send her out on much assignments since she’s normally so busy with the pastas injuries. The only reason why EJ goes out as much as he does is to get food— that he insists he can do by himself.

Bloody Painter

Age: 24

Wine problems: fell asleep while painting. His clothes is ruined and so is his painting. In his hella sassy feels rn. Totally sulking. Abt to drown himself in the shower.

Head-cannons

-snarky bitch.

-he LOVES white chocolate macadamia cookies.

-“wtf”

-he can’t HANDLE it whenever someone is watching what he’s doing or questioning his method of doing things. It makes a certain spring in his head snap.

-I’m ngl I think he’s always super tired. Probably cause he’s besties with puppeteer. Like this man is eepy, he’s a cute sleeper tho.

-he’s silent but scary. You will NEVER hear him coming. He could be behind you waiting and you genuinely would not notice until you’re dead.

-I feel like he spends a lot of time in his room painting, but whenever he gets an art block he might as well cry. He genuinely doesn’t know what to do when he can’t paint. His three options are; crying, reading or eating.

-Jeff is always joking around with him, but he doesn’t really play along with it… even tho he tries to get closer to a lot of the pastas. Jeff just isn’t one he’s interested being nice too.

-he watched miraculous ladybug once and almost cried.

Rouge

Age: 25

Wine problems: she accidentally ripped her pants and not in the cute way. Also her worn down converse she’s had since she was 15 finally wore out and broke down.

Head-cannons

-she’s not that messy, but for the aesthetic she can be. She’s not afraid of getting dirty.

-she has a dream journal that she writes in every morning Bc it helps her lucid dream. She only likes lucid dreaming Bc she feels in control, though this has accidentally lead to sleep paralysis.

-she���s super sensitive to the cold.

-she’s really good friends with clockwork.

-she’s honestly a creative genius. She loves literature and art and performance. Though sometimes she gets completely lost in her work.

-constantly in a state of escapism.

-she kind of reminds me of Charlie from Perks of Being a Wallflower. That’s probably her favorite movie too.

-she loves hanging around the girls of the mansion, they make her feel at home. Like she’s sm more comfortable around them than others. Sometimes when a new pasta arrives and they throw an honoring ceremony, the girl pastas will all get ready together in Slenders room! (His room is the biggest and he’s cooking all the food with the boys)

Masky

Age: 25

Wine problems: ran out of storage on his phone, now he has to delete the many photos and videos of him pranking Toby in his sleep.

Head-cannons

-he’s not as much as a dickhead as he seems, like he’s actually pretty chill and he has simple boundaries.

-he’s more of a loner if anything, the one person he like actually talks to tho is Toby and hoodie. Hoodie as an acquaintance and Toby as a little brother.

-sometimes he can get a little crazy, but that’s expected.

-he’s the easiest pasta to scare, this mf is JUMPY.

-he is a chronic shitposter.

-he loves self care tho. Like he’s always showering or getting shower stuff. He has like a collection of shower stuff.

-he used to have his ears pierced as a rebellion against his parents as a teen, but they closed. Sometimes he wishes he could get them repeirced.

-he’s like the type of guy who takes bubble baths a lot Bc he’s stressed all the time. Like he’s ALWAYS irritated abt something.

-you know he’d run a Walmart deli like his bitch.

-regardless, he takes his job too seriously and sometimes slender gets a lil concerned abt him Bc he literally gets crazy sometimes.

-rated T for ‘Too hard to work with’

Laughing Jill

Age: unknown

Wine problems: choked on a piece of hair and the next person that talks to her is getting the belt. Also couldn’t answer a simple math equation in a debate with hoodie so now everyone is calling her a bimbo.

Head-cannons

-she makes SO MANY TIKTOK VIDEOS, almost TikTok famous (she doesn’t show her or anyone’s face on cam)

-almost started a mukbang account.

-her and Jack came from the same Angel hence their name and design.

-she cried when watching the fnaf movie.

-she wears some odd earrings and she actually adds some color in her wardrobe too, unlike Jack.

-she is really into evanescence.

-has an aggressive southern accent (like Millie from Helluva Boss)

-southern lass girlboss sass idk

-she absolutely HATES water, like swimming is her biggest nightmare. She hates the ocean and ocean animals. They just creep her out.

-she’s not really close with anyone but she yaps sm. The one who tolerate it the most is probably Kate, Ben and Bloody painter.

-she’s been in a mosh pit a couple times and the first time someone threw a PB&J sandwich on her. She almost cried.

Hoodie

Age: 26

Wine problems: trying to keep control of the house. Put away the brownies, constantly cleaning. Is forced to give up once Jeff throws ice cream at the ceiling.

Head-cannons

-no matter where, he only wears converse.

-tbh think he watches some anime.

-I feel like if he ever was rapping he’d be really good at it.

-with assignments he’s one of the most efficient out of the mansion, some people don’t like him cause of it.

-he stays out of most peoples way, sometimes he’ll help Nurse Ann clean tho. He probably reads often with Sally too.

-he’s a loyal confidant to all no matter what and he’s relatively judgment free.

-he has an aggressive model walk, might as well call him Adriana Lima.

-him and Toby are like the only pastas with bad facial hair and sometimes in the morning they shave together 😭

-he cringes so hard knowing that there’s a whole fandom that he’s one of the stars in, like he thinks it’s a bit odd.

-ever since toby got high and went anonymous online, creating a fandom revolving around their house and friends. Things have been a bit wary between the two.

Sally

Age: physically 8, mentally 215

Wine problems: got accidentally shoved by Jeff (sobbing). Missing slender, also is tired of the bull going on in the house. Mf is abt to yell.

Head-cannons

-she totally gets annoyed at the pastas Bc they all treat her like she’s her physical age. Like I feel like this is something that genuinely pisses her off.

-even tho she is 215, she’s very childish, like she loves Disney and animated movies.

-She doesn’t really play with dolls but she has a collection of them in her room.

-She sometimes goes to school for fun to lurk out other possible pastas with bad home lives. (They wouldn’t get assignments until theyre 18 at least)

-she’s very easily disgusted by visuals or concepts. She can’t watch Wallace and grament without wanting to die.

-she was the one that started the idea of sending assignments for the pastas, Slender agreed Bc she’s basically the daughter he always wanted. (She’s also the one who suggested they make it like a business scheme to attract those meant to be apart of the pastas so they don’t have to scout ppl out.)

-she is very strong politically and she is very open with what she has to say.

-very creative and smart, she reads often on multiple different subjects. She can speak Russian, ASL, French, Spanish and she knows Morse code. She’s trying to learn piano or violin too. She’s essentially a prodigy.

-she’s teaching some of the other pastas different languages, specifically Kate and Rouge who want to learn Morse code.

-specific requests with assignments are ran By Sally before she goes to slender with them.

Laughing Jack

Age: unknown

Wine problems: losing his final straw with puppeteer. Is about to pour hot sauce in his eyes. Eagerly awaiting dinner and sleep. Genuinely one of the only times in his life he’s ever been exhausted.

Head-cannons

-he cries after sex, no matter what.

-he thinks EJ shouldn’t be called Jack when he came first as the first Jack, but everyone calls him LJ.

-very British.

-he compliments Bloody Painters art whenever he sees it.

-Jeff is always making jokes abt how old he is and it pisses him off. (He got asked if dinosaurs really had feathers.)

-for awhile on YouTube he did ASMR without showing his face.

-he doesn’t know how to drive at all and he has a horse collection of dolls. It’s kinda weird but the pastas think it’s bc he people used to ride carriages so that’s what Jack is most used to seeing. They’re not wrong.

-he doesn’t really like music, it’s so loud for his sensitive earbuds.

-he can genuinely hear everything.

-the only movie he cried at was the Freddy Mercury movie.

Lazari

Age: 16, appears however she wants to.

Wine problems: grounded for stealing a cat, can’t go to the mansion so she’s angsty and listening to old Evanescence. Also lookin a lot like Ramona Flowers rn (blue hair version)

Head-cannons

-she eats a LOT of icecream sandwiches.

-she reads a lot of comics, her favorite comic character is Raven (Rachel Roth) Bc she relates to her backstory a lot.

-before she knew her dad, she had a creepypasta fan account. Zalgo forced her to delete it.

-when Unus Annus ended she didn’t leave her room for a week. She was a MESS

-she influenced Candypop hella when getting into the Scott Pilgrim vibe and dying hair. She was his biggest supporter.

-she reads a LOT. She used to love Twilight too.

-she was a huge Percy Jackson nerd. She wants to play Thalia in a live action series.

-if you didn’t notice she’s rlly into pop culture.

-her and Sally remain best friends Bc Lazari is the only one who gets that Sally isn’t actually 8 years old despite her looking that way.

-I’m ngl her assignments from zalgo are mostly women.

-she is a very sassy young lady. Like she says some of the most out of pocket shit and it’s so funny. The pastas have witness Lazari telling Zalgo off and it’s so silly.

Jason The Toymaker

Age: unknown

Wine problems: the last person he killed is being a nuisance and wreaking havoc in his office. Also got his spell book destroyed, so Slender ordered another one for him.

Head-cannons

-he takes hella fashion inspo from the labyrinth.

-he REFUSES to smell bad or to live bad. Like he likes his stuff at the highest quality. It’s kind of silly.

-all of his clothes is made from spider silk.

-he watches a lot of plays and musicals, genuinely loves orchestras and stuff like that.

-his nails are super sharp and he kinda hates it Bc he can’t do anything with his hands and Jeff edited him to have pink nails saying Periodt 😭 and it became a huge meme in the groupchat.

-tbh he’s kind of an oracle, like he can tell what someone’s future is going to be like. He doesn’t do it on purpose but he’s somehow always right.

-this comes in tie with his assignments. He mostly deletes preteens and teens Bc he can see their future. He’s necessary for deleting future aggressors. He deletes more than his assignments tho.

-sometimes he gets emotional when watching Disney movies Bc he thinks of found family as the creepypastas.

-ice age makes him sob so hard. Don’t tell anyone tho, he’s embarrassed.

Zero

Age: 25

Wine problems: her scarf got stolen and her cat, Maple is hiding behind the TV Ben was previously trapped in.

Head-cannons

-she is very out of the loop. Slenderman had to seriously correct her spirit once she joined. She was way too much for him and the Pastas to handle. Now it’s like a venom situation where Alice and Zero take turns with Alice’s body.

-she has a very distinct style.

-for awhile her and LJ were kind of into each other, but she got the ick once and never looked back.

-she has very random violent outbursts that are hard to deal with. Slender has a detector on her to keep an eye. She’s probably the most defiant creepypasta.

-Jeff and her hooked up once and were in a very toxic relationship that lasted 2 months. Now they ignore each other and act like they don’t exist.

-she is highly into herself. Totally has a smexy twitter account.

-for as long as she’s been with the pastas, she has grown to care for them, though she doesn’t really show that at all. She doesn’t take it personally or care how they feel about that.

Homicidal Liu

Age: 24

Wine problems: accidentally got caught up in teenage drama while bird watching at the nearest park. He’s trying to find a way to back away from the group of teens without drawling their attention. It isn’t working.

Head-cannons

-he doesn’t remember Jeff or his family.

-if you give him orange chicken he’s gonna flip a chair and rip open his shirt.

-he’s able to stomach anything but he will totally critique your food, he does not care.

-his voice is really quiet and sultry.

-he doesn’t really understand or comprehend the spirituality involving Slenderman and other pastas, but he’s put off by it.

-*NSYNC fanboy.

-his favorite movie is probably house of 1000 corpses.

-his scarf was a birthday gift from Jeff from way back when.

-Liu only kills his assignments and no one else. He doesn’t really think about what he does, like he’s confused and very out of it. Though he gets along nicely with the other pastas, he’s respected by everyone there.

-Liu genuinely eats so much food but he doesn’t mean to. Like he loves eating. He’s definitely the kitchen cutie.

-he gets carsick hella bad.

Nina the Killer

Age: 20

Wine problems: couldn’t find her stockings and slender logged her out of the hulu account as punishment for throwing a meatball at the wall during dinner yesterday.

Head-cannons

-bisexual

-her favorite movie is definitely corpse bride, she is Emily, Emily is her.

-honestly she’s kind of a popular loner in the mansion. Like she’s friends with everyone, but she spends time alone a lot.

-definitely class clown material tho.

-she doesn’t crush on Jeff anymore 😭 she’s still demented like that tho.

-one of the only other pastas that kill outside of her assignments from slender. She kills whoever slender and Sally tell her too, but after that she grows obsessive over kind strangers and ends up killing some of them too Bc she can’t handle it.

-she isn’t allowed out often, most of her assignments are required at night to lessen her obsessiveness.

-she doesn’t really obsess over the pastas in the mansion since she’s already used to them. Jeff got lucky with her Bc once he started reciprocating feelings she lost interest 😭

-if she really wanted to, she could literally do anything within 10 minutes. Like she is FAST and hella energetic and such a diva.

CandyPop

Age: unknown

Wine Problems: keeps getting his antiques stolen by Puppeteer. Killed someone with asthma and they hit their inhaler just to blow the smoke out in his face. Mf was flabbergasted.

