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#because maybe I don’t want your godly young men
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Don’t Give Up
“For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.” 1Timothy 2:3-4NKJV
A young woman sat across from me, sobbing brokenheartedly. All the disappointment and failures in her marriage tumbled across her lips. Everything accounted for, backed up what I’ve said for thirty years: All divorces are caused by selfishness on the part of one or both persons in the marriage— usually both.
We came to the crux of the matter. She wanted a husband that loved the Lord. Instead of marrying one, she was trying to force her sinner husband into being one. Practicing being hubby’s holy spirit seemed to have driven him further from the Lord. Hours of prayers hadn’t produced the effect she wanted. In seeking Christian counsel, she’d heard— ‘You can’t pray your husband into salvation. Maybe God doesn’t want to save him.’
‘Say what!’ I exclaimed. ‘My husband became saved through hours of intercession, fasting, prayer, standing on God’s promises and God Who is faithful to accomplish His Word. God wants everyone saved!’ The fires of testing, coupled with the faithfulness of El Shaddai— I AM— had brought Lou running to the altar seeking salvation.
Our scripture text follows on the heels of a verse many Christians neglect to heed— praying for the President, Congress, Senate and Judges— “…first of all, to pray for all people. Ask God to help them; intercede on their behalf, and give thanks for them. Pray this way for kings and all who are in authority so that we can live peaceful and quiet lives marked by godliness and dignity” 1Timothy 2:1-2NLT.  Amazing to all of us— God wants EVERYONE born again—  including husbands and even government officials. I will add, strongholds, hexes, curses, and witchcraft spells have been placed on most government officials to prevent them from being brought into the Kingdom of God. Nonetheless, no one is exempt from the love of God or His desire to save them.
Complaining about who you’re praying for or about results being seen— nothing will happen. Outside of prayer, and praise, keep your mouth closed. Your prayer room is the fighting arena. Every salvation I’ve waged war for was finished in the prayer room. The intercession, fasting, declaring God’s words over the person are all part of the battle. Search the scriptures for God’s specific Word for your prayer subject. “For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost” Luke 19:10NASB. Jesus wants those people saved more than you do.
God will honor His word. Ask God to help them. Thank God for them. When you pray for your husband, wife, child, friend, co-worker, neighbor, enemy, even your Senator, Congressman, and President, God is all ears. Your prayers have just delivered a powerful punch to the side of satan’s head. Praise God for their salvation, as a done-deal. Lifting your voice in praise pulverizes satan’s schemes.
Life isn’t instant, like microwave meals. Just because you don’t see something in fifteen minutes, a day or a week— don’t give up. God won’t fail. Remember Abraham had to believe for twenty-five years for his promised son. “…Have faith in God” Mark 11:22NASB.
Hold steady for your answer. “Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful” Hebrews 10:23ESV. One last thought— satan will attack your faith the hardest, just before you win the victory. Don’t give up. It’s your choice. You choose.
LET’S PRAY: Sovereign God, I hold many people before Your throne. Thank You for helping them come to You. Our government people appear to have dead hearts without any conscience. You can reach through their depravity to save and to cause us to live peaceably. Help these readers to realize their rights in prayer, in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.
by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2022 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.
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betelguwuse · 3 years
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I’m starting to think maybe I don’t want to get married. Hypothetically I’d love to be in a godly marriage with a man who respects me and sees me as the person that God does (and not only me but women as a whole), but realistically do christian men like that even exist? Mainstream christianity, especially gender discourse, is so watered down and twisted into something that’s more political than biblical. I feel like this is gonna piss off both the christians and feminists, even though I’m both (though some might say I’m not a real feminist, whatever idc lol). Might also tag as Side B because I feel like this is also maybe a Side B mood? But here goes.
Color coded by vague topic, bolded so it’s easier to read.
Like I recently heard of a pastor being criticized for saying it’s a woman’s duty to look good for her husband, and the boomer conservatives were acting like criticisms of this pastor was the end of christianity. There’s no way “looking good” in a biblical sense was anything more than basic hygiene, nowhere near the beauty standards of today; and that is if the idea of looking good for your husband is even in the bible. These people siding with the pastor were saying that any woman who doesn’t shave or hide her “flaws” with makeup or basically completely embody the tradwife meme are bad wives. Like what the literal hell.
Honestly the entire tradwife aesthetic seems to be the goal for a lot of young christian couples, when it’s not inherently biblical. I used to be into it myself because heck yeah staying home, housekeeping, taking care of children, and wearing cute flowery dresses sounds like a dream. But my goals aren’t universal! Some women don’t want kids. Some women want to work. Good and God-honoring women of the bible didn’t all have kids and stay home. I mean the timeline of the bible spans so long, so yeah maybe there were times when most women did. But that doesn’t mean women who didn’t were bad wives or lesser women. Not to mention there’s such a blurred line currently between cute tradwife lifestyle and creeps who fetishize the idea of a traditional (and by traditional they mean submissive) wife. Gross.
Another thing too many christian men do is say women can’t be in any position of power in the church. There is the whole specific issue of whether or not women should be the highest up actual pastor of the church, and I don’t know enough about that whole debate to validate or debunk it, but I’m not talking about that specifically here. Aside from that one position, a lot of christians think women can only teach other women and girls but not guys, even like literal child boys. That’s so weird, like imagine thinking a little boy has more authority than, or even equal to, a grown woman? Couldn’t be me. And this whole idea comes from an out of context “I do not permit women to speak in the church” from a regular human guy. And the reason he said this was that the women around him were spreading heresy. I still think it’s flawed logic to exclude all women from speaking in that situation just because most of them were wrong, but again, this wasn’t a command from God. This was just a guy recording his church experience and doing his flawed human best to manage it. Various women throughout the actual bible outside of this one leader’s timeline held positions of power in various churches. And modern day american christian men think biblical womanhood is all about subservience? Bro what bible are you reading?
I just want to make it clear that these are all just generalizations, but having been in various actual biblical communities and conservative christian communities, I can kinda pick up on the general sexist behaviors of the latter. But unfortunately in today’s political climate more and more young christians are only being exposed to political opinions that are surface level americanized good christian morals, but not actually biblical.
Even on top of that, even if a man knows of these biblical misconceptions, we live in a society. Like we’re constantly exposed to women’s sexualization, and it’s pretty impossible to escape that. I don’t want to spend my life with someone who’s grown up in a world where women are seen as weak, objects, pleasure machines, etc. And yeah we can unlearn these biases (honestly I hate the word unlearn but I can’t think of a substitute rn), but it feels like a hassle to casually figure out whether a guy can make an effort to understand what women go through, and if I were to just bring it up I’d scare them away. And that’s not to say I’m some perfect person who’s never sexualized men, we are all sinners after all and we live in a fallen world etc etc. But a whole society where women are so objectified that it’s normal for little boys to be watching porn, that just doesn’t really happen with little girls. I can’t speak for all women, but when I started seeing men sexually it was in my late teens when I realized like ‘oh I can sexualize men too? wild. ok I’m an adult lemme check it out’. Still sinful, but not ingrained in me from porn ads as a kid the way most young boys have been since like the creation of the internet.
Even the men currently in my life who genuinely want what’s best for me are so incredibly misogynistic it’s baffling. My male family members see any woman who breaks an imaginary dress code or ideology is some kind of deviant. I just want to make it clear that this is MY family and I’M the only one who gets to complain about them. We all love each other here even if the males are horribly wrong.
So I shaved my head for halloween and my dad could barely look at me, not because he was exactly mad or anything but just because I looked ugly to him. He always says ‘close the windows in your apartment because men will spy on you changing’ but after my hair was gone he was all ‘actually don’t bother because nobody will look at you looking like that’ like wow I wasn’t aware men only sexualized women for their hair. Like you really think a gross creeper is gonna be turned off by a fully naked oblivious vulnerable woman just because she’s bald? That’s not how any of this works. And just today my sister was watching a goth youtuber egirl or something, I didn’t see her makeup but my dad said stuff like ‘ew why does she look like that, maybe it’d be cool as a costume but how is she going to get a job’. Like, I’m not one to go ‘women don’t wear makeup for men’ (because most women who only use makeup to hide their insecurities and follow beauty standards very much just do it so they don’t get backlash from others, if not directly to please men), but when it’s a fun crazy look that’s not meant to be pretty, I’m all for that shit and generally I hate when men lose respect for a woman just for wearing something they don’t like. Like fashion isn’t real and your appearance should be as costumey or weird as you want without people losing respect for you. Also like...do men know that makeup isn’t permanent?? Like if she wanted a job that required no makeup she could easily wipe her face off and get one?? Not only that, but people can work from home and/or be self employed. Maybe youtube itself was this girl’s job. Who the hell cares man. And the worst thing here is my brother outright said one time “the root cause of feminism is pride”. B r u h. And this was back when I considered myself an anti-feminist, even then I knew that feminism started for good reason and I was absolutely furious. I think I kept it to myself like a coward lol, but if anyone said that to me now I’d tear them apart. In a debate I mean, not like literal violence.
Tldr: I’m not trying to say men are inherently more evil because there’s evil in everyone, but the way it takes shape in men in most societies is so insidious and inescapable. I love my family and guy friends, but I don’t want to deal with one in a romantic/sexual relationship because I don’t know if even the most educated and goodest christian boi in this world can see me as a true equal. It sucks because I want sex and children, but when the mainstream idea of hetero sex is female submission, it just makes me shrivel up and contemplate becoming a nun. I’m not even catholic. But even nuns are sexualized and degraded in coomer’s disgusting brains. In conclusion I’m going feral and starting my own woman-only church in the woods let’s go ladies.
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I’m gonna post spoilers of WW84 under the cut, because I did not like the movie and you all need to know why
So I’m gonna start out with what I liked about it, because honestly it was kind of good. Gal Gadot? Phenomenal, gorgeous, 10/10 I rewatched the first Wonder Woman and the woman loving side of my sexuality has reawakened. Costumes? I am not a fan of the 80s, but damn could I get behind every single outfit. I don’t even need to talk about the Amazons, they were beautiful, like I said, women. The cinematography was also quite good. 
But the first Wonder Woman movie was definitely better. 
WW84 started out fantastic. I loved the opening scene with young Diana, and it set up such a great concept for the movie. Would’ve been great if they stuck to that huh. Then we meet Kristen Wiig, who honestly I’ve never really liked. Maybe I haven’t seen her in enough stuff though, because I absolutely fell in love with Barbara. Especially the obvious gay subtext between her and Diana. All starting out phenomenally. There’s great setup for Diana to fall in love with Barbara, work out her love for Steve and the trauma she got from the war. I’d even go for a love triangle with Barbara, Diana, and Max. Then everything switches.
It feels like there were two different writers for the film. One writer set up a phenomenal plot line, a budding romance, and a storyline about healing from your past and moving on. Then the second writer scrapped all that and resurrected Steve. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Chris Pine in both Wonder Woman movies, and he was pretty funny in WW84, but his whole character just seemed to be there solely to put an end to the romance between Barbara and Diana. He played a role with very little impact. Honestly, I finished WW84 literally 5 minutes ago and I forgot Steve was even in the movie. All of a sudden there’s no plot. My whole family was confused. My dad said it was “just like a stereotypical 80s movie.” Where was the brilliant storyline that had started? Why are we skipping over what could have been a revolutionary film for a literal remake of Aladdin? (literally it’s just Aladdin. That’s the whole thing. Aladdin and queerbaiting) 
If we skip over the Aladdin bits (the entire plot line yes it’s as basic as it sounds) all there is is some forced relationship between Diana and Steve to cover up the blatant queerbaiting and, I would argue, homophobia. It’s so incredibly obvious that Barbara is in love with Diana, even though she apparently falls in love “every day, all the time” (which feeds into some harmful stereotypes about bisexuality, by the way), and yet the screenwriters try to play it off like Barbara just really admires her. I was 100% sure that Barbara was going to wish that Diana fall in love with her, but she instead wanted to be like Diana? Yes, she’s insecure, that was made blazingly obvious, but she was in love with Diana, and Diana had just told her how much she enjoyed Barbara just the way she is. Generally people don’t change what others, especially those they are attracted to, like about them. And there ends the romance. Not even a hint at the date the two went on, nothing about the feelings between the two. Steve shows up, and Barbara is no longer an interesting or relevant character. In fact, she’s killed at the end of the movie. Way to dive headfirst into the pool of kill your gays (electrocute them if you want to be vague about whether or not they’re actually dead). To top it off, Steve just is gone an hour after he was resurrected. Steve just showed up to ruin Diana’s relationship and mental health, cuz I’m sure it wasn’t at all traumatizing to lose the love off your life twice, the second time pretty much directly killing him. 
Other little things I’m pissed about:
1. Lack of diversity. The first Wonder Woman movie had an incredibly diverse cast, and WW84 had the only main character as a POC be the villain. 
2. We never learned more about the Amazons. Woah, they do the Olympics and don’t like cheating, so what? Where’s the deep delve into Amazonian culture that we got in the first film? Why didn’t Diana ever go back to Themyscira?
3. The whole plot is just Aladdin if the genie was evil. That’s it. I’m sure you’ve all seen those posts of “be careful if you meet a genie, they’re evil and manipulative”
4. There was almost no mythology. Nothing. Just 30 seconds of babbling about the “language of the Gods” and the “God of lies” no explanation, no backstory, just a throwaway explanation about how the wishing could vaguely go along with the theme. We didn’t even get any resolution about that? Considering Ares apparently killed all the Gods, I wasn’t really expecting any Godly intervention from whoever that God of lies was, but there was absolutely nothing about what happened to the rock. How did it get out of Max? Did every single person in the world take back their wish, cuz that’s unrealistic. If even one person kept their wish, what happened to the rock. It probably didn’t reform? What happened to the magic???
5. That beautiful suit of armor that’s in all the promo pics, posters, the most iconic part of the trailer? That was there for literally 10 minutes and built into the plot solely for the cameo in the end credits scene. And not even well? The armor was supposedly built to withstand the world? It was torn to shred in 30 seconds, in a fight against a woman with brand new powers she doesn’t know how to work and exactly zero fighting experience. A cheetah hybrid scientist destroyed that armor in 30 seconds flat and you expect me to believe it held back the whole of mankind?
6. Where’s the fun feminism of the first movie? No talk about how women are great? Two and a half hours and the best you can do is the villain beating up the dick who was catcalling and assaulting her and framing it as an evil thing? The entire movie Diana and Barbara were being catcalled and harassed by men who thought they’re gorgeous. Absolutely they don’t have to respond to these men. They don’t have to stick up for themselves to prove that they’re worthwhile. Good for them for ignoring the jerks. But when the only instance of a woman sticking up for herself in the whole film is framed as an evil deed, it’s a bit sketch.
7. The fight scene between Barbara and Diana at the end when Barbara is a Cats movie reject was incredibly boring and not at all riveting and iconic like the fight scenes in the first movie. In fact, every fight scene in WW84 was really flat. It felt like there was a lot of effort put into dampening Diana’s powers. In the first movie Diana was a dynamic and strong individual who had friends who, while not as powerful as her, were important to ending the conflict. In WW84 Diana did everything (except for stopping the mall heist) really poorly, and relied on Steve to get her out of nearly all of her tight spots. For how bad of a character he was, you’d think he wouldn’t do a lot in the movie, but he was constantly saving Diana. Then Diana couldn’t even do anything against Max, it was all the people reversing their wishes. Considering she literally killed a God in the first movie, you’d think she could do something about a man-rock.
tl:dr, it’s an Aladdin remake with queerbaiting and bad plot
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Before Dawn: Bonus Chapter (1)
Helloooooo, alright listen, I re read a choice with no regrets and uhm here is this, a little insight on what has happened a little while before our story began, I'm sure you'll want to see some nice bonding with Isabel
Warnings: just a few teeny little mentions of intercourse
@hidehaskak of course here's your tag❤️
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"Yehawhaww" The moment you appeared at the entrance to the roof Isabel screamed at the top of her lungs in great enthusiasm. You stood silent after you spared her a smuggling nod pacing your eyes between the two men that accompanied her, awaiting for a signal of approval. "I knew I could get you to come! You guys don't mind her hanging out with us right? She's a friend."
At that sound the males finally gave in, letting Isabel close the distance between the both of you. Her significantly smaller arms wrapped around your frame in a pure hearted childish manner and seeing that you towered over her you placed your hands on the small of her back, almost too reassuringly to the males' liking. Their unforgiving gazes burned holes in your whole body with much rage built in for ruining their fun for the night.
You knew you were practically unwanted, but it was for Isabel that you stepped foot on this rooftop to begin with. Tired of her never ending pleas to join her and her so called bros as they looked at the stars and talked about everything and anything you had decided to violate curfew and join her, not them, just her, because you wanted to share some more moments with her. This young little redhead was growing on you in the best way possible, you thought she kind of reminded you of yourself in times where you needed salvage or just a friend with whom you could share your piece of mind and heart.
She wasn't like that at first. Isabel probably resembled a rose, it occurred to you, with her godly youthful looks and her thorn like personality. It was a result from growing up in a trashhole like the underground, among thugs, being forced to build a rough personality if she wanted to survive, it was merciless for her and any other girl down there. But the bubbly side of her personality assured you she was much more than a badass teen who could hand you your ass in any fight, she had a pure heart and you longed to help her feel like she deserved post childhood experiences. But for now, it felt as if your roles had reversed. Sure, you were -if not just as her- bubbly and kind but sometimes you were frustratingly unresponsive and ill faced that it worried her until she got to know you. You hadn't put yourself in a place to talk about you trauma to her; she had her own demons and there was no point in burdening her with your abusive background, but you managed to explain to her that most of your weird and uptight behaviors, most things you could dispose of to become a better person, were curved into you in ways you could share yet. And Isabel, as respectful as ever had assured you it was fine not to be able to share.
Most girls would shut her out due to her formal nature as a thug, much like your friends who at first were adamant about discouraging you to befriend her. They had assumed she wouldn't be able to be nice and kind or to talk like them, but you were against any pretentious act behind her back. Maybe it was due to egoistical motives that you wanted to salvage this little girl, because she reminded her of you, and Nanaba, the only person who fully knew about your situation was taking a stand against this at first. She didn't want you to hurt yourself or the redhead in the process of trying to project your condition on her. But you didn't give up. With Isabel as your new bunkmate you had many chances of getting it right.
"Did you bring what I asked you to?" Isabel hurriedly asked, reaching her hands to make a quest inside the tote bag that you carried. You showed no sign of holding back as you let her peak into the cream colored bind, but only managed to cover your ear as her squeks got louder. "Thank you thank you thank you! Sit down, show me!
Isabel shooed Levi and Furlan apart, placing herself right next to the blond man while tapping her hand on her left side. You followed her smile hesitantly and proceeded to sit down to where her hand was rested a few seconds ago, next to Levi. You felt his eyes ravaging your whole form, up and down as if you were some dirty pig that seeked to rub its mud onto him. When seated neatly enough as to not touch him you proceeded to pry open your tote bag and toss a share of it insides to Isabel.
With a determined face she got a strong hold of the grey colored yarn and the pair of slightly thick needles you had managed to recover for her. "Okay show me, show me!"
"Oh what's that?" Furlan peeked his head over Isabel's shoulder to inspect of the situation.
"It's yarn and needles."
"Ahh, Furlan don't interrupt, (y/n) show me how to cast on!"
"See that's the easiest part, sweetheart." You watched Isabel coo at the support in your tone while she puckered her lips to a cute kid like pout. She followed your slow movements as if you were a goddess, showing her how to create new wolds with her strained hands.
Levi, even though he was suspicious of you, a member of Erwin's team who tried to coax her way into Isabel's life, felt somehow relieved to see that beloved expression on Isabel's face. He had overheard her once, taking to her self in the mirror, wishing she had a lady friend to spend time with and it pained him that she had a feeling of such lack inside her. Therefore your presence was a little soothing in their company. He would be lying if he said he personally didn't like it. After all he had thought you were a beautiful company to Erwin in one of the many times he had come across him in the Underground, silently watching him from the shadows. Not that he was a creep to begin with, it was just his lack and a response to the question of whether you can ever see a stranger twice, that you were actually a scout.
"Where did you learn to do this (y/n?)" Furlan was set to break off Levi's thoughts for one too many times tonight.
"Old mothers are adamant about these things, you know, good girl stuff and all."
"Oh." He began with a flirtatious tone that made both Levi and Isabel turn to him wide eyed "Good girl huh? Every Bad boys dream, including min- ah shit Isabel, ouch!"
The squint in Isabel's eyes was something that you couldn't see and you even ignored it as a matter of fact. Isabel was aware of your teeny crush on Levi, she had gotten it out of you one day during training after she had caught you gawking and drooling at him for doing the bare minimum. It was simply natural for her to get overly excited at the fact. Ever since then she had been convinced that him and you would be a perfect match, that you wouldn't have to be so uptight with him after all but you would always brush her off. It didn't torment you just get, even if his cold gaze somehow tickled your heart at certain times you were perfectly fine with hanging out around him. But there was no point in trying to convince Isabel to give up, not when she practically lived off of you and the male duo. Perhaps that was why she had squinted her eyes so hard at Farlan, she didn't want the couple in her head to be broken apart before it even started.
For the rest of your time with them you barely speak. You were fine with standing there and knitting away your project, a grey ribbed sweater that you had accidentally managed to make huge up to a certain point when you didn't find a purpose in casting off and undoing. You wondered if Isabel really wanted to knit or if it was her excuse to have you hang out with the ravenette since she had seemed to long forget about her needles and was fixated on a bottle of booze, talking away about some merchants in the underground flee market. You figured you should take your leave being to alienated to break their usual trio, you couldn't even keep up with their conversations, not that they cared to include you.
"So if you're all about playing housewife what are you doing here?" Farlan's voice calls out to you almost strained from any actual purpose, he probably knew it was kind of rude on the part to not include you after Isabel had invited you.
You remained silent for a few moments, tilting your head back to stare at the jewel decorated dark sky. Finding the right words for your purpose seemed unbelievably difficult and suffocating but it perhaps was nothing compared to their previous lifestyle.
"I didn't want to die." Two of the three almost fall to instant, bubbling laughter the moment your thoughts longer in the air as actual words.
"And you came here out of all places?" Levi sternly inquired without ever initiating some sort of eye contact.
"I wasn't top of my class, but even if I was I wouldn't go in the MP. I don't want to live a full life as a bastard you know and Garrison, let's say I have my reasons as to not going there."
Something about that bastard themed sentence caused curiosity to twitch inside Levi's chest but he didn't quest on it, oversharing wasn't in his plans to do so with a practical stranger, even if deep down you didn't exactly feel like one. He couldn't be explain that feeling but he could certainly understand what it was that made Isabel so attached to you. Something about your aura was like fresh, dripping honey, unprocessed yet sweet and endearing and overpoweringly strong to the flavor.
"You're not a bastard you had parents right? You just talked about your old mother."
Conveniently, Farlan's words allowed you to shut up and look away, further away from the former thug trio and into the vast horizon that laid before you. You contemplated what was it that enamored everyone outside the walls. With all that death, the scouts corpses that rot every where, you didn't have anything against the walls or life inside, taking down Titans and following orders was therapeutic enough to you as long as you came back to an eventual cup of milk tea and your knitting and embroidering projects. You couldn't bring yourself to give a damn about your future, but you liked fighting for the future of others, maybe somewhere there was a child, just like you, who wanted to get away from an abusive household and start a new life or pick up on experiences they had never lived. These people deserved not to feel caged inside the walls and plus, the nature of the Titans was very much appealing to you due to Erwin and his constant pep talks.
"Wait so how did you end up in Erwin's squad if you're mediocre?" Farlan pushed again, not wanting to let you stay silent for what's worth it.
"Don't forget I'm a veteran. I've outpassed the years a scout is expected to live so Erwin decided to move me to his squad, Mike insisted since we were from the same district."
"Oh so you fucked your way up huh?"
With the corner of his eye Levi watched as your eyes widened in shock. He couldn't possible know about your past, but you didn't seem the tyoe to go around and fuck your superiors so you could earn a higher rank. You were too ignorant to anything, it was prominent that you didn't care about even receiving your own room for serving well all these years.
"How dare you! As if it's something to open your legs for!" There it was, sweet confirmation that you indeed were ignorant.
"Good girl and all huh?"
"Sure."
There was something tense in the air as Farlan flirted, the subtle roll in your eyes, the unusual monotony of Isabel's voice, even Levi has seemed to bring his shoulders towards his collarbones in any attempt to distance his mind off of the unrequited nature of scenery. You weren't flirting back, momentarily he wondered if you even knew how since the sheer blush on your face betrayed your otherwise distinctive spitfire. You acted more childish than Isabel, in a way that you probably didn't realise caught Levi's attention because he didn't mind to spare you a glare, he'd rather keep it to himself.
____
Next time, it was supposed to be Farlan who approached to help you get your foot out of the muddy hole it was stuck to, Isabel squealed profanities at him, but it was Levi who had managed to push past him and the redhead, exposing his self to the cold pouring rain to run towards you. Just how stupid of your team was to leave you in the pouring rain to make your foot in your own?
His mind was at gaze as he sprint, random thoughts filling empty apathetic species that begged for overthinking to take over them. He knew Farlan didn't really like you, he was just trying to such to their plan and keeping you close was in sole purpose of getting closer to Erwin but for Isabel is want like that. She really liked your company, even he enjoyed some of your company at times and they weren't taking any chances with using you.
Moreover and much to his despise, he found himself in a very murky situation with each extension of his foot to your location. Fuck did you really have to look like that? With one leg stretched, toned bottom swaying in the air, strong veiny hands gripping on your knee, mud on the tips of your fingers and hair wet, making wild moves as you flipped your head upwards to get it out of your face. He twitched at the way a small tress stuck to your chapped lips, almost as if you were a goddess of water, a Nereid, as if you were made to be in this drenched state. Small droplets traveled from your chin down your exposed neck, hiding inside the base of your soft grey turtleneck, it was indeed a magnetising scenery, an alluring unraveling play to his eyes but he dared to rip his eyes away. He wondered if anyone could perceive this scene the way that only he did.
"Tch, try not to get that filth on me." He spoke as his sleek palms wrapped around your torso in delicate force, fitting almost perfectly. He closed his eyes. What the fuck was he even thinking? He wasn't even going to stay here for long.
"Wouldn't dream of it, but I beg of you to help before I get sick"
From a distance Isabel watched with teary eyes. A soft feeling of happiness engulfed her whole, not letting her give some form of attention to Farlan who clicked his tongue.
"Whatever Farlan, Levi is finally going to get some action for once. It's not like it's interfering with our mission!" Her brows forrowed at his sight. "He likes her, can't you see?"
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that if you don't actually tell him"
Her eyes harded at what Farlan had said. Of course, she knew Levi would deny ever laying his eyes on anyone but she wanted to be there to watch him experience falling in love, hell even falling out of it. Farlan should plainly accept that Levi is not always going to be hang up from their group. Sticking together even after their time at the military was a given, but wanting to have lovers and relationships now that they could enjoy their lives? Isabel was eagerly excited for it.
She watched you and Levi as you freed your leg from the muddy puddle, flying over by the force you had both been laboring and falling on too of each other, Levi's face was contorted in anger, fumingly red as he tried not to tell at you and she was definite about his feelings towards you.
Outside and laid with his back in the mud, Levi felt startled in a way he hadn't experienced before. He could faintly feel the tips of your breasts on his chest and he guessed you were using cloth binds since the impact wasn't enough to get him beyond a little flustered, but he could admit that this was embarrassing. He was angry, for being muddy that is, god knows just how much he despised mud and the smell of filthy rain but there was something about the way you straddled him and it touched a little flicker inside of him that told him it was alright to be muddy for a few more seconds, as long as he was underneath you. Despite his lack of experience in romantic or tense moments, he only had had sex a few times that he could count on one hand and he had despised each one for being disgustingly filthy, he definitely could sense the electric field in the air around you.
But as soon as the moment occured and you took your glistering eyes off of his, you pushed strength into your arms, digging your palms in the dirt to lift your self up and he was once again his normal self. With a click if his tongue he slipped from underneath you, denying your open hand that seeked to offer him a little help. He wasn't here for a sappy little romantic adventure, he was here to find those documents and kill Erwin, you were merely getting in the way of his brain functioning properly.
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maximoff-pan · 4 years
Note
57 with Peter Maximoff? 'cause your writing about him makes me soft 🥺
Prompt:
57. Breaking The Kiss To Say Something, Staying So Close That You’re Murmuring Into Each Other’s Mouths
Character: Peter Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Fandom: X-Men
Word Count: 1.4 k of (hopefully) tooth rotting fluff....like maybe you’ll need a dentist after reading???
A/n: Anon, you’re way too sweet! And honestly, writing about him makes me soft, so I really hope you enjoy! (I know I did writing this)....Anyway, I also want to note that this (the beginning), does not perfectly (or even close to perfectly) follow the plot or script of days of future past. I just somewhat mimicked it....It doesn’t have a ton to do with the movie, but just in case anyone is confused, that is what it’s based on. I also had to check the timelines, so I think they’re right. It says that Peter is born in 1955 and DOFP takes place in 1973, so that’d make him approximately 18. I’m sorry if that’s wrong, but I hope you enjoy anyway!
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You distinctly remember the first time you met Peter Maximoff. And thinking back on it now, you’re not sure there’s a world in which it’s possible that you could ever forget it. You’d both been so young, barely 18, and yet, as conflicted as you’d felt when you’d first laid your eyes on him, there was an instant connection between you. It was unbelievably undeniable...something not even Charles could explain when he’d met the pair of you.
