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fireylesbianhell · 2 years ago

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This World Won't Ever Forget Us

Javid Bonnie & Clyde Au? tumblr made me do it. woo!

Based on the fic "Bite The Bullet" by and Orphan Account and a post made by @/spacestamps!

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For Jack Kelly, it simply started as a way out.

He didn’t mean for anything more significant; he figured all he had to do was get a job or two done and hightail it way out west; away from ugly old Oklahoma to somewhere, oh good god, somewhere better than here.

He had his eyes set on a little place called Santa Fe. Seemed endearing, and god knows New Mexico was far enough away from here.

Jack Kelly wasn’t a wise man - hell, he was a little orphaned 21-year-old with no money, barely a plan, the clothes on his back, and a hijacked car.

Ah, speaking of that hijacked car, the sirens behind him got more worrying as they got louder.

Revving slightly and pushing the pedal almost as far as he could go, breaking several traffic laws without even trying he blasted off down the dusty old roads, tattered shirt rippling in the pushing force of wind trying to slow him down. He saw a parting in the roads and smiled traffic coming up, and the good thing about the car manufacturers out here today was almost all these damn cars looked about the same.

He turned into the trafficked area and did his best to blend as he weaved through the exits and cut off a few now very angry civilians. He found a tail in a near-identical car that suddenly left him and the police were none the wiser as they sped off when he slowed;

Time to figure out where the fuck he was.

Jack cruised a bit, the adrenaline not gone but not as rampant as before. He passed apartments, bars, dusty old hair salons, and-

A quaint-looking diner called ‘The World’, with a bright peeling paint emphasizing the dreadful rundown look of the place.

Perfect.

He pulled in with a casual tumble, grabbing his ragged worn-out trench coat from behind him, and a simple little newsboy cap he found pawned from manhattan. Something about history or whatever, he turned out pretty quickly when he heard the cheap ass price.

Strolling in, the first thing that caught his eye- or, well, his ear first, then his eye- was the berating of some poor waitstaff.

“David! Getcha’ sorry ass over here!” sneered some sorry ugly-faced man in an even uglier bowler hat and- No, jack was sure he wasn’t seeing doubles- the wonder twins of ugly old' lane were harassing’ some unfortunate soul named ‘David’

Speak of the devil, some poor guy about his age skimped out with a poor look on his face, about the likes of a kicked kitten trudged his way out, a similar looking cap and a neat little blue shirt and vest combo- he wasn’t poor, by the looks of it, and held a clean air to him.

Jack found himself a seat, trying to law low of course in case Lucy Law strolled their way in after snuffing the dead end, but keeping a keen eye upon the waitstaff, who looked about in for a hard time with the look the disgustin’ doubles were sharin between themselves.

“Hey David, didn't we tell ya to keep these counters clean?” the one on the left scowled

“Yes, Morris.”

“And,” butted in the other one with a snarl, “What do we have here?”

Morris and wonder twin two pointed to a small splotch of a coffee stain, which looked pretty fresh. David sighed, grabbing a rag nearby and starting to soak it before-

“Hey! We’s ain't finished, kid.” Butted in Morris again. Smiling a sinister smile, he nabbed the rag from David’s grasp as the other twin corned him from the back.

David, God bless his soul, looked like he was trying to decide whether to soak the two in and out, or take a nap on the floor for a good century. His remarkably blue eyes looked dampened, and his hands were fidgeting and fleeting with emotions trying to grasp for control in the shit of a situation he was in.

Jack decided to choose a new spot at the bar, taking a seat two empty from a properly dazed lookin old fellow who was drooling into his eggs and potatoes.

“Excuse me, fellas-” he cut in as the twins were about to go on a spiel. The two looked at him with disgust while David looked with the relief of a man who just found a spring in the desert.

That paused him, letting out a fumbled smile before continuing

“I, ahem, just would like a coffee please.” nothing he intended on paying, mind you. He needed his money to go elsewhere, then a flirtin’ with the poor, pretty boy also stuck planted into Oklahoma to get away dime free wouldn't hurt nothing.

The other twin - Oscar, he gathered from the peachy little pin fallin' off his apron - sneered again, looking sad he didn't get to berate his poor employee anymore

‘Yeah, whateva. David! Get on it, and I better see that man served, this counter cleaned and this floor spotless when I get back or Snyder’s gonna be getting a really bad report.” he called behind him and trailed off after his brother.

Sighing once more, David looked up and met Jack’s eyes. he gave a pitiful smile to jack.

“Thank you, sir. Now what would you like?” he said formally, that twinge of tired defiance laced his voice as it turned into an artificial customer-service mode.

“No problem, at all. Were the wonder twins givin ya problems?” he leaned over the counter slightly. Hints of genuine concern laced Jack’s voice, which not only surprised David but himself as well. He was a romantic, yeah, but he never thought he was This bad.

The waiter paused, a bit taken aback before sighing yet again- he was on a roll now, - and letting down his coffee pitcher slightly. Grabbing a cup and pouring out the coffee he continued,

“Yeah, it’s my first day on the job here. And Oscar and Morris are…very strict. I’m already miserable but, money’s money, at least I get to see more than two places in this dead state. It’s up to three now.” he joked dryly, meeting Jack’s eyes as he placed the coffee down in his hands.

He grabbed a towel, turning but keeping a side towards jack as he started to clean. Jack took a slow draw of a slip. Wow, what a guy. Surprisingly similar too. He placed the cup down, giving a chuckle and flashing his winning smile out to him.

“Yeah, well, I feel ya. I’m gettin’ outta this hellhole though, mark my words.”

David smiled back shyly, turning more. “Oh, I will. Say, I’ve never seen you round here much. New in town?”

Jack chuckled again, “no, oh do I wish. But I got a car and a plan, how hard can it be?”

David’s head slowly turned up, like gears were calculating in his head. His mouth set to open like he was about to say something before-

“Dave! What did I say bout’ these counters!” Morris snarled out, stomping over to the two. He gave jack a downright nasty look before David grumbled and suddenly cut through the noise of the twins speaking over eachother

“I’m taking a smoke break. When I get back in I’ll do it.” David said with a surprising edge of sass in his voice, despite how ready he seemed to pass out.

He tossed the towel over his shoulder and grabbed a small pack of cigars from his pocket, leaving through the front of the diner, and back out toward the opposite parking lot.

Jack fumbled, seeing Morris steam in his spot until he shot a look at his brother. Oscar nodded and followed him out.

That can’t be good.

Jack waited for a moment, hearing the yelling rise. Yeah, definetly can't be good-

He shot from his seat toward the exit as the old man beside him seemed to wake up a bit, (the bastard was even eyeing his coffee up)

he sharply turned the corner and what jack Jack found was a bloody-nosed David with a look in his eyes that could have knocked Jack out.

It was so cooly fierce, determined but not in a stupid way. This kid may not have the brawns but, those eyes were dangerous, and Jack loved it.

But when David spotted Jack, he looks fleeted away for one of relief, followed by fear as he ducked away from another fly-by of Oscar’s fist.

Jack ran up and clocked the guy behind the neck, gettin' him real good before flying in front of Dave and landing a kick in Oscar’s left thigh again.

He reeled back and swing wildly, catching Jack’s cheekbone and giving it a bruiser. Jack cried out a yell and turned to see Dave on the other side that Oscar wasn’t looking from and got him in his bottom back, completely knocking the wind out of the guy from his side, probably achin his ribs for good measure too.

Oscar doubled over in a wheeze and Jack took this as an opportunity to grab Dave’s hand and bolt away.

They got a good way to Jack’s car before he paused and said

“Wait, wait- where are we going?!” he blurted, looking David in his furiously blue eyes.

“Don’t know, don’t care, get me out of here. Far out of here. I don't care, you have your car and your plan- well I want in on that too. Please.” he grabbed and pulled forward both of Jack’s hands, eyes pleading yet forceful.

“Wh-woah there, hold on- I can't just let ya- do you- how- don’t you have a home? A family?” he blurted again, quickly as he heard more yells from inside the diner, likely the boys of satan troubling up again.

“I…they won’t care, it’ll be easier on them with one less person to care for. They don’t need my money if they don’t need to spend it on me.” he reasoned. his conflict was evident yet his drive to get the hell out of dodge was clearly winning out.

Jack paused again- he felt for him, he really did, and good god did he want to run away with this boy. But, he had to be reasonable. he wasn’t exactly just planning on taking a drive mind you.

Dave must've seen this look before cautiously saying “if it makes you feel better, ill leave some money and a note saying Im safe’n all.”

Jack nodded before slowly starting “I don’t exactly have a very safe plan, though-“

Hearing a door open and a subsequent yell, Jack was cut off and panicked. David took this to jump in the car and shove jack in beside him. he got the memo pretty quick and backed out if there like a madman on wheels.

Hightaling it once more, this time he just happened to have a cute boy in his car.

that had no idea he was a criminal.

Shit.

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whumpshaped · 2 years ago

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Awesome because Devil Hot and the SPK au are probably some of my favorites you write, though I love all the stuff you've got so far :)

I was thinking about the first one though, imaging the devil getting a bit bored maybe by the constant fear in his pet, and deciding to do something /painfully/ sweet to/for his pet, crushing them emotionally or pulling it away just to get a rise out of them. Or maybe playing a game with them they couldn't possibly win to get free then punishing them for trying to leave, feigning disappointment in their pet for not being loyal or something to that effect? Too vague?

🐐

yes this is from june. dont look at me

tw lies, past trauma and torture, warped reality, manipulation, nonhuman whumper, religious themes

"If you can cross the room and push those doors open, I'll make it so that they'll lead you right back to the surface."

The human stared up at them warily, suspecting trickery. The Devil merely smiled back at him. They were being honest, as always. They couldn't lie like mortals. That was maybe the only thing the Devil couldn't do.

"It's not an order. Just an option." They leaned back in their throne, thick tail swooshing with mild excitement as it was draped over the decorative armrest. They watched the human's face intently, waiting for the breaking point at which he would agree and try his luck.

"I c-couldn't possibly push those doors open, Your Majesty."

The Devil smirked. "You don't have any faith in yourself, do you? I suppose that's natural." They snapped their fingers, and the palace doors flew open. As promised, the human could see the surface world on the other side. It was a familiar street as well, he could see his favourite bakery, and the salon with the horribly rude hair stylist. He would've given anything to be yelled at by that woman just one more time in his miserable life. "So?"

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I- Can I go, then?" He pushed himself halfway to his feet before thinking better of it. This was a merciful game, but maybe not that merciful. "Right now?"

"Yes, yes, go on. My patience isn't infinite."

After one last suspicious glance at the Devil, the human finally turned around and started crawling towards the palace doors. He was careful to stay on the pitch black carpets in the center of the room; he didn't want to get any new burns on his journey back to freedom.

He'd never noticed before just how far the throne room stretched. It felt like that vision of the surface wasn't getting any closer. He decided to look down and focus on each step as it came, trying to ignore the way the coarse carpet scraped against his knees and palms, or the exhaustion settling into his abused, cramping muscles. He forced himself not to look up for a good while, trying to tell himself that once he finally did, it'd be so much closer. Maybe he'd even reach it before looking up.

But when he did look up, the doors seemed to be just as far away as before. He let out a frustrated, helpless groan, and turned around to see how far he'd come, finding that the throne room seemed to stretch just as far in the other direction as it did towards the front gate.

The human's eyes widened in terror.

"You wanted to go back to the surface, didn't you?" The Devil's voice echoed. "Why look back? There's nothing here for a traitor."

He whimpered and started crawling again, faster. He needed to get to the door. The Devil was pissed that he'd taken the offer, of course they were, he should've known not to take any such risks. There was no turning back. They either got to that damn door, or they were doing to die trying.

Their desperation skyrocketed when the doors started to close, and the vision began to flicker in and out of existence. One moment he could see the bakery and the salon, and then he'd see the world disappear for a moment, catching a glimpse of Hell. Then the fickle illusion would come back, but wrong. The bakery that had had an open sign before was now closed, with the windows blacked out. The salon's door was wide open, with no one inside. The sun had started to set.

"No, no, no, please..." He picked up the pace even more, eventually just getting to his feet and taking off running. The door stayed just as far away as it had always been, steadily closing right in front of the human's eyes.

The world glitched again, and the bakery's windows were now all smashed in, with bright red graffiti - it was paint, right? - spelling out the word 'TRAITOR' across the remaining surface area. The salon had rats scurrying in and out, their small bodies clearly visible under the blinking street lights. It was already night.

This was all still so much better than his life in Hell. He would've taken the rat infested salon any day of the week, god, he would've taken anything other than this constant torment.

His lungs were burning and his legs were threatening to give out as he made a last-ditch effort to reach the end of this sick game. The doors closed with a heavy thud before he could even come near them, and he collapsed on the carpet, wheezing. He couldn't stop the tears, nor the crushing terror that had descended on him.

He was stuck.

He was stuck, and the Devil was angry.

taglist: @whumpsday @lonesome--hunter @hidden-dreamland @the-scrapegoat

#whump #whump drabble #devil hot #lies #manipulation #religious themes #nonhuman whumper #warped reality #past trauma #past torture

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friedchickenluver · 1 year ago

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·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳〔 to wear a crown 〕 | zuko x black! fem! oc | AN: just wanted to make a self-indulgent ficlet for my oc . (😚)| lemme know if yall want more kyana!

summary: kyana drags zuko to the best braider shop in her village, all just to met a woman by the name of yenim; the sole braider who seems to know all about hair and how to be yourself.

warning(s): swearing, aave use, fluff? , not proofread

wc: 1.3k+

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watching the woman go to braid a client’s hair was fascinating in the least, she’s been at it for at least well over an hour and yenim never seemed to crack a complaint or try to hurry with her work. there were many individual square parts in her scalp to separate each and every long braided up piece of both her hair and some from a bundle of extensions. zuko could only observe quietly from one of the chairs that sat up against the wall as the two women chatted and laughed like they knew one another for years now.

the way her fingers articulated around each other to weave in another at least back-length braid struck him with curiosity. and so he continued to gaze as the other women worked her magic on hair.

zuko dragged his gaze around the interior of the hair salon, it smelled amazing for one, for two there were loads of faux hair hanging from small slots that were engraved into the surrounding area. a shelf that housed a plethora of hair products, sprays, shampoos, hair masks, anything you could really think of.

“Baby you alright? You ain’t hungry or anything?”

snapped out of his admiration for the sight around him, he turned towards the lady smiling sheepishly, “No ma’am, I already happened to eat out of the bar Kyana just so happened to drag me from.” a hand went to rub at the back of his neck, eliciting a breathy chuckle at his present shyness.

“Okay good, I’m just sayin’ it’s always good to ask for something you need. I’ll try to provide it to you to the best of my ability.” she smiled, looking back over to the lady's hair. “Anyways, why did Kyana bring you over to my shop? You must want me to do your hair too?” yenim joked.

“Ah, no, no, she just led me over here for some unknown reason. I wouldn’t know why.” he confessed before shrugging slightly. speak of the devil, kyana once again appeared from out the hallway leading to the main part of the shop. she sighed, going to lift and take off her mask.

“Hey ‘nim, you getting to know stranger over here?”

yenim giggled, “You’re always bringing these people in my shop with no interest in getting their hair done.” her eyes rolled playfully. kyana couldn’t help but to let a smile tug at the corners of her mouth, leaning on the doorframe to get a good look at him. zuko felt a bit embarrassed under her unwavering gaze, and also because of how unbelievably gorgeous she was under that white dragon mask.

