#also this is a scheduled post. i am scheduling it for fathers day because i would not remember otherwise. so hi from the past | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

andysorbit · 1 year

Text

1 Corinthians 6:19 (M)

Church boy!Doyoung x church girl!reader Minors, fuck outta here Warnings: corruption?, some bible verses, Siwon is an asshole, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, light dirty talk, daddy kink, spanking, choking, overstimulation Is this blasphemy??? Idk sorry to those who are religious? I mean if you're reading this then... ya know.

Word count: 7.2k?? I know it's a lot

"He's not gonna take the bait. He's got a crucifix up his ass," Jaemin says and rolls his eyes.

The church basement is quiet and one thing you've all learned from being in this... Holy Place... is how to successfully whisper in a room so quiet that even Hellen Keller could hear a mouse piss on cotton.

Joy leans in closer but never takes her eyes away from her Bible, "Y/n, he's not interested. You need to learn to quit while you're ahead. Siwon has him on a leash," she mutters.

"No, Jesus has him on a leash," Jaemin counters.

You pretend you don't hear them and turn back to Kun, "You got his cousin to give you a chance. He can't be that much different."

Kun looks across at Joy and smirks, "Don't say it like that... you sound like I used her," he mumbles.

Joy chuckles softly, "You were using me. You just didn't bank on getting used."

"And that's why I love you," he sighs.

Joy shakes her head, "You think you love me."

Your eyes wander back over to Doyoung's face and you watch him closely.

Sunday school is over for the day and you're all left to prepare for next week's lesson.

It's the same ritualistic pattern that’s posted on a bulletin board in Pastor Siwon's obsurdly perfect writing:

Sunday Schedule

Sunday school must begin at 8 AM and end by no later than 8:50 AM.

Breakfast/refreshments to be served from 8:55 AM to 9:15 AM.

Sunday school instructors are to work on next week's lesson from 9:00 AM to 9:45 AM

Everyone must be upstairs and seated in the sanctuary by 9:55 AM

Siwon's a bitch.

He hates women, gay people, and anyone he can't use God to manipulate. He also hates his brother Doyoung.

Siwon's father wanted Doyoung to lead the church in the event that he were to suddenly die. It was a discussion that had been talked about for years.

Nobody paid it much attention until, of course, their father did suddenly die.

The entire church- including Siwon's own wife- voted for Doyoung to lead but Doyoung, being an obedient little brother, declined.

"I'm just happy to be here and serve God with you all. Siwon hyung is more equipped to lead you than I am and I'm more than happy to continue teaching Sunday school with the little ones. If leading a church is my calling, our Savior will make me ready for that day but until then, let's just praise Him and do our best to show His glory."

That day, you were more than a little disappointed to say the least. You knew he'd look good in a clergy robe but here he is, still teaching the little ones.

Doyoung instructs the preschoolers, Kun instructs grades one through three, Jaemin instructs grades four through six, Joy instructs grades seven through nine, and you teach grades ten through twelve.

You don't enjoy it but you do it. You don't enjoy this church but you still come. Not because you feel obligated but because you don't want your funds cut.

None of you do.

Doyoung is the only one who still comes to church willingly, he prays with fervency, and cries during worship.

Sometimes, you wonder if he cries because he really feels God's presence or if that's his subconscious pleading for release from the Holy sunken place.

"I have to teach the kids about abstinence. I hate that," Joy mutters and snaps you out of your trance.

"Because you're a godless whore?" Jaemin laughs quietly.

Surprisingly, she nods, "I feel like a hypocrite."

"But you're not," You tell her. She smiles at you appreciatively.

"Ask Doyoung to help you. He's read the whole fuckin' Bible cover to cover four times already." Jaemin says.

You perk up when you hear Doyoung's folding chair softly drag across the concrete floor.

"Thirsty ass," Jaemin Snickers.

"Shut the fuck up," You hiss and drop your eyes back down to your Bible.

"Ask him for me, Y/n," Joy whispers.

"Hey, Doyoung?" You say as you close your Bible.

The room feels even hotter and you lock eyes with him.

He gives you the warmest smile, "Yes, Y/n?"

"Joy has to teach about abstinence and she needs help but she's not sure how to ask you. She's awkward about it," You tell him.

He smiles and nods at you then looks over at Joy, "You're such a jelly belly, Joy," He glances at the clock behind you, "Well, we have ten minutes. I finished early so I can help you."

He sits down in the empty chair beside yours and opens his Bible,

"I really like first Corinthians chapter six verse... nineteen. It.. speaks on how our bodies are temples and how they belong to God. I think that's a good way to start the conversation. You have to remember, Joy, your job is scratch the surface. They'll have a deeper discussion with their parents. You really don't wanna cross that boundary,"

Joy nods. This is her first go round with Sunday school. Yeri used to teach it but she just disappeared one day. There were rumors that she had gotten pregnant and that's why she stopped coming with her parents.

It's none of your business, though.

You sit and listen to him explain things so happily. His eyes light up and for a moment, you wish you were God just so he could make your own name sound so beautiful.

"I hope I was able to help you with this. If you need any help, don't be scared to ask. I'm here as much as I can be. Closed mouths can't get fed," Doyoung says warmly.

Jaemin snorts and masks it with a cough, "Sorry," he whispers.

Everyone gets up and Doyoung softly touches your arm, "Can I talk to guys before we go up?" he asks. You nod and watch as your friends glance at each other with befuddled expressions.

"Why don't you guys like me?" he asks and you feel your heart break.

"What? Who said that? Doyoung, who said that to you?" You ask him softly.

"My brother did. He said that... you guys talk about me behind my back and- I just wanna know what I did. I haven't made you feel uncomfortable, have I?" he searches your face for an answer and you can't believe he thinks that.

"Doyoung, we thought you didn't like us. You never sit with us and we thought you just preferred your own company," Kun says apologetically.

"I'm sorry. I- we never meant to make you feel that way. Especially me. We would love it if you sat with us," You say eagerly.

"Oh, yeah. Especially her," Jaemin agrees. You whip your head around to glare at Jaemin and he throws his hands up in concession.

You turn back to Doyoung and he smiles, "I know I can be a little closed off sometimes. Please don't hold it against me," he chuckles.

"It's no problem. We know you mean well," Jaemin says with a tight smile.

He's always been a bit stand-offish with Doyoung. How Siwon could have such a good brother perplexes him.

Doyoung smiles, "Okay. Next Sunday, I'm with you guys."

You nod, "I'm looking forward to it!"

Your week is slow and you're actually excited to be going to church. You pick Jaemin up on your way and he smokes as you drive.

"This shit better be aired out before we get there," You tell him.

He shrugs, "You say that every Sunday. Has it ever not been aired out?"

"Got me there," You concede.

Jaemin tosses his cigarette out the window at the red light. As you turn the block and into the parking lot, you see Doyoung get out of his car.

As always, he's neat and casual; opting for his usual solid-colored slacks and polo shirt. He looks so good.

"As much as I hate to say this, you're gonna have to stop picking me up if you're gonna get him to nail you to a cross," Jaemin says as you're parking your car.

"I hope you get lung cancer," You sigh.

Jaemin laughs, "You don't mean that."

When you get out, you see Doyoung leaning against his car.

He's waiting for you.

"Good morning!" he cheers.

"Good morning," You say back.

Jaemin gives him a wave, "He's trying to figure us out," he murmurs.

"Then stop cockblocking," You mumble back.

"I'm gonna head in. I have to help the kids with a few things. Thanks for the ride, Y/n," Jaemin says.

Doyoung squeezes his Bible and looks over at you, "So you never need any help with Sunday school. How is it?" He asks.

"It's good. The kids are great. Yeri took good care of them before they graduated," You tell him.

He nods, "Hey... uh... I was wondering if you wanted to um... go with me to the church picnic next month? Siwon's been..." he trails off because he's obviously trying not to badmouth his brother.

"Nagging you?" You ask quietly.

He freezes like a startled rabbit then nods, "Yeah," he whispers.

"You don't have to be married until you're ready. Besides... I'm not marrying you," You laugh.

Doyoung laughs too, "You know how he is... why he married Taeyeon and all that," he sighs.

"He just wanted a piece of ass and didn't wanna burn in hell for it?" You blurt out.

Doyoung, surprisingly, bursts out laughing, "Is he that obvious?" he says with an exasperated smile.

He's so handsome.

"Yeah," You say, "He is."

Sunday school is mundane as usual and when it's over, Doyoung comes to sit with you. Right beside you to be specific.

Jaemin smirks.

People in the congregation tried to rally for you and Jaemin to date and prelude to marriage but that would never happen.

Jaemin's gay and he's fucking the choir director's son Renjun but that, along with everything else that's sinful in this church, is none of your business. He's your friend and you love him but he's private about his affairs.

Everyone has a level of privacy they maintain in order to cover their own asses. He trusts you with his life but he stays discreet to keep your hands clean.

"It's my week to clean the church," Doyoung sighs.

"Tough luck," Joy laughs, "I had last week."

"I'll be okay," Doyoung says, "It's my own fault for staying up so late."

"Y/n can help you. It's not like she has anything to do later," Kun pipes up.

"No, that's okay," Doyoung says softly, "If she doesn't wan-"

"I really don't have anything to do later and you look pretty tired. I don't mind helping you," You say eagerly and Jaemin stiffles a laugh.

After service, you seek out Doyoung and he pulls you to the side, "Wait for everyone to leave. It'll make more sense once they do," he whispers.

So you say your goodbyes and avoid Siwon's leering eyes.

Once the church is empty, Doyoung smiles at you, "Come with me," he says cheerfully as he leads you to the sound booth.

"This is why it always takes me so long to finish."

He tinkers with his phone and when Higher Ground by Stevie Wonder begins playing, he looks over at you, "Doesn't it sound so good in the church? The way it echoes?" he says as he leans in close enough for you to hear him.

The chill that rushes down your spine sends you into a frenzy and Doyoung notices. Your voice fails you so you nod.

He doesn't say anything but he does hold your gaze. He's hard to read but you don't worry.

You clean and enjoy his playlist. One thing that hasn't changed is his love for Motown. As you clean, you sing together and when he's feeling extra playful, he keeps his eyes trained on yours and sings to you.

For a moment, you think that he wants you too.

When Doyoung comes to pick you up for the picnic, he's dressed in a seafoam green t-shirt, blue jeans, and white Keds.

He beams at you as he leans against the car, "What are the chances?" he says as he gestures to your seafoam green knee-length midi dress and white Keds.

"I definitely look better," You chuckle as you walk towards him. He opens the passenger door for you, "You look beautiful," he says as his eyes roam over you. "Thank you, Doyoung," You say as you hold his gaze, "You look really good too."

You can't look away from him and it's obvious he's losing the battle as well.

He draws in closer to you and hesitates. You reach out to gently place your hand on his cheek,

"I'm not gonna stop you if that's what you're waiting for."

Doyoung slots his lips against yours and kisses you slowly.

His kiss is essentially who he is; warm, gentle, wholesome.

He slinks an arm around to draw you closer, "Is this okay?" he asks you.

You nod and melt against the firmness of his body. He sets your insides on fire and the subtle strength of his hold on you sends a frenzied storm straight down to the pit of your stomach.

You can already feel your panties soaking.

He breaks the kiss and smiles at you then dips back down to kiss you once more,

"We should... get going," he says into your ear and it's so obvious that he wants to press a kiss to your neck.

"Let me go first," You chuckle.

He loosens his grip on you and smiles, "Whoops," he laughs softly.

"We're gonna be late," He says and it's more to himself because he's very much aware that he's the holdup.

You slip down into the car and look up at him.

He stares back at you and you can see his mind racing. He takes a deep breath and wets his lips with his tongue before closing the passenger door.

You watch him go behind the car and stop for a moment; bowing his head and closing his eyes, he prays. You know he's asking for forgiveness and strength.

He finally moves around to the driver's seat and gets in; he seems ready to pull off but he hesitates,

"Traveling mercies," he says softly and bows his head.

You follow suit and he prays,

"Blessed Father God, thank you for giving us another opportunity to live another day in your glory. Please be with us as we travel today. We're thankful as always for your love and protection. In Jesus' name, amen."

"Amen," You whisper.

He starts the car and his motown playlist picks up from the middle of Mama’s Pearl by the Jackson 5 and you smile.

As he drives, you both chat about work and sometimes stop to sing because the music is just too good.

"You're the only person who sings with me," he says as he pulls into the church parking lot.

"Am I?" You ask incredulously, "How could anyone not wanna sing with you?"

Doyoung shrugs, "I dunno... I don't mind. I think I prefer if it's only you anyway."

You smile at him and he puts the car in park before cutting the engine.

Your mind wanders back to when you were both younger and how close you were to each other.

As if he read your mind, he pipes up,

"What happened to us?"

"I don't know, Doyoung, but I miss you," You reply.

"I think I let Siwon steer me too much. He always said you were trouble and I'd be getting myself a one-way ticket to hell if I stuck around you..." he trails off.

"Ouch," You grunt.

"I'm sorry I told you that," he says apologetically.

"Don't be... I kinda already knew... but why the sudden change? Are you just trying to spite him?" You ask.

Doyoung shakes his head, "Not at all. I just... I'm tired of trusting him so blindly... he's not a good person."

You arch your eyebrows in surprise, "It's okay that you trusted him. He's your brother and you love him. There's nothing wrong with that."

He nods and then opens his door, "I'll get your door for you. Stay put," he says.

He comes around and opens your door. As you get out, you see Siwon pull in a few spots down.

He's alone.

He gets out of comes over with a confused smile, "Sister, your dress is mighty short," he says.

"And considering there's a dresses only code for a picnic, so is my patience," You say with a tight smile.

Siwon nods and stands down, "Fair enough," he concedes before looking over at Doyoung, "Is she your date?"

Doyoung nods, "We agreed to come together so yes... she is."

Siwon smiles. "Well it is time you started seeking out a wife."

Doyoung shakes his head, "It's not a job hunt, hyung. I'll know when it's time," he says sheepishly.

"Of course," Siwon says with a smile, "I'll see you guys 'round back."

When he leaves, Doyoung looks at you, "I'll leave early if you do."

"Definitely. How long should we stay?" You ask him.

"I say we give it about an hour. Eat light. I'll cook for you," he says with a shy smile.

"You're gonna cook for me? Get outta here," You say with surprised smile.

"It's a hobby... no big deal," he says coolly.

He's pulling you in.

You watch as Siwon stands at the grill and burns a fourth burger. It's a shame that hardly anyone is eating and those who are, obviously aren't enjoying the food.

You're close enough to hear him mutter to himself about it. Renjun comes over, "Pastor, I can take it from here." he says with a sheepish smile.

Siwon turns him away just as he has the others but Renjun doesn't back down; instead, he drops all pretenses of pleasantries and gently pries the spatula out of Siwon's hand, "Nobody likes your food. Look around," he says.

"They're burgers, Renjun. Taeyeon did this all by herself last year. How hard can it be?" Siwon scoffs.

"Rocket science since nobody can tell your burgers from a hockey puck now... move. Over," Renjun says shortly.

Siwon sighs and moves over, "Everyone's so mean today. First Y/n and her dress now you and these burgers."

Renjun flips the burgers with ease and rolls his eyes, "We're only two people- not the whole world and there's nothing wrong with Y/n's dress. She looks pretty. If you're feeling some type of way about her kneecaps then that's something you should work out with God. Don't put the blame on her for it."

Renjun looks at you and winks. You smile back and fight back your laughter. You take a sip of your soda and watch Doyoung come over to you.

"Ready to go?" he asks you softly.

You nod, "Yeah... I am."

"Head into the church. I'll count to seventy and meet you by the nursery," he says.

You nod and stand up.

You head inside and wait for him.

You send Jaemin a text:

Y/n: he's gonna cook for me 😳

Jaemin: CAN I GET TO DA YAMZ??? SWEET YAAAAAAMZ!!! 😩😩😩💦💦💦💦🍑🍑🍑🍑🍆🍆🍆🍆

Y/n: Why did I even bother telling you 🙄

Doyoung comes around the corner and you slip your phone back into your bag. He takes your hand,

"Come on."

Doyoung's house is a cozy one level cottage. He's big on earth tones.

"This is your house? It suits you, Doyoung," You gush as he unlocks the front door. The aroma of clove hits you and for only a breadth of a second, you imagine waiting for him in this very foyer after he's come home from along day of work.

"Is that a good thing?" he laughs.

"Yeah. Your house is really cute."

"You think I'm cute?"

"I don't kiss ugly men."

He turns to you and smirks, "That was... my first kiss y'know."

"No," You gasp.

He nods, "Yep."

"Doyoung, be serious!" You exclaim because there is no way in hell he could've kissed you that well if it was his first time.

"I am! Why is that so hard to believe?" he laughs.

"It was too good... just too good," You say incredulously.

He gives you a smug smile, "My ego's gonna skyrocket. Be quiet."

You stare at him with bewildered eyes and he waves a hand at you, "Come on. I know you're hungry."

His kitchen is decorated in shades of terracotta. You look around at the neatness of everything.

After you take turns washing your hands, Doyoung pulls a bowl of fruit salad out of his refrigerator, "I made this for the picnic but I forgot it so eat as much as you want because I don't want it to go to waste but I'm definitely not going back to drop it off."

You laugh and pop a grape into your mouth. His eyes linger on your mouth so you take the opportunity to pick up a pineapple chunk and bite into it slowly.

The blush spreads across his cheeks but he can't look away, "I um... what are you hungry for?"

"Whatever you wanna cook. I just wanna eat," You say between bites.

Doyoung smiles at you, "Do you want... rosemary chicken? I have a really good recipe and I still have fresh rosemary left," he rings his hands out nervously.

"That sounds so good!" You exclaim.

You watch Doyoung prepare ingredients and you make small talk and of course, he plays some music; this time opting for a soft jazz playlist.

"You like carrots?" He asks as he chops up a carrot.

"Eh... not raw," You say with a frown. You watch him hold a slice out for you.

"Do it for me. It's good for your eyes. They're too pretty to not be taken care of. Say 'ah'. C'mon," he says eagerly.

You frown a little deeper and pull back.

"Ugh, I'm gonna have to scratch you off my potential wife list. You're too disobedient. Yuck," he says with mock disgust and a sassy roll of his own pretty eyes.

You both cackle and you let him ease the carrot slice into your mouth.

"That's a good girl," he hums.

You both freeze and the silence that hangs over his playlist is deafening.

"What?" You grunt.

"I'm so sorry I said that," he says just above a whisper.

"Why would you be sorry you said that?" You ask him as you pucker your lips suspiciously.

Doyoung blushes again, "I don't... know," he replies and pops his lips. He tries not to smirk but he fails and he gives you a gentle brush across your cheek with his knuckles.

You lean into his hand and he gives you a knowing look.

When the food is ready, Doyoung seats you at his breakfast nook, "Lunch is served," he says as he sets your plate down in front of you.

"Wow... Doyoung, it's almost too pretty to eat," You say as you look at the plate and then up at him.

He smiles and turns to get his own plate. He brings it to the table and sits across from you. He reaches his hands across to take yours,

"Will you lead us in saying grace, sister?"

He's definitely flirting.

"Um... dear Lord, thank you for this food we're about to eat, bless the hands of the chef, and bless us as we take privilege in enjoying this meal," You say softly.

Doyoung smiles and stands back up, "I forgot the wine," he says as he crosses the kitchen to retrieve it from the refrigerator before getting two wine glasses from the cabinet.

"So... bless the hands of the chef, huh?" he says as he pops the cork.

You watch him bring the bottle and the glasses over, "Yeah... you did a great job," You say.

He fills your glass and then his own, "Bless the mouths that enjoy it," he counters as he holds his glass up.

You clink your glass against his as you nod in agreement, "Amen."

You can't conceive how Doyoung's meal can taste better than it looks but somehow, it's possible. As you finish off your wine, Doyoung clears the table.

"Doyoung, that was the best meal I've ever eaten," You say as you lean back and sigh.

Doyoung's face lightens up, "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Next time, I'll bake you something," he says and winks at you.

"Bake me something?" You gasp, "You're gonna bake for me too?"

Doyoung nods, "I told you, it's just a hobby."

"That's a great hobby. You're really good at it," You tell him.

"Siwon hates that I do this... he says it's menial woman's work but I like doing it and I like being useful. I don't want my wife to cook for me because she has to... I want her to cook for me because she likes me,"

You tilt your head "Because she likes you?" You ask him.

"Yeah," Doyoung nods, "Loving someone and liking someone are often two very different things. You can love someone and not like them. I love my brother but I don't like him... I want my wife to like me. I want her to smile when she thinks about me. I don't want what Siwon has with Taeyeon. I want my wife to see me as someone worthy of respect and not as someone she feels religiously obligated to respect."

You nod in agreement, "That's a good thing to want. There's nothing wrong with that." You reply.

Doyoung leans over the sink, "I don't want things to be traditional," he murmurs.

"Yeah?" You egg him on. You know the wine has him on the cusp of saying something that he normally wouldn't say.

"I- I don't... I don't wanna marry a woman who gives herself to me because the Bible says we have to reproduce. I wanna marry a woman who jumps into bed with me because she thinks I'm hot and I turn her on, I want her to... to think about me and squeeze her thighs together because I just do it for her. I don't believe that love has to be so... boring. Why would God even give us all of these feelings if we're supposed to just ignore them?" he finally says.

You sit in silence and Doyoung chuckles.

"Have I said too much?" he asks as he turns to look at you.

"No... of course not. I don't... see where you're wrong. You deserve that... Besides, if it's in us, it's meant to be enjoyed within reason," You say as you rise to your feet. You step closer to him and he reaches out for you.

"I placed bets that I'd marry you," he confesses as his lips find the corner of your mouth. He presses a light kiss to your skin there then his lips ease down to your neck.

"Yeah?" You sigh.

He hums as he kisses down to the base of your throat, "Yeah."

"Gambling is a sin." You laugh and he catches you lips with his own.

"I'm not always traditional," he sighs.

He traps you against the counter and the warmth of his body soothes you, "I won't do anything to you that you don't want me to do," he sighs as he kisses you.

"Do your worst, church boy," You whisper.

Doyoung slides his hands up your dress and cups your pussy. He moans, "Did I do that to you?" he purrs.

"Yeah... you always do," You hum.

He quirks up an eyebrow, "This is a regular occurrence for you?" he laughs against your lips.

"Uh huh... And sometimes when it gets to be too much, I touch myself."

"Y/n! No!"

