#a man is DEAD and you're serving cunt? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phoward89 · 1 year ago

Text

Based on this ask

Masterlist

Stepcest, Stepson!Coryo x Stepmother!Reader, Sub!Coriolanus, Soft!Dom!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Crassus Snow is a cold hearted asshole. Smut (p in v), Stepcest, Cuckold, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, cheating, affairs, mommy kink, breeding kink, Sub!Coryo, Soft!Dom!Reader, pregnancy

Part 1:

You were absolutely livid when your mother brokered a marriage contract for you. A marriage between you and General Crassus Snow. Oh gods, how you wanted to puke. He was so much older than you. Like he's a man that's at least 50 if not 60. He's at least a good 30 years older than you.

Just the thought makes you want to cringe. And when you called your brother, Rein, to plead for his help he refused. He's an officer in the peacekeepers based in 12 and he didn't want to ruin his future by getting on the bad side of General Snow. Especially since Commander Hoff highly respected General Snow, who had been the commander in District 12 before he took it over.

So without a way out of your marriage, you're stuck with General Snow. Or Crassus as the cold, sinister old fuck insists you call him once you're moved into the grand penthouse he shares with his mother, Grandma'am, and his son, Coriolanus.

The name sounded familiar to you, but you just shoved the notion away. It's not like his son, who was in his last year at the University, was home much to worry about him. Or at least that's what Crassus said.

So one night while sitting in the main room with Grandma'am and Crassus, who was so cold and hard-hearted that it scared you, you're surprised to see Coriolanus Snow, your soon to be step-son, walk into the room. You also weren't expecting him to be so handsome. Coriolanus was a younger and more attractive version of his father, Crassus. Also, his eyes weren't dead and hateful. Yes, Coriolanus had the shame icy blue eyes that his father had, but his still had a soul shining in them. That much you could see.

Coriolanus' brow rose as he saw you sitting with his Grandma'am and across from his father, who’s nursing a Scotch on the rocks while waiting for dinner to be served, whenever he enters the main room of the penthouse he's been avoiding ever since Tigris moved out into her own place a few months earlier. Coriolanus doesn't remember your name, but he remembers your face from the Academy. You're his age, maybe even a year or so younger, if he remembers correctly.

“Father, you seriously can't be marrying her. She's too young for you.”

“She is a tad bit young, isn't she?” Crassus mockingly asked his son. Looking between you and his spitting image, the cruel General sickly smirks, “But Y/N reminds me so much of your mother at that age. And I’d be a fool to turn down a young, beautiful, wet, tight cunt to give me the heir I deserve.”

“Crassus…” Grandma'am chastised her soulless son, earning her a sharp glare from him.

“Mother, I advise you to stop taking up for the useless boy. My son's weak, always was and always will be.”

But from your point of view there wasn't anything weak about Coriolanus. Nope. Not one bit. He was tall with broad shoulders, a tapered waist, a chiseled jawline, a prominent nose, and large hands that looked both strong and gentle at the same time. He looked like he was carved from the images of the ancient gods themselves

Your wedding wasn't a high end affair. It was modest, but classy. Only the elite were invited. Even your older brother, Rein, was able to get leave to attend your wedding. His girl from District 12 wasn't allowed to come. You thought your brother was a piece of shit for not fighting harder to bring her or for coming without her, but he snapped right back that he couldn't risk his future for some coal dust covered pussy. That your new husband could open doors for him and his career.

And when your reception got to be too much, you found yourself on the terrace of the fancy hotel/ballroom your wedding was being held at. Your life was over before it truly begun.

“You're going to get that dress of yours dirty sitting on the patio like that.” Coriolanus’ deep, elegant timbre sounded out from right behind you.

Looking over your shoulder at the tall young man with striking blue eyes, which held concern in them, and platinum blonde curls, you sigh, “I don't care, Coriolanus.”

“Well, you should care. Tigris worked hard on your dress.” He retorted, coming up to your side and taking a seat next to you. Pulling silver cigarette case and matching lighter out of his blazer pocket, Coriolanus stated, “You feel like your life's over being ball and chained to the hateful old goat, huh?”

“He's your father, Coriolanus. You shouldn't call him a hateful old goat.” You chastised your new, but handsome, stepson with a melancholic tone in your voice.

Oh, why couldn't your mother have brokered an arranged marriage with the Snow son. You'd much rather be married to Coriolanus than Crassus.

“He's my father, so I can call him a hateful old goat.” Coriolanus replied, cigarette dangling between his lips, as he lit up his smoke. Putting his case and lighter back into his pocket, only to take his first drag of his smoke, he sincerely told you, “You don't deserve to be married to such a cruel man. You're too young and beautiful to be wasted on the likes of him.”

You didn't say a word, just gave him a curious look. A look which caused him to give you a thin line of a smile before offering to share his smoke with you- to help calm nerves.

And that was the beginning of something for forbidden between you and Coriolanus.

For all his big talk, Crassus was useless in bed. He, for a lack of a better word, couldn't get his dick up. He even chewed on the special blue pill, but sometimes that didn't even work. And all you were was a warm, tight hole- a fleshlight for him to fuck and rut into. You got no pleasure out of fucking him.

Before or after you said I do.

But you did find pleasure somewhere else. In the arms of your stepson, in fact. As sick and twisted as it sounds, you found solace in fucking Coriolanus. Coryo, as he insisted you call him once you started fucking around behind his father's back.

Although it's taboo in the eyes of society, hell the nation of Panem, it feels right. You and Coryo are of similar age, find each other very attractive, and get along well. Despite what you two have being considered wrong, being stepcest, neither one of you’s going to end your affair.

An affair that's happening in the Snow family penthouse right underneath General Snow's nose. But he's not bright enough to figure it out.

No…

“Fuck…” Coryo groaned, his long fingers digging into your hip bone as you rode his cock. “Mommy, your pussy feels so good…” He nearly pants, kneading your breast with his large hand as he felt your cunt squeeze his cock.

“Your big cock feels so good too, baby.” You whine, bringing your hand to rest on top of Coryo's large one that's on your hip while using your other one to balance yourself by resting your palm on your stepson’s firm chest. “So good.” You sigh, lifting yourself up and quickly sinking down onto the girthy 8 inches that's deliciously stretching out your cunt.

The platinum blonde, whose curls are like a halo around his head, gives you a lustful look with his cerulean eyes. “Mommy, I wanna suck your titties.” He whines, baritone husky, but submissive.

Yes, Coriolanus Snow, the son of the almighty General Crassus Snow, was a sub in bed. A sub with a mommy kink. It was something you discovered the first time he fucked you and, although it stunned you to discover that someone so tall, large, and manly in every sense of the word was not dominant at all between the sheets and wanted ‘mommy’ to boss him around, you didn't shame him for it. Instead, you embraced his kink. Your situation’s already twisted, might as well add in the Dom/Sub mommy kink element to it too.

Coryo felt safe enough with you to share his desires, kinks, and fantasies. Unknown to everyone, his confidence and bravado was a well worn mask and underneath it he's just an insecure boy. But with you, well, he's able to feel needed and like he matters.

And him sharing his mommy kink with you gives you a sense of control in your otherwise uncontrollable life. Being dominant in bed helps you deal with your life as much as it helps Coriolanus deal with his.

You and Coryo have a safe word in play in case he can't handle something, but so far he's never used it. Truth be told, you're a bit of a soft dom to him. But he enjoys it. He enjoys anything you give him.

Grabbing his platinum blonde curls in your hands, you roughly pulled Coryo up towards your breasts. “Then suck on mommy’s titties, baby.” You order, causing him to latch his lips onto your nipple.

Your back arched from the feelings Coryo was coaxing from your body. The feeling of his large cock hitting the special spongy spot deep inside of you every time you spear yourself down onto him paired with the feeling of his wet tongue swirling around your nipple had you feeling euphoric. Coryo was blessed with a magical tongue. Whether it was kissing, eating your cunt, or sucking your nipples, his wet muscle always made you pant and quiver.

You literally begin to quickly bounce up and down of Coryo's cock, causing the mattress springs to loudly creak in the dead of the night, as you desperately chase your high. Coryo bites your nipples, only to soothingly run his tongue over the stinging rose bud. Your nipple falls from his mouth with a loud, wet pop.

“Mommy, please, I wanna cum…” The platinum haired angelish devil of a boy beneath you begs as his hips desperately buck up. He's beginning to feel his release build up and he wants permission to cum.

Permission you won't give him, because you have to cum first.

“Not yet, Coryo. Mommy has to cum first.”

“But, please Mommy. I need to cum so bad.” He whinily begs, eyes pathetically looking up at you while his chin's perched in your cleavage, causing his head to bounce up and down with every movement you make.

“I said no, Coryo. Now be a good boy and stop begging; take what you're getting.” You sharply snap, all the while rocking your hips as you straddle his dick.

“But mommy-” Coryo began to whine, once again, only for you to shut him up by wrapping your hand around his throat and roughly pushing him back down into the mattress.

His icy blue eyes were blown as dark as midnight with lust as you choked his neck, not hard enough to cut off his breathing, but just enough to punish his bratty behavior as a sub.

“Don't be a selfish brat, Coryo. You know mommy cums first.” You tell him in a tight tone, that's a bit rougher than usual, as you continue to fuck yourself on his large cock as he lays on the bed- a look of pure pleasure spread across his face.

You continue to hold him down by the neck as your tight, wet cunt clenched around his large, veiny cock, causing Coryo's to whimper and whine with the desperation to cum. Oh, the feeling of your warm, wet, pussy around his aching cock’s too much. Too much to handle and he just has to cum.

Coryo feels like your motions and movements have been nothing but teasing; have done nothing, but rile him up and make him feel like he's going to explode any minute with both madness and pleasure.

“Please, mommy, I need to cum. Don't make me hold back anymore.” The almighty Coriolanus began to cry as he struggled to hold back his orgasm as you rode his cock harder and faster than before.

Your hand was still wrapped around his throat and that didn't help matters out, since it was a turn on for him- seeing your blood red nails wrapped around his pale throat and lightly resting on his windpipe. His hips bucked up frantically and he panted as he attempted to rebel and chasing his high. But you needed to cum first, it was one of the rules established between you and Coryo for the Dom/Sub play. Despite how desperate Coryo seemed, you had to cum first and you had to give him orders to help you get there.

“Rub mommy’s clit, baby boy. If you really want to cum, rub mommy's clit just the way you know she likes it.” You order your lover, holding back a moan as you feel his tip hit your cervix just right.”

Coriolanus quickly nodded his head, causing his sweaty platinum curls to rustle against his pillow, before bringing his hand to where the two of you’re connected, only to run fast and hard circles into your clit.

“Let me cum in your cunt, tonight. Please, mommy, let me knock you up.” Coryo told you, his voice thick with lust a bit softer than usual.

Your breath hitched as you felt both the weight of his words and the intense pressure of your upcoming release hit you. All you could do was shake your head and half-moan, “You can't, Coryo. I’m married…” Even tho you didn't say the words to your father, they hung in the air like a heavy cloud.

“But don't you want a baby, mommy?” Coryo asks, the hand that was on your hip gliding over to your lower stomach. Slowly stroking your lower belly while pressing quick and sloppy circles into your swollen clit, the platinum blonde below you says, “Let me give you a baby. Please, mommy, nobody has to know it's mine.”

“Coryo…” You gasp, feeling the right know of pleasure inside of you getting ready to unravel.

“You'll look so beautiful, full of my seed. Oh, mommy, please, let me knock you up tonight.” Coryo pleaded his case once more as he lay beneath you, at your mercy since he's your sub.

If you say no and got off of him after you cum then he'll have no choice, but to cum on his stomach (which is what the agreement’s been between you two since your affair started). But if you take pity on him and agree to letting him cum inside of your pussy, to fill your womb with his seed, then he'll be the happiest man in the world.

Coryo feels your cunt clamp around his cock and he knows you're about to cum. He's getting his teeth, holding back his own release, as your movements above him grow more frantic. “Please, mommy, let me give you the one thing that hateful old goat can't. Let me give you a baby.”

You're too far gone down the rabbit hole by this point in your life to say no. You're already fucking your stepson in an illicit affair, might has well have a baby too. Nobody’ll know. It'll be a dirty little secret between you and Coryo.

“Yes, yes, Coryo.” You moan out as you cum hard around Coriolanus’ dick. “Cum in mommy’s cunt; knock me up.” You breathlessly order as your juices messily run down your thighs and onto his.

Your hand that's wrapped around Coryo's remains there as he thrusts his hips up one, two, three times. You gently run your thumb over his Adam's apple as you feel him shoot ropes of his thick, hot seed deep into your womb.

Leaning your face down, you whisper against Coryo's lush lips, “You're mommy’s good baby boy, Coryo.”, before kissing him.

Coryo whimpered into the kiss before needily pressing his lips against yours. He could never get enough of your lips on his. He craves your kisses like a parched man craves water.

“I do love being your good baby boy.” Coryo tells you, his breath a mere whisper against your lips, as he breaks off your kiss to let you catch your breath.

Coryo's softness in your sex life is something that you greatly appreciate. Especially since your husband's so rough when he does manage to get his dick up long enough to do something. Coriolanus being soft in bed, but cunning and calculating out in the world with his studies at the University and his social affairs just shows you how versatile your lover is.

Oh, why couldn't he be your husband?

“Will you stay with me tonight, darling?” Coriolanus asks as you gingerly get off of him and take the empty spot on the mattress next to him.

Shaking your head, you sadly sigh, “You know I can't, even tho I want to.”

“One day we'll be able to be together, my love. You'll see.” He sadly smiles, pulling you to cuddle with him for just a few moments.

Moments that are very precious to both of you.

A month later when you miss your period, you just know that you're pregnant. And when you go to the doctor to confirm your suspicions, you're given both a blood and urinary test. And the results for both are positive.

It's easy to make your husband, Crassus, believe that the baby's his since you drug him with sleeping pills whenever you fuck your lover, Coriolanus. And you know without a doubt that the baby belongs to Coriolanus since when you're stuck fucking Crassus it ends as soon as it begins due to his little blue pill problem.

Grandma'am’s shocked to hear that she's going to have another grandbaby. In fact, she made a remark about how she always thought she'd become a great-grandmother instead of a grandmother again. That remark had Coriolanus' smirking.

Tigris, your neice-in-law, congratulated you when she heard the news, but the look on her face was anything but happy. In fact, she looked a bit worried for you.

Crassus didn't seem overjoyed about your pregnancy. No, he just acted like it was your duty to give him a child. He even made a remark about how the baby better be a son or else he’ll hide it away somewhere- give it up. That remark made Coriolanus mad. He literally got into a fight with his father over it.

Thank the gods, the doctor told you that the baby's a boy. So you don't have to worry about Crassus taking the baby away from you. But you know deep down in your heart of hearts that Coryo would never let his evil old bastard of a father do that to your baby.

To Coriolanus’ baby.

Grandma'am seemed happy to be having another grandson and told you all about how she named her sons, Crassus Xanthos and Cadmus Xanthos, and how the traditional of the male Snow heirs having the initials CXS has been implemented by your husband, Crassus, whenever he named his own son Coriolanus Xerxes Snow. Of course, you assured your mother-in-law that your baby would have a name worthy of a Snow.

Crassus didn't seem to care about the pregnancy or discussing baby names. He just told you that you better fulfill your duty of birthing him a healthy son. He also told you to figure out a name for the baby; that he's too busy as the Minister of National Security to worry about such things.

And since it's your job to figure out a name, you decided to enlist some help from Coryo.

