#look at me calling a woman double my age baby

[beastsovrevelation]

Delia, baby, you're so pretty it's killing me

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | s. gojō + s. ryōmen

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Three powerful empires, two childhood companions, and one you. What is supposed to be a peaceful alliance is slowly turning into a rocky relationship between royal friends...Is there any way you can save it?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo + true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - royal-like + fantasy AU! - porn with plot - Gojo + reader is age 28 + Sukuna is older; mid-30s - mutual pining + confessions - size differences - threesome - double penetration; anal & vaginal - virginity loss - fingering (f! receiving) - back-to-chest + cowgirl dp positions - clitoral play - cerfix-fucking - overstimulation - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, dove, human, little one, pet, sweetie) - marriage proposals - cameos: Utahime and Miwa - Gojo and Sukuna can't stand each other, obvi - humor + drama - mention of drool, blood, spit and tears - will be proofread later.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 15.4k words (BRUH, i hate it here.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: aight, after 10 whole months, it's FINALLY dropped! this took foreverrrr, ughhhh. anyways, sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy this one, and thanks again for 11.2k starlings, ilysmmm!! ☆☆

“…”

“—y Lady…My Lady!”

“Huh?” You blink and face the door where the voice is coming from. “Oh, I’m sorry, Utahime. You can come in.”

“Jeez, I was knocking for a whole minute.” Your lady-in-waiting, Utahime, closes the door behind her when entering your chambers, walking up to where you were sitting by the mirror. “And I thought I told you to refer to me by my last name, my Lady.”

You smile at the reflection of the other coming behind you, kneeling and readying the iron basin filled with warm water and rose petals. Her hand and the washcloth swish the surface for the floral scents to enter your nostrils. “Well, we’ve been friends for how long? I’ve referred to you by your first name for all my life, even before you became my handmaiden.”

“Hmph, even then,” Utahime scoffs before taking your feet and dipping them in the warm water. “You don’t see me dare call the sole, precious child of this empire’s greatest warrior by their given name.”

“No, but I always tell you I don’t mind. Besides, you usually do it when we’re alone, and that’s enough for me.”

“If that’s what makes my Lady hap—“

“It does.” You look at her with a pleasant aura, and the dark-haired one snickers before straining the washcloth. 

“As you wish…Y/n.” You puff your chest with satisfaction; however, your handmaiden isn’t done talking, “But I know the matter of my name isn’t something that’s having you lost in your thoughts.” Her observation takes you slightly aback, and her brown orbs peer up to capture your attention. “Would you like to tell me what’s corrupting your mind?”

With a heavy sigh, your back touches the chair as you slouch. Your eyes glance to the open window as the blinds drift gently with the calm wind. The swaying motions of the curtains almost convince your stress to wither away along with the quietness. Almost.

“Utahime,” you begin with her name, still facing the window. “…What do you think about Lord Satoru Gojo?”

“Tch,” you didn’t have to turn to know that the woman had the most disgusted expression, the click of her teeth was telling. “What is there to think?”

“Hehe, well, we’ve known each other since we could walk—“

“Yeah, and — pardon me, my Lady — but that bastard is such a nuisance, even if he just became the crowned heir of the Gojo bloodline and the holder of the Six Eyes.” The dark-haired woman scrubs your feet with vigor, but you don’t say anything, containing your laughter. “That man–ugh! Every time he visits the palace, he will never stop teasing me for deciding to leave my family and become your lady-in-waiting. Who does he think he is!”

The laugh you try to hinder seeps out in hushed giggles. “Well—ahem—what about Lord Ryomen?”

Utagime stops her hand and washcloth between your toes, her face in your direction. Both brows trenched with a thin line of her mouth. “……As of recent…Scary–no, intimidating would be an understatement...my Lady, perhaps the visit and stay of the two lords is what have you down?”

Another heavy sigh, “I guess that would be the case…”

You reside in the founding empire of the great continent. In the ancient past, it is said that the Great Saint Tengen came from the heavens and blessed this world with miracles, living in the country that you’re standing in right now. It was said that Tengen was the benevolent child of Gods and the Parent of Beings who graced everyone – both human and non – with compassion, kindness, and love through their sorcery. When they disappeared, the world fell into a divide, their people sticking amongst themselves while following the teachings and words of Saint Tengen.

As the centuries came following this tale, the countries of this world have maintained a relatively peaceful union. However, the main continent – your continent – is home to three major empires: the North, the East, and the West. As mentioned before, you live in the founding Western nation, also known as the homeland of Tengen. 

You are a royal of this land and the sole heir to the throne right after your father, a mighty war soldier and sorcerer respected by his people and allies. As the crowned king of the Western capital, your father has done his job in using his strong leadership to maintain a functional structure for the people, using his wisdom to tread on matters with a tranquil mind, and making decisions that would not only benefit his own people but also his allies. Sometimes, you forget that such a great man could be your father. Yet his undying love for you, his sole child and princess, proves how lucky you are.

In the Northern Lands above are known as the land of Sorcery. Your father may be a powerful sorcerer, but the empire he rules does not harbor the majority of the population who practice sorcery (or lack thereof). That would go to the snowy Northern Empire, a land where many of Tengen’s scholars and practitioners have come from and implemented their teachings. The current head of this nation is bestowed to the affluent House Gojo, who recently crowned their heir after the death of its late king. Satoru Gojo, the first royal after a century gifted with two of the most intense abilities made by Saint Tengen – the Six Eyes and Limitless – sits on the Northern throne. And is also a dear family friend.

To the East lies a country mostly comprised of harsh deserts and dangerous forests, filled with creatures that aren’t of the human imagination. Once referred to as the land of “Tengen’s True Children,” the eastern empire is known worldwide as the Demon Country. Creatures reside in this part, beings that can easily overpower the average human – or worse, kill. They are ruled by the King of Demons, Sukuna Ryomen. As the scariest, cold-hearted, and violent beast of the empire, Sukuna is regarded as Tengen’s “Fallen Star,” a soul that embodies the precise opposite nature of the saint. And yet, this brutal master is also a cherished companion in the company of you and your father.

“What about their visits seems to make you upset?” Utahime lifts the bottom of your nightgown to scrub further up, the warm, damp towel scraping the skin of your left femur. 

“I don’t know…I suppose it’s because things are different than a decade and a half ago.” It was one way of speaking the truth.

“Why, of course, things would be different now. You expect I’d be looking after a tiny heir all my life?” She giggles. “Although, that would be quite nice.”

“Oh, to be young forever would be a treat, wouldn’t it?” You add on to her humor. “Yet, that’s not what I meant. It’s been so long since the three of us been in this palace together – let alone in any space together. The War of the Blood and Magic has been ongoing for years now. Whenever my father wishes to speak with them about an issue, one must be here while the other is in their respective territory.“ 

“Mmm, I have observed that…But still, even with this war going on, it shouldn’t negate the fact that you three have been friends for so long. I still remember the day young Gojo came to the garden where you and I were making flower crowns.“

You smile at the memory. “I remember how upset you were when he grabbed my hand one day and took us to his guest room to show his Limitless.”

You try your hardest to keep in your laughter when she glares up at you – not at you, but at the recollection instead. “That fool, even as a child, knows nothing of boundaries. He was a bright boy — still is, I’ll give him that. But my Gods, the way he would do everything in his power to impress you was so cocky of a young lord, especially in the presence of the next heir to the continent. The nerve of him…And then! The time he had the nerve to question me when I told you I wanted to be your handmaiden. That little blue-eyed weasel said, ‘You? The daughter of a mediocre house, as the princess’ personal maid? You should try and aim lower or marry someone who’d tolerate your un-ladylike attitude.’ I was too stunned to speak…I should’ve choked his ass out!” 

“—Pfffthahaha, stop, you’re scrubbing too hard!” You halt your lady-in-waiting with stiffened giggles, the poor woman sighing for displaying such aggression unbefitting for her title. “You could never stand him, and to think I thought you had a crush on him.” 

“Please, my Lady, never say that aloud, or else my father would try to make my worst nightmare become reality.” She shakes her head, putting your left leg into the basin and switching to the right. 

“And the day I introduced you as my maid to him, you had the smugest smirk that couldn’t be wiped off that night.”

“You’re goddamn right, my Lady!” That coarse remark had the both of you in a fit of cackles, water damn near splashing out as you wiggle your legs. “Ahhhh, but those were the days. I believe Lord Ryomen came into the picture after that. I remember the first day your father accepted the young demon king’s wish to seek an audience; he was a bit shorter than his current eight-foot-tall stature. Four arms were tiny like a teenager, and his,” she waves a hand up and down over the left side of her face. “This was distinguishable.”

You hum along with the description of the once young teenage demon king. “His human mother died during childbirth, and his father a demon who was exorcised for impregnating the poor woman. He was the first hybrid sorcerer of his time to utilize sorcery with the dark techniques of demon arts, becoming the most powerful and making a name for himself in the Eastern empire. He was alongside my father during the Great Demon War, using his powers to take down opposing cursed forces from outside nations. The two earned each other’s respect – more on my father’s part.”

“That, he was…truly a hard one to read, outside of always looking like he’d cut something out of boredom. I worried for the day he’d catch sight of me looking at him the wrong way and slice my throat,” the mere thought of the deadly being’s scowl was enough to send goosebumps up Utahime’s way. “Even the spars he had with your father and Gojo, I’m amazed to see this palace still standing in one piece.”

“Hehe, imagine how I felt when he’d catch me watching and then pull me aside to train with him — not asking, demanding that he teaches me how to wield a weapon.”

“Ohhh, my Lady, my nerves were never calm whenever he instructed you. Fearing for your life was my biggest sport. He couldn’t stand the fact that the sole heir of the greatest warrior didn’t have the drive to wield and charge.” She places your other leg down, rinsing the washcloth with more water before asking for your right arm. “It’s not like your father ever dared to entertain the thought of you entering battle anyway! That man, truly a scary thing…”

You throw your head back, resting it on the rail of the chair. “For my eighteenth year, he gifted me my own sword ��� handmade and light for my hands.”

“Men.” Utahime shakes her head once again. “Yet, despite how odd he and Gojo are, they seemed at ease whenever you were around. Whether it be visits from them to discuss with the King or attending events here at the palace, those two acted a lot more…calm.” 

Her observations stuck with you, closing your eyes to think more. “I only wonder if we could revert to those days when we were close. Unfortunately, with this current war between the two, this vision is impossible to imagine….”

You and the two lords have been friends for years – decades, even. And you were no fool; it was apparent that this relationship would dwell into something less familiar once the two become distant. And the war between the two empires proves this statement true…

It was your twenty-fourth year when you heard the news of the War of Blood and Magic. A year prior, an incident in the northern empire occurred where a sorcerer and his company were butchered by invading demons. Enraged, many men would go down to the demon continent to pillage and exorcise demon villages and towns as a form of justice. However, it only sparked the increasing tension between the factions into a conflict past the phase of talk and civilized words. 

Taking matters into his own hands, Sukuna found the men responsible for the rampage and had their bodies sliced within seconds, sending their bloody, severed heads back to the North as his declaration of war. In the coming years after that, there was nothing but ongoing bloodshed between the two; every battle and atrocity shared with your father made you squeamish – not just because of the brutality, but also the loss of Sukuna and Gojo’s relationship with every passing day.  

It made you feel sick — powerless in wanting the two to remember their merciful ways and talk like men. But you knew that was child's play — the time for miracles and fairy tales vanished with Tengen. And now, as the fourth year of this constant battle between humans and demons of this continent shows no signs of stopping, your worrying nature is on edge more than ever. 

“It may seem impossible to imagine, but it doesn’t mean it’s not worth the execution,” Utahime’s voice rings you back to the present, alternating to your left arm to wipe before dismissing herself from the night. “I’m sure your father believes that as well; otherwise, he wouldn’t have invited the two here for the first time in four years. I think he and all the people of this empire grow worrisome for the fate of this continent if all that’ll be left is a clash between two factions.”

“That may be true,” yet your tone was somber. “But if he can’t convince his two trusted allies to cease this fight, then I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do but see who comes out victorious. And I’d hate to see one stand and the other down in a pool of their blood…”

Utahime hums and lets the silence take over for a few seconds. And then she speaks again, “….Maybe, if not your father, then you should be the one to bring the two together.”  

Me? “Me?”

“Yes, my Lady. You may be the princess of the greatest warrior, but you are also the dear friend of his allies. Your word means law to them — they trust your input when asked and see you as a perfect successor in line.”  

“But that’s just based on titles and old conversations that don’t hold up to the now…Out of the three of us, I was the one who stayed put in this castle while the others played dirty, severing limbs and creating craters on this sacred continent. We are not children anymore, yet I feel like the one who’s still a naive babe with hands clean.” 

“Now that is not true, my Lady!” Fierce brown eyes bore to you. “Just because you don’t have blood on your hands doesn’t make you unfit as a leader. You are the sole child of the King of the Western Empire, the land that Tengen once slept and walked on. That makes you the one next in line after your father.”

“That is my stated birthright—“

“And so!” You held your tongue; she was not done yet. “You have proven that birthright true from what you’ve done so far. I can count on my hands and toes all the times your father came to you for advice on a matter that didn’t sit right with him, knowing that your wisdom and compassion aid your judgment. And let’s not forget how you’ve kept a neutral stance on this issue thus far, knowing it’s the best and safest option for your father and his people. You are his child, after all…What I’m saying is that people change. And that goes the same for you; you’ve become a face I can trust and depend on, and I’m glad to have the right to watch over you until you see fit.” 

You knew she meant every word, so you kept silent for her to finish.

“So, I say this with all the genuineness in my heart. I believe you can smack some sense up those two’s minds. You are the princess, but you are a friend above all else. Lord Gojo had just arrived today, leaving Lord Ryomen on his way in three days' time. Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance.”

There was nothing wrong with her words; everything was well-spoken with a perspicuous style and valid points. She was your closest friend – no one knew you better than she did. So, there’s no reason to try and find whatever flawed construct that was in her argument. 

Finally, after she was done dapping your arm with the washcloth and drying your feet after taking them out of the metal basin, you smiled. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right; I’m your best friend!” Utahime stands with a puffed chest filled with pride, picking up the basin by the handles. “And as the right one, I reckon you should turn in for the night. Leave this matter for tomorrow so the solution you’re looking for will be easier to find.”

“Mmm, your advice is well-received like always.” You stand from the chair, stretching your limbs. When she approaches your door, you bid your handmaiden farewell for the night, “See you in the morning, Utahime.” 

With a wink, she parts before shutting the door, “Sleep well and tight, my Lady.”

The warm presence of your friend is missed now that you’re alone in your room. The candles around your chambers exhibit a warm glow that should make you feel safe, but that wasn’t the case today. Even after your night routine, the cold still resided in your skin. You sigh again through your nostrils; the invisible weight on your shoulders makes it impossible to lift them.

You turn back to your mirror – your reflection brings up the conversation with your best friend minutes ago. Examining your features, placing your hand on your cheek to sense your skin, alone with your thoughts. Did I really change that much? Your face tilts to the side, but the different angle doesn’t seem to help give a proper answer. Hmm…Perhaps it’s something I’m not supposed to see. 

With a yawn, you stand straight again, deciding to take up Utahime’s advice and retire for the night. You face your queen-sized bed, anticipating your figure sinking into the soft, comfortable mattress. 

What you didn’t anticipate was releasing a big gasp when turning to your bedding, your body going rigid, and your blood stopping circulation. 

“Hey.”

Something was sitting on your bed. No, someone was on your bed. And judging by the deep, guttural timbre of their voice, you are familiar with this person. 

You turned to your left once you heard a word. A figure was coming into the lighted room from the dark of the balcony – a giant, no, ginormous figure. Based on the height, he was inches from touching the entrance frame, way taller than any royal you’ve ever met — or, at least, any human royal you’ve ever seen.  

The body was broad and could engulf you even from ten steps away. Four burly arms protrude from the torso, and black nails that resemble claws match the black tattoos painted on his shoulders, biceps and triceps, wrists, back, and chest. The markings also reside on the right of his face that’s morphed with another, which holds four red eyes instead of two, along with earrings that stretch his big earlobes. Aside from his bloody orbs, one thing that contrasts his appearance is the rusty salmon color of his hair. And that was the first thing you saw — the first thing that had your mind recollect him.

“Lord Ryomen.” His name didn’t feel proper to say. It’s been almost a year since you last saw him, but he was still the same brutal man you’ve heard about all this time…yet a companion of yours nonetheless. “Father told me you would be here in two days. How did you—“

“You know I’m not one to wait.” He crossed his lower arms, the upper ones covered by a black robe that matched the black hakama pants he wore. “Especially when it comes to visiting this place.”

“And of Uraume?” The mention of the demon king’s trusted adviser quirks his brow. “Is it okay to leave them alone without you to watch over?”

“You think I’m weak on my own?”

“N–No, of course not!” You were quick to refute — you had to be when it came to him. “It’s just that I would feel bad; they’d worry about where you are.”

“And here you are worrying about them worrying about me. Hmph, humans,” he scoffs, and the mouth on his stomach grins. “Uraume knows to look after the ship when I’m gone or be my eyes when I’m not around. I’m not a child that needs protecting.”

You bow to him. “Of course you aren’t, my Lord. Forgive me for having you think as such.”

He hums, tilting his head while examining you. “Good. Lift your head.” You do as you’re told, watching him take a few steps closer to you. “It’s cold; why is your fire not set?”

You look at what he’s referring to, seeing that your fireplace harbored no flame. “I told my maids that I would be fine tonight without it, the heavy blankets will do—“

Your eyes travel back to Sukuna, only to see he isn’t where he stood. He vanished, nowhere in your room to be found. You turned behind, but he wasn’t there either. But once you heard heavy feet thunder on your floor again, you spun around to see the beast carrying four logs, one in each hand. You were marveled; you only heard talk of his speed, now it was a little scary seeing the real deal.

Sukuna bends down in front of your fireplace, setting the logs down perfectly. “Ignoring the cold’s existence is an ignorant game. A princess should be warm during this time of night.” Once the logs are set, he makes a sign with his upper right hand, bringing his thumb and forefinger together to his mouth. He blows, and a string of fire spits out to the logs. The sound of crackling bark from the flames confirms his work. “You are not me; you should fear the cold.”

You nod to his lesson. “Thank you, Lord Ryomen.” 

“There’s no one here. You have the right to refer to me by my first name.” Sukuna straightens himself up. The light from the fire has his face aglow, and the crimson in his eyes flicker while they hook onto you.

You don’t know why — maybe it was because of the instant heat touching your neck instead of the sudden allurement you’ve noted from the demon king. Regardless, you avert your gaze downward. “Yes, Lord Sukuna.”

“Hmm.” He croons, walking towards you to prompt your chin up with a hand. Your eyes widen at his action; this is the first time in forever since he’s laid a hand on you. Talks of those he touches die shortly after spark in your mind. “You still have the sword.”

It wasn’t a question – an observation. He noticed the weapon lodged above the fireplace, like a memento meant to be honored rather than used. You smile, “Yes, I make sure it’s nice and clean from dust.” 

Sukuna scoffs. “I give you a present, and you treat it like a trophy.” 

“It would be wise to treat a gift from the demon king like a treasure. It wouldn’t sit right with me knowing I used or damaged a present given to me by someone I care about.” 

He tilted his head again. “And when I give a weapon to someone I wish to protect,” The word caught you off guard. Protect? “I expect them to use it as it’s intended. I will allow it this time, but I won’t be too forgiving the second. Understood?”

