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toxicanonymity · 2 months ago

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Mama's Boy, 18+

slasher Joel masterlist | problematic playlist | AO3

PAIRING: Slasher!Joel x f!reader LENGTH: 7.2k words and none wasted tbh SUMMARY: Dinner at his mom's house, mostly. WARNINGS: 18+ dark, unsafe PinV, gunplay, degradation, a bit of angst, a whiff of incest, choking-adjacent, dark!reader, major revelations (!), feelings maybe? (god help us), mommy and daddy issues, slasher Joel needs a hug. NOTES: Today is not only mother's day, but also the 2nd anniversary of his first fic. This is packed. @flawssy-227 ty for your activism. And @thesummerpetrichor, I thought of you 🖤. Joel can carry reader.

It's Sunday. He lets himself in.

“Still in bed? Must’ve been ass up face down pretty late last night, huh? Told ya i'd pick ya up… ”

You squint at him as your eyes adjust. “What are you talking about?” He has something draped over his shoulder.

Too much talking. Not enough fucking.

He scoffs, “Really? Sunday dinner, slut.” He marches over to your nightstand with a snarl, picks up a folded piece of paper, and tosses it at you like a frisbee.

Oh yeah.

You unfold it as if it's the first time you've read it: “pick u up sunday.” There's a sketch of his fat cock and a thinner outline of what's presumably a dong next to it. “p.s. u need a real toy.”

Well, here he is. Picking you up on Sunday, and he's even kinda cleaned himself up. A plaid shirt and jeans tighter than his work uniform. Looks like a normal guy you could pass in the supermarket, none the wiser that he’d shove a huge tool up your cunt.

He stands by your bed holding up one dress in each hand. Neither of them yours.

“Now put on somethin’ decent.”

He throws them onto the bed, then pulls a gun out of the back of his pants. “What do you think? ” He gestures between them with the gun.

One of the dresses is simple, clean lines, not far off from something you might normally wear. But it has a brown stain and a frayed edge. It doesn't feel right.

The other dress is a strawberry plant pattern with short sleeves that puff out. It's faded and outdated, but clean and in decent shape–from what you can tell, at least.

“Got my own clothes,” you tell him.

But he insists, “This ain't the street corner, sugar. You're gonna pick one of these.”

“I'm too tired for this,” you complain, then add, “I dunno what makes you think I wanna go to your mom's house.”

“Come on, baby…” He looks at the gun. “I don't wanna use this… unless I'm stuffin’ your muff with it later ”

After looking at both the dresses, you can't bear to put on the stained one and choose the strawberry print. You feel unexpectedly cute in what could have been plucked from a mid century catalogue for housewives, although it’s probably from modcloth circa 2015.

Turning around in the mirror, it’s actually really flattering, and there’s something kinda sexy about dressing up like this degenerate's pretty little wife…Yep, you're really doing this.

Maybe it’s partly out of morbid curiosity, wanting to know where he came from.

How he…. happened.

He brings you a pair of your own shoes and puts them down for you to step into.

“Yeah, that's my girl,” looking over your right shoulder at the bathroom mirror, he grabs your ass, then sticks his hand between your legs from behind, hooking his hand under you to reach your clit. Your feet spread reflexively, giving him more room. Still holding the gun in his right hand, the hand between your legs tents the dress as he strokes you, and your gut begins to swell with need. He spreads his feet and angles himself slightly toward you, getting close enough to press himself against you, letting you feel the warm log in those tight jeans, gun held against his meaty thigh. Your chest heats up and you adjust your tits in the dress, copping a feel of yourself while you’re at it.

“Good girl ” he mutters. With a glint of affection in his eyes, he says, “You were born to wear this dress, kitten.” Now that he’s got you dripping, his fingers slip into the crotch of your panties and he shoves one, then two, inside. “Mm,” he grinds against you as he stuffs you with his fingers. Then he pulls them out and squats down. He lifts the skirt of the dress and yanks the panties down to your ankles. You lean forward and brace yourself on the sink. He stands up, slides the gun between your legs and the smooth, cool metal of the top of the barrel rubs through your slippery seam. Your hips tilt and he slides it forward one last time, before taking it away.

He pats your ass, and says, “Now c’mon, let's go.”

Not even the decency to fuck you first. Not even with the gun.

You scowl at him in the mirror.

He asks, “Am I gonna have to drag you, kickin’ and screamin’?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply.

“Alright,” he agrees, all too happy to oblige. He puts the sticky gun in the back of his pants, bends his knees. and lifts you over his shoulder with a grunt.

He steps through your open back door and slams it behind him with one hand, his other arm braced over the bare backs of your knees.

You yoink the gun from the back of his pants and he says, “God damnit, be careful with that,” without putting you down.

“You seem pretty sure I won't shoot you,” you observe.

“Course ya won't. Be like a … like a drug addict shootin’ their dealer… nah, shootin’ the drug cooker. Yeah. And he's the only cooker.”

He's getting slightly out of breath as he walks. Or maybe it’s the effort of all that thinking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask.

“Cock hungry whore ain't gonna kill off the biggest cock she's got.”

You press the edge of the barrel against the small of his back and nudge it into his jeans, then demand, “Put me down.”

He groans in exasperation, stops, and sets you down in the side yard.

You almost forget to point the firearm at him. Almost. With the gun raised, you ask, “What’s with the gun anyway? Thought knives were your thing.”

He shrugs. “Special occasion?”

“Why do you want me to come to dinner so bad?”

“Cause I told her we were comin’, okay? Told her ya liked the casserole.”

For the first time, you notice his hair is a little bit combed. You ask, “What'd you tell her about me?”

“Uh,” He scratches the back of his neck. “She knows we met when I was workin’. Knows I gave ya a ride….knows ya ain't like other girls.”

“What’s that mean?” You ask, adjusting your grip.

“I dunno… ” He shrugs, then gets frustrated. “I ain't brought home a girl home in a long time, okay? And she's gettin’ older, and…”

When you've lowered the gun, he lunges forward, muttering, “Gimme that,” as he disarms you with ease that makes your heart skip a beat. He grabs you by the arm and marches you to the Volvo. He opens the passenger door and manhandles you into the seat.

When he gets in the car, he leans over and buckles your seatbelt for you. He smells clean and minty.

As he puts the car in drive, you ask, “What else did you tell her?”

“Uh…. She knows we ain't been on many dates.”

“Not many?” You ask with a laugh. ��You mean none?”

He glances at you twice, suppressing a flattered smile at the implication he perceives. He wets his bottom lip. “That mean ya want to?”

He holds the gun against his thigh and steers with one hand.

When you get to his Mom's house, he warns, “Just don't talk about all your whorin’ around, okay? She won't like it.” He checks his hair in the rear view mirror.

You laugh, “What whoring around?”

“All those skinny dicks in your phone,” he mutters, getting out of the car.

“Excuse me?” You ask, still sitting.

“Just tell her about your day job instead,” he says, as if you genuinely don't think or talk about anything other than cock without prompting.

Wait--skinny dicks in your phone? Your train of thought dies when he puts the gun in the back of his pants, and in doing so exposes a few inches of skin, and the tail end of a scar. After he shuts the driver side door, you open yours while he hurries around to help you out.

“Come on,” His big hand wraps around your inner elbow again. “We're gonna be late.” He's slightly in front of you

“Bringing a gun into your mother's house?” you ask as he pulls you along.

He freezes, then mumbles, “You're right. Don't want her to think you're a bad influence. Even if ya are.”

What a gentleman.

He goes and puts it in the glovebox, then jogs to catch up with you again.

When she opens the door, Joel's mother beams at the sight of her son. She steps outside, frail and slow moving. She's pretty, with silky white hair that looks older than her face. The storm door creaks to a stuttering close behind her.

At first, it's like you're invisible. He lets go of you, and they embrace. She reaches for the back of his neck and says, “C'mere, baby,” pulling his face to hers. He kisses her on the cheek, then she kisses him, and then, as they separate, Joel gestures toward you. Her eyes are curious when they meet yours, then her face comes to life as her gaze falls down your body. She puts a hand on her hip as she checks you out, her other hand rising to her mouth for a moment, then resting on her chest, fingers centered in the hollow of her collar bone.

“Joel,” she half-laughs in flirtatious accusation, then narrates, “Well, there she is…”

“Don't she look nice? ” Joel asks with a subtle smile and blush.

His mom admires you with an air of disbelief, then goes in for a hug. Her fragrance isn't entirely new to your nostrils, and the sensory recall brings an unsettling tingle to your loins: The night Joel brought the leftovers.

She holds you close, pressing her body all the way against yours without fully relaxing. Firm and in control, and yet , she feels softer than she looks. Her bosom is like a warm pillow. Like a relic of young motherhood, reaching through time, tickling your inner child awake.

As the hug ends, she gently pinches the puffed sleeves of your dress and says to Joel without looking at him, “Yes, baby. She looks real pretty.” Then, glancing up from your dress, she tells you with a smile, “Can't promise strawberries, but I do have cherry pie. Come on in.”

“Thank you, ma’am” you nod.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she chuckles, “You can just call me Mama.”

It sounds like you should know better. Like ‘Mama’ is the most obvious option. You glance at Joel, and he nods with a little smile of permission, as if that's what you’re looking for, and he's glad to give it.

Might as well rip the bandaid off: “Okay… Mama… well, it's nice of you to have me over.” In the back of your mind, you hope Joel doesn't think this is any special effort on your part. It's more like, your job requires manners, and this is your default setting with older folks.

She holds the door open with her body and you have to graze past her. “Smells delicious,” you observe with genuine hunger, having slept through the first two meals of the day.

She straightens her frilled apron with a smile and suggests, “Joel, why don't you give your girl a tour while I finish up?”

This is a relief - you hadn't been consciously dreading it, but worst case scenario, she would've asked you to help in the kitchen. She seems like that type.

–

It’s a humble brick ranch. Dimly lit. Everything is out of style, but tidy. There are a few bedroom doors, but he doesn’t open any of them, and you don’t pry. The paint in the hall is disrupted over a poorly repaired dent in the wall. You try not to look at the stains on the ceiling.

One of the living room walls has a fireplace, and one wall is lined with pictures. There's a bare corner with nothing but a crochet rug – a rounded rectangle, with raised crosses. The paint is newer over there. Bubbling and wanting to peel as the wall approaches the perpendicular wall, the one with the fireplace.

Before you can get a good look at anything, Joel steers you outside. In the small backyard, a wooden garden bed has overgrown with weeds. The lawn is nice and trim. “You help out with the yard?” You ask.

“Uh, sometimes,” he answers. “ She's got somebody else too .”

He rocks forward on his feet, arms crossed.

“So... you gonna fuck me in your boyhood bedroom?” You ask, and he clears his throat with a forced smile, brows knitted.

“What?” you ask. “Why the hell else would you take my panties?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, allowing himself only a brief glance at you, until he does a double take and admits, “Fuck, you look good.” He seems more distressed by it than anything.

No such luck, you guess, raising your eyebrows at the visible outline against his thigh. Never would've pictured him in jeans.

He runs his hand through his hair, puffs out his cheeks with an exhale, and adjusts himself with effort before leading you back inside. His boot grazes the side of a metal bowl, sloshing water into dark spots on the cement.

She pours Joel a glass of milk with dinner, and when you politely decline, Joel says, “One glass won't hurt ya, baby .” Mama seems pleased to bring over the old fashioned bottle of milk. She rests her free arm on the back of your chair, with the fine lines of her cleavage near your eyes as she fills your glass.

The meatloaf is delicious, with sauce that reminds you of barbecue. The mashed potatoes are over-buttered, but they hit the spot. She smiles to herself, satisfied to watch you eat.

“So tell me about yourself,” she says. “Do you work?”

You swallow your food, nod, and tell her which clinic you work at.

“Oh,” she recognizes the name. “The one over on Main Street?”

“Yes, that's right.”

“That's nice,” she says. “Joel's going to own his own business one day. Do you ever want to own your own practice?”

“Oh, no, I don't think so,” you answer, then ask Joel, “What kind of business?”

“Joel, I'm surprised you haven't told her,” his Mom says, then lowers her voice to a conspiratorial volume to tell you, “He’s too modest.”

“Ya know, I guess a tow and repair one-stop shop,” Joel says. “Not a lot of guys do both, but I can really take care of ya. Same night, even. Late hours, too.”

His mom nods. “I always knew he'd be successful,” she says. “Even in the darker days.”

Joel tenses and begins to tap his heel. “ How about you, Mama? ” he asks, “ What have you been up to? ”

“Oh, you know, this and that,” she says. “Crossword was a doozie today!” she laughs. “What are you two gonna do this week? Anything special?”

You shrug and look at Joel.

He starts, “Uh… ”

His Mom bails him out, “You oughta take her to the drive-in like I said, baby,” then she asks you, "Would you like that, honey? You like the drive-in? We used to go, it was so nice.”

“Sure, I like movies,” you answer.

“See, Joel? She likes movies.”

Joel finishes his meatloaf relatively quickly, and his mother puts another generous slice on his plate.

“I don't need any more, Ma,” he says, but she doesn't listen, and he digs into it anyway. By his third slice, he’s pushed back in his chair, adjusting his belt. He pats his tummy and says, “There's nothin’ she makes that ain't good.”

“Only the best for my boy,” she agrees, then asks you, “Ain’t that right?”

“Of course,” you agree.

“Oh! I saw Randall Junior earlier,” she says. “He came by and did the lawn.”

“Randy,” Joel corrects her.

“Yeah, Randall’s son.”

“Randy,” Joel repeats. “He ain’t even a Junior, Ma. He’s the third.”

“Well, it was nice to see him,” she reminisces, fiddling with the corner of her placemat. She catches herself, smooths it down, then brings her hands together, fiddling with her left ring finger. “I swear, that boy’s an inch taller every time I see him.”

“He’s in his thirties,” Joel tells you, drawing a genuine smile to your lips. One that brings a sparkle to his eyes.

“Well, anyway,” she goes on, “A face like that belongs in the movies,” she chuckles to herself. “Of course, he’s nowhere near as handsome as my Joel,” she looks at you reassuringly as she says it. Lest you pine after Randy the third .

A silence stretches on until you say, “Well, this was delicious. I’d love the recipe…” You dab the corners of your mouth and put down your napkin.

“Oh, it’s not a recipe, honey,” she boasts, “It’s somethin’ ya do from the heart.” After a moment, she adds, “But I can write down the ingredients! Now, how about some cherry pie?”

She stands up, puts her apron back on, and you help her clear the table. “Go on Joel, we’ve got it,” Mama tells him, and he goes to sit in the living room.

“Okay,” Mama whispers to herself as she plates the first slice, a generous one. “This one’s for him.” You take it to Joel and he sits up from the couch to accept it with a thank you, reading your face for signs of how things are going. You flash him a small, unrevealing smile.

