#for those of you who have read the salt and are going wait a minute! there was no car salesman in that!: stay tuned for Salt 2 ;)

[gyuswhore]

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

 [You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here. 

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents. 

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7  [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations. 

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway. 

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too. 

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table. 

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway. 

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order. 

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved. 

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time. 

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either. 

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence. 

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave. 

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion. 

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least. 

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him. 

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing. 

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving. 

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him. 

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself. 

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever. 

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth. 

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too. 

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco. 

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.” 

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances. 

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after. 

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!” 

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck. 

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks. 

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault. 

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside. 

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire. 

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting. 

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?” 

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again. 

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. 

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little. 

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop. 

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway. 

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators. 

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of. 

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag. 

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask. 

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?” 

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside. 

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things. 

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.  

“Am I late for something again?” 

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all. 

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage. 

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you. 

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.” 

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard. 

“So you can fix it?” 

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.” 

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine. 

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you. 

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work. 

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him. 

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular. 

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close. 

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly. 

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row. 

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.” 

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.” 

You questioned if this was a mistake. 

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course. 

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again. 

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke. 

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos. 

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often. 

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving. 

“Shall we go to the office then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra. 

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed. 

Cute. 

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet. 

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup. 

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side. 

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins. 

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space. 

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?” 

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?” 

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying. 

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues. 

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–” 

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.” 

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease. 

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name. 

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea. 

“Are you doing anything else today?” 

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly. 

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside. 

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt. 

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay. 

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly. 

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination. 

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars. 

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer. 

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway. 

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched. 

“Fuck, yes you can.” 

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top. 

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers. 

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs. 

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster. 

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace. 

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth. 

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees. 

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy. 

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly. 

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs. 

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support. 

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him. 

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you. 

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash. 

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

Archive: Rent-a-Cop Part 1 - 3

"It’s supposed to do what…? …Are you serious Captain?” Officer Grant Johnson sighed looking at his commanding officer with incredulity.

“Johnson, remember you volunteered for this. Now if the professor’s machine works like he says it does, its value to the force will be immeasurable," The Captain typed in some more information onto the panel, going back and forth between some hand-written instructions, furrowing his brow.

“Fine… So you scanned me in or whatever, now what?”

“Just a minute! I need to finish calibrating the damn thing or God knows what it’ll do to you!” Johnson rolled his eyes but nodded, running his hand through his salt and pepper hair impatiently.

“Okay okay… Just remember we do well enough without some freaky gizmo though. I’ve put away some of the baddest guys in this city in my day…” Officer Johnson patted his gut with a chuckle. “…I suppose I have been getting a bit soft though,"

“Well why don’t we see what we can do about that?" The Captain lifted what looked to be a simple wireless microphone.

“Load profile: Grant Johnson.” The machine behind them made a small noise, Officer Johnson looked to it then the Captain and shrugged.

“Reduce age by half, increase muscle mass 300%, and reduce body fat ratio by 80%—”

The Captain cut off and gaped at the sudden change in his subordinate. Gone was the weary looking Officer with the pot-belly looking forward to an ever closer retirement. In his place was a mountain of a man, who looked half bodybuilder/half cop. Johnson just stared at the Captain.

“…What? How long do we wait?”

“What do you mean what? You’re huge!”

Officer Johnson narrowed his eyes at the Captain then looked to his arm, pulling back the sleeve and flexing his massive biceps; it must have been around 24 inches.

"It doesn’t look any bigger… definitely not 200% bigger. And what was with the command to halve my age? You trying to send me back to highschool?” He chuckled a deep, rich, masculine laugh.

The Captain stammered a moment before looking back to the hand-written notes, thumbing through them before speaking into the small microphone again.

“Recall self prior to last command," that did it. Grant yelped, looking back to his arm, giving it a small poke then looking back to the Captain. 

“Holy shit! Captain! Look at me! I can’t believe it! That machine is nuts!” The Captain frowned lightly but nodded.

“Yes, yes. The possibilities are endless, but we’ll need to make sure we note any Officer’s previous self to their changed self… I think we’ll just keep this to ourselves until we can learn a bit more about it.”

“Aww– Fine… Too bad though, with this thing I’d be right back in the swing of it. All those bastards I’ve spent my career taking down would just be the beginning; I could be back on the beat full time.”

“Well, we’ll see. For now lets get you back to normal, lock this place up and head back upstairs. Don’t want anyone in the precinct getting nosy down here…”

-

The captain returned Officer Johnson to normal then the pair left; all without taking note of the surveillance camera silently blinking above their heads. 

In the security room, rookie cop Noah Bartlett stared at the camera footage. He’d been benched and given desk duty after none other than Officer Grant Johnson had accused him of being on the take… 

Nevermind the fact that he was, afterall there were several local crime bosses who paid good money for any tip or advantage they could get against the cops….

An idea slowly formed in Noah’s mind as he looked to the wall at the master security keyring and a smile grew on his face… He wondered how much they would pay for a chance to rent that machine and use it on Officer Oh-So-Perfect Johnson…

--

"You understand, Captain Diaz?"

The older cop replied in a dull monotone "Yes,"

"Yes....what?" the rookie replied, smirking vindictively

"Yes Master Noah,"

"Good," he pulled the machine's microphone close to his mouth and read off a little notecard he had prepared

"Captain Diaz won't consciously remember the events of the last 10 minutes or so. Captain Diaz will return to his office, wait one hour then call Officer Johnson in, and then follow the previously given instructions,"

With that, the Captain wordlessly walked out, while Officer Bartlett quickly reset the room to how it was, before hurrying back to his desk in the security room.

Rico Antonetti was one of the mid to upper level mob figures in the city and he and Officer Noah Bartlett had worked out a few arrangements before getting caught by one oh-so-squeaky-clean Officer Grant Johnson.

Noah had reached out to the mobster and informed him of the department's prototype machine. Rico was skeptical so the two worked out an appropriate demonstration.....

Precisely one hour later, Noah looked up to see Officer Grant Johnson on one of his monitors, step into the Captain's office and take a seat

"Listen Johnson, we've got a tip off about some new little bordello Antonetti has setup downtown. It might be bogus, but I need you to go in and investigate,"

"Sure Cap, let me get a team together and we'll be able to hit the place by tomorrow nig---"

"NO! Er......no, that will be too late, these places move around and we don't know how many ears Rico has in the department. If we want to hit him while this info is good, we need to do it tonight and I need you to go by yourself,"

"Uhh....that sounds more than a little bit risky, don't you think, Captain?"

"Yes, or at least it would be, if we didn't have our department's new toy," the Captain said sternly

"Oh....yeah, I guess so then. If you think it's that serious...."

"I do, let's get you prep," quickly replied the Captain as he stood up from his seat and opened the door briskly

Noah almost giggled with glee as he watched the two depart the Captain's office and head to the storeroom where the Professor had dropped off the machine. Everything was going according to script so far

"Alright Johnson, you ready?" The Captain picked up the wireless mic, flipping the machine on

"Yes Sir," Grant smiled, giving his somewhat rotund belly a gentle pat goodbye

"Load Profile: Grant Johnson." once more the machine whirred to life, humming softly and awaiting input. "Subject will recall self following this set of commands: Reduce age by 60%, increase muscle mass by 200%....."

The Captain's voice and face then seemed to go a bit slack and he took the microphone and opened the door to exit the room

"Err...everything alright, boss?"

"Yes, wait there, I need to check something,"

Captain Diaz quietly made his way down the hall to the security room, he opened the door where Officer Bartlett sat grinning

"Welcome Cap, I'll take that," he reached out, grabbing the mic and looking back to the video feed of the new, younger, buffer Officer Grant Johnson sitting patiently

"Subject will not recall self following this new set of commands. Change sexuality to homosexual. Increase libido by 300%. Reduce work ethic by 75%. Add behaviors: narcissism, arrogance, exhibitionism, bullying, domineering, perversion, and of course, corruption," Noah watched as the posture and attitude of Officer Johnson shifted. The man in the monitor crudely rubbed his genitals through his uniform pants and impatiently checked his wristwatch before noting the mirrored window in the room and stepping up to flex in front of it

"Perfect, now reduce subject employment standing to rookie, erase all experience of previous service and update it to 3 months," the stripes on Grant's uniform vanished, "Subject will continue flexing in the storeroom until Captain Diaz returns," there was no change in the cocky behavior on the monitor, but Noah knew Grant would stay like that as long as needed now

"Load profile: Carlos Diaz. Subject will believe that Officer Grant Johnson has always been as he is now and has not been changed by the machine. Subject will load in each member of the department's profiles overnight tonight and make the same changes to their recollection as well. Subject will not consciously remember the events of the last hour and will return to scold Officer Johson for being where he shouldn't be, then send him out,"

Captain Diaz silently left the security room and Officer Bartlett returned to his monitor. He watched smiling as the Captain entered the storeroom and clearly yelled something at the now rookie Grant Johnson. Officer Johnson replied by gripping his own groin and flipping the Captain off as he left.

"Now then, tonight should go on as planned,"

--

Grant drove down the street slowly. It was dark and while he may not have given a shit about what he was doing, he was still a cop. He saw the kid on the corner signal to someone as soon as he showed up. But that was fine, let 'em get their shit out of there, it would be less work on his part.

He parked a couple houses down from the address his tightass Captain had given him for this supposed brothel and slowly approached. From the front it looked like any other kind of shared housing in one of the city's projects

He eyed the door, strangely it was left ajar. He carefully slipped inside, having to squeeze his muscular form through rather tightly so as not to risk moving the door any further

The first floor was dark but as he peered up the stairs, he saw the second level was well lit......if anything's going down, it's up there

He thought he moved quite silently but in reality he was rushing and the house creaked under his weight with each step. When he reached the top, he saw a hallway full of closed doors, save one left half open with light pouring out of it

He crept towards it, growing annoyed at what a waste of time this was turning out to be. He paused by the door when he heard a young man speaking on the phone

"Yeah....yeah he's comin' so I called like you told me to....yeah, you're sure about this?.....Naw naw, I'm good for it.... Alright, alright, then do whatever it is you're gonna do, I'll let you know,"

The young man hung up the phone, Grant furrowed his brow at what he'd heard.....it sounded like something might actually about to go down....Looks like showtime. He stepped forward, kicking the door open and entering the room with his gun drawn

"DON'T MOVE!" yelled Grant with his deep baritone voice with that hint of coarseness from his smoking habit

The room looked like a simple one bedroom unit, hardly the sex den he was expecting. On the bed seated a rather handsome college-aged jock, he had his arms raised and was watching the police officer, but he didn't seem startled. Grant frowned and looked around the room before stepping to the man and patting him down; finding no weapon, he put away his firearm.

"We got a tipoff about prostitutes working out of this address to supply the mob. You know anything about that?"

The young jock paused for a moment looking at Grant just long enough to begin annoying him, before finally answering tentatively

"Of course Officer.....that's what I'm doing here," Grant just stared a moment......did this little twunk just admit to being a whore?

"You're a hooker?"

Sensing Grant's confusion, the young man smiled and nodded. He stood and approached the cop

"Yeah.....Rico said I was your favorite after last time, so it was my job to......cover your protection fee...." the jock's hands were a bit rough but his puppy eyes really caught his attention and radiate this submissiveness Grant cannot resist. He softly stroked Grant's chest and stomach, causing the ripped Officer to moan and shudder in delight

"Oh...oh yeah, now I remember you," Grant's stated with more conviction, his memories betrayed him as it created false imagery of the time he's sitting in the mob-run nightclub with all the male strippers dancing to tease him

The rather handsome hooker simply smiled impishly, his hand caressing lower, which caused Grant to growl in beastly burst of lust, pushing the young man back onto the bed

-

An hour or so later, Grant called in to Captain Diaz, the tip had been bullshit it seemed. The Captain was pissed but Grant didn't care. Meanwhile, Officer Bartlett popped open a bottle of wine when he received a call from one very convinced and very interested crime boss....

-------

Check out my spin-off from this beloved series originally made by coyote-r

More to come later this week

[captainlondonman]

SHORT STORY- TURKISH BARBER

Sam decided he needed a haircut, only a trim but a tidy up anyway and went off to his usual barber. As he went to open the door he noticed a sign saying ‘On vacation. Back soon’

‘Shit now I need to find another place.’

He remembered passing several times a Turkish barber shop where there never seemed to be many clients and the older barber was invariably sitting reading a newspaper

‘Well’, he thought’ it’s only a trim he can’t go far wrong.’

He pushed the door open and walked in

The guy looked up and smiled

‘Looking for a haircut?’

‘Yeah just a trim if that’s OK.’

‘Come and sit down and let’s get started.’

After getting a gown around Sam’s neck the barber took out his scissors and started on the sides. Thinking of getting a conversation started Sam asked

‘Are you Turkish?’

‘Yes sure am but I’ve been here a good few years. Have you ever been to Turkey?’

‘Once a few years ago to Istanbul. I’ts an amazing city. I loved it. So much to see and do. Really where East meets West.’

‘Everyone goes there and you are right but have you been to any of the beaches in Turkey?’