You’d both met Charles, Hank, and Logan on the same day. You’d only known the three mysterious men for a few more hours than Peter had, them picking you up from your home because your mutation was integral in breaking Erik out of the Pentagon. (Personally, at the time, you didn’t see why your mutation of invisibility would be so helpful....but Charles more than insisted. So you just said, ‘sure, what the hell. I’ve got nothing to lose,’ and went along with them...for the adventure of course). Unfortunately (or fortunately, you’re not quite sure), your next stop was to convince some teenage speedster to join you....hence, you meeting Peter.
“You’re not cops.” Was the first thing you heard out of his mouth.
His voice had taken you back. He’d managed to sound both arrogant and insecure, all in one utterly short sentence. How on earth could anyone manage that? On a first judgment, this boy gave you mixed feelings. Was he an ass? Or was he just scared...nervous, or maybe both?
Logan simply scoffed, his arms folded across his chest. “And what makes you say that, kid?”
“Rental car.” Peter tutted, a glimmer shining brightly in his eyes. “And you really expect me to believe some rando teenage girl is working as an officer for whatever joke of a police force you claim to be a part of? I don’t think so.”
“Excuse me?” You spat at him.
The grin that plastered itself on his face was vomitous. “You’re excused princess.”
That nickname made your blood absolutely boil, and your skin crawled with frustration. You turned to Logan bitterly. “And we need this klepto ass clown why?”
“Unfortunately, his mutation is exactly what we need.” Hank broke in, speaking for Logan.
Honestly, if Logan could’ve made the choice that day, he would’ve left Peter behind. He thought you and your mutation were enough, that unlike Charles and Hank, Peter was not a necessity, he was just a fucking nuisance. He much preferred you....but he was stuck with both of you.
If he had been able to make that decision, at the time, you would have agreed with Logan wholeheartedly. Peter annoyed you to no end, and from the moment you met him, he continuously tried to rile you up. But today? Today you’re very much glad Logan had not been granted permission to make that decision. If he had, then you’d never have met Peter. You’d never have met the love of your life, your husband, and the father of your children.
You never would have been truly happy. But thank god Logan hadn’t made that decision....thank god....
Now? Now you’re happily married. You’ve put your X-Men days behind you, trading them in for teacher’s positions at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. Soon, you’ll even be teaching your own children, twins James and Eleanor, and baby Wyatt (in that order, oldest to youngest)...but for now, they’re still too young to be learning at Xavier’s. For now, you’re spending your last few months on maternity leave, before you head back to teaching.
Home life has been crazy, two toddlers and a new baby will do that to you. And Peter has been your absolute rock. (You’ve also been his, which he tells you everyday, but you never seem to believe it)...
You live right off campus, so Peter’s commute to work is practically nonexistent, which means he’s able to be at home with you fairly shortly after his work day ends. (It’s literally a lifesaver), and Peter loves being at home with your kids. There’s honestly nowhere he’d rather be....except maybe cuddled in bed next to you, the house completely quiet from children screaming or babies crying.
“The twins go to bed okay?” You ask your husband as he tiredly walks into your shared bedroom.
“Define okay.” He jokes. You tilt your head, shooting him a look of uncertainty. “In all seriousness,” he starts, “probably the best bed time this week.”
Peter’s beaming with the pride that he could get his children to actually behave and go to sleep at a godly hour, and it warms your heart. You can see it in his being, just how much love he has for them.
“I’m glad.” You smile. “Wyatt’s down. Out like a light.” You gesture to the baby sleeping in the crib next to your bed.
Peter’s eyebrows raise, a mischievous grin on his face. “Does that mean I can kiss you now?” He asks and your eyes widen.
“That’s definitely not what I thought you were going to say.” You laugh softly. “I was expecting something more along the lines of... ‘let’s have sex.’ Instead, you ask your wife, let me remind you in case you forgot, your wife, if you can have a simple kiss? Ladies and gentlemen, I married the most wholesome man on the planet!”
He responds with a laugh of his own, your antics more than amusing him. “So you’re saying, we could’ve had...” he pauses for a moment, feigning innocence and whispering, “sex?”
“We could’ve.” You shrug. “But you passed up on it.”
Peter throws you a goofy grin, eyeing you up and down. “I’m still taking that kiss though.”
“No one’s stopping you.”
“Mhm.” He finally leans in, placing his lips softly on yours. At first the kiss is gentle, but as the seconds pass, the intensity grows. You don’t know when exactly that it happens, but suddenly you find yourself on Peter’s lap, basically straddling him. Your mouths move in harmony, harder and faster than a few moments prior.
He lets out a groan of approval as you rake your hands through his long (ish) silver hair. Taking this as your opportunity, you deepen the kiss, propping yourself off of Peter’s lap, and pushing him further into your bed.
His hand grips your arm, securing his other arm around your waist and flipping the two of you over, him now on top. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, begging for entrance. It’s like the perfect storm of anticipation. You both want to take things further, desperately, but the universe decides it has other plans for you (not allowing you a moment free from parenting), when your son begins to cry.
“Peter.” You murmur into his mouth. And as much as you don’t want to stop whatever this is, you also don’t want the wailing baby to wake your other children.
He pulls back reluctantly, letting out of sigh of frustration, as he watches you crawl across the bed and scoop Wyatt out of his crib. The crying stops almost instantaneously, and you both feel some sort of relief flood through you. If there was any plus side to come from this, at least Eleanor and James hadn’t woken up.
“It’s alright baby boy.” You coo as Peter watches you lovingly. “Mama’s got you.”
“Daddy’s here too.” Peter nearly sings at your baby son. “And he loves you very much.”
“Mommy loves you more.” You tease, speaking in the same sing song voice your husband had just used.
Peter scoffs. “I don’t think so.” He sings back. “Mommy and Daddy love you equally.”
“Oh I’m sure they do.” The sarcasm in your tone is evident, and at that, he reaches over to gently tickle your sides, careful not to disrupt your position with Wyatt.
You release a gentle string of giggles, feeling Peter’s fingers halt their actions. “I surrender! I surrender.”
“You see that Wyatt?” Your husband asks your son. “Your Mommy has me absolutely whipped. I couldn’t be a happier man.”
“And I a happier woman.” You pause, leaning down to whisper in Wyatt’s ear, just loud enough for Peter to hear. “Besides, your Daddy’s been whipped by me since the second he first saw me.”
Peter simply shrugs, grinning down at his little family. “You’re not wrong.” Placing a kiss on your forehead, he hums lightly. “Your Mommy’s definitely not wrong.”
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kiribaku-queen · 4 years
Text
Home [2/10]
Pairing: Bakugou x reader, Kirishima x reader
Fluff, angst, werewolf!au
Word count: 2.6K
A/N:
Summary: Being called the beauty of the clan isn’t as nice as it sounds. The beauty of the clan is supposed to exude confidence, power, and well, beauty. You were quite the opposite, only possessing one of those traits. Yet, the older you got, the more you fit into the role you were given. After your brother and all the boys of age come back from their training period, it was time to find a mate. But who will steal your heart? Is it Bakugou, the rising leader of the pack, or is it Kirishima, the personal guard?
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]
Today was finally the day. Two years didn’t go as fast as you thought it would but you are so glad it’s over. The whole pack stood outside the entrance, waiting for the newly trained men to return home. You’ve never felt more nervous and excited at the same time. Your brother, your best friend, and your boyfriend are going to come back as completely different people: for the best or the worst. Whether their personalities change or not, one thing is always consistent when these boys come back from training. They come back with sculpted bodies. The beefy arms, hard pecs, yummy six-pack, powerful, broad shoulders, shredded back, the thunder thighs? Ladies and gents, let’s not forget about those bootylicious buttocks. Now you’re not one to fall for looks but you’d be lying if you said that this wasn’t a plus. More than anything, you just wished Bakugou would come home already so that you can spend morning and night together.
You stood at the back of the crowd, regretting that you slept in on one of the most important days. How was Bakugou ever going to find you now? But thank god you weren’t standing there alone. Throughout those two years, you made a few friends that helped you become more confident and helped you fulfil the title of Beauty of the pack. One in particular helped you see the beauty in yourself as well as being your new best friend: Uraraka Ochako. After the boys left for training, three new girls joined the pack shortly after. They came from a neighboring pack with the intention of trying to merge so that we can become stronger together. Many were against the idea at first, but when the clan leader agreed, he let the girls stay so that they can get used to how the pack works. There’s no going against the clan leader, unless you want to get a real beating, so whatever he says goes. But that didn’t stop some people from talking and acting up. You didn’t really have an opinion on the matter, but when you see newcomers being spat at and talked bad about, you couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. They reminded you of yourself when you were younger. A rush of confidence hit you but as soon as you took a step forward, you stopped. Anxiety hit you as fast as that confidence came. You didn’t want to let that stop you because someone was in trouble. You took a deep breath with closed eyes.
If Kirishima and Bakugou can do this, so can you.
And as you opened your eyes, the rest was history. Nothing could separate the 4 of you. You helped them get accustomed to the way of life in the pack and in exchange, they helped you overcome your insecurities. They helped you see that despite being picked on at a young age, you never failed to forgive and be kind to them. Despite your lack of skill in some things, you never let failure get to your head. Instead, you worked hard until you got to where you wanted. Despite not being the skinniest girl around and being insecure about your looks, they helped you see that it didn’t matter if you didn’t look like everybody else. You became the Beauty of the pack because of how kind and sweet your personality is. And how your entire face lights up whenever you smile or how you just radiate good energy. Plus you started to like how your chubby cheeks added to your appearance. And, despite having all the insecurities and yet you still helped those that you didn’t know? Those are the best qualities to have and that’s why you are the Beauty of the pack. With this new profound confidence, you became a totally different person. You were happier, more social and emit even more beauty than before.
You waited at the back of the crowd, playing with your fingers. They should be here any minute now. Nervousness surged through your entire body but calmed down with a pair of soft hands laid on top of yours. You turn to see Uraraka gently staring into your eyes.
“Calm down, they’ll be here soon,” she comforted you. You couldn’t help but sigh.
“I know but they sure are taking their time coming back. You’d think they’d all be running down that hill like a bunch of excited, small children,” You pouted. She laughed at your remark.
“I’m sure they’ll come running once they see everybody. Are you waiting on someone in particular?” she asked. Ah, you realized that you never mentioned that you had a boyfriend. Everyone in the pack already knew that you two were destined to mate so it wasn’t mentioned in conversation.
“My boyfriend,” you answered shyly, “Why, are you waiting on someone?” you teased back, not expecting a real answer.
“I am actually! My fiancé,” she said while biting her lip to stop a smile from appearing. You could only look at her shocked and wide eyed. Fiancé? Since when? Who? She came after the boys left so who did she meet? So many questions were running through your head and before you could even get one question out, her phone rang. She was quick to answer. Only a few okays were exchanged before hanging up. “Whoops, gotta go. Father-in-law is calling,” she turned around to leave, but not before she gave you some words of encouragement. “Don’t forget! Unclench those fits, stand tall and relax those shoulders! Be excited not nervous! I’ll see you later!” And with that, she gave a wave and disappeared. You watched her run off in the direction that went straight into the heart of the town. Everything was forgotten when you sniffed the air and a flood of familiar smells entered your nose and a roar of cheering filtered in your ears, making your head spin. They were back.
You shimmied your way through the crowd, in hopes to find Bakugou first. The group of potential alphas walked through the entrance, and it was as expected: eye candy. Shaking your head and scolding yourself for looking at other men, and also taking a mental picture for yourself, but mainly to scold yourself, you tried to find Bakugou within the crowd. This was getting harder by the second because familiar members and loved ones were coming up to the boys, hugging and welcoming them back. You even tried to smell out his scent but this was proven to be difficult because all these different smells was too overwhelming. Your head spun left and right, body spinning in circles just to spot your favorite blonde hair. A pout laid on your lips and frustration was building inside you. Now you felt like the worst girlfriend because you can’t even spot your own boyfriend. You were about to give up and just wait until the crowd dies down before looking again, when you felt someone wrap their arms around your waist and their chest tightly pressed against your back.
“Looking for me, babe?” a hot breath whispered dangerously close to your ear. All the frustration disappeared and was replaced with pure joy. You turned your head and your eyes immediately lit up when you saw vermillion eyes staring lovingly back at you.
“Katsuki!” you screamed, jumping into him, arms embracing his neck while he hugged you tight around the waist. “I missed you.” You said, your voice small enough for only his ears. Your throat tightened as tears threatened to fall out. You missed him so much. His smell, his presence, his hot personality, his laugh, his smile, his frown, everything. You missed everything about it and the wait was finally over. His face was buried in the crook of your neck and he inhaled your scent.
“I fucking missed you so much,” he admitted. You two embraced for a while, just enjoying each other’s touch. Bakugou finally pulled away to get a look at you. He scans your body up and down and lets out a low whistle. “Is it me, or did you get even more gorgeous?” he smirks when you lightly hit him on the chest, embarrassed by his comment.
“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t! Looks like I’m not the only one who got an upgrade,” you joked. But were you joking? It was your turn to give Bakugou a good look and you the sight almost had you gasping. He was in a tight, black tank top which showed his rippling muscles. He might as well not be wearing a shirt because you could see everything. The shirt looks like its begging to be ripped apart from that godly body. His chest and shoulders got massively defined, his arms were twice the size you last saw them, but what surprised you the most was the tribal tattoo band that was wrapped around his shoulder. You poked at it, not believing that it was real.
“Holy shit,” you breathed, not realizing that you cursed. When you realized what you said, you quickly covered your mouth with both hands. Before Bakugou left for training, you never cursed. You even hit Bakugou whenever he did. But you were so used to the girls saying it, and eventually you ended up saying them, and now it was in your daily vocabulary.
“Woah, looks like somebody’s got a potty mouth,” Bakugou was genuinely surprised, but now he can tease you all he wants.
“Stop! It was an accident!” you swore. Now you’re going to have to watch what you say around him, or else he won’t live it down! But if he was going to tease you about it, you’d have to tease him right back. “You know, that’s not the only thing my mouth can do,” you looked straight at his lips and bit your lip. Bakugou cocked his eyebrow and a smirk slowly creeped up.
“Oh yeah? What can it do?” he challenged. He looked at your lips and started to inch forward. Just as your lips were about to touch, someone coughed loudly next to you. Both of you spun your head in that direction but had totally different reactions. Sero was standing there, arms crossed against his chest, a frown on his face and giving Bakugou a deadly glare.
“What did I say about being touchy-touchy with my sister?” he questioned. Bakugou only sighed and looked to the side. “If you don’t want to face your doom, do it in the bedroom,” he said dejectedly. Bakugou backed away for a second and you just jumped into your brother’s arms. Breaking his glare away from Bakugou, as soon as he laid eyes on you, his face glowed up. He caught you in his arms and spun your around, making you scream and laugh like you were a little girl again. Sero wasn’t a big as Bakugou but toned enough that it was still noticeable. He had an undercut that was similar to Bakugou’s. The only difference about Sero was that there was no tattoo.
“Missed me little sister?” he asked but he didn’t have to hear your answer. He already knew.
“Of course I missed you! Mom and dad will be so happy you’re back. They are already prepping a huge meal for your return!” you exclaimed. And now you were excited about food!! “I can’t wait to hear all your stories.”
“Trust me, there’s a ton. But I need to rest up first!” he took a step towards Bakugou and patted him on the back. “Take care of her for a bit?” he nodded in response which made Sero smile. He knew he could trust you around him and he wasn’t worried one bit. He turned to ruffle your hair and started to walk back home. Right when you thought that you were alone with Bakugou, another sigh could be heard.
“Man, what’s a guy got to do to get some attention around here?” you turned and another smile found your face.
“Eiji!” you ran up to him and immediately hugged him. He had grown his hair out quite a bit. Instead of spiking it up like he did before, his hair lay flat and he tied it into a ponytail. He was just as muscular as Bakugou with a tribal tattoo on the right side of his chest. Kirishima was a little shocked at first, but relaxed into the hug, hugging you back even tighter than before. If he hugged you even tighter, he swore you could hear how fast his heart was beating. Before it got too suspicious, he let you go and placed both hands on your shoulders.
“How has the princess been holding up?” you rolled your eyes.
“Wow, I really didn’t miss that,” you joked, but continued to play along. “The princess has been swell. She wasn’t lonely for she had made close companions and maybe replaced you two as thy best friends,” you mumbled fast towards the ends, hoping that they didn’t catch it but they 100% did. Their jaws dropped in disbelief and before they could bombard you with questions and tell you couldn’t drop and replace them, you started walking away. You didn’t get too far before Bakugou picks you up and slings you around his waist.
“Katsu!” you whined.
“Nuh-uh princess. No one can replace us. We are gonna bring you back to the palace so that no one can be your best friends besides us. Right, Kirishima?”
“Damn right! We’ll beat your new friends up cause they can’t protect you like we can!” And the entire walk back, both of them were telling their stories of their training, the fights they had and how much they missed you.
When the three of you arrived to Bakugou’s house, his father was already waiting there for you. Bakugou set you down and walked towards his father. When he was close enough, they both grabbed onto each other heads and connected their foreheads together. That was the manlier way of greeting instead of hugging.
“I’m home, dad,” he greeted his dad. He grunted in response.
“So?” his father questioned. You were confused by this question but Bakugou already seemed to understand. He nodded his head once which earned an approving smile and a pat on the shoulder. “That’s my son.” He said in a proud voice. The boys were away to train to see who would be come the next alpha leader. Turns out that Bakugou was deemed to take that position. Your eye lit up and you couldn’t be more proud of him. He waited his whole life to become the next clan leader and it was finally coming true.
“Now then,” his father continued, “Since you are going to become the next leader, we must start looking for a mate,” this comment caused both you and Bakugou to blush, leaving Kirishima in an awkward position. To save everyone from this awkward silence, Bakugou cleared his throat.
“About that, I-”
“And luckily, I have already found one for you,” Bakugou’s father said, sounding like he was proud of his decision. Bakugou’s face went from confusion to anger and Kirishima had to hold him back before he could do anything. You, on the other hand, could only open your mouth in disbelief, hurt could be seen in your eyes. What did he mean that he already found a mate for Bakugou? What about you? What about those two years that you spent together? What about the other two years waiting for him? For it to be wasted like it was nothing? Disregarding the many emotions floating around in the air, Bakugou’s father opened the door to the house and out stepped his fiancée. Bakugou still had a snarl on his face as he looked at the woman in front of him. He wasn’t thinking about anything, but you? This had to be a dream. Or a prank. Your fists clenched at your side, causing your knuckles to turn a deadly white, as you couldn’t believe at who was standing in front of you.
Uraraka Ochako?
tagged: @superblyspeedydragon
195 notes · View notes
aloesarchives · 4 years
Text
Dad Headcanons (Wakatsuki & Gaolang)
Word Count: 3998 words
Featuring these two men because they’re only ones that I can think of that like the idea of being a dad but and write a lot for them.
(A/N): I had to put in default names because when writing this I had a hard time writing without giving names to the kids since I kinda gave them a personality and stuff.
Gaolang
You two have a daughter and a son who are three years apart, Lawana and Kiet.
Since he’s an ideal house husband, being a good dad isn’t out of the question.
Gaolang is different around his kids well like, not really, but it’s pretty obvious to you. He smiles so much more when he holds them, talks to them a little more when they ask him something, comforting them when they have nightmares. His stoic facade is gone and it’s emotionally more expression Gaolang.
There is this tenderness he has when he’s with his kids. The soft look in his eyes and the gentle aura is enough to tell you that he really cares for his kids.
Gaolang isn’t really an overbearing parent but he’s always keeps an eye out for his kids and looking out for them.
Gaolang is pretty chill parent. Strict isn’t the right word for him though, but will be authoritative to his kids when things happens. Not yelling and full on rage, he just knows how to put it in the manner that his children will get the message. I’m guessing Gaolang’s aura but idk.
Yeah, between the two of you, he is the disciplinary one. Again, no hitting of any sort or negative reinforcements, but Gaolang knows how to talks to his kiddos when they done something wrong/or stepped far over the line.
It’s a given that you and your kids watch Gaolang’s boxing matches. There’s no if or buts, you never miss any of his matches because your daughter and son would always remind you to turn on the tv and watch him fight. Gosh, the look of awe and amazement in their eyes makes you smile so genuine. They love rooting for their papa whose fighting in the right. When Gaolang does his flash, the kiddos squeal with excitement. More so, when Gaolang wins his matches, your kids are jumping for joy and chanting their happiness on their papa’s win.
Lawana: Mama, Mama, Mama!!! Did you see that?!? Papa won, Papa won!
(Y/N): Yes, sweetie, Papa indeed won.
Kiet: Woah, Papa is so cool! Look how he hit the guy in the face and he hit the ground with a BAM!
(Y/N): *chuckles* Isn’t your Papa amazing, you two?
Lawana & Kiet: YEAH!!!
When Gaolang gets back from being abroad, he is off for a few days and stays home to which you let him sleep in the morning due to his jet lag. During those time, your kids stumble into your room and climb onto the bed to wake the two of you up. You’re always awake first since your sleep schedule isn’t as messed up as Gaolang’s and gently tell Lawana and Kiet to let their dad sleep some more. Surprising enough, your kids behave and not bother Gaolang when he’s sleeping.
Gaolang is that type of parent that teaches his kids life lesson in any shape or form at any given time. Not like the bs type of try hard quirky quotes 14 yr old girls would say, he teaches them that aren’t opposites of each other. It’s the more simple one that he teaches them at a young age but gives out more complex ones as they get older. They learn a lot what your husband says and have so many epiphanies growing and experiencing life as it goes. The two will thank their dad (and you, don’t worry) later on for teaching those life lessons/ passing down some simple wisdom.
I would like to propose a headcanon that Gaolang gets souvenirs for them kiddos. He gets them stuff animals and small gifts when he’s put abroad. Your kids have a lot of stuff animals. Your daughter has this cute elephant she carries around and your son has a dragon he got while he’s in Japan. Since it’s from Gaolang, they always are holding it with them every time they’re in the house. It never leaves them because they love it so much.
Gaolang likes to carry his kids around in his arms. His absolute favorite moment when he comes home from work/abroad and your kids running towards him with you trailing behind them. He then smiles at his children and scoops them up in his arms as they hug him and tell him that they’re happy he’s home. Gaolang loves these moments. Sometimes when he’s awake in the morning and one of your kids is somehow up, he’ll hold them in one arm while fixing coffee(if you drink it) and breakfast. But it’s evident when they love being held by Gaolang because they would get fussy when Gaolang leaves them for a few seconds before being placed back into his arms again when they were really small.
Lawana is daddy’s little girl. Gaolang have no favorites between the two but since Lawana is older by three years, she does have a closer relationship to Gaolang than Kiet does. But this is because ever since you had Lawana, she’s always with Gaolang. Well wants to be, anyway. When she was little, he also followed Gaolang around the house whenever he’s home, minus when he needs to use the bathroom and she just hangs out with you until he comes out. Oh my god, when Gaolang has to go to work, she doesn’t want him to leave. She always is tugging at his pants and saying he shouldn’t leave because then you and her would be left alone. Then it’s up to Gaolang to gently tell her that has work to do and will be back later. Once Gaolang leaves for work, she gets pouty for a bit and you have to comfort her and said that Gaolang will always come back home. She gets over this as she grow older and only gets happy when he returns.
Kiet is more of a momma’s boy but still has a good relationship with his Gaolang. They get along pretty well because they’re both silent and don’t talk so much. They have this thing where they just stare at each other but you can tell that they are having a conversation of their own that you don’t even know what they’re saying to each other. He really respects Gaolang by a lot and wants to be a respectable man like him.
Both Lawana and Kiet idolize Gaolang;however, Gaolang is Lawana’s role model. She wants to become a great Mauy Thai fighter and boxer just like him. Although Kiet highly respects his father, it’s not a strong enough force to have the same effect on him like his sister.
For some reason, your children instantly fall asleep into Gaolang’s arms. You don’t know what but your kids instantly become calm when done so and the the next thing you know they’re dead asleep in his arms. At times you envy him for having this ability but Gaolang, himself, doesn’t know this since he just thinks that they are just tired and need to sleep.
Since Gaolang’s a godly chef, you’re kids aren’t picky eaters. They’ll eat whatever Gaolang cooks, which is more than okay with you since you like his cooking as well.
Speaking of cooking, Gaolang would sometimes let the kiddos help out with cooking. He doesn’t make them touch the stove, fire, knifes, practically anything dangerous until they are quite older (Maybe around like 10-12). He believes that they should know how to cook or basics so they know how to feed themselves when they’re on their own. Then again, Gaolang is more than welcome to cook for his children.
Knowing this, Gaolang and you have them get involve in chores to teach them responsibility and be productive with their time. He wants to teach them good habits.
Gaolang’s Lock screen is a family portrait of your family, which looks sophisticated but sweet. Then his home screen is you smiling in the background while your children are playing in-front of you.
Bruh, When they say “I love you Papa”, it’s literally endgame. Gaolang.exe stopped working. On the outside, he smiles or chuckles at his kids and saying “I love you too”. But on the inside, his brain stops working and he kinda just goes soft in that moment. His kids are so precious and adorable that the even the stoic Thai God of War can’t help but smile at them.
Gaolang will tuck Lawana and Kiet in bed if you’re too tired or finishing up something and you can’t do it yourself. He’s the type of parent to place his children to sleep, kiss their foreheads, lovingly stare at them and turn off the light in their rooms before leaving. I like to think when Gaolang has difficulty sleeping, not common but it happens from time to time, he sometimes walks over to the kids’s room to check up on them. He just leaves the door ajar enough for him to see them sleeping. It’s not creepy but he can’t help but experience a small amount of sentiment. It’s not a bad feeling, but it is a different feeling that would be hard to describe in words, even in Gaolang’s standards.
If your kids show interest in fighting, more specifically in Muay Thai and Boxing, Gaolang is fine with it as long you’re okay with it as well. If you allow them, Gaolang will teach them to the best of his abilities, basically really good teachings. I wouldn’t say Gaolang is super strict on their training, but there are some points where he has to use tough love on them to help push them past their limits and strengthen them. However, Gaolang does tell them from time to time that he’s proud of them and that the tough training he put them will bear fruit, and they’re be rewarded the fruits of their labor.
I just want to put it out there that you and Gaolang’s kids are powerful fighters. I mean with your children’s father/your husband being the Thai God of War and the undisputed heavyweight boxing champion, your children have high fighting potential. Gaolang is aware of what his name brings and sits his kiddos down to tell them he doesn’t want nor expect them to be just like him and fulfill his legacy. Rather, he wants them to make a name for themselves that they can be proud and not become pompous and greed in the process. That’s all Gaolang really wishes from them. But either, your kiddos have not disappointed you nor Gaolang one bit.
One of your favorite moments is when your kids try to imitates Gaolang’s expression, which is most likely always the stoic one. You find it cute and funny how your kids to look like their father and at one point you joked that if they kept doing it that would be their regular facial expression. Gaolang doesn’t really mind his kids doing this, but he does get a kick out of it when he does see them doing it.
At some point, your children have been meet and interacted with King Rama. It was also him wanting to see you and Gaolang’s children and holding and interacting with them, but you didn’t hear it from me.
Proud Husband and Family man, you couldn’t ask for a better man. Gaolang loves his kids and you, you love Gaolang and the kiddos, and the kiddos love you and Gaolang very much.
Wakatsuki
At this point, we all knew he was going/wanting to be a dad for a while.
You have Twin boys, Katashi and Tadashi, and a daughter, Kei, with a five year gap.
For the first few months when they’re born, Wakatsuki doesn’t really hold them that much out of fear that he would hurt them due to his superman syndrome. It took you awhile to convince him that he would never hurt them since every time he has held you he never hurt you at all, and that his control over his strength has improved over the years. Once he’s comfortable to hold them, he’s world just stops. Since he’s a pretty big guy, his kids look so tiny in his arms, the size difference makes them so precious that Wakatsuki gets a flurry of emotions from just holding them.
Wakatsuki, like Gaolang, isn’t an overbearing parent. He gives them some good distance and watches on the sidelines. He’ll give them some advice when they ask him for some.
He likes to watch his kids play video-games and ask them what they’re doing. It’s a good way he bonds with his kids since he grew up playing video games. It’s so wholesome to see them interact with their father and Wakatsuki learning and understanding certain aspects of the game. I like to think Wakatsuki is really good at video games and sometimes he helps his kiddos out when they need to(to the best of your abilities, of course)
Wakatsuki has a hard time setting his foot down when it comes to his children. The man can’t help it though. The small pout they have, the big teary doe eyes, and small sniffles, he can’t help but not get made at his kiddos and processed to comfort them. You know this because you walked in on him doing this on more than one occasion. Due to this, you are, unfortunately, the disciplinary when it comes to that point. Sorry about that.
The kids basically use their dad as a jungle gym. Wakatsuki is pretty strong so he doesn’t really mind them doing this, hell Wakatsuki actually enjoys them doing this even though you told them to not bother their dad. The man is so sturdy, there’s no way that he will be in any sort of pain or exhaustion.  
You caught your kids sleeping on top of Wakatsuki on more than one occasion. When you come home from work, most of the time you see your kiddos napping on husband on the sofa. It’s so cute you take a picture before they wake up from their small nap. This also applies when they sleep in your bed when they were younger. Before Kei was born, the twins would always climb into bed with the two of you. Most of the time, they slept in between the two of you in the small space in the middle. It was a wholehearted moment for Wakatsuki, the sight of you laying with the boys had him getting all soft and emotional. But when your daughter is born, the level goes up to never before seen heights. When it’s just her and not the boys, she quietly goes to Wakatsuki’s side of the bed and softly pokes him awake. To which he opens one eye to see it’s her, picks her up, lays on his back with her placed on his chest. The man couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, she really precious to him. You know what really gets his soft and sentimental is when all the kiddos are sleeping on his chest and with you tucked into his side while using his shoulder as a pillow. The man is literally is having an emotional crisis by looking at your small family, he’s almost in tears. He’s so grateful and blessed to have such a beautiful family and you as his wife/spouse.