“Well you know, I just so happened to pick him up while going to go beat Codi and Misako’s ass.” her face neutralized once more, never looking away from zuko’s direction. “What’s your name anyway?”

he hesitated for a moment, desperately thinking of an unrecognizable name. he still was in a village just on the outskirts of the fire nation, so he needed to keep a low profile.

“Li…”

a plus creativity zuko.

“Li…?” she repeated, seemingly unconvinced. her arms crossed, a thoughtful expression now renewed on her face. “nice to meet you then. I ain’t mean to scare you like that at Faye’s bar.” kyana remarked smugly, beginning to move back into the hallway.

“‘nim, you don’t mind keeping an eye on the boy while i go get some shea butter real quick?”

yenim, now on her final braid for the woman in her chair, extremely focused on the hair at hand, “I’ll watch him, you go ahead ky.”

with the flick of her own snow-colored locs, she left with a smirk playing on her face. her tongue swept over the plushness of her lips, hips swaying softly before disappearing out of zuko’s sight altogether.

he sighed, mellow and oddly content at where life happened to take him. it was quaint and calm in the earthy energy of the fairly large hair shop. the sounds of the windchimes outside gently clinking harmoniously, he hadn’t even realized yenim was already done with the client’s hair. he looked closely at how yenim took a pot of boiling water to dip her curled ends in, letting them sit for a few moments and taking the damp hair out of the pot. a wooden bowl that sat adjacent from the two women, she scooped her hand in to place a handful of foam on top of her scalp; massaging it throughout the expanse of the fresh hairstyle.

she practically squealed in awe at her new hair style, thanking her and handing over her proper payment for her hair. she took her leave excitedly, giving her a hug then going out the door of the shop, leaving yenim and zuko alone.

“so, have you ever been in a braider’s shop before?”

“no, my hair is always done at…uh…home so it’s not something that happens often.” he started.

“but for some reason your shop feels so much more homey than my own place. and it smells amazing here.” zuko couldn’t help but to smile at his last comment, and she returned the warmth back to him.

“yeah it does smell pretty good in here doesn’t it, I always think to pick the best assortment of products and incense to burn in here.”

he stood up and walked over to grab a nearby broom to help her clean up the floors, thinking it was only polite of him to do something while she’d worked so hard on someone’s hair for so long. “so how long have you been doing people’s hair for?”

she slumped back down into one of the seats against the wall before answering his question. “damn, maybe for around thirty years now.”

his eyebrows raised in genuine surprise at her response, sweeping up remains of tousled hair. she took note of his bewilderment, allowing a toothy smile to arise over her face once more. “Yep, although I haven’t had the shop open for that long, I just love everything to do with hair since I was young.”

“You put me to shame, I just now learned how to properly do my daughter’s hair without help from the caretakers.” the both of them broke out in a heartfelt laughter.

“Look, I was once in your position. It takes practice, and I’ll give you brownie points for wanting to learn how to do it yourself.” yenim crossed her legs, reaching for the nearby glass of water.

“Of course.” she handed him a newspaper to hold the stray pieces of hair now coupled together in a pile to properly dispose of it.

“So, how’d you and Kyana meet?”

he threw everything he cleaned up away, looking over at her to meet her knowing gaze. “Oh well, me and her accidentally bumped into each other while she was in a …predicament. I happened to be there and almost got a face full of fire.” He cringed at that last part, more to himself than letting her see his change of expression.

she hummed, taking another sip at her drink. “That girl is always hanging around those fools. I try to tell her they won’t lead her into anything but trouble.”

“Who is Misako and Codi anyway?” zuko moved over to sit next to her.

“Some thieves, I never pay any mind to it.” rolling her eyes, footsteps trailed their way back into the room both adults sat in. kyana once again appeared with two large bags in each hand, “I see you’re back already.”

“I only went down the road.” she heaved the bag onto the table nearby, smiling comfortably. “Li been on his best behavior?”

yenim looked over at him amusingly, and stared back over to her. “i say he was.” both women giggled as they watched a faint blush dust over zuko’s face.

“good” kyana smiled more genuinely at him, it meant a lot of more things than he could ever imagine as he smiled back. relaxing into the leather seats, the both of them stared at each other for a moment longer, kyana eventually broke the gaze going back to put up the new supply of shea butter.

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#atla zuko #fire lord zuko #adult zuko #fanfic #zuko x oc #black female oc #avatar the last airbender #ficlet #[𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫‗ ❍]#black writers #not proofread #✧*̥˚ [works] *̥˚✧

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abbatoirablaze · 2 years ago

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How To Get Away With Murder, Chapter 2

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: taboo thoughts

After I told her that Annalise and Sam were going to let Frank live with us she got nervous. Two days into my visit with Eve, mom called me saying that they were going to decide what to do with Frank now that there was a very real probability that he was going to get out. They needed the day to deliberate.

The next morning, she called me and told me that the parole board agreed to the terms and conditions as well as Frank being employed by her. They requested that they have a 72 hour hold on him while they did an inspection of the house and got all the paperwork together.

Eve was really nervous those last three days. We went to the zoo, and she took me shopping for a new look, since I was 'maturing.' But really, I could feel a new tension between us with every bag we acquired.

"I want to talk with you about something,” she said slowly as I looked at the racks of handbags, “is that okay?”

“Of course, mom…what is it?”

“This boy that your mom and dad are taking in…do you think this boy is attractive?" She asked, gently, not making eye contact with me while we were looking at handbags and shoes.

I looked at her with wide eyes, “What are you talking about, mom?”

"You do think he's attractive, don't you?"

"No!"I said guiltily. I felt my body temperature spike as my cheeks heated up.

"Cheyanne Evelyn Harkness," she said in her best mom voice, “tell me the truth right now, or I’ll tell your mother, and you know she’ll dig into it like a dog with a bone.”

"I mean," I said avoiding her stare, "he isn't bad looking. But he's 20 years old mom. He’s older than me and that violates so many statutes."

"Tell me about him."

"I don't know what to tell you," I shrugged, making my way to a pair of heels, "he's got shaggy brown hair and he's got crystal clear blue eyes. He's tall?"

"Is that why you were looking up a specific inmate number this whole week on the computer?" she playfully laughed.

My eyes widened. I had forgotten to clear up the history on my laptop and she’d ‘borrowed’ it the other day, “mom…that’s an invasion of privacy! I can’t believe that you were snooping through my laptop.”

"It’s not an invasion of privacy if you’re my fifteen year old daughter,” she laughed, “oh hey…look at that, you are!”

“Mom!” I groaned.

“No, hey, it's fine, I mean he's cute," she said following me, "I looked into a few other files, and the boy has a great body too. Tall and muscular. Doesn’t look like he reads much…but to each their own."

"Mom!" I said in a loud embarrassed tone. She laughed.

"Don't worry, I won't tell your parents," she laughed. Then her eyes bared down on my soul and her face was serious, "But in a serious note, as one of your parents, you are too young for him young lady. "

"Oh my god, mom. Can we not talk about this?"

“Okay fine," she laughed, "I'm going to play the devil's advocate and do what you asked me about last month. We are going to do a makeover. But this isn’t to impress that boy. It’s because you mentioned you wanted that for your birthday!” After we got out of the salon, and I'd gotten my make up and new wardrobe, we headed back to the apartment, "Our plane leaves in two hours."

"Our plane?"

"Yeah, I'm coming back with you. I talked to Annalise about it last night. She asked me to help out with a case."

The following morning, Sam picked me and Eve up at the airport. Mom was at the holding center signing the final paperwork to get Frank released. He drove us home and we settled in. "So Sam, did Cheyanne tell you about her makeover?"

"Makeover?" he laughed, sounding amused as he looked in the backseat to me when we hit a red light, “and here I was thinking she just blossomed away from Annalise and I!”

I smiled and nodded politely. But internally I cringed. There was part of me that felt awkward under his gaze. Like there was something more going on in his head. Eve handed me the bag that had my make up and the suitcase that had my new wardrobe, “mhmm.”

“Go ahead, tell him!” she encouraged.

I sighed, "Mom thinks that if I'm following in her and mom’s footsteps, I need to look the part. She bought me dresses, skirts, blouses, and heels. And make up."

“It’s all very professional looking, Sam. I promise!”

"You don't think that's a little grown up?" He asked Eve, eyeing her momentarily, “I mean…we live on a college campus.”

"Come on Sam, she's 15."

"I'm heading into my junior year. Mom and mommy promised I could start dressing more mature when I got to my junior year. I'm going to be taking SATS and doing early applications, dad. And mom always says dress for the position in life you want. Well, I want to be like her and mom."

"You're in your junior year of high school because you skipped the sixth grade. Kiddo, I'm sure your moms weren't thinking when they agreed to that."

"Can I at least show you dad? I'm really proud of it?"

There was another moment where he sighed as we pulled into the driveway. Our eyes met, and I regretted calling him dad, but I knew that it had gotten to him.

"Fine," he sighed, "But no dating."

"Deal!" I grinned, getting out of the car and running towards the house with my suitcases and bags before he could argue it. I hurried up to my room with my suitcases and started deciding on what I wanted to wear.

Frank's POV

"I can't thank you and Mr. Keating enough," I said swiftly. Annalise gave a warm smile as she continued to drive to the house, I'd soon be calling home, “this-this is more than I thought I could possibly expect coming out of the center.”

“It will be a different environment, Frank…but we’ll help you get adjusted to it the best that we can. So your workload will be lighter until you settle in.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Keating!”

"Your welcome, Frank,” she smiled politely, “and so you know, me and Sam will go over the ground rules later tonight after our daughter is settled in."

"Daughter?"

"Yes. Her name is Cheyanne. She's starting her junior year this fall semester. She just got back with her other mother from New York today. Sam told me they got home about an hour ago."

"Other mother?"

"Yes," she replied shortly, "Eve is her other mother. Back when she and I were a couple, we decided that we wanted to have a child."

"Oh," I responded, “that sounds…tricky.”

Fuck. They had a daughter. A junior in college at that.

"It was, “she said shortly, “Anyways, back to the rules. No women. No drinking, and twice a week you are going to have therapy sessions with Sam. I've printed out copies of mine and Sam's work schedules. You are my assistant first, so schedule your appointments with him after our work is finished. Understood?"

I nodded and we pulled into what looked like a mansion right at the edge of campus, "This your place?"

"Not so vanilla now, is it?" Annalise laughed as we got out of the car. We walked into the entryway and into the house. To the left was a living room and an office with sliding doors. Dead ahead was a staircase. Past it was the dining room and to the right was the kitchen. Mr. Keating and a gorgeous woman were sitting at the island.

"Eve," Sam said, standing up and gesturing from her to me, "This is the young man from the center, Frank."

I gave a smile and shook her hand, and then Sam's as he welcomed me to the house.

"Annalise, did you know that Eve took our daughter out and gave her a brand-new wardrobe, and makeover?"

"Yes," Annalise laughed, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a container of juice, "Didn't I show you the pictures?"

"Mom?" a voice asked.

"Kitchen, honey."

I heard the clicking of heels before I saw an angel enter the kitchen. She couldn't have been more than 5'6" even with the heels on, but she definitely had the confidence of her mothers. Her green eyes bore into me, and her smile made me feel like a statue. I could feel my heart go into overtime.

"Frank," she smiled, pulling me into a hug. I didn't know how to react, so I just stood still as this petite woman hugged me. The scent of honey and jasmine wrapped around me, and I felt my throat going dry. It was over all too soon as she pulled away and went to hug her mom, "It's so good to be home. I missed you and dad so much."

Annalise kissed her daughter on the cheek and returned the hug, then offered her some juice. Sam stared at his daughter in shock.

"Well you look very...."

"Nice," Eve said, finishing Sam's thought process, “Right Sam?”

"Thank you." she smiled.

Annalise pulled out the bar stool next to her daughter and offered it to me. I took it, and the glass of juice she poured for me as well.

After a few minutes of silence, Sam turned to me, "Can I talk to Annalise and Eve for a second."

Cheyanne stood up, "Do you want me to give Frank a tour of the house while you guys talk?"

Sam nodded, "Yes, thank you sweetie!"

Cheyanne smiled and got up. I followed her. As she walked my eyes went from her clicking heels, up her slender legs, and followed the curves of her body that the dress perfectly outlined. The cream colored dress contrasted against her light, brown skin perfectly. I followed that up to her perky breasts and a strong jaw.

I was off in my own world, staring at her, watching her hips sway that I didn't notice when she stopped, and turned around, "And that's the house."

"Huh?"

"Were you paying attention at all?" She asked, raising a brow?

That's when I really looked at her face. Bright hazel, almost green eyes and full lips questioned me, as a curl fell away from her pulled back hair. I reached forward and brushed it out of her face.

"I uhm...I said this is your room." she said. I nodded and my hand rested on her cheek. I could see that her breathing got deeper and I felt my pride swelling as I leaned in. Her eyes fluttered closed, and I gently pressed our lips together. Our lips worked in tandem momentarily before she pulled away, and she removed the hand that had been resting on her cheek. Her hands felt so tiny as they gave my own back to me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, “I-“

"You seem like a sweet guy," she said, reaching over to stroke my cheek while she cut me off. I couldn't help but lean into it. She reached forward and lightly pressed her lips to my other cheek, "But I'm too young for you."

I cocked my head to the side, "What You’re a junior…aren’t you?"

"In high school,” she nodded sadly, “I-I'm fifteen, Frank."

I took a few steps back and sat down on the plain bed and put a hand over my mouth. She looked at me with sadness and walked across the hall, closing her own bedroom door.

Oh shit.

Chapter 3

#how to get away with murder #frank delfino #annalise keating #sam keating #eve rothlo

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scribblesxz · 1 year ago

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Haircut

I stare down at the floor watching my hair float to the ground. I told the hair dresser I wanted her to cut my hair shoulder length. But seeing that size of the pile accumulating below my feet leads me to believe she’s decided to do otherwise. I peer through the strands of my hair in front of my face to see my mother in a deep conversation with the receptionist about something so important that she thinks its okay to not pay attention to the massacre going on to my sweet, beautiful hair.

And you see, I’m 11 and I would rather let this woman completely shave my entire head than have to say even one word to her, let alone tell her I don’t like my hair cut. So I sit there, hoping and praying I can pull off a buzz cut like my younger brother. Somehow he always looks cool.

This haircut is particularly important because I’m going to sleep away camp for the first time ever next week. And if I go to camp with a bad haircut then all I’m going to think about is how everyone else at the camp thinks my haircut is bad, and then I’m going to convince myself that I’m this huge, terrible, embarrassing loser that everyone secretly hates. I’m already scared enough to go to camp, the last thing I’m going to need is a hair disaster to worry about.

The hairdresser swiftly spins my chair around snapping me back to reality and positions me infront of the mirror. As my eyes begin to adjust I realize what’s happened. My biggest fear has come true.

She gave me a bob.

My hair was cut to just under my ear lobes. And if you were wondering my ear lobes are very tiny, I’m 11.

She even blew my hair out to make the ends curl in so it looks like I have a ginormous bowl on my head. This cannot be real. This is the worst thing that has ever happened to anyone in all of history. Maybe not all of history. Like when Moses’ mom ditched him in a river, that probably made him feel worse than a bad haircut would. But whatever, this was still up there.

The hairdresser runs her fingers through the little hair that I have left, smiling down at me while smacking an unnecessarily large wad of gum, “do you like it?” she asked, the smile not leaving her face.