Head-cannon

-no one knows how he came to be, not even slender 😭 Candypop himself doesn’t even know.

-overtime his purple and blue colors started switching up.

-he says he’s exactly like Ramona flowers. Scott pilgrim vs the world is his favorite movie. Ramona is his favorite character.

-he’s a straight up asshole in a Sheldon Cooper type of way.

-everytime he’s drunk, everyone leaves the house Bc of how annoying and clingy he is.

-DO NOT tell this man your secrets. Everyone will know right as soon as you say “don’t tell anyone I did this, but…”

-he cannot drive, do not trust him in the drivers or passengers seat. Somehow he will fuck it up.

-he’s BESTIES with Clockwork.

-one time he dyed his hair green and it actually looked so terrible on him but EVERYONE was hyping him up, it was so bad.

-he loves going to Denny’s at nighttime Bc he feels special for how he looks. Or Walmart. He LOVES Walmart.

Kate the chaser

Age: 26

Wine Problem: currently trying to calm the chaos before Slender and Toby get home. Also accidentally ate a special brownie while on her antidepressants after downing 3 shots of vodka (don’t do this yall). Straight up tripping balls rn.

Head-cannon

-Fiona Gallagher coded.

-dresses up as a pirate every Halloween and she’s definitely the one who makes all the Christmas cookies.

-she always decorates the house for holidays.

-since she’s Jewish, she also has a Hanukkah setup too for the other Jewish ppl there.

-definitely vegetarian.

-probably the most fit and strong pasta next to Jeff and the supernatural ones (E: LJ, EJ, Candypop, Jason)

-she’s one of the originals.

-she had a short fling with Laughing Jill. They’re like an on and off power couple tbh.

-she bought a vibrator off of wish one time and Jeff opened her package Bc he thought it had his name on it. (Jeff had an odd bruise on his nose afterwards)

-she cuts her own hair and as a joke puts it on Ben’s pillow so that he’ll think someone dyed his hair. Cracks her up everytime istg.

-she drinks coffee like it’s nobodies BUSINESS.

Eyeless Jack

Age: 25

Wine problem: Has to help Ben torture Jeff. Also got lost in the woods for two hours looking for his next target, Toby found him and picked him up once he got back from the grocery store.

Head-cannon

-is normally the last person to find out drama or news.

-has almost walked in on so many creepypastas in the bathroom. The only reason he stops is because he can see the heat light.

-sometimes can’t tell if he’s just hallucinating Bc of how his vision works.

-if you take a picture with flash, his eyes will glow like a cats.

-buys clothes in incorrect sizes all the time. Toby has to go pants shopping for him often.

-the only time he can see normally is with his human disguise on.

-he’s definitely Greek, like his mom was definitely from Greece and his dad American. He can speak Greek and Spanish Bc of highschool. English is his second language.

-he used to get made fun of for the black tar on his mask looking like tears until Ben came along and they started the tear alliance. (They’d defend each other whenever one got teased)

-I feel like whenever he’s hungry he gets increasingly more deranged. So sometimes if he’s too depressed to get his own kidneys, someone else will have to get some for him ASAP.

[dejwrites]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀rekindled, john price

divorce can either turn dark or be a smooth ride down lala land. john and you've been divorced for a while now, but it's not really much of a secret that he just can't stay away from you. especially when he has returned from being whisked away with task force 141.

♔ ˖ ✧ — general warnings: female reader, her/she pronouns, female anatomy described, black reader written in mind, ex husband!john, established past relationship, john and reader have a set of twins, reader gossiping with her friends, italics means a flashback, profanity usage, slight second chance lovers trope // smut warnings: oral (f.receiving), standing position, dirty talk, possessive!john prince, some love bombs are dropped, breeding kink, description of making out // word count: 4.4k, // ao3 // minors dni.

YOU AND YOUR EX-HUSBAND DIDN’T REALLY LEAVE ON A BAD NOTE. But You didn’t leave on a good note either. Your marriage just slowly became dull. Of course, you still had your beautiful twin boys that seemed to steal that charming smile John had. However, you were fully aware that attempting to stay together for the sake of the kids—did more harm than good. The divorce was finalized and the two of you were okay with co-parenting, actually, you’ve been doing it for over a year now. It’s been working well considering what John did for a living, so the majority of the time the boys were with you. When he came back home, they stayed with him. 

It was okay. You were okay being newly divorced, having a nice paying job that you enjoyed, your two sons striving in academics and extracurricular activities, and you even oddly joined a book club also. The book club was filled with different types of women. From the women married to rich bachelors to the freshly divorced who snuggled up with their pool boys after the children slept. They were quite an odd crowd to hang around, but you were genuinely happy. Although you couldn’t relate to your husband buying you a brand new Mercedes or having a sultry affair with your child’s teacher, this group of women knew how to have fun when they wanted to.

Maybe that’s how you whine up at the town’s local bar with them. After realizing how hot and steamy the chapters of this month’s book club book were, you and the ladies decided to go into town for a drink or two. It’s the least you guys could do after a long week of student-teacher conferences and football tournaments. 

“Do you ever miss him?” Blonde-haired Cheryl asked as she down a shot of tequila. Her face scrunched up as she picked up the lime slice to suck on. “You know? John?” She adds to ensure that her question was meant for you.

“What is there to miss? We divorced and went our separate ways. Our boys are happy, and that’s all we care about.” You answered truthfully.

“And what if she told you he just walked in right now as we’re speaking.” Thirty-two-year-old Sheila asked. Her brown skin glistened under the bar light as she leaned back into the booth seat. She twirled her finger around a coil on top of her head before letting out a drunken dreamy sigh. 

“He isn’t coming back to town until next week.” You answered. The two women stared at you as if you’d grown another arm out of your body. You were sure it was because they drank too much, but Sheila had pointed at the figure that stopped to greet the very popular bartender that had seen everyone who stepped foot in here at their lowest. 

You followed where she was pointing, and your breath hitched in your throat. There John was chatting with the bartender—completely making up for the lost time of him not being around. Your teeth nibbled at your lower lip as you quickly turned around before he could fully notice you. You watched as Cheryl placed her head in her hand with a cheeky grin on her face. 

“What?” You asked as you leaned forward to capture the straw in your alcoholic beverage. “It’s not a big deal; he could be here to meet someone. You know, we’ve divorced you guys. He’s allowed to date.” 

“Mhm, okay.” Sheila laughs. “Why are you suddenly so fidgety? You can’t even sit straight now.” 

Now it was Cheryl piecing the pieces together. She’s been with you from the start of the divorce and even asked her husband to be your lawyer. She and Sheila knew you so well. Yes, she knew that you haven’t gotten laid since the divorce, claiming so many times that it’s messy to introduce a man in your life so soon. Despite you and John being divorced for a while now. But Cheryl was calling bullshit. She then covered her mouth in complete shock as the alcohol gave her a boost of realization. “You didn’t!?” She shrieks loudly, and that causes some people to glance in the table’s direction.

“Did what?” Sheila asked as she looked at her before popping another peanut in her mouth. 

“You gave him some, didn’t you?” Cheryl asked. She collected the untouched tequila shot meant for you and downed it with ease. “You gave John some before he left and didn’t even tell us. Here I’m thinking you were practicing abstinence?” Her manicured fingers pointed at you like you were on trial for the Salem Witch Trials. 

“What? That’s nonsense,” Now you were taking huge gulps of your drink. Even took the skinny black straw from the drink and down it until it was burning your insides. 

“She did. She sees him and suddenly can’t sit straight. Don’t even want to see him. So, she must have enjoyed it.” Sheila laughed. “Spill the details now, or I’m throwing this peanut at your forehead.” 

You couldn’t even lie your way out of this. What they were saying was true. Before John had to leave, right after dropping your sons back off to you—one thing led to another, and you found yourself gasping out his name and seeing stars in the moment's bliss. You hated to admit that was what you had thought about since he left. When your eyes closed to go to sleep, you visualized that moment of him being in between your thighs that night. Your cheeks even heated in embarrassment as you sat here trying to deny it happened. Having sex with your ex-husband was messy, especially when you have been telling your friends that you've been going out on dates and attempting the dating pool again. 

“He dropped the boys off, and it just happened, okay?” You threw your hands up in defeat. “One thing led to another, clothes being torn off—you guys know the deal.” 

“But did you feel anything, or was it just sex?” Cheryl asked.

“Like, did he fuck you with meaning or like a one-night stand?” Sheila asked.

“Sheila!” Cheryl shrieked as she playfully smacked her arm. 

“What, Cheryl? I think this is an important question to ask, considering the circumstances. If he fucked her like a one-night stand, he just wanted a last little taste so he could go on about his life. But if he fucked her with some meaning, maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want to let go just yet.” Cheryl had taken a sip of her vodka tonic and gave you a grin. “So which one was it, Y/N?” 

Which one was it? You couldn’t even remember. You sat twiddling with your thumbs as the memories of that night came swirling around your brain for you to remember.

“They’ve been playing all damn day, so I figure that would be ready for bed when they get here,” John commented as he tucked one of the children in.

You only hummed at his response as you leaned down to tuck your other son in. It was good that they were going to bed at a reasonable time since they had school the following morning. You just were grateful that John was being a responsible parent and returning them at a good time that worked for both of you. As you two left the twins' room, you felt like this feeling was a little too familiar. The tucked the boys in, the each giving them a kiss goodnight and then sneaking out of the room not to wake them. It felt strange now, knowing with the divorce finalized—the two of you didn’t go to the shared bedroom together. Instead, John would share his farewell and just leave. 

You were still getting used to your home's subtle silence now that John wasn’t here. You knew that if he were still here around this time—you would hear the laughter of your three favorite boys playing video games or watching television. But now it wasn’t like that. You no longer heard John’s loud laughter that echoed through the halls, no matter how hard he tried to keep it down. It was just silence. 

“I’m going away for a couple of weeks, possibly a month max.” John breaks your thoughts as he stops you from going further down the hall. He noticed the grasp he had on your hand and quickly dropped it. 

You were used to talks like this. Once again, it was different with you two being divorced this time. Your lips form a straight line as you realize that you’ll have to give your sons the talk. “Did you tell the boys?” You asked.

“Of course, they took the news quite well. Shockingly,” John chuckles as he rubs at his facial hair before sighing. “I just wanted to let you know also.” 

“They’re not our little babies anymore; they’re getting so big.” You admitted. “But I appreciate you telling me,” You added. 

He gives you a grin of satisfaction before he shares his farewells to find his way out. However, now it was you stopping him from departing. “Just return back to us—I mean them, in one piece.” You gave him a genuine smile that you knew he had to return. 

“And if I don’t?” John turns to take a step forward, once again closing the gap between you two as you stand in the hallway. 

“I’m going to come to save you myself if I have to. I am not going through these boys' teenage years alone, you smug asshole.” You said as you were trying to bite back a grin. 

John glances at you with a twinkle in his eyes. His heart pinged at the sight of that grin. Some days he found himself questioning what went wrong without realizing that nothing can go wrong in a relationship. However, people can outgrow each other. They can just realize that it wasn’t working out anymore, and John was trying so hard to attach that statement to the two of you. He just couldn’t. The captain couldn’t let you go. He was quite upset that he let you go—that he sat and let the divorce happen. 

“So please, John Price, return in one piece quickly.” You repeated. You noticed his eyes glancing at your lips and soon staring back at you. He did that when he wanted to kiss you. You’ve known him for years to tell that.

“And if you want one last kiss, just get it over with, John.” You threw your hands up in defeat, knowing that this would only complicate and confuse things. But then again, this could be the last time you see him. 

With that, he’s kissing you. He’s kissing you so hard that you forget to breathe for a second. Your fingers grasped at his shirt to get him closer. Your back was pushed against the wall as John deepened the kiss. His tongue glides across your lower lip, aching to taste you. His guess was you were drinking wine before he dropped the kids off because, on Sunday nights, you spent it drinking wine and indulging in a bubble bath. Of course, he remembered that. He knew you more than he fuckin’ knew himself. 

Your lips parted without a fight or fuss just to let John in. His tongue slithers in your mouth, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling. John’s kisses always took you to another universe. They were so intense that they made your knees go weak. They made you sit and think about them. They had you wanting more. Maybe this kiss and the fact that you haven’t been laid since the divorce had you eager for more. His lips disconnect from your lips to kiss your jawline and then to your neck. His facial hair tickles you, and you bite back a childish giggle as you notice how fast he moves. His hands lingered in the pastel pink silk robe that seemed to loosen each second. 

“Fuck, I missed this,” John whispered before he planted a kiss on your swollen lips again. 

“We’re going to wake the boys. We should go into the room,” You said between the subtle breaks of the kiss. “They’ll question why you’re still here, you know?” 

“We’ll figure that out when we get there.” He leads you to the master bedroom that once was shared by you two. The scent of John still lingers around even though you even redecorated the room to your liking.

Your back pushes against the room door to close it shut as your eyes watch John tugging the shirt he wore over his head. Your teeth got caught in your lip as you took him in. From his broad shoulders to the battle scars. The sight of him had your panties wet and forced you to clutch your thighs shut. He took two steps to be closer to you again, his eyes taking in your features. From your coils that fell in your face due to your wash-n-go style to those eyes that put him in a trance every time he looked at you. His hands travel down to untie the knot of the silk robe.