“Gonna take a piss,” he mumbles, and his eyes ask if that’s okay. “Sure,” you say with a little curtsy, trying not to smirk as you turn and head back to the kitchen.

Mama’s about to plate the other slices of pie when she lifts a finger in the air and says, “Oh, let me write this down before I forget,” then retrieves a notecard and pencil from a drawer. She puts on a pair of glasses and smiles to herself as she jots down the ingredients. You dwell in the threshold of the living room.

She looks up like she’s trying to remember something, then looks down and keeps writing on the notecard.

You begin to look at the pictures on the wall. Some are of Joel, and he’s straight-faced. Some are of cats. Charmingly, a blurry photo of a black cat has been deemed frame-worthy. It sits within a bigger rectangle, the shadow of where a different frame used to be. There are a few spots like this. There are a few relatively recent photos of Joel and his Mom. None with his father, as far as you can tell. None now, and none then. But when you look closer at the older ones, it’s clear some of them have been trimmed.

“He hates having his picture made,” Mama startles you from less than a foot away.

“You two seem really close,” you offer. “Just the two of you?”

She raises her eyebrows in amusement and lowers her volume. “Oh, Joel made sure of that .”

A chill in her voice hardens your nipples and dries your mouth. You search her face for more, but her eyes have wandered, and her face has fallen. “Been about thirty years, just the two of us—well, just me for a while…” You follow her eyes to the corner with the crochet rug, and she squeezes your arm.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

She eases her grip and manages a little smile. “Yes, dear.” She hands you the notecard.

Her handwriting is beautiful. Captivating.

You stay there, eyes scanning the photo wall, while she finishes plating your pie and hers.

One of the frames catches your eye. It’s the first one you’ve really zeroed in on, looking at the faces and not just the context. The picture is faded and yellowed.

Joel is young and smiling, with a pin-up looking woman hanging all over him.

A rush of begruding jealousy begs the question, who is that?

And then, your stomach turns before the realization sets in.

It’s a much younger Mama, with dark, loose curls befitting of a centerfold. All dolled up and glowing, with her arm around his middle. And god damn, her tits are swelling up out of her neckline. She looks…. Hot. Your lungs go hollow, then your chest expands with a deep breath. Something's stirring in your gut. Arousal? Attraction?

Your eyes pan down to her Mary Jane heels, but the swell of her breasts, those bouncy curls… your eyes are pulled back up her body. The dress is cute, and proper. Innocent, even. But the way she wears it… Sweetheart neckline, puffed sleeves… You squint for a closer look, and your breath hitches. Heat rises to your face, to the tips of your ears. Your heart races. You pull your eyes away, chest burning, and pretend you don't notice anything.

Something soft brushes your calf and you gasp and jump as you look down to see a black cat thread between your legs.

“Oh, it’s Daniel!” Mama says. “He must’ve come in behind you. Not allergic, are you? Here’s your pie, honey.” She sets down your plate on the coffee table.

“You good, baby?” Joel asks.

Taking your place on the sofa next to Joel, you sit like a lady, one foot tucked behind the other ankle, minding your lack of panties. The dress is just long enough to cover your knees.

The three of you finish dessert in silence aside from forks scraping good china and Daniel purring from that rug in the corner. Joel finishes first, and stretches his arm behind you on the sofa. When you finish, you sit back with him, knee brushing his. You will yourself to relax. You will yourself not to ogle his mother in trying to reconcile her fragile frame of today with those curves of yesteryear.

She looks back and forth at the two of you sitting side by side and smiles. She puts down her plate, crosses her legs toward you, and clasps her hands. A smile rises through her pretty cheekbones as she looks directly at you.

“Ya know, Joel was top of his class.”

You raise your eyebrows.

Joel takes his hand off the back of the sofa and leans forward, forearms on his knees, full belly filling out the plaid against his lap as he wrings his hands. “Mama.” Joel’s tone is cautionary, but his face is more pleading. He shakes his head ever so slightly.

Ignoring him, she smiles proudly at you.

You try not to sound as skeptical as you are when you ask, “Really?”

She nods.

“Mama,” he whispers.

“Mm-hmm,” she smiles.

He sits up straight, wipes his hand down his whole face and sits back in defeat. His arm doesn't return behind you.

She continues, “There were a couple other boys, went in ‘round the same time – took’em three tries to get their GED. Three tries, at least. Not my Joel. He got his on the first try,” she beams. “The warden shook his hand.”

“Okay,” Joel mutters.

The Warden. Your heart skips a beat and your face goes cold, but you pray it doesn't show.

You turn and congratulate him, “That’s great, Joel.”

He doesn't meet your eyes. He’s looking at the carpet with a defeated scowl, jaw flexing, chest heaving, arms crossed limply over his stomach. He tries to manage a smile of acknowledgement. You can see the effort, but humiliation prevails.

You feel for him and add, “Really, babe.”

His face softens, but his posture doesn't change. After a moment, without looking up, he mumbles, “Long time ago.”

“Yeah,” his mother nods. “He's always been a smart boy.” She starts talking about his favorite subjects, and how he could have gotten his bachelor's too, three times over, if the program was worth a damn, and state funding, and blah blah blah, riots, and understaffing, and shanks hidden in law library books, and a few bad apples spoil it for everyone…

Your eyes are on him, tuning her out, best you can, despite your curiosity. You rest your hand on his knee, and he relaxes a little. And then, once your face turns toward his mom again, Joel looks at your face, assessing the damage.

You want to hear it all– how long he was locked up, how he ended up in juvie. You're afraid you already know that part.

Daniel purrs loudly from the crochet rug, and you will yourself not to look in that direction.

Joel's Mom looks at Daniel and gets quiet as her eyes wander up that wall that must've been painted over, God how many times in the past thirty years? She idly caresses her ring finger.

You squeeze Joel's knee, slide your hand up his jeans a couple inches, and squeeze again. You tap your thumb, and his hand joins yours.

“We oughta get goin’, Ma,” he announces.

“Oh,” she frowns, slumping in defeat.

“I'm workin’ tonight, and she's gotta work early.”

“Okay,” she whispers to herself, stands up, and smooths her dress.

—---

“It's nice to know there's a good woman looking after my son,” she says as she bids you goodbye with another hug.

Your heart swells at the praise, you can't help it. Her apparent sincerity weakens your eyes, makes you shake away your own memories and steel yourself as she says goodbye to Joel.

“Chin up, baby.” She holds Joel's face, makes him look at her. “Give your mama some sugar.” She gives him a smack on the lips. He doesn't kiss back, but he does accept her hug.

He pulls up his jeans on the way to the car. Almost forgets to open the door for you.

He doesn't look at you, even when he buckles you in, which you would have done yourself if you hadn’t froze.

He swallows more thickly. His posture is less proud.

For the first few minutes of the drive, you ride in silence. Then you ask, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” He grumbles.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, tummy tickling with a pang of sympathy for the man.

“No,” he answers flatly with no hesitation.

“You don't have to,” you reassure him.

“I know I don't have to,” He snaps. “God, it's all anybody ever wants to talk about.”

You watch him scowl at the road, clenching his strong jaw. His gaze is so dark. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. As if noticing this himself, he stretches one hand out, spreading his fingers before assuming a more relaxed grip.

You wonder… was he born a killer?

He's got this tough, violent shell about him, and now you know there's something else under there. Is he sorry he brought you to dinner, you wonder? You don't want him to be.

“Well, it was nice meeting your mom,” you remark. “Meatloaf was fantastic…. The pie, too.” You cradle the Tupperware stacked in your lap. “You wanna hang out for awhile?” you ask.

“Gotta work,” he answers flatly and swallows with his eyes still on the road.

“Well, that's too bad.” It really is. 'Cause you're not any less horny than he got you in your bathroom two hours ago. Wetter, if anything, you realize, and warmth blooms in your cheeks. Now the sun is going down. You reach back and put the Tupperware on the back seat, then shamelessly turn toward him. You lean your temple against the headrest and watch him drive.

He’s hard-working. Complicated. Private. And his mom’s right, he is successful, all things considered.

You wonder where his dad is buried. Whether he was handsome, like Joel. Maybe . But with or without him, Joel got those looks from Mama.

Joel glances over and shoots you a dark look. A warning.

“You don't gotta play nice,” he says.

“I'm not playing anything,” you protest.

He lets out a dismissive chuckle.

“Pull over,” you tell him.

“For what?” He asks.

His meaty thighs are spread, swelling in those tight jeans. He follows your eyes and squints at you, then slides his hand under his belly and adjusts his belt, annoyed.

“Just pull over Joel,” you repeat.

“Ain't in the mood for your games, sweetheart,” he says.

You open the glove box, then close it with the gun in your hand. You point it at him. “Pull over, god damn it,” you tell him.

He squints and looks at you up and down before dismissing you with a silent, condescending laugh.

Keeping the gun trained on him, your free hand unbuckles your seatbelt, then slides between your legs. You pull the skirt of the dress all the way up to expose your cunt.

“You serious?” He asks.

“Serious as a heart attack,” you confirm.

And that's not what killed his dad, you think.

It must've been messy.

He must've deserved it, by the looks of Joel's back. The way the moonlight skidded over his scars, that night in your bedroom.

Joel shakes his head, keeps driving, and you lift the gun to his temple. “Pull over right now,” you repeat, quieter.

“Jesus, FUCK,” he relents, neck vein bulging as he veers toward the shoulder.

It's close to dusk now, on a suburban road, and you're half way out of the seat before the car's in park.

Stretching your leg over the center console, you help yourself into his lap, straddling him, still holding the gun. With your free hand, you begin to unbutton his shirt.

For a moment, all he does is stare at you and breathe heavier. “You're fuckin’ with me,” he tells himself out loud, not wanting to fall for a joke. He has his elbows back and out of the way, one arm on the door, one on the center console, but he’s itching to have you. You can see it in the way his biceps twitch. His stomach rises and falls with heavier breaths under his white tee.

“I’m not,” you assure him.

He lets you pick up his hand, and you guide it between your legs so he can feel how wet you are.

His face darkens, and his hand reflexively grabs your cunt.

“Somethin’ wrong with you?” he asks.

“That’d make two of us,” you answer.

You glance at the gun to make sure the safety's still on, then point the barrel at his chest and reach down to grab the massive bulge in his jeans. The largest you could imagine, for a cock that’s not quite hard. And he chubs up quick under the lustful pressure of your palm.

“You're into this shit,” he says. “ Like some kinda kink.”

Ya think?, you manage not to say out loud.

But you get the subtext: He’s a real person... With a real big cock that swells harder in your palm as you massage him slow with your breasts heaving. He cups your bare ass cheeks. You slide your hand up the front of his jeans, and his hips lift under you, chasing your palm. The heel of your palm presses into his gut as you unbuckle his belt. You rest your wrist on the seat, gun pointed toward the back of the car as your hand continues its work between your bodies.

With his belt buckle out of the way, you grope at his cock through the denim again, then unzip his jeans and rest your hand on the curve of his belly, splaying your fingers out before sliding your hand down into his jeans. As your hand engulfs the mushroom shape of his cockhead, then his swollen shaft, you moan at the girth. “Yeah,” you breathe, “You gonna fuck me in your mother’s dress?” You end the question with a firm grab of his package, and he grunts, nearly breathless, then sighs as you palm his cock hungrily through the cotton of his boxer briefs.

“Looks really fuckin’ good on you,” he answers with a nod.

Blood’s still rushing to his cock, responding to its need to stiffen up and plug whatever gaping hole appears in front of it.

“Looks good on her too,” you note.

“Fuck,” he breathes under your slow but aggressive massage. His eyes pour over your chest and he says, “Looks better on you.” If he’s not lying–and it feels like he’s not–-it’s quite a fucking compliment. His shaft plumps with as much as blood as it can hold, stiff as a rod, fat and juicy, hard as hell, spilling precum in his boxers.

“Ohh, fuck,” he moans. His hips lift and his abs tense and his belly swells against your forearm.

You slide your hand up again, and under his waistband. You brace your wrist on his shoulder, pointing the gun toward his neck as your hand slides into his warm boxer briefs to feel the smooth skin of his aching manhood.

“You wanna put that down?” he asks.

“No,” You reply, unable to connect your thumb fingers around his girth.

“Man, when ya need it ya need it, huh?,” he murmurs, eyelids heavy. “Need this cock real bad, don’t ya? ”

“Yeah,” you answer.

“Need to pack that droolin’ gash,” he says. “ Pack it full. ”

“Yeah,” you nod and raise yourself a few inches. You get his tip at your entrance, then slide it through your dripping pussy.

"Oh, fuck,” he moans, “God damn sex kitten.. . FUCK, youre hot”

He breathes audibly, watching you with forced patience as you notch his broad tip at your hole. You start to sink down on him with some difficulty, face scrunching, biting your lip in frustration, eyes watering with need.

“What's the matter, sweetheart? Forget how to take a cock all the sudden?”

You lift yourself up and sink down a little more, swallowing the tip.

“Oh fuck,” he moans. He puts his hands on your hips and pulls you down with an upward thrust, spearing you on his monster girth.

“Yeah…oh, fuck,” he breathes, not quite bottomed out. “Ugghh,” he groans, pulling you down more with an upward thrust to the hilt, fully seated in you at last.

“God, you're filthy.” He wets his bottom lip, admiring what a mess you’ve become in his lap. “Hot little slut like you…. Oh, you're trouble,” he says.

You begin to lift yourself, letting most of his meat out of you, tip dragging thick and tight through your walls, your slick beading under the crown and sliding down his shaft. Then you sink back down, splitting yourself open on his girth with a sigh.

The sky has erupted into shades of pink and purple as it begins to sink past the horizon.

Electricity runs through your blood. Your skin hums. His neck glistens with goosebumps and the hues of his shirt look brighter in the almost-dark.

He grabs your hips as you ride him, then moves his big hands to your waist. Each time you slide up his cock, it’s easier to sink back down. Your body’s hungry for more each time. You can feel it pulsing wider around him, welcoming his girth, hungry for more.

“Yeah,” he encourages you as you find a rhythm. “Like that.”

You seize one of his wrists to move his hand to your neck.

“You're a real freak, baby,” he taunts you, brushing his thumb against the delicate skin of your neck before carefully positioning it and raising his eyebrows at you. He closes his eyes as you sink down on him again and his girth slides easily through your soft walls. When he opens his eyes, his massive hand gives your neck a little squeeze, and you moan in appreciation.

“Guess it takes a freak to fuck a guy like you,” you spit back.

He scowls, and his nose twitches.

