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callmelola111 · 2 years ago

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color me purple ♡ part three

✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - soundtrack - - - - ♡

synopsis: it’s summer and you’re back at camp stillwater. as a counselor you mean serious business and you’ll do whatever it takes for your cabin to come out on top. the only thing in the way of that; ellie williams and her crazy antics.

| 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 3.4k

| ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, some angst, ellie and reader fight, sweet love confession, !!SMUT WARNING!! (minors plz steer clear of this fic + dni), swearing, dom!ellie, sub!reader, whipped cream play, slightly public??, fingering (e receiving), oral (r receiving), scissoring (e + r), pet names (princess, sweet girl, baby, etc.), praise, edging kinda, some aftercare (lmk if i missed anything!!)

a/n: hello lovelies!!! i apologize for taking a whole ass week to get out this last part, i was on vacation and not feeling very inspired. finally though, i present a nasty, sweet ending that i hope you all love. so fun to write and read back, like why am i all hot and bothered rn lol. like always, thank you for the support!! ♡~ lola

That night Ellie replayed your words over and over in her head trying to dissect their meaning. Had her player-esque persona finally caught up to her? If so, why did it matter to you?

Through some deep speculation, she began connecting the dots. There seemed to be a real possibility that you liked Ellie as more than a friend, just as she did you. There was no way to be sure though, not unless she asked. But, the task seemed daunting considering it felt as if she had already ruined what she didn’t know was there.

The image of your tear stained face was seared into Ellie’s mind and proved as motivation to confess, apologize, explain. As long as you’d listen she’d repair the damage done to your heart. A tinge of regret hit Ellie as she thought about the meaningless hookups of summer's past. It was her way of dealing with unrequited love. But of course, now that that love doesn’t seem so unrequited, her mistakes have come back to taint it.

♡

The following morning kicked off bright and early. 8:00am to be exact. The sky was pure blue with no fluffs of white to shade from the fury that was the sun. In virtue of the rising temperatures the expansive lake beckoned masses of campers into its waters. Just in time for the kayak relay race about to take place.

Each team lined up in number order spanning across the weathered wood of the dock. At the very end stood teams 11 and 12, you and Ellie heading your rows of campers. With the sting of yesterday's interactions you continued giving Ellie the cold shoulder.

It took everything inside to void your gaze from her, trying to focus on the games, while Ellie lacked the self control to look at anything but you. She studied your glowy skin and the way your sweat gathered at the nape of your neck from the sweltering heat. She took note of the stray hairs that clung to the moisture you produced and the way your brows remained furrowed as you fought every instinct urging you towards her. It felt like absolute torture and although neither of you said a word, there was a mutual understanding of the shared pain. However, before the tension could beat down on you any longer a loud whistle blew, signaling the start of the race.

Each counselor kicked off the relay heading straight for the finish. You slipped into your kayak, gripping onto the red double-bladed paddle that propelled you forward. Ellie’s boat was in line with yours sending aggressive ripples in between the two hunks of floating plastic. The course stretched over 500 meters and as you reached the 400 meter mark you were still neck and neck with Ellie, fighting for first place.

This is usually how it went but something about today was different, something in Ellie’s eye’s hinted towards a more complicated journey towards triumph. She suddenly jerked her boat to the right, straight towards yours. The pointed tip of her kayak rammed into the side of yours rocking it side to side and throwing you off course. Knowing her abilities, you recognized this as a pursuit at instigation.

“HEY FUCK OFF!” you shouted with anger before swerving your boat to the left, hitting hers in retaliation. Ellie continued to push back.

“Oh so now you’ll speak to me?!”

“Are you serious right now? Stop fucking with me Ellie!” You attempted to continue forward, but as multiple racers passed you and Ellie blocked your path, it felt like no use.

“You can’t be mad at me forever!” her voice was desperate rather than angry and this left you baffled at her exact motives.

“Oh yeah? TRY ME!” Ellie took your words as an invitation and used her paddle to scoop at the murky water sending it your way. You screamed in irritation as it hit you right in the face, soaking your once dry body.

Before you knew it, you were rising from your seated position to catapult even more water back at her. Ellie then stood up right with you, continuing the petty fight and reaching across the edge of her floating device to grab ahold of your paddle. At this point the both of you were blinded with vexation playing tug of war with the rod of plastic. Your boat rocked back and forth, more and more violently each time as you began to lose balance. With one last wave of water and the pull of Ellie you both tumbled into the lake in a mess of arms, legs, and curses.

You quickly shot up with the help of your life jacket, now drenched. Screams and laughters erupted along with the violent blowing of Mrs. Campbell’s whistle to halt the race and deal with the trouble you and Ellie caused. The both of you had been sentenced to kitchen duty and expected to sort out whatever drama had ensued. With the weight of your decisions, you were then banished from the lake and sent off to prepare lunch in place of the usual cooks.

♡

The double doors of the mess hall swung open with attitude as you and Ellie waltzed in. The air was shockingly cool compared to the barren heat just outside. Your wet hair became a nuisance as its once cooling effect now left you cold and miserable in the air conditioning.

Ellie led the way into the sterile looking kitchen and you followed in silence. Little words had been said between the two of you since your rage filled water fight. Although now, all rage had dissipated, leaving only feelings of shame and heartache in the air you shared. The silence grew heavy and the things left unsaid began bubbling up.

You reached for a ratty gray apron hanging on the dull walls trying to focus on the assigned task of cooking lunch. Staring at the chipped paint, you fumbled at the strings behind your back trying to tie them but to no avail.

“Uh- do you want some help?” Despite Ellie being the only one in the room, her voice startled you. She inched closer waiting for your permission to assist and you obliged. Ellie’s hands reached to the contour of your waist, gripping the fabric. The brush of her knuckles across the small of your back sent a parade of chills to your skin. Her touch was slow and agonizing. Part of you wondered if she’d purposely made such prolonged contact as she tied the strings into a sloppy bow.

Although Ellie’s duty was done, you both remained still, you facing the wall and her facing your back. She reached once more to your familiar waistline and quickly flipped you around towards her.

“There… all done.” she murmured. In that moment with just inches between each other, eyes locked, you finally felt sure of her feelings, and your feelings, and the fact that you couldn’t keep pretending to hate her. The universe would stop at nothing to bring the two of you together and it was time to surrender. Ellie’s emerald orbs were full of you and only you and she knew she had to say something. If not now, when?

“I’m so fucking sorry. For everything. Please– forgive me.” You collapsed into her body like a house of cards. These were the words you needed to hear. Voice cracking, you called out her name in desperation.

“Ellie-” She urgently completed the other half of the embrace. Your face nestled perfectly into the crick of her neck like it was fate. Pine soap and earthy lake water wafted through your senses as you took in a deep inhale of relief. The following breaths were rocky and unsteady as all your pinned up emotions rose to the surface. Still stuck in Ellie’s crevice you began a gentle cry.

“Hey- hey- look at me. Don’t cry bunny.” She pulled your damp face in the cradle of her hands and guided you into contact with her glassy, green eyes.

“Els, you- you have no idea what you do to me.” you struggled through the vulnerable sentence. Ellie pulled you back into the warmth of her body squeezing you even tighter like she was worried you might float away. Your words sat in the air waiting to be tended to until finally Ellie acted.

“I think I might.” Her answer was like a warm blanket around your heart. You looked up from your sanctuary in her frame and she stared back. You played a cat and mouse game of glances from eyes to lips and pressure rose.

Ellie took a deep inhale and asked the anticipated question, “can I kiss you?” With no time for words you dove into her soft mouth. Your top lip slotted perfectly in between hers, sealing the gap of yearning that had amassed from years of rivalry.

The peck was hard and long. It’s tenderness evoked cries of queer happiness from the both of you. Your tears mixed with hers was an act of love, and a long-awaited one at that. Ellie’s lips began to wander down to your neck and then your collarbones evoking sweet giggles from your throat.

“Ellie- Ellie- enough. We do have to cook, you know.” A disappointing realization but true nonetheless.

“Fine, fine.” Ellie’s kisses halted but you could still feel each one radiating off your skin. Your smile didn’t falter once as you and Ellie whipped up lunch for the campers. Who would’ve thought punishment could be this fun?

♡

After the 12 cabins passed in and out of the mess hall, consuming the meal, you and Ellie followed behind to clean up. After the kitchen was tidied, you both ventured into the dining area to wipe off the tables scattered throughout.

You dipped your sudsy rag into the bucket of cleaning solution and swirled it across the laminated wood. The table was long and wide forcing you to bend over the edge to extend your arm towards the hard to reach parts. Your ass up in the air was like a bright flag waving for Ellie to come over and assist, but not with the cleaning. She snaked both arms around your waist connecting them at your tummy. Her groin then pressed at your hips with reverence. She admired your shape and the way you somehow always slotted perfectly into her.

“Ellieeee…” You drug out her name nice and long, disguising your pleasure with annoyance. She began planting more kisses in the same pattern as before.

“What? Do you want me to stop?” You sat up now parallel with her body, ass still against crotch. Breathy air escaped from your mouth as Ellie gently nibbled at your ear, sending your head into a spin. You gulped out a string of “nos”, adamant about how much you needed her. And how you needed her now.

Your expression of desperation triggered Ellie’s strong hands into action. The 5 digits dragged up the right side of your ribs causing the soft red fabric of your shirt to bunch up, her firm motions stopping at the underside of one of your breasts. Ellie kneaded hungrily at the mound of fat, reveling in your braless form and hardening nipples.

“C’mere, turn towards me. I wanna see your pretty face.” Her request flowed from her blushed lips like a symphony and you quickly obeyed. The table dug into your back leaving a mark as Ellie towered over you in desire like an animal. You tugged at the hem of her blue T-shirt sliding your hand under the linen. You were just as needy. Her abs flexed with the exploration of your eager hands. Wanting more, she leaned in close to deliver the message.

Her hot breath tickled you ear as she whispered, “you wanna make purple?” No matter how hot and bothered the both of you were, Ellie still found time to insert in her stupid humor. The cheesy sexual innuendo made you snicker but only for a moment before you were pulled back into her world of desire.

You nodded fervently to urge the escalation of this interaction, so she scooped you up by your pillow soft thighs and whisked you away to the kitchen. The stainless steel countertop where Ellie had positioned you was cold and left the back of your legs moderately numb. Overflowing with lust, you went for Ellie’s lips but she quickly pulled away before you could reach them.

“Ah, ah, ah.” she tsk’s before dashing away to the large industrial fridge, sending the double doors flying open with her pull.

“Els? What are you doing?” you questioned, feeling the ache between your legs amp up. You weren’t sure how much longer you could wait for her touch.

“I’m hungry.” she answered simply, pulling out a large red canister of dairy. Confusion was your prominent emotion but you didn’t dare to question her methods. Shaking the metal up and down vigorously she ran back, popping off the cap on the way. Your clenched thighs were quickly peeled apart by Ellie as she made room for herself between your dangling legs. In one hand she hoisted up the whipped cream and with her other she took your chin, angling it upward.

“Open.” she commanded. You separated your lips in obedience but it wasn’t enough.