Wakatsuki is a doting father for sure. Not like in the Mae Hughes type of way, he’s knows how to control himself when it comes to his kids and is subtle when he’s doing it. But he really loves his kids and you so much.
Tadashi and Katashi are kinda similar to Takeshi but are more expressive and outspoken than he is. And they seem to know how to blend in with the crowd. They are both gentle boys, like their father.
Kei is always the one that’s getting the attention of Wakatsuki. He loves the boys but having a daughter hits different for Wakatsuki. She pretty much gets spoiled by you and Takeshi, hell even by her own brothers. She’s kinda has your hubby wrapped around her finger since he can’t say no to her. Absolute sweetheart though.
I had this headcanon where you and Wakatsuki’s kids have something similar to him where their muscle mass is denser than the average human. Not like Wakatsuki’s, probably even way less than that, but it’s enough to be more than the average person. The twins would probably almost be as tall and built like him if they ever hit the rack/gym. While your daughter is slightly taller than your average female and is strong and toned. In short, your kids can be absolute powerhouse if they decided to take up fighting but it depends if your husband and you allow them to do so.
Since he likes baseball by a long shot, he probably will play catch with his boys and Kei if they ask him. His throws aren’t hard, he ain’t about to destroy his kids with his inhuman strength, that’s his worst nightmare. In its simplicity, this is how he bonds with his kiddos most of the time. It’s also good too because they need some sunshine and not be stuck inside all the time. Sure, it looks boring but it gets fun as time goes that you have to call them to come inside most of the time.
Just like with you, he loves to cuddle with his kids. He just likes holding his kids, in general. With the twin boys, one in each arm as he walks around the house. His daughter though, always wants to be held by her dad. There is not one moment where you didn’t see Kei hugging or being held by Wakatsuki. As they get older, he gives them space and isn’t as affectionate with them like when they were younger. However, it doesn’t mean they’ll refuse a hug from him because, let’s be honest, he gives out really good hugs and you are a witness to it.
Due to him being so big and strong, your kids ask him to crush cans, bottles, or even lift certain boxes. I believe it was @kengan-ass that said that Wakatsuki would this to keep their attention and have them not get distracted. Your kids love when he does it since he can do it was such ease, it almost makes him prideful to have such strength.
Tadashi: Hey Dad! Can you crush this can? Takeshi: Sure thing, son. Takeshi: *crushes can with minimum effort Tadashi: Woah... Katashi: Dad, what about this one? Takeshi: Sure Takeshi: *crushes the can with ease Kei: Daddy, what about this one? Takeshi: I got it, Kei Takeshi: *literally flattens it the can into a thin disk The kiddos: Wow, Dad’s so strong! Takeshi:*dying from their praise and cuteness
He relies on his kids a lot to help him with understanding technology and slang these days and it’s so funny to watch. It’s like a complex problem to him but it’s so simple to your kids that you’re watching a generational gap or something. Bet Wakatsuki says things like “kids these days” or “back in my time” and your kids unironically calling him “Old man” or “Boomer”. You saw this once and you couldn’t control your laughter. But it’s just playful banter between the kiddos and their father, no harm is done there.
At some point when your children were fairly young and sleeping in the night, Takeshi talked to you about his thoughts and him contemplating on still being a fighter. You listen with open ears and mind to him as he explains to you that he has you and a family to take care, and with the uncertainty of the kengan matches, he doesn’t wanna risk himself dying you and your kids would lose him. You struck you hard, not in a bad way but more on shock value, you knew fighting was everything to your Takeshi because that’s all he had before he had you and his kids. Even with you though, he still continue to fight but when you had your kids it became a whole different story. The thought of his kids and you losing him in one of these matches gave him an unholy feeling and the thought of leaving you all behind was enough to stress him to make grow silent for a few minutes. This was serious because you can tell in his eyes that it was hard for him and the thought of it could put him on the brink of tears. After some thought, you told him that he can still fight in the Kengan matches because of only a handful of fighters that can rival him as a fighter. You also reminded him of the promise that he made where he can still keep on fighter but he has to be careful and not die. After you said that, it give Wakatsuki more than enough reason to continue fighting and not die.
When the kiddos say “I love you” to Takeshi, it’s literally game over for him. After hearing those words, he hugs them and says “I love you too” back but he’s brain kinda stops working and just internally screaming. He just really adores his kids.
They calls Cosmo “big bro” and Adam too when he’s with Cosmo. You can bet that Cosmo, and eventually Adam, babysits your kids. Tadashi and Katashi are rough housing with Cosmo while Kei, for some reason, hangs out with Adam. Oddly enough, Adam doesn’t swear around them at all and is actually the more authoritative than Cosmo since Cosmo is still has a mindset of a child. But you still care for and appreciate him and Adam for doing this.
Your kids also know Sekibayashi, who they call “Uncle Seki”, and Kaede and Sakura. They’ve meet them enough times to remember and be familiar with them. They probably watch pro wrestling because of Sekibayashi.
Your kids will not find out that their father was a underground fighter until they’re 18 or older. He doesn’t want them to know and be dragged into this and you couldn’t blame him. It’s safe to say they won’t know until he either tells them about it or you tell them.
I don’t know why, but I feel like your kids would be protective of you when you go out with them without Wakatsuki. This is a thought I had where since Wakatsuki isn’t always by you all the time he asks his kids to watch over you even though you’re okay. This mostly happens in grocery stores or shopping. They kinda watch from afar but don’t like it when men talk to you because it’s aren’t their father. It gets worse when they’re older aka teenagers, Kei knows you can take care of you but Tadashi and Katashi are a different story. Since they’re almost as tall as their dad and are kinda look/built like their dad, they can intimidate the hell out of people, specifically scummy men that won’t leave you alone. They won’t hurt anyone;however, they will tower over them and ask them to leave you alone to which the guy would leave. It’s strange to you because Takeshi isn’t like that most of the time but it does happen that he does steps in. You guess it’s something they picked up from their father. (I wrote this because I’m like this with my mom even though I’m not that tall).
He love you and your kiddos so much, he never expected himself to have this type of life but you gave him the chance to have one and he’s so blessed and grateful to have such a wonderful family.
There are so many heartwarming moments in this family, omg, you might as well die from how cute it is.
The man fights for you and the kiddos. Them and you are what keep him going during his matches.
Bona fide family man, father, and husband. Such a wholesome, gentle father and husband.
92 notes · View notes
softjeon · 4 years
Note
minjoon + greek gods au ;))
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— GENRE; fluff, smut | — PAIRING; Hades!Namjoon x Aphrodite!Jimin | — DISCLAIMER; mentioning of cheating, jealousy, nsfw-content | — Wordcount; 3,4k | — written with @cassiavioletblue
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The demon yawned silently and stretched, before getting back into a more comfortable position. He could hear footsteps nearing and held his breath, keeping his eyes closed as the noise drew nearer. The moment the heavy door opened, the loyal servant snapped his eyes open, bowing deeply in front of his god. He had opened his mouth to report, when laughter reached his ears and the demon listened up. The noises coming from outside were getting louder and the demon furrowed his brows when the splashing sound of water made him look up, even though his god hadn’t told him to relax, yet. 
Being responsible for a well-working underworld could be quite the hassle sometimes. Some newcomers found their new place immediately, fitting right in as if they had always been there but others… not so much. His district administrators had to report to him regularly so that he was in the picture about everything and it was an important way to stay in touch. Yet, he sometimes wished he could just skip it. It was exhausting to listen to all the complaints some of the souls had, some couldn’t forget their mortal lives and some were just regular troublemakers. After a hard day of governing all he wanted to do was sitting a little in the fire and letting the flames lick at his spine relaxingly, but he hadn’t fed his dogs yet, so he would do that first and then go make that fire afterwards. 
Surprisingly Cerberus was nowhere in the hallway and Namjoon furrowed his brows. The hellhound normally liked to stay close and so Namjoon was used to being greeted by him after he had been locked away in the great hall listening to ministers for hours. Apparently something else must have caught his loyal dogs’ attention.
The servant noticed the food in the god’s hands, calling out for the dog once. Twice. A bark made him turn towards where the noise was coming from, looking outside the window. What he saw made him gasp and quickly retreat, when Namjoon stood behind him pushing him away to see.
Down by the lake, Jimin was scooping up some water to let it drip over his shoulder as he was knee deep and with his back to his favorite place: the underworld’s castle. Namjoon’s home.
Jimin giggled, as he looked over his shoulder, knowing about his charm too well and how it affected the men around, feeling their stares on his back as they tingled down his spine. The demons around had joined him in his little bath quickly, laughing and kissing each other all around him just with a wave of his hand. 
There was another thing he was pretty sure of, that his little show was making Namjoon angry and jealous. Something Jimin loved to lure out from the god of the underworld too much. It was like playing with fire, but he couldn’t keep his hands off him. If he’d burn in his hold, then he’d go up in flames with a smile on his lips. It was not like Hephaestus didn’t know about his lover. He was a coward though, not even trying to say something, too afraid of death. And Jimin loved Namjoon even more for it. 
“Ah, that’s why…” 
Cerberus adored Jimin. One would think that it was easy for the god of love to wrap all the creatures around his little finger and it was true with people and demons - and sometimes the other gods. Hellhounds weren’t that simply however and so the friendship that had blossomed between Jimin and the dogs had nothing to do with his godly powers but everything with heartfelt affection on both sides. And just as he had thought, there he was, all three mouths open with his pink patchy tongues hanging out while Cerberus tried to catch the droplets of water that were splashing around from Jimin’s games.
Jimin’s eyes flickered up from where he knew Namjoon was watching him behind the window. “Come,” He mouthed, waving the god down with the sweetest of smiles as he yelped, when the dog jumped into the water, wanting to keep Jimin’s attention. “Cerberus!” Jimin laughed and reached out for the dogs, burying his hands in the thick fur. “Get your master, will you? I want him to join the fun.” He gave each head a little kiss.
He didn’t needed to be dragged by his pet, his feet moved all on their own towards Jimin as it was what he wanted to do anyways. If they had been alone he would have been in the water already but he hated it to have his servants watch them. And even more did he hate it when they watched Jimin. Of course he didn’t say anything because he knew that Jimin was well aware of his opinion about the younger bathing shamelessly in front of his demons. And Jimin did it despite his knowledge - or maybe even because of it. The god of love liked to tease, to taunt and seduce, to allure and play. And he took great pleasure in making Namjoon jealous.
Jimin couldn’t keep the smile of his face, when Cerberus had ran towards the palace, barking and jipping at his owner excitedly as if he was trying to tell him something. The god of love took his robe from the side, where he had discarded it earlier, not even phased by the stares of the demon and the lust that filled the atmosphere. His eyes were on Namjoon, and him only. “What took you so long?” 
“Oh, you know, work. Might be difficult to understand for someone who deems letting others love him his job but it can get quite stressful here in the real world.” His words had no bite and his eyes twinkled. They always talked like this with his demons around, the soft and gentle words weren’t meant for their ears. 
Only for Jimin’s.
“Oh, such a hard working man.” Jimin pursed his lips into a pout as he walked up to the god with slow steps and only then pulled his robe over his head to cover up his body. “You should be resting, leaving others to do the work tonight.” The young god, blinked up at him, licking over his lips slowly, before cocking up an eyebrow. “It seems as if you’re servants don’t have much to do.”
“They do, actually.” He sent his demons a sharp glance. “But somehow they always manage to find distraction when it happens to be near. If I had the choice I’d stare at you too instead of doing my work. Especially with you all naked and wet. You should be careful.”
“Who wouldn’t?” His voice sounded breathy as he leaned in, getting on his tiptoes to whisper into his ear. “But I’m feeling a little cold now…I think I need something more comfortable, any ideas?” 
Namjoon bowed his head slightly in an invitation for Jimin to follow him. “The hellfires will warm you up. And they can be quite comfortable as well. Depending on how you found your way to them of course.” Hell and its fires was more what people made of it and less the horrible place that everyone made it out to be. It was his home and he liked it.
Jimin followed the god of the underworld suit, letting his power unravel behind him as the demons shook themselves out of their daydreams. His focus was on someone else now. “Sounds perfect,” Jimin hushed out, as he got up the stairs, pulling up his robe enough so he wouldn’t trip. 
The moment the heavy door of Namjoon’s private room’s fell close behind them, leaving everything else shut outside, Jimin caught up to him while his hand wrapped around his arm as he leaned onto the strong god. “I missed you.”
“You should have come sooner then…” Namjoon had turned, hands immediately sliding under the robe that was only halfway tied and opened under his touch. His words didn’t give away how much he had missed Jimin as well but his kiss did, hungry and demanding, while he pressed Jimin’s body against his own. 
“You know he doesn’t let me.” Jimin whispered, when Namjoon kissed down his jawline, as he melted against his embrace. Jimin never spoke his husband’s name in front of the god, not wanting to anger him further - but it was no secret either.
“My love,” Jimin whispered, cupping Namjoon’s face to be able to kiss him again and again. This is where he belonged. Right next to him; but unfortunately, fate wasn’t on their side, nor had it been their decision. How could the god of love be with the one ruling the underworld. “Don’t let me go, please.”
“I’m not planning to.” Was the answer, a horse dirty promise with an underlying softness and affection that only someone who knew him would see. “Maybe I should treat you like your husband and keep you from getting out of my sight.”
Jimin let Namjoon manhandle him easily, walking backwards until he hit the bedframe and climbed onto it. “Maybe you should.” His smile was soft, something that spoke of so much love that he had for him. 
Once it was only the taste of the forbidden, that had brought Jimin down into the underworld to see for himself what the god was made of. Many spoke of him, some said he was the most powerful man they’d ever met, others told him about his anger but all of them were in awe about his handsomeness. Of course, he wasn’t beautiful like Jimin, but he was close and when the young god had seen the true beauty that had been his heart he knew he had lost his heart to him. He shouldn’t have come down here back then. He had absolutely no business to be with the death, but for Namjoon he came back over and over again. 
“You wouldn’t have to chain me to keep me in your sight,” Jimin whispered, when the god hovered over him, “I’m already bound to you.”
Namjoon’s face turned into an uncomfortable expression. “Don’t tell me he chained you up!” He couldn’t have found out about the two of them or it wouldn’t be Jimin at his home, flirting with him but the rage of another god wreaking havoc in his world. However Jimin wasn’t exactly the most faithful person and he had cheated on his husband before so maybe the other simply suspected something. Even though he was just as guilty of adultery as Jimin. One of the rare things the two gods had left in common.
Jimin soothed over Namjoon’s cheeks, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, my love.” The god of love, leaned back down, closing his eyes as he felt up the soft sheets around him. Namjoon’s bed had always been his favorite place to be, especially naked. “You should only worry about my body and how you keep me warm. I’m still a little cold.” He giggled as his hand wandered up to Namjoon’s robe, before undoing it slowly.
“You see, that’s not something I need to worry about.” It was nice to see how comfortable Jimin felt around him as he stretched himself out on his bed, no self consciousness or insecurity left in his eyes. Jimin trusted him - and the other way round of course. Namjoon gave his lover a promising smile before summoning a few small little flames of hellfire that danced around his fingertips, warming them up before he touched Jimin’s skin. Technically he could hurt Jimin with it if he really tried but a handful of flames would bring nothing but warmth to the others skin.
Jimin gasped, arching his back into Namjoon’s touch as he closed his eyes letting him do with him as he pleased. He loved the warmth that always surrounded Namjoon. When Namjoon’s hand moved down towards his hips, Jimin turned around on his stomach, wiggling his bottom in front of him cutely. “Mhm, still cold…”
Namjoon took this as an invitation to plaster his body all over the younger to ‘warm him up’. He loved to feel the god’s soft skin against his own. Too many gods felt invincible and so confident in their beauty and powers that they didn’t take care of themselves but Jimin was excelling in it: his skin was as soft as silk and as rosy as blossom petals.
Jimin loved to feel the weight on him, the soft kisses that were placed against his skin. Namjoon knew how to treat him right. Jimin had never noticed how easily others took his beauty for granted, using him and his body for entirely selfish reasons. He’d learned it, the first night he spend in the underworld, when Namjoon didn’t push himself onto him. It had startled him so much, that he had wanted to kill the god for not appreciating him. Luckily Namjoon was faster, his hand keeping a tight hold onto his wrist and Jimin realized the truth. Namjoon showed him respect.
“This is much better, but there’s one thing…” Jimin looked over his shoulder, moving his hips gently, so Namjoon could feel it right at his groin. “You’re still wearing too many layers..:”
“If it makes you move like this it’s worth it…” Namjoon’s hand came to rest against the other’s hip, guiding him gently against himself. Jimin was pure grace, every arch of his spine was a delight to watch, every shudder of his breath music to Namjoon’s ears. He loved to observe and sometimes, when his willpower felt really strong he liked to watch Jimin touch himself. Jimin could be so eager, so willing and seeing him  unravel beautifully in his bed by his own hand was a sight he would never forget. He didn’t have that patience tonight, he needed to feel him. Therefore he gave in to Jimin’s request without teasing or stalling, getting rid of his clothes as effortlessly as possible. He didn’t have the finesse to strip as mouthwateringly and promising as Jimin sometimes did for him, showing just enough of what he had to offer that it had want burning through him until he snapped and pulled the younger in, taking him in whatever half-dressed state he was.
Jimin had turned to watch Namjoon, biting down onto his lip as his eyes took in all of Namjoon’s beauty. He loved seeing the god like this, unprotected and so soft – just for him. If his servants only knew how soft their master could be. It was a secret Jimin would keep forever.
The god of love opened up his legs to invite Namjoon back in between as he kneeled in front of him and Jimin wrapped his arms around his waist. Leaving a trail of kisses along his stomach, he let his hands soothe over the god’s strong thighs and up his bottom. Namjoon tipped his chin up, pushing his legs a little further apart as he kept his gaze on him. “I wish I was mortal,” Jimin whispered, leaning his head into his touch, placing a kiss against the palm of his hand. “So, I could die and you could spare my soul to forever be with you.”
“Would you really like that? Being entirely mine to do with as I pleased?” He ended with a little wink. As much as they teased each other for having caught feelings they both knew that there was something more between them then the usual short-lived lust and passion that would die out after a few decades. This went deeper but they were too scared to really address it or felt too vulnerable baring their hearts for the other entirely. And even if they wanted there was still so much unsaid, so many things they couldn’t change. Jimin divorcing his husband was not an option because Hephaestus simply wouldn’t take it well - and a temper tantrum from a god could mean destroyed worlds. In the beginning Namjoon had thought that his hellfire was what had drawn Jimin in as it might remind him of his husband (Hephaestus was the god of fire after all) but then he had learned that it was rather the opposite: Jimin loved him because he wasn’t like the man he had to marry.
“If I could keep my beauty,” Jimin giggled, stealing a kiss from Namjoon, “Then yes, I wouldn’t care if I get your love in return.” He let his hands wander down the god’s strong arms, feeling him up with a soft touch. Jimin has never said it out loud, but the last time he had parted from him, his mind still hazy from their night that they have spend together, Jimin thought that he might love Namjoon. Maybe almost as much as he loved himself. With a strong grip, Jimin pulled the god flush against his body, heart beating fast as he could feel the heat between them. “You could give me a taste of what it would feel like,” He whispered against his lips, “To be entirely yours.”
“Nothing could take your beauty away, not even mortality or death,”  Stated Namjoon confidently, claiming Jimin’s lips for another kiss. Those cheeky little things Jimin placed onto his lips always left him hungry for more and he had a suspicion that Jimin totally knew it. With a little chuckle he leaned forward. This time it was on him to tease, “Who says you deserve it, my pretty lover?”
Jimin pouted cutely, whining as he blinked up at the god. “Because I do. I’m beautiful, I’m giving myself over to you. Don’t you want me? Everyone wants me.” He stated, looking away as if he was offended. “I could ask one of your demons then. I bet they’d love to show me.” Jimin placed a kiss on Namjoon’s neck, sucking on the sweet spot, but not enough to leave a bruise. 
Namjoon’s eyes darkened visible as he looked at Jimin’s naked form, eyeing the pout on his lips that was too cute not to be taken advantage of and kissed. “They know better than to do anything with you. The desire might be there but I hope their will to live is stronger than their wish to get a piece of you. It would be a short lived pleasure.”
Jimin sighed as he let himself fall onto his back, spreading his legs a little further to give Namjoon the perfect view. “Then who else will show me? If you don’t think I deserve it…” His hands wandered down his stomach, as he let out a soft moan, closing his eyes, the mere thought of pleasuring himself making him shudder. 
Namjoon placed his hands on Jimin’s knees, a gentle weight that opened them up a little further even though the young god was obscenely exposed already. He just loved to admire Jimin’s flexibility. It came in handy when they were having quick, rough sex in between their busy time schedules when he could bend Jimin over any surface they found. But like this, in his bedroom was his favourite. When he could take his time. 
“Do it if you dare.”
Jimin bit his lip, a shiver running down his spine as he stilled in his movements. His eyes were focused on the god above him, licking his lips in sweet anticipation, before diving deeper. But Jimin stood no chance, not that he wanted to. Namjoon’s hands clasped onto his wrists and lifted his arms over his head, holding them down onto the mattress. The god’s mouth covered his in a slow, passionate kiss that made Jimin moan and arche against his body. 
Namjoon’s touch that inflamed his mind and his own desperate need to have him closer. He yearned to be with him all night, making love to his warm body. Jimin wanted every part of him to touch his own. He wanted him to know how much he loved him. It just felt so right to love him and be loved by him. “Take me,” Jimin whispered, “I’m yours.” His heart swelled with the love he couldn’t deny any longer, when Namjoon finally gave in to Jimin’s please, burning up from the reckless desire that overwhelmed him entirely. 
He sank into him, slow and deep and swallowed Jimin’s sweet, sweet moan with his kiss. Not even hellfire could make him feel as warm as holding Jimin could and so he indulged himself in his guilty pleasure, hoping that their flame would continue to burn for a long time.
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red-bat-arse · 3 years
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When I'm writing (fanfic or otherwise), I often find it difficult to incorporate songs in a way that doesn't sound or look jarring. Recently, while going through a few older books I own and my own writing, I figured out partly why this is. Really, it boils down to the type of song paired with the format of how it is presented.
Take this passage here from Howard Pyle's 1946 'The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood';
[At last the feast was done, and Robin Hood turned to Allan, who sat beside him. "Now, Allan," quoth he, "so much has been said of thy singing that we would fain have a taste of thy skill ourselves. Canst thou not give us something?"
"Surely," answered Allan, readily; for he was no third-rate songster that must be asked again and again, but said "yes" or "no" at the first bidding; so, taking up his harp, he ran his fingers lightly over the sweetly-sounding strings, and all was hushed about the cloth. Then, backing his voice with sweet music on his harp, he sang:
MAY ELLEN'S WEDDING
"May Ellen sat beneath a thorn,
And in a shower around
The blossoms fell at every breeze
Like snow upon the ground,
And in a lime-tree near was heard
The sweet song of a strange, wild bird.
...
There is ancient men at wedding's been,
For sixty years and more,
But such a wondrous wedding day,
They never saw before.
But none could check and none could stay,
The swans that bore the Bride away."
Not a sound broke the stillness when Allan a Dale had done, but all sat gazing at the handsome singer, for so sweet was his voice and the music that each man sat with bated breath, lest one drop more should come and he should lose it.
"By my faith and my troth," quoth Robin at last, drawing a deep breath, "lad, thou art –Thou must not leave our company, Allan! Wilt thou not stay with us here in the sweet green forest? Truly, I do feel my heart go out toward thee with great love."]
This format, where the song lyrics are written out on their own, was what I most commonly used when I first started out writing. It never felt quite right to me, and now I think it's because it works much better for older songs or music with a set or rigid structure, ballads if you will. It just looks odd to me when modern music is written in this way.
Now take this passage from some of my more recent writing, using a slow song from the 80s called 'Pharisee' by the late Stan Rogers;
[Ace picked away at a simple melody for a minute, trying to get the hang of it while his buzz was throwing him off centre, and he narrowed his eyes in concentration.
"I used to be a Pharisee. Cynical and wise, telling rich and godly lies of humanity…" his voice was gravelly and deep, and wavered with each change in pitch; it was not a traditionally appealing voice as perhaps Marco or Estelle possessed, but the mere fact that he was singing was enough to catch his audience's full attention. "But in the marketplace was seated a cripple with a lyre… I looked at him and said 'I've been rich but so unhappy, what sets you so on fire?'" he lost his place on the harp and cursed slightly, and then re-oriented himself a moment later. "And he said 'look upon me brother, I'm a man with peace of mind. You know I've never been much good at nothin' but the words I wrought-in-rhyme…'"
...
"Hold on to young friends you make of old… and cleave to the woman that keeps you whole… and keep a warm fire for all your friends who come in from the cold…" he stretched the word until it faded from his throat, and picked the strings without words for a few beats before he finished out the song. "Now I love you all as brothers and I don't have to know your names. I used to be so different, now I know I'll always stay the same…"
Ace stopped once the melody was through and squared his shoulders like he expected to be laughed at, but when all of his brothers began to heartily clap and called out praise for his show he actually cracked a small smile.]
Or, take this other example from a more energetic song, 'They'll Never Keep Us Down' by Hazel Dickens;
["United we stand, divided we fall! For every dime they give us a battle must be fought!" Donna belted out -face a ludicrous shade of red even in the fire's light. "So workin' people use your power to-keep-to-liberty! Don't support that rich man's style of luxury!"
Marco laughed at the look on Ace's face and sang along with their sister and Vista, who dropped down on his other side to join in. "An' there ain't no way they can ever keep us down, oh, no! There ain't no-way they can ever keep us down! We won't be bought, we won't be sold, we'll be treated right –well, that's our goal! An' there ain't no way they can ever keep us down!"
"I need another bloody drink," Ace said.]
 The lyrics of the song are still there, but they're more incorporated into the actual dialogue, and the use of italics or bold font simulates the stressing of different words and changes in tone while the character is singing. The descriptions of the singer also add to the visual, especially for scenes where I want you to feel the emotion. It definitely takes a bit more effort to write, which may be why it isn't as popular. But for modern songs, especially ones with atypical changes in pitch or odd word structure, it feels like it flows more naturally. When looking it over again later, it definitely forces me to edit more thoroughly.
I'm certainly not educated when it comes to writing, nor am I trying to tell anyone how to structure their story. But since I've made this change in how I format written songs, I feel more comfortable including them. Maybe try it out and see how it works for you!
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goodnightallwhites · 4 years
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Your Life in the Black Ruled World By BlackingPacking
Your Life in the Black Ruled World 
By BlackingPacking 
Submitted: July 24, 2019 Updated: January 7, 2020 
You're a young whiteboy in a world ruled by BBC, doing normal things in life- hanging out with your friends, crushing on girls, gossiping, fantasizing a little too much about your sisters, and jerking off your tiny dick to all the women in your life getting fucked my hung black studs. 
Contains: BBC, SPH, cucking, dubleg, strong racial content, incest. DO NOT READ unless you have a blacked fetish. 
Provided by Hentai Foundry. 
Chapter 1 - Wake Up 2 
Chapter 2 - Good Morning Abby 5 
Chapter 3 - Good Morning, Coral 8 
Chapter 4 - Good Morning Mary... 13 
Chapter 5 - And Good Morning Ellie 16 
Chapter 6 - A Good Morning to Jenny 20
Chapter 7 - A Good Morning for Lily   26
Chapter 8 - And lastly, Good Morning to Katie   31
Chapter 9 - Brunch   36
Chapter 1 - Wake Up
You wake up at around one p.m.- a minor inconvenience, as school won’t start for another few days. Besides, sleeping early was a result of an intense day of white dicklet-jerking, and you’ve spent tons of time jerking your little thing off- a medically recommended 8 cums a day, in order to reduce stress for white boys. Of course, it was hard for your little peanut-sized balls to actually muster up that much sperm, but they manage, 
You could hear a mattress banging from your parent’s room- well, your mom’s, since your dad was living in the city full-time, working his ass off for your mom as a good white husband should- with your mom screaming from the good morning fuck her bull, a 55 year-old pro with an 18 incher fit for his dad bod- Damarcus. Your first orgasm of the day was often this, jerking your dick, under 1/8th the size of his. 
“A shit! My fucking shitter! It’s so fucking streeeeetched!” She cried, clearly doing anal, which she wasn’t as good at as plenty of other girls, including your sisters. 
In about 30 seconds, you came, shooting a few pathetic drops onto your marble-sized balls. You blushed as you hear your mom getting anally destroyed in the next room while your white babydick went flaccid again. 
“Fuck baby! Fuck I’m cumming! Ah! Ah. Yes! I’m cumming with your big fucking nigger dick up my poopchute!” 
You hear a loud smack as Damarcus slaps her fat white ass as he pounded it from underneath, mighty balls probably swinging wildly. 
“Fuck baby, yeah, yeah, gimme another load of your black cum! Awwww yes right up my pooper! Shit there’s so much mmmm,” your mom, despite being 47 years old, is a grade-A slut, who not only had produced 7 snowbunny daughters (and, sadly, you), But is also involved in the Neighborhood Blacked Moms Association, organizing dates and orgies for all the women in the neighborhood. 
You hear the bed creak as your mom fell on it, exhausted from what was probably hours of sex from godly black cock. You leave the room, still nude, and nervously move your little hairless white body to the door to listen closer. Your smooth, nubby little penis gets hard again. 
“Damarcus..” your mom says, “go wake up my useless little bitch of a son so he can clean me up!” 
Your little two-incher stands at attention and you nervously push open the door to see your overweight, exhausted redhead mom on the bed while the tall, hairy piece of meat beside her was standing. 
“Bitch boy!” Your mom calls you, breathing heavily on her back, “clean me the fuck up!” She demands. 