Your skin is now garnished with goosebumps as soon as the crisp air in your room hits your skin. Your nipples had already hardened from just the sight of John, so they immediately poked through the silk fabric. John’s mouth watered at the sight of you. He always thought you were the most beautiful woman he had seen. His tongue wets his lips before he gets on his knees without a word to help you step out of your panties. He’s prompting one of your legs over his shoulder without a care, and without warning, he’s indulging in your taste. The flat of his tongue gliding across your wet folds. John missed this. He missed being between your plush legs, hearing you whimpering his name and clawing your fingers through his hair.

His tongue flickers at your clit, which got you talking. Your hand went up to muffle your moans, but as soon as you felt John’s tongue trace the outline of your entrance—you had lost any grace to keep your voice down. Your knees buckled slightly at the feeling of him in between your thighs. John ignored your pleas and cried about how good he made you feel. The only thing on his mind was the thought of tasting you. Making you come so good that when he left—he was the only thing on your mind. Was that selfish of John? Probably so, but he didn’t give a damn. 

Teasingly he placed a kiss on your thigh before going back in. His nose nuzzled at your pubes as he took his index and middle finger to insert inside of you without warning. He let his tongue flicker at your sensitive bud as he thrusts his fingers inward. Your juices dripped down his slender digits as he fingered you. His eyes make eye contact with you as he’s curving his finger just to hit that spot that causes you to yell out his name. 

“John baby, please. I’m about to-“ Your words stopped abruptly when you felt him remove himself from you. Your orgasm blew away as quickly as ever as John stood up off his knees. He’s staring at you with so much lust in his eyes—it was the same look he gave you the night the twins were conceived. 

His bulge was noticeable in his pants; you took it upon yourself to tug him closer in a heated kiss. The taste of you now encrypts your tongue while you undo the button on his pants. You let your hand rub at his bulge, causing him to groan in the kiss. As you were helping him out his bottoms, his callous hands fully tugged the silk robe off. The robe decorated the brown wooden floors alongside John’s clothes, and with each passing minute, you became whole again. 

He lifts you up easily, and a chill goes down your spine at the feeling of his cock brushing against your entrance. You were expecting him to carry you to the bed. You wouldn’t have minded him taking you in a missionary position where you could feel extra stroke; he put his all in. Or doggy style, where you could muffle out his name in the fluffy pillow. But instead, he’s using the door to lean your back upon, and with one hand holding you up—he using his other to help guide you upon his cock. Your arms snake around his neck in a strong grasp from the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out and the fear of him dropping you. You two had never done a position so vulgar, so this came as a shock to you. But the only thing you could do is indulge in the glorious feeling of John. 

It was such an amazing feeling. It felt like John was the only thing you could stutter out. How his hands guided you up and down his cock had your eyes lolling in the back of your head. Your teeth nibbled on your lower lip to muffle your moans because you didn’t want to wake the boys. With each thrust upward, you felt your juices dripping down your thighs. When you made eye contact with John, you didn’t think you could get any wetter than you already were. He looked so wonderful like this. Balls deep inside you, uttering how well you’re taking him and how beautiful you look. Were you falling back in love with him, or was that just the way he was fucking you that had your brain all mushy inside. 

“You haven’t been giving this pussy to anyone else, have you?” John questioned through his rhythmic thrusting. 

You couldn’t muster up an answer until he fully tugged himself from thrusting upward inside of you and slamming himself back into your wet pussy once again. This time repeat the question so you can answer him loud and clear. 

“No, I’m all yours, John.” You whimpered out with tears of pleasuring, staining your lash line. 

You leaned in to kiss him deeply, your fingers combing through his hair, just wanting to feel closer to him. Although your bodies were already swapping sweat and intertwined closer than ever, it just felt right at the moment, wanting to be closer to John. His thrusting became quicker, and you knew he was most likely about to cum. You could always tell when he was about to come.

Cause when John came, he came a lot. Big heavy loads of his cum just oozed out when he came. He had a thing where he would always come inside you unless you told him not to. But it didn’t shock you; he told you before you two got engaged that he wanted kids. You always joke that it was why you were graced with twins instead of one child. 

His face would get as red as a tomato, and the only thing you could hear him say as he cast soft kisses upon your neck and collarbone was your name. 

“Y/N..Y/N..I love you, Y/N.”

When the two of you were being tugged down by the intense feeling of your orgasms, you quickly went to tug on your rob. Your skin felt hot, sticky, and you smelt like him. You were shuffling in embarrassment as you collected John’s clothes off the floor and shoved them in his hands. You couldn’t even progress the fact that he uttered those words to you. 

“You must get out of here before the boys see you.” You were avoiding looking at him because you knew you would want more. You knew you couldn’t say those words because it would further confuse you. 

You were expecting him to argue against your words, but John collected his clothes and started to put them on. The two of you were silent as you sat on the bed, attempting to collect your thoughts. You had just slept with your ex-husband and enjoyed it. Actually, you were eager for me. 

And the last thing John said to you before leaving the bedroom you once shared was to give the boys one last kiss for me. 

You leaned back into your seat, watching as your two friends were a giggling mess.

“I can’t believe you kicked him out afterward. You could at least let him sleep in the guests' room.” Cheryl said. 

“Hell, he had his head in between her thighs. Might as well sleep in the master bedroom.” Sheila adds.

 Sheila would finish her drink and check her phone, “Oh shit, the wife has come to pick us tipsy stranglers up.” She says as she looks at you. “I mean, you can always ask John for a ride. Considering you already…you know.” 

Cheryl snickers as she tugs her jacket on and collects her belongings. “Sheila, we have to be serious. He can’t know what we know. Now I’m heading to the ladies' room before we leave; you coming?” 

“Oh yeah,” Sheila says.

“I’ll meet you two outside.” You slipped on your jacket and moved by the crowd in the bar to exit. Purposely avoiding the direction that John was near. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him. You just knew seeing him would mean you’ll bombard yourself with feelings that you've been thinking about since he left. You’ll be forced to think about how maybe letting him was a huge mistake. 

As soon as you stepped outside, you called the babysitter for your sons to let them know that you were on your way home. Your back leaned against the brick wall waiting for Sheila and Cheryl—of course, they would take forever in the bathroom when you needed to run away from someone. You tugged your jacket further on your body once you felt the crisp nightly breeze brush by you. Suddenly, you could feel someone standing next to you. And you knew it was him. 

For one.) he probably saw you leave in such a hurry you would think you left your oven on at your house or two.) Cheryl and Sheila didn’t actually go to the bathroom. They most likely drunkenly approached him and said that you were waiting for him. 

“We need to talk.” It seemed you two said at the same time. 

Now you were facing him, the sound of the bar door was pushed open, and your two friends bubbly stumbled out, arms linked with each other as they walked towards Sheila's wife's car. 

“Bye, John,” Cheryl drags out his name with a childish grin, not hiding that she knew you two slept together. “Y/N? Are you coming? They can drop you off also.” 

“She’s in good hands, Cheryl. I’ll make sure she gets off safely.” John gives her a half grin, and you look at your friends, trying to telepathically tell them not to leave you alone with him.

But Sheila only winked at you before wishing her farewells to you and John and dragging a tipsy Cheryl away. Now the two of you were alone. Just you, him, and your thoughts about that night before he left.

“We should get going. The babysitter is waiting for us—I mean me.” You said, and with that, you followed John to his car. 

Too many memories hit you all at once when you were in the passenger seat. The scent of John, obviously. The one crayon marking from one of the twins was on the dashboard. The driver's side that you occasionally would glance at John and watch him drive. He’ll always catch you staring before you look away in embarrassment. Gosh, you couldn’t forget the times that seat was reclined back, and you climbed on top of him like a hormonal sex-deprived woman. But you shouldn’t be thinking about this at the moment. You wanted to have a clear conversation with him without anything sexual getting involved. 

“Is this the part where we awkwardly talk about what happened?” John questioned. His eyes stared ahead on the road, and you just felt so little in his car.

Facing your feelings head-on as soon as that question comes out. Your fingers toyed with the bracelets that decorated your wrist before speaking, “We had sex. What more is there to say?”

You could hear your ex-husband tapping at the steering wheel. He clicks his tongue before speaking, “That’s what it was? Doesn’t seem like it, but okay.” He makes a turn, and you take note that he was purposely taking the long way back to the home you two once shared.

“Okay?” You asked. “Is that why you’re taking a long way home? Come on, John. We’ve taken this route before when we want-” You stopped midsentence realizing what you would say.

It was the same way he would take where he would pull over after a romantic date, and the two of you would engage in a heated quickie. He would take the same route if you two needed to argue a little longer to prevent your sons from hearing it when you were home. The last time you took this route, your lips parted to utter the word divorce; the rest was history. 

“Because we need to talk. You know more than I know that what happened was more than just sex.”

You grew silent, slowly slumping in your seat. “But what’s next if I say I felt more?” You asked. Your arms cross over your chest, sighing. “We can’t just get together.”

“Why not?” John stops at the red light, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Oh, that gaze. He knew what he was doing. He knew that right now, the way his eyes drank in your looks as if you were the finest bottle of whiskey made your heart flutter in your chest. You looked away, not having an answer to his question because there weren’t any. Deep down, you wanted to give you and John another try. 

It was only right that you rekindled the old flame that blew out.

After a minute of silence and the low hum of whatever generic pop song was playing on the radio, you asked. “So, how does this work?” 

“I guess we take it one step at a time.” He gives you a reassuring smile that you return.

“One step at a time.” You repeated before finally relaxing in your seat.

One step at a time at rekindling your marriage.

​━━ ♡ TAGS // @takemichiluvr @astennu @maydayaisha @introvered-violinist @diorlov3er @xintothewoodswegox @erieniee @photosbyameil @monstas1ut2 @princessd4isyjr @indiecursor @pranksterfan13 @mommiej @sweetsummerpie @caramelanins @alinvert @blackwolfqueenzz @attemptedgull @arctic-writes @h0rror-wh0re @yoshimurah @honeyhoneyyyyyy @hellshedevil @shamelesshoefairy @koresflora

[togrowoldinv]

Summer Break

Professors!WandaNat x Female Reader

When you see your professors at a bar, they invite you to their house

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, strap on use (N), oral (W receiving), thigh riding, dirty talk

Note: Woohoo more WandaNat. Enjoy this one!

WandaNat Masterlist, Main Masterlist

There they are across the room. Two of your professors. Professor Romanoff and Professor Maximoff. You didn’t expect to see them here.

Kate and Peter invited you out to a bar. It’s not really your speed but they begged you before it’s time to go home for the summer.

Finals have been taken and you all deserved to relax. You’re a few shots in and classes should be off of your mind.

So, why can’t you stop looking at your professors? Natasha is wearing a leather jacket over a black t-shirt. The simplicity of the outfit makes her so attractive. Wanda is in a black dress with an open back. You see the dynamic of the relationship as Nat stands an inch behind Wanda, a hand on her wife’s back to protect her from any passersby’s.

You knew they were married. It was bound to come up in class. But you also heard that sometimes they would be with other people than each other. Together or separate.

“You’re staring,” Kate comes up next to you and brings you out of your thoughts.

“I am not,” you try and defend, but it’s no use. You were definitely staring. “I can’t help it, Kate. Have you seen them?”

“I have. In fact, I see them a lot with Yelena.”

“Yelena! How’s that going?” You tease her.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kate says. Her eyes drift to behind you and she grins. “I should leave you to it.”

“What?” You ask, but the tap on your shoulder soon answers your question. You turn to see them standing there.

“Hello y/n,” the brunette says casually.

“Hey, Professor Maximoff,” you reply.

“Oh please, it’s Wanda now. You’ve finished my class,” Wanda says.

“Same goes for me. It’s Natasha to you now,” the redhead finally speaks. Maybe you’re buzzed or maybe she really does wink at you after she says it.

“How- um- how did I do in your classes?” You ask, not really knowing what else to speak about.

“You did well,” Natasha answers.

“We have a rule about this,” Wanda speaks, mostly to her wife. “No shop talk.”

“Right, babe. I’m sorry,” Natasha says. She wraps her arm around Wanda’s waist and kisses her cheeks. You try to look away, so they won’t see your burning cheeks.

“What are you drinking?” Wanda asks.

You tell her and Natasha orders you that drink and two for her and Wanda before she invites you to follow her back to a booth.

“I should really be with my friends tonight,” you reply.

“Oh, I don’t think they mind,” Natasha says. She leads you to the booth and stops by Kate who’s talking to another one of your classmates. “Do you mind if we steal her for the night, Kate?”

“Go for it,” Kate says. “I’m here if you need me.” The girl giggles as you walk off with Natasha behind you and Wanda in front.

You fall into a booth with the same order. You’re sandwiched between the two women.

“So, y/n, what are you going to do with your summer?” Wanda asks.

“Oh, probably just catch up on some reading,” you say.

“Smart girl,” Nat comments. “What about for fun?”

“I don’t know. I’m staying on campus since I don’t really care to go home. Kate will come and hang out sometimes,” you explain.