“Wider.” Ellie’s hand cradled your jaw as it dropped even further this time. With this she squirted the milky, white cream down your throat.

“Now swallow,” she instructed until your compliance, “good girl.” A cocky, power hunger smirk painted Ellie’s face as she watched you melt into the palm of her hand. You were sure that the thin cotton of your panties was now far from dry.

“We’re gonna have some fun now... hands up.” With assistance from the girl in blue, you shed a layer of clothing. Your tit’s instantly perked up with the frigid air of the kitchen now surrounding them. Ellie watched in awe as dozens of fantasies played out in her head. It was a struggle just deciding what she wanted to do to you first.

The whipped cream assisted her next steps as she sprayed it across your remarkable chest. You gasped in pleasure at the cold, wet sensation. Drips of white began to trickle down your stomach as Ellie played clean up with the help of her tongue. The pink muscle pressed flat to your sternum collecting a heaping of cream and then venturing back to your own mouth. Teeth clashed and tongues wrestled as the white liquid swirled between the exchange of salvia. You left the kiss just for a moment to let out an urgent mewl. Ellie’s attention was then diverted back to your beautiful, beautiful body. She continued lapping up the sweetness taking time in between to suck on your erect nipples.

“Shit- baby, it got all over your cute little shorts,” she continued, her voice smooth like butter, “we better get these off of you then, huh?” Your bottom lip quivered in sexual agony, anticipating the future promises of friction. Ellie took her built arms and hooked them around the back of your legs. Upon swift movement she pulled you to the edge of the counter, stealing your shorts and panties in the process. Frigid steel made contact with your puffy clit aiding in some sense of satisfaction while you pleaded with Ellie.

“P-please, n-n-need you Els.” You bucked your hips demonstrating the amount of discomfort you were feeling. Ellie played dumb.

“Need what?” She teased your aching cunt with gentle brushes of her fingers at your thighs and you yelped.

“Need your fingers- your mouth- something- pleassee.” The words came out in a long slur but Ellie knew just what you were begging for oh so desperately. Having fun with her little game, she brought back the canister of white fluff, this time dispersing it across the heat you held between your inviting thighs.

Red plump lips belonging to Ellie planted deep into each bit of your flesh before eventually reaching their final destination. Your exquisite folds were glazed in milk and sugar like a special treat waiting to be devoured. For just a few seconds everything was frozen as Ellie was trapped by your fantasy-like beauty. Saving the image to memory, she dove into your crotch like it was her first, last, and only meal. Her tongue swirled through every crevice of you, taking only a few beats to express words of praise…

“My sweet, sweet girl.” , “You’re all mine” , “You taste so fucking good princess.”

Although, her affirmations could hardly be understood over your exuberant cries of pleasure. In your case, sentences were the last thing being formed as your bliss began to reach a fever pitch.

“Close,” you mumbled, “so close.”

Ellie halted all movements, not wanting it to end.

“You think I’m gonna let you cum that easy? No way baby, we still have more fun to be had.” She shook her head taunting you. No matter how much it hurt, Ellie was in control and you clenched hard trying to prevent any further acceleration to your orgasm. You wanted to be the very best girl for your very best girl.

“Come on, let’s take this to the pantry.” She hoisted you up off your place in the kitchen and assisted you there, your slick dripping down the innards of your legs as you walked (it was really more of a wobble and hop).

With a glistening face of your wetness, Ellie then commanded you again, “Lie down for me pretty.” You did so as Ellie stripped herself down, meeting your bareness. She dipped into your form on the cold tile but the heat of your bodies was enough to distract from all the outside factors.

Purple and blue welts appeared across your neck and breasts as Ellie sucked every bit of skin she could in between the wrath of her teeth. With her parallel to you, your hands reached down to confront the mess that was Ellie’s folds.

“So wet.” you whimpered in satisfaction. Knowing how just your sole pleasure could do that much to her drove you mad. You couldn’t help but slip a finger inside her tight little hole, trying to give back even just a sliver of the bliss she gave you. Ellie gasped as you filled her up, releasing the bit of flesh in her mouth that she had been suctioning to.

As much as she reveled in your pleasure, you reveled in hers. More whipped cream squirted between your bodies, mixing with the influx of sweat being produced. After many sloppy, in-and-out pumps of your digits you pulled them out to taste.

Ellie took this as an opportunity to grab your hips, holding them still for her own to align just right. You both began rocking against each other, unsteady at first, but with practice you gained a perfect rhythm. Clits bumped as heaving breaths and loud groans shot through the air. The mess hall pantry has become heaven on earth.

“Fuccckkk, I think I’m gonna…” Ellie erupted and you followed.

“Mmmmm.” Your back arching and her hips bucking chaotically, Ellie assaulted your sensitive ball of nerves with her own. The stars aligned and the angels sang as the both of you reached the climax of your lives. It was euphoric. White flooded your vision as you continued to ride out this high with the girl of your dreams. Sweet, sweet Ellie Williams.

Finally, the ravenous movement and desperate attempts at pleasure caught back up, leaving you limp and fucked out. Ellie lay next to you with a firm grip on your hand, maintaining contact as a sense of comfort and slight fear that if she didn’t hold on you’d vanish into thin air. You rolled to your side scattering gentle pecks on her arms and torso.

“My special girl” you whispered into her skin, just loud enough for Ellie to hear. She smiled at you and then let out a large sigh of release, kissing you back.

“God, you’re sticky. Wonder how that happened??” A stupid little grin was stamped on her face as she teased about the recent sexual escapades.

“Let me clean you up, yeah?” You nodded with adoring eyes. She was an angel in bed and out of it. With a wet rag Ellie cleaned up the sugary, sweet mess, giving an occasional kiss of tenderness. It was all you could’ve ever asked for, and it continued that way for the rest of the summer and many more to come.

✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - masterlist - - - - ♡

taglist...

@endureher @gold-dustwomxn @alexpritch @4rt3m1ss @robinismywifee @sophlovesbooks @97cityy

(taglist is for all callmelola111 works, if you'd like to be removed just kindly lmk)

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blushy-tigerrr · 5 months ago

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story time with tiger!

so, as you know from my post earlier, i was blessed to be able to spend the past six days with @applesyaboi :3 it has truly been the time of my life getting to hang out with this lovely human for so long, and as i’m writing this post while waiting in the airport to fly back home, i already miss him so much.

the whole story is under the cut if you’re interested in reading, but before we get into that, we did make content :3 but i will be waiting to share them as a celebration for reaching 400 followers as i am only 10 away from that amazing milestone!

anyway, here’s the story <3

let’s start at the beginning: may 30th. apples and i had been chatting and becoming very close friends for about a month when we really started talking about the idea of us meeting up and spending some time together. we had talked about it in a hypothetical sense a bunch, but this was when the actual planning happened. we both determined that august would be the best month, and we then decided on august 8th-13th! it worked out really nicely with my job and him moving into his own apartment a little bit before then. shortly after that, i bought my ticket on june 8th.

and then the waiting began.

let me tell you, that was the roughest part, second only to having to leave today. i went through some really tough stuff during that waiting period, and apples was constantly there as a support system for me through anything and everything. that made me all the more excited to get to see him and thank him in person for how much he had done for me.

after a very long 60 days of waiting, the day finally came. i got to the airport ridiculously early in the morning and boarded my plane with little issue. luckily for me, apples was awake when i was on the plane waiting to take off, so we got to chat for a little the morning of! and it was mostly just “AHHH OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING!!!” messages hehe

once my plane landed, i got my bag and waited at the exit for him to pick me up. once i saw his car pull up, my heart dropped in the best way. when i saw his face through the car window, my heart started pounding and i almost was scared to move, but this silly goose made a little beckoning motion to me and i broke out of that easily. when we hugged for the first time, i felt all of my stress melt out of my body completely. he gives some of the best hugs ever <3 and that was just the first of many

we were both a little nervous still on our drive to his place, but the nerves dissipated pretty quickly. we got to his apartment, i got to meet his cat, and then we laid down to snuggle for a bit. we were snuggled with the intent on taking a nap, but i’m sure no one is surprised to know that’s not what happened right away. he had his hand on my side and asked if i minded if he tickled me a little bit, and i told him i didn’t mind of course. he was so sweet and gentle and showered me with compliments the entire time. he’s very good at making me feel beautiful and loved and also very good at tickling oh my god he’s so teasy and constantly got me so flustered

then, because i’m a switchy little shit, i asked him the same question. he said it was okay, and guys. for as teasy of a ler as apples is, he is also soooo ticklish!! he’s super squirmy and flinchy, and his giggles are some of the cutest that i’ve ever heard <3 he told me a while ago he had never been tickled before, so i did my best to be very gentle and careful with not pushing it too far by checking in and making sure he was still having fun and was okay. he did the very same thing for me, and i greatly appreciated it.

we also tried out a few tools while i was there! none of them worked on him (scam) except for the pursonic, but that only worked in one spot for him. for me, though? that thing is the devil. it tickles so badly in just about every spot you can think of. i think apples is just broken lol <3 we also tried feathers and makeup brushes which were suuuuper effective on spots like my ears and neck and behind the knee (mean), but all of that was incredibly fun!

of course, that’s not all we did in those six days although it was majority. we also went out for food a few times, went to a sports game, and went on multiple walks around the area. however, i think the only thing we may have done more than tickle each other was snuggle together. and that? was so nice. like i said before, he made me feel so comfortable so quickly, and because of that, we were able to be so snuggly the entire time which i know we were both very grateful for.

as i’m sitting at my gate writing this all out, it’s really sinking in how much fun this all was for me and how lovely it was to have a break from regular life for a while. it was definitely very needed for both of us. apples, thank you so so much for having me these past six days. you’ve truly made me happier and more relaxed than i’ve been in an incredibly long time. it’s been so lovely to get to laugh with you and snuggle with you and just be around you for this time. thank you for being so sweet and loving and kind and understanding, and thank you for being one of the best friends that i have ever had in my entire life. i love you so so much /p <3

#silly apples #truly one of the best weeks of my life #and it’s all thanks to you cutie <3 #tickle posting #tickling #tickling community #tickle community #tiger sessions #story time

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moncherijoie · 6 months ago

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𝗖𝗿𝗮𝘇𝘆 𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗬𝗼𝘂

Continuation smut ver.*

𝗣. 𝙹𝚊𝚎𝚑��𝚞𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 were 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

(This is the smut continuation that was for my fanfic series on YouTube. You can access the series playlist under the channel *Promised.Ecstasy*)

Warnings!: Smut(MDNI)

WC: 400+ (Just woke up n wrote this draft in the morning so it might seem rushed.)

Edit: Thank you to the person who told me of a grammar error. English isn't my first language😭.

You don't know how long you've been in a daze. Jaehyun finally lift his head from between your legs.

He smiled at the fact now by just touching your now sensitive womanhood, your body would jerk. Despite not doing anything yet you still felt worn out already.

"I like the way you look under me." He says before kissing your neck. "The way you shiver to my touch." He traces his kisses down to your collarbone.

"Jae-" Your words were cut short. As in only few seconds Jaehyun had you turnt over.

Softly shoving your face into the pillow and making you arch your back.