‘No.’

‘That is something else, golden sand and blue blue sea.’

‘Not sure I would find it that easy.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well with my fair skin and flat chest I would find it a bit daunting with all those hairy chested Turks showing off their masculine bodies’

‘You have a point I think.’

‘They all look so manly with their thick beards and dark hairy chests.’

‘You obviously look carefully at us Turkish men.’

‘Well, you cannot miss all that black hair.’

‘You would like to have hairy chest I think.’

‘Sure I would love to but clearly not going to happen so perhaps I leave out the beaches.’

‘Not everyone has black hairy chest. Look at me, mine is now grey.’

‘I see that but even though you only have your two top buttons undone I can see your chest must have been dark at one time and now its grey but a lot of hair. Lucky you.’

‘Wait a minute I have an idea.’

And with that he put down his scissors and walked over to the door locking it. ‘Now let me take off your cover and follow me to the back of the shop. Don’t worry. From what you said you will be happy trust me.’

Sam had no idea what the guy was talking about but got up and followed the guy into the back room.

‘So you like hairy men and even noticed the hairs sprouting out the top of my shirt so I now take off my shirt and you do the same.’

At first Sam thought the guy had taken leave of his senses but part of him wanted to see how the full chest hair looked like even if he was going to show nothing.

Sam stripped off his shirt feeling very self conscious.

‘I see what you mean young man, not much hair to show. Would not be well receievd on a Turkish beach I think. This is more like it.’

The barber slowly took off his shirt and Sam’s eyes were on stalks. Not only was the barber covered with a thick mat of chest hair but it came up all across his shoulders and down his arms to his very fingertips. It was almost like a gorilla. The hair was salt and pepper with a dark area around the navel getting greyer as it rose up over his chest and tits. The shoulders were thick in white hair.

‘Now that is a Turkish chest for you.’

‘Good god that is amazing I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as hairy.’

‘I think you like it judging by your eyes. Sadly my wife hates it she would prefer I was like you.’

‘Then she is totally wrong it looks great on you and I just wish I had some of what you have.’

‘You really would like to be hairy would you not?’

‘There is something really special about hairy and Turkish and arab men. They look so masculine.’

‘Hairy bodies are for men. Hairless chests for boys.’

‘Yeah but I am a man.’.

‘A man who would like to be hairy.’

‘Sure would.’

‘So would you like to touch my chest and feel the hair?’

‘Can I?’

‘Well I have asked you so yes, see what it is like.’

Sam gingerly put his hands lightly on the barber’s chest and felt the thick curling mass of hair.

‘Now come on boy just giving a little touch is hardly being a man. Run your hands over and deeply across my chest so you know what a hairy chest really feels like. Let your hands become entangled in the hair. Let me feel your hands.’

Sam started to move his hands deep into the hair letting the grey thick hair curl around his fingers. He had never felt anything like this. The sensation of touching and rubbing had started to make his cock so erect it was sore. He felt he could say nothing to this older man that he was becoming so aroused and just hoped his tent was not too obvious.

‘Why don’t you move your hands up under my pecs, the hair is thicker there just under my tits. You see how thick it is there?’

‘God I never felt anything like this before.’

‘Looks as if you are enjoying.’

‘Well you said I should move my hand around.’

‘So while you are at it why don’t you try and find my nipples among the hair. That’s it, I can feel your fingers just  touching my nipples. So while they are there I’d like you to give them a tweak. Get each nipple between your fingers and give a squeeze.’

Sam did not know what to do so very gingerly teased them

‘I said give them a squeeze not just a brush. That’s better a bit harder. Us Turks like to have good big nipples and some squeezing helps make them bigger. Now move your hands up to my shoulders. See how the hair continues across my shoulders. And you know it goes all the way down my back. You’d like to feel that as well no doubt.’

‘If you are asking. I have rarely seen a hairy back before.’

‘Well I tell you what, come into me, press your chest against mine and put your arms around my back and let your hands rub up and down my back and at the same time you can feel my hairy chest rubbing against you, so it almost will feel for you what a hairy chest you could have.’

Sam did as he was told and put his arms around the barber, the barber doing likewise and pulling in tight

’See my back is almost as hairy as my chest so let your hands rub into my skin.’

‘Christ it’s amazing,’ Sam replied as he started to move his chest tight up against the barbers hair letting the hairs rub against his skin

‘How does that feel?’

I feel as I rub against you as if I have a hairy chest. Its just what I have always imagined. I am almost feeling like a bear even with no chest hair but all your hair makes me feel as if its mine.

‘That’s the idea. Now I seem to think there’s a bit of a pole rubbing against my thigh. Feels as if you have a hard on.’

‘Not just a hard on but my cock is aching with all this rubbing.’

‘I hope you are feeling something more than a pole against your thigh.’

‘Shit is that your cock it feels more like another leg.’

Taking one hand away from Sam, the barber pushed Sam’s hand down between them

‘So feel that.’

‘Christ its huge.’

‘Of course it is. It’s pure Turkish thick cock. All us men have a good 9” and not just the length but thick and cut as well.. That cock of mine needs to get out and you can see properly so unzip me and take it out.’

Sam carefully unzipped the massive bulge and put his hand inside to feel the throbbing dick. ‘You need to undo the belt and let my trousers down so you can lift it out. It’s too big to just take out like this.’

As Sam let down the trousers so the meaty prick bounced upwards. Sam could not believe the size. If this is what all Turks have then I want one he thought to himself.

‘So now I have let you feel all my hair, I need a couple of favours from you.’

Firstly you get down on your knees and suck. My wife hates a blow job but I love it and only men know how to do it properly.’

‘I might choke with trying to suck.’

‘Trust me once you let your mouth open and breathe carefully this will slip down the back of your throat.’

The barber undid Sam’s zip and slid his trousers down over his cock which was tenting in his pants.

‘Not a bad dick but it could be bigger. I think you would like a thick dick like mine, yeah?’

‘I sure would.’

‘So get down and feel this big chopper into your mouth. I want to feel my cock all the way down the back of your throat. Take hold of my heavy balls and pull them down as you start to lick my head.’

Sam sat on the floor and took hold of the barber’s heavy balls.

‘Now pull down tight and move you head in. Get your mouth full of spit to cover my head.’ Holding the Barbers balls Sam started licking the glistening head covering it with more and more spit running his lips around the full helmet.

‘That’s good but now I need to feel your mouth get deeper. You don’t need to take the full length but go as far as you can without chocking.’

Still holding the balls Sam opened his mouth as wide as possible and moved it slowly down into his throat. It was massive but having such a thick member in his mouth was a real turn on.. The barber took hold of Sam’s head and moved it further into his cock.

‘Good boy you are doing this well now start move your mouth up and down my shaft. Let me feel you sucking  up and down. Christ that feels good but I need to stop you there as there is now the second favour I need of you. Take your mouth out of my shaft and stand up.’

Looking Sam in the face he said

‘My wife hates being bum fucked  but I love arse fucking and your arse is now ready for a fuck. Let me see that arse of yours.’

The barber let his hands move across Sam’s cheeks and started to push them apart to expose his hole.

‘Look quite tight to me but with all your spit you should be able to take.’

‘I’m not sure I can take your prick’ Sam said.

‘Don’t worry I’ll be gentle and I’ll just let a good gob of my spit onto my shaft so it will be easier. Now bend over as it will be better for you.

Sam wanted to feel the barbers cock insider him. He wanted to feel a real hairy man stick it all the way up..

The barber keeping Sam’s cheeks as far apart as possible guided his cock to the hole and with a gentle push started to move his helmet in.

‘Christ it’s huge. I’m really not sure.’

‘Just relax, be a man like us Turks and once in you will want the full length trust me. Now be a man. Pushing a bit more the full helmet entered his arse and then Sam felt he could relax a bit. It felt so good he started to shove his arse back towards the cock.

‘I want to feel those thick pubes of yours up against me and also feel all that body hair rubbing against me as you grind your cock.’

‘I’ll put my full cock inside you and the give you a moment to rest before we do the next part. This next one with be a changer for you. You will become a man just like all us Turks. Now stand up and squeeze your bum so you feel me deep inside you.’

‘Now let’s turn you to look at the mirror so you can see yourself and I start to fuck you harder.

‘Good you can see yourself with that smooth chest and feel my hairy chest against your back.’

‘It feels as if I have the hairy back when you are pressed against me.’

‘So you’d like to have a hairy chest and back would you?’

‘Seeing you is exactly what I’d love to have.’

‘Good I hoped you might say that. So are you ready for me to start a harder fuck and then come inside you cause there’s plenty of spunk in my balls and I want you to feel it shooting all the way up.’

‘I want you all and now even though that prick of yours is so big my arse is aching to be fucked by it.’

As the barber  starting to move his cock in and out down the length of Sam’s arse he moved his arms to the front around Sam.

‘This arse of yours is made for me and boy am I gonna fuck

Let me start rubbing your arms with my hands while I fuck ok?’

‘Please I want to feel those hairy manly arms all over me.’ Sam was almost begging

As he rubbed his hands over Sam’s arms, Sam was suddenly aware that those smooth arms of his were sprouting hairs and not just blond hairs but dark almost black hairs, long and curling from his shoulders all the way down to the tips of his fingers

‘What is happening my arms are now looking hairy.’

The barber replied as he continued to let his cock run the full length of Sam’s arse.

‘You said you’d like to be hairy. Looks good and manly does it not?

‘But they are not just becoming hairy they look more muscular’.

‘Who wants to be a skinny man. We all want to be real men don’t we?’

‘Well yes’

‘So now let me run my arms across your smooth chest and see what I can do for you.’

As the barber ran his rough large hands across Sam’s chest he thought it at first looked like a shadow across his whole chest and then as he looked down he realised it was hairs not just slowly sprouting out of every pore but quickly and looking like a forest of curling black hair all the way cross and down even on his shoulders. Not only around his pecs and navel but the entire chest was hairy. His whole chest was larger with now broad shoulders and dark skin and he had a 6 pack he’d never had before and such a big pair of pecs all covered in coarse hair. It was like a perfect Turkish man’s chest.

‘Let me bring my hands up to your nipples which I can hardly see for hair. You gave mine a nice pinch so let me do the same for you. All Turks love their nipples played with.’

As the barber started to work his nipples so Sam groaned with pleasure moving his arse in and out against the barber.s cock.

‘Christ that is amazing it so turning me on. Squeeze them harder’

Good I like to squeeze Turkish nipples. And you have a really big pair with extended nipple heads. Is that better? These will hsow nicely through all your shirts and everyone can see what a big pair of Turkish tits you have.’

‘It’s fucking fantastic.’

‘You like your new chest?’

‘It’s like a dream. I feel much more a real man. My arse feels bigger and more round and am I right is saying its hairy.’

‘It’s very hairy, all the way inside that nice crack of yours and you now have a big bubble butt and bigger hole so my cock sits well inside you.’

‘I’ts no longer sore and I want you to increase your rythmn I’m so wanting you to come inside me I can feel those thick pubes of your rubbing against my hairy arse. Shit it’s great.

‘Don’t worry “m coming round to put my hands on that cock of your but first I need to rub my hands over your face and head so close your eyes and just enjoy me thrusting faster and faster inside you.’

The more the barber thrust the more Sam pushed his arse back to see the full length of the thick shaft. He wanted every inch as he felt the barber’s hands rub against his face. As he rubbed he could feel that his face was no longer smooth but it was almost as though there was a brush in between his face and the barbers hands. His head felt different and that trim he came in for was as though he had had a very close cut even more than a number one.’

‘Now open your eyes. Look at yourself and the man you are’

The face staring back at him was no longer the wholesome blond Brit. The face he looked at in the mirror could for him almost have been a criminal. He was completely bald, shaven with a shiny top but from the top of his ears there was a thick black beard and moustache. So thick he could hardly see his mouth. The beard was at least 3inches long and took up all his chin and neck all the way down to where it met his hairy chest. He had a brown face, a squashed nose as if it could have been broken in a fight and thick bushy black eyebrows. He looked exactly like a middle eastern thug, a Turkish thug but he looked a man and man that no one would tamper with. He looked every part a man who would dominate but here he was being now aggressively fucked and loving the large cock inside him.

‘Now you look like a man. Makes me even more horny to fuck you like a brother Turk. I need to cum soon but first let me put my hands of your cock so you come at the same time.

The barber moved his hands down to grip Sam’s cock who was still staring at his new face.

‘Now look down’

Sam looked and what had been a good 6 incher before was now 9” and thick like the barber with such a forest of dark pubes. Now  Sam looked just like a masculine tough nut Turk. He was ready to come just staring at his new tool and he could feel the barber’s cock in him pulsating ready to shoot his load of cum.

‘If you are ready we both cum but I tell you this is a new beginning and you will feel at first for a short time a bit different but don’t worry it’s all part of what you want.’

‘I hope so.’ shouted Sam, ‘Just let me have everything you have and let me feel your pubes right up against my hairy arse as you cum so I am about to shoot.’

And with that the barber

Shouted ‘Fuck you Turk be one of us.’

As Sam felt the spunk shoot up his arse so his own cock exploded, arches of cum hitting the mirror and running down, great creamy drops.

