#but we stay strong folks

[scareghoul]

the ritual

[apoli-meow]

Someone please tell this boy that the world's problems don't have to be his burden to carry

You don't have to understand what I drew, it's about the vibes 😃

[chiropteracupola]

...and lead away with your neighbor...

[ongoing collaboration with @dxppercxdxver again]

[certainwill]

MEGURI CONCLUSION TOMORROW................ ( FOR REAL THIS TIME )

[aubryjoi]

What else can we do? Stay strong folks 💜

[zzencat]

Your Future Spouse As A Mythical Creature + Qualities - ⏳

Welcome to the spooky season folks!! Thought this would be a pretty lightweight and goofy type of reading as we settle in. What are your FS’s qualities? Toxic habits?

Choose wisely. Applicable to future lover or spouse.

Warnings: super long read, suggestive comments (bordering NSFW), some exaggerated details for the fun of it (but the theme and characteristics are still consistent otherwise), toxic tendencies

🥀 THE RITUAL: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

———————————————————————

Pile 1 | The Werewolf

Perfectionistic as hell, likely a planner

The horniness comes and stays fellas…

Extremely careful before decision making, yet impatient (more mentally)

Hides what they really feel. Has a hard time expressing their emotions through words, so your person (well, half-person) shows you instead

Might be wealthy or does very well w/ business or business partners

ALWAYS thinks before they act

very PRIMAL tendencies; will bust major nuts when persuading you to be bred…literally. the need to breed you can become suffocating as it seeps into small actions of daily life. will never stop bugging you about it. eventually, these efforts will increase and become more desperate (but hey, if you like that, go for it 😳)

^^the thought of having a family with you gets them down real bad

EXTREMELY overprotective and possessive over how revealing your clothes might be. don’t be surprised if they finally let you out of the house after you choose to wear a hazmat suit

• will do anything for you!!!! provide food, shelter, money… as long as you depend on them, they feel at their highest.

•^^ this can also indicate an incessant need for control and control over you as well

• typically chooses the safe route; sticks to routes they’re already familiar with and practicality

•^^polite with people or at least acts like a civil person, but is easily misjudged regardless

• kind of old school and can be boring; follows reserved traditions very well

• actually is a beast in the sheets, but prob only does vanilla positions

• is very, very hesitant about letting you go out at night and will bust balls to get you to stay inside

• can get overly paranoid over small things that can potentially harm you

slow, sensual, deep lovemaking sometimes—rough and wild, sloppy and fast at others—just totally unable to control themselves. this is bc they exercise so much control during the day that nights leading up to the full moon, or on the night of, are relentless. Also likes doin’ the dirty in the kitchen (i also see boiling soup and an apron if those have any significance)

grumpy in the morning hahaha. grumpy when you order them to do anything for you, but they’ll do it anyway

When they love, they LOVE. Extremely big hearts and easily empathetic, but never/rarely shows it

for some reason, your fs has a solution or piece of advice for every problem in existence

strong or bold looking, big and broad, intimidating, or a very tall person. might have a resting bitch face

a very good listener

• full moons are equivalent to menstrual cycles where their senses are heightened by tenfold, sensitive to everything in their surroundings (ex: ears perk up to sounds as unnoticeable as leaves rustling…), more emotionally reactive, a ceaseless desire for sex everyday—which gets worse as the full moon approaches 🙈—hastier movements, increased moodiness and appetite, goes out hunting more often. 50/50 have a messier diet or a more strict one

• structured or routined day to day

• has probably talked/will probably talk about raising a family with you at least once, becoming more adamant about it over time

• can seem very insensitive or come off as an asshole at times

• EXTREMELY observant; almost nothing gets past their eyes. It’s almost like an intense OCD thing. Pretty sure a lot of FS in this pile are control freaks or have very specific triggers

• can smell when you’re aroused. if you deal with periods, they know exactly what phase you’re in and keep track of monthly cycles. this is also how they can keep an eye on your fertility and “breedability” levels. likely to show clinginess during these times and try to make moves on you. (it’s a manipulation tactic, don’t fall for it!! 😳)

•^^when you get aroused, they get aroused. they’ll decide to make a move depending on the circumstances

• they have good control and discipline over themselves in general. But they’re still prone to control issues, esp over other people, or obsessiveness

Definitely an overthinker. They don’t like to be vulnerable emotionally. It’s very hard to get close to this person, and even harder to open up

doesn’t care about your “flaws” and doesn’t notice until you point them out; will be genuinely surprised to hear you have insecurities, bc to your fs, there’s no such thing. they don’t understand how you could feel that way about yourself or certain things about yourself

In some kind of leadership role (in work, relationship, or the home) or in a high enough position to give and support. Dominant in the sheets—stubbornly prefers to be

Loves to travel or would travel more if they could

Extremely adaptable and an all rounder; does well under pressure and in uncomfortable situations/environments

Likes bantering and stirring things up on purpose sometimes. Sometimes they’re feelin kinda bratty and will instigate. They fight just to fight. They’re usually quiet, reserved, or introverted

• deep down they know this and they’d even admit it to you if you asked, but they’d be totally onboard with you never going outside again and just staying in the house (it’s a possessive wolf thing maybe)

• you might not know at first, and they might not show it evidently, but they love sad karaoke songs or sad songs overall

Primary love language: Acts of service, physical touch, quality time, and gift giving

• *sniffs you with suspicion* “…that’s not my scent…”

• standing watch over you when you use a knife to cut vegetables — says, “are you sure you don’t need my help?” at least 5x in 2 mins, and still doesn’t leave after that

• stare wars with birds on a pole bc they felt offended by the birds staring first

• randomly, abrupt howling on some nights

“You take what I give you”

Acts as your personal bodyguard- will actually fight anyone for you

• loves to smell around your neck area- that shit kinda tickles tho

• (if your werewolf is male): “change out. that’s too revealing. you know men are dogs.” (lmfaooo? says who, the werewolf??)

• scolds you like a damn parent because you went outside at night for a few minutes to get some fresh air

• massages your thighs and feet

• physical contact is a must for them when watching movies with you

—————————————

Pile 2 | The Vampire

• “I ‘vant tu zuck yur blud.”

• a bit of a vanity monster (as most vampires are.) they like the way they look, and also care about how they present themselves to other people and most importantly, looking hot as hell in front of you, maybe too much at times. but from your pov, they really don’t have to try. they’re just naturally…wow. Breathtaking. HOWEVER!!! They use it to their advantage.

• Actual sass-squashes. They’re sassy and for no reason, but you can’t take them seriously when they are 😂😂

• intentionally AND unintentionally funny. like those characters on Disney channel shows that are like “oh yeah? try me” and then some bigger, buffer person comes in and they flinch a little. if you squint, you’ll catch a gulp in there too. it’s funny. endearing even. but they gotta own up to their mistakes and tone down on overcompensating. If there’s one thing they do, it’s to make up for what they don’t have.

• L-O-Y-A-L….by the time they get with you, at least. they might’ve had an…interesting reputation in the past. they might seem selfish bc of it—which is partially true. they can charm people to get what they want. They might/might have had a history of partying, hella socializing, hanging out w/ friends whenever they could (haha get it? hanging out? yk…vampire stuff…)

A total charmer and a flirt. They like to bicker and tease you; playful,, sometimes it’s cute…others, kinda annoying

• if you talk to this person seriously and in a calm and diplomatic manner, they’ll get a little defensive, yes, but A LOT less so than if you were yelling and screaming at them outright. if you both just sit down on the edge of the bed, tilt your head to a 45 degree angle and show your concerns, they’ll reflect and maybe deflect here and there, but they’ll think about it throughout the day.

• I think this person goes through varying phases of heat. (Prob not even the right word here but-) By that I mean, sometimes they wanna get down and dirty for 30 hours straight or just session after session after session nonstop—OR they take what they need and leave for a couple hours, come back again, take, and leave. This is odd at first, but it just comes with the moodiness they inherently have, possibly sticking to them from the past life. They might have suffered with commitment issues, and I don’t mean them per se, but the people around them that didn’t know how to love: family, friends, anyone that was close and left abruptly or never showed love. (Made me a lil sad there...)

• Love is complicated. They didn’t believe in it before and was confident they wouldn’t ever. But when you ask them “What do vampires think about love? Are you allowed to love?”, they turn their heads, take a moment to skim over your face in silence. Love…is what I’m feeling with you. They want to admit this, but vampires can’t feel. Would you even believe them? They don’t even know what love is. They don’t even feel heartbeats anymore, but for some reason, when you look into their eyes like that, there’s a different kind of pulsing. A surge of desire that courses through them, screaming at them to keep you forever. They can’t ever let you go now.

•^ This leads us to possessiveness. They are…*phew* VERY possessive and very dramatic/petty/easily sulky about it. You’ll lose your mind over it. If you do something as simple as shopping, they will follow. Too insistent and stubborn not to. What if you encounter another vampire living among the humans during the day, and suddenly, said vampire wants you too? Sure, they get burnt with a bit of sun, so what? They’d evolved enough to wear a million layers of sunscreen and a million layers of clothing over that, all dressed up like a moving heap of clothes. They care about how others might see them like this, of course, but in moments like these, they don’t care when you’re on the line.

• they’ve never really had their emotions looked at carefully or taken care of. It’s always just been brushed off, not only by themselves but by others as well. I personally wouldn’t doubt if they claimed to never have had real friends or friends that cared about the inside substance rather than the outer. Your fs just seems like they’re trying to fit in, be accepted and validated. You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance, but as you gradually get to know them, you’ll find that their heart is barely being held together by makeshift glue.

Very in tune with their inner divine feminine energy,, not afraid to tap into it and explore that side more

Not that emotionally developed but has major potential to with the right teacher

Nurturing and caring, but might be materialistic or putting too much importance on the material/physical pleasures. Truly lives for the fun of it

Works hard, plays hard—and will shamelessly chase you

Knows exactly what to say and do that will rile you up. Knows all of your weak spots physically

Down to try anything and everything with you, no complaints

Sensual and passionate personality and in the sheets

Super open minded and curious, easygoing and has no expectations. Makes a lot of jokes too.

Daring, optimistic, brave and believes in no limits (but bc of this, they can be seen as naive or have an innocent nature inside.) Gets in half-fights/arguments w/ people for fun

A total switch in bed; can and literally will do/try anything

Now, dare I say…the FS for this pile have the best rizz and sex game

Some fs in here can get too naggy

They have a great fashion sense or an overwhelming appreciation for fashion, beauty, or aesthetics, and is more than willing to be involved in your fashion styles

Red flag moment: solves problems in your relationship w/ sex so that yall will just forget it and move on

In hindsight, this FS is so flamboyant or charming that you could get lost in what they’re trying to express. They’ve got very fiery energy (betting rn that they have extremely prominent fire sign placements).

P.S. yeah after writing this out and reviewing the format, seeing all the back and forth…pile 2 FS def has a perfection mask thing going on. They wanna make themselves appealing in one way or another, or the consequences will just break them into pieces. The last thing that they want is to be alone.

————————-

Pile 3 | The Fairy

Alas, we’ve gotten to arguably the most healthy future spouse here out of the 3 😅 (and the most intuitive)

Introspective as hell and wise. Helps you with really anything

They’re ok w/ being alone; most introverted of the piles

Positive, hopeful, and optimistic when it comes to others. More pessimistic when it comes to themselves.

Balanced and a good mentor; suuuper patient (a lot of times to a fault)

Learns from their losses and mistakes and becomes a better person, improving almost immediately

Mediator type of person, but will defend you against others in argument—which they’ll win btw

They don’t like seeking help from others—if anything, your FS is usually the helper—even when they can ask for help right in front of them- even if it’s recommended to get help, they still won’t do it

Hella infj vibes tho (if you’re into mbti)

Every show of love is their love language. Bonus points if they wear matching clothes or secretly write poems to you that they’ll never tell you about

This future spouse group has the cheesiest and the sweetest person

Your person can lead a life more flexible financially than the other 2 piles

Also an all rounder! But thinks that they aren’t perfect when they literally are; struggles with their own low self-esteem so they try to build other people up

Putting others before themselves is second nature- they ALWAYS prioritize you or others; extremely selfless

^^Now, each fairy got a different role and purpose. The reasoning for your fs being overly selfless and self-sacrificial varies. The easy answer? Insecurity. Second? Obligation or a sense of duty. The list goes on…

They’ve got that Triple A Threat: Amazing Ass Adaptability. Your person has been thru quite a bit, hell and back. Sometimes, life just likes to mess with them for no apparent reason 🤷🏻‍♀️)

They’re always ready to face challenges; Incredibly strong person. They’ll be with you thru thick and thin!!

Strong sense of justice and equality. OH- and also they like traveling or would like to travel more!

A literal inspiration and hope (yes, with sparkles on top.) Not only do they inspire others, but your person—no matter how rock bottom you get—will never leave you.

gets jealous and easily possessive but doesn't wanna show it (shit's still pretty obvious tho)

The type that babbles their heart out when they get comfy with you. They don’t get like this with just anyone

Likely likes museums and art. Things that the media typically deems boring, weird, or unconventional your FS will prob find interesting. They like to look into deeper meanings and interpretations.

