#fairy tale rip off

[duckapus]

You know what, now that he's back I'm gonna say it:

For as good a Showman as he is, when it comes to his actual chosen profession of a show creator Mr. Puzzles actually kind of sucks.

-He can't handle when things go off-script even slightly, which is ironic considering his four greatest successes came from giving the crew (or a related character) a prompt and just sitting back and recording the fireworks.

-Everything always has to be about him, even when in-context it really shouldn't be.

-When he has full creative control over the crew he has NO UNIQUE IDEAS. Everything he makes is a blatant rip-off of another show that only gets elevated to affectionate parody thanks to the very cast that he chose explicitly because he believed they sucked and wanted a challenge.

-Speaking of which, he clearly doesn't know quality when he sees it and either severely underestimated them, overestimated himself, or both, because it took them less than ten minutes to match and surpass his precious Five Stars.

-The five stars that took him most of a movie to get AND, need I remind you, THEY EARNED FOR HIM UNINTENTIONALLY!!!!

-It's clear from his monologue at the end of today's episode (and the fact that the episode exists at all) that, despite claiming otherwise, he has learned nothing from his defeat.

[weirdthinginthecorner]

THIS FIC WRITER JUST SAID THEY WERE GONNA MAKE THE FIC I REQUESTED HAPPY DAYS OOOOHH I'VE BEEN BLESSED

[endlessapples]

knight!caleb x princess!reader headcannons

reversing the roles from the xavier fic but writing about caleb releases a different kind of feral from me (why are the vibes so different between these two works lol!)

warnings: feral behavior, abusive themes, possessive tendencies, graphic mention of violence/death, a bit of religious blasphemy, is he really a yandere in this tho? (answer is yes), 18+ only

caleb, who despite being a small child himself is forced to do the most menial, laborious tasks in the kitchens of the palace, escaping for a breather with stolen food in his clothes and encountering you in gardens for the first time. even though you're weeping into the sleeve of your gown, snot soaking the fabric, you still look like a precious doll. he immediately is captivated. he can't bring himself to say anything though, not when he's covered in dirt, and so he watches you from afar. when you leave the gardens, you find a shiny polished apple placed on a ripped piece of fabric. caleb, hidden in the bushes, sees the bright smile that washes over your tear-stricken face.

caleb gets beaten, though, when the cook finds the tear in his clothes and the ingredients missing in the kitchen. but when he thinks about you taking the bite of the apple and wiping away your tears, he grits his teeth together and endures.

caleb, who's spent his entire childhood yearning after you ever since and working hard at knight training to rise in the ranks. even though he knows he can't marry you, at least he can protect you. years later, when your kingdom is at war, you come out and give a speech to rally up the troops. you're more beautiful than he remembered. but when your sleeves droop down and he spots a bruise on your skin, his vision almost goes red. it's then that he vows to himself that he'll protect the kingdom first and then destroy it with his own hands.

caleb who gets promoted with a nobility title after his contributions in the war. he loses his right arm in that battle, and a wooden limb replaces it. even though the other nobles jeer at him and curse him under their breath at the homecoming banquet, he doesn't pay them any attention. he's paying attention to only you. the king shows you off like you're his most prized possession. you don't look happy, even though you're pretending to smile. caleb knows that. caleb knows you.

caleb who hears about the king planning on selling you off to the highest bidder for your marriage (it's a king about his own age whose three previous wives have already died). he knows that the people are growing discontent with the king, with the nobility. he joins the rebellion then. it's treason, and he'll be branded as a sinner and killed if he's caught. but he's never been a rational man, not when it comes to you.

when he beheads the king with his own sword, you're cowering in front of him, begging him not to kill you as he comes closer. how could you ever think he would kill you? he lo-

caleb who doesn't know quite sure what love really means. he didn't grow up in a world where fairy tales of love had ever existed--at least not the innocent good ones. but the bad ones, where the evil are grotesquely punished and the good are rewarded with their deaths, that he knows of. and if this is your fairy tale's happy ending, he's satisfied that he's been able to give it to you.

he can't bring himself to touch you with his right arm. not when the pain in it serves as a reminder of how low he is and how precious you are. not when it's covered in that bastard king's blood. but what he can do is this. he brings himself down to his knees in front of you, reverent, seeking only one answer from you. when he hears it, he knows his prayers will have been answered by the god that he's sworn to himself he has never once believed in. but maybe that god is you and has always been you.

"will you let me protect you? will you let me wed you?" he whispers. he reaches out his left hand (it's clean, not bloody), hoping you'll take it.

when you take his hand, he understands from it that you have accepted.

and it doesn't matter that it might be fear that pushes you to answer 'yes', that you might believe that you are leaving from the confinement of one wicked man to another, either way, he'll protect you. he'll keep you safe from every evil that seeks to harm you.

in him, you will find a haven away from the wicked. in him, you will find paradise.

[anomaly-hivemind]

Dive In ☆ Merman! Gojo x Scrientist! Reader | Kinktober Day 14

Summary: You were brought in to study a merman whom you heard was quite aggressive; however, he’s always been kind to you. You were able to get close. Maybe a bit too close.

Word Count: 3978

Tags: Merman!Gojo, afab!reader, vaginal penetration, scratch marks, porn with plot, cunnilingus, handjobs, experimental sex, mating, government facilities, the reader becomes a fugitive, mating rituals, creampie, breeding, transformations, wet dreams.

When you got a call from the federal government you didn’t know what to expect. You were honestly a bit worried that you had done something you weren’t supposed to and were going to be silenced. The last thing you expected to see however was a mermaid, or merman in this case.

You were a  NOAA scientist and had seen so many strange sea creatures, so the possibility of mermaids being out there wasn't out of the realm of possibility. However, you didn’t think that they would exist like this. The closest thing humanity has had to mermaids is manatees and dugongs. When thinking critically this is what most people assumed mermaids would look similarly to. That they would have rough skin and blubber and coarse hair or fur. However, this merman swimming before you looked like something right out of a fairy tale.

Based on the way it floated around his head, his hair looked to be the same texture as human hair. His whole upper half looked to be very human aside from the gills you could see on the sides of his neck, the fins on his arms, and the fin-like ears he had. 

“Ah Dr.L/N, Pleased to meet you,” An older man came up to you and extended his hand. He was in a fine pair of slacks and a pristine button-down with a black tie and white lab coat overtop. 

You took his hand and gave it a firm shake. He introduced himself as the lead researcher for this top-secret project and gave you the rundown. A fisherman from a small town in Kauai, Hawaii called in about a wild animal of some sort stealing fish. Eventually, another fisherman got a strange “Fishman” caught in his nets and called the Coast Guard, and from there, it became a bit more about coverup from the general public. The fisherman was compensated handsomely to keep hush and this merman was carted off to this government facility.

They began running tests and researching the merman however he attacked one of the researchers and they ended up losing an eye. So they had to pivot and decided to bring in someone with expertise in predatory marine life, that being you.

You looked back at the white-haired merman in the tank, he didn’t look aggressive, but you’d have to be an idiot to think that he wasn’t actually dangerous.

“I’ll let you take over as lead researcher, come on and I’ll introduce you to the team.” You followed after him and met the other researchers. It was a small group, most likely for the sake of confidentiality. They were kind but you didn’t want to waste any time chatting when you were eager to learn more about the merman.

The tank of the merman was that of a large shark, it was important to keep a new species as comfortable as possible to avoid any personal injuries. At the bottom it was made of the usually thick tempered glass of any high-grade aquarium, Is almost twenty feet deep of water, wide enough for the merman to swim freely without bumping into the walls, and filled to the brim with clean salt water filtering into the tank. 

A cage was newly added on top of the tank after the first incident to ensure the workers' safety. So the only way to get up close and personal was up the flight of stairs and through the locked door to stand on the built-in ledge over the water/tank opening. 

You walked back over to the tank where the merman swam around lethargically. You ripped off a paper from a nearby notepad and took the pen as you began writing basic facts about his appearance.

Long white hair, pale skin, silvery-blue scales covering the tail, and a few stray clusters of scales in the torso here and there, slightly forked caudal fin, fins are a translucent dark blue. About 12 ft long. You looked back up and were met with the merman in question staring back at you. His eyes were such a mesmerizing shade of blue, like the sky, or shining jewels. 

You wondered if it was an evolutionary trait to aid hunting. His webbed hands were pressed up against the glass with his sharp nails on display. 

Yeah, definitely dangerous. You thought, thinking back to the researcher who lost an eye.

One of the researchers called for you and when you turned back round the merman had swam to the back of the tank. You were looking forward to officially starting work.

----------------------- 

The first few days you spent observing the merman’s behaviors. It seemed like he could tell what fish had been the most recently caught because that’s what he prefers. 

You put in an order request for aquatic plants as you wanted to see if he was omnivorous however they hadn’t come in yet. Based on his behavior you would say that he’s just as curious about you as you are to him. He had never displayed aggressive behavior when you were around and he wasn’t exactly eating from your hand but you could hand the fish to him at feeding times instead of tossing it into the tank like the other researchers.

You were sitting by the tank, reviewing your notes and drawing diagrams of his outward physiology when you heard someone call your name.

“Hello?” You called out, looking up from your work, however no one was there.

“Y/N…” They called out again. You looked towards the tank and saw the merman peering over the edge, his hands were gripping the metal bars and he was looking at you curiously.

“Y/N,” He repeated…

“You can talk?!” The merman cocked his head before diving back into the tank. You raced to the top and peered over the edge. He swam back to the top and looked at you. 

“Y/N.” He can really talk.

“Yes, that’s my name, Y/N.” You said, gesturing to yourself.”Do you have a name?”

“Y/N,” he repeated once again. You sighed. Maybe he can only make parrot noises. It was impressive nonetheless.

“I am Y/N, you are…?”

“Sa..to..ru,” He said. “Satoru,” He said. His bright eyes stare back at you.

“Okay then, nice to meet you Satoru,” You smiled.

----------------------- 

Satoru picked up speaking fairly quickly, he wasn't fluent and often flubbed his sentences but he had a good grasp of language. With that addition, it became much easier to observe his personality and mannerisms. 

He had no concept of money but boy did he have expensive taste. Almost immediately after learning how to speak, he began voicing complaints and making requests. Apparently, the cod and red snapper he’s being fed aren’t good enough, and after much back and forth on what exactly he was talking about he requested bluefin tuna, Alaskan salmon, and swordfish. 

He was very playful, at least with you. He Loved to call your name… and to tell the other researchers to go away. Those were his favorite things to say.

You walked up the stairs with your lunch and lunch for Satoru, which was halibut today. 

“Hello, Y/N,” Satoru said, quickly swimming up to the surface and flashing you a sharp-tooth smile.

“Hello Satoru,” You tossed him the fish and he began eating eagerly. You applied sanitizer then wiped your hands with a wet wipe before opening your lunch to begin eating. 

“What’s that?” Satoru asked, looking back at you, he was somehow already done eating.

“This is nigiri sushi, it’s thinly sliced raw fish over rice. Wanna try some?” 

“Really?” He said, with wide eyes. You nodded, taking a piece of salmon nigiri and offering it to him. Instead of taking it, he ate it straight out of your hand in one bite. His cold lips tickled and he licked the stray grains of rice from your hand.

“So… what do you think?”

He was silent for a moment before smiling back at you. It made your heart flutter a bit but you pushed the feeling back.

“I Like it,”

“Here have some more,” you said, offering straight from the box this time.

When you went home and went to sleep that night you had a dream about Satoru, He was human. His white hair was short and fluffy, and he still had piercing blue eyes. You were lying on the beach together on the sand, and for some reason, he was kissing all over your legs, his plump lips softly made their way up your legs, and right as his face was inches away from your groin you woke up.

You woke up covered in sweat, your pajamas sticking to your skin as you stared up in the dark abyss. Your breath heaved… and it took a while before you could go back to sleep.

After that day, Satoru became even more attached to you and complained when you weren’t by his side. 

A while later the head researcher stopped by to see how things were going.

“So I hear you’ve gotten pretty close with the merman, even got him to talk,”

“Satoru, yes. He’s very interesting, he has two pairs of lungs one for the air and the other for the dissolved oxygen in the water and..” You proceeded to ramble on about what you’ve learned and his personality. “While he is a predator I haven’t been able to observe any real aggressive behavior, he’s always so sweet and curious when I’m around- oh I’m sorry I’m rambling,”

The head researcher laughed and waved his hand,” You’re all good, almost sounds like love to me.”

Your face grew hot and you laughed off what he said.”What can I say, I really love my work,”

“That’s amazing, you’ve been doing wonderful work here.” He said looking at all the data you’ve collected.

“I’m sensing a but…” You said, wringing your hands together nervously.

“I’ll get right to the point then, you don’t have any data on how or if they reproduce,”

Oh… right. You were certainly curious about it since you learned he could talk, you had been putting it off, it felt less like research and more like an invasion of his privacy.

“I’ll get on it, sir,” You nodded.

----------------------- 

You headed over to the tank with papers to talk with Satoru. As usual, when you walked up, Satoru swam right over with his usual smile.

“Hello Y/N,”

“Hello Satoru,” You said with a sigh.”So I had a few questions, but they’re a bit more personal.” You blushed thinking about it, you’d start off with the normal stuff first.

“Okay,”

“So are there others out there like you? Before you came here were you in a group?”

“A few. But I was not with a pod before being here.” He answered.

“Why weren’t you with your pod?”

“I was looking. Looking for a mate.” He said, his eyes meeting yours.

“Oh, is that what you all do? Split off to find a mate?” You asked.

“No, just me. A mate is an equal, in the pod I am the best. No equal, no mate. So I went off, to find another strong as me.”

“How long have you been looking for a mate?” Pausing from what you were writing.

He paused for a moment before answering.”Twenty-Eight moon cycles,”

That was about two years! Must get lonely, all by himself, separated from his pod, you thought. Maybe you could help him escape, you could convince them that it’s better to observe the group rather than one mercreature on its own (I mean you weren’t lying.)

“So if you could, I guess you would go home huh?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“Only if you went.” You were surprised by that answer.

“Why me?”

“It’s bad to leave mates behind,” he answered. At first, you thought he was joking but you remembered you hadn’t explained the concept yet, he was completely serious.

“Satoru, what makes you think we’re mates?” You asked, your face growing a bit hot.

“You share your nigiri with me; only mates share food, or parents and pups.”

Oh…

Oh…

OH…

No wonder he was so surprised when you offered him the Nigiri, and why he’s been so clingy.

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry,”

“You don’t want to be my mate then?” He asked with a sad expression which made you feel like you were shot through the heart.

“It’s not exactly that, I’m not a mermaid, I can’t breathe underwater,”

“Mates can be human, you’ll change after the mate bond,”

“I’ll grow a tail?” you asked bewildered.

“No, gills, scales, fins, then tail”

“I’m not nearly as physically strong as you either,” You replied.

“No, but you know many things, knowing many things like fish, many things that will be good for the pod.”

While you were intrigued by the process it just seemed like too much. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

“It’s me then, you don’t like me.”

“No, no, no I do like you, I love you, Satoru, but ah-” You stopped when you caught what you said.

“...Love? What’s what?”

“It’s when others feel strongly about each other, when they really really like eachother or something. Like families or friends or a pet… or a mate…” You said swallowing nervously.

“So you love me?” He asked, his body basically pressed up against the edge of the platform.

“...yes,”

“Do you love me like family?”

“... No,” you said, shaking your head.

“Like a pet?”

“No,”

“Then do you love me like a mate?” You looked back at him and as you looked into his eyes you knew the answer.

“Yes, Satoru, I love you, I’ll be your mate.” As you said those words he had the biggest grin on his face and dived back into the water, swiftly swimming in circles and flipping out of the water. You laughed, you had never seen him this happy before.

He swam back over to where you sat and leaned over your lap, water dripping onto your legs.

“How does mating work anyways?”

“It’s easier to show than to tell, but not here, in shallow water,” He explained.

“Okay, then I guess I definitely have to break you out of here then, It wouldn’t be right to leave my mate locked up in some secret government facility.”

You waited until dark when everyone had gone aside from security here and there before you began your heist. You got one of the big carts they wheeled around all the fish they fed Satoru in and filled it with water. Then there was the painstaking process of getting him out of the tank and down the stairs. You knew you couldn't carry him when he weighed well over eight hundred pounds so you had to guide him and make sure he didn’t hurt himself as he flopped down the metal stairs.