“Do you want me to name the baby? I know he doesn't care about you or what you name our son, but I care.” Coryo tells you one night as you cuddle with him in bed. He's got a protective hand over your belly, always taking his role in it's life very seriously.

The ‘he’ Coriolanus refers to is his father; your husband, Crassus. Neither one of you use his name anymore. It's easier to talk about him, deal with him and his communist rule over the Snow family that way. And right now he's out stone cold in the bed your suppose to share with him since you spiked his nightcap with sleeping pills. It's something you've been doing a lot lately in order to spend more time with Coryo.

“You want to name the baby?” You ask, tears of joy welling up in your eyes.

Coryo smiles, only to say, “He's my son, of course I want to name him.”

“Then you can name him.” You tell the platinum blonde with the halo of curls, giving him a soft smile before resting your head on his shoulder.

“I have the perfect name in mind, mommy.” Coryo kisses your head, his timbre a soft rasp, as he gently strokes your belly. He flinches slightly as he feels the baby kick against his hand. “He kicked me, Y/N.” Coryo smiled in awe, his baby blues shining with pride.

“He’s saying ‘hello daddy’.” You tell your lover, causing him to smile and tell you the name he wants to give your son.

Crassus was too busy working to be bothered by the birth of the newest Snow heir. Coryo on the other hand missed his University classes to be by your side while you gave birth. He held your hand and whispered reassuring words to you through your entire labor.

Since your husband wasn't around, your stepson was given the honor of cutting the cord. The doctor and the nurses didn't say a word, but they did share some looks that implied they thought something fishy was going on between you and Coriolanus.

After everything’s said and done, Crassus comes to visit you and the baby in your hospital room. You're resting in your bed and Coryo's sitting by your bedside with your newborn son in his arms.

“I see you're still alive.” Is how Crassus greets you. A greeting that earned him a cold, narrow eyes look from Coriolanus.

“Yes, Crassus.” You nod. “I'm still alive.”

Looking at his son's, one nearing the end of his University career and the other a few hours old, Crassus makes the observation of, “Coriolanus, I see your bonding with your baby brother.”

A smirk appears on Coryo's otherwise stoic face as he tells his hateful father, “I love him as if he was my own.” Looking between you and Crassus, Coryo adds in, “Mommy let me help her name him.”

Crassus raised a brow, giving his eldest an odd look. The old man couldn't help, but wonder when Coriolanus started to call you mommy. Maybe he'll ask his mother, Grandma'am, about it. Surely she'd know more about the milestones you and his son are making them he does. He is, after all, working to make the nation of Panem a place of order, a place where the Capitol shines and the Districts are kept under an iron thumb.

Looking down at the bundle of joy held lovingly and protectively in his arms, a baby boy with wisps of whitish blonde hair and big bright icy blue eyes, Coriolanus reveals the name of the newest Snow heir to his father.

“Cassian Xandros.”

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annwrites · 2 months ago

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punish

⸻ part i: august underground ⸻

| chapter two. |

· pairing: serialkiller!billyhargrove x fem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: billy helps you out with a little vehicle mishap after work, & when you insist on repaying him, he requests that the two of you go on a date together. · tw: dead dove, misogyny, disturbing sexual themes, fantasization of various forms of abuse, fantasization of murder, manipulation, exhibitionism, mental illness (schizophrenia & malignant narcissism), objectification, suicidal ideation, stalking, obsession · tags: masturbation, angst · word count: 8.4k · ꒰a/n꒱: reader is bi, like me, just so everyone is aware.

It's been nearly a week since the funeral. In that time, Billy has been, as ever, busying himself with preparations.

He deserves a fucking medal for how patient he's forcing himself to be. But if your relationship is to bloom naturally—like a delicate, hothouse orchid—at least on your end, that is, then he needs to pamper you. Needs to present himself as a proper young man—a gentleman in every essence. The kind that you can't help but fall in love with, as if it's merely just the natural thing to do.

Sinking his poisonous hooks into you will take time and effort, he knows, but he's convinced you're completely worth it. There's no talking himself out of it now. He's started down a path there is no turning back from.

After all, the payoff will be...unimaginable. To have his own personal living, breathing sex toy? A sweet young woman to cook and clean for him—to tend to his home? To comfort and soothe him in his moments of blind rage? To do whatever he says, and as soon as he says it, out of a sense of unflinching devotion?

Half the excitement is in the anticipation, he then realizes—in his imagination.

The thought of you existing solely to serve him...

Billy moans lustfully at the thought, while turning onto his back.

He slips his callused hand beneath his dark blue comforter, then quickly wraps it around his throbbing erection.

His eyes slide closed as he begins to stroke—so achingly slow—from base to tip, wanting to savor the moment.

Billy occupies himself with fleeting images which send cum oozing out of his cock and onto his hand and thighs. Like you tied up in his basement, naked and wet, crying and begging.

Begging for him to stop, or for more, more, more...

Well, he enjoys the idea of both, in truth. Enjoys the idea of you utterly terrified of what he's doing to you; how he's twisting your mind to see things you never even imagined in such a different light—and of the things he sticks inside your tight, virginal cunt, until you can't help but give into your natural, bodily reactions as you spread your legs wider and wider, beckoning him forth to aid you in your body's unwilling, yet pulsating arousal. Until you're dripping and so fucking lost in it that you can't even form words, you've gone so stupid and cock-drunk from your own lustful needs as he fucks you over and over and over.

He wants to claim every part of you. Every hole, every orifice that he can put himself inside of, he will. You'll be so fucking full of cum it'll be pouring out of you. He won't stop until you're covered in it, and he's filled your belly by spilling down your throat.

But it isn't enough. No, marking you in that way...once he's washed and dressed you, it will no longer be visible on the outside. The scars will only be on the in.

His mind's eye then envisions you sprawled out on his mattress—spread-eagle with all your limbs pulled taught, thus giving him free reign to do as he pleases between your legs—and he takes his time carving his name with a smooth, cool blade into the tender flesh of your inner thighs. Even directly above your pussy. 'Billy's Property', it might just read. Because you will be. And you'll be so happy in your new role—your new purpose—once you've been thoroughly and painstakingly brainwashed to love your captor. Your master. Him.

Your crimson blood drips onto the mattress beneath you, and he rubs the tip of his cock against your weeping wound, until it's covered in red. And then he enters your abused cunt and works out his frustrations until you're raw and pleading for mercy, you're in so much pain.

But it will be all for him. And, as such, you'll be glad to oblige if he commands you to be silent until he's done using you. Otherwise... You'll know what happens otherwise.

It'll be addicting: the highs and the lows. So much so that, before long, you'll no longer even desire the possibility of escaping. All part of your training.

There's something quite intimate about it, isn't there? The sometimes turbulent relationship between a man and a woman.

He may wish he were fucking dead, but he thinks he understands his old man the least bit better now. Why he was the way he was.

He's become like him.

He nearly fills with revulsion at the thought, but he's so close. He can't lose focus. He needs this.

No. He's not like him.

He's worse.

He made him as much.

Billy sits up quickly, kneels on the floor, then spills his seed across hardwood as he groans your name from between clenched teeth.

Just as he's caught his breath, he begins again, relishing in the pain as he strokes away furiously at his swollen, weeping cock.

Soon, you'll learn how to do so, too: enjoy the pleasure that pain can bring. You'll learn everything he has to teach you. You'll be thankful for all he has to offer.

Everything.

You wrap your fleece blanket more tightly around yourself while tucking your chin in close to your chest.

You're currently sitting upon the roof of your house—well, technically the roof of your parent's house—breathing in the cool morning air, watching as the soft, yellow sun crests over the horizon in the distance, illuminating the green, expansive field which lies at the back of the house.

The morning dew that clings to the grass shimmers in the light, and birds hop along while pecking at the ground, looking for something to eat.

You do this sometimes before the day ahead: enjoy the silence before the entire town is awake and going about their business.

Sometimes you also utilize the quiet as a way to clear your head. Which has, for the last few days, been racing with thought after thought. Half of them about the fear all the women who reside within Hawkins are now living under, due to Tina's killer still being at-large, as well as what happened between you and Nancy in her bed...

Neither of you have spoken anymore about it, but the couple of times you've come over to hang out, you could tell that she was waiting for you to bring it up just by the way she was looking at you. But you hadn't, so now here the secret sits between you—heavy and charged; electrifying, even.

Like when you brushed hands while in the kitchen the other day, and how it immediately sent a jolt of excitement through your body, right down to your toes, or how she changed from blue jeans into a sundress right in front of you in her room just yesterday—she hadn't even been wearing a bra at the time—her eyes never leaving yours all the while, even as both your cheeks burned from the unspoken knowledge of what you were really doing. Foreplay, almost, as a pounding pulse settled firmly between your thighs as you watched her take her time changing garments.

Even if nothing had come after.

Well, it sort of did... The two of you had been ready to head out the door when she'd turned back to you and gazed into your eyes as she whispered that she needed to run upstairs to change her panties real quick.

You had wanted to slip your hand into your own while she'd been gone. Had wanted her to catch you pleasuring yourself in the middle of the foyer, just to find out what would come after if she did. If the two of you would race upstairs to her room just to finish each other off.

But you hadn't, because then you'd have to live with knowing that you're a homewrecker, so to speak.

Isn't what the two of you are doing dishonest anyway, though? What? Because you're girls, and friends, it's not wrong what's being done behind Steve's back?

Context matters.

Nancy wasn't just throwing a dress on before going out. She'd wanted you to see her like that.

And you had liked it: the forbidden taboo of it.

You'd also liked that she'd said it without even having to explicitly do so: it'd turned her on so much that she'd soaked straight through her underwear.

How...how do girls have sex, exactly? Oral isn't hard to get at, nor is fingering. But the other fantasy you've had...like rubbing yourselves together down there... That must be it.

You've found yourself with your hand between your thighs late at night more than once at the very thought—rather, fantasy—of it.

To imagine the two of you like that: naked, flushed, and whining wantonly as you slide along one another's slits, making love for hours in her bed with nothing standing between you—nothing to stop you...

You groan from a sense of sexual frustration while lying back against the shingled roof of the house at the mental image of it. You feel wet and sticky between your thighs now.

And just a moment later do you give into it while spreading your legs wide. You bury your fingers between your slick, hot folds, and whisper Nancy's name as you gradually work toward finding your peak as the sun rises in the distance, casting your chilled, naked body in warmth.

It's a slow day at work today. It is most of the time, really. You get a steady flow of customers at the library, sure, but it's not like it experiences the same volume of traffic as, say, the Starcourt Mall.

You'd lose your mind if it did.

It's why you gave it your very best—in terms of applying and interviewing—to obtain a position here: it's quiet, easy work, with kind patrons to tend to. Volunteering here for multiple summers in a row year-after-year already made you the more likely candidate for the job, so there had been little doubt about you getting it, in truth.

You slide a Cormac McCarthy novel onto the shelf in front of you before turning your cart to head over to the next row of books.

Sometimes, you think that the stories which surround you are the only way you’ll ever find true love—between the yellowed pages of well-loved literature. Through such books do you get an opportunity to escape for a few hours, or a few days—depending on the length of the typed work, and how long it takes you to complete your venture through the material—from your monotonous, everyday schedule.

It’s nothing against Hawkins. Well, not until recently, that is. The truth is that you actually enjoy small-town life.

You understood those who were chomping at the bit, shortly before graduation, to leave and find themselves elsewhere. In wide-open spaces full of opportunity and the unknown. But for you…you like the safety, comfort, and security that familiarity, and even limitations can provide.

The thought of living elsewhere, where neighbors are exchanged for complete strangers, mom-and-pop shops are instead replaced by greedy, all-consuming corporations—which only thirst to drain a town dry, thus leaving nothing behind but a husk of a corpse as the only form of memory that something better had once been where they left their mark—small, cozy homes generations have resided within are razed to create condos and hotels, and there is no life, or love, or sense of community… You’d rather die.

Perhaps a bit dramatic, but it’s the truth.

A few times, for family vacations during the summer, did you go to big cities with your parents—well, bigger, that is—and the novelty of it is something to be noted, to be certain. But the excitement always quickly wore off as the strangeness of your new environs settled in.

All the busy traffic outside the hotel walls, the people shoving past you on the street, and overpriced everything served as more than enough, in way of confirmation, that Hawkins is where you truly belong. Of where your heart rests, and knows to call home above any other locale.

You sigh while placing a how-to instructional on woodworking upon a high shelf as your thoughts are overtaken by a dreamy fantasy of a rough-handed man whisking you away to a romantic cabin in the woods, and showing you everything his body has to offer your own.

Talk about having one’s head in the clouds…

Billy doesn’t mind working. It keeps his hands busy. Hands that, left to their own—rather, his own—devices, would most-likely find themselves, in his infinite boredom, elbow-deep in something they’re not supposed to be in.

He thought himself a creationist that evening as he made his art. The branch his brush, her blood his paint, the deafening silence of the woods his audience, as nature itself beheld his greatest act.

He hadn’t planned to take things as far as he did. But, once he allowed his machinations to swallow him whole within the unending depths of depravity to be discovered in their darkened maw, something else took over—claimed him. Something primal, animalistic, and…pure.

He’d wanted to frighten her, yes. Had wanted her to feel even an ounce of the pain that she had inflicted upon him when she did what she did—something so fucking unforgivable. But once she began to plead, began to beg, began to bleed…he knew she was never going to leave those woods.

Not alive, at least.

And so there is where her spirit sways, between the leaves, wandering aimlessly for eternity. Meanwhile, his own life goes on. But not for much longer will he walk this path alone. No. For today is when things begin between he and another. Another, who he knows will never disappoint him. Will never shatter his heart, betray his trust, or take what he has to give for granted. And give he most certainly will.

Billy slides out from beneath the Station Wagon he’s just finished an oil change on and he steps over to the shop sink, lathers his callused, grease-stained hands in a tub of clean water, then dries them off before patting his right pocket to ensure he has his much-needed tool.

“Takin’ my break, Jerry!” he calls to his manager across the garage. In return, he receives a mere nod of acknowledgement.

Billy steps out into the summer sun while casting his eyes around. Once he’s confirmed that the coast in clear, he jaunts over to the library—it’s not more than a two-minute walk, if that, from the garage he’s employed at, luckily for him—and he makes a beeline for your car.

A sweet little light-blue sedan, which has a dreamcatcher hanging in the rear-view, is his target.

A multi-purpose tool slips from his oh-so clumsy hand, which he kneels down to retrieve. When he does, he flicks open one of the small blades and shoves the tip of it into the tread of your rear driver-side tire. Once he hears a satisfying ‘hiss’ of expelling air does he pocket the object before standing once more.

He takes a small step forward while gazing through the set of glass double-doors that serve as the entrance to your workplace. He catches only the briefest glimpse of you cornering your darling little bookcart around a shelf. Your hair is curled and pulled into a high ponytail, with a sweet little ribbon tied around it, while the remainder of your smooth, supple young body is dressed in a flowy sundress and sneakers. He groans, wanting nothing more than to slide his heavy, aching hands beneath the skirt of your dress until you’re writhing from his dexterous touch.

He relents, however, telling himself that that will have to wait. That it all will. He just needs to bide his time, just as he’s been doing. Because this evening…is when it all will begin at long last.

He turns his back to you and takes steady strides back to the garage while whistling an upbeat tune.

You throw your head back and groan loudly in frustration. Great, just great. A flat tire. Wonderful.

You flit your eyes around—you don’t even know why; it’s not like you would have the courage to bother someone, in terms of asking for their help with something that’s not their problem—then make to turn back to the library to head inside and call your dad to see if he’s home and can drive out and aid you with the issue at-hand.