“I see. We’ll be around campus if you need anything,” Wanda says.

Under table, her hand slips onto your thigh. You went with a skirt tonight that’s a bit too short, so you feel every touch on your skin.

“Thank you,” you say. You take a large sip of your drink, hoping to knock some of the nerves out. “What about you guys?”

“What about us?” Nat says. “What do we do for fun?”

You nod. The redhead smirks.

“Well, we have a pool at the house, so we spend a lot of time there,” Nat says. “And we have a home library where this one gets lost for hours.”

Wanda chuckles and rubs her hand over your thigh. Nat notices the way you shiver and she places a hand on your other thigh.

“You need to come see the library,” Wanda says. “Promise me you will?” She’s giving you puppy dog eyes.

“I promise,” you say. How could you say no to that face?

“Good girl,” Wanda says.

She drinks the rest of her drink and asks Nat for another one. The redhead gets up to get her more.

“Y/n,” Wanda gets your attention. You look her in the eyes. She’s much closer than you remember. “You’re beautiful.”

You try to look away and hide your embarrassment but Wanda holds your chin.

“Look at me, baby,” she says. “You’re so beautiful and perfect.”

Her lips are moving towards yours and you close your eyes.

“Here you go,” Natasha’s voice makes you open your eyes. Wanda pulls her lips away and acts like it didn’t happen.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Wanda tells her wife. She leans across you and the two women kiss. Right in front of your face. You can’t ignore the way it makes you feel.

“Fuck,” you accidentally whisper aloud.

“Oh, sorry about that,” Natasha says. She’s smirking and is in no way sorry.

“It’s okay,” you say.

Natasha’s hand finds yours on the table and she brings it under the table with a strong grip.

“You’re gorgeous,” Nat says. Her lips are right next to your ear, ghosting over you.

Now that both of them have hit on you, you know the rumors must be true.

Wanda’s hand moves further up your thigh. So far that her thumb is brushing over your underwear. She can do doubt feel the wetness pooling in them. She smiles at her wife and gives her a nod.

“Would you like to go home with us, pretty girl?” Natasha asks.

“Oh, um-“

“You don’t have to, sweetheart. But we like you a lot,” Wanda says. Her finger presses into you just enough to drive you wild.

“What do you say?” Nat asks again.

“Yes,” you say. “Please.”

“Such good manners,” Wanda says. “Just like in class.”

Natasha slips out of the booth first and she tells your friends that you’re spoken for for the night. Kate gives you a secret thumbs up as Wanda holds your hand. She walks you out of the bar.

“This way, baby,” Wanda guides you.

She opens the passenger door of a corvette and helps you inside. Nat is in the driver’s seat. There’s light conversation on the way to their house, but you don’t say much.

The house is immaculate and in pristine shape. Both of the women are proud of their home.

“Come on in,” Nat says. She gestures to the couch for you to sit.

The two women disappear into the kitchen and come back a few moments later with a glass of wine for each of you. They sit on both sides of you again.

“Can I kiss you?” Wanda asks you first. It takes you by surprise, but of course she wants this.

You nod and Natasha grips your arm to get your attention.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes ma’am,” you correct yourself.

Wanda smiles and leans in for a kiss. She brushes her nose against yours before her lips connect with yours. A slow rhythm of her lips against yours is enough to drive you crazy.

Natasha’s hands wander around your legs as Wanda deepens the kiss.

“So good for us,” Natasha says. Her hand slips to the front of your shirt and unbuttons it slowly.

Wanda breaks from the kiss and smiles at you.

“So fucking good. Just like we imagined,” Wanda says.

She pulls your shirt off your shoulders and unhooks your bra with ease. You’re left only in your skirt.

“Let’s get this off you,” Nat says. She taps your hips and you stand up. She slips the skirt down your legs along with your panties. You’re naked in front of them.

“Fuck yes,” Wanda says. She immediately pulls you towards her and you straddle her lap.

“I want to kiss her,” Natasha says.

You turn to her and she kisses you hard. It’s different than with Wanda. More intense.

Wanda’s hands play with your breasts as Nat continues to kiss you. You take Nat’s jacket off and try to lift her shirt off.

“Ah, no. I’m in charge here, detka,” Natasha says, breaking the kiss.

The woman stands up and takes off her pants. She’s wearing boxers and your eyes go wide at a bulge in them.

Wanda reaches over to pull her wife’s red strap out.

“Suck her cock,” Wanda instructs you.

You waste no time doing so. Nat fills your mouth to your throat as she thrusts in and out of you. Desperate for release, you grind on Wanda’s thigh. She takes your nipples in her mouth and sucks them.

“That’s it, baby. You’re taking me so well,” Natasha praises you.

You groan against her and she knows you’re close.

“Are you going to come for us?” Nat asks.

She pulls her strap out and leans down for a kiss. It’s searing and enough to make you come against Wanda’s thigh without warning.

“Fuck that was hot,” Wanda says.

“Good girl,” Nat says.

You lean into Wanda and she kisses your neck.

“I want you to eat me out,” Wanda says.

“Yes ma’am,” you say. Nat helps you off Wanda’s lap and onto the floor in front of her.

You dive right in, licking her and sucking on her clit as Natasha kisses her body. Wanda is already close herself, loving how this fantasy she has is coming true.

“Come for her, Wanda,” Natasha instructs. It’s hotter than it should be and Wanda’s hips stutter as she comes against your tongue. You clean her up and Natasha is quick to kiss you.

“Fuck, she tastes so good, doesn’t she?” She asks you.

“Yes ma’am,” you reply.

“You’ve been so good, sweetheart. How are about I fuck you with my cock?” Nat asks.

“Oh, I want to see that,” Wanda says.

You agree and she lays you back on the couch. She brushes the tip over your pussy lips before she slips in. She moves slowly at first, but picks up her pace quickly.

"Keep going,” Wanda tells her. Natasha feels herself getting close from seeing you like this. Taking her so well.

“So wet and tight,” Natasha mumbles. “God, I’m gonna come.”

“Me too,” you manage to speak out.

“Come together,” Wanda says.

She’s watching you both as you come simultaneously. She’s made Natasha come that hard before, but god it’s beautiful to see the woman like this. So free.

“That’s a good girl,” Wanda says.

You don’t know which one of you she’s speaking too. Probably both.

Natasha slips out of you and you sit next to each other on the couch. You all catch your breath and Wanda kisses your cheek.

“I’m so glad you came over,” Wanda says.

“Me too,” you say.

“Yes, you should come over again,” Natasha says. “Not that I’m kicking you out right now. The night is still young.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask, gaining some confidence from the bliss you feel.

“Oh yeah, sweet girl,” Natasha says. “You still haven’t eaten me out.”

“Oh fuck,” you mumble and the two women share a smile.

You kneel in front of Natasha and the rest of the night begins. Wanda and Nat are already making plans to invite you over more often.

Maybe this summer won’t be so boring after all.

[dancingastralwitch]

A Palestinian man is asked in an interview by a white woman if he condemns Hamas while his people are being slaughtered in the open, and HE is the one condemned when he yells that it's injustice to insulate that his people deserve to be murdered, because "Hamas chose this."

A black woman is attacked first in a fight and SHE is the bad guy when she strikes back, she is the one whose face is plastered all over social media to be condemned and shamed for "aggression."

Two sisters are appropriately reacting to their oppressors by ripping off posters promoting their propaganda, and THEY are shamed and attacked for their lack of politeness when their people are being killed for existing.

An American democrat watches her colleagues cheer on genocide and ethical cleansing, the murder of children and the rape of women and the slaughter of families, and SHE is the one censored for speaking out in defense of them, despite her grief of losing family members.

Zionists are not condemned for enjoying the thought of children being killed, for calling Palestinians "animals" or saying Gaza should be "turned into a parking lot", Israeli doctors can get away with demanding that Palestinians, HUMAN BEINGS, should be murdered, that their only remaining hospital should be crushed.

They are not condemned for saying they wanted nuclear weapons unleashed on Gaza, they are not condemned for the imprisonment and torture of children, for desecrating dead Palestinians' corpses and mauling their bodies, for mocking Muslim Palestinians by rubbing their bullets against pig's skin before shooting them, for bombing Palestinian churches, for bombing universities, for shutting electricity from Gaza, cutting Palestinians from food and water, not letting them access to aid, for bombing CANCER hospitals and CHILDRENS HOSPITALS, for turning the sky of Gaza RED from explosions, for killing enough students that the entire school year was canceled, for annihilating families, for attacking Jewish people in Jerusalem, for cutting dead fetuses off dead mothers, for STEALING THEIR SKIN AND ORGANS and using them for their benefit, for forcing CHILDREN to hold a press conference to say that hey, they want to live.

Insinuating that this is about religion is the basis of Zionism. 60 members of Hamas were killed, and 10,500 civilians killed, 4000 of which are children. Over 800 bloodlines erased. Israel says they aim for "damage, not accuracy." Implying this is about Hamas is lies.

When white people in power tell you from their air-conditioned studios this is Israel defending itself, refuse to let Palestinian journalists explain things happening from their point of view, watch those journalists lose their entire families for speaking about what's happening to them, demonize Arabs who rage about injustice, ask Palestinians grieving if they condemn Hamas, know this is propaganda.

You shouldn't need them to tell you they're parroting lies to you. Their lies kill people. Their lies destroy people. Their apologies are insincere and their "sympathy" is limited only to those who look like them. It is unjust. It is cruel.

If I was were to narrate to you every atrocity Israel commited that I am aware of, I would never stop typing.

[hollygracesworld]

Innocent | Ed Warren x Reader

pairing : Ed Warren (Conjuring) x Female Reader

summary : You have been frequently bothered by a bride ghosts since you were little. But as you grow older you feel increasingly disturbed and you ask for help from Ed and Lorraine Warren, a demonologist, to help you escape the curse.

Instead of focusing on the exorcism case this time, you are caught up in a hot affair with Ed Warren.

After all, who would refuse his cock?

warning : full of smut, cheating, masturbation, virginity loss, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink, rough sex.

for another patrick wilson ff ➡️ masterlist

You snuck into Massachusetts Western University, Wakefield. You’re obviously not a student there, you graduated from uni last year. You knew that Ed and Lorraine Warren would be lecture in there so you disguised yourself as a student.

You’re wearing a white shirt matching with a black short skirt that is above the knee. Your beautiful legs are covered with sheer stockings.

Because of your appearance, many men stare at you stunned, even women seem to steal glances at you. You’re really beautiful and different from others. Your outfit is certainly the opposite in the 70s, but it’s not because of your outfit that makes many people admire you, but because you have a beautiful face with hair that looks very soft.

You have responded politely several times when several people tried to get to know you, and they were surprised why they had never seen you here.

Even though you attract attention there, you remain focused on your purpose here. The thought that told you to focus appeared when you saw the bride's figure appear again at the end of the room while Ed and Lorraine Warren were teaching in front. The bride looks at you with red eyes, and blood comes out of her eyes.

The blood dripped on the floor and when Lorraine walked backwards and stepped on the blood, in an instant the figure disappeared.

Lorraine gasped. She froze in place, looking at the floor which now had no blood at all- then she saw you.

Ed grabbed his wife’s shoulder, and he asked, “what is it, hon?”

“Nothing,” said Lorraine briefly, her eyes still looking straight at you. Ed followed his wife’s gaze, and he’s looking at you now.

“We have to,” Lorraine stopped because she was still trying to digest everything, “we have to continue this.”

Ed nodded, he then turned the video back on, “A French-Canadian farmer with no more than a third-grade education yet after he was possessed, spoke some of the best Latin I’d ever heard.”

You looked at the screen seriously. Suddenly you felt goosebumps, but when you looked to the side of the screen, you saw Ed caught staring at you, then Ed immediately continued talking, “S-sometimes backwards.” said Ed, who surprisingly, he’s stammer.

“He’d been molested by his father, who had also tortured him repeatedly.” Ed said still unable to take his eyes off you.

You realize this. It seems like you stole Ed Warren’s attention since Lorraine stared at you intently- she knew and could feel that you were being followed by the ghost. But her husband gaze at you... seemed different.

To ensure that, you pulled up your short skirt and crossed your legs. Your thighs are clearly visible in the sheer stockings which makes Ed even more unable to focus.

“A dark spirit…” Ed’s hungry gaze at your thighs, made his wife, Lorraine, suspect her husband’s strange behavior. Ed nervously continued, “A dark spirit made its home in- in th- this man.”

“Now, if you look into his eyes, you can see him tearing blood.” said Lorraine. You watched carefully and felt increasingly goosebumps all over your body.

Again, Ed couldn’t stop looking at you. You know that just by looking, you know this is wrong. He’s a married man and maybe they already have children. But you can’t deny that you like being seen by Ed, you feel like you want to tease him again.

“And like that…” Lorraine said while glaring at her husband and you alternately, “an upside-down cross started to appear from within his body.”

“All right, Drew, you can hit the lights.”

Suddenly everyone raised their hands to ask questions. You are surprised by this, not because of the enthusiasm of the class so that everyone wants to ask questions except you, but you are surprised because you feel like you didn’t get anything from their explanation.