You go on, “Mighta picked the only freak in town who’d fuck you by choice,” you tell him. “Lucky call,” you say. “Lucky you have such a fat fucking cock,” you taunt him and study his face, hopeful for a sign that he could snap. “What else do you have?” You ask, and it feels almost too cruel. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lot to have… fuck,” you breathe. “Mmm,” fully stuffed by his girth.

“Quit runnin’ your damn mouth,” he snaps and grabs the gun by both ends at once, smoothly disarming you with an effortless twist of his hands. He places the barrel against the hollow of your neck and asks, Is “That what ya want, ya dumb slut? Tryna get yourself killed?”

You freeze, half-way on his cock, getting lost in his eyes.

“Well God damn, if you're gonna ride it, ride it. I'm gonna lose my goddamn patience” he warns.

When you don’t sink down fast enough, he gets rougher, putting you in a bruising grip, one arm wrapped around you, tightening like an anaconda.

He fucks up into you from the bottom, both arms behind you, with the gun held vaguely to your neck.

“Yeah,” you moan.

He growls, pushes his back against the seat, and his stomach pushes against your front, pushes and rubs as he fucks you harder, rocking the car.

The windows fog up.

He unzips the back of the dress and tears it down to reveal your breasts.

He watches them move as you’re bounced on his thick manhood. He snarls and grunts like an animal possessing his prey.

“I see you,” you whisper, intoxicated by the rhythmic stroke of him up in your guts.

“Fuck you,” he rasps.

“Fuck me ,” you retort, “Fuck me,” you repeat, “Fuck me, killer,” your cunt spasms with the word.

“Knew what I was, don’t act fuckin’ surprised.”

"Fuck," you moan, swallowing up his cock. “I'm -mmm- m’not,” you say. “I'm turned on.”

“You’re sick,” he says, burying his cock in you fully, once again.

Your nipples harden, you moan, and he looks at you skeptically, even as he feels your walls twitch around his absurd girth.

“Know that pussy's hungry for something bigger,” he says.

“Like what?” you ask and feel the gun leave your neck.

“Get up.” He checks the safety.

When you rise up, he holds the gun near his dick, making the barrel of it look like a twig.

“Best I got here,” he says with your gummy walls clinging to his shaft as you let out all but the tip.

“Think she can take it?” he asks. “Shit, we know she can.”

You lift all the way up onto your knees, letting his cock fall out. It bounces, bringing a string of slick with it, and stands stiff at attention.

He works three fingers into you with ease.

“Gimme your hand,” you ask.

“Hand's fuckin’ busy,” he says, referring to the one holding the gun.

“No, gimme your whole hand,” you demand greedily, and grab his wrist with his fingers still buried in your cunt.

“Attagirl,” he says, then works a fourth finger into you. “Best I can do here, sweetheart,” he winces as he fucks you with four clustered fingers.

“Fuck this,” he decides, unable to stand his throbbing cock growing ever colder outside your cunt.

He positions you over his dick and the gun, uses his fingers to spread your pussy around both, then pulls you down.

“Uh–ughh,” your mouth is agape as you sink down the shaft and barrel, taking them both.

You’re a quivering mess.

He holds the handle steady and says, “Good girl.”

You don't go all the way down. The cool barrel slides against one side of your walls.

“God damn, this hungry pussy,” he pants, cock stiff against the gun. “God damn, i know she can take more,” he says, frustrated without much more to give you.

“How do you know?” you ask

“Cause I've seen ya gapin’ wide open, sweetheart.”

You moan at his words, pussy quivering around his cock and gun.

“Wide fuckin’ open,” he repeats. “Ya take my fist… take two dicks…fuck ,” he twitches inside you. “ Took my goddamn wrench…. greedy fuckin’ cunt,” he goes on.

Then you're seized by a swell in your lower belly…. The pressure that’s been simmering quickly boils over, and you whimper as you come on his cock and the gun.

“Yeah,” he pants as your walls flutter and your thighs quiver.

He lifts you up with one arm, and takes out the gun, putting it aside. Then he slams you all the way down on his cock. “Oh god, yeah,” he pants, “Freak nasty whore ”

You moan and let it ride, clenching around his cock, your walls hugging it tighter each time, with the girth of the gun no longer holding you open.

Your climax wanes and your legs are weak. “Oh fuck,” he pants, “Gonna fill this dirty snatch,” He sweats and grunts. “Gonna stuff her with my load,” he warns, “Bout to fill this gash right up .”

“Fuck,” he breathes heavier and grunts with each thrust up into you, then slams you down, and with an upward jolt of his hips begins to drain his massive balls. “Fuck,” he sighs as he comes inside. “Fuck, you're crazy,” he says with another rope, warm and sticky, hitting your womb.

“Tryna get knocked up by some psycho killer ya picked up on the side of the road,” he says. “ Fuck, you goddamn freak .”

Still milking his cock, something possesses you to cradle his face as he slows down. Another burst of warmth in your core, as your face approaches his. He starts to turn his cheek, but your hands become forceful. “C’mere, asshole,” you demand, grinding into him with his cock pulsing deep inside again. His neck begins to relax, and he sighs with his eyes closed. You hold his face steady and bring your face to his. When your lips meet his are limp and open.

Another warm spurt into your womb, and when you moan against his mouth, he moans back. His lips soften, then cradle yours. Your tongue slips into your mouth, and his pushes into yours. He grabs the back of your head, pulling you into his face as he kisses you, releasing a final burst of hot seed. “Mm,” he grunts into your mouth, hands holding each other’s faces. Glued together, consuming each other in the dark. The passion simmers to something gentler as your loins twitch with aftershocks, becoming over-sensitive.

You break away to breathe, gasping for humid air in the fogged-up car.

He pants, looks up at the ceiling. His neck vein pulses. His skin is clammy looking, dewy with cold sweat,

“Fuck,” sighs, his chest heaving, “Still got your goddamn tits out.” He admires them, then feeds himself one. He tongues your nipple, and when your cunt squeezes him, he winces, letting it out of his mouth.

A tractor trailer whizzes by, shaking the whole car.

“Alright,” he says, and nudges you off his lap. “Now pull yourself together.”

He takes the gun, wet with your juices, puts it on the dashboard near him. He looks over at you skeptically when you've climbed back over the center console into your seat.

“You better stuff that dress between your legs,” he warns. “Don’t want ya leakin’ all over the goddamn place.”

THANK YOU FOR READING.

Believe it or not, I cut two scenes from this lol so I might put them in a little bonus visit between Joel and his mom soon.

Look, this took me a year and I feel like I've finally done my mental vision justice lol. So, please interact 🧎‍♀️🥺🖤

anon is fine if you're shy!

#dark!joel miller #slasher!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️#slasher!joel miller #cw dubcon

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venusbyline · 2 months ago

Text

Mother Above — Aemond Targaryen.

— summary: His wish for revenge had broken the bond of love and affection between him and his mother. Alicent no longer saw him as her good boy. She was seeing him as a monster, worse than Aegon. A murderer. A murderer who could only find comfort in another woman's arms. In your arms.

— pairing: Aemond Targaryen x brothel worker!reader

— type: smut

— word count: 1.6k

— tags/warnings: female!reader, sub!Aemond Targaryen, prostitution, breastfeeding, lactation kink, handjob, mommy kink, mommy issues, breast worship, naked snuggling, implied Aemond Targaryen/Alicent Hightower BUT NOT REALLY, mention of Helaena and Aegon together during the Driftmark incident, Lucerys Velaryon's death mentioned, Jaehaerys Targaryen's death mentioned, religious imagery and symbolism (Faith of the Seven), single mother!reader, kinda fluff, kinda angst too, fluffy but open ending, canon divergence, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— author's notes¹: Reader has no specific description of physical appearance other than breasts (no specific size mentioned) and a vagina.

— author's notes²: This one-shot is based on an anon horny thought that I received on my inbox this week 🤭🤭💕💕 Tysm sweetie!!!

— crossposting: AO3

❥ Aemond masterlist • HOTD masterlist

❥ about me • main masterlist

Aemond entered the brothel with the same stoic face as always, his jaw clenched almost like a stone, perfectly matching the coldness of his gaze. His single eye scanned the place without worrying about the whispers of the other people around.

The whores and their clients... All whispering about the constant presence of the Targaryen prince there, once again that week. Such visits no longer caused great surprises, no longer raised confused or fearful looks. No one asking about what he might want... Everyone knew.

Everyone knew why Aemond was there. They knew who he was looking for. Who he was paying. Who he was desiring, and not just physically.

"May I help you?" A random girl approached him, as she was instructed to do. Regardless of how obvious the reasons for Aemond's visit were, the rules established by Madam Sylvi had to be followed. The whores had to offer themselves to him first, no matter what.

Aemond grimaced at the sight of the girl coming close to him like a dog in heat, her nipples perky behind the fabric of her silk robe that did little to keep her mounds covered. She was not ugly, perhaps she was the type that would catch his older brother's attention — although Aegon did not have very high standards when it came to women. He just liked any tight cunt he could fuck.

"No." Aemond answered to the whore's suggestion, returning to survey the brothel with his eye, not even bothering himself to try to be a little more friendly or to thank her for that offer.

He was there for a specific purpose, and that one did not include tarnishing his dignity with a woman of no importance.

With a woman who was not you.

The whore did her best to disguise her reaction, a poor and weak performance. The offense at the quick rejection was clear on her face, as difficult to mask as it was impossible for Aemond to hide who he really was.

His attempt to hide his Targaryen bloodline was failing, despite the hood he wore to cover the color of his long hair.

Everyone knew he was a Targaryen prince. Everyone knew he was Aemond One-Eye. After all, who else on that damn city would have silver hair and wear an eye patch?

After a few more minutes of complete silence, an older whore approached the one who was already close to Aemond, whispering something in her ear. The younger woman took a deep breath and nodded, before turning to the prince with a fake smile. "She is waiting for you."

Aemond's tongue circled around your nipple, teasing the peak so he could turn it more perky... Drops of milk dripped even though he had not made any real effort to suck and extract them yet.

The taste was sweet. Familiar and comforting. Just like the sounds of pleasure that came from the lips of the pretty woman beside him. You.

You seemed like some Goddess before Aemond's eye. The Mother Above in all her glory, granting him the blessing of taking you, of drinking from your breasts like a starving child. Like a newborn baby desperate to stay alive, to survive the hardships of life.

The hardships he brought upon himself when he killed Rhaenyra's son. When he let himself be carried away by impulsiveness, by a strong wish for revenge since the Driftmark incident.

Aemond could blame his cousins, Rhaena and Baela. Daemon’s daughters who had been too stupid to understand that a dragon was not like a puppy and could not be stolen, and that he had every right to try to claim Vhagar before Rhaena could recover herself after her mother’s death.

Aemond could blame Aegon and Helaena. His older brother had been so drunk that night that as soon as he was escorted back to his chambers by their grandfather, Aegon had snuck out and sneaking into their sister’s, laying next to Helaena even after he complained about his recent betrothal to her, both of them not even remembering about Aemond’s existence while they were having a decent conversation for the first time.

Aemond could blame Rhaenyra and Daemon. His spoiled cunt half-sister and his idiot uncle had not even paid attention to their own children, because they were so focused on having sex on that beach after years apart.

Aemond could blame Lucerys and Jacaerys. His nephews who were too easily influenced and who always played tricks on him along with Aegon. His nephews who always saw Aemond as someone inferior, who had accompanied Rhaena and Baela to argue with him about a matter that was none of their business. He could blame Jacaerys for bringing that knife, just like and he could blame Lucerys for using it.

Aemond could blame Viserys. He could blame his damned father for letting things go too far, for not defending him that night, for caring more about those "false" rumors of Rhaenyra's children's bastardy than the fact that Luke had mutilated his eye. For always favoring Rhaenyra, his firstborn, and completely ignoring the existence of his other children, even though he had spent years wanting a son, a male heir.

Deep down, though, Aemond knew there was only one person he could blame. And it was himself. His wish for revenge led him to murder his own nephew Lucerys Velaryon. His wish for revenge caused the war between the Greens and Blacks to begin in earnest. His wish for revenge was the reason for Jaehaerys' tragic death and for Helaena's incessant melancholy.

And worst of all... His wish for revenge had broken the bond of love and affection between him and his mother. Alicent no longer saw him as her good boy. She was seeing him as a monster, worse than Aegon. A murderer. A murderer who could only find comfort in another woman's arms. In your arms.

"You are hungry tonight..." You teased him, fingers stroking the prince's long hair.

A groan rumbled from Aemond's chest when your free hand moved down between his legs, teasing his shaft, but not quite touching it. Not quite holding it tightly and stimulating it. Not quite giving Aemond the pleasure he wanted. The pleasure he needed.

He felt like a son being denied by a mother. He felt like the way he had when he had tried to hold Alicent close after returning from Storm's End. His often stoic face was contorted into a look of despair, barely able to tell her that he had just killed Lucerys. His single eye were filled with tears that refused to let go, like when Aegon and their nephews played pranks on him and he sought comfort from his mother.

That time, however, Alicent did not comfort him. She slapped him across the face and yelled at him, the same way she always did with Aegon.

The boy had been deprived of any affection or words that could help him deal with the situation. During that night, just hours after becoming a Kinslayer, Aemond found himself entering a brothel for the second time in his entire life, thinking about distracting himself with a little sex, a tactic Aegon used whenever he was scolded by Alicent.

Unlike his older brother, who drowned his sorrows with wine and rough sex with any whore he saw, Aemond was looking for someone who would care about him. Create a bond. Someone who could love him the way Alicent had loved him before all of that. Or at least someone who was good enough at pretending.

And from the very first moment, you were willing to do it.

Now, after so many moons bedding with him, your motivations were no longer focused on the gold he paid you, no longer just focused on the opportunity to have enough money to keep your daughter fed and safe.

Aemond was not pretending.

You were not pretending.

Neither of you were pretending.

"Do not deny me..." Aemond's words sounded muffled against your breasts, not like an order dictated by a prince to a mere whore. It was like a little boy begging for his mother.

Like a believer begging for the compassion of the Seven.

You guided your palm until it finally closed around Aemond's thick pink cock, the young man's only eye closing with the pleasure of that touch while the sapphire that filled his empty eye socket looked even more beautiful than before.

Oh, how grateful he was to the Mother Above for your motherhood, for the breast milk that trickled from your breasts as he sucked and squeezed them, nourishing him like they nourished your own child, nourishing him like the wet nurse had nourished him when he was just a little baby, nourishing him like Alicent never cared to do when he was born.

"Gentle Mother, font of mercy. Save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows. Let them know a better day..." Your voice sounded soft, humming the hymn Aemond had already asked you to recite when he was breastfed by you for the first time.