Then you wheeled him out and into your car, however the best you could do for him was plenty of tarps and an inflatable pool to turn the back seat of your minivan into a makeshift tank of some sort, You grabbed some things from home and then drove to where you hoped no one could find you, which just so happened to be a place that looked like a mermaid grotto.

It wasn’t easy to get him from your car to the water but it was worth it to see the smile on his face.

“Y/n, dive into the water,” Satoru called; you stripped from your clothes and cannonballed into the spring. Satoru swam in circles around you; his blue fins sparkled under the moonlight. 

You laughed as he made small splashes around you. He swam closer to you and wrapped his wet arms around your waist. 

“Uhh Satoru…?”

“Didn’t you want to know how we mate?” Satoru said in a low voice, the seductive look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. His cool fingers caressed your face, pushing your loose hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah,” you turn to fully look at him, wrapping your arms around him. 

“Great,” His lips pressed against yours, happily obliging to kiss him back. As you continued, the kiss became heated. His cold fingers slipped down your bare skin, and your back pressed against the edge of the grotto pool. 

“I can't say I'll be fully gentle but I'll make sure you're fully taken care of,” he said as his nails scratched against your skin. You hissed, and he pressed soft kisses to your neck. The mating process was kinda rough, but you liked it as well. 

“If you don’t mind me asking why is the scratching necessary?” you  do your best to look at the marks on your skin.

“Scratching is arousing, You are turned on, are you not?” he runs his sharp nail down your arm slightly.

“Yes, but I can show you a better way,” You said, guiding his hand down to your cunt. His eyes widened a bit as he felt your folds with the pads of his fingers. As he pressed against your mound of flesh, you could feel the webbing between his fingers, between that and those nails of his, you were certain there wouldn’t be any fingering for you today. 

He pressed against your clit, and you took a sharp breath. He quirked his head to the side. 

“Does that feel good?” he whispered while staring up into your eyes.

You nodded and added more. His fingers began massaging your nub in small circles. You rested your head on his shoulder and let out a little moan. 

“Bite me” Gojo whimpered and it took a second to process what he said. But you were already on his shoulder the least you could do was obliged him. You sink your teeth into his shoulder and with his thick skin was tough to mark into him. He lets out a pleased hiss as you effectively caused a small dent just off near his gills. 

“Now it's your turn. Sorry, this may hurt a bit,” he said teasingly, her lips ghosting over your skin before he sunk his teeth into your shoulder. You winced with how deep his teeth were; you were sure that they had drawn blood.

Satoru wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you out of the water onto the rocks. He gently parted your legs before leaning forward. He pressed soft, tender kisses to your inner thighs. His cold lips tickled and made your stomach do somersaults. His tongue took a precautionary lick to your pussy before lapping at your wet folds. 

A small moan escaped your lips as his lips closed around your clit. His tongue circled, flicked, and sucked out your sensitive bud. You couldn’t control the noises that were coming out of your mouth, and your legs were enclosing around Satoru’s head. He used his strong hands to hold them open, his wet palms gripping your thighs. 

Just as you were about to release all over his face, Satoru pulled away. You whined and looked up at him.

“Don’t you wanna get to the good part?” He gave you a smirk.

He slid up onto the rocks beside you and positioned himself in an off-able way. Your hand hovered in the air for a moment, and you weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to be doing. You guessed that Satoru sensed your confusion because he grabbed your hand and guided it to where a slit was ah, yes, his mermanussy. Your fingers slipped around and stroked the area for a moment before his long, smooth length slipped out of it, springing out from its sheath and bobbing in the air. 

Your hand warped around his member and stroked it up and down a few times. He was slightly slimy and slim-tipped, with it being more skin color. Your finger teased his tip, and his sticky precum followed in strong lines attached to your fingers. You twisted and turned your hands as you jerked him until he was amply hard.

Now that he was rock hard, you positioned yourself to be on top of him and slowly sunk down on his cock. You moaned, and Satoru hissed. 

“There's no going back now,” you said and slowly began to move your hips to meet him. He grabs your hips and moves up to suck in your skin. 

“You feel so good~” Satoru tightened his grip and started to fuck up into you. You pressed yourself on his chest to be upright in order to not be a mushed mess laying on top of him. You flattened your hands on his chest as you rode him gently, your hole clenched around him as you bounced on his long cock. Wet sounds and the lewd noise of skin slapping against skin bouncing around the grotto walls, along with the wanton moans coming from your mouth. 

The rocking of his hips meets yours as you hold back the urge to wiggle and squirm. Your walls flutter around his length, and you take him in a kiss. It was messy, passionate, and pretty uncoordinated, but neither did you care because you were caught up in the moment.

Satoru tilts your body back a bit as he ruts into you with a new determined force. You felt like you had little control at this unbalanced angle. He licks your breast and kisses your neck, and you let out whines and moans. Satoru let out a few whimpers as he got closer to climax, and you were definitely right along with him.

“Ahh, I’m gonna cum, come inside me!” you panted out, feeling like the air was getting harder to breathe.

You couldn't come back anymore, and you let yourself experience a sweet release. The walls of your cunt clench around him as he comes, and your juices leak around the base of his cock. Around the same time, Satoru groaned, his grip on you growing tighter and his nails digging into your hips, and hot ropes of cum spilled inside your pussy. Your warm walls milked him of every last drop, the translucent milky liquid leaking from your hole. 

You slowly remove him from inside you, feeling his fluid leaking out of you with a sticky slowness. 

You smile fondly as you rest against his chest. You fell asleep on his strong chest. Not much later, you woke up to a strange sensation. You had a strong urge to jump in the water like it would be more enriching than the air. You slowly and carefully slipped out of Satoru’s arms and into the water. As your head ducks under you find yourself not needing to hold your breath. You reached up and felt delicate gills on the sides of your neck.

Then scales pushed their way through your skin, and fins sprouted out along with webbing between your fingers finally, and most uncomfortably, your legs stuck themself together and overtop grew flesh and scales. Your legs and back hurt so bad like your bones were breaking and reforming. However, the pain didn’t last longer than a few moments, and when you flexed your new tail, it felt much more flexible than you imagined. It was almost like your body was a worm in a string with the way you could toggle around. 

When satoru woke up he looked over at your new form with admiration. He slipped into the water to get a better view. You looked out at the surface world one last time before taking Satoru’s hand and diving into the world below. 

“So, are you excited to see your pod after such a long time?”

“I’m excited for you to pop out some guppies,” Satoru smirked as you both swam off to your new life.

[enyaliuswrites]

➽ Turning The Pages of Time

Prince!Zayne x Librarian!fem reader 100 followers special. 1.92k words.

Prince LADS Masterlist

Prince!Zayne, who has always been serious about his royal duties, paying attention to every class, every meeting, every charity work to attend to. He’s praised and loved by all, his professors, family members, generals, soldiers, commoners. The prince often visits the infirmary, with his broad knowledge in medicine, he’s able to help greatly and also win the hearts of injured civilians and knights. 

Prince!Zayne, who got into medicine because his mother was a nurse and her dream was always to be a doctor but was unable to, so Zayne became a Doctor for his mother’s happiness. The prince has a nickname by the common folk, “The Crowned Doctor”, everywhere he went people would call him that. 

Prince!Zayne, who turned down every single marriage proposal, whether it be a recommendation from family or for politics. He believes that if it has anything to do with politics then he can make a peace agreement with other kingdoms without marrying and he always tells his family that he would like to focus on preparing to be the next king instead of worrying about small things like love. 

Prince!Zayne, who carries the weight of everyone's expectations. The army depends on his strategic thinking. The infirmary trusts in his skilled hands. The councilors look to him for his eloquence and wisdom. The prince, now nearing the end of his third decade, feels as though nothing has changed since he was 16—the same heavy expectations still weighing on his shoulders.

Prince!Zayne, who visits the Imperial Library whenever his head throbs with stress or when he seeks answers hidden within the countless shelves of books. The prince feels grounded every time he sets foot inside. The scent of parchment and ink eases his mind, and the nice librarian—who always seems to know where every single book is—makes herself seem helpful without overstepping.

The quiet clicks of Zayne's shoes against the marble floor instantly calm him as he takes in the familiar, comforting sight of endless rows of shelves stretching across both floors. The elegant designs of white marble and gold linings serve the furthermore image of the Imperial Library. 

“What books are you looking for today, Prince Zayne?” You say, emerging from behind the crescent-shaped reference desk. 

Zayne's lips tug into a barely noticeable smile. Just ‘Prince Zayne’—a simple title. Unlike everyone else, who calls him ‘The Crown Prince’ or ‘The Crowned Doctor,’ you don’t dress him up in grand titles. He’s always hated those flashy names so when you say his name like that, he’s never felt more at ease. There was a silent comfort between you—something unspoken, yet understood between only the both of you. 

“Something that’ll take my mind off things.” 

Well, that’s a first. Zayne has never stepped back into the world of nonfiction since he turned 7. For as long as he could remember he had always been reading documents of medicine, war strategies, economics, politics, history, the list goes on and on. 

You raise your eyebrows in surprise for a moment before you start to think, “I think I know just the perfect thing for you.”

Zayne follows you as you lead him to another section of the library, somewhere he has never been before. The Southern Wing is drastically different from the Eastern Wing. With wooden cutouts of mythical creatures and characters, it feels like a setting of the fairy tales his mother used to read him when he was a child.

You stop and scan the shelf in front of you, taking only a few seconds before recognizing the familiar title and spine of the thin book. Pulling it out and handing it to Zayne , you start to describe the basic plot, “This book is about a little prince who finds a village boy who looks exactly like him. They switch with each other, both eager to see how the other person lives. And well, you’ll have to read to find out more.”

Zayne rips his gaze from you, looking at the sea green cover instead as he flips through the pages. With a small nod accompanied by a hint of a smile he walks out and you’re left alone in the world of books again.

It doesn’t even take three days before Zayne finds himself back in the library, his mind full—not with thoughts that make his head throb, but with ones that bring him peace. He finds you with your nose buried in a book, sitting in the worst posture possible. Clearing his throat, Zayne quickly looks away as you snap upright, startled at being caught.

“Oh! Prince Zayne! I didn’t see you there..” Zayne looks back once he sees your now more composed state, though a little red in the cheeks. 

“I’ve finished the book you recommended to me.” He hands the sleek book to you, smiling as his gaze lingers on the cover. A sea green clothbound cover encases the whole book despite its thin width, hinting that it holds something special within.

“What did you think of it?” You asked, a little hopeful as you stood up to return the book where it belonged. You weren’t sure if it would suit his tastes, but you hoped he’d get lost in a world of adventures. To preoccupy him with someone else’s struggles instead of his own. To live fully through the main characters in books, without facing any of the dangers himself. 

In the story you recommended to Zayne, the two boys became sworn brothers. Despite their different upbringings and interests, they always stood by each other. They both were able to achieve their dreams in the end—the village boy was able to rise into power and gain a high ranking while the prince ventured off into the faraway lands with the purpose of adventure.

“I was able to see a new perspective in things. I understand why you like to read these books now.” The clicks of Zayne's shoes are much louder than the one on your feet but they both equally echo around the whole library, “But I’d like to know—why do you stay here? You have more than enough skill to aim for higher positions and grander titles.”

“As much as I’d love to experience the hardships and adventures of these protagonists, I’d much rather do so from the safe walls of this library. I know I might sound like a coward, but life is precious. I can’t just throw mine away. Especially not after everything the people I love have done to raise and protect me.” 

The cogs in Zayne's brain are turning faster than usual, trying to find the right words to respond to you. He wanted to comfort you, praise you, and somehow do it all at once.

Just as Zayne opened his mouth to speak, the massive doors of the Imperial Library swung open with a heavy thud, the sound echoing through the vast halls, startling you both. Zayne's personal knight rushed over as he fell to his knee when he approached Zayne,

“I apologize for the interruption, Your Royal Highness, but urgent matters require your attention, Crown Prince.” 

Zayne nods as the knight stands up and straightens before walking out. Zayne turns back around to face you, his eyes softening from his earlier serious demeanor, “I hope you’ll have more books for me the next time I’m here. You seem to know my tastes.” 

As the prince walks off into the distance you follow suit. You weren’t following him or sending him off. You had to be back to the reference counter either way! However, just when Zayne's about to step out of the library, he holds the door and his body lingers for a few seconds before turning back to you for the last time. 

“I would like to know more about your world. I hope you’ll allow me to.”

Prince!Zayne, who spends most of his day thinking about you even as he’s attending to the urgent matters of some rebels in the North. As the prince lies down in bed he realizes that you’ve been occupying his mind for the past few months. Your smile. Your gaze. The way you speak and the way you act when you think no one can see you. It makes Zayne smile as he drifts off to sleep with a mental image of you.

Prince!Zayne, who fulfills his duty as the crown prince, arranging troops and strategies to take down the rebel group, but also showing the people in that village compassion by giving them more food and care. He avoids the library for now, wanting to visit you only when he can fully focus on you and not other stressful affairs. 

Prince!Zayne, who slept for almost an entire day after easing the kingdom’s troubles and solving the rising inflation. He had spent days without rest, traveling to the main cities to calm the common people. But as he woke up that night and saw the moon, full and shining brighter than ever, he couldn’t resist freshening up and heading to the Imperial Library, with hopes that you were still there. 

Prince!Zayne, who felt his heart flutter for the first time when he found you asleep, surrounded by books, your head resting on the counter as you sat in your chair. He didn’t wake you up that night. The prince draped his royal robe over you, the rich satin shimmering in the moonlight as he carefully picked up the book your head rested on. Looking at the cover he started to read it, making sure to put a bookmark in where you had left off. 

Prince!Zayne, who’s halfway through the book when you start to stir awake. You were rightly surprised to see him sitting on the floor, reading the same book you were, and in your sleepy state, you accidentally hit him. You apologized, and he did too, and it was surprisingly cute how you both said sorry about different things. That night, the two of you spent time talking and listening, watching the moon together.

Prince!Zayne, who now visits you everyday instead of his usual once a week. Though he never finishes your book recommendations in that timeframe, he always talks to you about them—his thoughts, questions, and views. And he always asks about yours too, interested in your perspective.

Prince!Zayne, who whenever he ventures out to different cities or outside land always remembers to bring a book from that place—when he had to go to the Northern lands and negotiate a peace treaty with them, he asked for a few popular books of their homeland. Whether it be fairy tales, fantasy stories or nonfiction. He would accept it all and bring it back to you. 

Prince!Zayne, who arranges his schedules so he has one whole day of just reading in the Imperial Library with you. The rest of his week is packed full to the brim now, but he can power through with the knowledge that you’ll always be waiting for him in your shared sanctuary. 

Prince!Zayne, who promises you that one day he’ll make you queen. You’ll be able to read every book in the world, live every adventure and experience every story. And if you ever wanted to experience an adventure for yourself, he’d drop the crown in an instant to venture out with you, ensuring your safety and protection. He has yet to say it, but he hopes you know how much he loves you.

A/N: Rafayel's fic being posted within the next three days! I should've posted this yesterday but well, life. Also I was binging AOT, that's my bad. 😓 THANK YOU GUYS FOR 172 FOLLOWERS?!?!?!? HELLO!?!!?!?!? ILY GUYS SO MUCH <3333333 Dividers by @mikeykuns

[teencopandthesourwolf]

edited version now found ON AO3 HERE

.

“Um, are you—uhhhh, are you, like...” Stiles tries swallowing the boulder sized lump in his throat to no avail. The rest of the sentence then rushes out of him like word vomit. “Der, are you seeing other people?”

“No.” Derek's answer is immediate and definite-sounding, out of his gorgeous mouth before Stiles can even look up at him. “Are you?”

Stiles' eyes shoot up and almost out of his head. He somehow manages not to splutter his reply. “I most definitely am not.”

Oh my God, as if.

“But you... want to?” Derek half presumes because he's quite obviously fucking braindead. “Is that why you brought it up?”

“What? No! Not at all! Why, do you—” Oh shit, he might just vomit for realsies. “Do you want to?”

“No, not at all,” Derek parrots, and Stiles thanks all the Gods he's never believed in.

“Oh, right, well. Good. That's—that's good to know.”