He shoved his whole length into you without warning. "What was you trying to say?"

Before you could speak again Jaehyun thrusts into you once more cutting you off. In return he earned a moan from you, making him smirk.

It was like he instantly knew every single little thing about your body. Finding your g-spot like it was nothing.

Only moans left your mouth as you could only swallow your words from recieving too much pleasure.

Jaehyun grabs your hair and pulls you up. Taking a pause that ruined your upcoming orgasm. "You're all mines now." He pushes you back onto the bed before flipping you again.

Lying you right back into missionary.

"I didn't know if you could tell. But that black dress you wore when you came to my house for the first time. Got me so worked up till this moment."

You only nodded your head before Jaehyun shoved himself back into you.

You knew your provocative dress was doing something to Jaehyun the way he reacted that day at the party he threw for Minyoung.

You snapped back to reality as you felt the familiar feeling approaching.

"Fuck! Jae...I'm gonna cu~"

"Yeah? You're so tight for me I can't hold on either."

You propped yourself up on your elbows. Shutting your eyes and biting your lip.

Jaehyun used his thumb to massage your clit. Making your reach your edge and succumb to your orgasm washing over you.

It doesn't taking long for Jaehyun to follow suit and spill all his juices into you.

"Damn I love you so much.."

Jaehyun says before groaning as he pulls out.

"I love you too Jaehyun."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep kiss.

Noticing you not pulling away he makes a light slap to your pussy making you jerk.

"Careful cause I will go another round with you."

#jaehyun nct #nct 127 reactions #nct hard thoughts #nct 127 drabbles #nct 127 imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #jaehyun smut #nct smut #dojaejung #dojaejung smut #jung jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun jeong #jeong yunho #nct 127 #nct

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sageispunk · 15 days ago

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rise n shine (18+)

↳ cute lil smutty something about waking up with a pretty girl

pairing: blackfemme! reader x blackfemme OC (unnamed)

wordcount: 400+ (will be continued)

warnings: mommy kink, overstim, oral sex, nasty kissing

Her pussy was like heaven in your mouth.

The sweetest, stickiest honey dripped from her throbbing hole as you sucked and slurped on her swollen clit. You moaned into her warmth, the vibrations from your lips adding onto the ecstasy already flowing through her system.

Your arms wrapped under her soft thighs so that you could grasp onto her hips, thumbs stroking the sensitive flesh and causing her to twitch under you. You followed her movements, never letting up on your eating, wanting to devour every single drop of love she had to give to you.

“Oh, fu—oh my god!” She came with a scream, not holding back at all as her body flew up off the mattress, seizing, before collapsing back down with a tired attempt to claw you off her body. You looked up, your hungry mouth still latched onto her pulsing clit, watching the tears beginning to build in her deep brown eyes. “Mommy, pleaseee…I can’t take it…”

She pouted, languidly squirming her hips around as her hands tugged at your braids, gesturing for you to come up. With a slow and teasing tug, you released her perfect nub from your lips and licked a wide trail up her drenched pussy. You propped yourself up just a little to leave a soft kiss on the pretty heart shaped patch of curls on her mound. "You are so fucking beautiful."

“C’mere..” Her voice was soft, full of need for you. There was nothing you looked forward to more than hearing her voice every morning. Gentle and warm in your ears as she rubbed her hands along your bare back, tracing the beautiful artwork etched into your skin.

You let her pull you up on top of her, and your faces clashed against one another in a passionate battle. Moans and sticky kisses filled the room as the early morning sun began to shine in through the sheer curtains in your bedroom. Her hands traveled across your body, grasping and squeezing at the softness of your shoulders and back, then your ass and thighs. All the while you ground your body on hers, taking immense pleasure in the way your erect nipples rubbed against her own.

Your tongues fought for dominance, yet both of you were okay with losing. You sucked on her sweet, pink tongue for as long as you could before she took control, moaning as she sucked your bottom lip in between her own.

When she released you from her hungry grasp, your mouth made its way down her soft jawline, leaving gentle kisses along her warm skin until you reached her sensitive spot. Right below her earlobe. Your left hand caressed the side of her face, with a thumb stroking her damp cheek.

“Color?” You whispered against the flesh, using your right hand to rub her trembling thigh by your side.

“Green.”

You came up with a curled eyebrow to double check her response, and before you could verbalize the question, she lifted your right hand from her thigh, bringing it directly back to her ever-dripping cunt. "Please. I need you."

#my writing #sageispunk #smut #wlw nsft #wlw smut #black reader #black!reader #black wlw #black oc #black!oc #black!fem!reader

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the-sunhold-coven · 2 months ago

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SFW Alphabet

I decided to write an SFW Alphabet for Midora as a celebration of reaching 400 followers! And also a little bit as a thanks for the patience while I'm figuring out coding.

I looked around some and can't for the life of me find where the trend is from but the content is under the cut.

A= Affection

(How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

She has never been good at hiding what she feels, her face wears her emotions clear as day. She finds no need to try and hide it either, those she cares for deserve to know how much they mean to her.

Big words mean little in her mind. What matters is the time spent together, and the things you do for each other. But what Midora craves most of all is touch.

(If romanced:) She craves your touch more than that of anyone else. She likes the fleeting touches. The soft hand you placed on her back as you moved past her, the kiss she gives you on your forehead each morning, and resting her head against your shoulder as you sit beside each other.

B= Best friend

(What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start)

She has never struggled to make friends, her open and kind nature is something many are drawn to. And she is drawn in turn to those with kind hearts.

That is how the friendship starts, with a sense of kinship and understanding. Your heart is all that matters, how you express your kindness is nothing she lays any judgment on.

With time the bond would grow into a bone-deep trust, her trust in your judgments and reasonings, and your trust in her, that you could come to her with anything and she would help without question.

C= Cuddles

(Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Few things bring such warmth to her chest as those quiet and slow mornings. The two of you basking in each other’s presence as the minutes slowly tick by. The weight of your arm slung over her waist, gently pulling her closer to you when she tries to move. She prefers to see your face, to see the softness of your features as you rest along with her. Your warmth balms her very soul, the chaos of the world left beyond the threshold to your shared room.

D= Domestic

(Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

She wants to build a life, to make something that is hers. Being surrounded by those she calls friends and family. But settling down somehow means slowing down, and of that, she has no interest. Exploring or helping others, she doesn’t want a slow or quiet life, but she would like a place to come home to between the little adventures, a place of her own, and a garden filled with herbs.

Her cooking and cleaning skills are passable but nothing special.

E= Ending

(If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It would begin with two cups of lavender tea, prepared the same way her mother did when she was younger and had been upset. With a gentle hand on your shoulder, she would ask you to sit down beside her. Her words would be gentle but to the point, she’d cry. Cry for the love that’s lost and she’d try to offer you some comfort if you would want her to.

F= Fiance

(How do they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

Marriage is not a custom among nymphs, and so she has never considered it. She wouldn’t mind it, but she feels no need to let someone else confirm what she already knows. That she is yours and that you are hers.

G= Gentle

(How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

To those she cares for she is soft, both in words and actions. It is also how she approaches most people. She can turn harsh on those she deems not deserving of it.

In other words, she won’t waste her kindness on an asshole.

H= Hugs

(Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)

Hugs between friends, between family, or between lovers. It’s a way for her to express the care she has for them. Midora’s hugs are always soft, with a firm pressure enveloping you. It feels like a soft yet cool blanket that wraps around you.

I= I love you

(How fast do they say the L-word?)

She will take her time to tell you how she feels. The words won’t come fast for her. But you’ll know far before then, in the actions she takes and the care that she shows you. It will take time, but the words will come, warm and sweet and wrapped in all the love she carries for you.

J= Jealousy

(How jealous do they get? What do they do when they get jealous?)

Midora is not really one to get jealous. If someone’s making you uncomfortable however, she will make it clear that the person would do best to leave. If you flirt with others when she sees you, she will ask you why. If your answer is not a good one she’ll mourn the love you lost.

K= Kisses

(What are their kisses like? Where do they kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

She loves to kiss you on your lips, to press her warm and plush mouth against yours. But in truth, she loves to kiss your cheek the most. Her fingers will caress the side of your face, gently urging you closer to her. She’ll let her breath brush against your skin for a moment before she gives you a small but lingering peck infused with all the affection she feels for you. The touch is intimate and leaves a lingering warmth that stays with you even as you’ve left her company.

L= Little ones

(How are they around children?)

She believes that children deserve the world. And she likes them… From a distance.

M= Morning

(How are mornings spent with them?)

If you, like her, enjoy to linger in bed. If you like waking up slowly alongside her as the sun’s first rays slowly start to illuminate the bed you share just as much as she does. Then you’ll lie there together, basking in your shared warmth. It’s only when her stomach starts to rumble that she’ll begrudgingly move away from you, to begin the day with a quiet grumble of discontent.

If you are the sort to leap out of bed at first light, you’ll have to spend those first moments alone. She’ll join you a few moments later, sleep still making her limbs heavy as she moves to one of the chairs. There won’t be much conversation to be had, but she’ll be there to keep you company.

N= Night

(How are nights spent with them?)’

The night is for the two of you, going to sleep with you is one of the habits she’ll insist most on. Even on the most busy of days, she’ll want to end them with you, in the comfort you both bring each other. If you are up for it, that comforting warmth might turn into something more heated. The slow kisses turning hurried and hungry, your breaths mingling as you work to sate the need for one another.

O= Open

(When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or reveal little things slowly?)

She’ll give you little pieces of herself as time goes by, there are a few things that she won’t speak of and whenever you broach a subject she isn’t ready to share yet she’ll let you know.

P= Patience

(How easily are they angered?)

She is not easy to anger, kindness is her first response. But she refuses to waste her kind words on those who never return them.

Q= Quizzes

(How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail or forget the minor things?)

Each piece of you she’ll hoard like a dragon of old, which tea you like best, your favorite color, or if there is something you wish to do but have not been able to yet. It’s one of the ways she shows that she loves you.

R= Remember

(What is their favorite moment of your relationship?)

I won’t answer because of spoilers, but it’ll be a moment of vulnerability and trust between her and you. She’ll trust you to show love and affection in a way that’s most intimate to her.

S= Security

(How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Seeing you hurt, or even uncomfortable sets something alight in her. A burning need to make you feel better, make you feel safe. She won’t turn to violence, words will be the first thing she reaches for. With a glare, she’ll let the offender know that they are not wanted. Should they press the matter further, she’ll do what she needs to keep the both of you safe.

T= Try

(How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?)

There is nothing special about anniversaries in her mind, she might mark the day somewhat. Some nice food and good wine is more than enough for her. If you make it clear to her that it’s important to you she’ll put more effort in. She shows her love for you each day, an anniversary is no different.

U= Ugly

(What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She never meant to leave a mess, never meant to drag her dirt-covered boots all over the floors. To leave brown, dirty prints on each surface as she searches for the watering can she swears she left somewhere around here.

V= Vanity

(How concerned are they with their looks?)

Her hair is more to her than just something pretty, the flowers she adds make it alive and vibrant. It is important to her, and each month she’ll remake those braids with meticulous care, spending the entire day and often also the night to get it just the way she wants.