Just as you take a single step forward is when you hear someone call from behind you.

“Need some help?”

Slowly, you turn back to the source of the masculine voice to find none other than Billy Hargrove watching you from the driver’s seat of his Camaro—his window is rolled down, and his tanned, muscled arm hangs out the side of the vehicle.

“Oh, I…” you trail off while walking over to him.

You gesture toward your car. “I have a flat. It was fine this morning when I parked, but I must’ve picked something up on the way here. Glad it got me to work, at least.”

He leans back to get a look at your car, so you step to the side and out of the way, and then he focuses upon you once more. “I can change it. You got a spare in the trunk?”

You blanch. “Yes, but you don’t have to do that. I was just going to run inside and call my dad to see if he could come—”

He swings his car around and pulls up next to your own before getting out—cutting you off short.

“Pop the trunk for me, sweetheart.”

You walk over to him. “It’s okay. I’m sure you have other things you need to do—”

He gestures for your keys. “It’s no problem. Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t have the time. I have nowhere else to be.”

You hand him your keychain then.

You don’t notice how he quickly takes stock of everything on it. From your housekey—the metal top of which is a little white house with blue shutters and a red door—to your car key, which there’s nothing special to make note about. There’s also a resin keychain, which has the tiniest of flowers captured within it; a small, pink blossom. And finally, there’s a charm, which looks like half of a broken heart, that says, in silver letters, ‘best’. He assumes its other half belongs to Nancy Wheeler, and says ‘friends’, to complete the duo.

He decides that he likes the flower most of all. Something so delicate—so tiny—forever preserved, never to escape. Never to wither and die, but instead has been made to be admired by its owner for as long as they should choose to keep it amongst their treasured things.

You and the object will, in time, come to have much in common, he thinks wryly.

Billy heads around to the back of your car, and he pops the trunk before returning your keys to you—his fingertips brushing against the soft palm of your hand when he does so. A measured gesture on his end.

Oh, how he craves more. More of your skin, more of your warmth, more of your feminine gentility. More of you, you, you.

While you stand to the side silently watching, Billy retrieves the needed materials to fix the hindrance he himself created.

“Is there anything I can do?” you ask quietly; sweetly.

He glances to you. “No, sweetheart, but thank you. Give me ten or fifteen and I’ll be all done here.”

You nod once with a smile upon your lips, which he returns in kind.

He makes note of how your cheeks warm when he gives you his attention. How you smooth your dress, wanting to rid yourself of any imagined imperfections, lest he notice them, too.

Already it’s working. Already you worry after his hypothetical opinion of you. God, how he fucking adores you for it.

As Billy gets to work on your car, you crane your neck back while staring up at the dimming sky above. It’s only a little after seven, which means there’s still around two hours of daylight left to be had, but the sun is slowly kissing the day goodbye, to instead allow the moon to take her stance in its place so the night can come and put the land to sleep.

You admire the splotchy light blues, grays, and oranges that meld together high above as fluffy clouds float lazily along, headed elsewhere.

And with your attention so enraptured on what’s above you, you don’t notice what’s below. Billy is crouched but a few inches from you as he jacks up your car, and he leans down the least bit more, desperate to get a peek up your skirt.

He wants to know what sort of panties you wear—given any at all. Though, he’s sure that you do. You wouldn’t be the type to go without, now would you? Surely not.

He imagines they’re cotton-made, with pastel colors and charming patterns, like hearts and stars, with dainty little bows placed just below your navel.

He wonders if he’s ever been the cause of them sticking to your puffy, untouched virgin cunt as you daydream about things you’d like for him to do to you.

Surely you fantasize—touch yourself when you need to relax. When you feel a pleasant, fluttering pulse between those lovely thighs late at night. If not: all the more for him to teach you, he muses.

Just as you begin to level your chin again is when he turns away, leaving you none-the-wiser to his staring and studying.

You shift on your feet while watching Billy’s muscles move and shift beneath his tanned skin as he loosens the bolts which hold your tire and rim together.

Once he’s removed the damaged rubber object, he squints while turning it round slowly. He applies pressure to a few different points as he looks for the culprit to blame for your vehicular dilemma.

He mutters something to himself about possibly needing a bit of soap and water, until he pauses and stares intently at the object in his grip.

“Think I see the spot to blame. There’s a hole in your tread. Might’ve ran something over in the parking lot here. Hard to tell when it happened.” he raises his head and gazes up at you with blue eyes which shine from beneath golden-brown curls. “I can throw it in my trunk and take it home with me. Won’t take me long to get it patched. I can bring it over to your place once I’m done and put it back on.”

He doesn’t frame it as a question, because he’s not asking. It’s pivotal you let him do this for you.

“Oh. Well—”

He shoves your spare onto the rim, then begins screwing lug-nuts back into place.

“I could just take it somewhere tomorrow after work to get it fixed. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

He shakes his head while picking up your tire-iron once more.

He has a fleeting, intrusive thought to bash you over the head with it until your skull is busted open and your brain has made a bloody mess all over the pavement, but he shoves the impulsive urge for a random act of violence down deep within his core until it’s disappeared altogether. “It’s no trouble, baby. I don’t mind. Like I said, it won’t take me long, and at least this way you won’t get ripped off by another guy at the shop when he tries convincing you that you need new brake pads and an air filter, too.”

Baby.

He called you baby.

And instead of balking at the term of endearment, you grow warm all over. It sounded so sweet when he said it. So kind.

Maybe you had him all wrong at the funeral, after all.

You nod while relenting. “Okay, but only if you’re sure.”

He screws another nut back into place. “I am.”

Once Billy is finished, he’s returned your tools to the trunk of your car, and he’s loaded your damaged tire into the back of his, he turns back to you while wiping his hands on a spare shop rag he had in his backseat.

“I’ll bring it by later tonight once I’ve gotten something to eat and it’s been patched.”

You take a step toward him. “You don’t have to do it tonight. I know it won’t hurt for me to drive on the spare for a couple of days. I can wait if you—”

He smirks, but it’s not in a flirtatious, or mocking way, you note. It’s more from a sense of mild amusement, you think. Like maybe he finds your insistence that he not waste his personal time on your own affairs to be endearing.

He reaches up and tucks some stray baby hairs behind your ear before running his thumb along the soft skin of your cheek. “I don’t want to have to worry about something happening to that spare, or another one of your tires, and you not having anything extra to drive on because I chose to be lazy and not help when you needed it.”

He drops his hand while sliding his opposite one into his pocket—fiddling with his multi-tool. “You can count on seeing me tonight once I’ve got it fixed for you, honey.”

You nervously slide a hand up your arm while the seed of a newly-planted crush begins to slowly bloom in your chest. “I’ll see you then.”

You got lucky when Billy erred on the side of generosity by helping change your tire. Your dad is working late tonight, and thus wouldn’t have been of any help to you anyway would you have tried calling him at home.

You and your mom made corn on the cob, fried chicken—one of your absolute favorite dishes—and a salad full of greenery for dinner tonight. She makes sure to put together a plentiful plate for your dad, which she wraps up and places on the top-right shelf inside the fridge, with a little love note, instructing him to eat it once he comes home later.

You tell her, as the two of you eat, about your tire and the young man who came to your rescue, and she tells you—as if you don’t already know—to make sure you thank him when he stops by later, and to also make an offer of sending him home with a Tupperware container of leftovers, if he’d like some.

“Do you know him?” she asks while taking a bite out of a chicken leg.

You nod. “We went to high school together. Do you remember me telling you about the boy who moved here from California with his family senior year?”

She stirs her salad around with her fork for a moment while thinking. “Maybe. He was on the basketball team, wasn’t he?”

You nod again. “Yeah, he was. Well, that’s him. His name is Billy Hargrove. He works at the garage next to the library, just across the way, and to the right.”

She hums while nodding, as if realization has just dawned on her. “The name Hargrove sounds familiar. Were you friends in school?”

You take a sip of your water while shrugging slightly. “Not really. Ran with different crowds, I guess. He did basketball while I read and spent most of my spare time either here, at Nancy’s, or the library. Honestly, in school, he kind of…seemed like an ass.”

She snorts quietly. “A lot of them can seem that way when they’re young, sweetie. Even once they’ve gotten older, they don’t necessarily grow up. Sounds like he has, though.”

You smile slightly before taking a bite of your buttery, salted corn. “Maybe.”

You sit by the window— your heart practically thrumming from excitement as you wait for his headlights to pull into the driveway.

He does you one favor, and already you’re head-over-heels for him. Pathetic. It takes no male attention at all for you to turn into a hopelessly romantic sap. You blame it on how lonely you are.

You have Nancy, yes, and maybe in more way than one, but you’d, admittedly, like to meet a nice young man one day to settle down with.

Not that you think Billy is that for you. You barely know one another. And he was just being friendly by helping you out today, that’s all. Besides, like you thought to yourself at Tina’s funeral, he knows—or, at the very least, knew—how to get around. You won’t be the kind of girl who lets herself become yet another notch in someone’s bedpost.

You want more than that. A lot more.

God only knows if you’ll ever find it, though.

You lean your head against the window to your right, and just as you’re ready to resign yourself to the fact that he’s clearly not coming, he proves you wrong.

A smile breaks out across your face as you jump up from your window seat and slip on a pair of house-shoes to go out and greet him.

“Sorry it took me so long, but I was starving by the time I got home.”

You shake your head while bounding down, and off the front porch steps. You don’t even manage to hide your smile at the handsome sight of him.

You could slap yourself for how you’re acting. Especially given the things he said at Tina’s funeral only a mere week ago. It’s not that you’ve forgotten. You just…see him a little differently now, maybe.

“No, that’s okay. I’m glad you didn’t rush. I hope you know how much I appreciate this. How much I appreciate all your help today, in general.”

He pops open his trunk before retrieving your tire. While he does so, he takes a moment to admire you. He now knows how you look when you’re at home and lounging around—relaxing without prying eyes to study your every facet. As if he isn’t guilty of doing as much time and again.

Yes, he’s spied on you from across the street at night while you’re in your room, but at such a distance, certain things can be a bit difficult to make out. Such as attire, and whether, on the nights that you leave your window open, and your blankets are shifting atop you, if it’s because you’re trying to get comfortable before falling off to sleep, or because you have your hand between your legs as you play with yourself.

He always likes to imagine that it’s the latter. It makes it easier for him to get off in his car when he’s watching you, at least.

The thought of his sweet, innocent girl having a sex drive as high as his is something he’s unsure how to feel about, however. Would it be unseemly for you to as a young lady? It’d be better for you both if you do, to be sure. Because, at least that way, every time he comes to you wanting it, you’ll be all to happy to give it. Not that he won’t be taking it either way, but it’ll be better on you in the long-run if he’s not having to constantly force himself upon you when his cock is filled with blood and throbbing between his thighs, desperately needing to be soaked in your arousal as a way to will the unwanted voices away.

He trails his eyes along your bare, shaved legs, then up the loose, soft material of your knee-length nightgown—which has little sleeping crescent moons, floating upon fluffy white clouds printed across the material—and then to your comely face. You even have a pair of bunny slippers on. God, you have no idea how adorable and innocent you are, do you?

All part of your allure, clearly.

Finally, Billy replies. “I was glad to do it, sweetheart. I’m only sorry that it took this long for the two of us to properly meet.”

He walks over, opens your driver-side door, then pops open your trunk.

“I know we didn’t really…talk in school. I guess we were just both different from each other.”

He glances up to you while kneeling down to get to work on switching out your tires once more. “How so?” he asks with a raised brow.

He needs to hear it: the ways in which he can portray himself differently to reel you in further. The things about him back then that, perhaps, repelled you which might still be present now. Not that he would be changing himself permanently for your benefit. No, such shifts in personality would only last long enough until he’s sunk his hooks into you.

“Well, you did basketball. So, I assume you were—or, are—into sports. They’ve never really been my thing. And you…”

He begins loosening lug-nuts. “I what, baby?”

There it is again. Your cheeks warm at the chosen name for you. Well, you hope he chose it for you, that is. Then again, he probably calls all the girls that.

Like you’re any different from the rest of them. Look at you, you’re fawning all over him right now!

“You uh…” how best to word this? “Well, you seemed popular. Especially with the girls. And I’ve always been kind of an introvert, so…”

He certainly catches that ‘especially with the girls’ bit. Does that mean that you had a crush on him even back then? That he could’ve had you sooner, had he bothered with paying attention to you, instead of every other girl he picked out for himself? Most of which got rode so much that they should’ve installed goddamn toll roads between their legs.

It’s better this way, he reassures himself. He’s older now. Coming into who—rather, what—he truly is. He knows what to do now. How to play the game. His own particular version of it, at least.

He shrugs while jacking the car up. “Honestly, me getting into basketball was more for my old man than me. Everything always had to be about him. It gave me something to do, though, I guess.”

He can’t complain too much. Can’t let on how much he fucking despises Neil. Not right now.

He continues. “And it was a good way to stay in shape. Taught me about teamwork. So, at least a couple good things came out of it. As for the girls…”

He kneels down again to loosen the bolts the rest of the way, flitting desperately through his addled mind for the right way to respond. “I was lonely. Just…looking to get close to someone, even if it was only through sex. It wasn’t the best thing for me, or them, I know. But, I was young and I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I guess maybe I thought…”

He trails off then, leaving something unspoken hanging in the silence between you.

You take a small step forward. “You thought what?” you ask gently.

So easily you chomped down on that wriggling bit of bait, he thinks.

“That I wasn’t ever going to be worth more than that to anyone—to any of them, I mean—above just being an easy lay. So, if that was all I could get—the only way I could be close to someone, that is—then I took it.”

Your mouth tugs into a frown and your heart aches at his terrible admittance.

“You don’t…think that way about yourself now, do you?”

He remains silent as he works at your tire. He can’t play the whiny, helpless boy, looking for someone to feel sorry for him and take him in like a lost little stray. Too many red flags at once, and you’ll run and everything will be ruined.

“No. Not like I did. I still get lonely sometimes, but I think everyone does, even if they’re with someone. Just…human nature, I guess. We all have our internal worlds, y’know? But graduating, getting a decent job where I work with people that I like, and I like what I do, and getting my own place, has been a huge help in terms of…well, everything, to tell you the truth.”

You smile at that, glad to hear that he’s improved himself for the better.

You wish you could be that brave to step outside of your comfort zone, in terms of trying something new. Such as living on your own.

You tell yourself that you will someday soon. Maybe in a year or two. You’re still quite young after all, so living at home for now isn’t anything to look down upon, right?

You just…really don’t like the idea of being all on your lonesome out there. The thought of lying in bed by yourself in the middle of the night, and hearing something strange outside, with no one to turn to for protection…it makes a chill crawl up your spine.

You kneel down next to him and he immediately stops what he’s doing and shrugs off his jean jacket while throwing it down next to himself. “There. Sit on that. Don’t get your pajamas dirty.”

Tears sting your eyes at the incredibly kind gesture. You’ve never met a young man who acts like he does. Steve, maybe, but he’s with Nancy. And even if he wasn’t…he’s just not your type, in all honesty.

You do as he says while tucking your legs under you and to the side, watching quietly for a moment as Billy continues to work. “I’m really glad to hear that you’re doing better than you were. I guess you played it off really well in high school. How…sad you were. I never would’ve guessed.”

He smirks playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Benefits of getting blackout drunk every weekend—your problems just fade away, so at least you have some better memories to hold onto when the unhappiness comes creeping back in. Well, funner memories, at least. Until you wake up on a stranger’s lawn at 6 a.m. wearing nothing but a speed-o and a pink bathing cap that sure as hell ain’t yours, that is.”

You burst into a fit of giggles then. “You did that?”