Stiles just really, really, really needed to know. Like, either way, you know? But holy Toledo, Cousin Miguel! Thank baby Jesus and the donkey and those Frankincense dudes and the Brokeback cowboys for humongous gigantor mercies.

Derek takes a breath. “I mean, I'd share you if that's what you wanted, but I... wouldn't exactly relish the thought.”

Okay, Stiles is now thanking the Flying Spaghetti Monster from Pastafarianism.

His lips twitch when the souwolf's grim-set features soften just a touch.

“Fuck it, you know what?” Derek asks before barrelling on without waiting for an answer. “If you were a wolf, you'd know that I'm actually a lying liar who lies,” he admits, seemingly out of nowhere.

Stiles's eyebrows try to match Derek's but fail, obviously. His stomach is trying to relocate in the fiery pits of the underworld via Nilfheim. “Oh yeah? H-how so?”

He very narrowly escapes getting whiplash when he finds himself batting his lashes and sucking on his bottom lip as he realises—after studying Derek for a moment, like, really looking at him—that he knows exactly how so. He doesn't need to hear heartbeats or scent stuff or whatever to perceive the quiet fury simmering away behind those silly-beautiful kaleidoscope eyes.

“Because...” Derek starts, hesitant, but that only lasts till he's looking up and seeing Stiles nodding furiously at him. Stiles knows. “Because you're mine,” he snarls, all wild and possesive and one hundred percent spectacularly correct.

Derek's eyes flash blood-red, and Stiles practically whimpers.

Then Stiles is lunging, slamming his face into Derek's while mumbling a garbled, “You're goddamn right I am,” directly into Derek's hot, wet, wide-open maw; fangs and growls and all.

Derek, ever the Big Bad, gobbles his words, and him, right the fuck up, ripping off Stiles's red hoodie before practically shredding the rest of his clothes with those lengthend black nail-claws.

As he gives himself over completely to getting gloriously mauled, Stiles idly considers how the only religion he'd ever align himself with is printed on the pages of Grimms' Fairy Tales.

Well, minus the grandma, of course. This particular retelling is way too saucy for his babcia.

[janeyseymour]

Both Sides Now

yo tumblr, it's been a hot minute but i am back with this lil' bitch for you. i hope you enjoy her.

Summary: Melissa Schemmenti has looked at life, not just from two sides, but from practically every aspect she possibly could. from up and down, give and take, wins and loses... but you're her biggest win.

Life is nothing but a series of dreams, it seems. For every person, there are always dreams that we have. And some come true, and some don’t- that’s just how life goes. 

But for Melissa Schemmenti, it always seemed that those dreams rarely came true. If they ever came close, they would float off into the distance after so long. And in the years that she’s been somewhat of a lost soul roaming this earth, ruminating in her own thoughts, doubts, fears, delights, she finds that there are two sides to life. And she’s looked at life from both sides now, as much as sometimes she wishes she wouldn’t.

Rows and floes of angel hair, and ice cream castles in the air, and feather canyons everywhere. I’ve looked at clouds that way.

As a young child, Melissa Schemmenti grew up with her head in the clouds. Dreams were a reality, as they so often are for a child who hasn’t had their innocence ripped away from them just yet. Life was full of bright colors and wonders. It wouldn’t be until later in life that she would dye her hair red, so the angel like hair that she once had would billow in the breeze as she ran through the streets of Philadelphia without a care in the world. She would see the different shapes in the clouds and imagine that the clouds were ice cream castles… feather canyons. That’s how she saw the clouds as a child.

But now they only block the sun. They rain and snow on everyone. So many things I would’ve done, but clouds got in my way.

But now that she’s older and more jaded, she views clouds in a different way. Life doesn’t present itself in technicolor the way it used to. The clouds only block the sun, and once they’ve filled and can’t quite hold the weight of the world on their shoulders, they release their pent up frustrations on the earth in rain and snow. The now redhead finds that she does the same thing. Life has been full of challenge after challenge that she’s expected to triumph over, and every so often… the clouds over her burst. 

Those are the days and nights where she finds it hard to pull herself from the warmth and comfort of her bed. Those are the days where she’s consumed with the thoughts of what she could’ve accomplished had she not let the clouds get in her way. She used to be a daydreamer… a believer. 

But not anymore. Now, Melissa sighs as she prepares to throw the covers off of her to face the day with a job that, while she loves it, she knows she could’ve done better. She should have done better. If she had the chance to do it all over again, she would do better.

There is only one life to live though, as the redhead has discovered time and time again. So here she is, doing what she can to make the best of the rest of her days.

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now. From up and down and still somehow, it’s cloud’s illusions I recall. I really don’t know clouds at all. 

After living on this earth for as long as she has with the adventures that she’s taken, she’s seen the clouds from all sides. She’s been up in the air and over the clouds, able to look down on them while flying to Italy. She’s seen them from down below, when her feet were on the ground. Her nonna used to joke that Melissa’s head was always up in the clouds… so she supposes she’s seen inside the clouds even. And yet… it all comes back to her as some illusion. Melissa supposes she really doesn’t know clouds at all.

Moons and Junes, and ferris wheels- the dizzy dancing way you feel. As every fairy tale comes real. I’ve looked at love that way.

When Melissa was sixteen, life was looking up. Sure, her parents were divorced now, and that whole ordeal had sucked, but now she had the freedom to do what she pleased for the most part. Theresa chose to fall into the arms (and beds) of man after man and left her children to their own devices. So when the carnival came into town in June, the now redhead had a boy to go with. And as they stepped onto the ride, the moonlight lit up the sky, and the street lights began to turn on. It was almost as if there was a real magic in the air. Melissa felt giddy with joy- that same delightfully dizzy feeling she got when she danced. And then, her fairy tale began to come true. At the top of the ferris wheel was a stunning view of the skyline of the city. And that was when what she thought was her fairytale would begin to come true. Joe kissed her.

But now it’s just another show, and you leave ‘em laughing when you go. And if you care, don’t let them know. Don’t give yourself away.

Melissa knows now though that most of those boys, and even the girls that she’s dated throughout the years usually leave, just like any other show or carnival coming through town. Hell, even her husband left. And if she’s being honest? She let them leave, all with a laugh in her chest. Sometimes it was a real laugh, not believing how foolish she was to let this person into her life at all. But sometimes that laugh was a bitter laugh- one that, even though she truly cared that they were leaving, they would never know was fake. She refused to give herself away and let them know.

I’ve looked at love from both sides now; from give and take, and still somehow. It’s love’s illusions that I recall. I really don’t know love. I really don’t know love at all.

Melissa Schemmenti has seen life from what she thought were both sides. She had given, she had received- taken even. Neither seems to hold truth in itself. The redhead realizes that when she truly thinks about love, it’s all just the illusions that she remembers. She sees the good times and the way that, even though she believed she was a realist, her rose tinted glasses perhaps got in the way. Melissa Schemmenti knows: she doesn’t know love at all. And if she’s being honest with herself, she’s not quite sure she’ll ever know. She tries to make peace with the fact that maybe the fairytale ending she had dreamed of as a child just would’t come true for her.

But then you come along. And you shake up her whole world. You don’t even mean to. You just start teaching at Abbott alongside her and manage to make your way into her little core group. Somewhere in the midst of all of the chaos that comes along with working in an, at times, poorly managed school, you find love. You find love in Melissa Schemmenti. And she finds that she falls just as hard. It terrifies her beyond belief. It scares her so much that neither of you say anything at work to your coworkers- not even Barbara Howard knows. 

Tears and fears and feeling proud, too say “I love you” right out loud. Dreams and schemes and circus crowds- I’ve looked at life that way.

Your girlfriend of a few months has been awfully quiet this morning as the two of you lounge around her house on this serene Saturday morning.

“Babe?” you question quietly. She turns to look to you with a brow quirked. “You alright?”

Something inside of the redhead strikes a chord. Her green eyes fill with tears and shine brightly.

“Honey?” your voice goes up an octave at this sudden show of emotion. You wrap an arm around her midsection, but she brushes you off and sits up straight. The way that she frantically wipes at the tears brimming in her eyes only gets you to furrow your brows further.

“I’m okay,” Melissa tries to tell you, but you can hear the way her voice catches in her throat.

“You clearly aren’t,” you smile sadly. “Wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“I just-“ your girlfriend pauses to wipe the tears away from her cheeks. “I’m so proud to have you in my life. You know?”

You chuckle softly. “So these aren’t sad tears?”

“Not in the slightest,” Melissa assures you. “I just… I can’t believe that I’ve looked at life through dreams and schemes and all that shit, and I somehow managed to get you to walk into my life. I- I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“I’m nothin’ special, babe,” you laugh as you pull her into your arms once again.

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes and smiles at you through long lashes. “You are… everything. I- I love you.”

Wow. That was the first time she had uttered those words- the first time either of you had breathed those words out.

Your eyes go softer than they already were at the three most powerful words your girlfriend could’ve said in that very moment.

“I love you too.”

But now old friends, they’re acting strange. They shake their heads and they say I’ve changed. Well something’s lost, but something’s gained- in living everyday. 

It’s been a few more months since you and Melissa have said that one special word, and still no one at your job knows. No one knows that the two of you are as close as you are, much less dating and in love. To them, you’re just two grade level partners who seem to have similar takes on how the children of the greater Philadelphia area should be taught. 

But some of your coworkers are starting to get suspicious. The two of you have started staying over at each other’s houses more and more, and it’s getting to a point where you’re wondering when the two of you are just going to out yourselves to your work family.

“I mean I just don’t see why we keep this charade up,” your girlfriend shrugs as she’s making dinner. Then she glances to you. “I think it’s funny how fuckin’ oblivious everyone is to it.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips. “It is quite funny. Maybe we just let it go.”

A few days later, you’re sitting in the staff room with your work crew, a smile on your face as you eat your lunch and bask in the quiet of the staff room for once.

“Oh, Melissa,” Barbara starts. “I was thinking that today we could go to the mall?”

Green eyes flit over to you, who just shrugs ever so slightly- but just enough for your girlfriend to pick up on your subtlety.

She shakes her head, an action that somewhat shocks you. You had expected her to accept the older woman’s invitation. “I have plans tonight actually. Sorry, Barb.”

“Oh, doing what?” the kindergarten teacher asks.

“Making dinner,” Melissa smiles as her cheeks tint just slightly red.

“And you can’t put that off for just a bit to go find a new shakedown sweater with me?” Barb lifts a brow curiously.

Green eyes look to you again. You just give her a smile and a head nod.

“Maybe tomorrow?” the second grade teacher suggests instead.

Barbara, even though her lips are turned in an upward fashion. shakes her head gently. “My, my, how things have changed… but yes, tomorrow is fine with me if your dinner is that important to you.”

Melissa sees the hurt that her work wife is trying to conceal. “No, no, it isn’t that. It’s just that… I’m not just making dinner for me.”

Perfectly sculpted brows are lifted. “And who else might you be cooking for?”

You can see the way that your girlfriend mulls over in her head if she’s going to out the two of you or not. “My girlfriend,” is ultimately what she chooses to say.

“Girlfriend?” Jacob immediately chimes in, voice piqued with interest.

Those green eyes are rolled immediately. “Yes, Jacob. I have a girlfriend.”

“What’s her name? Why am I just hearing about her now?”

“I don’t report to you, Hill,” Melissa replies with a bit of snark. “But her name is Y/N.”

Immediately, the focus in the room switches to you, who turns bright red. Your lips quirk to the side as you chew on your cheek before settling to wave shyly.

“You two are dating?” Janine pipes up.

You give a small nod and a smile, while your girlfriend chooses to roll her eyes and quip, “Great job piecing it all together, lowercase. You want a prize?”

“I suppose I should’ve known,” Barbara chuckles with a happy look. “Tomorrow will do just fine, Melissa. Enjoy your dinner tonight, Y/N.”

And the two of you do. Although, as the night is winding down and you’re laying on the couch, you can’t help but wonder. Eyebrows are furrowed as you sit there deep in thought.

“What’s on your mind, babe?” Melissa asks you gently.

Your lips quirk to the side. “Just… aren’t you upset that you had to miss going to the mall with Barb today?”

Her head shakes so quickly you’re shocked your girlfriend doesn’t give herself whiplash. “Why would I be upset about getting to spend a night with my girl? And ‘sides, I can always go tomorrow.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug shyly.

She takes your hands in her own. “I’ll put it to you this way: everyday that I live, I’m going to gain something, and I’m going to lose something. And today, while I lost our privacy and a few hours at the mall with Barb, I gained getting to relax here with you and loving the life that we’ve built together so far.”

You can’t help the lovesick smile that crosses your face as you lean in just slightly to kiss her. “I don’t know how you always know just what to say to make me feel better.”

“You’re my girl, Y/N,” Melissa tells you simply.

I’ve looked at life from both sides now- from win and lose, and still somehow, It’s life’s illusions I recall. I really don’t know life at all. It’s life’s illusions that I recall. I really don’t know life. I really don’t know life at all.

Melissa Schemmenti really has seen life from every side. She’s seen the ups, the downs, the gives, the takes, the wins, and the loses. And while she’s seen life from almost every aspect, she’d still tell you: Life is but a dream. It’s all an illusion. Some illusions are good, and some aren’t quite as such. While she’s lived many lives all rolled into one, there is one thing that she’s sure of: she really doesn’t know life at all. And oddly, the redhead is okay with that. 

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits

[cavernsandcod]

ESPRESSO | Cpt. John Price

─────dad's-best-friend!price x reader

· · ────── ঌ·✦·໒ ─── · ·AO3 VERSION | MY FIC GUIDE

Everyone has a complicated relationship with their father; the good, bad, and the ugly. Just like every complicated adult has their vices to cope with their issues. Drugs, sex, gambling, work, adrenaline— name it, it's been done.

Yours is a bit different: hooking up with your father's best friend.

WARNINGS: mild angst. reader has a shitty dad(—i.e. neglectful, militant), but no depicted abuse. alcohol. strong language. legal age gap (20s/40s). power dynamic. smut. porn with plot. authority kink, d/s. unsafe, risky sex. oral (f+m receiving). dirty talk. praise. petnames. fluff, kind of. fem!reader. not edited. WC: 7.9k

The carousel never stopped growing up.

Each time you got accustomed to a new home, school, or routine, you had to pack your bags and start over.

Your father had a new assignment; another part of the world to risk his life in while your mother did her best—well, her worst—to cope. The loneliness and sleepless nights of worry got to her once you reached double digits in age. Their conversations turned bipolar, either abrasive spats or days of tense silence. You were too young to understand, really, but you got the gist. Only saw her on weekends because she moved hours away to start a new family.

And your father, he never made an effort for much of anything except his career. He received a substantial pay raise for contracts in the UK in your teens and never looked back to ask you how you felt about it.

You, perpetually on the back burner of his mind, were only supplied the basics a child needs. A bed, three meals, and a decent schooling. Sometimes got to tag along with him to work events if you caught him in a good mood.

The uniformed men were always kind, many with children and families of their own. Made you feel safe from the hard conversations you weren’t old enough to understand. Bled some color into the sterile, militaristic surroundings you grew used to.

Even then, you knew your upbringing was atypical. Knew that you shouldn’t get attached to anything because the rug always gets ripped out from under your feet.

Once you reached your teens, school became your only out. If you had any shot of straying from your father's militant footsteps, it became apparent that a good college was the best way. Excessive studying tarnished every fake friendship and social invite you had—but there weren't many of those to begin with.

Dwelling aside, you made it.

All the hours of academics paid off with the reward of a prestigious university. Being away from home and your father was the best part of it all. A mellow roommate, a group of classmates similar to you—and the culture of uni. How startling it was compared to the environment you grew up in.

It's your last year, and summer breaks and holidays still aren’t any easier. Going back home still has that sour taste. Each time you expect welcoming arms and approval, you get a harsh reminder of why you left.

Dressed up. A camouflaged wallflower. Cowering in your father’s shadow, small like you once were.

Countless galas bustling with formal attire and gowns alike, decorated with fairy lights and the low hum of seasonal music. Men and women with chest candy to show their years of sacrifice. Their dry conversations all start to sound the same after twenty minutes.

Logistics, hardship, and embarrassing tales are a poor attempt at humoring the family members sitting at the table. You don’t laugh, don’t smile. Only think about how good the end of this holiday will be when you can return to junk food and mild rebellion.