W= Whole

(Would they feel incomplete without you?)

She would not wish to live without you, but if forced she’ll make do. Life, death, and loss are all a natural part of life and she’s had a long time to come to terms with losing people close to her. The memories she has of you will always be cherished, but her life won’t grind to a halt. She’ll move on, carrying a piece of you with her always-

X= Xtra

(A random headcanon for them)

She has tea for everything, if you want to sleep, chamomile, if you need to calm down, lavender, or if you have a cold, ginger. If she had her way she would drink no water at all, instead getting all her fluid from tea.

Y= Yuck

(What are some things they wouldn't like in general or in a partner?)

She’ll never understand those who do not and would never want animals in the bed. They are a part of the family, where else would they sleep? On the floor, the hard floor that grows cold in the winter? The furry little beasts deserve the best, and she doesn’t understand how you could not want the same.

Z= Zzz

(What are some sleeping habits of theirs?)

Midora is a snorer, a gentle and soft snore, but a snore nonetheless. And for you to wake her from that sleep you’ll need to shake her for minutes on end, shouting for her to wake up.

#interactive fiction #the sunhold coven #sfw alphabet #midora

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visions--of--collisions · 3 months ago

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for @spidereticas who requested 400 words of something I have fragments of: here is .. more than 400 words of an inspired-by/follow-up to I Get So Hungry (When You Say You Love Me) by AbiCats16, in which an experimental trial at Spider Society goes poorly for Hobie (and for Miles, in turn)

EXCERPT: some of us will never sleep again • hobie/miles, drama, romance, angst, friendship, established relationship; rated: m

“Ope,” said LYLA, somewhere close to Hobie’s ear. “Incoming!”

Peter crossed the cell to get the door, and Miguel dismissed the last of the medical team with a sigh. Miles’ anxious voice carried over the noise of their departure; Hobie rolled his shoulders and climbed to his feet.

“You’re cleared to go,” Miguel informed him, pointedly not looking up from his readings as Miles led the charge across the room with Margo and Peter in tow. “Your system’s clean, but I’m going to ask that you take the next twenty-four hours to rest. Margo here’s agreed to cover your patrols for the evening; Pavitr will take over when she’s done.”

“Just call me Renfield, I guess,” Margo drawled. She watched with raised eyebrows as Miles reached up to grab Hobie’s face, turning it this way and that like he was looking for physical proof that the serum’s effects had faded.

Like he wasn��t the one with the scars to prove its viability.

“Let’s not,” Miguel grunted. Hobie snorted. Margo hadn’t been privy to the trials until she’d shown up for her morning shift and Peter’d convinced him to rope her in, according to the texts Miles had sent from Medbay. Miguel hadn’t been happy about it then, and he wasn’t now, it seemed like, regardless of how much sense the choice made. He dismissed the projected screens with a curt motion. “There were no previous reports of any side effects, but if anything feels off, ping LYLA and come back to HQ. That applies to you both,” he added, with a meaningful look Miles’ way.

Miles made an affirmative noise, though his focus remained on Hobie. “You look wiped, man,” he observed. He thumbed across the hollow under Hobie’s left eye.

“M’alright,” he mumbled. He caught Miles’ wrist and managed a smile. “Better for seeing you in one piece.” There was an adhesive bandage matching Miles’ skintone just visible under the cowl neck of the sweatshirt Medbay must have supplied him with. The tall boots and the slate-coloured trousers had to be theirs too then, because getting him into anything that tight that wasn’t his Suit was usually a once-in-a-blue-moon kind of occurrence.

Miles chuffed. “‘In one piece?’ Are you kidding, I slept through the whole thing. I dunno what they gave me, but that stuff was potent.”

“This man was fully snoring and drooling when I walked in there,” Margo agreed. “Sheets fucked up, pillows on the damn floor. Giving the whole ward a free show! Pete really had my ass worried for nothing.” She folded her arms, tucking a neatly-folded bundle that looked awfully like Miles’ Suit into the crook of her elbow. “I thought I was gonna be hauling both your corpses through a portal, the way this dude was talking.”

“In my defence, you kinda blipped out of there before I could elaborate,” Peter pointed out. Hobie noticed he was still just in his Suit, for once; his memory of the night was all over the place, practically blank in some spots and almost excruciatingly vivid in others. MJ’s dressing gown had vanished in one of the latter - really, in the clearest stretch - after Jess and Miguel had burst in to rescue Miles before things went any further south.

Didn’t really take an educated guess to work out what had happened to it.

“Well, you know, you tell a girl one of her friend’s in a cell dosed up on Nosferatu juice and the other’s bleeding out in Medbay, it really lights a fire under her!”

Miles’ pulse was strong and steady under his thumb. Hobie didn’t remember feeling for it. He loosened his grip and let Miles slip free.

Miles grabbed his forearm before he could step back. “You good to get outta here?” he asked.

The hopeful tilt to his smile made Hobie’s answer easier than it probably should’ve been. “Yeah, mate.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m good. You?” he couldn’t help but ask. There was none of the feverish sheen or the washed-out look of his skin that had shocked Hobie into letting Miles go after their last ill-fated conversation, even though he was looking for it. His hair might have suffered a bit of shrinkage while he spent the night in a hospital bed, but it was negligible.

The shirt was thick and its sleeves fell past Miles’ knuckles. He couldn’t make out any telltale bump where the gauze might be taped over an IV site. Hobie decided he’d ask when they had a second alone.

Assuming Miles was feeling up to that any time soon. Who could blame him if he wasn’t? “I have been ready, Hobes,” Miles informed him. He was smiling, his eyes creased at the corners in the way that meant Miles was laughing at him.

The knot in his stomach unravelled a bit. “Alright, shit. Don’t hang about on my account.”

Miles reached up just in time to intercept the folded bundle of his suit before it hit him in the head. “I am also ready to leave, if we’re all done here with this Twilight bullshit,” Margo chirped.

“Great. Thanks. How do you even know what that is?” Miles groused. He tucked himself against Hobie’s side, looping an arm around his lower back like he was ready to do the walking for him if need be. Hobie waited until Miles met his eye to drape his arm around his shoulders with exaggerated enthusiasm, pecking his temple when he glanced away sheepishly.

“Are you kidding, Pavitr lives for those movies! He’s got Collector’s Editions. Gayatri hates them and it’s like he doesn’t even care.” She oof-ed a bit as Hobie hooked his free arm around her avatar’s shoulders, but tucked her hand in between his and Miles’ sides readily enough.

“Huh. You know, that scans, actually,” Peter opined.

“Hmm. Espere un momento,” Miguel interjected, behind them. “You can go from here. LYLA, open access for Peter, por favor.”

“Y’got it!”

Peter rubbed his hands together. “Okay, where to, guys? Straight to ‘138 or should I drop you someplace else?”

Miles shook his head when Hobie glanced at him; Margo rolled her eyes and called up her mask. “Nah, mine’s good. I can give you the coordinates.”

Peter tapped at his Watch’s interface. “Go for it.”

Hobie rattled off the location of the first towpath bridge that came to mind; he hadn’t moored anywhere near there, but they could swing the rest of the way, and he had a better shot at finding Roxie the further afield they were. A minute later, the portal opened up a hole in the adjacent wall of the cell. Miles stuffed his Suit into his waistband, underneath the shirt.

“Okay, you guys, have a good one. Call us if you need anything! Me and Jess and Miguel are all burning the midnight oil this week, so don’t worry about catching us at a weird hour. Reach out whenever. Try and get some rest in the meantime, and make sure you eat, Hobie!”

The three of them waited in front of the portal, staring. “ … Anything else?” Margo prompted him.

“Remember what we talked about,” Miguel said, before he could answer. He was squinting at something LYLA was showing him, half-turned away. Just in case anyone was audacious enough to hope for context clues or a clarification, Hobie supposed.

He didn’t need any, but it was the principal of the thing.

“ … Cool. Alright.” Even with her headgear donned, Margo managed to give Hobie a disbelieving look. “Catch you later.”

She nudged Hobie forward; on his other side, Miles’ hand closed around the arm that hugged him close, and they walked through the dimensional door.

The portal dropped them into the half-light under a bridge in Islington. Experience had quickly taught Hobie to note the coordinates that pointed away from nearby bodies of water (it hadn’t been a learning curve so much as one or two deeply unpleasant and inconvenient swandives directly into the Thames) so instead they fetched up against a wall covered in faded graffiti and posters and some piss, which was still better than the alternative.

Between the three of them, it was Miles and Hobie who managed to cling to enough of their wits to stick out a leg before they all face-planted into the bricks. Margo let out a surprised breath where Hobie had twisted her back by the shoulders, on reflex.

The ruddy cast on the walls dimmed and died as the portal closed up behind them. In the gloom it left behind, they collected themselves and took stock. Hobie lifted his right arm high enough to check his watch without letting go of Miles. It had been after ten in the morning when the last tests declared him free of any traces or symptoms; his HQ watch had already dutifully ticked over to local time. 17:02, the glowing orange face read.

“Huh. Well this feels pretty on-brand.” Margo’s gear shone lilac when Hobie turned; her silhouette was stark against the fog spilling into the far end of the tunnel.

“What do you mean?” Miles asked. He reached up and squeezed Hobie’s hand, waiting for him to take his arm back before he turned to consider the other end of the tunnel, which looked much the same.

“I dunno, the London fog, this Dracula nonsense. You know?” Margo put her hands on her hips, frowning as she glanced about. Her lenses multiplied. “Where’s the good ship Demeter at?”

“Not here.” Hobie stretched a bit and checked his web-shooters. “We’ll swing over. Haven’t seen Roxie in a bit; I wanna find out where she’s got to.”

“‘Find her?’ In that?” Margo said, doubtfully. Her peripheral lenses changed colour as she tabbed through different visual modes, casting soft rainbow reflections off the surface of the water.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Miles watching the rippling colours as he clipped on his web shooters and dug out his mask. Hobie adjusted his guitar strap. “S’fine, I know her usual spots. Let’s cut.”

Miles’ and Margo’s footsteps were bare whispers following the echo of his boots as Hobie lead them out onto the towpath. In the open, the mist hung thicker in his lungs than it did in the air; Hobie tugged his mask on and told them to stay close, just in case.

The approaching rumble of a lorry made him straighten up, and the other two turned to follow his gaze. Briefly, as its headlights cut through the haze, Hobie’s eyes caught on the sliver of skin between the slouchy neck of Miles’ jumper and his mask, where the bandage underneath strained against the torsion of his neck. Then Miles turned to him, the lenses of his mask refractive and questioning. Hobie nodded and threw out a web after the truck, letting its momentum haul him off the ground.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

#fanfic #spiderverse #asks and things #punkflower #hobie x miles #it started storming out last night i blacked out and then there were 2k words in front of me?? idk #this Will Not be happening again i don't think #also for anyone can guess who roxie is. i will write you a 500+ word punkflower thing 👀👀 of yr choice 👀👀👀👀#🎸🌻#some of us will never sleep again

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bks-writing-adventures · 7 months ago

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Sapphires and Carnelian

I post chapters of this on my wattpad: BKCalliope every day!! You can also follow my tiktok: BK.calliope for edits of the story!