You laugh, "Oh, yes!"

Doyoung tuts and dips his tongue into your mouth, "Such a dirty... dirty girl." He slips his hand into your panties and his fingers find your clit. For the first time ever, he curses,

"Fuck, you're soaked, baby,"

It sounds so hot and you whimper as he strokes your clit slowly.

"Doyoung!" You shrill.

"For what it's worth... I'm no better. You just do something to me and I... I can't control it."

He takes his free hand to bring one of your arms up to his shoulder and then the other, "Hold onto me," he says and his voice is low and steady.

You circle your arms around his neck and kiss him hungrily. His fingers massage you slowly, "Does this feel good?" he asks you.

"F-faster... please?" You plead softly. He laughs and easily obliges.

"Spread your legs a little more for me, sweetheart," he tells you softly; you quickly do as your told and he pulls back to smile at you,

"Good girl."

You moan a little bit louder and he pulls his hand out of your panties. His fingers find his way to his mouth and he sucks them clean, "Are you comfortable with coming with me to my bedroom? I can have you here next time."

"Next time?" You gawk.

"There will be a next time. You have stars in your eyes, Y/n."

He takes your hands and presses your knuckles to his lips, "Am I wrong?"

You shake your head, "No."

"Then let's go," he says and leads you out of the kitchen. Your head spins with excitement as he brings you along gently.

His bedroom is a cozy and comfortably cluttered dream. On the seat of his bow window, sits his Bible; it's opened to the book of Matthew. You try to see what chapter he was reading from but he guides you to his bed.

"Matthew, chapter five... verse twenty-eight," he says softly as his fingers begin to slowly unbutton your dress, "'But I say to you that everyone whose eyes are turned on a woman with desire has had connection with her in his heart'... I've battled with this far longer than I'd ever be proud to admit."

You smile up at him, "You're battling a sex demon?"

He laughs and covers his face with his hands, "Everyone has something that they struggle with! I mean, we're humans!" he laughs. He drops his arms down and smirks at you.

"That is true," You sigh.

Doyoung eases his shirt over his head and tosses it beside you on the bed.

It's your turn to freeze. As his hands find their way back to your dress, your eyes roam over his toned skin. He chuckles as he pushes the dress off of your shoulders,

"What demon do you fight, Y/n?"

"I have no demons... I'm a perfect vessel," You chuckle breathlessly. Doyoung pulls you to stand up and lets the dress pool at your feet, "I don't believe that for a second."

You step out of the dress and he picks it up. You watch him fold it gingerly before bringing it over to his honey colored easy chair and placing it down. He turns back to you. He's ambivalent and it's written all over his face.

"We can... put our clothes back on, Doyoung. We don't have to do this. We can just get dressed and act like this never happened," You tell him reassuringly.

He comes back over to you and pulls you into his arms, "You know neither of us wanna do that."

You nod in agreement and he kisses you. It's different. It's rough.

He eases you down onto the bed and as you scoot up to the middle, he hovers over you, "Tell me something... something wicked. Tell me something that will make me feel better about the things I'm going to do you."

Your body is somehow even hotter. He kisses your lips then licks a warm stripe across your neck before sucking on the tender flesh.

"I think about you all the time... I imagine you... bending me over in the church basement and fucking me until I can't stand," You whimper.

Doyoung groans and presses his hardness against you, "That's your fantasy? Being fucked in a church basement? Such a dirty girl... what else do you think about?" Doyoung kisses his way down to your chest before pulling you up. He reaches around behind you and unclasps your bra.

"I think about you overpowering me and- using me until you're satisfied... I just wanna be ravished by you," You whine as you both grind against each other.

He's invading all of your senses and neither of you has completely undressed yet.

"How are you even real?" he groans as he fumbles with his pants. He clumsily gets them off and kicks them off of the bed. Your bra is next to go then his briefs and then finally, your panties.

Doyoung kisses you with fervency. He pulls back and pins your arms over your head, "You wanna be ravished, huh?" he chuckles and dips down to take your bottom lip between his teeth.

"Uh huh," You sigh.

Doyoung slides down and nestles himself between your thighs. He peppers your skin with soft kisses. His mouth latches onto your clit and he sucks it softly. You cry out and buck your hips against his mouth.

He laps at you and teases you with his tongue.

"Doyoung... yes. Please... please," You gasp.

He continues his attack on you and you reach down to card your fingers through his hair and grind your hips desperately.

"Not enough, is it?" he asks as he raises his head to look at you.

"I... no... that's not it... I just want you. Come back up here... please," You whimper.

Doyoung laughs, "Do you miss me or something?"

"I do," You reply.

Doyoung comes up and presses a sloppy kiss to your lips.

You reach between your bodies and stroke him. He squeezes his eyes shut and grips the sheets.

"Want you in my mouth," You whimper and Doyoung flips you both over. He looks up you before propping himself up on his elbows,

"Have at it."

You nestle between his legs and grip his cock with both hands, "You're bigger than I expected," You say then lick from the base up to the tip.

Doyoung's tongue darts out to wet his lips, "Fuck," he sighs.

"Am I teasing you?" You ask him innocently.

"Come on... do something, baby," he sighs.

You smirk and drag your tongue back and forth over his leaking tip; collecting precum as you do, "Make me do something," You say softly.

Doyoung takes a fistful of your hair, "Don't be such a tease," he says and gently forces your head down. You moan and take him all the way into your mouth.

He slowly bucks his hips as the head of his cock repeatedly taps the back of your throat, "That's a good girl," he moans, "So fucking good."

You let him use your throat as you feel your own wetness slicking up your inner thighs.

Doyoung pulls you back up and kisses you, "Not like this... I need to be inside you," he says as he gets you back underneath him.

He teases your slit with the head of his cock and you whine desperately, "Ask me for it nicely."

"Please... give it to me," You whimper.

"You need me to fuck you?" he asks you roughly; his voice is coarse and heavy with desire.

You nod and that's all it takes for him to guide himself into you.

"Fuck!" You both cry in unison. You look at each other and laugh.

Doyoung dips down to press his forehead to yours, "You're so much better than I could ever have imagined... so fucking tight for me. We were made for each other. Don't you agree?" He says and his hips collide with yours over and over and over again.

"Y- yeah... I... I love this. Please don't stop, Doie... please," You plead. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, "I want you to fuck me forever."

"Forever?" he sighs and slows his pace, "You could take this forever, baby?"

You kiss him, "Uh huh," You pant.

Doyoung groans, "I'm... fuck, baby... I'm close."

You reach down to bring yourself closer to your own release.

He pushes your hand away and replaces it with his own, "No... that's what I'm here for... let me," he says as his fingers draw fervent circles into your clit.

"Doie! Yes, yes, yes! Fuck..." You moan as you both release together.

"That's it, baby. You sound so pretty when you cum for me. That's my girl," he praises you as his own orgasm rattles his body.

You cling to Doyoung and he collapses on top of you. You both tremble as you regain clarity. Once his breathing is under control, he rears up to press a chaste kiss to your temple then rolls off of you.

You turn to face each other and the air is still thick; he smiles, "I want you to know something..." he says as his eyes roam your face, "I don't want you because I just need a release... I want you because you're the only woman I've ever thought about doing this with... You're the only woman that's ever made me forget that God even matters."

You blush and bring your hand over to stroke his cheek, "I don't even think I could say anything to top how special that is but I can try," You say with a chuckle.

Doyoung smiles.

"I... I've kissed boys... maybe too many but... I waited for you. I didn't want anyone else," You tell him.

His face beams, "We waited for each other and didn't even realize it," he laughs.

Come Sunday morning, Siwon is privy to the way you and Doyoung engage each other.

"Sister, can I have a word with you?" he pipes up. Jaemin's eyes perk up and he's obviously ready to go to battle. You shake your head and smile at him before turning your attention to Siwon.

"Yes, Pastor?" You say.

"You've been very close with my brother. What exactly are your intentions?" he asks you suspiciously.

Doyoung is at your side before you even have time to react, "Her intentions are well, hyung. Better than yours were," he says coolly.

Siwon scoffs, "What?"

"Taeyeon hasn't been here in... three months now? She's not that sick. She left you and everyone knows she did," Doyoung says.

"Literally everyone knows," Renjun says in passing.

"I'm just worried about the choices you're making. You seem different," Siwon presses.

Doyoung shrugs, "My choices are fine. If I ever go astray, I'll do the work to get back on track. I think you should worry about your own affairs."

Siwon nods, "Well, if that's how you want it then that's how it'll be."

He excuses himself and Doyoung turns to you, "You're not his sin to overcome," he laughs.

That afternoon, while the sun hangs low in the sky, Doyoung tends to his garden, and you watch him as you remain on standby, ready to help him with his needs.

"Being married is gonna be a lot of fun... I like having you here to help me with the gardening," he sighs with a soft smile.

"Daddy's little helper," You mumble.

He straightens up and his eyebrows go up, "I- I- whoooo, what? What? Y/n, behave!" he gushes as he gently nudges you with his arm.

"You've never had that thought?" You ask him teasingly.

He nods, "I have but I'm busy right now and you have to behave yourself because this was supposed to be done three days ago and I don't want my garden to die so... sit there, be quiet, and don't touch me until I'm done."

"Okay, Daddy," You say sweetly.

Doyoung stands up and pulls off his gloves off, "On your feet. Come on," he says as he places his gloves in his supply box.

You stand up and follow him into the kitchen. He washes his hands and turns to you.

He's trying so hard to be firm with you but a smile shines through on his face, "You gotta... don't smile at me- you-" he laughs and pulls you into his arms, "You gotta behave yourself. You're failing the wife trial. Get it together!"

You hug him and press a kiss to his cheek, "I'll try harder tomorrow," You chuckle.

Before you know it, Doyoung is turning you around and pressing you down against the counter, "Why can't you behave yourself right now?" he asks you softly, his fingers pushing your shorts and panties down.

"Don't wanna," You sigh as his hand caresses your bare ass.

He lands a mild slap down and you gasp.

He laughs low and thick, "You like that?" he asks.

"Y- yes!" You whimper and wiggle your ass in an attempt to touch some part of his body.

"Well, you're not really supposed but... I guess that's okay for right now... I'll just have to find some other way to punish you," he says and slaps your ass again, this time a little bit harder. You moan and he slaps you once more.

"Daddy!" You whine.

Doyoung slides his hand down to your cunt and kicks your legs apart, "You're always so wet for me... no matter what's going on, I know that if I just... slide my hand between those beautiful thighs, I'm gonna get my fingers soaked."

"I always want you, Daddy... always," You sigh as he slides his middle and ring fingers into your pussy. He fucks you with his fingers and leans down to lick the shell of your ear, "Such a greedy little whore." he says softly.

You clench around his fingers and writhe. Moans pour from your mouth as he shows no signs of slowing up.

"Oh? You like that?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

"You like it when daddy talks to you like this? Huh, slut?"

You nod furiously and clench around his fingers once more.

He tuts, "Can't hear you."

"Yes, Daddy! Yes!" You scream.

"That's my girl."

Doyoung eases his fingers out of you and pulls you up by your hair, "Taste yourself, baby," he says as he pushes his fingers into your mouth.

You hum as you suck them. Doyoung drops down to his knees and helps you out of your shorts, "Hold onto the counter,"

You do as you're told and he lifts your left leg onto his shoulder before devouring your pussy. You throw your head back and cry out as he brings you close to your release.

His tongue speeds up and slows down. He gets better each time and you mentally note his progress. Your legs give out as you cum against his tongue.

"Daddy!"

He pulls back and lets you sink down onto the floor in front of him.

He kisses you, "Was that good, princess?" he asks you.

You nod, too enthralled by the throbbing of your pussy to speak. He chuckles and his hand returns to your cunt, "Then you shouldn't mind one more, right?"

Doyoung brings his other hand up to circle around your throat, "One more time, baby... I know you can do it," he purrs as he tightens his grip just enough to make your eyes roll back. He chuckles at the effect he has on you.

You grip his biceps as he massages your clit and you try in vain to squeeze your thighs shut but he doesn't slow up and you're coming undone again.

Your thighs tremble violently and he just doesn't stop.

"You have the power to stop me, Y/n... you know I'd never do anything you don't want me to do so... go ahead... stop me," he whispers against your mouth.

You don't stop him. You can't. He feels too good and he brings a level of greed to your body.

Tears prick your eyes and a third orgasm rips through your body. You whine weakly and finally, his hand ceases.

"How's my girl?" he asks softly as he moves his hand from your throat to your cheek.

You can't speak. You collapse against him and he rubs your back, "Do you need anything?"

You shake your head and cling to him a little tighter. Your body slowly relaxes and he rocks you slowly.

When you finally come down, you give him a chaste kiss and he smiles.

Doyoung pulls back to look you over, "I stopped repenting y'know... for what we do," he says softly.

"Why?" You ask him. Your voice is still hoarse and he can't help but laugh.

"How can I when I'm not sorry?"

_____

yo if you got to the end of this, thank you!!

1K notes · View notes

matryosika · 7 months

Text

Incoming Call

Pairing — Hyunjin x fem!reader Wordcount — 3,394 words Genre — Smut (18+) Includes — Suggestive content. Smut warnings under the cut. Author's note — This honestly came out of the blue. I was just feeling like phone sex and exhibitionism and this is what I ended up writing, haha. I hope you like it, it's just a silly little drabble in which my writer's block didn't get the best of me. I am actually proud I could come up with something, but it's not as filthy as other of my works. Please remember that english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes in advanced! If you wish to support my blog further, please reblog and comment, leave an ask and check my pinned post for my ko-fi!

Smut warnings — Dirty talk. Phone sex and exhibitionism if you squint. Masturbation (m), Hyunjin is kind of a perv but it's very very tame. Use of petnames (baby), mentions of creampies, and other sexual fantasies. Hyunjin is needy and desperate. Reader's mom interrupts the hated moment (not cool!).

Time zones.

By far your most terrible enemies these days.

It wasn't only the jet lag that threw you off from coming back home, but the abysmal time difference between you and your boyfriend —he goes to bed right before you wake up, and his most active time is when you are about to sleep.

It has been a couple of days, but texting with him has been an absolute nightmare.

“It’s only a week,” you reassured him as he waved you goodbye at the airport. His lower lip was slightly pouting, and his usually straight eyebrows were raised in a subtle furrow. “I’m sure you’ll live, Hyunjin”.

“Yeah but I wanted to come with you,” there was genuine pity in his voice and you knew he meant it —he never misses a chance to join you on your trips back home, or meeting your parents.

Because of how busy he has been, and the fact that this trip was practically nonexistent a week before, he just couldn't ask for a time off at work this time.

“We’re spending Christmas there this year,” you tried to cheer him up, rubbing his arm with solace, “time flies by, anyways”.

Hyunjin nodded, resigning himself to the imminent struggle of being hours and miles apart from each other.

“Text me when you get there, yeah?” He planted a chaste kiss on your forehead and held you tightly. “Text me all the time, I’ll reply when I can, okay?”

You nodded against his chest, and kept his promise throughout the whole trip.

You texted him when you got to your home country, and you also texted him a picture of your first meal there. You told him all about the weather, how happy your parents were to see you after a while and the things you missed the most.

He promised he would reply when he could, but you knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Or at least not for a couple of more hours, until he woke up.

And basically, that has been the whole dynamic all along —you text him everything about your day at a given time, and he texts you everything about his day at a given time as well. There's very little conversation happening in between, but it's understandable.

By day 3, Hyunjin learned to convert time zones. If it is morning for him, it is late afternoon for you. If it is his late night, you're probably just waking up.

He knows when to text you —if he is expecting a quick response— and knows when you're sleeping. Taking all that into account, Hyunjin tries to make the most of the time that's actually convenient for the two of you to talk.

[08:19 a.m., Hyunjin: Baby]

With furrowed eyebrows, your fingers type away faster than your mind can comprehend it.

[08:19 a.m., You: Shouldn’t you be asleep?]

[08:19 a.m., You: Isn’t it like 11 p.m. in Seoul?]

He is a night owl. Always have been.

But he has been trying really hard to adopt a healthier sleeping schedule, so seeing him online past 10 p.m. it's unusual these days.

“Everything alright?” Your father asks, picking up on the subtle furrow of your brows.

“Yeah, I’m just talking to Hyunjin,” with your phone in one hand, and the other busy with a fork on your breakfast, you await his response.

“It’s such a shame he couldn’t make it,” your mother adds, “it has been a while since we last met him”.

At that moment, when your mom and dad start talking about how great of a guy he is and how happy they’re to have him as part of the family, your phone vibrates yet again in your hand.

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Attachment: one image]

[08:21 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you see how much I miss you?]

If it wasn’t for the glass of water you smartly chugged down to hide your coughs, you would have choked on a piece of fruit. Inevitably, and after a failed attempt to conceal the embarrassing moment, your parents' eyes are fixed on you with concern.

“Sorry,” you excuse yourself, cleaning your lips with a napkin while you relentlessly try to put your phone away from anyone’s sight.

“Are you alright?” your mother asks this time, softly hitting your back

“Yes,” you nod swiftly. “I just- the food kind of went into the wrong pipe”.

On your lap, your phone keeps vibrating —one after another, you lose count after message number 4.

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: God, I miss your body so much]

[08:22 a.m., Hyunjin: Just want you here for me. Don't want anyone else to have you right now]

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: My hand isn't enough. It doesn't feel like your pussy does]

[08:23 a.m., Hyunjin: Can you come back to me now? Lay underneath me and let me have my way with you?]

[08:24 a.m., Hyunjin: You have no idea how fucking hard I am]

You gulp loudly.

“What do you think?” It's only when your mother directs a question at you that you snap out of your trance.

“Huh?”

“What do you think about spending Christmas in some beautiful cabins? They're like 45 minutes away from the city,” she continues, offering you some of the context you missed because of Hyunjin’s heated messages.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply with hesitation. Not because of the idea, but because you really can’t process anything other than the warmth between your legs. “I- uh, I have to go to the restroom”.

For all he knows, you're lying comfortably in your bed as this is around the time you usually wake up. So damned you, for not letting Hyunjin know that today you are having breakfast with your family at a restaurant. And damned him for putting you into an awkward situation without even knowing of it.

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Can I call you?]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Want to hear your voice]

[08:25 a.m., Hyunjin: Please, talk to me. Tell me anything you want. Just let me hear that pretty voice of yours]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunjin: Fuck it]

[08:27 a.m., Hyunijn: I’m calling you]

Good luck can’t be any more useful than right now, that you enter the restaurant’s restroom with your fingers crossed and an immense feeling of relief when you see every single stall open.

And, as if on cue, the soft piano melody coming from your phone's speakers tells you that Hyunjin stuck up to his last message.

“Are you busy?” It’s the first thing he says, with a hoarse voice and a hitched breath.

“I’m at a restaurant,” you reply with just a little bit of shame in your tone. “With my parents”.

Your boyfriend lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit I’m- I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” you can hear him panicking, maybe because he thinks you're upset. But in reality, it's all quite the opposite. “I’ll call you later just- forget I even- whatever, I’ll call you another time”.

“No,” you rush to say, locking yourself into one of the bathroom stalls. “Don’t hang up, I can- I’m at the restroom”.

There's a quick seconds of silence from the other line as Hyunjin gathers the remaining coherent thoughts after getting to hear your voice. “Is it- are there other people there?”

“For now it’s just me,” you reassure him.

“Just you?” He asks, and you hum in response. “I’m sorry for calling it’s just- God, I can’t spend another day without you”.

The wet, sloppy slow sounds paired with the laziness of his voice can only give you a hint of what he is doing.

“Are you- masturbating?”

It's not like you're a prude, but this whole thing is taking you by surprise. You're always together, so there's no need for phone sex or anything of that sort. Sexting isn’t unusual, but this is definitely a first.

“Yeah,” he replies with a raspy scoff. “Want me to stop?”

“No, I- no,” when you encourage him to continue, the lewd, wet sounds start to become more and more frequent —increasingly loud for you to hear them, “keep going”.

Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh of frustration.

“Do you miss me too?” he asks, biting down his lower lip to prevent any whimpers from falling from them.

“Yes,” with shortness of breath you admit. “I miss you too,”.

“Yeah?” He whispers under his breath, letting small grunts make their way to your ears. “I miss you badly. Can’t stop thinking about you- shit, can’t stop thinking about how pretty you look when you’re naked in my bed”.

The compliments, all together, make your cheeks and body grow hotter. But inevitably, they force you to fix your gaze under the bathroom stall, in that little gap between it and the floor. There’s no sound nor signals of footsteps approaching, but the adrenaline of hearing him say such dirty things when you're out in public is definitely a new experience.

You can't say you hate it.

“Baby,” Hyunjin moans. And although you can’t see it, you can take a wild guess what he looks like right now: head kicked back, legs spread, his hand and dick glistening with lube, or lotion, or maybe spit. You can picture how pretty his face is right now, contorted in pleasure, with his lips all swollen from licking and biting them, eyes completely white while he bucks his hips up against his fist. “Talk to me, tell me about your plans for the day”.

You can’t help but laugh a little in the midst of the tension.

“You want me to- talk about my day while you masturbate?”

“Well,” he scoffs under his breath. “I don’t expect you to say dirty stuff while you’re locked in a public restroom where anyone can walk in”.

“Right,” you nod to yourself. “But I don't understand what that would do for you”.

“I like your voice,” your boyfriend lets out a deep exhale of relief. “I can get off just by listening to it, doesn’t matter what you’re talking about”.

“You’re crazy,” a soft chuckle falls from your lips. “You’re not even going to pay attention to me”.

“Please?” you can hear a small whimper, and that alone convinces you.

“Okay well,” you clear your throat before continuing, wondering how this could arouse him. But he is asking you something that is nowhere near difficult, so you comply. “I’m having breakfast with my parents right now”.

“Aha,” Hyunjin hums, and if you play close attention you can hear his hand sliding up and down his cock. All you're left with is your imagination. “Keep going”.

“I will meet with a friend later, we’re going to grab some coffee”.

Despite the weirdness of it all, there's something enticing about knowing he is using you, in some way, to get off. You're only talking about your day. But knowing your boyfriend is masturbating to the sound of your voice is arousing.

“Then I’ll go back home, get some work done,” you continue. “Think about you, think about how much I miss you right now”.

The line goes silent, except for a mixture of gasps and groans.

“You’re going to think about me?” Hyunjin asks, his silky voice sending shivers down your spine. “You’re going to touch yourself thinking about me?”