I stared back at her with a blank expression without saying a word. If I speak, or even move, I’ll cry.

“I think it looks super cute, perfect for the summer,” she widened her eyes, encouraging me to react, I still sit there, stone faced.

“Mom,” she shouts across the salon, “come here! Come take a look.”

My mom and that stupid receptionist snap out of their conversation and look over towards me.

My mom shouts while walking over to my chair, “Lindsay!! I didn’t know you wanted to go that short, it’s adorable.”

I stare at her, trying to communicate with my eyes that I absolutely hate this haircut.

Now both of them are running their fingers through my hair repeatedly. I hate this. I don’t want this devil of a woman touching my hair after she ruined it .

“Do you like it?” My mom asks.

How dare she. I, of course, cannot tell this hair dresser how I truly feel about how this miserable haircut is going to ruin my life as we know it. After a few awkward minutes of me attempting to signal my mom with the most neutral face on the planet so the hairdresser couldn’t tell, I slowly nods.

“Yay!” My mom exclaims, “perfect for summer!”

She’s got to be joking.

#short story #story #writing #writer

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mbb-project-entity · 2 years ago

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Chapter 16

Rileys mother was concerned. Her daughter was reserved, and her husband was different. She saw that pink haired devil who had been hanging around, and accosted her. “It’s Levi,” she said coldly, her brown eyes anger turning into contempt. “I see,” Kyubi jotted a doodle down on a pad of paper, “what about him?”

“I think we’re…growing apart,” “How so?”

“How so?” she parroted, mockingly, “how does any woman grow apart from her partner? He has an affair!” she said, so sure of herself. "I’m fairly certain with his PA.He's changed over the last few days, and Riley's been glum”

“I see. How do you feel about this?”

The blue eyes narrowed. “I feel like shit. I loved him. We were happy. I dont -"

“Listen to me.” Kyubi interupted.

Her ears perked and the eyes met his in silent obedience.

“Your husband is a brilliant lawyer and he has figured out a way to keep all his money from you if you get divorced. You will get nothing. You will be destitute. A laughingstock. Broke. You won't even have enough to keep you going as a stewie, understand?”

The eyes were scared now. The new knowledge was unexpected and frightened her. She nodded, her short bob of brunette hair shaking. The shrew was being tamed.

“You are right that your husband has been with Kitty Kat - or KathChloee Kate as you know her, at his office—but you were wrong to think you could do anything about this. Your husband makes the rules, not you Pepper. Besides, look at what you are competing with.” She filled her mind with endless scenes of prono movies featuring her husband Levi and KathChloee, with a young, movie-perfect body that put her own trim frame to shame.

“You can’t compete with that, can you? Not unless I can show you a way. And unless you do SOMETHING, your husband will divorce YOU.”

Panic gripped her rigid, pale face.

“You must try all you can to keep him interested in you. You could be in better shape—sign up for membership at a health club at once. Get back to your high school senior weight and clothes size as soon as possible. Go to a tanning salon on a regular basis. “Pepper, you're nothing but a dumb, submissive housewife, you depend on your husband for everything, understand?” “Yes…dumb…submissive…my hubby is in charge…” she moaned, the new thoughts replacing old ones.

“You will always be here acting like a homemaker, and a perfect one too, understand?”

“Domestic…goddess…” she said, taking the words from Kyubi's mouth.

“You will never pursue a divorce against you husband, for whatever reason. He can have as many women as he wants, he deserves to be happy, you know that he deserves more women to satsify his needs not just you, but you dont care.” Kyubi was determined to make her as unhappy as her old self would be.

“Levi deserves more women…more than just you and his PA. it makes him happy…” When does your husband get up—when he deigns to sleep with you, that is.”

“About seven o’clock.”

“Then you’ll get up at five and spend an hour making yourself pretty for him before he gets up. No more wasting time with your worthless suburban friends on your days off. Spend free time reading articles on how to please your man. Without him, you’re nothing and you know it. This is your new life Pepper Le-Cren, and yes you will use your husband’s name you are his woman. You will always wake up 2 hours before your husband everday, shower to be clean for your husband, put on pretty makeup because you must always look your best for him, never look tired, or have morning breath when he first sees you. Dress sexy and feminine, but appropriately for your children, whom you adore and pamper. Heels, always, they are your new feet, find out what kind your man likes best and wear them for him, it is your job to make him happy,” Kyubi was on a roll.

“Levi's woman…wake up early to look…sexy and servile…heels always…man makes the rules…” she moaned. "Tomorrow, when he wakes up you need to explain to him that you understand how things are for him. That your marriage is everything in the world to you, that he is the center of your world. And that since you are just a silly little wifey, you know he needs to spend lots of time away from you so he can make money to keep you nice and safe in your comfy little lovenest. In fact you will refer to yourself as your husband’s ‘little woman’ with pride when asked who you are. You will make it clear to him that he need never have an excuse for spending time away from you. Because you know—YOU KNOW—that if he is pushed into a corner regarding Kitty, it will be you, not her, that he gets rid of. Understand?”

Pepper moaned with the newfound knowledge. It was true. She was the expendable one, not his bimbo.

“Luckily for you there are some things that your husband’s mistress doesn’t do for him. And because she is so young and sexy and nice he doesn’t make her do these things—though he could if he wanted. You understand that your husband is a very powerful man and that you are completely dependent upon him, don’t you Pepper?”

“Y-yes, Kyubi.” The voice was still hard, still filled with natural pride. But it was humbled now, broken.

“Good. These things…you know what they are, don’t you?” He probed her and collected all the things she had avoided in sex over the years, the things she found most distasteful, most unpleasurable, most humiliating. He placed them all on the tip of her tongue, most offensive first. And behind them all she reformed the black fear of divorce. She physically gagged, then reluctantly swallowed.

“Tell me then. Tell me the things.”

“B-bondage. Anal sex. Oral sex.” Her voice grew softer with each item.

“Your husband’s mistress doesn’t do these things for him. But YOU will have to do them to try and keep him from divorcing you. It is your only chance. You will never like doing these things—that will never change. But you will have to pretend that you do. So that he is pleased to do them with you. Understand?”

She nodded glumly.

“Good. You will have to prove to him how enthusiastic you are about pleasing him in these ways. What is your sexiest piece of lingerie and how old is it?”

“That would be my white babydoll nighty. It is about seven years old.”

“He is probably bored with it—as he is bored with you.” Kyubi liked the way she cringed at this comment. She dove back in and looked into her chest of fears and dislikes, grabbed a handful.

“You have been too preoccupied with what you think is appropriate for you to wear. You have always known how unappealing your husband found your lingerie choices yet worn the same boring underthings despite this. If you are to remain Mr. Le-Cren's silly little wifey, those days are over. You will dress to entice and amuse your husband from now on. Your own desires count for nothing. And you know what men like to see women in, don’t you?” He watched her review the catalog of slutty panties, bras, bustieres, and other items of lingerie she had always thought inappropriate to a lady such as herself.

“You will obtain a Frederick’s of Hollywood catalog and arrange to have an account started at the local outlet.” Kyubi chuckled. “Your husband will probably have no problem with this. Then you will ask him every morning what item he would like to see you in that evening—if he chooses to come home. You will purchase what he chooses, then wait for him at the door in evenings with his favorite drink to greet him—wearing your new pretties and nothing else.

If it pleases him, you will then perform one of the acts his own mistress does not do for him. You will not wait to be asked. You will suggest each one till he has made a choice. And then you will assume the appropriate position and begin pleasuring him the way he has specified. And every time he puts his dick in your mouth, you will taste his mistress’es pussy and be reminded that you are no more than a substitute fuck, until he can get back to loving his beautiful young mistress.”

A thin bead of sweat ran down her neck and she bite her lower lip in realization of this now immutable fact of her existence.

“With every new lingerie purchase, you will discard a matching piece of old underwear. You will do this until your entire collection of lingerie is composed only of what he wants to see you in. You will begin the same process with your day clothing. You will ONLY purchase clothing from Frederick’s of Hollywood, unless told otherwise by your husband. But you will not ask him for permission to buy from another source. If he asks why you are buying such slutty clothing, you will answer him that you want to be sexy for your man.”

The Long Island socialite nodded, face blushing but secretly pleased to have this opportunity to hold onto her marriage.

He let go of her mind. She blinked and unconsciously wiped the sweat from her neck. “It seems hot in your office, Doctor.” Her voice had lost it’s hard edged quality. It was softer now and more hesitant.

“You were saying about your husband, Pepper…some news I believe?”

She blushed and looked away. “It was n-nothing. I’m just thrilled to be Levi's little woman, that’s all.” The housewife inhaled quickly, then drew the breath in more softly.

“You all right Pepper?”

The brunette gave him a perky, girlish grin—entirely put on—and nodded. "Good. So, from now on, you will wake your family up to the smell of bacon, eggs, pancakes, biscuits, gravy, smoked ham, toast, and other delicious smells. Set your family’s clothes out, all ready for them to wear, never make them do it themselves thats your job, silly little woman.

“You will make your kids healthy, but loving lunches with notes to make them feel good. Send your kids off to school with a combing of the hair, a kiss, and words of encouragement. Send your husband off with a more passionate kiss, let him roam your body, it is his to enjoy, then get ready for your day,” Kyubi took a swig of water, so much channging made her voice dry, but she could not wait to put Pepper Le-Cren in her place, “understand?

“Make breakfast…lunches or kids…comb hair…kisses…body is my husbands to enjoy…” she droned.

“Freshen up your make-up, do this hourly and mix it up so your man always is always pleased with you. Remember pleasing him and your children are your main prioritise. Next, you will clean the house, every loose bit put away for Riley, every last possession your husband owns should be put in his room,” Kyubi was making her know her place was hardly above servant, “then vacuum, mop, dust, clean up the whole house, make the floors spotless, good enough for you to eat off of them, and you would if your husband tells you to. Recite over and over in your head again how you are nothing but a woman, your purpose is to make your man and daughter happy, understand?”

“Freshen makeup to always look best…clean Levi's house,” she was already there, Kyubi knew it, “husband is always in charge…” she was droning on.

“Next you will handwash your family’s clothes, then hang them out to dry so they smell good and you dont waste your husband’s money on detergent. It should be time for lunch now, make yourself a light salad, no dressing, you can’t lose your figure and must look sexy for your husband. While doing this watch your favorite soaps, fold the laundry, and think of ways to please your husband, never just relax, always be working somehow, right?”

“Handwash clothes…hang out to dry…make a light lunch…must make husband happy…” she was smiling now, her lips would look better when they were a cherry red.

“After that you will check the home supplies, always make sure to have your husband’s favorite beer, Riley's favorite junk food, and enough ingredients to make dinner, but dont overspend your allowance silly little woman, understand?”

“Yes…check supplies…make sure husband is happy…Riley too…dont overspend because…I’m just a silly woman…” she droned.

“When Riley gets home, always make her a fresh batch of cookies,” Kyubi was really into it now, “get them some chocolate milk, find out her favorite programs trashy programmes so she can sit down and eat while watching them"

“While Levi and Riley are relaxing, enjoying your hard work and treats, you should start on their dinner. Always a healthy meal. Big protein meat, fresh greens, fresh peeled vegetables, and plenty of biscuits with butter. You will cook while your kids play, but your husband is almost home now,” Nick said with a large grin as he pictured her in a sun dress with heels and heavy makeup.

“Know when your husband will arrive to open the door for him, give him his favorite drink, the paper, a kiss if he’s in the mood, be cheery always, and never bother him with your problems. Allow him to relax while you finish dinner, freshen your makeup, do an evening hair-do, and a big smile because you love being a submissive, happy housewife, right?”

“Yes…make dinner…please husband…always…”

“Set the table for dinner, tell everyone quietly and let them come at their own pace. Ask the kids about school, give encouragement, and plenty of ‘I love you’s’ Do not pepper your husband about his job, the world of men is confusing to you and you dont want to pry him. If he does tell you, respond with encouragement, praise, and plenty of love, always. Once they are done eating you will clear the table, dry the dishes by hand, and look perky. As they watch TV, play a game, or just relax you must always serve. Refill your husband’s drink, turn the TV channel for your kids, and always with a smile, isn’t that what you do Pepper?”

“Yes…I set the table…let them enjoy the meal…clean by hand all my hubby’s dishes…always serve…”

“Good, send the kid’s to bed at a reasonable time, then you go to your husband’s room. Fluff the pillows, turn out the sheets, and clean up whatever has been left since your previous cleaning. Then take a quick shower, put on more makeup that he likes, every morning ask what kind of lingerie he wants you to wear before he leaves for work, until finally he just tells you because you are supposed to look sexy for him. Put on what he wants, wear your hair down to please him, and then wait for his arival.

“Once he arrives you will do what he wants you to. If he asks for oral, give the best head you can give, if he wants foreplay, put your heart into it. If your man wants you in the butt, offer it to him, always please him. Once he is done with you, and goes to sleep you will freshen up your makeup once more so if he wakes up he sees you at your best as he always should. Finally you will have what little sleep you can get before you start again the next day two hours before everyone else, do you like you new life Pepper Le-Cren?”

“Yes…I love it…submissive…happy…housewife…pamper family…keep home clean…always please…” she droned on as Kyubi reclined in a chair.

She looked down at the still, ever so business, Pepper, who would soon be such a domestic, blissful goddess that her husband would be so happy. She already ‘loved’ her new life as a Stewie and a Homemaker, and Kyubi was happy to have put the bitch in her place. Pepper finally got the energy and rose and left. Kyubi watched her look about her nervously as if the whole landscape of her life was unfamiliar to her now, but by the time she turned the block, she had forgotten any memory of what had happened. Kyubi considered the visit, tapping the desk with her pen and swiveling around in the desk chair. Kidlike, she giggled and thought about the gift she’d just given Levi. Would he be suspicious at first, wondChloeg why his bitch shrew of a wife had suddenly transformed into a nymphomaniac? It wouldn't matter soon, it wasn't like Kyubi planned on keeping Levi faithful. She already had plans for his PA KathChloee, thanks to Pepper's suscpions. The fact Pepper would insinuate that she did know about it despite it not even happening yet, that she was scared of being dumped and that she knew Levi held all the cards. That she would do whatever he said. Happily. What would Levi make of that? Kyubi frowned. Levi was too nice. That would absolutely have to change. Now where was Riley?!

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surveysandthings · 2 years ago

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Does your hair have natural highlights in it? It’s blonde so I have highlights and lowlights in it but they’re certainly not natural.

What was the last decision you had trouble making? I’m currently debating over whether or not I want to go to the Taylor Swift concert. I got tickets but I don’t really want to go with the people I said I’d go with, y’know?

When was the last time you wore a dress? It’s winter so its been a while.

Do you have a water bottle sitting next to you? Yup!

When was the last time you walked outside barefoot? When I was a kid?

What is one type of fruit that you'd like to try that you've never tried before? I’m good.

Do you have a balcony? Nope, but that would be nice!

Have you ever lived alone? If not, would you ever want to live alone? If yes, do/did you like it? I haven’t and I wouldn’t ever want to. That sounds so sad and lonely.

When was the last time you saw your mom? In person? I believe November 1st.

Did you read a really good book today? I haven't read a book in over a year, it’s not something I do often.

Do you wish you had a swimming pool? It would be nice but it would go unused for a lot of the time.

Do you ever have so much energy that it annoys you? Sometimes I get a random energy burst right before bed and it annoys my husband more than it annoys me, haha!