When he opened his eyes after his orgasm everything seemed a bit cloudy not just his eyes but his brain. He was struggling to think what to say in English. He thought he knew what to say but he was rapidly forgetting words and instead other words of a foreign tongue were in his mind

‘I feel …. ‘He managed to say in English but even those two words he noted were in a much deeper voice and with a strong accent. It did not sound like his voice.

‘Tell me what you are thinking in your preferred language.’ The barber said

Sam said in a rasping deep voice in Turkish ‘That was a fucking great fuck.’

‘Yes Samir only we know how to fuck like real men. Welcome my Cousin.’ This was no longer Sam looking at himself in the mirror, it was now Samir.

‘Tell you what cousin I look fucking great. A hairy Turk with a huge dick and now you and I have a Turkish coffee and cigarette and then I fuck the living daylights of you. One favour deserves another. We keep it is the family eh?’

‘I get you good job in nightclub Samir.’

‘Sure Cousin, I like a good fight. No one gets on the wrong side of me.’

‘A tough Turk and a good fuck.’

‘Yeah but now time for you to turn round and I give you a good Samir fuck’

[discluded]

I just realized that the porsche in the book was probably like kinn’s type? Cos they initially imagined a korean actor to play it right.. so apo being called to cast is really sus lol

I have never read KPTN and according to people who have, it's better for my brain that I haven't 😂

According to Reliable Sources, apparently Porsche wasn't Kinn's Type™ because Kinn's type is pretty and novel!Porsche wasn't pretty. But Apo is very pretty so obviously that wouldn't work 😁

Okay since I have a minute now:

KinnPorsche Casting: The Lore

First posting (one version) of the casting story for everyone to set the stage. Thanks to @lorddio for helping me find this one again and MileApo Safe Place for translating as always. it's got a very special part that needs highlight 😉

But setting the record straight(ha!) about the basics:

Mile was Kinn's face model, and purportedly many elements of Kinn were based off of Mile's public image (very importantly: wealthy heir to an important Thai family)

In the variations of posts about Mile is Kinn lore I've seen, this was the specific photo that inspired Daemi's Kinn. He reposted it around the same time his casting for KPTS was announced (this was reposted Dec 2020) but if I remember correctly from scrolling back in his feed, it was taken when he was 24-25 years old.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by MP 15.15 (@milephakphum)

As anon mentioned, and Apo mentioned in the clip above, Daemi chose a Korean actor as the face cast for Porsche.

However, he was contacted and specifically invited to audition for the role of Porsche. According to Apo, he didn't even read for any other characters

Those are the basic public facts we can agree on. But of course there's more going on behind the scenes! There's actually a lot going on here so I'm going to break it down for each actor, starting with Mile because that might set the ground for some of what happened with Apo.

Admittedly some of this is my opinion or interpretation, so take it with a grain of salt and use your own judgment! Again, the above facts are what is probably known and agreed upon.

Casting dates (a clarification)

First of all, there's a couple of confusing things going on with the dates, which I actually didn't highlight in the last post about it, but was exposed by the Facebook posts.

The first Facebook post dated October 1, 2020 talks about how the audition process has started and the first round will go on to October 3. The second post is from October 4 and then lists the dates of the auditions for October 10.

Now, October 10, the "official" audition date is (1) The day Mile and Apo were both fast tracked through auditions and (2) met again. I don't think anyone on the English side of fandom has noticed this or at least publicly talked about this discrepancy so I'm bringing you hot news (that I've been sitting on and not sharing lol)

It is worth pointing out that this is supposedly the photo below is of their first kiss from the auditions, and they're both wearing different clothes, so. I'm guessing the fast tracking was actually for the first round of auditions between Oct 1-3, and then the kiss was Oct 10.

Anyway, they sat next to each other and Apo talked to Mile first, regardless of if it was the same day (likely not, in my opinion)

There's also a couple of different photos of them together at audition.

Notably, in the first they're sat in uh, waiting area chairs. There's a different clip of Apo sitting behind Bible, so I'm guessing this is before Apo talked to Mile and he had noticed Mile while sitting in this area and went to talk to him.

The moved together down the line to the audition room, I think?

where Sprite interviewed them:

Also based on this last photo they switched sitting order at some point while waiting to audition

Mile's casting

So aside from the fact Mile visibly went to auditions, there is a rumor with some basis that Mile was pre-cast as Kinn. Probably soft confirmed by Mile himself.

I'm just going to close the loop on this discrepancy too: I think Mile was an invited audition/casting in the same way Ke Huy Quan was invited to audition for for Waymond Wang. Mile did audition. He was likely get the role because he was so preferentially invited by the authors and was the basis for the character.

Clearly, Ke Huy Quan won an Oscar and Mile won a GQ breakout actor award, so in invited casting, even for seemingly "unimportant" roles, it doesn't speak to an actor deserving or not deserving the role based on of acting skills. Mile also was cast as the main character Bohn in My Engineer in 2017 before turning it down; he clearly has some acting chops and can win lead roles.

In academia, often times internal postings will open for tenure track positions with a preferred candidate in mind; but due to rules these postings are made public and sometimes an outside candidate will blow the preferred candidate out of the water in terms of quality and get hired instead.

Which is to say there could have been another actor that ended up impressing more in auditions as Kinn even with Mile being preferred, or another actor pair that seemed more suited for Kinn and Porsche.

The other thing auditions do is allow for actors to screen test chemistry. So finally, Mile actually going through the casting process allows him to screen test a for a pairing partner. Which brings us to...

Pre-cast Preferred casting rumor credibility: 10/10

Apo's Casting

Play Mastermind.mp3 by Taylor Swift

Once Twice upon a time, the planets and the fates And all the stars aligned You and I ended up in the same room At the same time

Okay if you didn't catch it on the first watch...

Mile, what the heck is that expression. 😂😂😂

Again, Apo was invited to go to casting specifically for Porsche and only for Porsche. Apo has never acted in a BL before going to audition for KPTS, so the question begged who invited him and why?

First of all, Mile has made it clear that he was a fan of Apo's acting work and followed his career after they met in the gym. He's also made it clear he had the world's biggest crush on Apo. Look how excited he was to talk about working with Apo and how handsome he thinks Apo is in January 2021 (like 3 months after they met again!)

If Mile was the preferential Kinn cast and he didn't have an pairing partner, it would make sense to ask him if there were any actors he thought he might work well with.

I'm not entirely convinced Mile engineered for Apo to get cast or anything. Apo's acting career and skills stand on their own and I think their insane screen chemistry speaks volumes about why they were cast. But as for who made the request to Apo's manager ... hm 😏 Maybe we'll find out one day.

Mile Phakphum - Mastermind.mp3 rumor credibility: 6/10

[oneknightstand-if]

Man, sure seems like there's been a lot of werewolf attacks here. Looks like you might need to implement some anti werewolf measures!

Speaking of, are there any little superstitious routines or habits the ROs have?

Like me, I never leave home without my silver... wait, where did it g

Tsk, tsk, another victim of fae-napping. Which means... werewolves. Probably.

Merlin: What superstitions? They only know cold, hard facts! *sets up wards everywhere*

Adrian: He read & watched all those parapsychological things. That counts, right?

Arthur: Iron & cold steel, check. Crystals, check. Sweets, check. The fae are coming for him, all right.

Percy: There is a very good reason he's leaving gingerbread everywhere.

4̶0̷4̸ ̸E̷r̴r̸o̵r̷ ̸N̸o̶t̶ ̵F̶o̴u̴n̴d̸: Really?

Gwen: D-does not breaking mirrors or walking under ladders count?

Cassandra: BRB setting up mirrors all over the motorhome.

Gwen: Eep. Merlin: *poses* Gwen: . . . . . *also poses* Adrian: Wait a minute, Merlin. Where did your reflection go?! Merlin: *glides off stage left* Gwen: *still posing*

Vivian: Quadruple really?!

Lorelei: Replacing salt loss in an athlete's diet is a necessity, it has absolutely nothing to do with superstitions.

Merlin: ( ,,⩌'︿'⩌,,) Salt does nothing to the fae... particularly the ones who live by the sea. It only works as a slight magicry boost due to its crystalline structure. Lorelei: Who says I'm using salt for the fae?!

Broderick: You know you're all fruitloops, right?

[firstprincehornyramblings]

Hello yall! I'm getting a head start and queueing this extra early (its technically Wednesday for me right now) Once again, under the cut, for length reasons, and nsfw reasons <3

------------- PWP Dom Henry and Free Use Alex

“You are not going to cum yet, Alexander. Calm down,” the blond hissed, “Or call a color,” he added in a quiet voice. “N-no, I can.. I can calm down,” Alex whined, “That’s so cold,” his voice was soft and pathetic, “I just wanted to cum.” “But you won’t, not till I say you can, not till I’m done with you,” Henry reiterated, “Because you want to be good for me. And Alex? You are a good boy, you’re the best boy, and you are not going to let me down.” “I’m good, I’ll be good for you… W-wanna be good for you so bad, Hen,” Alex cried.   “That’s what I thought,” Henry purred, “Just a moment more,” he said before leaning closer to press a kiss to the side of Alex’s thigh, “Let’s get those balls nice and cold, it’ll take you a minute to warm up, hm? That should take some of the need away.” “Yeah,” Alex nearly sobbed, but his cheeks were dry, no tears falling, “Thank you for helping me be a good boy.”

---

GEORGE THOUGHTS (Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this fic are those of George Villier’s and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of the author.)

“Good boy, you’re my favorite,” it was whispered against a sweat soaked temple, and for the day at least it was true. His hand fell to his own thigh, fingers wiping through the slick there and bringing them to his own lips. He sucked at those fingers, salt and bitterness on his tongue, his opposite hand falling to the pet still kissing his neck. With one shove he pushed them aside, “Wine,” he murmured against his own fingers. He couldn’t help but smile hearing ‘yes master’ leave the young woman’s lips. A delicate hand placed behind his head, leaning it up as a cup was placed to his lips, wine poured into his mouth. Sweetness burned down his throat as he tilted his chin up to signal he was finished drinking. That lover was rewarded with a hard kiss, the last swallow of wine in his mouth pushed into hers, their tongues intertwining as vermillion ran down their chins.

--- Client Alex and Hairstylist Hen

“W-wait, what?” Alex stammered, “You’re…leaving? You’re not going to even let me get you off?” He was pulling himself off that wall some but resting a hand behind his back for steadiness. “But wait, didn’t you come here to like- prove me wrong? You have to do that, right?” he asked, clearly grasping for straws. “Ah, right, smart thinking,” Henry nodded, undoing his own pants, and lifting his shirt half up. It was just enough for Alex to see the soft tummy that was creating a slight muffin top above those pants. The brunette found it entirely grabbable, but Henry didn’t seem to notice the intense stare. Instead, he pushed the front of his pants and underwear down, resting them on the base of his own cock. He was visibly hard, and yet all he did was show Alex the tawny pubic hair there, “Blond, see, you were wrong, I was being honest,” he hummed, before fixing his pants into place again. Alex was still staring in awe, as if everything happening amazed him, “I… you’re really leaving? What if I say that you seem like the kind of guy who’d dye your pubes too?” “Then I’d tell you to fuck off,” the blond said matter-of-factly.

YAY TAGS (no pressure tags darlings)

@taste-thewaste @eusuntgratie @henrysfox @mikibwrites

@softboynick @catdadacd @sheepywritesfics @henryspearl

@basil-bird @caressthosecheekbones @henfox @tailsbeth-writes

@onthewaytosomewhere @anti-homophobia-cheese @thighzp + literally anyone else I'm sleepy and forgot, or anyone who sees this and wants to tag me, I love reading yall's stuff. <3

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Oh my god okay I’m so fucking excited for literally any fic you write from this little prompt challenge.

My prompt for you: Slytherin!Harry getting Ravenclaw!Draco to tutor him on potions or the subject of your choice; lots of flirting and tension and dijwbdjdjdns.

(TOTALLY get it if this doesn’t inspire. Go with your muse. I’ll eat up anything that comes from your brain)

LOVE YOU!!!!!

(I LOVE IT I LOVE YOU)

Draco was completely mental to be doing this. The very idea was preposterous but to be actually proceeding with it?

I mean, it was Potter.

Draco stood outside the classroom they had agreed upon, clutching his books, practicing the script he'd spent three hours on, over and over in his head.

'"There you are, Potter",' he murmured on repeat. 'It's "There you are, Potter", not "There you are, Potter". Spit out the "Potter", you sound positively giddy with happiness otherwise. And for heaven's sake don't let him kiss you this time. What a menace, honestly. "There you are, Potter. There you are, Potter"...'

He stepped into the classroom. It was nearly dusk and the room shone violently orange which was rapidly darkening. Potter hadn't lit the torches. He was sitting - no, lounging - on a seat in the first row with his feet propped up on the table, arms crossed, wand tucked behind his ear.

He smirked when he saw Draco, an indecent twist of the lips made even more worrying by the promise that gleamed in his eyes.

'Here I am, Potter!' said Draco shrilly and dropped his books.

Potter let his chair fall forward with a thud, the tips of his hair gleaming orange in the sun. He got to his feet and made his way over to Draco, who just stood there.