“Yes,” of course he doesn't expect you to talk dirty to him. But that never meant he couldn't say that kind of stuff to you. At that, you're at a disadvantage. No matter how turned on you're getting, there's nothing you can do about it and Hyunjin sort of feels thrilled because of it.

“You’re going to fuck my pussy with those fingers of you?”

God, how much you hate him for that. How he talks about your body as if it is his, reminding you that you belong to him and him only.

You only hate it because it never fails to arouse you.

“Y-yes Hyune,” you reply, swallowing thickly. You're aware you can't say anything too obscene, but you still can engage in that kind of conversation without airing yourself too much. “Or should I- use something else?”

“You packed your toys?” your boyfriend lets out a satisfied groan at your hum of agreement. You two are just so alike. “Which one are you using tonight, baby?”

“The transparent one”.

“The transparent one?” he thinks about it for a second, and immediately remembers which one you're referring to. “Thought you were going for the wand because it's your favorite, but I'm guessing you miss feeling full?”

“Aha,” you exhale. “Yes, I- miss it so bad”.

“You miss my cock stretching that tight pussy of yours?” At that, the wet movements become louder. “Stretch it nice and open for me baby, make sure to prep yourself every day for when you get back”.

You bite your nails. “What’s going to happen when I get back?”

The answer is rather obvious, but you want to hear it from him.

“I’m going to make you come until you pass out,” Hyunjin bites his lips and kicks his head back, reminiscing all those times where you’ve come around his cock, fingers and tongue. “Make it up to you for all the days you've been away”.

You can feel the pooling wetness in your underwear, the minimum squeeze of your thighs against each other is a constant reminder of it.

“You miss my lips against your pussy like I do?” he asks, letting out a liberating gasp. “You miss tasting yourself off of me while we kiss?”

“You know I do,” you gulp loudly, caressing your lips with the tip of your fingers. God, how much you miss feeling his against yours.

They’re so soft, and velvety, and they know exactly how to kiss and bite you.

“I’m so close,” Hyunjin announces, and you feel your nipples hardening underneath your underwear at the despair in his voice. “I just- wish you were here, want to come all over your face, and body, make you swallow me full”.

You want to say something, anything, but his words have much of a chokehold on you. You'll give anything to taste him, to kneel in front of him right now and open your mouth wide for him.

You miss his taste, miss kissing him afterwards in between whines and grunts.

“I would grab your hair really tightly,” he explains, increasing the speed of his sounds. “I’d push my cock deep inside that pretty mouth of yours, have you gagging and drooling all over it”.

Between his overwhelming words, and the loud sound of someone barging through the door of the restroom, you mutter a quick "can't talk anymore" before going completely silent.

“Honey, are you okay?”

Shit.

You close your eyes, trying to focus on both parts: Hyunjin’s moans, and the way your mother is standing right outside your bathroom stall.

“It has been like 10 minutes, your father and I got worried”.

Your boyfriend lets out a teasing scoff, one that only you can hear.

“She’s asking you a question,” Hyunjin murmurs, still with a hitched breath. “Aren’t you going to answer?”

“I’m fine,” you rush to say. “Just- having a stomachache”.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve got some medicine in my bag,” of course she did. She always does, ever since you were little.

“Maybe you should tell her the truth,” the voice from the other line calls. “Tell her that you’re busy making me come”.

Immediately, your eyes open like plates and you wonder if the sound of the phone is too loud for your mom to hear it inside the quiet restroom.

“I forgot!” you snap, practically yell out loud. “I forgot you carried those with you”.

“Want me to bring them to you?”

You hear the faucet running, and Hyunjin chuckling slowly. At least she isn’t standing right outside the stall, but you’re still not at ease.

“Y-yeah, please,” on the line, Hyunjin is waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt.

Those two words are enough to send him to the edge. Despite the lack of sexual connotations, hearing you beg for anything it’s enough to arouse him.

“Ah, but I’ll have to bring you some water too,” your mother explains. “Maybe you can have it when you return to the table?”

“No!” You insist, all in an attempt to kick her away from the restroom. “Please, I need it right now. Please?”

“Are you going to beg for me like that too?” Hyunjin groans through the line, not caring if anyone can hear him. Also not caring about interrupting your conversation. “Are you going to open your legs for me and beg for my dick like you’re begging right now?”

You almost choke on your own saliva, but the feeling quickly goes away when you hear your mother mutter an “okay, alright” before walking out the restroom door with a mission of easing your fake stomach ache.

“I almost get caught,” you gasp, only when a couple of seconds pass after she leaves.

“Then hang up,” his shakily breath only tells you he is not that far from coming. Especially after hearing your voice again, pleading for whatever it was you were asking.

“No,” you shake your head. “Want to hear you, please”.

“Want to hear how I come for you?” he chuckles. “Want to her how I moan your name while I come thinking about how much I wish I was fucking you?”.

In a whisper, you hum quietly.

“So dirty,” he is getting closer. “So, so f-fucking dirty. I can tell you’re enjoying this, even while you're out in public. Maybe you'll like it if i were to fuck you right there, while your parents wait for us at the table?”.

You cover your mouth in surprise, trying to muffle a gasp.

“I would love to come inside you right now, pull up your panties and force you to spend the rest of the day with my cum leaking out of you,” he lets out another loud, choked groan before continuing to elaborate on the fantasy. “You'd be so wet, you wouldn't know if you're turned on or it's just my cum”.

“You’re insane,” you whisper under your breath.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin asks teasingly, slurring his words in between moans. “I know you are too, baby. I don’t even need to take a look at you to know you’re probably dripping just by my words, right?”

Damned him.

“And I know I’m not too out of my mind when I say you would let me fuck you right then and there, where everyone could hear you and anyone could walk in,” at that, the lewd noises increase. “Might even let me finger you underneath the table, right? Bet you would love to have my fingers deep inside you while you try to pretend you don’t”.

Oh you're definitely going to cancel all your plans for the day. Might even book an early fly.

Anything, just to see him soon.

“God,” Hyunjin exhales, and it’s between quiet moans that you realize he is coming. “F-fuck, ‘m coming so fucking much”.

You can picture it. His tone abdomen all glistening with sweat and cum, shining brightly underneath the dim light of your room. His cock is probably red, and swollen, and twitching while he overcomes his high.

Fuck, damned be Hyunjin for making you ruin your panties this early in the morning.

“So much,” he repeats, fingers trailing the lines of his abdomen as he collects his arousal off of it. “Too sad it went to waste, I would’ve preferred to fuck it back inside of you”.

“I hate you,” you finally breathe, both in relief and frustration. “I hate how much I miss you”.

“Then come home soon,” your boyfriend pouts.

And honestly? You might.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut

499 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 6 months

Text

Y seguimos para bingo...

S the Actor. S the Entrepreneur. S the Lover. S the Father. S the Manwhore. And now, S the Influencer. Yup.

Judging by the seriously beautiful pictures of the Insta story and the short reel he deliberately posted on his wall for maximum traction, it was a rather grand week-end in Nevis. My bet is on a latergram, somewhere between October 10 and October 19 (when we know he was in NYC): but hey, I was never good with timelines, unlike Marple.

What I can safely say, though is this: C was spotted in LHR on October 10 (Loewe Foundation event) and October 17 (Almeida Theatre depressing play premiere). Both falling, obviously, on a Tuesday.

I am just going to leave this here for your consideration:

...knowing that as per the IATA's schedule regulations, we are still working with summer timetables (I have just double-checked with my mother, before the screeching starts).

Other quick observations: he apparently stayed in the Alexander Suite of the Four Seasons (https://www.fourseasons.com/nevis/accommodations/suites/alexander-suite/), judging by the bed headboard - perfect match:

All the other suites have different headboards, you can check by yourselves - quick example with the Chelanii Suite:

So, let's see what's on offer:

Also, smart move: sporting a cap indoors and ta-daa - impossible to look for haircut, in order to try and pinpoint a... ahem... timeline.

No rings on the beach...

... and no rings inside, either:

So, these are props he is playing (us) with, just like the Sybil of Tydavnet.

I left the best for the last, pour la bonne bouche, because I bet the farm y'all were busy checking hammocks and deckchairs and poke bowls (yum yum, heh) and didn't notice this tiny hashtag:

I am off to get prepared for our Defense Attaché cocktail, on our National Army Day. A way more boring affair than the drama-drama I will step into when I'm back home, round 10 local time.

Toodles! :) Y chicas - os quiero mucho. You know who you are.

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milknhonies · 3 months

Text

The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 4 || MasterList || Chapter 6

Chapter Summary: August decides to test you with a taste of bondage which leads to a violent fit and a deadly confession...

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Non-Con, Description of Suicide & Self Harm, Trauma Dumping, Bondage, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex M!receiving, Fingering F! receiving, Child abuse, physical abuse, manipulation, subspace.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Author Notes:

★This chapter is based off of the real life events of my father's issues with women and his eventual death. He did toxic things but at the end of the day I still love him dearly and would sacrifice so much to have him back. He was my first best friend in this world. Please be kind. He is the reason I managed to write this story in the first place as a form of narration therapy

★Okay so I might be publishing this chapter earlier than I usually would because I'm doing a lot of packing and searching for a sharehouse or live in because I cannot stand my current housemate. I also am not sure if my rostered shifts will be taking on a new schedule. So please take this early chapter and be patient until I can post the following in 2-3weeks maybe... I'm not too sure honestly. Ciao Bella 😘

Inspiring Song: "Brutal" by Olivia Rodriguez

03:00pm Sunday 18th August 2024, Robertson, Brisbane

When the light hit your eyes you grunted and rubbed them with your fingers until they could handle the new bright light around you with the blindfold off.

You shivered staring up at him. Your eyes were still moist.

He had not changed his clothes. He was smiling softly down at you. He held something against your skin. Trailing the soft material along the goosebumps. Looking down at his mysteriously soft item you shrieked.

“No! No not the rope please stop! Not the rope!” You scooted away from him to the top corner of the bed, “Anything, tape, chain, ziptie but not the rope.”

His hand grabbed your ankle and dragged you viciously back to him. His hand pressed down hard on your chest and trapped you on the mattress.

You started screaming and hitting him. Punching his arms and kicking your legs. He slapped the rope beside your head and laid on top of you until you struggled to breathe and fight. His weight hurt so much, pressing on you arms and hips.

He shoved his forehead on top of yours. His nose nudged your cheek as you wept hard and blinked with those wet lashes.

“Please, don’t,” you whimpered, breaking back into another sob.

He exhaled and pressed his lips to your ear. His tongue was wet and breath hot. It felt ticklish and you had to fight the giggle in your throat. It came out in a horrid choking sensation. Tears peaked and fell down your face, wetting his.

“….the rope is the gentlest on the skin….” He purred heavily, “Why are you so frightened of it, huh?”

“Be-because,” you blubbered, “because my da-ad he-he-he….with rope.”

He sat up off you, letting you breathe and suck a healthy breath of air. You were frozen, laying down, too petrified to move.

August grabbed the rope again and twisted the tip with his fingers, “Is it because he hung himself?”

Your eyes widened. It was like a switch or spark or strike. Something lit the bubbling fuel of rage that had been sitting and mellowing deep in your belly.

'How dare he...'

You flung yourself forward and slapped him the hardest your body strength could manage. A loud ring of the skin bounced on the walls of his large empty home. His eyes were wide and his smile grew wider.

'How dare he!'

You felt the tsunami of anger and fury explode out of you. Your nails swiped him. You caught the skin of his neck and the back of his hand as you tried to claw out his eyes screaming from the bottom of your belly.

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Don’t say that! Don't you ever fucking say that again! You take it back! Fuck you! Fuck you!”

You tried to kill him. You pounced at him from the bed and gagged loudly as the collar and chain snagged your throat. You must’ve looked like a feral animal. Your teeth were nashing and your hands curled like claws at him as you screamed and yelled incoherently.

He grabbed your wrists and held them above your head in the air. You were no match for his strength. Your legs couldn't stretch out and try to kick him either. Your 'claws' were unable to scratch at any of him. His face wasn't smiling smugly. Instead he looked at you with confusion, perhaps pity?

You choked as your body seized, "Fu-ck you Aug-" you took in a shattering breath that burned your lungs, "Fuck you August! You piece of fucking shit!"

A part of you wanted to hear him take it back, to prove nothing very happened. Deep inside you yearned for no one to ever speak of those events because you could just pretend deep inside that it never ever happened. The shame and anger wouldn’t exist, the loss wouldn’t be as bad and permanent. You wanted to kill August for even mentioning it. He wasn’t allowed to talk about it, 'he has no right'…how did he even know? God you hated how much he probably knew about you.

'How much stalking did he do?'

He waited for you to stop screaming and waited until your sobbing had died down again. Your head pounded loudly in your ears as you let it fall and hang. Your tears dripped quietly on the bed covers.

August very slowly released your wrists. You lowered them and held them to your chest. They were sore.

You half expected August to slap you. But when you dared to look back up at him, towering above you still, he was untangling the folded rope. You gulped.

He pressed a knee onto the mattress and laid a hand on your naked chest. He barely needed to use much force, shoving you onto your back. You whimpered. Too scared to try and fight back again.

“O' my sweet, darling girl, Shhh” he cooed, his knuckles brushed the sweat beading on your face “How life has dealt you a poor hand…” he soft rolled you to lay on your front.

You felt your body relax. He rubbed your spine with the flat of his hand smoothly. You shut your eyes and hiccupped loudly.

You were tired and especially depressed. You didn't want to go to sleep but you also wanted to wake up from whatever nightmare this was. You sincerely hoped he would just kill you at that point. Why did he have to torture you like this?

August grabbed your two wrists and tugged them behind your back, sending you into a shock again feeling the line of material on your skin.

“Please no rope!”

You couldn't pull your hands back but twisted and turned pulling and making it difficult for him to tie any safe knit around your hands. He clicked his tongue and smacked your hip.

“Look at me,” he said and waited until your eyes glanced at him, flooded in glassy tears, “You’re safe, I won’t hurt you with the rope. I promise.”

“Y-your promises mean fuck all!” You hissed with wobbling lips, “You sick fuck!”

You heard him drag out a long. His thumbs rubbed the inside of your wrists.

“And I promise you’ll regret that comment, but I digress…I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?...Help me!?”

You screamed as he began to wrap the cord around your wrists again, “Stop! Get off me! No! Please!” You sobbed hard and tried to kick him but it was met with a sharp slap to your backside, “Please! I’m begging you. For the love of God, stop! No rope!” He tightened the tie around your wrists and push you totally onto your belly.

His hands wrapped your ankles tightly and started to push them up your wrists. Your face turned to the side and you squeezed your eyes shut attempting at the last second of anything that could get him to stop.

You swallowed any sense of pride you had left.

“Daddy….” You panted, “Please Daddy stop it. Please stop tying. Daddy please.”

His fingers paused and he left go of your ankles. It was a hiccup of relief that left your mouth.

“Good girl,” his hand said subbing his thumb over the back of your neck, “You’re learning.”

The air in your lungs was disappearing, you hated yourself for submitting to him like this. You tightened your lips and tensed as his breath fanned your face.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded, you obeyed.

“Look at me,” he said, you obeyed.

He had a softened expression on such a hard face. He had this Dr. Jeckle and Hyde side about him.

He would look so sweet and kind and then the next turn into this hardened angry man.

He scared you.

He pushed you to roll back in your back. Your tied arms were crushed underneath you. You were helpless and scared.

He unlocked the chain from the collar.

“Deep breath in,” he asked and laid a hand on your belly. You obeyed.

“And out.”

A breath came out sounding like a gasp and yawn and moan. You were exhausted.

“Now, you are going to not fight me, not squirm. I have kindly let you through your tantrum, now you’re going to be a good girl and lay across my lap. I want you to talk to me and if you stop talking, I’m going to spank you. Do you understand?”

You pouted, “No.”

“No?”

“I don’t want you to hit me,” you whined.

He chuckled and ran his thumb gently cross your cheek, “Good, because I want you to talk.”

“About what?” you sniffled loudly.

“How did you find out. About him…your father.”

Your eyes widened and you shook you head dismissively, “No, I don’t want to talk about that.”

“You will,” August recounted.

“I won’t…you c-can’t make me!” you snapped.

Within seconds he sat on the bed and hauled your body over his lap, delivering three hard and loud spanks. As you wailed he rubbed the rising welts on your backside. The heat of your blood screamed to the top of your skin.

“You said that with a little too much confidence,” August muttered, squeezing the stinging flesh, “Let’s try that again, yes?”

“You knew he…” you choked, unable to share the gruesome truth yourself, “did that with the rope. That’s how. That's all there is to say.”

August’s hand left another scorching mark across your arse cheek. You tried to squirm, you tried to push away but his other arm tightly hugged your middle.

“Say it. How he did it,” August commanded.

You spat back with a screech in you tongue, “You already know!!!”

He spanked you again before yelling, “Say it!”

“He fucking killed himself!” You roared, “Is that what you want to hear, you arsehole!? He took a piece of rope, tied it to the ceiling fan and fucking hung himself!!!”

You swore the whole room shook along with your anguished voice.

“And why did he do it?” The billionaire asked the billionaire question.

You hissed, “Go to fucking hell August!” Another stinging wack of his palm.

You could hear the venom drop from his tongue as he grabbed the back of your neck and pinchingly pulled.

“Why did he do it!?”

“Because he fucking hated me!" You squealed in defeat, "He hated me! He couldn’t stand to look at me! I was his mistake!”

Your throat was sore and scratched. He let go of your neck.

After a few embarrassing moments of silence you could hear his voice softenly ask, “And how are you his mistake?”

“Stop!”

He grabbed the back of your head and tugged it up, he grunted into the shell of your ear, “How? Tell me or I’ll belt your arse so raw it’ll bruise and you won't sit for a fucking week!”

When you put up more silence, you were pushed forward and could hear the clinking of his belt coming undone.

“Teen pregnancy,” you hastily blurted, wincing, hoping he wouldnt just use his belt already, “He didn’t know my mum was underage. When she had me, she left us, she left me with him. He took custody. He couldn’t find anyone to replace my mum, he hated me for it- I know he did. He got girlfriends and they didn’t last long…they didn’t want a kid so soon in their lives, so his heart was broken more than once.”

You took a gulp. Your hands behind your pack trembled. His fingers rubbed your inner thigh and pinched your backside.

“Is that the only reason he hated you?” August asked softly.

“No,” shaking your head you shuddered, “it’s not.”

“Why else?”

It hurt, god it hurt to say it…to be forced to confess the honest agony.

“Because I wasn’t a boy and even as a girl I wasn’t pretty. He never said I looked beautiful or pretty when I asked, he just looked away and shrugged...why was I so ugly?” You complained, “Why do I have to look so much like the worst parts of my parents? It’s not fair!” Your nose sniffled as your eyes began to sting hot.

Your kidnappers soft voice then asked, “What else wasn’t fair?”

“H-how he loved his wife more than me. He picked her up one day and said I needed to start calling her my mum and I couldn’t, she was only eleven years older than me, it was weird. I didn’t understand why he chose someone who was only twenty years old at the time, and why he didn’t believe me when I told him how she hurt me when he was at work….he only hit her once he walked in on her choking me…when I started to bleed from the cut on my face. She moved out and started cheating on him. God, I hate how he still loved her.”

“He saw her hurt you like that…and he still loved her? How did you know she was cheating on him?”

His fingers started to do wickedly things. The tips tickled at your labia and dip down to dance along your clit. You hissed and tightened your thighs around his hand, but it didn’t stop him rubbing and molesting you.

You talked, not wanting another spanking and know full well there was nothing to stop him trying to pleasure your cunt.

“Her boyfriends would come around asking to see her. They’d try to come in and touch me too but I’d threaten to call the police and they’d be flying out the door.”

August sighed happily as he felt your heart beat throb against your pussy. He condescendingly asked, “Your dad knew this was happening?”

You whimpered and shook your head, your cheek rubbed the duvet. Your shut your eyes and grunted as a finger prodded your hole. You knew this was sick.

“Yes! And then he tried to slit his wrists to guilt his bitch wife to come back but I called the ambulance in time and got the blood…the bleeding to…to stop….”

“That explains the scars. But that's not what killed him.”

You nodded, he was right.

“He…” you paused as August slid two fingers into your pussy and slowly pushed then in and out, your breath hitched. It was wrong what he was doing to you. And it was wrong you softly moaned.

“Dad got out of the hospital after forty eight hours.”

Your hands clenched in fists, August could see that, you grunted, “They let him fucking loose! I was so angry at him. I told him he could kill himself only after I finished highschool.”

You remembered that look on your dads face as he pouted in his recliner refusing to look you in the eye. What did you expect after you spent hours screaming at him? You were only seventeen. You had to go to school knowing your dad was in hospital and there was a chance he could die….all that blood….red was your least favourite colour for a long while. You didn’t say anything to teachers, you didn’t need to deal with the police asking questions and making things worse with child protection.

Your sighed and felt August’s fingers stop fucking you gently. They paused and pulled away. Your breath hitched as your body felt empty of his hot digits. He drew soft lines on your ass with your wetness.

You heard him warn,“….you know what happens when you grow silent or should I remind you.”

You said nothing and bared the pain of the spank. A hissed caught through your lips but you whispered.

August didn’t catch it at first and made you repeat. You felt flushed. You couldn’t believe you were actually asking him.

You weren’t crying anymore, you didn’t want to, you were angry and sad.

“August…if I call you Daddy…will you let me sit up and…hug me?”

The sound of his inhaled was like a contemplation, “I’m not sure…that’s a special privilege…why don’t you try and ask nicely?”

You opened your eyes and looked over your shoulder at him and whimpered, “Pl-please hug me Daddy.”

He slid a hand beneath your chest and held your hip as he pulled you up and turned you around. He crossed his legs on the bed and swaddled you in his arms. Your hands were still behind your back, your hot bottom stuck onto his trousers.

“C’mere sweetheart,” his voice broke you, you started to whimper and dug your face into his shoulder and cried into his warm cotton shirt.

“Daddy’s got you, all safe now.” He said as he rocked you and let you compose yourself. You pressed your cheek to his collarbone and shut your eyes.

How could a cruel man like him become soft?...

He asked and held your cheek as he rocked very slowly, “And what happened after you gave him permission to end his own life?”

'It wasn't permission, it was a last chance to plea...'