What are three things you like that rhyme with June? Baboon, cartoon, and the moon.

Do you use an inhaler every day? Nope.

What was the last thing you drank? Aquaaaa.

What color shirt are you wearing? Baby blue!

Are you wearing anything tie-dye right now? Newp.

Are you severely allergic to anything, and if so, what? Not severely but bananas and artichokes give me incredibly bad stomach pain and nausea.

Have you been told by a doctor that you are a rare medical case? No, thank god.

What is one thing you hate about Prednisone (if applicable)? ......what a weird question. I have no feelings about prednisone.

Do you have to wear a mask whenever you clean? Nope.

Does your phone annoy you? Sometimes.

Who was the last person who came to visit you? My mom and dad came to visit at the end of October.

Are you listening to a good song right now? I’m not listening to anything!

When was the last time you wore headphones? Yesterday while I did my hair!

Have you encountered anything supernatural yet today? No. Ever? Also no.

Have you ever seen a UFO? Nope.

Are you an alien? 👽

What was the last flavor of ice cream you ate? I had one of those double caramel magnum ice cream bars. They’re delightful.

What grocery store do you shop at the most? Walmart!

What is your most severe allergy (at least to your knowledge)? I already told you, bud.

At what age did you start to feel mature (if applicable)? I started to feel mature after I started driving at 16 but I didn’t start feeling like an adult until I was 25/26. Still have a ways to go.

What's the largest library fine you've had? One time I returned some library books and they called me a few days later, saying it came back all chewed up, like a dog had gotten ahold of it and so I had to pay like $30 to replace it. I didn’t have a dog at the time and it genuinely was not damaged when I dropped it off so I just only used my mom’s library card until I moved away. As if I was gonna pay that.

Have you ever had your hair highlighted at a salon? If yes, what color highlights did you get? I’ve had it lightened many times, it’s blonde.

Have you ever had your hair permed? No, my hair is already curly.

Do you think your hair looks better straight or curly? Curly. Pin straight hair is just nooooot it on me.

...and what is it naturally? Curly!

Have you ever had dreadlocks? No, I'm white.

Have you ever considered getting dreadlocks? No, I'm white.

What is your favorite version of the Bible to read (if applicable)? Ew.

Are you wearing socks right now? Socks are of the devil.

Do you have a hair tie around your wrist right now? Nope.

Do you have family that you wish you could see more? I have family I wish were worth seeing more.

What was your first job? A paper route or babysitting I guess?

Are you happy with your life right now? Ugh. I dunno. Not really? But I'm trying.

Have you ever had to use an epi pen? Newp.

Have you ever gone to the emergency room having a severe allergic reaction? Why are you so obsessed with allergies???

What was the last emoji you used? Probably the laughing one.

Are you having a good day today? I’m having a pretty okay day today. My husband is either sick or having really bad allergies, we can't tell which and I'm worried he is sick and I’m gonna catch it. He’s also lost his voice so its been a pretty quiet day.

What song are you listening to right now? Still no music.

#surveys

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st4rbwrry · 3 years ago

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motive. yuuki anzai.

੭ cw: fem!reader, dry humping, stalking ( barely ) , taming, chubby reader, biting, blood, sneaking in, black coded.

mocha’s note: ep 8 of devils line still replays in my mind. this man makes me feral.

anzai sits limply on the roof of your house, staring into your bedroom window to see you dressing in a comfy two piece short set while humming softly to the music lowly playing in your steamy bathroom. he doesn’t want to disturb you when you look so peaceful like this. applying products to your face along with other moisturizers. tying your locs up into a bonnet before leveling your head down in the sink to brush your teeth for the night. he knows you had class today, also did a few hours at the salon before coming home. it’s close to eight, midnight out and he’s trying his hardest to ignore this ache below his belt, fangs protruding from his mouth like a demon. eyes red, and the claws in his nail beds growing sinisterly longer.

you were the first person he could think of when the sun set. fighting the urge to hurt a human being. but being here was worse in a way. the last thing he wanted to do was hurt his girlfriend. even if you’ve told him multiple times that he could take what he needed from you, an ounce a blood—whatever he desired to keep him sane. he hates when you’re like that sometimes. so careless for your life all because of the love you have for him. you’re willing to take risks if it means he can stay in your life. you need each other, crave one another. it’s hard to live life without the others warmth. his face is pale as he heaves in his seat, hunching over to catch his breath, dark hair shielding most of his face.

a knock on your window makes him jump, hastily darting his eyes into your room to see your eyes targeting his. dammit. he clicks his teeth, shamefully turning his face away when he noticed the concern in yours.

“anzai,” there it is, that softness of your tone, the warmth like a fuzzy blanket being thrown around his shoulders as if he’s a small child who’s having a nightmare. it feels like one. every. damn. day.

“i shouldn’t have come, i apologize.”

“you’re always welcome here,” you pull your window open wider. “come inside, please? it’s chilly.”

“i can’t. i need to go—”

your hand grabs his wrist as soon as he begins to stand, ready to leap off the roof. the black long sleeve on his skin is thin, and you worry for his body temperature. visually, it looks like he’s cold as ice, but on the inside, he’s burning up.

“where’s your mask?”

“i dropped it when i ran away from this woman. she was running at the park and fell—scraped her knee pretty bad. the smell—i was going to kill her. but something pulled me back. i ran and that’s when i lead myself here.”

“how many times do i have to tell you that you’re not a monster?” anzai freezes, swallowing from the stringent pitch in your voice.

“baby—”

“i don’t care what your natural instincts are, or some stupid shit like that. you’re half a devil. half. the other part of your heart remains human.”

“that doesn’t change the fact that i’ve killed people, baby.”

“on accident,” you correct.

“on purpose,” he retaliated, his voice shaky. “don’t pretend i’m innocent just because you love me. that one person i killed still lingers on my mind. it’s tortuous. it burns me deep inside to know what i’m capable of. any day i could do the same to you, whether an accident or with control—doesn’t matter. i’m dangerous.”

it upsets him when you’re silent, stepping back and blinking, waiting for him to come inside. finally, after sulking and sighing, he climbs through. the room is silent, anzai crouching on the floor with his back to the wall as he watches you shut off lights and turn off your music. only the soft lights from your pink star-shaped night lights illuminating the area. you pull the sheets halfway off your bed, tossing off your plushies to make room with him.

“come lay,” you pat the empty spot beside you with a lazy smile.

“i think i should keep my distance.”

your eyes roll. sometimes he agitates you with his protectiveness. “anzai, i’m not saying it again.”

the dark lanky man stand to his feet, removing his boots before slipping in with you. he lays on his back, keeping his attention to the ceiling. if he looks at you any longer he’ll definitely lose control. his blood lust was one thing, but the added arousal was even more painful. he didn’t want you too close to where you’d feel it in his jeans. but, his prayers aren’t on his side when you slide closer to throw your right leg over his toned abdomen while your arms wrap around his neck you bury your face into, wanting to give him a hug, hoping it’d soothe him.

“um,” anzai swallows, feeling your heartbeat bang in his eardrums loudly, the flow of blood in your veins bombarding his senses. the warmth on the mound of your cunt on his stomach, those shorts barely barricading your soft skin. anzai breathes heavily, his hands shakily rising beside him to grope at your thick hips, flesh melting through the gaps of his fingers like butter. his dick twitches in his black jeans as you shift above him, lifting your face and pressing your nose to his.

“your dicks hard,” you whisper, plump lips caught in your teeth.

anzai groans, hating that you noticed. “i-i know. i’m sorry.”

“don’t be, i know you can’t help it.”

anzai feels himself sweating, the pads of his nimble fingers bruising your hips. your body drifts down as he pushes you down to sit on his bulge, growling lowly, the ball in his throat bobbing.

“wanna use me?”

anzai stifles a moan, mouth parting as your hips begin to roll, precum dampening the fabric. the cloth to your shorts gets caught on his zipper, snatching you in place with your clit pressed on the cold metal. your ass engulfs your shorts, giving anzai access to run his hands over your plump ass before giving it a soft spank. the vermilion and honey in his eyes darken, your fingers threading his hair, tits pressed firmly to his chest. having you on top of him was lethal. he can’t control himself now.

“don’t wanna fuck you, jus’ wanna feel you.”

a tiny squeak falters from you as he swiftly flips the two of you over, his breath fanning your face like he’s in pain. he angles his hips so he’s just on your clit, hyperventilating when noticing that you’re really wet. so fast. how?

“you smell so good,” he bends down to brush his nose up the valley of your breasts, inhaling your scent until he comes up to your neck, jaw widening as the points of his fangs graze your flesh, tongue slipping out to kiss and suck on your neck. you squirm underneath him, trapped by his weight on you.

“can i taste you? jus’ need a little,” anzai asks with a strain in his voice, grinding his hips. you gasp and nip at your bottom lip, whimpering and nodding. he’s done it before, but he prefers to ask. his cold hand grabs your chin, turning your head to the left to gain access to the pulsating vein pumping warm blood for him to drink. anzai makes sure not to penetrate too deep, or drink too much to where he hurts you.

“i love you.”

you caress the back of his thigh, anzai always saying that before he pierces the sharp fangs into your neck, only enough for blood to seep out into his mouth. he moans loudly as if he’s having an orgasm, rolling his waist and shoving you down into the bed. hes becoming rougher, palms flat on the back of your thighs he pins down to your knees are by your waist, feet dangling in the air. anzai lifts his hips to thrust against you, pulling his face away after you make a noise and licks his lips. his teeth retracted, no longer in sight, but the lust in his pupils remain.

“make me feel so fuckin’ good,” anzai pants above you, his forearms hooked under your knees and pounding his hips harder until you’re scratching at his biceps and leaking in your shorts, coating his jeans in the filthiest way. it’s like he’s actually fucking you, slamming his hips and watching you jolt underneath him. anzai grunts as his cock runs on you the right way, so so close to cumming. he snaps harder, your mattress helping him out as it bounces you up to meet his hits, both of your mouths open as you gasp, moan, and choke.

“anzai, c-closer,” your pawing at his shirt, needing closer contact with him. he stops, hiking his shirt over his head before tossing it, hair tousled over his forehead and he looks so fucked out, so desirable.

anzai throws your legs over his shoulders before he leans down and drags you lower underneath him, cradling your head in his arms and resting his chin in your hair before humping you quicker, clutching either side of his ribs and withering in his hold. the bed squeaks with every movement, drooling at the corner of your mouth as your eyes scroll back. the pulsing from his dick feels so good on your clit, toes curling as you drunkenly kiss at his shoulder. it’s so fucking hot what he’s doing to you. rutting like he’s starved, fucking you stupid like a virgin with clothes on. the fact that he can make you feel this way even without being inside you is mind blowing.

“take it, baby. i’m cummin’ right now,” anzai warns, body trembling, thrusts turning sloppy as he wets the inside of his jeans, cumming hard the same time as he grabs your face and kisses your hard, eating your moans up like his favorite meal. sucking on your tongue, your lips, gathering your hair in his wide palms before rutting faster to get you to cum, not taking long as you gush in your silk shorts and scratch at his sides, arching your back and shuddering uncontrollably.

anzai kisses you again, all over your face as he thanks you again and again. you eased the craving, even apologizing for having to bite you even for doing this considering you were exhausted. you fall asleep not long after, anzai taking it upon himself to change you out of your shorts for another pair and cleaning himself up before tucking you in and watching you sleep.

#yuuki anzai #anzai yuuki #anzai x you #anzai smut #anzai x y/n #anzai x reader #devils line #devils line smut #anzai x black!reader #yuuki anzai smut #yuuki anzai x you #yuuki anzai x reader #yuuki anzai x y/n #𝜗ৎ ˚⋅ 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘.

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theveryworstthing · 4 years ago

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So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

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greenhikingboots · 2 years ago

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Do you ever like someone else’s fanfiction so much, it makes you want to borrow the premise and write your own gender flipped version? I feel that way about a lot of ganymede_elegy/@cellsshapedlikestars’s fics. Here’s a little thing I jotted down after reading a fairytale ending. I’m not sure when, if ever, I’ll get around to continuing it. But, here, let me share it with you so its lack of ending can torture you the way it tortures me. 😘