You heard him, but your mind was still wrapped around the word. Protect? Lord Sukuna wants to protect me? What for?? You didn’t mean to say it aloud; it just slipped. “Protect?”

His mood shifts into neutral. A subtle softness is displayed in that inhuman structure of a face — or maybe you imagined it because of the late hour. Your breath hitches when you feel his lower hands pull and wrap around your right hand; the way your palm dwarfs in his hold is appalling. And then he kneels. Sukuna, the eight-foot-tall demon king, kneeling before you. This was a bizarre night, candidly. 

“Princess,” he starts with your name. It was the perfect method as he fully has your undivided attention. “You know why the King has wished to see me despite what’s occurring outside these chambers. He believes there is still room to talk, and I believe he's wasting his time because I'm close to setting the entire Northern front ablaze and nailing this score for good.” 

You knew he meant that, and it scared you because if he really could, he would. He actually possesses the mentality and the drive to do it. And yet, all three parts of the continent continue to stand. Why?

“But that would result in more problems for me. I’d have the entire world after my head for terrorism. All the leaders will not rest until I’m gone — your father would have to come put me down. And I would kill him, all of them.” His eyes were on you, dead serious. “…But that would make you upset, and it pisses me off that you'd hate me for my drive for survival.” 

“My Lord,” it was your turn to speak. “I wouldn’t hate you. Being upset would be justified. But when it comes to war, survival is the paramount destination. I only wish to avoid such significant losses – both for the people of our nations and the people I hold dear.” 

“Mmm.” He took your words. There’s no need to say anything, knowing Sukuna heard your piece is good enough. “I can see where you stand in this, stubborn and naive like your father. So, I come to you with a proposition. Something I need for you to listen before I consider seizing this battle.”

The way he spoke had you on edge, truthfully. Yet, if he’s coming to you in the middle of the night to hear your piece, who are you as a friend to push him aside? You give him a nod, “Yes, my Lord?” 

“Princess, I want to—“ he stops mid-sentence, his pink-slitted brow suddenly drew up before it furrowed at the next second. He lets go of your hand in a hurry, standing up in a flash. It had you squeak. “He’s here.”

The sudden change in tone had you blink up at the giant, startled. “Wh–Who?”

“….No, they will not be seeing you. The hour is late; they are heading for bed!”

“Oh, c’mon Utahime — an hour, give me one hour!”

“Don’t you DARE open that door—HEY!” 

You and Sukuna’s eyes dart to your chamber door, which opens with an abrupt vigor as if it was kicked open — it was kicked. The foot that was prominent at the front goes down and swings in a figure that brightens the area. Baggy white paints contrast with a black dress shirt mixed with white, intricate, and alluring designs. Subtle blue patterns map around the black collar and cuffs, dancing down the white material behind gold buttons. It’s covered by an ocean-blue shawl that drapes the figure’s left side. But the most significant detail that gave away who the person was – outside of their voice alone – was the snow-shite hair that decorated the top of his head. 

Your wide eyes take in the person before you, and a dainty smile comes to your lips when you say his name. Unlike Sukuna, who sucks his teeth with a deep scowl. “Lord Gojo, it’s—“

“PRINCESS~~!” Chipper as ever, Gojo greets you with a happy tune that is so familiar to the ears. His sky-blue eyes gleam and narrow whenever he’s in your presence, just like he’d do during your childhood years. “Glad to see that I’ll be able to see your beautiful face tonight, after all. And I thought I told you to call me by my first name, like when we were kids!”

His jest has you giggle, “And I thought I’d told you from the last visit to knock on my door before entering. You have my poor handmaiden chasing after you at this hour.” 

“I second that notion wholeheartedly, my Lady.” Utahime comes into view, approaching from Gojo’s shadow. If looks could kill, she’d stab Gojo’s throat with dual-wielding daggers. Not that the white-haired man was paying her glare any mind. She sighs heavily before bowing to you, “My apologies, my Lady. Lord Gojo caught me leaving the stairs towards your hall, figuring he’d come to speak a word with—Holy Tengen!” Your lady-in-waiting gasps when she lifts her head to see that you aren’t alone in the first place. “L-Lord Ryomen!? F-F-Forgive me for not noticing your grace before.” She quickly returns her head for a bow, hoping the trusty, short right-hand retainer and advisor, Uraume, wasn’t here to lecture her. 

But thankfully to her anxious stars, the demon king grunts, “You’ve been forgiven, human. I came here not too long ago to discuss matters with the heir.” His red eyes leave the bowing woman to look at Gojo, whose lighthearted cadence is stilled. “Alone.” The final word was all for the white-haired lord’s watch to switch to a silent, menacing tone, shaded by his bangs but perfectly seen by Sukuna. 

“Yes, my Lord, I shall leave you two to yourselves then,” Utahime replies to the salmon-haired creature, lifting her upper body ready for dismissal. But she then grabs for Gojo’s arm and tugs. “That includes you as well, Lord Gojo.” 

“Ehhhh, me? What about the giant freak across from me?” Gojo questions the woman who pulls him to the doorway. “I also have things to discuss with the princess I’ve expressed earlier for when I have the time, which is now. At least I made my appointment known. Unlike him, who came into their quarters unannounced.” 

“And here you are, barging into their room!” she almost popped a vein; you worry for the poor woman dragging the tall figure out of your room. “Kicking their door and making yourself known doesn’t modify the definition of being unannounced. Come back tomorrow – I’m sure my Lady will be available to listen to your quarrels then.” 

It was now that you finally decided to interject. “It’s all right, Utahime. Sleep still evades me for me to rest.” You look to Sukuna, his gaze already on your figure, and then to Gojo, who awaits your assertion. “…I will listen to both Lords and have them dismissed before I retire for the night. You may let Lord Gojo go now and get sleep yourself.” 

Utahime gives you a concerned look, yet she silently lets go of the man when you give her a tiny nod. “As you wish. Have a good night, my princess. Lord Sukuna. Gojo.” She slams the door at the last name she says, her stomping footsteps and grumbling curses fading into the night. 

And now here you were, alone in your room, with the two lords of two superpower empires – two childhood friends. Nevertheless, it’s back. The suffocating tension you’ve mentioned before returns and drapes over the three of you that the word “friend” feels teeny within it. You can’t lie to yourself; you’re weary to have either of them in your chambers, let alone be in the same space as you. You knew there would be a day when the two would come together; however, you were far from being prepared for said event. 

Then again, it’s better now than never, right? You three used to be the best of friends – close companions that you could depend on and trust. Close companions that you desperately wish to continue trusting and having an unbreakable bond with. If not for you, then for your father’s and respective empires’ sake. So, with a deep breath, you exhale and think of how to go about this predicament. Be the heir that your father raised you to be.

“So,” You turn to Gojo to start with. “Lord Gojo—“

“Oh, c’mooon, what did I say about using my last name?” Gojo flashes a quick smile at you. “We’re friends, no? It’s not fair you refer to Maiden Iori by her first name; you should know mine like the back of your hand!”

His little pester does help swade a bit of stress off your shoulders. “My apologies, Satoru. It’s just that I must be respectful to my royals, even if we are long-time friends.”

The white-haired man chuckles, taking steps to be closer to you. “Even so, I want my princess to call me by my name, for you are the one I trust and hold dear the most. And I don’t want our familiarity to be tarnished by titles.” 

“…If that’s what will make you happy, Satoru.” The address to the northern prince made you avert your gaze to the ground, and your cheeks dial in warmth. Who knew that he thought so deeply about a little gesture? And then there’s what he referred to you as—

“Your princess?” Sukuna’s voice snaps you back to the present situation: you and Gojo are not the only ones in your room.  

Gojo takes his eyes off you and places them on the giant behind your shape. He taunts, “Yes, my princess, as they are the fair heir of this great empire who will rule after their great father. I’d say they are as much my princess to me as the other Lords and Maidens. But I’d be lying since I see them as more than that.”

Sukuna’s quadruple eyes darken as they narrow at the man before him. “Every time I see your scrawny self, you prove you’re the biggest fool than all the other senile jokes of Lords I’ve ever dealt with.” Two steps is all he takes to be right behind you. You can practically feel his shadow on you. “The person before us is indeed a royal above many – above you. So, I find it amusing that you would be dumb enough to emphasize such a ludicrous claim. You fail to know your place when in their presence. And in mine.”

Oh, that ticked something inside Gojo. Because the prince was no longer smiling, his attention was wholly on Sukuna. Many wouldn’t dare to glower at the giant creature the way Gojo was — let alone look at him. “Hah, you sure know how to make unfunny jokes, Sukuna. Because I’d rather eat demon shit than have you think for a moment that you are above me.”

“Hmph, I’m surprised your childish behavior has gotten you this far,” you can see from the shadow on the floor that Sukuna folds his lower arms. “Don’t think that you’ll be lucky with me.”

“Oh, believe me, my childish manner has gotten its fair share of tongue lashings and trouble, but I’ve been able to talk my ass out of shit ever since I was a kid. But I guess talk is too cheap for an oversized brute like you, huh?”

“Very. I’m a being of action—“

“Action? Or destruction?” The light blue of Gojo’s eyes shifts to that of a deep, cold shade under his bangs, with no sign of backing down. “Because from all I’ve heard about you, everything can crumble beneath you with just a swipe of the fingers. Outside of your lands, who’s to say you’re worthy of ruling when your methods and policy are more forbidding than mine? Or better yet, who gave you the gall to think that such a monster like you has a right to even be amongst civil people like me and the princess? Hell, the fact that you snuck in their room as you please sickens me to the core.”

“I can say the same for you, Satoru Gojo. Your entire occupancy does worse than bore me. Standing here with the man governing the family who’s killed many of my kin and demons fills me with inextinguishable anger. You have no idea how much excitement I’ll have for the day I cut that head of yours clean off, but because of my business with the princess, your death will be pending.” 

“Not if my business is taken care of first.”

The demon growls. “Like hell, it will.” 

“My Lords, please!”

The tense atmosphere is relieved by the abruption of your voice, bringing the lords’ quarrel to a standstill to face you. You squeak when their eyes land on you, forcing yourself to turn to the fireplace and deal with the growing storm of anxiousness inside you. 

Gods, I should’ve had Utahime here with me! You curse yourself for being in this situation. Why tonight of all nights must you deal with this? It was as if your lady-in-waiting had this all planned — or worse, your father, having you treat the matter of your allies. You groan internally to your hands, letting your frustration be released.

You twirl back to face the two men before you, a deep inhale before saying, “Lord Satoru, what would you like to discuss with me at this hour?”

“Hah?” The disapproving mood of the demon king had your heart sink to the floor. “I was here first.”

“Yes, you came to my room first tonight. But Gojo was here first at the palace. He told me earlier that he wanted to speak, so I should hear him.” You could only hope your reasoning satisfied the tall being, who puffs his tattooed chest. And Gojo quickly flashed the other a vexatious look at Sukuna before you pivoted to him. “Now, Lord Go—“

“Aht aht!”

“…Lord Satoru,” He beams a big grin. “What do you wish to speak with me?”

“Well, although this is something meant for the two of us,” meant to be a stab to the other person in the room, who couldn’t care less about his presence being unwanted. “But this’ll suffice; it doesn’t hurt to have an audience.” You watch the silver-haired man take your left hand, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing on your knuckles. 

“My Lady,” he looks at you with delicate azure eyes, his gaze so captivating that it locks you in position. “I’ve known you for quite a long time. Before I met you, my life as a royal was barren. Nothing sparked joy in me. The mundane tasks to uphold as the next heir, being pampered and sheltered as the gifted member of the Gojo House. I felt trapped in a mold — a mold that I resented having as my birthright, so much so that I wished to claw my eyes out at the age of five.” 

You could tell he was speaking from the heart, his hands gripping yours tighter.

“But then, three years later, my father took me to meet the King of the western lands; at the time, it sounded like such a chore having to meet all these old, disgusting guys that I had to ‘maintain a good relationship’ with. And then, like the sun peeking through dark clouds, I saw you. I’ve met many royal kids before me, most snobby or kissing up to me for my good graces. Yet, none of them have been as alluring and breathtaking as you have been.” He pauses for a light chuckle. “I can still remember how your sweet voice addressed me when our fathers introduced us together. You stood tight to his leg, but your grace was ever present.”

“Mhmm, and I recall how angry your father was when you didn’t take a knee and instead greeted me with a handshake.” The two of you share a laugh, unaware of the disdained aura of Sukuna right next to you for a moment. “There are many things I hold close to my heart — you and our friendship being part of them.”

“I agree. I mean it when I regard you as one of my greatest treasures. This friendship we’ve had these years – decades, even – has been a blessing that I do not want to take for granted. Even with this war on my shoulders, I wish for it to be put to rest so I can finally have you by my side again. And that’s why…” 

Gojo lifts your hand to his face; the soft feeling of his pillowy lips on your fingers has you holding your breath. Just like Sukuna…

“Princess, merciful child of Tengen’s Blessed Ground, I ask for your hand in marriage.” 

It all took one second — one mere second. 

One second for your world to come to a complete standstill, the cracking of the firewood no longer poking your eardrums and the breeze from the outside no longer grazing your skin. Your body instinctively refuses to move so much as a toe to disrupt your processing.

One second for your thoughts to absolutely vanish. No words of your own occupying your brain, no guesses on where this conversation was going. There was nothing. Nothing except the last seven words Gojo said that replay in your head. Over and over and over again.

One second for you to be in a perfect state of perplexity. Right before Sukuna grabs your free hand and yanks you to his side the next. Three giant hands wrap around you while one grips your wrist tightly. 

He snarls, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Gojo sucks his teeth before straightening yourself. “Ehhhh, is your demon brain screwed on right? You don’t know what a marriage proposal is?” His question struck you more than it did the beast. Huh? A marriage proposal? Marriage!?

The fingers of Sukuna’s upper left-hand grips your shoulder, claw-like nails poking your skin as if to draw blood. “Hmph, the nerve of you humans never fails to disappoint me. Especially you, Satoru Gojo, who remains a thorn in my foot. Must I kill more of your men to keep you at your place as you did to my demonfolk?”

“Khh, don’t act like you ever cared about the lives sacrificed on your behalf. It’s gross.” Gojo takes one step, and Sukuna swiftly lifts his upper right hand at him, his fingers positioned at the same sign when he made flames for your fireplace. Your eyes widen, please, not in my room! Gojo takes a stance for battle. “Acting human doesn’t suit you at all, fuckface.” 

The roar of laughter that the demon bellows out was chilling to hear. The vibrations coursing from his body to yours rocked you to your core. “Hah! Me, human!? There’s a reason I let go of that part of myself a long time ago. It made me weak – held me back from my full potential. You are right, though; it’s beneath me to care for those below me. However, I don’t tolerate those that mess with what’s mine.” 

The word had Gojo’s eyes taper. “Let them go.”

“No. If anything, I should skin you here and now for even laying a finger on them in front of me.” You peered up at Sukuna, your anxiousness refusing to settle down during this high-stakes scenario. “Because any man that dares touch my wedded deserves to be torn and shredded by my hands alone.” 

You couldn’t hide your gasp. It snuck past you – the perfect reaction to what you heard. H–His wedded? Me? Lord Sukuna’s wedded-to-be!? No wonder he was acting like that…!

“Your wedded?” Gojo was just as taken aback as you were. “You’ve got some huge balls to declare that right after bearing witness to me proclaiming my request for their hand.” 

“Tch, bastard, why do you think I was here before you?” Sukuna flashes his big teeth, pride exuding from his form. “Did you honestly think I’d allow the princess to end up with the likes of you? Now, aren’t you too old for fairy tales?” You’re still in shock of this madness. Two marriage proposals within the same hour? Both from your childhood friends who unequivocally despise each other’s existence? Any regular person would feel as if they’re experiencing a whirlwind right now. 

Wait a minute…

“Oh, we’re talking fairy tales, you repugnant jackass.” It’s Gojo’s turn to get a kick out of this. “From what I can tell, the princess is meant to spend the rest of their life in comfort with a handsome human prince who swears to protect them and those they care for. Not a creature whose source of joy comes from killing and mayhem. You? Capable of love? Heh, be real. Not even your own dead mother was able to show you real love for her abomination of a—“

He stopped talking when he felt something warm roll down his cheek, a red fluid streaking to drop from his chin. You see a cut and blood, and a wave of dread hits you like a wall. It was Sukuna’s doing, no doubt. Your best friends were fighting in front of you, in your safe space. Your nerves have long forgotten what it meant to be in a state of calm. 

Please, wait, stop—

“I already told you your death has been postponed, you northern shit,” red eyes darken, Sukuna's tone and aura unveiling a sense of brutality that shadowed your very being. It had you trembling. “But I don’t mind severing your tongue to make a point.”

The skin around the cut on Gojo’s skin begins to morph to find each other, seaming itself back to mint condition with a blue glow. Healing magic fixed his cut and cleared his blood, but the anger boiling inside him was prevalent in those striking eyes. Wanting nothing more than a bleeding head between his hands. “I’d like to see you try, you ugly prune.” 

NO, STOP IT!!

This was all too much for a single night. This whole ordeal was far from your expectations. It was already stressful enough thinking about what would happen when the two lords were in this palace together. Now, in your quarters, you’ve never experienced a more life-and-death crisis having your friends — companions you used to laugh and engage with together — wanting to rip each other’s throats, especially for your hand in marriage. And, Tengen forbid, if you were to accept one’s proposal over the other…that would ignite a war above all wars. The bodies that fall on this mainland would all be in your undoing. The thought enough was too much to bear! 

“I accept both!!”

The hostile complexion of the room vanished into the air in the blink of an eye. The sound of burning logs and dancing flames filled the space like before; the crashing ocean waves could be heard from your balcony. Nature was speaking without noises to interrupt it. It was quiet, too quiet. 

You didn’t know what you just said until the last morphemes left your tongue. You silently remove your figure from Sukuna, covering your mouth in disbelief. And without having to see for yourself, you could tell that the two lords were just as flummoxed from your sudden sentence. What…What did I say just now?

“What did you just say?” As if he could read your mind, Sukuna relays your inner turmoil to be addressed. 

Your heart was beating at an unbearable rate, your ears ringing like they’d soon set off and bleed. The trembles get worse with every second, and wiping your face off this Earth at this exact moment is all you wish for. You were so nervous that you were mere seconds away from the brink of tears. Oh, Tengen, why did I say that? What was I thinking?!? What am I to do? What do I—

“…Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance…” 

And then, like a strange flash of an angelic tune, the words of your lady-in-waiting come back to you, instantly calming you down and reminding you who you are. You are the princess of the Western Front, the next heir after your father. This matter was bound to fall onto your lap one way or another — preferably less drastically and excitingly like this.

I am the princess, but their friend above all else…You remove your hands from your face, exhaling a shaky breath before standing tall. “….I accept both marriage proposals of my Lords.”

The men’s bewildered expressions were expected, just like the dismay in their voices. “Both of our—…! Surely you don’t mean that—” Gojo was the first to speak, silver brows screwed with confusion. 

“I do.” A deep breath before you answered him. “I will only accept the proposals of both you and Lord Sukuna.”

The demon took one thunderous step, the vibrations crawling up your bones. “And just why is that?”

You exhale through your nostrils, chewing on your bottom lip. “Understand that I am humbly flattered by your perspectives — it fills me with gladness to know I can be hospitable to my dear friends again…As you both mentioned, I, too, cherish the two of you profoundly, and my trust for you two will never be extinguished. To be asked for my hand by either of you is an honor I’ll forever appreciate….But I cannot choose one over the other.”