In bed, they’re pretty vanilla and soft. But are open to exploring things that aren’t too wild (like our vampire up above)

(Take this bit very lightly: I see that this person has grown up or has been around “broken” people their entire life, so they feel they need to take responsibility on behalf of those people. They might be some kind of counselor, mentor, or therapist. They’re prone to blaming themselves if situations take a bad turn or go unplanned. I’m also hinting here that some of your FS might have a savior complex, and not on purpose. They might always take some kind of leadership role or something directly beneficial to people- nurses, camp leaders, etc…)

They will take all of the burden so that you don’t have to

If your FS had any weirdo or pervy habits, it’d probably be compulsively stealing your panties or building a shrine with locks of your hair on it 😵‍💫 (which hopefully I hope doesn’t happen. I heard in some fairy folklore, they steal babies, like flying away with the newborn-in-a-basket typa thing- and for no reason too! Don’t let them steal yo babies now!!)

———————-

**Ending Teddy note:

As always, thank you so very much for tuning in with us! I hope you have a spooktacular Scorpio season as we are soon heading into it (depending on when you’re reading this), but really you can read this at any time. Rmr to take everything with a grain of salt! Take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. Stay safe out there and rock on people 🤩🤩 Feedback is very much appreciated in any form as it’d help me grow as a reader :)

*This is for entertainment purposes*

[millerscoffee]

Hello!! 🤍 I was wondering if you could write something where Joel is the reader’s college professor, and then Prof. Miller INSISTS that reader comes over to his home for tutoring assistance, (because of failed tests or bad essays), and then finally coaxes her into letting him have his way with her.

hi nonnie! here it is! i hope you enjoy 💖

extra credit

6.2k | joel miller x afab!reader (professor!joel au)

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: professor!joel au, age gap (joel is 46, reader is 21), soft!dom joel, pining, consensual sex, pet names (darlin', doll, baby), oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, piv (unprotected, wrap it folks), squirting, joel spitting over the reader's ass for 0.5 seconds (OOPS IDK???), a pretty dress with easy access, hints of after care, spoiler: honestly prof. miller could've told reader to just do the paper in a different format but – that's the point 🤭

When you picked your major, English was a necessary credit needed to achieve your goals.  It wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t one to quit just because you were bad at it.  So far you were coasting through, getting a mix of good and bad grades in your English Lit class when the last essay before finals was presented.

Among the crowd in Professor Miller’s lecture hall, you typically sat in the front.  He hands out papers, hovering by your desk.  Giving you a look of disapproval, he places the grade face down.  You peel the pages in anticipation, a sense of dread falling over you when you scan the big, red mark of failings.  “Shit,” you say to yourself.  That was it.  That was the grade that was the defining factor of whether or not you had to retake this course.  You use the side of your hand to wipe sneaky tears in falling.  You failed.  Doing your best to keep it together, you’re not sure you even heard the rest of the lecture from the possibilities running through your mind.  What were you to do?  How would you recover?

Class was over before you knew it.  The sounds of bags zipping and feet stepping, you stayed seated until you were able to look over to Professor Miller.  Dressed in black slacks, a brown button-up with leather shoes.  His hair was slick, the slightest bit of salt and pepper patched at his sideburns.  He looked like he had it all figured out, and that struck a nerve.  A feeling of jealousy that he knew what he was doing, and you obviously did not.

Professor Miller calls your name when the class is emptied, and you sniffle, standing up to straighten your skirt.  Your manicured nails pick up your essay as you walk over in an attempt to hand it to him.  “I guess you want this back,” you hold your full bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you read the material?”  Professor Miller inquires, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  His voice is so dark and honied in comparison to his scowl.  Proving not to judge a book by its cover.  The irony.

“Well, I did, but… I struggle with this stuff.  Predicates and imagery?  I’d rather be learning about biology.  But I need this course, you know.  And I…,” you swallow hard.  God, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of your teacher.  He doesn’t know you, out of the hundreds of people he teaches – how could he possibly even remember your name?

“Hey,”  Professor Miller takes his glasses off, putting them on the table.  He looks as concerned as you are over it and crosses his arms.  Keeps his distance.  “It happens, you know.  There are things we can do to accommodate.  You’re very bright, I’d hate to see you fail.  You have options.  I can’t let you rewrite the paper, but I could tutor you for your final.  Another option is getting a student tutor, but it’s rare.  You know the workload of this university.  Not a lot of people are willing to sacrifice their precious time.”

“And you are?”  You look up at him with grateful, bright eyes and he loves it.  The praise just from your stare alone is cause for him to clear his throat.

“Listen, for someone like you, I believe it is important to help.  You just need a little more time understanding what you’re doing, is all.  I’m not in my office for the rest of the weekend, though.  You’d have to come by my house…,”  he watches those pretty eyes widen again, and that makes a smirk fall over his greying features, “if that’s okay, of course.  If it’s not, we could work something else out.”

You think about it.  You’ve never had a teacher invite you over, much less someone who looked the way he did.  Though, that was neither here nor there.  His lips formed words you couldn’t even pay attention half the time in hearing.  Maybe that was part of the reason why you were failing in the first place.  But you needed to pass, and if he could help you – and was so kind enough to do it in the first place, you should jump at the first opportunity.

“Okay.  Is there a particular time you’d like me to be there?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

What the fuck. That makes your heart race.  Tonight?  Tonight?!  Ton–

“Tonight… tonight is good.”  How did you even form the words?

“Perfect,” he started, bending down to write his address on a sticky note – his cologne wafts in your direction, and you clamp your legs shut reflexively.  “Here’s my address.  7 o’clock.”

“Seven.  Okay… thank you, Professor Miller.”

“Please, call me Joel.”  His teeth gleamed in a smile, and his personality shined through it.

A personality you didn’t get to see too often from your position behind a desk.

Shit.

---

According to your phone, he didn’t live very far from campus, and you were able to walk to his house without breaking too much of a sweat.  You decided on a black dress, although it was a casual one, that paired nicely with your sneakers.  It had buttons down the front with a relaxed collar.  Your bag slung over your shoulder when you knocked on his door, a nervousness fluttering in your stomach.  It was such a weird thing, meeting your professor in his home.  Much less having him request you call him by his first name.

Your knees all but buckled when you saw him on the other side of the door.

He looks… young in his jeans.  His t-shirt stretched over the broadness of his shoulders, but it’s still loose enough that it doesn’t look ill-fitted.  His stomach, soft at the bottom.  You flash him a smile, but internally you’re reeling over how casual he looks.  You’d never seen him like this, not even during those school meetings that were informal.

“Hey, you,” he’s bright, too.  Charismatic as he invites you into his home.  Takes your bag, lets you take your shoes off until you’re in your socks.  His words hit your stomach, how easy it is for him to talk to you like you’re the brightest sunflower.  What’d you even do to deserve it?

“Hi, Prof– uh, Joel,” you titter, taking in the curated decor of his home.  It was sophisticated, yet a little cheesy at the same time.  His alumni cover his walls and a mix of pictures.  Some with a couple of young girls you assumed were his children.  He has children, you swallow.

“Wasn’t too hard to find this place, right?  When I moved here, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too far – not much of a mornin’ person,” Joel laughs and you do, too.  Fuck, this feels so easy.  But it’s nothing – it’s nothing.

What you don’t pick up on right away is his open body language.  He places your bag on his couch and you follow him like a puppy – he likes that.  You look so soft under the sienna hue of his lights, your hair falling into place naturally.  Plump and ripe for the taking.  Of course, he meant it when he said he’d tutor you, but the air got thick the moment the door was shut behind the two of you.  What were you doing to him?

Joel’s large frame walks over to his bar cart, turning on his heel to face you, “Interested?”

“Huh?” You blink and he laughs again at your deer caught in the headlights expression.  You’re cute.

“Do you drink?”

“Oh, uh… water would be nice.”

“Water it is,” Joel’s pleasant, gesturing his hand for you to follow him.  And you do – that puppy he was coming to know, right to his kitchen.  You study the marble countertops, the farmhouse style kitchen sink.

“So, tutoring,” he starts, taking a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with filtered water before handing it to you – you thank him with a nod, “I was thinking we could look at your paper, and then go over how to fix things in the future?”  When you take the water from him, your fingers graze.  The first sign of contact, your head continues to nod unthinkingly, but all that scorches your mind is how his skin feels.

“That sounds good,” you overcompensate, shoving the ideas from your mind.  He was your teacher, and it was easy to get back into the mode of why you were here.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change much, still the same grin with hooded eyes and wrinkles at his forehead.  The two lines between his brow.  “Alright, well I have it on the coffee table.  Let’s get settled on the couch, and we’ll get started, okay?”

So you agree.  You take your glass of water and follow him back to the couch where everything was set up – your paper, his laptop.  All of the correction marks in your face as you sit down.  You take another sip of water before placing it down on the coaster.  You dread it, you really do.  Going over your failures?  You scrunch your nose up to yourself, but Joel notices when you’re both settled on the cushions.

“You know, Voltaire said, ‘perfect is the enemy of good’,”  Joel bends his knee on the couch, thigh pressing into the cushion to turn to you and it causes the couch to shift.  The quote makes you giggle a little to yourself, and you shake your head.  “What?” His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.

“Voltaire also popularised the story of Newton’s apple, doesn’t make it true.”

“Huh…,” Joel trailed off, keeping his eye on you – his tongue skating over his bottom lip in thought.  You were so quick all he could really do was laugh, and that made your shoulders relax.  Makes you feel more in control and comfortable to laugh at yourself.  “You got an answer for everything?”

“Not everything.  See this,” you pick up your paper, thumbing over the ink of corrections the man on the couch made and you shrug, “I don’t really understand why this got marked wrong.”  Joel’s gaze flashes over your mouth when your teeth press into the plushness of your bottom lip – he should be given some damn award for having so much self control around you.

“Wrong format.  This citation works for your research papers, right?”  He nods with you before leaning in closer, that damn cologne coming back in full force just like earlier in the day.  You all but freeze when his warm touch graces you again – this time, fingers tracing over where you’re holding the paper.  “Oh,” your voice is soft, a bit of disappointment pangs at your ribs.  You were so busy you didn’t even realise that was the majority of the issues you had.

“So… it’s not really what I wrote, it’s how I wrote it?  You asked if I read the material?”

“Exactly.  If you read the syllabus, you’d see the required format.  Listen, there are some ways for extra credit, I do think this is salvageable.”

You suddenly feel silly.

You did all that work, Professor Miller was kind enough to let you into his home, and it was all for some redundant formatting.  An open palm curls over your chin as you look at the paper in deep contemplation.

“I really fucked up,” you say, hushed in the space.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” you manage an exhale of amusement at the sound of your teacher curse.  You shift your gaze to look at him.  The curls at the nape of his neck, the way his t-shirt dropped enough so you could see his neck, his chest.  The freckles that splayed over his aged skin.  “You just needed someone to tell you what to do.”

That was the loaded statement.  And a pointed one, it seems.  Someone to tell you what to do.  And Joel wanted to be that person?  Your eyebrows raise for a flash, thumbing over the paper.

“That would be too easy,” you scratch at your neck idly before going for the glass of water, sipping in contemplation. “...I mean, I should’ve known better.”

Joel takes the glass from you, offering himself a sip of your water and it stuns you speechless, doing your best not to convey it.  Maybe he did that just because this was his house.  That must’ve been it.  He was comfortable, but goddamn – the eye contact he gave you when he swallowed the liquid.

It felt intentional.

He watches your features, vague as they were, in what to do next.  He honestly wasn’t so sure what he was doing either.  What?  I know how to give you extra credit, sweetheart.  Too forward, too boastful, too… cheap.  You deserved better than that.  He saw you in class, how hard you were on yourself.  He talked to your other teachers, how well you were doing in your other classes.  He felt for you.  And he was a bit lost in your eyes.  You were all too pretty, too brilliant to be dimmed down to a fuck for extra credit.  Joel could see that.  He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, you had him distracted.  You threw him off without even trying.  The plight within him grew stronger as he handed back the glass.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Joel straightens up, his hand cups over your forearm in a way that’s understanding, but also makes goosebumps rise.  You look down to see where you connect and he pulls away slightly.  “Sorry, I–,” “No, it’s okay,” you agree, “It’s okay.  You’re right.”

“It’s just, I see hundreds of bright, beautiful young people every year, but none of them have stood out to me like you.”  He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.  The candor, the nerve.  A filthy old man, that’s all he was in the eyes of someone as sweet and innocent as you were.  Even if you happened to be experienced – god, what was he thinking?!

Joel clears his throat, shifting a bit in his seat, but he sees the way your lips part, but your eyes don’t show an ounce of shock or distain.  They look soft, and… willing.  You know that is because the pull at your core feels too strong to think of anything else.  You look down at his left hand, making sure you’re not dreaming.  He’s not married?  You’d casually look at his hands from time to time during class and ignored the ache it gave you, but this?  So close?  Backed by the glow of his house?  It was so different from the boys you were used to.  In their dorms or disgusting apartments.  It smelled as nice as it looked.  You realise you’re not speaking, but the way you lean into him says more than you really ever could.

“I don’t know what to say,” shyly, you touch your knuckles to your cheek, “you should teach the guys that go here how to chat with someone.”

It’s a mutter, but not to yourself.  You drink one more mouthful of what you were offered before putting it back on the coaster.  Honestly, any distraction was welcome to defer from the ever-present density in the room.