Potter stopped, waved his hand, caught Draco's books as they floated up.

'Here you are, Malfoy,' he said sweetly.

Only twenty minutes later, Draco was sure he was about to be violently sick.

Potter smelled incredible. He was also extremely warm which was definitely why Draco was so warm and also sweating everywhere and it felt unreal to even be sitting next to Potter, tutoring him for their Potions N.E.W.T.

'So, before we add the hellabore,' Potter frowned down at the bird-scratchings that were his notes, 'we need to simmer for eighteen minutes because otherwise the scorpion venom will curdle?'

'That can't be what you've written down,' Draco said, aghast. 'Why in heaven's name would a venom even curdle in the first place?! It's a venom! Class 7 substance! Non-reactive until it touches blood! This was covered in fourth year!'

His voice had gotten higher and louder with each word and by the end of it, Potter was grinning at him.

'Show me that,' snapped Draco, wrenching Potter's notes to himself and shoving on his glasses.

He squinted down at word shaped scribble. He could read five languages but this wasn't in any one of those. On the top right corner of the page, Potter had drawn a plump heart.

Inside the heart was written "DM".

Draco's face suddenly felt hotter than the setting sun. He pushed the sheaf of parchment back at Potter.

'I can't even decipher that atrocious rubbish,' he muttered, his glasses slipping down his sweaty nose. 'Venom can't curdle. We simmer to let the fairy wings dissolve completely. Next.'

Potter cleared his throat delicately, hunching over his notes again.

'So, once we've added the hellabore,' he said, voice full of something that made Draco's face grow even hotter, 'we stir clockwise--'

'Counter clockwise.'

'Right, counter clockwise, and then we add the moon salt and the Ogden's?'

Draco nodded along as Potter read, his knee bouncing uncontrollably next to Potter's solid thigh, his mind filled with absolute chaos.

'Yes, yes, right,' he said. 'Moon salt and two measures of Og-- Wait, what?! Ogden's?!

He ripped the notes out of Potter's hands but Potter was already laughing. Draco shoved the sheaf back at him, glowering.

'Look, Potter, I told you,' he shouted. 'I warned you that I don't have the time nor the inclination to put up with any of your nonsense! I knew you--'

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' Potter laughed, holding up his hands in surrender.

'--only to mess around with me but I agreed because everyone knows you're a giant dunderhead who can't even brew a simple Sleeping Draught if his life depended on it--'

'Now now, is that fair?' Potter said calmly.

'--told Hermione that you would faff about, I don't even know why she's friends with you, I've tried to understand why for seven years--'

'We're friends because she actually gave me a chance?' drawled Potter.

'--but I am done. I tried to do the right thing, the good thing, but you're just absolutely beyond incorrigible with your abominable hair and your untucked shirts and your revolting fan club--'

Draco had years worth of spewing left to do but suddenly he just couldn't.

Because Potter had dragged him in by the tie and kissed him, this time square on the mouth. Harry Potter was kissing him, Draco Malfoy, right on the mouth.

There he was. Potter.

(Part 1)

[sturn-wrld]

🪼brave enough by then

pairing: matt x reader

summary: where reader gets the confession she never thought she would genre: fluff

warnings: nothing

a/n: pancakes for dinner pt 2. read pt 1 here. not proofread and comment to be added to my taglist :)

masterlist

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

I have been sitting on the plane for a total of 3 minutes reading his text over and over again.

"let's talk when you get home"

that is definitely code for i don't like you but i don't want to say it over a text.

i am now in my head again bashing myself for my silly mistakes but this time on a major level. i can't deal with these thoughts, "your so stupid, he doesn't like you like that" "he is showing to hate you for the rest of your life" "you are never gonna see him again"

this is the time i decide to put my head down, tail between my legs and try to forget about matt.

it's been a long week back home but i'm finally in my uber on the way back to my apartment. i didn't text matt at all during my short visit in fear or might rub salt in the wound. i'm sure he doesn't want to talk to me anymore anyway.

little did i know i was very wrong.

i walked into my apartment to see matt sitting on my couch waiting for me.

"hi" i muster up the courage to spit out as i walk past him to try and hurry to put my bags in my room

"hi, take your time lovely, i'll wait for you"

LOVELY?!?!?!????!!!!

now i'm second guessing if that was a slight text of rejection or a slight text of approval.

as i am finished putting all my things down and feeling more at home again, i go to sit with matt on the couch.

"how was your trip beautiful?" he says placing a strange of my hair behind my ear

"it was good, my mum said hi by the way" i say barely at speaking level

BEAUTIFUL?!?!?!?!???? i swear. this turns into one of those heartbreaks no one saw coming i'm going to turn into a permanent ball in the corner and cry.

"aww that's good, i'll give her a call tonight. so about your text message..."

i stare in fear of what he is going to say next

"how about we use our actual words and you tell me to my face"

i was right to be scared.

"okay. um so matt i have liked you from the moment girls start liking boys. i liked you even before that and there has been not one day where you haven't been stuck in my head"

"oh-"

"please let me finish and then i might be brave enough to answer questions"

he nods to let me continue

"all i have wanted to do with you for the past 10 or so years is play dress up at first and then it was to make pancakes with you and now i want to be one of those girls who takes their boyfriend out on the weekend to show off how hot he is and have you be the boyfriend. my boyfriend. i'm sure you can see from the mess i am, i'm not good with confrontation and i was waiting for the day you told me you liked me, which never came and will probably never come"

as i finish with tears welling in my eyes i looked down my hangs that are held together leaning non my knees trying not to absolutely break down on the spot.

"hey don't say that. y/n i have loved you forever. longer than you've loved me"

i look up, tears running down my face, with hope.

"we were in the same class my whole life and i think that really had an affect on me" he says looking at me grinning and wiping away my tears

"so if it is what you want we can play dress up or make pancakes for breakfast or even go out on the weekends because you are stuck in my head"

"how do you feel about pancakes for dinner?"

"even better" he says planting a short sweet kiss to my forehead

taglist

@ermdontmindthisaccount @its-jennarose

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM BATMAN *  assorted dialogue from the 1989 film

i want you to do me a favor.

i know who you are.

can you pass the salt?

why is it every time i come for you, somebody always gets in the way.

who do you trust?

are we gonna try to love each other?

i thought i was a pisces!

i like you a lot.

you know what they say?

that wasn't easy to get over, and don't think that i didn't try.

he stole my balloons!

i'm sorry, this is my cab.

i've gotta go to work.

perhaps you could try telling them the truth.

i love that tie.

listen, i was here first!

pardon me, but that's not a denial.

nice outfit!

if you gotta go, go with a smile.

i'm only laughing on the outside.

shall we dance?

what? what are you talking about?

it's an important job.

my life is really... complex.

i mean, how childish can you get?

i don't know if it's art, but i like it!

i've been dead once already.

i'm gonna need a minute or two alone.

who the hell are you?

i've recently had a tragedy in my life.

i have no wish to fill my few remaining years grieving for the loss of old friends.

they say he drinks blood.

oh, you're a visionary.

they don't make them like they used to.

you idiot! you made me!

i don't seem to be on the guest list.

you wanna get nuts? come on. let's get nuts.

i always ask that of my prey.

you killed my parents.

they're not bad people.

i thought champagne would be in order.

what are you?

will you marry me?

you look fine.

maybe we can cut a deal.

they love you a lot.

i'm not going to kill you.

i say... you're full of shit.

i'm not a bit surprised.

come on, you gruesome son of a bitch!

i just like the sound of it.

what are you laughing at?

take your camera.

i'm glad you're dead.

what do you want?

oh thank god you're alive.

hey, let's beat it.

we'll just shake hands and that'll be it.

grab it. whatever you do, don't let go.

right now, shut up.

feel free to drop in.

i'm going to kill you!

i don't like it up here.

oh, i got a live one here!

as you can see, i'm a lot happier.

now that's good work!

you know why they're so odd?

will you buy me lunch?

i didn't ask.

i like them already.

i couldn't find my socks without them.

you wouldn't hit a guy with glasses on, would you?

if you could see inside, i'm really crying.

you must be joking.

nobody wants a war.

you can quote me on that.

i've got to get you to the church on time.

if anyone else calls you beast, i'll rip their lungs out.

where does he get those wonderful toys?

don't kill me! don't kill me!

how do you know?

is that what you heard?

well, i'm in trouble now.

i love a good party.

let's broaden our minds.

what a dick.

i'd say we break into the place, trash the office, and make off with the records and say it was industrial espionage.

i make art until someone dies.

this house and all this stuff really doesn't seem like you at all.

honey, you'll never believe what happened to me today.

wait 'til they get a load of me.

can we get somebody else to do this?

what if we say no?

you say such beautiful things.

the pen is truly mightier than the sword.

some people say the same thing about you.

i mean, let's face it. you're not exactly normal, are you?

do i look like i'm joking?

you must be insane.

i'm reading your stuff.

i'm no picasso, but do you like it?

so what brings you here?

life's been good to me.

stop the press! who is that?

shut up and listen!

don't flatter yourself.

haven't you ever heard of the healing power of laughter?

i want you to tell all your friends about me.

it's time to retire!

brought you a little snack.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 13/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

He knocks again, then stands back to wait. What the hell are they doing in there? he wonders, shifting the six pack of beer he brought to the other arm. Poker night is every Thursday—it’s not like they aren’t expecting him. 

The night is cool and crisp, the clear indigo sky speckled with pinpricks of starlight. Trillions of miles traveled across the universe over thousands of years, just to be overpowered by skyscrapers and streetlights and the haze of the industrial revolution. He tips his face up and locates the Big Dipper, the North Star, Cassiopeia. It makes him at once feel insignificant—a speck on a rock in a pile in a quarry—and extraordinary. How many events throughout the history of time had to happen in precisely the way they did in order to bring him to this moment? It feels like destiny, which is both a comfort and a burden. 

Finally, the door pops open and he’s greeted by a tall blond man with thick glasses. 

“The party has arrived!” the man says jovially, standing aside to allow him entry. “Jeff’s here!” he hollers, and voices of the other two call out greetings from a nearby room. 

“I’ve been standing out there for ten minutes,” Jeff chides gently. “I thought you’d kicked me out of the coven.”

They enter a small dining room with a circular table surrounded by four chairs, two of them occupied.

“We were out back smoking a cigar,” the blond man explains as he takes his seat. “Cuban, the real deal.”

“And you didn’t wait for me?” Jeff asks, exaggerating his level of offense as he sits in the remaining chair. 

“Come on, man, we know Diana would have your balls if she smelled cigar smoke on you,” one of the other men says. He’s older than the other two, with wiry salt and pepper hair. 

“You’re not wrong,” Jeff agrees, cracking open a bottle of beer. “Let’s get this show on the road; who’s dealing?”

The third man, mahogany-skinned and handsome, shuffles the cards artfully, making a show of bridges and cascades as he smirks to himself. 

“Mike thinks he’s hot shit with his little card tricks,” the blond man says bitingly. “Just deal the things already, Mike. Jeff has a curfew.”

“Fuck off, Simon,” Mike shoots back. “I’m perfecting my craft.”

“Women are attracted to money, not junior high magic tricks,” Simon says, nudging the third man with his elbow. 

“I like magic tricks,” the third man comments self-consciously, and the other three laugh. 

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Mike says, shaking his head. “You always gotta be the weird one, don’t you, Frank?”

“Yeah, well, you won’t be laughing when I clean house,” Frank grumbles, and Mike finally deals out the deck. 

Frank does, in fact, clean house. They don’t play with real money, just chips, but that doesn’t hamper each man’s desire to win, nor his disappointment when Frank scoops up the lion’s share of the pile and begins stacking them enthusiastically. 

Simon checks his watch, then sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “I gotta head out in a half hour or so,” he says. “Marcy didn’t want me to stay too late.”

“Well, I guess Jeff isn’t the only one with a curfew,” Mike teases, and Simon shakes his head with a smile. 

“It’s not that, it’s just hard for her to get up with the baby at night right now, so I’ve been taking all that on.”

“Is she okay?” Jeff asks, his mind immediately going to the kinds of things that can cost you a sister. 

“Yeah, she’s fine, just tired. She’s, uh—she’s pregnant again, actually,” Simon offers, and all the eyebrows at the table shoot up to their hairlines. 

“No shit,” Frank says carefully. “Is that good news or bad news?”

“Surprising news,” Simon says. “But ultimately good. We didn’t really plan to have two this close together, but I guess fate had other ideas.”

“Congratulations,” Jeff offers, extending his hand. “That’s great.”

“Can’t say I miss those days,” Frank remarks, still stacking his chips. “Up at 3:00 am trying to get a baby back to sleep when you have to be up for work at 6:00? No thank you. I’m glad mine are all grown.”

“Thanks, Frank, that’s really kind of you to say,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. 

“I always miss my kids when they’re at Jenny’s,” Mike says sadly. “Being a dad is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Hey now, I love my kids,” Frank defends. “I’m just saying, waking up in the middle of the night fucking sucks.”

Jeff watches the exchange, unable to take part. He can relate to overbearing spouses and the perils of the working world, but he has nothing to offer on the subject of fatherhood. 