“Bullshit,” Sukuna folds his upper arms, the lower resting on his hips. “You can; you just choose not to.”

“No, I care for you both, and choosing one alone would have people hurt. Both between us three and the people of this continent…” You maintain eye contact with both lords while your hands fidget with your nightgown to ease yourself. “A rivalry is happening between the Eastern and Northern fronts; blood’s already been spilled and soaking Tengen’s soil. If I were to choose one proposal, I can’t be guaranteed that this onslaught of violence will cease. Or, would either of you guarantee that you wouldn’t take the life of the other?”

That question had the two royals look at each other briefly, followed by their scowls and groans. Gojo is the next to speak, “What happens between us shouldn’t concern you, my princess.”

“You’re wrong; it concerns me tremendously. It is a concern that’s been eating me alive, watching my allies – my friends – fight each other on the sidelines, refusing to pick a side with my father. Now, you two come here, bend your knees, hold my hands, and ask for my hand, silently requesting my involvement for more bodies to drop like flies under my reign?… No, I would not find rest from this night forward, knowing that more innocent lives plummet from my answer.”

“It wouldn’t be blood on your hands.”

“…But it would be blood that I paint with my very shadow.”

The response sounded foreign to him, yet you stood tall, making sure your heart didn’t falter with your stance. Silence welcomes the three figures again, an old friend that goes well with the tense atmosphere. Two pairs of red observe you, like cerulean orbs that stay on your appearance.

A few seconds go by, and Gojo screws his eyes shut. “So, that’s it, you accept both proposals.”

A curt nod. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Your final decision?”

“Correct.”

The snow-haired man nodded aimlessly, slouched with a large sigh, turned, and headed for your bed to flop face down — like it was his bed. “Haaaaaah, you are your father’s kid, all right,” you could make out his words even with his face in your sheets. “A pacifist heart.”

“Hmph, such a dumbass reason,” Sukuna huffs with absolute annoyance, and you’re amazed he hasn’t already skinned you and Gojo. “You are not a child anymore. You can’t possibly be serious about taking up two husbands for the sake of peace.”

“You’re right: I am no child, for I’ve never been as serious as I am now.” Look at you, sticking up for yourself in the presence of the demon king. Although, you know he can hear the quiver in your voice trying to crawl out. You swallow, “It’s either both of you or nothing at all.”

His left eyes squint as they examine your features, the mouth on his belly gritting its teeth. “Tsk, both or nothing…Meanwhile, you know I can’t be in the same room with him. Not even Tengen could command me to share you with this brat.”

Gojo swifts on the covers to lie on his back. “Finally, something I can agree with the devil himself. He’s right, though; there are many things in my life I would rather not share with anyone — you being the top of my list.”

You take their concerns with patience and a lifted chin. “I understand you both, but if you two can’t let the fog clear and talk with each other, how can I see myself—“

“Let the fog clear?” Sukuna repeats with furrowed eyebrows. “Sorcerers came into my land and ransacked my villages — sorcerers from this bastard’s empire!” 

“An action that validates your anger and course of action,” you remind yourself to take tiny breaths. “…However, Satoru didn’t order the attack himself; they went against procedure and stormed your country with poor judgment.”

The tall demon rolls all of his eyes and clicks his teeth. “Ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ‘ridiculous’ is how you fail to acknowledge why those sorcerers went to your zone.” Gojo’s turn to interpolate. “One of the noble sorcerers and his company died because of your demon folk invading my country without permitted passage. That noble had a family, students that followed his footsteps—“

“Are you saying my people didn’t have kin of their own to return to, Gojo Satoru?”

“Your people sure kill like they don’t—“ Another swipe of Sukuna’s fingers glid the air; this time, Gojo’s Infinity was on guard, ricocheting the cleave to mark a scratch on one of the curtains. “Hah, just like their leader.”

Sukuna flexes his knuckles to crack, black fingernails appearing sharper. “The demons who killed that sorcerer acted on their own accord. Just like the many men of your land who came to mine, whom I corrected for your lack of oversight.”

“Then allow me to fulfill my mistake,” the silver-haired man’s eyes glow. “And let me kill the demons responsible — just like you did to my men, fucking cretin.”

“Over my dead body, human trash.”

“My Lords!” The men concurrently exchange their gazes back to you. “This is why I will not be accepting either proposal solely. You come to my home to ask for my hand because you see me as of value, correct? Well, you both are people I care deeply for, and the thought of walking beside either of you for eternity is something I’d accept unmistakably under different circumstances…But, please acknowledge my position in all of this: I am the princess of an extraordinary continent and heir to the throne after my father, a man who has maintained peace and harmony all these years. Now, that peace is hanging on the brink of death and will soon be a matter I should issue alone, and the men who’ve grown with me and cherish me combating each other until one stands tall….or none stand at all.”

Word spilled after another as if a dam had broken down — fingers jitter even when clasped together. Your throat dries up after every sentence, yet your unwavering resilience pushes you to keep going.

“I’m sorry if what I’m saying or doing is selfish, and…you may be right that I’m going at it with the whims of a child. But, please,” Do not cry, do NOT cry. “Standing idly every passing day watching the men I’ve grown to—“ Love? Isn’t that too intimate of a word to assume? “…treasure kill themselves and others without doing anything wounds me enough. And if you think I can sit here in this palace and watch my intended go far and yonder to kill another person whom I cherish with no guarantee that they will return to me wholly, think twice.”

Your shoulders threaten to tremble; of course, you’re frightened beyond belief by what you’re saying. But you’re sure if she was here, Utahime would pull you in for a hug and acclaim how well you’re following her counsel.

“Please, I just…can’t bear it.”

Uncomfortable muteness gnaws you alive within the muteness of your room. You’re bound to draw blood on your bottom lip with how much you’re chewing it. If only your father were awake in this hour, his guidance at a moment like this would be beneficial, or merely observing from afar how you’re managing would give you some hope. Alas, you know he’s in deep sleep halls away. It’s just the three of you in this space — or just you versus the huge opposing auras thick enough to be slit by Sukuna’s cleaves. 

Speaking of whom, the demon king watches you the entire speech. Same with Gojo, whose blue eyes dwindle back to their typical hue. The two men don’t dare break the silence as you stand before them, mentally swimming in thoughts alone to yourself….Well, at least the northern prince wouldn’t dare to do so first because Sukuna initially ripped the stillness to shreds. He says, “And how would your father respond to this feckless plan of accepting two marriage proposals?”

A worthy question to ponder. “…I’m sure he’d come to an understanding once I explain my reasoning,” the belly of the eastern king grumbles. “I’m sure he’d be contended at the fact that his two trusted allies would want to join houses.”

Gojo sits up straight atop your bed. “Well, that sounds all nice and dandy on that front. But, the problem still lies in us acting like…a ‘real couple.’ Face it, princess; you may seem okay with being with us both, but that doesn’t mean we’d be on the same page.”

Sukuna nods curtly. “I’d rather eat every human alive than entertain the thought of someone other than me touching you.” 

The other shrugs. “Even if the world’s fate depends on it.”

The men’s grievances are valid arguments for why your plan can backfire, particularly when suggesting a relationship where two people can’t stand each other. What you’re posing is an action that has been practiced before yet isn’t entirely favored in the public eye. Nevertheless, your stance doesn’t change; you refuse to go back on your word, believing that it’s a better alternative to condone than the others. The only tricky part is convincing your childhood friends…

…Which is why what you’re about to do is indubitably unlike you. 

“…What are you doing?"

But despite that, it’s a course of action that highlights your determination.

“—Woah!! Princess?! Why are you undressing??!”

Even if it’ll go down as the most downright humiliating thing you’ve done to yourself.

Your nightgown meets the ground of your feet, the cool air wrapping your nude frame with the heat of the fireplace hovering on one side. Arms free of sleeves, nipples easily spotted now with the dismissal of clothing, the region between your lower thighs bare, and delicate skin exposed for only the men in the room to see. And even then, your face doesn’t decline the miserable hotness. Embarrassed? No doubt about it.

“My Lords,” you croak, balled fists muster to contain whatever left of dignity you can. “This form…isn’t meant for any regular eyes to see — an offering only a slim few I’d trust to witness. Tonight, I want you two to see me like this.” You slowly step forward, gradually getting closer to Sukuna’s giant size. “As your princess, I offer my whole to you both, as you are mine…and I am yours.”

Sukuna blinks at your small figure close to his; the intensity of his stare is enough to have your heart sink into a pool of regret. Until he bends to scoop you with his lower arms, you yelp at the sudden action with hands finding his sturdy shoulders to grab. Now, he is way closer than you anticipated, his very chin inches away from brushing your naked chest. Holy shit.

“You are mine, and I am yours?” he lifts his eyebrow. “Was that not true already?” You gulp thickly before answering, daring to cup his cheek with a hesitant hand. Again, you’re surprised to see it still attached, let alone see him lean to your palm. 

“You’d have to prove it true — here and now, make this ceaseless battle end by claiming me as yours…You too, Gojo.” You and the demon holding you turn to the man sitting on your bed. The pale skin of his face now harbors shades of pink that cascade across his cheeks and the dip of his ears, expression dumbfounded to what he witnessed. “Demonstrate how serious you are for my hand, or you and Sukuna can leave my room.”

Sky-blue eyes blink absentmindedly, words hard to pick and choose for the human prince in this bizarre minute. Sukuna then speaks with a huff.

“Well, are you going to start moving or what? Because whether you stay or not, your princess will become mine tonight.” He grins before leaning in to lick your skin, and you hold a whine when the mouth of his navel lightly chews on your tummy. “And on the many nights coming after.”

The beast’s words flip a switch, causing Gojo to chuckle and shake his head while unbuttoning his shirt. “Not if I have something to do about it, four-eyes…”

You drew in breath while watching Gojo undress, more of his milky skin stripped out of his clothing, revealing parts of the prince that you could only imagine in your fantasies. Heat flourishes to your ears, and another gasp is pulled out when Sukuna sneaks his free lower hand to cusp your buttcheek. He then brings an upper hand to your chin to face him and his sneer. 

“You’ve made this night a whole lot more interesting.”

And that was the last time the sound of the fire cracking caught your attention.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Mmmm…Ahh—Ahhh!!”

“Keh, sure are tight as hell; definitely a virgin.”

“Fuck, I can hear the sounds from here…Oh, fuuck…!”

The sea breeze climbs up to your terrace, crawling into your room to swing the curtains of your canopy. The candles around your room continue to flame and provide light for the room to glow. The scent of lavender and rose from your bath and lotion an hour earlier remains in the air and sticks to your skin. The midnight hour isn’t yet, but the sky is dark enough past the twilight hues. 

Expected as the former home of the Great Saint Tengen, the palace is as enormous. Harboring many rooms, halls, and floors for the company of the royal family and their subjects, the castle is unchallenging for a newcomer to get lost inside without a proper guide. Every room is catered to a specific event, person, meeting, or occasion in this place. On top of that, multiple guest chambers are meant for the guests invited under the King’s audience to rest.

…But it seems that Gojo and Sukuna are not retiring for the night anytime soon.

How could they sleep when you’re being a courteous host, letting your childhood friends spend the late hours in your room? Just like when you were young and playmates or learning to master a weapon. The only thing is that these two aren’t the same as two decades ago; they are men, branded with titles and responsibilities, blood already stained their knuckles, and duties hold them to a high expectation that you know all too well. 

And, like all men, they have a salacious curiosity only appropriate for the bedroom. An interest you knew would one day be prevalent in your life if you agreed to take either as a husband…Yet, you’re not as prepared on the chance you’d face both realities simultaneously. 

All three of you are stationed in your bed, clothes decorating your floor to leave you all bare for each other to see and marvel at — more so on your part. You lie on your back to a giant broad chest and stomach, Sukuna right behind you with his lower arms holding your feet by the back of your knees. Knees spread apart, your naked lower half is out, free for the monster to insert a single thick digit of his left upper hand into your wet chasm while the right fondles your left tit.

Never in your life did you think you were capable of producing such indecent noises. Low whimpers are embarrassing to recollect as the demon king plays with your most tender parts. His big fingers tweak your nipple, and the digit – way thicker than yours – inside your cunt is enough to stretch your opening, wiggling and scratching the inside. Fingering yourself never felt like this, your body experiencing a refreshing sensation you hadn’t known of. And to have the eastern king of all people to bestow this feeling on you brings just as much awe as humiliation.

Nonetheless, that indignity doesn’t cease. Gojo stands on his knees before you, propped between your sunder legs, while his hand strokes an erect limb. Yes, as a virgin maiden, tonight would be the very first time you ever see a living, breathing member, and the northern lord takes that honor with a lustful smile. His solid cock gets stiffer with every jerk, a left curve protruding the more your appearance excites him. To be observed and used as material as your slit is fingered? How lewd!

“Nnnn, ahaahn…” Sukuna’s finger rubs on your velvety surface, your legs wanting to squirm despite the monster’s hold. “Oh Gods…Ohhh!!”

“Damn, you look so good,” Gojo mutters under his breath, precum drizzling his fingertips. “Looks like it feels good, huh, princess?”

“Sure feels like it,” every word that Sukuna utters causes tremors to pass down his abdomen to your back, the very vibrations crawling on your skin like the tongue that licks your back to make you arch. “Hm? Tell us how you really feel, little one.”

The usage of that name causes your vaginal walls to twitch; he has never called you as such, and picking such an intimate time to do so makes your frame feel awkward and warm. “…I-I—fffmm!—don’t know…”

“Hmph, you dare lie to me,” he bends to your ear, and his deep chuckle ignites your stomach to knot itself. “Like your body doesn’t speak for itself, clenching on my finger like you want to snap it off.”

“Th-that’s not—“The graze of your upper wall cuts you off, and your hands struggle to find places to grab, gripping the skin of Sukuna’s thigh and grabbing tuffs of his apricot hair. 

The demon king snickers more when his middle finger teases your taint, pressing a kiss on your cheek before a quick bite. “Only one finger in, and you’re already wailing like a common whore; be lucky that I haven’t added another, then you’d really be prepared for me…” You feel something brush up against your back, the tips of Sukuna’s cocks reminding you of his eventual promise.

“Wooow, calling the future heir a whore; must’ve forgotten whose room we’re in.” The white-headed man had something to say about that, satisfyingly ruining the mood for the demonic being. 

“They don’t seem to mind, at least their cunt doesn’t,” uncouth cords that speak truth, your vulva squeezing his finger constantly. “Who would’ve thought the beautiful, refined, and compassionate princess,” each enunciated word has consequences that are a lick and bite to your helix. “Was, in fact, a dirty, nasty girl?”

“Holy shit,” Gojo’s hand goes faster, his dick ready with stiffness. The image of you melting under the Fallen Star’s hold is too hot for the young man to witness. “God, I wanna fuck you so bad, baby…”

Sukuna clicks his teeth. “Well, hurry the hell up and do it before I change my mind and fuck them myself.”

“And have them bleeding to death because of your giant dicks on their first time? Fuck that,” He ignores the four rolled eyes as he maneuvers closer to you, Sukuna pulling his finger out of your wet slit and slithering further down to your anus. He coaxes you to relax your tense muscles, pushing his digit into your puckered hole second by second. The gasp you release once it’s added sends shivers up Gojo’s shoulders. “A princess should be treated like a pearl – tended to with the utmost care.”

“Go–jooo…” You whine as the human heir cups your cheeks to squeeze.

“What did I say about using my family name?” He scolds with a cheeky tune, gauging your reaction as he disposes his cockhead to the folds of your vagina. 

“…S-Sa—Mmmph!” The push of his pink tip is a new sensation.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He coos, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Relax, just focus on me.” Your eyes lock with his, distracted by the twinkle and swirl of his azure irises, like a whirlpool sinking into the darkness of his dilated pupil. “What’s my name, cutie?”

“Saaa…Sato—Ohhh!!” And just like that, the tip of his limb enters inside, bypassing your knowledge until the wince of pain snaps you out of your distraction. “…to’ruu…”

His teeth glisten under her grin. “That’s my good girl.”

Gojo keeps propelling himself inside you, gradually shoving every inch of his lengthy girth. You bite your quivering lip at the stretch of your opening, accommodating the foreign body part burrowing inside your inner channel. The left curve of his has his penis rubbing on parts of yourself you hadn’t thought possible; a graze of your G-spot causes your legs to quirk and toes to curl. 

But then, once his silverish pubes meet your outer labia, he reaches the depth of your cervix and gives it a chaste kiss. And your frame suddenly shuts down briefly, your senses running cold before you cry aloud without knowing. Your hands rush to cover your mouth, but the damage is too late.

Sukuna raises a brow. “What a shout.” He then uses your reaction to add another digit into your ass.

“Ahhhh, there it is,” Gojo swallows thickly, hips speaking for themselves as they sway. “That was cute as hell–the way you twitch feels so good…” Another poke to your cervix, and your legs can’t help but wrap around Gojo’s waist.

“Satoru, please…!” You plead with knitted eyebrows. “Pleasee, be gentle with me…”

Blue eyes narrow. “God, who told you to be so adorable?” Gojo angles down to your face, his nose mere centimeters to yours. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll treat you right tonight…Hmmm.”

The man leans in to place his lips on your forehead before his own, and the pace of his thrusts quickens to mediocrity. The rubs on your silky texture become frequent, lightly pounding his shaft into your to till his testes knock your chasm, the whimpers you try to repress boost to a louder volume. His left curve spikes up your nerves with every push and pull, easing the itching heat that permeates around your lower half. 

Hands writhe around to calm around Gojo’s cold back; you say his name in prayers. You can feel something coming, and if he keeps rutting to you like this, it’s bound to come earlier than expected. “—Nnaaa, Sat’ruuu, w-wait!! I can’t—Ahaann!!”

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…” He doesn’t listen, too lost in your warmth and wetness that he can’t stop. The flex of his abs increases, plunging into your pussylips desperately as if he can sense the eventual you fear. 

“T-Toruu, wait, go slooww!!” Words mean nothing, hips not declining in their needing cadence. Oh Gods, I can feel it; it’s coming! Nerves climb to a peak way too fast for your comprehension, nails digging into Gojo’s skin before your orgasm hits you, choked squeaks leaving puffy lips as your cunt contracts around the prince’s girth and your asshole clamping around Sukuna’s fingers.

And Gojo is right there experiencing your climax with you, moaning under his breath and pressing his forehead to yours before he completely melts under the fluttering motions of your genitalia. “—Mmfff, ffffshit, so tight…!” He can’t stop thrusting into you, moving his pelvis slowly to draw out the sensation before he sinks into a crescendo of his own. “Fuuck! Yeah, cutie, that’s right; ride it out,” he snaps an abrupt drill to your aching entrance. “Ride it out…”

Sukuna scoffs lightly before whispering in your ear. “Done already, human?” Patronizing attitude to make you fidget. “Better be ready for me still.”

“Ehhh, but I’m not done here.” The snow-haired man retorts, massaging your waist out of the quakes. 

A thread snaps in the wake of the other’s words, and Sukuna’s lack of patience drives him to push you and Gojo off of him. The two of you roughly position to where you are essentially straddling Gojo, his erection still inside your slick-coated cavern. The devilish man swiftly ends up on his knees before contorting his massive figure to dwarf both humans beneath him.

“Gahhh!! Sukuna, what the fuck w—Mmmph?!?” With the spawn of a mouth, the eastern king shuts the northern man up by slamming his upper left hand onto his mouth for an unexpected kiss. Gojo muffles under the other’s palm, the tongue shoving itself inside.