The weather this time of year is perfect for beers and barbecue, all humid and sweltering. Perpetually smelling of bonfires and chlorine swimming pools.

At least this year you aren’t on display. No blinding lights, no raffle tickets, or overpriced, butter champagne.

It’s not a formal event whatsoever. Just a backyard party hosted by one of your dad’s esteemed colleagues. Already much preferable to the stuffy venue space that leaves you nauseous.

“John’s a good man,” your father told you as you climbed into the truck. If he’s taking a break from talking about himself, you usually listen. “Made himself a Captain. Some of the toughest maggots I’ve seen in years, that lot.” Maybe this John character will be a kinder man than your father. Maybe he’s seen the lengths of his temper. Maybe he’ll be kind to you like the other soldiers.

Is he kind to his own family?

The house is alive when you arrive. People standing in the front, side, and backyard. Children of varying ages roughhouse, running barefoot in the manicured grass, belting out squeals and babbles of excitement.

The smell of meat grilling makes the humidity tolerable. As you enter the backyard, your father makes a beeline for the patio, more eager than you’ve ever seen him.

A pair of broad shoulders overlooks the party, thick biceps bulging from a black tee. The cherry of his cigar shines like the sun beating down on you, a cloud of smoke evaporating each time he puffs. His aura is different to the other men around him; commanding and reserved, standing in a spot against the railing that you know is only his.

It’s only when your father gives him a harsh pat on the shoulder, that you realize this is John—John, the good man.

He cracks a smile in response and returns the gesture, his voice a soothing thunder. John turns and reaches into the open cooler resting beside him, fishes out a beer for your old man. Placating. Giving him a bottle to keep him mellow.

Your father settles into a lawn chair, posture stiff and manicured as ever. Didn’t bother to introduce you around—not while he’s twisting the cap off his only pleasure in life and gulping it down.

You flinch when his eyes move onto you, squinting. It’s only fair considering you’ve been staring. After a beat, he nods his head, mouth curling into a more genuine smile than you saw before. All you can muster is an awkward wave through wide eyes.

Not your best work.

“Oi—“ A voice belts. “Fancy a drink, hen?”

It’s coming in the direction of the plastic buffet tables. The first has bread and toppings, various platters, and the other is decorated with solo cups and pitchers.

The source, a younger man than John, is sitting beside the homemade concessions. He’s easy on the eyes, with charming features, holding a squirming toddler in his arms. She has his eyes and, no doubt, the same feral energy.

“Oh, sure,” he hands you a cup. “You have anything stronger?” You ask, gazing down at the punches and cans of fizz.

“Afraid not.” He dodged a headbutt by the skin of his teeth, shushing her. “Cap’n has all the good stuff.”

“I see,” you take a small sip, allowing the pure sugar to coat your tongue. ”Well, thanks anyways.” He turns his head to the side to mutter something to her, and you spot a smear of sprinkles and icing. You raise your index to point at his cheek, “you have a little something.“

He swipes it, giving his daughter a look of intense betrayal. “Wee menace—“ he bounces her, blowing a raspberry onto her stomach, “ah told ye not to get into the cake!” She squeals, little flip-flops kicking through the air.

You chuckle against the plastic rim of your solo cup and step away from the chaotic mess.

Working the grill is possibly the most formidable man you’ve ever seen, still wearing a hoodie despite the heat.

Standing beside him is a still muscular but leaner man who’s dressed appropriately. A tank top and shorts showing off healthy, bronze skin, his hands nursing a mixed drink. He clatters into the ear of the big one flipping sausages and patties, leaning in and throwing jabs.

(You decide to skip on a plate since the man you’d have to ask for one looks like he’ll devour you whole—)

The punch is gone and the red cup turns weightless in your grip. Watching your father talk the Captain’s ear off, all smirks and happy-go-lucky makes you want a taste of the good stuff he supposedly has.

You trudge the wooden steps of the porch and keep your head down. Embarrassing yourself in front of your father is one thing, and you’ve done it many times. But doing that in front of the smoking-hot SAS-Captain isn’t as easy to choke down.

“Ah, sweetheart, c‘mere!” Your dad’s voice greets you, foreign in its softness. Sweetheart? Since when? “Come say hello to John. He is your host after all, eh?”

You nod before stepping closer, standing before the two sitting men. As you shift your focus to the man of the hour, your stomach clenches. He’s hotter up close.

“Hello.” It’s simple. Perhaps too much. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

John only stares, a light expression on his face. His thighs, thick and muscular, are spread wide in the patio chair. The bottle he’s been nursing is in between them, resting at the crotch of his denim. Two of his thick fingers caress the bottle neck, toying with it until you can’t help but track it.

“Well, aren’t you sweet? It’s my pleasure.” He responds, showing a half-smirk. You can tell his gears are turning, but can’t figure what about. Suddenly, the silence feels too heavy, and he tosses back the last of his beer—gathering himself.

“Call me John, love. It’s not sir here.” His assertiveness comes naturally, but it is not unkind. The faux confidence in your posture shrivels even more.

“Right. Sorry.” You swallow.

He chuckles, sprinkling some warmth to the tension. “No need for sorry either. Didn’t know better.”

“I tell you what, Cap’n—“

Your father’s voice soils the moment, slurring and obnoxious. It seems to startle the both of you. The Captain’s blues shift to him, his jaw clenching.

“She’s never that polite with me—her own old man. I tell ya, respect is a dying breed with these brats—“

The longer he rambles, reeking of liquor and disdain, you tune him out. Try to calm yourself down before the spell you’re caught in shows in front of all these people. The porch feels small as if it’s groaning and sinking under the weight of your dysfunction. Your cheeks are burning, your chest is starting to heave, hands are shaking—

“I, uh, need to use the washroom.” The words are a blurt; crude, disrespectful, ungrateful. “Is it—?” You point an index toward the screen door beside them, already peering inside at your escape.

“Down the hall, take a left,” John answers, eyes full of knowing scrutiny; you can’t tell if it’s toward you or your kin.

You step inside his home, feeling at ease without all the outside noise. It’s remarkably clean—some of the furniture even appears handcrafted. Wood floors, freshly polished and with minimal scuffs. Sparse picture frames, mostly of the same men you saw out there, posing in formation and nearly unrecognizable. The rest of the home is antiquated and fully furnished, but still lacking any clues to the man’s true personality. He’s probably not here enough to let it show. This place is merely a bed and desk between foreign lines and blazing bullets.

You decide to skip the left.

You ascend the L-shaped staircase to your right, glancing over your shoulder to ensure you won’t be caught snooping. This isn’t your house, your place, nor your crowd—and somehow the distraction of an alluring stranger’s home is more lulling than your own. Things that don’t belong to you aren’t weighed down by baggage and bad memories. They serve as an escape.

The washroom door is ajar when you pass it, creeping further down the hall with your head on a swivel. It’s wrong and you know it, but your feet don’t stop. Floorboards creak and groan once you make it to the end of the hall. A bedroom, a linen closet, a storage room. Nothing spectacular.

The first door left closed catches your eye.

To your surprise, it isn’t locked. You push it open silently and shuffle inside, dabbing at your eyes with your shirt. The fireplace on the back wall is unlit, two bookshelves on either side, stacked full with thick hardcovers. Beams of sunlight shine across the desk in the middle, sleek and lacking clutter. Only pens and a few files that don’t make sense to you. All the drawers have a keyhole, preventing you from trudging any deeper.

Sunlight casts warmth on your arms and legs, finally giving you the boost to catch your breath. Instead of falling further, you lose yourself in all of John’s distractions. There are more photos up here, on the mantles. Still the same men, in pubs and restaurants alike worldwide, throughout the years of their relationship.

John is clean-shaven in the first one, a stern but youthful glow to his face. Tan camo gear, a background of sand and humvees. Your thumb skims over the thick Sharpie scribble in the corner: Lieutenant Jonathan Price, circa 2009.

Somehow, you like him better now; salt and pepper, bourbon-breathed, a toned tummy turned soft—

“Find something you like, love?”

Fuck. Your nervous system goes haywire, body rigid. Frozen in place like a rabbit sensing a predator to avoid becoming dead prey.

“I’m really sorry,” you squeak, setting the framed photo back in its spot. “I was just—” His footsteps are slow, but loud enough for you to hear. He’s heading for the honey-stained cellarate beside the door. He kicks it closed before you can run for the stairs and beg your dad to let you drive him home.

“No more apologies.” The cork pops when he removes it, pouring himself a healthy glass of what looks like an aged whiskey. A deep amber swirling in his grip, glinting in the beams of summer. “Doing a bit of snooping instead of joining the party? Now, that’s curious.”

Cuticles tear when you bite at them, unsure of where to go. The door is closed. You feel like you’re in trouble. John is settling into a chair, getting comfortable. His tone reeks of disdain and ambiguity, impossible to peace together.

“I wasn’t snooping, really, I only wanted a break. I didn’t even want to come to this party either.” You explain, rounding the desk without getting any closer. “No offense.”

He chuckles. “None taken. I’ve heard worse. ‘S not exactly your crowd, I’m sure.”

You hike a brow, “what do you mean by that?”

The ice clinks as he sips. “Don’t know, dove. Bar crawls? Street fights? Speed dating? You tell me.”

“I don’t—” You huff, fighting a smile. “I don’t do things like that. All I have time for is studying.” It sounds pathetic to say it out loud, but deep down, it doesn’t feel that way, and only you know why. Anything to keep from home.

He looks pleased, sprinkling a crumb onto that constant fear of being in trouble. “I know. He told me all about it. Though, I sense I’m more supportive of your studies than he is.” Another swig empties the glass and he stands to refill it.

For some reason, you feel the need to come to his defense. He’s a shitty dad. Your shitty dad—whom you’ve known longer than John, since birth. “He’s not… like that. It just takes awhile for him to come around, I guess. My father is—”

“—A prick?”

Can’t argue with that. “We’re complicated. And it’s hardly your business.”

“He made it mine, he’s at my home.”

Four steps closer. A wide body cloaking yours. You can’t move. “Especially when his daughter would rather be hiding in a stranger’s home than around him.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” you deflect, crossing your arms and tucking your chin. “I needed some air.”

“Been crying too, by the looks of it.” He pinches your jaw, forcing you to turn it back toward him. “Too sweet for all of it. And too smart. Not a bratty bone in your body.” It works because you know he’s right, and somehow standing before him, being steered by his hands feels right.

You close your eyes when his breath fans over your face. His voice is soft thunder, drowning out the rainfall of voices in the yard. “Here, have a sip.”

This should be wrong. No, it is wrong. Still, you nod your head and wait for the rim to reach your parted lips.

It’s pungent. A sharp punch to the nose. Your nose crinkles, mouth starting to frown as if you’ve never tasted liquor. Whatever he has is clearly a different league than the kegs at uni.

“Hm, I figured,” John leans back to finish the drink off, muscles growing looser by the second. “Suppose that means you were telling the truth, then.”

“I was.” Unconsciously, you open your eyes and find yourself leaning closer to breathe him in.

John reaches around you to set the empty glass down, fingers dancing close to your waist before closing in. He notices the hitch in your breathing, the clench of your jaw muscles, and most of all the fight inside yourself.

“It’s okay to like it, love. Just don’t want to see you sad, is all.” The tip of his nose burrows into your hair, the free hand holding the back of your head. “Gonna let me help you, doll?”

You nod again, head spinning. And that seems to be all it takes. Something once tucked neat below the surface unleashes so violently that you feel it.

The cracks widen. He grips your jaw, lips latching onto the apple of cheek and trailing until he reaches your mouth. The beginning is a tiptoe that abruptly turns messy and feverrant.

The levee breaks. Your tailbone hits the back edge of the large desk, digging into it. You wince against his maw, beckoning two large hands to lift you onto it. The part of your thighs widens, his pelvis nestled between the crux of them.

The waves pull you under. You moan into the kiss, muffled and pitiful. The pressure of his erection is just right against your clothed pussy.

His name spills—a desperate plea for more that he stifles.

“Shh.” John soothes, pulling the hem of his shirt until it’s left untucked. The kiss breaks with a wet pop. “We’ll need to be quiet, lovey. Our secret.”

Love; there it is again, sodden with need.

Your hips shift when he leans forward to suckle on your clavicle, teetering close to your breasts without giving in.

“I need,” you whisper, “need more. Please.”

He tuts. Something that says patience. Be a good girl. It’s the perfect high pitched frequency to rewire the clutter in your brain. When he starts to slither lower, working your tank top off, you have wholeheartedly forgotten why you were upset in the first place.

Your nipples pebble from the air conditioning, growing erect through the thin fabric of your bra. They beg for relief from the chaffing—and he begs to feast on them.

“You wanted me to see these today, didn’t you? Perfect fucking tits.” John probes, snapping the strap against your shoulder with his hand. His hot, whiskey breath fans across your cleavage as he unfastens it.

They drop without the support—essentially hanging fruit for a man starved. Sweet and full of life on his tongue.

He suckles until his tongue grows tired leaving a trail of saliva in its way, but the fire in his blues remains ablaze. You gasp when he pulls you off the oak, a hand on the nape of your neck to herd you.

You’re facing it now, slowly tilting down until your tits are smushed against his workspace. Your upper half shivers against it, teeth biting into your bottom lip in anticipation. His fingers dig into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them, and your panties, down to your ankles in one go.

When the breeze settles onto your bare ass, you wait for the feeling of hips against it. To feel the prod of a thick cock against your entrance. For him to slam inside you without preamble, splitting you open and pounding you sore.

Instead, you feel his weight shift. A hot mouth between your thighs, two big hands pulling your cheeks apart to get a view of your pussy. It quivers, already glistening without any touch.

You let out a sharp gasp when he dives in. No time wasted with kitten licks or long, wet stripes along your inner thighs. He shakes his head when his tongue is fucking you, oscillating until you fight a cry.

“Fuck—!” You yell, muted by your gritted teeth.

He hums, and it feels like a vibrator pressed against your clit. “Even sweeter down here, sweetheart.” John’s words are muffled, as if tearing himself away would cause him death.

The captain shifts from your hole to your swollen clit. He laps at the puffy bead, suckling each time you let out a whimper for something more—already knowing exactly what you need from him. Letting you take it from him.

“My sweet girl,” Price mumbles against your sex, gently spreading it open with his thumb. “You just need to cum. Just needed your pussy played with a bit, eh? ‘S that right?”

Your brain turns haywire. Yes, yes, yes. He’s right. That’s what you need—

You can’t answer, not with words. All you want is for that coil in your tummy to snap. It would only take a few more seconds.

He latches again, hallowing his cheeks until slick pools between his lips. The bundle of nerves in your abdomen gives way, off the edge of the cliff in an instant.

Everything stops. Your legs wobble, a drooling mouth agape against the back of your hand, eyes rolling to the back of your head. The only reason he rips himself away is the fear of you falling too deep, growing too loud for any of his to remain discreet.

He can’t toy with you today. Can't push the limits, no matter how tempting it is.

His zipper interrupts the ringing in your ears, forcing you to gather yourself. He isn’t done and you don’t want him to be. You want, no, need more of him, whether you faint afterward or not because he’s too much to handle. The logistics of it don’t matter right now.

“Do you feel it, love?” He peels down the waistband of his briefs, pressing his hard cock against your pussy, gathering the arousal. It feels big—but you knew that when you first saw him. Already had expectations for what it might be like, and though you can’t see it, you know you were right.

“Gonna fuck you now.” His voice grows hard, an arm snaking across your belly to raise you up again. The thought of being moved makes you whimper impatiently. You want him now, bent over his desk as you were.

Despite the haste in his actions, you can tell there is a purpose to him readjusting you.

Your gaze lands on a bare chest. He must’ve taken his shirt off at some point behind you. Slowly, your head dips down to take a gander. John pumps his cock, using the slick he collected for a smooth, repetitive glide.

It curves upward toward his stomach, girthier at its base. Dirty-blond curls conceal some of it, conjoined with his happy trail.

The reddened tip leaks pre-cum that you want to taste. But, selfishly, you only want him to give in and put his dick inside you for being good. His mouth was only a lick of what you know he can give.

He stays true to his word, scooting you closer so his stomach presses against yours. Your legs hug his waist, spread wide to let him take his spot.

“Need you facing me.” The tip notches against your entrance, barely pressing inside. You yelp, sucking in a breath. “See? ‘M too big for you to stay quiet, baby.”