Because Ed keeps looking at you and you in your seat keep teasing him. It seems like no one noticed, but if anyone in the room noticed besides his wife, they couldn’t blame you. He’s hot.

You can feel Ed and Lorraine’s relationship immediately strain. After answering questions from various students, they immediately left the room at a fast pace. You immediately follow their steps towards their car.

“Hey,” you said walking over to them as they were about to get into their car, “hey, I need your help.”

Before Ed could reply to your words, you quickly said, “I’m not a student here. I’m not even from this city, I came all the way here because I got news that you were lecture here, and...”

“That ghost bride….” said Lorraine still looking straight at you, “she follows you all the time, wherever you are.”

“And the worst part is…” you lowered your head, “she was the one who made my best friend die. I was driving a car, and I saw her figure right in front of my car, and I was fooled, I...”

“I’m sorry about what happened…” Ed said looking at you guiltily, then he looked at his wife who seemed to be trying to digest something, “I’m sure we can help…”

Lorraine turned to her husband. Don’t know why he really wants to help you even though they were very busy handling other cases that they should have investigated right away. Of course Lorraine wants to help you, but she feels bad instincts between her husband and you.

She knows that you have seduced her husband and his husband can’t take his eyes off you, but she had seen everything through her vision, about a bride ghost who always haunts and disturbs you.

“Of course we can help you,” said Lorraine smiling at you, gesturing for you to get into their car.

When you got into the car, Lorraine’s smile faded as she looked at her husband. She knew that something like this would happen, they had been together for a very long time, she knew that one day her husband would give another woman his gaze as if he wanted to strip her naked. But she didn’t think she could bear this much pain, however she had to focus on her purpose this time to helping you.

“How long have you been bothered by that ghost?”Lorraine asked when you arrived at her house.

You thought that the house will contain terrible things, but it turns out that all of them have been stored in one room. Her house is the same as most houses, classic interior design, and various paintings... Lorraine said that her husband likes pictures.

“When I was little,” you said, then you looked at Ed for a moment. And you realize that you look at him too often, “I don't remember exactly, but I could see her when I was 6 years old.”

“I felt very scared. especially when I no longer live with my parents, I...” you give up. You can’t control yourself from looking at Ed. His proportional body makes you want to be fucked by him.

“I'm not from this country. I studied in America and I have graduated from university and now I live here.” You could feel Ed constantly looking at you.

You bit your bottom lip, “I was alone, in the past if I was disturbed every night I could ask my parents to look after me. I know it was the actions of a spoiled child, but now everything is different, I endure all this alone, and I’m afraid...”

“You are not alone, we are here to help you...” said Lorraine holding your hand gently, “can you explain to us what you experienced…apart from your friend’s accident?”

You think for a moment, then you say quietly, “she often comes into my dreams, I don’t know, she always says something but I never remember it. And the weird thing is, I feel like I dreamed of her only for a moment, maybe 2 minutes ago, and when I woke up, it was already morning.”

“Ed...” said Lorraine softly.

He nodded his head, “yes hon?”

“Can you be here accompany her? I will be right back.” said Lorraine as she stood up. And then she whispered something to her husband, making you feel strange. She turned to you and smiled faintly then left the place.

“Where did she go?” you asked as Ed now sat down next to you.

“She’s just… want to do her thing.”

“No, you always work together. I don’t believe that.” you said feeling suspicious.

“And you believe what?” said Ed, “After you showed me your thighs and bit your sexy lips while me and my wife were lecture in there.”

Ed’s soft fingers touched your pink lips, his thumb combing every corner of your lips while his other fingers held your chin.

You let go of Ed’s hand with a slow movement. “No, Ed, we can’t.” You said trying to avoid eye contact from him.

Ed grinned, “Why not?” he tucked your hair behind your ear, holding your chin, “look at me.”

You’re looking at each other now. You can’t help yourself when you see Ed in his formal suit and tie... his body is very proportional with his very handsome face. You only looked into his eyes for 5 seconds and you immediately kissed Ed’s lips hungrily.

Ed kissed you back, your fingers undoing Ed’s tie. He kissed your neck aggressively, then with quick movements he placed your entire body lying on the sofa. He took off his suit and shirt, as did you at the same time taking off your shirt.

When you were about to take off your skirt-- Ed, who was already topless, bit your neck and then said in a deep, hoarse voice in your ear, “leave the skirt in place. as are those filthy stockings...”

Ed ripped your sheer stocking right at your cunt. He moved your panties to look at your pussy. You could feel Ed’s fingers playing on your clit. His thumb rubs your clit with lazy movements while his other 2 fingers into your cunt.

You groaned in pain, Ed said, “damn, 2 fingers won't really go inside. You’re so tight, honey.”

“You're a virgin huh?” said Ed, who was still playing with your clitoris and with his fingers, you could only nod weakly.

“What a surprise.” You felt his fingers force their way into your vagina making you scream in pain.

You can hear Lorraine calling her husband because he heard your moan, “don't worry hon, this is part of the exorcism I’m doing. I can do it myself.” Ed lied so stupidly.

“Ed...please...” you let out a weak moan, you looked at the door of the house which was still wide open, “Ed... shouldn't we close the door first?”

His fingers slipped from your cunt. He started to unbutton his trousers. You can see his cock which is so big and hard in front of you.

You can feel his cock starting to enter the walls of your cunt which are already very wet. He kisses your thighs which are still covered in stockings then enters his entire penis into you. Makes you groan in pain and shed tears.

You felt sore because Ed’s big cock was inside you, but you really liked it.

“Ed, we have to close the door...”

Ed now put your legs over his shoulders and fucked you very aggressively, he answered, “That's not necessary. If someone else passes by this house, at least they can see what a slut you are.” He squeezed out the last word by thrusting his cock deeper into you.

You were drunk with the pleasure he was giving you. You accidentally said a sentence you didn’t want to say.

“Ed Warren.....a sexy demonologist that I just met. A married man that would exorcise all the demons in my body. Please have my baby, put it all in me…. I want you..” you moaned as he insert his cock into your wet cunt with fast movements.

Ed looked at you with pity, “I really wanted to see you have my baby the first time I saw you with those thighs that were so tempting... obey me and be a good slut.”

You nod and you feel increasingly excited and want to climax when Ed kisses both of your tits and licks your nipples while still inserting his large penis inside you.

“Ed... I want to cum.” you moaned when Ed bit your nipple.

He then kissed your collarbones then you could feel his rough breath on your neck now. He kissed your neck then you felt something flowing inside you.

He releases a lot of sperm inside you. With nothing left. His big cock was still inside you when Lorraine caught you both in the living room.

“So, can we start now?” She asked with a straight face, “of course you can do an exorcism faster than this, right, Ed?”

Ed chuckled, he still hadn't removed his cock from inside you, “yeah hon, give us some time to get dressed again.”

Lorraine left the room still with a straight face. But you know that she really jealous and hurt because she obviously heard all your moans and can imagine how great your sex was. But she can’t do anything for that because she wants her husband to be happy.

You kissed his lips as he pulled his cock out of your pussy, “that was amazing.” you said then he smiled happily.

Your still naked bodies stood up and Ed hugged you from behind, “ready for round two?”

***

[kaaaaaaarf]

Hey you, I'm here for Wolfstar raising harry recommendations 🤗

Hello!! I'm also going to tag @imsiriuslyreading because I know Lana was also looking for some recs!

This is by no means a comprehensive list, but these are some of my very favs:

Wolfstar Raising Harry

Ten Reasons (To Go To Michigan) by @greyeyedmonster-18 (I also love these two unrelated wolfstar raising harry microfics by the same author) — This is a Sirius raising Harry and meeting recently divorced Remus (who happens to be a writer) on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. A must read! that's the art of getting by by sarewolf — Remus becomes Harry's guardian and they move to a muggle village in the middle of nowhere. Eventually, Sirius is freed and comes to stay with them, but can they get back what they once had? Honestly, majorly obsessed with this one, but watch out for the angst! Stealing Harry by copperbadge — In an alternate universe where Sirius Black never went to Azkaban, Harry divides his life between the Dursleys' house and Mr. Black's bookshop -- until Sirius realises what the Dursleys are doing to him, and takes him away from their care. This series is fucking amazing and actually spans several of the books!! Mr Mouse by TracingPatterns (which continues in their wolfstar raising harry series) — A lovely little piece in which a young Harry learns about grief.

Like Real People Do by third_crow (part of the coffee shop au series) — Sirius raising Harry, when he starts falling for local barista Remus Lupin. This is also a beautiful story about what it's like to live with epilepsy and I am extremely obsessed with this series. The Things I Did by Lolo_row — canon compliant, Remus gets custody of Harry and works to get Sirius out of Azkaban. A bit of angst, but tasty! the dogfather au by hollimichele — Harry was raised by his adoptive muggle family, when one day a big black dog shows up. His parents just thinks he's a stray, and Padfoot becomes the family pet (to keep an eye on Harry, and protect him from Voldemort). Eventually this morphs into Remus also coming into the picture.

Wolfstar Raising Teddy

the mayors of simpleton by @fruityindividual — Divorced wolfstar are co-parenting a very mischievious Teddy who is not about to let his dads stay divorced!! Honestly this fic is so funny, so heartfelt, so fucking lovely. It also features the most beautiful portrayal of a blind character that I ever seen. A must read! Of Memories and Milk Thievery by @mayescapade — Divorced wolfstar raising Teddy again! Wolfstar have been co-parents for years and they wont stop terrorizing/pranking one another. An Infinte Ocean by orphan_account — Single dad Remus. Remus Lupin knows two things--working and caring for his son, Teddy. When his babysitter sets up crowdfunding so Teddy can go swim with the sea turtles at the local animal rescue, Remus doesn't realise how completely their life is going to change. Especially when he meets Sirius Black, the weekend merman in the aquatic show, and someone who might convince him of love at first sight. Honestly a lovely piece, and it also features the Potter clan.

Other (raising both teddy and harry, wolfstar girldads)

Let's Play Pretend by MsAlexWP — My current obsession!! I can't tell you how many times I've read this. Single parent Remus and single parent Sirius meet at a play date and end up pretend dating so that the old women in Sirius' building (who basically stalk him) will stop trying to set him up. Neither of them can date at the moment, so what could possibly go wrong?? Ultimate comfort fic. Of Quiet Hearts And Thundering Dreams by TracingPatterns — This is single parent Sirius and single parent Remus, both having moved to a small village and meeting at Harry & Teddy's school. A Cup of Sugar by MsAlexWP — Again, they are both single parents. Harry Potter is recovering from surgery and facing the worst summer ever until a guy with the same crutches as Harry moves in across the street with his son. So lovely!! Hide-and-Seek by onehundredflamingos — Wolfstar girldads raising their adoptive daughter Cassie, who is also a werewolf. This is the story of her first transformation. It's soooo sweet! @industrations has done a bunch of wolfstar and Cassie art, which you should absolutely go and cry over!

For supplementary material, feel free to check out my Wolfstar Raising Harry, Wolfstar Raising Teddy and Wolfstar Girldads tags!

[abbyromanoff]

SAFE NOW

PAIRINGS: Maria Hill x reader

WORD COUNT: 3538

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, smut, overstimulation, edging, masturbation, injuries, soft!Maria, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, daddy (M), praise, degradation, comfort, fingering, cunnilingus, think that’s all :)

This is for my wifey @sapphickorro 😘 I’ll be expecting a ring in return

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“We need a medic as soon as we land, we’re now twenty minutes out!” Natasha yelled into the coms, her free hand pressing down on your open wound, her weight causing the blood that was pouring out of you rapidly to slow down. Your eyes were fluttering shut as your body grew tired and weak, but you knew you had to try.

“C’mon, Y/N, stay with me.” You were trying, but it took only two minutes before your body gave up, your eyelids closing over as your heartbeat slowed. It wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t at a safe rate either. Nat was freaking out, not only because of the fear of losing you but dealing with your girlfriend would be even worse than the grief. She’d kill her, and not many were able to have such a privilege when it came to the Black Widow.

The quinjet landed, at last, gusts of wind nearly knocking down the bystanders. The doctors and nurses stood within a good distance with the hospital bed ready to bring you to safety. Maria was there too, a cold and hard expression sporting her face. She was more so worried than mad, but she would never show anyone that vulnerability, only you had that prerogative.

When the entrance opened, they were met with you being held in Nat’s arms, your limp body only frightening the others. It was supposed to be an easy mission, with no great danger that the two of you would need to keep watch of. Of course, both of you kept your guard up in case that happened to be wrong, and it was.

Luckily and unluckily for Nat, you were the only one who had gotten injured in the pair, but that only made Maria’s hatred and indignation for the redhead rise. She was already preparing the speeches to tell the agent, but none would reduce the hidden sadness she held deep in her chest.

“You better have an explanation for this, Romanoff.” She muttered, following the women and few men who rushed you inside. She gulped fearfully, hiding her face from anyone who had visible eyesight. She didn’t show emotions, especially not fear. And especially not if it’s caused by someone with less power and authority than her. But the woman scared her and many others to death, even more so when you were the topic. She’d kill anyone for even looking at you the wrong way. To her, you were just a sweet little thing that she needed to protect at all costs.