“He did as promised…he waited…and waited…and then when he said he was going to end his marriage I was actually happy for him.” Your voice trembled, “I said he was smart and told him that he…he…wait…no…that’s not right...I-”

You swallowed and squeezed your eyes opened as horror and realisation poured from your puffy mouth, “I said ‘It's about time…’ and the-then he gave me all of his cameras. And left. A few hours he came back, he told me he went to see his wife and I knew he meant he went to go sleep with her….I got so angry.”

You sighed, “I threw something at him?…a cup? A plate? It doesn’t matter. I didn’t even feel guilty for doing it…I was happy I made him sad…for the first time I fed off the glee that he felt shitty…I said he was a ‘fucking loser and a dumb ass.’ I said he shouldn’t have ever had me, should never gotten married and if he was going to keep letting himself get fucked over by his wife he should….”

You cut yourself off. You whimpered and buried your nose into August’s armpit.

Why did he have to smell so good? Why didn’t this man have terrible body odour?

You heard him tut and pulled your shoulder away from him. He cupped your jaw and ran a thumb over your bottom lip.

“What did you say?…Y/N?”

“I said…” you gasped and cried, “he should go fuck himself and stop the pity party because it was me that should be sad and suicidal, not him.”

With another suck if air you growled and glared into August’s eyes, “But…God…deep down I said in my mind that he should kill himself and make it easier for me to hate him. It’s all my fault.” Your eyes looked up to the ceiling while your face contorted.

August leg go of your face and brushed his fingers through your hair as he said soothingly, “Your thoughts didn’t kill him.”

Your naked body pressed into him. You couldn’t hold the balance for to long and leaned against him. Your nose touched his and you frustratedlg groaned, “B-but I was so mean to him…I threw a plate at him. I called him names. I bullied him and argued…I…I killed him. I know it was me.”

August kissed your cheek and slid you down back to his chest to hug you. He turned your hips out and patted your bottom softly.

You didn’t need prompting anymore from him.

“And normally every night I’d always ask him at dinner how his day was, I’d tell him I’d loved him and that I was going to bed and would see him in the morning before he’d go to work. He would get up at four am and leave at five am. He drove a truck around town, delivering to the Asian grocery stores and bars, he was their favourite delivery driver…they’d give him presents and free food all the time.”

“Yea?” August cooed, “What else? Did you wish him a goodnight?”

You mewled, “No, I didn’t. I-I was so m-mad. I told him I hated him and I said he wasn’t allowed in my room. I slammed the door so-so hard…he didn’t go to work and I felt like he was grumpy at me, his door was shut…When it was six am I made him some breakfast and I put it outside his door because he didn’t answer my knocking…”

You took a pause and swallowed to stop yourself crying, you forced a pitiful laugh from your mouth, “I was such a cunt…I remember saying something stupid like ‘’fine be a prick.” I started to clean my room and do the laundry and by nine am he still hadn’t grabbed the porridge. I got…a little frustrated -but I felt sorry for throwing the cup or plate and I knew he was upset. I went in to go wake him up or to apologise…”

You grew totally silent and August waited patiently.

You whispered into his neck, “His feet…I-I saw his feet first and you know what’s sick?” you smiled weakly.

August smiled and whispered back, “What’s sick?”

“I laughed and asked dad, ‘’how did you figure out how to float like that?” And I remember the stab of shock that jolted in me the moment it clicked…” you licked your bottom lip and shrugged, “his forehead was swollen and his eyes not fully shut. Lips a little blue… It was awful. I can’t forget that look.” You sighed and looked August in the eye, “He….he looked like he was made of wax…the moment I knew what he had done I grabbed his legs. I tried to pull him down. And when I couldn’t figure out how to get the rope off the fan I tried to use his phone to call help. His phone was flat. I tried to run to my room and grab mine but I tripped over the bowl of porridge and hit the ground hard.”

You remembered the loud this and the slippery wetness on your side. Your face cringed and you pulled your knees up in August’s lap a little more. He continued to pat your backside.

“I was screaming. I remember the pain in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I had to crawl to my phone because it was too painful to walk. I barely remember the woman on the phone. But she tried to ask me to check his pulse and I didn’t want to go back into the room.”

You gasped, “God I didn’t but I did….I had to. And I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t hear his belly move or his heart beat. I remember standing for a very long time, just holding his legs trying to get him to stand up on my shoulders or, to move. He was freezing…he…I don’t know how long….but…the um…the officers came in, they…I don’t know how they got in…maybe they picked the lock. They got him down and took him out. I got mad they didn’t let me come ….one officer told me it wasn’t an ambulance so I couldn’t come…I don’t think I was able to accept that he died, not until they wrung me up a week later to tell me he was ready to be released and have a funeral set up. A part of me thought he would wake up like a miracle…like he could just do some supernatural shit…like he would come home that evening or the next morning and ask me to make him porridge. And he’d smile and say he just felt sad or something and-and that he would buy me some noodles or some sponge cakes when he went to work tomorrow...”

You angrily whined, “But he didn’t…fucking arsehole. He left me…he…died…he…hated me and chose….the easy way out…”

August rubbed your back and whispered, “Cry.”

“What?” you shuddered not understanding what he was saying.

“You’re allowed to cry. You want to cry….so cry,” he said.

Your blinked once, twice and then the damn broke entirely. You wept into his shoulder and just started to blabber, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Pl-please don’t spank me Daddy.”

He sympathetically crooned, “O' my sweet girl, no more, you don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to, daddy has heard enough.”

After some time of more sobbing and rocking in his arms you rubbed your eyes and yawned.

“I’m so tired,” you moaned and smiled sadly at the feeling of his warm chest vibrate with a chuckle.

“I bet you are poppet, lay back” he pulled away and lifted the bed covers. He lifted you up and slid your legs inside beneath the layers. “You can have a nap,” he whispered sweetly as his fingers tugged at the knot of your bound wrists. When the came undone you curled them Infront of you and rolled onto your side facing him. He locked the chain to your collar and smiled at you. You smiled back.

Jesus…your brain felt fuzzy about that…he forced you to talk about your father and how it was your fault, he humilated you worse than when you cummed in the recliner in your apartment…and you….wanted to fucking thank the man….'what the actual fuck?'

Something made you want to accept this condesending treatment as long as he held you and cradled you and let you cry without a fear of judgement.

To this day you’ll never understand what possessed you to do it… but you could never take it back. As he started to shift away and move off the bed, your hand shot out and wrapped itself around his wrist.

“N-no, don’t leave me, please,” you begged, your eyes soaked the pillow while your wet lips trembled.

He looked down at your hand and softly sighed, he leant down to your head and kissed your temple, “I’m right here, I’m not going far, I’m going to grab you some painkillers because I know you’re going to have a headache soon.”

“N-no!” you whined.

His eyes widened before his voice hardened in a commanding grunt, “Y/N…let go of me…be a good girl…”

You didn’t….you couldn’t. Your hand squeezed tighter. He touched it with the rope and noticed how you flinched off him in seconds like the rope had magically burnt your hand.

He nodded and pursed his lips, “I promise I’ll be back in five minutes.”

He made true to the promise…he returned in four minutes and forty seconds…how did you know? Because you desperately counted ever single one until your abuser returned.

A cup in his hand and a pill in his palm. You didn’t have the guts to ask if it was a pair killer or the same drug that forced you unconcious when he first fucked you.

“Open up those pretty little lips.”

Your mouth parted, he popped the pill in and held the edge of the cup to your thirsty chapped lips, “Drink.”

You guzzled the water down and let out a relieved gasp as he set it aside on the table. “Good girl.”

As he turned, you realised he was going to the door. Leaving… “W-wait!” you called and weakly sat up.

He paused at the door. His fingers traced the metal handle, “Yes?”

“D-don’t leave me…” your sucked in a deep and demeaning breath as you pleaded to him, “D-daddy please don’t go.”

You peeled the blankets back and struggled to crawl out towards him. His blue eyes blinked. He reached up and scratches his chin, observing your pathetic state. He tilted his head.

“What do you want?”

“I…I…” You struggled to answer, your bottom lip buried beneath you teeth, you sucked hard and whispered, “I want you to stay…I want…you to cuddle me again…please.”

A smirk spread in the corner of his mouth, “And what will I get in return?”

It was wounding…the concept you had to earn his affections now…where was the free treatment from that day you first met him?

You didn’t even know what you could offer him.

“I don’t have anything…I…I have barely any money...I don't know what you've done with my purse.”

He chuckled cruelly, “You have a commodity…your body. You have a mouth…”

Your eyes widened. It clicked what he was hinting at. You were unsure if you really want to just for a hug…but after such a long couple days and confusion in your life, you would offer anything for a moment of peace.

“I’ll suck your cock…” your mouth quivered, “Please just hold me…I’m tired and I’m scared. Please!”

He looked you up and down one last time before sighing and nodding. Your hands reached out like a sad needy puppy. His fingers cupped them and guided you back to your original spot.

He moved the chain away from you both. You kneeled and shut your eyes waiting for him to just use your mouth….

“Y/N…scoot over. You can do it in the morning.”

Relief washed over your head like a cold ice bucket.

He pushed your body away as he took off his shoes and socks. He slipped beside you and dragged you to his side.

He playfully scolded you, “I spoil you rotten.” His finger tapped your nose. He kissed your forehead and watched you happily sigh.

Your eyes started to grow droopy. You knew it was the unknown drug he used on you weeks ago. You grew tired too quickly for it not to be.

As your body felt motionless and gooey you let your head roll onto his shoulder. Your mouth uncontrollably starting to drool onto him. He was smiling and stroking your head almost lovingly.

You weren’t sure if he was going to use you while you fell into your drugged sleep but you were happy to have this small peace. Even if he killed you…you were going to die at peace.

“Goodnight,” you heard and fell into the mindless nothingness.

08:02am Monday 19th August 2024, Robertson, Brisbane

You had absolutely zero knowledge of what day it was, how long you had been with August, or where he had kept your clothes…when you woke up though, your eyes watched the ticking of his expensive looking watch. It’s handles moving slow at a time of eight am.

Your head slowly rose. Your chain reflected from the morning sunlight burning from the windows.

You held down the yawn building in your throat and glanced over your shoulder.

August was out cold.

His face was totally relaxed. His bushy eye brows however left a certain hardness to his face. His lips were slightly parted and a soft snore left through them.

He was handsome and it hurt you knowing that beautiful men could be as evil and abusive as ugly men. A beautiful man was probably more ugly because they could hide their evil better.

You gulped and tried to move carefully. You had no idea what waking up a man like him could do to you…and you remembered sincerely of the promise to suck his cock.

You had never sucked cock before...and it disgusted you to think about...

'Men pee from there, why do people even do blow jobs?...ew.'

But you promised, in exchange for this. A loving cradling in a bed with him. And as wonderful as it had felt for a brief moment, you couldn't help but resent your past promise to him.

The more time you put it off, the better.

As you moved you felt something metal press against your ass. Your fingers slowly and carefully picked at it. Lifting the small object to the light…it reflected light into your eye.

A tiny silver key…

The key….

To your chain….

You didn’t hesitate, you slowly unlocked it, trying to be as quiet as humanly possible. As the pad lock clicked open and the chain grew loose. You settle the chain careful on the pillow and away from his arm.

It was scary, the tension of moving your backside across the bed sheets. Your toes touching the carpet. Trying to move slow enough to move nothing. You pushed up and stood.

He hadn’t woken up not moved a inch. You swallowed and stood away from the bed. You stood confused and naked. You couldn't think about searching for clothes in this bedroom. You didn't know where he had stored your stolen gown. Your feet tiptoed to the open door.

You didn’t know if there was a home phone on a wall somewhere. You wondered where he had your clothes and most importantly your purse with your phone.

You recalled him stepping on your phone in the park and considered that it was probably destroyed and thrown away...August had such a fierce look about him. You shuddered and worried to see it again if he woke up soon with you missing.

You looked at the key on you and…you were desperate.

Shoving the metal in between your teeth, it slip to the back of your mouth and your eyes screamed as it swallowed and scratched the entire way down your throat.

There was no way you wanted him to chain you back to the bed. And something suggested confidently to you that the padlocks on the gag and blindfold were the same as the bed chain.

You found his room. You knew the millionaire would have a closet in his own master bedroom.

It was beside the bathroom. A walk in. Your purse was sitting on the centre island. You gasped and ran to it and dumped the contents. You found your phone and almost sobbed… the screen was shatter and it wasn't turning on.

With all the strength you mustered you kept your mouth closed and your brain calm. Your costume dress was still missing, you didn't have time to waste. You stole one of his shirts. It was hanging in a long collection, organised by shades of white, navy, grey and black.

'Definitely a psychopath. No one is this particular or maybe his housekeeper is. Does he have a housekeeper? Surely? He is rich enough.'

His shirts, trousers and blazers where either folded neatly or hanging in the open spaces after all being beautifully ironed.

You buttoned the shirt up. You couldn’t find his underwear. You found some sweat shorts and tried tightening them around your waist. His shorts that probably cut off at his knees ended at your mid calf.

God he was so fucking huge. It made you remember why he was so intimidating. His height…

You took your purse and even broken phone. Dashing out his closet and room you bolted down the hall and staircase.

You tried your best to remember where everything was, including the exit. You found the kitchen and stole a carving knife from a butcher block set.

If he or anyone wanted to fuck with you, you wanted to make it clear that there was gonna be a blood spill.

You would be okay going to jail for assault if it meant you got out of this shit alive. You just needed to run.

You got to the glass doors that led to the outdoor pool in the gardens and patio it would lead to the back yard or some sort of garage where you might find a security button to open the front gates and sprint to the nearest bus stop. Unlocking every piece you smiled as the glass easily slid open.

You felt the cold morning air hit your face and body. His clothes were light and did barely anything against the wind.

You stood onto the concrete platform and heard something shuffle around the bushes of the garden. For a moment you thought you were crazy hearing a growl…a animal growl…a dog growl…your eyes glanced to your side. Your fingers tightened around the kitchen knife.

You held your breath as you met the sight of a dog, no- no, a big fucking dog. A small bear if you might humour yourself. This dogs bottom was in the air while his head was on the floor, teeth bare and growling.

It’s massive coat was pricked up and defensive.

And when it pounced, you squealed and ran back inside, launching the glads door back closed. You heard the beast yelp as you closed the door on the tip of its nose.

It’s teeth was gnashing and biting as it barked at you through the glass.

You held up your hand to block the door from gliding open. You frantically turned the knob to lock it.

Fuck! August would wake up and find you missing if this wild animal kept barking. You felt like an idiot. Of course August would have at least one guard dog.

The moody guard dog huffed and turned around before bolting back and slamming itself onto the door.

The shock had you falling on your arse.

Or rather...into someone’s arms.

His strong muscle appendages caved around you. His hand grabbed your knife wielding hand harshly, twisting your wrist until you were forced to let it go.

The blade clattered loudly as you screamed and grunted pathetically.

August held you strong and walked backwards until he could sit on the couch with you squirming in his lap.

“Oh look at you, miss escape artist…” a whine caught in your throat as his nose shoved itself against your jaw. His voice heavily rasped, “Planning on trying to run off? O' believe you me…” he patronised, looking at his aggressive dog back at you “That would be a terrible idea…”

He slapped your inner thigh. You jumped and hissed from the sudden pain.

This morning would be one to remember for a while.

“I see you’ve met Kal!” His fingers dug into your sides. You sneered at him and grabbed at his hands, weakly pulling him off.

“You didn’t have a dog last time!” you whined as you squirmed.

He snickered and forced your legs over his hips. His hand snuck down into the stolen shorts and he kisses your neck as he rubbed at your clit.

“He was here last time, I swear but he was in his kennel that day and I wanted you all to myself.”

You sighed as his large fingers played and soothed you to a unpredictable horny mess.

There was no use fighting when he had you so caught up. You really weren’t sure if he would beat you but the memory of the recliner and the spanking in the guest bed were fresh to remind you how he could play with you if you refused or displeased him.

You wanted to get out alive. He caught you out of bed with his stolen clothes, your broken phone and a knife in hand. It wasn’t a good appearance.

He didn’t let you cum. No. He pulled his hand away before you reached the sweet completion.

Your bum felt his bone hard erection and struggled to move away from it.

“Do you know how much trouble you’re in? Answer me Y/N,” he softly pressed.

You shook your head and tried craning your neck back to kiss his prickly cheek.

“No…no I…I just…”

“Just thought you could leave without making good on your promise? You have a cock to suck… are you ready for that?”

You shook your head again and confessed strongly, “No, I don’t know how to do that….I said it because I was scared.”

He laughed again and chewed the bottom of your ear, “Oh? Then this will be exciting.”

He pulled your dazed body off and pressed you onto your knees on the carpet rug. Between his thighs, you swallowed and looked up at him. Smirking with a sadistic tilt to his head, August looked like a fallen angel.

You gagged as you watched him lift the hand that was just fucking you up to his lips. He licked and sucked each digit like they were a delicious treat. His exaggerated moans of pleasure had you rolling your eyes.

After another moment he put his hands back and jerked his chin at you.

“Well? Unzip me. Go on.”

His dogs barking made it hard for you to hear him but with your eyes following his lips and direction of eyesight you knew what he wanted out of you.

He watched with a lazy gaze as your finger tips pinched his zipper and tugged down the opening.

His flaccid dick, unprotected from any underwear greeted your sight.

With warm hands and a wish you had for any chance of forgiveness from him for trying to run out on him; you collected his cock into your palms.

It felt warm and lame for a moment before a great pulse cause you to jump and the member to flinch and twitch. His veins bobbed slightly.

You tried thinking about what girls in porn did…they always did this hugging thing with their breast. Motorboating? Tit surfing? You unbuttoned his stolen shirt in one hand while holding and squeezing his heavy cock in the other.

He was staring as you shed the silky shirt to the floor. You sat at his feet with your breasts bare. You wondered what was going through his head…he wasn’t just a lustful predator….he was a calculating business man.

That led you to ponder on if this was like a business transaction? You asked for his kindness and in exchange you had to debase yourself as his personal unpaid whore…

To make matters worse, you were unsure if catching you trying to escape would lead to some sick punishment like how he caught you in the club.

You were annoyed that if you made it out alive there was no evidence of those deals or the murder of the Melbourne Embezzler.

You were still behind in your plot of revenge and as tempting as it was just to bite his cock off with your teeth, you’d never leave this place alive…not even a chance…

You sat up a little on your knees and shuffled closer. You pulled at his cock some more until it was entirely hard in your palm.

He smirked before he mockingly asked, “Are you going to fucking suck it or am I just waiting here until you turn me off enough to lose interest?”

With widened eyes, you sheepishly stared at the pink thick sausage in your hand and cringed.

Your tongue timidly poked out and you licked at his tip. He sighed, but it was full of impatience. A strange anxiety filled you… overwhelming fear of disappointing him. You knew logically it was dumb. You didn't respect August why did you care what he actually thought of you? You just needed to get out of there alive.

Your tongue and lips spread kisses along his wide shaft before you opened your mouth as wide as you could and attempted to put him in your mouth. You looked crazy. Your teeth trying to stay wide open but your lips peeled back away from them….

August laughed at you, “Are you planning to bite my cock off with those rows of fangs?”

Eyes filled with confusion and self-conciousness fluttered up at him. His thumb rubbed along your cheek and he told you to wrap your teeth up in your lips and to stick out your tongue more.

Now it was truly humiliating…following his instructions and wagging your tongue out like some dog.

Your eyes glanced to the left where the glass doors were now empty of his fluffy beast.

His hand pushed your mouth down a little further. Your cheeks felt full with his girth along and when his head hit the bag if your throat, you loudly wretched and pulled back but found his hand forcing you back down onto him. Your spit flew out messily on his cock. Your eyes watered instantly at the irritating sensation. You felt suffocated and choked in his thick appendage.

It was confronting to have something so big being pushed back into your mouth. You gagged on just two fingers, you had no clue what you must’ve looked like with a cock a third of a way in your mouth.

He did it over and over until you scratched at his hand and he let you pulled back, falling back on your ass and rasping for breath.

You heaved and swiped your mouth and tears. You hoped you wouldn’t have to ever do that again and next time you wanted something from him you’d never promise a blow job.

“If you want to leave today, you have to do something for me…”

You were stupid…you were desperate…you asked “What?”

“Open your mouth.” He commanded.

You winced, afraid he would shove it back into your mouth…you obeyed. You didn’t expect the assault of his thick cum spraying across your face. Some dropped into your mouth as it flew. Most of it stuck in your hair and dribbled down into your eyes.

He chuckled at the sheer horror of shock written over your face covered in his pearly cum.

You were about to wipe it away until August grabbed your wrist brutally and shook his head.

“You belong to me. I own you. You aren’t going to clean this off until you get home. Do I make myself clear?”

A shuddering breath escaped you as you nodded.

'Home?'

He was letting you go…you couldn’t understand why he was so lenient with your freedom. You accused him of rape and yet you lived…he killed a man just for a small crime of embezzlement…

But you were graciously relieved.

You were surprised he let you put on his stolen shirt again. He pinched a nipple but he gave you back your purse and broken phone while he called someone to pick you up. A driver. Jude.

August took you out front of the house once the black vehicle arrived and slipped inside of the car with you. He leant across and buckled you in reminding you that he liked this power dynamic even through the little things. Wiping you clean, buckling your seat, feeding you...you wouldn't call it infantilism the entire way...it felt like the motive was to humiliate, not to take care of you...The entire time was filled with a stretchy and uncomfortable pull of tension.

You didn't face the rearview mirror in case Jude could see all the embarrassing white cum drying on your face and in your hair.

“I…I-” you tried to ask but fell silent and afraid. The cum was drying on your face, a perfect reminder of your place. Beneath him.

He looked at you with interest, “What’s on your mind?”

“I am…confused…why haven’t you just killed me yet? I’m disposable, and I know you already know if I go missing…no one is going to look for me…”

He didn’t take his eyes off you and you couldn’t even meet them. Your knees rose up against your chest.

His finger touched the skin beneath your chin and made you look at him.

“Because…Y/N…I am not someone to throw away my toys so easily. You are a important posession and it would be very stupid of me to waste you."

He leant in and kissed you softly, breathing against your soft lips, "You’ve got a tight cunt and a dead father to thank for that.”

That made you lunge…you slapped his face hard. The sound cracking. Everything was dead silent. Even Jude was holding his breath. You turned your body away and cowered in the door.

“Fuck you…fuck…you.” You sobbed. You didn’t like how he mentioned your dad. It made you think on how he forced such a terrible confession from you about the days that it all went down.

You expected him to hit you, to make you beg for mercy.

Only his cheek flinched as his pale flesh became a mean pink in the shape of your fingers. He sat back and nodded slowly.