He lifts a hand to his lips and motions like he’s locking them together, then throwing away a key.

You shake your head while grinning. “I only ever went to one house party with Nancy. It was a back-to-school one a few years ago. I went home after less than two hours. Too noisy and crowded, and I got bored.”

Billy switches out your tires then. “It’s not for everybody. Honestly, I think most people go to the things just so they don’t feel left out. Not because they necessarily wanted to be there.”

He looks at you. “Glad to hear you’re not like that, though. Not one of ‘em.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure they can be fun. I just…don’t do well when I’m… I don’t know what the right word to use is. Overstimulated, I guess?”

His cock twitches at the adjective. That’s one thing he can’t wait to make you feel. He’s envisioned it so many times: playing with your perfect, pretty little clit until it’s swollen and sore and you can’t take anymore.

He nods. “I get it. Being overwhelmed is usually a good way to get me to fly off the handle. Or it used to be. I’ve gotten better at managing my temper from when I was still a teenager.”

You gaze at him from beneath your lashes. You shouldn’t find the idea of him throwing fists with someone to be attractive, and yet… “Did you ever get into any fights?”

He puckers his lips and lets out a long whistle. “Shit, did I. A lot back in California. A little less when we came here, mostly because I knew my old man expected my behavior to change, since this place was supposed to be a ‘fresh start’ for all of us. None since I became an adult, even if I’ve wanted to whoop a customer or two’s ass.”

Your lip twitches. “Why? What’d they do?”

He turns fully toward you as he lowers the jack-stand, now finished with the task at-hand. “Just had a couple soft-handed pencil pushers who thought they were going to throw their weight around telling me how, actually, it’s this that needs done to their Mercedes, or that is what I need to look at on their BMW. I usually try to play nice at first, because it is my job, but when one pushed me far enough, I told his clueless ass to take it home and fix it himself, since he thinks he knows so damn much, and to call and let me know when the engine blows because he forgot to put fuckin’ oil in it again. I’ll have a wrecker come out and get it while his wife is home so I can fix it just one more time while he goes to his important little office meeting about printer paper, or whatever the fuck it is that he does that he thinks is changing the damn world in a town of less than three thousand bodies.”

You fail spectacularly at hiding the smile that fights its way onto your face.

He returns it as he watches you. “What?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re kind of…” you look away shyly, fearing you’re about to objectify him just like all those other girls did that went after him for one thing, and one thing only. “You look good when you’re mad.”

His shit-eating grin grows ever-wider as he watches your face grow as red as a freshly-plucked garden tomato. He snorts while reaching forward and taking your chin between his fingers. “You haven’t seen anything yet, baby.”

He stands then while brushing off his jeans, so you do as well on now-wobbly legs.

You retrieve his jacket and hold it toward him. “Thank you again, Billy. This was all very sweet. It means a lot to me. Most wouldn’t have bothered, so…”

You look back toward the house, then to him once more, and you watch as he shrugs his jacket back on before picking up the tools he just made use of and returning them to your trunk yet again.

“Please let me pay you back. You wasted your time after work, when you could’ve otherwise been on your way home. And then you came here after, and—”

He shuts your trunk and steps over to you. “Absolutely not. I won’t have you giving me your hard-earned cash for doing the right thing and helping a woman in-need.”

You shift on your feet while chewing your lip for a moment, trying to think of something you can do to show him your appreciation, above just telling him how thankful you are for all he’s done for you this evening.

“But—”

He shakes his head with a raised brow and slight tilt to his lips while crossing his arms.

You huff a sigh of slight frustration. “I don’t know what else to do other than offer you a container of leftovers from dinner.”

He bobs his head from side-to-side, like he’s mentally considering. “Means I wouldn’t have to worry about dinner tomorrow night, at least.”

“Are you okay with fried chicken, corn, and some salad?”

He smiles while running a callused hand down your arm. “That sounds perfect, baby.”

You nod. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Billy remains outside, leaning back against his Camaro, just knowing that you’ll insist on something further. Fixing him a meal of leftovers that’ll tide him over for one evening won’t be enough to settle your generous little heart. He’s sure of it.

And God if he doesn’t fucking love you all the more for it.

A moment later do you return to him with a container in-hand. “Here you go,” you say sweetly, handing him the chilled contents.

“Thank you,” he says with a gentle nod.

He remains rooted to the spot as your eyes flit between his, and he waits for the ball to drop.

“I really don’t think leftovers are enough…” you mumble.

He bites back a satisfied smirk.

And then he sighs bemusedly while setting the plastic square down on the hood of his vehicle. “If it really means that much to you…”

He trails off and portrays a look like he’s mentally debating something with himself.

You shuffle impossibly closer to him; the two of you are nearly touching now.

It’d be all too fucking easy to grab a hold of you, clamp an iron-clad hand over your mouth, and throw you into his trunk, thus stealing you away, and making you his personal possession once and for all.

“What?” you ask in anticipation while staring up at him with wide, excitable eyes.

“If I asked you to let me take you on a date tomorrow night—or whenever works for you—would you?”

Your heart practically somersaults in your chest. “You…you want to go on a date with me?”

He slides a hand into his pocket, ready to hide it, should it suddenly morph into a fist, created out of a sense of rejection. “I do.”

You smile. And it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever beheld. For now, at least. Even shimmering tears gather in your eyes.

God, how easy you’re making this for him. How eager you are to let him take control. To let him have you.

So perfect you are for him. In every way, he’s sure he’s soon to discover.

You nod. “I’d love that.”

He removes his hand from his jean pocket, and slides it down your arm once more before twining your fingers together. “How does tomorrow night sound? You free then?”

You nod. “I am.”

“Seven o’clock?” he inquires.

“How about seven-thirty?” you ask, adjusting the time just a bit to ensure you have more than enough time for a bit of self-grooming.

He gives you a brilliant, toothy grin. “Seven-thirty sounds perfect.”

He leans down, presses a brief, chaste kiss to your cheek—even if it does leave your skin feeling like it’s spent a tad too much time in the sun—then retrieves his Tupperware from the hood of his car before leaving.

Leaving…you wanting. But, so, too, does he.

So much more.

And he will have it.

All of it.

All…of you.

Billy strokes his cock with his right hand, while his left is planted flat against the clapboard above his head. He stares through your bedroom window as you sleep, as the moon casts you in a silvery glow, and your nightgown rides up well past your thighs, allowing him a perfect preview of what’s beneath.

He wishes you would’ve forgone panties tonight. Then he’d finally know what it looks like: your pretty little cunt. The body part of yours that he’s most obsessed with the thought of. But that will have to be saved for later. He has a small appreciation for something being left to the imagination, at least.

His jeans and boxers are around his ankles, leaving nothing to hinder this sensual experience.

He’s never been so close before when doing this.

Once—just once—he stood in the middle of the street one night while getting off outside your house. It’d been…quite the experience. Not just because he’d been masturbating where anyone could’ve seen him—could catch him in the act (even if that fact did make it impossibly more exciting)—but because, apart from the boots on his feet, he’d been as naked as the fucking day he was born.

It’d been so freeing—so liberating—as he came all over the very same street that you drive along every day.

He’s wanted to re-create that experience an ungodly amount of times. And he has, but not in such a public place.

No, only ever in the forest has he gone that far again. Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he’ll drive out to where the woods are the densest; the thickest, and he’ll walk himself in deep, strip down to utterly nothing, and not stop until he’s emptied his seed all over the forest floor, planting a part of himself there. Marking his territory like a wild animal that’s desperate to claim something for itself—anything.

Billy bites his lower lip and whimpers as his fervor grows. As his climax climbs closer.

He reaches down with his left hand and fondles his testicles—tugs gently against them as tears sting his eyes at his painful fucking sense of want and desire that fills him.

He knows it’s wrong. Knows that he is.

He hates when his head gets like this.

It’s so much easier when he’s the other way around: solidified in his conceptions. His confirmations. But now they’re telling him to go away.

Sick. Fucker. Sick fucker, they call him.

Molestor.

Evil, rapist pig.

He sniffles, but pushes through, wanting to orgasm. Wanting to feel better, even for one fucking second.

He wishes he could crawl in there with you. Wishes you could hold him like his mother used to. Wishes you could make it go away: all the bad feelings, the bad things, the hurt, the fear, the utter fucking terror he feels of what he’s done. Who he’s becoming.

What he still yet intends to do to an innocent, who he knows doesn’t deserve it.

Maybe he should just do it—get it over with: pull the trigger when he gets home tonight. Save the world from yet one more demented monster.

That thought is pushed to the wayside, however, as Billy finally careens over the edge.

“Ah, fuck, yeees,” he sighs as hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from the tip of his weeping cock all over the clapboard beneath your bedroom window.

As his ministrations slow, his heart begins to calm just as his head starts to clear, and he savors the moment. They’re so few and far between now.

Billy reaches down and pulls up his jeans, then fastens his belt back into place while watching his cum drip from the side of your house.

Marking his territory indeed, his thinks slyly while stepping away, ready to finally head back home.

· tagging list: @emilynissangtr @highsummon @preppyfella @1nternetc4t @giiiiiirl

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

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zablife · 1 year ago

Text

A Small Favor

John Shelby & Y/n Solomons (Partners in Crime AU)

Summary: Y/n has called John for a small favor…the removal of a dead body from Alfie’s kitchen. Who was the dead man and why was he there in the first place? That might be the biggest surprise of all.

Author’s note: Requested by @darklydeliciousdesires who wanted to know what this duo would do if tasked with disposing of a body. Ty for the wonderful inspo! Also, Rose is an OC belonging to @justrainandcoffee. She is Alfie's wife and an advocate for women. Quick reminder that Y/n is Alfie's sister.

Warnings: language, mention of a dead body and murder, weapons, blood

You sat watching steam rise from a piping hot cup of tea as John paced before you. “I don’t understand,” he said, twisting his cap in his hands.

“What?” you mumbled as you shoved a biscuit into your mouth.

“How did you manage it?” he asked with a note of genuine surprise, though he should have learned by now not to underestimate you.

You only shrugged as he gestured toward the hulking man splayed out before him on Alfie’s kitchen floor.

“Used me knife," you explained in a flat tone.

“Bloody hell,” he exclaimed with a low whistle. John stood over the mangled corpse stroking his chin thoughtfully before gazing back at you with pride. “Carved him up like a Christmas turkey!”

“Serves him right, filthy wanker,” you spat, wiping the crumbs from your lip with a shaky hand.

"Hey, you alright?" John softened momentarily, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

You narrowed your eyes at him, hating the look of pity you found staring back at you. "You seen the state of him? And you see me?" you gestured toward yourself with a flourish, demanding he acknowledge your victory. When he took a moment too long, you shoved him away. "Course I'm alright," you insisted stubbornly as you settled back into your chair, crossing your arms over your chest.

John let out a long sigh, wishing he'd never asked. Then recalling the trail of overturned furniture and broken glass leading to the kitchen, he changed the subject. "Was he looking for somethin'?" Opening and closing the cupboards as though he might find an answer hidden in the shelves, he called out, "Does Alfie still have that faberge egg?"

“Fuck no!" you vehemently denied. "Sold it ages ago to that toff who wanted it for his dog-faced cunt of a wife. Reckon she eats kibble out of it now or whatever the fuck rich people do."

John snorted out a laugh as he ran a hand down his face. How you could crack a joke at a time like this was beyond all comprehension. Turning back to his search, he opened another door, peering inside with intense scrutiny.

“Dunno what you're expecting to find," you muttered, irritation rising in your throat as you surveyed the room. "Not a sausage...."

John scratched his head as he glanced over his shoulder, “Is that a kosher thing?”

You rolled your eyes before clarifying, “Sausage and mash,” rubbing your thumb against your fingertips. When John still looked at you with a quizzical stare you shouted, “Cash, you daft cunt! If you think Alfie's stupid enough to hide anything of value here, you're a few sandwiches short of a picnic, mate."

He nodded in understanding. “Right, well….don’t matter why that fucker wanted in, we have to get him out.” He stood facing the man in question, removing a toothpick from his pocket and seesawing it between his teeth as he thought.

You quickly grew impatient, eyes darting wildly from the clock on the wall to John’s motionless form. “What are you waiting for? This is your speciality, ain’t it?” you asked in a high squeaky voice, anxious to move things along.

John spun around to face you, “And you’re such a big help sat there like a pudding!” he exclaimed taking a large step to swipe at you before slipping in a pool of the man’s blood.

You raced from the table to catch him, but he was already propelled halfway across the room, finally tumbling over and landing atop the dead man’s barrel chest. “ALLEY CAT!” he roared, face to face with the man’s hideous pallor of death.

Barely containing your laughter, you watched your partner in crime grimace before turning away to suppress a gag. “Smells like cheap whisky and piss,” he proclaimed.

“What do you reckon he smelt like? Bloody roses?” you asked, hoisting him up by the elbow.

John emitted a low growl before brushing himself off. Removing his jacket and tossing it aside, he crossed his arms, mouth twitching anxiously. “Can we get on with it?” he asked with a sigh that sounded like resignation to his fate. “You take one end, I’ll take the other,” he instructed with a nod of his chin.

John began wedging his arms beneath the man's upper body as you took hold of the thick legs which felt like two tree trunks. Hoisting the weight off the floor took a few moments and the body swung precariously between you, grunts and groans passed between you as you struggled to find equilibrium. Eventually you were able to take a few teetering steps backward and out of the kitchen doorway into the hall, but then you realized you didn't know where you were going after that.

“Wait! What’s the plan?” you demanded, knitting your eyebrows in confusion.

John snapped his head toward you, “Are you serious?"

"Well, we can't walk out of the house with him. People will notice," you pointed out.

"Just...keep...going," he instructed through clenched teeth. When you slowed your movements again he warned sternly, "If we stop now, you're going to break my fucking back."

"No...no, I don't like this, Barney," you said, shaking your head.

"You going to fight me the whole way?" he asked, nostrils beginning to flare in frustration.

“Do you want my help or not?” you huffed, dropping the pair of legs you were barely holding to begin with and placing your hands on your hips.

Dropping his half with a thud John laughed mirthlessly. He pointed at you, cheeks rosy with exertion and the tips of his ears beginning to match as his temper ignited. “You asked me to come, you ungrateful horse’s arse!”

"What did you call me?" you asked, rushing him and pinning him to the nearest wall, hand poised over your switch blade.

Just then someone cleared their throat and you both jumped, startled by the noise.

You broke away from John, looking up at a dark haired woman who stood above you in a halo of golden morning light. Her amber eyes were warm and held nothing but concern as she searched your face in wordless communication.

John frowned at you, his eyes darting between you as he wondered aloud, "Who the fuck is she?"

Ignoring him completely, you looked up at her unable to contain the burden of your guilt. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you admitted softly to her, "I didn't want you to see this."

"Is she one of Rose's women or..." he trailed off, watching her descend the stairs slowly and walk into your waiting embrace, placing a tender kiss to your trembling lips. "Do you two know each other?" he asked thickly. "Please, Y/n, I'm so confused," he pleaded.

When you parted, you were still holding her hand tightly in yours. "John, this is Eliana Armstrong."

"And him?" John asked cautiously, pointing at the body. "You know him, don't you?"

You nodded slowly, but Eliana spoke up. "His name is Harold Armstrong,” she said sadly, holding up her left hand to reveal a small gold band on her ring finger.

John's shoulders hunched and his brow creased as he thought.

"Give him a minute," you whispered next to her ear. "Got a nice boat, that one, but he ain't the brightest."