“Clean me too, Gail,” Damarcus commands, shoving his fat, long cock in her face for her to suck all the juices off. Your mom does it wish a smile, loving her taste mixed with black cum. 
She always spent hours every morning getting fucked by his big dick, and it showed in the mess of a cream pie, if it could even be called that, spilling out what looked like gallons of thick cum from her pussy and asshole, pouring onto the bed in a hot mess. 
“Moooooom,” you whine, “how do I eat all this? It’s not even a cream pie it’s like- like- a cream feast!” 
Your mom just laughs, “cream feast? I like it! Now eat it all, you little wimp. Eat mommy’s fucking creamfeast.” 
You whine as you climb on the bed and kneel between your moms legs, holding onto her chubby, sweaty thighs for balance as you bent down to suck up the piles of cum that covered her. 
It tasted strong and virile, thick and sweet unlike your salty, watery little virgin cums. You sucked up her pussy pie first, wetly cleaning it like a good little beta boy until her puss was bare again. You want to fuck it, to even touch it, but you couldn’t, and even if you could, her pussy was so stretched that her hole was wider than your dicklet was long. Even licking her clit did little besides earn you a smack on the head. She didn’t want any pleasure from her pathetic little son. 
Next was her anal cream, an equally sticky mess flowing from her abused asshole. You ate it like candy, sucking and slurping the mix of pussy juice, anal lube, and black cum. It tasted like her butthole, sweet and warm, perfect for a superior man to fuck for ages. Her ass was stretched too, a huge gaping hole in place of her tight pucker. You couldn’t eat her ass like this, but you could scoop the cum out of it. 
“I’m done, mom,” you mutter, precum leaking in a thin, weak strand from your short dick. 
“Good little whiteboy,” she replied, feeling her now clean, still wet pussy and asshole, giggling as she pleasures herself. “How many times have you cum today?” She said and beckoned you closer as she gave Damarcus one last sloppy kiss on his cock. 
You climb over her chubby, but still hourglass-shaped body, “only once mommy.” You mutter. 
“Puny dick can’t even cum right. Are you horny? Is that pink little worm hard?” 
Almost 2.5 inches bone pressed erect, it sure didn’t look like much in comparison to what she just had. 
“Yes... I’m precumming. See it?” 
Your mom snorts, yeah, I do. Looks like a spider web. Aren’t you supposed to be above average for a white boy? I bet Damarcus’precum is stronger than your real nut.” 
“I-it is.” 
“You know it’s been a whole since I last looked at it.... Is it ever gonna grow hair? Or will you just have a babydick forever?” 
“Mom... you know I’m white.” 
“I know, but there are some whiteboys who have a bit of pubes, or fuzzy balls. You’re just pathetic,” she poked at your ballsack, “and what’s this? A little round lump under your pointy little dick? How tiny are your balls?” 
“White boys don’t drop...” 
“Sweetie- you’re an idiot. I’m just teasing you! God, white boys are dumb. Of course you’ll never measure up. Your dicks the size of a toe, your balls are so small it doesn’t even look like you have two. Isn’t that funny?” 
“I don’t know.. it makes me feel bad.” You complain. 
She slaps your little balls, “little bitchboy! You’re supposed to feel bad. Whiteboys don’t get to be happy about their tiny dicks. I love you as a son, but you’re still a fucking loser, got it, microdick?” 
“Yes ma’am.." 
“Good,” she gives your tight little nutsack a small squeeze before getting up, letting you Marvel at her full, voluptuous, motherly beauty- her ass and tits were round and huge, her belly was full from eating black cum everyday, and her legs were still long and nimble enough to lock around a bull during orgasm. 
You were shorter, smaller, skinnier than her, your hair more brown than her hot red bob. You clearly took after your father, a chubby white wimp who your mother loved very dearly, but still loved black men more. 
She strutted out of room, butt naked, waving you over, “come on beta boy, bust your little nut then come serve us breakfast.” 
Chapter 2 - Good Morning Abby  
You hobble into your room and sat on your small bed, squeezing your tiny little lump of a dicklet with two thin fingers. You poke its tip and rub it like a clit, which it was barely bigger than. You knew, at least, that it was above average for a white dick- it was slightly longer than it was wide, and your skinny, weak body meant it could stick out farther. It even got rock hard. 
Maybe that was why your mom would harass you so- the hormonal and genetic therapy given to white women, designed for them to have girls almost 80% of the time and for any men to be born exceptionally weak, must not have worked with you. Probably because you were one of two twins, the other being Jenny, of course, who soaked up all the femininity. That didn’t explain why your cocklet couldn’t grow hair. Maybe you were just a mistake. Granted, most white boys were hairless anyways. 
Probably, after all, since your mom hadn’t had sex with your dad since you were born, as a punishment for bringing in another white boy into the world. And poor Jenny, having to spend 9 months together with a white boy. She was even bullied at school for it. 
You let out a high-pitched whine as you think about how pathetic you are. Nothing gets your teenie weenie going like that. You feel your tiny little nuts tremble as another orgasm comes closer, so you grab a tissue and put it underneath your puny penis. You cum. It’s only one watery drop. 
You toss it into your full trash can and walk out of your room. Your sisters hallway and your moms bedroom smelled like sweat and cum. The only time you would sweat was when running or when trying to hold in your ejaculation for over two minutes, and it always smelled more like the girls than the black guys’. 
Your house was large and spacious, thanks to how hard your dad worked downtown, not to mention the bonuses your mom got from being a neighborhood organizer. Every woman you knew loved your moms taste in community Bulls. 
At the end of the hallway is the curved staircase, down to the open-concept ground floor, which, like the rest of the house, has a soft white and pink palette. As always, you don’t give a second thought about walking around downstairs totally naked. Everyone did so, with women being proud of their beauty, black men of their masculinity, and with white boys having nothing to hide from their superiors. 
You hop down the stairs, enjoying the bounce of your body down each step, soft skin jiggling slightly, and your tiny, flaccid baby dick bouncing upon your soft, round balls. Your feet eventually touch the cold marble floor, your chilly skin makes your pink little worm only shrivel up more. 
You ignore it, enjoying the feeling of tight, compact smallness as you walk into the kitchen to pop your sister’s food into the microwave. Already there, is Max, the husband of your oldest sister, Abby. Max had a pretty, angular face with round glasses and dirty blond hair that was as stringy as his body, and a small, pointy little penis to match. Abby thought Mac was adorable, but absolutely pathetic as well, often mocking him in front of the whole family. Wimpy little guy couldn’t even afford a house, which is why he 
lived with you. Abby, surely, was upstairs with her bull, Julius. 
You ask if Max knows how many will come to breakfast, but he only knew his wife and bull would come. Dammit- now you’ll have to go all the way back upstairs to get your sisters up. Max just goes back to scrolling through his friends posts on Snowgram. As with most Snowgram posts, it was girls enjoying the snowbunny lifestyle. 
You sigh and walk back upstairs, cold little nub of your dickie getting slightly harder as you smell the sweet aroma of interracial lust, a warmth filling your pathetic little manhood. 
First, all the way down the hall, was Abigail and Julius. Technically this was Max’s room too, but you didn’t pay enough attention to your oldest sister’s life to know. You two were never close after all- she was nearly a decade older than you, in her mid twenties now, and as long as you could remember she’d be paying attention to nothing but black guys. 
Julius was actually the bull who took Abby’s virginity back when they were in middle school, though they had only been back in contact for a few months, since a bit after she was married. Now he practically lived in the house, and Abby sure was happy to parade around his lean, toned body. He may have been ever so slightly shorter than Max, but he packed a proper BBC, thick and veiny and bulging like a balloon, it’s fat middle looking like the base couldn't hold it up. It sure could inside your sister though. What a whore she was- she’d even let Max fuck her every night. Said she wanted to see who’d get her pregnant first. 
You were hot- thinking about your sister so distractedly this afternoon, your dick had gotten hard. A cylinder the size of a pillbug, a single little drop of precum leaking. You’re sure they wouldn’t notice. 
Ear against the door, hearing nothing, you let yourself in. On the bed is only Abby, laying and sucking on her fingers, creampie dripping from her pink, used pussy. 
“Oh. It’s you,” she says, “you staring, creep? Getting a little stiffie? God,” she sighs as she gets out of bed and stretches. A fat glob of cum slides down from her pussy, hanging for an instant before falling down with a splat. Your penis twitches. 
“I-it’s time for breakfast,” you mutter, in awe of your sisters tall, blonde body. She looks like your mom in her younger days, only with blonde hair instead of red, a perfect receptacle for BBC. 
“I know. Julius will be coming too. He’s in the bathroom- you can sneak a peak if you want to,” she teases. “Oh, and clean that up.” She goes to stand in front of a mirror, spreading her pure white ass cheeks to show her cum-filled hole, fondling her big bouncy tits, patting her exhausted abs. Abby liked to experiment with positions. She was more muscular before the started eating mom’s cooking again. 
You meanwhile just had to make sure that she never noticed all the glances at her you stole as you cleaned up Julius’ thick cum. It really was a day like any other. 
After you threw the tissues away, Abby pinches her clit and waves it at you. Even rock hard, you still don’t look much bigger than a clit. If only you could suck that.. 
Smack 
Your butt stung- Abby smacked you! It didn’t hurt much, but it’s embarrassing. You clearly didn’t catch her at a good time, and she was taking her anger out on you, spanking your pale white ass and teasing your tiny dick. 
“Not a penis,” she whispered at you, Queen of Spades necklace hanging between her perfect, tanned tits as she disappeared into the bathroom. You figured it was time to go too. 
Then you see her phone. It was just lying open on the bed, probably holding all the pictures from her fuck sessions. You just couldn’t resist. 
Upon opening it, you’re far from disappointed. His huge dick, Max’s tiny one, all over her naked body. At least a dozen pictures were taken a day- her being fucked in every hole, her mocking Max, her eating her thick creampie. It was a goldmine for a dirty little white cuckold like yourself. With two fingers, you stroked the smooth little hard on as you watch a video of Julius cumming in a glass and Abby bottoms upping it. She did this a few times over the weeks, pouring some on her body, over her pussy, or just to rub into her skin. A few pictures showed Julius cumming on a dress she later wore on a date with Max. 
She’d gag on his massive cock with an outstretched arm to film, winking at the camera whenever she wasn’t choking on his length. She’d take it out and let it slap her face, the long, dark, dripping wet rod dwarfing her head. 
And her ass- you could never forget your sister’s ass. She’s slimmer than your mom by far, but just made her round, soft ass all the hotter. Julius clearly loved it, eating it out in several pictures. They were taken by him. A video showed why; Abby couldn’t control herself. The pleasure of a black man’s skilled tongue in her sensitive pink asshole made her lips quiver and her eyes roll back in her head. A few other videos show him trying to fuck her ass, keyword trying. He could fit the head in before she started screaming and crying, begging him to either stop or go further. As big as her ass was, her hole wasn’t up to the challenge. All for the better, of course- she wanted him to knock her up. Based on how many creampies she got, he probably already had. 
Your furious masturbation let go after barely a minute. You hobble over to cum in the same bin you threw away the tissues, but your ejactulation was less impressive by far, its thin little strands landing on more of your balls than the bin. You got out of there before Abby came out and could harass you. She’d probably be meaner to you than she was to Max. Then again, maybe you should stay... 
Chapter 3 - Good Morning, Coral
After Abby, you still have six sisters to wake, and so decide to walk out of her pretty blue-walled room. 
Down the hall, on the far side of your little bedroom, came out your mom from her bedroom, giggling like a far younger woman as she pulls Demarcus out too. He’s in shorts and a sleeveless tee, while she’s in an old, too-big t-shirt that covered her big ass, but her wide thighs are exposed. If she was wearing any underwear, you couldn’t tell. She turned around and winked at you, smiling cruelly at your excuse for a member, squeezing her bulls ass as they went downstairs. They’d get the coffee she’d prepared and watch some TV before anything. No rush. 
There’s plenty of time to get bullied by any one of your sisters, or even some girls in the neighborhood or at school. White dicks, while cumming twenty times as fast as big black cock, could still go all day if the boy was horny enough. Give it ten minutes, your little balls could totally muster up another drop of cum to squeeze out. 
Right across the hall from Abby’s room was the guest bedroom, occupied this summer by your second oldest sister, Coral. A university student with hair redder than your moms and more tattoos than almost any girl you knew, she may be the nicest to you of any of your sisters. She’d never enjoy sex with a penis like yours, of course, but she found white boys cute and funny, and always made sure not to point out their inferiority around them. Most of her tattoos weren’t even of the snowbunny kind- her arms and back were covered in vibrant vines and flowers, with only the occasional queen of spades tattoo- a vine one around her thigh, a ‘snowbunny’ flourish on her shoulder, and a squat spade with a Q in the center on her right freckly buttcheek. 
You knock on the door. No response. Ear against the off-white door, you turn the knob to go in. As sweet as she is, Coral’s still a girl- well, a young lady now- with needs, and the chief of those needs was a big cock to fill those holes with. She got plenty black cock at university, but she was the kind of brightly haired, round-glasses, carefree art hoe who loved herself a good dildo. Of which she’s got plenty. 
That’s what greeted you as you walked into her room- she was passed out on the bed, laying on her back, a dildo barely in her pussy and a buttplug firmly in her ass. The dildo was fat and blue, with a rounded base under the shaft and round, soft balls, molded to have large, thick veins that seemed to alone be bigger than what you were packing. You couldn’t see much of her buttplug other than that it was a rubbery black, and it seriously stretched her asshole out. 
On her desk and shelf were the rest of her collection, an impressive two dozen dildoes, some of which she’d had since high school. She also had some old ones somewhere, in a drawer or in a box somewhere, but those little twigs, silicone little cylinders and finger-sized vibrators, her favorite middle school toys that she wouldn’t let mom pass down to her little sisters, could never satisfy her anymore. She’d rather use them than a white dick, but that wasn’t a high bar. 
Her collection’s size humiliated you. The ones she has out, which she had been using in recent years, were almost all in the double digits in terms of inches. Her smallest still dwarfs you, an 8-inch pink noded vibrator. She has a few cylindrical vibrators, the purple one squatter than the green one, both under the 10 inch mark, along with an 8.5 inch warm up dildo, with a fleshy texture and suction cup bottom. 
Curious are the colors. There were many colorful ones, and even some translucent vibrators, but plenty of her collection were huge white cocks. Some are more realistic than others, but at least four or five have similar beige flesh and ruddy pink heads. Your mother sure thinks it’s weird that Coral would ever enjoy seeing a white cock in her, even an unrealistically huge one made of silicon, but honestly it doesn’t make you feel much better about your woefully inadequate size. 
She still has black ones, of course- a perfectly black, smooth two-pronged clitoral vibrator sits in the center of her collection, it’s with twice your length in places. On one side is an empty space, probably for Big Blue, the one in her right now, and on the other side is a deep chocolate god of a dildo, at least 18 inches in shaft length, thick and girthy as a football player, and just as black. Why Coral didn’t use this one every night is beyond you- hell, why Coral didn’t bring home one of the many black men she’d posted pictures with on social media stories is beyond you. Imagining her with both the dildos and the bulls, you poke your half-hard dick with one finger. 
Big Blue slides out of Coral’s pussy, the tip still dripping wet from the hours of orgasms it must have brought her last night. She stirred, waking up as she saw the light peeking through her blinds .“Hey, anyone there?” She groans in a tired voice, rubbing her eyes. 
You turn around, covering your small whiteness with one hand. “Just me, Coral.” 
She sits up, running her hands through her scarlet curls, “oh, hey little bro. Can you put big blue up for me?” 
You nod, knowing to never disobey a white goddess, picking up the large, floppy sex toy with both hands, mouth wide as you stare at it. As you put it back, you let your small hand fall from your equally wimpy crotch. Your sister notices. 
“Aww, you have a little stiffy! Don’t you usually jerk off by now?” 
“I-I do,” you respond, “I’ve already came two times today.” 
“Well, guys do get like that.” 
You nod in agreement, “Mpm and Abby’ve been shown that too today..” 
“Well, you’re just like their bulls aren’t you? Just.. a bit on the smaller side.” 
“A bit?” 
“Oh come on, lil bro, I’m being nice! Not all girls love giant black, two foot fuckin things! Is there something wrong with me thinking white guys are cute?” 
You look at her collection, then back at her. “I guess not.” 
“And you’re cute too you know- I know mom and the others give you a hard time, but you’ve always been bigger for a white boy. They’re just making sure you don’t let it get to your head.” 
“You think I’m cute?” You ask. 
“Well, yeah?” She stretches, getting out of bed. She’s a bit taller than you, with freckles on her shoulders and perky breasts, “who cares that I’m your sister. I mean, I’ve had sex in public in front of mom! You don’t think it’s weird, right?” 
You shake your head. 
“Yeah- plus, plenty of girls have had sex with their black half brothers. I’ve heard Abby and Lee did it a few years back, if you could believe it.” Lee was your half-brother, who your mom had between Abby and Coral with an old bull. He was off at college now, and was definitely a sign that black genes were more dominant than white. And you could believe it. 
You blush as you realize you’ve been dripping a tiny strand, thin as a spiders web, of precum down to her floor. 
“Aww, look at that! You don’t make too much more, do you? I know black guy’s precum is like, way thicker than even like your cum, but like, that thing doesn’t need much to lube itself up, right?” “Thats- what they teach everyone in school,” you respond, gathering weak precum on your finger. 
“I slept in biology,” she shrugged, “but if that’s a lot for you, does that mean you have to jerk off?” 
You blush, “Y-yes. I’m very horny again.” 
“Awww!” she smiled lovingly, “Wanna do it now? It’d be really cute.” 
You know you shouldn’t. You are white after all, and her body should be reserved for black bulls. Your mom would get so mad... but you’re really horny. You look up and down the tattoos on her arms, the milk white tits and her strawberry nipples. You remember how Coral could be mean too, like when your dad had said her tattoos were unbecoming, and she threw the insult right back at him when he was jerking off his tiny, old, white dick while mom was being spitroasted in her room. 
That will be you one day, jerking off as your mom or sisters or wife or daughters were blacked. If you’re even allowed to see it when you were older. You’d love to see massive black cocks pound perfect, pale white pussy for the rest of your life. 
You reach a hand down and start pulling at your little underdeveloped dick. Even the skin of your tiny balls is pulled as you jerk it. It’s all one tiny little organ. 
She squats down, “Aww! It’s like..” You stare at her sexy body, hoping you can be lucky enough to one 
day have a girl as nice as her (in more ways than one), “Like a-a little paperclip! You see it, right? Small, kinda round, fun to play with.” She pokes it. 
“Coraaaaal.” 
“Sorry little bro-” she got up, “ah, I shouldn’t, but-” she rubbed her hands all over her body. 
“I’m so hard Coral....” you mutter, barely a whisper. 
“I know,” she gasps, touching herself, “you’re adorable. Do you- well, are you a virgin?” 
You nod. 
“Pfft, what am I asking, of course you’re a virgin. And I’m not, I’m sure you remember when I got my virginity taken by a BBC. But I sometimes want something a little more low-key. A little... smaller,” she sat on the bed, “Do you wanna try and fuck me?” she spread her legs. 
“T-to fuck you?” You stutter, holding your breath so that your tiny cock doesn’t spurt out its buildup of droplets of cum. 
“Yeah. It wouldn’t be my first time with white boy penetrating me, or, like, trying to penetrate, but yours looks a tiny bit bigger, so I’m sure I can at least feel it. And it won’t be weird because I’m not like a virgin or anything. You’ve jerked off to me before, right?” 
You nod. You’ve jerked your dicklet to all your sisters of course. 
“So what’s the deal?” “I’m.. just small,” you mumble. 
She snorts. “So? It’s about the thrill. The taboo. Learn to live a little, kid. Of course I won’t be satisfied. Who cares? Just have fun.” She invites you with those long, colorful legs. 
You give in, “I didn’t think I’d lose my virginity like this...” you mutter as you walk up to her, shuffling awkwardly as you point your little needle-dick to her wide pussy. It looked weird, the same, weak pink color of white penis and white pussy coming together. You can see why- her well-fucked, hot, didlo-loving cunt utterly dwarfs your pussy. Forget black guys, white pussy’s better than what’s between your legs. You’re scared for what comes next. 
“Jeez,” she teases, “could you be any less graceful?” 
You blush hotly as you feel the tip of your dicklet touch her wetness, muttering an apology under your breath. “I’m putting it in..” “Hey, I can actually feel it,” she chirps, laying down as she lets you do all the work. 
You simply try what you’ve seen from your mom, sisters, and the porn they show on TV. You put your dick as far into her pussyhole as you can, barely touching a few of the walls in there, and certainly not pleasuring them. 
It feels rock hard, weak white nerves stirring up hormones in your addled little brain as your head spins from pleasure. The residual wet warmth of your sister’s pussy after her night of masturbation feels incredible. Your heart pounds as your dicklet quivers. 
“C’mon little bro, I believe in you,” she mutters. 
You listen to her. Yeah, you’re a whiteboy, but you’re above average! And you’re decent enough, in one way or another, to have your hot-ass sister fuck you! So you know that you can make this worth it. Maybe even- 
You lose your train of thought as you thrust in and out of her. That’s barely anything, so they’re tiny thrusts, of course, but that only makes it feel like you’re pounding into her soft, unblemished inner thighs, tattoo-less hips, and horny incestuous pussy even more. It’s not like what a black guy would do, it’s what YOU- You totally lose whatever you’re thinking of as your eyes roll back in your head, you cum at in no time at all. 
Instinctually, you pull it out and let it drip on the floor. If you’d impregnated any white girl, mom would kill you. 
As you let the last droplet fall, you look at your sister’s loving face. 
“Awww man...” all that love, and still, she’s disappointed. 
Chapter 4 - Good Morning Mary...
You leave corals room embarrassed, tiny dick shrinking back up into your smooth little crotch until the flaccid nub disappears 
You walk out of her room and sigh, looking at your disappointing size. Your balls buzz, wanting more. You’ll jerk off again before and after brunch, at least. Stream some live blacked, edge to the Humiliation Channel for all of 30 seconds, some very fun things. Such was your life everyday, jerking off to massive, dark, powerful, swinging, hung black cock as BBC tattooed white girls take them in their horny pink pussies. 
Either way, next you had to get the rest of your sisters up, going down in the jack and Jill bedrooms, which shared a bathroom, occupied by the twins, both seniors at your school- On the left is Ellie, a big, curvy girl with an ass and tits to rival your mom, whose body shape she matched most of all the girls, albeit more athletically dispositioned. She’s a cheerleader and volleyball player, and definitely in the top 5 most popular girls at your high school, meaning she always had a black boy up in her panties. Her current boyfriend is Andre, basketball player, a center big enough to be a footballer, who you know was packing over 18 inches of blackness. A massive, ripe banana to your grape. 
On the right is Mary, Ellie’s polar opposite. Thin and flat, she’s never had a boyfriend, and only been fucked by a BBC on her birthday, when young girls typically were, and in the occasional threesome with her sister and whoever she dated at the time. As some girls put it, Mary’s a femcel- shut in and bitter, she’s resentful of your sisters for being more attractive than her and at black boys for not finding her sexy enough. She especially hates white boys though, never missing a chance to let her frustration out on you. Honestly, it’d be better for her to just be normal. She spends most of her days reading and writing porn stories about BBC, instead of just getting laid. You can’t ever say that, of course, or you’d get your ass beat and your balls smacked. 
You’d still fuck Mary in a heartbeat though. She’s certainly hotter than your hand on your babydick. Or rather, your fingers. You’d give anything for a shot at a white girls vagina, even right after you disappointed Coral. If only one would show any interest... 
You’re a sick little perv aren’t you? A schoolboy, a little white wimp who fantasizes about fucking his sisters, (mostly) beautiful young women who no one who isn’t black stands a chance with. You mentally scold yourself, sounding like Mrs. Bain, your school's discipline officer. You resist the urge to reach your hand down and yet again pull at your tiny, smooth cock, and actually do what you’re here for. 
You go to the door on the right, knocking gently before opening it. It seems everyone sleeps in on summer weekends. Mary is passed out on her desk, butt ass naked, loose, small breasts hanging down. It wasn’t the most attractive, but neither was she. Your dicklet was still hard. 
Balls aching, you walk up to her, light feet not making noise on the soft carpeted floor. Her laptop is still open in front of her, and her right hand is barely on it. You could easily see she what she’s been doing... 
Since Mary is your only sister (well, only sister who was of age) who doesn’t get regularly fucked, you’ve figured that she’s gotta finger herself A LOT to make the moans you hear from her room... and she has to have something to stimulate all that... and, well, your curiosity gets the better of you. 
You press the power button on the laptop and the screen turns on, showing you what your sister was pleasuring herself to in the wee hours of this morning. Several tabs were open- some erotica, some porn, all BBC. She has pictures and videos of enormous black cocks, stuffed inside dozens of white girls. Some in pussy, some in ass, some getting run train, all looking ecstatic. Familiar stuff to you- your sister has similar tastes. No white dicks though- she seems to like the kinds where those tiny things are kept behind the camera. You can’t really blame her. 
What really catches your eye is a porn page of Mr. Africa- the man with the biggest BBC on earth, nearly three whole feet long. He could touch his chest with the lip of its mean purple head, and it dwarfed every white woman who faced it. You know Mr. Africa has a black wife, as no white girl has ever managed to take his godly cock, though plenty had tried, and plenty more want to try. Including Mary, it seems. How stupid- Mr. Africa was WAY out of any league she could be in. No way would she even get the chance. 
You also notice a story open on her Word doc- a page titled ‘Taking Mr. Africa.’ Of all things it was a fapfiction, 2nd-rarer erotica written about her and some of her few friends having sex with Mr. Africa’s unrivaled cock. She went into vivid detail, writing about how he’d pick up her thighs and slam his ‘monster dick’ across her torso, his huge, grapefruit-sized balls against her weak pussy, his dick going all the way to her cleavage. It seems her self-insert has bigger tits than she really does. 
More paragraphs, about how her friends helped her suck his godly cock, how 8 hands could be on it and not touch at all, how his huge balls smelled like pure sex, making them drool as they smothered their faces. Mary even wrote herself worshipping his ass, eating it out. You know your mom eats her lovers ass often, but you’ve only seen it once. You wonder how many times Mary, just a year older than you, has. She’s clearly seen or read about it some way, based on the detail she puts into describing how she kisses and tongues his black asshole, loving the taste of his anus in her mouth, while her arms wrap around his huge, strong thighs to feel his manly black balls, too big to even fit in her hands. 
You realize how much you want your ass eaten, or at least played with. You’ve been offered BBC dildoes, but never practiced enough to take them. You weren’t a sissy, but you start to consider fingering your butt sometime soon. Maybe a girl would even eat it- after all, yours was bald, pink, and smooth, unlike the rugged manliness of a black man’s. 
You read on, how her 3 friends all work on his cock, one at the tip and two at the sides. How they can’t even come close to fitting any of him in their mouths is written about, along with a description of his thick veins and strong pelvic muscles. She wrote that one of his veins is thicker than most white cocks she’s seen. You’re pretty sure she’s only seen yours and dads, but still, you have to check. Clicking on another tab, you go to his webpage and look at the public pictures of his actual cock- it’s depressingly massive, looking as long as your leg, while you have to pinch your legs together when you compare. His veins might just be thicker than your whole dick. It’s not called a micropenis for nothing. 
You keep reading- how he fucks all of them, getting a half or a quarter of his dick into the others, while Mary cums the second his tip sinks into her hole. 
‘I squirt more than I ever have before, the arc of my juices flying further than I thought they could. Still, as far as my orgasm sent them, they didn’t reach Mr. African’s crotch. His cock was that long.’ 
You gulp as you read that, sore little cocklet hard again. You use her laptop’s touch pad to look at other tabs, many with BBC. One has a comparison of the average white boy, the worlds smallest black man, the worlds biggest white boy, and of course, Mr. African. The average white boy, of course, is a little under two inches or so. You already know that the smallest white penis is impossible to know, because so many are less than a tenth of an inch long. The smallest black man, you’re surprized to know, is a tiny 4.5 inches, not much smaller though than the world record white boy, 5 inches. All are dwarfed by even the average BBC, of course. 
Your sister stirs, mumbling “Babe... uhhhhh... babe.. Gimme... gimme that cock...” she said, wetly smaking her words together as she reaches out her hand, grabbing right in front of you. 
You blush at the thought. Her hand was right there, wanting to grab a cock. Sure, yours was a little white dick, but you wanted it, she wanted it, so-- 
You shuffle forward, letting her fingers rest on your white boi clitty. They rub against it, before starting to almost pet the tiny thing involuntarily. 
"Is thissa cock?" she mutters, eyes closed, "it's smallll.... it's gotta be soft... is it hard? Why'ssit hard.... are you a white boy?" she snickers, "white boy white boy... tiny dick white boy.... thass dumb... I only like black guys.... nobody likes whiteboys... why's it so hard and small?...." she strokes it, easily feeling the entirety of its length with a few fingers, surprised by the tininess. She feels up your little balls, "unnf... not black in the sack... either.... it's like a baby's..." she giggles, letting her hand slip off your throbbing tininess. You jump, not wanting the stimulation to end, and grab her hand to push her palm up against your smooth little member. Her hand engulfs the miniscule thing, feeling warm and soft. You nearly cum. But then- she jumps. 
"What the fuck?!" she yells, looking at you, "Were you- using me to jerk off?!" she sees her laptop, gasps, and swings her leg up to kick your pathetic balls, "and you looked at my porn!? WHAT THE FUCK?" 
You fall onto your hands and knees in pain, muttering an apology, "please don't tell mom- I-I was just supposed to wake you up for breakfast. I didn't mean too..." 