He knew that was too far. He smirked..

'that selfish fucker.'

He didn’t harm you like you feared he would.

He brought you home and you half expected him to invade your space, rape you again for your outburst in the car. But no…he took you up the stairs. Unlocked the door and returned your key.

He chuckled at the sight of all your installed locks, "Here I thought Jude was pulling my leg..."

He shook his head and smiled. Before you could run inside and slam the door shut he blocked your path with his hand. He leant his head down and purred. With his other hand he fingered the leather around your throat.

And then he asked, “Mind telling me what you did with the key to the bondage gear?”

Your hand cupped your throat…you still wore the collar…fuck…

You bit your lip and shook your head, “I ugh…swallowed it…” you confessed.

His eyes slowly widened in disbelief. His laughter grew harder, “You are truly a special one my little dear, fret not I’ll have another copy made and we can take the collar off you. Or not…I mean I do love the look on your face as you wear it.”

August pulled you close and hard as he planted his mouth over yours and viciously kissed you before turning around on his toes. He waved a hand at you.

“Until next time sweetness!” he called, "Don't forget to clean your breakfast off your face!"

You sighed and felt your knees buckle. You rushed through your door and locked every deadbolt and chain across.

You rushed to the kitchen and vomited in the sink. Your face felt crusty from his cum. You hissed as some peeled from your skin.

Your eyes watered. You stumbled back to your room and struggled to charge your phone. It refused to turn on. It was fucked.

'I need to talk to someone, I need to make sure Lloyd is okay, please dear god make sure he made it out of the Lions Lounge den. Fuck you August!'

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#TNOSP #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #august walker x you #august walker x black!reader #august walker x ofc #august walker x reader #august walker fic #dark!august walker #dark!henry cavill

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theshippirate22 · 10 months

Text

I posted this and expected it to be a good ol’ two note post but it got a lot of love so I got brainworms. thanks to my personal cheerleader @your-stranger-halfblood-things you’re a dear my darling <33

Stacy really isn’t expecting anything.

To everyone else it’s just April 23rd. There might be a track meet tonight, but even then, it’s ridiculous to equate that to anyone actually thinking of today as a holiday.

Stacy is really, really hoping it can just be April 23rd for her today too.

For a minute, she just lays there on her stomach, face buried in the pillow, and imagines that it’s not normal, that it’ll be just like the days Lottie and Christina turned 17, with laughter and presents and phone calls from home….

It won’t be like that, and she’s knows that, and she knows Olivia is going to do her damned hardest to make it the best day ever, which probably means she’s going to be particularly sweet all day and then they’re gonna have crazy awesome sex tonight and that’ll be that, and it’ll be April 24th and Stacy will be 17.

“Stacyyyyyy…” Olivia sings as she comes in, practically pouncing on her and tickling her sides.

“Ah, God, Liv! It’s seven am!” She squirms away, laughing despite her best efforts. “Cut it out.”

“I’m like 90% sure you have to get tickled on your birthday or you don’t grow right.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your source on that one?”

Olivia climbs over her, settling in between her legs so she can pop her elbows up on either side of Stacy’s head and box her in. “Mm, probably that one medical journal we had to read in Luther’s class.”

“Oh? Conveniently the one I couldn’t read?”

“Mhm,” She nodded adamantly. “See, if you had powered through the frankly macabre and horrific descriptions of blood and boils, you too could know the dangers of birthday tickle deficiency.” She punctuates it with a swift kiss.

“Gross, stop it,” Stacy laughs, weakly pushing her away but not stopping her from nuzzling into her neck and biting softly along her throat.

“Now listen, Stace,” She says, moving up to kiss all of her face. “We’ve got a very strict schedule to keep to today. You’ve got ten minutes before Lottie is coming in here to do your makeup. I told her to keep her hands off your hair, but you know how she is, so I’m afraid that’s a battle you’ve got to fight for yourself.”

“Why’s she doing my makeup? Is something happening?”

“Um duh.” Olivia pulls back to stare at her like she’s stupid. “You’ve got to look fabulous. Because, if I’m not mistaken, you’re turning seventeen at exactly 8:37 this morning and that’s reason for celebration indeed.”

“Why are you talking like that?” Stacy laughs again. “You sound like a founding father. Wait!” She pushes Olivia’s face from hers to ensure she can look her in the eye. “You didn’t tell Lottie it was my birthday right? You didn’t go around telling everyone?”

“No!” Olivia cries, seemingly outraged. “No, I would never!”

“Why are you smiling like that? What did you do? Liv!”

“I didn’t tell Lottie or Christina.”

“Liv!”

“But I may or may not have told Greg, who may or may not have told Lottie and Christina.”

“Oh my God, Olivia Nicole Moore, whyyyyyyy?”

“Because, Stacy Linda Harrington. I love you.” Another kiss, right on the lips. “And I am very stubborn and determined to show you that your family is full of asshats and you should forget about them and remember that you’ve got a family here. Who also loves you.”

Stacy wanted to argue more, but not really, because she was feeling particularly warm and happy in a way that she hadn’t felt for a long time, so she took the chance to kiss Olivia deeper.

Lottie came tumbling in not long after, and Stacy played beauty shop customer with her while Olivia watched smirking from where she sat on the bed. Stacy curled her hair and put on her uniform and Christina came to see what was taking them all so long before dragging them to breakfast.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the lady of the hour!”

“Hi, Greg,” Stacy grins, rolling her eyes.

“Happy Birthday, little missy,” He put his hands behind his back and stood on his toes, leaning toward her. “I know I’m supposed to remain impartial because I’m a TA and shit, but you do know you’re my favorite, right?”

“Impartial, my ass,” Olivia snorts. “Like you even try.”

He shushes her playfully then adds, “I have something for you, Stace.”

“Oh? What is it?”

He leads her back into the kitchens- just her; her friends wait patiently in the hall- and delivers a heaping stack of hot pancakes into her hands.

“It’s not Pancake Day?” Stacy says, trying to ignore the bubbling excitement in her stomach.

“Nah, but I know they’re you’re favorite, so I paid The Beast to make you some anyway.”

“Greg…” She wasn’t going to cry over this. That was ridiculous. God, no one had made her pancakes since she lived in Indiana and that was almost five years ago. “Thank you.”

She flings herself into his arms, holding out the plate to the side to preserve the gift and he rolls his eyes but hugs back nonetheless.

“Go eat with everybody else, I’ve gotta go get the mail, see if you have some birthday cards.”

She scoffs but doesn’t let it bring her down.

So that’s how she ends up in the lunch hall with her friends and her stack of pancakes. At one point, Miss Beastion (aka The Beast) comes to wipe down tables and breaks her glare for a moment to wish her a happy birthday and almost smiles.

Greg brings the mail around to their hall, all thirty of them, and there’s a box and a letter for Stacy.

She picks up the off white envelope first. “Here’s the card from my parents,” she explains. “Let’s put out bets now, yeah?”

“Dear Beloved Daughter,” Christina starts and Lottie bursts into laughter.

“It is your birthday,” Olivia continues.

“Hope to do business with you in the future, Richard Harrington,” Stacy finishes sardonically, slipping her nail under the adhesive and tearing it open.

Their jokes aren’t far from the truth. The card is completely white-except for the back side, which has the Harrington company logo on it- and inside all it says is “Happy Birthday! Love Mom and Dad” with three hundred dollars wedged in.

“Thanks, Donna,” Stacy murmurs.

“Wait, I thought Melanie was your dad’s secretary?” Lottie cuts in.

“Melanie is the one he’s fucking,” Stacy explains and Olivia laughs because she can’t help herself, adding “For now.”

“Donna is too old for him, thank God. She’s his real secretary, the one that used to babysit u- me. She’s been sending cards instead of them since I was like. Ten.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Olivia says suddenly. “Fuck them all! They’re such assholes, all of them!”

“Preach!” Christina whoops. “Fuck them!”

Greg looks up from the staff table, probably because one of the teachers told him to contain his hall, and he comes over for a minute, quickly realizing what’s going on. With a mouth full of blueberry muffin, he agrees, “Oh yeah, fuck the Harringtons.”

“Yeah, fuck ‘em,” Stacy repeats, with less conviction. “Come on, let’s see what this thing is.”

She pulls the box toward her. There’s no name on it besides her own, no return address, no nothing. Lottie takes out her hoop earring and hands it to her so she can use the point to slice open the tape, at which point she hands the earring back and rips the box entirely open.

She isn’t entirely sure what she’s expecting. Whatever it is, though, it’s not what she’s actively looking at.

“What is it?” Greg says through another bite of muffin, peering over her.

Inside the box, is a three inch stack of Bop magazines, undoubtedly issues from at least a couple years with the latest on top, some Wonder Woman comic books, an entire rainbow of nail polish, a new hairbrush, some of the soap you could only get from a shop on Main Street in Hawkins, six or seven 3 Musketeers bars (which happened to be her favorite since she was what? five?), an Agatha Christie book, and three cans of Farrah Fawcett hairspray.

“Is it from your parents?” Christina mumbles, lifting the box to check the bottom and sides for a name. She must find nothing, because she sets it back down dejectedly.

“I don’t… I don’t think so? They wouldn’t send stuff like this to me anyway… it’s too… fun.”

The girls dig into the magazines while they finish eating, and Lottie and Christina get in an argument over whether Matthew Broderick or Tom Cruise is objectively hotter and Greg decides for them, siding with both Lottie and Broderick, much to Christina’s dismay. Then bells are ringing and classes are starting, and the group gets separated.

It’s during third period that it happens. One moment she’s taking notes on symbolism in Macbeth, and the next Greg is leaning on the doorway with a satisfied- albeit surprised- smirk.

“Stacy’s call,” he offers in explanation.

It’s a thing at the school, the calls. A lot of kids are from out of state, some are out of country, so the rule is that every kid can get a call from their parents on their birthday during class. Otherwise, they’ve just got to wait until one of the school’s payphones is open to reach home.

The thing that has her staring at him in shock is the fact that her parents haven’t called in literal years. She gets her compulsory card from Donna and a fistful of cash to buy her satisfaction, and that’s the end of the birthday things.

Last year, she lied when Christina asked. Said she got it during chemistry, the only class she didn’t have any friends in. No one to verify or validate. Greg had covered for her when he overheard the lie.

The year before that, Donna had called instead, saying her Father wanted to call but he was in Taiwan and didn’t have any phone reception. Which was also a lie. But she appreciated it anyway. She cried in the shower that night and Olivia had found her She didn’t ask, for which Stacy was grateful, and they were good friends after that. Until they were girlfriends.

So Stacy is more confused than anything else while she follows Greg back to the office phone. She hadn’t really done anything particularly noteworthy in the last little bit; no reason for her parents to remember she was living and breathing, nothing deserving the call. Maybe they want to yell at her and this is the only chance they know for sure they’ll be able to talk to her.

Greg hands her the receiver and she holds it in her hand for a minute, taking a minute to compose herself for the beat down that’s about to come before she lifts it to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Oh! Hi.”

“Dad?” she mutters in surprise.

“God, please don’t tell me I sound that much like him.”

“You don’t,” she assures suddenly, because it’s true that he really doesn’t sound like her father but she isn’t sure who else he could be.

“Um… It’s Steve…”

Oh.

“What? Oh my God, why is your voice so deep?”

He laughs softly. “I’m nineteen, Stace.”

And isn’t that just wild. That snotty whiny kid that threw a fit when she was going to start middle school and refused to be seen in the same district as her is a grown man.

All she says is, “Oh wow.”

“Well, I’m calling to say happy birthday. Sorry they took you out of class… I… I didn’t have your schedule so I was trying to guess? Apparently I didn’t do as well as I thought.”

“Uh, that’s okay,” she murmurs. “It’s kind of a thing around here to be pulled out of class for this anyway.”

“Yeah, it’s your one call for the year, huh?” Suddenly he sounded very small. “I, uh, I tried to call dad. To remind him. But, uh, he changed personal lines and didn’t tell me the new number, and every time I called the company, they just kept rewiring me to Donna, so she gave me the number so I could just call myself. So, um, sorry. It’s just me.”

For just a second, Stacy has that fleeting warmth of being loved, but it’s paired with this agonizing, overwhelming desire. She doesn’t know what for; maybe for him to be like this all the time, maybe for things to be different with their parents, with everything else.

“That’s okay,” she says quickly, trying to sound indifferent. “Thanks for trying anyway.”

“Yeah.” There’s a lapse and he forces out quickly, “Did you get my present? I was trying to time it right so it would get there this morning-“

“That’s from you?”

“Uh, yeah. I hope it’s okay. I didn’t… didn’t really know what to get you, but, uh, the girls I babysit said it was a pretty standard teenage girl gift and they’re like the smartest people I know. But if you don’t like it you can sell the stuff or just give it away and I can send you something else! Just tell me and I’ll get it! I just… when I opened my cash Christmas present I kinda snapped and lost my shit and I figured you’d want something other than cash but I don’t-“

Stacy has about twenty five questions regarding this, starting with “You’re a babysitter?!” but instead she smiles softly at his awkwardness-also so weird for him- and murmurs, “It’s great, Steve. Me and my friends will have a blast.”

“Oh I’m glad. Max said stuff like that is the staple to any good sleepover and boarding school is like an infinite sleepover, right? So I thought I better up the quantity? I don’t know, it made sense to me…”

“Yeah, no, that makes perfect sense,” She agrees quickly. “That’s really… heartfelt.”

“Hopefully it’s better than The Card.”

“God, yeah, they aren’t even trying,” she relays the message from said card, and he snorts.

“You know it’s from Donna, then. Dad’s has never called himself anything other than Richard.”

They laugh about it darkly, and for an instant the solidarity between them is so strong it’s like they were borne from the same soul. Like they aren’t strangers who share a name.

“Hey, listen, Stace,” He adds slowly. “I know you usually go back to the Carolina house or something for summer break- you went to Cabo last year, right? But if… if you want, of course, you don’t have to, but you could come stay with me in Indiana. My friends would love you, you know? I think you’d have fun. It’s not Cabo, but… you know…”

The invitation is weird. Not entirely unwelcome, but bizarre, given that the last time they spoke to each other, they actually weren’t talking to each other.

“Are you dying, Steve?” And she’s only half joking.

He laughs once, awkwardly again. “No. I am very much alive. But, uh, a lot has changed. With everything. Hawkins. Me. You, probably. And it’s stupid that I’ve just been pretending you don’t exist. We don’t… we don’t have to be pitted against each other all the time, you know? We’ve got a common enemy here. And I’m… I’m so sorry about how I was. I’m not like that anymore. At least I’m really trying.”

She swallows back the soft hope building in her throat. “God, they’re such assholes, aren’t they?”

And that’s all it takes. The understanding is so profound it doesn’t need anymore explanation. Especially when Steve adds exhaustedly, “Yes. Yes, they are.”

The treaty is solidified. The olive branch taken.

He asks her a few more questions about her birthday, the standard things, and she tells him about her pancakes and the cupcake she’ll get at lunch and that Greg will probably make the whole cafeteria sing to her, and she pointedly leaves out the plans Olivia has for her tonight and the blunts she bought a few weeks ago for a special occasion. She writes down his number and she seriously considers snagging a payphone and calling him a few times before school gets out.

By the time she hangs up, she walks to fourth period, that she is significantly late for, and when she slides into her seat next to Olivia, she’s got a peculiar little smile that won’t seem to go away.

“Was that your call?” She whispers, even more shocked than Greg.

“Mhm,” She nods dazedly.

“It was your parents? Did they yell at you?”

“It was my brother,” Stacy says softly.

She didn’t think it was possible for Olivia to look more surprised but somehow she manages, eyebrows shooting up and eyes growing wide.

She doesn’t say anything else, instead turning her attention to Mr. Hansen’s lesson, until Olivia elbows her and mutters, “What are you thinking about?”

Stacy grins. “Do you wanna come to Indiana with me this summer?”

#stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #(well at least that’s what I’m picturing she just doesn’t know yet)#GIVE STEVE A SISTER PLEASE #fic #ficlet #steddie fic #(eventually)

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japhan2024 · 5 months

Text

Review of Smosh's Funeral Roast

I am harsh at times, but know it all comes from a place of love!

Spoilers under the cut

I live in Europe. This is relevant because of timezones: the funeral roast of Anthony Padilla was live at 6pm for them, meaning 3am for me. I am not the youthful insomniac I once was so I had to train my sleep schedule the entire week - otherwise I would miss it because I fell asleep. But I wanted to witness this live. I love smosh.

The trailer for this roast deserves an award: Ian and the cast have a movie night as suddenly the light turns blue and everyone but Ian freezes. He seems to know what's going on and discovers a zombie or ghost like Anthony levitating. The cast of the roast are all introduced and all play a gothic, churchy kind of character. See the full trailer here (it's currently at 666k views, how fun):

youtube

Around 1am I got impatient and decided not to wait for my alarm clock but to install myself on the couch, with a blanket and a scarf, and a hot cup of tea, god knows I would need it. I watched episodes of the Scott Pilgrim Netflix series to kill the time. The character Todd Ingram reminded me a lot of Anthony and I wonder whether Anthony has 'vegan superpowers' as well. Probably so.

Finally, the pre-show begins. This is pretty uneventful as they play a game and succesfully convince thousands of viewers to buy their tickets to the main show. I look at them. Everyone is gorgeous. But I can't look away from Ian and Anthony. And here is where I stray from actually reviewing the show to let my inner fangirl out: holy fuck they are hot. Me and my friends on tumblr have been making 'forgive me Father, for I have SINNED' jokes because his character, 'the pastor', just brings that out in people. We're not used to Ian in black, or in a robe, and he looks phenomenal. And then there is Anthony, clothed in a ridiculous Harry Styles-esque lace top with lace gloves, resting his head on Ian's shoulder. It's such a cute moment, Ian pushes him upright. He can be alive for a second before his funeral. My heart melts. Honerable mention: Courtney's bikini girl cleavage right behind Ian. The girls were ready to rock. Okay, okay, back to the review.

The room feels kind of small and a bit claustrophobic. The Smosh art dept. always steps up, so the stained glass "friendship never dies" high-five looks incredible, and the megachad-Anthony portrait hilarious. The casket is huge. But the props make the set look even smaller. I think the problem is the cameras. I realize how difficult camerawork is when you have multiple focus points to switch between, but next time they should do a lot of practice with this to streamline, to get everyone in the shot and better capture people's reactions to the roasts.

Ian walks in. He starts off with a bit about who Anthony is: a hot, hardworking guy with a big dick. Those are the main takeaways of his roasts.

Amanda is next. She looks beautiful but very wacky. Her deliverance and accent are stellar, though. She truly is top talent at Smosh. Her roasts are also some of the most scorching of the night. She doesn't shy away from calling out Anthony's past problematic behavior and less than stellar performance in the bedroom ("look it up!") She gets a round of applause and deservedly so.

Tommy follows with a kind of angry roast, and proceeds to read the will, from which nobody comes away unscathed. I feels like his words about Anthony supposedly hating the cast are a necessary evil. Just the same day Anthony posted his interview with Shayne on his personal channel. There we learned that Shayne didn't know before if Ian and Anthony actually had wanted to hire them. Anthony said they were very much involved, something I don't know whether to believe. As apparently, Ian never talked about it with Shayne either, for all those years. Shayne had also been very apprehensive when Anthony came back, not knowing what would happen and the first change was to boot the entire cast off the main channel. I feel like Tommy's roast puts the topic on the table and hopefully they will talk about it more until nobody has any doubt left.

Now I have to insert that one of my main critiques of the night is that lots of people both did a lot of obvious jokes (tattoos, leaving smosh, general appearance) and did not go hard enough. Anthony kind of has an awkward CEO vibe (he's not the ceo but still) about him that seems to make even the cast a bit wary of him. I had hoped for jokes about that.

Brandon Rogers is next and rightfully points out the lack of celebrities in the line-up. Doesn't Anthony have more friends who want to roast him? Either he doesn't or the rest of Smosh don't have access to them. Which is both fine, because it is a Smosh party after all.

Arasha comes in swinging with all kinds of Zoomer slang that I frankly don't understand but her deadpan delivery is like a breath of fresh air. She ends with a very nice message. That kind of undercuts her roasts though, I wish she would have been meaner.

Now it is time for the musical half-time show, which actually deserves its own review. Performed by Angela and Chanse, this is incredible. By far, the most professional part of the evening. These are no theater kids, as they still call themselves. These are Broadway acTORS! I was really taken away by their talent. Not only do they act, but they also sing amazingly? Did you hear Angela do screamo?! And Chanse's riffs? They pointedly mention the sexual tension between Ian and Anthony, both on- and off screen. This has been occupying my mind ever since. Wow, sorry I went fangirl-mode again. But the halftime show simply is that good. Keith makes an appearance at the end and brings the show back down to earth with his humor.

The biggest surprise guests are next in what I can only describe as Dan telling the horny tale of his years long obsession with Anthony, and the many, many times he unloaded on the 'sexy Anthony' calender (which is a real calender, I was there when it came out but was broke at the time, darnit). Dan and Phil have been shedding their PG personas on their own channels for a while now, but for those who don't watch them daily this December - they're doing gamingmas and it's chaos - it is shocking what X-rated stuff comes out of their mouths. Anthony is visibly taken aback. Good!

As the show progresses, Ian keeps moderating as the pastor. It is great to see him so in control and enjoying the roast of his best friend. The joke of Ian not being able to show his emotions comes up a lot, but today I see him mainly just having fun.

Of course, then there is Bikini Girl, whom I had high hopes for, maybe too high. She is hilarious, but nothing really stings. Courtney does also direct the whole show, so super kudos to her. I just don't think she has the best roasts. She is followed by Rhett and Link, who just do their regular thing. It is funny but not very original. You can only hear so many tattoo jokes before it gets old. We do see Link's bare torso, so a win for fangirls (gender neutral).

Then Shayne, or should I say the Chosen has his turn. He is absolutely in character and does great. I just don't know if the Chosen is the best person to deliver roasts. It feels more like a Shayne party than a roast of Anthony. Which enough people love all the same, I'm sure.

Angela is 'the vessel', a possessed girl, reading the roasts from the audience. These roasts are very mid (they should have included mine! /j), but her delivery is again stellar. Smosh is really lucky to have her.

And last but not least, Ian goes on a second roasting spree. Only, it isn't a roast? He just makes fun of Anthony’s baby picture and then proceeds to tell Anthony how grateful he is for him, how he's so glad they are friends again and that he loves him? Anthony is crying by this time, which makes the moment even more tender.