Aemond whimpered with a mixture of pleasure and sadness, melancholy filling him as he remembered about the afternoons he had accompanied Alicent to the Sept so they could pray together. As he remembered about her humming that hymn along with Helaena when he and his sister were little kids.

Melancholy filling him as your milk wet his lips and his creamy seed splattered onto your fingers.

"Gentle Mother, strength of women. Help our daughters through this fray. Soothe the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way." You finished singing, kissing Aemond's forehead like Alicent used to do. Like Alicent would never do again.

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miange1 · 21 hours ago

Note

ok older men is great and all but what about older women 🙂‍↕️(female reader)

maybe she's spoiling the reader countlessly

sex ofc🤤

~SWEET BROWN SUGAR♡~

customers order: older woman(sugar mama) x female reader

side dishes: female reader, spoiling, d/s relationship, mommy(mama) kink, mommy issues, reader is hinted to have big breasts(specific body type isn't mentioned besides that), public groping, strap ons, breeding kinks, rich x poor trope

owners note: i never proofread, my orders are in the form of drabbles

older woman, who embarrassingly enough met you on a dating app. she was considerably a lonely woman, divorced and deprived of sex. men weren't even pleasuring her, she hated to admit that she tended to sleep around sometimes but it didn't mean she particularly enjoyed it.

older woman, who thought you were a lovely young woman. your body was young, soft, breedable. oh she just adored each picture you would send her of that pretty face, each photo showing a hint of your cleavage she just wanted to bury her face in and squeeze with her hands. she absolutely couldn't stand being so far from you, she needed someone to share this big 'ol house with.

older woman, who never ever let you go hungry, never let you wear the same clothes each week, always kept you spoiled once she was able to get a hold of you. the look of your face when she had taken you to an overly expensive restaurant with no excuses. "i have nothing to wear—" "no worries, i will buy you something." and she lived up to her promise

older woman, who thought the date went well but it was a shame you seemed awkward the entire time. what was the matter with you? were you not used to this? no worries, she would make sure you'd get used to it because in no way how would she ever stop. she would get you all the pretty outfits and jewelry, get you you all that lovely lingerie that you could privately model for her. she always bought it a size too small, how could she help herself? she adored the way your breasts stretched over the bra pieces, the panties tight and making your thighs and ass plush out to perfect view. she could just eat you up.

older woman, who believed love shouldn't be just private. people needed to know how much she loved you, no matter who they were. "pick out whatever one you'd like." she told you while you looked at the glass protecting the jewelry behind it. diamonds, gold, rubies, sapphires, everything was there. you'd marvel at the items until you'd flinch at the feeling of her arm over her shoulder and her hand moving to squeeze at your tit. the way and squished, and the pads of her finger caught your nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric. "what's the matter?" she'd say casually. "go on and pick you somethin' sugar."

older woman, sometimes wished she could pump you full with her cum. she could already make you as wet as ever, could already make you want her touch constantly, could do everything like that. but sometimes she liked to play pretend. "hips up baby girl, i've already told you 'bout ten times." her words were laced with sugar, had you whimpering and whining all for her. "mama.." "yeah, i hear ya sugar. hold out for me baby, mama's gonna give this body what it wants." the harsh silicone thrusted through your walls, your pussy squeezing the strap and luckily wet enough so she could slide it through real good.

older woman, who liked when you put up a small fight. full submission bored her to the core, a little fight got her going. "sugar, you've already disrespected me. you know what happens when you do that, c'mon." "no, that isn't fair!" she'd show you what wasn't fair. she liked to spank you sometimes, but something she adored was making you ride her.

older woman, knew you got easily tired and she had no issue with doing everything for you. but when you weren't being respectful, she'd make you waste all your energy. she'd lean back along the headboard, a hand occupied with a cigarette and the other resting at your ass. you were putting on a real good show for her. your hips stuttered ad you moved, mouth falling open and loud high pitched moans echoing throughout the room, your ass slapping at her hips and thighs with a wet squelch following the skin slapping. and the best part, the way your tits bounced right in her face, almost dramatically.

older woman, who adored you greatly. you cured her loneliness, and now she had someone to share her house and money with.

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anyaeras · 9 months ago

Text

Agatha & Rio Kinktober Thoughts

A/N- Happy Kinktober for all my little freaks, I sadly haven't had time to write all my fics but I did come up with some NSFW head cannons so enjoy

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Aftercare— Agatha, she was always great with aftercare her go to method would be a bath, she would run a nice bath after a hard session and relax with you while you let everything melt away in the warm tub.

Body Parts— Rio was obsessed with your body, touching you physically as often as she could. But your eyes, a part she couldn't touch but she just loved to hold your gaze, let looking longingly into your iris while her deep colored eyes searched yours

Cum— Agatha loved the idea of being able to breed you, she often would use her magic to enchant her strap, making the whole interaction feel so real as she pounded her cum deep into you.

Dirty thoughts— Rio had an active imagination, her thoughts ran wild with ideas the things she could do to you but her favorite was, Rio longed to use her magic bounding you to the bed with her vines so she could ravish you, edging you while you were tied unable to move, hours of endless playtime all while flowers and vines wrapped around you until your couldn't take it anymore. The found the joy in your struggles, being a slight sadist and all.

Experiment— Agatha was very willing with you, she adored trying things to with you, Agatha was very precise on how she tried things nonetheless, she would research things you wanted to try offering the best experience for the both of you.

Favorite Position— Rio Was a stone top, she loved having you under her, she also loved to see your face while she played with you. So she would always love tying your legs open while having you lay on your back, forcing you to be at her mercy but she could watch your emotions display on your face. All your pain and pleasure.

Guidance— Agatha was a soft domme out of the bedroom, she liked to be in control with things in their lives. Agatha would often step in to order for you, help you get ready, do simple task for you till you were dependent on her help.

Humiliation- Rio had no issue teasing her sub, playing little games to keep them a blushing mess. Rio would mix praising and Degrading to keep her sub embarrassed, Rio would also give you task that were impossible to complete setting you up to fail just to punish you for failing like a sick little game.

Intimacy— Agatha loved the freaky and kinky sex, but she also loved just holding you. Agatha loved physical touch and honestly needed it, the action would often reassure her. Sometimes Agatha felt the best when you and her were cuddled up on the sofa watching tv just with you in her arms.

Jack off— Rio didn't allow you to touch yourself without her, but tying in with her humiliation kink sometimes the witch wanted a show. Rio would order you to touch yourself for her watching with a smirk while you played with yourself just for her. "Aww don't hid your face let me see how good you feel" Rios voice would whisper anytime you tried to avoid her gaze while doing so.

Kink— Agatha biggest kink, was her size kink, the idea of stretching you out on her strap or toys just watching you take everything she gave you like a good girl made every bone in her body melt. She adored watching your cunt swallow everything thing and toy she shoved inside you. She got creative with it.

Latex, Lingerie, and Leather— Rio often wore Leather, she wasn't a Latex person but adored wearing Leather and she knew you liked it when her gloves would rub on your skin. She also had a few whips and Floggers made of Leather that she would use on your body.

Mommy/Mistress— Agatha had a mommy kink and honestly was a mommy dom, to no one surprise she loved when you called her mommy, in and out of the bedroom, tying in with her love for Gentle domination she loved helping you, and babying/ caring for her sub.

Name calling— Rio would often do a bit of degrading mixed in with her Praises. Her favorites being "my dirty whore" or "you like being a play toy? My little slut?" Rios voice would be low but full of lust whenever she got to degrade her little pet.

Orgasm Control— Agatha trained you to be the perfect little pet, you knew better the to cum without mommy's permission. Agatha had you trained to not be able to cum without her orders so you always relied on Agatha's touch for your pleasure.

Power play— Rio loved a good challenge, she actually wanted you to fight back, try and dominate her, all because she knew you'd end up under her begging for her to let you cum after you tried so hard to be so big and strong only moments ago.

Quicky— Agatha didn't mind quickys but they are from from ideal, she would much more prefer to have you for a long period of time, giving her time to really enjoy you. Nonetheless sometimes quickys worked as great punishments when you were being a brat, pulling you to the side of an event out of sight just to finger you till you were close to cumming, then pulling out. Leaving you wet and needy until she had time to handle you.

Ropes— Rio did like to tie you up, but not with ropes, she wanted to use her vines and green magic to tie you up, if she was really feeling it maybe a few thorns would be in the vines. Depends how sadistic she was feeling that day.

Spanking— Agatha used spanking as a punishment, when you were being a brat it was often her method of correction. You would often find yourself acting out just to be bent of Agatha's knee held down with your pants around your ankles.

Toys— Rio had quite the collection of toys for playtime. Yet her favorite was her green strap that had many ridges along the shaft. It also paired well with a small vibrator she would put on your clit.

Unfair— Agatha did play dirty, her tricks were much kinder then Rios thought, she wanted you to fall into her trap as her sweet submissive pet, she knew ever trick to dumb you down and turn you into her perfect pet.

Vibrators— Rio absolutely loved how many uses Vibrators had, she would have you wear them like clothes for her fun. Adding them to your outfits like a little accessories watching you squirm in front of others throughout your day as she turned it on and off edging you slowly. Leaving you overstimulated.

Wild card— Agatha had no problem taking out her anger and emotions during playtime. When Agatha was stressed the sex just got better. Sometimes you didn't see it coming when you got shoved up against the wall into a heated make out sesh leaving you feeling her emotions on your lips.

eXtreme— Rio could be a bit much sometimes, her most extreme kink was knife play, sometimes she would drag her dagger down your chest laying it flat like a threat as she pounded you into the bed, the excitement of the risk brining you both pleasure.

Yearning— Agatha has a lot do trust issues, and when she found you, someone she longed for she couldn't let you slip away, She would keep you close and away from others to the best of her ability.

Zzz— Rio loved to wake you up with her tongue between your thighs, wrapped around your sensitive clit watching you whine and squirm awake.

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endlesslyhyperfixating · 4 months ago

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Every time people try to pretend there’s no existence of racial bias in the way Sydcarmy is dismissed, an angel loses their wings.

You know what’s exhausting? Watching people bend over backward to insist that there are no racist or misogynoir undertones to the way Sydcarmy gets dismissed as a valid ship.. like let’s just be real for a second.

I understand people who don't ship it or believe in the ship because they prefer to take the show at face value, focus on different dynamics, or interpret relationships in other ways. However, the people who deny any validity to believing their relationship is more than meets the eye? That needs to be addressed.

People will swear up and down that their issue isn’t with Sydney, that they love her, and that they "just think Carmy should go to therapy first" , but then in the same breath, you'll catch them romanticizing the hell out of his dynamic with Claire, a relationship that was unhealthy, regressive, and rooted in avoidance rather than growth. @yannaryartside covers the very strong existence of the Oedipus complex and the fulfillment of Carmy’s mommy issues through Claire’s behavior and manipulation in their relationship, and I agree wholeheartedly.

Let’s talk about the “Carmen needs therapy before a girlfriend” argument. Let’s be real, Carmy needed therapy when he was with Claire too, but nobody seemed to mind that. In fact, everyone around him—Richie, the Faks, even the audience, enabled this idea of Claire as a “good” thing for him, as if she wasn’t feeding into his worst tendencies. And the most infuriating part? Claire was, in fact, manipulative. (Again, covered by @yannaryartside .)

She didn’t do it in an overt, villainous way but used **soft, socially acceptable manipulation**—the kind that gets ignored when it’s coming from a conventionally attractive, non-threatening, quirky white woman.

Claire’s Manipulation: The Softness of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl

People like to act like Claire was just a character who wasn’t well-written or worth the time for analysis, but that was the entire point of her: to feel underwhelming, to feel forced into place. In many ways this is true of course, she's under/not well-written in ways, and people think she was simply there, offering Carmy what she believed (and convinced him to believe) was love, when in reality, she inserted herself into his life in a way that preyed on his vulnerabilities and pre-existing issues.

And before anyone jumps in with "she didn’t do anything wrong!"...let’s actually look at how she operated.

- She sought him out when he wasn’t in a good place.

She made it a point to go out of her way to get his real number after being given a fake one. If course she uses that classic manipulative play it off as a joke move when she threatens him but not the best way to start. I know it's been said before, but can we imagine if the roles were reversed? Would we not think that creepy?

- She made it about her when he was struggling.

When Carmy tried to set a boundary, Claire framed it as him pulling away from her, rather than him dealing with his own issues. She encouraged his avoidance, gave him an easy escape from his problems, and then was surprised—and (validly) hurt—when reality came crashing down. Even when Carmy was harsh in breaking up with her, he was speaking from a place of truth for himself. To be with her, when he was so damaged and not really in a space of genuinely liking her, was bullshit.

- She used nostalgia as a tool.

Claire’s entire presence in Carmy’s life was based on a past version of him that no longer existed. Just as Carmy didn’t really see Claire, but rather a projected version of her shaped by his family (and a little bit of Sydney), Claire didn’t love him, she loved the idea of Carmy she had from childhood. And she expected him to fit back into that mold, to regress into a state where he could blow off work to hang out with her and forget his partnership with Sydney, someone he's meant to work with and has a responsibility to be with. That’s not love. That’s entitlement to a person’s growth or lack thereof.

And yet, people ignore all this because Claire fits their idea of what a love interest should look like to them. She’s non-threatening, familiar, digestible. They don’t question why she feels right, - white - while Sydne, who actually challenges Carmy, who understands him in ways Claire never could, gets written off as “not romantic.”

Claire, for "clarity" or "peace" (ugh) is simple. She's the painted picture of a woman who puts others before herself, the quirky manic pixie dream girl inching too close to the camera, sneaking her way into his life. People argue it feels like the same effect Sydney has on Carmy, but it's not the same at all. Claire is easy. For Carmy. He can fuck up, regress, and stay stagnant, and she’ll applaud him for it. "Never ever, ever apologize."

Sydney is the opposite. She calls him on his shit, and she sees him for who he really is. Sydney is the real peace for him (how many times do we need to bring up that damn panic attack, the table scene, and strange currencies? Thank you, @chefkids ).

Phew...

Moving on,

The Hypocrisy of the “Carmy Needs Therapy First" Argument

Back to the “Carmy needs therapy before a relationship” excuse, because wow, is that just selective. People only seem to apply it when Sydney is involved, not when Claire is around. It’s the most transparent double standard imaginable. I’ve seen one too many “I ship Carmy with therapy” memes, and I need to talk about it.😾.

When Carmy was with Claire, he was a mess..but people loved to romanticize it, acting like she was his “breath of fresh air,” even when she was just another distraction. Even he fell for it, tricking himself into believing the false sense of security she contrived for him.

When these people talk about Carmy and Sydney, suddenly it’s “he needs to work on himself first” as if the mere suggestion of them together is too high-stakes to even consider. It’s always “God forbid we have well-written female-male relationships without it being romantic.”