"Stupid little fucking whiteboy can't control himself. Figures. AND you saw me naked. Gross. get the fuck out of my room, bitch, I'll be down for breakfast after I'm done washing my hands." 
You can't do anything but do as she says, and leave her room, hands between your legs, hoping she doesn't tell mom. 
Chapter 5 - And Good Morning Ellie
You close Mary’s door behind you as you put your hand over your white boy dick. It shudders. Small size making it weak against the cold hallway. Your tiny balls are clenched up, ready to cum. If you stroked it once, or even just pushed it down, you’d cum. You know it. 
You walk down the hallway to the banister above the main area of the house. There’s mom, eating Demarcus’ ass on the couch, while Abby’s hubby jerks off with a tissue. Mom never ate ass, but made an exception for her favorite huge, old black lover. She was messy, sloppy, drooling all over Damarcus’ older asshole, licking every inch of it. She probably did it because he’d do it to her- Damarcus adores eating ass, and your moms fat, full ass is probably the best he could get. She rarely came from butt stuff, but that was mostly because her asshole was tight. Both were enjoying this now. Breakfast might have to wait a little. 
You still have to go and wake up your other sisters though, so you probably shouldn’t tug one out here. You turn around, walking back to the twin bedrooms, this time to Ellie’s door. You rub the straining tip of your penis, trying hard as it can to reach that next half inch, as you knock on the door. You stop before you cum, right as it opens. 
You’re greeted by a huge, tall black boy, maybe a few years older than you, leaner than Damarcus. His hair is in a short fade and he’s unshaven on both his face and body, all covered in sweat. Right in front of your body swings his massive, half-hard black cock. It has an even width with a very round head, easily the length of your torso. It twitches, and pushes up against you. You can feel it’s warmth, it’s weight, it’s wetness. Your sisters been fucking this massive pole. Impulsively, you cum. 
Your face turns bright red as you realize Andre, Ellie’s boyfriend, is watching your tiny penis dribble cum into the carpet. He cracks up laughing, slamming his chest with a big, strong hand and the other one in a fist in front of his mouth, yelling “Yooooooo-“ 
He steps back laughing as you feel horribly embarrassed. You should’ve known this was gonna happen. As he steps back, Ellie comes forward. 
God, she’s gorgeous, tanned and curvy, thick legs strapped with muscle. She could probably crush you between those thighs- and your dicklet? Forget it. 
“What’s going on?” She asks. She’s naked too, and her long, strawberry blonde hair is wet with sweat. You wonder how she was fucked through the night. She didn’t have to wonder what you stayed up until 4 am doing, cumming twice every hour since midnight. 
“Your lil bitch brother came right in front of me!” Andre laughs on her bed. He sits on the messy, damp sheets. 
Ellie’s eyes widen and she to cracks up. “HA HA!” she points at you, walking over without bothering to cover her huge tits or perfectly smooth, tanlined crotch. “Bro- did you seriously cum at Andres’ dick? I 
mean, it’s fuckin great, almost like nineteen, twenty inches, but seriously? I didn’t know you were a faggot!” 
You blush, unable to move. She walks, no, struts right over to you with a mocking look on her face. 
“I-I’m not gay,” you insist. 
“Then what are you? If you like men you’re gay, sissy boy. I’ll lick pussy, especially if it has black cum in it, and I don’t give a fuck about if you call me a lesbo. I hear you moaning like a little girl in your room, porn on your tv. Ya watch sissy boy porn, with little white “boy,”” she makes air quotes, “butts being fucked by bbc? Little sissyclits being compared to things like that?” She points to Andre behind her, huge cock swinging as he walks to put his bag of XXL condoms in his letterman’s pocket, “or how your tiny little baby balls shoot watery fucking loads while black dick creams your ass?” 
You can’t keep up with Ellie’s motormouth. She was an excellent speaker- always hyped her team up before games, and always new how to make you feel bad. She’s probably your moms favorite. You’d just have to tell the truth. 
“I c-cummed,” you stutter, “I came because I saw how wet his dick was, and... I imagined it fucking you!” 
That just made her laugh even more, “AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” She bent over, letting her big perfect tits flop as they adjusted to gravity. “You little cuck faggot- I’m pretty sure that still makes you gay.” 
“I’m nottt!” You insist, staring at her beautiful tits bounce with every breath and movement she makes. Your pin dick gets hard again, desperately wanting to blow a little load onto your sisters heavenly tits. A single nipple could probably smother your miniscule hard on as her massive, fit ass was clapped by a huge cock. 
“Look Andre, he’s getting hard again!” She points, struggling to no collapse from laughing at you. 
“Babe, he’s a whiteboy, what do you expect? Let him have his fun,” said Andre in a cool, deep voice, walking out of the bathroom looking perfectly clean with smooth, chocolatey skin and a cock hung like your arm, “Ay, whiteboy, wanna play a game?” 
“A- a game?” You ask. You try to avoid staring at his half hard megacock, then try to avoid looking jealously at his lean and roundedly muscled body, until you look at his face. 
“Yeah. I’m horny, youre horny, how about we jerk off and see how we compare? I’ll go easy on you, totally loose, no stamina, got it?” 
“Well- I can't do much-“ 
“C'mon boy, it’ll be fun. Did Ellie ever tell you bout how when I was fucking Mrs. Danksworth, all her family members watched? I’d say you’re bigger than all those white boys.” 
“Not that that’s saying much,” laughs Ellie on the bed. 
“Okay- but we need to get breakfast!” You insist. 
“Won’t take too long. I’ll even stand further back than you. I wanna see how that little thing shoots,” 
“You’re fucking gay too, Andre,” laughs Ellie. 
“So what I like fuckin white boys? They look like girls anyways!” Both laugh at you. 
“I still need to wake up Jenny and Katie and-“ 
“Cmon lil bro, we know you’re a quick shot!” Mocks Ellie. 
“Fine,” you surrender like a typical white boy. 
“Aight,” he says, “Ellie, put on a show with that gorgeous ass of yours.” 
She smiled, bending over on the bed and sticking her ass up, beginning to shake it in wide circles. It ripples with muscles and the smallest two few of fat, swollen from the thousands of squats she religiously did just to show off to black guys. She warmed up a bit, the broke into a full on twerk. 
“Mm babe, twerk that ass,” says Andre, hand going all the way up and down his massive pole of a cock, jerking off as his girlfriend, your sister, twerks like a pro. He arches is back and relaxes, knowing that whatever he does it’ll be more than satisfying for any horny white girl. 
You jerk your little cock to her too, but to hope that you can clean it from her asscheek instead of the carpet, you hobble forward, hand tightly around and totally hiding your hairless dick. Your little balls clench as your hear the sound of her ass clapping right in front of you. You smell the sweet, horny sweat of her legs too, the kind she always smelled like when she came home after winning a volleyball game and getting fucked in the locker room. This was your weakness. 
It was all your weakness- Ellie was always the ‘dominant’ sister of her age range, as both Coral and Abby were quite a bit older than her, as compared to how the two sets of twins in your family were so close. Ellie always domineered over you along with mom, and was influential in Jenny’s development as a BBC slut just like all the rest of them. Ellie was often sweet, but whenever people from school were around, she was crueler than Mary. Just getting to jerk off to her twerking ass, for real, not in your 3 am fantasies, was a blessing. 
“Mmm fuck,” moaned Andre, dick wet and slick and with sloppy noises to boot, “I’m not even gonna try to control myself- I’m cummin fast as I can!” 
You keep jerking off, instead of using a few fingers, instead using your full hand, and your other to massage your balls. You wish you could control yourself, but honestly, it’s impossible to take your hand off your cold little baby dick, especially with Andre’s hot, massive member just feet away. You hope you can at least control your orgasm better than ever before, so that you and Andre can meet in the middle for cumming on Ellie. It wasn’t likely though. You really were a quickshot. 
Surprisingly enough with a strong, manly, “ARRGGGHHHHH,” from Andre, he aggressivley slammed his hand against his crotch and threw his head back as he came, huge, hanging black balls tightening up to deliver yet another load in this room, already smelling deliciously like black cum. 
He shot a massive arc of hot, thick ropes onto Ellie, practically cumming on her from across the room, landing in thick, strong pools on her back and bed, with one drop going splat on her sheets just close enough for her to lick. Another lands on her asscheek, a big glob of superior cum jostled by her fast ass-shaking. 
She stops twerking, using her thin hands to gather up her boyfriend’s delicious cum and eat it right up. Thanks to how much she twerked, all the cum blasted into her guts was upset, and soon came flowing from her used butthole. 
You waddle forward, feeling the little squirt inside your crotch that tells your excuse for a dick you’re about to cum. You do, lifting your thin hips to try and get as close to her butt as possible, 
You cum, tiny little spurts jumping out of the quivering tip of your dick. Some land on the muscular upper portion of her ass, well-lit by her girly ceiling fan. Most just grazed the supple skin of the curve of her ass, little drops barely sticking onto them. Some fell onto her feet. 
“Goddamn! I was like 6 feet back and I still came farther than you, boy!” laughed Andre. 
“And nobody was surprised,” smiled Ellie evily, holding her hand between her soft thighs to cup the cum flowing from her asshole and closing her legs so they didn’t drip further. You stare at your little droplets sprinkled on them, feeling that this was your best orgasm today. You knew what came next. 
Ellie stretched out her right leg, the one you came on. "Lick it up!" she demanded. Your cleaning duties were not a surprise. 
If black cum tasted like thick, sweet and salty drink, and girl's juice was sticky sweet nectar, than your wimpy little fluids were probably best described as sugar water. 
You swallowed every drop. 
Chapter 6 - A Good Morning to Jenny
After sucking the sweet sweat and your thin cum from Ellie’s goddess ass, you told them to go down for brunch soon. Your face was beet red the whole time. 
You excused yourself, waking across the hall to your room to check your phone for messages. Some from your friends, all boys. Why would girls text you of all people anyways? 
After that, you went to the room next to yours, but on the other side. While on the right wall, where the bed was up against, was your mom’s room, the other side, to the left, was your twin sister, Jenny’s room. 
Jenny has light auburn hair and a thin frame and, like you, above average assets. For you, it was an extra almost-inch to your penis, but for her, it was perfectly smooth skin, especially for her big perky tits and round sexy ass. The only blemishes on her were three freckles on the bridge of her nose, which might have made her cuter. 
She was probably the sister you knew best, bro your twin. You often had the same classes together and would even help her send nudes to her boyfriends sometimes, but she also had a rough edge. She was sort of Ellie’s opposite, who was nice in public but loved tormenting you in private. Jenny was always cruel to you at school, but was rather nice at home. “It’s just social shit. No need to get so pissy about it,” she told you when you once asked why she loved joining in when you were being bullied. “I actually really like you, bro, but what would the girls think if I showed it? Besides, little white dicks are literally always so funny.” 
You didn’t like that part of her. Yeah, gossiping after school and talking about movies and books and tv was fun, but she was always cold when you wanted her to be consistent in her affection. You wish you’d gotten more out of everything you’ve done for her. You’ve made her lunches, shaved her pussy, helped her in homework. You even told her the penis sizes of every white boy in the grade. Nobody but Jenny and you knew you did that. If she cared enough to keep the secret, of course. 
Still, you knew that once school started, she’d become a total sadist to you. You just figured it was how white girls were. Maybe you should learn your place better. 
You open her door. Her room had girly lavender furniture, with a desk, nightstand, shelf, and dresser all the same color wood, with the same white carpet as everywhere else in the upstairs, and pale rosy walls. The room looked enchanting with her lacy white curtains, but it was freezing. 
She always kept her room cold, while you liked it warm. It makes your balls feel like they could swing just a little bit, and your dick hang a few fractions of an inch lower. This cold air makes your ballsack wrinkle up against your little whiteboy taint like a lump, and your pee pee shrivels inside your body until it looks like a little bug bite. 
Jenny especially liked it when dicks were really tiny. Yours especially. 
She had never had a white boyfriend, and only had a few flings with black boys in the past 2 years of high school. Now, though, you see someone next to her in bed. It’s a long, thin, smooth black hand over her shoulder as she sleeps. 
“Jenny?” You whisper, trying to get her up. You poke her cheek to make her stir, but then feel some weird texture on it. You realize this is the same thing you often woke up feeling in your smooth, hairless white tummy, but much thicker. 
It’s cum. Your twin sisters face is covered in cum! 
You pull down the covers to expose her body. She’s totally naked, and beautiful as ever. Her tits had gotten even rounder since the last time you took nudes for her. Her pubic hair was shaved into a cute, neat little landing strip. You’re jealous of her hair down there. 
On the other side of her, you almost think it’s a girl with how lean the deep black body was. But you know Jenny wasn’t a lesbian, and all of the black guys at your school are manlier than this. So what gives? 
Then the body turns over, and you see why Jenny was sleeping with him. He has an average black dick, a hugely long thing, even though it’s half hard at most. It’s longer than your arm, and very smooth. Almost as smooth as your immature teeny white thing. Weird. 
Then Jenny stirred. “Wha..” she blinked, rubbing her hand from her sexy belly button to her puss. That’s one of moms mannerisms. She does it after she got fucked. 
“Jenny!” You whisper, covering your microdick with your little hand, “who is that guy?” 
“Wha- oh, shit!” She jumps up quickly, but with enough grace to not wake the boy who fucked her up. She gets on her feet, being a hair taller than you despite technically being younger, and puts her hands on your shoulders. “Please don’t tell mom about him. Pretty please?” 
“H-hey Jenny,” you stutter, scared of how close her pussy and tits to the wimpier dick in the room, “why would she care? She’s happy with the rest fucking any guys they like here. What’s wrong with this?” 
“It’s just..” she blushes. You were one of the only people Jenny would let herself blush in front of. Well, at home at least, at school she loved bullying you and all your tiny dicked friends for that exact reason. She continues, “he's my boyfriend!” 
You pause. “Jenny, that’s great! How long have you been dating?” 
“Three months,” she admits. 
“That’s so wonderful! Your longest boyfriend ever! Why haven’t you told anyone?” You’re genuinely happy that she’s in a relationship with a black guy with such a long dick. It makes you happy that she’ll be fucking that thing every night for the next few months. And a little horny. 
“We aren’t public yet. So you’d better not tell anyone. Got it?” 
“Okay, okay,” you say, backing up from her naked body. She really is a beautiful girl, with perky tits that bounce like gel packs, with a marvelously thin body and just enough flesh on her tummy to be squeezable. You can’t see her ass, but just thinking of the round, perked thing makes the tiny, straw-like rod of your micropenis buzz at its very base, deep inside your pathetic, cum-eating, horny little servile white boy body. 
It’s not fair how effortlessly she looks so good, when your white boy body was so unimpressive, with a featureless torso, narrow shoulders, and skinny arms. You loved her for it though. 
“And stop checking me out!” she snaps with a hushed whisper. “Why are all white boys such incestous little creeps?” 
“D-didn’t you have me shave your taint once when you were face timing Lee after you traded nudes?” You try to sound cocky in your defence, but your stutter makes it sound wimpy. It was cocky, if cockiness was applied to tiny white cocks. 
“Shut up,” she turns redder, “I’m warning you! Besides, it doesn’t count if they’re half brothers. And black!” 
“Okay, okay,” You say, trying to whisper again as the black guy on the bed stirred. He didn’t look too strong, but you were always afraid of how bad any black guy could hurt you. Especially with a cock like that. It looked like a skyscraper! Yours was, at best, a house. Not even this house, this house was two stories and an attic. Like a one story house. You shudder, trying to shake the thought of huge black dicks compared to the misplaced pinkie toe on your crotch after how much Ellie called you gay. “So,” you say, trying to get back on subject, “Why do you wanna keep this a secret? And who is he?” 
She gets really close to your face, like she was scared mom would hear, even though she’s obviously downstairs, moaning while Damarcus fucks her. “His name’s Jaylon, and he’s gonna be a freshman starting this next year.” 
“A freshman?” you ask, realizing why he didn’t look as manly “Wait, so you started dating him back when he was in-” 
“I know!” she hushes. 
“By the time he’s our age we’ll be starting college!” 
“I know!” she grabs you again, “I met him last year as a student ambassador. He’s a really, really good distance runner. Not the fastest or the strongest, but he had stamina like nobody the talent scouts have ever seen,” she says. 
“Stamina?” you joke. 
“Yeah,” she breathes hotly, biting her lower lip and staring off into space with her doe eyes. You look at her little nose freckles and feel her cold hands on her arms. Your little dick moves a little, getting just a 
tiny bit out of its teenie weenie shelter. “He was so fucking good last night. Came like a firehose.” 
Very recently, you remember how Jenny said that you came like a leaky faucet. 
“But... he’s just a kid,” you say defensively. 
“Blah, blah,” she backs up, crossing her arms, “You know you aren’t even half the man he is.” 
You feel embarrassed. Your clitty likes it. 
“So... Jenny’s dating a guy who isn’t even a freshman yet...” you say to yourself. 
That gets her upset, as expected. You know your sister. She’s the only person you’ve ever been able to act confident in front of. That’s been increased by the long summer meaning she hasn’t publicly humiliated you once. That would soon change. 
“Don’t you dare fucking tell anyone. Please, please don’t! I’ll literally do anything!” 
“Anything?” You ask her, thinking of Coral. “C-c-can I fuck you?” you stutter excitedly. 
She stops. “Can you.. What?” 
You suddenly turn very red. 
She rolls her eyes. “You’re fucking gross. You really wanna fuck Jaylon’s sloppy seconds? He may be younger than you, but his cum is probably, like, ten times thicker than anything your wimpy little balls ever whipped up. You really want that?” 
You nod, stroking your tiny worm to hardness. 
She sighs. “Fine. But you’ll literally never tell a soul, even after we go public. That’s not your place. And you’d better not make a sound, or Jaylon will kill you,” she adds venomously. 
“I promise,” you say 
“I sure won’t be making a peep,” she rolls her eyes. 
You waddle over to her with your dickie between two fingers. 
“Ugh,” she closed her eyes, “Just stop touching it! You know I hate little white dicks.” 
“S-sorry,” you mutter, licking your lips like a little pervert as you wrap your arms around your twin sister’s as you slowly raise your effeminate crotch to meet hers. With them very close together, your nubby little dick is finally close enough to rub against the folded opening to her pussy. She closes her eyes. You get ready to go into your second pussy today, and have sex for the second time in your life. 
But then, as the weak, pink tip of your puny penis pushed open her labia, her hole gapes open, and out 
runs a huge glob of thick, pearly cum. 
The fat drop of cum that Jaylon had shot in her pussy hours ago comes flowing out with a bubbly pop. It falls right onto your dick, and that one, single drop of nut covers your entire penis. If your dicklet was a caterpillar, this thick, sticky cum was its cocoon. Some even gets some on your balls. You don’t know if that says more about how much cum Jaylon’s balls make, or how truly tiny white boys’ dicks were. 
Either way, the way the hot, sticky fluid felt all over your shaky little penis was too much. It actually sticks to your penis, unlike any pussy, which is far two wide for you to feel anything. You moan pathetically as you enjoy this cum on your dick. It’s too much for you. You cum, shooting out maybe two little drops. They get lost in Jaylon’s. 
“What’s happening?” she opens her eyes as more drops of cum flow down out of her pussy, actually pleasuring her, which she didn’t expect you to do. “Oh,” she says, trying not to laugh, “You got my creampie. Told you you’d be fucking sloppy seconds.” 
You don’t do anything as you let more hot cum drip from her cunt to your smooth little crotch. Your face is beet red. 
“What are you doing?” She asked. 
“I- I already came,” you choke. 
She really laughed then “Seriously? You didn’t even fucking put it in me? You came just by feeling his cum?” 
You nod, “It’s just... so hot.” 
“Well, it is better than anything that could come out of your little dick,” she ruffles your hair. Suddenly, Jaylon starts to get up. “Fuck,” she whispers, “If you don’t wanna get you ass kicked, clean it all off yourself! Make sure not one drop hits the floor! I know mom makes sure you’re an expert cleaner!” 
You obey her, scooping up his huge loads of cum and your tiny little one off your body with your hands, pouring it into your mouth and licking your fingers clean. Then you put your mouth on her pussy, pushing her back into her nightstand, and suck all the fluid you can out of her. 
“What’s goin’ on?” asks Jaylon as he sits up. 
“My little brother is just cleaning my creampie like a good whiteboi, you know?” she tells him, pushing your face deeper in her creamy crotch. 
“Aight. I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he says, getting out of bed. 
After he’s gone, and your twin is all clean, you get up from eating her pussy. 
“Okay bro,” she says, sounding awake, “Why’d you even come in here? You know you aren’t allowed to just jerk off to us whenever you want anymore. Mom'll kill you." 
"Wha-" you wipe the cum from your lips. "Oh, yeah, mom wanted me to tell you breakfast was ready. Max is making it today." 
"That's it?" 
You nod. 
"You're a dumbass." She says. 
"Well... I gotta get Katie and Lily up," you say, leaving. That was the nicest thing you've done with your sister in a long time.
Chapter 7 - A Good Morning for Lily
What always struck you odd (when your little whiteboi brain was actually thinking about the silly, nerdy things whitebois liked to think about when they weren’t rubbing off, getting ready to rub off, or cleaning up their puny cums) was how the room arrangement changed when you got to the younger sisters. Most of the upstairs was taken up by the open space above the big family room, with a chandelier hanging down. It was what you saw when you first walked into the house. If you went straight in and took a bit of a left, you’d go up the rounded staircase to the landing and upstairs hallway. Right in front of that was the master bedroom. It was big and luxurious, and had total access to the back balcony. Black boys would sometimes jump off it into the pool in the back. When your mom wasn’t home, of course. But the hallway was rather normal. It went straight back, with a bathroom at the end. On either side of that were the oldest sisters, Abby and Coral, and then on the sides were the two sets of twin’s rooms, Mary and Ellie, and you and Jenny. At the end on the right side, right next to yours, was the guest bedroom. You could go from oldest to youngest child by walking down the hall, but that was ruined when you got to turn to the two bedrooms whose doors overlooked the living room, because the first door was your youngest sister, and the second was your second-youngest. Oh well. You were still going to get them up in order. First you went to your youngest sister, Lily’s room. You knock on the door. It actually opens itself. Well, Lily opened it. Either way, you think to yourself, finally. You wouldn’t have to shake your sisters off of their horny all-nighter activit- Actually, when the door swung wide open, your petite little sister Lily was totally naked. “L-Lily! What are you doing? Why are you naked.” With big, pretty hazel eyes, Lily just blinked and looked you up and down. She cracked a teeny bit of a smirk when going over your exposed little thing. “You’re naked too,” she pointed out. Oh- yeah, that’s true. “But I was doing this to help mom with her bull…” you explained. “Okay, well, mommy said that I should sleep naked too if I was feeling funny around her and our sister’s bulls,” she explained right back. Feeling funny? Oh. You knew this was going to happen eventually. Katie was finally getting to the age where it was legal to fuck black men. And that age was chosen for a reason. That reason was that it was what girls wanted. She was probably getting insanely horny over every black guy she saw, and even more when there were ones in the bedrooms so close to hers. She stretched and yawned big. “I’m so tired!” “Tired?” You asked, “It’s one in the afternoon!” “Yeah, but I got to sleep at like 4 am!” 4 am? What was she doing? You were gonna ask her, but then you noticed a new poster on her wall- she was a teenage girl, so of course she had a bunch of pretty boys plastered all over the wall. Most of them were whitebois or korean guys, all looking super effeminate with smooth, pale skin and big eyelashes. It kind of made you feel good that girls liked the sort of guy you were. Sure, you were tiny and effeminate, but at least they thought you were cute! Something big changed though. In the middle of her wall, put over all her old posters and stickers, was a 4-foot-tall pin up of a black model, buff as hell, oiled up so his dark brown skin was shiny, covered in tattoos, and with a bulge in his underwear that went down to his knees. “W-what were you doing to stay up so late?” you asked. “Oh,” she giggled, “I was playing with myself!” “Playing with yourself?” you had to ask. “Yes! With my kitty!” she smiled big. Lily spread her little legs open and showed you her pink, bare pussy. It had some juices still in it, and plenty of white stuff coated her folds, “Katie taught me how to touch it last week,” she ran a finger through it. Damn! “And she showed me how good this button thing here feels!” she pointed at her clitoris. “Yeah,” you explain, “that’s your clit. It’s the best part of a girl’s body. That’s what mom always tells me when I- uhmm…” you stop out of embarrassment. “When you eat her out after her bulls fuck her?” she asked with another giggle. “Y-yeah,” you say. You really never had it confirmed how much your baby sister knew. You liked to think it was nothing, that she was perfect and innocent. That couldn’t be the case of course. Not with her too being raised in the same house as the mother of all snowbunny sluts.  That BBC-loving MILF was a horrible influence on your little sister- but it was soooo hot. “W-what did you touch yourself thinking of?” you had to ask that too. “Oh- I was thinking of being a real big girl- like mommy! And getting to feel really good all day, everyday, from those big hot black guys!” “Just like our sisters…” you muttered. You hoped Lily would still be nice to you, even though she’d embraced being another black only girl in the black ruled world.   “Yeah,” she smiled, oblivious, “and all my friends sisters too! They’ve all started to touch themselves thinking of black boys, like we’re big girls!” her eyes were so wide and excited, “Aren’t you proud of us!” “Yeah…” you said, thinking of how mad mommy would get if she learned you were trying to make Lily stop falling in love with black men. But on the other hand, your insecurity about your tiny, pathetic little white nub, all hard because of your virginal little sister, made you talk. “But I thought you liked white boys? Or those k-pop guys?” She made a face. “Yeah… they’re really cute! But Katie and Ellie and Mommy always tell me, white boys are cute, but black guys are HOT! And look at the new poster I got,” she pointed at the buff, nearly naked black man on her wall, “he’s so hot. Like, you’re cute,” she said. “Wait, really?” you ask. “Oh yeah- I’ve talked to girls who are all like ‘oh, Lily, your big brothers so cute!’ I can’t say who though…” she smirked, “but anyways- you’re cute, but you’re kinda, erm, small, and you aren’t really that muscular, but look at him!” she pointed at him again, “he’s soooo hot! I was up all night touching myself thinking about him!” It really was over. Everyone in your house was a total slave to the BBC. But of course, you were so, so turned on by it. Your little clit dick was dripping. If either of you barely rubbed it, it’d probably dripple the biggest load of today onto her carpet. Ignoring your babydick as you knew all girls would, she stretched again and put on a big t-shirt to cover all her pink little girly bits. “I’m hungry, bro. When’s breakfast ready?” “It’s brunch,” you corrected, “and it actually should be ready by now. That’s why mommy actually told me to come get you.” “Oh, alright,” she nodded, running up to you, and to your big surprise, hugged you! She jumped on you and gave you a big hug, digging her head and soft, sweaty hair into your chest, “Thanks bro! I love you!” She then just kept running downstairs, that big t-shirt flapping, almost revealing her butt and pussy a few times. You looked, but didn’t dare leave the room. Your clitty was so hard… so ready to collapse into another tiny bitchboy orgasm. You thought about her small, pink little budding tits press against you, how good they felt now that her girly little boobies were growing a bit. You imagined them growing bigger, like your other sisters’ had. Would she stay the nicest of them? Or would she be cruel with her newly growing body? As much as you wished she’d be your sweet, loving baby sister forever, you knew that now that she was legal, she’d become a true slut for BBC. If she wanted to abuse you and tease you and rub your face in it, it was her right. You thought of her titties growing when a black guy makes her pregnant. And of course, of her smooth, young buttcheeks under that shirt, rubbing together as she ran. You thought the same about her wet pussy and pink little asshole. How long until she began anal play? It scared and excited you. Maybe you would help her. After all, with your small body and tiny penis, you were proportioned perfectly to have sex with a girl her size. But that would never happen. It was disgusting, you knew, to want that with your little sister. Your mom would kill you, not because you were gross, but because you touched her- after all, your mom had no issue with being gross, happily making you eat her anal creampies. If you were lucky, Lily would let you do that after she got fucked. Fucked by a real man. You felt so frustrated. Her pussy and ass had to be so tiny, but of course, those massive, spoiled black cocks had exclusive rights to them. Black men were soon gonna start doing whatever they wanted with her as they pleased, and you had to let them. Let their big cocks stretch out her holes, while you’d always be cucked and denied. It was just the way the world was meant to be. That was all it took. You shuddered, feeling your little sissy butthole tighten up, your balls clench even smaller. Relief came. You’d be denied forever, as a white boy, but at least your mommy decided she’d let you cum, right? As you came, you thought how good that tiny, watery drop, leaking from your babypenis’ head, sliding down the full inch and a half of your shaft, and sitting on the little line of skin down the middle of your tiny, smooth balls, felt. It felt so damn good, cumming from knowing how inferior you were. As you left the room, tiny cumstain on your pathetic balls, you felt better about how your sister would stop loving you, and only have eyes for black men and their glorious cocks. It was the way things were meant to be. Peepee sore from cumming without being touched, you went out of Lily’s room and went to Katie’s on the right.