The digital flyer was sent as a text, no further explanation included. Jon’s eyes flickered over the drawing — a woman with dark red hair and big blue eyes — then down to the cursive words below it. They spelled out a plea. It seemed the real life version of this woman was looking for a wedding date who was willing to pretend to be her boyfriend. Some PDA required, the flyer said. Specifics to be negotiated ahead of time. And then came the list of warnings. - The groom is my ex-boyfriend and his mother is the actual devil. - Other guests will include my crazy aunt and her creepy boyfriend. - It’s a destination wedding, so expect a 4-5 day time commitment. The very last section of the flyer said the woman would pay for all expenses and, If interested, contact the mutual friend who sent you this for further instructions. Jon double checked who that mutual friend was, half wondering if the flyer had found its way to him by mistake. But, no. Gilly had texted him, his screen told him. His best friend’s girlfriend. And she’d never texted him by mistake before, so — Curiosity peaked, Jon tossed aside the book he’d been reading and fired off a reply. Jon: Is this a joke? Some funny thing you stumbled across online? Instead of texting back, Gilly called right away. Speaking over the noise of the hair salon where she worked, she said, “I’ve got like, three minutes until my next appointment, so don’t interrupt, okay?” Jon kept quiet. “Okay?” Gilly repeated. “Wait? Are you there?” “That was me not interrupting,” Jon said. “Oh, gods. Okay, so her name is Sansa and she’s gorgeous and really, really nice, and she moved back to Winterfell about a year ago after living far away for like, I don’t know, seven or eight years maybe? She said she went to the private school here in town. What’s it called again? No, don’t answer that. Time crunch and all that. Anyway, the point is that you went to different schools so you don’t know each other, but you might know her brother? Wren Stark?” “You mean Robb Stark?” Jon had been a loner throughout most of his school years, but as a junior he’d let his favorite teacher, Mr. Rodrick, who was also the wrestling coach, talk him into joining an organized sport for the first time ever. Robb had been a senior and the team’s captain. Nice enough guy. Helped Jon feel included throughout the season without treating him like a totally charity case. They remained Facebook friends all these years later, though they never interacted. “Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe it was Robb,” Gilly answered. “Anyway, Sansa thought about making a profile on a dating app or whatever, but she was worried she’d attract some real weirdos. So she made that flyer instead and asked a few of her friends to share it — discreetly — with a few of their friends. And now, if you’re interested, I’m supposed to give her your number. And I very much want you to be interested, by the way, because you need to start dating again. Think of this as, like, a practice round or something. Oh, and you need a vacation too. Desperately. When was the last time you left the North?” “Uh… never?” Jon replied, trying not to laugh. This was ridiculous. Why did Gilly always think she could boss him around? Just because Sam let her get away with such antics didn’t mean he had to, right? “So I should give Sansa your number?” she asked. “You know her from the salon?” “Yeah. Did I not say that already? She has perfect hair, so all we ever do is trim it. But she always tips me really well.” Gilly let that comment simmer, and Jon, of course, understood why. Ever since he inherited a life-changing amount of money from his dad, he’d been weary of getting involved with a woman of little means. That made him feel like an asshole, but, hey, feeling like an asshole was better than having to wonder if the woman in question only liked him because of the size of his bank account. “I think she might be rich,” Gilly added after several beats of silence, like maybe she thought Jon was too dense to make the connection. “Yeah, but how rich?” he asked. Because he’d also been weary of getting involved with women who grew up in affluent families. He hadn’t grown up in one himself — his dad had been a distant figure in his life — and he knew he would never fit in in that world. What did he remember about the Starks? His mind raced in that direction before his question could be answered. Robb had worn nice clothes and driven an SUV that looked too expensive for a teenager to afford on their own. But if his parents were super rich, why hadn’t they sent all of their children to private school like Sansa? Wait, why had she not gone to Winterfell High? Why was she the exception to the rule within her family? Jon had more questions. “I’m hesitant to tell you everything I know,” Gilly said. “You have a tendency to draw too many conclusions from too little information. Incorrect conclusions, usually, I should remind you.” Jon scoffed. He wasn’t sure he agreed with that assessment, but whatever. He’d let it slide. “What’s this Sansa character do for a living?” he asked. Gilly squealed. “That means you’re considering it. I can tell. I’m so excited.” “What? No. I never said that.” “You didn’t have to. I can read you like a book.” Jon hesitated before admitting, in his own special way, that Gilly had the right of it. “I liked the part where she called her ex-boyfriend’s mom the actual devil. That amused me.” He took a beat to rub his hand over the back of his neck. “And it’s not as if I have anything better to do with my time,” he added. Too often lately, he’d been home, by himself, doing nothing. He was going stir crazy. He needed a change. A new person to meet. A new city to see. Something. Anything. “Oh, gods. Okay. This is thrilling,” Gilly said. “But my one o’clock just walked in, so I gotta go. I’ll send Sansa your number and tell her how wonderful you are. And then hopefully she’ll text you tonight. Don’t be weird if she does, okay? Promise me.” “I’m never weird, Gil.” She cackled, a weird way of expressing disagreement. “You’re frequently weird,” she said, “especially around girls. But I really do have to go now, okay? I’ll text her, she’ll text you. It’ll be great.” “Uh huh.” “Uh huh,” Gilly echoed teasingly. “Sam and I love you. Ba-bye.” She hung up the phone, and Jon returned his attention to the flyer in their text history. The thing looked like it could have been professionally made. Maybe Sansa worked in graphic design or marketing or something? Was that a lucrative industry? Jon wouldn’t know. He’d spent most of adulthood working at sporting goods stores, taking advantage of their employee discounts in order to outfit long backpacking trips around the North. He quit only recently, about four months after receiving his inheritance. Now he was unemployed, trying to figure out what he wanted to do with himself and the money that had opened up his options. Start his own business, maybe? But what kind of business, he had no idea. The screen on Jon’s phone turned black, catching his attention and drawing his thoughts back to the flyer he’d been studying. Rather than guess at Sansa’s career, he sent Gilly another text, wondering if she'd have time after her current appointment to reply to him. Jon: What’s Sansa do for a living? An hour passed without reply. With his patience dwindling, he realized he had other methods of research at his disposal. He logged on to Facebook, found Robb Stark, then searched his friends list for Sansa. Nothing. She either didn’t have a profile, or she had those extra security measures in place which prevented her from appearing in his search. Another twenty minutes passed and then, finally, Gilly sent him a text. This one was an embedded YouTube video, no further explanation included. Jon clicked play. He watched a door swing open to reveal a woman — not a drawing — with dark red hair and big blue eyes. “Hey, everybody,” she said. “Welcome back to my channel. Or, if you’re new here, welcome for the first time. I’m Sansa, and —” She paused to grin. It was a big, toothy thing Jon found he liked despite his reluctance to like anything to do with a YouTube star. “And today’s the big day,” she continued. “I’m so excited to walk you through the final reveal of our co-working space. Come on in.” She turned over her shoulder, beckoning the camera to follow her. She took a few steps forward, and then the video faded to a white, ever so briefly, before bubbly music and an animated introduction — similar style of the flyer — took over the screen. Jon watched all fifteen minutes of the interior design tour video without interruption, despite Sansa’s suggestion that he first go back and watch the other four in the so-called Headquarters Series. By the end of it, he’d learned that her YouTube channel focused on “rental -friendly interior designs and DIY projects on a budget.” Okay, that was sort of cool, he had to admit. He wasn’t the target audience, but he could appreciate it. And even better than that? By the end of the video, Jon had also learned that nearly four years ago, Sansa was let go from her dream job at a lifestyle magazine, which was “devastating at the time,” but, ultimately, put her on the path to where she was now — the leader of her own company, where she worked with five of her “most favorite people of all time.” Sansa made that happen for herself. And as far as Jon could tell, she hadn’t needed inherited money to do it. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from her. Anyway, yeah, she had a decent amount of money, it seemed. New money, like him. And Gilly was right, she was gorgeous. So even though he would have said no sixteen minutes ago, had anyone asked if he thought he could like a YouTuber who decorated in pastel color schemes, he was intrigued. What was the story behind Sansa, her ex-boyfriend, and his devilish mother? What made her aunt so crazy and her aunt’s boyfriend so creepy? What was the destination of this destination wedding? Jon hoped he would soon find out.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fanfiction #chapter 1 #will there ever be a chapter 2?#who knows #only on tumblr #no title #sorry had to get it out of my system #thanks for humoring me #cute idea #cuz i snatched it from one of my favs #but don't know quite where i'd go from here

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erwinsvow · 4 years ago

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𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

summary: zeke knows it’s wrong. you know it’s wrong. yet something always brings you back to your step-dad when your mom’s not around.

warnings: step-cest, manipulation, infidelity, mommy issues, zeke is the devil incarnate and reader is an angel (figuratively.. for now), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dacryphilia, daddy kink, praise kink, rough sex, creampie, you've been warned!

author's note: lord knows how long i've been thinking about this one. zeke fuckers, this one is for you. tagging @colossalnova ! hope everyone likes it!

“It must be so nice to have such a good daughter to take care of you,” Mr. Ksaver comments without a second thought, as you head towards the kitchen to get two cups of coffee for Zeke and his friend. Your lips turn up into a pleased smile as soon as you hear the words, delighted with the praise from someone so close to your step-father.

Zeke makes an effort to hide the smirk that comes to him so naturally, because if only Mr. Ksaver knew just how good of a daughter you were for him. But that’s a conversation for another day, he finally decides, turning back to his guest with a smile.

“Step-daughter,” he corrects with the most genuine look he can muster. He could fool a priest with that aura of ingenuity that he gives off without any effort, because after all, that’s how he had gotten you into this position in the first place.

Mr. Ksaver beams back at him, his close friend still completely in the dark.

“Oh, of course, but you two could fool anyone. Say, where’s your wife? I haven’t seen her in a while..” Tom trails off, and Zeke is glad for it. He doesn’t like talking about your mother, his new wife, if he can help it. Business trips and commitments at the salon kept much of her time occupied, leaving only brief interactions with you two, her so-called family. It didn’t take long for him to realize she had been this way most of your life, an absent parental figure since the departure of your father. As cruel as it was, he could easily see why you were the way you were.

Zeke thought you were a lot of things. Pretty was at the top of the list, along with innocent and insecure, but the biggest quality he could see in you, the one that just screamed out at him ever since that first time he had laid eyes on you, was people-pleaser.

It was so apparent in everything you did, from the modest way you dressed to the try-hard behavior you exhibited with teachers and your friends’ parents. He recognized quickly it was because your mother didn’t acknowledge any of it, not the dinners you made for the three of you or the sweet, thoughtful gifts and flowers on special occasions.

It was actually on Mother’s Day the previous year when he had been able to get you alone for the first time. The then-new Mrs. Yeager had booked a full day at the spa as a treat for herself, even though she barely had an ounce of motherly qualities in her body. She had tossed aside the bouquet you had gifted her with, skimmed the card with your sweet, handwritten note, and rolled her eyes at your own watery ones after seeing just how little she cared about this holiday that was meant for you both to celebrate.

After she had left, Zeke had knocked on your door tentatively. It was wrong of him to be as gleeful as he was on the inside, but he’d been waiting for a moment like this for the last several months. He even let twenty minutes pass before coming up to your room to make sure he would get you teary-eyed and upset, just how he wanted.

Any other girl might have told her new step-father to fuck right off, given that he had done nothing to defend you or ask your mother to be kinder towards you, but not you. Ever the people-pleaser, you wiped away your tears with the sleeves of the cardigan you’d been wearing all day, fixed yourself from the position you had been in while weeping on your bed, and told him to come in.

Zeke was fucked the minute he saw you sitting there, dressed purely like an angel in a sundress that had ridden up in your distress and with tear-lidden eyelashes blinking slowly at him. The redness of your nose and cheeks, mixed with how your hair was just a little messed up and your hiccuping whimpers painted an entirely different picture for him. At first, it had just been a game, just to see how long it would take him to seduce his new wife’s daughter, but now it was something else altogether.

But it’s the first sentence you say to him, alone in the house without your wretched mother for the first time, that breaks him.

“S-Sorry Zeke. I didn’t want to eat after that, but I can go get everything ready again for you.” For him. Your mother’s cold behavior had you crying your eyes out before noon, and yet you were still concerned about the lunch you had prepared and if he wanted to eat.

It made his heart burn in a lecherous way, with thoughts in his head about why he hadn’t married you instead of her.

“That’s okay, honey, don’t worry about me. I came to check up on you.” He’s holding up the facade well, he thinks, closing the door gently behind him and hearing the click of the latch. He’s only been in your room a handful of times, and for most of those occasions, you hadn’t been there, so he couldn’t act too comfortable. His eyes roamed around the space, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume that lingered on every object and shoving his hands into his pockets to seem as unassuming as possible.

You wipe away a stray tear, blinking quickly and looking back at him with big eyes. Damn your eyes, honestly, because he knows he doesn’t stand a chance against them, especially when they’re so watery like that.

“Check up on me?” you let out in a soft voice. It’s adorable, honestly, how you think your new step-father would be just like your mother and not care about you at all. You’re not used to this kind of affection from anyone besides your friends from school, and even they don’t know about the reality of your home life. You don’t know what it’s like to have a parent check up on you, to have them want to make sure you’re okay, and suddenly you can feel your face burning with heat at the realization that you and Zeke are all alone in your bedroom.

Zeke is handsome according to anyone’s standards, but for some reason, you can never tear your eyes away from him when he doesn’t know you’re looking. He’s old enough to be your father—your real father, that is—but that doesn’t stop you. You always find yourself staring at his golden locks that shine especially bright when he’s in the sun after his daily run, when you’re watering your garden and your mother isn’t home from work yet. Or when he’s just left the shower and every part of his body is dripping wet, walking back to his bedroom and you catch a glimpse through your open door.

It’s easy to think of him as off-limits, though, since you would never hurt your mother like that. She doesn’t show you affection, or care about you like how your friends’ mothers care for them, but she’s still your mom. Nothing would ever justify betraying her like this, by having these illicit thoughts about your step-father. So you make sure you stop staring, avoid being alone with him as much as you can and create excuses to get out of spending time with him, but you don’t think any of that is really working.

Because now, with Zeke in your bedroom and the sleeves of your cardigan wet with far too many tears, you don’t really care if this is wrong. All you care about is how Zeke is inching closer to your bed with every step.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I wanted to make sure you were okay after all that. It’s not easy, I know,” he says in such a soothing tone that you feel yourself getting lost in the daze of it.

“You know?” you question again, wondering if Zeke could really relate to you. You had always felt like such an outcast, the poor girl nobody loved or wanted, without any love in her life at all.

“Uh-huh, I know. I really hate that your mother won’t treat you better, but you know her, she’s not gonna change,” he watches your nodding face and resigned expression. “Can I-?” he motions to the space next to you on the bed.

“Oh, sure, please,” you say quickly, moving yourself over a bit and making room for him, dress exposing even more of the soft skin of your legs now. He tries not to stare, and every part of him wants to put a hand on your thigh and stroke softly, but he doesn’t want to scare you off. Not yet. He’ll take his time.

“Thank you for saying that.” Your voice is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it.

“Of course. I mean, you are my daughter now, aren’t you?” He’s pushing his luck, but oh well. “I guess… it’s sort of my responsibility to take care of you, right?”

He sees your eyes widen a little, probably a million thoughts running through your little head. You’re so used to being alone, not having anyone’s affection, that a few simple words from Zeke have you fucked. Probably feeling the same way he is in this moment, eager and affectionate and ready. You find yourself nodding at his sweet words.

Any other day, you might have doubted the sincerity of what he was feeding you, but your mind was already a little fuzzy from the interaction with your mother. You still don’t know why you had gotten your hopes up so much, when it always led to disappointment in the end. You wish you could go back and warn yourself not to expect so much from your mother, who was almost as absent a parental figure as your father.

In that moment, Zeke’s kind words and welcoming arms didn’t seem so bad. You could only imagine that he felt the same way you did, as you doubted your mother was being a good wife to him from the interactions you observed.

“I…” you begin, but trail off when you notice the way Zeke’s eyes are looking at you. You almost instinctively lean back and away from him, like a lamb avoiding a predator, when you focus on how he’s much too close to you.

You’re entirely overwhelmed by his piercing, concerned gaze and the uncomfortable heat you feel between your thighs—your throat runs dry and you know it’s not from the crying. You think he must notice it too, with the way he leans forward, one more movement from him and you’d be trapped between Zeke’s broad figure and your bed.

He supposes that was the make-or-break moment in this little dalliance between you two. In that moment, had you been uncertain or asked him to leave, he would have listened to you and likely never bothered you again. All the same, he knew you wouldn’t.

You look back fondly on that Mother’s Day, the day you gave yourself over to Zeke without the slightest bit of regret. Your mother had returned home later that night, with nails and hair freshly done, acting as though there could have been no better way to spend Mother’s Day. She walked right past you sitting on the couch with Zeke, ignoring his tousled hair and your swollen lips.

Since then, it had been a fun sort of game. You felt guilty, of course, but nothing could compare to the thrill of the secret you had with Zeke, just for you two and no one else. He was more adventurous than you, always sneaking kisses and lingering touches when your mother was just a room away, fucking you roughly with a hand clasped over your mouth while she was on a conference call in her office down the hall.

Over time, you felt yourself becoming adventurous too. You had never done anything like this before, anything remotely bad or wrong, and it was safe to say that you were sinking further and further into the pit of corruption that Zeke had created.

Which is how you ended up here today.

You brought back two steaming cups of coffee on a platter to the living room, setting them down and mixing in cream and sugar for Zeke’s. You hand the cup to him with a sweet smile, and he takes a sip contentedly.

“Just perfect, like always.” The praise makes you smile widely, cheeks feeling warm despite the fact that you had a guest.

“How do you take your coffee, Mr. Ksaver?” you ask politely, as the elderly man laughs and takes the cup into his hand.

“Just plain black, thank you. I never had a taste for sweet things, like Zeke does.” If only he knew.

You smile again and bid goodbye, taking the tray with you as you leave and heading back to your room. You knew Zeke would be up as soon as he was done, since your mother was still out and you had precious time together, all alone.

As soon as you heard the front door close, and the sound of ignition starting from outside your window, you were alert. You could hear Zeke’s footsteps coming up the staircase, eagerly anticipating him this time.

He doesn’t knock anymore, letting himself in and closing the door gently behind him, as always. You hear the lock click quietly.

“Daddy,” you mumble from your place on your bed. You’re lying against the pillows now, fully on display for him in his favorite dress and already wet at the thought of what he would do to you once he got you alone.