So we prefer shitty romantic relationships between the quirked-up white woman and our white male main character rather than the chemistry, character plot, and dynamic between Syd and Carm? Okay.

It’s not about Carmy’s emotional availability for these people. It’s about who people *want* to see him be available for, and it's not Sydney.

Why Do People Feel So Pressed About Sydcarmy, Anyways?

If Sydney were white—let’s be honest—this wouldn’t even be a conversation. The dynamic is already there. The intimacy, the trust, the undeniable chemistry. Their relationship fits the mold of that slow-burn, work-obsessed partners-to-lovers trope better than any other ship that actually makes it to canon.

But instead, people act like EVEN speculating about it is ridiculous, like the idea of Carmy feeling something deeper for Sydney is somehow beyond the realm of possibility. They’ll call it “forced,” “delusional,” or “just not where the story is going," as if every single element of storytelling isn’t deliberately crafted to suggest something simmering under the surface. Whether platonic or romantic, it's there. It’s genuine soulmate energy.

They pretend their dismissal of this ship has nothing to do with race, but race is an integral part of the ship because Sydney is a black woman.

It's almost like erasure in itself when they deny it's importance, as if there isn’t a long history of Black women in media being sidelined, desexualized, and treated as expendable when it comes to romance. Sydney isn’t “just a coworker.” She’s not “just his business partner.” She is one of the most important people in his career—and even his life—whether people want to admit it or not.

So yeah, maybe people need to interrogate *why* they can believe in Claire(a character who offered Carmy nothing but regression)but not Sydney, who actually represents something real.

Because if the reason is "Carmy's growth," you're bullshitting.

---

Tags

@fairestbeard @chefkids @thoughtfulchaos773 @yannaryartside

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear rants #the bear ramblings #tais ramblings #tais rants #sydcarmy #sydcarmy truther #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #claire bear #claire bear disliker #rants

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lgbtpopcult · 6 months ago

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Ranking the Top 10 GL Series of 2024

10. My marvelous Dream is You

A highly expected gl from Idol Factory that fell short of our expectations not for lack of chemistry from its love team (they in fact had some of the best chemistry in the industry) but because of the bad writing. The writing simply didn't allow the story to flourish. The couple spent most of the series apart, and we don't mean simply not in a relationship. They hardly spend any time together at all, and when they did, there were no romantic moments happening most of the time. What saved the series was its couple that sold the rare moments they had together really well. No surprise that they're dating in real life.

9. Apple My Love

Short and sweet, this story was a fun little romcom that fulfilled its purpose well. The couple needed to prove themselves as a love team, and they did. Happy to know they got a new series out of it.

8. Petrichor

For the people who had heard of Englot but had only seen them as a love team on Show Me Love, their popularity remained a mystery until this series. This police drama/romance has been good enough to prove they may not be the team with the best chemistry out there, but they're definitely not completely deprived of it like Show Me Love made us think. The series itself is interesting if you like your romance in small doses amidst the action.

7. Blank The Series

Here comes the controversy. One of the most successful and also controversial series of the year. We have to acknowledge that unlike what some fans would like us to believe the problem was not in the age difference per say but in the fact that one of them was 21 and initially very immature for her age. However, she was not underage, she was not unintelligent, and she had agency. She was the one who persistently pursued the relationship. The story was exciting and passionate. Also, mommy issues sell.

6. 23.5

A series that gave milklove, a much beloved love team, its chance to shine. It was a sweet high school romance that was enjoyable for most people and had some great highs. Its jealousy episode was one of the best around, and both of the admins here in lgbtpopcult are willing to die on that heel. It did, however, have the limitations of an innocent high school romance. A lot of time was dedicated to side characters and the couple could not be shown in a more mature relationship. Still, a good time!

5. Mate the Series

It is endlessly entertaining to watch Gen and Aoey interact. The perfect ice queen, rich girl that wanted to only be with the perfect man (somehow nobody was ever the perfect man) trying to resist her innocent, tempting friend. They are funny and sweet and passionate at the same time. The series does a good job of focusing on their relationship with little interest in anything else

4. The Loyal Pin

This production, supported by the Thai ministry of culture, definitely deserves its spot at number 4. At 16 episodes and with great production value, it is a journey through time that not only shows us the love story between two women but also the food, dance, and customs of the country of Thailand. The love story itself did a good job of remaining entertaining by inserting some jealousy and lots of obstacles in the course of the couple.

3. Affair the Series

A fierce debate broke out amongst us about whether this series would occupy the third or the second place in this list. You see half of it, the second half, was so incredibly good. The push and pull of a couple with exploding chemistry while they lived together. The obsession Wan had with Pleng. The amazing love scenes. But the first part of the series dragged it down. The chemistry was there from the beginning but they spend too much time in the past when the leads were young, and one of them was pushing the other to be with a guy just to avoid her feelings. That part wasn't bad, It had its moments, but it was at times frustrating and too long. A great series nonetheless.

2. Pluto

This series has it all. A love team with great chemistry, an interesting plot, good acting, and quality writing. It did not only show us an exciting romance but addressed issues of disability and even teased a throuple (through a side couple don't worry the mains are as crazy in love as gl couples should be). Insert some surprising twists and turns and it's a go!

1. The Secret of Us

The number 1 spot could go to no other series. It wasn't even a debate. Lingorm, the love team comprised of Ling and Orm, was tasked with proving a gl can go toe to toe with straight romance series on a major Thai network. They knocked it out the park! The Secret of Us was super successful. Throughout its run, it remained in the top 10 of Netflix in Thailand and the other Asian countries it was available in. It frequently occupied the number 1 spot, and its numbers on the network's own streaming app surpassed those of its straight counterparts. There was a reason for all of that. The story was a very popular romance trope (angry ex vs. regretful ex) done right, the chemistry of the love team was enticing and both main characters were infinitely charming. We all fell in love.

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mondothebombo · 2 years ago

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✨Small Canon Things in Ninjago That Aren’t Necessarily Important to the Plot, but Important to Me Pt 2✨

(in honor of the first post reaching 2.5k notes)

1. the reason the ninja can’t summon their elemental dragons anymore is bc they’re too traumatized

2. Kai takes laxatives

3. Lloyd felt responsible for Nya’s sacrifice

4. Morro took a shot while he was in Lloyd’s body

5. Cole’s favorite color is orange

6. Chamille, the master of form, is a “bad girl” post s4

7. the ninja were literal children when they waltzed into Chen’s tournament and proceeded to beat all the adult EMs in the competition

8. prior to seabound, Nya resented her parents for not being there in her childhood, her mother more so than her father (✨mommy issues✨)

9. Nya is hyper-independent as a result of her childhood; while Kai is more openly accepting to his parents because he has a better memory of them

10. Wu was close enough with Lilly that he could remember whether or not she wore a necklace

11. Cliff Gordon was a “womanizer”

12. Lloyd didn’t naturally hit puberty until s8

13. Cole and Jay are best friends

14. whether or not you see Pixane as a bf/gf situation in canon, they are canonically soulmates

15. Jay has not yet received his inheritance letter

16. at least up until the Merge, Zane’s statue is still in downtown Ninjago City

17. ninjago citizens are fully aware their only protection are six super-powered teens/young adults

18. the ninja are still famous, public figures

19. Jay is the only ninja who hasn’t died (yet)

20. despite being a terrible actor, Lloyd is always sent on the undercover missions

21. the ninja are on first name basis with each others parents

22. Cole’s favorite genre of music is soft rock

23. Zane has selective memory

24. after Nya’s sacrifice, each ninja depicted a different stage of grief (Zane-Denial, Kai-Anger, Lloyd-Depression, Jay-Bargaining, and Cole-Acceptance)

25. Cole never actually had feelings for Nya, he was just flattered by the attention and petty about Jay being mad at him

26. elements react based on the master’s emotions

27. Jay is so emotionally dependent on being around other people that he loses his mind when he’s alone for too long

28. Lloyd had a chat with god and wasn’t impressed

29. Cole’s snoring can be heard throughout the monastery

30. Nya is not a morning person

31. Kai and Skylor have been in a situationship since s4

32. Lloyd being the grandson of god is not common knowledge

33. the group of civilians that were on the bounty when Cole fell are probably the only ones who truly realize the danger the ninja put themselves in on the regular to protect the city, and how close they are with each other

34. Wu didn’t want to tell the ninja about the green ninja prophecy because he was afraid of having a repeat of Morro

35. since s8 at the very least, the ninja all shared a room on the bounty until the monastery was rebuilt

36. Jay’s confidence in his own abilities fully depends on what others believe he’s capable of

37. several villains have called the ninja out on being “just a bunch of kids,” and then proceeded to get their shit rocked by said kids

38. the overlord can gloat to Lloyd all he wants to in crystallized, but fact of the matter is Lloyd defeated him when he was like twelve

39. Kai and Nya raised and took care of each other, it wasn’t just Kai doing all of the work

40. Kai is two years older than Nya

41. Zane’s biggest fear is losing his humanity

42. Lloyd’s biggest fear is becoming his father

43. Nya’s biggest fear is losing her individuality

44. Cole’s biggest fear is letting his family down

45. we the audience are the only ones who see the characters as legos; they’re real people in-universe

46. Kai likes spicy food

47. while elemental masters are immune to their elements to some extent, their elements can also be shown to hurt them in some circumstances

and as always, feel free to add on!!

#ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #mondo’s metas #my hcs #mondo’s hcs #ninjago jay #ninjago nya #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #ninjago lloyd #ninjago zane #ninjago wu #ninjago dragons rising spoilers #kinda

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chrrybbye · 3 days ago

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Yandere Batfam x Neglected! Meta! Reader

TITLE: one last lullaby

03 | 🌸 I sit here poor for you.

CW: smoking, child abuse, non consensual body modification, mommy issues, slight instance of Stockholm, (or what it’s called when a victim loves their abuser), toxic relationships, please look at the authors note!

You hated the strange men your mother always let in.

Those men, with hands that always grabbed you, who carried around syringes full of that nauseating concoction, who would strap you down, who would kick at you when you struggled⸺You hated them.

You hated the way your mother stood aside, smoking in the doorway as those men⸺dressed in ridiculous long white coats⸺tried to strap you down to the bed. When that didn’t work, they tied you down with rope that tore your skin.

You hated them and the rope they carried. The rope that gave you burns on your ankles and wrists, which made all the adults look at you weird and the kids pick on you. The burns lasted for days, almost as terrible as a burn from a stove, or an oven, or a curling iron. The burns made you wish you could claw the rest of your skin off.

But that was nothing compared to those men and their syringes. Oh, they were terrible. They would make you scream and thrash⸺uncaring of how you were burning your skin against the rope⸺after they shoved the syringes into your arms and legs. It was so painful, and humiliating, you wished you could just die. They’d prick you like a porcupine, every single spot swelling and pulsing like a cyst. It felt like if someone touched you too hard you would explode into nothing but blood and flesh, the disgusting concoction filling up your veins with what felt like toxic fire, making you screech.

But nothing could top the way your mother just stood there. Her eyes glazed over and yet completely there, watching as all these strange men tortured her baby. How she would speak to them hushed tones⸺as if that could ever be enough to keep you from hearing her voice. How she snapped at you, instead of all these men who were holding you down and hurting you. How she would strike you across the face and hold your hair to keep you in place, screaming, “You fucking brat! If this doesn’t work then what are you good for, huh? What’s your purpose in life? What was the point of me giving birth to you!?”

And then she would reach for your⸺

You wake up to a tweet. To a bird, perched on a branch near your window. A poor thing that doesn’t know it needs to fly, to hunt, to take care of itself⸺not sing for miserable pieces of trash with no meaning like yourself.

You wake up sobbing.

After nightmares like those, your mother would comfort you, smiling and touching your face despite your heavy breathing and sweating. She’d pat your stomach, say “my little birdie was crying” and then stroke your back as you cried in her warm arms.

Your sheets are cold, smooth silk. The curtains are drawn, leaving the room in an engulfing darkness. There’s nothing you can reach out to for comfort⸺except that stupid rabbit.

Your bedding is the kind of quality you’ve only ever dreamed of, yet laying in it, you feel cold.

You began to do your own hair.

There wasn’t much of a choice, really. There was no other choice. You couldn’t ask anyone for help. Alfred, bless his soul, was absolutely clueless. You had a strong suspicion he had never dealt with a little girl’s⸺or more specifically, an afro little girl’s⸺hair before. It was impossible to ask Dr. Thompkin, who not only seemed infinitely busy, but was hardly even at the mansion most of the time.

And so, like that, the people you could ask dwindled down to zero. You could physically ask other people, of course, but you would never⸺never⸺bring yourself to do it. You could imagine it all, playing out in real time: you’d ask, and then they’d look at you with a mix of annoyance and pity, because aren’t you old enough to do it on your own? And they’d say as much, they’d say the cursed words, “didn’t your mother teach you?” And then they’d look at you with just pity, because you were just an impoverished little girl who’d lost her only parent in a house fire.

So no. There’s no one else you can ask for help.

And of course, like all things in your life, it goes terrible. By your own request, you have things like gel, curl cream, conditioner⸺and no knowledge how to use any of it. Only what you saw Mummy do.

Your hair is soaking wet before you’ve made any progress, your arms are sore, and it feels like your scalp is bleeding.

You manage to make something acceptable⸺something pretty, out of all your ugly hurt and loneliness. There’s ribbons in your hair, the cute pink ones.

You don’t look like an impoverished little girl who lost her only parent in a house fire. But you’re no stranger to hiding ugly things with jewels. Your face is gaunt and your wrist are like twigs, fragile and malnourished. You’re shining, but not everything that shines is gold.

But who said gold had to shine?

You are gold, you realize. Indestructible and unbreakable. You don’t break, yes, because you bend. You adapt.

You don’t shine, because no one has made anything of your ugly, malleable self.

You’re gold, waiting to be polished so that you can shine. Waiting for someone to come and wipe all your dirt off, chip your sharp edges off, and turn you into something valuable.

Something soft and expendable…something breakable.

But not all gold shines. Not all gold is something pretty and breakable⸺you’re still beautiful, just not easy. Not broken.

You’ve been easy before. You are malleable. You had been breakable. For your mother, you’d allowed her to chip you down. To break you down, in return for the scrapes of her love. But she hadn’t succeeded. She’d hardly gotten rid of the first layer of your shell. And beneath it⸺beneath the shell that needed to be broken for you to be broken⸺you were still you. Just slightly scratched up.

But still you. The little girl who loved ribbons and singing along to R&B music and the country blues songs the nice man who worked at the bar would play for you. Who liked to drop ice cubes into tea to make it cool faster. Who stopped for twenty minutes at a time in order to pet a cat. The little girl who stayed quiet even when her mother hit her or held her down, or even fed her strange things. Because she knew her mother loved her, even if it was only after she had been held down and beaten. Even if it was only after she had been bled dry.