Chapter 8 - And lastly, Good Morning to Katie
Right down the short walkway on the landing from Lily’s room is your other young sister, Katie’s room. Unlike Lily, who’s room only had one small window to the left of her bed, Katie is lucky enough to get a big window that totally took up the left side of her room. You’re still distracted from the high of your beta orgasm that you totally forget to knock, and barge right into Katie’s room. “Hey hottie,” she said as she heard the door open. Then she turned around. “Ew- what the fuck- it’s you?” She looks disgusted, which, to be fair, is expected. You are, after all, walking into her room totally naked with that tiny white clitdick exposed, a few messy drops of cum on your underdeveloped balls, and during a time you shouldn’t have been in her room at all, it seemed. It looks like Katie’s putting on a little show for people outside. Her blinds were all the way up and her curtains to the side. There was a perfect line of sight from her room to the street below, and vice versa. It looked like some of the neighbor boys, both white and black, were looking up at her voyeuristically. Katie had put a chair by the window and spread her legs. Her pale, pretty feet were on the window. In her hand was a white wand vibrator, which she was pleasing herself with for who knows how long before you came in. “Hello? What the fuck are you doing here, you fucking loser?” she demands as she turns off her toy. She’s not happy, But then again, she never is with you. She’s just one of those girls who loves torturing white boys. There’s no real explanation, your younger sister is just a little sadist. “You gonna answer, loser? Sheesh, I can’t believe I’m related to you. I’m so fucking tired and your dumbass has to barge into my room too? Mom just fucking cage you.” “N-no,” you said, the threat of your poor little clit-dick locked in a cold, cruel chastity cage made you remember, “I- wait, you’re tired too Why are you up doing… this?” She rolls her eyes, standing up and bending over to spread her asscheeks to the cheering group below. Your pervy little mind wished you were down there, able to see even the tiniest glimpse of your little sister's asshole. “I couldn’t sleep,” she presses her butt right against the glass, “Not with Lily being so fucking loud.” “Loud?” You ask. “Yeah. I told her how to masturbate and shit, and she went crazy these past few nights. She’s always screaming about how good it feels. She sounds worse than Abby,” she rolls her eyes, “I guess you’re not the only fuck up in this house, huh? I made a pretty big mistake. When Coral moves back out I think I’m gonna take her room, I can’t stand that loud bitch.” You feel very hurt by that. After all, Lily might be your favorite sister. “H-hey,” you defended, “L-lily’s just exploring herself. She’s allowed to cum as much as she wants. It’s healthy for her to be sexually satisfied, right? Just like you are.” Just as you said that, with one hand on her chair and the other between her legs holding that vibrator, her whole back starts shaking. Her legs against the window quake, and her anus must be puckering so tight against the glass. Finally, she gets release, and squirts everywhere. “Ahhh!” she moans as squirts of sweet clear pussy water shoot out onto her window and drip down onto the cushioned bench right below it. It already looked stained from a few squirts earlier, but this time, it’s a total mess. “Mmmm,” she sounds so satisfied, “Show’s over until that gets cleaned up,” she smiles, standing up and dropping her vibe. “See that? That’s fucking satisfaction. I didn’t know how to really make myself squirt for years. Lily should stop trying to rush shit, and actually let me fucking sleep.” “M-maybe you’re just different,” you say, “some girls only need to cum- well, how many times have you?’ “This morning? 3 or 4. I bet it’s less than you have when going into everyone’s room to wake them up.” Instead of finishing your point, you just look down and blush. How does she know? “I’m right, right? I’m guessing- you stroke for a good 30 seconds when you get up, right? Then you probably cum when eating mommy’s creampie out, no? You might even cum twice then, she always gets bulls with a lot of cum… and then you probably get to cum with Max when you wake Abby up, then you don’t even have to touch yourself to cum looking at Coral’s dried pussy juice all over her toy collection. Ellie and Mary won’t let you cum, but you’ll probably cum at least once just by trying to hard not too, because you’re a fucking loser. Jenny’s way too nice to you, she’ll probably let you jerk off while she’s on the toilet or something. I fucking hope you didn’t cum when you woke up Lily, because you should literally get your balls chopped off if you did that. So you probably did. That’s what… 7 or 8 orgasms for you?” “S-something like that,” was all you could manage to say. “Fuck, you’re fucked up. I don’t even wanna know,” she hopped off her chair and went to her dresser, where she put on some pink panties. “Don’t fucking look at me when I’m changing, perv. Mom should fucking castrate you.” You gulp. “Y-yes, I know. S-sorry.” She laughs, “yeah, that’s all whiteboys know how to say. I can’t wait to see how many of the boys watching busted in their pants while staring at my booty. I’m shocked you didn’t,” she says, but then looks down at your tiny balls. “Oh- did you?” she starts cracking up, “Is that fucking cum? Holy shit, you fucking did! Did you even touch yourself?” “N-no!” you jump back. Your tiny package bounces just a little bit. “I-it was from earlier!” She walks forward to you, bending over and pinching your tiny clitdick with her two little fingers. She lifts it up to look at your balls. “It’s still wet- how long ago did you cum?” “Um, 3 or 4 minutes ago…” you tell the truth. “So right before you came here- you fucking came to Lily, didn’t you?” she shouted, angrily slapping your little nuts. “Owwwww,” you weakly whine in pain. “You’re so fucking sick! What would mom think? She’d probably just laugh at you, but still. You’re the worst fucking white beta I know, and that’s saying a lot! I’d fucking kick you in the nuts, but you’re probably too impotent to even feel it. Ugh!” You can’t help but blush and get hard. Though Katie was only a year younger than you, she was superior to you in every way. “Stop fucking blushing!” She growls as she turns around to keep getting dressed, “And make that nub you call a dick get less hard! I can’t fucking stand whiteboi stiffies near me,” she said, slipping on some black leggings, “When I have kids, if any of them are fucking boys- well, white “boys’” she makes air quotes, “I’m not gonna do any of mom’s ‘let them cum so they don’t try and touch girls’ bullshit. I don’t care what doctors of Church of the BBC magazine writers say, it obviously doesn’t fucking work. I’m putting any fucking white sons I push out in cages 24/7.” “W-why are you telling me this?” you ask, struggling to hide your tiny boner. She shrugs. “You taught me it’s fun torturing whitebois. It’s the one thing you’re good for. Stop staring at my tits,” she said, putting on a tight t-shirt.” “S-sorry.” “Yeah, whatever. You told Lily brunch is ready, right?” she asks. “Yeah, we should go down.” “Yeah, I will. First I wanna go outside and see if any of those cucks stayed by the house hoping to get some,” she laughed, “but before that,” she walked over to the bathroom she and Lily shared, and brought some paper towels, “you’re gonna clean up my squirts. And use your tongue as cleaning spray.” “Y-yes Katie, of course,” you go over and grab the towels, heading over to keel on her bench and start licking at and wiping your window. “Nuh-uh,” she says right as you start, “stand up. Show off your boy pussy. I wanna post this on Snowgram.” W-what? She was gonna post your white boy hole on social media? That really scared you, but it was so humiliating, it turned you on. That made it worse. Would everyone see your tiny clit? They’d laugh at it, wouldn’t they. “Oh come on, hurry up,” she says, taking out her phone. You obey her, spreading your legs wide to show off that smooth, pink bussy. You hear the phone click as she laughs. “Aright, see ya bro. I’m gonna go eat now,” she walks away. You stay, licking up her pussy juice and residues from her nasty window. It must’ve been days since it was cleaned. Thankfully, you’re a good worker. When you finish, you go back to your room. Your phone is out, with its BLACKED porn background. You open it, go to snowgram, and look at the latest posts. Sure enough, there’s Katie, with a picture of your exposed beta boi ass, captioned ‘cleaning- the one thing white brothers are good for!” Before that post was one of her holding her vibrator between her legs as she woke up, announcing her ‘show’ this morning. It had a ton of white boys from her grade commenting about it, but she pinned one from a girl; “All these white boys tryna shoot their shot, boi u can’t even shoot past your balls!” It had the most likes too. As you read that, you shot another drop of cum. It didn’t go past your balls either You added it to the pile of barely wet tissues in your garbage bin. The trash, where whiteboy cum belongs. Then, you go downstairs for breakfast.
Chapter 9 - Brunch 
You reach down between your legs and feel your balls. Rather, your ballsack. The tiny little testicles in that flimsy little bag of skin are totally shriveled up thanks to you cumming 8 times already today. Those poor little glands are already exhausted by producing so much worthless little sperm… and it wasn’t even 2pm yet! You’d probably cum plenty more times today. It would surely end up being just impotent, clear prostate fluid. Well… more impotent than usual. You sniffle at your inferiority. You’re at the top of the stairs, and look down at the clatter below. You walk over to your room and get your clothes on, a simple pair of black shorts and white t-shirt over your unimpressive little body. Then you go downstairs to finally eat brunch. The kitchen is visible right at the bottom of the stairs, which are right in front of the hallway where you and all your siblings' bedrooms are. At the bottom of those stairs was a glossy marble floor, just like the rest of the house. There was also a lower, carpeted living room area with fluffy floors and white and red couches, and even a TV from a tall divider between the living room and the marble. Your mom’s a good decorator, with pretty white and red flowers all on top. To the right of that was the entryway, and to the left was the kitchen. The kitchen is a large space with white tile floors, lined with kitchen appliances that had an island in the middle. In the far corner, next to the back door, was a small table. In the front, close to the living room, was a bigger glass table. Your whole family is already eating. Your mom was at the head of the table, with Damarcus next to her. He was shirtless, but even though he wore gym shorts, the massive, fat snake in them peaked out. He selfishly grabbed at her thick thigh. On the opposite side of the table was Coral, with Mary slouched between her and Ellie. Andre had his arm around Ellie. He was so fucking cocky. On the other side of the table were Jenny, Jayvon, Lily, and Katie. Meanwhile, at the small table, Abby and her man, Julius, and her cuck boi, Max. You gulp as you go to take your seat right next to Katie. She still looks disgusted by you. “H-hey, thanks for getting my food today,” you said. Sometimes, if Abby was making breakfast, she wouldn’t give you any food, and you’d just have to get something yourself. “Oh, sweetie, thank Max. You white boys sure do know how to stick together,” your Mom smiled at you. Max, over with his wife and her bull, was getting his little dick teased from under his shorts by Abby. Though the three were off on their own, with Julius eating his fill of breakfast. Max was struggling to not acknowledge his arousal. Instead, he just kept thanking Julius over and over for enjoying his cooking. After all, if he so much as moaned from having his little dick touched by his wife’s feet, he’d be punished. It wasn’t a whitebois role to be turned on, especially not in public. Cruel girls like Abby didn’t give a shit though. It turns you on a little, as shameful as it feels. Max must’ve been ashamed too, after all, the massive bulge in Julius’ shorts was obvious. It wasn’t like he could ever measure up to what his wife really enjoyed, and he had to thank Julius for everything he did. Being a cuckboi was harder than it looked. “Son,” scolded your mom. You look back at her. You know that you aren’t supposed to start drooling at your sister’s feet. But you definitely weren’t supposed to drool at your mommy’s tits either. “Sorry, mom,” you whisper. You just look down at your food and start eating. This was a snowbunny’s household, and you were ignored. To stay out of trouble, you should ignore them too. But still, you didn’t wanna make the silence awkward. Or make silence in the first place. These people were your family, after all. Now that your mom was calmed down compared to how she was after those hours of being plowed by Damarcus, she could be an attentive mother. Even Ellie or Katie weren’t gonna attack you over breakfast. You look over at Jenny and Jaylon. While Damarcus dwarfed your mom, Andre made Ellie look just as small as Mary, and Julius was the king of the table where ‘Max’s’ family sat, Jaylon was the only small black boy there. Not that he was any smaller down there. Still… you had to ask. “So, um, Jaylon,” you say respectfully. You know you should be submissive to your black masters, even the younger ones, “you met my mom now?” “Howdya know my name, whiteboi?” he asked, looking over. He even spoke with a high pitched voice. But he degraded you like any other superior. It really was humiliating. First, your twin sister was stolen by this black kid, then your dignity in the family. As if you had much. “Because I told him, baby,” sighed Jenny, patting Jaylon’s hand, “Anyway bro, yeah, I told mom about us. She was really approving! I was kinda surprised… but I’m glad we all respect who we love, right?” she asked. She glared distinctly at Coral. “That’s not exactly how I remember it, Jenny,” smiled your mom. “I remember you freaking out when you tried to get him out the door this morning! You should know better that your momma’s got a soft spot for cute things like Jaylon. I told everyone here…. Who wasn’t late… to congratulate Jenny on her new boyfriend.” Jenny leaned back to talk to you, “Don’t sweat it bro, you already congratulated me enough,” she smiled. “Ayo, what’s that mean?” Jaylon asked. “Nothing baby,” she said as she checked her phone, “He just does all my chores and shit. He’s my brother.” she shrugged. At least someone appreciates the only whiteboy in the family. “Still, I think it’s funny that Jenny’s first boyfriend is some lightskin little kid. If she said she wanted to date whitebois, I’m sure mom would be okay with that too,” laughed Coral. Of course she had to be the one bringing up sex with whitebois. The subject actually made you uncomfortable. After all, it just felt like more pressure to perform. It was easier having a tiny dick and being a quickshot when that was all that was expected from you. It was harder when deviant girls like Coral actually wanted to have normal sex! “Damn, why’s this bitch gotta compare me to a whiteboi?” complained Jaylon. “It’s okay baby,” calmed Jenny, “My big sister is just a fucking weirdo.” She stuck her tongue out. “Oh, boo hoo. I’m in college, I’m supposed to experiment and have fun. Is anyone really gonna complain about having sex whenever I want with whoever I want? It’s not like I’m treating whitebois as equals,” she snorted. She then pulled out a vape pen after putting her drink down and took a long drag. Your mom looks mortified. “Coral! I told you not to do that inside!” she insists. Coral sighs and puts away her vape. Mom calms down. “I better not see you do that again, young lady,” she glares, “and you also shouldn’t talk about those kinda things in the house either, especially not in front of your little sisters,” she looks over the table, “or your little brother!” Coral chuckles, “Why not? Lil bro’s already a total pervert, might as well let him accept it.” Mom gets flustered again, “Uh, I do? Of course I do, but that’s not the point, Coral honey. The point is,” she growls a little and grabs Corals arm with her sharp long nails, “We do not talk about them in this household. Right girls?” Everyone nods along with mom. You do too. She probably counted you along with the ‘girls’. “Ow,” says Coral, pulling her arm away. “You don’t hear me mouthing off about your father’s abysmal attempts at sex over breakfast, do you?” “Ugh. No mom, I don’t.” “So apologize!” “Sorry.” “To your siblings. And for what?” Coral looks over at all of you. “I’m sorry for talking about such perverted things at the breakfast table. Can I go now?” Your mom sighs. As scary and mean as she could be, you felt bad for her. Even though Coral was the only white girl to ever really look your way, even if it was a really pervy thing, you wished she was a better daughter. Just to make your mom happy. “Anyways,” she says, looking at you as Coral gets up, puts her plate in the sink, and leaves. “Son, you know what’s coming up for us?” she asks. “Um….” you think carefully, trying to remember. Dammit, you knew this day was special, right? So what was it? Damn your stupid, cum-addled whiteboi brain! Um…. “The party….” your mom hinted. “Right, right!” you say as you remember, “We’re hosting the Neighborhood Blacked Moms Association End-of-Summer party again this year, right?” “Exactly sweetie. Now, I already sent invites out, but, well, I’m a little good at my job,” she turns to Damarcus and smiles, “so not everyone can RSVP by mail. Do you remember your job?” You nod, finally happy to be pleasing mommy, “I have to go around the neighborhood to see who can go or not, right?” “Exactly!” She says, “Good boi. Now come clean my plate up, and you can go.” You nod and stand up. Who cares if your plate is unfinished. You have a job to do, and whitebois are made to serve. A/N, if you wanna create a family that you can meet in the next part of this story, just say so in the comments! Names, dynamics, ideas, anything's accepted! Thank you all!
Chapter 10 - Heading out for the Day
After you wash the dishes for mommy (with a few nice spanks on your bare white boi ass from both your sisters and their bulls) you thank her and get ready to go. In the office, which was next to the kitchen and right under your room, you finally got the stupid printer to work. Out came 2 sheets of paper with over a dozen names on them. All the white girls and women in the neighborhood were written on that sheet. There were 9 houses you had to visit in the next few hours. A busy day today, for sure. You put on your shoes and get the papers in your backpack, and some shorts, just to keep your tiny dickletted self modest. Even though, of course, anyone who saw you could understand that you had a micropenis just by glancing at your skin color. You walked out the hall into the living room. Behind the TV stand, there was a lot of noise. Your weak knees shook as you walked forward in your kid-like clothes to see what was going on. What you see is exactly what you expected. In the few minutes you’d been gone, all the girls and bulls had gotten naked and were having their first orgy of the day right in the middle of the house. Anyone who opened the front door, or even just looked through the windows on either side of it, could see what was happening. Nobody would judge though. Multiple orgies a day was commonplace in the BNWO, especially for suburban white women. And it made your depleted balls tremble and tiny peepee grow. The coffee table was pushed over to the side. In its place was the center four-way of it all. Damarcus lying on his back with his huge arms around your mom’s neck and head, which was itself pushed between his huge pecs. His belly made her back arch as she lied on top of him. Damarcus’ 18 inch, 55 year old cock was absolutely destroying your mom’s anus. Both her butthole and her beloved bull’s cock were shining with what must’ve been lube, but it didn’t look like enough. When you weren’t feeling amazed about how black bulls could fuck for hours, you were amazed with how much a white girl could stretch just to take a BBC. While Mom was being assfucked by Damarcus below her, Julius was fucking her pussy and playing with her tits. Julius had a good 16 inches, not as lengthy or girthy as Damarcus, but he was fucking your mom but good. He made up for that too in youthful strength, because the fourth part of the 4-way was Abby, whose thick thighs and plump rump were held out by Julius’ massive arms. He was eating out his girlfriend, and in turn she had a steady flow of orgasmic juices pour onto mom’s belly from between her legs. Mom moaned loudly and squirted all over Julius’ thick black pubes. Her first orgasm of many for this orgy. Your worm was at maximum hardness. All of two inches. Behind them on the couch, there was another 3 of them sitting down, which it took a while to notice, since your transfixtion was totally on the center. On the far left is Max, who it seemed had permission from his wife to jerk off while she got eaten out in a foursome with you two’s mom and their bulls. Max’s little less than two inches (you’re very proud you’re bigger than your sister’s husband!) was jerked so hard it looked like his balls would slap against it. But of course, his scrotum was too tight and tiny for that. “Fuck ahhhhh,” moaned Abby. Her muscular ass quaked in Julius’ massive hands. They both looked like they were in total bliss. “I’m gonna fucking cum I’m gonnnnnnna nnnnnnnnng!” She yelled. Her legs stuck out totally straight, almost kicking you in the face, and, with her bull’s head still between her thighs, she came. Julius didn’t let her down after though. Her eyelids fluttered and lips shook. He just kept eating her out, without giving her a second to recover. And you knew your sister. She loved it. “H-hey, babe,” she rolled her head towards the couch to look at her hubby, who was still jerking his little dick on the couch, “Y-you don’t have you be a-ashamed. My family isn’t gonna mind if you touch yourself the way you love, cuckie d-darling.” Max whimpered. How pathetic, but you weren’t one to talk. “T-thank you babe,” he said. He scooted down in the chair. “J-julius b-babe, can you please tell m-my fucking loser brother to stop staring t-too?” she moaned as she drooled. Julius shot you a death glare. “S-sorry!” You insisted, jumping back. Plenty of bulls of your mom’s or big sisters’ have disciplined you in the past. It almost always involved a painful slap, or worse, punching your poor little balls, as if they weren’t already impotent enough. You look back over to the couch. There, Max had spread his legs and began to not only tug his tiny dick with two fingers, but also to rub his pink, smooth butthole with one finger. Abby giggled at that. Is that what her husband like? Playing with his whiteboi ass while his wife fucked bulls? T-that seemed so…. Gay! And you kinda wanted to do it too. Max closed his eyes and moaned as he fingered his butt and played with his clit. He was in his own fantasy world. As you stepped out of Mom’s, Damarcus’, Julius’, and Abby’s ways, you got to see who was on the couch besides Max. Right next to him was Jenny, who looked exhausted. Her smooth pussy was creampied again, and she was breathing heavily. Next to her was Jaylon, who looked tired and sweaty, but still pretty happy. That was probably because, between his spread, medium-brown legs, with their mouths on his big, smooth, uncut cock, were Katie and Lily, your two little sisters. His dick was wet and sticky, with a bit of cum still at the tip. Katie licked that up to show Lily how it was done. Lily smiled with wide, eager eyes. Then Katie spat it out onto your youngest sister’s mouth and they snowballed it. “Get fucked good?” you asked your twin, who was obviously uncomfortable with Max masturbating away next to her. “Yeah,” she said, “Right after breakfast. Mom was teasing us so he was all like ‘fuck it, I’ll show you,” she looked over at her boyfriend and held his hand. She looked at him, but he didn’t look back. She took her hand away. “Anyway.... Best fucking I’ve ever had. Made me cum 3 times in about 5 minutes.” “Wow,” you said. It felt good just to have a normal conversation with her. Even if it was about how she got fucked by that black dick, and it made you think of how you’ll never satisfy a girl with that tiny shrimp dick, or even fill her up with your few watery drops of cum. At least she wasn’t explicitly humiliating you. “C’mon, sit down.” she said. You stepped over her legs to sit inbetween her and Jaylon, but then she grabbed your wrist. “Nuh-uh, you’re sitting between me and him.” she said assertively. You sighed. You were really hoping not to have to sit next to Max rubbing his little whiteboi butthole, but no such luck. You just hoped nobody would ask about it. You sat down next to Jenny. In the corner, by the chairs by the TV stand closest to the stairs, Ellie was on her back getting fucked by Andre. Coral, ever the perverted one, was sitting on Ellie’s face, getting her pussy licked. You wondered how much Ellie resisted to that before she finally accepted a faceful of her big sister’s cunt. Meanwhile, Mary was eating Andre’s ass, and shyly fingered her pussy with two fingers. “Wow,” you breathed, “Can’t believe I missed this.” “Ah please bro,” she said to you with a cocksure smile, “Nothing you haven’t seen before, right?” You shrug. It isn’t took common to see Mary out. Especially rimming a guy. “Hey,” Jenny asked, “Why aren’t you jerking off?” You shrug again. “Tired I guess. My balls are kinda sore… I’ve already nutted eight times today.” Jenny’s eyes moved over to Jaylon, who blasted a fat, potent rope right on top of Katie’s silky-haired head. She looked a little sad, but then turned back to you. “Heh, little whiteboy can’t get it up huh?” She ruffled your hair. It pushed your head down. You felt so weak. “H-hey,” you protest. “Aww, you’re so damn cute!” “Hey baby,” asked Andre, “Want some of this?” You looked up and saw Andre turn around and get his massive black cock in Mary’s face, obviously offering it to her. Mary’s eyes were insanely wide. “N-no…” she whispered. “NO! I-it’s fine t-thanks. B-besides, I was just eating your ass..” At that pathetic passing up of some easy black dick, both Andre and Ellie laughed at the later’s poor twin sister. “W-whatever guys,” sniffled Mary. She got up and ran up to her room, still naked with her small tits bouncing. You felt bad, but knew if you tried to comfort her she would take it out on you crueler than even Ellie. “Anyways,” you said, breaking the tension. “I- uh- have some RSVPs to get.” You pulled out the paper and waved it around as you stood up and stepped over Mom and Damarcus’ legs. You left your twin sister in the dust too. But you were a weak whiteboy who couldn’t even stand up for himself after all. How could you get her to stand up for herself? Nobody looked any different as you made your departure known. You walked out to the door, got your shoes on your tiny little feet, and walked out.
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tenbees · 4 years
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1. there's something i'm kinda confused abt re: non-gs who grew up religious. often they say that their families were rly religious so that's why they "had" to fuck guys...but that doesn't make much sense to me? i grew up in a family that was only casually religious, so maybe i just don't get it, but most super religious ppl seem like they discourage dating for their kids until a certain age & obv they tend to be very against pre-marital sex, so why exactly do these non-gs think that's a
2. justification? sure i understand having some chaste fake high school bf, some guy you go to prom w, some guy you feign an innocent crush on at church, etc. to get ppl off your back or w.e, but all of this "my family was rly religious, therefore i just HAD to date & have sex w multiple guys as a teen/young adult" makes no sense to me... i understand being afraid/confused & wanting to appear straight, but i guess i don't get the leap from that to fucking multiple men. i know lots of straight
3. women who grew up very religious & didn't date at all in high school bc it wasn't allowed. in general i guess i also can't wrap my mind around all these non-gs, religious or not, who fucked more men than my normie non-religious straight female friends ever have lol
💀 i grew up in a very religious environment and it makes no sense to me... like homeschooling, taught creationism and given evidence that evolution is a lie, taught that homosexuality is a sin, etc, and pre-marital sex being wrong was drilled into our heads all the fucking time. i was 👌 close to being in some purity ring ceremony, people encouraged courting instead of dating (where the boy asks the girl’s family for permission to ask her out, they can only do chaste hugs, and have marriage as an immediate short-term goal), i remember watching drivers ed-style videos where people gave testimonies about how pre-marital sex ruined their lives/capacity for intimacy, and my little brother would always have to sit in the same room as my other brother and his girlfriend for hours every time she visited just to make sure they didn’t touch--just to name A Few examples. to say that that environment made you feel like you had to be straight? sure. but to say that it made you go out and have casual sex with a man, maybe even multiple times? Lmfao. and it isn’t a generalization really, because pre-marital sex being a sin is pretty emphasized and only gets more emphasized the further down the rabbit hole you go. there are some more liberal churches that don’t emphasize it as much, but they tend to either be accepting of homosexuality Or they just put more energy into encouraging godly dating in other forms and assume no pre-marital sex is a given. and even in the churches i’ve been to where dating is fine, a lot of teenagers don’t date and you’re actually put under more scrutiny for being in a relationship than being single.
the way that i’ve seen them describe it is so weird to me too. they talk about having religious families, the pressure to be straight, not knowing women are an option, etc, all things that i relate to, and then jump to ‘so i got a boyfriend and had sex with him for the length of our two year relationship’ with no explanation and as if that leap is a given, which just makes no sense to me. you spent two years sneaking away from your chastity belt wielding little brother to have sex you didn’t want and that everyone was telling you not to have? seems like a lot of them are not only trying to explain away bisexuality by grasping at straws and saying religion somehow compelled them do it, but also that a lot of them are exaggerating how religious their background is because they’ve seen it work as an explanation for other people.
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madllamamomma · 4 years
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I Think I Have a Problem.... (A personal true story).
So as the title suggests, I have a strange problem…. Just as a warning, this is about my view of my younger self. It is about religion, and gender identity. This is not how I see the world anymore. It was how I told how the world should look. If you are offended in any way, please know this is a vent post and nothing to hurt anyone else. This is just what happened to me as a child. Shit….. This is about to get very long winded, so buckle up and here we go… *takes deep breath*
So a little backstory on your Mother Llama: I was raised in a weird backward ass “Independent” Baptist church most of my young life. If you guys don’t know what those are, be thankful…. But I guess I should explain it the best way I can…. they are a borderline cult. Yes. I said it. I’m not sorry. It may sound like an extreme accusation, but hold on. Just listen to me.
Now, I have no problem with Christians, or religion. You should believe whatever you want to believe in…. I do however, have a problem when religion is used as an excuse to not educate minds about the real world, force them to not let them think for themselves, and when someone questions any of it, they are punished or shamed for it instead of thinking about an answer. If you can’t tell, I am still a little angry about that shit. Imma try to keep on topic here….
I wasn’t taught science (real science anyways, it was all about ‘creation’ bs—OH! And being anything but a cis straight person was compleltly unexceptable. Woman were the weaker sex and were made to raise babies and take care of the husband. Men were superior and should be taken care of.) nor about World history or about other cultures, other than biblical of course. And when they were mentioned, they made them look evil and behave like heathens because they didn’t believe the same as they did. Everything changed when I went to public school half of fourth grade when my family moved to a different state and there wasn’t any church school like I went to. I learned a lot those years, that ‘The World’ wasn’t as bad of a place as they said it was. It was vast and had many things to offer. (No, not the World, Dio’s stan power from Jojo’s bizarre adventures—that is what our pastors called anything outside of the Baptist approved realm. Something ‘Worldly’ was basically something sinful and ungodly and therefor was bad and wrong).
So this may seem like a strange Segway in to what I am actually getting at, but I had a huge crush on this boy back when I was young and it started when I was about 12 or 13 years old and ended when I was 16. He was the same age as me, and he was the son of a pastor of a small church of about 20 people, mostly military families— we will call him.... D.... for dick...
I thought for a long time that I ‘loved’ D. I thought that ‘God made him for me’ (yes I really said that and it hurt to even write it). I really thought I knew what love was back then, but I was very wrong.
D was homeschooled, he didn’t have many friends and was also a navy brat like I was. So, naturally, we got along very well, and I would hang out with him at his house sometimes. We mainly played video games I was terrible at and he would always bet me. But I liked hanging out with him, so I didn’t care if I won or not. My heart for some reason was totally head over heels over D. And he liked me too for a while… or at least I thought he did… He however never made a move. I always thought D was just too shy, and didn’t know how to ask me. Any time I tried holding his hand, I’d chicken out. It was a stalemate. But this particular church did a thing where people had to court. Yes... COURT someone, not DATE (Courting is where you had adult chaperones keeping an eye on you two, you were never really alone. Ever, because apparently you can’t be trusted?). When we both turned 15 yo, D started a private Christian school. Being the awkward girl I was, I never told him how I felt, I just waiting for him to say something. Time passed, and I still waited and waited for him to ask me out.
But here’s the thing! He didn’t know the real me.
I was in public school, in middle school, and I started to become a weeb. Like a super cringy weeb that didn’t like anything else but anime—I was also kinda emo/punk kid thought I was edgy. (Yeah rock music was bad too, it was ‘Worldly’).Not a very good mix for Baptist I know. At school, I was one person, and at church I was another.
Well, being an anime fan meant I was exposed to a lot of things like the LGTB+ community for the first time. A lot of my friends at the time started to come out other than straight and that was very new to me.