Your hole remains snug, but still eases him in, making room for what your cunt wants. It's too much to choke down without noise. “I can’t- They’ll hear us—“

“That’s why you’re looking at me, pretty. So I can help you. Just need you to trust me, alright?” You nod your head, eyes shifting from his cock to meet his. To trust him.

He raises a hand, clamping it over your mouth with a vice grip. His hips start to move, pushing forward until his pelvis is flush with yours, balls deep.

You squeal against his palm, cunt filled to the brim, womb being butted. She aches, fighting the sheer size of it, welding the pleasure and pain of every shallow thrust.

You want him to take it slow, but you’d only beg for more if he did that.

“That’s it,” he groans, mouth against your ear. The other hand digs into the fat of your hip, leaving indents in its wake. “Just take it for me so you feel better, sweet girl.”

His pace quickens into calculated ruts, causing your muffled noises to grow in intensity. Every drag of his cockhead inside you lulls you closer to that addictive ecstasy. His tongue was surface-level, playful, and exhilarating, nothing compared to the deep den of primal need. Something you ached for the first time you saw him whether you knew it or not.

Someone enters the house downstairs, dishes clattering, and John looks at it as incentive. Both hands tighten as an anchor for deeper, sharper thrusts that send the penholder and paper weight cascading to the floor. “Can feel you getting tighter, love,” he groans, stubble and breath tickling your ear. “You want to cum all over my cock—all stuffed full?”

You nod while slobbering on his mitt.

The air punches from your lungs with each jolt inside your pussy. The coil tightens again, snared and full of tension. Instead of jabbing, he reduces his pace to slow grinds along the front wall of your cunt, massaging the spongy spot that makes your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

His head lifts from the crook of your neck to meet them.

“Just—fucking—need to cum, baby.” John stutters, a drunk expression that warrants the lazy movements in his pelvis. “Ah, shit—Do it for me. Be good.” He holds on for you; bites the inside of his cheek until he bleeds.

The muscles in your stomach throb, your spine goes weak. A warbled cry expels into his flesh when you gush around him, knees shaking against his sides. All the tension you carried downstairs seems to vanish for a moment. The consequences of being caught look meaningless. Giving in, inviting rebellion feels like something you can live with.

Your eyes flutter open, brows furrowed as he shifts his focus onto his own pleasure. All you need to do is keep still and take it. Be the good girl he knows you are.

He pulls out, leaving you empty and clenching around his absence. Subtle, slick sounds echo through the office as he grinds against your pussy, bumping into your clit.

His hand does the rest of the work, squeezing the base until he sputters, leaving fingerprint bruises on your hip.

You feel the ropes of cum paint the outside of your cunt, his mouth latching onto yours as he rides through it. “So messy.” He whispers, stubble harsh against your lips.

Your legs and posture drop as he pulls away, tucking his cock back into his briefs. You don’t feel regretful, only tired and in need of a cold shower.

“You go downstairs first.” He instructs, lifting you off the desk. After finding your shirt, he slips it over your head, leaving your bra somewhere tossed aside. After, he kneels, dangerously close to the mess he made, he helps you step into your panties and shorts again, hiding the evidence.

The fabric sticks to you, full of cum and sweat. Your legs throb and wobble without the support of the desk beneath you, the spend costing them causing them to stick. “Get yourself a plate, too. Can’t have you passing out, can we?”

“O-okay.” You, utterly stunned, aren’t sure what else to say.

His lips find your sweaty temple, hand splayed across your heaving tummy. “Be good.”

The descent downstairs is slow and just short of shameful. You aren’t sure of what you’ll say if anyone asks questions.

Hopefully there’s a snug corner you can tuck yourself into.

Months pass before you see John again.

The music pounds your eardrums. People are yelling over it. Bodies slam into you.

It’s the night of your grad party, surrounded by fake friends and alcohol. You lost track of the only decent one you came here with. A few minutes pass when you stare at her text, explaining why. She got bored and decided to bar hop in the city with her guy. Shit.

Your vision ebbs and blurs and you wonder if you should have joined her. This isn’t your element. This isn’t safe. This house is unfamiliar. How are you getting back to your dorm?

You never do this, never stop being the rational one in the group. Always the designated driver who holds a buzz while your friends get hammered. Yet, here you are, holding onto a bannister so you don’t faceplant. As you thumb through your contacts, you wager the options in your head about who to call.

A family member—you’d rather die.

One of your classmates—either here with you, or asleep.

The SAS Captain you fucked within earshot of all his collegues and your dad after he caught you hiding in his home office—now that’s promising. And somehow less humiliating.

You giggle against the wood grain when you click his name, feeling the sway of the alcohol on your decisions, remembering the euphoria of that day. He’s probably asleep, too. A text might be better. Otherwise, his name will continue to collect dust in your phone.

—heyyy

—are you awake captain?

He reads it after a few seconds.

I am, sweetheart. Why are you texting me?—

You pout, as if he’s here to see it.

—i missed you and i thought it was past ur bedtime

—hehe

Call me now.—

You don’t call him.

Why should you? He’s being a proper sourpuss about a little joke—

The screen flashes with his name and it takes a few moments before you can figure it out. Stumbling to your feet so you can walk outside, you cover one ear and raise the phone to your ear.

“Sweetheart.” It sounds more like a scold than a greeting.

Keys jingle on the other line, a car door opening. “Where are you?” John’s unmistakable voice flows through.

Your shoe scuffs against the pavement, balance off as you look for a street sign. Somehow, he’s able to make out the address you stutter through. Luckily, you aren’t too far out from his place because you won’t be upright much longer.

You lower yourself onto the curb and tuck in your knees, eyes drooping from intoxication. “Am I in trouble?”

Your voice is weak, half-genuine but his is neither. “No, love. I just need you to stay where you are until I come get you. Alright?”

“Mm-hm,” you hum, plucking out blades of grass. “I’ll stay.”

The call ends.

You sit there for longer than you can keep track of. The muffled bass keeps you awake even though you’re fighting it. Knowing you will see John again is motivating, too, but it’s unsure if he’s going to be warm. It’s an extremely unlikely way to reconnect with an old hookup.

An engine grows louder, tires crunching gravel through the ringing in your ears. The brakes squeal, a car door closes, boots enter your swaying sightline.

You lift your head from your lap and chew on your lip when you meet his gaze, feigning innocence. “Mr. Price?” You know who it is.

“C’mon. Get up.” His brows furrow, not giving you the time to follow his commands. Instead, he cups your upper arm and pulls you up, leading you toward his car. The other hand holds the back of your head, shoving it to the center of his chest in case you manage to fall. A few scrapes is better than a drunken head wound.

“‘M not supposed to get in the car with strange men.” Your feet drag, ankles bobbing, but his hold on you doesn’t budge.

“Cute.” John retorts, unamused as he opens the passenger door. “But I think we’re past strangers.”

With ease, he lifts your body into the seat, tucking in your feet and then forcing your hands into your lap. When he leans over you to buckle the seatbelt, you lick your lips and smirk at him, shamelessly breathing in his cologne.

“You think I’m,”—you hiccup—“cute?”

John draws back and pauses, skimming your features with a clenched jaw. Decides not to negotiate with you right now.

“We’ll talk in the morning.” Your door closes.

As you slump against the window, your eyes follow his speed-walk around the vehicle to climb inside, and how abruptly he puts it in drive and takes off. After that, most of it is a blur of neighborhoods and headlights that you’re too out of it to pay attention to.

The trudge inside his place is bits and pieces. There’s a constant hand on the small of your back, up the stairs until you reach the bedroom. His bedroom. You only saw a glimpse back at the party—masculine, simple, and neat. Two hands on your shoulders steer you toward the bed until you lower onto it.

John digs through his dresser, pulling out a clean t-shirt. “Arms up.”

You raise them, and he pulls off the sweaty one you’re wearing, and then your bralette. His shirt is more breathable by far, perpetually smelling of him. You toy with the hem as he reaches for your jeans, tugging them off each leg methodically. “Can’t sleep in these, can you?” The captain mumbles, more to himself. “Probably not the shoes, either.” Those are next, tossed onto the armchair with your clothes.

You chortle, cheeks hot. “I like your clothes.”

“Yeah? Then stay right there.” He turns away and enters the bathroom, returning with a small cup that he extends.

You stare at it, puzzled and hesitant. When you cock a brow, he sighs. “Mouthwash. You smell like a distillery, and I reckon you’ll fall over before we can brush your teeth.”

You toss it back, relying on muscle memory to swish it around your cheeks before spitting it back into the cup. The minty aftertaste is miles better than the remnants of your last syrupy, mixed drink.

“Nauseous?” He returns to the bedroom, peeling off his belt and jeans. “Tell me the truth.”

You shake your head and that seems to burn the energy you have left. The world tilts on its axis.

John huffs when you fall over, cheek squished against his navy bedspread. If he weren’t in such a sour mood, he might appreciate the sight a bit more. Instead, he grabs a throw blanket and drapes it over your crumpled frame before climbing in next to you. One arm snakes around your waist to keep you secure and the other supports your head in case you start to roll, or vomit in the middle of sleeping.

You don’t vomit in the morning.

You have a hellacious headache in place of an alarm, however. The body pressed against you throughout the night is gone and you’re shivering now. With a groan, you climb off the bed and follow the noise.

The bathroom door isn’t shut completely. You can see his shadow moving under it, the sound of him brushing his teeth and spitting out the excess.

“John?” You frown from the bright light when you push the door open. “How am I here?” That question reminds you of how you ended up here—actually, that you can’t remember the answer. All you can do is rely on hope that he was responsible enough to not have sex with you when he brought you home.

“A few texts.” He answers, placing his toothbrush back in its cup. “That’s how.”

“Did we… we didn’t—?”

“No,” he shakes his head, expression stern. “Believe it or not, love, I have a conscience.”

You can finally breathe. “Good.” Your shoulders drop, posture relaxing. “I mean, you were mindblowing, but— I’m glad we didn’t.”

The flattery gets you nowhere; John walks past you and you can feel the cloud that follows him. It makes the air thick.

Though all you want to do is sleep, you follow him with furrowed brows. “Are you mad at me for something? Whatever I said, I was drunk. A-and you didn’t have to come get me. I would’ve asked… I don’t know, someone, for a ride home.”

“I doubt that.” John argues, stopping at the foot of the bed. “You were seconds from passing out when I got there, too shitfaced to stand. You’re lucky nothing bad happened.”

Frankly, you’re offended. No, you don’t get out much, nor have you ever been that drunk without a ride. But this spat isn’t remotely fair.

“I know that. I’m not an idiot.” You roll your eyes, pulling his shirt over your head.

Like an asshole, he does that cocky, knowing half-smile. “That’s my point. You’re not stupid, sweetheart.” Despite the heat in his words, his eyes comb over the sight of your bare chest, then the swell of your ass when you bend to grab your jeans.

With your back turned, literally, you are fully intent on ignoring the domineering lecture you know is coming. It’s not his place. You just need to get home and forget about the whole thing.

“Don’t get dressed yet.” His feet shuffle closer. “We aren’t done.”

You scoff, refusing to turn around. “Or what? You’ll lecture me about safe drinking, Mr. Price?”

A dark cloud casts over your bare body in an instant. Two hands clamp onto your shoulders and spin you. Then, a rough palm shoves you onto the mattress. “I’m not doing this with—”

You let out a yelp, hands digging into the comforter. A flame of arousal flickers in your belly and it wages war with frustration. “This isn’t funny to me, John. My head hurts—”

“Shut your mouth. It won’t do you any favors.” The bed creaks when he sinks a knee into it, one before the other to hover on top of you. John’s eyes singe into every inch of your skin, hands beginning to roam. “Besides, I thought it was Mr. Price, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, sincerely regretting your choice to be snarky. “I-I wasn’t…”

“No?” His thumb toys with the waistband of your panties, stilling when your hips buck upward. “Hm, I suppose ‘sir’ is better, anyhow. Easier for you to remember.”

When your mouth opens, he tuts and brings the hand up to your chest. Too far from where you need him to touch you. It’s been too long since you felt it. Stale memories aren’t enough to get off to. None of your toys do the trick. And the blokes your age are clumsy and inconsiderate—nothing like John.

“Though your pretty head might not remember it,” he licks a nipple, teeth barely grazing it until you shutter. “I said we’d talk in the morning.”

You whine and reach for his belt, but he swats the back of your hand harsh enough for your knuckles to sting.

“Ah-ah— you want it? Want my cock inside you?” He asks, almost deceptively sweet. “Be polite.”

Your throat bobs when you swallow your pride, feeling every ounce of dignity drain from your bloodstream. “I want your in me cock. Please.”

He tilts his head like he’s truly thinking about it. Every second feels a lifetime. His index adjusts a strand of hair sticking to your cheek, sluggish enough to count as torture.

“Much better.” John leans down, pecking your lips a few times. “‘M gonna give it to you now.”

Relief washes over you with a shaky breath. You start to think this will go by quick, that a rough fuck will be all it takes for him to forgive you. One that you’ll enjoy probably too much, but God, all you want is for him to fill you—

“Up.” He fists the hair on top of your head, firm enough to make you raise it. “Follow my hand.”

You gape at him with wet eyes, lip all but quivering. You should be whining from the stretch of him, knees tucked as close to your chest as they’ll go—but instead, you’re sitting up and unsure of why.

It takes a slow blink for him to put a foot on the bed and feed his tip toward your lips. Circling them with it until they part enough for him to slip inside. Despite months of fantasizing about having his cock down your throat, you feel tricked.

“Easy. There we go. Hold onto me.” You grip his thighs tight, tilting your head forward. Halfway inside the warm, wet chasm of your mouth, his eyes flutter shut with a satisfied groan.

”Fuck— you’re bloody perfect.” It’s a new, soon-to-be addiction. He starts to pump his hips cautiously, narrowly avoiding your gag reflex.

Tears prick in your eyes as your throat fights to allow him space in it. You gag when he pushes deeper, giving his thigh a light squeeze, not a full-stop.

He pulls out, gripping the base of his glistening cock. “I-I thought—“ You stutter, voice hoarse. “You said you’d give me your cock, John.”

The hand in your hair tightens, enough for your scalp to start screaming. You whine from the mild pain and he reneges, stroking your temple to keep you dazed.

“Try again, sweetheart. Use your head.” After a beat of silence, you gather the pieces missing. Begin to anticipate what will warrant one of his firm corrections.

“I told you what I wanted, Sir.” It’s the correct answer—you can tell. Your neck is already sore, the agitated muscles putting a damper on your speech. “T-that I wanted your cock inside me. You promised you would—“

“Oh, baby.” His voice softens, less militant and more condescending. The hand on his cock starts to pump slowly, spit coating his fingers.

“I said I’d put my cock in you, but I didn’t say where, eh?” The tip prods at your mouth again and it opens on instinct.

You gulp, desperation breeding. Arguing is futile.

He goes deeper than before, easing through every gag and cough until your throat opens. “Your mouth is just as good isn’t it, baby? You can cum from this?” You won’t. And he damn well knows it.

The shift to rhetorical and demeaning feels like something you should hate. He’s been mean for the sake of it; playing with his slab of meat before devouring it.

With your eyes closed, it’s not as agonizing. You focus on the sounds he makes and keeping your teeth from getting in the way. Every grunt and groan makes your pussy clench around nothing. Makes you want to slither a hand between your legs for relief.

“‘M gonna cum, sweetheart. Keep still—“ he retracts with a wet pop, jerking himself off with only the tip being warmed. Your tongue rolls over the slit, nails digging into his hip bones to egg him on.

His fist balls on top of your head when he comes, costing the roof of your mouth and inner lips in hot, milky spurts. “Fuck, mmfph—“

John loosens the grip, finally allowing your head to rest. His mouth meets yours, tongue lapping at the inside of it despite the remnants of his climax still on your tastebuds. Before you lean back again, he works at your soaked panties, nearly ripping the cheap fabric when he rids them.

After all that, you’re practically buzzing with anticipation. Whining into every kiss. Gripping onto him like he’ll run away. Grinding your pussy through thin air.

“Gonna fuck you now, pretty. Like I promised.” He pecks your collarbone. “Turn over for me.”

With his hands steering you, you’re facing the bed in an instant, staring at the backs of your hands digging into the sheets. You arch your back, putting your head down, but he stills you with a gentle pat on the hip.