“Are they going to be okay?” Maria’s jaw was clenched tightly as she spoke, her arms crossed over her chest as her hands balled into fists.

“Uh, y-yes, Ms. Hill, they’ll be alright. They’re going to need to receive stitches and will be supplied with multitudes of pain medication, but we were able to stop the bleeding and, thankfully, no arteries were hit.” The doctor stuttered out, it wasn’t every day that you were met with an angry woman who could and has killed many. She nodded and sent her appreciation to the brunette, turning to face Nat who held her hands on her hips.

“I am so sorry-”

“If something like this ever happens again I will not hesitate to kill you, got me?” She cut her off, obtaining a nod from the redhead. She wasn’t one to allow threats to come her way, but she felt as though she deserved this one.

Maria took a seat in the waiting room chair, running her hands through her hair as tears threatened to fall. She didn’t cry, she promised herself she never would. But the thought of losing you, the only person she ever truly loved and cared for, everything was just too much. She broke down in the empty hallway, not caring to see if others were nearby; she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything at that moment besides you. Were you going to make it? Sure you would, that’s what the doctors said. But what if you didn’t? What if your last time together was spent as a goodbye and your last breathing moment was spent saving others? What if she’d forget your comforting voice after you were gone? What if she lost all the small moments that brought her more joy than imaginable?

“Ms. Hill? You can now visit them if you’d like, they’re expected to wake in only a few hours.” She hadn’t even realized how long she had been out here, the clock ticking every second being the only reminder of time. She stood quickly, rushing past the open door and stopping in her tracks when she saw you. You were hooked up to multiple IVs and wore a nightgown that they had supplied you with. There was no passion on your face like usual, it was instead blank as you slept. She had never seen you so pale, it felt wrong. You were still beautiful in her eyes, you’d always be, but this wasn’t you.

You were in pain, and she disrelished in the knowledge that she wasn’t there to help you, she could only watch as you suffered. But she stayed, she continued to sit right next to you, your limp hand in her own, waiting for you to wake. She didn’t fall asleep despite her tiredness; she was exhausted but refused to miss the moment your eyes opened again.

“Mar?” She heard your frail voice, her head shooting up along with her body.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m right here.” She wanted to bring you in for a hug and tell you how stupid you were, the IVs prevented that, however.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to protect Natasha.” She smiled at your confession, chuckling to herself as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s alright, you just need to be a bit more careful next time, okay?” You tried to nod, only to feel a shooting pain in your head. You needed rest, so with a lingering kiss to your forehead, she let you fall back into a slumber as she joined, trying to find comfort in the hard chair.

It only took a few weeks before you were back to brand new, you still had your scar and Maria had to tend to it multiple times a day but other than that you were yourself again. You had already gotten strict discipline for your actions, she wasn’t pleased. You weren’t the only one though, Nat got one, Fury got one, and even the medics received their own version when they had slipped up one day by accidentally dropping your food during delivery.

“Does that hurt?” Maria asked when you hissed in pain, the alcohol pad doing no such healing but instead worsening your agony. You were forced to bite down on a cloth the first time after you screamed loud enough for someone to think you were being murdered.

“What do you think?” She glared up at you, and that instantly threw away your smirk. She sighed heavily while placing the bandaid on your skin along with the cooling gel. Surprisingly for a stab wound, it wasn’t that large of a gash.

“I already told you, Mar, I’m sorry. But how is it fair that you get to put your life on the line daily and the one time I do you’re mad at me?” You asked, growing frustrated with how she’s been treating you. It wasn’t fair, you worried about her constantly but you would never throw anger towards her for such acts, you knew what her job requirements were.

“I’m not mad at you, Y/N.” She noted, packing away the supplies and putting them in the cabinets below the sink. Her hands gripped the counter hard, her fingertips turning red.

“Really? Because it seems like it-” You were cut off by a groan in pain, clutching onto your waist as you nearly toppled over. Maria rushed to your side, holding you upright and being careful to not touch your wound.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you.” You tried ushering out apologies, but the pain was too great.

“Don’t apologize, I’m not mad. Why don’t you sit for a while, okay?” She walked you to the edge of the bed now that you exited the bathroom, letting you sit and flinching at your cries of torment.

“Sit with me, please.” She nodded and took the spot next to you, holding your free hand in her own and kissing the back of it gently. She brushed the hair out of your face and wrapped the same arm around your back after, being careful where to rest her palm.

“Is this okay?” You shook your head yes and rested your head on her shoulder, letting out deepened breaths that came to a regular.

“I think it went away.” You mumbled, feeling the scorching pain dissolve slowly. It felt like an electric shock on your skin, but it eased away once you were able to rest your body once more. Maria smiled and rubbed your back soothingly, placing another peck on your head where she was able to catch the scent of your shampoo.

“I’m not mad at you, you know.” You moved your head so you’d be able to look at her, only to find her eyes not able to line up with yours.

“I’m mad at myself if anything. I should’ve been there, I should’ve done more, I don’t know. I just- I hate seeing you like this, it kills me to know you’re in pain and there’s nothing I can do to rid you of that.” She sniffled, lowering her gaze to her hand that fidgeted with her bouncing thigh. You listened, choosing not to interrupt her with your own thoughts and instead taking all of hers in.

“I don’t want to lose you, I can’t. When I saw you like that, and when I heard Nat calling for medics, I couldn’t think, I- I don’t know what happened to me.” She started, clasping her lips together in a fight to not shed a tear. “It’s like I can’t function without you, you’re the only person I ever truly loved, and I’m just scared I’ll lose you.” You cupped her cheek in your hand, pulling her face closer so she was directed towards you. Her lips turned upwards in a smile when seeing your own mimicking her, and you were able to taste the salty tears on them when you pulled her in for a kiss. You played with the baby hairs on the back of her neck as her tongue licked over your lips, asking for entry which you accepted.

“You’re so beautiful.” She said when pulling away, only for it to last a short time when she leaned back in. Her hand found placement on your thigh where she rubbed up and down in a soothing manner. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself pulling apart to remove one another's clothes. Your shirt had already been discarded when she had patched you up, and all Maria had to do was scrap your pants and you were left half naked in front of her, looking effortlessly perfect like always.

“I wanna see you.” You muttered, tugging on her loose shirt. She grinned and lifted it over her head, her abs flexing as she did so. You couldn’t stop your wandering hand that pressed onto the muscle, feeling her rock-hard skin that caused you to whimper.

“Like what you see?” She asked in a teasing tone, already knowing the answer. You bit your lip as you nodded, your hand quickly traveling down to the buttons on her pants. She chuckled at your antics, replacing your hand with her own and pulling them off of her body.

“Can I?” She had crawled back onto the bed, her fingertips playing with the band of your bra. They first pulled down the straps adorning your shoulders, then found their way to your clasp.

“Please.” You gave her your best look of faux innocence as she slowly removed your top, fiddling with your exposed breasts once they made their way to the surface.

“Lay down, baby, let me do all of the work.” She effortlessly removed your panties that held a wet spot in the middle, quickly attaching her lips to your clit. You sighed in satisfaction, running your fingers through her hair and giving a teasing pull. She moaned into you, causing your hips to buck up into her face.

“Yes, just like that- ah!” Her tongue toyed with your clit before finding your hole, dipping in and out and enjoying the reaction you blessed her with. She didn’t stop until you were on the edge, that release you’d been aching for nearly plunging until she pulled away and wiped her lips as if she was disgusted with your juices; you knew that was nothing but false.

“No, no, no-” You whined, being cut off by Maria’s shushing, a finger pressing against your lips as she did so.

“Shh, you don’t make the decisions here, see what happened last time you tried to be a big girl and think for yourself?” Her eyes trailed to your wound, the skin rising up and down as it copied your irregular breathing patterns. You followed them and gulped down your snarky remark, already fearing what else the woman might do.

“Let Daddy do the thinking for you tonight, angel.” She placed her thumb on your lips as you wrapped them around it, your tastebuds being hit with your sweet nectar. You smiled around her, knowing how much it drove her crazy.

“You gonna let me do that?” You nodded with a hum, tickling her skin and making her slowly remove herself from your mouth.

“Yeah? And you won’t make silly little choices that get you hurt?” You nodded once more.

“Only big girls can think for themselves, but you’re not one, are you?” This time a shake of your head was given.

“Mhm, that’s right. You’re already listening so well, such a good little baby.” Her hand came to your chest, pushing you down gently and giving you a small kiss before parting. She continued her pecks down your body, creating a trail before stopping in front of your needy cunt. Your clit was pulsating, your hips thrusting into nothing, and your slick coating your thighs.

“Such a needy thing, is this all for me?” She gave you a lustful gaze as her tongue explored you. You threw your head back as you tried clamping your legs shut, only for her grip to be too strong to do so.

“Yes, Daddy, all for you.” She hummed thoughtfully, sending a wave of pleasure through you. You reached down to try and pull her closer, but it hurt your waist too much to do so.

“Be careful, angel.” She was so engrossed with your flavor, she was an addict to your drug. Her hand traveled down to join her mouth, a single finger slipping inside of you with ease.

“Oh, God-” You gripped the sheets tightly when she drew herself out, only to thrust back in moments later. She was going too slow, and you didn’t even notice the way you’d chase into her for more. You tried making a rhythm, but it was sloppy.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking cute. I’m the luckiest woman alive.” She was hungry, practically starving, and you were the only person who could fuel her lust.

“Faster, please.” You struggled to get out, hoping she’d show some sort of mercy and give in. She did. A groan left her as you felt a second digit prodding at your hole, joining the other that was dripping from your pent-up stress.

“No matter how many times I fuck this precious pussy you’re still so damn tight.” She was grunting loudly, but the sounds of your juices deafened them. The walls weren’t soundproof, and for a moment you worried someone might be able to listen in unwillingly, but your thoughts escaped your head as soon as they entered and were replaced with her. Maria.

“You think you can take one more, sweetheart?” You shook your head, your body withering and thrashing about. She pouted and slowed her movements which resulted in a whine from deep in your chest.

“C’mon, I’ve been taking such good care of you, can’t you do this one thing for Daddy? It’ll make her so, so happy.” It was so tempting, and you were on the edge waiting for her permission to let go, there was no way out.

“O-okay.” There was clear hesitation in your voice, she could sense it from a mile away.

“Oh no, baby, I need to hear that you want it. Tell Daddy how badly you need her.”

“Please, Daddy, ple-please fuck me. I’m so wet for you.”

“Mm, I can tell.” She humored, laughing at your struggles against her. It took what felt like hours for her to finally let you off, a third finger slipping into your hole.

“I bet you feel so good around my cock, so warm and- tight!” She hushed out, forcing herself into a denied stage of release. She was soaked, almost more than you. She could feel her orgasm pending, but she was holding off for your sake.

“Aww, are you close?” She cooed when noticing the way you clung onto anything, biting your lip and eyes rolling back. She knew your body better than you did, she already knew you were near your breaking point. She wasn’t far behind either.

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, all yours.” She nodded along with each word spoken, smiling as your orgasm came rippling through you. All of your senses came to a halt as you blabbered out unspoken words, only feeling yourself shake more as she continued to fuck you through your high. She wasn’t easing you down, it was as if she was prepping you for more, which you soon learned was true.

“Don’t cry, I know you can take it.” It only took a few minutes of the same procedure for you to be brought back into your foregoing state. She had been watching carefully, picking up on your every move that she had memorized over the years.

And even when you thought it was enough, she didn’t stop. You wondered how she could last so long without pains spreading throughout her body, she was animalistic.

“No- it’s too…much.” You struggled to get out. It was a lie, you both could sense that. There was never too much with her, you’d continue for the rest of the night if it meant you had her by your side.

“Just one more, I want you to cum with me.” You didn’t notice the free hand that had been creating movements on her lower region. She was toying with her clit and thrusting into the feeling, she had been neglecting her own pleasure for the sake of yours.

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can, I know you can. You’ve been doing so well, don’t stop now.” You didn’t have time to prepare for the release that washed over you like a tsunami, your juices oozing out of you and dripping onto her digits.

“Oh, fuck! You look so good, baby, so perfect.” You both let out shared pornographic moans, her gaze staying on you as you refused to look anywhere but in her direction. You grabbed her cheek, holding her closely as you kissed with passion and love. She was drawing out your orgasm, her fingers slowing until they came to a halt.

“Fuck…that has to be a record or something.” She chuckled, wrapping her arms around your waist and pressing gentle pecks across your face, the action tickling your skin.

“I love your laugh so much, angel.” You smiled at the compliment, your cheeks being painted red and causing your girlfriend to share said reaction. It was peaceful, a comfortable silence falling upon you both that didn’t need to be filled.

“You know I love you, right?” Came her hushed whisper. You opened your eyes once again to see tears bristling her eyes and a small pout forming across her lips.

“I do, and the best part is I love you just as much.” Your arms went to loosely hang on her shoulders and met to play with her dark brown hair. You scratched her scalp in a soothing manner, your heart breaking and face softening as she couldn’t form her words for a moment.

“I’m sorry I freaked out on you, I was just scared.” You led her head onto the crook of your neck as she inhaled your scent, her tense muscles relaxing.