“Those guys don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyway.  I know I didn’t at that age.”

There.  The topic right in front of both of your faces.

“How old at you, anyway?”  You inquire, thumb mindlessly circling over your knee.  Joel tracks it, licking over his lips as he answers.  “Forty-six.  You?”

“Twenty-one.”

Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.

There’s this standstill, as if you’re both in the air together looking at each other in slow motion.  How will this land?  What are you both even doing here like this?

“I’m sure your boyfriend takes good care of you,” Joel’s eyes, round and bright brown, get lost in yours – the way your breath hitches, the shift of your thighs on his sofa.  He wondered what you tasted like, what sounds you make when these boys who don’t know what they’re doing with their tongue attempt to eat you out.  Do you fake it?  Do you give it to them straight?  Neither of you had a drink from that bar cart in the corner of the room, but somehow you’ve become closer – and more intoxicated.

“Don’t have one,” you respond softly, orbs flickering to the set of plush lips that grow more red the longer you let the tension build, “what about you?  N-no partner?”

Your attempt in confidence wavering the longer he stares at you.  It’s like staring back into the sun and you have your brows knit together until the tug of muscle makes your forehead hurt – smoothing them apart with the twitch of muscle fibers.

“No partner,” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh and you can’t hold it back; you gasp.  But you do something he doesn’t anticipate, or well, you don’t do something: you don’t pull away.

How did you two get to the topic, anyhow?

How did you end up straddling his lap, for that matter?

It’s within six eager seconds that his hand, hot and rough, touches your soft skin, and you – green, you – fervent, throw all inhibitions aside and lunge.  It’s more fluid than you realise, and his hands (both now) grip the backs of your bare thighs and you whimper at the sensation of him squeezing you.  Your wetness against your cotton panties grows from the kneading alone.  No, absolutely not, the boys back in the dorms didn’t know how to do this.

It takes an even shorter time for your mouths to meet.  He’s first to kiss, and he tastes like coffee and his dinner, and the faintness of a cigarette – maybe early in the day?  You couldn’t tell, your head was swimming too deep in now to come back from.

And although his calloused fingers roll patterns into your soft skin, he’s just as willing.  Just as desireful and you can feel it beg to be set free at the seam of his jeans.  His tongue skirts against yours, hips rolling up the second yours tempt to roll down; causing you both to moan in each other’s mouths.

It gets feverish after that.  All teeth, tongue, bite.

You don’t want to stop, you don’t want to take a moment to breathe because fuck, that could stop things.  That could make him realise what is happening.

But that only is another item to your list of naivety.

Because Joel, he’s ready.  His masculine arms wrap around your frame to lift you up just enough so he can get out of his fucking jeans that he now regrets wearing.  Shoulda been wearin’ sweats, but it’s effortless… eventually.  He hurriedly pushes the thick fabric down until they hit at his thighs and you’re pushed down onto his boxers that – holy fucking shit – leave nothing to the imagination.  “Joel, J-,” you pant between kisses, fingernails digging into the base of his neck, he pauses.  Pulls away, gets a good look at your face.

“Y’want this?” And goddamn, you can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look just as fucked out as he does.  On the cusp of every little fantasy he’s had about you from the moment you sat down behind that desk.

“I want this,” you repeat.  You weren’t sure exactly when the nerves subsided, maybe because all of the blood is now rushed at the apex of your thighs, but you mean it.

You want this.  You want Professor Miller.

“You got me,” his breath dances over your lips before guiding you back a bit, “here… I’m going to lie back, I want you to– I’ll show you.”  Your lips quirk up at the fact he’s so flushed he can’t even finish his sentence.

But that soon turns to you flushing when you realise his request.  “I – what?”

“No?”  Joel sits up on his elbows, looking over to you and you’re worried you’ve killed the mood.  It’s just, straddling his face?  Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“I’ve never done that… What if it’s bad?”  His eyes, reassuring, but a deep shade of black now beckons you.

“Darlin’, I think you’ll be a natural.  But I can teach you, if that’s what you want.”

You swallow, straddling his knees somewhere at the bottom of the couch and you think about it.

Joel, on the other hand, was living in a fantasy of teaching you things in and out of school.  Showing you how to make yourself feel good on his mouth – make you forget all about the essay that caused you grief today.  He leans over, pushing it under the couch out of view for good measure.

“Okay,” you agree, though nerves still flood you.  “Okay, you wanna take your panties off?”  You lick your lips at that, biting back another whimper that brought you to this predicament in the first place.  And you did – you wanted nothing more than to slip your underwear off and give into your pleasures.  His voice was deep, graveled with the prospect of him fucking you senseless on his couch and who were you to deny him that?

Who were you to deny yourself that, more importantly.

“Yeah,” doing as you say, you slip off your lace-trimmed undies and abandon them somewhere on your Professor’s floor.  “Fuck,” you mutter.  This was naughty.

“Already so good for me,” you weren’t even sure that Joel’s voice could get deeper, or more inviting, but it does.  You bite your lip and oblige when he pats his chest.  Going over to him, you straddle just above his broad shoulders, and he’s almost out of view with him like this – somehow making it easier to just feel what he could do to you.

Joel on the other hand?  All he can do is see the outline of your glistening core from the shadowed tent you’ve made of your dress and his groans are muffled slightly from the fabric, “Fuckin’ Christ,” he wants to devour you, but he takes his time instead.

Peppers kisses along your thighs that make you claw the armrest, causes you shiver at the contact and you can’t believe this is happening.  “J-Joel,” you hesitate, but his hands are wrapped around your hips now, fingers digging into the breadth of your ass.

“Sit.”  Joel commands.

Oh, fuck.

You’re almost certain you’ll break skin at your lips from biting down so hard, but you do as you’re told.  Anchoring down, it’s subtle at first – the brushing of his facial hair against your folds, his chin prying you apart.  Then, it’s incredibly palpable.  His lips are the first thing you feel as they press and kiss over your middle and as you shudder it only makes your muscles sink deeper on him.  You’re the first to moan, and then Joel, and his mouth is open when he invites you inside it.

“Oh, my god,” thighs shaking, Joel flattens his tongue under the hood of your clit, a body part you were certain hadn’t been touched by anyone else but yourself.  There was no time to compare, the white hot pleasure coursed through your veins and he took his time with it, too.  Made sure he was teasing you, his tongue dipping inside your entrance, as sloppy as it felt.  “Hmmn,” you can’t speak, forearms resting on the armrest now as your head hangs between your shoulders and his fingers make pliable work of your asscheeks.  Pushing you down, using your hips to move back and forth against his mouth – like he’s using you while you use him.

The air is thick under your dress, sticky and humid, as Joel swirls this tip of his devilish tongue in the most astonishing circles you’ve ever experienced, and you know it’s because he has more experience than you do.  Has so much to teach you, if you let him.  Your mouth hangs open as you try to inhale, but it’s just too much.  Especially with the way he thumbs into your stomach, then your pubic bone – lifting it just slightly to expose your clit to him.  An angle, not even you have found yourself.

It almost feels like too much.  It’s intentional, the way his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves right at the top of your cunt.  Delicious, deliberate.  Two fingers greet your entrance and it startles you, the way he’s rubbing your hole with his two fingers in slow circles before pressing them where you want them most.

“Tell me you want it,” you hear, muffled and fucked, and you shiver at the slightest bit of lack of contact.

“I want it, I want your fingers – please!”

And that seems to send him over the edge of how much he’s willing to hold back because he’s exactly where he was.  Mouth on your clit, but fingers skillfully pressing inside of you and you don’t know how long you’ll last.  Not with the pads of his fingers tapping in the perfect tempo against the ridged spot inside you.

That’s when a weird sensation comes over you.  A pressure, you felt like you had to pee and your insides pulled in more trying to keep it all contained.  “I–,” you start, but it happens so suddenly.  Your orgasm rushes through you, convulsing and almost falling over the edge of the couch, you dig your fingernails into the upholstery.  Your eyes roll back, and fuck, so are your hips.  Unable to stop yourself using Joel’s mouth to keep you exactly right there.  Pleasure pricks your skin, it feels like every cell is ignited – but you jump when you feel a rush of fluid come out of you.  The pressure rebounding out, then rippling pleasure back inside you.  Joel fucks you with his tongue and fingers until he feels you calm down.

“W-what, what… did I do?” You pant, and Joel is groaning, too.  He lifts your hips to get lungfuls of oxygen, so dizzy on you and you notice how soaked his pair of fingers feel on your skin.  Sits you down on his chest and you can see his face finally.  Can see his mouth parting, gasping as his eyes are hooded and so gone.  Curls stick to his forehead, his shirt a dampened colour at the collar.  You blush heavily, embarrassed because you aren’t even sure what that was.  Did he hate that, was that weird?

“C’mere,” he growls with gritted teeth and sits up, the tables turning instantly.  Joel’s stripping his shirt off, kicking every last bit of the bottom half he had on to be abandoned on the floor.  His fingers remove the buttons, but he can’t really get them – those fingers too big for the buttons.  “Here,” you whisper, an intense feeling of lust falling over any self-conscious self talk you had.  You undo the top of your dress one button at a time until your breasts are released from your bra – you moan when he has no problem spilling your tits from the satin, nipples in stiff peaks from your orgasm.  And everything else.

“You know what you did?”  Joel asks, taking both of your nipples between his fingers from each hand.  You moan, lifting your hips and he bites his lip when he sees your cunt front under your dress.  “What was it?”  You ask, curiously.  Innocently.

“You squirted f’me, baby,” he slurs, thumbing over your clit now as he gets a good look at you and he’s drunk on you.  His cock throbbing against your thigh, he taps it against your skin before realising what he needed.

 “Fuck,” Joel mutters and you can tell by the tone it’s not just at your appearance.  “What is it?”  You inquire, eyebrows knit.

“Gotta get a condom,” you hear him mutter, getting onto one foot and you stop him.  “No.  No.  I want to feel you.  It’s okay, I don’t get pregnant–” well that sentence isn’t exactly how you mean for it to come out, but your mind is mush, your body feels boneless underneath him, and he chuckles at that.  At how gone your brain is.  Here he was, thinking he was the only one.  “Okay, okay, darlin’.  I believe ya.”

And really, maybe he should be using more discretion.  But he can’t get the feeling of you out of his head.  You were everywhere.  His mouth, his glistening chest and beard.  He takes you by the hips then, sitting back to flip you on your hands and knees with your help and you moan at the sensation.  Joel looks down at you, groaning of your ass in the air, pushing back for his cock.  “Such a needy little thing, now,”  it’s as if someone else is talking.  This isn’t the Professor Miller you know.  This man has layers and you’re first in line to know exactly what that entails.

Joel takes the base of his cock, bobbing it as it throbs alive in his hand and runs through your slick with the head of it.  “So fucking wet.  Beginning to think you’ve been wanting this for as long as I have.”

You bite a whine and he can see the back of your head nodding as you crane your neck back enough to make eye contact, but his eyes fall down to your ass pressing eagerly on his cock.  Doing your best to press him inside yourself.

“Go ahead,” he slaps his cock on your folds and you mewl at the wet sounds coming from it.  “Take my cock.”

And take, you do.  Joel holds it out for you, keeps it steady and you push back slow on his cock.  Clenching around the head and he growls at that.  “You dirty thing.  This how you fuck all your teachers?”  It burns your skin, pushing your face into your arm and you shake your head.

“Words.” He warns.

“Just you!  Just you, Joel!”

“Just me,” he parrots, hissing when you shift back and you both twitch and groan when you take him to the hilt of you.  It was so thick, stretching you out until you felt split apart from him.  “Just me, show me then.  Show me how you fuck me.”

You bite into your arm then, choking on a sob as you push your ass back over and over.  Your cunt taking him deep like this, it almost feels like too much and not enough at once.  Torturously slow against the spongy spot again

 It felt so amazing taking him yourself, but it was like an itch you couldn’t scratch on your own.  The tapping of his balls against your clit was too far apart in tempo, his cock speared inside you at a pace that didn’t have quite the same leverage as Joel did behind you.

His hands busied themselves on your ass, peeling the muscle apart – pressing his digits to leave bruises and just when you think it’s too much to take, he gives you something else.  His spit falling from his lips right to the velvet of your asshole.  You shudder and flutter around him when it falls to where you’re connected.  Your fingertips grip the other armrest now, cheek resting atop of your hand and you can’t do it yourself anymore.  “Fuck me, Joel!  Professor Miller, please!”

“Shit – you know where to push, don’t you?”  Joel’s wide hands slide up your sides, keeping them locked in place as he pulls your hips to him at first.  Using your whole lower body, your head hands doing your best to keep yourself up but you’re so close when he uses you like this.  When he picks up the pace and you let your head fall on his throw pillow – your screams of desire are targeted into the plush cushion.

Joel is bound up in amazement behind you.  How you feel around him, your gorgeous figure in front of him as he gives you every bit of power he can now.  His hips hammering into you, but with the right amount of speed – not too fast, not too slow.  The sound of his balls slapping against your clit is faster now, and the difference is what you focus on.  The way it sounds.  Joel feels you tighten, pulse around his own pulse and he has to say something to you.  Has to talk you through it, even if he’s not sure you’ll like it.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he drapes his body over your back, huffing into your ear as the controlled weight of him pushes your ass down just enough to make your thighs shake.  You are soaked, sticky against his abdomen, between your thighs.  Over your own stomach.  You move your face so you can feel his skin closer against your.  His lips staying on your cheekbone, he grunts and nods.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take it.  I know you can take it.  Those shaky fuckin’ thighs better hold on.”