During that time, I soon was starting to secretly question my faith, my understanding of my own sexuality and gender. Like, maybe people liking the same sex or both is actually not a bad thing after all (if you haven’t seen any of my works, hopefully you guys know that I know better that what I was taught—I am a proud fuckin’ ally! I still consider myself cis-straight, but some days I feel like I’m bi-curious, and that’s ok! It took me a long time to realize that, but I’m here now. Gender roles are dead and stupid.)
So here is the kicker~ One faithful day we had a guest pastor join us for a few weeks from another church. This mother fuckin’ nasty ass old white man from Alabama came with his ‘perfect quiet godly’ wife. Who badly ever spoke a damn word. She always just sat in the corner all ‘ladylike’.
—Oh!!! Another fun fact, I didn’t wear pants for a year when I was 10 yo becasue that was considered “cross dressing”— I’m dead fucking serious. My parents then decided after attending sporting events and stuff like that to drop that ludicrous lifestyle, becasue it was stupid. So, Outside of church, my family and I still wore pants and shorts and whatever, but in church we pretended that we didn’t wear anything but modest skirts, dresses, and long culottes. (That’s a little damaging…. don’t you think? Telling people your one thing, when in reality you're not like that at all??)
Anyways— I hated skirts, especially wearing them in the state we lived in, it was way too hot and I’d get chafed (these had to be knee length or longer btw). And of course that guest preacher would preach about the sins of women wearing pants, but I didn’t care. I wore them for so long, it just made me angry anytime someone would bring that up. I liked my jeans and I was starting to become a rebel teen who gave less than a fuck and started to speak my mind. Which was dangerous to that community…. Also I had a bad tendency of not keeping my legs together when I bent down, and one time I accidently showed my underwear (that’s really embarrassing btw, it’s not cute, it’s not funny, it’s awful when you're 14 yo-- really any age actually).
So, one day I wore a long jean skirt for a youth outing with the church. I was required to wear it, but I always wore leggings underneath so I wouldn’t accidentally show my undies if I fell down or the wind blew it. This fucker had to say something about it. The old man turned to me with a wrinkled smirk as I was passing by him and dared to utter, “Now, don’t you feel most femine and ladylike in that skirt? I’m sure Jesus would like seeing you like that.”
My shoulders clench up tight, my brow furrows. All I can remember seeing is fucking red and actually trembling with fury. (This was happening in my pastor, D’s father’s, own living room mind you.) D was there watching as I blanched about ten shades of red in anger and embarrassed because that prick of an old man called me out in front of everyone. I turned to him and half shouted, “NO! I don’t!” I could see my pastor’s mouth drop to the floor as I began to completely obliterate this old man. But I couldn't stop myself as I started to further cut into him. “—I hate wearing skirts! I don’t feel ladylike! In fact, they make me feel vulnerable! What if some guy tries to rape me! They won’t have any problem getting to me!—Why is something with a whole on the bottom more ladylike than something that actually covers me?! I like pants! They are comfortable and they make me feel safe! Why is that a sin to wear something that is more covering?!?! I’m not cross dressing, my mom bought them in the girl’s session!! [Keep in mind that was a long time ago, I don’t feel like people should care about what section they get their clothes from, wear what you want] And what do you know about wearing a skirt?! You’re a man! You try wearing them! They suck! You need to stop telling me what I can and can’t wear! I’m not dressing like a whore for wearing something with a crotch!! SO LEAVE ME ALONE!!” Everyone in the living room was just stunned at my audacity to dare speak to this pastor like I did. But he was so fucking quiet after that. And I stormed out of the house and the guest pastor never spoke to me again about it. Luckily my mom came and picked me shortly after that. She was angry too after I told her what happened. That old fuck singled me out and I was pissed off. I was a teenager and that shit was embarrassing!
But I made the mistake of showing my true self. I think after that moment, D stopped liking me after that.
Some shit went down south with my parents behind closed doors of my household, and eventually they got divorced. They left the small church because the pastor didn’t approve of it. Pastor said that my parents just needed more counseling but he didn't understand that they just needed to not be together. Sometimes you can’t make things work. Especially when your dad is a toxic piece of shit that only cares about himself.
Anyways, everyone in my family left the church, but I stuck around that shit-hole just to see if D would ask me out. I was so desperate, I felt like I waited forever, but really it was like 2-3 years, and I felt like I couldn’t give up. Eventually D and I turned 16. He started to become distant and a little mean towards me and I became confused and started to realize the worst. Finally, I was tired of waiting so I asked his older sister if he liked me on the way back taking me home. I could see it in her face, that she didn’t want to have my heart broken, but reluctantly she told me no. He actually liked another girl at his new private school and was going to ask her parents to court her instead.
I was so devastated.... It hurt so much, I cried myself to sleep that night, and most of that week I was very sad.
Obviously, after that, I stopped going to church entirely, I couldn't show my face anymore. Finally let myself question my faith, sexuality, gender roles, and humanity all together. And realized that religion was stupid (in my opinion at the time) and I came u with the conclusion that people can be sheep. I was a sheep for a long time. And I refuse to be one ever again.
High school was very enjoyable after that, and I let myself grow and started to love other religions and world history, and tried to stop being so judgmental of others and what they felt like. I even got into a relationship with a sweet boy around my age.
Eventually in college, after a break-up with my high school sweetheart, I reconnected with D via FB. Apparently, the church went under and his parents moved away to Greece to be missionaries or something. D still lives in the same town I’m in, but graduated from a “Christian academy”—not Catholic, Christian. Catholic colleges are accredited at least. But he basically told me he was a secret “bad boy” now. He lost his virginity in highschool, (like I did) and he was totally trying to booty call me. Not even hiding it either! He was like, “Hey, Llama, you wanna fuck?”.
And I was like, “D! You broke my fucking heart when we were young! Don’t you remember that???”
And he was like, “Oh no! I had no idea! (the fuckin’ liar). Well, we can fuck now!~ *wink, wink*”
🤨
This is where I was a jerk.... Because he broke my heart. I led him on, told him I would meet up with him at his house to sleep with him, and just didn’t show up—ghosted him ever since. The worst part about that, is I still don’t regret doing that to him. I hope I hurt his feelings and felt like an ass like I did.
So years have passed, I consider myself as a rather successful woman now. I’m 27, I consider myself Buddhist (I am a terrible Buddhist I know), I am an Occupational Therapy Assistant and I have a great husband (I married the guy I was with in high school). And he loves the real me—the crazy closet weeb, cartoon watching, creative, expressive, me! The person who also writes fanfiction about a romance novel and he is fine with it. Because he is a huge nerd too and we are both nerds together.
My husband is my best friend and I don’t know what I’d do without him. When I write about Rhemi and Muriel, I draw a lot of inspiration with our conversation we have and how relationship dynamics are and I think it makes the writing more authentic and makes them feel a bit more real.
I love my husband more than anything… So why do I keep dreaming about that stupid asshole that just liked the fake me? D was and always will be a total tool. He is like the basic bitch of a man. And yet I still find him creeping in my dreams and I try to cheat on my husband with him in them. I wake up feeling totally terrible and weird after them too. D is a terrible fucking person—the worst person you can be in my opinion—The kind of person why lies and tells people one thing, but hides the fact that he’s really just a nasty fuck boy. If you are one, just be honest! Don’t tell another woman you're a good christan man, when really you’ve slept with not just one, but multiple girls! That how you get fucking STDs! I hate being lied to, and I’m sure other girls do too! So I guess that’s why I do, because I felt like I was lied to my entire life. Then again, why should I even care?! Why do I feel like I still obsess over him? I hate him so much now! So why do I even care? Why do I still find myself stalking him on social media? Why does it even matter? Why do I want him to see I’m happy without him? Why do I want him to see what he could have had with me? We were just stupid teenagers! Why did I care so much? Why did it hurt so much when I found out he didn’t like me?! It’s been over a decade, and we didn’t even really date! Why did this affect me so hard? …. FUCK!
So yeah. That’s my long ass rant for you all… thanks for coming to my ted talk.
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jefferoni-quotes · 4 years
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Stalling Expulsion
Hey, gems! This is my day 13 of @hamiltonholidaycalendar ! I’m super excited and really proud of this. Sorry if the endings a bit rushed, I ran out of time,,,
Rated: Teen Audiences
TW: Mentions of violence, drugs, death
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Whistled tones whipped down the halls of the large country boarding school, as wind teased the maroon common room curtains through extravagant glass windows. Crumpled currant toned bed drapes lined the circular boys dormitory, and the posts hung bed curtains which were open and crinkled. Clothes lay strewn across the old hickory wood floors, a mix of old socks, pyjama pants and unwanted shoes. The whole school had gathered in the great hall for breakfast, all but four. They were huddled in the dormitory bathroom, slinking around waiting for first class.
The eldest being sixteen years old, tall and broad, yet far from the most responsible. The youngest was a lanky French boy, who had recently become fifteen. The other two were also fifteen, but one not far off his sweetest sixteen. None of which were very responsible when it came to fun. Smarts, well, you may suppose they contained some sort of brain-cell. Although it appeared to bounce around their head like a DVD screensaver. You may even conclude, that the four shared a brain-cell, taking single turns on it like small children sharing a piano.
The oldest of them all was the one whistling, he was tweeting a soft tune, one that seems to be without meaning or purpose, but instead one you may subconsciously commit yourself to when bored.
Smallest of them, a boy who had his fifteenth a simple month before, tightened his ponytail and swiped a sniffle from his nose. Perhaps skipping breakfast in favour of hanging around like a gang of uneducated delinquents wasn't their best plan, but at the very least they had learned not to do it again. Not that he ever planned to admit his wrong doing.
One boy, who bore a curled ponytail that hung low, sat on a sink, his back against the wall and his feet in the porcelain bowl of it. He piped up with a skip in his voice, "why did we skip morning meal again?" He inquired in his distinct North-Carolinian accent, as his stomach growled angrily at him. He was missing out on his wake up food of three slices of buttered toast and a pile of breakfast potatoes and his body was not overjoyed.
"Because we don't want to be around Jefferson, Jackie," the smallest replied, sinking down. Jackie was not the boys birth name, but instead a curious nickname gifted to him by his closest of friends. The boy who has spoken had his back pressed against the wall, and he crossed his legs as he sat.
"You know," the French boy started, "I don't really see the problem you all 'ave with Thomas," he shrugged and continued leaning against a stall.
The whistling abruptly came to a close, and all heads turned to look at him. "Dude, he's horrible," the eldest started, "like, do you see the way he acts around Alex? He treats him like some sort of dirty scum he found on the bottom of his polished boots."
"The reason he hates me is even worse! Just because I don't have rich parents to go crawling back to for Christmas. He acts like I'm a dirty spot that he doesn't want to touch. Like... Like I'm food at the bottom of the sink, ya know!" Alexander explained, gesticulating as he did so. John, the student who had been nicknamed 'Jackie', leapt from his resting place in the washing basin and patted Alexander on the back gently in a friendly attempt to calm him down. "Sorry for yelling, Laf... It's just... He bugs me so much."
Lafayette shrugged his shoulders, his wine red blazer - part of his uniform forming creases as he did. "I mean, he's targeting you because you're an orphan, non?" Alexander nodded as a silent agreement and response, "well, 'e doesn't know that I am too."
"I completely forgot about that, Laf!" The broad-shouldered, tall boy examined a little too loudly. He found himself being bombarded by rushed hushing. "Sorry, guys," he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.
Lafayette rolled his eyes. "Stop apologising, 'Ercules, we know you mean no 'arm," he assured and patted Hercules' shoulder.
"If I meant no harm, then why am I here?" Hercules sighed and shrunk into himself. The other three went quiet, they couldn't answer.
The boarding school was technically called, 'Fredrick's School for Troubled Teens and Youngsters,' but everyone just called it, 'School for Annoying Pricks and Rich Dicks.'
Everyone who attended had been removed from public school for one preposterous thing or another. An assortment, ranging from fights to skipping school to just becoming a general nuisance.
Hercules Mulligan had been previously expelled from three schools, for fighting three people and hospitalising two of them. His reputation was ruthless and cutthroat, not afraid to start an attack at any moment. However, he was simply a big softy.
Alexander Hamilton had been ostracised from his school for arguing with the professor, who promptly frog-marched him to the head master, to whom he fought against once more. He was told to leave and not come back after referring to his head master as, "a pompous fool, detecting the frivolous minds of easy moldable youngsters to bend them to his will."
John Laurens was excommunicated from Church, and from his very Catholic school when they discovered his homosexuality. His father had disowned him from home and sent him off to the 'School for Annoying Pricks and Rich Dicks,' in the hopes that it would, "return him to his Godly roots and strip him of his male desires for other men." His father, Henry Laurens had accepted the concept that sending him to a school where he would spend 99% of his time with guys and had imagined that it would 'fix' his brain into lusting over women.
And then there was Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Mortier, Marquis de Lafayette. His exclusion was a momentous occasion. His head mistress had discovered the acute, shimmering pocket knife in his satchel, after demanding a look as another child had accused him of threatening him with said weapon. The child had ridiculed his younger brother who had sadly passed away just mere weeks before. So yes, maybe he should've been thrown out of school for that. He goes back and forth, contemplating if what he did was incredibly illegal or, in fact, the right thing to do.
The four knew fine well why the other people were tossed from school, however, no one else knew anything about no one. Asking why another person was attending the boarding fortress was distinctly taboo. Like a horrid, violent invasion of protected privacy. Only if the student felt astonishingly close to you, and trusted you with their life and prized possession would they ever confine in you the reason they attended Fredrick's.
Another point, everyone came from privileged backgrounds, that were somehow ruined. Lafayette had rich parents before they died, and then he had a rich uncle. Then he was rich. John’s parents had piles of money, and then they disowned him. Alexander was fairly middle class, and then their debt skyrocketed when his father abandoned him and his mother passed in his arms. And then there was Hercules. The other three spoke much more articulated than him. He just simply couldn’t. He wasn’t from a bad family, but they most certainly weren’t the most educated they could be.
"Listen, Herc," Alexander inexorably spoke up, offering comfort, "we're all here for one reason or another! I called my professor a sithering idiot, and them the head master a pompous fool, John's gay and Laf, hell, Lafayette threatened someone's life. Lets be honest, we all deserve to be here," he peered up at Laurens, who had retaken his position of roosting on the sink, "apart from Jackie, obviously."
John defended himself and chortled. "Hey, I'm not complaining. Before I had to listen to homophobic slurs all day, now, I can simply be a homo every hour."
Hercules' solid frown tweaked, and he turned to laughter. "Okay, okay, fair enough," He lifted his arms up before slumping them down, "you got me."
"Yeah we did," Lafayette nudged Hercules harshly, which earned him a shove back.
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His toast lay burnt and uneaten, and half a sausage rolled around his plate depressingly. A metal fork was lazily tossed by his tray, and the red paper napkin was scrunched up on his plate. His seat was barren now, as was the one across from him.
Reticent nattering echoed all over the spiral staircase as two boys clambered upwards towards their shared dorm. Their room was home to eight boys, all of which they both hated, except for each other and one pupil, a young male Aaron Burr from New Jersey and Thomas supposed that Lafayette wasn’t too awful.
Thomas pushed the oak dormitory door open with a dig. He went on speaking, but was silenced by his friend flapping his hand in front of his face. "James-"
"Shush! Can't you hear that?" James spoke, "there's people here..."
Muffled exclamations voiced themselves from behind the bathroom gateway. Thomas crept over and pressed his ear up to the carved antique door as every ounce of his sixteen year old attention span focusesd in on eavesdropping.
There was a blast of flat laughter that exploded from the room, and he furrowed his eyebrows. “What are they saying?” James breathed serenely as he watched Thomas run his fingers over the door handle.
“Quiet, Jemmy,” Thomas instructed in a low voice, “they’re talking now.”
A despicably mocking articulation voiced itself from beyond the door. “Oh yes, I mustn’t! For I shall mess us my sheep’s wool hair! No! Do not touch that! It was sent to me from a Gucci store from my father!” It was in a false Southern accent.
“Holy crap, Laf! I don’t like how much that sounds like him!” The familiar boisterous tones of Hercules Mulligan exploded out the cracks in the door. “Okay, okay, John your shot.”
He heard the rambunctious crackling of knuckles, and a clearing of throats. “Hello, y’all! Rootin’ tootin’! I’m from the fucking South where the grass grows green and I’m better than y’all! Because I’m Jefferson, and I hate you if you don’t have a rich father!”
James, who had been tuned in to the harmful conversations past the door, soared upwards towards him. “Tommy, don’t-“ he muttered harshly. James had been friends with Thomas since the very beginning, he had been there to witness every hardship and every tantalising moment where the world stopped spinning. He was by the teens side throughout each adversity, and would comfort his best friend without exception.
Yet Thomas didn’t listen. He shoved the door open unceremoniously, the sheer force blowing a gust towards the bed drapes. His stance remained strong and rigid as four pairs of brown and hazel sprinkled eyes darted towards him. With the pupils that burned into his skull, from both in front of him, and James who had settled behind him, Thomas composed himself. He ran a hand through his hair before taking it upon himself to stride back to his bed.
His lips remained stuck together as if to be two birds of a single feather. Alexander looks at his friends, and they rise from their resting places, stiff joints cracking like grandmas getting up from their nap in an armchair. Their stomachs rumble hungrily, screaming for nutrients, but they push past it to ignore it. James looks back at his accomplice, who is rummaging through a antiquated, walnut duffle-bag. He can see Thomas’ look of determination as he pulls his hand from the storage unit and wanders back to the bathroom, past the gang who was previously been loitering in the room. In his hand, is a egg-shell painted cardboard packet of sorts, and a rectangular glass lighter. The lighter is black as a cold winters night, and Thomas carries these into the bathroom with him.
“Thomas!” James exclaimed as he spotted the two items. One of the many reasons Thomas was at the boarding school. The bathroom door slammed closed and the all too familiar sound of a clicking lighter.
The four friends glance at each other, sharing a mutual moment of what the hell is happening, as James pounds on the oak door. “Thomas, I swear to god, open the door. I won’t let you do this again!”
“What’s going on?” Alexander hissed from the corner of his mouth. His dashing attempt to be inaudibly failed, as a result of his naturally vociferous voice it failed. Madison’s head rotated to face the not-so-fantastic four with a choleric grimace.
Lafayette opened his mouth to begin explaining, yet no words escaped. Only a brief swept of breath as he fidgeted with his own fingers, bending them in ways that really shouldn’t be possible.
“Why were you talking about him?” James spoke softly, as if the delinquents were toddlers who needed to be lulled off into slumber.
Alexander shifted on his heels. Why this small student was so intimidating fascinated him. James was always a perpetually timid youngster. Someone who sat at the very back of the class, head constantly bent down over his work, hunched and tired. Yet now, his eyes glimmered with rage and every inch of his body shook with unsheathed emotional torment.
“We-“ Alexander started with confidence, but trailed off quickly into inaudible - protecting himself - mumbling.
James rattles his knuckles off the door again. "I won't let you get expelled from another school!" He exhaled and fiddled with the handle. "Just, open the door... We can talk about this." He grovelled desperately. The door handle moved, and Thomas deliberated from behind the gateway. As the wood cracked open, James spread into a grin.
Thomas exhaled smoke downwards, blowing it down to the very depths of hell. "What?"
"You're smoking," John observed with a light shudder. He planted himself on Alexanders bed, tugging at the wrinkled sheets and grasping for the cream pillow, for the scarlet cover of the cushion had been stripped from it, and thrown somewhere across the room, it had been missing for days. Alex theorised that Thomas had disposed of it out the window, or in a garbage can in the main courtyard. Either way, Alexander and the students residing within that dormitory were lucky that a staff member hadn't inspected their room just yet. If it was found that articles of bedding had been cascaded like dirty wash paper then a worthy punishment would be awarded.
“Am I?!” Thomas took the lot cigarette away from his lips and glared at it. His eyes narrowed, “am I really!?”
“Yo, there’s no need to talk to him like that!” Hercules piped up with a stare. “He didn’t do nothin’ to you,” he spat.
Thomas rolled his eyes and took another quick puff of the cigarette before disposing of it in a sink, and running the cold water tap. “Yeah, he said nothing sure.
“Stop,” Alexander insisted, beginning to rise. He observes as Thomas struts into the dorm and throws his cigarettes packet and lighter onto his bed, before dropping down on James'.
Lafayette hastily crept over to beside Thomas and sighed. "My apologies, Thomas," he confessed, "it was wrong of us to... Eh.... Talk bad about you." He stumbled over his words, a bit like a newborn calf taking its first wobbly steps.
"I'm like, 99.99% sure smoking really breaks school guidelines," Hercules chimed in, twittering away in the congregated background.
"Yeah? Why else do you think I'm here? Because I want to be?" Thomas jeered, messing with his hair absentmindedly.
"Well, because your family bathes in pots of melted gold and dines on silver platters served by their monkey butler," Alexander prompted immediately, the words sliding off his tongue like venom before he could halt them.
Thomas and James scoffed in unison. "I'm here because I was expelled for drug use," the jaws fell to the old floors, "weed, mostly. Over the counter painkillers and anti depressants. That sort of stuff, ya know?" He shrugged, so nonchalantly.
“Drugs?!” John exclaimed in utter shock. “How did you even get a hold of them?!”
“Well,” Thomas gridlocked in his tracks, hitting the breaks on his brain, “why am I telling you this?” He sneered at himself, fanning his face in his own stupidity.
“Because... you want someone else to trust?” James mumbled, “other than me...”
Thomas’ face fell and he grit his teeth in annoyance as he came to terms with James’ unsettling words. He ran a tattered hand through his mop of sheep's wool. He remained mute and simply made a random hand gesture.
“James,” Hercules breathed and was quiet for one of the first time ever. Or ever since the others had met him, “why’d you get sent here? What’s the deal?” They all gasped, the taboo had been broken, and Hercules graced his eyes around the room, his pupils widening with terror. “Wait, no! I didn’t- it’s... it’s just, you don’t seem like the person to be sent to Annoying Pricks and Rich Dicks school.”
Madison blinked rapidly in thought. “No, no, it’s fine...” he took a large inhale, “I was bullied a lot... and one day I just... flipped. I attacked them when they followed me to class through the halls. The kid got away with a slap on the wrist and I was expelled. Then sent here...”
“Yeah, just after I was expelled, James came after me. Missed me that much?” Thomas chortled, stretching his arms and for just a moment, his arms and head placement made him look vaguely like a cactus in the dry Arizona sun.
“Not really, class was much quieter. I did lose my only protection though, because someone decided to get high on marijuana in the boys bathroom!” James really emphasised each syllable of the word, ‘someone.’
Thomas frowned lamentably. His sighs echoed around the room. “In fairness!” He stopped, “I actually can’t justify it. I was just being stupid and impulsive okay?”
Alexander cackled away loudly in the back before taking enough initiative to muffle it with his hand.
“Oh you can’t laugh, ‘amilton! You swore your professor out!” Lafayette teased with a snicker and Hercules let out a soft, ‘ohhh!’ punctuating Lafayette’s words.
“Yeah? And you whipped a knife on someone!” Alexander yelled back playfully. Hercules continued to laugh.
“Oh, shut up, ‘Erc! You can’t say anything! Two people in ‘ospital who?” Lafayette jerked, progressively getting himself more and more worked up. His cheeks were glowing a lipstick red and his eyes darkened with fury.
“‘Two people in hospital, who?’” Hercules mocked in a false French accent. It was awfully stereotypical, and fake as hell. But it annoyed Lafayette to the point where he leapt from his bed and pointed pressingly in his best friends direction.
“Lay off!” John jumped up and separated the two with his arms. “Okay! We all did things wrong, like... I disappointed god!” John beamed with a singsong voice, pleading to cheer those up.
“Disappointed god?” Thomas questioned pressingly, his voice ripe with curiosity.
“I was kicked from Catholic school for my ‘deadly homosexuality that could infect others’.” John chortled and moved away from Lafayette and Hercules, adjusting to the fact that the tension in the room was still thick enough to be sliced with a knife.
“Oh damn,” James whispered mistily to himself, scratching at a scab in his forehead, located just about his right ear.
Alexander rolled his eyes. “Oh no! I’ve been infected by the gay!” He yelled and Thomas exploded with laughter. It made Alex smile, and realise that Thomas, in fact, had a nice, boisterous chuckle.
“You can’t pray away the gay,” Hercules spoke in his often loud voice, smirking for the world to see once more.
“We can sure as hell try!” Lafayette knelt on his bed and placed his hands in a prayer motion. “Be gone, homo!”
John fell backwards dramatically and flopped to the floor. His hand touched his forehead as if fainted.
Alex snorted.
The dormitory door clanged with the pound of a fist. “Get to class, boys!” The familiar booming and authoritative tone of Head Master Washington exploded into the dorm.
“Sorry, Mr Washington!” Alexander apologises with a grit of his teeth.
“Suck up,” Thomas mouths and stands, leaving with James hot on his polished heels.
Lafayette stood and nodded towards the ajar door. “Wanna go hang in the courtyard?”
“And risk getting detention?” Hercules scoffed, “obviously.”
“Let’s fucking go!” John exclaimed, picking up his boots and shoving them on his feet.
From the slightly open door they could hear a yell. “Thomas, I swear to god!” And then the muffled reply, ‘what? She despises both of us, let’s just hang out in the courtyard!’
“Sounds like someone else is thinking about skiving class!” Lafayette sniggered, hoisting the door wide open and heading out. “Coming?” Hercules nodded and rushed after him.
Alexander stuck his fist in the air and clapped. “Anything to skip Mrs Reynolds class!”And they ran down the stairs, leaping down the stairs two or three at a time. It was dangerous.
And they loved it.
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tabby-shieldmaiden · 3 years
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Another one for Friday Night Fights! The challenge hosted by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor . This one is a little weird, and admittedly was both inspired by me binging Girl Defined response videos, as well as my experiences at Church. It’s also written in second person, with the viewpoint character being a ‘nice church girl’. So, just a heads up.
Be a nice church girl. 
You wake up Sunday morning, early enough to watch the beautiful sunrise that God had painted across the sky. Cheerfully, you get out of bed. You didn’t even have to set an alarm clock, because getting up at dawn on Sunday is just a habit to you. Of course it doesn’t bother you at all. You plan out your entire week around the couple of hours you spend in Church. Obviously you’d have slept early the previous evening. It is for your Father in Heaven after all.
You brush your pearly white teeth, carefully scrubbing over each one. They were white and shiny teeth. Of course they had to be. In Church, you could only be seen smiling. And no other expression could really be sufficient there. Before God, you simply had to present your best self, and what better way is there to exist in? Happy, cheerful, a delight. You simply were overjoyed to be there.
Your hair and makeup done. Perfected. Just feminine enough to be perceived as a perfectly charming woman. But not too flamboyant to the point where you would stick out. You pick out your outfit next. A simple dress. Floral patterned. A matching baby pink cardigan. White ballet flats of a fairly modest design. Nothing too sparkly, nothing too flashy. Just something simple but feminine. After all, it’s not like you go to Church to draw attention to yourself. All of this is to simply honour God. This was what everyone in Church wore, because it was modest, but presentable. And most importantly, no one would stick out. No one would individuate.
From your dresser, you reach for a simple gold chain. Then a simple set of earrings. They were fake pearls, which did make you a little upset. Because you knew a number of the other girls in Church had real pearl earrings and you knew you couldn’t exactly afford them. You prayed that God would help you with your sin of envy. After all, at the very least you did have those fake pearl earrings. Cheap-looking and uncomfortable as they are. You sometimes wished that you didn’t need to wear them. But alas, the look simply wouldn’t be complete without it.
You subconsciously catch yourself chewing your nail, but once you caught yourself you stopped. It was a bad habit. You knew. And after all that work you put into painting your nails, taking care of them, you really wanted to keep them in good condition. Just like how every other woman in Church had nice nails. They all sported evenly painted, unchipped nails. Your hands still shook every time you painted them.
People commented on your nail biting. How it was unhygienic, unsanitary, gross. You knew they just wanted what was best for you. It wasn’t like they were unconcerned. And anyways, they did have a point, didn’t they? Nail polish smelled horrible, but you soldiered through it to apply it on anyways. Maybe someday, you’ll get good enough at nail polish, so that when you see your nails, you would not feel the need to chew them.
You eat breakfast, and when you do you don’t drink coffee. Who really needs sustenance like that? All you really needed in life was the energy which God provides you with. Every day, you can just sleep your planned eight hours, no problem. God provides you with the discipline to stick to your daily schedule. This was no problem. Nothing was impossible for God.
Hail a cab to Church. Quickly, you made it. Everyone there is smiling, dressed in their Sunday best. 
The men looked handsome and dashing in their suits and ties. The women looked beautiful and charming in their modest skirts and dresses. Everyone grins at you when you arrive. You talk about current events. Your families and your jobs; their children, nephews, nieces; sports; the weather; any gossip about other members of the congregation. All very engaging topics which you never used to be particularly interested in, but have found to be absolutely fascinating to talk about. The gossip especially, was a bad habit. But well, we all do fall short of the glory of God. He would surely forgive you.
You found it difficult to differentiate the people around you. You walked up to someone in an orange dress with shoulder length wavy hair, expecting it to be your friend Clara. Instead, it was Elizabeth. You walked up to a tall man with neatly gelled hair and a red tie, and you thought that he was Michael. But it was actually Joseph. It was a little embarrassing. But they were all good sports about it. That was something difficult you frequently had to deal with. Especially in Church. Navigating everyone, because for some odd reason you often had trouble differentiating the people around you. 
Well, some people were easier to differentiate than others. Case in point...
In the corner, reading a book with a smiling dragon on the cover, sat a young girl in a baggy hoodie and a pair of ragged jeans. Her earphones were firmly plugged into her ears. She was listening to music. No one was talking to her, and she didn’t seem particularly bothered by that.