Of course, Anthony has to do a counter-roast. It is apparent that he is still affected by all the roasting or 'love-bombing' as Amanda calls it. And he's not as good at live comedy yet. Still, his jokes are funny and really in Anthony's own style. He concludes with Ian's quote of being happy to burn Smosh to the ground with him. I knew that quote would be ingrained in Anthony's mind. It was one of the sweetest things Ian had ever said to him, after all. Until Ian has now told him he loves him, of course.

And then it was 5 am. I got a healthy two hours of sleep in! I came away from this roast with a content smile and a full heart. This was well worth the ticket, the staying up late. I am happy to be a member and support them monthly, I've loved their humor even before they started their youtube channel. I love Smosh. I'm so happy that Anthony is back. Smosh is whole again. And it brings out that light in Ian's eyes. He is funny in an unhinged way again. I truly love Anthony and Ian and their dumb videos. I want them to continue to make them forever. These kinds of live shows are fun. But Ian and Anthony truly shine in their off the walls absurdist sketches.

Special shout-out to my bestie @only-frann who I could scream at this whole day.

#smosh #Anthony’s funeral roast #Youtube

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especiallythewomenandthechildren · 4 months

Text

As If Destiny (part nine) 🌹

Part Eight 🌹

A/N: This is shorter than my last few chapters sorry!! I have gotten used to a post schedule and I hope this is good enough yall please don't send snakes after me. I love you guys and hope you like this it's 5 am help. ALSO! PLAYLIST HAS BEEN CREATED! Link here and on masterlist. Ofc you don't have to listen, just for funsies :)

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Your senses were awake before your mind was. You could hear the beeping of some sort of machine. Your nerves were on fire and alive. The taste of copper blood was very present on your tongue. Your entire upper body felt sore and stiff. Stiffness that also seemed to wax your eyes shut. They were shut as if with staples, which made your heart drop to your stomach in fear. The possibility made you attempt to open them with even more force, though the attempt was futile.

But the sound of aggressive words, bordering on rage-filled yells, made your eyes shoot open. A part of it was the intensity of the sound, but more so were the voices. You couldn't make out the words, but the tone was more than enough.

As you looked around, you realized you were in a dim hospital room. The lighting was warm, as was the bed you occupied. There were no other patients, but multiple seats surrounded your bed. The TV in front of your bed was turned off, and no nurses were around, but you could see a few in the hallway through a long horizontal window. The same window that gave the loud voices faces. Two faces you knew very well: Sejanus and your father.

Your brain still felt like mush, but even if it was at its normal functional levels, you doubted you could have made sense of the situation. First of all, you haven't seen your father in weeks. Well, technically, you did yesterday, the day of the Reaping, even if only for a few moments. Was it only yesterday? How long have you been knocked out? You tried squirming around to find some sort of clock or a window to see the time of day.

Your efforts were of no avail, although your movements knocked off a tray that you didn't notice laid at the end of the hospital bed. A tray that had glass on it because, of course it did. The sudden commotion alerted not only the still shouting men but a number of nurses who rushed through the door. The shattering sound pierced your ears and kept on ringing as an onslaught of voices attacked your eardrums. You couldn't keep track of the flurry of movement. Nurses were cleaning up the mess, others checking your vitals and doing tests. One forced some water down your scratchy and dry throat, much to your relief.

Sejanus stood by the door, watching and waiting to finally approach you. He was soon joined by your father, who was forced away as he kept on interrupting the nurse's tasks. A few minutes and a bunch of vital checks later, the group left, and your father practically ran to your bedside. Question after question was asked with no break for you to actually answer.

"What do you need? More water? Food? Please, what do you need?"

His voice was on the verge of breaking. You examined your father for a moment. How much of his worry was genuine for your well-being? Was he just seeing his late wife in your place?

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your throat was too dry, but you kept on trying and trying. One glass of water later and only a fraction of your vocal power came back. Something came out, though it was so mumbled and scratchy; your father urged you to repeat it. But Sejanus knew what you were asking for.

Who you were asking for.

"Ccc..Cor-Coryo?"

Your father physically flinched at your first thought. You just suffered a physical attack, and all you care is about pathetic Snow? You shut your eyes after you spoke, the pain in your throat being too much to bear. Though, they snapped open at the sound of a chair scraping the floor and falling back at the force used.

You watched as your father paced back and forth, clearly trying to hold back some anger. Sejanus made eye contact with you, and the compassion on his face gave you some comfort. He mouthed the word "later" to calm any of your questions.

"No."

Any sort of calm given by your friend was scrapped by your father's declaration. The tilt of your head was enough of a translation of your confusion for an elaboration.

"No more 'Coryo'. "

He practically gagged at the nickname, which made you cringe in return. Your father was never a violent or aggressive man and this side of him was not one you wanted to get used to.

"Nothing good ever comes from dealing with Snows. You think he is so pure? If he is anything like his father, his pure white image will be covered in blood."

You wanted to scream but didn't have the physical capability. Thankfully, Sejanus didn't leave the widower's statement unchallenged.

"He isn't like his father. What is so wrong with all you adults? You force children into the footsteps of their parents! Maybe instead of blaming the sins of his father, realize what Coriolanus did for your daughter!"

You wondered how much Sejanus had to deal with when you were unconscious. His appearance was messy and tired. Did he ever leave the hospital since he came? Your question on how long you've been here has still been unanswered.

After Sejanus's argument, your father looked to you. Rage and offense were clear in his orbs. His stare was enough to make a man of good standing cower. But you no longer cared for his opinion, insensible fears, and blind hatred.

"Why are you even here?"

You managed to rasp out and gather enough energy to sit up, never breaking eye contact. The intensity of his emotions didn't waver, but annoyance was added to the list.

"You are my daughter and got hurt by those savages. Where else would I be? What kind of father would I be if I was anywhere else?"

His answer made the two teenagers in the room scoff and roll their eyes. Sejanus for his description of the districts and you for his hypocrisy.

"You wouldn't be a father. Or at least not worthy of the title. Which you aren't, dear dad."

The step the older man took might as well have shaken the floor with the amount of fury radiating off of him. It was enough to make Sejanus panic and rush to your bedside but was halted by the motion of your hand. Whatever was to be done or said, you were willing to take it. It would only give your argument even more credibility.

"What did you say to me, girl?"

What happened to you, Dad? Where did your love-filled gazes go? Your thoughts only heightened your emotions, and you couldn't hold back, even with your breaking voice.

"I said you aren't worthy of being called my father. A father is there for their child even when the mother isn't there! You lost the love of your life, you think I don't know that? Instead of grieving and rebuilding together, YOU LEFT! Did I only mean something when mom was there?! Did you only tolerate me because I was a copy of your wife? Is the image too painful for you now? Would you have treated Otto like this? You loved him, why don't you love me the same?"

Your eyes flooded with tears as your face reddened. You weren't thinking as you shouted, but if you did, you would have thought that the tears would give your father pause. But it seemed any sympathy or piece of the parent you loved so much was gone. Dead. The man in front of you was as cold as the metal rings on your neck. Rings harshly pulled to force your eyes to look at him.

The pain was burning you, and it felt as if you were being stabbed by a thousand miniature knives all over.

"Listen to me now, dear. You think these rings give you any strength? Want to know why I loved your brother so much? He stepped up. He faced whatever came to him, no matter how bad. But you? You are a coward. You left far before I did. Your own mother was dying, and you never gave her the time of day! Were you so ashamed of her? The love of my life only asked for you, and you couldn't even look in her eyes! She gave you her eyes! She gave you life and love, none of which you seem grateful for. Only looking for it in people who are incapable of it. You ever speak either of their names in vain, I promise you, girl, I will—"

"You finish that threat, and I will finish one of my own."

In your struggle to get your father's hands off of the necklace, you didn't hear anyone enter. But you didn't need to look up to recognize the voice. Even though it was laced with more malice than you could have ever thought possible for an eighteen-year-old, the voice of Coriolanus Snow was always recognizable to you.

His fair-skinned hand covered the wrist of your father, whose grip began slipping on your necklace. You couldn't see much from your angle, but it looked like Coryo's thumb was firmly pressed into a specific spot between the other man's wrist. It only took a few more seconds of sharp pain for the harsh grip pulling you forward to be released.

Due to the force the grip held, when it was released, your head flew backward. But Sejanus, who moved to the other side of you without your notice, was quick to catch your head before any impact. You thanked him with a grateful smile, which he returned. You both turned back to the scene before you.

Coryo was standing above your father, the only other man who might despise him as much as Dean Highbottom. He looked disheveled and exhausted, but the air of authority surrounding him made his appearance look respectable. His lip was curled in disgust, and his hand kept on tightening and releasing. As the seconds passed, it felt as if time slowed just to agonize you. The possibility of the young heir of Snow beating up Tyre Vaun was becoming more likely. But he wouldn't do that. No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't, right?

“I don’t think your presence is welcomed here anymore.”

Coryo’s voice was tight and sharp; he really couldn’t stand another moment with a man who threatened his only daughter. In response, the unwelcomed man laughed mockingly. He got up from his spot by your bed and looked around at the three teens in front of his eyes. A dark-haired boy, whose stretched-out curls represented his patience at this point; a girl with a bandaged neck and sullen eyes that reflected her heart at what has become of her family. And of course, the ever-tall and proud blonde who, unlike his companions, is not in the mood for calm action in the slightest. Coriolanus made a vow, and no matter how far he may have to stretch his morals, he will not break that vow.

"Well, look at this. You think you are all so grown up? You are just pampered children. When you watch the games, watch carefully. That's the real world. And well, y/n, you are old enough for the real world now, aren’t you? You want to be a Snow so bad. Knock yourself out. But when you come crying back, don't expect sympathy."

"If you come back. The Snows are known to be quite possessive and strangling.”

And with that chilling statement, he walked straight out the door, shaking his head like a madman. Your eyes were glued to the door frame even as the vision blurred with your tears. You didn't know what to think. It felt as if you were being torn from the inside out, and all you could do is accept the drops streaming down your cheek. All track of time was lost, even more so than before, as your world crumbled.

However, the hospital bed eventually dipped as you were pulled into a pair of arms. Considering the direction in which the arms came, you knew it was Coryo. Well, that and, of course, the smell.

Roses overtook your senses as you calmed down and snuggled into the embrace. Your eyes closed, and your breathing softened while Coryo’s fingers brushed through your locks. As his fingers drifted through your hair, you began drifting off into some much-needed sleep.

Sejanus left soon after Coryo began comforting you, promising to return with some food for the group. The sight upon returning gave him pause in the door frame.

You were curled up in the blonde’s arms while his head laid upon yours, nose stuffed within your hair. It seemed the smell of vanilla calmed him as much, if not more, than the smell of roses did you. The mutual friend worried he was interrupting a sweet moment, no matter how lost he was on it.

Eventually, the weight of the trays within his hands reminded him of his original task. He cleared his throat quietly as he reentered the hospital room. That notified Coriolanus of the other boy’s presence, but he made no move to change his own. No matter how naive Sejanus might be and outspoken, Coriolanus could trust him. If there was one thing about Sejanus Plinth, it was that he was loyal. To Coriolanus Snow and most certainly you.

Sejanus offered a tray of a delicious-smelling soup and rice with a side of bread and dessert to Coryo. He kept one for himself and put the remaining tray on the table next to your bed. Coriolanus rearranged the position you and him were in so he could eat the dinner he desperately needed. He removed the arm that was around your waist which smotherd you impossibly closer to him.

Instead, the boy moved your head to rest on his shoulder. Once ensuring you were comfortably in slumber still, he began digging in. The first few minutes were filled with a comfortable silence between the two boys. Sejanus wasn't sure how much of the situation Coriolanus knows or saw and wasn't even sure where to start. There may even have been parts Sejanus himself didn't see.

When he arrived at the hospital, he wasn’t even allowed to see you as you were in surgery. The woman with hazel eyes and pretty freckles at the front desk informed the distraught boy that it would be a couple of hours before he could even see you. So he decided to go home for the time being and seek comfort in his ma.

But as he began walking out, a very furious Coriolanus Snow shoved past him. Sejanus wished to call out to his friend but it was quite clear, to Sejanus and all those who moved out of the blonde’s way, that he was not to be trifled with at the moment. Considering all the nasty statements your father spit out about Coriolanus and his family, Sejanus very quickly connected the pieces.

Mr. Vaun must have clearly kicked Snow out, not even giving him a chance to see you.

“What a piece of work. No wonder why him and my father get along so well.”

The sudden break in silence made Coryo laugh as he broke apart the bread. Sejanus, along with you, have spoken in detail of Starbo Plinth’s harsh and emotionless character. He liked you well enough, but you assumed it was because you were “Capital enough”.

“He wasn’t always like that. You know, I used to even wish for him to be my dad. He used to always make sure I was comfortable and laughing. Losing your wife is never easy, but he purposely cut off his daughter.”

“And he calls her a coward.”

The scoff was evident in the young star mentor. You confessed to him all your regrets on one of the many nights you spent at the Snow’s. He knew how much it plagued your mind and to hear it used against you broke any further restraint he had.

“Just kept on blabbering how the districts are filled with barbaric animals. Even though y/n wouldn’t even be here if Arachane had a shred of humanity.”

The statement was uttered through clenched teeth. The girl from ten would still have had a chance to live, no matter how brutal and inhumane that chance was, if she wasn't provoked by her own mentor. The thought of all the chaos Archane caused Sejanus’s blood boil.

“Did anyone else come to visit?”

Coriolanus’s voice broke the musing teen out of his thoughts. Coryo had already finished his food, and Sejanus offered his plate, no longer having an appetite. He didn’t know about his friend's financial situation although he saw the signs in his constant hunger and creatively sewn clothes. He never questioned or brought it up, just helping whenever he could. Coriolanus gratefully took the ever-needed food with a nod.

“Festus, Clemmensia, Lyssie, Felix, and Archane. Seems she has a heart somewhere. At least for her own ‘kind.’ Y/n was still knocked out, and they said they would come back. Probably will soon enough.”

Coryo nodded along and looked at the clock on the far wall outside the room, visible due to his angle through the window. 6:56 p.m.

It was still early enough for them to come, and the thought upset him slightly. He wishes to have more time with you. Alone (Sejanus doesn’t count).

Silence overtook the room once more as the two conversing teens settled back into their thoughts. Only the slight noise of your sheets rustling was heard as you moved to find a more comfortable position. Now that he was done with the second tray and the foreign feeling of being full overtaking his stomach, Coriolanus was able to shift.

He turned on his side and pulled you into his chest while wrapping his arms around you. Snuggling to your liking, you ceased to move. However, the quiet was interrupted again by soft laughter. Looking up from staring down at your sleeping form, blue eyes met crinkled brown ones in curiosity,

“So this is how I find out. I started putting the pieces together but was hoping one of you would fess up. Would have be a nice courtesy, you know.”

Sejanus finished off with a smile. When he first started noticing the small smiles that appeared on either of your lips when the other was brought up, he was confused more than anything. Then he felt weird. He would officially become the third wheel, for starters.

But eventually, his heart grew giddy for his two friends. Sejanus wanted you to be happy, and if you asked him, there was no other man in the capital as good as Coriolanus. Sure, he knew he had issues, but compared to the rest of their peers, he was a far better choice.

Said better choice was currently on fire and as red as humanly possible. This was clearly an odd position for him to be in if he saw you as “just a friend”; he knew that. But he didn't know there were signs prior. It made him feel vulnerable that his emotions were so easily deciphered, no matter if it was just Sejanus. It better have just been Sejanus.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Coryo, you are literally snuggling and smelling her hair.”

The prior thought of him being as red as humanly possible? A new record of blushing has occurred. Sejanus, however, was quick to comfort his called-out friend.

“She isn’t much better. She literally parades your ring around. And don't even try to play it off, we both know why she wears it.”

The smug smile on Coryo’s lips would be quite hard to wipe off as he looked back down to your sleeping form. And there it sat, a thousand glistening snowflakes dangling from your neck.

“She is asleep, right? I do not want to suddenly be sucker-punched.”

A deep chuckle came out of the young blue-eyed teen. There were so many nights of you coming over, especially in the early days; you often fell asleep while Coriolanus was finishing up some work. Coryo was eventually able to tell the signs when you were in deep sleep or just faking it to surprise him.

“She is out like a light. Her nose is fluttering. She only does that when she is in deep sleep.”

The words just came out while young Snow was distracted by your soft appearance in the dim lights. You looked so peaceful, as if you weren't in the hospital due to a bloody attack that could have killed you if only the bottle hit you a few meters to the left. When Coriolanus finally realized Sejanus never responded, he looked back up at a face-wide smirk.

“So you know how she sleeps, huh?”

The stuttering response made Sejanus laugh and grin while he walked over to grab the empty trays to throw out. On his way, he made sure to give his friend a pat on the back which only caused further discourse as Coryo tried to deny any of what Sejanus was trying to imply. His trek to the trash can, which was just by the door, wasn't far but gave him enough range to hear the hazel-eyed lady at the front desk.

“She is right down the hall, second door on the left. Just a warning, visiting hours are almost done, so hurry up.”

The hiccuped “thank you” by Clemensia was more than enough to make Sejanus jump to action. In haste, Sejanus informed the still snuggled boy of the upcoming visitors. Coriolanus jumped out of the bed in the blink of an eye and made sure his facade was in place when his peers came through the door.

“Oh, Coryo!”

Clemmie’s cracked voice flowed through the room as she gave him a teary-eyed hug. He gave her an awkward pat on the back. Festus was quick to peel the dark-haired girl off once seeing the uncomfortable look in Coriolanus’s eyes.

Festus led Clemensia to a nearby chair and sat beside her. But Arachane, held back by the door. It seems Felix and Lyssie were unable to visit. A suspicion confirmed by Clemmie as she was in a dazed state looking towards you. Sejanus didn’t wish to be in any room in which the three newcomers were in, but he knew they were your friends.

And they did care about you, one of the very small list of people. He and Coriolanus took turns in responding to the barrage of questions from Festus and Clemensia. Though Arachne never perked up, staying as still as stone. She drowned out the noise as she stared at your injured figure.

If the situation wasn't so morbid, she would have laughed. The ever-mighty girl who has always been little miss perfect got so injured by district scum. But it was little miss perfect who saved my life, Arachne had to defeat.

She wanted to poke fun at the situation. Mock Clemensia's tears. It was how she dealt with situations. Arachne became bitter and poisonous. But it was that same poison she spat at you moments before you nearly lost your life. She said words to hurt you because she wanted you to suffer, and you suffered. But not by her words, but because you jumped in to save her.

The red-haired girl hated it.

Maybe you should have just let her get hit.

With all the sudden voices, you began to stir. Your eyes opened far easier this time, much to your relief. It took a few blinks to take in the situation. Your first instinct was to feel around for Coryo, but you were quickly assured when you met his blue eyes. The small smile was muscle memory to the sight at this point.

You scanned the room and noticed the new visitors. You tried to respond to as many of Clemensia's questions and settle her panic, but it seemed the hysteria was going to stay for the rest of the night.

Although, as you were consoling the raven-haired beauty, you noticed Arachne’s stoic figure. Her eyes were hard and calculating, scanning over you repeatedly. You sighed heavily as you requested the rest of the group to leave you and Arachne for a few moments. They all seemed reluctant, especially Sejanus who heavily despised the girl. She was the reason you were here after all, or at least in Sejanus’s point of view.

The red head stood by the door even as all her peers glanced her way as they filed into the hallway. The position stayed for a few more seconds. Unwavering mask and crossed arms. You didn't waver under her gaze as you gestured to an empty seat by your hospital bed. With a sigh, she took heavy steps to your bedside.

Upon reaching the chair and settling, her prior scrutinizing glances were focused anywhere but you. As the time and silence went on, her tough demeanor began to crack. The silent sole tear streaming down her face stunned you. Of course, Arachne was human and had feelings, but her constant tough character makes one believe she is incapable of tears. As if it's scientifically impossible that the Arachne Crane sat here so timidly and was crying.

“I hate you. I hate you so much.”

Her declaration of hatred wasn't met with any similar response. No, in fact, you responded with giddy laughter. The vulnerable girl in front of you freaked you out slightly, so it was nice to know Arachne was still, well, her.

“How can you just laugh?!”

“What am I supposed to do exactly? Get upset?”

Your eyes were still sore, but that didn't stop your eyes from rolling. You stared back at the girl as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She seemed to heavily disagree as she huffed and threw her arms in the air.

“YES! That's exactly what you should be doing! Get mad at me, tell me you hate me too! That I deserve to be in that hospital bed not you. That I deserved each and every cut because I’m just a monster, right?! I don't have tragedy after tragedy to hide behind like you do!”

Your eyes crinkled in confusion and lips curled in slight anger. Arachne’s tears had heavily accelerated at this point, streams of black painting her pink cheeks. She had stood up and began pacing back and forth, waiting for your response impatiently. Your head was pounding at this point with the amount of emotions you've had to deal with in such a short time. You should have just shut down the conversation before it turned into a full argument, but how could you?

“Hide behind tragedy? Do you think I want to do that? You really think I sit every night and thank my lucky stars that I have ‘excuses’ for my actions?! Grow up Arachne! Tragedy or not, we have to deal with the weight of our actions. Just because your neck isn't bleeding doesn't mean you don't have your scars. Watching me suffer is a greater punishment than if our spots were reversed.”

She stopped in front of your bed, looking more like a lost little girl than the cold calculating young woman you were accustomed to. She wanted you to get mad and have a reaction but she didn't expect this. Because you were right.

If Arachne got hit like you did, she would only have more fuel for hate for the districts. There wouldn't have been any lesson learned, and every fiber of her being would be used to make the districts suffer even more. Yet, you were the one who got hit. Not because you did anything but because Arachne did.

It felt like Arachne stabbed you herself. She didn't like many people and well you were one of the few exceptions, she also disliked you more than the others. When you got sent away in the ambulance, a small part of her hoped you would finally see the barbarity outside the Capital. That you would grow bitter and hateful like she had become.

Arachne Crane has long known of her jealousy of you, though she would never admit it. She hated that after everything you suffered, you still smiled. You were weak, tired, and covered up in gauze in a stale hospital room, but you still looked as if the sun shone only for you.

The universe had favorites, and you seemed to be the apple of its eye while Arachne could only watch while being devoured by the darkness. The stars still shined for you while she suffocated by the black matter.

“I am sorry though. About the Plinth Prize.”