“All the way down, love. On your tummy.” It’s unusual, but definitely more comfortable than bending your spine. As you shift off onto forearms, he sets a pillow underneath the spot of your pelvis, elevating your ass.

You can tell it’s a calculated move to drive you mad. The soft arch of your back, how he’s going to drape his entire body on you and crane his hips toward that special spot.

Weight settles across your entire back, a cock head finding your hole. You wiggle your hips and he breathes through a laugh, easing inside you smooth as butter.

He doesn’t waste time, not like before. The stretch is seamless, an instant pleasure that flows to the plug of your womb.

“S-so deep. Mm— fuck.” You moan into the pillows, mouth agape.

His cock bullies for its spot in your guts, deeper than it was the last time. He leans closer, fingers slipping across your belly to massage your clit. The other drapes over your tits, his body forcing you into a bear hug from behind.

“I missed being inside you, sweet girl,” his hip bones bite into your ass, balls flush with it. Every drag of them makes your eyes roll, working the places inside you that have never been abused. “Taking my cock so well.”

The rough pads of his fingers swirl around your clit as he fucks you into the mattress, hearing sounds he couldn’t before. But now, every thrust earns a sharp, overstimulated moan from your lips that he’ll savor; to keep him warm when he’s away.

“‘m gonna cum, don’t stop.” Your voice raises an octave, a fire burning in your stomach. The headboard slams against the wall as he quickens the pace, abusing the aching spot that worked so well before.

You come with a shaky moan, coating his dick in a slick that drips down his inner thighs. Sweat poured from your skin, muscles taut and overworked.

You go limp beneath him, relying on his hold to keep your head from dropping. “Almost there, baby—“ Baby. There it is again, only desperate. “Just keep t-taking what I give you.”

Instead of thrusting, he slows and begins circling his cock inside you, grinding his pelvis into the fat of your ass. “Fuck, fuck. M’filling you up this time.” He mutters into the side of your head, unintelligible.

Your vision blurs, body jolting forward when he stills inside you. Spurts of cum coat the inner walls of your cunt as he slumps forward, bracing himself with both palms on the bed now.

You can breathe once he eases up, panting like a dog into your neck. “You’re perfect.” John’s lips feather against your ear before he shifts beside you.

Your pulse begins to slow, limbs jelly, and therefore useless in leaving anytime soon.

“I think I hate you.” You mutter into the sticky skin on your wrist, curling onto your side to face him.

His lips curve upward, slightly impressed. “I’ve heard that before.” He does the same, scooting close so you can lean against his heart. “How’s the headache?”

“Gone.” You reply, begrudgingly.

“Hm. Suppose you should get out of here, then.” John teases, while making no effort to move or let go of you. “Just a few steps and you’d be out of my hair. Easy peasy.”

You huff, fighting exhaustion. “Please stop talking.”

He chuckles hard enough for your head to jiggle against his chest. “Only because you asked me so nicely, lovie.”

[phoenixcatch7]

Dp x dc twin au where Danny and Damian were in fact conjoined/siamese twins, but the most dangerous type - one head, two bodies.

Their early removal from talia being because their shape would not have allowed for natural birth, they were written off but talia begged for the chance to send them off in the lazarus pit.

By some bizarre miracle, before she turned to leave, two small bodies bobbed to the surface - identical in every way, except for the eyes. The previous blue eyes now split in two, one left, one right, and the new eyes, pit created, a bright green.

She took her child, her two children, and together, they survived.

Being removed prematurely, their early years were tough, but soon they blossomed into promising heirs for the league. In sync with every step, the closest of brothers, the league was certain the old fairy tale of twins being telepathic had been granted by the pit that separated them, the remnants of being born as one mind, one brain, one skull.

But then Danny had to flee, and leave his other half behind. Stretched by distance for the first time, the bond grew thin and stretched, and Damian grieved his brother as dead. When he started being sent on public missions, he hid his distinctive heterochromia, choosing the green in memory of the pit that had given him and his brother life.

Danny, hiding his pit aura in the ocean's worth that was Amity park, took to blue, the colour that he and Damian were born with.

Damian moves to Gotham, and continues to mourn his brother as dead, right until one day when he is twelve, when he learns what the death of your other half truly feels like.

-

Their reunion is a thing of family legend. Violence runs hot in both bloodlines, ghosts are highly emotional and prone to fighting a the drop of a hat for bonding, playing, testing, every reason under the green sun. Their training and play often consisted of friendly spars, competitive spars, furious spars, venting spars. Both have been exposed to unhealthy amounts of ecto since before their birth.

There is a long, long minute of staring, before they rip themselves away and lunge at each other like wolves.

The bat family are horrified by their brutally efficient youngest suddenly barreling towards a clone (?) and trying to claw his throat open with his bare hands while openly sobbing.

It ends with them wrapped around each other crying into the others shoulder as their minds finally meet again and relax from the painful stretch for the first time in years.

But nobody else has any idea what to do.

[buckgasms]

Bucky with a reader who reads smutty books?

She's perfected a straight face reading technique for when she's sat in public reading filth. Bucky thinks she reads innocent shit like fairy tales or soemthing so he buys her books like that (she loves his effort but finds them so boring that they live perminantley on the shelf in their living room).

One day she leaves the book open in the living room while she pops to the toilet and he picks it up to see what all the fuss is about. She comes back to him blushing like mad on the sofa reading the smuttiest smut of all smut and looking up at her like 😳 "this your sorta thing huh?" And while he isn't jealous that she reads that he finds it strange that she hid it from him. He asks her to show him what she finds so hot about it and they get to baby making ;)

-🐰

Hey 🐰! Hope you've been ok?

Yes I like this very much. I'm picturing a sort of Avengers Bucky boyfriend because we know what happens when Daddy finds Princess' smutty book 🫣

I imagine the confusion starts because all the covers have various fairytale-esque pictures. You'd just need to look a bit closer to realise they were slightly off!

When he asks why you didn't mention it, you just ramble about how you didn't want to be weird and if he thought it was too kinky or whatever you were happy to just keep it to yourself.

He just tuts, flipping through the pages and reads the bit you just were. I'm imagining it's a red riding hood book where the big bad wolf is eating her, but just in a very different way.

"Wow. He's really working on her there huh? And you keep a straight face when you're reading this stuff?"

You giggle and nod but he keeps flicking through and you sense that perhaps he's a little miffed about something. So you crawl over and climb into his lap, throwing the book to one side.

"Are you mad about my book Bucky?" You say softly, running your hands over his chest and rolling your hips gently.

He grunts a little and can't resist holding on to your hips and squeezing gently at your waist.

"No" he pouts, "just wish you woulda told me you like that stuff... Coulda been doing...." He peters off but you can't let that slide.

"Wait, could have been doing what Bucky? You wanna be my big bad wolf?" You grip his face and lean down to kiss him, not missing the way his hips push upwards, enjoying the way his fingers stroke down your neck and move to grip your waist.

"I dunno, what is it you want me to do?"

You sit back on his lap and grab the book, flicking through as he massages little circles on your hips.

"Well I guess in this one... He chases her a little, and rips her dress off.... Oh and there's a bit where he pins her down and yknow...licks at her..."

You look up from the book and see Bucky staring at you with a devilish look in his eyes.

"Well then little red, you better get running..."

You giggle but he pulls you in closer and whispers in your ear, "or I'll fuck ya right here..." Before scraping his teeth across your soft skin.

You squeal as you leap from his lap and pelt down the corridor to the lift that will take you to your floor. You see him coming round the corner as you make it, slamming on the 'close door' button as he approaches, a big grin on his face.

You sigh as the doors slide shut and then you have the agonising wait to reach your floor. It's only a few floors down, but you wonder how long it will take him to catch up.

Before you have much time then doors slide open and the corridor is eerily quiet. You can't hear any sound other than the low hum of the lift.

You tentatively step out and make to run to your shared apartment with Bucky. You get a few steps to the door when you feel a metal hand grip your mouth and a strong arm wrap around your waist, holding you tight.

"Gotcha..."

📚

He ripped your dress to pieces and pinned you down on the floor, barely making it into the apartment before he was dragging your heat to his face and devouring you. All you could do was cling to the rug as he sucked, nibbled and licked at your sensitive folds.

He carries his prize to the bedroom and puts you on your knees, ass in the air and places your book in front of you.

"Read it. Out loud..."

You flush furiously as you hear his zipper being pulled down and the mattress dip as he settles behind you.

As you begin to read his cock is dragged along your pussy, teasing you and torturing you as you struggle to read.

"Buckkky..." You whine as he presses his leaking tip just a little inside, but he stops and lands so swats onto your ass.

"Come on babygirl, I wanna know what happens. I'm pretty invested in the plotline now yknow..."

You pant and moan but manage to keep reading, describing how the wolf/man fucks the heroine, claiming her body as his, biting and bruising her delicate body. His big cock stretching her wide, hitting parts that no one has been able to before.

The book falls from your grip as he pounds into you. It was a bit of a head rush to have your incredibly hot boyfriend enacting smut and you let out a long, happy moan as he pulls you upwards, spearing his cock deeper, hitting more sensitive places with unrelenting lust.

"Oh my god Bucky.... Please, can I come please?"

He growls in your ear and uses his metal hand to grip your throat, squeezing slightly making your eyes roll. You cling onto the cool metal for dear life, as you crash into your peak, screaming out for him.

You both fall forward, Bucky managing to prop himself up to avoid squishing you, but as your walls continue to flutter around him, he can't hold himself any longer and falls down on top of you.

You giggle and wiggle until you have him resting on your chest, fingers running through his hair as he presses kisses to your soft skin.

📚

Omg imagine if this happened 🫣 also I may need to go back to writing ABO stuff because 🤤

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

another post for @bttfjanaury! this one's @itsthemorph's mermarty au and very predictably i got carried away with it LMAO.

yap session and bonus stuff below the cut:

once again i came up with an entire backstory for this au, and if i were a fanfiction writer i would genuinely consider writing it since it's a lot less visually comedic than the weredoc au (and comedic in general, it's played a little straighter than "man turns into dog and is thoroughly inconvenienced by it") (unfortunate [in reference to visuals] bc i enjoy drawing mermarty a great deal more than weredoc GBJKGJ) bc i really like the premise but i'm pretty bad at fleshing out a narrative in enough detail to last the whole story so bullet points it is:

doc has decided to take a break from his time-travel-related research and go on vacation! the fresh coastal air might jostle a couple ideas into place, and while he is a nuclear physicist and not a marine biologist he wouldn't mind checking out some of the local aquatic life

and by local aquatic life he meant like normal fish and stuff. a nice mollusk or two even. so when he ends up fishing an entire boy out of the water instead he's understandably very shocked

before doc can move past the "where did he come from??" thought to register his more fish-like qualities, the boy makes a run (a swim?) for it. fortunately or unfortunately for doc, he ends up being able to register the fish-like qualities after all since he gets dragged into the water along with him. the moment doesn't last too long, though, and the fish-boy is gone as soon as doc realizes the guy has a fish tail instead of legs

doc gets back on the dock (haha), thinks about the whole ordeal for a bit, and decides that the best course of action is just to assume he hallucinated the whole thing in a fit of heatstroke or something like that. he's here to relax and get his thoughts in order so he can continue working on his time machine! there's no time to investigate fairy-tale creatures or whatever supposedly living off the coast of california!

it's not shown in the comic but i imagine doc has a little portable radio next to him as he was fishing, so some time passes before he catches a glimpse of something shining in the water underneath the dock

he looks through the cracks in the dock and lo and behold, it's the same boy from earlier! doc greets him, and the boy immediately disappears under the water. doc thinks he's scared him off until a few minutes later where he pokes his head out and says hi back

they get to chatting and doc learns a couple things:

1. his name is marty!

2. he was trying to get doc to realize that he forgot to put bait on his hook but got his hand caught on it, and was trying to get his hand unstuck from the hook without ripping it open before doc ever had the chance to see him, which he obviously failed at

3. both the being seen and ripping his hand open, because in his haste to get away after being seen by doc he ended up doing that anyways. so there's like a lot of blood coming out of his hand now? but like don't worry about it. it'll be fine. he thinks.

4. he really likes whatever it is that's playing on the radio

doc insists on patching up his hand and initially marty refuses but lets him do it eventually, and marty tells doc that for a land dweller he's actually surprisingly nice. doc says nah anyone would want to help out someone hurt, especially if they're the one's who caused it. and marty's kind of confused by that because his family's always warned him of how dangerous humans are, which he kind of never thought too hard about until now where his time off this particular coast has really proven them correct, because he's encountered a bunch of humans over the past couple weeks and they've all tried to kill him or catch him. doc's the only one who's actually bothered to say hi!

after learning that particular not-at-all-concerning tidbit, doc asks him to elaborate because there's a lot to unpack over there, but someone else walks onto the dock before marty can get a word in and he takes off

marty does not return, even once the other guy leaves, and when doc packs it up to return to the place he rented out for the vacation he overhears a conversation among a group of men about spotting something weird in the water earlier and that it kind of looked like a mermaid? and that if any of them manage to catch it they'll all be rich as thieves. and another guy in the convo goes no you're thinking of rich as kings, you're mixing it up with a different analogy. and the first guy goes no i'm not i said what i said

so now this vacation is doing anything but clearing doc's mind. he's really worried about that little fish guy

there's a couple more ideas i had but halfway through writing out this bullet list i've realized that if i were to actually write this as a fanfiction, i'd probably want to keep those a surprise. so what i just wrote out is kind of the equivalent of one chapter

edit after thinking about it a bit more: since most humans have been trying to kill him, marty really has no incentive to let a guy know that he's wasting his time fishing with a baitless hook. so a. he's still pretty optimistic that most humans aren't out to get him, even if his experience off this particular coast says otherwise, so he was trying to be nice anyway or b. (which i think is a lot funnier) he has started to pull on people's lines as a way to fuck with them. i think if i wrote this i'd change it to this one

i based mermarty off of a guppy fish! specifically this kind of guppy fish:

i was searching up kinds of fish and he just had the vibe of this thing. although now i think i should've made him a flying fish instead. for the pun

alternate ending to the mini comic:

the other one makes a little more sense since just approaching a guy whose species doesn't know about your existence unprompted is pretty stupid even for marty (and also i thought it was funny that the hook didn't have anything but doc ends up catching something anyways) but i still think this one's funny too

[mcflymemes]

PRETTY WOMAN (1990) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

people put you down enough, you start to believe it.

i'd like you to spend the week with me.

what's going on out here?

i don't feel like being alone tonight.

i think you have a lot of special gifts.

i'm very angry with my father.

i'm sorry i ever met you.

do you have a wife? girlfriend?

no matter what they say, it's all about money.

no wonder why you came looking for me.

if i forget to tell you later, i had a really good time tonight.

it must be difficult to let go of something so beautiful.

i appreciate this whole seduction scene you've got going, but let me give you a tip. i'm a sure thing, okay?

can we just move it along?

i like him so much.

how was your day, dear?

you should go for him. you look hot tonight.

call me when you're through.

what's your name?

what do you want it to be?

you and i are such similar creatures, [name].

i called and called. where were you last night?

you clean up real nice.

what's your name?

that's my favorite name in the whole world.

i'm gonna rip off all my clothes.

wow, great view!

how much is this?

i don't think this would fit you.

i think you are a very bright, very special woman.

i'm gonna treat you so nice, you're never gonna wanna let me go.

i'm here now.

let's watch old movies all night. we'll just veg out in front of the tv.

look, i'll tell you what. i'll be back.

the bad stuff is easier to believe. you ever notice that?

you can't charge me for directions.

you got that... sharp, useless look about you.

i told you not to pick up the phone.

i just wanna know who it works out for.

name someone? you want me to name someone?

what's your dream?

very few people surprise me.

well, you're lucky.

can i have another word, please?

it happens all the time.

some dreams come true, some don't.

so what happened after he climbed up the tower and rescued her?

i can do anything i want to, baby.

you're late.

may i help you?

do you remember me?

you're stunning.

do you have anything in this shop as beautiful as she is?

could you come down to the front desk?

i was in here yesterday.

i have to go shopping now.

did you enjoy the opera?

i have to go now.

she's sweet. where ever did you find her?

people's reactions to opera the first time they see it is very dramatic. they either love it or hate it.

there's a sofa in here for two!

if they love it, they will always love it.

i want you to understand, i heard everything you said.

this is all i'm capable of right now.

it's a very big step for me.

i want the fairy tale.

you're forgiven.

i'm just using him for sex.

are you sure you want me to stay for the entire night?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

j word coded

TO BE CLEAR: I am NOT claiming that this other game (Ikemen Villains) is a "rip-off" of TWST; I'm pointing out parallels between them because I think it's entertaining to see how different games interpret the same or similar fairy tales.