“I’m sorry too, I should’ve been more careful.” Even with your naked bodies that were glistened with sweat due to moments prior, there was nothing sexual about it, there was just love.

“Just- promise me you’ll be safe?” She held her pinky finger out, quirking her lips up in a sweet gesture. You crossed your own with hers, your voice booming while holding a low tone.

“I promise you that I’ll do all that I can to protect myself, but only if you do so as well.”

“Deal.”

[tearskillstardust]

🐚 GOLDEN INSIGNIA... neuvillette

— summary; it is never wise to find yourself at the shores during evenings, but when little neuvillette does, what happens to leave him pondering?

— third person pov. fem! reader. reader implied to be the mermaid.

neuvillette had always been most beautiful, even as a child.

such was his beauty and innocence that women would look at him and giggle gently, speaking to his mother in a hushed, secretive yet a mischievous voice nonetheless—

'what did you eat during your pregnancy to have such a beautiful son? beware, should our guilty minds ever bear the thought of stealing him away!'

all while little neuvillette remained in pure bliss as he explored the world, scenery upon scenery revealing to him like a rose bud blooming open. he was just as curious in those younger years, always flittering as he found another scenery or trinket to marvel at.

perhaps his most vivid memory remains from centuries ago, when he could still enjoy the innocence of childhood, and could bear to truly smile without the slightest display of any form of restraint.

the sea had been most welcoming, loud and bright in its frolicking beauty as it attempted to touch the sky. the sky was still a bright shade of yellow, though even then he knew what a pretence it was. a few hours in—and it would fall again, yellow to red to black, until no shade was left and it turned yellow again.

seashells lined the shore, their surfaces beaming like faux pearls as neuvillette followed them. otters always sunbathed at these times, for they knew no human would be sufficiently relaxed to venture to these parts of the beach. they never minded children—nobody did, especially one so calm and ethereal as him.

it was then that he, lost in the pearly beauty of a shell, raised his head to behold the most striking sight he had ever seen. a sight that would never repeat, not in his life that stretched centuries—a young mermaid.

she was half within the sea and half on the sand, softly tugging at her long midnight shaded hair, picking out clams and shells that seemed as stars against her hair as she tossed them aside with a huff. while neuvillette would have loved to object the ease with which she deemed all those pretty shells useless, the gleam of her silver scales and bright eyes was one that left him staring.

the jewels adorning her body gleamed brightly under the dying sun's soft sunlight, compelling him further to move closer to the girl. she seemed lost in her own world, without any care as she moved out to take an otter in her lap.

it was rude to stare—and perhaps the only rude thing the child had ever done in his life, or would grow up to do, but such was his trance that it did not break until she turned, eyes widening like a deer caught under headlights.

they maintained eye contact.

none flinched as the otter scurried away.

she gestured him to come closer.

neuvillette moved with great difficulty—steps feeling heavy against the sand, perhaps the ocean was pulling him away from what could be deemed as the ocean's innocent treasure. he was no pirate though—one look and he would be gone, poof into the air!

at least, he thought so.

the beautiful mermaid turned towards him fully, and catching the doe-like look of her features, he relieved himself from worry. she was naïve, at least this much he knew. stopping a safe distance before the beautiful girl, he gazed down at her before bowing softly, like a gentleman.

'pleased to make your acquaintance, lady.'

she looked at him up and down, before curiously placing her thin tipped finger against her rosy lips.

'i'm no lady, though.'

he nodded, as though it was common sense. 'i can see that. you're a mermaid.'

she giggled, as though a joke had been cracked. 'no silly! i'm a girl, i mean!'

he maintained his serenity before nodding gently, though it came off more as being uninterested to the young nymph, making her even more interested.

'you seem quite young yourself. are you a boy? a human boy?'

he tilted his head slightly, 'why? boys of other races come to meet you too?'

her eyes widened, as though he had uttered a secret that must not have been shared before she pressed her index finger tightly against her lips, telling him to maintain silence.

she gestured him to bring his ear, as he reluctantly did so, still distrusting of the mysterious girl.

'don't mention boys in front of the ocean! my father can hear it, and he doesn't like it when i talk to human boys!'

'you talk to other human boys?' he wasn't sure where that came from.

'can i not?'

he shrugged, 'it's not safe.'

she smiled. 'that's why i do it.'

for a moment, both remained silent. the boy regarded the mermaid, the mermaid regarded the boy.

he finally sat next to her, picking up a precious shell that caught his eye. white from the outside with a rainbow like tint to its surface, there seemed to be an insignia of sorts on its inside portion, golden in shade. the insides darkened further from white to grey to black until it all came together to swirl at its tip, symmetrically folding.

'pretty.' he said, admiring the symmetrical shell.

the mermaid smiled, in her similar playful manner, always appearing as though she knew a secret that you don't. neuvillette was immune to such acts of seduction, lest should he fall prey to their tendencies. however, this one seemed... too manipulatable for her own good.

she spoke softly, 'you're very pretty, too.'

'so are you,' he said, before rising, deciding the encounter was more than enough time pass. 'i'll get going now—'

'you're going?' she asked, voice surprisingly desperate.

he nodded in confusion, 'any problems?'

she regarded him for a moment, before sighing and looking towards the sand with a sad look. 'i don't have anyone to speak to down there... you're the only human boy who's as young as i am.'

'it's not safe for humans and mermaids to interact. besides, you're better off protecting yourself from selfish eyes.' he said, slowly backing away with the shell in his hand.

'you're going to take that shell too?' she asked, gaze suddenly displaying a wild possessiveness.

the sun had hidden now, the ocean turning pitch black, the shade of the sky. where the mermaid sat, it glowed with a strange sparkle, reminiscent of the stars that were reflected in the ocean's infinite waters. her own eyes seemed to glow with an eerie light.

'no, you can keep it if you'd like—'

'no.' she was quick to say, as she slowly inched towards the ocean water once again, leaving behind a trail of dust. she broke eye contact with him—never even turning once before her midnight hair pooled just above her waist and her irises hid behind the pale of her lids.

she suddenly twisted her neck, facing him with an expression suggestive only of complete autocracy, suddenly shifting from a mermaid to a queen ordering her subject, voice deep and rich with melody as she spoke—

'do not separate it from yourself even once.'

and while young neuvillette had never been good at following orders, a queen was better off when listened to compared to when she was not. pocketing the shell and staring at the ripple of the water's surface as she disappeared as swiftly as she came, he turned away too.

and as he climbed the rocks lining the sea beach to return to the city, he wondered to himself—how likely was it for a natural golden insignia to form on a shell?

even now he wonders, as he looks over at the ocean, churning loudly with the essence of salt and melancholy. he ensures the shell is hidden from the common eye within the deeper layers of his coats, but the one who ought to see, sees it nonetheless.

[rbbrbikerthorp]

A New Neighbour Moves In

[Please note: all characters are 18 plus and any reference to boy or girl is purely descriptive or used in dialogue between the characters.]

Mitchell was living the life much like any typical 23 year old male would. He’d graduated university, he had started his career in recruitment for legal and financial services and was starting to earn good monthly commissions on top of his basic salary. He’d used all the money inherited from his grandparents to buy a 1-bedroom flat in a new development, just on the edge of the city centre. Mitchell didn’t have a steady girlfriend – he wasn’t in a long-term relationship place. As he told his mates at the gym, he was a ‘date them and ditch them’ once he’d managed to ‘get them in the sack’ kind of bloke.

It was a Monday morning and Mitchell needed to get to work. First, he had to navigate his way carefully out of the flat where he’d been invited to spend the night. The girl he’d met in the club the previous evening had taken a shine to his blue eyes, rugby toned body and wavy blonde hair. “Another notch on the bedpost,” Mitchell thought as he tiptoed his way out of the girl’s bedroom. Mitchell made it a policy to only meet women in person and he would never exchange contact details. It meant that none of his ‘conquests’ had any idea of how to find him and, as he was enjoying his ‘tom cat’ life so much, he sure didn’t want to be found. He went on his Uber app and requested a taxi. In less than two minutes one had pulled up in front of him. He took one last look up at the window to check the curtains were still closed and the car pulled away from the curb.

He arrived back at his flat in plenty of time to get ready for the day ahead. He shaved his weekend beard growth and then turned on the shower. Whilst the water warmed up, he took a moment to admire himself in the mirror. He loved how beefy his legs looked from the years of playing rugby first in secondary school and then in the university’s first team. His regular attendance at the gym meant he had a well-defined chest and arms. Women loved his bum as it stood out, firm and muscular. Yes, at that moment as he entered the shower cubicle Mitchell was very content with his life, but on this day, things were about to change.

As Mitchell locked his front door, he noticed piles of boxes outside the flat next door. As he turned towards the lifts, he ran into a large man. He barely stopped as he fell into him. Stepping backwards he said, “I’m really sorry, I didn’t see you there.” As the guy regained his balance, Mitchell noticed the man’s shaved head, jeans with bleach marks with tall black boots with white laces tucked into them. Even though he thought of himself as a tough, well-built guy, he stuttered feeling inadequate and intimidated by this stranger. “I…I…I’m Mitchell,” holding out his hand, “n... n… nice to meet you. So, you’re moving in next door? I… I… always wondered who my new neighbour would be? It’s been vacant for ages.

The man smiled, “I’m John and yes, it was quite a steal really. Apparently last owner had been shacked up with his fiancé for the last few months and they were about to get married. I made an offer a bit less than what they were asking for, but, because he needed to put money down as a deposit on a new house, he had no choice but to accept.”

“Well,” Mitchell replied being polite, “I… I… I’ve got to get my bus.”

“Yes, I can see you’re dressed for an office. As you can probably see I’m not a suit person myself.”

Mitchell laughed nervously. Why was he feeling so unsettled by this guy?

“Look, why don’t you drop by when you get home from work. I always like to get to know my new neighbours.”

On the spur of the moment, Mitchell couldn’t think of an excuse not to accept the invitation, so he said, “why not? Must go!” As he walked away, he could sense the man was staring at him. He shouted, “good luck unpacking” and then lowered his voice a little, “weirdo.”

John couldn’t help admiring his good-looking young neighbour’s physique, and he shook his head hearing Mitchell mumbling that last word. He began to create a mental picture of what Mitchell might look like wearing less formal clothing. Tattoos were common on young men of a similar age these days, so John wondered if he had acquired any ink yet. He was sure to find out later when Mitchell would drop in for a chat and John would explain was his lifestyle was all about. John set about unpacking so that he could prepare for his young neighbour’s visit.

It was around 7:30 in the evening when John heard a knock on the door. He opened it to find Mitchell had changed out of his work suit into a t-shirt and sports shorts. “Come in.” It felt more like an order to Mitchell than a pleasantry.

“You got everything unpacked I see.” Mitchell said trying not to stare at the many pairs of tall lace-up boots all lined up by the door; taking in the various bomber jackets hanging on the coat rack and the skinhead themed pictures and posters on the walls.

John noticed Mitchell’s “That’s nothing lad, I’ve got way more kit in the bedroom.”

Mitchell really didn’t want to know any more about what might be in John’s bedroom, “takes all kinds I guess,” he thought as John handed him a beer. The two men chatted, but as Mitchell sipped away at the beer, “wow”, he thought, “this stuff has a real kick.” He found himself becoming more relaxed and more willing give direct answers to John’s questions; about his job, his personal life, his family and friends. Mitchell was hoping that by dressing as though he was going to the gym and John would bring their chat to an end and let him go on his way. Mitchell was starting to fidget as you do when you’re about to stand up. However, John had different ideas, “stay right there lad, and I’ll get us another beer.” Mitchell suddenly found himself wanting to stay and slumped back into the sofa.

“So wh… wh… what do you for a living?” Mitchell asked with a slight stutter and slur as John handed him another glass of beer.

John smiled, “I’m glad you asked. To put it simply I change people.”

“Change people?” Mitchell asked thoroughly bemused.

“Yes, I change people. I take ordinary people, with very traditional upbringings and boring lives and I change them into whatever takes my fancy.” You, young Mitchell are just the sort of person I look for to mould into something more, hmm, you know ‘out-there’.”

Mitchell had downed half the glass of beer at this point.

John continued, “maybe I’ll slowly take them from the lives they are currently leading and over a few hours, a few days, maybe a few weeks transform them. They might end up as a…”

John could sense Mitchell’s fear about what might happen to him but continued, “The next person I change may end up as filthy mohawked punk, a dirty greaser biker, a Leatherman, a goth, a rubber slave. Who knows? It’s whatever takes my fancy at that moment. After a time, I get bored and need a new challenge, so I sell them on to people into the lifestyle and I move on to my next…”

Mitchell couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He opened his mouth to challenge what John was saying but he discovered it wouldn’t move. His heart was pounding, his anxiety levels were on the rise – no matter how hard he tried he was unable to form any words.

“Mitchell, I want you to calm down! Mitchell is such as pompous name, so from now on you’re gonna be called Mike. Now, I will carry on. John pulled out an amber charm which he swung from side to side, glowing eerily in front of Mike’ glazed eyes. When I combine this fine-looking stone with a special ingredient I have – oh you know I added a few drops into your beer, my victims become more… open to the changes I want to make to them. More compliant.” Mike’ eyes were affixed on the stone. “That’s right, just follow the stone, from side-to-side, follow the stone, transfixed by its glowing beauty/” John was comfortable in the knowledge that Mike would soon be his personal boy toy. “Isn’t that the most striking, bright and coloured stone you’ve ever seen Mike?”