“Shut up,” Sukuna orders with annoyance. “So damn chatty…And you,” he uses his lower hands to steady your ass, and you stifle a yelp at the contact of something pressing up against the opening of your butt. “Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad.”

His warning is enough to keep you immobile, following his instructions and stationing your breathing to a steady rhythm. Your hands-on Gojo’s chest ball to fists once Sukuna pushes his tip to your asshole, your mouth forming a permanent ‘o’ shape once he eventually gets the cockhead inside. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more extreme, you had forgotten about the taller individual’s well-endowed self: two hefty, girthy limbs that you NEVER, in your wildest dreams, imagine would put inside your body — not even one!

However, tonight was the night that would be put to the test, and at the very least, Sukuna compromised, using one of his members to ravage your interior while the other skims the crevice of your asscheecks. He goes excruciatingly slow; rather than just ramming the entire thing in one go, it’s better. Gods, no, you’d be shedding more tears than you already are. Every inch that’s plunged inside you pushes out shaky breaths, sobbing from the intrusion and bits of drool slowly escaping you.

“Daahhnn, ohmyG—Nnnm!!” It’s finally all in, all swallowed up by the ridge of your bottom. You call to him, “S-Sukunaa…fuull, so fuulll…”

“I bet you are.” He adds more weight, scrunching down, making it worse by caging you under his bow. Sukuna grinds his hips, which evoke sharp cries, “Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

The salmon-haired behemoth rocks his enormous hips, the propulsion strong enough to rock you and Gojo concurrently. This time, unlike the northern man under you, Sukuna’s movements exude dominance; from his firm grip on your waist to the confident pull of his hips, everything he does is marked with a purpose. You can tell by how his big, weighty balls smack on your sexed union with Gojo.

Speaking of whom, the polar royal subsists in the kiss with Sukuna’s hand. Yet as the seconds turn to a minute, his expression morphs into a less perturbed display. Instead of fighting it, he kisses back with the palm and bucks his hips into you. The action of his cock rubbing on the sweet spots of your vagina while the one carves and churns your butthole and the other glides on your crack grinds your brain to turn into mush. Your nerves have yet to calm down from the prior orgasm, senses overloaded with constant commotion going on in your private parts.

Sukuna’s pushes become quicker and mightier, and the more he ruts, the more your clit grinds onto Gojo’s pelvis, sending shocks straight to your head. There’s no room for rest…! “—Ohhh, hooooh’Kunaaa, Kunaa, pleaseee…!”

“‘Please, please,’ please what?” He mocks you, knowing you’re powerless to reprimand him in this predicament. “Just whining and whining like a bitch in heat; have you no shame, princess?”

“Ohhh, I’m gonna—shtoooop!!” He licks your ear as you moan aloud, steamy tears striking down your hot cheeks. The pace increases, and so does the swipe of your clit and the bump of your womb. “Ohhhfuck, fuck, fuckfuuuuck…!!”

“Kehaha, look at you; the poor princess finally breaks their poised picture,” dark, pleased chuckles seep out of the demon king’s lips, biting onto your shoulder harshly to make you scream. And judging by him licking your added wound, you’re sure he drew blood. 

“Ahhsshh—ohmyGod, ohmyGod!! S’kuna, don’t!!” Desperate pleads slur out. “I’m gonna break; y’re gonna break meee…!!!”

“Good, I want you to be broken,” he sneers as his upper right arm pushes you to face him. “Break for me; think of nothing else other than being mine. Right now, your mind, body, and soul are mine to torment and tear apart. You are my little dove, small and easy to break from now till your dying breath. Am I clear, pet?”

Scared? Of course. The way his scarlet orbs bore holes into your very being had you petrified; he doesn’t need his hellish aura and brawny hands that can snap a tree in half to assimilate fear into your heart. Witnessing the true power of the King of Demons with just his stare, nothing scarier than that…And yet, your anus and chasm can’t stop squeezing like crazy.

“…Yess, my Lord,” you croak, his finger wiping the saliva on his fingertip. “I am your pet from this—nnmm!!—this moment until the…very last.”

Anxiety doesn’t diminish when he broadens a devilish smile, but it transforms into perplexity once he slams his lips onto yours—your first kiss, taken by the eastern King, along with the chastity of your rear hole. And there’s Gojo, who is the very man who has taken claim of your virginity. Two men, your childhood companions, taking your firsts! Tonight, indeed, is marked down as an eventful occasion for you. 

You sink into the passionate kiss, your tiny tongue swirling around with Sukuna’s, his fangs grazing the muscle teasingly before he nibbles on it to hear you shrill for him. All the while, his hips go erratic, motivating Gojo to increase his tempo. The feverish rhythm leaves you breathless, crying in the company of lust and rapture to the point that you’ve become numb. Your vision becomes blurry, your head foggy, and the air between you three misty. Noises of skin smacking onto each is all you hear, drowning you further into another spazz you couldn’t adequately foretell.

Gojo and Sukuna chase their climaxes together after your walls quirk and spasm uncontrollably, letting their fluids burst inside to fill your holes to the very brim. You howl in Sukuna’s mouth, who chews on your bottom lip roughly, same with Gojo’s with the palm before snatching his hand away. The snowy-headed man huffs and pants, nearly choking on spit as his midsection flexes with every jerk of his ejaculation. And the giant above you groans while rutting into your ass, not stopping until his high passes through, the free girth ejecting semen to paint across your sweaty back.

For a few seconds, it’s utterly hot and cold at the same time, your figure trembling with the acute shocks coursing through your bones. Eyes roll to the roof of your canopy, and limbs wobble and give way for you to slump after Sukuna releases you from his breathtaking kiss. Luckily, Gojo is there to catch you, the comely noble attending to you with kisses to your temple.

“Look what you did,” he spits to his left, wanting to rid his mouth of whatever remnants Sukuna left with that disgusting kiss. “You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you wanted to break them.”

“Hmph, don’t ever take me for a liar,” the demonic man stretches after withdrawing his length out of your butt, chortling at the sight of his essence sticking to you. “Oi, dove, you hear me?”

“Princess, you all right…?”

Whatever words the two were saying to you had begun to fade away despite their proximity. Your eyelids refuse to fight the urge to close, and your skin allows the cold breeze to blanket you. Everything goes black, your breathing returns to balance, and the sound of the fire cracking comes back to sing you to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“My Lady, are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Huh?” You snap out of being zoned out for the sixth time today. Your vision is now present with the gazebo view, the ocean glistening from the morning sun in the distance, contrasting with the beautiful greenery of your garden. Many flowers of different shapes and sizes, various colors painted on top of the veins and roots separated from the yellow brick road coursing around it.  

You sit at the gazebo for your morning tea; it’s part of your morning routine after a nice bath and Utahime helping you pick what to wear for the day. Usually, when you sit here, you admire the tranquil sounds of the outside space and the sweet taste of your hot beverage.

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…”

“Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad…Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

Memories from last night flash one after the other, ringing your ears with nothing but the erotic noises and voices from the night before. Your cheeks dial in warmth, recollecting the senses of having both men — your childhood friends — so intimately close to you. The hotness of their breath touching your skin, the wet, teasing licks of the tongue from Sukuna’s stomach, Gojo’s slender fingers swiping and pinching your clitoris as he sucks on your nipple, and Sukuna using one of his arms to restrain your hands behind your back as he uses two others to keep your hips still to hammer your holes with his girth. 

“Princess…” the way Gojo says your name, your stomach flips to the smooth tone of his voice. His striking blue eyes survey your expression like you’re his lost treasure. His hard body meshing together with your sweaty, soft figure is a sensation you’ll probably never forget…

“Princess…” Sukuna, with his red eyes and demonic face structure, put you in a paralysis spell, and his intimidating aura suffocates you to submit to his gaze and hold. Under his bow, you felt as though you were nothing but his and his alone. And you can’t tell if that is scary or intriguing…

“…—dy Lady….MY LADY!!”

“Y–Yes!?” Your attention swerves to reality, Utahime’s face mere inches from yours. Her brown eyes filled with worrisome confusion, scanning your expression. 

“What on Tengen’s Earth is going on with you?” She says with a sigh, “Are you sick? Did you not get enough rest last night? Tsk, it must’ve been Lord Sukuna and that blue-eyed jerk. My apologies, my Lady. I hope their intrusion didn’t keep you awake for too long.” 

You shake your head to your best friend. “No need to apologize, Utahime. And it’s all right; the Lords didn’t give me too much trouble.”

She gives a nod to your response, observing you picking up your teacup and taking a sip before setting it back down gently. “Still, I find it odd that both lords wished to see you so late at night. At the same time, too…If you don’t mind me asking, my Lady, what did they wish to speak with you?”

Again, she is your best friend, so you can trust her with the information you’re about to give. “…Apparently, both Lord Sukuna and Lord Gojo wish to have my hand in marriage—“

“MARRIAGE!!??”

“Shhhh!!” With haste, you stand from the table to cover your lady-in-waiting’s mouth from uttering another word. You swiftly survey the entire garden to see if anyone from the castle heard the shout. Luckily, it was just the two of you. “Please, Utahime, not so loud.”

The woman with her mouth covered blinks once, twice, before giving an assured mod for you to release her lips. She now speaks in whispers with you, “My apologies. But…marriage??”

“I know, it surprised me, too. It seems my father gave them his blessings to ask for my hand. It could be for the sake of our families and  relations or to strengthen the bond of our empires to maintain the powerhouse that is our continent.” 

“Mmm, those are valid reasons to consider, especially after the Great War, and that the bond of the three empires would give a good message…Or perhaps, did the Lords wish to wed you for more personal reasons?”

They did. That’s what you wanted to say. But instead, all you could do was think about their proposals from last night. The way they both stood on one knee and took two hands. Gojo’s eyes never looked so sincere and soft when looking at you, placing his soft lips on your left ring finger to gently kiss it. He looked like his princely self. But that night, he showed the caring and soothing cadence you had fallen in love with all these years. And Sukuna, oh Lord. Never did you think you’d live to witness the day this giant being before you took a knee for anyone – especially for you. Your right hand easily dwarfed in his grasp, brought to his lips that you’d only ever dream to have touch you. And those piercing eyes of his, red like blood, examining every single feature of yours as if you were the thing that made him strong yet weak. It was subtle, something only meant for your eyes to see. But most of all, it was genuine. 

“…That might be it, as well.” You mutter under your breath, your cheeks becoming warm while reminiscing the scenes to yourself. 

However, your chambermaiden was no fool at all. She could tell from your wandering gaze that something, in fact, did happen between the three royals that night. She lifted a brow at your response, “I think that is the case, seeing as though you’re trying to hide the smile from me.”

You squeak, immediately facing in her direction, seeing the foxy grin on her beautiful, scarred face. “I’m smiling?”

“Aha!” Oh no, I fell for it. “Gotcha! Oh my, it seems my Lady is having troubles with the heart. Could it be you are considering the marriage proposals?”

“W–Well…I don’t know myself,” it was an honest answer; you didn’t know the answer yourself. “The matter caught me off guard; I wasn’t expecting either of them to come to my quarters, let alone propose to me on the night of their arrival—“

“That’s not my question, my princess.” You gulp when she cuts you off, Utahime narrowing her feline eyes as she speaks. “It made you incredibly nervous that the three of you would be here at the same place, thinking those two would go at each other’s throats. Now, two Lords still stand, asking for you to be by their side, and you can barely keep a straight face. If you ask for my piece, I’m relieved they came here with the thoughts of marriage rather than spark up talk of another war in this continent.” 

You hum along to your maiden's words, taking in her reasoning. Yet she continues, “And judging by how fidgety you appear to be on this fine morning, something tells me you’re on the fence of accepting. Who will take my Lady’s hand? Lord Ryomen? Gojo? Ugh. If it’s the latter, I’ll only deal with him for your happiness. And Lord Ryomen, oh my. Being the spouse to the most powerful beast of Holy Tengen's continent , it’s something out of a fairy—“

“Utahime, calm down!” You stop the lady from her excitement bubbling into something substantial. You can tell she’s itching to plan your wedding – whenever that be – once your tea time is finished. “I…I didn’t accept their proposals, not yet.”

The dark-haired woman drops her jaw; how unfortunate it is for you to lie to your best friend. “What do you mean!? You didn’t? Then how come you three were discussing for such a long time? I saw Lord Gojo return to his quarters in the middle of the night, and I figured it was because you all had an in-depth discussion.” You open your mouth, but your words are caught on the back of your tongue. You couldn’t formulate a proper excuse or lie in time. Because of that hesitation, Utahime’s brows draw upward with wide eyes, her mouth changing into a small “o” shape. It was at that moment that you realized you dug yourself a grave.

“Princess,” her voice was still hushed, speaking slowly as if not to jump so hard to her assumptions. “…What exactly were you doing with Lord Satoru and Ryomen?”

“PRINCESS! PRINCESS!!”

Saved by another voice entering the fray, you and your lady-in-waiting turn around to see another person coming to the garden, running down the brick road to your destination. As they came closer, you could tell from the bright blue hair and uneven bangs that it was Utahime’s apprentice, the lower-status handmaiden Kasumi Miwa. Your lady-in-waiting was the first to correct her before getting closer, “Maiden Miwa! I���ve told you about running so freely around the castle. What if you were to bump into someone?” When Miwa is in the presence of the two of you, she’s huffing and puffing. “And stand up straight!”

“Eek! Sorry, Lady Iori, but I come bearing news for the princess!” Miwa fixes her posture and messy blue hair while trying to situate her breaths steadily. “Princess, I’m here to tell you that Lords Sukuna Ryomen and Satoru Gojo wish to speak with you!”

Huh??!! “Pardon??”

“Yes, they wish to discuss their proposals with you from last night. At least, that’s what they told me…Oh, there they are!” 

“Miwa, shhhh, don’t point!” 

You pay no mind to your chambermaid lecturing her young student because your eyes follow the brick pathway up to the castle steps where two figures stand. Sukuna and Gojo stand at the entranceway to the garden, both wearing their respective clothing. Not that it matters, though, because the memories from last night with your nude bodies being connected still haunt your senses. And now they’re here, big grins on their faces that share the same reason. They know, and they know that you know. Who knew that such a night full of unexpected passion and heat would happen to you and with your closest friends since your little years, who have grown to become such strong, handsome, and powerful men. 

Perhaps this was the union you’ve wished for — the union that could finally bring you three back together…Perhaps.

“…Tell them that I’m available to speak.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi mogera + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Tastes like strawberries

Dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,367 (ma bad)

Summary: after accidentally sending your dads best friend a provocative photo meant for someone else you go to "apologize" in person.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (make it your own), handcuffs, scissors, power imbalance, alcohol consumption, f&m oral receiving, joel wrecks your clothes, unprotected p in v, reader has hair and wears a dress, just two consenting adults

Notes: this wasn't meant to be so long. But here we are. Thank you for reading hope you like it <3 Thank you @syd-djarin @joelslegalwhre and @mountainsandmayhem for beta'ing sending you all smooches! and @saradika-graphics for the divider <3 <3 <3

The soft glow of your phone screen illuminates your face in the dimly lit room. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and nerves as you craft the perfect message to the guy you've been chatting with on Tinder. His name is Joel, and he seems different from the others—charming, mature, and undeniably intriguing.

With a deep breath, you attach the sexy photo you'd taken earlier, one that you hope he'll find irresistible. You type out a flirty caption, double-check the name at the top of the chat, and hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

The next morning, you wake up to a message notification. Your heart leaps, thinking it's Tinder Joel, but as you reach for your phone, a sense of dread washes over you. The message is from your father's best friend, Joel Miller, a man you've known since childhood and who has seen you grow up. The preview of the message from last night is enough to make your blood run cold.

11:58PM: I think you might have sent this to the wrong person, sweetheart.

Panic sets in as you read the full message and your face flames with embarrassment. You type out a flurry of apologies, each one more frantic than the last. Joel's response is swift and unexpected.

8:05AM: It's all good, baby girl. You don't need those Tinder boys when I'm right here for ya.

The message is accompanied by a winking emoji, and despite your mortification, you can't help but feel a thrill at the familiarity and warmth in his words. 

—

Determined to apologize in person and clear the air, you find yourself outside the sleek glass building that houses Joel's wine company Vita Vino: where every sip is a celebration of life. You certainly don't feel very celebratory at this moment as the receptionist leads you up to the top floor, where Joel's office overlooks the city with floor-to-ceiling windows.

You step into the office, where you see the cityscape sprawling behind Joel. He rises from his desk, a smile playing on his lips, his presence commanding the room. "Come in, sweetheart, was hopin’ to see ya," he says and winks.

You manage to find your voice, despite the fluttering in your chest. "Mr. Miller, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I was mortified when I realized - I don't know what I was thinking, it was meant for someone—"

He cuts you off with a gentle raise of his hand to still your frantic words. "Please call me Joel, you know better than callin me that. It's okay darlin. Really. These things happen."

You look up at him, searching his face for any sign of judgement, but find only a calm, reassuring smile. "I just—I never meant for you to see that. I feel so stupid.”

Joel's smile broadens, and he takes a step closer. "You have nothing to feel stupid about. You're a beautiful, confident woman. Ain't no shame in that. Listen, what you sent—it was for my eyes only from the moment it reached my phone. I want you to know that you can trust me. I would never disrespect you by sharing that with anyone.”

His words resonate with you, and you feel the weight of your embarrassment start to lift. "I appreciate that, Joel. I really do."

He takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you two. His hand lifts, and you feel the warmth of his fingers as they gently tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. "You've got nothing to thank me for darlin. I'm just being honest with you."

The intensity of his stare sends a jolt of electricity through you. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, and the scent of his cologne fills your senses, making your head spin. But before you can respond, he releases your chin and moves to the side, gesturing toward a large, framed map of the world's wine regions that hangs on the wall. As you both turn to look at it, your bodies are almost touching, and you can feel the subtle brush of his arm against yours.

"I want to show you something," he says, pointing to a very tiny out of the way region highlighted in gold. "It's where we get the grapes for our signature blend. You know, just like those grapes, sometimes the best things in life are unexpected surprises." 

As he explains the intricacies of the wine-making process, his hand drifts to the small of your back, a possessive gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. His touch is light, but the message is clear—he's staking a claim. 

As Joel's hand lingers on the small of your back, his thumb traces small, intimate circles that make it hard to focus on his words about wine. The room seems to shrink, the city outside the windows fading into insignificance as your awareness narrows to the man beside you.

 You swallow hard, your breath hitching as Joel's thumb continues its maddeningly delightful exploration. The heat from his hand seems to seep through the fabric of your clothes, branding your skin with his touch. "Joel," you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur. His name feels foreign and familiar on your lips.

He turns to look at you. "Yes, darlin'?" he replies, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself against the intoxicating effect he has on you. "I -I should go," you say, though the words feel hollow even as they leave your mouth. The last thing you want is to leave this room and the spell Joel has cast over you.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he shakes his head slightly. "Do you really want to leave?" he asks, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your back, urging you closer.

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with anticipation and the promise of something deliciously forbidden. You know that saying yes will irrevocably change things between you and Joel Miller—the man who is friends with your father—but in this moment, none of that seems to matter. 

The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. You're acutely aware of the way your heart is pounding in your chest, the way your breath has become shallow and rapid. Joel's eyes are locked onto yours, a silent challenge that dares you to take a leap into the unknown.

"No," you admit, the word tasting like a confession. "I don't want to leave."