You feel yourself coil and he is quick to sooth over your hips with his palms.

“Relax, baby.  That’s it, that’s good, darlin’.  Shh, easy.  Do you feel that heat?”

You nod hopelessly, the buildup was so strong you couldn’t do anything but curl your fingers into fists and whimper repeatedly.

“Give into that heat.  Come for me, I know you can be so good for me.  Good for – fuck – fuck.  Good for my cock,” Joel groaning in your ear makes you flutter uncontrollably, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your front, rolling quick circles at the split of your cunt, right at your clit.  “Milkin’ my fuckin’ cock like that, don’t stop.  Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he grits, and you’re gasping.

Clawing at the pillow, head craning up and back as you come.  Mouth gaped, Joel takes advantage – pouring his tongue into it, swirling and drinking you while his cock bottoms into you repeatedly until he can’t take it anymore.  You feel too good.  Perfect, even.

“Joel!” Your whine is high, as your wet folds take his merciless shoves.  “You feel so good, youfeelsogood!”  Your lip quivers, jerking in aftershocks that feel a lot like multiple orgasms.  You aren’t even sure how you feel, but he knows he has to pull out.  So he tells you, rough and pained against your ear.  He doesn’t want to any more than you do.  But as soon as he does, that reward feels just as sweet.

He exhales roughly through his nose, a popping sound filling the room when he pulls out.  Not even needing to touch himself to spill himself over the small of your back.

“Fuck,” he’s out of breath, grunting, and doing his best not to collide into you.  You’re still, the nape of your neck dews with sweat and you can feel it stick to your dress instantly.

“Stay there,” Joel pulls away, and you sit up on your elbows now that you’re fully flat and study his frame walk into the kitchen.

The back of him is just as irresistible as the front.

You hum hungrily at the landscape of his back.  But you do as you say, you don’t move a muscle.  When he comes back, you take note of the splotches of his chest, his neck red and sheened with sweat, too.  He’s just as disheveled.  The paper towel he comes back with is rough against your lower back, but tickles more than anything else.

Makes you wriggle and laugh.

“What did I say?”  He threatens, but his voice is much more smoother and tender.  More playful.  More like what you’re used to.

“Tickles!”

“You must endure it if you know what’s good for you.”  he’s finished enough for you to roll over.  You pull your tits back into your bra with another low laugh, but to yourself at how exposed and a mess you’re sure you look on your professor’s couch.

“I think I like that threat.”

“No more,” and that makes your heart drop.  He must be able to see the disappointed look on your face, so he rephrases his sentence in an instant.  “No more tonight.”

“Maybe I should be teaching you the importance of ambiguity.”

“Next lesson.”

Your heart soars just as fast as it dropped.

---

While you slip on your sneakers, you turn your heel to him – bag in tow.  “Listen, I don’t want this to be why I passed.”

“It’s not – it won’t be,”  Joel chews up the space between you – his hand pressing against the doorframe that your delicate hand adorns at the knob, fully dressed himself, now.  “You will pass by your own volition.  I meant it – you are bright.  You won’t let anybody take that from you, will you?” You knew that wasn’t a question as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you still swayed your head ‘no’.

“Not even me.”  He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before dropping his arm – allowing you to leave.  And that’s exactly what he’ll let you believe.

“Especially not you.”  You smile, leaning up to kiss his lips – your flavour lingers over his facial hair and tongue.  Your panties in his pocket.

“Goodnight, Professor Miller.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

taglist: @cool-iguana – comment to be added!

[jo-com]

Charles jealous and possessive please 🔥 Smut. Thank you so much ❤️

₊˚⊹♡ ➛ le mien

Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader

Summary: Part 2 of Mine

Genre: DARK fic.

Word: 2.03k words

TW: baby trapping, p and c penetration, possessiveness, jealousy, branding, manipulation, obsessive behavior, bit angsty, corruption, brainwashing, wrap it before you tap it folks and overall messed up shit. This is not proofread and there are some grammatical error also google translated french. if uncomfortable minors do not interact!!

─────── ─ ♡₊˚ 🦢・��✧ ─ ───────

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…

Despite all the love you share on social media, nothing can compare to the real truth that exists beyond the internet.

People don't see the things he does behind closed doors—all those emotional abuse, obsessive behavior, and possessiveness. Never, even once, do people know that it's happening between the two of you.

All they know is the sweet words you guys share in each other's posts and the way you act whenever there are people around you two—all sweet and loving like one of those fairy tale romances you read. But behind all that, they don't see how hurt you are mentally. It was happening constantly, and you were so used to it that you became numb and just succumbed to the growing pain you feel inside. 

To the point where you act like his puppet—doing everything that pleases him, and acting the way he wants you to.

You never once complained, thinking that it was just how love goes.

You were a fool. A fool blinded by "love".

...

"Hey y/n/n, are you alright? Me and mom have been worried about you; you haven't been going to our usual family gathering." your sister asked over the phone.

It was true; you haven't been going to those gatherings for a while now, only because Charles said, "It's not safe to go outside," and of course, like the sweet girlfriend doll you were, you followed his words.

You stared blankly, your mind wandering off. You tend to get lost in thoughts nowadays, and you're not sure why. Maybe it's from the stress you've been feeling, but you just brushed it off like it was nothing.

"Yeah, I am good. I've just been busy lately, you know? Keeping the house safe and everything," you chuckled dryly. 

"You know I can tell when there's something wrong, right? So just tell me."

Before you could answer, Charles walked into the room. With one hand holding Leo, he was snuggled up nice and cozy in his embrace. His eyes roamed around the room searching for you; his gaze then fell prey on your meek figure—you sat there holding the phone in one hand while the other rested on the softly fabricated couch. You looked angelic, as if untouched by any form of evil. 

Then again, Charles wasn't just any form of evil; he was the reincarnation of the devil himself, and he wanted nothing more than to corrupt your innocence.

With a soft smile, Charles walked to where you sat, sitting beside you and settling leo down on his lap. 

"Who are you talking to poupée (doll)?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, just my sister; we were just catching up on things." You muttered, your voice quivering slightly; you don't know whether you were scared or just have some sore throat that made your voice crack.

Charles looked at you in disbelief, his eyes narrowing with skepticism, and simply turned his attention back at Leo. "Hang up the phone," he said bluntly, not even sparing you a glance.

"But baby, we were just talking." You tried to argue with him, telling him that you just wanted to chat with your sister, but as usual, he blocked your words of plea and glared at you—he always does that, looking at you as if he were judging your whole soul.

His eyes have always been your weakness; they both scare and pleasure you at the same time. Charles knows that, and he uses it to his advantage every time.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy; you could feel it weighing down and crushing your spirit.

Sighing defeatedly, you had no choice but to end the call with your sister and not further complicate things.

"Hey, uhm, sis, I'll just call you back, okay? Something just came up."

You didn't even let your sister respond before hanging up the call. Charles hummed contentedly and patted the seat next to him. At that very moment, you felt angry with him, but you knew that you couldn't do anything about it, so you sucked it up and sat beside him. Leaning close to his embrace.

"Bonne fille, ma chérie (good girl, my darling)," he mumbbled softly, kissing the roof of your head.

...

Charles gripped your waist tightly, his jaws clenched, and hands balled up to a fist. He half-ass smiled at the man, trying to compose himself—fighting back the urges to beat the shit out of the guy in front of them.

He saw the way he looked at you; his eyes scanned each and every part of your body like you were some kind of art on display. fucking disgusting. 

You, on the other hand, held on to him, almost ripping the fabric of his clothes with your tight grip. You paid no mind to the guy he was talking to and just stared at the bustling room; in there, people were having fun, dancing, and drinking with others. 

At that moment, you didn't care about Charles or who he was conversing with; all you wanted was to spring free from his embrace and just party wild with others. Was that too much to ask for?

For him, it was. If it was legal, he wanted nothing more than to lock you up and live the rest of your lives together. So, having that idea was just wishful thinking—it never hurts to dream, though. 

"I'll see you around, yeah?" The man asked, earning a subtle nod from Charles as an acknowledgment.

"Quel putain de cinglé (what a fucking weirdo)," he mumbled under his breath, his accent making the words sound more spiteful and venomous.

You didn't hear him say that. You were too busy to admire people's enjoyment and bask in the laughter and smiles that surround you. How could people be as care free like that? The ache on your heart only grows fonder. Oh, how you wish you could do the same. 

With your head up in the clouds, you didn't seem to notice the angry monegasque that stood beside you, cursing you in any language he knew. The next thing you felt was a harsh sting that rested on your jaw.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I've been trying to talk to you! What are you even looking at? Are you cheating on me, Chienne (Bitch)?" he yelled, not even caring anymore if people heard him.

Your breath hitches, eyes widening, and heart racing fast.

His hands were now on your jaws, gripping them with sheer strength. You didn't know what was going on or why this was  happening to you. You were always so nice and never did anything to cause harm, so why?

All those questions in your mind made your vision go blurry and your head spin, causing you to black out on the spot.

...

You woke up the next day with a pounding headache and only bits of memories of what happened that night. "Ouch," you winced, massaging your head to try and ease the pain. 

As if on cue, Charles walked in with medicine on his left hand and a glass of water on the right. 

His face lit up, seeing that you were now awake. He softly smiled and walked towards your shared bed. The matress dipped down as he sat next to your sitting body.

"Are you feeling better, mon amour?" he asked. His hand was about to stroke your cheeks, but out of reflex, your body flinched at his sudden movement. 

That made Charles frown. You know how bipolar his mood has been; that's why you've been extra careful not to ruin it. You were expecting him to be mad, but what happened was the opposite. He only sighed deeply and lowered his head. 

"I am sorry, Mon cœur." Your being shocked was an understatement; in fact, you were flabergasted at his words. You never knew that hearing him say that would make you want to tear up.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I know you didn't mean for it to happen," you assured him, and rubbed circles around his arm. 

And just like that, Charles once again got you wrapped around his finger. You were way too easy to convince and so naive that you'd fall for anything he said.

He slowly lift up his head and gave you a light smile.

You then melted at his expression, it was silly of you to think that a face like that could ever harm you. he would never do that.

...

"Fuck, Charlie, put it in already, please," you begged, your eyes watering from the overstimulation. His hands gripped your waist tighter—muscles flexing in the process. 

"You're so needy for my cock, mon amour," he breathes out. 

The two of you have been at it for half an hour now, both out of breath and with marks made by one another. Your bodies were sticky with each other's bodily fluids, but you guys paid no mind to that. Only focusing on reaching the pleasure you both wanted so badly.

Without wasting a second, Charles huridly inserted his dick into your aching core. Your eyes widened from the sudden sensation between your thighs; you could feel how he was stretching you, and the need for him to satisfy you only increased. 

"Move, please" you said, your voice quivering and hands scratching his back to let out some of the pain.

Your legs instantly rested on his lower hip, wanting to keep him as close to you as possible. You don't know why you're acting like that, but you suddenly got the urge to mount him and fuck him till dawn. 

"Shit baby, you're always so tight," he chuckled, his left hand settled in the headboard while his right hand played with the nub of your tits.

His hips clashed with yours, making the two of you a moaning mess. Charles then dove down to your breast and licked it, biting and teasing them. He made sure to leave plenty of marks. 

"Oh god, i..i am about to come," you gasped, your toes curling from the rush of adrenaline coursing through you. 

"Just come for me, baby," he said, continuously pounding into you, your flesh crashing at each other and making a loud, smacking sound.

His hand then snaked up to hold onto your ankles, lifting it up. Shifting his dick into a deeper position.

With the new found position, your vision started to go blur; now only seeing nothing but stars. Your mind then turns hazy, and hands gripping tightly on the duvet sheet that scattered on the bed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" was the only thing you said before collapsing on the matress, your body convulsing with pleasure as your juices slowly fall down your flush tighs.

"Damn, all that for me, ma chérie?" Charles laughed, licking his lower lip at how ravishing you look; fucked out and cockdumb for him.

He continued to rut his hips to your overstimulated cunt. "Fuck, Je veux mettre un bébé en toi (i want to put a baby inside you)" he mumbled, not minding your state and carried on fucking you into an oblivion.

"I'ma fill you with my cum, make you a mama and the fill you up again....fuck" he rambled, his hips never stoping, not until he reach his high.

And after a few more thrust, he finally came inside of you— his eyes rolling in the back of his head with satisfaction. He continued to rut into you; not wanting to spill his cum and then coating your walls with his white seed.

You were sure to get pregnant by that and after that, you two are going to be tied forever, just like he planned.

...

yeah that was pure filth, hope you guys like it though! My requests are always open.

[misstycloud]

Yandere merman x reader x best friend

———————————————————————

Imagine a darling finding out she’s half-mermaid.

She lives in a small fishing village way out in he country. It’s the kind of town no one ever leaves. You’re born, grow up, and die there. Whole generations of families have lived there since long before.