“Yes, honey?” He says, in a tone that’s sincere and mocking at the same time. He’s still by the door, not coming in further like you want him to. He wants you to use your words.

“You said once we were alone..”

“Once we were alone, what? That I’d play with you?” You nod dumbly at his words. He inches closer to you, but still entirely too far away for your liking.

“I want you, Daddy. We only have a little bit before she gets back,” and you know you’re in for it now.

“Oh, is that so? We only have a little time?” Before you can process it, Zeke is hovering above you, a firm hand on your wetness teasing you and making you cry out at the sudden pressure. His hand moves slowly, just barely grazing your clothed clit and you whimper. “Let me tell you something, baby,” he whispers right next to your ear. “I’ll take as much time with you as I want, no matter who else is in this house. You got that?”

You let out a strangled moan at his words, knowing the effect they have on you and the uncomfortable wetness between your legs becoming even more prominent. You could swear that he can see how wet you are, even with your panties still on, and you desperately jerk up onto his hand to get some, any, contact.

“D-daddy, please! I-” you break off into another moan as he rubs your clit firmly. You’re not even sure when he took your panties off, but you can feel two of his fingers prodding at your slit, just waiting as he continues his work.

“Does that feel good, baby? Use your words,” he says, teasing you despite how badly you want him to stop and just be inside you already. Another strange feeling bubbles in your chest, knowing that your mother would be home soon and could be pulling into the driveway right now. You can hardly focus on those thoughts though, letting out a loud squeal when Zeke pushes two fingers into your soaking wetness, stopping at his knuckles.

“Oh god, Daddy, that feels so good, please, please keep going-” the rest of your words disappear as he pushes his thick fingers completely in, marveling at the way you’re so stretched out around them.

“Good girl, baby, you’re doing so well.” You keen at the praise, moaning loudly as he continues fingering you, scissoring his digits inside you and getting you prepared for his cock. He knows he’s on a time limit too, but he’ll be damned if he lets that rush him. No, he needs to take his time with you.

Every time he feels the tightness of your hole, it takes him back to that first time, and he refuses to hurry up.

His thumb rubbing circles on your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out quickly, filling the room with a lewd squelching noise, have you seeing stars before long. Every time Zeke touches you, you wonder how you went so long without it. Your own actions when you touch yourself are nothing compared to his anymore. He’s got you so dependent on him, so reliant that you barely want to cum by yourself anymore.

He slows his actions just for a second, just to pull down the front of your sundress and reveal your tits to him. Zeke increases his speed as he latches his mouth around your hardening nipple, flicking with his tongue and taking the pebbled bud between his teeth, tugging slightly and making you cry out as it suddenly becomes too much to handle.

You’re succumbing to the orgasm before you even know it, waves of pleasure washing over your body as the knot in your stomach finally releases and fills your core with heat.

“Good girl, baby, cum for Daddy now,” he says from his place on your chest.

“Daddy! Daddy, I-! Oh!” You know how pathetic you must sound, screaming and moaning helplessly as Zeke doesn’t let up on his actions. You finally put your hand on top of his and make him look up, into your eyes, and press his lips to yours.

A sloppy, hot kiss in the aftermath of your orgasm has you shaking under his grip, entire body feeling hot and sweaty. He pushes his fingers, slick with your wetness, to your lips and you open without any request for him, sucking and rolling your tongue over the digits until they’re all clean.

“Good girl,” he breathes into your neck, whether he places more sloppy kisses. “You ready for Daddy to fuck you?”

You nod meekly, moaning loudly as you feel Zeke align himself with your slit, and letting out a high-pitched squeal when he pushes himself into you entirely. You choke on your breath at the sudden feeling of fullness, completely ignoring the way Zeke’s focus seems to be on something else.

Perfect timing, he thinks to himself, hearing the car pull into the driveway and knowing his dear wife had arrived home. He was too deep inside of you to care, though.

Zeke pulled his hips back slowly, wanting you to feel every inch of him, and then slammed them down harshly. For every motion of his hips, you released a loud, obscene moan, babbling on without making any sense at all as Zeke fucked you.

All you could process were Zeke’s reassuring praises, calling you a good girl as he continued at a brutal pace, fucking you so hard you couldn’t figure out where you stopped and he began.

He picked up the pace and the angle of his cock stretched you out so perfectly, he was hitting against your clit with every thrust and you could swear you were seeing stars again, so close to the edge and screaming out for him, when he clasps a hand over your mouth quickly.

You reacted with a jolt, unsure of why he suddenly silenced you when he placed a kiss right next to your ear, whispering quietly.

“Looks like she’s home. Be quiet for Daddy, okay, baby?” Your eyes widen in panic, flustered with shame and another feeling you can’t put together when Zeke goes back to his quick pace, fucking you rapidly and giving your clit the contact you so desperately needed. You cum again with a stifled, broken noise leaving your mouth and your body jerking up against his, the hand that wasn’t covering your mouth holding you down in place. You feel yourself clench down on his cock, as he rides you through it, thrusting in and out and doing nothing to stop the vulgar noises that fill the room.

You can hear it now—the steps of your mother coming into the house, and probably up the stairs to her office soon enough. Your heavy breathing coupled with Zeke’s grunts are the only sound left as his hips stutter and you feel hot ropes of cum shoot inside you, filling you up. Zeke finally comes to a halt, pressing a kiss to your lips as you hear your mother walk right outside your door, talking to someone on the phone.

Your panicked eyes meet his perfectly calm ones, a devilish smirk playing at his lips as you hear the steps halt and then continue again, walking by your room as though you didn’t even exist.

You release a sigh, Zeke pressing another kiss to you that you return eagerly.

“Good girl. Now clean up while Daddy goes and deals with her.”

You feel suddenly emptier, lighter as Zeke lifts his weight off of you and adjusts his clothes. You sit back up slowly, careful to not make an even bigger mess and ruin your dress, as Zeke grabs your panties off the floor and hands them to you with a smile. You pull them up, fixing your dress and realizing that you need to run a brush through your hair before you see your mother again.

Zeke unlocks the door and leaves with one last smile gracing his face, as you sit up and feel remnants of your encounter inside you.

Moments later, your mother walks by and glances at your open door, which was locked before. She pushes it open, taking a look at you on the bed. You’re certain you look like a mess, hair disheveled and sweat on your body, with limbs feeling like jelly.

“Hi, mom,” you greet, with the most false enthusiasm you can muster. “What is it?” She looks at you coldly, almost as if she knew something was going on and couldn’t quite place it.

“Clean yourself up, honey, Uncle Eren is coming over for the weekend.”

#zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager smut #zeke yeager imagine #zeke x reader #zeke smut #zeke jaeger smut #zeke jaeger x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot smut #fics #tw stepcest

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existslikepristin · 2 years ago

Text

Salon Erotique

Tags: TheLounge, NSFW… not exactly smut?, Secret Number, Soodam, Futanari reader insert (intentionally this time, too!), cliche fanfic intro, pretty girl, awkward girl, pretty awkward girl, nudity and talk of sex but no actual sex occurs, there is no smut in this SMUT wtf, yall I gave you so many opportunities, I guess it’s a fuckin romcom, Denise and Dita are unhelpful wingmen, does it count as a foot fetish if they’re chicken feet, seriously her lip twitches are the most fucking darling thing, visions in the sauce, 90% of the dirty talk comes from Giselle, how dare you make me write almost-fluff, I’m eventually gonna write the craziest smut in retaliation or just because I intended to all along idk, I uh could have posted this four months ago, oops, happy Secret Number comeback day!, enjoy!

Another day, another photoshoot. It’s not that you’re sick of these. Quite the contrary, they’re a fantastic source of supplementary income and you can appreciate that. It’s just that they’re an overused plot device.

But despite that, you feel that this particular photoshoot is going to be an interesting one.

You heft your camera bag off your shoulder and get your lighting set up. Your client today rented a studio for this. The space itself is super nice. Small, but not so small as to be uncomfortable. Warm, not hot. Private, not isolated. You wonder how much your client spent on it.

Speaking of the devil, she has appeared.

You’re pretty sure, anyway. She’s a beautiful woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, with a calf-length black dress and a classy grey jacket over it. Based on her carefully applied makeup and the fact that her wavy brunette hair looks like it just came from the salon, you’re pretty sure this is your client.

“Soodam?” you ask to verify.

She regards you with a silent look for a moment. “Yes… I made an appointment.”

Well… yeah. That would explain why you’re here.

“Yup. That’s great. So I’ve got the lighting ready to go. What exactly are you looking for, Soodam?”

She removes her jacket and hangs it with care on a hook on the door. The upper half of her dress is as conservative and modest as the length. “A photoshoot.”

Oh, so it’s going to be one of those days.

“Yes, of course. What sort of feel are you going for? Do you maybe have a theme in mind? Or a specific situation you plan on using the photos for?”

Soodam steps into the staging area and looks in every direction but yours.

Is she going to answer?

Options for Part 1:

She just wants something professional-looking to put on her instagram.

(Picked:) She wants some tasteful, artistic nudes.

She wants promotional material for her group.

Soodam does not answer you. At least not verbally. Instead, she pulls her dress up and over her head, taking a bit longer than one would with a shirt, given its length.

You can’t help but stare as she undresses. For one, you weren’t expecting her to. For two, you’re stunned by the absolutely murderous shape of her body. The subtle flare of her hips and her bubble butt, toned legs and tummy, and breasts wrapped in lacy white.

She stands there, nearly naked, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, eyes continuing to wander.

You cough to get her attention, hoping for an explanation. Soodam merely hums, as if agreeing with you, and unhooks her bra, dropping it to the side with her dress.

“Woah!” You have to pull your shirt a bit further down to keep the bulge from being too obvious through your yoga pants. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what’s going on here?”

Soodam gives you a curious look. “A photoshoot.” There she goes again...

“In the nude?!”

“Yes,” she states matter-of-factly, then, surprisingly, continues after a pause, “I see. Starting with the lingerie on. That will look nice.”

Clearly she doesn’t understand your distress.

You turn around as she bends over to pick up her bra again, avoiding the far too alluring sight of her ass, and fumble your phone out of your purse. You need to figure out if she said something about this that you missed when she hired you. But when you unlock your phone, the map that you hadn’t bothered to close is on screen, and you see a marker on your current position. You hadn’t thought much about the name of the studio before arriving, but now it makes sense.

salon érotique

You don’t need to have studied French to know you’ve gotten yourself into an interesting situation. It’s fine though. You can do this. You’re a goddamn professional.

“Well then, Soodam, thoughts on the lighting? Too warm? Cool?”

“I like it.”

Of course that’s all she has to say. You turn around to discover that she’s much closer to you, mere feet away. You could touch her if you reached out...

“It’s strange for girls to look at each other like that, you know.”

It would seem you were staring again. And this time she caught you.

Options for Part 2:

(Picked:) Brush it off. As previously stated, you’re a goddamn professional. You’re just… tired.

Admit that you just weren’t expecting a nude photoshoot, because you’re a dummo.

Correct her because, um, actually, you’re a futanari, gosh.

“Look at each other like what?” you ask, feigning ignorance. “I’m scanning my subject. Sorry if it’s coming across as something else. I just didn’t get quite enough sleep last night.”

“That’s okay, as long as the pictures turn out nicely.” Soodam sounds quite uninterested in your fake plight.

You steel your nerves and pick up your camera.

The first round of pictures is innocent enough. Soodam drapes herself across the white cloth background, and her lingerie practically blends in. Over time, however, the poses become more and more erotique. She pulls at the straps of the bra and lets them fall.

You think about your memory card. Soon enough, it’s going to be jam packed with sensual photos that you never expected would be inside of it.

Despite your insistence on professionalism, you struggle to keep your erection out of view. This was certainly not the day to have decided against baggier jeans. At least your shirt hangs low enough to conceal your shame.

You find yourself talking like a cheesy photographer anyway. “That’s great, Soodam! Yes! Hand on the hip! Pop that leg!”

Soodam is either into it, or she’s very good at interpreting stupid instructions. Which is the case, you couldn’t say, but her silent obedience is sure to produce high resolution gold.

“Yes! YES! You’re a cat! You’re a sexy cat! Prowl for me, baby! MEOW!”

The words escaping your mouth become increasingly more incoherent. There’s no stopping you and your artistic rampage.

Well actually, your camera stops you quite easily. The usual shutter sound it produces is replaced by a shrill beeping. It’s time to swap the memory.

You grumble as you dig through your bag. The interruption of your flow is extremely unwelcome, but at least it brings you back to reality. It’s a good thing too, because you notice the hard outline of your cock is almost fully visible. Your shirt must have gotten caught in your waistband somehow.

Readjusting, you turn back, only to see Soodam dragging her lacy panties down to her mid-thigh. Her bra is unclasped and barely hanging on by one shoulder.

Options for Part 3:

(Picked:) Keep taking pictures as normal. You don’t want to cause any distress.

Take off your top. It’s only right that you and your model are dressed similarly, right?

Peace the fuck out of there. This is too hot for you to handle.

Of course, you decide, it would be absolutely stupid to do anything other than continuing to do your job like a normal person. This is your livelihood and you have a reputation to uphold! Not that your job hasn’t led you all the way to sex with several idols in the past, but that’s no excuse!

You slap your cheeks and let the adrenaline course through your veins. New memory card installed, you swing the camera around to continue the shoot.

Soodam remains perfectly stoic, as if she’s done full pictorials naked before. And she sure poses like she knows what she’s doing too.

She starts on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. She slowly kicks one raised foot back and forth, touching one finger to the corner of her seductive lips. Her other hand is placed coyly over her breast.

Next pose. Soodam sits up, panties casually sliding down until they’re hanging off her toes. She props her chin up, elbow to knee. One arm goes between her legs to obscure her pussy. Her bra is just about gone, looking almost like a purse flung over her shoulder and leaving her tiny, pointed nipples completely out.

Next pose. The underwear is gone. With the technical exception of her modest earrings, Soodam is one hundred percent nude. She drapes herself back, arms over the head, hair fanned out. Her knees are still up, one crossed over the other. You stand halfway over her to get a series of glamorous pictures from above. When she looks up, you swear she’s staring through the camera and into your eyes. You gulp down your nerves and keep up the pace.

Next pose. Soodam gets on her knees, popping her shockingly round booty out toward you. “Hey, I… hope you know I didn’t mean anything by saying that… about girls.”

You pause your camera work. “Oh. That’s oka--”

“I’m just nervous about doing a photoshoot like this. That’s all.”

Options for Part 4:

Tell her she’s doing well. You’d never have guessed she was nervous.

(Picked:) Say it’s fine, if she makes it up to you. Say, by paying for dinner.

Imply, not all that subtly, that she shouldn’t be so damn rude.

“Uh. Oh. No worries, Soodam. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I can make it up to you.”

You look her up and down. She’s still looking away from you, so it seems like the perfect opportunity to take in the view… Not that you’re taking hundreds of nude pictures of her or something.

The curve of her back, the way her thighs and calves spread out as they press into each other, her slim shoulders, it’s all making you feel crazy. You think for a moment that you could ask her to suck your dick, or something similarly dirty, but no. That would be way too brazen of you, and she’d never go for that. Would she? You blurt it out.

“How about you take me out for dinner?”

Okay, so you didn’t blurt out anything dirty, but you almost did!

“Tonight? After the shoot?” Soodam asks.

Your thought process hadn’t gotten that far. “Uh, totally. If you’re free.”

“Okay.”