(Even if she could only get her love after being stuck full of needles.)

Even if her mother’s love for her was something even more delicate than herself. Because the love had been there, it had existed.

Even if it wasn’t real, even if it had been faked as something to keep you breakable. Breakable, but not broken.

Because your mother hadn’t succeeded. She hadn’t broken you.

You would be damned if you let this family⸺or anyone else, for that matter⸺break you.

You were no longer breakable.

previous {☆||☆} next

taglist (open!) : @bunbunboysworld

A/N: oooh, tastes like abandonment issues, depression and the desperation to be loved even by someone who has hurt you. My favorite. But on another note, I need a title for this series! What should it be?

Update: this series is officially titled One Last Lullaby!

#yandere batfam #dc universe #dc comics #yandere batfam x reader #batfamily #afab reader #reader insert #bruce wayne #damian wayne #metahuman #black reader #music #meta reader #mommy issues

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obsessive-valentine · 9 months ago

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Forever and Always

Platonic Vampire Family + Fem!Reader

No real TW's in this one- just sick reader and reader not believing in stranger danger lol. Also !not proof read!

Based circa 1800’s, reader has caught the attention of a vampire who’s maternal instincts have been neglected after a tragic life as a living woman and empty one as a the living dead still without the daughter she longed for.

Readers age isn't specified -though implied her childhood has passed and is anywhere from adolescence even up to young adult, tried to keep it broad (but she does come across as naive and childish.) Wrote this bc mommy issues. I think it's getting a bit lengthy so I split this into 2 parts, I'll be slowly adding to part 2 and maybe be out soon if you guys like this kinda thing.

...

It's a small town, nestled in a valley and surrounded by forests of barren trees striped bare by the harsh winter. The clouds consistently created a grey overcast. It's cold all year around and wasn't uncommon to see people tip-toeing around the icy patches on the cobblestone streets.

Smoke from the small and squished townhouses further added to the murkiness in the air, mixing with the fog, but at least it added a sense of warmth when the winds blew it towards you. It never lasted long though before the cold begins to nip at your exposed nose and ears.

It was easy to feel like you were the only one who lived in this town. The streets are eerily quiet in the mornings when you'd walk in silence with your father to his shop in town. Even when you'd get into the town square, where most people could be found if they weren't working or at school, they are all on a mission and far too cold to stop and talk. The bitter winter seemed to seep into their blood as they pushed past each other, their footsteps rushed and faces buried in their coats. Then it was the same in the evenings when you'd walk back with your father, the streets quiet and cold, your father even more so. A thick fog would roll in, and lamp lighters would be up on ladders lighting the street lights, providing some comfort but not much to the wandering mind of a young girl.

See, Father wasn't a particularly bad parent, he comes off as detached and cold only because he's so busy. Emotionally neglectful? sure. But you are one of many siblings, he has to neglect you emotionally so that he can properly focus on caring for you physically. At least that's what mother always says. She's not much better though. You wonder why they had kids if they seem so apathetic and busy all the time, it obviously doesn't bring them much joy. Had they once loved each other and were excited to raise a family? Why did it change? You don't know nor never would, they don't appreciate talking about heavy topics.

...

You were excited to help father in his shop when he proposed it to mother "I can take the girl with me if she doesn't cause trouble. And the boy will be off with his older brother in school come next month. You continue teaching the older two girls their duties" He was trying to relieve pressure from mother, as she had to do house chores and teach your sisters the duties and tasks such as weaving and sewing. It was reluctant, he didn't believe in wasting money and sending you -just a girl- to school, but this argument kept rising up and he supposed he could use some help in the shop.

You thought this was an opportunity to get close to your father but he still didn't have the time to nurture you, you couldn't help but feel disappointed and even abandoned but never would resent your father due to childish innocence you still had yet to grow out of. You clung to any praise he gave you or any time he'd nurture to your necessitates, like buying you gloves on the walk to work when you wouldn't stop rubbing your hands for warmth.

...

The first time you had seen the woman, who would change your life, it was like any other. You had survived the walk to your father's store, careful not to slip on hidden ice and peaking into expensive shop windows when your father wasn't looking. He owned a general mercantile store, items ranged anywhere from tools to odd collectables to food. It wasn't uncommon for people to come in and ask for a specific item and your father would make some deals and acquire the item that wasn't available anywhere else and have it in the store for them the next week. Many people also came in to trade items for money, you'd watch from a distance as they haggled the price both the customer and father would fight over a single penny, it's pretty funny.

You sat on the large window sill at the back of the shop, face pressed up against the cold glass watching the busy people rush around. They looked like dragons with the cold breath coming from their noses and mouths. You'd just helped your father set up the shop ready to open, forced to clean the floors and surfaces and he finished some checks and brought out a few items from the back that he mended to be ready to sell.

You'd just finished wiping away the condensation on the windows, and were given the approval to sit down for a bit "Good job, go sit down out the way, I'll call for you in a bit".

People came and went hearing the bell ding from the door opening and watching people ponder on items as father busied himself with repairing an item to sell or counting money and paperwork. Looking back out the window you locked eyes with HER- a beautiful woman, in a pretty dress and lush winter coat. She smiled with a warmth this town hadn't seen in too long, you felt a connection instantly, you longed to talk to her, but brushed it off believing you only felt that way because of the abnormal warmth she radiated.

You had to stop yourself from gawking at her expensive clothing and lush long hair that was as dark as coal and curled to frame her face perfectly. Mustering up a genuine smile you raised your hand to wave subtly. You saw her eyes flicker to the store's main windows observing the variety before seemingly deciding to come look inside the shop. Straightening up in your seat you watched her cross the cobbled street towards the shop, you shuffled up closer towards the desk your father worked at, careful to stay out of his way but curious of the woman about to enter the shop.

The deep red of her dress was even more entrancing up close and her jewellery proudly sparkled. Father greeted her and helped her find some watches kept away in an expensive glass case lined with velvet padding. "Oh, my son would love one of these" She inspected them closer making light conversation with Father. Until she lifted her eyes over to you, spotting you almost instantly watching her from behind some storage shelves.

"Seems we have another expert ready to help. Come here." she gestured with an encouraging hand, you'd been caught off guard so your step stuttered as you walked closer -checking it was okay with your father with a glance.

"Come on" she egged. You walked up to the counter where the case of watches lay on display "Could you help me pick one out? I just can't decide" she sighed but kept a gentle warm smile. Something about her voice or eyes made you hesitate, ever so slightly unsettling, you'd never been nervous to help a customer. It was an odd feeling but her presence was so genuine and even maternal that you pushed aside the trepidations and nodded, unable to speak through your tied tongue.

Father left you both to it as he continued with work and serving the few customers who came in while you both talked. "My son is a serious young man, always deep in thought. He's needed a new watch for some time now, which one do you think will suit him?" she placed two watches she'd picked from the case, in front of you.

You stumbled over your words "I'm not sure... I mean I don't know much about watches" Your eyes darted between the two beautiful watches with tiny engravings -how did they make such small details on such a hard surface? You wondered. One gold and the other silver, they are just as beautiful as each other.

She lightly laughed, you could have sworn her eyes twinkled "Don't be modest. Beauty recognises beauty, and you are quite beautiful" Your face feels hot from the compliment and partly the pressure of picking such an expensive item for her.

"I suppose if he's more of a serious soul... he'd appreciate this one more?" you'd decided on the silver one, more sleek and serious. You didn't dare to touch it and dirty it so you just gestured.

She hummed, taking a closer look. You stood fiddling with your clothes unsure if it was the right choice, until she spoke- "You are a smart girl, this one is much more suitable." she agrees putting the gold one back in the box

Since finding your voice once again you decided to ask her about certain pieces of jewellery she wore as she counted her money. She gladly engaged in conversation, even passing you a few rings or bracelets that she wore so you could look at them closer as she talked about the stones or where she got them from. You insited you shouldn't touch them as she passed a bracelet to you "I've been cleaning this morning, my hands must be dirty I shouldn't touch such a valuable thing like this." She took your hand and manually placed it in your palm "It's no bother, I insist" she encouraged.

She travels a lot, and most of what she was wearing being from a different country. You wondered how she could travel so many places in such little time, and how rich she had to be to do that, you don't think you've ever left this town. Before you could ask about her travels, being so deeply invested in talking to her you'd leaned on the front desk, ready on your elbows and tip-toes for the next story- that wouldn't come. "-Are you helping the lady or just standing around?" your father scolded one he saw you chatting to the woman unrelated to selling her the watch "Get on with your chores before lunch time comes around" he ordered.

You turned to the woman with a sheepish and apologetic smile before hurrying away further into the store. She seemed a bit agitated by being interrupted by your father but quickly covered it up to finish the transaction.

"You've picked that one ma'am?" Your Father chimed in, eager for the money coming his way.

"Yes" she handed him the watch "Your daughter has quite the eye, it's a lovely piece" he hummed back in acknowledgement but not necessarily agreeing, he counted the cash and bagged the item. She wanted to scowl at his attitude but kept composed, she looked over her shoulder for any sign of you, she could hear the broom being swept over the wood-planked floor but couldn't see you. She reluctantly left with only the silver watch.

...

You saw the woman frequently after that first meeting. It was as if she appeared whenever you needed her most—without being summoned, always close by, like a shadow lingering just beyond the edges of your world.

Sometimes you'd bump into her on your way to the bakery when Father let you have a lunch break with a few coins clutched in your hand, and she'd fall into step beside you- like you'd just summoned her. She'd ask about you, but you were always eager to get to the stories that you'd rush through formalities, she'd gladly continue her stories of the world beyond this valley.She would then buy you a pastry or two, ones you couldn't possibly get with just the few coins in your hand. You'd pocket the extra coins and have a growing stash in your pillow back at home.

and walk you back to the shop "Go on, dear," she’d say, gently nudging you back toward the door. "I’ll see you again soon." Before disappearing into the crowd.

On other days, when you saw her outside the shop from your window, you felt an irresistible pull. Her presence became a secret thrill, something just for you, a small rebellion against the order your father imposed. Carefully, you’d slip out the back door, the heavy wooden frame creaking in protest, but not enough to alert anyone.

You’d run out, your heart racing as you approached her, trying not to draw too much attention from anyone passing by. She always noticed you before you could speak, turning toward you with that warm, knowing smile.

"Sneaking out again, are we?" she’d tease softly, her voice almost conspiratorial. "What would your father say?"

But there was never any judgment in her words, just a hint of amusement and affection.

At some point, you had the sense to ask her name after realising she'd been using your name but you, in all your excitement, had yet to use hers. "Lavinia Beaumont, dear" she couldn't help but laugh a little, she was beginning to believe you'd never ask.

You blinked, the name rolling over your tongue in your mind, everything about her seems rich and beautiful, you smiled.

"Lavinia Beaumont... it sounds like royalty," you said with a playful glint in your eyes. "Are you secretly a royal? I promise I won't tell anyone." you continued half joking.

"Not quite" She smiled, before you could question further you had to leave her for the day to return to the shop.

...

It was yet another working day for you and your father, or it should have been. Lavinia had yet to see you, she couldn't even sense your presence. not wanting to believe it however she left the carriage and walked further into the streets of town.

Subtly she went out of her way to walk in front of the mercantile store you were usually found in if not nearby. Her eyes darted at each of the windows, looking inside for the sight of you sweeping, cleaning, sitting at a window or sneaking around to fiddle and poke at the new stock much to your father's dismay. But the only person in the store is your father.

She walked the town a little longer, hoping anyone of her senses would pick up on you. There was nothing and she returned home.

Lavinia did this twice more, coming in the mornings, seeing no sign of you and coming up with excuses, but it never helped to unease.

On the 3rd day, she gave up waiting and walked into the mercantile store. The bell rang above her head "Back again I see, how can I help?" your father spoke straightening up from his position at the front desk where he'd previously been writing- presumably taking stock or counting money.

"A pleasure to meet you again, I'm curious about what other beautiful pieces you have, My son was most taken with it." Lavinia replied, eyeing the glass cases, none of this jewellery she'd wear, her taste is far more expensive but she had to sell the narrative. Your father jumped at the opportunity to sell yet another pricey piece "Ah! Madam, If you’ll allow me a moment, I believe I have something that might catch your eye."" he disappeared into a back room and emerged with an envelope. "I've just had these in, I haven't had time to put onto the shelves yet but it might be of interest to you, fine work indeed." He pulled out some fine chains of silver and gold, with little stones or pearls decorating them. Lavinia couldn't care less about the jewellery but played along nevertheless.

"Beautiful" she inspected "I had thought the young lady who assisted me last time might be here today. She had such an eye for these things. Where might she be? I'm sure she could pick the finest one for me" She began to prod but making as though the thought had only just occurred to her, asked in a light, conversational tone.

"Oh, I'm sorry to disappoint but my daughter has become increasingly ill the past few days. And the physicians believe it to be consumption, but they are hopeful she'll get well soon as we caught it early" Your father replied, he fidgeted and shifted his weight continuously.

Lavinia had long set down the jewellery and stood listening intensely. She dreaded it but had suspected something greater was at play- "I'm so sorry to hear that, such a sweet girl shouldn't go through that" She was secretly seething, her girl is in pain somewhere and Lavinia- for the first time in a long time- was helpless. He cleared his throat awkwardly "Yes, I'm sure it will all smooth out"

...

"The girl is sick! You know better than anyone she won't overcome this, not with those treatments-" Lavinia seethed at the thought pacing her husband's study, where he sat once writing at his desk but now interrupted and pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

He stood up ready for this argument to end, this girl had caused a lot of ruckus in the house since Lavinia had begun talking about you and he's about fed up "-We are surrounded by death, I thought you had come to terms with that long ago. Plenty of good people have died early in life and will continue to be that way, death doesn't discriminate. She's just one of an incomprehensible amount of average people experiencing an average tragedy" In some sick way he's ready for your death, so his wife overcomes this unhealthy attachment to some average mortal girl.

"But she could be more than that. She's more than that to me. And you know what I mean by that, you've been denying me this instinct for decades and you're cruel for that." Lavinia had to step away from the deeply unsettling conversation, turning her back to storm out but turning around last minute before slamming the door "I am the very thing that holds this family together and you'd have nothing without me" her teeth are gritted, her voice low and damning. She's never had any great quarrels with her husband, maybe a healthy few in the past few centuries but nothing that could make her question his love for her or hers for his.

...

"Father, a word?" Lucien, one of the sons of Lavinia and Soren, entered the study where hours had passed of Soren thinking over the conversation. Soren gave a brief nod busy putting on his coat and finding his gloves that he always seems to misplace, he supposed it's been a while since he's needed them to go out anywhere. "You can't be serious" Lucien scowled, now noticing what his father is doing.