Her parents are normal folks; father’s sailor and mother’s a stay-at-home wife. But since darlings family is so much like others’, she doesn’t understand why she’s so different. Her mother often jokes about how her first word was ‘sea’ and how she’d find her standing in her crib, staring out the window at the waves crashing into the cliffs.

Darling has been in a constant battle with herself her whole life. Since as long as she can remember she’s had a gripping fascination with the ocean. She can’t help it! Every night when everyone else laid sound-asleep in their beds, did she lie awake and fantasize about sneaking out and disappearing under the dark waves. No matter how hard she tried shutting these thoughts away, they always came back to haunt her.

While her mother thought is was cute and not a problem, it couldn’t be anything more. Her mother didn’t understand- as sweeet as she was. It probably stemmed from her being too busy with darlings younger siblings and doing chores, that she didn’t think of how the village spoke of her daughter. They call her strange and speak of what a waste of beauty on someone like her; she’s no good and you can’t marry her. Her mother didn’t know about how the rest of the kids teased darling. They pulled her her and pushed he on the ground. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for her to find her school books wet with sea water, since she ‘likes it so much’. The teachers didn’t care either.

The only solace darling can find is in her best friend. He always defended her agaisnt her bullies- which was practically everyone- and stayed by her side, even when he could become affected too. Darling feels he’s too good to her. The times she felt so alone, he was there to comfort her when her confidence was at its lowest. He held her when she cried and patted her back, whispering into her ear about how sweet and beautiful she is.

Then, by chance one day, she meets a merman. She is surprised- merfolk only exists in stories after all! The merman is so inhumanly beautiful. With long hair cascading down his back and a long fish tail. His tail looked very strong, he was no doubt an excellent swimmer. At first she is scared of him, she runs away-ignoring his shouts for her to come back- and keeps to herself in her room. Her family is worried and wonders if something is wrong, but she tells them it’s nothing and that she’s just a little tired. In her room, darling thinks about the merman. How is it possible for him to exist? Was she hallucinating and perhaps he wasn’t real? Are there other mythological creatures out there? After overcoming her initial fear and hesitance, she decides to go back to the beach.

The merman was still there. She dares ask how he can talk and he responds with, “My people don’t speak the way you do, but I have taught myself the language of humans. That’s how I am communicating with you.”

She asks him more questions, all of which he answers truthfully. Or, well, she hoped he wasn’t trying to deceive her. Darling even gained the courage of asking whether the stories of merfolk feastin on human flesh is true, and when the merman confirms it’s indeed true, she backs up. When he notices her alarmed state, he hurriedly add that he would never eat her.

It’s then he hits her with the most shocking reveal of her life. Apparently, he senses mer- blood in her vains.

“….n-no, that can’t be. You must be sensing wrong- I’m human..!”

He sighs. “Merfolk are very intuitive. We always recognise our own kind.”

He reveals that he suspect her of being half- merfolk since the scent of mer is strong on her. Darling thinks it’s laughable, both her parents are perfectly human. It can’t be. Like, she’d notice if one of her parents was a mythological creature with a fish tail as a lower half.

The merman tells her of old stories among his people, of mers who reproduced with humans- whether its be willingly or the human had kidnapped them. The children would always be different. On the surface they appeared like any other human, but on the inside there would constantly be a longing to return to their orgins- the ocean. Darling is conflicted. On one hand she can’t believe what she’s hearing, however, the description of the half- bloods fit her too well.

That night she confronts her father while he’s getting off work. He breaks instantly. She is shocked to discover that her father had an affair with a mermaid whilst being married to her mother. He had discovered her while fishing in an unpopular area and took her with him. He sobs that he couldn’t help it, the mermaid was so enchanting he couldn’t control himself. When the mermaid fell pregnant, he was so scared of what his wife would say when she found out, but when the child came out human, he was puzzled but relieved at the same time. He brought the baby home and played it off as finding it abondoned by the docks.

Darling can’t believe it. Her father was practically a monster. She recalled the tales of kidnapped merfolk held against their will, by the merman. She couldn’t imagine what her birth mother must’ve gone through. Her father begs her not to tell her mother because it would destroy the happy family they’d built.

In the end, she chooses to keep the secret for the time being. The right thing was to tell her mother, but it was also true that it would ruin everything and she didn’t want her younger siblings to grow up in a broken family. The only thing she wanted was for her father to leave her alone and never speak to her unless absolutely necessary. He agreed.

She begins spending all her time by the beach, in the company of the merman. She wondered what his name was, and to her bewilderment, he shrugged and said he didn’t have one. So she decides to give him one herself, Aqualor. It seemed merfolk-y enough. Luckily, the merman didn’t object and smiled instead, accepting the name.

Her best friend is worried though. He can never seem to even catch a glimpse of the love of his life anymore. Where was she? Now that they’d both grown into adults, it became harder to see each other; he had to work to support himself(and her, in the future). He felt horrible about it, but in all honesty he was a little glad the rest of the village didn’t take to her. If they did, surely she would have been taken away from him. Even if she didn’t know it, she was incredibly beautiful. It was impossible for him not to be a little biased, but she truly was the most wonderful thing he’d laid his eyes on. He could only imagine how it’d be if people actually treated her like she looked.

While her best friend felt the separation anxiety, darling count be happier. Finally she had someone who understood her fully. There was someone to relate to when she explained the urge to dive deep beneath the waves and disappear, and how pleasant water felt on her skin. Aqualor understood everything perfectly.

Her best memory was of her first swim with Aqualor. She’d been somewhat sacred in he beginning. Despite her desperate longing for the ocean, she’d never been in it much. It was quite ironic. He’d been so patient with her, never pushing or getting annoyed. He waited until she was more comfortable venturing out in the openness. Now they swam together every day, laughing and playing. Of course, Aqualor was the superior swim more out of the two of them, but darling likes to think she isn’t so shabby herself.

This is how she thought the rest of her life would be like; she and Aqualor enjoying each others company from morning to evening, while she returns home to the village every night. She didn’t have a job- no one would hire her anyway- so why not have fun with your friend? It wouldn’t be the best life, but it’d be peaceful and easy.

However, the ‘easy’ disappeared when Aqualor asked if she’d like to join him in the sea permanently.

“What? What do you mean?” She tilted her head in confusion.

The merman flipped his tail in the shallow water- his upper body was on the sand while the rest of him remained in the water. “Would you not like to come with me? We already spend so much time together, so it would hardly be any different.”

“Yeah, but I can’t just leave. I have to stay with my family.” She glanced back up and could see the tiniest snippet of houses, the village.

“You mean the father who has committed sins, a mother who doesn’t care for your feelings and siblings who forget your existence?” He harshly pointed out. His words stung.

“They’re far from perfect, I know that. But still, I can’t just vanish- I don’t even think I can survive out there!”

He grabbed her hand, his were wet and slightly webbed. It didn’t bother her though.

“Of course you can. Remember your heritage? Besides, I will be there and guide you through it. I will protect you, I will hunt for you. It will just be you and me, happy and content. Doesn’t it sound lovely?”

She went quiet and looked away, unsure.

He continued, “You alway tell me of how the humans treat you. They scorn you and say hateful words about you. That is because you are above them.” He smiled. “You do not belong here- you are mer! You should be with your people.”

“But even if I have mer-blood, I’m still human, look at me.” She stretched out her legs, flexing them and empathising their difference.

“You may have the appearance of a human, you soul, however, it is of a mermaid. You long to be free and to live the life you’ve always meant to live. They can’t keep you here in this…” his voice trailed off to disgust “cage.”

Darling sat and listened to Aqualor’s ramblings. Did he have a point? It’s not like anyone would miss her really. Her friend, yes, but he has so much else to live for. He’s not strange and everyone thinks well of him. He’ll be successful.

“So, what do you say, my coral? Will you join me?”

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Dark Days Coming

King: hey guys sorry i'm late King: i just could not get up this morning King: feels like I've been sleeping for days King: what did i miss? King: how did the election go? Lovecraft: not too bad King: King: oh no King: oh no oh no oh no

Lovecraft: don't worry steve it won't be so bad Lovecraft: I've heard assurances from the new regime that they only want the trade unionists King: King: King:

Lovecraft: i mean really steve Lovecraft: how bad could it be? [meanwhile] Donald Trump: we're gonna have the biggliest boot stamping on a human face forever Trump: we love the boot stamping on the human face forever, don't we folks? Trump: more and more people are saying they love the boot

Lovecraft: you're overreacting steve Lovecraft: what's trump even going to do? King: well i'm glad you asked King: [unrolls comically long scroll] Lovecraft: oh is this going to be a song

King: well for starters King: decimate reproductive rights King: LGBTQ rights King: labor rights King: civil rights King: accelerate climate change Lovecraft: [sweats] this is making me feel bad steve Lovecraft: i can't wait for trump to outlaw you telling me this stuff!

King: use the military to brutalize americans King: abandon Ukraine King: and as for gaza George Romero: in all honesty steve Romero: that probably won't change much King: oh look! an optimist!

Lovecraft: ok but Lovecraft: has he actually SAID he's going to do any of that? King: yes Lovecraft: oh he was probably just lying Lovecraft: he lies a lot Poe: he does lie a lot

Lovecraft: i think you're overreacting, he's probably not gonna do all the stuff he says he's gonna do King: so you don't believe him? Lovecraft: nope! King: king: then what's his appeal? Lovecraft: well he's just so honest

Lovecraft: a real straight shooter Lovecraft: tells it like it is Lovecraft: says what he means King: King:

King: howard please tell me you didn't vote for trump did you? Lovecraft: [sweats] steve! please! Lovecraft: i'm only a loveable archie bunker style racist Lovecraft: i'm still 100% yang gang King: King: King: i picked a bad day to quit cocaine

King: i really need some cocaine King: edgar you know where i can get some cocaine don't you Poe: steve stay strong Poe: you don't need cocaine King: just one bump King: to get me through the next four years King: i mean few days King: no i mean four years

King: how about a beer? i was an alcoholic too you know King: maybe i'll take that up again King: this is good drinking weather Poe: steve no Poe: dean help me hold him back King: don't try to stop me! Poe: no steve! you've got so much to live for! King: yeah? like what? Poe: well Poe: you've got a loving family King: Joe is pretty great Koontz: and owen! King: King: yeah and owen is alright too i guess

King: yeah he's pretty good King: what the heck, i can say it King: i love owen too! Koontz: and there's naomi too King: whoa wait a second, i have THREE kids?? King: this just keeps getting better!

King: thanks guys i do feel a little better Poe: good, hold onto that Poe: cuz it's going to be a long four years Lovecraft: only four years? i thought we weren't gonna have to vote anymore! Poe: Poe: good drinking weather, huh?

Joyce Carol Oates: huh, i really don't see why the electorate would hate trans people unless they were persuaded by hate speech and fearmongering JK Rowling: well well well look at the fancccy pantsss rich author Rowling: with her out of touch fancccy ideasss about a pluralissstic sssociety! Rowling: with her fancccy german automobile! Oates: this car was made in Guatemala

Rowling: you're clearly too rich to underssstand the feelingsss of the common man Rowling: unlike me, a true daughter of the proletariat Rowling: i know all about the material needsss of the underclassss Rowling: anyway i'm going to insulate my Scottish castle with big bags of money

[homunculus-argument]

Come to think of it, I really like doing worldbuilding in common misconceptions caused by survivor/sample bias. I got too gleefully into infodumping about worlds I made up, so I'm going to be merciful and throw a cut-off right here:

(damn, you're still reading? Well, that's on you. Here we go.)

In The Book I Am Not Writing, the fisher folk have very strict concepts of ritual purity, being strict about seemingly arbitrary rules of cleanliness, and they simply don't do extramarital relationships. They are, however, polygamous both ways, so consulting the other spouses about introducing another wife or husband into the marriage is always an option. They also seem to have absurdly large flocks of children. Being both an unusual ethnicity who are commonly considered pretty, and also essentially completely off-limits for casual sex, they are often fetishised, and there's a myth that fisher men are so insanely good in bed that their wives simply cannot resist the temptation of their four sexy husbands even if they're otherwise absolutely done getting pregnant all the time.

The truth is a lot more complicated than that. First of all, in the multiple-spouse marriages, all children are raised between all parents and many clans consider it inappropriate to inquire which kids are biologically whose, so if one or two of the partners has fertility issues, nobody from the outside would know. And the seemingly arbitrary purity rules aren't all that random either - many of them actually ensure a higher standard of hygiene than what other cultures around them have. This, and restrictions about marrying within one's own clan to avoid inbreeding, ensure healthier children. They aren't fucking and getting pregnant more than any other peoples, they have more children because of lower infant mortality.

The Travellers are also "outsiders" living in diaspora, who are - as their name implies - itinerant and never stay in one place for long. Not by choice, though many of them will say they'd rather live this way than to ever settle down, but because almost all towns and cities have discriminatory laws explicitly prohibiting Travellers in particular from staying in the city for too long, or limiting how many of them can be allowed within the city walls at the same time. They don't call themselves Travellers, but refuse to tell outsiders what their own language's name is for their own people, out of fear that the name would be appropriated and turned into a slur. Secrecy is the only privacy that they are allowed to have.