Your voice was soft as you watched your friend shatter in her thoughts. Arachne may have done this to herself, but it still moved you that she lost her shot at something she has been working years for. She just rolled her still crying eyes and scoffed. The girl had long lost hope that she would win the prize when she saw the dazzling show you and Coryo pulled. You both were already the top contenders for the prize, and it angered her again that you both were so chummy. That you weren’t so cut-throat. Cut-throat.

Did you deserve your cut throat for one last task to win the prize?

“We both know it was never going to be me. My tribute would never have won, and she didn't have anything to offer to the audience.”

You were ready to argue with such a blatant statement about a girl who is now a cold body. But she cut you off with a swift change in subject.

“Shame, though. Dr. Gaul won't get to those proposals from her star mentor.”

The emotions and hysteria of the now smirking girl had ceased as she returned to her normal behavior. Behavior, no matter how sour, brought you some comfort. Arachne Crane was good competition if nothing else.

“Well, why not? I’m going to be here until I get released in the morning. Might as well get something done.”

You matched her smirk as you asked for her to bring some parchment and ink. In all honesty, you did forget the proposals. And well, you had a pretty good excuse, an attack and all; you knew that wouldn't matter to Dr. Gaul.

You didn't necessarily like her as she seemed too manic for your taste, but this was a great chance to put your name out there. Especially in the scientific world as you were heavily interested in going down a path in biology, something you had a real knack for. There were few people more important in that field in the Capital than Dr. Gaul. Being able to please, possibly impress her, would be a major accomplishment. And well, you might be able to sway some public opinion enough to give more chances to the “weaker” tributes.

Arachne grumbled as she handed you the desired items, but you ignored her. She took a seat beside you, settling in to watch you work. With a deep breath and dip of your pen, the bold words were written, dark as the punishment it presented.

THE HUNGER GAMES.

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

Feedback always appreciated and hope you have a great day love:)

@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹@darlingisntit🌹 @scarletstarrs 🌹

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sunny44 · 1 year

Text

I’m home

Pairing: Mason Mount x mom!reader

Warnings: none, just cute stuff

Summary: Mason comes home for his girls after being away for a while.

I had been away for a month now, I had a few games in a row and a lot of training.

And now I was coming home missing my wife and my daughter.

Sophie Isabel Mount was the sweetest little girl of all, she was daddy's little girl for sure.

Y/n and I have been dating for four years, after two years of relationship we found out that she was pregnant.

At first it was terrifying, we were certainly not prepared for it.

It was something that we wanted eventually but not at the time it happened.

The first few days it was strange, Y/n did the pharmacy test and it was the only result we had at the time, so until we actually went and saw the ultrasound it was like it wasn't real.

Y/n by the time she saw the ultrasound immediately started to cry, I was still ecstatic and it didn't really hit me until that same day, but was in the middle of the night.

I was rolling around in bed unable to sleep, I spent most of the night imagining myself being a father, how my sister always told me that I would be a great father, especially if it was a girl.

The good thing about my sister having Summer was that I could practice changing diapers and get more or less a sense of what it would be like.

And that's where I burst in tears, Y/n woke up scared by the fact that I was crying at three in the morning and that's where I told her it was because we were having a baby.

As soon as I opened the door to the house, I took off my sneakers and changing to my flip-flops and putting my training things on the floor.

“I'm home” I said out loud and then I heard fast footsteps running through the house.

“Daddy” she screams and I bent down to her height taking her in my arms “I missed you”.

“ I missed you too sweetheart”.

“You took a long time to come back”.

“I know baby, sorry for that” she hugs me tight.

“I don’t want you away never again.” She says.

“I know baby and I’m sorry for that, your going everywhere with me now. I’m putting you in my suitcase.” She starts laughing.

“And what about mommy?”

“We can bring mommy with us.”

“Ok then.” She says and kiss my nose with her nose “Can we go to the park with Malcolm?”

That is the name of the golden retriever we gave her when she was a baby, they are best friends.

“Yes we can, where's mommy?”

“She is outside, we are bathing the flowers.

Sophie and Y/n had a garden in the back of the house where they took care of the flowers, there were many flowers and even some vegetables.

It was one of the activities my girlfriend does with our daughter, she made a whole schedule of activities for the week to develop her creativity, and also because it is one of the few things that keeps her mind off from thinking too much about me since when I am away she cries a lot because she misses me.

“Let's go see mommy then" I took her in my lap and we went to the back.

And there she was, barefoot on the grass, wearing a loose flowered dress and some waves in her brown hair.

“Hi love” she dropped the hose on the ground and came to me “I missed you so much”.

“I missed you too” I kissed her.

“Ew” I laughed with my lips still close to hers.

“Ew what, young lady” I said, patting her belly “Let's finish helping mommy to bath the plants and then we can go to the park and walk with Malcolm.

“And then pizzaaaaaa”. We shouted in celebration and went to bath the plant.

And I was more than happy to be home.

Bonus scene!

Masonmount instagram post

Liked by @Debbiemount, @Y/nmount, @Reecejames and others 817208

Tagged: Y/nmount

Masonmount there’s nothing better than coming back home and seeing my girls bathing their flowers 🌸

@Y/nmount you should bath the flowers with us next time

@Masonmount I need a baby boy to play football with me, what do you say?

@Y/nmount maybe yes, maybe not

@Debbiemount oh I love those cute faces

@Y/nmount we love you too granny debs

@reecejames you have to bring her to training

@masonmount I won’t because she forgets about daddy when she sees her football uncles

@lovelymase we love baby mount so much, they both look very cute

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agendabymooner · 10 months

Text

9 to 5 || f1 drivers (3)

(SPIN OFF OF COLOUR ME YOUR COLOUR (WIP) and RUSH)

Summary: Lorelei Hester ‘Lester’ Alessandro is a bassist first and Daniel Ricciardo’s partner second. But it seems like another role is added to her resume as she begins her weekend in Baku as Toto Wolff’s children’s babysitter.

Chapter summary: How to kick-off the race weekend, the Wolff-pack style. OR Toto would really rather talk racing and business with his littles over Christian Horner or whoever might piss him off into next day.

Content warning: family-centric content, TOTO BEING THE BEST DAD EVER?, tooth-rotting fluff, wholesome content where Toto isn't that evil

Note: I DID IT! I also was writing a Max Verstappen thing but I'm not going to post it just yet (or will I). Might f around and post a CMYC chapter later. Enjoy xx

masterlist

iii. the most toto coded children

“How about this?” “No! No flowers, Papa.”

“You drive a hard bargain, engel,” Toto sighed as he combed his daughter’s hair back and held it in one place. He looked down at her in the mirror, “Well, can you please show Papa the clip that you want then?”

The 3-turning-4 years old girl, Tia Wolff, nodded eagerly as she leaned forward, only to be stopped by the slight tug that she felt when Toto kept her hair in place. “Careful,” he warned her, his soft tone an evident that he had a rare side that nobody could see but his family. He really didn’t want to end their trip early by having her fall over the stool that she could barely reach.

The girl presented him the gold barrette in her hand, her chubby fingers holding onto the small bee glued to the clip. Taking it from her hand, Toto felt it snap when he placed it on her gathered hair as he said, “Danke, Engel.”

“Danke, Papa,” she mumbled as she tilted her to the side and looked at the mirror. She was a critique of her father’s work of art, one that he valued more than anything. Toto would honestly listen to her more than he would with Christian Horner. At least no matter how harsh she was, he knew that she meant well. That, and because she’s more like Toto than she will ever be Christian Horner. No one would understand Toto more than his mini me.

“So?” Toto stood behind her while her little figure sat on the stool of their hotel vanity. He waited for her to respond. He couldn’t even complain about the time; throughout the years of raising his kids with Tilly taught him a lot about waiting and being patient.

Besides, he couldn’t resist making an exemption for his kids when it comes to his schedule and work. Sometimes he could just say “To hell with that” and let the cars run themselves– just so he could spend his time with his family.

The golden bee, clipped in a certain part of Tia’s hair, glimmered under the ceiling light when she tilted her head to the right and she gasped, “OH! It’s shining. Danke, Papa!”

“Only the best for the princess,” Toto grinned as he leaned down and kissed the top of Tia’s head, leaving Tia to giggle and protest, “Papa! Messy hair!”

“Soren,” his Austrian accent rang out at the vanity of the bedroom, his eyes watching as his eldest entered the room with a questioning gaze. He asked, “Are you ready to go? Or is there anything that you need Papa’s help with?”

“No, Papa, I am okay,” Soren smiled up at his father. He then gestured at his clothes, “I have a belt! I have put it on like how Mama did it.”

“I can see it, schatz, well done,” Toto nodded in approval, as if he was talking to a businessman. But a little businessman, perhaps, and Toto would make more deals with him and talk business with him more than he would with any other people at the races.

The taller figure reached for the comb and gave it to Soren, “Come on, fix your hair. No one can know that you just got out of bed.”

“I didn’t get out of bed! I have been up since… six!” Soren frowned the best that he could, but a grin in Toto’s face told him that his father was just teasing. The boy turned to where he could see his sister’s reflection and stared at his own as he combed his unruly blonde hair. Satisfied with his appearance he then exclaimed, “Voila! Je te ressemble maintenant, papa!” I look like you now, Papa!

If anyone would ask, Soren would look more like his father had it been for the blonde hair that he carried from Tilly’s genetics. Soren had the dark eyes that everyone who worked at the Mercedes-AMG headquarters feared to look at and his features could pass off as an ID in case Toto had forgotten to bring his. As of this point, Soren might as well be the owner of the company.

Toto’s heart swelled in pride whenever their other relatives told him that the kids were so much like him and Tilly. Really, anyone could compliment the children and he would be swooning over them. As if he wanted to reward them for simply existing.

Not that he and Tilly would spoil them and get them everything they wanted.

“You are very handsome, Soren,” said Toto and beamed, “and Tia is the prettiest girl.”

“Hm? What about Mama?” Tia’s eyes flickered at her father’s standing figure. “Me and Mama are the prettiest!”

Toto sighed dramatically, “Yes, yes, you are right. I am sorry. But Mama is a pretty woman. You are a pretty girl.”

“Am not a girl! Am big! I’m a woman!” Tia protested, her scowl impersonating her Aunt Sylvie’s grumpy expression. Or his. Toto wasn’t sure; nobody carried that expression more than himself and his sister-in-law.

“I hope you don’t reach that stage just yet,” Toto muttered to himself (he really prayed she wouldn't grow up that fast) before he said, “Come on, littles. We have to go to work. Papa needs to get the cars running.”

With wide eyes and excited gasps, Soren and Tia ran out of the bedroom with squeals escaping their mouths and slipped on their backpacks. Hearing the words ‘cars’ and ‘running’ could instantly boost his children’s spirits and dash off to where the cars would be.

Toto watched the bedroom door silently, listening as his carbon copies talked animatedly about seeing their Uncle Bono and Roscoe and how they’d like to spend time with Uncle Fernando and “Lance Stoll.”

Yeah, they certainly are Tilly’s children.

Toto and Tilly knew from the beginning that their children were extremely loved by the drivers and would sometimes hover over them if they were given the chance.

It reminded Toto so much of the times when the drivers used to approach Tilly when she began making her presence known to the grid. But at least this time Toto didn’t have to be jealous about having them stolen by those men.

In the very beginning and the end, Toto won. He married Tilly and even had her children. They didn’t.

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britishassistant · 1 month

Note

I have literally just spent the last few days going through all of the twst supervillain au posts. ALL OF THEM.

It’s not 3 am here for like the third night in a row what are you talking about

I have so many thoughts and could ask so many questions but I am limiting myself for now because spamming is bad! No spamming, me! 😂

SO we got the event of Azul and the twins finding out that Yuu is the child of Crowley. And we got that little snippet saying Yuu wanted Azul to help them tell the other villains so they could just get it out of the way because they were tired of having it hang over their head.

BUT WE NEVER ACTUALLY GOT THOSE SCENES/THAT SCENE!

I wanna know how that wentttttt!!!! What happened?!?! How did it go??? Did Yuu tell them one on one? Or did they sit them all down together? How did each of them react to the news? I feel like it would have to be one on one because telling them altogether would be a recipe for a LOT of emotions all mixed together to create a volatile bomb.

Pleaseeeeee I wanna knowwwwwww!!! Please gift me us with your words of wonder oh supervillain AU writing deity!!!!!!

(Also I just wanted to say back when you were giving out names to everyone my first thought for a name for Kalim was just ‘Minion’ because you compared Jamil and Kalim to Megamind and Minion and I was like “that would be a total Jamil thing to do - just call Kalim ‘Minion’ because he was tired of Kalim getting all the attention in their civilian lives and this was supposed to be about JAMIL DANGIT so even though Kalim invited himself along he doesn’t get a cool name he just gets ‘Minion’ and Kalim would unironically love it. But then you named him Water Boy and that has the same energy lmao 😂)

Thank you so much for enjoying the supervillain AU so far!!

(Make sure you get some sleep though!! It’s important to try and maintain a regular sleep schedule!!)

And basically the answer to your question is that Yuu called a quasi-truce of sorts to sit down all the supervillains to deliver the news. Both because it was the easiest way to avoid the accusations of favoritism that would arise if the reporter went around one at a time, and ensured they’d only need to go through the whole thing once.

Of course, the other six supervillains are only willing to humor this because it’s Yuu that called it. They may have all brought their most trusted aides along with certain, ah, “safety measures” just in case anyone else tries anything, but even these are pretty tame compared to their usual fare. It’s a silent agreement that everyone is on their best behavior in front of their host.

Even if they’re a bit disgruntled by the fact that this meeting is being held in the second Monstro Lounge location, and Leviathan and the Leech twins are flitting around Yuu like a particularly jealous school of fish.

Worse, the reporter isn’t even telling them to stop.

And then Yuu finally comes out with what they want to say and—

Oh.

Oh, now the other supervillains can understand Azul’s protective impulses.

Vil and Idia are having the hardest time processing it and have the most questions, all told. Their mental image of Crowley and their mental image of Yuu are so different after all, it’s a struggle not to ask, “but has there actually been a paternity test and are we sure this isn’t just one of the world’s most depraved lies?”

In fairness, Crowley has done nothing to disabuse them of the notion that this isn’t the exact kind of behavior he would sink to if mildly inconvenienced.

Of all of them, Malleus and Riddle are probably taking it the best. After all, they both know what it’s like being the prized heirs of people who cannot afford to let them shirk their duties. Either because the well being of others’ depends on them taking up that mantle, or their parent’s pride.

Either way, they’ll support Yuu’s search for freedom from their villainous father’s legacy, by taking up the mantle of head of Night Raven themselves if need be.

Please give Leona and Jamil two to five minutes to reboot. Both have partially blue-screened at the motifs of being cast aside and the inesacabilty of family bloodline inherent in Yuu’s backstory. Once they’re back to normal, they’ll be some of Yuu’s staunchest defenders, but give them forty eight hours to process first.

Maybe eighty two.

After Yuu’s answered almost all the questions, Ace butts in, “So, you kept sticking your nose in ‘cause you wanted to get kidnapped?”

Yuu shrugs, “Not, not wanted? But it was a bit less nerve wracking if I knew I’d done something to merit being there, so to speak. Made it less likely that it was because you’d worked out my heritage.”

The other villains and minions nod, satisfied.

But Deuce pipes up with a worried frown curving his brow.

“So, does this mean you won’t be investigating our schemes anymore?”

A hush spreads through the room. All eyes are fixed on the reporter, waiting for their response with bated breath.

Yuu grins, a gloriously competitive spark in their eyes. “Oh, you wish.”

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throwaway-yandere · 5 months

Text

I want to be honest (no this has nothing to do with fics lmao youll get it as scheduled)

This post is an explanation as to why I consider myself as "retired". I know I've said it's because of studies, but that'll be 1/3 of the truth. I want to talk about the true three real reasons why, and I'll do my best to be straight to the point. This isn't a cry for help (I swear to the heavens it is NOT). This is just to clear out assumptions.

Here's the other two reasons:

Grief & Mental Health

Writing itself & interactions

Grief & Mental Health:

I'll pour my heart out, so I'm sorry if it's long. As I said, I'll be straight to the point, so: my grandfather around the first week of June. I remember how I received the news so vividly. I was listening to Two Birds while washing the dishes at 12 AM. My mom went down the stairs with my father, crying as they tell me the news that he's gone. We drove half an hour to the hospital where I get to pat his head one last time. I remember mindlessly wandering the hospital halls— I remember mindlessly using the free alcohol attached to a wall. I remember breaking down as I realized I just cleansed away the hand that last had contact with him. I remember every detail, from the ride home where I messaged my good college friend to tell her that she needs to be a good nurse because the public healthcare system in the country is awful. I remember silently hating everyone and everything. I remember thinking about how cruel it was that life took away the one relative who genuinely cared about me and I was sure was related to me by blood. I remember thinking how much I'm distant to everyone else on my mother's side except him. I remember feeling so empty. I remember not sleeping for two days straight.

But let's back track for a bit. Before his death, I did have one final conversation with him. He was sedated and tubed miserably. Deep down, I knew his time was coming. So, I just made jokes about how grandma was growing senile and mistook me for a nurse for ten whole minutes. Then, I thanked him for everything he's done, and told him I'll become an engineer. Just like him.

And now here I am, dorming 3 hours away from home. I dormed because I had nearly decided my life meant nothing after lack of sleep through daily commutes and workloads. But I am lonely and unwell. I don't know what I want in life. I don't know what I actually want to be, but I already shifted courses as a chemical engineering student. I was so stressed to the point I've accidentally cried to my chem professor in a phone call. I don't know what I'm doing with my scholarship and education if it's for no one. And I am scared that I'm draining my parents' already limited resource for nothing. That I'm wasting the scholarship my country had given me nothing. That I am wasting my people's taxes for nothing.

It was only when another friend told me that I seem to live my life based on other's decisions and opinions did I notice just why I'm incredibly miserable.

I know I don't have dreams for myself. And even if I did, how the hell will writing and drawing feed me in the future when the industry in this 3rd world country is absolute garbage?

I guess Asians really do the things they hate so they can get what they love. Okay, I'll stop making jokes.

I miss my long-time friends, Phitre and Frost. I also miss my old blockmates when I was a BSEd-Math student. I am too used to eating alone, studying alone, walking alone. I am too used to being an outsider. But I'm not used to silence. I'm not too used to hearing actual silence.

All I have is Discord and Messenger.

And even then, it's quiet.

Writing itself & Interactions

I love writing and drawing. I just hate posting it at this point, which is why I made another account that's purely interaction-based.

I love writing a lot— my happiness is turning shtposts into something terrifying. I don't like writing romances, I like the thrill instead. I like laughing like I'm Hubert from FE:TH after thinking of an evil plot twist.

But I hate posting it. Because I know, no matter how much effort I put it, it's not enough. No matter how long it is— no matter if you learned basic coding for it— drew art— made interactive google forms— it's just not enough. I literally made two long separate fics with different endings depending on your choices and it just performs less on something I didn't actually put anything on.

Lord.

Lord I hate Creative Differences for that. I finally understood why bands hate their hit songs because of that lol.

Don't comment something like "oh, you content creators are just whining—" I am whining. Why? Because we don't treat artists and writers like they're human enough. Like we're just uploading content and that we don't want to hear what the others have to say. I remember there was one ask telling me how they're gonna miss traumatizing their friend— and I'm just sitting there wondering "why didn't YOU tell me their reactions? Why are you making me feel like I'm talking to a brick wall for 2k words and more?" It's not their fault. I am not mad at this anon. They've done nothing wrong, but lord do I hate feeling like this.

I could follow "part 2???" requests, finish all my drafts for the events. But I know. I know the chances of the person who requested them won't actually answer after all the effort.

[insert Berkut's "all that effort, what is it all for?!" voice line from FE:Echoes here to lighten the mood]

But that aside.

It's just silence. Just notes, when I feel like comments are what matters more. I'm used to being alone, but I really hate silence. I hate it so much. That's why I'm always so grateful to the people who do interact often, and don't say that's not true because I can prove it. You can see me make content just for them, dedicate fics, art, everything. I love them, I love the "noise".

I know we all have lives, I know we're all busy, I know. I respect your time, I respect you.

And I think it's just time I respect myself as well.

So that's why I'm retired. No pressure on events (idol and letters), no pressure on anything. I'm actually taking my time in End Of Year Blues. It's nice.

Edit: I forgot to mention

My father hates that I write. He constantly tells me to stop it, to prioritize my academics, when writing is my only way of coping.

So.

Haha, what the hell do I even do anymore, right?

#tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: grieving #astrilde-talks #tw: mental health

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topaz-witch-tea · 8 months

Text

Yanqing’s Happy Family AU: Yingxing’s Parenting

It’s been a while since I last posted something for Yanqing’s Happy Family AU. I took a much needed vacation from work so now I am a lot more energized and ready to write. Work and the fact that my free time is 9 PM - 12 PM makes it hard to write, which is why my work has a lot of typos. I try my best to catch all of them but some do slip through.

Please enjoy my head canons on Yingxing’s parenting. Please feel free to send me asks and messages, you can also send them anonymously if you wish. You can ask about head canons, current, or future works and anything that strikes your fancy. I am opening to answering most things. I hope to have a proper writing schedule set up for me so I can write more. My brain keeps cooking food but I can’t plate and serve them efficiently. 😂

1. Yingxing makes all of the swords Yanqing uses. From his main sword to the spares on his back and even the daggers he hides on his body, Yingxing forged all of them. This was his child after all, how could he let anyone else but the best make his son’s weapons and he was the Furnace Master, and therefore, the best. Improperly made weapons could decide life and death in the battlefield and he would be damned if the reason his child was buried before him was because of poorly made weaponry. He poured countless hours and funds into creating these weapons all to ensure that it was the best. Yanqing, in turn, shared his father’s love for swords and loved collecting them, especially ones his father made. Private auctions or competitions were the only way to get non-custom swords made by the Furnace Master and Yanqing competed in them constantly. Sure, he would spend his entire allowance for the next two weeks just to get his hand on a sword his father crafted completely out of jade, but it was absolutely stunning from a collector’s point-of-view and he simply could not let the opportunity pass him by.