"Get on with it boy" Soren scolds Lucien's disrespectful tone. "NO! You're going to get the girl, aren't you!? You're giving into Mother because of one little quarrel? You're putting our whole family, everything we've built at risk for an average mortal girl?" Lucien scolded, his face twisting in a mix of emotions, unable to grasp the concept.

Soren ignored Lucien's tone, whereas if it was any other day he wouldn't stand it -he's simply too tired to argue more "This is something I should have seen coming a long time ago. This isn't a passing interest or quarrel, you should know your Mother better than that. She's the reason we exist in any form of peace, the family would be much worse off without this gir-" Lucien interupts with "- We've done fine without this mortal so far!"

Soren glares at his son "I'd appreciate if you don't interrupt, that is childish. I don't expect you to understand your mother's need for her as you have never seen her broken" Soren pauses to grab his gloves out of their hiding place.

He continues "You're right, we've got this far without her. But this denial- this gap in your mother's life has been building in the background for centuries. She sees potential -so I suppose I do to" Before Lucien can argue more Soren leaves the room headed for the front door.

He passes the younger of the two, Dorian, standing close by "It's lousy to eavesdrop, Dorian" The boy grins in response, clearly curious about this change and more accepting than his brother.

...

You believed the reaper had come for your soul when you saw that man standing in the doorframe to your room. It had to be the dead of night, there was no sound to be heard or light to be seen aside from the dim glow of the moon. Your candle on the nightstand had long been burned out.

Still dazed and lethargic from sleep and sickness you blinked a few times at the unmoving figure which studied you, you then took a deep breath in, which rattled in your chest readying yourself for what monster you might face.

Courage is mustered and you manage to ask "Who are you?" quietly and sounding sickly but the monster in the shadow seems to hear you fine. "Soren. Your father sent me -I'm here to help, I'll have you healed by morning" his voice is monotone, but at least not one of a story book monster you'd expected.

You felt bitterness at the mention of your father's name, once you had given him every excuse in the book for why he didn't show his love for you. But the past few days had been rough, he wouldn't even look at you, unsure what to do with you, sending doctors and medicine but not the comfort you longed for. You just wanted reassurance, just love.

Soren steps into the room a bit further, the wallpaper a childish floral pattern. You had trinkets strewn about, papers of scribbled writing and doodles on the little oak wood desk, a doll here and there that you couldn't part with once your childhood had finished.

He looked back at you, pale and exhausted. Your brows furrowed while you tried to make sense of the man. He felt an unexplainable emotion, maybe closer to remorse but more complex than that. The innocence he hadn't seen in a long time, you'd struggle for a while once you were turned - it happened with both his sons and wife. Maybe you'd wish you had died here on this bed, maybe you'd fill the house with anger or maybe sorrow.

But in the grand scheme of things that period will be not even a fraction of your greatest purpose. He sucked in a deep breath out of habit not need, he pushed back the hesitation. For a greater purpose. For Lavinia. For the sake of his family, which you will become.

In cold resolve he walked towards the bed, you'd live on in a way, he wasn't lying. Your true death would be wasted potential, you'd learn to be content with undead like he once had to.

"How?" you questioned he blinked back into reality "How can you heal me in mere hours?" It's a reasonable question, but an incredibly complex answer he didn't have time for.

"You just have to trust me" He replied simply "We have to go to my office first, you'll be in your bed, healthy, come morning. I promise" He continued, seeing your weariness.

Your hand lifted and a small finger stuck out "Promise?" you asked. He recognised the childish gesture and returned it with his gloved hand, hiding how unaturally cold he is "I promise" he repeated back. He wasn't really lying, you would be saved from consumption in a couple of hours and sleeping in your bed -be it in your new home.

He lifted you into his arms, one under your legs and the other around your back as you rest your head on his chest. You both left the room then house without another word never to be seen by the sleepy, moody little town ever again.

You fell asleep -the last deep sleep you'd experience as a living being. He was careful not to wake you on the ride home.

...

Lavinia now had found out what was happening after Dorian ran to tell her the news -ever loyal to his mother. "Fathers left to get the girl" he gently told her as he stuck his head through the crack of the door.

Lavinia straightened up from her seat where she sat embroidering to pass the time "You don't mean it? When did he leave?" she haphazardly dropped the items on a side table and rushed past him.

"Not long ago" Dorian followed after his mother "How could this be?" she more so muttered to herself but Dorian replied anyways "A change of heart I suppose" Dorian was quite amused by it all, more from shock not meaning to be insensitive. Its rare that something of interest or chaotic happens in the house that he cant helped but get worked up a bit.

Lavinia paced the entryway waiting for Soren to return, hopefully with you. Dorian sat on the staircase a bit further back keeping his mother company while Lucien sulked in his personal study, wanting nothing more to do with this mess.

The carriage and hooves could be heard on the gravel path leading to the house. Lavinia couldn't wait any longer and opened the door welcoming in a cold draft as she stepped outside to watch the carriage come into sight.

And there you were in Soren's arms, out cold, but looking so peaceful. He stepped down onto the gravel and Lavinia almost aggressively snatched you from his hold.

Instead, she gently took you, not to wake you. Seeing you up close was a shock for her, only remembering you as that lively town girl. Not the sickly pale, exhausted and wasting girl consumed by sickness.

"Oh my baby" she whispered brushing the hair away from your fevered face, then clutching you closer, cradling you like one would a baby. For a fleeting moment, her eyes met with Soren -her hand briefly brushed over the side of his face, a quick gesture of appreciation. He stood unmoving and unreadable but allowed the touch and connection.

She then rushed you inside before the frost of the night woke you up, her footsteps hurried but careful. Her head crowded with one thought only; 'you're safe with me now, forever and always'

#yandere #yandere vampire #+reader #platonic #vampire family

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cosmicalily · 7 months ago

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7:59pm with kim seungmin - a @cosmicalily timestamp

author’s note: this is based on a real situation and an actual thing i said. ask @hyunjiiza for evidence, she was the one who got the live voice message

warnings: sexual jokes (but no actual nastynasty happens i promise)

“Peeling apart a sheet mask is one of the most humbling experiences,” you grumbled, fumbling with the sticky paper in your hands as your boyfriend sat in front of you expectantly.

“Sounds like a skill issue,” Seungmin replied, having managed to unstick his in seconds, and in retaliation, you flicked him on the forehead with your serum coated fingers.

Finally opening it up, you applied the mask onto Seungmin's face, smoothing out any air pockets. Seungmin did the same, biting his lip a little in concentration. You stepped back to admire your work. Seungmin stared back at you.

First, your eyes widened. Then his lip twitched. Suddenly, you snorted, and the two of you burst into a fit of manic laughter.

“My god, you look so stupid,” you gasped for air, throwing your head back hysterically. Seungmin was almost on the floor, clutching his sides.

“You look like a mummy. An ugly one,” he wheezed back, and this sent you throwing yourself in his direction.

“Are you saying I'm a mommy?” you giggled, and he pushed your shoulder.

You tried to keep your face straight, looking directly into his eyes. He did too, but you saw his jaw clench, and suddenly he buried his face in his hands, cracking up again.

You peeled off your sheet mask and threw it in his direction, and he grabbed you by the waist and tackled you onto the bathroom floor. Squealing with laughter, you pushed him onto his back and sat on his chest, looking down at him menacingly. Then you snorted even louder.

Your blue hair mask, the one you used to reduce the orange tones in your dark hair, had flicked out of your hair and all across his white shirt. At some point during the wrestling match, your hair tie, containing the mess, must’ve come undone. There was blue everywhere, especially on Seungmin’s face.

“You look like you’ve just given a smurf a blowjob!” you gasped, falling backwards, unable to breathe.

Seungmin wiped the blue from his face and smeared it onto your shorts, smiling smugly. “Yeah, well, you just got fucked by Papa Smurf with whatever’s all over your legs.”

You threw yourself at him again, and the two of you rolled on the floor, stomachs sore and eyes teary with laughter. Once you’d calmed yourself down, Seungmin peeled off his mask, grabbed a wet flannel and wiped yours and his body clean of the blue. You were still a little giggly, but it felt softer, more intimate now.

“Do you want me to help you wash it out?” he asked, hands on your shoulders. His eyes were glittering and cheeks a little pink.

“Yeah,” you replied, a little breathlessly. Even though you’d been all over each other earlier, although not in that way, and despite the fact you’d also just made the most lewd comments about each other, he looked so sweet, so innocent.

“Okay, pretty girl,” he replied with a smile, and sprayed the shower head right at your ass.

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obsessedwrhys · 11 months ago

Text

THE PAIN OF PRETENDING

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Where your relationship with Abby is hidden because of your religious parents. Heartbreaking angst, some fluff, mention of intimacy but no doing it, religious things (reader's religion is not specified dw), homophobia, reader has religious trauma (only real ones know 😔), this could be triggering for some, reader has mommy issues/ is a mommy's girl, reader will go through character growth (whoop whoop!!). reader is fem!!!

ᯓ★

How you found yourself curled up on the sofa was perpetual. Same frown, same feeling. It just seems like the cycle never ends. You wonder how many more days can you tolerate this pattern of lifestyle.

This lifestyle of living in fear.

Soon you snap out of your worries once you hear the door open. The person you've been waiting for finally coming in.

"Hey babe" Your girlfriend, Abby flashes you a sweet smile. You don't say anything but watch as she puts away her bag, then taking off the rest of her equipments and placing it on the table.

"How did it go with your parents?" She asks. The very topic you were hoping she would have forgotten about after a day of patrol.

"... oh... you know..." You chuckle anxiously but almost instantly she knew something was off by your tone. She's dated you long enough to know when you're tensed.

She approaches you and every step she took was making you even more nervous. Once she was close enough, she kneels down in front of you with her hand placed gently on your lap. Her palm grasping your thigh.

"You did talk to them right? About us?" She asks, the way she's talking so softly to you was making the guilt swallowing you whole.

Because of that, you chose to stay quiet.

Seeing your lack of an answer, she sighs with her other hand pinching the bridge of her nose. Almost like an attempt to convince herself to be patient with you.

"Did you or did you not?" She looks up at you and your hands couldn't help but scratch at each other due to the nerves getting to you.

"... I didn't..." You finally said. She looks at you, a mix of disappointment and empathy on her face.

Maybe if this was the first time she'd forgive you.

But it's been a year that you've been trying to come out to your parents.

It's like everytime you gain the courage to confront them about it. Their faces always made you feel so small.

"You promised me you would (Y/N)..." She said and you could tell from her reaction that she was also getting tired of this.

Tired of having to pretend.

Pretending like she doesn't wanna kiss you in public.

To hold you.

To show everyone that you're hers and she's yours.

Yet she can only be known as your friend.

"I know... but they were just so happy about reaching the goal of the fundraiser and I didn't want to ruin that moment for them"

"What about you? Do you not want to be happy??"

"That's different"

"How is that different? Are you happy constantly having to deal with your parents setting you up with guys you don't even like? Or do you actually like that shit??"

"Of course not!!"

"Then just tell them!"

"It's not that fucking easy Abby! They have people that look up to their teachings. Do you have any idea the amount of damage I could do to their lifetime of work?"

"We live in a world with flesh eating zombies. I'm sure they'll survive having their reputation tainted for having a gay daughter" She gets up and you stare at her standing form. Somehow her perspective of the situation made you feel better.

You look down at your pendant, the one your parents had gifted you since you were a child. You still remember the very words they've swore to you, to always have your soul be on the right path in life.

"I'm sorry" You apologised and she turns to look at you. It pained her to see yourself looking like a wounded dog. She let's out a defeated sigh while she reaches to rub both your arms soothingly.

"Let's deal with this tomorrow... hm?" She then leaned in to nuzzle her face into the crook of your neck as she slowly pushes you down on the sofa.

You didn't notice you were smiling when Abby made herself comfortable on top of you. Her arms wrapped securely around your waist and you couldn't resist but run your fingers across her biceps. She hums at the delicacy of your touch.

"I'm so sorry..." You muttered.

"Tomorrow... please..." She lifts up her head and got inches closer to you until she's kissing you on the lips.

Just like that, the next day came. Since you had nothing to do that day, you decided to spend some time with Abby. Which is how you found yourself playing at the field inside the headquarters. You laughed as you took the frisbee from Alice's mouth before throwing it again. Abby was simply sitting on the grass a feet away, her face full of adoration as she watches you play.

Just seeing you smile was enough to brighten up her mood.

The feeling always felt so magical.

"Wowow— calm down girl" You chuckled when Alice nearly knocked you off balance when asking for more head pats. After giving her her deserved pats, you threw the frisbee and she ran after it without hesitation.

You watched her go with a smile on your face and soon your eyes trailed to where Abby is rested but you've already caught her staring first. You had to admit, you felt both embarrassed and cocky when you saw the way she was looking at you.

"Is my hair bad or something?" You asked but she simply tilt her head with a humoured smirk.

"Your hair can be a total mess and you'd still look like a model on the cover of a magazine" She said and her flattery made you snort.

"Liar"

"Oh? You want me to prove it to you?" She chuckles mischievously as she began approaching you and the sight of her coming after you made your first instincts to run.

"ATTACK HER ALICE!!" You ordered but Alice was too busy chewing on the toy to even care.

Damn dog.

"STOP IT ABBY!!"

"C'mere!"

Soon you found yourself cornered and you let out an annoyed whine while she couldn't help but laugh at your dismay. Once you were trapped, she stepped closer to shorten the distance between you two.

Eventually the pout on your face was gone the second she enveloped you in her arms, you chuckled uncontrollably at the touch of her lips smooching your collarbone slowly up to your jaw. You smiled when she gently grabbed you by the chin to have you face her.

"I don't think I say this enough but I love you. I mean it" She caresses your cheek and you didn't know how to respond but to kiss her.

It was a gentle kiss at first, tender and tentative, as if she was treating you like you were fragile glass. But soon the sweetness of the kiss transcended to something desperate. Her hand moving down to your waist to pull you closer than you were. Her forceful act made you yelp as your hands fell to the back of her neck.

"Fuck..." She sighs, her eyes half lidded from the heat of the moment.

"Are you sure she's out here?" What felt like a thunder struck. You immediately part away from Abby's grip when the sound of your mother's voice could be heard from afar.

"Yeah, I saw her leaving with Abs just now... Well, there she is" Nora stands with her hand on her hip as your mother's face lit up at the sight of you.

"Oh there's my sunshine!"

"Hey mom..." You greeted her back.

You were too focused on trying to act normal that you failed to realise the discomfort in Abby's eyes as she awkwardly rubs her neck, but she soon covers it up with a forced smile when your mother turned to greet her.