An unusually large number of Travellers also have unusual physical traits, dysmorphic structural features, and congenital disabilities. This is used as xenophobic cannon fodder by citizens of the Empire, treated as proof that the Travellers are so morally crooked that it even deforms their bodies. This, of course, is bullshit. In truth, Travellers do not have any more disabled or deformed babies than anyone else - what they do have is a strong culture of NEVER abandoning one of their own. No matter what. So while people of the Empire associate health and beauty with moral goodness, and consider having "imperfect" babies shameful, Travellers simply don't practice the common peoples' common habit of abandoning or discreetly 'disposing' of children who aren't likely to survive into adulthood, or who will need support their entire lives. "What can be done to one of us, they will do to all of us" is how they live, so nobody gets left behind.

On the opposite end of society there are the Baronesses, the Empire's all-female army of trained magic-wielders. A military class, whose inherent magical powers do not even manifest in every child or even every generation, but when it does, it's always on girls. Daughters are trained for combat, they are the ones to carry on the family name. Since a woman does not need to be married in order to be sure that all her children are hers, sons are not particularly valued even as political tokens for arranged marriages. It is considered common knowledge that there's something in "wielder blood" that makes the male carriers of it weak just as it makes the female ones strong, and that is considered the reason why the male members of wielder families tend to be so dysfunctional, emotionally frail, rampant with substance abuse and more likely to die in the womb or in early infancy.

It is politely never questioned how downright convenient it is that it just happens to be the less wanted sex who are far, far more likely to simply perish away for no apparent reason, especially when it comes to the most harsh, highest-ranking, and most competitive wielder families.

Far across the great ocean, on the opposite corner of the map of the world that the Empire knows of, are the Northlands. Almost mythical mystical lands, that are the source of the various types of thick white pelts and some other exotic goods, commonly supposed to be populated by completely wild, savage people. Northmen are all lumped together, as most people of the Empire would find it hard to believe that the Northmen have even one civilised culture, not to speak of consisting of several cultures and creeds with their own languages and customs. The only few Northmen that the Empire has seen have been foreign sailors in port towns, or perhaps someone's unit of rare exotic bodyguards, undoubtedly a weird flex.

Northmen are considered feral, and the "civilised" ones a strange exception to a supposed rule. It is said that they are exclusively carnivores, eating only meat like tigers and drinking only alcohol. That they are nocturnal, with eyes like cats and wolves that gleam in the dark, and that sunlight hurts them. The sun never rises in their lands, so naturally the people are as pale as cave olms, just like the pelts of their animals are all white. And just like cats and wolves, their infants are all born with blind blue eyes, which either stay blue or turn yellow once they grow.

This, too, is a mishmash of myth and half-truth. Northfolk who venture this far south are more likely to eat meat than any fruit or vegetable they are offered, since they are more familiar with what goat or chicken taste like than any fruit of this strange climate. Northland alcohols are generally bitter ales and dry wines, and the sweet liquors and strong wines of Southlands are a treasured luxury for the ones who are familiar with them, and a very fast way to get shitfaced if one isn't. They aren't nocturnal at home, but having no other protection from the relentless sun, they do prefer to move at dusk to avoid getting sunburn. And The Long Night only lasts a few weeks or months, but that's difficult to explain to people whose common language doesn't have words for "snow" or "winter."

There are no Nothfolk with yellow eyes, but blue eyes are very common, and to Southland people to whom both eye colours are unnatural and associated exclusively with beasts and carnivores, they rarely notice that they've never seen a yellow-eyed one. And being born with blue eyes like wolf pups and kittens isn't a myth, that really is a thing that happens to white people.

[msallurea]

Things to manifest because you can pt 2 🎀🧁🌸

Becoming a top model

Sex appeal/pole dancer abilities

Be super strong/fast

Be a famous supermodel

Turning into a fairy on command

Having a fairy godmother/godfather

Being a mermaid/siren

Having your desired beauty

Ability to talk to nature/animals/being a natural bug repellant

Easily remembering trillions of info easily

Never ever failing at anything

Waking up with the perfect hairstyle/outfit

Being a master manifestor/shifter

Controlling time

Being able to grab stars out the sky and turn it to jewelry pieces

Making constellations move

Becoming a queen/king/princess/prince

Having perfect vision

Having magical abilities

Never being sick

Healing global warming

Healing worldwide diseases/sicknesses

Immunity to bullying, abuse, etc, others being immune to bullying abuse etc

Racism/colorism/misogyny/texturism/evil capitalism/negativity/war/slavery/abuse in power/terrible government n school systems/segregation/poverty/workd hunger/mass genocides/shootings/killings/generational trauma etc never existing/erased (my black and POC sisters and brothers in this LOA community baby it's time to stand up but generally just everyone we are all entitled to live in peace as human beings)

That's all folks, I love you darling stay tuned for more ♡ also I need more post ideas comment for any suggestions!

[banj0possum]

Can we get a zombie horde with a gn! Reader where their abusive family finds them again?

after years of inactivity im fucking back ! sorry for the long long wait but at least im able to put out a few more fics !

Zombie Horde!Reader's Abusive Family Finds Them Again

CW: verbal abuse, abusive family, (mentioned) being rejected food

💀 You haven't always been alone in your travels, in fact, you were with your family when the outbreak happened. But to be fair, you never liked your family..

💀 They would always bully you, boss you around, even put the blame on you whenever something bad happened, the torment didn't end even when there were zombies banging on your doors!

💀 In fact, because of the virus, they got even more cruel to you.

💀 They would take away your food rations for any small mistake you did, make you take the night watch for days on end, even send you out to get supplies just because 'you talked back that one time'!

💀 You couldn't take it anymore and left, knowing anywhere would be better than being stuck in a house of people who did nothing but torture you.

💀 You thought you were safe from them, cuddled up with Ribs in your bed as the others wandered around the abandoned mall, but it all came back when you heard a familiar voice shout out your name from the distance..

💀 "(Y/N)?! I know you're here you runt!"

💀 It was your dad...

💀 Ribs sat up as soon as he heard it and snarled, crawling out of bed and going out to see the commotion.

💀 Your heart raced as you followed him, but it was hard to walk with your body trembling at the thought of seeing him or any of your family again.

💀 "Jesus there's four of them!" "What are you waiting for you stupid bitch?! Shoot em!"

💀 It seems your mom was also there..

💀 You run the broken escalator and see the horde fighting with your family, gunshots ring throughout the mall as you see your beloveds blasted with bullets.

💀 You weren't scared though, they were dead after all, but it was still heartbreaking seeing them get hurt.

💀 You pick up a nearby rock and throw it at your dad to get his attention away from the boys. They all look at you, your family glaring at you while the horde coos at your presence.

💀 "(Y/N) you come here right this fucking second we're coming home!" Your mother shouts at you, walking over angrily and grabbing your arm strong enough to leave a red ring.

💀 Bo fumes and pulls her of you "You stay away from my mate ya hear me?!" he growls.

💀 "It talks?!" She yelps as your dad comes over as well. "Mate? Don't tell me you're hangin out with these monsters! Are you that much of a dumbass?!" he scolds you.

💀 You shrink, knowing whatever you say will make things worse..

💀 "Why you little whore.." Your dad growls, about to slap you, but Screw runs over and pushes your dad away, sending him back a few feet.

💀 Ribs and Soda smile and clap as Bo and Screw help you up.

💀 "You ok darlin?" Bo asks you in a sweet tone. "Is your arm ok? Does is hurt? Do you need a bandaid? I have a pink one with a cat on it.." Screw looks at the mark your mother gave you.

💀 You smile and assure them everything's ok.

💀 "Fucking freaks..(Y/N) do you hear me?! Get your ass up and let's go!" Your dad yells at you again as he stand up.

💀 "They're not going anywhere mean guy!" Ribs growls at him.

💀 Your mom is to the side next to Soda, she sneers at him and he looks back at her, giving her the middle finger, making her scoff and look away.

💀 In a shaky tone, you ask how they found you. You've cut off contact with them for months, there was no way they could find you..

💀 "Hah! Your dumbass thought you were just some person in the middle of nowhere? Half the state knows about your little talkin freak boyfriends!"

💀 You look down in shame as Bo and Screw comfort you "I think it's about time you folks leave..." Bo says, glaring at your parents.

💀 "Oh no you're not kicking us out! We came all this way to get this ungrateful little leech back! We gave them shelter and this is how they repay us?! You should've learned your place and stayed put!" he berates you. You finally snap and yell back at him, telling him all the things you've endured in their household, how you were treated like dirt every day, how you were much better off without them.

💀 Finally you firmly tell them to leave, pointing to the exit as you look at him with no fear left in your eyes. He scoffs "Fine..go get killed on your own then! Don't come to us for any fucking help!" he yells as he leaves, your mom in tow.

💀 Ribs laughs at them as they leave while Soda smiles at you.

💀 After the whole interaction, you were completely exhausted, the boys huddling up with you to calm you down.

💀 You give them all well-deserved kisses for protecting you, they all coo and chirp at the affection and kiss you back.

💀 "Do you still want that bandaid?" Screw asks you softly.

💀 You say yes.

this one was pretty short but expect more fics to be sent soon ! love you guys and remember that youre awesome and amazing !

[brw]

All the characters I like are either obscure D to Z listers people know for one or two things but spare no grander thoughts towards (Simon, Darwin, Wanda Langkowski) or they're characters that are well known, sure, but does anyone actually spend time thinking about them? Are they actually well liked and loved by fandom communities as a whole? Are people actively writing essays about them aside from me and my three mutuals I have latched on to and will not let go from for all my strength? No. You think people are lining up to hear meaningful discourse about The Vision? It's just me, and you, reading this, who tolerates my Vision-induced hysteria.

I could have been into Spider-Man.

Every day I wake up and wish I could latch on to characters people actually cared about. Why the fuck is Sasquatch taking up so much of my headspace.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Command Me 1/2

knight!benji blackwood x strong!fem!reader //

oc!brandon stark x strong!fem!reader

Summary: Your mother thinks it’s best you marry sooner rather than later and betrothes you to a man you’ve never met from the north. The only say you have in your life at the moment is picking out a sworn protector. Your marriage leaves you unhappy and unfulfilled and Benji has no problem helping in anyway he can. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, mentions of murder, arranged marriage, wine, age gap, marriage duties, unhappy marriage, moon tea, cheating, oral(f receiving), p in v, bit angsty ngl

Authors Note: request from @chainsawsangel, no explicit detail of oc!stark and y/n intimate moments

Word Count: 5.4k

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

My ears start ringing as my mother’s words start to float around my head. I focus on my breathing as I feel like I’m gasping for air. The council members nod around the table as I can hear the blood pumping throughout my body. She places her hand on mine and looks to me expectantly. 

“What?” I shake my head confused. 

“I asked if you wanted to travel back with Cregan to meet your betrothed.” she says with a smile that tells me I’ll have a scolding later. 

“Absolutely not.” I take my hand from hers and place it in my lap. 

“That is fine, Princess. My uncle won’t mind coming down here for you.” he offers me a smile that doesn’t seem genuine. 

“He shouldn’t since he’s my king consort.” I scoff. 

“Y/n.” my mothers tone low and warning. 

“I await his arrival in anticipation, my Lord.” I nod my head and push my chair back against the stone. If looks could kill my mother would have me stringed up against the council chamber walls. I walk out of the hall and practically start sprinting out of the castle. 

“Princess!” guards shout after me as I take a horse from the courtyard and gallop into the city. The city folk move out of my way as I race to the pits. I abandon the horse outside and call for the dragon keepers to wake my dragon. The ground begins to shutter as my dragon emerges. 

“Hello my handsome boy.” I coo as he pushes into me. I admire his black scales that simmer the brightest lilac in the sun and begin to mount. Once my clips are in place he’s running us out of the pit as we both share the sentiment to get out of this city. As we fly over Kings Landing my dragon gives a fearsome cry and we shoot off to the Kings Wood. 

The breeze flows through my hair and I finally feel some relief. I lean down and hug my dragon as he offers me a deep rumble. I beat my mother by two years for youngest dragon rider. I was five when I first mounted him and he brought us about the city giving high pitched screeches at the common folk. Ever since then we would disappear for a week or more to just fly and explore.

She would send countless parties in search of me but we quickly found caves that would keep us hidden. She’s learned where I go now so I decide to just stick to the Kings Wood to avoid the yelling I’m sure to receive. We land in the cover of the tree canopies by the lake and sprawl out in the sun. I rest my head on his tail as he buries his head into the tall grass scaring away the mice and bugs. 

“I can’t believe she would marry me off to some old northerner.” I sigh looking up at the clouds. My dragon offers me a deep chuff. 

I hear the high pitched dragon call before I see him. As Caraxes comes into view I sigh at her sending him. She knows that we butt heads like bulls so I’m not sure what she’s expecting from this. Daemon lands and begins to walk over to me and my dragon raises his head and bares his teeth. 

“Relax, mother would kill me.” I pat my dragons thigh chuckling and look to Daemon expectantly. 

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re not my child.” he chuckles as he approaches. 

“I don’t know why you would think that. You never raised me and still don’t.” I look up to him from the ground intent on staying where I am. 

“Fair enough,” he sits on the ground and looks to me with a taunting smile. 

“What?” I snap sitting up. 

“Your mother wants you back at the Keep. She wants you to pick out a sworn protector for yourself.” he studies me as I roll my eyes. 