Please also note that although nothing I say in this post is explicit, IkeVil itself is designated as 17+ and contains dark content. If you decide you want to try the game out for yourself, BE AWARE OF THE AGE RATING AND TRIGGER WARNINGS.

ARE THESE NOT JUST J WORD IN A BLACK WIG AND CONTACTS (the last one looks like a blend of Jade's sus face + Idia's sus face) 😭 His face looks so similar… and they're both "attendant" characters that act polite but are more manipulative than they appear at first glance... (although Alfons has Floyd's hedonism rather that Jade's restraint!)

More of my first impressions of the characters of IkeVil below the cut!! Again, there's nothing explicit, I just wanted to keep this post not too bulky.

And not just him (Alfons) either, ashldbiasydefpaei there's a Trey-lookalike and a Silver pre-hair color change in the same game! Roger has a rifle and is cursed by Snow White's huntsman, so I joke that he's Rook and Trey's test tube baby... and Elbert has Vil's keen eye and desire for what is beautiful!

There are also characters that don't look like an TWST ones, but definitely have personalities that remind me of a few! For example, Liam's laid-back affability is Che'nya and Chenya Cater-esque, Jude speaks in a gruff but aristocratic manner like Leona but is a tough businessman like Azul, and Ellis seems like a mix of Malleus's obsession with happy endings + Idia's gloomy demeanor…? No clue if he actually is gloomy or not, he just gives me gloomy vibes.

Victor is Crowley-adjacent! Like they're both overseeing this group of powerful men with magic so you'd think they're serious types--but they aren't. They're silly and use their own skills to do frivolous things like doing magic tricks or making cake fancier. They also both seem to be hiding a secret...

Harrison doesn't remind me of anyone in particular, though I do see little bits of our typical "lying" characters in him. He has the chill of a Che'nya but also Floyd's flippancy and lies as easily as like... I don't know, Cater?? Not sure on this one.

abfhbyoafvadpiadgo OKAY OKAY BUT THE FUNNIEST ONE TO ME IS WILLIAM BECAUSE HE'S "THE QUEEN OF HEARTS" CHARACTER... Most of the time when you have a character with this inspiration, they're controlling and easily angered (*stares at Riddle*), but William is NOTHING like that???? In fact, he's got a strong sense of justice and often encourages others to be honest and to act freely, even if it means disregarding the rules. Every time William opens his mouth... I picture Riddle shrieking and sobbing/j

[tmwcs]

Beauty and the Beast

Finale

Read part one first (if you haven't yet).

Warnings: Heeseung is the beast and does some violating oral acts to reader. Hints of yandere love. This is a fantasy/fairy tale story with a dark twist, do not read this if the thought of an unruly creature conducting smutty acts. I've already said it before--but Fairy Tale series is pretty gross (remember what happened in Red Riding Hood? 😏).

This part is rather short, I wanted to save some ideas and material for the other fairy tales that are in progress. These stories are meant to be short, but fear not, there's a lot more coming. ♥️ Enjoy!

What is this? The pinching…the pulling…the strength of the terrifying grip that bridges me to something fearsome and terrible…what…is…this thing?

A scrabble of words flash on and off in your line of sight as you feel yourself being peeled off the stone rail. Up and over the bend, your body is slowly dragged over the smooth edge of the flat bannister–away from the abyss of the leap of death before you. The hold on your arm wrist was accompanied by an additional grab on the opposite arm–a stronger latch than the initial. The warmth of the creature’s growl coats the back of your neck as you feel it switching out one hold for another as the distance closes in–your back finally meets the coarse fur and a strong humanoid hand reaches up to cup your throat. The snout buries into the back of your head as it grunts sparsely. It pulls you all the way through–back into the darkened room that you have grown to despise within seconds. 

The entire area was a complete mess–evidence of chairs, tapestries, and paintings thrashed to pieces surrounds your bodies as the creature pins you down to the floor. Your chest meets the soft surface of the luxurious velvet green rug. The plush and tufted material creates a pillow top texture that is comfortable enough for one to sleep on, yet the atmosphere takes away the peacefulness for anyone to find comfort for slumber. Your mind goes blank and your body goes limp–everything freezes within and you begin questioning if this was all a wild nightmare. Deep down you knew that fighting would get you nowhere, perhaps that was the reason behind your stagnant posture as you felt the demon tear the backing of your blouse and lift your skirt. Your undergarments are also ripped from skin within one pull. Yet, you still find it meaningless to fight it all. What could you do? With the density of the creature's body partially weighing you down, you were anchored to the ground–any wiggle room would only serve him an advantage of having you accessible at his pleasure. 

There was a delayed effect, but your tears eventually found their way through as they punctured their way through the ducts of your wide eyes. The creature’s tongue initiated it all the moment he swiped it up and down your core. It was long, thick, and entirely too warm for comfort. With long strokes, it coats the entire surface of your clit and plush lips. You sob hysterically and cry out–begging it to stop. As if it took delight in your cries, the creature swoops a strong arm under your pelvis and lifts your lower region from the ground. Your back arches in response while another firm palm is plastered against your upper back, pushing you down. The creature continues with its offense and it doesn't take long for your body to respond in its favor–much to your everlasting shame. The moment it could taste the fruit of his labor, he continued to feast–propelling you to ooze the sweet essence that can only be extracted from that spot. The sensation was too enjoyable for you to admit, but the way the creature massaged the center of your bud and handled the rest of your body delicately under its heavy claws, something about it made you yearn for more. Your moans were proof of that and the monster took that as it’s que to do more. The girth of its tongue was thicker than any throbbing member you’ve seen in the media or read in story books. Which is probably why the moment he inserted it inside, it was no surprise that you gasped. The feeling of penetration wasn’t at all painful–surprisingly. It was smooth, warm, and the lubrication of excess saliva made the whole thing easy for you to take in. The creature refrained from going too deep. Instead, he stops midway, thrusting the smooth muscle in and out at a slow and steady tempo, following your moans as you begin to sing out the guilty pleasures of his momentum. The powerful duality of numbness and tingle overwhelm your entire body, causing it to vibrate rigorously. The creature allowed you minimum movement, which you took advantage of as you propped your upper half on your forearms. You gasp out obscene words, which only brought the creature closer to heat. As if the creature had some sort of humanness to its emotion, you felt the calloused thumb stroke your skin as he continues to give you sensational oral pleasure. Its snout triggers quaking vibrations as it snarls against you. Between the thrusts it takes a moment to glaze the outer surface of your womanhood with tender pelts at the tip. You beg for holy forgiveness amidst the denial–one could not possibly understand the conflicting range of emotions you were feeling at this very moment. 

At the peak of the creature’s assault, the moment finally came when your body caved in. Admitting defeat against your mental pleading, your soul leaves you for a moment out of despair as you feel the immense sense of relief through the sensual release. Flooding the creature's tongue and snout, a blend of something obscene leaks out from your womanhood, only to be cleaned up by its tongue. You cry out a tune of pleasure and regret–a single tear travels down your soft cheek as you feel the orgasm pushing its way through every part of you. 

The force of the feeling made you exhausted. Your breaths were shortened and it was difficult to catch up as your limbs lose strength, causing your chest to fall back to the rug. Your hair is plastered against your face and obscuring your vision, however, it wasn’t enough to block out the immense golden hue that peeked its way through the strands. Was it just your mind playing tricks or was the room getting brighter? 

A sting hits your eyes as the beaming light becomes too strong. Your naked eyes squint shut as a flash warms your entire body and cleanses the room. For a second, even under closed lids, you saw nothing but a white canvas surrounding you. Once the warmth faded, you opened your eyes slowly. The room was back to the normal eyesore and your body reconnects with the familiar cold air. You lay still and scared. Unsure of what the creature had next in mind, however, you were quite certain that death was within reach. You only hope that it would at least be as pleasant as the monster’s recent violating act. Your head lays on the side, displaying your profile to the ceiling. Just as you are about to sob once more, a foreign image of perfection presents itself in front of you. Firmly planting the palm on the rug before your very nose was the smoothness of olive complexion. A masculine forearm graced by a river of veins compliments its strong hand. The view of what seemed to be a man’s presence triggered you to realize that the prickly fur was replaced by soft skin. It was warm and you could detect a musky scent that coated it. You weren't sure how to make sense of it, but without using your eyes to confirm the truth, you already knew that the beast was no longer there with you. 

“It doesn’t take much to tame you, does it?” 

His voice was deep and condescending. You felt the tip of his nose nuzzle against your hair as he smirks. “Good girl.” he whispers. 

You shake, not knowing what was going on. The strange happenings of everything that just occurred had you stale shocked. Once again, you were immoble. 

The stranger chuckles laconically as he carefully flips you on your back. Through the gaps of the thick bunches of hair covering your face, you could barely make out the details. You hear the stretch of his smirk returning when he gently pushes them away, permitting you to inherit a full sight to view. Upon seeing everything in clarity, your hand finds its way to your face as you palmed your gasp. The shock stuns every sense–like fireworks. His face…

“Ah–you recognize me, don’t you?” 

Shaking, you turn your face away. Your movements were knotted by the uneasiness of what it was that you came to realize–-the portrait. When your cheek hits the velvet rug, your eyes felt the sting of shock once more when you viewed the handsome portrait from before. It remained on the wall, unfazed by the chaos that ensued from earlier–though you have a feeling he left it on purpose. Was it to antagonize you? What was this? What happened to the creature? Was everything a game? 

Your mind was pelted with questions that no one else could answer. Sensing your conflicted state, he gently turns your head back to his line of sight, and forces you to look him in the eye. “Don’t think. It will be easier for you.” A demeaning tone that had a sense of tenderness behind it–this man had an effect on you, it was both terrifying and comforting at the same time. 

Uncertain of what was going to happen to you, all you knew was that the dangerous look in his dark eyes eluded hunger. Who knows what will happen after he commits to his next act. Much to his pleasure, you remain peaceful despite the emotional turmoil that raged inside. He presses his entire body against you and slowly reaches to grab hold of your throat. His grab was gentle yet firm. A gentle kiss between your nose tips counteracts the small bite of your lip as he licks the sting away. Even when you felt the firmness of his muscle hardening in between your thighs, you remained compliant–not entirely by choice. It was the shock that had you admit defeat. He didn’t care. So long as you were displaying obedience, that’s all he cared about–all he ever will care about, after all…you broke the spell. That was enough for him to claim you…to love you…to keep you. 

“Darling…I am so happy that I have all of eternity to feast on you–and eternity starts now.”

Next Series click here.

Taglist: @strxwbloody@nshmrarki@aquariushiiiii@addictedtohobi@nuriicata @lilyuwon

[ginxyy]

All Yours

“I am all yours”

The rain fell softly against the windowpane, each droplet racing down the glass like a tear on your cheek. You had been staring out into the gray expanse of the world for the last three hours, lost in the tempest of your thoughts. Outside, the colors were muted, a blend of gloom that reflected the chaos swirling inside you. The clouds hung heavy, like the weight of your heart, and everything felt impossibly still except for the ache that pulsated within you.

"You’ve been staring out of the window for the last three hours. Why?" Seungcheol’s voice cut through the silence, gentle yet laced with concern. With his tall frame leaning against the doorframe, he looked at you the way a lighthouse regards a ship lost at sea. His deep brown eyes filled with something that resembled worry, mixed with a hint of something more potent a feeling you had both avoided for far too long.

You turned to face him, forcing a weak smile, but it barely scratched the surface of the turmoil inside you. How could you explain what tangled your heart like ivy wrapped around a forgotten garden? All you could offer was a vague shrug, your lips quivering under the weight of words unsaid.

Seungcheol, your best friend for as long as you could remember, had always been there, a steadfast beacon in the storm. He had watched you fall for someone who had turned out to be a shadow a shell of a person who played with your heart only to toss it aside, bruising it with every word that dripped from his lips like poison. You knew you should leave, but the part of you that had loved so fiercely felt bound to him, tethered by chains of nostalgia and hope.

He stepped closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a blanket. "You deserve so much more than this." His voice was a soothing balm, and the way he said ‘this’ made it clear he understood the pain, the confusion.

“I don’t know how to walk away, Seungcheol,” you finally whispered, your voice quaking. “I thought he loved me. I thought it was real.” Your heart ached as you let the truth spill out. You felt the walls closing in, each breath more labored than the last, and the harsh reality of your situation crashed into you like a wave he was cheating and you were holding on, drowning in the wreckage of a love that should have lifted you.

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed; you could see the deep furrows etched on his forehead as he processed your words. For a fleeting moment, you felt the urge to distance yourself, to shield him from the storm of your emotions, but it was futile. He was your anchor, and you were drawn to him unavoidably, undeniably.

"You think he’s what makes the sun shine," Seungcheol continued, his voice soft yet penetrating, "but darling, he’s not. He’s what makes your eyes tear and your cuts bleed. He’s the thoughts in your head that rip you apart and, my god, I know you love him but he’s killing you." Each word he spoke cut through the haze, piercing the shell you had wrapped around your heart.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, spilling over as the truth of his confession hit you like a tidal wave. You had spent so long trying to convince yourself that this toxic love was a fairy tale. But now, standing before the undeniable clarity of Seungcheol’s words, the truth was painful yet liberating.

As the tears flowed, you felt something shift inside you; the facade you had maintained began to crack. You were drowning in waves of emotion, and all the while, Seungcheol remained steady, his unwavering gaze holding yours like a promise in the storm. In that moment, something deep within you broke open the dam of fear, regret, and hurt gave way to a flood of raw emotion.

You stepped closer to him, the air heavy with unspoken feelings. “I can’t escape it, Seungcheol. I thought I loved him, but now…” your voice trailed off, the realization stinging like a fresh cut.

Before you knew it, you were crying sloppy, soul-cleansing tears that felt like they could wash away the past. And there he was, his arms wrapping around you, holding you together as if you might shatter into a million pieces. You pressed your head against his chest, the rhythmic pounding of his heart synchronizing with your own, grounding you in a way you had never felt before.

Amidst your sobs, you heard him whisper, “I love you.” The words hung between you, thick with sincerity and a promise unspoken. They fluttered gently in the chaos surrounding you, like a feather caught in a gentle breeze. Your heart raced at the confession, but it felt like a lifeline a flicker of light in the darkness that had engulfed you for far too long.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze, searching for something—answers, assurance, hope. The heat of his confession lingered in the air, igniting a spark you had been afraid to acknowledge. As your lips met his, it was a kiss drenched in tears, fear, and longing a moment suspended in time where the world faded away.

You didn't know where it would lead. You knew you had to make changes, to confront the darkness that had held you captive for far too long. But in that embrace, wrapped up in the warmth of his love, you felt the chains of your past beginning to loosen a flicker of hope intertwining with the tenderness of a newfound love.

Yet even as your heart soared, a wave of doubt washed over you. You pulled away slightly, the air between you thick with unspoken thoughts. You had so much to figure out the mess you were in, the choices that lay ahead. As you looked at Seungcheol, you saw not just your best friend but a man who had quietly waited in the shadows, ready to love you with a fierceness that could mend your broken pieces.

But as the clock ticked away the precious moments, reality loomed. You had to leave, to face what you had been running from. The corners of your heart still ached for the man who had ensnared you in his web, but now, standing before Seungcheol, you felt newly found clarity; perhaps love could bloom from the ruins.

With a heavy heart, you stepped back, the space between you now fraught with possibilities. “I need to go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, understanding written all over his face, but his eyes spoke of reluctance, of a plea he wished to voice.

However, as you turned to leave, you knew that this was just the beginning, a crossroads of hope and heartache. In that final glance, you locked eyes with Seungcheol one last time, a silent promise between you a promise that in the end, love, even in its most complicated forms, could light the way through the darkest of times.

The days that followed your parting with Seungcheol felt like an endless, oppressive fog. You tried to move forward, to confront the mess you had walked away from, but his voice lingered in your mind, his words echoing in the quiet moments of your solitude. Nights were the hardest, when the stillness wrapped around you and the ache in your chest whispered his name.