Okay. That settles it somehow, you suppose. You adjust your cock again to not appear through your leggings and get back to taking pictures. Tasteful… hopefully… pictures.

But just like that, the photoshoot ends. Soodam didn’t do anything really wild, as expected. Over the course of several more poses, not unlike some relatively tame pin-ups or boudoir images, nothing out of the relative ordinary happened.

You pack your camera back up, clasping all of the relevant memory cards in a secure case. You certainly don’t want to be losing these ones. Soodam gets dressed once more. It’s almost a shock just how modest her outfit is, but it’s what she wore in. You guess it’s your horny futa mind that made you forget.

“So…” Soodam hovers around as you take down the lighting. “Do you like chicken feet?”

As an amalgamation of people, you don’t really have that strong of a preference, but still you say, “Yup! Is that where you want to go?”

“Yes. And… Is this…” Her words may be slow, but at least they’re efficient. “A date?”

You look up from your shade folding. Again, she’s not looking at you. She’s looking anywhere but, in fact.

Options for Part 5:

A date immediately after taking her naked pictures? No, that’s weird.

(Picked:) Of course it’s a date. A romantic/cutesy one, in fact.

Neither, because it was a trick, and you’re leaving now.

“Yeah. Yeah, I suppose. After you said what you did about girls looking at each oth--”

“I’m sorry.” Soodam interrupts. It seems perhaps that she’s trying to avoid mention of her potential homophobia. “Yes, it’s a date.”

You smile. She may be rude but at least she’s cute and to the point. “So does that mean you’ll be showing me a cute, romantic time tonight?”

The first sign of emotion you’ve seen out of her today appears. A rosy blush spreads across her cheeks. You’re about to let her know that it’s a joke and you’re not trying to extort a romance out of her, but she makes a beeline for the door.

“Yes, I’ll make sure it’s romantic,” she says on her way. She doesn’t look back.

What a weird chick…

Once all of your equipment is packed up and ready to go, you get a single text telling you where to go and when. Looks like you’ve got a few hours to get ready.

* * *

Thankfully, the directions were easy to follow.

Soodam is standing outside the restaurant and, unlike you, she’s changed clothes: A tank top with a cardigan, both white, a short, pink skirt, and white sneakers. She could certainly be described as cute, but the cute look is undercut by her nervous fidgeting. Her entire demeanor is different from the way it was at the studio.

In fact, she barely, sheepishly greets you, “Hi… Follow me.”

You do exactly that. “Well hello Soodam,” you say to her back.

She doesn’t meet your eye when you reach your reserved table either, but gestures for you to sit.

“No, not there!”

You pause, half-crouched. “Oh. Uh, wrong table?”

“No, I mean… Please sit here, on this side.” Her gestures frantically change direction to the opposite side of the table.

Weird might have been too tame a word to describe Soodam. But even so, you swap to the other side of the table and she sits across from you. Wordlessly and with her head down, she holds out a menu to you with both hands.

After a moment of looking it over, entirely in silence, you decide to try and break the ice. “So, Soodam. What was this you were telling me about chicken feet?”

“You… don’t have to order chicken feet. But this place makes the best chicken feet. You should definitely try it, because… You should definitely try it.”

That might be the most you’ve ever heard her speak. Too bad she said it to her feet.

Options for Part 6:

(Picked:) Clearly she wants you to order the chicken feet. Order the chicken feet.

Actually, you’re in the mood for a different kind of spice. Order the teokbokki.

Go in a totally different direction! Order the salmon.

Moments later, a waiter comes by and asks if you’re ready. Hoping to avoid any more awkwardness, you ask for the house special chicken feet. Soodam asks for the same.

And then, nothing really happens. You look around the restaurant. The wood of the seats goes all the way to the ceiling, but with large gaps in between slats. There’s very much an industrial type look throughout. Or their designer was lazy. Behind you there are a couple empty tables and a person with their hoodie obscuring their eyes. To the side, a few more people sitting at individual tables, dressed as if they had just come directly from bed. Seems to be a pretty slow day.

Minutes worth of silence has you bored and anxious. You don’t know what to say to Soodam, or even if you should say anything. You’d be at home editing the day’s photos with a bowl of ramen if you weren’t here now. And Soodam is obviously not much of a talker. You look down at your phone both to check the time and see if anybody’s sent you an urgent enough text that you can get back out of this.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see some movement from Soodam though. You don’t think much of it until she reaches out with lightning speed and snatches your phone-wielding hand.

Her eyes are wide, and her lips are twitching like she’s trying to come up with something to say, but isn’t able to make any noise.

“I, uh, shouldn’t check my phone?” you ask.

“No. I mean… no. I mean we should talk. Right? This is a date, and we should talk.”

Soodam’s words aren’t very convincing, especially since she keeps looking nervously to the side between them.

“Yeah, what do you want to talk about?”

The lip and eye twitching continues. It looks like she’s struggling to smile. “What time… are you from?”

She releases your hand and hangs her head low enough you can just see her nose through her hair. Before you can ask what she means, she speaks again. “I mean do you have any questions for me?”

Options for Part 7:

Questions? Um yes. Is she alright? What happened to the photoshoot confidence?

No, you don’t have any questions. You want to see where she was going with that.

(Picked, you nerds:) A few. What’s her name, her quest, and the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?

Ask if she wants to see some of the photos you already edited… in public.

A grin splits your face. “Yeah I’ve got a few. What’s your name?”

Soodam looks back up, obviously confused. “Lee Soodam. You knew that.”

You nod. “Okay. What is your quest?”

From somewhere in the restaurant you hear someone snicker. It seems they can hear you and already get the reference. Soodam definitely doesn’t. Her mouth continues to twitch as she desperately searches for whatever words might constitute a real answer.

“To… date… you? I don’t know what y--”

You interrupt for the final question. “What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?”

Somebody behind you bursts into laughter, followed by a loud "African or European?!" In that same moment, Soodam winces in pain and clutches her ear. You've seen enough romantic comedy movies to know what's going on.

You look back and make eye contact with the laughing girl. She has frizzy, faded orange hair and a hoodie which, you realize, was previously concealing her face. She stops laughing, whispers something down her shirt, and runs out of the restaurant.

Soodam looks absolutely mortified when you face her again.

"So who was that?" you ask, trying not to sound confrontational.

There's a long pause before she answers. "Denise."

At least she's not a liar.

"Can I see your ear?"

Trembling like a leaf, Soodam turns her head. You hadn’t noticed thanks to some very clever makeup, but there's a cord partially disguised as part of her earring.

"Were you hoping to get like, walked through the date or something?"

Soodam nods and hangs her head.

“You know,” you say, putting a hand on the table as if you’re going to stand up, “if you’re uncomfortable with this, we can go…”

“No!” She grabs your hand and yanks the cord away from her ear. There’s a patch of bare skin left over by some stage tape. “I’ve never been with a girl before and I don’t actually girls I mean go on dates in the first place and I’m very cute I mean you’re cute and I’m very nervous is what I meant to say please don’t leave we can do anything you want you’re actually very cute.”

Well now you know why she normally speaks so slowly.

Options for Part 8:

(Picked:) Get her to tell you more about herself. That’s the kind of thing a date is for, isn’t it?

Dates with you tend to include sexy times too… Where’s the bathroom in this place?

You smile. “That’s... Well that’s good to hear, Soodam.”

You take your hand off the table and settle back in. Soodam’s mouth just twitches some more for about half a minute.

“You, uh, blew your whole load on that outburst, didn’t you?”

She droops into her seat, slowly pulling her hand away from yours. “Yes. I’m… Sorry.”

Not entirely content with the idea of dipping into another extremely awkward few minutes, you snatch her hand before she can get too far away, just like she did with you. “Hey! Don’t be sorry! I didn’t realize you were taking this so seriously. How about I lead the conversation a bit more and see if that helps you out?”

Soodam nods and trains her eyes on yours. “That… yes, please.”

“Well let’s start with something simple. I promise this one’s not a joke. What’s your favorite color?”

Leading the conversation turns out to be a challenge in and of itself. Soodam seems content (that is, as content as someone with the nerves of a meerkat can be) to answer your questions simply and efficiently, and doesn’t give you much to latch onto. Topics that don’t exactly spark anything in her up until your food arrives include family, school, and vacation destinations.

But the food itself makes her eyes glitter.

“You a big fan of chicken feet?” you ask. It’s rhetorical since you can see drool starting at the corners of her mouth.

Her sudden enthusiasm shocks you awake. “Yes! I love it! See, this is how you eat it, first...”

Soodam’s hands are a blur, grabbing utensils, disposable gloves, and bowls, all while describing the step-by-step process of optimizing the flavor of chicken feet. Before you know it, she’s holding a large, steaming spoon in your face, loaded with rice, sauce, and jiggling chicken cartilage. She stares into your eyes expectantly. It’s a slightly creepy look when it’s not accompanied by a smile, but you’ve already come to expect the awkwardness.

You open your mouth wide and she gently places the food in your mouth. The salt hits you first, then the herbs. You chew carefully since it’s still hot and experience that ever so slightly chewy texture. Then comes the burn. You feel your sinuses clear out and your eyes are watering within seconds. This shit is way hotter than you expected.

“Do you like it?” Soodam asks before you even have time to process all of the sensations.

Options for Part 9:

Of course you like it! This restaurant was a good choice.

Nah, you’re not really that big on chicken feet, but you hope she likes it!

(Picked:) You’ll have to answer that after you ICE YOUR TONGUE WHERE’S THE SODA

You cough once. That’s all it takes for the spice to coat every nook and cranny of your throat. It’s not like you don’t have your fair share of experience with spice, but something in this blend was clearly harvested from one of the rings of hell, because you can already feel your butt clenching in anticipation of the next few days of pain.

Your vision is foggy from the pain and glassy from the tears simultaneously, vaguely like a mirage. You’d call the combination a brilliant grey if you didn’t feel the severe need to pay a surprise visit to Starship Medical and get the blood ties behind your eyes checked out.

“Are you okay?” Soodam asks. Her voice sounds a little distant, like you’re recovering from the sound of a couple of gunshots being fired off on either side of your head.

“Y-hhh I’m fine,” you hiss. The way you’re fanning your eyes probably doesn’t project the same message. “All good vibes here!”

Soodam’s lips are quivering again, you’re pretty sure. “I… let me get you some water!”

It’s not a bad plan. You haven’t had to worry about this for a while, so you’re left trying to remember if water is supposed to help in this situation or make it worse. Or is that milk? Whatever, you already gambled on eating this cherry bomb of a chicken foot. What’s another roll of the dice on something ice cold? Fuck, even some mint chocolate ice cream would be paradise right about now.

At what feels like a caterpillar’s pace to you, Soodam gets a glass in your hand. You’re unsure of your coordination at the moment, but you yank it toward your face and find sweet relief in the refreshing, crisp taste of Coke Zero. Zero calories, zero sugar, great Coke taste! Together tastes better!

It seems the corporate sponsorship is staving off the pain for now. Things were getting a little meta there. You can still feel the spice at the back of your throat. It’s all but guaranteed to come back with a vengeance soon, but for Soodam, everything is worth it… you think. “Thanks,” you gasp.

“You’re… welcome. Sorry.”

“No, you’re fine Soodam. I needed this anyway. My pores were feeling clogged.”

“Really? I can… feed you more.”

You sigh.

Options for Part 10:

Yes, that was definitely not sarcasm. Please, she should feed you more.

(Picked:) You know, it’s funny, it turns out you’re not super hungry. She should eat the rest.

Okay, now she owes you one for attempted futaslaughter. Time for her to eat your ass.

“You know,” you say, still fanning your tongue between words, “It’s funny. It turns out that I’m not super hungry after all. You should eat the rest.”

Soodam’s eyes go wide. You’re sure you’ve said yet another thing to make her scared, nervous, or generally trepidatious, until she whispers, “All of it?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah? I mean if you want it all.”

Her gaze shifts from you to the bounty of food on the table and you think you see the twinkle of a forming tear. “A double order of chicken feet... The whole thing.”

“Um. Yes.”

Soodam sits back down, sparkling eyes fixed on the bounteous feast laid out before her. She lifts her various eating implements. Drool forms at the corners of her mouth. She glances up at you, still breathing briskly through pursed lips, and sets her utensils back down.

“I’m… being selfish. I’m sorry.”

“What? No really, I’m not hungry.”

“Thank you, but I mean all day today. I didn’t treat you like a real person at the salon. And now that we’re here I’m making it all about me.”

You’re a bit taken aback by the apparently very sudden self realization. You can only hope this is the last personality shift you see from Soodam. “Didn’t treat me like a person? I don’t know what you mean.”

Soodam sighs. Her eyebrows scrunch up in some inscrutable combination of frustration and sadness. “No, I… was nervous about the shoot, so I decided to treat you like you weren’t real. When you said you wanted a date… I panicked. I wanted my members to help me and I wanted to do everything like I was here alone… I didn’t take what you wanted into account.”

“Well, Soodam, that’s a little more explanation than I think you necessarily needed to provide, but I—members?”

“Yes. Of Secret Number. We… got rookie of the year a while ago.”

It’s no wonder. You’re always getting tied up in idols’ affairs. “And members? More than one?”

Soodam looks to the side. You follow her gaze. One of the people, a somewhat tan girl in an exercise outfit, sitting at a table near your booth looks back at you like a deer caught in the headlights. After a very awkward moment, she hops off her chair. “I’m going to—Oh hi by the way, I’m Dita. I’m gonna go. I know this is weird…”

“Hi Dita. Nice to meet you,” you say. No sense not being courteous.

“Nice to meet you too. Ummm, bye.” Dita slowly walks away as she gives Soodam the most hesitant half-smile, double-thumbs-up combo you’ve seen in a while.

You turn on Soodam once again. “Any more members? Or anyone else?”

She avoids your gaze. “No. Jinny and Lea... weren’t at the dorm.”

Options for Part 11:

(Picked:) It’s not the first time she’s said she’s nervous. Ask why. Surely the mood swings aren’t just because you’re cute.

You don’t need to know why she’s nervous. You can remedy that with a heavy, maybe naked make out session!

Wait. She wasn’t treating you like a human? Now that you know she’s an idol, that seems real high and mighty! Get out of there!

She probably just needs to air out her true feelings. Confess your love for her and suggest she do the same.

"So to be clear," you say, "You've never dated a girl before."

Soodam nods.

"But you said it's strange for girls to stare at each other."

Soodam nods.

"But you think I'm cute."

Soodam nods again.

"What am I missing that's making you so nervous then? Did the author miss a plot hole?"

Soodam starts nodding, but stops. Her eyebrows stitch together. “What?”

“Forget it. It’s just something I say sometimes. What’s got you so nervous?”

Without a hint of emotion in her voice, but plenty on her face, Soodam softly says, “I’m… an idol.”

“Yeah,” you say at a regular volume, “I gathered that in the last minute. What’s your point though?”

“There’s a dating ban.” Soodam tilts her head to the side as she explains. “And even worse, if it were to get out that I dated a girl… there would be trouble. Especially if people suspect that we...”

She stops speaking altogether. You’re fairly sure she would have said something about sex if she wasn’t Soodam. You lean back and think. It’s not that her point is wrong, exactly.

“Have you been to The Lounge, Soodam?”

Obviously confused, she slowly points at the entrance to the restaurant.

“No, and I think that’s a lobby. The Lounge is a cafe. I’ll take that as a no.”

Soodam shakes her head.