“I actually need to head out too,” he says as he stands and retrieves what remains of his beer. “Wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to my balls.”

“Send our best to the warden,” Frank quips, earning him a warning look. 

He leaves them, a peel of laughter fading as he pulls the door closed behind himself and makes his way to his car. 

It does bother him a little, the way they talk about Diana. At the same time, what they say about her isn’t untrue. She is a little bit controlling, but not without due cause. He’s made mistakes in the past, ones he can never fully set right, and ones that justify Diana’s desire to know where he is and with whom. He promised her that he would do whatever it takes to make it up to her, and that has included checking in regularly and being home by midnight. Of course, his friends don’t know that, because he’s never told them. He’s too ashamed. So he accepts their cheap shots at his wife, and then drives home to her so he can prove again and again that she is the only one he wants to come home to. 

He slinks into the house quietly, shushing Frenchie’s barks as he enters through the laundry room. He walks towards the back of the house to let her outside, and is startled by Diana’s voice as he passes through the kitchen. 

“You’re late.”

He jumps a little, bringing his hand to his chest as he pulls the sliding glass door open and Frenchie slips out. 

“Jesus, you scared me,” he admits, though that was fairly obvious by his reaction. 

Diana is perched at the kitchen island wearing a silk nightgown, a glass of water on the counter before her. He looks at the time on the microwave display and then back to her pinched expression. 

“By four minutes, Diana,” he defends, indignant. 

She pulls in a deep breath, straightening her posture. 

“Where were you?” she asks. 

“At Frank’s, for poker night. Same as every Thursday. There was an accident on the turnpike,” he tells her, and his gut twists at the disbelieving look on her face. He steps closer, laying his hand over the top of hers on the countertop. “Diana—”

She pulls her hand out from under his and stands, walking to the sliding glass door to let Frenchie back in. 

“I believe you, Jeff. But call next time, okay?” she says tersely, and he nods. 

He lies awake in bed, and by Diana’s breathing, he can tell she is awake too. He feels guilty, but also angry that he feels guilty when he didn’t do anything wrong. He knows that he deserves this, knows he’s lying in a bed of his own making, but he still hates knowing that it will never go away. Six years later and she’s still watching him like a hawk. He thought it would get better over time, but it hasn’t. 

And then there’s Simon and his new baby. He was surprised by the pang of jealousy that lit up in his chest upon hearing the news, a sensation he’s never experienced before. He’s always considered he and Diana to be childfree by choice, but looking back, he doesn’t really recall weighing in on that decision. Diana never wanted to be a mother, and he wanted to be with Diana, and so it was simply part of the deal. Now, at nearly 39 years old, he suddenly wonders if being a father would suit him.

“Did you always know that you didn’t want children?” he asks out loud, and Diana’s breathing pauses briefly. 

“Where did that come from?” she questions.

“Marcy is pregnant again, and I was just thinking—”

A blustering sigh. 

“Jeff, are we really going to do this right now?” she asks, annoyed. 

“Do what?” he counters, equally irritated by her dismissiveness. 

Diana rolls to her side to face him, propping her head up on a fist. 

“Can you really see yourself giving up poker night, and sleeping in, and playing basketball on the weekend?” she asks, her tone shifting to something lighter. 

“I mean…I don’t think I’d have to give up all those things. Not forever, anyway,” he says. 

“Imagine walking into the office to find your rare book collection in tatters on the floor, covered in drool,” she teases, and he smiles. 

“That would be less than ideal,” he agrees. 

“Imagine having to stay quiet when we make love,” she continues, sliding her hand across his belly. 

“I’m not even sure that’s possible,” he says, now grinning. 

She hitches her leg up over his hip, straddling him, then peels the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, revealing her breasts. 

“These are, and always will be, exclusively for you,” she says in a syrupy voice, then leans forward and brushes her lips over his. “Help me fall asleep, Jeff,” she whispers. 

Her nightgown finds its way to the floor, as do his boxers. She sits astride him, grinding with her eyes locked on his. She’s possessive, maybe a little desperate, though he’s not sure why. 

“That’s it,” she encourages him, her hands planted on his chest. Her eyes slide closed, her mouth falling open. “Yes, Fox,” she murmurs. 

When she collapses against his chest he rubs wide circles over her back, and his mind instantly returns to its wandering state. 

“What did you say about a fox?” he asks, and she stiffens. 

“What?” she asks breathlessly, her face tucked against his neck. 

“You said something about a fox, during—”

“I’m relatively certain I said ‘fuck.’ Sorry to offend your delicate senses,” she says somewhat defensively, rolling off of him. 

He turns toward her, laying a reassuring hand on her bare hip. 

“I’m not offended, Diana, I was just wondering—”

“Goodnight, Jeff. I have work in the morning, I need to get to sleep, if you don’t mind,” she says in a clipped tone. 

“Okay,” he acquiesces. “Goodnight.”

He waits for her to turn her face towards his so he can kiss her goodnight, but she keeps her back to him. He presses his lips to the curve of her shoulder, lingering there as a confusing mix of emotions swirl around in his chest. 

The life he has. The life he sometimes thinks he might want. The discrepancy between the two. He wonders why now, all of a sudden, he’s peeking over the fence at possibly greener grasses. Why the life he’s been content with for years suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. 

The rush of the waves fills his ears, calming him. A gull calls out, its shriek carried away on the wind as his toes sink into the sun-warm sand. He spies a child further down the shore, a boy with dirty blond hair building something with a shovel and a bucket. There is a feeling of recognition, a sense of knowing, though he cannot recall the child’s name, nor their relationship to one another. 

A strong wave pushes up beyond the waterline, sweeping across the child’s half-finished project and washing it into an indecipherable mound. The child’s shoulders slump, defeated, so he approaches and calls out to him.

“Oh, hey, buddy. That’s okay, you can build it again.”

He kneels down beside the boy and touches the child’s cheek, brushing an errant grain of sand from his downy skin. There’s something in the child’s eyes, something familiar that makes him feel a swell of affection and protectiveness. 

“Just start again,” he tells the child, reassuringly. 

He jolts awake, his heart racing. Frenchie stands from her bed on the floor, alerted by his sudden movement, and watches him for an indication of what’s next. 

“It’s okay, Frenchie,” he murmurs, rubbing his hands over his face. 

The night is still in full swing, only inky darkness peeking in around the blinds. He looks over at Diana’s sleeping form, her back still turned to him and her breathing even. It feels like only minutes have passed since he fell asleep. 

Wired from adrenaline, he stares at the ceiling and waits for the potential of sleep to return to him. His dream has mostly faded, and he grasps at snippets. The beach, he remembers the beach. 

Just start again.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[valeria-garza-enjoyer]

Damien

Now Playing: Granite by Sleep Token

length: 4,843 words, ~15-20 minute read

summary: Oh to be a little hucow, desparately single and lonely, out in public and my udders start leaking from neglect. God what would I do? I’d probably just cry and moo and wait for some nice bigger older man to come up and milk me and take me home, only for him to fuck me senseless and get me pregnant. Totally not what I wanttttttttttttt :/

(hucow) reader (first person sorry) x male oc (Damien)

CW: lactation, exhibitionism, CNC/dubious consent, vaginal fingering, breast feeding I guess,

Also please interact with this if you see this, I can't 100% tell if the silly little people in my phone can see this. It would mean a lot to me if you did !!

Oh to be a little hucow, desparately single and lonely, out in public and my udders start leaking from neglect. God what would I do? I’d probably just cry and moo and wait for some nice bigger older man to come up and milk me and take me home, only for him to fuck me senseless and get me pregnant. Totally not what I wanttttttttttttt

I’m just out in the mall, a few bags from a jewelery store and maybe a few from some clothing stores and trinket/gift shops, and as I go to the food court, I notice the pain getting worse in my udders. They’ve been hurting for a while, filling up with milk that I haven’t had the time or the energy to collect, and now they just feel red hot. I go to sit down for a minute, but it only gets worse as time goes on. 

At one point, a good 20 or so minutes after I’ve sat down, I go to stand in line at the smoothie stand. Who cares who makes it or what it has in it - a smoothie is quick and easy, especially when my udders are about to burst. As I’m standing in line for the smoothie, my udders just let loose. I’m leaking, bad. It’s painful, it’s hot, it’s wet, and I can’t keep it in anymore. I’m moaning from both the pain and the relief, sinking to my hands and knees, crying from it all.

Everyone’s looking at my poor little self, but no seems to care to help. If I were any worse off I’d be crawling around begging someone to milk me. Oh please, please please. Just a few squeezes and you’d never have to see me again. Please, my udders need this. I can’t do it myself, look at me! I’m just a stupid little heifer, you think I could milk myself?

And thank god someone finally gets the memo. This nice man, at least double my age - he has to be at least 40 - with salt and pepper hair, tall, and a nice toned body, comes up.

“Oh you sweet thing, is no one taking care of you? C’mere, let me help” he coos. He knows if he talks any other way it’d be in one ear and out the other. He has to dumb it down for a stupid little moo moo such as myself.

He helps me into his lap and undoes the buttons of my shirt and the clips of my bra. My poor udders are almost red with neglect. He tuts as he sees them, sad I’ve gone so long without a nice milking. 

He gently cups my udders, knowing a harsh tug like a hucow normally wants would only make things worse right now. With those big, gentle, strong hands of his, he slowly tightens his grasp and pulls down, obviously experienced with milking.

And Oh the relief! My milk flows faster over his fingers than before, ruins what clothing is left and leaves my exposed skin wet. The wet relief is making me sigh and gasp in small bouts, little moos and huffs fall from my lips. I relax into his grasp more, letting him completely take control. He knows this, for sure. 

“If only you were smart enough to milk yourself before you went out, darling. But it doesn’t matter now, you know that, don’t you? All you care about is getting your udders empty, yeah? C’mon little moo moo, moo for me. Just a little louder, let the mall know you forgot to milk yourself like the stupid heifer you are. That’s it, good girl, keep mooing for me.”

I can’t help but listen to him and what he tells me to do, I’m mooing and moaning louder than I was before. I want him to keep calling me a good girl. My pussy is getting warm and wet, like my udders were some 30 minutes ago. But there’s no pain, it’s just warm, wet, searing pleasure. I want him in me. I want him to breed me. Please pick up on that, sir!!!!!

He stops squeezing, only to pick us up off the floor - my bags included, thank god - and takes me with him to his car. If I were a little more coherent I would be questioning him and trying to get away, but hey, maybe he’s taking me home to breed me? Milk me some more, save some for our future calves? Now I can’t disagree with that!

He gets me in and buckles me, puts my bags in the back seat, and gets in to drive off. I want to say I’d be satisfied with ten or so minutes of being milked, but that’s not true. My milk’s already coming back in, slowly, yes, but my udders are swelling up again. As he gets to a stoplight he sighs and looks over at me, his wet, squirming and moaning mess in his passenger seat.

As the light turns green he goes, but slows as he sees the sex shop come into view. He didn’t want to make a stop with such a needy whore, but he knows I need something, anything to keep me occupied while he drives to his house.

“Stay in here, deary, and don’t open the door. I’ll be right back, okay? I just need to hop in and grab you something.” He hushes me as he closes his door and locks it to go get whatever he’s going to find in there.

He goes into the store, picking up a small vibrator and looking in hopes to find some sort of pump for my udders. He can’t find exactly what he wants, so the vibrator will do, at least it’ll occupy her little head for a few minutes, he thinks. He pays and leaves, smiling softly when his car comes into view and he sees me in a different, more lewd position than he left me in. 

Meanwhile, left to my own devices for a few minutes, a thought finally pops in my head for the first time in almost an hour: I should touch myself! And that’s exactly what I do, I unbutton my pants - which, I should add, is hard to do when your udders are screaming to be milked and your head is clouded over from the frustration of partially being milked by the hottest man alive. I get them unbuttoned and slide them down to the floor, taking off my slides in the process, letting my wet pussy free as I slide my panties down with them as well. I let one hand fall to my udders, shivering when I feel the red hot pleasure but scorching pain. My other hand slides down to my wet cunt, and although it would be smarter to play with my hole, I play with my swollen clit instead. It’s sensitive to the touch, I almost jump when I apply actual pressure to it. My middle and ring fingers start slowly circling my clit, my attention almost completely absorbed down there. My other hand is slowly circling my teats, changing which udder it plays with. Milk is starting to leak again as my slick hole drips a little faster. 

He opens my side of the car and kneels down as I gasp. I would be embarrassed but what the hell, I’m too far gone to care.

“I couldn’t find a good pump for you, but I did find something I thought would help. It looks like you’ve got it all handled, though, so I guess you won’t be needing me or the vibrator I got you.” He whispers in my ear. I loudly moo back, I need him and his hands and the vibrator and his body and his cock and ohmygodohmygodohmygod please touch my daddy-

He shushes me and puts the vibrator in my lap. Of course it didn’t come with batteries - thanks capitalism - and he has to make a second stop to find some. He does, about a block down from the sex shop, and quickly pulls in to get what he needs. 