"And Abby! It's good to see you!"

"Haha... sure is auntie"

"Well I hope you don't mind if I steal my little sunshine from you. I need her to help me set up tonight's celebration. We managed to raise up enough resources to build our very own temple to worship. Oh! You should definitely come! Dinner will be delicious" Your mother said while waving at you to stand at her side... and you did just that. It was like she had this power over you.

You might as well be her puppet on a string.

"Sure, I don't really have anything to do" Abby responded but the smile on her face fades a bit when she turned to look at you.

Your brows were slightly narrowed as you had your head lowered. Just seconds ago you were both kissing and now she felt like a total stranger to you. But how could she blame you? You never wanted any of this.

"Oh you're such a sweet girl and a good friend to my daughter. If only you weren't so bulk you'd find yourself a fine man who'd take care of you" Your mother said and it took every muscle in Abby's body not to react to her words.

"Hm... yeah" Abby replied. Her jaw clenches as she grinds her teeth to try to ease the burn in her chest.

"Well let's go, we have a lot to prepare" Your mother shoos you and you shoot Abby an apologetic look before getting dragged away.

The moment you were gone, she let's out a sigh while running her hands across her face and then letting it rest there. Her eyes were completely shut in order to put her entire focus on not being upset at you or anyone.

"You cool?" Nora spoke up but Abby didn't bother looking at her.

"Uh-huh" Abby replied with her voice muffled from her hands covering her face.

It was soon the night of the celebration. Pretty much everyone was invited to it. You were dressed formally and forced to greet every guest. It just seems like to your parents that having a child also means having a servant. You were greeting people until someone caught your eye.

A wave of relief washed over you when you saw Abby approaching you and also being the last guest you'll have to say hi to for the night. She smiles when she sees your face finally easing up at the sight of her.

"Tired of playing the perfect daughter?" She jokes and you smack her playfully on the chest.

"Shut up.." You said and just as she's gonna wrap her hands around your waist. You stepped back, nodding at the crowd not far away.

It's not that anyone really cared if someone was gay.

It was more like if YOU were gay.

Because you can bet your ass that they'll come running to your parents to spread the hot gossip. It's like they have everyone as their pal and gals here.

"Right... can you show me where the food is? I'm starving" She said.

Cue to the both of you now in the kitchen where you're standing with your plate in hand. This might be the only time you get some privacy together.

"Mmm~" Abby hums as she happily ate the food. You chuckled when you saw how much she was enjoying herself.

"I'm starting to think you came to the celebration for the food"

"Isn't that the point of celebrations? To celebrate?" She looks at you while still munching on the chicken meat. You shake your head with a laugh.

"I forgot to say, your parents really made you look like eye candy" She said pointing out the dress you had on you. You look away feeling a bit embarrassed. This wasn't really your style but you didn't have much of a say in it.

"They're still trying to find me a 'boyfriend' so it's expected" You said as you began stabbing at your chicken with the fork. Abby notices and she had to admit it was painful to hear those words from your mouth. As a matter of fact, it was beginning to make her feel uneasy.

"But... I'm your boyfriend right?" She said and you laughed thinking she was joking but when you looked up and saw the seriousness in her eyes. The smile on your face dropped instantly.

"Oh... of course. This is what they want, not me. To be honest I really want to sneak off to my room right now" You said but you knew the lecture that would come if you did.

It's either gonna be words like "You're the host's daughter so go be a host!" Or "Why are you hiding in your room instead of socialising with people!" Honestly you can't choose.

"Then let's go... there's nobody stopping you" She said and you could see the mischief in her eyes. Guilty enough you grinned.

"Fine but if we get caught I'm gonna jump out the window"

Now you're in your room, the two of you laying down as you decided to cuddle. Honestly at this point you might fall asleep from how relaxing it felt. Your lips formed a smile when you could feel Abby running her hands through your hair or just touching it in general.

"You're gorgeous..." She uttered and from her tone you can hear the genuine love she had for you. If you asked her to take on a whole pack of infected she'll literally do it.

She'll do anything for you and yet...

You can't even do the same.

You can't even tell your parents that you're in love with her...

You're too much of a pussy to do it.

"You alright?" Abby rubs her thumb on your hand that you didn't realise was clenched into a fist. You quickly loosen your grip once you did.

"Sorry I was thinking" You said.

"About?" She looks at you, waiting for your answer that took you a while to give to her.

"I just feel awful that I keep leaving you in the dark with things... I'm too afraid of how my parents will react if I told them I was dating a girl" You said, nuzzling closer into her embrace. She hums in acknowledgement as she cups the side of your face.

"I'm pretty sure they'll freak out more about the fact I'm so muscular. Your dad can't even look me in the eye"

"I..." You stare at her, speechless.

She must have taken what your mother said to heart.

Fuck if you didn't realise you were hurting her, you were hurting her even more by letting this go on.

"I'm so sorry Abs"

"Shhh... it doesn't matter. I'll endure all of this, anything it takes to finally have my happy ending with you" She smiles softly down at you.

You really don't deserve her...

Suddenly there's a knock on the door and the sound itself was enough to have you both jump out of your bed in a hurry. Quickly you checked your reflection on the mirror to fix your appearance while Abby went to find something to busy herself with. The knock on the door continues, growing louder each time until you finally open it, finding your father at the door.

"Hey dad" You said, forcing the most genuine smile you could.

He doesn't say anything but stare at Abby who's back is turned to you, her focus on the collection of toys you've collected. He stared at her for an unsettling long 10 seconds before looking back at you, a faint smile on his face.

"Your mother and I want you to meet someone" He said and you tilt your head.

"Oh? Uh okay..." You responded and it took every strength in your body not to turn around to look at Abby as you're forced to leave your room.

Alone in your bedroom, Abby let out a long sigh as she rests both her palms on the table. Her eyes shut close after the close call. Moments like these seem to never get old.

It always leaves her feeling tensed each time.

After a minute, she was done calming herself down, she hopped herself off the table. But before she left, she walked near the window that had a whole view of the backyard. The same unsettling feeling she had earlier in the kitchen slowly crawled it's way back into her chest as she caught glimpses of you talking to a boy, both of your parents standing by your sides.

It wasn't the fact that you talking to a boy was irritating her, but the sight of you smiling and LAUGHING. That was what settled the score.

Without even realising, she began breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Is she childish for feeling like this? Being jealous? She can't even flirt with you in public and this guy who you just knew for a minute is now trying to hook up with you, in front of your fucking parents!!

Fed up and needing to get away from all of this, she left your room while making sure to slam the door shut. Several guests looking at her in concern when she made her way through.

After what felt like hours of chatting with people, you began to feel your face hurt from the constant talking and smiling. So the second the party was over, you were glad to have the privilege to change back into your normal clothes. To be honest the itch of the dress was killing you the entire night.

You laid on your bed and it was then you realised you haven't seen Abby ever since. Maybe she left early? Even if she did, you still felt bad for leaving her at that state. She must have felt so alone. You hurt just by the thought of it so you grabbed your stuff, being as quiet as possible when sneaking out.

It's not your first time sneaking out so it wasn't that hard.

After all, strict parents always raised the most rebellious kids.

By the time you were done sneaking past several people and making it to Abby's room, you knocked it a few times and waited for her to answer but she doesn't. Confused, you knocked again but before your fist could make contact with the door. It opened. You froze as you looked to see Abby staring at you, her brows were narrowed and the way she glared at you, you could tell she was pissed off.

It actually made you feel upset.

You don't know exactly what you did wrong but you just knew that you did.

That was until you noticed the dried tears in the corner of her eyes.

"Have you been—?" You hesitantly point at her eyes and for a glimpse second, her eyes widened but she was quick to rub her eye and cover it up.

"It's an itch.... What the hell are you doing here?" She said, quickly changing the topic.

"I wanted to see you" You smiled a bit, not sure if this is even the right time to act all affectionate and sweet.

"Oh..." Her tone was almost like she was mocking you. She then looked down the hallway left and right before letting you in.

While Abby closed the door, you felt uncomfortable being in the room. It wasn't the same comfort you would feel after a whole day of pretending to be the perfect daughter. Somehow it just drained you the very same. You looked at Abby when you heard her sit down on her bed, not caring the least about your presence.

Yeah there's definitely something going on.

And you're not the type to beat around the bush for it.

"Did I do something wrong?" You asked, straight to the point. She doesn't look up at you but her grip around her book tightened vaguely.

"I don't know. Did you?" She asks.

Oh great... she's in her mood again...

"If you're mad at me for leaving you in my room. I'm sorry... but that's the reason why I'm here, to make it up to you" You looked at her, hoping she would give you the basic respect of LOOKING at you when talking.

"Mhm..." She responded.

Fuck... it feels like your head is about to explode.

"Can you fucking talk to me instead of doing that whole shit? I fucking hate it when you do that"

"Then don't talk to me" She looks at you, finally.

You stare back at her with a look of disbelief before letting out a scoff as you roll your eyes.

"The door's that way" She pointed and that was the last straw.

"Don't— Don't you fucking treat me like that!" You raised your voice and she chuckles amusingly to herself.

"What? Did your boyfriend at the party treat you better?" She said, her words left you startled.

"What the fuck?" You blurted out.

Is that what she's so pissed about?

"Is that what you're mad at me for?" Suddenly it was like a whole new rage washed over your face. It didn't make it better with a storm brewing just outside.

"He's my FUCKING COUSIN YOU IGNORANT PIECE OF SHIT!! HE TRAVELLED ALL THE WAY FROM SPOKANE TO GET HERE!!" You yelled that you could feel your face burn up completely.

"And you expect me to just take your word for it?" She got up, standing in front of you.

"I'm starting to think you don't want to come out!! You love the attention don't you?!! DO YOU EVEN LOVE ME?!! Or am I just one of your experiments??"

"Of course I do!! I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!"

"But??? I fucking yearn for you (Y/N)!! Every fucking second I'm with you in public. I can't even hold you or kiss you!! Do you know how much it sucks being treated like I'm nothing to you?!!" She said and you could see the tears pour out of her eyes.

"If you love me then why do you still let this shit go on? Are you more scared of losing your image or me? You pick" She returned to her bed, her head lowered as she doesn't want you to look at her crying.

You stare at her, unable to make up the right mind. Suddenly a thunder struck and rain began to pour down heavily. You sigh.

There's no way that a bunch of infected is easier dealt with than this right now.

Your mom's gonna kill you...

"...I'll talk to them tomorrow" You said and she looks at you. Honestly now you're just standing in the middle of the room not sure whether if you should join her in bed after that heated argument.

"C'mere" She said, her arms spread and you stare at her... before completely breaking into tears. You walk over to her which she doesn't waste a second to hold you close.

You placed kisses on her cheek as you muttered the word 'sorry' over and over again. Even when she shakes her head telling you it's fine, you simply ignored her and placed your head on top of hers as you continued on apologising.

Not just for this moment now but for every other time you've made broken promises to her.

It was the next day, all the crying last night left you completely numb. You've never felt like such a piece of shit before. Seeing how Abby is still asleep, you decided not to wake her up and just go wash yourself up. Once you were done, you grabbed your stuff and tried to be as quiet as possible when leaving.

Your parents usually volunteer at the stadium's canteen early in the morning so there's no denying that they're already there. Watching your steps as you got down the stairs, you turned a few corners and walked a few more before making it there.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Manny greeted you and you greeted him back.

"You've seen my parents?"

"Yup, they're just in there" He pointed and you made sure to thank him before going ahead. When entering the backdoor to the stall, you could see them busy restocking the supplies.

The moment they spot you, you could tell they were upset.

"Where were you?!! You weren't in your room in the morning!!" Your mother expressed her concern.

"I wanted to go gun training" You lied so naturally that it caught you by surprise. You sucked in both your lips to try to stop yourself from doing so.

"Nonsense, you're a girl, that's a man's job" Your mother said while your father carried the boxes to the table. You took a deep breath.

"Sorry I lied... I was at Abby's" The two perked up at the mention of Abby's name.

"Abby's? What were you doing there?" They suddenly exchanged glances. It's almost too obvious that the two doesn't quite like her too much. Then your father spoke up right after your mother.

"No offense darling but Abby's a rebellious girl and we don't want you following in her footsteps—"

"We kissed" You said, an unmoved expression on your face.

For a second you had thought the two were frozen in time at your words but suddenly your mother laughs.

"Are you messing with us?" She asked but you could see from her gaze she was threatening you to shut up.

For some reason you didn't really care anymore.

"We also fucked... and I really liked it" You said as you watched for their reactions. You knew that deep down that they'll never accept you for the way you are but it's fine. They never really did even when you weren't yourself.

Your mother laughs again but this time louder, almost like she's losing it. Your father who didn't know how to react laughed along to her but his wary eyes weren't in his favour.

"I thought from the lessons our uncle taught you you'd stop having these thoughts! I knew I shouldn't have let you read those comics!" She said with a smile, almost like she's forcing herself to be happy, to stay calm.

"It didn't help. I lied saying it did because I didn't want to go back there. They treated me weird. They made me feel like I didn't belong anywhere, that I was a mistake, that I should have hated myself for having these thoughts" You then smiled, returning the same emotion your mother is feeling.

"But truthfully I love girls"

SLAP

Your eyes widened after feeling your mother slap you, it happened so fast if it werent for the burning numbness on your cheek you didn't think it even happened. You slowly turn to look at your mother who's eyes are red.

"Don't you fucking say that! You're a girl! You were born to marry a man!" She said but you shrug. Your action made her tilt her head in disbelief.

"I love Abby, she's a woman not a man. If you don't like that then that's your problem" With nothing more to prove, you decided to leave but stopped yourself when you were close to the door.

"Oh and... it had nothing to do with the comics. I've always felt this way" You added with your back turned to her. The second you were out in the canteen you couldn't help but stop for a second to catch your breath.

It actually felt like you were breathing right for the first time ever.

It felt so good.

You felt so weightless.

"(Y/N)? You okay?" You look up ahead to see Abby. Her hair a bit messy from just waking up but you could tell she just smoothed it over to make it work.

"I'm so fucking great" You approached her and threw your arms around her but she was fast to observe the hand print on your face. Her face clearly full of worry.

"Who did this to you?" Her tone clearly indicating she's not gonna let this slide.

"It's my mom. I just came out to them" You smiled and she looked at you like you were kidding.

"Without me? I thought you'd want me to support you—?"

"Its fine— but you can support me now. I'm starving" You smiled and seeing how overjoyed you are, she couldn't help but let you have your moment. Not wanting to disrupt this euphoric memory of yours.

"Alright baby" She said before gently kissing you on the lips and you smiled when kissing her back. An obstacle in your life finally dealt with.

Tags:

@bready101

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