“As if I’ll have a choice in the matter.” I push myself up and my dragon rises behind me. I mount him and leave Daemon behind at the lake. When I land back at the pits my mother is there waiting for me with a furrowed brow. The carriage ride back to the Keep is silent and when we stop in the inner courtyard I try to run off to my chambers but she stops me. 

“What’s wrong?” she searches my eyes. 

“I don’t want to marry some second son from the north who I’ve never met and you think allowing me to pick a sworn protector will fix that?” I rise my hands at a loss. 

“Into the Keep now.” she says lowly and I see the eyes on us from around the grounds. She brings us into her solar and I huff sitting on the couch. 

“You remind me so much of my younger self.” she hums with a soft smile. 

“Mm,” I nod my head wanting to be back with my dragon or in my chambers. 

“You may find love with Brandon.” my mother tries to hide her wince. 

“So that’s his name. How bland. Brandon the Bland I should call him.” I groan throwing my head back against the couch. 

“Y/n I worked hard to make this match. You will treat him with respect. He comes from an honorable and noble house.” her voice starts rising. 

“I don’t care if he’s noble,” I shake my head angry. “I don’t know him, I don’t want him,” I feel tears start forming and I wipe them away frustrated with the world.

“Sweet girl,” 

“Don’t sweet girl me.” I rise from the couch. “I’m tempted to get in my dragon and flee to where you’ll never find me.” I run out of her chambers and straight into Jace. I push him back and he calls after me. 

I seal myself in my chambers and let my tears flow freely. I don’t care about a husband or a sworn protector. I don’t care about the crown or ruling. I hear the whispers everyday about who my father is and how dark my hair is. I don’t want to be ridiculed for the entirety of my rule especially with some man who doesn’t even know me. 

“I’m not here to baby you. Get up and let’s go.” Daemons voice comes from the other side of the door. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” I yell back through the wood. He pushes the door open harshly and grabs my arm pulling me with him. 

“Your mother has been inviting these knights here for well over a moon. You will not embarrass her.” he says through his teeth pulling me down the stairs. I start to push and hit his hand off as the servants in the hall advert their eyes from our spat. We stumble down the rest of the stairs and we stare at each other waiting to see what the other does. I go to pull my arm back and he pulls me closer with a scowl on his face. 

“Get the fuck off of me.” I spit out at him. 

“You’re causing a scene.” he tugs me along to the hall and as we enter all of the knights turn to look at me. I push Daemon off of me and look over the men before me with a raised chin and a death glare. 

“Leave.” I wave off Daemon and the men before me look at the ground as if it’s the most interesting. 

“Step forward if you’re from Kings Landing or the Queens guard.” I hum and a handful of men step forward. “You are dismissed.” I nod them to the door and they look at me with their mouth agape and I look at the five remaining men. 

“If you are from the north step forward.” two men slowly step forward. “You are dismissed.” I look over them unamused. 

“You three are the only remaining.” I offer them a serpentine smile. “Tell me why I should choose you.” I take a seat and watch them look at me. 

“I am a Dornish Swordsman and trained along side Ser Criston-“ 

“A mistake. You are dismissed.” I wave him off and place my head in my hand bored. “Next.”

“Princess,” the man older than Daemon nods his head. “I trained this young man here. He was recently knighted and easily my best student. Anything and everything he knows, I taught him.” he sounds proud. 

“So the most obvious choice is him then? You’re old and withering and he’s young,” I look over the man next to him who only seems to be a handful of years older than me. “Did you even come here to try for a place as my sworn protector?” I look over the old man. 

“I- Princess, I’m-“ 

“Enough,” I wave him off. “You’re dismissed.” 

I turn my head back to the man in front of me and tilt my head. I study him with squinted eyes and can see that he has the muscle required for this job. He’s easy on the eyes which will be a welcome reprieve if my betrothed isn’t. He stands with a puffed out chest and confidence pouring off of him and I rise and walk in front of him. I look up to him and he nods his head down to me. 

“Tell me your name.” I look into his eyes and smile when I see no fear. 

“Ser Benjicot Blackwood.” his voice flows through my ears like honey. 

“Mm a Riverman,” I smile. “I’ve had some great times in taverns outside Raventree Hall when I was on the run.” I chuckle thinking back. 

“On the run from what, my Princess?” he offers me a soft smile. 

“My life and duties.” I shrug. “It looks like you’re the last knight standing Benji.” his spine straightens at the name. 

“It seems that I am.” he nods chewing his lip, the only sign that he has some nerves about being dismissed. 

“Then you shall be my new sworn protector.” a smile pulls across my face as his shoulders relax and he returns my smile. 

“Y/n,” my mother bursts into the hall in a rampage. 

“I’ve chosen Benji.” I turn to her with a smile and she looks him over. 

“You didn’t even give the other men a chance.” she seethes. “Why must everything be like this with you?” she sighs shaking her head. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Today is the day Brandon gets to Kings Landing and I try to convince the maester I’m sick and can’t meet him. He knows my antics and deems me healthy. I’m being tied into a gown as pins are being stuck into my head holding my braids in place. I kick my handmaidens out after hours saying I just needed a moment to myself and I’ll be down shortly. 

“Are you ready, Princess?” Benjis voice comes through my doors. 

“Can you come in?” my voice soft and he slips into my chambers leaving the door open. 

“What can I do for you, Princess?” he looks over my dress and I see him swallow before his eyes make his way to mine. 

“Did you see him?” my voice hushed. 

“I did.” he nods standing up straighter. 

“Do you think he’s handsome?” I pick at my nails. 

“I don’t know how to answer that.” he says clearing his throat. 

“Benji,” I whine. “It’s simple. Does he look old and decrepit or does he look like you?” his eyes snap to mine and I smirk at him. 

“Your betrothed is waiting for you, Princess.” he turns to walk out of my chambers and I sigh and walk to his side. 

As we make our way down to the main hall I groan and drag my feet. Benji chuckles and slows his pace to stay with me. Over the past moon I’m thankful everyday to this man for traveling here to become my sworn protector. He jokes with me and keeps me company. He is also handsome which I never cease to remind him as his cheeks tint. 

“If I asked you to kill my betrothed would you?” I whisper to Benji. 

“It is my duty to do anything you ask of me.” he nods his head and I smile. 

As we walk into the hall my stomach drops as my eyes land on Brandon. My mother can’t possibly be serious. This man has to have almost two decades on me. I find my mother and I scrunch my eyebrows at her and begin walking to her. 

“Princess,” a gruff voice stops my feet as I turn to Brandon who is looking over my body like a starved man. I step back into Benji and he steadies me. 

“You’re Brandon I presume?” I raise my eyebrow looking up to him. 

“I am.” he grabs my hand much to my horror and places a wet kiss on it. 

“How kind.” I hope my disgust isn’t written over my face. 

“Y/n,” my mother’s worried voice calls me over to her side and I’m practically sprinting to her. 

“I would rather die than marry that man.” I hiss to my mother. 

“That’s enough. You will be married by the end of this moon and that’s final.” I feel so stuck and I turn and see that Brandon is walking back over here. 

“Could I offer you a walk through the gardens, Princess?” Brandon offers me his and I stare at it and look to my mother who nods encouragingly. 

“Sure,” I sigh. “Benji let’s go.” I nod my head for him to follow. 

“Your dog doesn’t need to come with.” Brandon chuckles and I cement my feet. 

“He is not my dog. You will treat my sworn protector with respect or I’ll have him take your tongue.” I look over Brandon who is smiling. 

“Feisty, I like it.” he smiles grabbing my arm and tugging me out of the hall. 

It takes all of my strength not to rip my arm out of his hand. I lead us to the gardens and the silence is anything but comfortable. I look at Brandon out of the corner of my eye and see his years written on his wrinkled forehead. I shiver of disgust runs through me as we enter the gardens. He leads us to the nearest table and sits down and I take a place across from him. 

“You are more beautiful than Cregan lead on.” he hums licking his lips. 

“Did he say anything else?” I drawl looking him over. 

“That I would probably have to wear you down a bit but that’s not an issue, I have great stamina.” he winks at me and I know there’s no hiding the horror on my face. “Mm tell me, do you still have your maidenhead?” his smile makes me feel disgusting. 

“Is that anyway to speak to a Princess?” Benjis voice just short of a growl. 

“She’s to be my wife, boy.” Brandon looks over him and turns his eyes back to me. “Well do you or are you sullied?” 

“I do.” my voice barely a whisper as I feel my cheeks heat. 

“There’s one plus.” he leans back in his seat and looks me over. “I thought you Targaryens were supposed to have silver hair?” he tilts his head. 

“The Gods are mysterious.” I clench my jaw. How could my mother do this to me? I know I wasn’t the easiest child to raise but she can’t possibly think I will be willing to wed this man. My heart starts to beat rapidly and I’m getting overwhelmed. 

“What’s wrong with you now?” Brandon narrows his eyes at me. 

“Benji can you take me to the maester? I feel faint.” I reach for his arm and he’s bending down and helping me to my feet instantly. 

“What’s wrong?” Benjis voice is rushed as he searches my face. 

“I’m hot and I just can’t breathe.” I all but gasp as we make it into the Keep. 

“Just a bit further, Y/n.” he keeps a steady hand around my waist and on out for me to hold on to. 

“Thank you, Benji.” I sigh in relief as we make it to the maesters chambers. 

“Princess what’s wrong?” the maester helps me lay on the bed. 

“She said she’s overheating and her breathing was heavy.” Benji says brushing my hair back. 

“Were you doing something strenuous?” the maester asks as he fills me a glass of water. 

“No, I was just-“ 

“What’s happened?” my mother bursts into the room. 

“Mother,” my voice breaks as I reach out to her. “Please, don’t make me, please,” I start crying and Benji and the maester look worried. 

“What do you mean sweet girl?” she shushes me kneeling at my side. 

“I’ll be better,” I hiccup. “Don’t make me marry that old man, please, mother.” a tear slips down my cheek. 

“Leave us.” she waves her hand at Benji and the maester who are shutting the door behind them quickly. “What possibly could’ve happened?” she sits back looking over my state. 

“He made remarks about bedding me and he made remarks about who my father was.” I sit up looking to her with pleading eyes. “Mother please,” I feel the tears start to well up. 

“Just give it a chance. Maybe he was just excited to see such a beautiful young woman.” she offers me a smile and I sigh knowing I don’t have a choice. 

“I will keep Benji with me. I don’t want to be alone with Brandon.” I shake my head furrowing my brows. 

“Of course you two shouldn’t be alone before you wed.” she nods her head. 

“I don’t want to wed him mother, please.” my voice breaking again as I continue to plead.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It feels as if there are rocks in my stomach as I’m twirled around the dance floor. Brandon pulls me back against him and dips down to my ear. His tongue trails along the outer shell and I try to pull back but he holds me firm. When he lifts his head he chuckles at my red cheeks and the crowd claps as our dance ends. 

“Go get a drink and stop being so uptight.” I slip into the crowd trying to keep a smile pinned on my face as I head to find wine. Gods know I’ll need it for tonight. I can’t believe my mother made me go through with this. 

The servant offers me a fresh glass and congratulations on my marriage and I smile and nod. I walk to the outskirts of the crowd and try to calm my nerves. I focus on my breathing and let the hall and celebrations fade away. 

“I wanted to tell you that you look absolutely divine, Princess. I know it’s not my place but I needed to tell you.” Benjis voice is barely a whisper as I turn to him. 

“I wish I wed you tonight.” I feel the tears form and ready to fall. 

“Princess,” Benjis voice strained. 

“I know,” I shake my head wiping my eyes. “Just don’t leave me, please.” my eyes pleading. 

“Anything you ask.” he nods his head. “I am sworn to you.” 

“Thank you.” I finish my glass of wine and head back over to Brandon. 

“Feeling better?” Brandon pulls me against him.

“Much.” I smile trying to pretend I’m not repulsed at his touch. 

“The Princess and I will retire for the night.” he announces loudly and there are rowdy cheers that follow. I feel like my legs are about to give out as he starts to pull me off the dais. I search frantically around the hall for Benji even though I know he can’t stop what’s to come. 

“I’ll escort you both.” Benji comes behind us as Brandon chuckles. 

“Do you expect to witness the act itself too, boy?” Brandon roars out a laugh. 

“No.” I say quickly. 

“Embarrassed, my innocent wife?” I feel my cheeks heat and I bite my tongue deciding to stay silent. We stop outside of his chambers and he pulls me inside sealing the door leaving Benji on the other side. 

I knew what tonight was going to entail but I had hoped he would’ve been more kind and caring of my needs and wants. I performed my duty as best as I could but it didn’t make it any more enjoyable or less painful. He pulls me up from the bed and pushes me out of his doors leaving me in the halls in my slip holding my wedding dress. I look down at the stone floor as it cools my bare feet. 

“Princess?” Benjis voice is soft as he stands in front of me. 

“Can you please take me back to my chambers?” I whisper continuing to look down. 

He pulls his cape off and wraps it around me. I drop my wedding gown outside Brandon’s chambers as I cling to the cape. As we start up the stairs I wince at the pain between my thighs. We make it to my chambers and a sob of relief bubbles out of me. I turn towards Benji to thank him and see that his jaw is set and he looks ready to murder someone. 