As he comes back from the CVS, or Walgreens, or whatever, I wasn’t paying attention - my attention is on my leaking udders and swollen little pussy, not some stupid batteries - he opens my side again, leans to take the vibrator away, and quickly puts the batteries in. He peals my hand away from my clit, and I cry in frustration. I was so closeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why would my daddy do that to me? 

But oh do those bad thoughts stop as I hear a small buzz and feel it right against my nub. I’m mooing and moaning and crying again in seconds as i close my thighs around the vibey he bought me! He put it on the highest setting, I can feel it! Oh daddy is being so nice to me now!!

He closes the door and gets in on his side to drive off, smiling softly at my ever-increasing moans and gasps and moos and huffs. As he cruises down the empty streets to his house he puts a hand on my thigh. He slowly caresses it, moving his hand up and down.

His touch and the vibrator and my hands on my udders push me over the edge, I’m absolutely gushing slick and cum on his seat. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He looks at me as he slowly pulls into his driveway and parks, adoration and lust being the only things in his eyes. 

He gets the both of us unbuckled and leans over, petting my hair and occasionally over my fluffy little cow ears. I take my attention off my cunt and my udders to look at him, and I notice the lust immediately. He wants this as bad as I need this.

He climbs over the small center console, spreads my legs, and moves the vibrator so it’s just sitting on my cunt to make room for his fingers. He raises his digits to my mouth, knowing any good cow would know how to do this.

I’ve been waiting so long for more attention from him, thank god I got his fingers now! I take them and swirl my tongue around them immediately. I hope he thinks I’m a good heifer now!!

He takes his fingers out, fully coated in my saliva, and trails them back down to my wet hole. He knows a young heifer such as myself wouldn’t have much experience, she’d be tight. So, he sticks one tentative finger in at first, wriggles it around, and slowly puts a second in. 

“Oh, Ohhh Daddy!!” I moan loudly in his ear. He smiles, knowing only pleasure courses through me now. He adds a third finger, and moves them all to stretch me even more. I feel his breath on my neck, his fingers in my cunt, the smile on his face, coupled with the other hand on my hip for balance, the vibrator still going wildly on my cunt, I can’t help but cry some more when I cum a second time. 

He smiles a little more and opens my door to climb out, taking his fingers out of me. I can’t help but whine at being empty when I just had daddy’s fingers in me! It’s like, SO unfair! Doesn’t daddy get tha-

But he picks me up and shushes me, closing the door and leaving my bags for another time. he secures the vibrator halfway in my pussy and halfway on my clit as he walks to the door, letting the moans and slick drop from both lips as he unlocks his door and leads us in to close it. 

God, if I were coherent, I’d be awing at his house. It’s not obnoxiously large, or pathetically small, it’s just a little bigger than average. It’s beautifully decorated, it completely suits him. 

He walks to his room and turns on the small mood lights as he goes through. He gently sets me on his bed as he he walks off to get something. Where is he going? Why is daddy leaving me? Am I not good enough? He took me to his house I must be good enough? Wha-

He comes back with a few bottles of water, a small towel or two, and a small pump. Nothing like the one I have at home, a large pump with equally large tanks so I rarely have to deal with my milk. 

“C’mere dear, lets get you hooked up, you’ll feel so much better once you’re fully milked. But you know that, don’t you? C’mon little heifer, c’mon and crawl to me, you know you want to. Be a good little cow for daddy, yeah? Good girl, so good.” He croons as I crawl over. But I don’t really want a pump, I want his hands! Daddy’s hands are so nice, way nicer than some stupid pump!

I go to lay down on his lap and push the pump away, my ass in the air, begging for him to use. He chuckles, he got the idea from that. No pump, only hands. 

As I went to lay down, though, I see something better. I see his bulge. Oh my god he must be huge. He’s got a small dark spot where he’s been leaking precum for who knows how long, and now all I want is that in me. Nothing else. He can ignore my udders and treat me like shit for the rest of my life if I get to have that cock inside me once.

He sees me staring and smiles, moving me off so he can undo his jeans and pull his boxers down to free his dick. It has got to be at least 7 inches, but even then that’s being conservative. I need that in me more than I ever thought I’d need a dick in me. I should tell him I’m still a virgin tho--

“Oh baby, you look nervous, have you not done much of this before? It’s okay little moo moo, daddy understands. You want to take it a little slower? He won’t go as rough, daddy promises.” He coos softly, brushing my little fur covered ears slowly. I can’t help but be completely entranced by him as he coos softly and repeatedly brushes my ears, and coupled with the vibrator still working away, I just want to melt into a little puddle for him. 

He moves me off his lap and helps me onto my back in the center of his bed. It all smells of him - his musk, his cologne, his sweat. I just want him to envelop me in his arms and rut into me with no care for my udders or my pleasure.

And although he doesn’t do that just yet, he moves his fingers back to my mouth to put them back in - he never really finished stretching me. I take them in and I look at him this time - our eyes meet. He still has the lust in there, but I see the adoration now. 

As he pulls his fingers out, I let out a quiet mewl, I want him and I never want him to leave my side. He shushes me and moves his hand down to my swollen cunt again to do the very same thing he did in the car. 

He sticks two digits in at first this time, knowing I’d still be a little loose from earlier. His fingers lightly moving in me, coupled with the end of the vibrator just barely in my walls but tormenting my clit make me on edge, just a little more and I’ll go over the edge a third time. Please, just once more, please daddy, add a third finger or something, anythi-

His free hand squeezes down on my left udder, and I moo loudly right in his face. I’m gushing like a waterfall as my thighs shake uncontrollably. He drops his hand from my udder and moves it to my ears again, petting them as I work through my third orgasm. This man has given me three orgasms and the best milking in a hot minute and I don’t even know his name.

He turns off the vibrator and pushes it out to let his third finger move in and rest in my womb. I finally get to catch my breath. I guess I should ask his name. 

“What, uhh, What’s your,, like, your name, sir?”

“Damien, dear, but that might be too hard to scream out here in a few minutes.”

It takes a few seconds to register, but I smile and blush, he really does know how to charm. Maybe he learned it, maybe it comes naturally to older men. He seems like such the gentleman. I mean, he didn’t have to milk me, he didn’t even have to confront me. But he did, when no one else was. 

I’ve lost my confidence when I feel my right udder get red hot. I need his help again. I start writhing in pain from it again. I need him again and again and again and agai-

And instead of a hand coming to it, he moves down to suck on my teat. And Oh my god does pleasure rip right through me, almost like I had never had that third orgasm just a minute ago. His mouth is light, he barely uses his teeth, he just lightly sucks. 

“Oh, Ohhh D-Dam-Damien, Oh my god, dont stop, pleaseeeeeee! more!” I moan out, followed by a few loud moos. I’ve never had this before. Oh my god does it feel glorious. My milk has either been running down my body or sucked away by a cold and lifeless machine. But this, this is warm, this is wet, this is heaven. 

And he’s taking full advantage of that. He knows I’m a virgin, he knows I don’t have a partner back home to fuck me senseless or at the least suck my udders dry. He knows he’s the only port in a storm right now, and he’s taking every single advantage he can over me.

And I hate to say that I love it.

He sucks and sucks and sucks, and his other hand - the one knuckle deep in me - starts moving around, getting accustomed to my hole. After a few seconds of general feeling around, he curls his fingers upward to my sweet spot, and I can’t help but arch my back and moo out for him. 

I am an absolute puddle in his bed, wrapped in his body, waiting to be taken and used for the first time. And he knows that. I think he knows everything.

After another minute or two he's sucked my teat dry and moves to the other one. I go white hot. I think this could be enough for a lifetime, but I still want more.

And again, he knows that.

But a few more minutes pass by, and my fourth orgasm is nearing from the constant attention my most neglected organs are getting, and he finishes sucking my other teat and leaves me completely dry. I whine for him, but he shushes me as he takes his fingers out.

"Damieeeee, why-why'd you do that? I was sooooo close!" I whine a little more. He moves up to my mouth to give me a searing kiss, I can taste my milk and his saliva combined. I never knew I would like the taste of my own milk, but here I am, drinking what little milk and saliva he has to give me.

He moves around for a second, positioning his knees so he can fuck into me. Oh my god I'm gonna lose my virginity to an older man who has ruined my body over - god how long has it been? One, two hours? - Who cares, I certainly don't when I feel his tip right against my clit.

He drags the tip of his cock up and down my cunt, lightly circling when he makes it back up to my clit. As he goes down the next time, he slowly pushes a little bit of himself in, only to pull out and circle up to my nub once more. He stops for a second to reach behind him for the vibrator.

He places the vibrator snugly against my jewel and turns it onto its highest setting. I gasp and moan a little louder after he pushes back into me, finally breaching my hole. He gives me a second to breathe.

"You okay little baby? We're gonna go at your pace, so just tell me when you're ready. I don't want you to hurt more than you were earlier." He whispers against the shell of my ear. I shiver at the closeness.

"You, you can uhh, you can keep going, Damien" I whisper back. I don't have the energy to speak up. Today has been so wild.

He thrusts in a little more and he's made me lie to myself - I can get way louder. I'm moaning loudly in his ear, loving the attention I'm finally getting.

He slowly pushes in until he's at the hilt - he stretched me just right, he's a perfect fit.

He sits there for a minute, letting me acclimate to him. He sighs, going down for a kiss. I can't help but reciprocate him, let him have his way. He bites my bottom lip, asking for entrance I've only thought about in my dreams. Hell, all of this has only been in dreams. I let my mouth hang open for him, letting him explore what's his.

He moves down from my lips to the crook of my neck, where he smothers it in kisses and starts to leave hickeys. He wants the world to know I came to him, that I'm his now.

As he works his way around my neck, he starts thrusting in, slow and steady at first. I can't help but moan and whine at finally getting his everything. I want to scream and cry and beg and moan and moo and scratch and and and and-

He picks up the pace. I can hear his skin slapping against mine. I'm going to cum again. There's no doubt.

He moves away from my neck to grab at my thighs - what is he doing? Why is he--

He moves my thighs up to where they're up against my chest, tucked in tight between us. And Ooooh, my god. That feels good. He gets deeper, he thrusts his cock in harder each time. He moves his hands around my body to places I never knew could feel good.

And I see white a fourth time. I've met god four times today. I'm squirting and I'm cumming all around him - I can't control myself anymore.

My udders leak what little is left - he's milking me of everything I am.

"OH, oh oh ohhhhhh Daddy, daddy please, please give me more!" I cry, I want more!!!

"Moo for me babygirl, then I'll think about it" he claps back without skipping a beat.

"M-Moo-mooooo"

"What was that? You call that a moo? I should stop right here and now if you think that's gonna satisfy me."

"Moooo! Daddy don't pull out, I- I'm a good little cow I swear! Mooooooo!"

He smiles.

"I was kidding, doll, I'd never do that to you. You're such a good little heifer. So sweet, so patient, our calves are gonna love their mommy."

He starts thrusting again, picking up at a different rhythm and pace than before. He's harder, faster, rougher. God do I love it.

"Good little girl. Taking everything I give you and yet still begging for more. I'm so happy no one else took your little pussy home to fuck." He grunts out through gritted teeth. His thrusts are a bit more erratic now, less rhythmic. He's about cum.

I would be approaching a fifth orgasm if I had the energy, all I can do is squeeze and squirt around him now. I can't even say my fourth orgasm has ended when my pussy's still gushing from the last one.

"Oh babygirl, you're not gonna be a heifer for long. Daddy's gonna knock you up with some nice calves. He's gonna make you a mommy cow. And you're gonna take all of it and love it. You're not gonna let a drop of my cum go to waste." He grunts out again as he gets closer.

"Oh- Oh my god, Damie, make me, make me a mommy, please Damie, give me calves!" I cry out. He smiles and moves down to kiss me again.

And before he can even reach my lips he's bursting in me. He's painting all my walls white and not letting a single drop go to waste. His lips crash into mine.

"Oh fuck baby, you're pussy is way too good. Fuckkkk, Baby, you're all mine." He says into my lips. I can't help but whimper at the feeling of being full in my cunt and empty in my udders. I feel complete.

We sigh into each other as he lays on me. I feel him twitching in me, shrinking down and tiring out. I can feel the vibrator still raving away at my clit - it's too much now.

"I-I- Damie, can you, can, can you please get the vibey off? It hurtsssssss" I whine. I can't take all he's given me and this vibrator, I'm gonna cry.

He shifts a little to get it off, moving it to the side of the bed. His bed is ruined - absolutely soaked, mainly in my juices. I hope he doesn't mind (he loves it).

He finally pulls out. His cum starts seeping out of my abused hole. I whimper and move to push it back in.

"Shh shh babygirl, it's okay, let me go grab a plug, just keep your little fingers in your pussy, I'll be right back." He coos as he gets up. He stands at his bedside drawer, grabbing the water and towels first, then opening a drawer and grabbing a small egg-shaped (and pink) plug.

He removes my fingers and slowly pushes the plug in - how is it wider than his cock? He smiles at me and gives me a quick peck on the cheek, telling me he's going down to the bathroom to wash off real quick before cleaning me. He brings back the small towels - warm and wet from the sink, and lightly moves them around my body. He starts with my wet and sticky thighs and cunt, going softly as he gets near my jewel, knowing it's more sensitive than before.