The smile that lights up Joel's face is predatory, triumphant. "Good girl," he murmurs, the approval in his voice sends a thrill through you. He steps back, giving you both a moment to breathe, to let the gravity of your decision settle in the space between you. "I've got something special I've been saving for an occasion like this," Joel says. He moves toward a polished wooden cabinet on the far side of the room. The cabinet is locked, but he produces a key from his pocket with a flourish that makes you smile despite the tension coiling in your belly.

Inside the cabinet is an array of exquisite bottles, each one surely holding a story as rich and complex as its contents. Joel's hand lingers over them before finally selecting one with a label that looks older than you are. "This," he says, holding it up to the light so you can see the liquid within, "is a 1947 Cheval Blanc. One of the finest vintages ever produced."

Your eyes widen at the sight of it. "Joel, I can't... that must be worth a fortune," you protest weakly, even as part of you yearns to experience such rare luxury.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he retrieves two crystal glasses from the cabinet. "Money isn't everything, darlin'." His gaze meets yours again, filled with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather share this with than you."

You watch in silence as he expertly uncorks the bottle and pours a small amount into each glass, the wine swirling like liquid rubies. He hands one to you and then raises his own in a toast. "To unexpected surprises," he says with a knowing smile.

The wine is velvet on your tongue, rich and complex with layers of flavor that seem to unfold endlessly as you sip it. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring the experience—and when you open them again Joel is watching you with an intensity that makes your knees weak. The atmosphere in the room has shifted, becoming charged with a desire that's as intoxicating as the wine you're sharing.

"You look so beautiful when you enjoy something.” 

As the last drops of the exquisite wine coat your throat, you lower your glass, your senses heightened by the rich flavors and the man standing before you. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes dark with desire that mirrors the pulsing need growing within you. He takes a step closer, the heat of his body enveloping you as he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"I want to show you more than just wine," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "There's a whole world of pleasures I can introduce you to.”

“Joel, I dont know what to say.” 

“Nothin’, you dont have to say anything pretty girl.” 

As the last drops of the Cheval Blanc dance on your tongue, Joel takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. He reaches out to take your glass, setting it aside on a nearby table. His fingers graze yours in the process, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his body, the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest, the subtle hint of stubble along his jawline.

Joel turns back to the wine cabinet to return the precious bottle to its place of honor. As he opens the cabinet door, there's a soft clinking sound, and something metallic tumbles out from one of the shelves, landing with a thud on the plush carpet at your feet.

You both glance down simultaneously. There, gleaming under the soft glow of the office lights, is a pair of handcuffs. They're not just any handcuffs—they're high-quality, with a polished finish that suggests they've been well cared for. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you can feel a heat creeping up your cheeks as you look back at Joel.

"Well, that's not something I expected to show you today," he says with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of awkwardness.

You stare at the handcuffs and then back at Joel, your heart pounding in your chest. "Are those...?" You trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

Joel chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he nods. "Yes, they are.”

You're not sure what to think, you can only imagine how many women he's used those on, right here in his office. The thought sends a thrill through you, a mix of jealousy and excitement at the idea of being one of those women, of sharing in this secret, kinky side of Joel that he's kept hidden from the world. "I didn't peg you for the type," you say.

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, the playful glint in them replaced by a serious intensity. "There's a lot you don't know about me, darlin'," he admits. "And there's a lot I'd like to show you, if you're willing.”

You know that picking up those handcuffs would be crossing a line, stepping into a world of pleasure and exploration that you've never experienced before. But the thought of surrendering control to Joel, of letting him guide you through uncharted territory, is exhilarating.

Slowly, you reach down and pick up the handcuffs, the cold metal warming in your grasp. You hold them out to Joel, your heart racing as you give him a silent nod of consent. A slow, approving smile spreads across his face as he takes the handcuffs from you. 

His fingers brush against your wrists, sending sparks of electricity through your veins. You hear the soft click of the handcuffs as they close around your wrists. The sensation of being bound, of being at Joel's mercy, is both thrilling and terrifying.

"There," he says, his breath hot against your ear as he steps in front of you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Now you're mine."

The words send a jolt of desire through you, pooling low in your belly. You're aware of the way your body responds to his words, to the dominance radiating off him in waves. "What are you going to do with me?" you ask.

Joel's smile is wicked as he reaches out to trace the line of your jaw with his finger. "Whatever I want," he says, the promise in his voice making your knees weak. "But don't worry, darlin'. I'm going to make sure you enjoy every single second of it.”

He guides you toward the large, mahogany desk that dominates his office. The surface is clear, save for a sleek laptop and a few neatly stacked papers. With a gentle hand on your shoulder, he urges you to sit on the edge of the desk, the cool wood against your skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch.

Joel steps back, his gaze raking over you as he begins to undress and it's as if time slows down, allowing you to take in every inch of his mature, ruggedly handsome form. Joel's suit is tailored to perfection, emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Each movement he makes stretches the fabric across his toned body. With practiced ease, he removes it and then unbuttons his crisp, white dress shirt. His chest is a canvas of sun-kissed skin pulled taut over defined pectoral muscles. A smattering of gray hair dusts his chest, trailing down his toned abdomen and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. Joel's hands move to his belt, and with a flick of his wrist, he unbuckles it, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. He slides the leather out of the loops with a slow, deliberate motion. His trousers follow, pooling at his feet to reveal a pair of black boxer briefs that hug his powerful thighs and leave little to the imagination.

His arousal is evident, straining against the soft fabric, and you can't help but feel a thrill at the sight. As he pushes his boxer briefs down, his cock springs free, thick and heavy with desire. His cock is a thing of beauty, perfectly proportioned to his large frame, with a defined shaft and a bulbous head that glistens with a drop of arousal. It's clear that Joel is a man confident in his sexuality and the effect he has on you.

"Eyes up here, darlin'," he teases, but the heat in his gaze tells you he enjoys your appraisal. Joel's eyes twinkle with mischief as he reaches into the top drawer of his desk, the sound of metal against wood sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. He produces a pair of scissors. The sight of them in his large, capable hands is intimidating. "These," he says, holding up the scissors for you to see, "are going to help me unwrap my present." His voice is filled with a promise that sends a thrill straight to your core.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as he steps toward you. "Joel, wait—" you start to protest, but the words die on your lips as he places a finger gently against them.

"Shh... trust me," he murmurs, and there's something in his eyes that makes it impossible for you to do anything but nod in silent acquiescence. With a tenderness that belies his strength, Joel takes hold of one of the straps of your dress. The cold steel of the scissors brushes against your skin as he carefully slides the blades beneath the fabric. You feel a momentary resistance and then—snip—the strap gives way, falling limply to your side as Joel cuts through it with practiced ease. The front of your dress sags slightly, revealing more of your cleavage than intended. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as Joel's gaze darkens with desire. "You are exquisite," he says reverently, his fingers tracing the newly exposed skin along the neckline of your dress.

Before you can respond, he's moving again, this time cutting away the other strip of fabric that hold up the rest of your dress. The material falls away from your body like petals from a blooming flower, pooling at your waist and leaving you feeling deliciously exposed under his hungry gaze. 

"Joel!" you gasp, both startled and exhilarated by his boldness. "My dress—" 

He silences you with a kiss—a deep, searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt about how much he wants you right now. "Don't worry about it," he says when he finally pulls away, “I'll buy you ten more just like it.”

With your heart pounding in your chest, you watch as Joel's attention shifts to your bra. The scissors glint in the soft light of his office, and you can't help but hold your breath as he positions the blades against the delicate fabric of your bra strap.

"I've been wanting to see these since the moment ya walked in baby," he confesses, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. With a swift, precise movement, he snips through the strap on one side, then the other. The bra loosens around you, but it's still held in place by the underwire and your modesty is preserved—for now.

Joel sets the scissors aside and hooks his fingers under the remaining fabric of your dress and bra. He tugs gently, peeling away the layers of clothing that separate you from his touch. You lift your hips to assist him, and with a final tug, he frees you from both garments. You're sitting before him now in nothing but your underwear, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever before.

Joel's eyes roam over every inch of exposed skin with an intensity that makes it clear just how much he appreciates what he sees laid out before him on his desk like some kind of erotic feast prepared just for him. "You are absolutely breathtaking," he murmurs appreciatively as his hands follow where his eyes have just been caressing every curve along its way. Joel's hands continue their exploration, his fingers skimming over the soft fabric of your underwear. You can feel the heat of his touch through the thin material, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

"Eager, aren't we?" he teases, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear before dipping beneath the fabric. His fingertips graze your sensitive flesh, and a gasp escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. "I like that," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

Your body responds to his touch with an eagerness that surprises you. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Lift up for me, darlin'," he instructs. You do as he says, lifting your hips so he can slide the underwear down your legs. Once they're off, he tosses them aside carelessly, as if they're nothing more than a bothersome impediment to what he truly wants—you. Now you're completely exposed to him, sitting on the edge of his desk with your hands cuffed and your legs spread slightly. You feel vulnerable like this, but there's also a sense of empowerment in knowing that you've driven him to such lengths of desire.

Joel steps back to appreciate the view, his eyes darkening with lust as they roam over your naked body. "You are a masterpiece," he says reverently, his gaze lingering on the apex of your thighs before traveling up to meet your eyes. "And I am going to worship every inch of you."

Before you can respond, he drops to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your thighs as he buries his face between your legs. His tongue swipes across your sensitive flesh, and a moan escapes your lips as pleasure shoots through you.  Joel's tongue delves deeper, lapping at your folds and teasing your clit with gentle flicks. You gasp, arching into his touch as he explores you with a skill that leaves you panting for more. His hands squeeze your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. You feel the world around you melt away as his attention focuses solely on bringing you pleasure.

As he works his magic between your legs, Joel's other hand travels up to cup one of your breasts, tweaking a nipple gently before rolling it between his fingers. The sensation sends shockwaves of desire coursing through you, heightening the pleasure he's already coaxing from below. Your hips buck against him in response to the exquisite torment and ecstasy that overwhelms you.

You can feel yourself growing wetter by the moment under his ministrations, and when Joel finally takes your clit into his mouth with a soft suckling sound that echoes in the quiet room, it's almost too much to bear. He sucks gently at first before increasing the pressure until your whole body tenses and shudders with release.  As the waves of pleasure crash over you, Joel's mouth never leaves your sensitive flesh. He laps at you with long, languid strokes, drawing out your orgasm until you're left trembling and gasping for air. Your body is still pulsing with the aftershocks when he finally pulls back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust. "You taste as sweet as I imagined," he growls, his voice rough with desire. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of satisfaction. The sight of him tasting you is incredibly erotic, and you feel a fresh surge of arousal at the thought of him enjoying your pleasure so thoroughly. "Come on now, be a good girl and follow me,”  he says, rising to his feet. He reaches for the chain between the handcuffs, using it to guide you off the desk and toward the plush leather couch that sits against the far wall of his office. 

You stumble slightly, still dizzy from your orgasm, but Joel's strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you steady. He positions you on the couch, your back against the soft leather and your hands still cuffed, placing them above your head. He kneels beside you, his body looming over yours as he captures your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy. "Spread those pretty legs for me, darlin'," he murmurs against your lips, and you comply without hesitation, eager for whatever he has planned next. He reaches down to stroke your inner thighs. "You're so wet for me, so ready," he says, his voice filled with approval.

He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his in a silent plea for more. He responds with a slow, deliberate thrust that fills you completely. The sensation of him inside you is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out in pleasure.

"That's it, such a goodgirl, aren’tcha?" he groans, beginning to move inside you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting and writhing beneath him. "I know baby, s'big but you can take it darlin. C’mon take me inside that pretty pussy.”

His thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, and you meet each one with a desperation that matches his own. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by your cries of pleasure and his low, guttural moans.

Joel's hand snakes between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is almost too much to bear, and you feel another orgasm building within you, stronger and more intense than the first. "Come for me, darlin'," he commands. "Wanna feel you make a sweet mess on my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you explode around him, your body convulsing with the force of your release. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're left limp and boneless beneath him. 

Just as the waves of your orgasm subsides, Joel slowly withdraws from you, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. He stands before you, his cock glistening with your arousal, and there's a predatory glint in his eyes that sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

"On your knees, darlin'," he commands, his voice a low growl that brooks no argument. You scramble to obey, the handcuffs clinking together as you shift your position on the couch. He steps closer, his cock at eye level, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

Joel's cock is a sight to behold—a testament to his virility and raw masculinity. It's thick and long, with a prominent vein running along the underside that pulses. The shaft is smooth and warm to the touch, the skin soft yet taut over the steel-hard erection beneath. His girth is substantial. The head of his cock is a deep shade of pink, almost purple with engorgement, and it glistens with a bead of precum that entices you like the sweet promise of a popsicle on a sweltering summer day. You can't help but lean forward, extending your tongue to taste him. The salty-sweet flavor of his essence dances on your taste buds as you lap at him, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure from Joel that vibrates through his body and into yours.

"Open wide," he instructs, his hand fisting his shaft as he guides himself toward your waiting mouth. You part your lips obediently, and he slides inside, filling your mouth with his impressive girth. He tastes musky and salty, a heady combination that makes your head spin.

"That's it, baby girl," he groans, his fingers threading through your hair as he begins to thrust gently into your mouth. "Take it nice and deep."

You relax your throat, trying to accommodate his size as he sets a steady rhythm, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you fight the urge to gag, wanting to please him, to show him that you can handle everything he gives you.

"Such a good girl," he praises, his words spurring you on. "You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

His praise washes over you, filling you with a sense of pride and arousal. You moan around him, the vibrations making him hiss with pleasure. His grip on your hair tightens, and he pulls you closer, pushing deeper into your throat.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, his hips jerking as he hits the perfect spot. "Just like that. Don't stop."

You can feel the tension building in his body, the way his thighs tremble slightly with each thrust. You know he's close, and the knowledge that you're the one bringing him to the edge fills you with a sense of power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. "Not yet," he says, his voice strained. "Wanna come inside ya baby, make a mess in that tasty cunt."

He helps you to your feet and guides you back to the desk, bending you over it so that your ass is in the air and gives you a light smack to one cheek. He reaches between your legs, his fingers easily sliding into your soaked pussy. "Goddamn baby, you're still so wet," he marvels, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting for more.

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock, slamming into you with a force that makes you cry out in surprise and pleasure. He sets a brutal pace, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust.

"You feel that, darlin'?" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "That's me claiming what's mine."

His words send a jolt of desire through you, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust with one of your own. You can feel another orgasm building, the pressure coiling low in your belly.

"Come for me one more time," he commands, his hand reaching around to strum your clit with quick, expert strokes. "Wanna feel you milk my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you come around him, your entire core pulsing around his girth and with a final, powerful thrust, Joel buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his own release. You can feel him filling you up, the warmth of his seed spreading through you as he groans out his pleasure.

Spent, he collapses on top of you, his body heavy and sated. After a moment, he pulls out and helps you to stand, his hands gentle as he uncuffs you and massages your wrists.

"You are somethin’ else that's for sure babygirl," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

You smile up at him, "I'm glad I could make you feel good," you reply with a soft voice.

Joel chuckles and gives you a quick, playful swat on the ass. "Make me feel good? Baby girl, you blew my mind."

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a sleek, black whip. "Next time," he says, holding it up for you to see, "we can play with this. But for now, I think we've both had enough excitement for one day."

You stand there for a moment, still reeling from the intensity of your encounter, and then you remember—your dress is in tatters on the floor. You gather the remnants of your clothing, holding them up in front of you like a shield. "What do I do about this?" you ask.

Joel looks at you with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What size are you, darlin'?" he asks, reaching for his phone on the desk.

You tell him your size, still feeling a bit flustered as he dials a number and speaks into the receiver. "Hey, Lexi? Yeah, I need you to pick up a dress for our guest here.” He looks at you questioningly, and you repeat your size for his benefit. "Got it. And make it something nice—surprise me.” There's a brief pause as he listens to his assistant's response before hanging up the phone with a satisfied nod. "Lexi will take care of everything," he assures you with a wink that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach once again despite yourself.

True to his word, less than twenty minutes later, there's a knock on the office door. Lexi, Joel's assistant, enters the room with a professional smile and several shopping bags from high-end boutiques. "Here you go, Mr. Miller," she says, setting them down next to where you're standing, like this is completely normal. "I hope these will suffice."

"Thank you, Lexi," Joel responds with a nod of appreciation. "I'm sure they'll be perfect." Lexi exits the room as quickly as she came in, leaving you once again alone with Joel. He gestures toward the bags with a playful smile. "Go on, darlin'. Pick your favorite."

You rummage through the bags and find an elegant black dress that looks like it would fit you perfectly. It's sophisticated yet sexy—just like the man who bought it for you. With a shy smile, you hold it up for Joel to see.

"Perfect choice," he says approvingly. "Why don't you try it on?"

You slip into the dress, feeling its soft fabric hug your curves in all the right places. When you turn around to show Joel, his eyes light up with appreciation. "You look stunning," he murmurs sincerely while walking over towards where you were standing before wrapping an arm around your waist then pulling you closer so he could whisper into your ear "But then again I knew you would." His words send shivers down your spine causing goosebumps to form all over your skin despite how warm it was inside his office at this moment.

 As Joel takes a moment to drink in the sight of you in the new dress, you can't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. The way his eyes darken with desire, even after everything you've shared, is intoxicating. It's clear that his interest in you isn't just a fleeting attraction—it's something much deeper and more intense.

You smile at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Thank you, Joel," you reply softly. "For everything."

He chuckles and shakes his head slightly. "Don't thank me yet, darlin'. The day's still young. Now what do you say I get ya home safe."

With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air between you, Joel helps you into your coat—a thoughtful gesture that makes you feel cared for. He escorts you out of his office and down to the parking garage where his sleek black sports car is waiting. The ride back to your place is filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, the chemistry between you two undeniable and electric.

When he pulls up in front of your building, he turns off the engine and turns to face you. "I had a great time with you today," he says sincerely, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I hope this isn't the last time I get to see that beautiful smile of yours."

You look up at him through your lashes, feeling bold despite the vulnerability coursing through you. "I don't think that will be a problem," you say with a playful smirk. 

Joel grins back at, “that's my good girl.” 

As you step out of the car, the cool  air wraps around you. You turn to say goodbye, but he's already getting out of the driver's seat, coming around to your side of the car.

"Let me walk you to your door," he says, offering his arm with a gentlemanly charm that belies the fiery passion you've shared. You accept with a nod, and together, you walk toward the entrance of your building.

The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the unspoken knowledge of what transpired between you two. As you reach your door, you turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you again, Joel, for today," you say softly, "for everything."

Joel smiles at you. "The pleasure was all mine," he replies with a wink and leans in close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips when he speaks again. "But I have a feeling we're just getting started."

With those words hanging in the air between you like a promise of more incredible days to come, Joel takes a step back and heads back toward his car parked by curbside leaving only echoes behind him.

As the door to your building clicks shut behind you, you lean against it. The memory of his touch, his kiss, his words—they all send shivers of delight coursing through your veins. You can't help but smile to yourself as you replay the events of the day in your mind, each moment more thrilling than the last.

You're startled out of your reverie by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. Fishing it out, you see a notification on the screen - a new message from Joel. Your heart skips a beat as you open it, curiosity and excitement mingling within you.

1:07PM: Can't wait to unwrap that pretty little package again." 