He tried to open his mouth in one solitary second of defiance, but all he could managed was a barely audible squeak. His independence, his free will, his ability to fight and think freely had departed. There was no resistance left in Mike. His mind was now mush, the lad could only obey and conform.

John pulled Mike to his feet and dragged him to the bathroom. Once there, he placed him in a chair. “Right Mike, I’ve been thinking all-day about the life I want to give you. How do you fancy being my skinhead son? I’ve always wanted someone I could call a son, but being gay it was never going to happen, and I think you will make the perfect skinhead.” John didn’t wait for Mike to reply - he couldn’t; he did however see the confusion and distress in Mike’ eyes. He chuckled to himself.

John walked over to the bathroom cabinet and took out several items: some electric clippers, scissors, a pack of Mach 3 razors and a can of shaving cream. Turning his head to look at the boy, he smiled, “Only real men have hair. So, yours needs to go Mike. I’ll start on your legs and then your chest, all of that lovely blonde hair on your head and not forgetting the parts in-between. I’m going to enjoy getting rid of that wavy blonde hair. When I’m done, you’ll have a perfectly smooth bonehead.” John cut through the lad’s t-shirt revealing a well-defined torso. Staring at the blank canvas and thinking what he would do to it, he couldn’t help but squeeze one of Mike’ nipples. John detected the tiniest of yelps, so he squeezed the other nipple. There was no reaction this time, Mike’ mind was lost. He continued to stare into the  amber jewel that was hanging in front of his face.

John turned on the clippers, starting with the boy’s left leg. Hair started falling in clumps on the floor. Once the left leg was done, he moved on to the right one. Soon John was wiping them down with a cloth, applying a astringent lotion so that the smooth skin shone in the bathroom lights and after a few more applications, regrowth would never be a problem. Then it was onto the chest. Although Mike was only in his early twenties, he’d already got quite a covering of fur, which John’s clippers made quick work of. Mike’s arms were also denuded of hair. John turned off the clippers and, with the same cloth, applied more of the special lotion to the recently clipped areas.

John stood up and smiled. He paused for a second, “this is the last time there will be any hair growing on your head.” He pressed the on switch, and after hearing the familiar ‘clack’ he began ploughing all the way through the boy’s golden locks. In no time at all Mike was motionless sitting in the chair with a zero-grade cut. John picked up the can of shaving cream, squirted it into his hands and rubbed it copiously all over Mike’ head. He took the necessary time to ensure all the fuzz was removed and Mike’ head felt like a cue-ball. In no time at all there was a shiny hairless skinhead son sitting in front of him.

Looking down, John smiled as Mike’ identity lay on the floor in clumps. He looked up at Mike who was sitting perfectly still, with the same glazed eyes and dazed expression on his face, oblivious to the changes being made without his consent. He took the cloth, poured some more lotion into it and rubbed it into his son’s head.

“Stand,” John ordered. Mike complied, happily obeying his skinhead master. The sports shorts were pulled down over the now smooth legs and John stood back as he grabbed the clippers. “Now boy, I need you to get nice ‘n’ hard so I can make sure I get all your hair… down there...” He watched as slowly but surely there was movement in Mike’ groin. John grinned as in no time at all full mast was achieved. “Very nice boy,” John said out loud, “I bet you were popular with the women. Is that six, possibly seven inches? Good and think as well. Unfortunately for you, you’re not going to have much use of it as my son, but it will look amazing with a thick gauge PA, and a Jacob’s ladder.”

‘Clack’, John turned on the clippers and began the removal of the last remaining hairs on Mike’ body. He had to hold himself back as he rubbed the special lotion into the skin around the groin and on the mounds that had once been covered in thick hair. When he was satisfied the boy was as smooth as the day he was born, John left the bathroom to get something from his bedroom. When he returned Mike hadn’t moved, he was still lost in the stone “Now here I have the perfect thing to complete you. Now stay perfectly still.”

Later, John walked into the main room of the flat dressed in full skinhead gear. As he gazed at his newly denuded skinhead son, he felt his manhood straining inside a pair of skin-tight bleachers, which were turned-up and touching the top of a pair of 30-hole red ranger style boots. He was looking lustfully at the 23-year-old standing to attention, still wearing the expression, he had when the amber jewel turned him into the compliant vessel he now was. “It’s time for the next stage in your transformation lad.” With that John walked over to a cupboard an opened the doors.

The cupboard contained piles of skinhead gear from boots to bleachers to braces to bomber jackets. First, he instructed Mike to put on a yellow jockstrap. “You’ll be wearing this non-stop for a few days – it needs to get in nice ‘n’ ripe.” Then he passed the boy a t-shirt, which Mike willingly slipped over his head. “These are your bleachers; they’ve got two zips – front and rear – you’ll soon find out why,” he grinned, “slip them on.” Mike pulled up the tight-fitting jeans that had been liberally splashed with bleach. Mike didn’t take any notice of the fact that they’d been cut off just below the knee and turned up so that they would show the full extent of the boots he would almost always be wearing when he wasn’t in his work gear. John walked across to Mike carrying a pair of red braces which he attached to the bleachers, pulling them right up his bum crack – so much so that Mike let out a little groan. To finish this stage of the transformation, John handed Mike the left boot. It was black with 20 eyelets and partly laced. John talked Mike through how to ladder lace the boot tightly and perfectly. John fitted a padlock at the very top of the boot before handing over the right one. When John was happy with the way that one was laced, he fitted another padlock. “Stand!” Mike stood up. “Turn to look in the mirror, see the Skinhead son I’ve created. This is what you are now a proud skinhead and my skinhead son.

“Now, we can begin your training. Kneel!” Mike complied. “I know your tongue will still be a bit tender, so I’ll be gentle. Open!” John commanded, and with that he slid his cock into Mike’ open mouth. “Move your tongue slowly, showing how much your love the bottom of your skinhead dad’s cock. Make sure you keep your lips tightly closed as I don’t want you to spill anything.”

He sat back as his cock was held between Mike’ virgin lips and soon found himself about to cum as the hard stud, he had introduced to the lad’s tongue work its magic. The combination of it all and the sensitivity soon had John unloading his massive load. “Swallow!” Mike swallowed quickly trying not to “spill’ as he had been instructed. John soon slid from the lips of his new son and quickly zipped up his own bleachers. “Yes,” John thought, studying the boy who, in addition to the tongue piercing also had a stud in each lobe and four more studs all the way up each of his ears. Mike would serve him well as his skinhead son, but first he needed to complete the lad’s transformation. “Right son, let’s go – I need you to see a friend of mine.”

With that John grabbed a green bomber jacket with orange lining and threw it to Mike, “put it on,” he instructed. Mike slipped on what he would get to know as an MA1 and followed John out of the flat. Right away he found it strange walking in heavy soled, tightly laced boots, but he didn’t complain – he couldn’t.

The skinhead and son waited a few minutes at the bus stop before one came along heading in the direction of the city centre. They alighted just before the main shopping area. It was an area that would be unfamiliar to Mitchell, but Mike was oblivious to everything now. He obeyed his skinhead dad, just as any good son would do. The two skinheads walked side by side into a small industrial estate. One of the units had a sign saying, ‘Anaconda Tattoo Studio and Piercing’. John walked ahead of Mike, as they got to the door, John walked in but for a second Mike hesitated. John knew this sometimes happened, especially with all the distractions of the outdoors. He pulled the amber stone out of his pocket and held it in front of Mike. “This way boy,” he ordered. Mike complied; his eyes once again completely transfixed on the glow of the jewel.

Once inside the tattoo studio, John turned to Mike, “stand here son. I need to talk to the owner.” Mike waited as instructed. Despite tattoos being made popular by the countless athletes and celebrities who adorned their bodies with intricate permanent markings, the old Mitchell would have never crossed the threshold foot into a tattoo studio. But here was Mike waiting to submit to whatever his skinhead dad was discussing with the owner.

John came out of the back office followed by a hulk of a man who was wearing tight leather trousers, a black vest, which exposed his muscular arms covered in tattoos, shaved head with long unkempt beard and on his feet were heavy biker boots. “Son this is Griff, he’s going to give you some more piercings and your tattoos. But first, you are to strip down to your jockstrap. When you’ve done that, go over there and sit in the chair. From now on you will do exactly what Griff tells you to do. He’s going to give you your first marks to show the world that you’re a proud skinhead. After you’ve got your first ink, he’s going to give you some more metal. I’m going to leave you for a bit, but I’ll be back to see the finished work.” Turning to Griff, John said, “he’s all yours.”

Griff walked over to Mike wearing only his jockstrap  sitting obediently in the chair. Since John had already removed all the boy’s hair, Griff simply wiped clean the areas to be tattooed and then laid the first outline template on the skin. His machine was then started up, some ink was added, and the needle started to buzz.

He then began applying the needle over the site of the first tattoo, Mike felt a dull pain but didn’t flinch. Once the first tattoo on the boy’s left arm was completed, Griff went on to add the other tattoos as instructed by John. He started work on a full sleeve on Mike’s right arm, which would take four or five visits to complete. Then he added a bulldog to the rear of the lad’s right calf. Finally, two swallows were added to the back of the each of the lad’s hands. Griff whispered into Mike’s ear, “that’s all I’m doing now lad. John has booked half a dozen more sessions, so you’ll be coming back to get your neck, back and chest inked, and I can finish off the full sleeve. Now stay still. There’s a couple more things to do. Griff pushed away his tattoo cart and returned with another.

Griff looked at the docile boy in the chair. I think we will start with the nipples. Griff played, stroked and flicked them for a few moments until they were firm. He then slipped a needle through the left nipple, at which point Mike squealed. He then installed a barbell through the hole left by the needle and screwed a ball onto either end. He repeated the process for the right nipple. “No touching lad.” Griff then turned his attention to the lad’s groin and applied a topical cream to the so-called policeman’s helmet (bell-end to others). “Right, we’ll give that a little while to take effect and, in the meantime, we can sort out your nose piercing. This will hurt, but only for a second.” Griff then picked up a clean needle from his trolley and quickly passed it through the front part of the septum. Mike’s eyes began watering, so he knew the boy was feeling the pain from the intrusion of the needle. Carefully he inserted a ring into the boy’s septum, and then said out loud, “That will take six weeks or so to heal, then John wants it swapped for a bigger ring.” Now, the cream should have dulled your senses on your knob so let’s add the final bit of metal you’re getting today. He wiped the area to be pierced with an antiseptic skin cleanser, put a mark where the piercing was to be made, and begin the piercing process. The most painful moment for Mike in the piercing process was when the piercing needle punctured his urethra. One the needle was through, Griff inserted a circular barbell and spoke again, “don’t worry if you feel a bit of discomfort – a dull, throbbing pain that’s to be expected.

At that moment the door opened, and John walked in carrying a large shopping bag. “He’s all done, just as you instructed John. Don’t forget to leave the starter jewellery in for six weeks – no less, and make sure you use the aftercare solution. After that we can do a bit of stretching to your liking.”

As the days turned into weeks. John had started his son on the path to being a smoker. First, he gave him a gum to chew to introduce nicotine into the body, then he encouraged him to vape. When he felt there was an addiction starting, he told the boy to smoke cigarettes, starting him on five a day, and quickly moving onto ten, then fifteen. Within a couple of weeks, he was getting through a pack a day.

Mike also kept up his weekly visits to Griff, as more of his skin was covered with ink. Over the period, the full sleeve was completed, the Union flag was tattooed on the back of Mike’s next, the word skinhead was tattooed in script of his back and the letters that made up the word skinhead were inked on his knuckles and finally a Celtic cross was inked on the left pectoral. On the most recent visit Griff replaced the rings in his septum and PA with heavier gauges. As per John’s instructions, he also replaced the studs in his ears with rings and the ones in the lobes with spreaders. Mike joined his skinhead dad in a new gym, one that was run by an ex-boxer friend of John’s. John made sure to get Mike in the boxing ring so that his pretty boy face could get roughed up a bit. John wanted his son to look a bit freakier.

Mike didn’t look like the sort of person who would work in an office anymore, so he was signed up to work in the city council’s recycling centre – they were always in need of people to sort through other people’s waste. Five days a week he stood by a conveyor belt dressed in dirty Hi-Viz gear, and safety boots separating glass, metal, plastic, paper and cardboard into different bins.

After work, the boy would return to his skinhead dad’s flat, which was much bigger now that the wall had been knocked through joining what was Mitchell’s flat and John’s flat together. This night was special because as soon as he got home, Mike got out of his stinking workie gear he’d be in since just after dawn and into the skinhead gear his dad left out for him. Tonight, skinhead dad would be introducing his skinhead son to the lads in the pub. Mike dressed in his bleachers, a black Fred Perry, yellow socks and red 20-hole boots. Mike was ready in time for his dad to return home. John walked through the door and saw the perfect skinhead son standing there. “C’mon son. You’re gonna meet your skin bruders.”