He moves up my body, letting me take it all in. I let out little sighs as he wipes the milk stains from my udders. He moves up and wipes the small spit from my neck, and finally reaches my face, where he rests the second (clean) towel over my eyes. He throws the dirty towel to the side, probably near the vibrator, and dives down to kiss my face and neck. I can't help but giggle at how sweet he's being.

"What a good girl you were for me! I can't believe such a quiet girl was so good for me. And to think, had you milked yourself, you wouldn't be here with me right now. Sad."

He moves me back into his lap when he fully lays on the bed - he'll deal with the soaked sheets in a minute. He pulls me up to where he can leave a few more love bites on my neck and whisper the soft nothings he's been waiting to use.

"What a good little moo moo for me. You're gonna be such a good mommy to our calves. They're gonna be so lucky to have you as their mommy. They'll never be hungry or sad when you're around - your milk, god your milk will feed them for forever and a day. What a good girl for daddy. You were so good for him. You are so grateful he gave you his calves to take care of.

Just think, in a few months you'll be swelling with my calves, and then you'll be waddling around everywhere and everyone will ask what happened to you? Who's the father? And all you got to do is point to me, let me take care of it. Then your udders'll swell even more than they do now. God, you'll never fit into another top of yours."

I smile and relax a little more. He's perfect. I'm gonna be a mommy because of him.

I doze off in his arms. He lets me sleep, he knows I'm tired.

I think I'm gonna stay.

god i am so delulu teehee

I am not gonna say I listened to the same four songs on repeat (Rx Queen by Deftones, Closer by NIN, Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away) by Deftones, and Granite by Sleep Token) but I'm not gonna deny it either ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also if you actually got to the end of this, why don't you stay for a while? I got one other work up at the moment and chances are if you've found my posts you'll like the stuff i repost. Just a thought :)

kinda edited, not really, just read through it once or twice once I finished it. will come back to edit it soon

Creds to @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the dividers ♡

[angelellipsis-devilofdots]

things i do daily as a freyja devotee ✩₊˚.⋆⁺₊✧

i am not yet "out to" or openly pagan with my family. though i believe they'd be supportive, i still have chosen to wait to tell them (my altar space isn't too obviously an altar, it probably just looks like a collection of decorations to those who don't know context). these are some things i do daily for my goddess in this situation!

i brush my hair and get ready in front of her altar or in front of a mirror, and i think/say positive affirmations about myself

i wear necklaces that remind me of her - i have a couple that are specifically dedicated to her

i like to remind my friends that i love them, or help them when they need it; i also like physical affection (hugs, cuddles, etc) with my friends who are cool with that

throughout the day, i continue with affirmations when i find myself needing them, and i take a few minutes to reflect here and there when i can. i make sure to be myself and embrace who i am in her honor

i listen to music that reminds me of her

i accept my sexuality and work on being confident in myself completely unapologetically

i see the beauty in everything around me, including every person i encounter

i like to offer her sprays of perfume on her altar, and my other offerings tend to consist of food like chocolates and strawberries. if i'm drinking something like tea, i dedicate that to her as well

at home, i like to light the candle on her altar and spend some time with her (on days i don't are the days that i light different candles to other deities). sometimes spending time with her includes meditating, but other days i just read, draw, or play video games nearby while the candle burns

not every day, but i love to take baths once or twice a week with bath salts and crystals while praying to her or reading

i say goodnight to her and pray before i go to sleep

i find comfort in remembering that the norse gods are not picky. if you are thinking of them while doing these small devotional acts or giving them any offerings at all, they are most likely just grateful to be worshipped and have that connection. after accepting that extravagance isn't always required, i've found myself growing a lot closer to freyja ꨄ

[trulybetty]

Sunday | Week In Review VI

A bit of a slow week this week - nothing much really happened. Got some writing done, announced some things I'm working on and worked on my TBR list. Odd week as my notifications just disappeared and felt a little disconnected. Things seem to be back on track *fingers crossed* - so lets get on with this weeks review...

Truly Betty Updates This Week…

Strings Part V Mood Board

Salt Water Soft Launch

Autumnal Offerings

Fics I Enjoyed This Week…

How Good It Is (Benny Miller) by @wildemaven Fully on the Benny train, this scratched the itch this week with this delightfully wonderful piece of fluff with a delightful touch of spice and I can't wait to get more insights to this couple's relationship.

A Safe Haven Drabble (Joel Miller) by @darkroastjoel You don’t have to have read the series to appreciate the angst in this small little drabble that packs a punch. Explores Joel’s feelings on the impending arrival of Tommy’s child with the grief of missing Sarah and it manages to do it all in less than 600 words beautifully. 

Your Hand In Mine (Joel Miller) by @thelightsandtheroses This is a great opening to a new series and it's such a great opening premise that will have you wanting to find out what happens next and in eager anticipation of what is to come next.

Open Mic Night (Marcus Pike) by @secretelephanttattoo No denying it anymore, I’m ankle-deep in this Pike Puddle and this is an excellent example of what keeps me content with damp *ahem* feet… Are you one of those who forgot it's canon that Marcus was a part of a band? This one-shot is here to remind you with a bang!

Clouds (Joel Miller) by @softlyspector This is incredibly soft with a few hard edges - allusions to events from TLOU2, but no spoilers and no golfing. Highly recommend a read of this.

Little Monsters (Dieter Bravo) by @chronically-ghosted Dad Dieter was not the trope I thought I needed, but here we are and I can’t get enough. This is all what I picture Dieter as a father being like. This is equal parts fluff with equal parts spice which makes for a delightful read! 

For the Night (Agent Ortega) by @ladamedusoif I think the pilot hit the web for all of a couple of hours before we were blessed with this delight. As far as I am concerned this is what the pilot should have been, it’s deliciously raunchy and I may have read it several times. 

Delta Landscaping | Chapter 5 (Triple Frontier Boys) by @rhoorl I don’t know if I still have words for my thots feelings on this update to this series. So please accept this gif and go get caught up, and if you've not read it? What are you waiting for?

Spinning in the Rain (Frankie Morales) by @frenchiereading This is like the best kind of fluff, it's atmospheric, it's indulgent, it's sweet and it's Frankie - what more can you ask for? Oh, and it's based off a song that I already adored and this makes for one to go back to for re-read.

All I Need (Frankie Morales) by @frenchiereading Mel has such a way with these perfect snippets of fluff and romance that make your heart swell and this is another example of this. I can't do it justice, you just need to read it to experience it!

Exposed (Ezra) by @maggiemayhemnj This was a delightful debut and a great read that flowed just as well as Ezra's poetic prose, which Maggie manages to capture perfectly. If you are a fan of Prospect and Ezra, you will not be disappointed!

Personal Day (Marcus Pike) by @sin-djarin If I'm staying in the puddle, I'm going to make sure it's in good company with fanfics like this one! If Marcus Pike is going to ask me to come back to bed for five more minutes, who am I to deny the man?

Shared Breaths | Chapter 9 (Frankie Morales) by @frenchiereading It's a triple header here for @frenchiereading! The slow burn of the first eight chapters pays off with a bang here and, it does not disappoint! If you're late to the game like I am on this excellent story, I very much recommend jumping in because it does not disappoint!

Posts I Enjoyed This Week…

The thots were truly alive and well on this Narcos gifset. I don't think the image of this post is burned into the back of my eyelids. Also, might have prompted some non-Narcos writing somewhere in the WIP pile...

Thoughts on the contents of the Delta Landscaping Yelp page? We got you here!

@goodwithcheese's book recommendations! I'm off this week and hoping to get some reading done between parental activities.

Things I’ve Enjoyed This Week…

I got four episodes deep on Wrestlers, a Netflix original docu-series on OVW, a Wrestling farm out of Florida that was once where the WWE sent its superstars to cut their teeth before making their debut. I once upon a time was a big WWE fan, so this has been an interesting watch. I'd recommend it too even if you're not a wrestling fan as there are some interesting stories from both those who run it and those who live it.

This Week’s Song…

On a N'Sync kick this week with the rumours that they're going to be reuniting for more than just the Trolls 3 soundtrack/movie. I will be feral if the rumour of a reunion tour materializes!

Happy Sunday all! Here's to a great week ahead!

B 💕 x

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Four

Life after Cyprus really isn’t all that interesting. In fact, I spend most of my time thinking about Cyprus, remembering Cyprus, reliving moments from Cyprus and pretending I’m still there, especially on those drizzly spring days when I look out the little Mezzotint studio window over the slick grey Dublin streets. I wonder just how much more interesting would my life be if I was in Cyprus right now? 

“Oi,” Simon snaps his fingers in front of my face, “Earth to Evie, you’ve been daydreaming all morning. Don’t you have… something to do?” He seems unsure about what exactly it is that I’ve been working on, which is understandable. Sometimes it’s cards, sometimes it’s windows, murals, signs, really, it could be anything. It just happens to be a poster for an art exhibition this time. Dull. 

“I’m working as hard as I can,” I tell him, which is true, because the most work I can manage is none. I wonder what Jude is doing. When we texted forty minutes ago he was in his studio working on his project, which is a collection of masks inspired by his travels in Asia, and before that he got a coffee in a little cafe near his university. I’m riveted by the idea of what he might be doing now. I text him again. 

Not you again…

He texts back, and I smile, no, beam to myself. 

Joking, I’m eating a pretzel. 

Oh, cool. 

I’m thrilled to know about the pretzel, and even more thrilled to receive a photo of said pretzel seconds later. It’s a salt and pepper one half wrapped in a serviette on his lap, and he’s wearing blue jeans and those green and white runners I’ve always liked. 

Miss you

I text him. 

Miss you too, Evie. Loads. Can’t wait to call you later.

I respond with a barrage of emojis, heart eyed, sparkling hearts, kisses, winky faces, flowers, moons and suns and stars. I should be completely embarrassed of myself , but I mean it all in a partially ironic way. Sort of, and really, I don’t care so much about the horrifying ordeal of sincerity anymore. It feels good to be mushy and emotional, earnest and obsessed with this gorgeous person who puts up with me, and it’s not like anybody is going to read our texts…

“You done talking to your boyfriend?” Simon is right behind me now, and I can tell that he’s trying to sound as annoyed as he can but he’s not really managing it. He’s smirking. Smirking because he saw my stupid emojis, and now I am humiliated. 

I stuff my phone back into my pocket, “I’m sorry, I’m so distracted. I’ll get back to work now, I know with this deadline and all…”

“End of day, Evie, I mean it. The client wants that poster by Wednesday, and if you have me panicking at the last minute trying to get it to the printers on time I’m not going to be happy about it.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll stay late if I have to.”

Gabriel makes a huffing sound when Simon goes back to his seat, “He’s no fun, girl. Text your sexy boyfriend all you like.”

“Can hear you from over here,” Simon comments. 

“He thinks he’s so scary and serious,” Izzy chimes in at volume, “But he’s absolutely not. Don’t let him intimidate you into staying late.”

“If the three of you don’t shut up I’m going to implement a no phones and no speaking rule, and it’ll be all Evie’s fault.”

I catch Izzy’s eyes and she rolls them, but indeed, we say nothing else, and for the rest of the day I do my level best to ignore my buzzing phone, and work on the boring, unsexy poster until it’s time to go home. 

“Do you think I’ll need a jacket at all when I’m in Sydney?” Claire takes an army green coat with a fur collar from the discount rail at a clothing shop and holds it up to herself in the mirror. 

“How cold does it get there in the winter?”

“I’ve no clue,” she sighs, “I’m unprepared, I don’t even actually know what goes on in Australia. Do they like Irish people?”

“Probably.”

“What do you think of this coat?”

“Everyone has that same coat, Claire, it’s too trendy, and I bet they have, like, other kinds of coats in Australia. Maybe you should just wait and see when you go.”

She strokes the faux fur collar lovingly, “It’s fluffy…”

“Look, you’re going in the early autumn, which for them is…” I tilt my head and imagine I’m upside down, “…early spring, so you’ll be going into the summer, and you definitely won’t need a coat, in fact, doesn’t it get so hot there that it bursts into actual flames every few years?”

“A coat is like a safety item though, I can’t imagine being in a place where I won’t need one. Is this the end of cosy winters for me? It feels like I didn’t appreciate the one that just passed, and actually, I complained about how cold and rainy it was the whole time, and I didn’t think about the fact that it might be my last real, cold winter for years and years and…” She’s clinging very tightly to the sleeve of this coat, chest heaving, tears springing to her big, blue eyes, and I immediately reach for her as though I can somehow prevent the imminent breakdown. 

“Claire,” I say in my best soothing voice, “You’ll have cold winters. You’ll come home for Christmas when you can, right?” 

She relaxes a millimetre, “Yes, yeah I will, you’re right, my parents would be devastated if I didn’t, it just wouldn’t be right, and God forbid Shane Healy isn’t home with Eamonn and Caroline on Christmas Day, God, no they wouldn’t hear of it…”

“Right, and I know what this coat symbolises,” I try to gently pry it from her clutches, “But you’ll take up too much space in your suitcase if you pack something like this, and look,” I put it gingerly back onto the rail, “You can always get your mam to send a package over at some point, you know, if you find that the winters are actually cold and you need something heavier, you have loads and loads of nice coats, don’t you?”