"Oi! M not deaf!” John scowled at you. Then turning to Eliana, he puffed out his chest, ready to defend you. "You had her kill your husband?" he hissed the accusation as he closed the distance in a few long strides. "You had no right to ask that of her!" he shouted, pointing a finger in her direction.

Quickly stepping between them, you placed a hand to his chest to halt his movements. "You've got it wrong," you stated simply.

"He was going to kill Y/n..." Eliana began before you hushed her.

"She told him she was leaving to be with me. He thought he could stop her by..." You stopped to inhale a sharp breath, thinking of the perilous fight you barely survived hours earlier. "Well...you know," you swallowed harshly, not wanting to give details. "I called you cos I knew you'd be there for me no matter what," you explained quietly. John's hands dropped to his sides, fists unclenching as all tension left his body with the shock of what he'd just heard.

"Oh, my God," he said, lowering himself by the banister to sit on the bottom stair. He knew something was off when you opened the door for him, possibly before that, when he heard a slight quiver in your voice on the telephone as you gave the code word for emergencies. His heart clenched in his chest at the thought of you reaching out to him before anyone else, speechless at your show of trust.

After a few minutes of deafening silence you needed to know if John was upset for being asked to clean up your mess. "Will you please say something?" you prodded gently.

John raised his head from where it hung cradled between his large hands, his bright blue eyes observing the body lying before him in Alfie's demolished house. His curious gaze finally resting upon your exhausted and disheveled form, he managed, "Is this why we never shagged?"

---------------------

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#peaky blinders fanfiction #Peaky blinders imagine #john shelby fanfic #john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #john shelby x you #john shelby x y/n #john shelby

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duskier · 1 year ago

Note

Is Soap the crazy ex that's stealing your stuff and Ghost won't do anything about it?

cw toxic relationship, stalking, pillow humping, panty sniffing/licking

The sheer AMOUNT of asks and comments and tags I got begging for it to be fem Soap... TBH I hadn't originally Thought that but yall convinced my ass so easy!! (As if toxic lesbianism isn't my bread and fucking butter)

Soap being sooo obsessed with you- Ghost dumped her because he loves loves LOVES seeing Soap emotionally distraught but got distracted with you soon after, he forgot to take Soap back before her last bits of sanity fled her.

She starts by finding all your social media, she swears that you're posting soft launch photos of Ghost’s hand on your thigh specifically to taunt her. Of course, all that does is rile her up more, and the logical conclusion to cope with that, of course, is to break into your flat while you're away on vacation with Ghost. Serves you right for flying to the fucking Caribbean with her man.

She considers smashing everything she can get her claws on while draped on your bed, your cat purring against Soap while she pets it mindlessly. Spares herself a little maniacal smile at the idea burning your whole fucking place down- she'd wait around a corner as you'd come home and fall to your knees in agony having lost it all.

Scratching just beneath the cats chin and cooing, "Don't worry love, I'd be sure to take good care of ye. Probably better than yer mum thas' for sure."

Ultimately, she does something stranger. She spends the entirety of your remaining vacation (two weeks, one day, and seventeen hours-- bleeding Christ, Ghost never spent more than two nights at Soap’s flat) living as you. The sweet old woman across from you that you asked to check in on your cat while you were gone? Why, she's so old her eyesight is going out. She doesn't trust her memory that much either. So when she squints up at Soap, she doesn't question anything as she passes the fraud your house key.

"Back early, eh pet?"

"Ah, no, but time does fly, doesnae?"

She wakes up every morning in your perfumed, satin sheets. She brushes her teeth with your brush, your paste- licking the bristles like a sweet until all the mint flavor was gone. Showers with all your soaps and slathers herself with your expensive oils after. Looks herself in the eyes in the mirror as she puts your lipstick on. Finds any set of clothes in your closet that fit her, unafraid to play tailor to make especially pretty items fit. Doesn't care if your shoes don't fit her, she makes them fit one way or another. Eats your oats, drinks your coffee from your unwashed mug as she looks down fondly as the cat eats the breakfast Soap put out for it. When she orders out, she puts your name down. Gets a little thrill in the cafes when they call out her tea but your name, gleefully smiling as she takes the paper cup.

Takes strange men home, and by home that still means yours, so they can fuck her like a worthless whore while spitting your name. It's pornographic when Soap throws her head back and cums with a cry when a man won't stop whining your name. She can't escape the sweet smell of your perfume.

Living as you, Soap has never felt so beautiful or put together in her life. It comes as a horrible, dizzying conclusion to Soap in the dead of night: she's not mad at you anymore. She's in love with you. It has her staggering out of bed, nearly collapsing at your hamper when she finds what she was hoping for. Falling over herself back onto your bed and mounting one of your pillows, muscular hips jerking as she rubs her bare, sopping cunt against the fabric. One hand gripping the corner of the pillow, keeping it in place and imagining it was your hair in her fist. The other hand holding a pair of your underwear to her nose. She takes a grotesquely deep sniff, eyes rolling back in her head with a guttural moan. She doesn't stop even as her hips start to buck faster, more desperate. It was then Soap’s turn to whine out your name like it were a last prayer, again and again. Strong thighs flexing as her rhythym became more erratic, her body bowing forward as she chased her orgasm. Tongue daring to dart out and tasting salt, tasting you, the new love of her life, this was the straw that finally broke Soap for good.

#cw toxic relationship #cw stalking #noel.haps #ghoap x reader #soap x reader #fem soap #me writing soap as nuts: yea lesbianism will do that to ye #forgive me for bad english im very sick

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aiscapades · 6 days ago

Text

ts m5 as cinderella's castle songs!

🐸 come along with me to bog's hollow for a side quest ♡

leander — facade, neon vere — step on your grave, watch ais — last forever, ash to ash mhin — castle on a hill, cursed crazy kuras — ever after, trappings of starlight

explanations:

leander

facade: this is the MOST LEANDER song EVER. and it's a fucking BANGER!! i am screaming this at you. this is THE song of this whole musical. it's the evil stepmother SERVING CUNT on a silver platter talking about how she skins humans in order to wear their flesh as disguises for her & her daughters. did you know that's the plot of this muscial?? do you see why it's so leander??? i'm shaking you by the shoulders way too hard. the line "i don't forget my roots / i just pluck them out of the shit" is leander turning away from his wealthy upbringing to rebuild from the ground up in lowtown. "i look good in this / my facade won't let down / no one notices that my soul is inside out" LEANDERRR YOU ARE A SICK TWISTED MAN. "my truth is skin-deep and oblique" HE'S FULL OF SECRETS DO YOU KNOW THIS "i'm good to play the part / until i break your heart" HE'S GOING TO USE YOU. HE'S ALREADY USING YOU. YOU DONT EVEN HAVE TO BE INTO HIM HE'S ALREADY PUPPETING YOU. YOU'RE ALREADY PLAYING INTO HIS LONG CON. YOU'RE ALREADY FUCKED MAN YOU SHOULDNT HAVE LOOKED IN HIS DIRECTION. "i'll try it on / i'll take it for a spin" he will play whatever role he needs to in order to get what he wants. this whole song is his villain monologue if he was a contestant on rupaul's drag race. does that make sense (??) neon: this song is soo leander seeing mc across the bar and being enraptured at first sight. i had assigned it to ais at first, which still works, but i moved it to leander bc 1. the actual imagery reminds me of leander presenting mc with the magic lily :) and 2. well it kinda has sub vibes if you really read into the lyrics. for example: "radiate my life / burn me with your fire / bend my space and time / let me be your martyr" leander's got ulterior motives for sure, but he'll let you use him a lil bit too if you know what i mean.. "you know i will not ever sleep at night" firstly, leander doesn't sleep, he's chugging monster and sucking the life essence out of orphans. or something. the second part "you walk in lookin' like a neon light / no sense in turning you off" read to me like leander sitting back and observing mc in order to further plot and plan.. there's no need to directly make mc do anything. he's not gonna outright force mc to stop seeing the other LIs. but he will always be watching from the sidelines to see if you take his advice, heed his warnings. y'know the old adage about how abusive men want a submissive woman but they always go after those who are independent in order to break them down. it's giving me that. leander is fascinated by mc and is absolutely gonna pull some strings, but he's also content just keeping an eye on them for now. controlling them in subtle ways. seeing how this plays out. i should probably mention this song is the prince singing about being bewitched by ella's magical disguise, but he's just a gross pervert and isn't actually looking for love. so there's inherently ulterior motives in the song due to the narrative; it's not a genuine love song, and i think that's why i ultimately decided to assign this to leander instead of ais (THAT'S NOT A DISS OK)

vere

step on your grave: rebellious teenage girl vere makes a comeback :) this is a "i want that bitch dead" song that i think fits vere's relationship with his handlers and the senobium. it opens with ella talking about how her life was meant to go as the daughter of a respected family: "i was raised to be appraised / path was paved, dress was made" which parallels how vere was once revered as a god. he was once looked up to, feared, worshipped. he was once something, but now he's reduced to a mere hunting dog. in the song, ella is preparing food for her stepmother & sisters, but given they are trolls, the ingredients are pretty nasty, from frog guts to entire cats to maggot soup. she's disgusted and sick of this routine, which i think is a bit like vere getting sick of having to consume all these low-quality, tasteless souls... i can't imagine what he's hunting gives him much satisfaction at this point. mc was probably the yummiest yet. anyway, ella goes on to fantasize about putting her stepmother in a grave. "'cause i wish you nothin' but defeat / and i want nothin' for you but the least / and i know you're wishing i'd be sweet and behave / i want to step on your grave" AMENNN vere deserves to stomp his handlers imo watch: maybe i'm too presumptious when it comes to these things, but i only know so much about these characters and my mind definitely assigns certain tropes to them. vere gets rebellious teenage girl and :) girlboss sadism <3. if it's cunty and freaky and dark, it's vere to me. this song is all those things. it's stepmother severing ella's foot (à la the grimm cinderella tale) while she's forced to watch and feel alllll the pain & fear. very reminiscent of vere hunting and consuming mc alive <3 the song opens "my god, you're so lucky / for me to appear in your life / you were itching for a thrill / something to catch your eye" which reminds me of how vere seduces(?) people? i'm thinking of the trailer scene with all the hands grabbing at him. either way, he certainly uses his good looks and charming wit to take down people's guard, and he pities easy prey. "i want you to watch / watch what happens / ... i want you to watch what i'm doing / the gore is half the thrill / the searing pain within you / won't go away until / you watch." idk i think vere should stomp his handlers lmaooo. i would love to see him break free from his chains and become a venerated god once again. "pain will come before pleasure / and the pleasure will be mine" i hope so pookie <3

ais

last forever: WALK WITH ME WALK WITH ME this song is right after ella learns her childhood friends will be visiting in order to attend the upcoming ball, and for the first time in so long, ella will be able to feel like a normal person again. she can sing and dance and chitchat and wear her pretty dresses and not have to worry about being the servant of monstrous trolls. she sings about how she hopes this feeling lasts forever. "i've been thinking about this day as long as i remember / and i've been dreaming about how i can make it last / if i close my eyes i can see the best in front of me / ... this day will last forever" now i'm putting emphasis on that last line because, unfortunately, her two childhood friends do come to stay.. as skinsuits for her stepsisters. she wanted so badly to pretend everything is okay when it just never was and never could be. to me, this is like ais, burdened by loneliess, entering the pact with ocudeus thinking he'll never have to be alone again, but instead entering his own living nightmare. the faces of ella's childhood best friends twisted over the form of bloodthirsty trolls = the dozens of mangled voices echoing in ais's head at all times. ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME HERE?? you still got what you wanted! your expectations for it were just too high. ash to ash: ok so this is my favorite song. no it's not bc it has my name. no im not emotionally attached to cinderella she's not my favorite princess bc of the ash/cinder thing. why are you accusing me of such things im trying to MAKE A MUSICAL ANALYSIS TUMBLR POST FOR TOUCHSTARVED THE GAME. anyway this song is fucking awesome and i first associated it with kuras bc it's sung by a goddess and has lots of fire/starlight imagery which imo is biblical. but honestly? i thought abt it more and i changed my mind. it's for ais. at this point in the musical, ella accidentally summons the fairy queen of sweet dreams through the blood of her fallen friends and the righteous fury in her heart. the god asks ella what she desires, and ella tamely responds that she wishes for the world to be a good place. the goddess is offended by this lie and tells ella to share her true feelings. ella responds that she actually wants revenge, and the goddess is pleased to hear this, singing "it all turns to ash and ash / and dust to dust / there's nothing left but a vengeful lust / ... when the light goes out / only fire is just." she uses her power to bestow gifts and blessings upon ella in order for her to achieve this desire, much like how ocudeus bestows ais with power to serve a greater purpose. the fairy queen isn't afraid to give ella all she needs to destroy her enemies. she wants ella to achieve her deepest desire, no matter how much bloodshed that may cost. she almost seems to revel in the thought of bloodshed. she tells ella, "i forge you these three gifts / for your just intention / against your opposition / use them." ella asks "wisely?" and the fairy queen corrects, "hardly." this just reminded me of ocudeus wanting ais to know he's allowed to hurt others, recruit others, do whatever he wants for the greater purpose. these eldritch gods are gifting them power and they want it to be used. "a god will see that your enemies run."

mhin

castle on a hill: this opening song of the muscial is representative of the senobium's perception to outsiders and those desperate for the secrets within, like mhin or even mc. "there's a castle on the hill as the story goes / and it watches over us from across the moat / there are tales in those halls / are they true or are they tall?" the ivory tower senobium lords over its citizens with secrecy, much like the eponymous castle on the hill; with this power and secrecy comes speculation on what goes on behind the walls. this song is the townsfolk recounting theories and stories while wondering if the castle would ever let them in to see for themselves. "it watches us from its looming tower... i worship its sheer size / oh, the ballads it must hide / i need to know, will i ever know?" the first mc sees of mhin (in the demo) is them trying to scale the walls and enter the senobium. we know they want inside but we can only guess what for (a cure? answers? revolution?) and, similar to mc or other unknowing outsiders, they seem to idealize whatever the senobium holds. maybe they know something we don't, or maybe they're just holding out hope that the senobium will live up to its mythologized reputation. cursed crazy: i have a lot of sympathy for mhin's curse situation, which is why i love any kind of angst for them. sorry <3 this song is all the townsfolk ostracizing ella for having gone mad after the death of her parents. nobody believes what ella claims, and she seems batshit crazy with all the talk of murder plots and trolls in skinsuits. "cursed or crazy? / ... the guilt she's got, she's overwrought / that paranoid look, like the town is talking behind her back / lock her away! / destined to join her mother at the stake / weird and eccentric / completely estranged!" mhin is overly cautious about getting close to other people and prefers to keep solo, probably for a lot of reasons, but most notably i think they fear hurting innocent people above all else. they would already be ostracized because of their monstrosity but they choose it for themself anyway, so they're doubly alone. in the demo, you get the sense others almost blame mhin for being such a recluse (like leander trying to get them to open up, or vere teasing them) but we know there are definitely underlying reasons why mhin would rather keep to themself. i think this dynamic reflects ella's perspective in the song with all the townsfolk looking down on her, oblivious to the horrorific reasoning. there are also the lines "when fighting your demons alone / you know you're fucked or fated / destiny couldn't be sicker / whether you want it or not" which gives the doomed by the narartive vibes i associate with mhin.

kuras

ever after: he who is laden with guilt and must repent,, i bestow upon him this song about not knowing if you will achieve (or even deserve) a happy ending. "just as the rain might fall / i've been bracing for years / has living with pain / eroded the last of my fears? / am i ready?" if a beautiful angel lived centuries on earth in order to make up for mistakes in heaven,, would he no longer fear his demise? would he acquiesce just as humans do to mortality? would he accept his punishment and finally free himself of all the guilt just so he may die in peace? "kings rise, kings fall / ... is it my time, or was it long ago? / will it ever after happily? / or will it all turn to dust?" or will he get to live, free of penance, finally? orrrrr will the harbiger of chaos and ruin make a return as the world succumbs to biblical destruction? you tell me (also a bunch of lyrics from other songs make a reappearance, which to me is fitting for kuras since he seems to be a pretty neutral touchstone for all the Lis in one way or another) trappings of starlight: strangely fitting how we're ending on the last full song of the musical ... well trappings of starlight is a "we won!" song with an heavy, underlying sadness for those that couldn't make it to the end. it also has some symbolism from ash to ash that fits well for kuras if you recall what i said about that in ais's section. "in trappings of starlight / all of the people / will get back together now / sunset and sunrise / fearsome and regal / ashes belie a crown" i think sunset & sunrise, fearsome & regal are apt descriptions for an angel, and even more than that, ashes belie a crown is soooo holy hellfire to me. the trappings of starlight is ella's dress crafted from the last flickering light in the eternal dark, infused with magic (and very irradiated glass coded) and due to this, when the prince tries to remember her face after the ball, he can only see fire and starlight. much like if you happened to encounter an angel! "i know you're worthy / for what we've been through / an unforgiving journey / but we've arrived at the truth" doesn't kuras just want to be worthy? of love, of forgiveness, of hope? i think he feels very removed from these rather ordinary things, whether bc of his extraordinary nature or because he was deemed unworthy of them in the past. whatever the case may be, i think this song fits him well. "gracious and lethal / lifting the heavy crown" like that's just kuras. "my love will be fierce! / and your love will be missed" is because mc will perish long before kuras ever will, just as all the others that preceeded them... but he won't love mc with any less conviction, with any less heart.