The words alone are enough to send a jolt of desire through you, but then you notice an attachment—a picture. With trembling hands, you open it and find exactly what you were hoping for - a photo of Joel's large burly hand wrapping around his even thicker, larger cock, hard and ready for you once more. You realize he must have taken that in his car.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight of Joel's arousal, so potent and vivid on your screen. The knowledge that he's thinking about you, that he's hard and ready again so soon after your encounter, sends a thrill of power through you. You type out a quick response, your fingers flying over the keys with a boldness that matches the newfound confidence he's awakened in you.

1:10PM I hope you're not driving and texting that picture. Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Miller.  you tease, adding a winking emoji for good measure.

His response is almost immediate, a testament to his eagerness. 

1:10PM Don't worry, darlin'. I'm parked outside your building. Couldn't resist sending you a little something to dream about tonight.

You can't help but smile at his words, your body already aching for his touch once more. But before you can respond, another message comes through with an address.

1:11PM Tomorrow, 8 PM. My place. Wear something comfortable and easy to take off.

1:12PM Yes sir.

1:13PM Oh baby you're walking Into whole new territory calling me sir. I'm going to put that pretty mouth to good use tomorrow.

Just as you're about to put your phone down a last message comes through 

1:13PM And leave the underwear at home.

[mellowsadistic]

Easter Bunnies - Part 1

Melony and her boyfriend meet up with their friends for a garden party, but the girls are acting more like toddlers getting ready for an Easter egg hunt, and Melony's boyfriend expects her to join them.

***

“Are you looking forward to playing with your friends, sweetie?”

Melony scowled at her boyfriend as they walked up the driveway. “Don’t say it in such a patronising way, Peter!” she snapped, tossing back her long black hair. “How many times do I have to tell you not to talk to me like a child?”

“Sorry, Mel,” said Peter, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, baby. I know you’re very sensitive about that sort of thing.”

Melony pressed her lips together. Even his apologies were infantilising! Mostly she liked having Peter as her boyfriend; he was tall and handsome, and decent enough in bed, but he could be infuriatingly condescending at times – even though they were the same age, he sometimes treated her more like a toddler than the twenty-four-year-old woman she actually was. But now wasn’t the time for an argument. She’d save her scoldings for when they got home.

Peter knocked on the front door, and a few moments later it swung open to reveal a smiling, sandy-haired young man. “About time, you two!” George said cheerfully, standing back to let them over the threshold. “Happy Easter! Come on in. Hazel and Oliver are already here.” He shook hands with Peter as he passed and, to Melony’s annoyance, placed his hand on her back to move her along down the corridor, as though she couldn’t do it by herself. “Hazel’s just upstairs with Oliver, being changed into something more comfortable,” he said, “and Jackie’s playing out in the garden.”

Melony clenched her teeth. There was that word again. Playing. Anyone could be forgiven for thinking he was talking about a trio of three-year-olds, and not three grown women in their mid-twenties. And there was something about his smile that Melony didn’t like. But then George often looked like he was laughing at some private joke. It was maddening! She didn’t know how Jackie could stand it.

They were led into the bright kitchen at the back of the house. Double doors opened out onto a wooden decking, and beyond that a large green lawn with patches of brightly coloured Spring flowers. But before Melony could head out into the sun, she heard running footsteps on the landing above them, and then the unmistakable sound of someone rushing down the stairs as fast as they could.

“Hazel!” she heard a man call. She recognised Oliver’s voice. There were more hurried footfalls above them. “Wait for Daddy, silly girl!”

A moment later, a young brunette woman ran, or rather toddled, through the hallway to join them in the kitchen. “Mewwie!” she squealed, coming to a stop in front of them.

“Hazel?!” Melony gasped. Her normally shy, reserved friend was standing in front of her wearing a pair of trainers on her feet, a set of bunny ears on her head, and absolutely nothing in between. Her bare pussy and perky breasts were on full display, though it didn’t seem to bother her one bit. There was a vacant, innocent look in her green-brown eyes, and she was grinning broadly.

“Hazel, what are you doing?!” Melony asked, blushing scarlet with second-hand embarrassment. “Why are you dressed like that?!”

Oliver chuckled as he entered the kitchen behind his girlfriend. “I’m not sure I’d call her dressed at all, Mellie,” he said, winking at her. “My little lady was more comfortable in her birthday suit, but I insisted on shoes.” He patted his girlfriend’s bare bottom. “And of course, she absolutely refused to go without her pretty bunny ears.” He kissed Hazel on the cheek. “Didn’t you, baby girl?” he cooed. “You wanted to be Daddy’s nakie little bunny rabbit!”

Hazel giggled delightedly. “Nakie bunny!” she echoed, bouncing on the spot and making her boobs jiggle about.

“But she has to tell Daddy when she needs her potty,” Oliver said, “because we don’t want to leave any puddles on George’s floor, do we, baby?”

Hazel nodded seriously at her boyfriend. “Tell Daddy,” she agreed. “Don’t need puw-ups!”

“Not during the day at least,” said Oliver, bending down to give his girlfriend another kiss, this time on the forehead. “You’re Daddy’s big girl, aren’t you?”

“What the fuck is going on here?!” Melony demanded in a shrill voice. She realised she was breathing very fast. A part of her was sure this had to be some bizarre joke, but the blank look in Hazel’s eyes was telling her otherwise. She looked around at Peter and George, but neither of the boys seemed to think there was anything wrong with the situation. In fact, George looked like he was trying to hold back laughter as he took in the sight of Hazel standing nearly nude in front of him, prattling like a toddler. Peter was looking at her, however. There was a smirk playing around his lips, and an almost hungry look in his eyes.

Melony suddenly remembered that George had said Jackie was out in the garden, and she rushed to the back doors. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she reached them. Jackie was indeed playing in the garden. She was prancing about awkwardly like the littlest of toddlers, giggling and trying to catch butterflies. She wasn’t naked like Hazel, but Melony almost wished she was. She wore a pale pink dress, all frills and lace, and so short that it did nothing whatsoever to hide the enormously thick nappy she wore beneath. Even as Melony watched, Jackie bent over to peer at something in the grass, and her diapered bottom was thrust high into the air. The padding was sagging and discoloured. She’d clearly wet herself. A moment later, she straightened up and turned around, smiling even more vacantly than Hazel. Her blonde hair had been tied into a pair of pigtails, and she too wore a set of bunny ears.

Melony felt sick to her stomach. Something was very, very wrong here. Hazel and Jackie needed the hospital, or a psychologist, or something! They couldn’t be allowed to just walk around humiliating themselves like this! They needed help! Before she could get over her shock, however, Peter had walked up behind her and slipped a pair of fluffy bunny ears onto her head.

“What? What are you…?” Melony spun around, confused and angry, to see her boyfriend grinning at her. She lifted her hands to her head, feeling the soft ears, ready to rip them off, but by then it was already too late to stop the warm, fuzzy contentment spreading through her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes…

[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 7

I know I said that Nanny would be out this week, but I just finished this and am really wanting to get it out as soon as possible and that includes the epilogue.

But if I time it right, this series and Hellfire will end the same week and I'll be able to return to some kind of normal schedule instead of pumping these out on a fucking grinder.

That said, I probably won't do a Christmas story with the way things are right now. But we'll see the closer we get to the holiday.

In this we get the proper Jack the Ripper tour and the author has opinions, okay! Steve draws attention to himself at the Paris Opera house. Murray is a bit too knowing. And of course as @val-from-lawrence guessed, visited the Catacombs!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

They had done the Tower of London and St. Paul’s Cathedral during the day and got ready for the Bauman Experience as Murray called it. They all had a flashlight and went to go meet him where they had the night before.

They caught him dealing with some obnoxious tourists.

“Oh thank god!” the Karen cried. “An American. Could you please explain to this woman that we only have dollars to pay with. She has to take it!”

Murray blinked at her for a moment. “Well that is quite the cock up, you absolute muppet. Are you dead from the neck up? British pound sterling is the brass here, you silly cow!”

The woman’s head reared back in shock, clutching her chest. “I beg your pardon!”

“To make it perfectly clear,” Murray said leaning forward into her space. “You fucked up, you moron. Are you really that stupid? Dollars aren’t the currency here, the British pound is. Just like you can’t use the pound anywhere but here, you can’t use the dollar anywhere but America so why don’t you go to an ATM or bank and get it exchanged. Or and here’s the really neat part about living in the age of technology, use or credit or debit card and your bank does the conversion for you.”

When she started sputtering angrily, Murray waved her off. “Now, shoo! I’ve got actual paying customers waiting for me.”

Murray turned to the four of them with a smiled. “Well, hello! Welcome. Now that things are dark and therefore sufficiently spooky, let’s take you on a proper tour of Jack’s slaying grounds.”

He went through the different murders until he got to the double murders of Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes.

“Now,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “Miss Stride is usually considered his third victim and that he was interrupted, moving on to Miss Eddowes. But I think Stride was a copycat. The person only knew the bodies were mutilated, but not how. So for me, I don’t count her in the confirmed kills.”

Robin nodded sagely. “I don’t either. There was far too little evidence to prove he had been frightened off, because otherwise Eddowes would have been more brutal than it was. He would have been angry he couldn’t finish with Stride. You would have expected her to look like what Mary Kelly’s body looked like, not cool and calm.”

Murray smiled up at her. He turned to Eddie. “I really like her. She’s clever.”

Robin blushed and ducked her head.

A short time later, just as they were wrapping up the Kelly murder, Murray stopped. He looked at a pair of older teenagers and then back at the group.

Chrissy picked up on it first. “You thinking what, I’m thinking, Mur?”

Murray turned to her and cocked his head to the side, considering. He nodded and Chrissy pursed her lips.

Steve caught on just as quick. “Eds, baby. I think those boys may have guessed who you are, love.”

Robin and Eddie shared a concerned glance.

“Fuck,” Eddie huffed. “I liked this jacket.”

Robin grabbed it from him and gave him her jacket. “Mine doesn’t look as fancy,” she explained pulling his jacket on. “Just like Boston, peeps!”

Murray tilted his head to the side and did a quick Google search. “Or... if you’d like, my car is literally around the corner.”

The four of them stopped swapping clothes and looked up at him.

“That’s easier,” Steve said. “Who’s all for easier?”

The other three raised their hands and they followed Murray to his car. Robin sat up front while Steve and Chrissy covered Eddie between them.

“Drop me off at the hotel,” Steve said, tapping on Murray’s shoulder. “I’ll check us out and then meet you at Shakespeare’s Head.”

Murray looked behind him and grinned. “Smart thinking.”

~

Eddie had changed into a trucker hat and a puffy hunting vest over sturdy blue jeans and thick work boots.

“Kids and their cameras these day,” Murray huffed, sliding a pint of beer over at Steve as he sat down between Robin and Chrissy. “So what’s the story with loverboy here?” he asked Eddie, cocking his head to indicate Steve.

“He’s not out,” Eddie said dryly. “His parents are complete assholes who could and would make things very difficult for him if he was.”

“Nothing says asshole parents,” Murray said with a nod, “quite like those that have the money to make you miserable.”

Steve snorted. “You’ve got that right. But I’m more than equipped to make it work.” He half shrugged. “I’ve been doing it for almost a year.”

Murray’s went wide and he gave an opened mouthed smile. “Have you really? I would have never guessed. Good job! ”

“How did you spot the kids, by the way?” Robin asked around her fruity cocktail.

“Oh,” Murray said, ducking his head a bit. “You’re walking around a small group of people at night in a bad area of London. Whitechapel isn’t as bad as it was in Jackie’s time, but it’s still not a good neighborhood. You have to keep an eye out for people, but especially older teens wishing to knock you over for a bit of loose change.”

Steve cleared his throat and ducked his head. “I am about to ask the most bougie question imaginable. And you can tell me to go to hell if I’m out of line here.”

Murray’s eyebrows went up and he leaned back in his chair. “Wha’cha got, kid?”

Steve licked his lower lip as he tried to word this in a way that wasn’t instantly offensive. “How entrenched are you in this job?”

“Not very,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m just moving through the world enjoying myself and taking jobs that would be fun. I’ve got more than enough money. Why?”

“We were talking in our group chat,” Chrissy explained taking over from a very embarrassed Steve, “and we thought we’d offer you a job as main look out and part time driver for when we’re in Europe. You really saved Eddie today and we could really use someone like you with us.”

Murray glared at her. “You sure I wouldn’t cramp your little foursome you’ve got going on here’s style?” He made a little circling motion with his hand to indicate all of them.

Robin shook her head. “It’ll make it harder for people to recognize a quartet if it suddenly became a quintet. Plus, we’d pay for your room and board. None of us are skint, believe you me.”

“We’ll be staying in haunted hotels, motels, and bed and breakfasts,” Eddie added. “But we won’t force you to join us. We can put you up in a nice place nearby and we join back up whenever we go out.”

Murray eyed them suspiciously until Steve slid over an envelope. He picked it up and pulled out a check. His eyes went wide. “That’s quite the pretty penny.”

“That’s half,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms and throwing herself against the back of the chair. “You’ll get the other half once we leave Europe for Asia.”

“All that for a month’s worth of driving you four around and making sure fans and paparazzi don’t find Eddie here?” Murray asked. “Have you gone crazy?”

Eddie shook his head. “We just want a romantic tour of the spooky places of Europe. I hate the thought Steve getting caught up in something just because I’m recognized everywhere I go and he isn’t.”

Murray licked his lips slowly as his eyes narrowed. “That’s not how that’s usually said.”

Steve frowned and tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean? How is what said?”

Robin put her hand on his elbow as he bristled slightly at his tone.

“Usually people will say ‘famous and they’re not’,” Murray said thoughtfully, “he said ‘recognized’. Meaning Stevie here is famous too, but not in a way people would recognize him on the street. What is a famous painter or some shit?”

She cocked her to the side and said dryly, “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”

Murray laughed. Just full on cackled. “Have I mentioned how much I like her? Because I really like her.”

Eddie leaned forward to put his elbows on the table. “So what do you say, Murray?” he asked tilting his head to the side. “You want to work for me again?”

Murray slipped the check into his coat pocket and stuck out his hand. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

~

Their first stop on the Continent was Paris and the catacombs. Eddie was still trying to figure out how Robin did that one. It had been closed to the public for years.

Robin just smirked and said, “Well we aren’t the public.”

Steve was also sure they didn’t open it up to anyone who opened their wallet, either, but wisely stayed silent. Plus he was having fun watching Chrissy and Robin run circles around Murray in terms of sheer knowledge.

“Um...Stevie?” Eddie murmured so the trio couldn’t hear him. “Can I hold your hand? It’s getting a little creepy in here.”

Steve held out his hand, the one that had the little guitar on the inner wrist. Eddie looked down at the offered hand with a fond smile. He took the offered hand and their tattoos matched up. Eddie felt braver with every step knowing that Steve would always be there to hold his hand through the darkness.

Chrissy looked back at them and grinned at their clasped hands. She sped up her walk just a little, forcing Murray and Robin to speed up to match her pace, leaving the two love birds the privacy they so richly deserved.

Once they were out in the sunlight and among the city once again, Eddie refused to let go of Steve’s hand.

Steve looked at their joined hands and then back at Eddie. Eddie gave him his brightest smile and Steve was smitten. Even more so than before. He just loved him so much.

They toured the Paris Opera house and Eddie pulled out a cape and mask.

“Sing for me my angel of music!” he said to Chrissy.

She burst out laughing. “My name may be Christine, but I really don’t think they’d want me shattering the glass.”

Eddie turned to Robin who waved her arms in front of her. “No way! I sing like a frog in heat!”

“No.” Was all Murray said.

Steve raised an eyebrow and Eddie grinned.

“Sing!” Eddie crowed.

Steve took a deep breath and belted out that high note, held it perfectly and then took a bow.

Murray blinked and slow smile spread over his features. “You’re in one of those bands with the masks aren’t you? Like Sleep Token or The Fallen, huh? That’s Eddie here said recognized and not famous. Good on you.”

They all shared looks of concern.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Murray huffed, holding up his hands in surrender. “And I’m certainly not even going to try and guess which band it is.” He pulled out his phone and messed around on it for a while.

During which they all watched with ever increasing dread. The silence seemed to stretch out on and on.

Then Chrissy’s phone pinged. Everyone jumped as she scrambled for her phone. She opened it up and blinked a moment.

“You signed a blanket statement NDA?” she asked handing her phone to Robin. “Why?”

Murray licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did it suck when Corroded Coffin pulled out of my management causing a shit ton of other people pulling out, too? Sure. But that’s the nature of the business. One that I had been in for over twenty years. I took it as a sign from the universe to retire and enjoy my life. Unlike the CC boys pulling out on Nancy Wheeler because she about to do some pretty shady shit. And I say that having been part of a business that used to be built on shady ass shit.”

Chrissy coughed and looked away to hide her smile.

“I’m guessing Steve’s band is why Corroded Coffin went nuclear on her in the first place?”

Steve looked over at Eddie and then nodded. “She was an ex-girlfriend and she tried to hold that over my head to get me to work with her.”

Murray let out a long and low whistle. “Shady doesn’t even begin to cover that shit. The void would be fucking closer. Shit.”

Robin handed back Chrissy her phone. “How did you get an NDA that fast anyway?���

“Oh that?” Murray asked with a huff of laughter. “I have a bunch of basic contracts and shit in my Google docs. Things can move fast in this business and it’s a good idea to keep a few on hand. Back in the old days we kept them in our briefcases that we carted around. This is sooo much easier.”

“Smart.”

Murray grinned back at her. He turned to Steve. “Come on, show us what that classical vocal training can really do.”

Steve blushed and began warming up his vocals as Robin grinned.

“You may think you’ve heard Steve sing,” she crowed, “but you’ve ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Then Steve really opened up and began to sing. There was a deepness to his voice that didn’t have anything to do with his range. He was clearly a tenor, but the rich quality to his voice just elevated it somehow.

“Rigoletto,” Murray said nodding appreciatively. “Well done.” He clapped slowly, but it wasn’t mocking. “Your parents must have been livid when you didn’t go into opera.”

Steve snorted. “About as angry as when they found out I was bisexual. They know what I am but if I go public with it...”

“They’ll make your life a nightmare?” he asked. Steve nodded. “I feel for you, kid.”

He looked around and grimaced. “I thick it’s time we make like Opera Ghost and scram. That performance of Steve’s here, is getting more attention than I thought it would.”

They looked around and sure enough there were people pointing at Steve.

“I’m not sure what the Venn diagram of opera and metal fans,” Chrissy said, “but I’m betting it’s not two separate circles.”

“Yeaahhh,” Eddie said with a wince.

He grabbed Steve’s hand and they ran for the doors. Murray and the girls hot on their heels.

~

Part 8 Part 9

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Barbara Stanwyck (Ball of Fire, The Lady Eve, Double Indemnity)—I hope someone else has submitted better propaganda than I because I don't want my girl's prospects to rest on me just yelling PLEASE VOTE FOR MY TERRIBLE HOT GIRLFRIEND. She is a delight in everything! She is often a sexy jerk! (It's most of the plot of Baby Face!) Even when she plays a "good girl" (as an example, Christmas in Connecticut, which more people should see) she's still kind of a jerk and I love her for it! She won't take men's shit and she sure wouldn't take mine!

Mae Clarke (The Public Enemy, Frankenstein)—she was in frankenstein. which i think is neat

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Mae Clarke propaganda:

Barbara Stanwyck propaganda:

"THE queen of screwball comedies. I adore her, I'd kill for her, I will cry if she's not gonna win this poll."