“Okay, so I think we should probably go there sometime so I can prove this point. Um. Yeah, you won’t get caught dating. Or doing anything for that matter.” The words come out of your mouth so fluidly it’s as if you’ve rehearsed this script.

“I don’t…”

“Well I guess if you try to get caught, you could do it.”

Now it’s Soodam’s turn to lean back, staring at you like you’re the crazy one. She still doesn’t have anything to say, so you do what you can to assure her.

“See, I’ve been working with idols for a while now. At least a few years. I’m telling you, idols regularly get up to the craziest stuff, and nobody ever gets caught.”

“That’s… absurd,” Soodam whispers. She’s not actually wrong, come to think of it. It’s not clear exactly how you and all of the idols you know get away with everything you’ve done and seen. But your confidence is unwavering.

You pull your phone out of your bag. “I understand the hesitation. Would you like to ask one yourself? I’ve got a hell of a contacts list. We can make it a video call.”

Soodam’s head tilt gets dangerously close to snapping her neck, but she looks down at your phone and back up, as if prompting you to go through with it.

Well alright. Who’s it going to be?

Options for Part 12:

(Picked:) Call Giselle and pray that SM doesn’t have her too busy to take the call.

Call Chuu and keep your fingers crossed that she doesn’t sound high.

Call Hani and try to count on her even remembering who you are.

Call Ryujin and hope she doesn’t seduce Soodam into leaving the date.

Call Minnie and presume that she won’t try to extort you for her help.

An SM idol seems like your best bet to convince someone that you have connections. And wouldn't you know it? Giselle is pretty close to the top of your contacts list.

Black Mamba plays quietly as you call. Soodam's eyes grow wide.

And there's no answer. Eventually the phone just shuts off. It doesn’t give you a chance to leave a voice message.

Now it's your turn to look nervous at Soodam. "Guess she must be bus—"

Your phone rings. Thank fuck, Giselle is calling back.

“Hey, what’s up? Sorry. I couldn’t reach my phone in time.”

Giselle’s face lights up your phone, only partially superimposed in the corner by the blank void where your selfie camera points back at your face. She’s wearing some strange, high fashion get up: An open jacket with pointy shoulders, half a pair of sunglasses (sun… monocle? sunmonocle), and a very very small fedora-like hat. She’s surrounded by dozens of staff in what looks to be yet another Givenchy promo shoot.

“Sup Jizzy? I’ve got a friend here who, it turns out, is an idol like you!" You turn the phone around. Soodam freezes like a deer in the headlights.

"Oooh! Girl, obviously I know Soodam."

Soodam slaps her hands over her mouth. You respond for her. "Really? How's that?"

"Secret Number is a big deal. You should know that. Besides, gotta keep an eye on those Japanese idols. If you don—" The phone cuts out for a moment. "—ut Lea's super chill from what I hear."

You laugh, partially to widen the break in Giselle’s speech. She can go on forever sometimes. "So here's the thing Jizzy. We're on a date, but Soodam is worried about getting caught."

"What? Why?"

You nod at Soodam, who hasn't so much as twitched. "You wanna tell her?"

She doesn't lower her hands, and barely whispers, "Dating ban…"

That's all Giselle needs, it seems, as she jumps back into it. "Oh don't worry about that. It's literally impossible to get caught. Check this out. Hey manager! Yeah! Hey! I just got a call from a chick with a gorgeous cock! You cool if I take a break to go meet up with her so she can eat me out?"

There's a moment of silence. Giselle seems to be waiting for a response. Soodam looks terrified, but that's nothing new. You're slightly shocked at having been randomly outed and at Giselle’s brazenness.

"Aw, he says no. But that's no surprise. I'm actually working right now. But look at that! A whole room of people heard me say that and their only concern is that I might take a break. Hey you! You heard me just now right? Why did I want a break again? Oh you don't remember? Shame. I wanted to go get fucked. By a futa gir—"

You quickly turn the phone back around.

Options for Part 13:

Interrupt Giselle. She shouldn't be pushing her luck with this weirdness! Shut up!

(Picked:) Ask Giselle when the next time is that you'll meet up to fuck. Kill two birds with one video call.

Hang up! You didn’t mean to reveal that to Soodam and now you need to do damage control.

"Hey! Hey! Jizzy! Shush! Don't push your luck," you hiss. Though, maybe like Giselle, you don't actually have to contain your voice. "But no, really. Not right now. I gotta go because I'm on a date, but when are we going to meet up next?"

"Like the next time you destroy my holes, you mean? You busy on Sunday?"

"Nope, let's do it! Text me a time."

"Ha, yeah girl! I'll see you then. Keep your cock warm in the new girl for m—Oh, good to meet you Soodam! Get my number from her and we can meet in person! Byyye!"

You smile, wave, and tap the button to hang up. What a fun girl, that Giselle…

Oh shit, that was a huge change in tone from the rest of the date.

You look up to see Soodam staring at you like a deer in the headlights. Or, you know, like Soodam.

You gingerly set the phone down next to you on the seat. "Sorry. Bad manners to talk to other people on a date."

She doesn't move. Actually, after spending a certain amount of time with Soodam, you think "deer in the headlights" might not be a strong enough idiom. She's like a… Buddha... mannequin.

"And sorry for not telling you a few other important factors about dati—"

"You're… poly?" Oh damn, Soodam can still speak.

"I guess that's one way to put it. It's hard to define, but that's a pretty efficient way to put it. I probably should have brought it up before the date, but I didn't want to sound too presumptu—"

"CanIjoin?" This girl is really getting into the habit of interrupting you. Wait.

"Sorry, what?"

"Can… I join?" Soodam speaks between inward breaths. She's going to explode soon if she doesn't exhale.

"Just like that? I mean this our first date, and…" Your tongue goes a little numb. You can't remember the last time you turned someone down. Is that even what you're doing?

"Yes. Can I." Intake. "Be one of." Intake. "Your girlfriends?" Her face is getting red, but you can't tell if it's because she's holding her breath or if it's your run of the mill blush. Probably both.

That was forward of her. You think.

Options for Part 14:

Yeah, you're turning her down. This date has been extremely… unconventional. Not interested.

Of course she can be one of your girlfriends. You've been trying to tap that this whole time.

(Picked:) Girlfriends? Poly? Hold up. You don't define your relationships. This requires a much longer discussion.

“I… um.” You stutter. But for the sake of Soodam’s presumably precious lungs, you should probably make up your mind.

“Sorry, Soodam. I really don’t want to reject you, and I’m not, but I don’t like putting labels on my relationships. It wouldn’t be fair to… some other people if I just said yes.”

Soodam’s lips quiver and her eyes start waterin—oh no, you made her cry! Fuck! That’s now how this is supposed to work! “No, Soodam! I’m sorr—“

“Ohthankgod,” she says through a quickly released breath. She leans over the table, clutching at her chest.

“Thank?”

“I don’t know what came over me… why I asked that. I’m not ready to date. I’m… Oh god, Giselle knew my name, and…”

You stare at the top of her heaving head. She didn’t mean it when she asked to be your girlfriend? Well, now you’re a little hurt. She sort of technically said you were cute earlier… “I mean, I’m not ready to date either. But, you know, like, I was really considering it. I would just need, like, some convincing.”

Soodam falls back against her seat, fanning her face, still working on regulating her breathing. “No, that’s okay… I really can’t date… Too weird.”

“Too weird? Is it about me being a futa? Because, like, that’s not always the ca—”

She interrupts, again, a little more in control of herself. “That’s not what I mean. It’s relationships. I can’t… take that much attention.”

You stare at each other for a few moments. “Like this?” you ask, realizing you’re being very attentive suddenly.

Soodam rips her eyes away from yours and nods rapidly. “I like the idea… of being with someone pretty like you.” You can feel your self esteem re-enter your body. “I just don’t think I can… love?”

Oooh, heavy.

“You still want to spend time together without being romantic?” you ask.

She looks back into your eyes just long enough to convey that she’s being genuine when she nods. You smile back and hold out your hand, a little off to the side to avoid dipping your elbow in hell’s favorite chicken feet sauce. “May I make a suggestion then? Like a real one.”

Soodam shifts under her cardigan into a slightly more relaxed pose. Her face still seems to be expressing some amount of consternation, but you’re starting to catch on to the concept that it might just be her permanent state of being, like it’s her personal twist on resting bitch face. But even so, the corners of her mouth twitch upward.

Options for Part 15:

You can just be good friends! With the single stipulation that you occasionally hold hands in public, no matter how lewd that is.

(Picked:) Come on. Say it with yourself now. Friends. With. Benefits. Ain’t nothing wrong with some emotionally aloof butt-fucking!

You know, you still have to pick and edit the stuff from her photoshoot, and you could use help. Ask if she wants to be your coworker!

"If you like the idea of, you know, being together," You pause to watch Soodam slowly nod. "But you don't want to do a relationship, which I also don't, to reiterate," You pause again. Same reaction. "But you are totally cool with maybe perhaps staying friends, which I love the idea of," She doesn't nod this time. Instead, one side of her mouth wiggles up. It may look a little hesitant, but it sure seems like the most genuine… or only smile you've seen from her today.

"We could maybe, if it's cool, try a situation like, say,"

"Gal pals?!" Soodam's outburst makes you jump a little, and gets some dirty looks from the surrounding restaurant patrons.

You take a second to process. "Wait, gal pals?"

Soodam nods, very enthusiastically now.

"I thought you didn't want the romance."

"What?"

"Gal pal is a romantically coded term."

"It just means… girls who are friends but has a secret connotation that they have sex sometimes."

"Who told you that?"

Soodam's smile fades. It was nice while it lasted. "I… looked it up."

"It's about… okay, you're technically correct, but the general implications is that the titular 'gals' who are being 'pals' are actually in a committed relationship with each other."

She snatches your hand, which you suddenly remember has been floating over the table for a while now. "No! That's not what… what do you call lesbian friends with benefits then?"

You smirk. At least you were going in the same direction. "Um, 'friends with benefits?' But there's space to make adjustments to the terminology."

"Are you sure it's not 'gal pals?' Why does it have to be romantic?" Soodam gives you an unexpectedly angry glare, catching you off guard. Her grip on your hand gets a little tight.

"I just—"

"Who told you that's the case?"

You suddenly don't recall. Maybe it's best to relent. "I… good point. Let's be gal pals then?"

The smile isn't so hesitant and lopsided this time. Her eyes make way for a single dimple. "Okay."

The rest of the date feels like more of a… well, a date. Soodam opens up and actually engages in conversation, even if she's still awkward and very to the point about most subjects. She annihilates the chicken feet throughout, not even noticing that you steal the occasional spoonful of rice (there's no way you'll be incinerating your soft palate just because you're a bit hungry).

A few times, she makes a little flirtatious move on you: a brush of the foot on your leg, a stroke of the finger on the back of your hand, a bite of the lip when you make eye contact. It's somewhere between juvenile and impossibly arousing. The sun has gone down outside by the time you even think to tear your eyes from her to look at the time. A skinny young man in an apron walks by and subtly reminds the two of you that the restaurant is trying to close, and you're the only ones left.

Outside, you catch a glimpse of the coffee shop across the street, Denise and Dita in the window. They're clearly still trying to evade detection, but being the only people with a reason to use binoculars at night in a public space gives them away.

Soodam catches your hand. "I guess this is bye for now."

"I guess so. I'm glad we met up, Soodam."

"Me too… pal." She grins far too widely at her single entendre. She turns you to fully face her and goes in for a hug, face pressed against your shoulder. You return the gesture, trying not to laugh at your own speculative mental image of her members' reaction on the other side of the street.

"Can we meet again soon?" she asks, muffled.

"Of course…" You remember a very good reason to meet again soon. "I have to get your pictures to you."

There's a long pause. Maybe mentioning several gigabytes of lewd and nude photos of your date isn't the best way to end the night. But then, the hint of mischievousness in her voice tells you it wasn't all that bad.

"Actually, can I… help you pick them?"

You pull away from the hug enough to see Soodam's lip-biting grin.

"Oh dear, Soodam. How suggestive."

The hug itself gets a little more suggestive when her fingers trail down and squeeze your ass. "I'm not suggesting anything… Are you?"

"Of course not. It will be a perfectly normal, friendly day of looking at your naked pictures."

"Day?"

"Or night. You pick."

"Hm. A day sounds good. That will give you more time to figure it out."

"Figure it out? Figure what out?"

Soodam's grip on your buttcheeks becomes extra brazen, curling inward and kneading. "That I won't be wearing panties, like today."

You feel like you should say something about how you no longer have to figure that out since she told you, but your curiosity and latent horniness overwhelm you. You start to reach for her butt to get your hands on it the same way her hands are on yours, or maybe you can go under her skirt. That perfect, bubble-round butt that you've tried so hard not to think about since arriving at the restaurant is so close! So ready for your touch!

But Soodam backs off. Your fingertips merely brushed her hips, and your own ass suddenly felt very lonely and unsqueezed. "Text me your address if you want me… to come over."

Even in your mild daze, you catch on. That particular pause was much more intentional than most. You shudder. This girl might be more seductive than she's been letting on.

"Friday. Yep, Friday is good. I'll send you my address tonight."

Before you can react, Soodam is millimeters away from your face. She gives you a chaste peck on the corner of your mouth and drops back. "Don't look at the pictures until then, okay?"

Soodam is walking away by the time you regain enough of your senses to speak again. The sway of her frustratingly opaque and barely too long skirt don't help."H-hey! What was the photoshoot for, anyway?"

You can barely make out the blush on her cheeks in the dim street light as she turns back to you. "I'll… tell you on Friday."

The anticlimactic answer pains you as much as the sight of her slowly shrinking silhouette. When she turns a corner, you finally get the unfortunate relief of not watching her.

Another day, a little more than just another photoshoot. It really was an interesting one.

Thank fuck for that overused plot device.

THE END

Heylo, thank you for bearing with joining me for another one of these! Sorry for the, uh, drawn out time frame. But like... it happens.

Anyway, on to the stuff!

Storyline unlocks:

[Soodam - PromiScoodam]

[Giselle - Ally]

Unpicked option facts:

Part 1: No lie, the studio was going to be called salon érotique regardless of the option picked. This is a SMUT.

Part 3: Damn, nobody wanted smut in this SMUT apparently. No votes for anything except the fluffy option. Obviously this would have been a very different story overall if not for this.

Part 4: If the vote had been to call her out for rudeness, I was going to write her as a more dominant personality moving forward.

Part 7: The Monty Python reference was not in my original outline. I hadn't thought of an option that would reveal Denise and Dita up to that point, so I tossed it in as half a joke. The no questions option was meant to make it more rom-com as she'd have stumbled around over two different explanations in her ear.

Part 10: While not a fun fact about the options, this part was fun to write because I accidentally incorporated a couple references to other writers' stories that I enjoyed, and eventually decided to go back and fill it with more of that.

Part 12: Calling Chuu and Hani were the "bad" options, resulting in Soodam not believing you. It wouldn't have ended the story, but would have made her very suspicious of you. Ryujin was a sex option because Soodam was going to get hot and bothered and basically jump you. And Minnie would have turned out much the same as Giselle, but I would have swapped Minnie out of Sorry for Shuhua (not for any good reason, but just to not repeat idols so quickly).

Part 13: Y'all caught me off guard with this vote. I thought you were trying to keep the story pure, but nooo. I had already started writing Part 14 as if one of the other two options had been picked, but then the overwhelming majority was like "Kk, sex talk time." Not that I especially mind, but it was a funny switch up.

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