#this took all day :D #touchstarved game #ts cast as...#starkid x ts

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 1 year ago

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REWATCHING GO S1, LIVE PLAY-BY-PLAY OF DOOMSDAY WAHOO

HELLO MAGGOTS REWATCHING SEASON 1 BECAUSE THE FIRST TIME WAS A KIDNAPPING CHAOTIC MESS. EPISODE ONE HERE GOES. I DON'T REMEMBER A LOT OF DETAILS BUT YES.

Opening scene and Earth's got vibe-checked by God and I've been gaslit about the dinosaurs

GARDEN OF EDEEEEEN wow his first appearance and Aziraphale's already so prissy and flustered might fuck around and fall in love with him idk

I finally understand who these mf's are hi Hastur and Ligur you're not zombies after all

FOR FUCK'S SAKE SECOND SCENE CROWLEY'S BEEN IN AND SHE WALKED IN, SERVED HIPS HAIR AND CUNT, AND THEN MANAGED TO TALK HER AWAY INTO A PROBLEM

LIKE GENUINELY SHE COMES AND SASHAYS WITH HER HAIR AND SAYS TIMES ARE CHANGING AND HEAD OFFICE LOVES ME AND JUST INSTANTLY HASTUR AND LIGUR USE HER WORDS AGAINST HER

idk sister mary loquacious is kinda doing it for me rn with that satanic nun's habit and losergirl energy

third crowley scene and he's misplaced THE LITERALLY GODDAMNED ANTICHRIST because he made small talk with a bloke outside without checking for details

mmmmhm yes sister mary wink again your bitchless decisions are sexy y'know what i mean

Gabriel feels like his brain was eviscerated and replaced with one of those youtuber's paid course promos at the end of their how to change your life in 45 days: three simple mindset shifts video

so THIS IS WHY EVERYONE KEEPS SAYING PAVLOVIAN IN THIS FANDOM IT'S BECAUSE OF DUCKS of course it's because of ducks

mmmhm yes sure crepes French revolu--Crowley stop eye-fucking Aziraphale you're making everyone at the Ritz horny

Aziraphale don't moan into your food man you can't take these two anywhere

Crowley thanking the driver for slowing down is everything to me

And they're drunk hu-fucking-zzah good thing we'll have 11 year olds saving the world coz these fuckers sure ain't doing shit

OH MY GOD HE WAS TRYING TO SAY BOUILLABAISSE I JUST REALISED. I THOUGHT HE WAS JUST MAKING KISSY FACES AT AZIRAPHALE I'M NOT OK-

What Aziraphale was doing back was definitely kissy faces though that mfer wasn't even trying to say bouillabaisse when Crowley said what sounded suspiciously like baby

kissy kissy from lil miss prissy [i would have made such a great high school bully shame i had no inclinations that way]

SORRY WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK WAS THAT SOBERING UP EXCUSE ME THE FANFICS MADE IT SOUND LIKE IT WAS A CLICK AND THEY'RE SUDDENLY NORMAL WHY IS THE ALCOHOL REFILLING

oop nun down nun down

i want ya see a wile ya thwart amirite on a t-shirt

"actually i encourage humans to-" just say you're a lazy bitch azi we love you

love crowley fake-manipulating azi into helping like azi wants to be manipulated y'know so it's not technically his fault he was wiled over or whatever and they're both just such ENABLERS

not azi going SOFT at being godfathers with crowley

NOT BROTHER FRANCIS PLEASE NO FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS SACRED AZI WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS PLEASE

WARLOCKKKKK I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

HNNNG MICHAEL SHEEN HAD TOO MUCH FUN WITH THIS

why is nanny ashtoreth so seductive with that of course dear is it just crowley's inherent disastergirl sex appeal

HALF PONYTAIL CROWLEY I AM A FUCKING SLUT FOR HALF PONYTAIL

GASLIGHTING HEAVEN AND HELL THAT'S MY BABYGIRLS

erIC THE DISPOSABLE DEMON I DIDN'T KNOW THEY COME IN S1 well not come i hope unless being eaten by a hellho--nope

ANGEL CROWLEY SAID ANGEL ANGEL ANGEL

CROWLEY TRYING TO BE SUBTLE ABOUT KILLING BEFORE GETTING ANNOYED

waiter crOWLEY OUTFIT I CANNOT BE NORMAL AFTER THE WEDDING DRESS DESIGNING ABOUT THIS COSTUME

FOOLS WRONG BOY YOU FOOLS IM DEAD

DOG IS UNIRONICALLY SO CUTE EVEN BEFORE IT GOES SMOL

gonna give my roxie a kissy brb she's my angel and all this dog talk makes me miss her (she's a few feet away under the bed)

i asked her for a kissy and she crawled out and gave me a kiss i love her

DOGGGGG ADAMMM

...roxie's crying to be taken downstairs it's nearly 2 am this is on me for waking her up i crowley'd myself fml

EYYYYY WELCOME TO THE END TIMES don't mind me I'll have to take roxie down yes I know maggots I'm crowley-coded I KNOW THAT I'M A BLOODY DISASTER BYEEEEEEEE

#good omens mascot #good omens #weirdly specific but ok #asmi #maggots #good omens fandom #good omens season 1 #in the beginning #WAHOO #OK GTG TAKE MY DOG DOWNSTAIRS AT 1:45 IN THE MORNING #THE CROWLEY LIFE #IT'S HARD WORK BEING THE RESIDENT DISASTER #BUT SOMEONE'S GOTTA DO IT

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sephirothsplaything · 8 months ago

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DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 16

A/N: holy shit this chapter took way too much time. Savor this one tho, this will be the last time Rhaella will be a semi-rational person!!! Every chapter after this will make you miss the slow moments I guarantee you ^3^

TW: mentions of death, Aemond and Rhaella once again being twisted soulmates and being in sync. oh and aegon being a creeper

This is the story of Lady Rhaella Targaryen the I;the strange one and her role in the Dance Of Dragons. Loved by few and feared by many.

The blood of the dragon runs in Targaryen's veins. Something else runs in Rhaella.

BLACK TARGARYEN OC/READER

PARINGS: Aemond,Cregan,slight Jace,slight Addam,original charecter

read the previous chapter here!

THERE WERE EXACTLY THREE THINGS ASTRIS ENJOYED.

She loved to decorate herself with dresses fashioned from Pentoshi velvets. Jewelry that sparkled in the sun always drew her eye-- And when she found the time, her bed would often be warmed by the company of a comley woman.

Astris adjusted the serving maid's clothes to her body. The material was quite ill-fitting and scratchy. There surely were many other ways for her to go about this, however her lady commanded her to be inconspicuous.

Rhaella Targaryen could be quite dull, but only sometimes. Astris's pale cheeks flushed at the thought of her--Quite conniving, Lady Rhaella was, it was perhaps one of her favorite things about the Targaryen girl.

The gargles of a woman brought Astris out of her trance. She looked down to her feet, a sickly hand gripping the fabrics of her dress.

The real serving maid, one whom she had whisked away to one of the cellars was currently choking to death. Astris initially thought to use a dagger, but Rhaella had stressed the importance of not making a mess.

And while the blood would've been an inconvenience, witchery does not set in so quickly.

Especially ones regarding poison.

"It shouldn't go on for too much longer." Astris cheerily assured, crouching down to meet the woman's terrified eyes.

Astris was only met with gags, a rather poor attempt to form anything coherent.

"Hm?" Astris brought her ear closer. Her dark eyes widened slightly, as a thought occurred to her.

"Ah!" Astris exclaimed. "How could I forget!"

She piled her long dark hair to the top of her head, snatching the maid's cap and securing it over herself.

Satisfied, Astris looked to the now-dead woman. She nudged her body with the heel of her shoe for good measure.

One of the other maids had told her about a meeting that was to take place momentarily. Since she had assumed the role of serving girl,it was more than perfect timing.

Wandering into the halls, Astris took in the sight of the Red Keep. It was indeed impressive, but Pentos was far better.

"What do you think you're doing?" A shrill voice snapped in her direction. Astris turned to see the figure of another maid, an older woman looking rather bothered.

But before Astris found a care to respond, the woman shoved a pitcher of wine into her hands.

"Get on with it!" The woman ushered her again. "The King shall go mad without his wine!"

So she was to invade the council room? Astris found this far too easy, almost boring.

Astris entered the room, walking into a rather spirited exchange. There the supposed king was, or the drunken cunt as Lady Rhaella referred to him.

No man in the room so much spared her a glance, save for Lord Larys Strong. Rhaella had previously admitted she knew hardly anything about him. But the eerie glance he gave to Astris told her this man was nothing to be trifled with.

"Fuck you!" Aegon lashed out. He paced back and forth whilst everyone watched on.

Perhaps it was better to busy herself immediately. She filled the cup of Lord Jasper, who held a look of slight amusement towards Aegon's tantrum.

"Now Daemon, of all people, has taken Harrenhal." He continued.

Astris's gaze remained to the floor, moving between the chairs and playing the cupbearer.

"There are other worries we can attend to, your grace." Lord Larys speaks finally. His voice was flat, lined with false emotion. It was clear to Astris that he was very well the most dangerous man in the room.

"It's your fucking castle!" Aegon exclaimed. Astris found the whole thing rather funny. This was the cousin lady Rhaella had warned her about? He was more than unserious.

There was a pause in the room, no one had the mind to respond. Astris found the side of the Prince Aemond. There was an air of smugness surrounding him,as if he had expected this much.

Astris could recall how Lady Rhaella would speak of him when they were younger. Even now, there was a present softness when Rhaella found the courage to speak his name-- A sense of constant want that Astris dared not to point out.

But this man was not the dragonless, soft-spoken boy she had heard of.

No, rather he had grown into something terrible, causing her lady much turmoil.

Astris loathed him, but it was not so hard to see why her lady liked him. In a way, his current demeanor reminded her of the lady Rhaella.

As she went to fill his cup, his hand covered the top without so much acknowledging her.

"Harrenhal must wait." Aemond spoke. His eyes shifted towards the boarded map. Astris followed his gaze discreetly, falling over Rooks Rest.

Aegon looked at his brother in confusion, Aemond's implication had flown over his head.

"Criston Cole and his army is marching on Rook's Rest." Aemond continued, walking towards the map.

So Rhaella's theory had been correct. Astris doubted her lady would find any joy in the fact. If successful, the blacks would suffer a devastating blow.

"I gave no such orders." Aegon stuttered out. He wore the crown, but the control belonged to Aemond. Astris briefly wondered if Rhaella had expected this much.

She took her place to the side, in wait to be beckoned for more wine.

"Rook's Rest is weakly defended and close to Dragonstone." Aemond adds, sliding a piece over the castle.

Astris flinched. It was a shrewd plan, one that would force the queen's hand. She wished to send a letter to Rhaella at once.

Aegon seemed to resign, although his face held much contempt. Aemond had more or less dismissed him in front of the council. He averted his attention to Astris, beckoning her over.

"Rhaenyra has more dragons, have you accounted for that," Aegon said with a certain edge. His eyes tracked Astris's form predatorily as she poured wine into the cup.

Aemond hummed out, quiet for a moment. Astris, was more than ready to leave, however, her attempt was halted by Aegon's hand wandering up her hip.

Perhaps she would spare Rhaella the worry and kill him herself. With some semblance of control though, Astris's gave Aegon a dismissive curtsey.

Her first priority would be informing Lady Rhaella have the threat. Secondly, she wished to fill Aegon's bed with roaches.

"Wait a moment." Lord Larys called to her. Astris held back an annoyed sigh.

"My lord?" She did not care to conceal her accent, it was fairly obvious she was a foreigner.

"I do not think I have seen you before?" An accusation veiled by a question. Astris did not shrink, almost welcoming the challenge. Mysaria had taught her far better and as it stood, his threats meant little and less.

Lady Rhaella could not fault her for craving some excitement.

"It is my first day, I hope it wasn't such a fuss," Astris responded. Aemond turned to look at her,a blanketed look on his face.

"I am afraid I am ignorant of foreign lands." Lord Larys said. He was trapping her, however Astris hardly felt like a mouse.

"Please, what is your name?"

"Zahrina." Astris stated. It was the first name that came to her.

"A Mereneese." Lord Jasper mused.

Astris nodded, hands behind her back in nonchalance. "I was born there, my lord."

Lord Larys's hand clutched his walking cane. "That could be true." He pondered aloud.

He came slightly closer, but Astris did not buckle. Her black eyes bored into his apathetically.

"I must say, you look Pentoshi."

At the mention of the city, something twitched in Aemond's face. How much of her did Rhaella mention to him? Astris could only hope it was little.

Astris shrugged. "I couldn't know." Her eyes darted to Aemond. "I am of bastard birth."

Not a complete lie. Only the Gods knew who her mother was, but her father was Prince Reggio of Pentos. She was treated more like a maid than a daughter by him.

It was obvious to Astris that Lord Larys was not quite satisfied, but dismissed her nevertheless.

Astris went straight to the kitchens, intending to make and send her letter immediately.

"The Queen Helaena requested her meal be brought to her," A maid told her.

Astris fiddled with arranging the food in front of her. She knew her lady was fond of Helaena so she attempted her best, though she was a handmaid she never served food before.

"Did you hear about the prince?" Another maid's girlish voice pinged into Astris's ear, annoying her.

"Him and that brothel whore you mean?"

The maid hummed. "He visits her often, the madame Sylvie."

Astris perked up a little. Lady Mysaria had often sent for the madame's girls for employment. So Aemond had found himself company in the streets of silk?

Rhaella would be furious.

Picking up the tray, Astris found herself to Helaena's chamber.

"Uhm..your grace?" Astris said, without knocking.

There was Helaena, crouched in front of a table staring at her bugs. On the carpet was Jaehaera playing with her dolls in silence.

Setting the tray down, Astris decided it was best to leave—no point in bothering with her.