You could only sigh when you saw her. She had been like that for a long time. There had probably been a time when she was a cheerful, sociable child. But now all she did was hang back and keep to herself, which would not do at all. God had commanded us all to be a friend. So you figured you really ought to go over and talk to her. You think you remember her name - Rebecca, if you’re not wrong - so you head over to her, a wide, pearly white grin on your face.
“Hi, Rebecca,” you say. Your voice chipper and loud enough so that she may hear you over her music. It worked to get her attention. She looked up from her book, and pulled out her headphones. You smile. That’s at least some progress. She’s paying attention to the world around her now. 
“Hi,” she said. She closes her book, but places a finger on the page where she left off. She shot you a fairly neutral expression. Neither a smile nor a frown could be seen on her face. Her lips were instead a perfectly straight line. Behind her glasses, her eyes just looked puzzled at why you were there.
You continued smiling. She smiled back, but only by slightly turning the corners of her mouth up. That was another step in the right direction! Smiling was good! Especially smiling in the house of God! Surely, no one had any real reason as to why that was supposed to be a bad thing. You slide beside her, sit next to her at the pew, and continue talking. “So, how have you been lately?”
“Okay,” she said. And then nothing else. Not a ‘how about you?’ or any other elaboration beyond that. That was upsetting. You remember a time back in your past when you were like that. But you soon learned the proper way to talk, hold a conversation. Thanks to all the people who taught you how to talk correctly. Soon, maybe Rebecca would catch on too.
You figured that, at least for now, maybe it would be a good idea to talk to Rebecca about something she was interested in. “What book are you reading?” You ask. It had a dragon on it, so it was probably a fantasy novel of some sort. Most likely a book she has owned for quite a while, since the spine was cracked and the pages were all dog-eared. 
You were never all that into fantasy. When you were younger, you very much preferred science fiction. And though you frequently found yourself yearning at the new science fiction books on display at the bookstore, you knew you shouldn't get too caught up in reading them. Years ago, you used to stay up late reading all those books. Way past midnight. You wouldn’t even crack open your Bible. But now, you’ve made a commitment towards going to bed on time and reading your Bible every day. And though admittedly, some parts of your personal Bible study made you bored, or made you conjure up some terrible questions (no doubt just Satan attempting to make you question your faith), you keep pushing on. Those science fiction novels may be alluring, but they surely aren’t nearly as great as the treasures which would await you in Heaven. 
Rebecca glanced at you, then showed you the back of the book. “It’s called ‘The Thief and The Knight’,” she said. Without any other comment.
You looked at the blurb at the back of the book, which read:
“What, no thank you? I went out of my way to help, you know, I didn’t have to.”
“You almost got me arrested!”
“But you didn’t, so there shouldn’t be a problem. Ungrateful!”
Tenia is a knight in training. Serious, clever, and an overall teacher’s pet, all the people in her life certainly had high hopes for her and her future. 
Kavlin is a mischievous young thief. With nothing but the clothes on his back and his trusty dragon, Gason, he lives every day barely getting by, stealing whatever he needs to live.
The two of them couldn’t have lived lives more different. But one day, when their paths met in a market, they soon found their fates entangled permanently. Now Tenia needs to make a choice. Follow her head and continue her knight training, or follow her heart and walk a new path with Kavlin? 
You sigh. This doesn’t sound like a particularly godly story. You recalled reading several similar stories like that when you were young, and it would always end with the obedient young woman leaving her neatly laid out life for some reckless, hedonistic man. That was definitely not how God intended for young women to live their lives. 
But maybe there’s a twist in this story. “Hm, that sounds interesting. Does she go back to studying hard to become a knight?” You ask. Smiling in as kind a way as you could. 
Rebecca shook her head, which was slightly disappointing for you. “She falls in love with him. They continue working together, she quits being a knight, and together they’re now thieves working to make the kingdom a much better, safer place for the poor.”
“But surely she could have done that while still being a knight? Without becoming a thief?” You ask. “The Bible says that we must use our gifts to help others in need. She could have done good for the poor using the gifts which made her such a promising knight, instead of going on to become a thief. There’s ways of helping others without disobeying the law.”
Rebecca looked at you, biting her lip. You hope that that’s a sign that she’s reconsidering reading something like that. God did say that we should be careful about what we read, and what we think about. If your words would convince her to stop reading something so immoral, that would only be a good thing. 
She took her book back, and held it close to her chest. You shot yet another smile at her, hoping that she understood that you were only concerned about her and the state of her spirit. Hopefully, she will get there soon. You remember how hard it had been to forgo your sci-fi novels. Even to this day, you still kind of miss them. But you could live without them. You could live only on the word of God alone, without any other book. That was something you had to remind yourself almost every day. But it was worth it. It had to be worth it, to be God’s faithful servant.
“At least consider it,” you say. “I’m only concerned for your spiritual well-being, and I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong ideas from the wrong places.” Rebecca still stared at you, her face still seemed fairly expressionless. But maybe, with some prayers, she’ll have her heart and mind changed.
You thought that you heard someone call you, and so you turned back around. “I’m sorry Rebecca,” you say. “I think I’m needed elsewhere now. So I’m going to have to go.” Such a shame. You were hoping to chat with her for a bit longer. Now what she’ll do is slip her headphones back on and bury her nose back into that book of hers. You should know. That was what you used to do back when you were her age.
You tried to recall. Why did you used to do that? Socialising with others in Church was such a pleasant thing. You loved to go every week, and listen to them talk about all the minor life updates that they have. Their new houses and cars. Their children winning participation trophies. Surely, those things were always far more interesting that any book one could bury their nose in. You try and think back, why did you like to read and hide away so much from the world. But you could not dwell on that question any further, because soon you ended up swept away by the crowd. Your train of thought halted. And you got sucked, like a whirlpool, into a sea of identical pearly white smiles and modest dresses.
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trashboatprince · 4 years
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Just a one-shot of a silly idea that came to mind the other day while I was at work.
A trip to Paris to remember a friend from the past leads to an angel and a demon sitting in a cathedral for a chat.
And it takes an awkward plan to get said demon inside of the holy building.
This clearly takes place long before the recent fire at Notre Dame, this is more of just a random little trip during the 90s.
And yes, I tagged it with ship stuff, obvious, but let’s face it, anything I write with Aziraphale and Crowley is always gonna be Ineffable Husbands, even if it’s just implied or hinted at.
On with the fic!
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Can Demons Sit in Pews?
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“Paris? Really? Got another desire for the best crepes in the world, angel?”
Aziraphale smiled, despite the obvious jab at a previous action from well over two hundred years ago, turning around to face the approaching demon. His smile faltered into an annoyed pout when Crowley waved his hand, a few meters away a souvenir stand operator suddenly dashed off when an officer just so happened to notice that his items might be counterfeit.
“Now, my dear, was that really necessary?” He asked as he crossed his arms, getting a smirk in return.
“No, but it was funny. So, what are you doing here?”
“I really should be asking you that question, how did you know I was here?”
Crowley gave a shrug. “I always know, and don’t avoid my question.
With a turn, Aziraphale gestured to the large structure he had been strolling towards before he heard the all-too-familiar voice of his oldest companion. Crowley looked at it and pulled a face. “A church.”
“Ah,” The angel smiled, “not just any old church! Notre Dame! One of the most famous cathedrals in all the world!”
“I like the one in Prague better, you know, the one that looks spooky.” Crowley spoke. “Or that one in Cologne, the one that claims to have the bones of the Three Kings and they’re covered in gold and gems.”
Aziraphale huffed. “You’ve never even been inside, you silly fool.”
“Been in one church in all my life, and it was to save you from a stupid death.” The demon replied, missing the look that crossed Aziraphale’s face. That moment was… rather important to the Principality, it was when feelings were made certain for him. He glanced at Crowley, who seemed to be rambling now, having corrected himself.
He had been in more churches, apparently, but they were ones where devil worshippers or demons had found ways to ruin the holiness of them. And nine out of ten, Crowley only ended up there cause some idiot summoned him while drunk.
“Well, while you wander down memory lane of foolish teenagers and dark ‘warlocks’, I shall wander into the cathedral.” Aziraphale spoke up as he turned on his heel, making his way over before he felt long fingers gently grab his shoulder. “Yes, dear?”
“Can I come with?”
This made the angel pause and give the taller man a funny look. “Crowley, did your melted shoes and me anointing your feet for hours to help heal them not make it obvious that you cannot walk on consecrated ground?”
“I think me howling in pain from having to peel my melted shoes and damaged socks off was the clue, or me making a total arse outta myself in front of stupid nazis as I practically tap danced to keep from standing still for too long, but I’d still like to see it. Been so much buzz about it for centuries, and there were all those films that came out about it, even one recently, been wanting to see this place for myself. Plus, it’s a gothic cathedral, that’s got to account for something, right? You know, what with it being demonic looking and the like.”
“Crowley…” Aziraphale started, but the demon walked past him towards the entrance. “My dear, I don’t think that’s a very good idea-!”
One foot was on the first step up to the door and Crowley buckled, dropping with a sharp hiss, falling on his back as he clutched his foot. Aziraphale was quick to come to his side, ignoring the looks of Parisians and tourists nearby. “Oh gracious, are you alright?! Did you not realize that this is still Catholic, despite how spooky it looks? It’s going to be a bit worse than a little church in Germany.”
“No shit, angel!” Crowley snapped at him, sitting up and removing his boot and sock, looking at his foot. Aside from the scales, the only thing different about it to a normal person would be what looked like a red sunburn, but to Aziraphale, it was clearly a burn of holy grounds. It had only been a moment for the burn to take place, not like he had stood there for a while, so Aziraphale was able to remove the pain with a snap of his fingers.
“Crowley, maybe you can wander around while I’m inside. I know there is a lovely bakery not too far, and the Seines is nice to drop things on people while on one of the bridges, I’d rather you not suffer.”
“Nope.” He shook his head, putting on his sock. “I’m too curious, it’s in my nature.”
“That it is.” Aziraphale sighed as he looked about, waiting for the man to finish getting his boot back on and to regain his pride from that little display. He spotted a family where a little boy was saying something to his father, who then crouched down, the child climbed up his back. Aziraphale grinned at this before turning his attention to his friend. “My dear, I just had the most brilliant idea for you to get inside!”
“You’ll go inside and draw a satanic symbol on the floor, thus corrupting it for a bit?”
“No! I mean…” He moved, turning his back to Crowley as he rested his knees on the ground. “Climb on my back.”
Crowley just looked at him. “What?”
The angel sighed loudly. “Get on my back, I will hold onto you, and this way you can go inside with no problems.”
“Can you even lift me?”
“Crowley, I am a Principality, I am much stronger than I look. Besides, how many times have I carried your drunken and or sleeping self around while you were practically dead weight?”
The snake demon shrugged. “Alright, but if you complain of back aches later, that’s your fault.” He got up and moved to get on the other’s back, before nearly yelping when Aziraphale suddenly stood up, making Crowley wrap his legs around the other’s stomach, his arms around his shoulders. “Damn, angel! It’s like I weigh nothing to you!”
“I’ve carried stacks of books that weigh more than you ever will, my dear.” Aziraphale said with a bit of smug pride as he walked up the stairs, ignoring more stares from people as he opened the doors.
Crowley’s eyes widened a bit behind his shades as he looked inside. He could sense the Godly blessings of this place, felt a bit like when one touched an old television screen when it was on static, a light tingle under the skin. The inside was massive, beautiful, and made Crowley feel so tiny. He was in a house of God, and it felt wrong, yet… with Aziraphale here, giving him permission, it felt a bit right.
He wasn’t here to cause trouble, his natural curiosity, which got him into the whole demon shtick anyway, was too strong for him to ignore being in here. He hadn’t paid too much attention when he was in that church in 1941, he was too worried about Aziraphale, and the other ones he had wandered into (or were summoned into) were damaged.
Here he was now though, inside of one of Europe’s most famous gothic buildings, kept alive by a writer who didn’t want to see it go to waste in the 1800s.
The demon paused and looked at Aziraphale, who seemed lost in his own thoughts as he walked about, seeming to let Crowley look around from his perch. “Do you wanna take a seat?” He asked the blond, who looked at him out of the corner of his eye.
“Can you sit on a pew?”
“We’ll find out.”
Aziraphale made his way over to one near the front, a woman stopped him for a moment, asking in English, an American tourist, if his friend was alright.
“Ah,” Aziraphale smiled, “he’s alright, he stepped wrong outside and now his foot hurts, but he didn’t want to wait for it to stop aching.” Crowley nearly groaned out loud at the excuse the other had come up with to explain why he was carrying a grown man on his back.
She seemed to believe the lie, damn curious humans, and Aziraphale stepped away to allow Crowley to take a seat. It wasn’t easy, Crowley didn’t dare put his feet on the ground, it would be ten times worse than it was outside, so he had to step on the pew.
There was no burn, just more of the television static, so it was safe. Who the hell would bless a seat anyway? He sat down, cross-legged, and the angel sat down next to him with a small, content sigh as he looked up at the sight before them. Clearly the back of the cathedral was where the holy men in charge would speak to the masses, under beautiful stain glass, and symbols of God, The Son, and The Holy Ghost.
Aziraphale put a hand on Crowley’s knee, turning to him to whisper. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful, I’ll give your lot’s fan club that. Probably the first demon in history to really appreciate what humans can do when building homes for God. Wonder if She has a favorite somewhere in the world.”
“Lots of them, actually.” Aziraphale replied. “So many have a little something that just makes Her love them more than some others. I don’t blame Her, I can be the same with my books, and I know you are with your plants.”
“You know nothing about me and my plants.” Crowley grumbled, his eyes drifting about. “Speaking of books. We’re here because of Victor, aren’t we?”
Aziraphale blinked, his cheeks suddenly a bit pink from embarrassment. “Yes, uhh… I do try to stop by once a year, to pay my respects.”
“Why not at his grave?”
“Oh, I do, but as an angel, I think the most respect can be paid towards the building he saved from neglect.”
Crowley couldn’t argue with that, so he nodded. Aziraphale had been good friends with the write Victor Hugo, and even Crowley couldn’t deny that he had read through a few of his books, even the ones that could very well be mistaken for bricks. He was rather shocked at how dark The Hunchback of Notre Dame was as a book, young girls being preyed on by creepy older men, a deformed human being treated as a mistake and a monster, a holy man who was doing things that demons were known to influence, dark stuff.
When Victor had died, he remember Aziraphale had spent the day in his shop, just reading away at one of the man’s works. He did go to the funeral, Crowley did not. He had gone back to sleep, seeing as it had been the 1800s and Crowley spent most of it asleep, outside of a few rare times where he couldn’t sleep and pestered humans and Aziraphale.
He had been awake the day the author died, and he just sat with his angel as he quietly mourned in his own way. Aziraphale could be emotional when he wanted to be, but sometimes his more obvious expression of grief was being silent and reading with a frown on his face, Crowley knew his friend all too well. He remembered taking Aziraphale out for dinner that evening, his treat, and they spent the night in the bookshop, toasting wine to humans who have changed things for the better, even in little ways.
“He was an excellent poet and artist.” Crowley spoke softly, hearing Aziraphale hum in agreement. “And apparently a hell of a sex fiend, so many mistresses. His little black book is more infamous than anything he’s ever written.” He deserved the punch to the arm from the angel, but he still got a laugh from Aziraphale.
“Yes, well, he was still a respectful man. He stood for what he believed in, for freedom and liberty, to be one’s self, to stand up for what was right.” Aziraphale replied as he looked at Crowley, there seemed to be something on the man’s face, like there was a weight to his words, a personal one.
“Yeah.” The demon put his hand over the one that rested on his knee. “‘To love is to act’. That was his, seems like a good idea, even if the word love is… meh.” There wasn’t any venom or hate in Crowley’s voice at the last part of his statement, and Aziraphale didn’t comment on it.
“Right, my dear. You are correct, that is his.” A smile came to Aziraphale. “When we’re done here, would you like to go out for lunch? My treat, afterwards, we can do to the Louver. I’d love for you to tell me more silly stories about Da Vinci.”
“Sounds good. Besides, this place is making my limbs feel numb, and that probably means it’s time to go.”
The angel let the demon get on his back once more, walking out as they discussed where would the best place for lunch was and if Crowley should be allowed to make loud, lewd jokes about naked people in religious art when they got to the museum.
END
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Originally, this was just an excuse to write the hilarious mental image of Aziraphale taking Crowley into a church on his back, but I did a bit of research of Victor Hugo and found the quote and damnit, I had to throw that in.
(Also, yes, he was a hell of a womanizer and every brothel in Paris closed for his funeral cause a lot of ladies attended).
Thanks for reading
(this is also posted on ao3, under the same title and by me, RiYuYami and I really need to change that name lol)
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johnlockfeelz · 5 years
Text
Encounters
Okay so this is my first attempt at writing a one shot, and posting it. I’m only posting it cause my friend @realrandomposts told me I should. Sorry in advance for this cringe fest you’re bout to go on!
Stiles Stilinksi knew he was gay when he was fifteen years old. Fawning over the most popular girl in school, before suddenly finding himself VERY interested in one of the lacrosse players put that into perspective rather quickly. He and his best friend Scott talked things out and came to the conclusion that Lydia was merely a crush, not even a serious one at that, whereas his crush on Danny was extremely persistent and serious.
Being gay wasn’t that hard for Stiles. Despite living in a small town, everyone was surprisingly supportive of his sexuality, especially the people that truly mattered to him, like his father and friends (Danny not so much, but only because he got annoyed with Stiles’ terrible attempts to flirt with him pretty quickly.)
Stiles worked in the local Clifton’s, which was basically Beacon Hills’ version of a Walmart, albeit a little smaller. Still had the same functions however. Stiles himself worked in the Apparel department, a department usually designated for females but Stiles supposes to the managers, a gay male is basically the same thing. Assholes.
Stiles was actually having an okay shift that day, for once. No customers being rude, not being overloaded on returns from the customer service desk, that he had to retag and fold and put back in its place.
The day went south, when he saw him. Coming in early that afternoon to start his shift, he’d just clocked in and was headed to the swinging double doors that led out to merchandise floor when what Stiles could only deduce was a god walked by him. The man had to be at least 6”2’, and a wall of pure muscle, topped with short, gorgeous dark black hair that Stiles instantly wanted to run his fingers through.
He was on his phone as he passed Stiles, so he didn’t see his eye color, but man did Stiles want to suddenly know everything about this guy. Of course, he wouldn’t though. You see Stiles is a very awkward twenty year old young man, he never grew out of that phase in his teenage years, so if Stiles found someone attractive, he made sure that said person would NEVER hear from him so that he couldn’t embarrass himself in front of them.
His method, however sad and pitiful, was working well for him until about an hour before the end of his shift that night.
Every other Apparel associate, including one of his best friends Lydia, had already left for the night. He was the only one that was scheduled to 11pm that night. He was in the women’s athletics department, fixing a rack of sports shorts, when he saw a shadow out of his left peripheral. He looked up just in case it was a customer that he had to smile politely at, and made direct eye contact with the god from the back room this afternoon. Now meeting his eyes, Stiles could see that they were a hypnotic chocolate brown that Stiles felt he could just drown in.
Upon realizing that he’d actually looked into the most attractive person he’s ever seen eyes, Stiles’ instantly widened and dropped back down to the rack he was working on, barely scraping his view across the name tag on the man’s chest that read ‘Derek’, before he fixed one last hanger and instantly flew back to the fitting room to finish cleaning the rooms, not noticing how Derek’s eyes stayed on Stiles’ figure until he disappeared around the corner.
Any day Stiles worked following that mishap, he made absolutely sure that Derek was no where to be found. He didn’t want to accidentally see him again and end up embarrassing himself in front of that beautiful man by being his awkward self, as that’s all Stiles knows how to do.
Lydia thought the situation was hilarious. “Stiles, it’s just a guy! You don’t have to avoid him like the plague.” Lydia laughed two weeks later, as she leaned against the fitting room stall, staring at Stiles on the other side as he put the phone he’d just answered back in this cradle.
“You don’t understand, Lydia!” Stiles moaned, resting his head in his hands. “I made eye contact with him! DIRECT eye contact! It should be obvious why I can never let him see me again.”
“But it’s not.” Lydia shrugged. “So what? You looked a hot guy in the eyes, it’s not like you murdered his family.”
“That’s precisely why I can’t ever let him see me again. I looked him in the eyes. A man like that, you don’t just MEET his eyes without permission. You just don’t, Lydia! He’s godly, you don’t look gods in the face and get away with it! What if he’s offended now?”
Lydia rolled her eyes, fiddling with her name badge. “Honestly Stiles, you’re thinking too much into it. You’re blowing things out of proportion.”
“Maybe I am.” Stiles responded. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop avoiding him. It’s not that hard, either. I only see him like three times a week. He’s a fresh CAP2 associate, I never deal with CAP associates.”
“Whatever.” She shook her head. “I’m headed back to the men’s basics. Jennifer wants that entire section zoned and the deeper I go into it the more I want to kill myself.”
“Wait, real quick!” Stiles called out after her, pulling the fitting room keys off his forearm and the walkie talkie out of his back pocket. “It’s time for my break, can you watch fitting room until. I get back?”
Lydia held her hand out, catching the keys as he tossed them to her, instructing him to leave the walkie in the fitting room stall.
Stiles pulled his phone out the minute he got to the break room, sitting down at an empty table. He didn’t notice the tall dark and handsome guy he’d been avoiding for weeks sitting at a table a few feet away, with a dark haired beauty right beside him. The girl followed Derek’s gaze to the brown haired little twink looking boy playing on his phone. The woman met Derek’s eyes before she motioned for him to leave, getting up and walking to Stiles’ table, plopping herself down beside him.
Stiles started as someone randomly sat down with him. He usually sat by himself, as the only person who worked at Clifton’s that he actually spoke to was Lydia, and they rarely had breaks or lunch together.
“Hi.” The woman smiled at him, making him a little uneasy. This was a woman who looked like she could easily snap his neck with one hand, and laugh as she did it. In short, she looked dangerous. “I’m Cora.”
“Nice to meet you.” Stiles said politely, setting his phone down. It’s rude to talk to someone while you’re on your phone. “My name’s Stiles.”
“Weird name.” Cora replied, popping a bubblegum bubble in his face.”
“Not as weird as my actual name. Stiles in a nickname.” he shrugged.
“Wanna be friends?” Cora asked, glancing over his shoulder as Derek slowly made his way out of the break room, stopping only to glance at the two of them curiously, trying to figure out what the hell Cora was planning.
“I mean, I doubt you’d wanna be friends with little ole me but I guess I can’t tell you no. You look like the type that wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Cora smiled that sickly sweet, deadly (at least in Stiles’ opinion) smile again. “No, no I don’t.” she chuckled.
And that was how Stiles found most of his shifts passing by after that. Cora seemed to hunt Stiles down, just to talk to him and learn more about him. He learned more about her too. He found out her last name is Hale, and she was twenty-two years old. She was from a very large family, including a sister and a brother. She worked in the pharmacy department, but was friends with a lot of CAP2 associates and spent most of her time with them.
She learned everything there was to know about Stiles. His family and friends, his age, his history, and (most importantly to her plan), his sexuality.
“You’re gay?” Cora asked about three weeks after introducing herself to him. They were both coming back from lunch, and were headed into the back room to clock in.
“Well, yeah. I figured that was obvious. Most everyone can tell just from looking at me.” he replied, gesturing to his skinny, pale body covered in freckles. Cora smiles a secretive smile. Oh this is going perfectly well.
“How long have you known you’re gay?” she asked, leading the way past the double doors.
“Since I was-“ Stiles’ eyes widened, and he instantly ducked around the corner to the stock room, dragging Cora with him.
“Shit! What the fuck Stiles!” Cora hissed. Stiles shushed her, peeking around the corner to make sure Derek was out of sight.
“I’ve been avoiding this guy that works in Fresh CAP2 for like a month now, I’ve gotta make sure he doesn’t see me.” Stiles explained as he made sure the coast was clear and came out of his hiding spot.
“Fresh CAP....” she muttered, her eyes widening as she theorized, “Is his name Derek, by chance?”
Stiles side-eyed her as he swiped his name badge and hit the clock in button. “Yeah, you know him? Super tall, always looks broody, godly-looks.” Stiles sighed wistfully. “God, what I wouldn’t give to be his bottom.”
Cora wrinkled her nose up in disgust at his last comment, before clocking in herself. She didn’t need to know about Stiles’ fantasies about her brother. Not that he KNEW that was her brother, of course, but she still didn’t wanna hear about it.
“Wait wait wait.” What Stiles had said suddenly clicked in her brain. “If you have a crush on him, WHY are you avoiding him?”
Stiles scoffed. “I do not have a crush on him. I just think he’s very attractive. And domineering. And heaven sent. And-“ Stiles caught the look she was giving him and threw his hands up in defeat. “Okay so maybe I have a little crush on him. It’s very little though! But like, a month ago, I made eye contact with him and I’ve made sure to avoid him seeing me since.”
Cora didn’t bother to hide her confusion. “Why would you avoid him just because you guys made eye contact?” She didn’t understand honestly. What was the big deal?
Stiles bit his lip. “You see....I am a very awkward person, I’m sure you’ve discovered this by now. And I’m not really a very popular person either, or liked honestly.” Stiles bent his head down in shame. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m not worthy of his attention. Not like someone that looks like THAT would ever be interested in someone that looks like me. I know I’m extremely plain-looking. I just don’t want to get hurt by trying to talk to him, or anything and risk embarrassing myself in front of him. And I’m sure he doesn’t want some annoying ass kid bothering him either. I know I’m a bother, everyone tells me that often. I just don’t want HIM to hate me for bothering him, you know?”
If Cora wasn’t such a heartless person, she’d be heartbroken listening to Stiles rant about his worthlessness and being undeserving of an attractive person’s attention. Did he not know that Derek was crazy about him, and has been hurting for quite a bit of time, because of Stiles’ avoidance of him? Derek has ranted and raved to Cora more than once about the cute little apparel associate that stole his heart and has run like a bat out of hell at the sight of him since.
That was why she had befriended Stiles in the first place. She was determined to get to the bottom of Stiles’ apparent hate of her brother, because it hurt her to see her brother so sad over his crush hating him and wanting nothing to do with him.
“And what would you do, if that wasn’t the case?” Cora asked carefully. “What if he was interested in you?”
Stiles laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, right Cora. That’s never going to happen. And I’ve got to get back to the fitting room. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”
She nodded in response, watching as the object of Derek’s affection jogged away so as not to get yelled at about being late by his friend Lydia.
That boy sure has a lot of self-deprecation. She thought to herself as she walked out to the produce section in search of her older brother. Maybe a nice loving boyfriend can help fix that. Once I fix this situation they’re in.
Later that night, his shift coming to a close, Stiles was almost done cleaning out the fitting rooms and locking the doors when he heard a throat clearing from the associate’s stall. “Give me just a sec, and I’ll be right with you!” He called over his shoulder, sweeping the dust off the floor into the dustpan and dumping it. He wiped his hands on his pants before turning to face the front of the stalls, ready to assist what he assumed was a customer.
His mouth went dry as he came face to face with the man he’d been avoiding for over a month. “Oh! Hi there. I-I think I hear someone calling my name so im just gonna go that way and never grace your sightagainokaybye!” Stiles spluttered, turning and getting ready to run from this situation of his own making.
“Wait!” Derek called out quickly, skirting around the stall and grabbing Stiles’ wrist before the younger man could get too far. “Why are you avoiding me.”
Stiles froze, so not ready for the Adonis to actually speak to him, let alone confront him about him dodging him. Maybe he doesn’t like being ignored? Yeah that’s gotta be it, he doesn’t like being ignored, therefore Stiles offended him.
“Ah, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you! I just didn’t think you’d want me to be anywhere near you after what I did.” he explained softly, trying to make his self seem as little as possible so as not to set Derek off and possibly make him even more upset.
Derek nearly growled in frustration, running a hand through his short hair. “What you did-Stiles, all you did was look at me! That doesn’t warrant suddenly treating me like I have contagious disease or something.”
Stiles blinked at him owlishly. “How do you know my name?” He wondered aloud. Derek sucked in a breath, almost lying and telling him he read his name badge, before hesitantly deciding to tell the truth. Might as well get the truth out there first.
“Cora.” he confessed.
“Cora?” Stiles echoed. “Has Cora been talking about me? I swear whatever she says isn’t true!”
Derek chuckled, slightly loosening his grip on Stiles’ wrist. “Cora’s my sister, Stiles. She’s heard me talking about the adorable Fitting Room Associate that seemingly hates me, and she took it into her own hands to find out why my crush was acting like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Your crush?” Stiles questioned.
Derek smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes, my crush. I’ve been trying to work up the courage to talk to you for a while now, but then out of nowhere you just started avoiding me. It hurt, you know. And Cora, she’s helpful when she wants to be. So she made it her personal goal to get you to talk to me. She just told me today, why you’ve been doing it. And I wanted to tell you, you don’t have to. I’m not mad, I’m not upset, nothing. I just really want to get to know you better, and possibly have a relationship with you. I really like you Stiles, and I want a shot with you.”
Stiles felt his heart clench in his chest at the thought of his sadness. He didn’t know that he was hurting Derek the more he avoided him. That thought had never crossed his mind.
He slowly reached out and laid his hand on Derek’s that was still holding his arm. “I’m sorry Derek, I didn’t know you actually knew who I was, let alone enough for me to upset you by avoiding you. How can I make it up to you?”
The older man’s whole being seemed to glow with happiness at Stiles’ words. “How about this Friday, if we’re both off, we go to Rudy’s?” Derek asked, his tone very audibly hopeful.
Stiles’ own smile widened at seeing Derek so happy. “It’s a date.” he said slyly, meeting Derek’s beautiful brown eyes.
Looks like Stiles had his very first date coming up soon. And with a hot guy no less. He couldn’t wait to tell Lydia about this.
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