2. Yanqing would collect the swords of other master’s as well, but he would never use them on the battlefield. Until one day, when a new craftsman who had transferred from the Yaoqing arrived on the Luofu. He was an expert in daggers infused with qi and Yanqing was absolutely smitten with them. So much so that he replaced the daggers Yingxing gave him with the qi-infused ones during an minor expedition. The expedition was successful and Yanqing was more than happy with his purchase. Yingxing, however, was not happy to hear he was been replaced with someone else. To him, swords were his and Yanqing’s thing, so to hear that Yanqing no longer carried his daggers but those of another craftsmen was a strike to his heart. He fretted over whether it was due to his skill as a craftsman or maybe the designs were not in style. He took this matter so personally that he had suddenly burst into tears right as he and his husbands were going to sleep. Of course, Yanqing got tired of the daggers in a week or so and returned to using the ones his father crafted for him. They just felt more comfortable and far more suited to his fighting style then anything else he could buy at the market.

3. Yingxing, out of the three, is by far the strictest. His success in life was due to self-discipline and perseverance, something he hopes to impart upon Yanqing. However, “strict” should be taken with a grain of salt. Yingxing will say no to Yanqing when it comes to certain purchases but a successful sword lesson or an excellent exam score is enough to make Yingxing open his wallet. He does try his best to teach Yanqing financial responsibility, but it’s hard for him to preach that when he was doing the same thing at Yanqing’s age.

4. Before every mission, Yingxing checks every weapon Yanqing is bringing with him to the battlefield. It doesn’t matter if Yanqing has polished and inspected each item the night before, Yingxing has to look at it. The sharpness and sturdiness of the blade, the quality of the sheath, even the way it is attached to Yanqing- everything has to be checked. While Yingxing will tell his son that it is for his safety, it is more for Yingxing’s own anxiety. There are times he is unable to follow his child onto the battlefield, and in those moments, his mind spins a thousand horrible scenarios of his child’s fate. To know that all of Yanqing’s weapons are in order is the only thing he can do as he waits for his child to return home.

#jingrenheng #yanqing’s happy family au #yanqing #honkai star rail #hsr #yingxing #hsr blade #jing yuan #dan feng #hsr ren #even though Jing Yuan and Danfenf don’t appear in this they are mentioned so it felt wrong to keep them separated from each other

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captainjunglegym · 2 months

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WIP WEDNESDAY - 13/03/2024

Tagged by jon @bigassbowlingballhead love u pal <3

I am on somewhat of a short writing sabbatical I tell myself. I've posted nearly 75,000 words in six weeks which is a lot for me. So I'm taking this week to relax from my WIPs before starting to post scheduled oneshots and start a new chaptered fic.

That being said i wrote a 1500 word fic this morning which you can just have here lmao.

Summary:

Exes Alex and Henry meet at the funeral of Henry's twin George who was killed suddenly aged only thirty-five. They haven't seen each other in four years.

The wind is bitter as it blows down from the top of the hill. It’s March, so it’s that time of year where the sun isn’t quite ready to negate the feel of the chill early in the morning and late into the evening. It’s already eleven am and the sun does feel warm when the wind dies down. A few moments reprieve where Henry doesn’t have to pull his coat tighter around his body or wish that he’d worn something that was more wind proof.

They don’t really make raincoats that are funeral approved, however.

Still, he pulls his thin black pea coat so it doubles over him. It’s too big. It’s not his. It was too big for George too, but his brother loved to wear oversized things. Said it made him feel small and holdable.

The thought crushes Henry. What he’d give to hold George now.

Everyone else has already gone. His mother didn’t even show. Her grief is exponential, increasing and deepening at such a fast rate now that she cannot be touched. Losing her husband young destroyed her, but burying one of her children eviscerated her. Not even the scars of her former self remain anymore.

And Henry understands. More so maybe this time than when his father died. He loved his father so much, but George was his twin, the other half of his soul. Maybe this is what his mother felt. Maybe this is what it feels like to break apart. Except she isn’t haunted by her husband by every reflective surface, by every future birthday. By every photograph of his childhood, every fucking Instagram post. By every friend they had because they didn’t even have separate friendship groups. Everything they had they had together and now Henry inherits it all.

It's too much.

(continues under cut, tags following)

It’s times like these that Henry curses being raised as an atheist. He wishes he could believe that something came after this, that he and George will meet again, but he can’t. People tell him that George is in a better place. A dark part of him agrees that six feet under some fucking dirt is probably better than living in a two bed on Peckham Highstreet. It’s a lot cheaper.

Henry gets the sudden urge to jump into the grave. It’s open, waiting for someone to come and cover George and seal him down there forever. Henry could just jump in with him.

“I didn’t think anyone would still be here.” A voice says from behind Henry, startling him.

He turns to see a beautiful man wrapped up in a warm black coat and scarf. It’s Alex, because of course it is. Who else would be so late to a funeral they miss the entire service. Who else would spring up out of the ground at Henry’s moment of despair like some kind of macabre dandelion.

“Right on time, I see.” Henry tries to snark, but his voice comes out small and fragile.

“My flight was delayed.”

Henry hums. “Nice to know George wasn’t worth flying out a day in advance.”

“Don’t.” Alex says, firmly but not aggressively as he moves to stand next to Henry. “Don’t do that, H.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t act like I didn’t care about him too.”

Henry feels crazed, like he wants to scream and tear off his clothes and jump into the lake and inhale the water.

He lets out a forced laugh instead. “Oh right! Of course. My apologies. Of course my ex-boyfriend who I haven’t seen in four years also cares about my fucking dead twin brother, so much so that he shows up uninvited at his funeral an hour too late. I’m sorry for being so insensitive.”

“H-”

“-No!” Henry shouts. It’s so out of character that it snaps Alex’s mouth shut. He lowers his voice. “No. I don’t know why you’re even here.”

Alex looks down at his shoes. “Would you believe me if I told you Philip invited me?”

Henry scoffs. “Pull another one.”

“It’s true,” Alex says gently. “He called me…after… He called me when, uhm-”

“-When George was stabbed to death in a pub in broad daylight?”

Alex lets that sit for a moment. “Uhm. Yes. He called me again to invite me.” He takes a deep breath and when he speaks again his voice cracks, “we were together for ten years, Henry. I loved George like he was my own family. We were a family.”

And they were. Alex had met Henry at university, and they fell in love almost immediately. Alex had transferred to London and George was assigned to be his ‘buddy’ and he’d always taken credit for introducing Alex to Henry. Always said that he’d have to mention that in his speech at their wedding.

The air leaves Henry’s body, but he doesn’t breathe out. It just evaporates in his lungs. He and Alex never got married. George never got to give his speech. And now George will never be able to give a speech at his wedding. Never be his best man.

But he has to give it to Alex. George was his friend and he know that they’d sort of kept in touch over the years, in an Instagram comment every couple of months. He never begrudged George of that. Their breakup was hard, and Henry got everything. Got their friends, their flat, the whole fucking country. Alex had gone back to Texas and not looked back. George was collateral in their breakup too and Henry knows that losing Alex was tough on him as well.

“H?” Alex is hesitant, but he gently takes Henry’s hand in his.

“I don’t know how to do this.” Henry says suddenly. “I don’t know how to do any of this without him.”

George was his better. The two-minute older brother who was confidant and sociable, who looked after Henry every fucking day for thirty-five years. Who literally and metaphorically held Henry’s hand throughout all of their hardships. Henry remembers their father’s funeral, how Philip was stone silent, and Bea was high, and their mother was vacant. How George, only eighteen, took charge and read a eulogy. He was a lighthouse built onto the rock, so strong and bright.

Afterwards George had cried, they’d both cried, in each other’s arms. But the next day George had got out of bed and forced Henry to do the same.

“It’s going to be hard; I know.” Alex says, squeezing his hand. “But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit. I mean. Look at me. You left my sorry ass.”

Henry thinks about how Alex had lost himself in his work and how their relationship had degraded over six months of broken promises and missed dinners and sitting alone in their apartment. And how it broke him down into nothing before he’d finally had enough. They’d both had enough.

He’s heard that Alex is doing better now. That he’s finally learning how to have that work/life balance that was only a dream to them back then.

“I’m all alone this time.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am. Bea has Michael and the twins. Philip is…well he’s Philip. Mum is completely vacant and our friends are all grieving.”

Henry knows Alex is going to say some placating bullshit like, ‘oh it’s okay you have me,’ like he doesn’t live thousands of miles away.

“You should come stay at the lake house.” Is what Alex says instead.

“What?”

The lake house was their place. Before everything went to shit, they often spent time there, sometimes with their friends, sometimes with Alex’s family, sometimes just the two of them. It’s a haven, really. A place where time doesn’t exist. All sunshine and water and blues skies.

“Come stay at the lake house. Get away from London for a while.”

“But my family-”

“-Be a little selfish for once, H.” Alex turns to him and looks him in the eyes. “I don’t have to be there. You can just come and unwind in the sun. Take a break from this all and have time to grieve properly.”

It’s insane. It’s irresponsible. It’s not possible. He buried his brother an hour ago, his family is falling apart again but.

But this time they all have their own families to fall back on. Their own spouses and kids. Even his mother lives with Philip and Martha and has them to look after her.

Henry lived with George, not out of necessity, but out of love. George who’s dead. George whose dirty tea mug is still on his bedside table and his laundry still in the hamper.

He can’t go back there.

“Okay.” Henry says. “Okay I’ll come with you.”

And, later, it’s hard to get on the plane. But once he’s in the air, he takes his first deep breath in weeks.

[End]

easy tag for @anincompletelist @eusuntgratie @nocoastposts @getmehighonmagic @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @littlemisskittentoes @thinkof-england @happiness-of-the-pursuit @wordsofhoneydew @sparklepocalypse @magicandarchery @sunnysideprince and anyone i've forgotten plus open tag for anyone!!!

#writing tags #my fics

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redfurrycat · 8 months

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🤠🎓🏫🐓High School & College/University Fic Recs🐓🏫🎓🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

High School

Ao3 Authors: Broke_Traveler, Callsignsmax, KatofKanals, Orphan_account, Nightwrite24, ReformedTsundere, Sreshaw, Tearsricochets.

College/University

Ao3 Authors: BlankPapyrus, Chase_acow, Cryinginthebronco, Glowpink, Hangmanbradshaw, Haridwar, Hypnagogicpunisher, Imafriendlydalek, Miraculousmultifan, Monkiedude, Nighttimedawn, Nightwrite24, Orphan_account, Pocketsizedsatan, ReformedTsundere, Renai_chan, Soisserieux, SunMonTue, Tearsricochets, Trinipedia.

> Educational Occupations > Childhood Friends-Sweethearts

You Make Me Live by Renai_chan {E} (C/U)

Once upon a time, Jake met Rooster. Eight years later, he's a freshman at the US Naval Academy, and Bradley Bradshaw comes back into his life. Except, they've both grown up, and with growth, paths diverge.

I think I could use some more (of you) by nighttimedawn {T} (C/U)

“I feel like y’all have been having a secret affair behind my back,” Jake said from behind them. “I take back my earlier worry that you wouldn’t get along.” Letting go of Bradley, Nat said, “Awww, Jakey. Are you feeling left out?” “He’s worried because he knows we’d make a hot couple,” Bradley joked, picking up his bag from where it had fallen on the floor. Without looking at Nat, he hit the high five she held out her hand for. Jake groaned and began to walk towards the exit. “How the fuck am I third-wheeling in my own relationships?” Or how Jake and Bradley meet on a college tour and spend the next five years figuring it out (and fucking it up).

Draw Me Verse by BlankPapyrus {E} (C/U)

Draw Me

As an engineering major, Bradley Bradshaw had no idea why he needed an art credit, but Professor Bates' Introduction to Life Drawing course had been the only one with slots available that fit into his schedule. He also didn't expect Jake Seresin to be this week's model.

Athletes and Mathletes

Jake hasn't seen Bradley since they hooked up. He's used to getting what he wants, and Bradshaw is not good for his ego or his temper. Luckily, they're both at Reuben's birthday party.

Study Buddy

At their regular study session, Bradley and Jake wind up being the only ones left. Naturally, they wind up in bed together.

Megaphone Serenade by ReformedTsundere {G} (HS)

Jake knew about Bradley Bradshaw. Bob was friends with him; they shared a choir class, and Bradley helped with some jazz performances if they were down a keys player. But he’d never really noticed the other boy before. The second Bradley ran his fingers over the ivories with an easy grin, leaning back and relaxed, Jake was transfixed.

no one quite like you (you push all my buttons down) by glowpink {T} (C/U)

Bradley’s first day of law school is a wash out in more ways than one. First, he gets soaked on the way to class. Then, he's late. And finally (quite literally) runs into his ex-something in the middle of the law building.

come hell or high water by orphan_account {G} (HS) (C/U)

Bradley Bradshaw, determined to live up to his father's legacy, enlists in the Navy right out of high school, leaving his best friend, who is also probably the love of his life, home with his godfather to finish out high school. He definitely isn't worried about Jake at all. Jake is definitely fine. He definitely isn't worried about that thing that happened at the airport that they never actually spoke about. And he definitely isn't worried about these feelings in his chest that keep threatening to spill out of him. Everything will be fine, right? Or, how Bradley falls in love, finds a home, and remembers how to be happy again.

number neighborhood by miraculousmultifan {T} (C/U)

754-XXX-2324 created a group chat 754-XXX-2324 added 754-XXX-2323, 754-XXX-2325, 754-XXX-2326, and 9 more 754-XXX-2324 named the group number neighborhood [12:36 p.m.] number neighborhood 754-XXX-2324: howdy neighbors! 754-XXX-2327: who the fuck are you *** Jake, bored out of his mind one day, decides to add a bunch of numbers into a group chat and see what happens. It went about as well as he expected.

Baby You Look Good by soisserieux {_} (C/U)

He finds his name and desk number and heads in the direction of his seat, only to stop short when he sees the guy in the other chair. The guy is sitting there comfortably, with all of his shit unpacked, like he’s been there for a while. He’s got this old-looking Hawaiian print shirt on, and this mustache that looks like it came straight out of a trashy porno. And the worst part is, Jake can’t tear his eyes away. It’s like everything else happening in the lab suddenly came to a screeching halt, and he can’t do anything but stare at this guy. The spell is finally broken when the guy looks up at him. “Do you need something? Or…” Jake regains his composure and plasters a well-practiced cocky smile on his face. “Well, if you don’t mind, I need you to help me pass this damn class… Partner.” It’s kind of dumb and Jake almost wishes he didn’t say it, but it’s too late to take it back now. He’s stuck with it, just like he’s stuck with this guy as his lab partner. Fate has spoken. One of the guy’s eyebrows shoots up. “You’re my lab partner?” Jake sets his stuff down and sits down in the open chair, sidling up next to his new partner. “Lucky for you.”

Springsteen by sreshaw {M} (HS)

Bradley Bradshaw has to pick up and move from San Diego, California, with his not-dad Pete "Maverick" Mitchell to Corpus Christi, Texas. He's not upset about it, but he doesn't expect to fall hard for a boy he meets there.

hey wouldn't you know (i'd get hooked on a guy with green diamond eyes) by tearsricochets {T}

I was cool with hangin around (now i got plans bigger than this town) (HS)

He doesn't mean to just stop mid-sentence, but really he doesn’t have any control of it. The one player he hadn’t caught the name of, Han, has just turned around. He’s mid laugh as he walks towards a huge blue cooler set up next to someone’s truck, and he’s probably the most beautiful person Bradley’s ever seen. He’s got blonde hair that looks like it was styled when he’d first got here, but a few too many runs of the hand through it have knocked a few pieces onto his forehead. He’s wearing a simple gray colored henley under the letterman, paired with jeans that fit perfectly in all the right places and an honest-to-God pair of worn looking cowboy boots. The smile that’s still on his face is only spurring on Bradley’s struggle. It lights up his entire face, the light of the fire making his already tan skin even more of a perfect golden. He watches as the angel incarnate walks back to the others. Then, almost in slow motion, uses his now free hand to pick up the black cowboy hat that is hanging on the back of his chair. Good god, that should be illegal. OR: the summer they meet, fall in love, and have to figure out what to do with it.

let the moonshine through (kissing you like yesterday) (C/U)

Fuck. His heart stops. His dreams, because he’s here. He’s here in Bradley’s immediate eyeline and reach. He’s positively radiant. Glowing. The golden sun spills in through the window and washes him in hues not unlike those of a fire ages ago. His hair is still the same golden blond Bradley remembers it as, once again a halo on his perfect head. He’s filled out much more than he was when they were teenagers. His short sleeve shirt, that reads Langwood Fire, looks sinfully tight on his biceps. His nightmares, because he looks happy. Happy like he doesn't regret for one second leaving Bradley behind. Bradley wants to laugh. Bradley wants to cry. More than anything, he wants to hug him. Wants to call him Angel and have Jake smile that little smile he only does when Bradley calls him that. Wants him to kiss him like it’s nothing and they’re still who they used to be. But they’re not, and the look on Jake’s face is enough to make him remember that forever. OR: the one in which it's the summer they meet again.

sereshaw student/teacher 'verse by callsignsmax (HS)

a first time for everything {E}

Mr. Seresin is his new physics teacher, he’s twenty six at the most. With how he looks Bradley would be shocked at anything more. He’s from texas, obvious from his accent and the obnoxious Texas Rangers banner he has pinned on the cork board next to his desk.

I see right through you {E}

“Nothing’s fair, Mr. Seresin,” He hiccups, throat sore and scratchy from suppressing his sobs. “Why don’t my friends support me and you being together?”

NSFW alphabet with Mr. Seresin and Bradley {E}

Learn the ins and outs of Mr. Seresin and Bradley's sex life, including the struggles of true love in a teacher/student relationship.

I’d wait forever for you {M}

“Red,” he manages to choke out, even though Mr. Seresin had already stopped. His hands were off of Bradley the second the younger froze up. “Stop, please.”

I'll Be Home for Christmas (And I'll be Making it Your Problem) by ReformedTsundere {T} (C/U)

Javy is scrolling past their local college's "Personals" page, seeing if they can find students they know enough to make harmless jokes at, when an apparent ad stops them both. Rent-A-Boyfriend Need someone to take home for the holidays? Not looking forward to being sat around the table and made to play nice? I'm a 26-year-old Navy brat with more piercings, tattoos, and trauma than sense. Polisci and Engineering double major who is running on caffeine (but can make it seem like I've got a drug problem). I ride a motorcycle for fun, have what can only be described as a "pornstache," and am unapologetically queer. I can and will, without trying, make any conservative parent wish they'd never picked up the phone to make you come home and have a blast doing it.

we met in the winter (and we fell in love) by haridwar {T} (C/U)

Watson Wildhearts by KatofKanals {E} (HS)

16 year old Bradley Bradhsaw is new to Watson, Texas in the summer of 2000 and he is downright miserable—he hates the whole town and all the people in it. That includes Jake Seresin, the star quarterback and rich boy at the top of the social pyramid. Eventually, though, Bradley starts to wonder if maybe there’s more to Watson and Jake Seresin than he saw at first glance. Maybe there’s something special there after all.

Midnight at the Shoreline by monkiedude {T} (C/U)

Jake likes to plan their beach week. Bradley messes it up.

get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down by cryinginthebronco {G} (C/U)

get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down The sun begins its descent towards the horizon, and the day is slowly coming to an end, giving everyone a long-awaited relief from the unrelenting heat. The excited chatter of tourists spending their summer in a small picturesque town died down not long ago, with everyone leaving the beach and making their way to the hotel rooms and oceanside rentals. For a few minutes, the waves of the nearby ocean hum calmly, finally undisturbed by the screaming children and their admonishing parents. But eventually, the lazy swoosh of the ocean is drowned by a different kind of noise. or jake, bradley, and one summer night

Learning to Fly by Broke_Traveler {M} (HS)

Can one phone call or school year change everything?

You're the beginning and the end of every chapter - Sunday by trinipedia {T} (C/U)

Bradley, a rebellious guy from California, is shipped off to a strict Texas military school by his godfather after one too many pranks. He will find more than he expected, and he'll come to realize that leaving might not be as easy as he thought.

Legacy by chase_acow {M} (C/U)

Bradley was a man in a dress, and he looked cute. Pledging the same Fraternity as his dad was his plan since childhood, he just needed to find a big brother who didn't mind having the oldest freshman ever. Anyone would do, but Jake Seresin, the worst lab partner ever, had his own plans.

5 times Rooster lost a bet to Hangman + 1 time they both won. by Pocketsizedsatan {_} (C/U)

5 times Rooster lost a bet to Hangman + 1 time they both won. Fraternity AU

cuz you know I love the players and you love the game by hangmanbradshaw {E} (C/U)

Jake's the star quarterback, Bradley's the star baseball captain. They both like playing games, turns out they want the same prize. Or Bradley dresses as a cheerleader for the team and Jake hates him (except that he totally doesn't)

Oh, but it just may be a lunatic you're looking for by nightwrite24 {G} (C/U)

Five times Bradley and Jake encountered each other under decidedly unusual circumstances, and the one time one of them decided to finally do something about it.

these small towns by nightwrite24 {M} (HS)

Bradley's moved to Texas from California. Jake's got a lot of expectations riding on him that don't leave room for the type of romance he really wants. Bradley has no idea he's such an overthinker. After a great night together, Jake's fallen into a full-blown crush and does his best to panic his way out of it. It does not work.

When September Ends by imafriendlydalek {E} (C/U)

Bradley had only applied to colleges other than the Academy to appease his mom, who insisted that it was important to have safety schools. He never thought he would need a backup. And yet here he is, at Cornell University. His dreams of going to the Academy have been thoroughly dashed, his mother is buried across the country next to his father, and his parking spot has just been stolen by some asshole with Texas license plates.

It's not who you know by SunMonTue {M} (C/U)

Low-angst Nepo!Baby Bradley and his four years at the USNA and his head-in-the-sand approach to the nepotism and the fact that he ends up being known as the guy with the two hot dads instead...

red river rivalry by hypnagogicpunisher {M} (C/U)

He’s heard the buzz about the new 4-star on the Texas team. It piques his interest. Oklahoma had been dominating the last few years of the rivalry, but betting odds were hot against the Sooners going into the game week, partially because of this Seresin kid. A true freshman, with his kind of stats, was a rarity. Bradley wonders just a bit what his passing stats would look like with him, who seemingly has fucking magnets for hands and the ability to stretch for a pass like he’s made of rubber. -- He can feel the frustration snaking through his body, settling with a numbness in his fingertips. At 2nd and 10, his pass is tipped and ruled incomplete. He can hear a jeer from the sideline, and he fucking knows it’s Seresin.

#High School & College/University Recs List #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈#On a more personal yet funnier note - I had to physically restrain myself from inserting a Shower Scene Glen Powell Gif... ;P

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