Aemond was ten when he learned his life would not be one of joys and riches. Of course, he could have any fine garment his single eye fell upon. He could read in any language, speak in any tongue. He was very aware of the privilege that came with his name and the silver of his hair. He could soar the skies on a dragon that did not like him, and he could find all the pleasures of his body’s desires in the brothels and slums of Dragonstone. And yet, on his 18th name day, he sat alone as Lords and Ladies spun across the dance floor. He had remembered the name days of his cousins very well.

At the age of six and ten, they had started receiving letters after letters of offers and proposals from across the seven kingdoms. So many that he was surprised the ravens hadn’t gone tumbling from the skies of the weight of parchment and wax. He had sat by the window as the sons of minor lords complained about the lack of surprise, all while he waited for a single letter. Every time those dark blue wings grazed the skies, he felt his heart skip, his hands curling as though they were waiting to hold a letter of their own. And of course, no such thing ever came. For two years, he spent his time wandering the chambers of his brother and mother, even his dear sister, Helaena, at times.

For surely this must all just be one cruel jape. Perhaps there were letters, and they simply weren’t reaching him. “Anything today, Orwyle?” He would ask the maester every now and then to no avail. He was 18 and three moons when he came to the conclusion that there was nothing, and there never would be. Perhaps he should just go and become a knight, swear an oath to never bed and never wed, but it seemed that was what he was doing already. With a groan, he hit his pillows and watched his ceiling. It was a boring thing of stone and gray, and the moon was a disturbance against the darkness his heart desired.

Even with his curtains pulled across the gap in the wall, seeps of brightness soaked into the room. He buried his head in his pillow, tossing his eyepatch on the floor to be forgotten. It was a stupid thing that itched and ached, and beneath the leather, fine lines of rashes were beginning to sprout. Ones he should have looked at, but he knew that he wouldn’t. The only comfort that grew in his chest was the one in knowing that his life would be a great story some day. A great tragedy, maybe, but something entertaining, at the very least. A small smile began to grace his thin lips as his mind wandered into a day dream.

He was not beautiful now, no, but maybe in 200 years, perhaps in 300, or 400, a young lady may look at his portrait and believe he was divine. That surely if they existed at the same time, she would be over the moon to marry him. But his smile faded once more at the tragedy. Perhaps he did have a soulmate, and they were only centuries apart. What a sorrow that was. And an even greater one, he thought, that his mother had never found a soulmate of her own.

In fact, no one he knew had. With the morning sun came the morning meal of fruit and bread, and he found his fingers running over the crust, pulling on it as conversations echoed around him. “Aemond,” His mother spoke up, dragging him out of his dreams.

“Hm?” He hummed, feeling the rough texture of charred bread against his fingertips.

“Stop playing with your food. It is not polite,” She said. She was dressed in a gown, just as she was every day. The neckline was straight and cut just below her collarbones, growing into sleeves that did not hug her arms. Beaded embroidery stitched across her chest, ending just at her waist, and just above her breasts rested the pendant of the Seven Pointed Star.

It was a good thing that the metal was fine, he thought, because with how much she wore it, surely it should be wearing down soon. One day they would find it in the rubble of the Red Keep, when the demonic building would finally fall, and they would see the grooves of her fingers, her anxious thumbs running across it every other minute.

“There is no one else here,” He spoke. And his words were true. Aegon was off and running about, running his mouth where he shouldn’t. And Helaena was probably sealed in her chambers, stitching away at fabric and cloth, holding her needle between her lips as she studied patterns in her big book of embroidery.

“I know that,” His mother spoke, and her voice would almost sound sharp, if it were not so tired. His father was nowhere to be found. He was nowhere, most days. Nowhere but his bed, where he was slowly rotting away. Soon enough his skin and the mattress would become one, and Aemond wished that he cared more about his fathers pain. But if anything, it was one great inconvenience. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to his father.

Perhaps it was a few years ago. The man didn’t even know how old he was. “But it is still important to practice your manners for when you are in greater company,” She spoke, looking down at her cup. It was full of tea that she had no desire of drinking, but still, she brought it to her lips and took a sip, licking the rest of the sweet liquid from her skin. “Any letters?” She asked, trying to make conversation. He could almost laugh, his fingers going over the rim of his plate.

“What do you think?” He asked, making her lips seal shut. There wasn’t much else to say. There hadn’t ever been a Prince to go so long without marrying. Not one that was not training to be a Septon or White Cloak, that is. “Perhaps it is time that we start sending letters, don’t you think? Maybe the ladies are just too intimidated,” She said gently, reaching over to touch his arm. He watched quietly as her fingers caressed the black leather, and he blinked slowly, as if trying to regain his character.

“Perhaps.” He said dryly. She nodded, and for the rest of the hour, they sat in silence and poked at their meals. He had hoped that his mother was just speaking just to speak, to fill the silence. He didn’t think that she would actually go through with the idea until he was called from his rooms just before noon. As he leaned over a book, tracing over the portraits of the Kings and Queens before his time. With every pairing he read about, he wondered if they ever felt like him. Hopeless and hopeful all at once. Everything written in history was written with salt and bias, he knew that.

The greatest love stories were formed from decades of grooming and political schemes. Most of the Kings and Queens did not even share a bed. He knew that most of the line was a lie, and he was not related to half of the great men that chapters were dedicated to. Their wives would cheat on them with men of low stations, and they would cheat on their wives with women more beautiful and more evil. That was just how the world worked.

“Your mother requests you,” His grandfather, Otto, spoke. He was an odd man. He reminded Aemond of a lapdog, running here and there under orders of those above him. But he had tricks up his sleeves. He played the role of the runt in hopes of collecting sympathy, and he would steal all that he could and more. He would steal the throne if he could, that was the reason for all of this suffering. Because poor old Otto Hightower wanted to make something of himself. And for a larger name, he sacrified his daughter to the King. Maybe he never thought he would get this far. Maybe that is why he walked around with sorrow in his eyes after seeing what he had done. Seeing that his grandchildren were gray and good as corpses.

That his granddaughter, who had been a sweet and giggly child, had shriveled into a whispering prophet that was always the bud of the joke. What life could be, had people listened more to Helaena. The thought tickled his brain, and on his way to his mothers chambers, he paused. Helaena was humming in her rooms, and he could hear the familiar babbles of his twins. Quietly, he made his way in. Her eyes lifted from her project, and for a moment, he could see a sliver of light in them. Of relief that he was not Aegon.

They shared a mutual understanding, in their eyes alone, that Aegon was not their brother. That he was not her husband. He was a succubus that invaded their home and stole what had once been his brother, many years ago before he became cruel. When they were younger, after she was wed to Aegon, she and Aemond would camp out in the dining room, beneath the tables and blankets as they whispered about better lives. Of the day that Aegon would finally run away and leave them in peace. That maybe Aemond would be King, and Helaena would be Queen, and Rhaenyra would be their sister.

That their mother’s madness would heal. But it was all just silly childhood dreams. “Sister,” He said quietly, his eye wandering toward the children as they played in their pens. He could never tell the difference between them. To his understanding, boy and girl twins could not be identical. But when he looked at Jahaerys and Jahaera, he was sure that was false. They shared the same face, the curve of their nose all of their mothers, the arch of their faint brows, the roundness of their cheeks. Thank Gods, he thought to himself, that they did not take after their father. And so long as he lived, he would be sure that they didn’t.

“They are growing up quickly.” She says. He nodded quietly, though he did not agree. It felt as though time had stretched forever since they were born.

“Do you think I will ever get married?” He asked, making her pause in her habits. She was in the middle of stitching a gown. While there were servants and seamstresses with far more skill, she always preferred to do it herself. It was something about textures and understanding. It made her uncomfortable to have other people in control of her clothing. It was one of the few things that she could control, because the castle controlled everything else. Where she went, what she ate, how she acted. But her clothes, she could do that much.

“...the water looks beautiful today.” She spoke quietly, and after a second, her head moved back down, and her hands began to run over the fabric in her lap once more. He looked at her, and nodded in silence as his lips sewed themselves shut. He wished she wasn’t so ominous all the time, but he knew that meant something. It had to. And maybe it wouldn’t make sense for a year or two, but eventually, he would understand. Coming closer, he took her head in his hands and kissed the top of it, patting the top of her head. Her silver hair was in twin braids today, curled around her scalp like snakes chasing each other.

“You have a good day, Helaena.” He said quietly, and he could almost see a smile forming before he walked away, carefully shutting the door behind him. The water. What water would that be? It was not raining. Perhaps a bath? Maybe one of the maids? His mind raced with possibilities, and when he reached his mothers chambers, she looked bored out of her mind.

“Did you get lost on the way here?” She asked. Perhaps he had been with Helaena longer than he believed, his eye looking over the room. There were two maesters and some apprentices, fat stacks of paper, and ravens waiting on the windowsill. Good gods, she was serious about this.

“What is all this?” He asked, reaching for one of the stacks of paper. It seemed like heavy research, or perhaps it was old letters, he could tell by the slight grayness of the ink and the light discoloration of the paper that they were aged at least a couple of years.

“When Aegon was of age, we received thousands of letters. Of course, we never looked through any of them,” Alicent explained. Well, that wasn’t surprising. The moment Helaena was born, Viserys knew exactly what he wanted. To continue the Targaryen tradition of marrying brother to sister. To keep the line clean and strong. Aemond felt a worm of discomfort climbing through his skin. His nephews were marrying their cousins, Aegon and Helaena were married to each other. And he was simply.. There. Alone. He would have to be the only one of the generation to not marry kin.

To have children that were not pure. His brows scrunched as he did the math in his head. He was only half Targaryen, he was lucky enough to receive the hair of silver, and his eye to be powder blue. But what of his children? If he were to marry someone with blood that was not Valyrian? Would his children ever ride dragons? The more he thought, the more he stressed, and so he cleared his throat and spoke.

“I see,” he says, looking through some of the stacks of paper. Some of the letters were still sealed with their original wax.

“Some may not even be worth going through. There are Lords here that I have never even heard of,” His mother spoke, frowning in distaste as she tried to read some of the names. “Perhaps there is a Lannister available,” She mumbled, mostly to herself, and his brows raised quickly in annoyance.

“A Lannister? To think a Dragon would go slow as to marry a Lion,” He scoffed. It was not only that, but he had never once met a Lannister that didn’t annoy him. Tyland Lannister was perhaps the biggest cunt of them all. All he did was run his mouth and laugh at his own jokes. The air got thick, and an awkwardness covered them.

“So if you would not marry a Lannister, shall we get rid of these letters from Lord Tully? A turtle is even worse than a Lion,” One of the apprentices spoke, giving a light chuckle that was not welcomed. The poor man was so awkward, staring around in circles as he held the letter, stamped with a swirl of deep red and navy.