“I need you to command me to stay right here. In this exact spot. Or I will walk down those stairs and make you a widow.” I can feel his temper rising around us and I’m tempted to let him make me a widow this very second but this isn’t a decision to be made in haste.

“I need you here with me. I need you to find a servant to bring me water for a bath and I need you to do something with discretion.” my voice hushed as I look around the halls. 

“Anything.” he nods his head searching my eyes. 

“Go to the maester. Offer him good coin for his silence. Say you had a lapse in judgment and slept with a maid and you need moon tea. Please Benji, I can’t have his child.” I beg. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Brandon pushes me outside of his chambers again and I see Benji clenching his fists. He falls into step beside me as we walk silently back to my chambers. I gave up on wearing slippers to his chambers because the cool stone on the walk back helps ground me. This has been happening once every fortnight for the past three moons and I either have Benji or my personal handmaiden retrieve my moon tea. 

“I’ll be back with the tea.” Benji says lowly leaving me at my chamber doors. 

“Benji I don’t need,” I stutter. “He made me suck-“ I shake my head feeling my cheeks burn and I hear him deeply inhale. 

“Princess,” his voice like gravel as his eyes slide to mine. 

“Can you just come in with me?” my voice barely audible as I hold my door open. He sighs and follows allowing the door to shut behind us. 

“What can I do for you?” he stands at my doors back ridged. 

“I just need you to be here with me,” I sit and he claims the chair furthest from me. “Do you find me repulsive now that I’m sullied?” I don’t mean for my words to sound as pathetic as they do. 

“I could never find you repulsive.” he replies quickly. “I think you’re the most ethereal being I’ve ever met.” his voice laced with reverence. 

“Why do you think my husband wants to cause me so much pain? Or is that how it’s supposed to feel? I don’t have anyone to talk to.” I fidget my fingers and hear his sharp inhale. 

“It wouldn’t hurt if he was worshiping you properly. He’s a fool he should have his face buried,” he stops himself and finds his composure. “I’m sorry, please forgive my words Princess.” 

“The only place his face is buried is my neck as he ruts into me. I used to try to think of someone else in hopes that it would make it more pleasurable but when that didn’t help I just learned to keep my eyes squeezed shut and toss out a couple fake moans.” I should feel embarrassed to be divulging this to Benji but it feels so relieving to talk to someone about it. 

“He should be able to tell the difference.” he shakes his head as I see his knuckles turning white from his grip on the chair. 

“I don’t know I can be convincing.” I allow myself to chuckle.  “Yeah, so good,” I moan followed by a whimper and I burst out in giggles as Benjis head snaps up to me. 

“Has he made you come?” his dark eyes search my face. 

“No.” I shake my head as my blush revives on my neck. “He just uses me and throws me out of his chambers. I could live with it if I at least got that relief but I just get to walk back to my chambers and go to bed.” I sigh leaning back in the chair. 

“Can I, I want to,” he bites his lip turning away. “I should let you rest for the night.” he starts to stand. 

“Say it.” I nod my head prompting him. 

“Can I make you come?” my heart skips at his words and I nod my head quickly. “I need to hear you say it.” his voice wrecked. 

“Can you please make me come, Benji?” I bat my eyelashes at him. He rises from the chair and stalks over to me. He towers over me before he kneels before me and begins to trail his hands up my legs spreading them. My cheeks burn as my core is exposed to his face and he looks up to me with hooded eyes. 

“Has he ever kissed you here before?” he asks propping my legs on his shoulders. 

“No,” I shake my head gasping at the coolness of his metal armor on my calves. 

“May I?” he looks up to me as he places soft kisses on the inside of my thighs. 

“Please Benji,” I reply breathlessly. 

He licks up my slit and my chest heaves. His tongue circles my neglected bud and I push my hips into his mouth. Whimpers pour from my mouth as he pulls me flush against his face. He moans into my center as my hips grind against him. I brush against his nose and I moan loudly burying my hand in his hair holding him close. I continue to buck against him as he laps at me. 

“Benji, I-“ I sob as pleasure washes over me and his tongue continues to work me through it. He pulls back and looks up to me with a smile on his face. 

“Those moans sounded nothing like what you did before.” his words laced with confidence. 

“I want to come again.” I say still trying to catch my breath. 

“As you command, Princess.” he dips back between my legs. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Benji is walking me back to my chambers after a particularly rough night with Brandon. I’m starting to loathe my husband more than I thought possible. Benji follows me into my chambers and seals the doors behind us. 

“Your handmaiden should be back with the tea shortly.” he sits on a chair in front of me trying to gauge my emotions. 

“Would you still kill him if I asked?” I look up to him and he nods. 

“Just say the word.” he searches my eyes. 

“Maybe we use poison or something so they won’t know it’s you.” I nibble on my lip trying to come up with a plan. 

“It’d have to be one that would make him suffer. He doesn’t deserve an easy way out.” he shakes his head working himself up. 

“Your devotion never ceases to amaze me.” I look to him and stand as there’s a soft knock at my door. “Thank you.” I smile at my handmaiden and click the door shut once again. I drain the contents of the cup and join Benji on the chairs again. 

“When do you want him dead?” his tone low as he watches my slip rise up. 

“As soon as possible. I can’t take it anymore.” I sigh stretching. “You can say no because I know where I just came from but can you make me feel good Benji? I want to forget everything.” I slide my eyes to him. 

“I will always want you.” he starts to rise from his chair. 

���I need you, Benji. Show me how good it can feel.” I plead as I pull him over to the bed. 

We start to remove his armor and when I finally lift off his shirt and feel his bare chest I groan. He pulls my slip above my head and leaves me bare before him. He pulls me into a kiss and I melt into him as our chests mold together. I unlace his trousers and he begins to kick them off. We fall back onto the bed and I feel his hardness pressed against my leg. I buck against him waiting for him to push into me. 

“There’s no rush, I’m taking my time with you.” he kisses down my neck and between my breasts. He licks across them and sucks a nipple into his mouth. I gasp as he swirls his tongue around my hardened peak and my nails hold onto his back. He chuckles and moves the next to offer it the same attention. 

“Benji,” I gasp as he grazes his teeth across my nipple before pulling up. 

“There’s a lot of pleasure I can show you, Princess.” he kisses down my navel and I buck my hips in anticipation. “Do you wanna come?” he chuckles pressing my hips into the bed. 

“Please Benji,” I cry out as his lips attach to my bud. 

As he circles his tongue I feel his fingers glide through my wetness and I squirm. He slips two fingers into my core and I whine squeezing my thighs around his head. When he curls his fingers I feel my high building in my lower stomach. My whines become more high pitched the faster he pumps his fingers. 

“Benji right there, yes,” I gasp as I come undone. He slowly comes back up my body trailing soft kisses. “I need you in me.” I wrap my legs around his waist. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop at any point.” his eyes look to mine and I nod kissing him softly. 

He slowly pushes in and I whimper at his stretch. He slowly rocks his hips into me as I mewl clinging to him. He rolls his hips and a broken moan falls from my lips. The difference is absolutely mind blowing. The pleasure he is pulling from my body has me feeling as if I’m flying through the sky. 

“How does it feel, Princess?” Benji rasps as I clench around him. 

“I’m so full of you, Benji.” I gasp holding him closer. He starts to pump into me at a quicker pace and my eyes roll back. His fingers find my throbbing bud causing his name to fall from my lips like a prayer. I pulse around him losing myself to my pleasure and I feel him begin to fill me. He slides out of me and pulls me against his chest kissing my face and smoothing my hair. I feel safe and loved in his arms.

“I’m gunna kill your husband tomorrow.” he promises as he rests his forehead on mine. 

“Thank you, Benji.” I capture his lips as we get lost in each other once more. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌 

Part Two

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang @malfoycassimalfoy @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n

[infernoprogeny]

𝕾𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖆 𝕸𝖚𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖊: 𝔖𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔊𝔬𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔡 

When it comes to death, there are many variations of gods that come to our mind from different cultures, since this process is an inevitable and crucial part of all our lives notwithstanding our ethnicity, race, social status, religious beliefs, etc.  

Most of us heard about one such deity: Santa Muerte, who is commonly known as a folk saint and is closely associated with Mexican el Día de Muertos or Day of the Dead. Usually she is depicted as a skeleton with traditional feminine features, long hair, flower wreath and in a bright dress. 

Despite her status among Spanish Catholics, the catholic church doesn’t accept her as an official saint since some other figures play this role in catholicism, as well as Santa Muerte’s eerie connections with witchcraft and narco cartels don’t quite fit Christian morals. 

But what do we know about the origin of the Mother of Death? 

Origin

Although Santa Muerte is an unofficial catholic saint, her roots are more complex than they seem and aren’t limited by her status among Spanish Catholics. 

There are a few main theories of where Santa Muerte comes from:

Aztec death deity Mictecacihuatl

Figure of Grim Reaper during Black Death

African death goddesses

And more others.

But there is no general agreement on which one is true. It can be confusing, but at the same time, it allows us to analyze and define the truth for ourselves.

Still there is one most popular theory which is related to Aztec beliefs.

Aztec death goddess

As we know, Santa Muerte has the most popularity in Mexico. From the history overview, the Valley of Mexico was earlier the Aztec home before the conquest of this land by the Spanish in the early 16th century.

Before Mexican el Día de Muertos, the Aztecs had their own celebration connected to several death gods: Mictecacihuatl and Mictlantecuhtli. Few principal gods were represented as female (Mictecacihuatl) and male (Mictlantecuhtli) embodiments of death and rulers of Mictlan (underworld).

!For the remark: they are not the only ones, there was goddess Tonantzin as well, but she is related to the other catholic figure. 

One of the theories is that Mictecacihuatl and Santa Muerte are the same deity because the Spanish had to accept some Aztec customs due to their cooperation. Also, Mictecacihuatl was a dominant death deity in the Aztec pantheon, so it was important to save her figure even under a different name.

Many faces of Mother of Death

Apart from Santa Muerte’s grim image and direct relation to death, she is patient with the newbies and her devotees and has a pleasant presence and nurturing nature. 

Like all deities, Lady of Death is versatile and can be both gentle and destructive. Don’t be surprised to learn that she has a strong connection with drug traffickers and many of them honour this goddess so she gives them protection and prosperity. 

Another feature is that Mother of Death accepts all people since death doesn’t care about your social status, sexual orientation, colour of skin, gender, and any other things. She is a protector of those who are rejected by society and helps them to stay safe and find their way in life. 

But you need to keep in mind that she should be respected as any other deity and she won’t forgive your ignorance or rudeness towards her. 

How to start working with Santa Muerte

As many of us know, it is important to understand which aspects have certain deities when we start working with them. It helps us to figure out for what purposes we can contact them. 

Santa Muerte is an universal goddess who has keys to the many doors on our paths. It is no wonder, because death is ever-present and has power over all. 

When you decide that you would like to ask Santa Muerte for something, you should define your request and reach out to one of her seven colours or aspects. 

!However, if you aren’t sure which colour is right, it is fine to reach out to Santa Muerte without referring to a certain aspect of her. 

The Seven Colors of Santa Muerte 

I will give a short guide of her seven colours, so it will be easier to define which aspect is most suitable for your problem or situation. 

Niña Blanca, White Santa Muerte

Protection, cleansing, renewal, starting new projects, healing, opening new paths, punishing enemies.

Niña Violeta, Purple Santa Muerte

Magic, secret knowledge, wisdom, spiritual growth, clairvoyance, divination.

Niña Azul, Blue Santa Muerte

Partnerships, social life, human interactions (she can both harmonize and destroy relationships).

Niña Dorada, Golden Santa Muerte

Money, wealth, prosperity, fate, luck (as well as lack of money, poverty and bad luck for enemies).

Niña Roja, Red or Pink Santa Muerte

Romantic relationships, love, lust, attracting a partner (it is possible to punish unfaithful partners with Red Santa Muerte’s help).

Niña Verde, Green Santa Muerte

Winning legal cases, justice, defining truth, protection from criminals, imprisoning someone, making someone commit illegal acts, endanger someone to be robbed or assaulted. 

Niña Negra, Black Santa Muerte

Neutralizing curses, malevolent spirits, ending bad luck or all kinds of problems, protection, spiritual transformations, harming enemies.

Associations

Planetary aspects: 

Moon and Saturn (but it can vary depending on the aspect)

Plants:

Rose, rosemary, syrian rye, tobacco, marigolds, aloe

Animals: 

Owl, raven, butterfly, snake, worm

Incense: 

Rose, vanilla, sage, copal, myrrh, rosemary, aloe, palo santo

Symbols:

Scythe, skull, flower wreath, golden jewelry, scale, cloak

Tarot:

Death, Queen of Swords, Judgement, the Empress, the High Priestess, the Hierophant (but it depends on your perception as well)

Offerings

Tequila, red wine, chocolate (or any other sweets), red apples, pomegranates, fruits (especially exotic ones such as pineapples, mangoes, dragon fruits), coffee and cacao, salt, bread, flowers (mostly red or white roses), red meat, chicken hearts, candles (the colour depends on the aspect or you can choose the black one as universal), incenses. 

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Let me know if you would like new posts about Santa Muerte. Mother and I will be happy to tell you a lot more.