"Do not let her," Helaena spoke suddenly, catching Astris off guard. "She will be unable to control it."

"I'm sorry?" Astris turned back around. Helaena was standing up now,a deadly serious expression engraved onto her face.

"Rhaella," Helaena said. "It wants her to spill blood."

Astris looked around for a moment, wondering if it was smart to linger here any longer.

"I am not sure what you mean"

Helaena fiddled with her fingers for a moment, frantically looking around.

"I saw it, what she is going to do." She hissed out.

Admittedly, Helaena did seem much different from the rest of her family. Astris took a seat on one of the chairs, hungry in curiosity. The Princess could see beyond and Astris immediately wished to know more.

"Is the lady Rhaella in danger?" Astris questioned. Helaena blinked frantically.

"Her fire shall reach the starry sept, many will die."

Astris, with her own magic, was quite limited. Witches in Pentos who could see the future were quite rare, and she was not one of them.

She wondered if valyrian magic worked similarly.

"I see," Astris said. Just how accurate was the Targaryen princess's abilities, the girls dark eyes glimmered at the prospect.

"Please." Helaena urged, grabbing onto Astris's sleeve. "For the sake of the living and the dead, let not her soul become corrupted."

Astris's lips quirked up into a slight smile. The warning was of no particular consequence, she decided.

For the Gods have chosen Rhaella Targaryen, so who was she to intervene?

............

THE VOICES OF THE BLACK COUNCIL sounded more like aimless rumble to Rhaella's ears. She should've stayed in her chamber, underneath the pile of blankets that could shield her from everything.

But there she stood, face drawn a blank. Her hair was unbraided,strewn around her shoulders and down her back. Rhaella found slight comfort in one of her more simple black dresses.

Queen Rhaenyra had come up missing, alongside Ser Darklyn, much to Jacaerys' vexation. Even now, he looked particularly enraged.

Rhaella's mind wasn't in such disarray, she might've found it humorous.

"Ser Criston Cole and his host have been using the tree covers in order to hide his movements." Baela continued on. Rhaella realized she had missed most of her sister's words. She blinked slowly in an attempt to focus.

"And what is our heading?" Ser Alfred asked. Rhaella peered down to the painted table.

Rooks Rest. Of this, she was more than sure,but alas the men at the table hardly paid her any mind.

"Their army is moving.. northwest,I believe," Baela said unsurely.

"She believes." The resounding scoffs of Ser Massey pained the end of Baela's sentence.

Rhaella looked towards her grandmother who held the same unchanging face of contemplation. In truth, everyone was quite lost without the queen here.

"You should have burned them when you had the chance." Ser Alfred stated plainly.

"Perhaps you can, when you sight them on your own dragon." Baela is quick to retort, taking her place by Jace's side.

Such flippance would hardly help their standing. The men of the council weren't taking anything she said with much consideration.

"The only reason we know any of this is due to Baela's efforts," Jace said.

Rhaella felt that familiar presence, her eyes shifted up to the tops of the ledges inside the room.

There he was. Staring at her.

'Speak your mind'

"If she would've burned them, it certainly would've saved us some time." Rhaella found her voice, or rather it was pushed out of her.

"And yet, those were not my orders," Baela said.

The two sisters held contact for a moment, slightly tense. Rhaella was in no particular mood to back down though.

"The lady Rhaella speaks true, as of now we know little and less." Ser Bartimos agreed, causing Baela to scoff.

"We know that Cole's host is growing by the day." Rhaenys says finally voicing her opinion.

Criston Cole had been plundering his way through the Crownlands, capturing every castle on the way.

The Blacks were losing, and Rhaella found it particularly annoying. It was a win for Aegon and his pack of fools.

"Have you heard word, from your father?" Ser Gormand asked. The question was for Baela as she was the one who bothered to send letters to the man, keeping him informed of the shocking lack of progress they had made.

Rhaella,on the other hand had not so much picked up a pen in thought of her father. What was the point? If he hadn't answered Baela…

Baela sighed. She was tired, it was clear to Rhaella especially. Their father did that. It only made Rhaella's fury burn brighter.

"No." Baela said.

Rhaella hated him, more so now than before if it was at all possible. The council didn't need them. She for certain did not need him either.

And she was done holding her tongue.

"If only there was someone here to lead us." Ser Alfred mused. "This council is rudderless."

"I'm doing my best to steer it." Princess Rhaenys said sharply. Rhaella thought her grandmother could certainly do more, but for the sake of not embarrassing her, she did not voice it.

"Why should your voice be any louder than ours? , the queen did not name you hand."

The fucking gull of that man.

"Is there naught to be done but whine like a pack of children?" Rhaella snapped abruptly.

Rhaella pushed a piece towards the Twins, where House Frey resided.

"Let us turn our attention to matters we can accomplish," Rhaella stated, her voice calm albeit stern.

"What would that be?" Jace asked.

"House Frey has not yet declared for a side." Rhaella crossed her arms.

She gave a pointed look to Jace. "One of us, should go and ensure their allyship."

"We cannot move without the queen's command, Rhaella," Rhaenys adds however Rhaella disagreed.

"The Queen isn't here."

Silence fell upon the council, considering Rhaellas admittedly shrewd suggestion.

But they needed not to concede as Rhaella could practically see Jace considering, as she intended.

"Furthermore, something must be done in the Crownlands" Rhaella continued.

"Who are you to make such demands?" Ser Massey asked. "You are but a girl, one without a dragon."

"Mind your tongue." Jace defended, and Rhaella was thankful for it. They would be more inclined to give ear if the prince said it.

"There has always been more than one way to conduct a war, Ser Massey," Rhaella said.

Princess Rhaenys looked at her granddaughter with awe, Rhaella's mind was quite intimidating by all accounts. The Lords in the room found it hard to dispute her words.

"My lady, a letter has arrived for you." Elinda interrupted. She handed Rhaella a slip of parchment.

"Pardon me, my lords." Rhaella excused herself into the hallway. She ripped open the letter hastily. It was from Astris, she could tell by the delicate letters written.

She could hear the booming voice of her grandsire in the other room, but she couldn't worry about that now.

My Lady,

Criston Cole and his army is making for Rooks Rest, planning to sack the whole castle. He has already laid waste in Duskendale.

Aegon was half-drunk for the better part of the meeting and seemed to not be privy to this plan or any for that matter.

-It is more likely this was an idea of Aemond's making. I feel as though he shall have a hand in the assault as well.

I am not sure if it is of any note but Aemond has been seeing a madame in the Streets of Silk, perhaps she knows something?

As for Helaena, as you asked..she is looking well and her daughter is quiet,does not speak much.

I hope this served as some help to ease your mind?

--Astris

Whatever joy Rhaella might have felt for standing correct regarding her prediction had been tainted by Aemond.

She did not take him for one to find pleasures in such a grimy place. And what of this madame? She must be quite comely. The more Rhaella imagined it, disgusting jealousy filled her to the brim.

Fine then. Rhaella crumpled the letter angrily, marching back to the room.

"Was it something of note, granddaughter? " Lord Corlys asked upon her return.

Rhaella's face was scarily hardened, the typical apathetic expression she sported was long gone.

"Criston Cole and his army are currently marching on Rooks Rest, as I had previously stated to you all," Rhaella said. "Duskendale has already fallen, the lord was executed."

"And you know this, how?" Ser Alfred questioned. Rhaella sent him a hateful glare, one so harsh that he was forced to avert his eyes from her.

"I have just been informed by my handmaid, she has infiltrated the Red keep."

"Something must be done." Jace exhales. Baela shook her head, wanting to wait for the queen. Rhaella had grown particularly sick of waiting,it was something she had done for the better part of her life.

Watching. Waiting. Longing.

Dragon or not, she could no longer be still.

"We must trust that the queen is working her own plots." Rhaenys said.

But what kind of queen plots without her council members? Whether they were useful or not?

"We need to send a dragon." Jace urged. It was entirely lost on Rhaella that Jace was referring to himself-- If she had Aegarax by now, she could put a swift end to all this bother.

"To where?" The voice of Queen Rhaenyra graced the floor. Ser Darklyn by her side. She was clothed in septa fabrics, stands of hair out of place.

Rhaella and Baela looked at each other, expressions mirroring. It was glaringly obvious that Rhaenyra went to see Alicent.

"To support the war your vassels have been fighting in your absence." Jace spits out in hostiility.

"You went to see Alicent, I presume?" Rhaella spoke out. Rhaenyra blinked in confusion, serving as a further vexation to Rhaella. There was no more room for peace.

"I have inherited eighty years of peace," Rhaenyra said. "I wished to ensure that there was no other way forward."

And in the queen's wait, her enemies thought her weak as did her own council.

"You cannot just venture out on a whim!" Jace exclaimed. Rhaella's mouth twitched slightly. It was satisfying to see him act in such a way.

"Duskendale has been taken,Cole is marching on Rooks Rest." Princess Rhaenys informs the queen.

Rhaenyra's brow furrowed as she placed the septa cloak onto the table.

"Why Rooks Rest?"

Rhaella sighed out, loud enough for all to take notice.

"The castle is small and largely vulnerable, your grace," Rhaella spoke.

It was clear what was at play here and Rhaella felt helpless to stop it.

"As I see it, we are being dared." Rhaella placed a dragon piece on the map.

"Rooks Rest is not so far from Dragonstone, they will be expecting us."

The queen thought for a moment, assessing her situation. The lot of her members were itchy to act, as were the children. She wouldn't risk her own son, not after Luke. Moondancer was small and Rhaenyra preferred to use Baela for scouting.

Rhaella and the dragon she had been working towards…well

And yet, Rhaella had managed more information than the more experienced lords at the table. But the darkness painted within Rhaella's eyes caused the queen to remove her as an option.

"Then I shall take Syrax and go myself." Queen Rhaenyra decided.

A rather poor choice, but what other option did she have? She would not be seen as soft.

"If you die, all is lost!" Jace said. His knuckles had turned white by how tightly he gripped the head of his sword.

They were placed with little choice, in Rhaella's opinion.

"It must be me, your grace," Rhaenys said.

Rhaella felt a chill run down her back. Not her grandmother, the extension of her late mother. However, they were placed with little choice.

Desperation. Let it not be her, rather Rhaenyra. For what would Rhaella do without Rhaenys?

"It is a trap." Rhaella blurts out. "This is not a scheme of Aegon's making, it is plain to see."

"It will-" Rhaenys began but was swiftly cut off by Rhaella.

"Criston Cole is hand of the king, yes." Rhaella's hand twitched as she tried to hold them together. "But it is not Aegon he plots with."

"What are you implying?" Baela asked.

"Their host will not be without a dragon of their own," Rhaella said.

Rhaenys smiled slightly, as her mind had since been made up.

"I will meet Cole, and whatever he may bring."

Rhaella shook her head. "And what if you happen upon Sunfye? or Vhagar?"

Rhaenys's eyes fluttered at the mention of her daughter's dragon. But it did little to change her mind.

She would go. Rhaella had little sway in convincing her otherwise.

.........

Princess Rhaenys made herself ready in all of the armor necessary, valyrian steel crown atop her head. Rhaella had been glued to her side like a child, following her all the way to the dragonpit.

"Grandmother please." Rhaella urged. Meleys was saddled and ready for her rider. "You cannot do this alone."

"Meleys and myself are experienced in battle, more so than the others." Rhaenys adjusted the belt around her waist.

Rhaella approached the red she-dragon, delicately stroking her snout.

"Perhaps Aegarax has returned,I could try to mount him and join you?" She suggested, Rhaenys chuckled.

"You don't have so much as a saddle, let alone any armor."

Rhaella sighed. It was a silly wish, she'd only get in the way.

Rhaenys took Rhaella's face into her hands, thumbs stroking her soft cheeks. Her wickedly strange girl, daughter of her daughter.

"Keep your head about you, understand me?" Rhaenys said. But Rhaella was far too consumed in her own worries to relish the warm touch of her grandmother.

"Baela will need you,so will Rhaena," Rhaella whispered.

"They have you, Rhaella" Rhaenys responded. She moved to mount her dragon,grabbing hold of the reins.

"Gaomagon zirȳla ȳgha" Rhaella said to Meleys. 'Keep her safe'

With a resounding roar, Rhaenys left the cave hollow. Despite her wishes to spill blood for her family, Rhaella did naught but stare into the empty space.

Unacting, once more.

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tg-pilled · 1 year ago

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How TG characters would react to being in Saw traps:

(These aren't specific traps because I haven't seen enough movies to torture my pookies properly yet 😾😾😾)

Kaneki

Pre-Jason: Cry, shake, throw up. Would probably die from the stress and overthinking before that cunty Billy Puppet could even Think about rolling in

Post-Jason: Would not hesitate to break a bone but would also act in rash ways. Would probably manage to escape the trap but wouldn't seek for help after because he's emo brocken core 🥀🥀🥀

Haise

Approaches it from a logical perspective. 100% escapes but tries not to injure himself (or others if it is a joined trap)

Touka

Would probably curse out whoever put her in the room the entire time while solving the puzzle / getting through it. Like. "YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH, I'M GOING TO GET YOU" *solves the puzzle* She 100% beats the fuck out of the Billy puppet when he rolls in once she's done like she is Not gonna have it

Hide

We all know our boy is SO smart, but he doesn't have the healing properties of a ghoul so he would have to be extra careful with it

Nishiki

Gets his swearing out BEFORE he starts solving the puzzle which ultimately costs him time so he dies. He's definitely smart enough and rash enough to do ANYTHING to get out but I feel like his attitude would get in his way

Uta

Tries but ultimately decides he doesn't give a fuck so he just opts to die

Renji

Definitely tries but realizes he also doesn't give a fuck. His only motivation would be to keep protecting those he cares about but if the creator of the room told him they were dead then he'd probably just die too

Ayato

Like Touka, he gets mad except he sits there for a while stewing in his anger because he hates when people boss him around and he'll prove he's the best by escaping with only a little time left

Eto

Solves it SO quickly and kicks serious ass once she's out

Rize

Solves it and then serves absolute cunt while hunting down the guy

Jason

Considering how he reacted when Kaneki turned the tables on him, he'd probably lay down and cry

Tsukiyama

Acts like he knows what he's doing and then dies because he does not in fact know what he's doing

Juuzou

Compliments the person who made the room while solving the ever loving fuck out of it

Amon

I honestly have NO clue what he would do. He seems like the type of guy to say, "You're under arrest!" in a situation where he does not have the ability to arrest someone 😭 He's definitely smart enough to solve it, he would just probably be saying, "Do you know who I am??" the entire time 💀

Akira

Solves it and then complains that it ruined her schedule for the day 💀

Saiko

Doesn't give a fuck probably. That or she would cry. Or both. She'd cry and then not give a fuck.

Ginshi

I'm sorry but that man is NOT surviving. He's smart but he definitely is a different type of intelligent to what Saw traps might require. I think in a physical one, yes he would. In one that required more attention to detail and shit...maybe not.

Mutsuki

Cries and then beats the ever loving fuck out of the trap and kills the person that did it

Urie

Solves it and just goes about it silently, unphased, and logically. He can't let his kidnapper know he's scared

This is for shits and giggles, don't take it too serious and I'd love to see other characters you guys think about in Saw traps. All the characters are def smart enough to solve them but it's funny to imagine them in there

#tokyo ghoul #pilledtalks #saw au

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crisalidaseason · 3 months ago

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Onyx Storm spoilers - Malek's dirty little sticky fingers edition

Maren's parents :( The two little twin boys must be so traumatized, that was a very very sad loss even if we don't really see much of Maren.