“The symbol of House Tully is a fish, not a turtle,” Aemond spoke, his lips pursed. He was about to say to throw it away, until he remembered the words of his sister. The water looks beautiful today. The water, a river. Riverrun. Right where the Tully’s were located. “Give it here,” He said, his brain alive with possibilities as he took the letter in his hands, moving to sit down. His mother gave him an odd look, but averted her gaze to another stack of papers, what seemed to be hundreds of miniatures. Tiny portraits in inks and pastels. He had never seen so many paintings of women anywhere. As he sat down on his mothers reading chair, he plucked a letter opener from the nearby table, slicing open the envelope until a small piece of parchment was revealed.

His hands were almost shaking as he lifted the paper from its small prison, his eye scanning over it. There was nothing much special about it, not in the handwriting, that was slightly sideways and rushed. Not in the words themselves. Lord Tully wrote about his youngest daughter, Emberwyn, who was apparently no great beauty, but was kind beyond words, and had more personality than her sisters. A smile pulled at Aemond’s lips as he read that line. Personality. He knew what that was code for. She was a bitch. He chuckled to himself as he continued to read. Emberwyn liked to read and write, and she could do so in three languages, and she had a deep infatuation with the sea. How interesting, he thought to himself.

“Mother?” He called, holding the paper. “Find me a portrait of Lady Emberwyn Tully,” He said, a smile forming on his face that he tried to hide. It was as rare as the Flower Moon, and the maesters seemed almost disturbed by the sight of it. Orwyle quietly moved in front of Alicent, combing through the stacks that were organized by alphabet, until he finally fished one out. The image was small, the size of his palm, and he handed it to Aemond with an indifferent expression. He took it carefully, holding it to the light. It was some years old, and the girl seemed quite young.

With a face round and soft, and her lips pointy with a cupid bow, her nose having the smallest of curves. White it had been sketched in charcoal, there were small hints of pastel rubbed across her hair to highlight the gingery color, and across the cheeks to show rosiness. It was far from realistic, and he almost rolled his eyes at the sight.

“This one.” He said, holding up the miniature. “Send a letter to her father. I would like to meet her,” And with that, he took the miniature, and simply walked to his chambers. While he could agree that she was no great beauty, perhaps there would be something in her voice, in her eyes, that could lure him in. There had to be something about her. Something that had changed in the years since the letter had been sent. And what could be the harm in simply trying?

Thank you to everyone who reads and interacts! New chapter will be coming tomorrow <3

#aemond targaryen #aemond #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #helaena targaryen #game of throne #asoiaf #Emberwyn Tully #fanfiction #romance #aegon targaryen #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond x oc #writing #Sapphires and Carnelian

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freeflowersofmuseums · 7 months ago

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Yandere Bouillabaisse

Hello lovelies! dont know if anyone missed me but now that I'm better at writing and playing FF again, I figured I would try writing another shot. If there's something you really wanna see, just dm me a request! i get the struggle of being in a niche fandom and when there's nearly 400+ characters in FF, it can be really hard to find content for a character you like. With that being said, here are some headcanons and a scenario for the food soul Bouillabaisse!

CW: Collaring, drugging, kidnapping, stealing, jealousy and general yandere tendencies. GN!reader

Bouillabaisse or “bisse” as you called him, was fond of you when he was first summoned. For the small price of 150 soul embers from the store, you had gained an eternal companion. He thought you were simply adorable, his past master attendants were powerful mages or even other food souls who wanted him for their own gain, but you were the only person who gave and asked nothing in return. For that alone, he would provide you his service.

Everything you do enchants him. Your laugh, the way you touch his face, and even the food you provide for him warm his heart. He has never met anyone so kind and generous, he tries to return the favor as best he can. Giving you all sorts of knick-knacks he picks up off the road or the beach.

He is set on following you everywhere, while this isn’t too out of the normal for Food Souls, he takes his position as your personal assistant very seriously. When shopping for groceries, he’ll often quietly tuck fruit in his bag while others aren’t looking. The idea that you have to pay for anything in this world is ridiculous. Don't they know that you're the best master attendant in the world?

You pet him in a way he's so fond of. Gently pushing back the hair that obscures his features. You wash his face before bed, tucking him in with care and preparing delicious food in the morning. He watches as you hum various songs. Flitting about the kitchen like a golden ray of sunlight, preparing a meal that you hope he will enjoy just as much as you do. He'd never known this feeling before… this is love, isn’t it?

He despises the fact that you have to toil away at your job, giving your effort to someone who will never appreciate it and only ask for more. Oh, how he wishes he could simply whisk you away, waltzing on the beaches he knows so well while he covers you in sunken treasure. Pearls complement your complexion the best, he thinks.

It's only when a belligerent man catches your fancy does he comes across the realization that he would kill for you. Bouillabaisse hates every fiber of the man's being. He was almost disturbed that such visceral hatred was able to come from his core. Baisee looms over you while he watches the man offer to take you for a beverage. Taking in every disgusting quality of the man. The conversation only lasts a few minutes at most, but the pain is forever ingrained in Bouillabaisse's heart. If he is to properly protect you from the vile instincts of others, he has to isolate you.

He's so sorry. He doesn’t mean to hurt you he promises! But spiking your drink was the only way he could knock you unconscious and whisk you away. He knows that this is the best option for the two of you, but he hates hurting you! He hates knocking you out forcefully, but he found a happy medium in the form of keeping you drugged just enough to be barely conscious. He finds you adorable like this, constantly coo’ing in awe at your inebriated form. You need his help to do everything, a situation that won't last forever, but something he quite enjoys.

When the two of you reach his homeland, he finally feels comfortable enough to let you recover. He sets you down in a big shell basin that's been padded with all sorts of fabrics and pillows. Smiling at the fact that you look like a pretty pearl when sitting in the shell. The cave seems to be comprised of a small above-water-level portion where you can breathe comfortably, but the only exit seems to be an extremely long tunnel submerged in water. In order to leave you would need Bouillabisse’s assistance.

He holds you as you kick and scream for release from the caves. He lets a few sparkling tears fall from his eyes. He is so frustrated that you can't see the truth! That the only way you’ll truly be happy is with him, right here where he can give you everything you need.

He feeds you just a drop or two of pufferfish poison. Just enough to keep you from accessing your magic and prevent him from doing what's right. It makes your body run hot and you struggle with physical activity, but Bouillabaisse does everything he can to provide for you.

Now that he has you all to himself, he needs to find a way to mark you. He needs to own you like you own him. While it's likely not a permanent fix, he fashioned a collar for you. Made from the thicker bones of his tail and metal embellishments. He adores dressing you up and perhaps the collar was simply the start, but ever since he wrapped it around your neck you find that he has an odd fascination with picking out your clothing within the limited selection he carried.

Your relationship with Bouillabaisse has drastically changed but it's hard to get mad when you realize most of his actions come from his almost child-like level of ignorance. He loves you and he's not afraid to say it. Perhaps with enough time or patience, you could even convince him to let you leave. Provided you pay the transportation tax in the form of kisses. <3

Threat level: 4/10

Love level: 9/10

#food fantasy x reader #food fantasy #small fandom #character x reader #thanks for the support #yandere food fantasy #yandere x reader

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ourlittleforever · 3 months ago

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mornings are for lovers

400 words, tooth rotting fluff w Xander, from his POV because I like being told I'm pretty and nice.

note: my self insert uses she/her in the game canon since it's old-timey, and they/she in a modern setting.

When Xander wakes up, he can smell breakfast cooking. Bacon sizzles down the hallway; he crawls out of bed and follows the sound.

Millie is standing at the stove. She's wearing his shirt. It hangs down to her thighs like a nightgown. A smile touches Xander's lips as he sneaks up behind her and wraps his arms around her.

“Mornin’,” he says, kissing the top of her head. Her hair smells like his shampoo. They haven't had the chance to go out and get Millie soap of her own, but Xander doesn't entirely mind. She smells like she belongs here, like she's his. The thought makes him squeeze a little tighter.

“G’morning.” Millie leans back into his touch. “How'd you sleep?”

“Fine.” He's been sleeping better now that he has someone to share the bed with. They both get nightmares sometimes – how could you not, after a place like Gloomwood? – but the terrors are easier to bear with one another. “Smells good.”

“Me or breakfast? Because I can hear you sniffing my hair.”

“Both?”

Millie sighs lovingly. “Go ahead and sit down. It's done.”

Xander does as he's told. The morning paper is already at his seat. Millie has split the sections up. She always takes the comics and editorials, leaving Xander the rest.

Millie plates their breakfast (biscuits and gravy with a helping of bacon) and sits down across the table from him. Her wedding band catches the early morning sunlight and Xander's heart warms.

He'd never really seen himself as a married man. Sure, he'd wanted a spouse, someone to share his life with, but it never felt like the right time. And then Millie came along.

Once they escaped Gloomwood, he took her to the first courthouse they came across and married her. Millie was sweet, intelligent, beautiful. She could hold a conversation and was eager to learn. And she loved earnestly, purely, without any expectation. He couldn't let a girl like that go.

He promised once they settled down some, he’d give her a real wedding. He dreams about her, a vision in white…

“You're staring,” she says, pulling him from his reverie. “What's up, honey?”

“Oh, nothing,” Xander replies. He reaches across the table and squeezes her hand. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

Her face reddens and she glances away. “I'm the lucky one.”

“How ‘bout we're both lucky?”

“I'll take it.”

#self ship #selfship #f/o community #yumeship #yumejoshi #milliefic #the cure you need

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year ago

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400 requests~ AAAAAAAH CONGRATULATIONS ON 400 I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU OMG (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ May that following increase and the journey ahead be an enjoyable and rewarding one!

May I request a Joshua x Reader? Where reader gives as good as she gets and they banter/tease one another? Developing relationship with secret smiles and whispers (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

Ty so much my dear, please take careeeeeee! And congratulations once again ❤️ 🎉

Thank you so, so much! <3 Sorry this took me an age - I hope you enjoy it. I had fun writing it in all its fluffy nonsense. Banter Joshua Rosfield x fem reader

You smile at the sight of Joshua breaking his fast in the Ale Hall. Jote is by his side, as usual, eyes watching him like a hawk as he picks idly at his plate. You stride over, a bounce in your step and sit down to his left, nimbly stealing a piece of Maeve’s famous sweet bread off his plate.

“Morning.” You grin, before taking a bite. If Jote could kill with looks alone, you’d be long gone.

“Good morning.” Joshua nods in acknowledgement, suppressing a grin.

“There is still food being served, my lady.” Jote states, politely.

You finish your mouthful and smile, sweetly, in the Phoenix attendant’s direction. “I know. I didn’t think Joshua would mind sharing, though.” “Oh, I certainly do mind.” He replies, though his tone is teasing. “Only because my lady is surely sweet enough.”

“Careful – if you make me faint, Tarja will be most displeased.”

“Then I will be sure to be swift enough to catch you.”

“Hm,” you muse, looking him up and down. “I’ll believe that when you finally best me in the pit, for how many times is it now that I have sent His Grace down upon his backside?”

Jote’s nostrils flair in annoyance.

“Very true,” Joshua chuckles. “I will mind my words to avoid an unnecessary trip to the infirmary. Speaking of,” he turns to the woman besides him, “Jote, I know Tarja would appreciate your help again there this morning, if you’d be so kind.”

“If you are sure, Your Grace. I do not mind… watching over your training session.”