Weeks passed, and though you hadn’t spoken to him, you felt his presence in everything. The way his hand had steadied you, the warmth of his arms around you, the quiet strength in his confession it all haunted you. And then there was the kiss, a spark that had ignited something deep and undeniable. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t snuff it out.

By the time the storm clouds gathered again one late night, you couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of what you felt, the pull towards him, was suffocating. You needed to see him, to tell him what had been screaming inside you since the moment you left.

Without thinking, you found yourself running through the rain, your clothes soaked through, your hair plastered to your face. The downpour was relentless, but it couldn’t match the storm inside you. The streets were empty, the world asleep, but your heart was wide awake, thrumming with every step that brought you closer to him.

When you reached Seungcheol’s house, the cold bit at your skin, but the fire inside you burned hotter. Standing before his door, your breath hitched. The weight of your decision pressed down on you, but you didn’t hesitate. You knocked, the sound muffled by the pounding rain.

It took a moment before the door creaked open, and there he was his hair messy, his eyes heavy with sleep. He looked at you, drenched and shivering on his doorstep, and all traces of grogginess vanished. His gaze softened, his concern immediate, but before he could speak, you surged forward.

Your lips met his in a desperate, heated kiss. His body tensed in surprise, but only for a second. Then he melted into you, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you close as if afraid to let you go. The kiss was everything you had held back, a collision of longing, regret, and unspoken truths.

You broke away for a breath, your chest heaving as you pressed your forehead to his. “I’m all yours,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling. The words felt like a release, a surrender to what you had been fighting for far too long.

A low, guttural moan escaped him, and before you could say more, he kissed you again, fiercer this time, pouring everything he felt into you. His hands moved to your thighs, and with a single motion, he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

The house was dim, the air warm compared to the chill outside, but all you could focus on was him. He carried you as if you weighed nothing, his strength anchoring you as he walked towards his bedroom. His lips never left yours, his kiss growing hungrier, more urgent with every step.

When he reached his room, he laid you gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours. His eyes searched yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away a stray droplet of rain. “You mean it?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, filled with a mix of hope and disbelief. “You’re mine?”

You nodded, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs tracing the sharp lines of his jaw. “All yours,” you repeated, the words a vow.

A slow, almost feral smile spread across his lips before he leaned down, capturing your mouth again. The kiss was all-consuming, and as his hands roamed over your body, the world outside ceased to exist. The rain continued to fall, a distant hum against the windows, but inside, there was only the two of you.

Seungcheol’s lips traveled to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses that sent shivers down your spine. His hands explored you with a tenderness that made your heart ache, yet there was a fire in his touch that spoke of years of restrained desire finally unleashed.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice heavy with emotion. “For you.”

You pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair, your breath hitching as he pressed kisses to your collarbone. “I’m sorry I made you wait,” you whispered, your voice breaking with the weight of your feelings. “I was scared… but I’m here now.”

He stilled for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes shining with something raw and vulnerable. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and the sincerity in his words made your chest tighten.

That night, wrapped in each other’s arms, you let go of the past, the pain, the doubt. In Seungcheol’s embrace, you found a safety you had never known, a love that didn’t hurt but healed. As the rain fell outside, washing away the remnants of yesterday, you felt something new take root hope.

[aismoker]

Fairy-tale

A variation on a story

Red hung up his phone. That was his grandmother on the phone. She was sick... again. Red sighed. That old hag was basically "sick" every other week, coincidentally always when she was low on groceries. He knew she was faking it, that she was just doing it to check up on him, to show him who was in control. Red even suspected that she just got off on the power play. Red let it happen, he hated himself for it. He wished he could stand uo for himself, become the man HE wanted to be, but he felt most of the time that his grandmother was controlling his life. He was her little lapdog, rhat always came when she whistled. He couldn't help it. She was all the family he had and he felt obliged to take care of her. So he put on his red hoodie (the one his grandmother always said looked "so adorable" on him) and got on his bike.

It was already getting dark, so he drove as fast as he could. Unfortunately, he didn't see the glass on the road until it was too late. Within a few seconds both of his tires were completely empty. Red braked as hard as he could and almost fell off his bike. He stepped off his bike and checked if he could repair them.

It only took him one glance to see that he was screwed. His tires were ripped to shreds. He wanted to call a taxi, but unfortunately, there was no signal. He looked around to see if there was anyone on the streets to help him, but there was no one to be seen. He realized he was in the bad side of town. His grandmother had always warned him not to go there, but the neighborhood lied directly in between their houses. He again checked on his phone. Still no signal. He cursed. He didn't know what to do.

Then, all of a sudden, he heard a heavy rumbling sound. A motorbike was approaching. It drove past him, but then it lowered its speed and turned around and stopped a few meters away from Red.

The biker stepped off his bike and walked towards him. Red's mouth fell open. The guy that was approaching him seemed to come directly from his darkest, wettest dreams: shaved head, big bulging biceps, covered in tattoos of wolves and a big cigar in his jaws. "Got a problem, buddy?" "Y-yeah," Red stuttered, "I got a flat tire. Two, actually." The biker walked to the bike and looked at the tires. "I can see that. You need help with that?" "Y-yes, that... that would be great." Red blushed. There he was with the guy from his dreams and he stammered like a fool! The biker didn't seem to notice it, or at least he didn't show it. He walked up toward Red and said: "No worries, buddy, I will contact a buddy of mine and he will fix it in no time. In the meantime, follow me, you can have a drink with me and a few brothers while you wait." "Th-thanks, Red answered, that is amazing!" He wanted to walk to his bike to lock it, but the guy grapped said in a forceful, almost commanding, voice: "Just leave it there, buddy, your bike will be safe, you are in our territory." Red wanted to protest, but when he looked into the bikers golden, almost hypnotic eyes, his words got stuck in his throat. Those eyes... they were so big...

The biker put his arm around Red and softly but firmly guided him into a deserted alley, steadily puffing on his cigar, filling the air around him and Red. Red didn't mind the smoke. In fact, he felt weirdly comfortable... safe even. He didn't mind this strong bulging arm around him and subtly he started walking closer to the biker. "So, what's your name, buddy?" "My name is Red," Red said. "It suits your hoodie," the biker replied.

"Yeah... and what's your name?"

"Name is Wolf."

"Like your tattoo?"

"Yeah."

"Cool, I like your tattoos."

Wolf didn't say anything, but he pulled Red closer to him. Red shivered. His arms... they were so big...

They continued walking in silence. Red lost all sense of time. He was so wrapped up in the moment. Suddenly they came to a halt. Red looked up. They were standing in front of a bar called "The Wolf's Den". Wolf went inside, leading Red along.

As Red stepped over the threshold of the bar, it was like he stepped into another world. The atmosphere was hazy with smoke and the air was filled with a... musk? Yes, musk was the right word. It was very strong and made Red feel a bit dizzy, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. Red looked around. The bar was small. There was only one table. Around it sat four men, all looking like Wolf, all having similar tattoos as Wolf and smoking the same cigar as Wolf.

Wolf walked towards them, greeted them and introduced Red to them. Four pairs of golden eyes stared at Red. Red greeted them meekly. They kept looking at him. Red felt like he was a rabbit, being watched by troop of hungry wolves. One of the men broke the silence and asked Wolf: "You think he has it?" Wolf laughed. It almost sounded like an animalistic growl. "Oh, he deffinitely has it. He reeks of potential." Red didn't understand what they were talking about, but all of a sudden, the demeanor of the men changed. They started laughing and it was as if the earlier moment had not happened. They made room for him on the couch. "Come sit with us, buddy, we are glad you are here. Wolf will get you a drink!" Red sat next on them on the couch. The smell of smoke and musk grew stronger. It was as if it pervaded his mind. Thinking was getting harder. Red already had forgotten about the episode that had just happened in front of his own eyes.

A few seconds layer Wolf put a glass in front of him and sat next to him, closer than Red was normally comfortable with. "Here, buddy, drink it. It will make you feel better." Red had not a clue what was in the glass. Normally he would never accept a strange drink from a stranger he had met in the streets. But he had had a shitty day and he wanted to act like someone he usually was not, so he raised his glass. "Cheers!"

The men around him answered it and they all took a deep swigs of thwir drinks, Red included. The drink went down smoothly and Red could fwwl a warmth spreading through his body. But thatvwas not the only thing Red felt. It was as of the drink awoke something in him. Something Red had never known that was there. Something wild, something... animalistic.

Wolfbintroduced all the men. They were all called Wolf. Red thought it was a bit strange, but he didn't question it. The men started talking with Red. They asked him about his life and Red told them everything, even about his grandmother that dominated his life and how he hated it. That was a thing he had told no one, but somehow, he felt completely comfortable to twll Wolf and his brothers his deepest secrets. Of course it helped that his glass was non-stop being re-filled and he kept drinking.

After a while, Red started feeling warm. Wolf noticed in and said: "Why don't you get rid of that "adorable" hoodie? You don't need it, do you?" Red agreed, he pulled his hoodie over his head, taking the t-shirt under it along. As he wanted to pull the t-shirt back, Wolf said: "Leave it off, you are among brothers." This made perfect sense to Red and so he took the shirt off too and just dropped it along with the hoodie on the floor under the table. As he leaned back, he found that Wolf had put his arm there. He turned his head towards Wolf. Wolf just winked and blew out a cloud of smoke directly into Red's face. Red felt suddenly a wave of horniness wash over him and he couldn't surpress a moan. The moan sounded more like a growl. The other men looked at each other with knowing grins. Wolf pulled him in closer and Red nestled himself close against him. The conversation continued like nothing had happened. Even though Red didn't understand everything he heard, he was completely invested in it. As he reached for his glass glass, he saw that his arm looked strange. His arm looked bigger, more muscular and it seemed there were vague patterns on it, like tattoos. He shrugged it off. He probably had too much to drink, but he didn't care.

After a while, Wolf had finished his cigar and lit up a fresh one. Red looked at Wolf lighting the cigar. He couldn't pull his eyes away from it. Wolf noticed it. "You want to give it a try?" he asked. "N-no, thanks," Red replied, "I don't think it is my thing." Wolf grinned. His golden eyes glowed brightly, holding Red in his gaze. "But it could be. Look around, do you think we were born like this? No, we were like you, but we decided to let our wild side out, our inner wolves. You want that too, don't you. Be wild... be free... be a wolf." Red couldn't deny it. He wanted it. Wolf sensing Red caving in, brought the cigar to Red's mouth. Red, still looking into Wolf's eyes, opened his mouth. Wolf placed the cigar carefully into Red's mouth. Red felt his lips wrap around the cigar. "Now breathe in. You will love it, I promiss you." Red did as he was told to. As the smoke entered his lungs, Red felt like firework went off in his body. The animalistic feeling that had been stirred out of its slumber when he had had his first drink and had been steadily growing with every next drink, seemed to suddenly have bewn awakened. Red felt euphoric... no he felt alive! Like he could run all night and howl to the full moon!

Ted took the cigar out of his mouth and exhaled his first lungfull of smoke. He looked at the cigar in his muscular hand, covered in tattoos. A small voice in his head said this wasn't right. But another, stronger voice -the voice of the animal- shouted that it was right. That this was what he was meant to be. That this was who he really was. Red grinned and took another deep drag. Indeed, this was who he was meant to be. He looked at the men around the table. They stared at him with hunger in their eyes. This time, Red didn't feel uncomfortable. He now understood what they were feeling...and he felt the same.

Red suddenly heard Wolf's voice whispering in his ear. "I told you, you would love it, didn't I?" Red, fewling the warm smokey breathe of Wolf in hus neck, shivered. He could only let out a growl. "You want to feel like this forever, don't you. You want to be free... no longer constrained by the ties that bind you now. You want to be wild... an animal... You want to be our brother, part of our pack." Red was by now completely in ecstacy. Yes, he wanted it. He needed it. He needed it ALL. "Yes," he panted, "YES!"

"I thought so. In order to become part of the pack, we all need to share our essence with you. So, take your pants off." Red eagerly did as he was told. The small voice in hisnhead was shouting that he was crazy, but he didn't care. Wolf and thebrest of the pack did the same. When Red saw their cocks, he had to swallow. Their cocks... they were so big...

Wolf saw it and reassured Red, that they wouldn't hurt him. He then turned him around and guided him on his knees. A brother aligned himself to Red's hole and slowly started to enter. It didn't hurt, but Red felt how his ass stretched around the humongous cock. He clenched his teeth around the cigar and started inhaling the smoke deeper. Wolf, kneeling in front of Red, encouraged him, : "Yes, yes, smoke harder, deeper. It will help you relax!" And it did. It was like hisbass started to suck Wolf's cock in, welcoming it. Wolf was now completely inside him and started picking up thenpace. Red fell into the rhytm. Every trust flooded his body with pleasure. It added to the pleasure the cigar was giving him. The pace went up and up. Tension built. Red growled in pleasure, just like brother who was riding his ass. Then all of a sudden, the guy started howling and Red felt how streams of cum filled his ass. "Welcome, to the pack, brother," the guy said as he carefully went out of Red. He planted a kiss on his mouth. Red was in a daze. It felt like the seed of his brother strengthened the animal, the wolf, inside him.

Red had little time to think, as the next guybhad already lined up and slided his cock inside Red. The same ritual happened. Then came the next and the next. With each load, the wolf inside him grew stronger and stronger, devouring his old self. Moreober, he felt a bond with the guys thay had just fucked him, like they were his real brothers.

Atblast, Wolf stood behind Red. "Are you ready to becone one ofbus? Are you ready to become part of the pack?" "YES!" That was all Wolf needed tonhear. He rammed his cock deep inside Red. Red inhaled deeply on the now almost finished cigar. Not out of pain, but out of pure intense bliss. Wolf pounded him long and hard. Red felt his own cock grow bigger and harder than it ever had been. The tsmpo went up even more and Wolf went deeper and deeper into him. Then, at the moment Red thought he would pass out, he heard Wolf shot: "ARE YOU READY TO BECOME PART OF THE PACK, BROTHER? THEN LET YOUR OLD SELF GO!" And he howled. And he shot his load. Not just a normal load, volley after volley went deep into Red. Red, no longer able or willing to contain himself, took one last deep drag of his cigar and started cumming. As he exhaled the smoke, he hesrd himself howl with Wolf. Im fact, the whole pack was howling.

After what seemed to be an hour. Wolf stopped cumming and so did Red. But was he still Red? He looked down at the puddle of his cum. There were the last remnants of Red, his old self. He was now someone else... something else. He looked uo and saw himself in the mirror. A pair of brightly shining golden eyes looked back at him. He looked at himself in the mirror. Gone was his boyish features, his lanky frame and floppy brown hair. Instead he saw a strong bald man, covered intattoos. A tattoo of a wolf's head proudly on his chest. He grinned. From ow on, he would go by "wolf", just like his brothers.

He was helped up by a brother and another gave him a biker vest with his new name on it. "Thanks, brothers", the new Wolf said, while accepting a cigar that was handed to him by a third brother. He lit up the cigar as if he had done it a million times and as he exhaled, he continued: "I will have to return the favor... to all of you." The brothers cheered and howled and new Wolf couldn't help to let a howl out as well.

"Not just yet, brother," Wolf, the one who had lead him to the Den, said, "I have a surprise for you." He led the new Wolf outside. "We have fixed your bike." As they came outside, new Wolf didn't see his former self's bicycle. Instead he saw a motorbike like Wolf's one. "You can't be part of the pack without one of these."

New Wolf was astounded. His cigar almost dropped from his mouth. Then an animalistic grin crept on his face and his golden eyes started shining brightly. He took a deep haul of his cigar and he pulled his brother in closely. "I am so gonna fuck you, right here, right now, brother." He then started kissing Wolf with a passion that even surprised himself. He felt his brother's cock swell again and heard him growl in horny bliss." With effort, Wolf broke off the kiss. He said, panting: "Not yet, brother. You first have to cut the last ties to your former life. So, let's make a visit to grandma. You can fuck me right in front of her, showing that hag your new self."

New Wolf grinned as he mounted his bike. Wolf followed suit. "Good idea, brother," new Wolf said, as he started the engine, "let's show her I am no longer her little lapdog." The brothers drove away. The sound of the engines mixed with their howls, leaving behind a trail of cigar smoke.