She nods. She’s got that thousand yard stare in her eyes. 

“Try to think of this as an exciting adventure.”

“I do think about it like that, I just… I’m an Irish girl, Evie,” She says with conviction as though she absolutely needs me to understand it, “I always, always thought that I’d just live here forever and I’d be glad about it, I had no interest in living abroad, I was just never bothered with any of that, J1 visas and all of that craic, I just can’t believe that I said yes to Australia,” She grabs my arm tightly. “You can’t go further than that without coming back around again.”

“You’ll like it, and if you don’t you can come home.” The truth is that I don’t want her to go at all, I don’t want Shane to go at all, actually, and I’m ashamed of the fact which is why I won’t say it. Having to be the one that holds it together during this conversation is hard for me when all I want to do is cling to her and cry and beg her not to leave me. Doesn’t she know that I have trauma about that kind of thing? Why would she do this to me? “I’m sure you’ll like it there, it’ll be amazing,” I reassure her, “think about Bondi Beach and stuff, and, I don’t know, whatever else they have there. Kangaroos.”

“I don’t care about the kangaroos really,” She frowns, “That’d be something Shane would like, probably.”

“I was kind of joking about the kangaroos.”

“Oh right, well, yeah, so you think I should think more about summer wear?” She pivots to the new season rail, “More bikinis, I suppose, I’ll be having two summers in a row, that’s exciting.”

“That’s the spirit,” I say, “Who wouldn’t want nine straight months of summer?” And I help her to rummage through the rails. 

When we come home from town later that evening she’s in a much brighter mood. She’s in the mood for a full on girls night, and is going on and on about getting dressed up and doing each others hair (Which translates to her doing my hair, because I’m relatively clueless about it, while not allowing me to lay a hand on hers, understandably) and then finding a bar that serves fancy cocktails and staying out until town shuts down. 

I don’t tell her that I was excited to call Jude, actually, because that’s what I do every night now that he’s away, and I know that he’s in an especially amorous mood because for the whole walk home with Claire he’s texting me the kinds of things that make me have to angle my screen away from her.

I’ve discovered that I like this kind of thing, even if my Catholic Shame is scratching at the door when I get up to the things I get up to when Jude is on the phone. He mostly talks about what he wishes we could do with parts of his body and parts of my body, and I don’t really know how to reply or to say any acceptably sexy things back to him, but I’m more than happy to lie there and listen with shocked delight as he speaks absolute filth over the line to me. Tonight is not shaping up to be one of those nights, though, so I regretfully text him while Claire chatters about this bar and that bar and who does what drinks and for what prices. 

Sorry, I think I’m having a girls night out.

Aw, damn.

I think this is when you’re supposed to tell me that you’re happy for me and that I should absolutely spend as much time as possible with my best friend before she moves 15’000kms away from me. 

You should do that, that’s what I meant. Going out with Claire sounds a lot better than listening to me. 

Hmm… I’m not so sure. 

Have fun, Evie. I’ll call you tomorrow. 

I’ll probably drunk text you in the meantime. 

Please! I love it when you do that. 

Claire and I spend two hours getting ready once we’re home, and I love every minute of it, because she has this incredible way of making me look like the best, hottest, most spectacular version of myself. Sometimes when she does my makeup I think back in horror to what I used to let Kelly do to my face. She was dangerous with an eyeshadow brush, and as Claire carefully applies layers of exquisitely blended shimmery gold to my lids I suppress a shudder at the thoughts of what I looked like on my dinner date with Liam all those years ago. I recently uncovered an old photo from a digital camera SD card of myself, awkwardly standing by the flimsy door of Kelly’s mobile home bedroom with eyes rimmed in black kohl liner and a circle of orange foundation around the collar of my top. I don’t know how I wasn’t mocked relentlessly.

“I didn’t notice those things,” Jude said to me when I sent the photo to him, “Maybe it was just too dark out that night, I don’t know, but I remember thinking you were really pretty when we were on the quay.”

“Yeah right, I was a ghoul,” I told him. 

“A pretty cute ghoul, and by the way, didn’t you see my haircut? I definitely looked worse than you.”

Of course he didn’t, he always looked cute, but I never bother to tell him things like this, because he always denies them for the sake of being humble, or at least the pretence of being humble. I’m never quite sure which.  

Before I go out I make sure to send a photo of myself to him so that he can remember that I can look good if I try, with help from Claire and about sixty euros worth of beauty products slapped onto my face, just in case I’m stricken down by a bus tonight and that awful teenage picture is the last image he has of me.

Bring a stick with you so you can beat the guys away from you

He says, which is total projection. It’s him that probably gets swarmed by the opposite sex in bars so he probably thinks that’s what happens to everyone. But not me, never me, except for the odd time, usually in dark corners of bars when I’m a little bit too drunk, and usually by the calibre of men that Claire would deem absolutely unacceptable to make eye contact with. 

“Come on, Evie,” she’s saying now, and I realise that I’ve been staring at my reflection in the black window while she’s been zipping herself into her lightweight jacket. “Jaz and Serena are already there.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[realblacklightvirus]

Deliciously Moist Banana Bread

Recipe by me, Lottie!

Just before we get on to the ingredients and whatnot, I just wanted to preface this recipe by saying:

Sorry for the long wait, folks!

I'm not sure why, but I must've forgotten all about my blog during the panic - for those who don't know, Manhattan was taken over by this virus for a few weeks, but not to fret, I feel fine! (Although my memory must have gotten worse as I must have forgotten that I changed my blog's design, LOL!)

I feel great otherwise... almost like I've gotten taller and my joints just don't hurt like they used to. My senses have changed too, but strangely I'm not entirely sure if it's gotten better or worse, ha ha! I can feel people's body heat and, swear to God, I think I can hear them talking to me! Must be the heat this week, lots of people have been going a little heat-crazy.

I'm currently staying over at this wonderfully kind young lady's apartment, and she just seems so cheery watching me talk about baking and crocheting. She did request that the location stay private for job reasons, so no "vacation" photos, LOL.

Now, if you've been like me for the past few hours, you're positively starving! Let's get into the recipe.

Lottie's Banana Bread

Makes 2 loaves.

Prep. Time: 20 mins

Baking Time: 1 hour to 1 & 1/2 hours

INGREDIENTS:

2 cups of white flour

1 cup of golden sugar, lightly packed

1/2 teaspoon of table salt

2 teaspoons of baking powder

1 teaspoon of baking soda

1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon powder

a pinch of cardamom

3 thoroughly mashed, ripe bananas

1 banana, cut or gently ripped into small cubes

3 eggs

1 stick of butter (quarter-pound size) or 1/2 cup of your choice of oil

1/3 cup of buttermilk or buttermilk substitute

1 to 2 teaspoons of vanilla extract

chocolate chips if desired, amount to taste (this recipe does not need any chocolate chips, but if you want, you can start with a 1/2 cup of chips!)

MIXING & BAKING:

Preheat your oven to 375f.

Either grease and flour your bread tins, or use parchment paper and oil.

Combine wet ingredients in one large bowl, and dry ingredients in another separate bowl.

Add your dry ingredients into the wet ingredient bowl, all at once (yes, trust me on this!).

Start whisking gently at first, then as more gets incorporated, whisk normally. Do NOT whisk until clumps disappear, as you do not want to over-mix this batter - the bread will turn out to be tough and dry.

Pour batter into tins, then place into the oven.

Let bake for an hour, or until a toothpick, when inserted into the loaf, comes out clean.

Let the bread cool on a rack for at least 10 minutes, then slice and enjoy! Best served warm.

Thank you all for reading, and stay safe out there! I hear there's this man jumping around and eating people, and I would hate to hear that on e oo ff fffff yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy y y j;oiiiiiiiiiii/>"////////////////

[scribeforchrist-blog]

Corruption In Our Testimony 

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

=========================

+ 1 Corinthians 2:5 So that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.

=========================

VERSE OF THE DAY 

========================

+ Colossians 4:6  Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.

=========================

** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I HAVE A TESTIMONY 

I AM LOVED

I AM WAITING ON GOD 

I AM WATCHING MY WORDS

========================

READ TIME: 7 Minutes & 38 Seconds

========================

THOUGHTS:

=======================

    When we are around family and friends, we forget that our conversation must be gracious and seasoned with salt. Even how we answer someone we know, sometimes we talk a certain way around family and friends and say it's okay to speak this way because they know us; we always need to be careful what we do and always what we say. Our language must be full of clean words, and we must always do this. We must always set an example of how God wants our lives to be: clean, righteous, and holy.

 Verse 4-5 Pray that I may proclaim it clearly, as I should. 5 Be wise in how you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity.

  It tells us again to be wise in acting towards others because we never know how our lives can affect others. I always say everyone is accountable for their actions. Still, if we say we are believers we can’t expect to save anyone if we go around our town and at our jobs acting not Christ-like . How we act and what we do plays a significant part in what God allows us to do; look at Apostle Paul as he changed, and he was around people still connecting him to his past life. If Paul was going around saying ugly things and cussing and fussing, how was that going to show Jesus in Him? 

   Acts 9:13-14 “Lord,” Ananias answered, “I have heard many reports about this man and all the harm he has done to your holy people in Jerusalem. 14 And he has come here with authority from the chief priests to arrest all who call on your name.”

   See, Ananias even said wait, Jesus, this man was here with the authority to arrest people who called your name; Paul couldn’t escape his past at first. It was all around him, and the more he kept walking in the light and showing people,” I'm not that same person, “ the more people started treating him like the man of God he was; we can't let our past defy who we are now, but we can't allow our actions to show who we aren’t anymore , and we are of Christ we must show that side of our selves at all times. 

   Galatians 1:14-15 -16 I was advancing in Judaism beyond many of my age among my people and was extremely zealous for the traditions of my fathers. But when God, who set me apart from my mother’s womb and called me by his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son in me so that I might preach him among the Gentiles, my immediate response was not to consult any human being.

    Paul, many times in the word, let us know who he was; he didn’t try to hide it, nor did he go back and dabble into what he used to be, and sometimes the biggest hang-up that happens in our lives we must learn to forgive ourselves for the people we became or for saying and doing things we shouldn’t do. Paul knew who he was in God and that we must remember who we are in Christ; we are no longer of this world; we are transformed now by renewing of our minds.

   Ephesians 4:29 Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.

    It says here, don’t allow corrupt talk to come out your mouth because we are supposed to be building people up, but if we are going to destroy someone's feeling our life by our words, we aren’t living the way we should. We aren’t being that man or woman of God. God wants us to live a life that represents him, and we can't do that if we are too busy trying to show people our other side or who we used to be. We all have things we must work on, but when we find these things, we must go to God for him to help us with our speech and everything else.

  Proverbs 15:4: A gentle tongue is a tree of life, but perverseness in it breaks the spirit.

  Paul never got angry because people saw him for who he used to be; he let his speech be gentle and full of life, and he didn’t let his ways break his testimony. Jesus is allowing us to show family and friends the new us, not for us to show them what we haven’t changed from; it’s okay to laugh and joke with family & friends but who we are now, we are delivered, we are free, we are chosen , we are His. To continue walking in this, we must deny ourselves the chance of being someone we aren’t anymore. 

   Verse 23-24 They only heard the report: “The man who formerly persecuted us is now preaching the faith he once tried to destroy.”24 And they praised God because of me.

   Paul tells us here people will remember who you were ; they will remember what you used to do, but don’t allow that to stop you from continuing to allow your speech to be of Christ and allow what you say not to turn anyone away from Jesus , we must allow our speech to show people who you are now in Christ ! 

  ***Today, we learned how words and our ways can sometimes be different in front of family& friends . Still, we must always try to be in control of what we do and say and not let it ruin what God is trying to do in us; people will remember who you USE TO BE; that won’t change, but what will change people perspective on how they see us handle different moments in our lives , we can’t allow our speech or our old ways to corrupt our testimony , we have to allow our speech always to be salted by God and always leading people to Christ , not away from him. Don’t let corrupt talk corrupt your testimony. 

   Paul was a murderer of a bunch of Christians, but when Jesus came into his life, Jesus changed not only his life but his mouth. He no longer wanted to harm people, but he wanted to teach them about the love of Christ. We often think our language can’t corrupt our testimony, but it can. We must allow Jesus to change what we say and our minds; every day, we must go to Christ and say, Jesus , I need you to change my mind and what I say to others. And he will change our lives when we submit. ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

========================

PRAYER

========================

Heavenly Father, thank you for everything, lord; give us strength to help us stay strong; please change our hearts, minds, and mouths. Lord, forgive us if we have been talking with corrupt language . Forgive us if we hurt someone with our words. Help us to be kind and loving to everyone. Lord, we thank you for change; we thank you for love. Lord, give us strength to push through and to continue to walk in you so that others will see you in us, in Jesus' Name, Amen

========================

REFERENCES 

========================

+ James 3:10 From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so.

 

+ Psalm 141:3 Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips!

 

+ Matthew 12:36 I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak,

========================

FURTHER READINGS 

=========================

Proverbs 23

Leviticus 23

Ezekiel 10

Jeremiah 42

=========================