Jote had been vehemently against your tutelage of Joshua in the pit, even though it had been at Clive’s request. Your weapon was similar to that of the delicate blade Joshua wields and knowing the repercussions of what the use of aether did to the body, Clive was keen for him to start utilizing it properly in battles. Though the Undying had tutored the Phoenix to the best of their ability, Clive had noted areas of improvement whilst fighting alongside Joshua and you had immediately come to mind… much to Jote’s chagrin at the constant, somewhat flirtatious banter you and the blonde had relaxed into throughout your training sessions together. “I’ll be fine, Jote. Thank you.” Joshua smiles, warmly, and you see her relax a little at his words.

“I do not wish to face Tarja’s wrath if I were to send Joshua back to his sickbed, so I promise to be most careful.” You try and reassure too, but the way Jote’s lips fall into a tight line as she gets to her feet, bows her head and heads off towards the infirmary tells that you hadn’t quite hit the mark you intended.

Joshua waits a moment to be sure Jote is clear of the Ale Hall before he drops a hand under the table, subtly reaching for your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours. “Sweet one,” he leans into you to whisper the nickname he’s bestowed upon you for moments such as this, “Once again, I must insist you stop tormenting poor Jote.”

“She makes it so eas-“

A firm squeeze of your hand cuts you off.

“My apologies.” You concede. “In my defence, I was being sincere about the last bit though – I do not wish to send you back to your bed with too much exertion.”

“You will not.” He lets go of your hand, somewhat reluctantly, and stands. “Shall we?”

“Let’s.”

A little while later, the two of you are catching your breath after a round of sparring in the pit.

“That was much better.” You wipe the back of your hand over your brow. “I only knocked you down three times.”

“Twice,” Joshua corrects.

“No, it was definitely three.”

“No, it was definitely twice.” He retorts. “The third time you are referring to does not count.”

You tilt your head, curious. “And why is that, Your Grace?”

Joshua scoffs. “You know exactly why, sweet one.”

“No, I don’t.” You cross your arms. “Enlighten me.”

He sighs. “I will reiterate that kissing me on my cheek is not an acceptable move in combat.”

“Says who? It’s an excellent distraction technique, as you have experienced.” You grin, thinking back of how flustered Joshua had got when you’d pecked him on the cheek… before thwacking the hilt of your blade across the back of his knees to send him toppling down into the sand of the fighting pit.

“Oh, really? Pray tell, who engages with this technique?”

“Me, for a start.”

“Anyone else I might know?”

“Why, Barnabas Tharmr. How do you think he conquered Ash all those years ago?”

Joshua can’t help but laugh at that, taking a step closer. “Of course, pecked his way up to the throne. No-one else?”

You hum in thought. “Clive of course. His foes are always commenting on how handsome he is in battle, so he gives them a quick kiss and down they go. In fact, I heard he kissed a Morbal once-”

“Oh, hello, Clive.” Joshua interrupts, looking behind you. Your heart skips a beat as you spin on your heels, ready to utter a thousand apologies… ..only to find the dock behind you is empty. You turn back, Joshua’s name on your tongue to admonish him, only to find his lips meet yours instead and he kisses you, a hand cupping your cheek and causing your mind to become utterly blank.

It only lasts a moment when he sideswipes at your ankles and sends you toppling down to your backside with a boyish grin.

“You’re right,” he crouches down and offers you his hand, “it is a good distraction technique.”

-- PS: I love Jote, really! Just had to tease her a little bit too.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

#ghostdogwrites #joshua rosfield x you #joshua rosfield x female reader

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biscuitblinkeu · 2 years ago

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Build A Bitch [1]

Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader

Word count: 3884?

Warnings: this applies to every chapter: Profanity is used, and there is trigger warnings

A/n: Don’t ask why this chapters so long because I have no idea what possessed me to write that much, it’s practically two chapters in one… And, maybe, just maybe, I waited till I reached 400 followers (Wow! Thank you!) to post this series.

“Why is it that I always find you hiding in here?”

…………………………………………………………………………

Multiple times, when you have nothing to occupy your mind, the question is drawn about and you find yourself asking: what makes someone a Crazy Bitch? The term most indefinitely applies to women, and is said by a “friend” or man in most cases.

Is it a woman that has emotional problems?

“I don’t know how you deal with that crazy bitch. I’d never put up with her antics.”

Is it a woman who after a break up slashes the tires of your car, burns your clothes, and tries to get you fired from your job, that calls you the next day to reconcile?

“That crazy bitch keyed my car!”

Is it a woman who has suffered during their childhood, and as a result of the experience matures to be simultaneously lascivious and sexually aggressive?

“I refuse to go clubbing with her, she’s constantly acting like she’s going to fuck everyone— it’s embarrassing, you can’t go anywhere with that crazy bitch without getting into some kind of trouble. She needs to get help.”

You believe, contrary to the stereotypes that come with the term, that a “crazy bitch” is an intelligent woman who will call you out on your behavior. That will not put up with your bullshit and will hold everything in until you push her to the point that she explodes, and tells you everything about yourself. Verbally destroying your existence, and exposing you for the true piece of shit you are. There’s little to nothing (at all) mentally wrong with these women. Calling them crazy is the only defense a person has to make her seem unstable to everyone.

You slide into a chair, dropping your backpack to the floor with a sigh. You decided to go to your on-campus Starbucks to pass time till class starts. The campus is partially empty because no one takes morning classes. You’re here because you are, in fact, a morning person— though it doesn’t feel like that today. Today, you’d do anything for an extra hour or two of sleep. You’re here because you’re an art major, because your professor, Mr. McCarthy, believed waking up at the (ass) crack of dawn is the most effective way to get those “creative juices” flowing. In short, you and your peers had no choice.

On any other day you would’ve enjoyed your 8:00am life drawing class, but your head is killing you, and so are your feet (you should’ve taken the train) since you wanted to walk across campus and enjoy the morning dew of spring. You’re thirsty and you have half the mind to go and get free water at Starbucks but you don’t want to get up. Everything is just so bright and dizzy. Thus why your head is situated on the oh so cool table top, offering you short relief and bliss.

“(Y/n)!”

You groan, slowly lifting your heavy head from the table in hope of easing the splitting throb and squint at the woman who’s robbed you of your peace. She finishes the journey to you and pulls out a chair next to you and you wince. Everything she does is too loud for you right now.

“Lisa,” you sigh, exasperated. “Would it kill you to be a little more subtle?” You sound tired and your voice is a little raspy from the lack of hydration.

Lisa stops talking about her multiple cats and pauses, finally giving you a look over. “Oh.” She whispered, looking apologetic. She gives you a deprecatory smile. “Hangover?”

You nod numbly and Lisa gets up without another word. You close your eyes, only to feel the back of them throbbing in tandem along with your head. About two minutes later, Lisa is back with a Gatorade and banana walnut and pecan loaf.

She sets them in front of you, smiling. “Here, for you. I hope you feel better.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to Lisa, thank you.” You uncap the Gatorade and take a few sips, feeling much more comfortable now that your throat is wet. What would you do without Lisa?

The Thai befriended you freshman year when you shared the photography-I class with her. You didn’t even know how to use a camera if it wasn’t your phone’s. She helped you get through the class with good marks. She ignored what others told her about you and approached you— and you don’t know why she did, because freshman-year you was a trip. You bonded over your love for the arts and animals, quickly becoming close friends. Now, it’s your junior year and you’re still close as ever. You wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your friendship.

You and Lisa don’t share as many classes this year as you did prior, but you still hang out often. Lisa shares the photography-III and English class with you this year. She majors in dance. Lisa excels in all her classes— especially dance. (This girl can really move!)

As you eat the banana-pecan bread, you wonder why Lisa hasn’t asked you why you have such a bad hangover. Usually she’s on your tail about that, lecturing you on why you should stop going out so much. She knows you went to a party in the upperclassmen’s dorms last night with your Fine Arts major friends.

You observe Lisa, who rambles on about the new choreography she’s learning that she wants to show you, and wonder. Has she finally given up on making you a better you? Is she dissatisfied and disappointed that you still went to the party against her wishes? That you continue to mingle with those:

“Poor excuses of a friend group.”

“Bad influences.”

“Scrooges.”

“Substandard stick-figure drawing shit-heads.”

The last one makes you laugh because it’s the first time you heard Lisa use obscenity and curse. She was really mad that time: when she found out the art portfolio assignment you worked on won the drafting to get featured in a student art showing at a popular museum, she was ecstatic for you. But it failed to be submitted because you were suspected of plagiarism.

For some reason your work looked incredibly similar to your friend’s. It was obvious she copied you. Lisa thinks that your friend had very obvious intentions. If she doesn't win, you don’t win. You go down with her. So when it was obvious you were going to win, she pirated your hard work. Even acted like you stole hers— and the fact you were “friends” didn’t make anything better.

You were devastated at the time, but got over it. Lisa never did, and with a vengeance, she even got her law major friend Jennie involved. Now that? That was a whole mess.

“Why are you staring at me?” Lisa pipes up, and you realize she’s finished her rant and has been calling for your attention for quite some time now.

“You’re not going to ask…?”

“Do you want me to?” Lisa smiles knowingly.

“Yes, actually. Please bestow some of your wisdom on me.” You joke.

“Well,” Lisa begins. “How was the party?” Internally letting out a sigh at her broad question, you know she has to start somewhere.

“It was…interesting.” You say, trying to give a noncommittal response, which you suppose will suffice, considering that you were drunk and can hardly remember the whole event anyway.

“Interesting how? What were you up to?”

Oh, just your usual sexual escapades— can’t tell her that, though, can you?

You shrug and sip from your Gatorade, avoiding eye contact with her. “I don’t remember much…just drinking, dancing, I might have kissed a few people too.” You mutter, almost to yourself.

Lisa furrows her brows. Her gaze flickers to your neck, scrutinizing the expanse of revealed skin. She does this for a moment more before speaking again, seemingly satisfied with what she saw: no marks. “Did you hook up with anyone?” She asks, and the hint of concern in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Lisa wasn’t fond of you sleeping with people you or she didn’t know well, even if those said people went to your college. Lisa may not approve of some things you do, but she’s a loyal friend who just wants you to stay safe.

Your face feels warm. “No,” you assure her. “Just kissing.”

Right.

She lets the topic go after that, and she tells you what’s happening in her life right now. Along the way, she got up to buy herself a drink as well, having to stand in a line now that more people are arriving.

It's then when you get a text. Upon opening the chat, your heart drops to your stomach. A text, followed by a chain of photos of you that are absolutely humiliating. The pictures seem to have the one focus to show you in some type of lewd way— like you’re some kind of horny bitch.

The first attachment has you captured during a passionate kiss as you're grinding onto a man’s lap, arms hooked around his neck as he holds your hips. Another shows you with hands slightly under a woman’s dress, you have her pinned against the wall, your lips together in an eager manner. The rest of the pictures follow a similar fashion, some even having inappropriate comments edited on the bottom.

Your phone dings again. It’s a message this time.