"listen ok she had awful politics she was a mccarthyist right wing wacko BUT she's so incredibly hot that i've deluded myself into believing i could fix her. if you see her onscreen she carries herself in a way that's just so effortlessly sexy AND she has just a stunning face. imo she was at her hottest in the 1940s but even as early as the late 1920s she had a rly captivating screen presence and just a beautiful face, and then post-1950 she was just irresistibly milfy so really she was just always incredibly hot. she was also an incredibly talented actress who was equally stellar in melodrama, film noir, and unhinged screwball comedy. the blonde wig they made her wear in double indemnity is notoriously silly looking but she still looks sexy in it so that's gotta count for something. i've watched so many terrible movies just for a chance at seeing her that i think her estate should be paying me damages."

"Not often thought of for her sultriness, Barbara Stanwyck was incredible in that she could actually choose to be hot if the role called for it, and then have a glow-down to look ordinary for another role. She wasn't the most beautiful or effervescent, but damn did she have rizz. Watch her with Gary Cooper in Ball of Fire teaching him about "yum-yum" or with Henry Fonda in The Lady Eve whispering huskily into his ear."

"THE leading lady of the golden age of hollywood. One of the only actresses to work independent of a studio, making short-term contracts that enabled her to make movies wherever she wanted. She had so much range, and could act in basically any genre. She's been rumored to be a lesbian literally since she was active in Hollywood; most notable is the rumor that she had a long time on-and-off relationship with famously bi Joan Crawford, her "best friend" for decades (They lived right next door to one another). She also lived with Helen Ferguson, her "live-in publicist" for many years. She was the quintessential femme fatale in Double Indemnity, and really pushed sexual boundaries in her pre-code films like Baby Face, and the famous screwball The Lady Eve, where she plays basically a downlow domme. Allegedly, when a journalist asked her if she was a lesbian, she straight up threw him out of her house. She even played a lesbian in Walk on the Wild Side"

"She is always the smartest woman in the room. Watching her play Henry Fonda like a befuddled fiddle in The Lady Eve was a highlight of my life. Femme fatale in Double Indemnity, comedy queen in Ball of Fire. She can do anything."

"She was part of my gay awakening"

"SHE'S A PRE-CODE QUEEN. She did everything, drama, comedy. The most beautiful woman in the world to watch weep. Beg for to step on you with those legs. Fun Babs story: Ginger Rogers was offered the role in Ball of Fire but said, “Oh, I would never play that part, she’s too common.” So they called Barbara Stanwyck and they said “We offered this to Ginger Rogers but she’s turned it down, would you be interested?” And she read the script and she said; “You bet! I LOVE playing common broads.” (Source: https://misstanwyck.tumblr.com/post/72996544180/barbara-stanwyck-photographed-for-ball-of-fire)"

[vegaseatsass]

So the way I assume at least some number of people felt about Pit Babe ("not sure this is hanging together narratively, but OMG THIS SHIT IS CRAZY! I HAVE TO GO TELL TUMBLR!") is the way I feel about Blank the Series. Well, I was right that the younger Nueng (who I will call Anueng) is named after the older Nueng (who I will call Nueng), because Anueng's mother was in love with Nueng. HOWEVER! Fah named her daughter after Nueng as an act of SPITE. Nueng didn't reciprocate her affections, so Fah ended up fucking Nueng's fiance - maybe as a way to feel close to her unrequited love ?? - and getting pregnant at age 16. Nueng encouraged her to abort the child for the sake of her future. So 20 years later, Fah tells Nueng YES I named my daughter after you: because you RUINED MY LIFE! By 1) breaking my heart when we were kids 2) almost causing me to miscarry my daughter, whom you are now in love with!!!! So both of Anueng's parents were and probably are in unrequited love with Nueng. They produced a baby who has decided her only mission in life is to get with this older woman... who both her parents are/were in love with. Now if that is not enough melodrama for you, Nueng left her fiance at the altar but he is still like, into her and likes hanging out with her. As soon as she told him he's Anueng's father he wanted to become a part of his daughter's life. So Nueng becomes like the gatekeeper of time with Anueng. Fah is like "help me bond with my estranged daughter (who wants to fuck you just like I do)". Chet, the father, is like "will you allow me to see my daughter (who wants to fuck you just like I do)?" as if it's Nueng's call... So in response to the epic guilt Nueng's feeling about Anueng's almost-miscarriage (it wasn't actually her fault btw, Fah is lying to chain Nueng to her out of guilt), Nueng arranges an amusement park date between her two exes, their daughter, and a guy who likes their daughter, even though the daughter in question only wants to be there with Nueng. There's one hilarious scene where Nueng tries to set both mother and daughter up on an age appropriate heterosexual date through a haunted house while she fades into the background, and they both rush through while the men jump and gasp in fear, because the women only want to get back to Nueng waiting outside. I just don't think I can express how weird this is. Nueng sets up a birthday party for the girl who has been professing her love for her since they met, where all the attendees are intended to help Anueng move on from her, but there is NO distinction between "people who can parent you instead of me" and "person who wants to fuck you instead of me". Nueng makes a sincere comment about how easy it is to fall in love with Anueng, TO HER FATHER. Anueng's MOTHER is jealous that her daughter likes Nueng better than her. It's just all sooooooooooo fucking weird and psychosexual. 20yo Anueng's babyishness remains incredibly offputting to me, but my friend has pointed out she only does that when she's around Nueng, so it's very obviously a performance. When she's around literally anyone else she kind of just looks like she's dissociating 24/7. Plus her abusive grandmother has kept her so sheltered and isolated and abused that it's not surprising she doesn't really know how to socialize authentically. So even if it's not my bag I'm like, narratively compelled by whatever the actual fuck is going on in this GL. And did I mention: Mon and Sam are there, too!!!! There's a whole plotline where Anueng is jealous of Sam because she thinks Nueng and Sam are girlfriends. When she finds out they're actually sisters (and she double-checks onscreen: ACTUAL, biological sisters? This isn't a pseudocest situation?), she's like oh! So you like beautiful rich women! All I have to do is replace your sister by becoming a beautiful rich woman myself!!!

[magisteramentia]

The Program

Isabelle was into the program for the little changes, but she didn't expect it to be so... Intense.

Few months ago, as the year turned, she she made a resolution to eat more healthy and get fit. She was the kind of person that didn’t like going for easy and fast results. She was a smart girl, high school valedictorian, top three in her college class. Now that she was halfway through her masters, filled with anxiety and stress juggling her thesis and a shitty job that didn’t pay nearly enough. As a new year began she decided it was time for a change.

So she began researching for a way to get the best results no matter the effort or the time. And looking through her social media she found that many of her former classmates, male and female, went through amazing transformations.

There were pictures of her male ex-classmates in the beach with muscle bodies, even the engineering nerds. The women were posting pictures of themselves in the gym with crop tops showing their chiseled abs and their perfect bodies.

Looking at all her former classmates and friends looking so hot made her think that maybe she was bi.

She began contacting a few of them, asking them how they were and reminiscing about their time in college before asking them about how they achieved their perfect body. Most were dismissive saying, “I just don’t think it’s for you, you know”, Isabelle thanked them anyway but kept with her research.

Finally she reached to her best friend, Lizzy, the one that took the second place from her and the one that had gone the most incredible transformation. Isabelle wouldn’t dare to call her a bimbo since she was a very smart woman despite giving up her career to become a mother and a housewife, but…

But she could not put another word for the body she was featuring in her profile picture now days.

Nonetheless she contacted Lizzy and set an appointment to meet her at a nearby café.

Eagerly she told her about The Program. It was an invite-only website that she had signed up and so did most of their classmates.

“Are there any side effects?” Isabelle said taking note of everything Lizzy told her.

Lizzy giggled, Isabelle didn’t remember ever listening to her laugh that way.

“Uhm, like, I don’t think so?” She said taking a sip from her double mochaccino with whipped cream. She took a dollop of cream and licked it very suggestively.

Isabelle felt a bit uncomfortable.

“I mean, I feel a lot more horny lately, but I think that’s mostly the post-pregnancy hormones, you know? even my tits are bigger, full of milk to feed the twins.” She added squeezing her breasts together.

She could only remember her wearing baggy sweaters and didn’t know if she had grown a cup or two but they were definitely bigger.

“But other than that is great! I mean look at me, after giving birth I thought it would be difficult to get back in shape but I feel better than ever.” She said in a chirpy voice and took another sip from her coffee.

Isabelle took notes. She was skeptic but she could hardly argue with the results. She told her about all the other girls as well how much weight they had lost and how their lives had improved. It was almost as if The Program had cleaned their skin, watered her crops and even cured their depression.

She chortled and covered her mouth to hide her laugh. Lizzy didn’t realize since her babies began to cry.

“There, there,” She leaned over the stroller and hugged one while handing the other a bottle, “You don’t mind if I feed them, right?” Lizzy didn’t give her time to answer before she pulled out her breast and showed Isabelle her darkened and hard nipples.

The baby suckled and drank. Lizzy closed her eyes, but released a very audible moan.

Isabelle stopped writing and gulped unable to take her eyes away from the same age as her.

“You seem sensitive, does it hurt?” Isabelle asked licking her lips.

Lizzy seemed dazed and out of herself, her voice gave a pleasant purr, “Sorry?”

“Does it hurt? I mean, when they drink?” Isabelle leaned closer not knowing why she was so interested in her former classmates tits.

“No,” Lizzy said with a vapid smile on her lips, “It feels… incredible.”

Isabelle nodded and stared at her friend’s placid face. Then she gathered her things while talking as fast as she could, “Well, thank you it was a pleasure talking to you after such a long time, I will be seeing you bye.”

Lizzy watched her go, “The pleasure was all mine,” Was all that she could say in a husky purr as Isabelle left the café and people around her tried not to stare.

The young woman could not believe how turned on she was, but she could hardly deny the results of The Program Lizzy spoke about.

When she arrived home Isabelle opened the website and made sure to input Lizzy’s referral code. It seemed safe enough and not a scam, and it also seemed to work very well for everyone.

The only thing that was worrying her was how erotic the end of that conversation became. How distant and vapid her intelligent friend had become.

“But Lizzy was always a perverted slut,” She said out loud trying to reassure herself, “I am sure it will be okay.”

The landing page was very standard, images of fit men and women, testimonials, things like that.

After she signed up with her personal email she was led to a small introductory video. The instructions told her to use headphone so that the tutorial would be more effective and guide her through The Program.

It played as with any other exercise program with an instructor/trainer, a woman in her thirties wearing yoga pants and a sports bra, she explained the classic stuff of willpower and determination, building habits. It was shot in a calm garden with the sound of running water and birds as well as soft music playing on the background.

She moved on to explain in more detail the satisfaction rates as well as statistics. Isabelle took note of everything.

But after a while the music began to get into her head, it was too calming, too soft and relaxing. As much as she tried to focus, she ended up spaced out.

The moment the tutorial was over, the pen she was holding fell down. Blinking several times, she cleaned a bit of drool from her chin and moved on to the next page.

The soft hum kept playing in the background of the page and Isabelle didn’t find anywhere to turn it off, but even so she didn’t mute her computer or take off her headphones.

She filled out a questionnaire with everything from her height, weight, her goals. All the standard stuff for a health and diet program, or at least it was the standard until the second set of questions appeared.

How big was her chest, in a scale of 1 to 10 how sensitive are your nipples. When was the last time you had an orgasm? Would you say you cum more easily from penetration or clitoral stimulation.

Those were very invasive questions, but she kept filling them and listening to the soft hum in her earphones.

Before she knew it she was done answering all the questions, half of them she didn’t even remember.

The page loaded and finally informed her it had a plan ready for her to follow to achieve her goals before the end of the year.

Excited, Isabelle downloaded the plan on her phone. Every video and exercise began with a guided meditation with the calming soundtrack that she rapidly grew accustomed to.

After the meditation, the program would guide her through a series of exercises programed for that day.

Every week she would receive a newsletter with a progress tracker and some quotes to inspire her, the first one said that small changes in her habits could reap the biggest results.

And it did. The following morning she had her usual breakfast of milk, cereal and a glass of orange juice followed by her setting up her yoga mat and playing the first video on her phone.

She breathed, relaxed.

She listened to the voice of her instructor.

Focusing on the music humming on the background.

She breathed, letting air fill her chest.

She exhaled letting the stress go.

She nodded as her instructor’s voice made her fall deep into trance…

Then she dozed off.

Next thing she knew her alarm was going off, she was sweaty and sore. She barely remembered her workout at all.

It was already half an hour later and she would have to shower quickly to get on time to her job.

The water was cold and she was thankful for it, for some reason she felt horny, her pussy was dripping and even with the freezing water, her fingers slid easily over her clit trying to scratch that need.

Frustrated and sore she rushed and went on with her day job.

Retail is not particularly easy or stress relieving, but it was all she could do while working on her thesis, the afternoons were free for her to study and go to class or review with the professor in charge.

As the day went on, and the hardships of handling costumers piled up on her; Isabelle found herself instinctively reaching for her phone during her break, fiddling through social media and watching Lizzy in her fabulous milf body, bitting her lip she closed the app and decided to play the meditation video from The Program.

She breathed in.

Relaxed.

And the rest of her shift melted away in a pleasant, hazy daze. Before closing, a client approached her and told her what a pretty smile she had. Normally she would dismiss such comments, but this time she giggled and thanked him.

Back home she played the meditation file over and over again while she opened her books and sat down to study and work over her thesis.

Stretching, she looked at the clock and despite feeling like only a few minutes had passed she already had three pages written; hightlited several pages of different books and taken copious notes. Despite all that, she still felt relaxed and full of energy.

And despite the late hour, she didn’t feel any hunger. Then she reached to the side and found a protein mix that she didn’t remember preparing or even buying.

She gulped, feeling a bit nervous about having some time lagoons in her mind. But the music was so soothing.

So relaxing.

Isabelle breathed in and decided that the small changes were for the better.

Closing the books she walked to the bed, and threw away her clothes to the laundry basket.

She wasn’t sleepy, she was energized. But it was late and she needed to sleep. The Program remarked the importance of a good night sleep. So she climbed on the bed and left the phone charging on the side.

But the music never stopped.

Isabelle needed to do something with all that energy.

She turned off the lights and threw a pillow over her head. Tossing and turning she was not comfortable or ready to go to sleep.

The music was helping, but it wasn’t enough. She needed to- She needed to-

She took the pillow from her face and placed it between her legs.

“That’s better” she thought as she tried to get into a more comfortable position. Laying down, with the pillow between her legs.

Isabelle pressed her chest on the mattress, trying to focus on the music, But the pillow was rubbing her in a way that felt almost like she was naked.

And that’s when she realized, she was naked. She never grabbed her pajamas. She simply climbed on top of the bed and listened.

She tried to stand up, but the feeling of the fabric, the pillow rubbing her clit in just the most delicious way.

An image formed in her mind. It was Lizzy in front of her, her mouth gaping, her blouse open to let her big and full chest heave. She wanted to taste those dark nipples. She wanted her hand between her legs.

Isabelle rode her pillow, with her mouth gasping for air, repeating her friend’s name over and over “Lizzy,” as she teased her clit and her nipples.

She wanted to kiss her, she wanted to grab her by the neck and lead her down between her legs so that Lizzy would worship her pussy, licking, riding her face.

As she rode her pillow, teasing and playing with her pussy and nipples, there was a soft voice in the back of her head. It sounded familiar.

Focus on the pleasure. You are pleasure. You were made for pleasure

It drilled the words in her head. Echoing back and forth with Lizzy’s naked image in her mind. Her soft thighs, her toned ass. Her hard nipples.

You’re pleasure. You were made for pleasure. Focus on your pleasure.

The voice sounded like Lizzy, caressing her head, with that cadence that reminded her of the meditation file. Soft, relaxed, pliant.

Obedient.

You were made for pleasure. Focus on the pleasure. You’re pleasure.

In Isabelle’s mind, Lizzy held her close. Kissing her, leading her down between her legs. Touching and pleasing her. But now it was her turn. Now she had to please her. She was made for pleasure.

She leaned down, her tongue out, she needed to please Lizzy, to make her cum. Then she would cum. She was made for pleasure, she was pleasure, she needed to focus on the pleasure.

So close.

Isabelle drooled and bit the pillow, imagining Lizzy’s body, her sex, the short dark pubes, her voice guiding her.

And then the voice. The one on the back of her head, Lizzy’s voice, it whispered.

Cum.

Isabelle convulsed, grasping the sheets, holding her pillow tight between her legs. The moans and guttural sounds of her orgasm drowned by the pillow against her mouth.

Cum. The voice repeated. Cum for me.

Another wave of pleasure hit Isabelle. Making her feet curl and her back arch. Her whole body clenched as waves of electricity coursed through her body.

Cum for me, my pleasure doll. The voice whispered and vanished.

Isabelle passed out, listening to the soft noises of nature that had accompanied her orgasms.

———

Thank you for reading, if you like this story, consider going over to my Patreon. Or if you enjoyed it, consider inviting me a coffee to fuel more stories like this.

[bingsucks]

STRAP IN JEFFANNIE LOVERS, IT'S ABOUT TO GET YUCKY AND YOU'RE IN THE SPLASHZONE

thought I'd give a comprehensive list on why I personally dislike JeffAnnie because I got called idiotic for it and I see that as a top tier compliment. I go more in depth at the end, but if you just want the quick stuff (since I know y'all like the quotes!!) here you go, but please read the rest of it!! this is an open discussion.

also I get pretty gross in my descriptions of Annie, be warned

season 2 episode 1: "since you have clearly failed to grasp the central insipid metaphor of those twilight books you devour, let me explain it to you. men are monsters who crave young flesh, the end."

season 3 episode 1: "we can't keep doing this forever, kiddo." "Can't we?" "no, that's gross. I feel gross."

season 4 episode 3: "I was just daydreaming. I mean, I've married you at least a half a dozen times. and Troy. and Zac Efron. Mostly Zac Efron."

season 3 episode 16: "but, we love Jeff." "no, we don't. we're just in love with the idea of being loved. and if we can teach a guy like Jeff to do it, we'll never be unloved. so we keep running the same scenario over and over hoping for a different result."

season 6 episode 13: "are you okay?" "is this really what you want?" "of course. I mean, I'd be fine with a dog too, but whatever you want." "do you have any idea what I want?" "yes?"

season 2 episode 20: "the general atmosphere of 'would they?' 'might they?'" "Annie, I think you're reading into some things." "oh really?" "oh, give me a break. I mean, you could do the same thing with Pierce and Abed!" "yeah, let's be honest, there's more between you and Annie than between me and Pierce." "Abed, it's called chemistry, I have it with everybody."

season 5 episode 11: "I'm 40."

I'd like to actually argue with a personal opinion based on a fact, and some anecdotal hypotheticals

first of all, I'm 17, a year younger than Annie in season one. I know people who are 19, 20 even. the concept of them or myself dating someone who is (not only fully developed in the brain, but) at least ten years older than ourselves-

-is gross, no? if Annie got held back at all, if she didn't drop out, if she and Jeff met in a different way, same age difference and her still in high school, one might say that is a little uncouth, one might even go so far as to say it's gross.

but, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt; make them closer in age, say Jeff is in his 20s instead of his thirties, say 25 (the lowest we can go for him to still be a lawyer). still, Annie's brain wont fully develop until she is 25, meaning Jeff will already be in his thirties by that point, if he dates her any sooner he will be dating what is medically considered an adolescent (10-24) while himself above 30. "but chrissy, chimbo, my love, you're legally an adult at age 18!" if we start bringing the law into this, the post will double in size, to make it simple, just think for a moment why that makes you legally an adult. why is a legal adult not allowed to drink? why would the United States want people who are not fully developed making decisions, and how does that affect their country? food for thought.

another benefit of the doubt! take age out of the question, just look at them as people and their experiences, not by a number! age ain't nothing number, right? like Aaliyah, right? Yeah, did you know R Kelly, the convicted sex offender, wrote that song? Crazy, right? sorry, off topic. Silly me, silly little baby brain. haha. let's look at their dynamic:

Jeff is a man who values the women he dates - rather, sleeps with - very little. "I'm Jeff Winger, and I would rather look at myself naked than the women I sleep with!" he states, so confident and proud of himself. "I asked this woman out 30 seconds ago to prove a point!" he shouts. "I'll be back with booty!" he sneers. does this seem like the kind of person that would think of women in the long-term? that is Jeff.