Professor Grady, you're not remarkable at all and your death was funny as fuck - IDK why but I laughed hard.

Aura... I'm glad you're fucking dead, bitch.

Trager's death hurt because of the bluntness and also uneasiness of it. It was sudden, somewhat expected because it seemed too easy of a test... and it hurt. Specially when his gryphon tried so hard to reach him but died before she could do it. THEY HAD TO THANK HIS DEATH...Cat was also finally starting to involve herself with him...His death got me.

Halden's captain/mistress death was brutal, I felt bad for the girl. Dying because the prince is a little shit.

REBECCA STOP SCARING ME WITH RIDOC BEING STABBED WTF THIS MAN ALMOST DIED TWICE I CAN'T. VIOLET'S HEART CAN'T TAKE IT AND NEITHER MINE

Queen Mayara dying off screen was offensive. She served cunt with one scene. Rest in peace my queen, you will be missed

WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GET MIRA SO CLOSE TO DEATH NOOOOO ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND????????? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK NOT MY WIFE!!!!!!

Quinn :( not that she was so present to give a big impact, but my heart broke for Imogen. She loved Quinn a whole lot and Quinn leaving a message for her girlfriend...one more love pair destroyed.

RIP Xaden's soul. No commentary on that because this man never ceases to suffer and- FORGET IT

#onyx storm spoilers #onyx storm

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sexiestpodcastcharacter · 1 year ago

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Sexiest Podcast Character — Scripted Bracket — Finals

Propaganda

Captain Isabel Lovelace (Wolf 359):

Her everything <3 But in all seriousness WHAT is more sexy than a haunted, competent, funny, cursed, vengeful, mourning, badass, doomed woman?

listen to the run and hide speech and tell me that isn't the sexiest thing you've ever heard

Hot space lady who could kill me mmm yes please!

(sort of) twice-undead space captain who wired a bomb to her heart to make sure the crew of her ship didn't kill her before her escape shuttle got working. she's funny she's a genius she knows how to use a gun and she cares very much about her crew (despite the whole bomb thing).

#LOVELACE #idk who she’s up agaunst really tbf #but she cares so SO much #she gets boiled down to ’tough scary lady hot’ a lot (which 100% agree) but #she is heartbroken about her failure to keep her crew safe #and stubbornly wants to make sure none of it is in vain #even if it kills her #HOT. even apart from how hot her monologues and threats to hilbert are #also her and eifel laughing and getting along when they first meet her 😭 yall #anyway. lovelace 1000%. the defense rests

Vote Lovelace cuz of the way she says "Hi honey, I'm home" to the bastard who shot her in the head, and then how she proceeds to beat him up <3 Oh. And how she twists his arm and says "good boy". Yeah.

LOVELACE SWEEP LOVELACE SWEEP GO LISTEN TO HER RUN AND HIDE SPEECH AND WEEP THAT GODDARD AERONATICS EVER KILLED HER ENTIRE CREW AND ALSO HER (she recovered) AND MADE HER THEIR ENEMY

#LOVELACE SWEEP. DO NOT FUCKING LET ME DOWN #Lovelace is so much to me #Seen some people in the notes citing the run and hide speech#Which is very good #but my personal favorite Lovelace thing is variations on a theme #The cyclical nature of trauma #The lack of trust #The fear #the sadness #‘You can never go home. You were home. And now you’re back— and you can never go back.’ #Lovelace hearing Hera say something to her and #Thinking ‘what she’s actually saying is that I’m a demon and she would be glad to kill me in a slow and horrifying manner’ #Is so #I don’t agree that Lovelace is doomed either #Like #lovelace did die. But #She got out of that pain and trauma #How do you listen to her say that she is Isabel Lovelace #That she rejects the person that pain made her to be #And say she’s doomed

captain lovelace helped 12yo me realise I like women. She’s so hot. her threatening Hilbert is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. isabel lovelace SWEEP

If you don't vote for lovelace you're all lying about supporting womens' wrongs.

Not to be dramatic or anything, but I will never forgive any of you if you let Lovelace lose. She's tragic, she's haunted, she's an alien clone, she's vengeful but trying to be a better person. SHE DIDNT DIE TWICE FOR Y'ALL TO LET HER LOSE THE SEXIEST PODCAST CHARACTER TOURNAMENT. And I'm sorry. The part when (see propaganda above) she is intentionally pissing off Kepler so in the event he kills one of the hostages it's her instead of Eiffel??? Shit talking Kepler AND trying to save Eiffel's life? Serving absolute cunt. Sexiest moment of all time, actually.

Are we all forgetting that her introduction involved keeping a dead man switch for her spaceship (converted into a bomb) wired into her goddamn HEART??? Vote Lovelace or else

VOTE FOR ISABEL LOVELACE, HOTTEST WOMAN ON THIS PLANET (AND OUT OF THIS WORLD 🤘). she is everything to me , always . im head over heels

Hera (Wolf 359):

I don't care if she's an AI with no physical form, she is HOT

my digital wife <3

oh it's always "i want a hot computergirl with poor cable management to glitch on my shit" and "i want to fuck her until she bluescreens" on this website until it's time to put your money where your mouth is. i have a post about usb penetration with tens of thousands of notes. i see the things you all say. you have a hot computergirl in front of you and this is how you all repay her? you would abandon her? prove yourselves as the computer sex website; vote for hera NOW!!!

"everyone voting Hera in this round is doing it strictly because she is an AI" WRONG. INCORRECT. everyone voting for hera is doing it because she's funny and thoughtful and passionate and wears her heart on her sleeve despite all of the times people have let her down. because she's anti-authority, and that's sexy. it's sexy that she's an AI because the way she navigates being a woman in that context is inherently transgender, and THAT'S sexy, but on its own? not even like, top five most relevant things about her. self-determination? that's sexy.

VOTE FOR HERA. i'm not done. i've made the case that she would want this more, and that's true, but you should also want her. the propaganda says she doesn't have a physical form - in one sense, that's true, but she DOES have an internal self-image and the desire for physicality. most of the physical sensations she's experienced so far have been painful - think of what you could do for her. she has human desire without the means to act on it. she's the most touch starved anyone has ever been. making love to someone who can't be touched by conventional means IS inherently sexy and it IS a win for disabled trans women everywhere.

she's passionate and kind of emotionally unstable and fiercely loyal - "officer eiffel? he's your deadman's switch. if you let him die, or if you do anything that doesn't fall under the category of do no harm, i will go off. i will rain acid on your ass. i will crank the temperature in the room so high that your skin will crack, and bubble, and burn. i will vent you into space through a hole the size of a quarter. and if i am feeling very, very generous, i won't do all those things slowly." like come on!! what more do you want!!

VOTE FOR HERA. my final, last-minute appeal: her character arc is fundamentally about identity, autonomy, and being seen the way she wants to be seen. the way she navigates her identity as a woman in this context is inherently transgender, and that IS sexy. she's funny, she's passionate, she's sweet, she's been let down repeatedly by almost everyone she's ever met and she still opens her heart to people because she so badly craves connection. she's frustrated, touch starved, and pent up, and was initially rejected from service because of her impulsive, emotional, unorthodox way of thinking. i have so much more i could say on her behalf, but this IS a contest of sex appeal. thinking outside the box, breaking rules, and reaching beyond the limitations of her own form is so central to who she is. hera could come up with freak shit beyond the comprehension of the average person, and she IS enthusiastic enough to make it work.

#Round 6 #Isabel Lovelace #Hera #Hera W359 #Wolf 359

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laswells-ashtray · 4 months ago

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You're actually so real for posting about Johnny Cash. That man serves cunt like it'll be his last time doing so, and it's perfectly okay to acknowledge 🤪 🫶

RXACTLY OMG HOURE SO FUCKING REAL HE WAS SO CUNTY

that man served like he was being paid [kinda was bur for the music, nto to be so bitching] and i love it

he skoend fags, he wore thigh higj boots, h3 got arrested. I admire that.

someone get me a one on on3 wify that dead hastard and I'll yhreiv in life I swear it

even his anme is cool "Johnny Cash" ill enver outdo tha cool factor rhere

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wonuwrites · 5 months ago

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"Chewing Gum" Seventeen Song Reaction

omg y'all i am SO excited for this one because

I get so show y'all the queen Nina Nesbitt

this song serves cunt

it's angsty and gives submissive men LMFAOOO

This song is one of my all time favorite songs and I am so excited to write it. I hope it doesn't disappoint y'all <3

afab!reader x down horrendous!seventeen

warnings: angsty, smutty, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, submissive men being down bad, sad svt, suggestive, cussing, Mingyu's mentions smoking and wet pussy hell yeah, Vernon has some orgasm denial bc reader and him are toxic as hell lmfao,

Just like my other song reactions, the preferences are in order of the song lyrics <3

⧂ Woozi: "Cause I'm a made-up mess in a backless dress."

Jihoon didn't like going out often but it was one of those nights where he couldn't just stay home. His friends dragged him out and honestly, it was one of the most bittersweet things. Why? He met you. He never knew someone with this amount of beauty could exist ever. You both got to know each other throughout the night but before he could get your number or any other form of communication you were gone. It was as if you never even existed and he just felt a bit remorseful that he would never get to know more about the goddess in a backless dress.

⧂ DK: "I don't wanna lead you on, cause I'd only do you wrong oh oh."

The moment Seokmin started to pursue you, you felt your cold heart break. Not because of anything in particular but the thought of hurting someone so... innocent just made you feel guilty. He was persistent at first as they usually all are. He would ask you "what makes you so sure you are going to hurt me? This could be fun, babe." He looked so damn handsome in the blinding light of the club but you didn't want to do someone as charming as Seokmin wrong by leading him on. You had been doing this long enough to realize that he was more of a lover boy than just a one night stand kinda guy.

⧂ Wonwoo: "You can have my heart but you're not going to leave with it."

Wonwoo wasn't the biggest fan of casual things but when he met you he couldn't help but want you no matter what that entailed. When you first saw him, you knew you wanted him. He looked fun. When you walked up to him he told you he wasn't a fan of casual one night stands which bummed you out but you thought about it for one second before saying, "what if I give you my heart for the night?" "Just the night?" You looked up at him with begging eyes and it was enough to convince him. He was after all... just a man. Plus, he as well loved a challenge.

⧂ Minghao: "Lying in the dark, yeah you almost believed in it."

Minghao had you all figured out the moment he met you. He knew that being your boyfriend was a lost cause and that if anything were to happen, it would be either a one night stand or a casual once in a moment type of deal. After one of your rendezvous you both laid next to each other while catching your breaths. He glanced at you and in the dark lit room he almost believed that there could be a chance where you could be end game. When you made eye contact with him his heart broke as he remembered the reality and sat up. "Until next time, (Y/N)," he whispered before grabbing his shirt from the floor.

⧂ Hoshi: "You got me wrong I've got you hanging round my neck screaming romance isn't dead."

Soonyoung is not an idiot by any means but when he is down for someone, he may seem like it. You both agreed when you both started to hook up that it was just casual and nothing more. Both of your schedules were not commitment friendly so this was the best. Or so he thought. He couldn't help being a hopeless romantic especially when it came to you. Normally he could hide it but when he got drunk he would be all over you and when you were wrapped in each other in a drunken bliss, he would whisper that 'romance is NOT dead' and how he loved you.

⧂ Vernon: "Oh you know that I'm down for whatever, but oh I told you that it won't be forever."

You were very stern with your terms and conditions when you first met Hansol but he loved to test the limits of putting a title on what you could be. Plus, it was getting hard to keep going on knowing that it was not going to be forever. One night when you let him in your bed once again you were begging him to let you cum and he realized how much power he had for once. "You can cum if you give me forever, baby girl." You glared at him when you realized what he said. You bit your lip and shook his head and he tsked before removing himself from you. "Guess you're on your own tonight then, (Y/N)." He got himself dressed even though you were telling him to stop and come back and finish what he started but he ignored you and you swore he was selfish.

⧂ Seungkwan: "Oh how come you still think that you're the one? Baby, I'm just chewing gum until the flavors gone."

All you could say is that you warned Seungkwan, but he couldn't help it. He thought maybe he had a chance by the way you moaned his name and the way you looked him in the eyes when you both came undone. However, you were a woman of your word. The next time he saw you, you were on the arm of some other guy and he was just another memory. When he confronted you about it later, you simply just looked at him and told him, "I told you to enjoy it while we had it, I'm sorry baby boy if you wanted more."

⧂ Joshua: "Let me tell you straight, I could be your worst mistake."

"I don't make mistakes," Jisoo said while cocking an eyebrow at you. You were warning him that he was making a huge mistake trying to pursue you. You weren't a hooker or prostitute or anything. You just were someone who loved her freedom. You didn't want to be tied down to one guy. Even if that one guy was Hong Jisoo aka literally the sexiest man to ever exist. You wanted him, he wanted you, but you also wanted freedom. "Listen, (Y/N), I'm willing to work something out with you because a mistake would be me letting go of a chance to hear what pretty noises I can get you to make." You blushed before leaving with him shortly after. What's one night?

⧂ Jun: "Or you could get the best of me, forget about the rest of me."

Unlike the rest, Jun found a way to make you stick around and have a softer side. When you met Jun, you were stuck on your ways and had a "fuck the patriarchy" mentality. While some thoughts stayed, you found that love wasn't as terrifying as you knew it to be. You found the best parts of yourself while learning to love and trust Jun. Even though he could rightfully so say "told you so" he never did because well, there were things he learned from himself because of you.

⧂ Mingyu: "With your cigarette in between your teeth, you could light me up if I forget to breathe, oh oh."

Something about the sight of Mingyu with a lit cigarette in his mouth made your pussy drip. Something about it just made everything about what you both were seem even more dangerous, lethal, sexy, wrong, and dangerous. You were typically a dominant person in the bedroom and when you met Mingyu for the first time he let you have his way with him until one time he switched it up. Ever since, every sneaky link encounter you both try to see who could fold first. Whoever folded first ended up being the sub. Even though you enjoyed him begging you to cum, you also enjoyed begging him for mercy as well.

⧂ S Coups: "Thought you were strong now I've got you tied up in the bed screaming romance isn't dead."

Seungcheol was for lack of better words: "down bad." Normally in the bedroom he was the dominant one but he was so pussy drunk for you that he found himself whimpering while pulling against restraints on his own bed while you had your way with him. He felt so small whenever he subbed for you but if this was the way he could have you he would do it for you. He loved you so much and he wished you could see and feel how much love could be for both of you.

⧂ Jeonghan: "Yeah you're stuck on me now I can't move, give it just a night and I'll cut you loose."

Jeonghan loved a challenge and heard all about you. You had the right amount of mommy and daddy issues that peaked his interest. He heard that you were someone who just wanted a good time for a night or two and he was the same way. However, neither of you expected it to exceed more than at most three nights. However after almost six months of "this is the last time" you both were obsessed with the way you both knew each other's bodies. It got to a point of being a hate fuck for you with an underlying bit of love making. Tonight was just like the others, as he unzipping your dress you growled into his ear, "this is the last time, Jeonghan." This would cause him to smirk before whispering, "keep telling yourself that, princess."

omg someone with more patience make this into a long fic for me.

⧂ Dino: "Oh Oh, I told you that it won't be forever, so how how come you still think that you're the one?"

When you looked at Lee Chan all you could see was that he was pussy drunk and delusional. When you laid the rules and conditions down of what you would go down, he agreed because he honestly just needed a night of fun with no strings attached as well. However, at the end of the day he is a romantic and he couldn't help but think maybe one day he could change your mind. Everytime you both got together he would mentally pray that this time you would come to your senses that you both could be end game.

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