Oh God. Your stomach lurches and that deep feeling of anxiety begins to boil. You reread it over and over, irrationally hoping the words are just an illusion and that if you read it again and again the words will change. (They don’t.)

What if I were to post these online?

Your first thought was that whoever this is, is joking. This is just some sick prank from someone who was at that party last night. Who would be that invested in your life to go to the extent of stalkerish behavior?

You must’ve taken too long to reply because another one is sent a minute later.

Everyone knows you're a crazy bitch, what harm will it do?

Oh?

Your jaw is clenched and you stare at the images and texts, seething. That two worded term gave them away. There’s only two people who still call you that, so it’s either both or one of them responsible for this.

With trembling fingers, you turn off your phone. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes. Hundreds of thoughts are racing through your head— but the recurring question lingers: How dare they?

It’s another thing that you’re not even disappointed. A little shaken, yes. Shocked? Totally. But disappointed? Not at all.

You knew.

So, it feels like cold water was poured on you, it feels like being slapped; with reality. It’s the long awaited, big and regretful I-told-you-so moment— because Lisa told you so.

And because Lisa told you so, you’re going to do what Lisa told you not to do (if this situation was to come).

You open your eyes to Lisa, still in line, looking at you in concern and confusion, probably wondering why you look so distressed. “You alright?” She mouths, brows knitted. You smile weakly, giving her a thumbs up before looking at the white marbled floors.

A moment later you open the contact again and stare blankly at the screen, thinking about your plan of action. This is considered blackmail, isn’t it? That means that the course of action you should take is talking to a blackmail attorney and reporting who sent those photos. And as satisfying as that sounds— that whoever sent those would be fined or sent to prison— you don’t plan on doing that. (Yet.) There’s much more satisfying ways to deal with this, afterall.

You nearly fall out of your chair when a hand touches your shoulder.

“(Y/n)? Who sent those?” (Thank God) It’s Lisa, who now stands directly behind you looking over your shoulder. She’s frowning and looks as if she’ll blow a fuse if you don’t answer her, and quickly too. But all you can think about is finding the person/s who took these. The chair you were sitting on skids on the marble as you abruptly stand, shoving your phone into your sweatpants’s pocket and gathering your things at a fast pace.

“Where are you going?” Lisa asks, alarmed as you start walking towards the building exit. “Wait!” She reaches out and grabs your arm. “…Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright?”

“I won’t.” After today passes, you think.

Loud laughter that turns silent, turns into grumbles and bitchy whines very quickly.

“Hey guys!” You shout when you’re a few footsteps away from their little circle, moving towards them quickly. They’re always in the same spot, it wasn’t hard to find them. Iseul, Ramus, Riley, and Krystal were all surrounded around Jackson, looking down at his device giggling like little girls. They barely had time to react as you bulldozed through. “What’s so funny? What are we laughing about? Let me see,” you forcefully snatch the phone out of his hand much to his shock.

So funny. Just fucking hilarious. They were laughing at the pictures of you— of course, and they seemed to have had lots of fun coming up with captions at the bottom of the photos and playing with the dumb filters.

Almost immediately, you delete the file from the photo editing app they used, exit out, and click onto his photos. Krystal, the Barbie wannabe is on her toes a moment later, ready to snatch the phone out of your hands. You see, you have to be careful around her; you all call her “Swiper” (no swiping) for a reason. She swiped your ex; Jackson; your cash, your clothes, your art, your— you get the point. But she’s the clumsiest person you know, so you're not really surprised she tripped onto her ass when you dodged her outstretched arm.

You deleted the photos from the Camera app on his phone, and then you had to go to the Photos app and delete them again, permanently. On to the Messages app now.

You can’t help but question why this is so easy. Your little group has five people, but only two of them are actually trying to get the phone back. Jackson chases you down and wow, is it hard to run and tap on a phone at the same time. You’re lucky you ran track in highschool. Eventually you ran out of places to run due to the lake behind you that cuts the campus halfway into two parts. Maybe you shouldn’t have ran onto the dock. It’s not like it was built all the way to the other side, so you’re trapped.

“Give me my fucking phone back (Y/n),” he growls. You shake your head.

Just as you deleted where every trace of those pictures you can guess were saved, he’s lunging towards you. And you do the only thing you can think of— kick him in the groin. He falls to his knees right after a curse leaves his lips, crumpling into a ball as he holds that area.

You gasp. “Oh I’m so sorry, you can have your phone back now.” You purposely place the phone near the edge of the dock where he lays and walk away. His hand reaches out for it but, not surprisingly, it falls in the water. “You fuckin’ crazy bitch!” He all but screams, fist hitting the wood of the dock. You roll your eyes and pick your bag up from the picnic table before heading to class.

…

Lisa doesn’t ask you what you did when she came to your dorm in the late afternoon. (It was just you and her, no Krystal).

You shake your head. “I can’t stay in this dorm anymore, Lisa. I was lucky to come back and see my things still intact but she’ll make my life a living hell if I stay, I know it.”

Lisa bites her lip as she looks elsewhere, presumingly thinking. “Well. I have a friend who doesn’t have a roommate right now. She hasn’t for a while, somehow,” you raise a brow, interested. “If you ask me, I think the school gives her extra attention but she denies it every time. She even has one of the big dorms with a kitchen and bathroom, and she turned the extra space into a living room.” Lisa laughs.

“So you think she might let me move in?” You ask hopefully.

“We’re talking about Roseanne here,” she muses. Lisa watches your eyes grow wide, recognition highlighting your features.

You melt into the beanbag chair lazily, looking at the ceiling. “Roseanne is really nice,” you start, and Lisa nods. “But I’m sure she likes her privacy. And me? I’m nosey as hell and loud— unintentionally. What if she thinks I’m annoying? Or what if she remembers how I acted Freshman year and immediately says no? What if she thinks I’m some mean bitch?” You groan, every good trait of yours you can think of is canceled by a bad one.

“Hey,” Lisa raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t write yourself off yet, you never know. I don’t believe she thinks that either.”

“How do you know?” You question.

Lisa throws her hands up, smiling teasingly. “I don’t, but my words still stand.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You’re about an hour into a movie when Lisa move’s suddenly. “Shoot,” she says, looking at her watch. “I have to go out for dinner with some of the dance majors, but I’ll bring the roommate thing up to her tomorrow and we’ll see what happens, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks Lisa.” You hug her goodbye and then with a click of the door she’s gone.

***

True to her words, Lisa seeks out Roseanne in a free time period they share. She had traveled from the new arts building to the old arts building, and hoped to find her there. (A part of her hopes she wasn’t in that creepy building.)

The building’s lights still worked, but there was no one using the classrooms, so dust and spiders made them their homes. You had to have a key to get in the main door, and only one person had it. Lisa walked down the long hallways, jumping at little noises or shadows (including her own), and looking around wearily. Lisa knew Roseanne was slightly odd, maybe that’s why she’s able to be alone in an empty abandoned building.

Further down, she hears it, and makes her way to the soft melody that escapes from a familiar battered oak door. Lisa pokes her head in, and just as she suspected, she was there.

“Why is it that I always find you hiding in here?” Lisa muses as she squeezes past the door frame, blowing out a puff of air. That door only opens so much, and she thinks she might have skinned her knee on the lower hinge. (That’s gonna burn in the shower later…)

Slender fingers once gliding across ivory keys halt their movements. Roseanne rests her hands in her lap and turns to her friend with a smile. “Who said I was hiding? And what if I like being holed up in here?”

Lisa rolled her eyes playfully. “You know what I mean and I know you like being holed up in here.” Looking around, she spoke again, “I see you cleaned up some more and moved things around.”

The room was an old music classroom that was abandoned when classes were moved to a newer building, the old equipment stayed. It was a small room but now that Roseanne had moved and stacked up the old music stands and chairs, it was spacious. The curtains were open and the sun shone through, enhancing the satisfying rustic look of the room. She had to have also dusted and swept the floors since Lisa didn’t sneeze immediately upon walking in. “It looks nice.”

Roseanne hummed, eyes flickering across the painted vines and colorful roses on the piano’s surfaces. “Thank you. But you never come back here without very good reason to, what’s up?”

Lisa shrugged and sat herself on the windowsill. That was true, Lisa doesn’t do spiders, spiderwebs, dust, or creepy, mostly empty hallways. “I missed you, that’s one thing.” Roseanne was in Melbourne on vacation, so they haven’t seen each other since break.

Roseanne’s expression shifted into one of amusement. “I missed you too Lisa. It’s good to be back,” her fingers began picking idly at the piano's edge. “But what else brings you over? I can tell you want to ask me something.”

“Ah, do you remember (Y/n)?” Roseanne nods. “Well, the relationship between her and her current roommate is sour— it’s always been sour if you ask me, so she wants to move dorms.”

“And?”

“I told her that you don’t have a roommate...”

Roseanne knew what Lisa was implying already yet asked her to continue as she found amusement in Lisa’s nervousness. “And would ask if you’d consider letting her move in. But it’s totally okay if she can’t, she knows you like having the privacy.”

Roseanne let out a heavy breath and leaned against the piano, running a hand through her hair as she thought.

Other than some factors, she doesn’t see why she would deny. If she agrees, it would save you the time of being put on a waitlist with the other students who want to move dorms. It could be fun to have a roomate again, she thinks. It’s not like you’re total strangers either, both friends of a friend, Lisa being the link between.

“Okay.” She says.

“Okay?” Lisa repeats.

“I won’t say yes till I talk with her.” Roseanne runs her fingers across the small dips in the piano keys. She’ll have to lay down some groundwork and ask you some questions. The worst thing she wants to do is let someone nasty into her dorm— not that you are…hopefully.

“Oh! We can arrange that, um when did you want to meet up? I can tell her,” Lisa looks happy.

“Tomorrow is fine.”

“Alright then, thank you for considering this.” Roseanne nods and Lisa stands up. “I’ll head back for dance class now,” she says, “Stay safe okay? Watch out for ghosts too— I swear I’m hearing things.” Lisa shivers.

“I will Lisa,” she cocks her head to the side, “don’t get scared walking back.” Roseanne’s teasing earns her an eye roll.

“Yeah, yeah.” After Lisa slips out the room, she waits a few seconds to see if Lisa will come back; she does. Lisa pops her head back through the door and yells, “if you get a call in a few minutes you better answer it!” Lisa may need to call her if she gets scared walking through the hallways.Then she is gone.

Chuckling under her breath, Roseanne scoots back to the edge of the bench, her back straight with her arms relaxed and in front of her, before resuming to play. An upbeat song, she began with and played, before the music slowed to something soft and melancholic, and Roseanne closed her eyes at the sound, allowing herself to be drawn into the world of the music. These keys— any piano keys really— to her, were like a past memory. Something she can fall back on whenever her thoughts get the best of her.

And tomorrow, she’d have to meet up with you.

Would you like to continue?

Another A/n: Y’all don’t know the hell I went through italicizing words. Like why doesn’t tumblr do that for me? Why don’t you transfer exactly what I write on a google doc here? (😭)

#biscuitblinkeu #rosé x reader #blackpink x reader #Tragedy.Biscuit #rosé x fem!reader #park chaeyoung x reader #park chaeyoung x fem!reader

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