Annie on the other hand, as the boy-crazy girlish urchin she is, sees every man that comes her way as Christ incarnate. Annie is obsessive, she enrolled in nearly all of Troy's classes to get some sense that someone, anyone, no matter how bad they treat her, has to rely on her for something she knows. Annie is fresh and inexperienced, she can't say the word 'penis' because it makes her uncomfortable and squirmy. pure, untouched porcelain. so impressionable, don't you think? so untainted, virginal. looking for a father.

describing her like that makes you a bit uncomfortable, doesn't it? feels a little yucky in your tum tum?

that's because if you take away their ages, their experiences speak for themselves. Annie is young, obsessive. Jeff has more experience than her and will discard her quickly in favor of someone younger or better looking. if you're into the 'born sexy yesterday' trope, go ahead. I'm not one to stop you from doing what makes you feel good! We all know what you really want, you don't have to hide it, Humbert- sorry, Jeff. slip of the tongue. scream it loud! scream it on the rooftops, or on the streets: "I want to fuck a teenager!!" see how people look at you!

Oh, they're not smiling, are they? yikes.

i'd just like to leave you with a personal opinion.

is the pairing of Jeff and Annie iffy and pretty gross? yes, scroll up, read this post again if you aren't convinced. at the same time, should it be removed from the show entirely because it's problematic and horrible and everyone who supports JeffAnnie is a meth-addicted pedophile who eats babies and fucks sticky flashlights with the mouthless faces of their classmates taped to the rim? while I would prefer that JeffAnnie didn't happen, yes, I just think those of you who are into this are just uneducated and stubborn. some of you, one of you in particular, i'm sure is a sweaty neckbeard with a fedora and a 4chan tripcode. but not all of you, and for that I have hope.

JeffAnnie is legal, yes. JeffAnnie is by far not the worst, too. and we, as mature half-adults, can admit that. I for one believe that you should be able to ship anything that is both legal and non-blood-related. that's the magic of fandom! enemies to lovers is one of the most popular genres! the toxicity of the relationship is not the problem, it is the predatory nature and unsavory implications that are the problem. I think the relationship as a whole is not something to be looked at with positive emotions, but I also don't believe that this type of screen representation is bad. just because something is put to screen does not mean it is acceptable. I think that's something we all learned in second grade, yes? good. glad we're all on the same page. you're looking wonderful. I hope you have a great day.

also, just to cover all my bases, it's just a matter of preference. it makes a lot of us uncomfortable to see relationships like that, especially those of us who are around Annie's age. like, imagine being her: you're fresh out of rehab and ready to start your life. this guy who is more than ten years older than you, who you think is kind of cute maybe, starts to look at you the same way. imagine having the knowledge that every time he looks at a woman he just sees a pair of tits and a vag on legs. imagine what he sees when he looks at you. imagine that guy having a conversation with your dad, they might even be closer in age than you and him. that's uncomfortable, to me at least.

plus, Britta and Jeff are a better couple.

and if anyone responds with that whole "Dan Harmon DVD season 6" copy paste I hope you all know it makes me kick my feet and giggle. papa needs an ego boost, go ahead *bats eyes* *gets hit by a car*

[hwaseonghwasworld]

Double life Part 1: Vengeance

Summary: Her whole life she was split from her twin sister and was adopted a mafia boss who taught her how to fight at a very young age to protect her, he died when she was 16 and killed the whole group that killed him and also my boyfriend, what happened when she finally meets her twin sister?

Yeosang x Reader

Word count: 2.05k

Genre: High School au, Fluff, Angst, smut

Warnings: Cursing, Smut, Violence, Mentions Of Suicide, Murder, Severe Torture, Mentions Of Bullying, Mentions Of Sexual Assault, Mentions Of Self Harm, Mentions Of Mental Health

Updates: Maybe Friday 7pm BST

Im So Y/n I’m 18 years old and I’m the leader of a mafia group my adoptive father used to own. My biological mom didn’t want me so now I’m the daughter of a highly dangerous mafia boss. I was split from my sister at birth since the woman didn’t want to deal with twins as a single mother so she gave me up. My boyfriend that was killed by the same group is the father of my baby that is now almost 2 years old. My son’s name is Minjun and I will always protect him no matter what.

I have people that check on my twin sister Mi-joo because I want her protected since she’s a very frail girl, I recently found out that our mother has been abusing her for every little thing she does, and she’s been getting bullied by four girls their names are So-min, Hajun Jiyun and Chae-yoon, they had beaten her tho the point where she was put in the hospital.

I was with her as she was passed out in the hospital bed “I told you guys to watch over her, by that I mean stop ANYONE that tried to hurt her!” I cross my legs and put my index finger and thumb in the bridge of my nose, I beckoned them to leave and that’s exactly what they do.

Mi-joo woke up and looked at me in shock seeing that I’m the exact copy of her except that I have short hair and I have long hair. “W-who are you….?” I look at her and held her hand “I’m your twin, and I’m here to help you get your revenge” “what do you mean?” I look at her determined to keep her safe “I’ve seen the videos of those girls bullying you and I know your mother also treats you badly so please let me do this for you” she nodded and my body guard bought me the school uniform and I was ready to go to the school tomorrow.

I took Mi-joo to my home and she saw my son with my secretary and smiled “who’s this cutie” she smiled and squished his cheek, “he’s your nephew” she looked at me shocked “you had a child?!” “Yeah it’s a long story, the father died…” “do you wanna talk about me” she looked at me with sympathy “not right now, because right now is for you to tell me who else has been hurting you” she sighed and nodded “the girls names are-“ “So-min, Jiyun, Hajun and Chae-yoon, I know… I found all their details and information, is there anyone else” she looked surprised and nodded “there’s this teacher. He keeps touching me and I keep trying to tell him that I’ll call the police but he won’t leave me alone and he gets aggressive.”

Hearing that made my blood boil, I wanted to kill that man and I wanted to do it painfully. “And then there’s mom as well” I look at her and held her shoulder “Mi-joo shii, don’t worry, I’ll make sure they all get what they deserve” Mi-joo nodded and smiled at me. The next day I got ready and made my way to the school.

Everyone looked at me and I gave them all a cold look, I didn’t come here to make friends so I didn’t care about being friendly, I walked into the classroom and looked at the desk that had Mi-joo’s name on it but it was written in pen and had horrible things on it. The 4 girls walked up to me and I immediately knew that So-min was the leader of those bitches.

“Do you like what we did? It’s a little get well soon present…. Just. For. You” she laughed and that laugh was the same one as the girl that was videoing my sister getting tortured. I grabbed her head and slammed it into my sisters desk, I watched as the three girls tried to get me off her but instead I kicked them away causing So-min to scream for me to stop. I look at her and pull her hair.

“You know what? Since you like laughing so much, why don’t you laugh for me!” I took my phone out and pinned her head on the desk, she was scared but I push it harder causing her to do as I say, she finally laughs and I video it, I let go of her and as I was walking to the back by the door to sit in that seat and as I was walking a male student walked in at the same time, we looked over at each other for a brief second but my eyes drifted away as soon as I sat down I airdropped the video to everyone in the class and everyone but the group of bullies were laughing.

The walked in and everyone stopped laughing “what’s so funny?” Everyone stayed silent making her introduce the guy I was looking at who is knew and his name is Kang Yeosang. The whole time in school I was following the rapist teacher, I found out that he had asthma, and seeing his schedule I found out that he’s usually alone during homeroom and lunch, after school I decided to meet with mother dearest.

I’ve never been inside of the house but I wouldn’t have never thought that she was the cause of Mi-Jo’s depression and that she was one of the reasons why Mi-joo was cutting herself. Knowing this made me angrier and angrier. As soon as I stepped into the house the toxic bitch slapped me. “Why haven’t you been at home and what did you do to your hair!!” I started fake crying and apologizing to see if she will have some sympathy for her own daughter but she just slapped me again making me laugh.

“What the fuck is wrong with you” she had said to me and I cross my arms, “you hurt my baby sister… now it’s your turn” she looked at me confused then she realized “Y/n….” the people in my group appeared behind her and knocked her out, they picked her up and tied her arms together behind her back and tied her leg to the leg of the chair. I decided to make her feel what Mi-joo felt, I slit her wrists and I wanted her to wake up so I pored freezing cold water over her head causing he to wake up and cream in pain, I held a lighter close to her face and put it down to her hand and burnt her finger tips.

“Why did you even have kids in the first place?” She looked at me and smirked “are you wandering why I put you up for adoption? It’s because i didn’t love you both, twins were too much to handle and I needed a child so they can help me clean up” I looked at her and sat down on the chair opposite to her “hmmm I should kill you right now” I looked down at the gun that I took out and started playing with it, her smirk turned into death as she begged me not to kill her and started going on about how she loved me and Mi-joo which made me laugh. “But that’s too easy and I don’t want you to give you the easy way out” I looked over at the guys “guys leave her here until I come back”

I drove home and as soon as I got there I saw my Minjun playing with my sister. As soon as he saw me he ran to my arms and I smile kissing his cheek. “What happened today?” I looked at her as I sat on the couch “I beat up those girls tortured our evil mother and now I’m thinking about slowly killing that teacher” she looked over at me “are you gonna kill our mother…?” “Do you want me to?” She shook her head and I nodded “okay but I’ll make sure she stays quiet” Mi-joo nods.

The day flew by quickly and I was getting ready to go to school, I kiss my sons cheek and hugged my sister telling her that I’m torture the girl and the teacher which she disagreed with but my mission and her sister is to help her and keep her safe. As soon as I got to the school I immediately went to go find the teacher. I had my knife with me and once I walked passed the teachers lounge he knew to follow me. Went into the classroom and I sat down on the table crossing my legs.

“Whats wrong Mi-joo? You’ve gotten better now, so we can carry on-“ I tilt my head and acted like Mi-joo “I don’t want to carry on….” I looked down and he walked to me and put his hand on my chin, “well it’s not your choice” I glared at him and punched his face making him groan in pain “see that’s what I like to hear, since you decided to hurt my sister I’ll gladly watch you suffer” he starts getting an asthma attack and I walked further away from him sitting on a different table “oh… right you need your inhaler?” I had the inhaler in my hand as I had gloves on, he was slowly walking to me and I put the inhaler next to me watching him collapse on the floor as he was slowly loosing air. I giggle as I watched as he was slowly looking his breath as he was getting closer and closer to the inhaler “come on, you can do it. Just. Keep. Crawling” I smirked as he lost all his breath and had died practically right besides me, I stood up and left the inhaler down on the floor breaking it.

As I was walking out Yeosang came in “is he dead?” I looked over at him acting like I was upset “y-yeah, he was getting aggressive so I punched him and fell on his inhaler… I guess he had an asthma attack-“ “I know who you are” I looked at him with a cold stare “I’m like you… Y/n” I sighed and approached him pulling my knife out and had it to his neck, he smirked grabbing my arm and slowly putting my arm down.

“This school is boring and I want to help you” I step closer to him “what do you mean” “you’re one of the most powerful mafias who inherited all the money and power from your adoptive father, who taught you how to fight and kill at a young age, and is only and this school for one thing…. Revenge. Am I right?” I glare at him “how do you know so much about me?” “I have my ways… anyway can I help you?” I look at him now wanting him to help cause I’m not doing it as a proper mission “it’s for my sister” “I know, so please can I help” I look at him unsure if I can let him join “I’ll think about it”

The bell had rang so I walked back to my seat, I watched as everyone ran out after someone had said that teacher is dead in a classroom which people wanted to see the scene sing the police were on there way. “Y/n you have to leave” “why?” He held my had and was trying to get me out of the school “the police are on there way, there gonna think you did it” I looked at him and he genuinely looked worried so I reassured him that I didn’t physically kill him”

“He had an asthma attack” “then how would you explain the bruise on his nose?” I sighed and sat in my seat “he tried to threaten me and hurt me so I punched him so I could run away, he fell onto his inhaler and he had an asthma attack and died, see and anyway if they think they got me, I have connections on the police force” I said this to him with a straight face and just tickets my head and smiled.

“Y/n….” I turn around seeing someone that I thought I’d never see again.

🥀

Next part

Main Masterlist

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 1

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes

Synopsis:  When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we're defined by our job, it's those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run.

Also available on Ao3

Alright, check it! Here we go, everybody!

The current rating of the fic is Teen and Up. I'm going to be going ham on a chapter by chapter rating/tagging basis because I don't want this baby to sit in Explicit until it is, if that makes sense. It will definitely become so in the future, but until then I'm going to rate it as is. Speaking of, when that switch does happen, please look for the notes before each chapter that will signal that. If you're reading on Ao3 you'll find more handy tagging notes.

Reader will be as gender neutral as possible until/unless otherwise stated. For my outline so far, this will involve sex and fem-coded activities such as make-up application and dress. I'll mark before each chapter if something is going to lean towards more of a fem!reader.

Otherwise, please enjoy! This is going to be a long ride so let's go!

Oh, please, not today.

Maneuvering around a corner, you doubled back to duck your boss. You could almost cry; not that you ever would over something so ridiculous at work. Looking back towards where you had just come, you felt the anxious sweat form on the back of your neck. This hallway only went in one direction and if your boss was already heading this way then surely he was about to run into you.

That was not something you could handle right now.

Clutching your bag tighter to your chest, you pushed off the wall to make a run for it when you heard a coworker call out.

“Oh! Perfect timing, sir. Do you have a second to look at something?”

You heard your boss stutter and your eyes went wide. Who was this prince that stepped in and saved your lunch hour? You wanted to bestow them with a thousand gifts, but you hadn’t heard enough of their voice to identify them. Shoving down the urge to peek, you listened until the two’s conversation slunk away. It meant the coast was clear and you speed walked your way down that now empty hall. In mere moments you were at the elevator landing and jammed the button with repeated anxiety. The display for which floor the accursed machine was on had been broken for about as long as you could remember. You glared at the black screen. It would only been busted on your level. Another tick to the record of your inefficient boss. You were so lost in your glaring that you scarcely heard two more co-workers walk up until the elevator chimed its arrival.

“Tell me something!”

Standing right in front of the silver doors, you surged forward as soon as they parted. There was an elderly suited man in the back and you tucked yourself right against the panel to hit ground floor.

“What’s up with these women wearing hot pants at the gym like it isn’t 45 degrees outside and then they get fucking mad when you look at them!?”  

Unable to hide the disgust on your face, you grimaced into the corner.

“I don’t know man…”

These two weren’t colleagues you considered often, but they had rapidly shot down to the bottom of your care’s list.

“Seems inappropriate!”

You soured further as you heard the old man chirp out a response. Three was far more than a crowd it seemed.

“What about you? You gotta have some idea, right?”

You felt a tap on your shoulder.

They were not trying to pull you into this bullshit.

Seriously, this was not the day.

You prepared a barbed response and turned to sick it on them when the elevator signaled a premature stop. You lifted your head and watched as a immaculately done up woman in a skin tight dress clicked her way into the elevator on daggered heels. She not only towered over you, but everyone else in the square. The tension was so palpable you imagined pricking it with a needle. You wondered if the woman could sense it considering she didn’t have the inane context. Either way, you worshipped her as the goddess she was for even unknowingly averting a confrontation for you.

When the elevator hit the bottom floor, you were the first to scurry off. You heard your two idiot co-workers start petty conversation with the woman and you marched straight to the many glass doors that granted exit to your high-rise. It wasn’t a breath of fresh air when it came to New York City, but it was certainly a reprieve. Still clutching your bag close, you strode down several sets of steps and onto a busy sidewalk. Hundreds of suits bustled and knocked shoulders with you as you settled into the traffic. It was a necessary evil that didn’t grate on your nerves any less. Parting the clouded thoughts as best you could, you looked forward into the ray of sunshine that sat on a lone sandwich shop. After several turns, that same storefront appeared tangible in the real world.

Your heart leapt at the sight. Somewhere in your bag you pictured your online pick-up order confirmation. You didn’t need it, but its receipt meant that no further fouls could come into play. Reaching for the handle, you watched through the glass as a gentleman did the same except his head was turned back to his companion within the shop. You reeled to dodge, but it was too late. The door flew open and clipped your shoulder as your failed to completely move away. You hissed into the sting and his sudden flurry of apologies took a bit of the edge off. You gave him a passing hands up gesture to pardon his transgression and he thankfully pivoted to hold the door for you. You heard a snippet of his companion berating him as the door returned to its stationary position.

Sighing, you fell into the shop’s embrace. The smell of freshly baked bread filled your nostrils and the thrum of patrons caressed your ears. You had eaten here a few times, with its proximity to your work, but this was the first time since they’d set up their online system. It meant you could skip the line and move right over to the pick-up counter. Straightening and finally letting your bag fall away from its defensive position, you headed to said post. There was no awaiting bag and you gave a little frown. This was exactly why you had your email at the ready. Reluctantly pulling up your bag, you rifled through it for your phone. Unlocking it, you watched in dismay as the email appeared only for the UI to refresh. Squashing a whine in your throat, you waited as the mobile data couldn’t seem to catch up with the page. Shifting a thumb to see if the shop had maybe set up free Wi-Fi along with ordering system, you heard an authoritative voice call out.

“Online pick-up! Club, hold the ham, roasted tomato, add oil!”

All the petty joy in your body surged straight to your head. That was your exact order.

Now this you needed.

You closed the gap between you and the counter with a near hop as the employee set down the bag. Your hand reached out as if an angel were serving penance and you watched in slow motion as another hand did the same. Confusion twisted on your features as you both clutched the paper in tandem. Your dopamine spike skittered to a halt, leaving you at a flattened emotional midpoint.

Not now.

It had finally gone right!

“Huh?!” The pitch was far deeper and had way more gravel than you ever remembered your voice having before. You nearly growled as your shoulders bunched up and you went into full on defense mode over your lunch. You turned your irritation on your would be sandwich thief and found yourself caught at the sight. Towering over you was clearly a mutant. You blinked out of your glare and stared openly. Instead of looking at you, the man instead gazed straight through you. You saw a bit of brow sat neutral against a wash of purple. He seemed encompassed in layers as a hint of green skin peeked out from between the purple and a black mask. It made the angular glasses perched upon them all the more apparent. There was a faint tint to them that you couldn’t quite make out from this distance. From there you skirted the edges of his black ball cap and down to his black wool coat. It framed the tight black turtleneck that clung to every crevice of his seemingly chiseled torso.

You came back to yourself all at once and found that barely a second had passed.

“I’m pretty sure that’s mine.” Thankfully your mouth still knew justice and held none of the awe that had passed through your brain.

Something about your curt response seemed to catch his attention and you watched in real time as his focus seemed to adjust to your form. With the mask you couldn’t be sure, but he seemed prepared to respond.

“Online pick…!”

You watched as the man turned away from you and to the confused employee who had choked on his announcement.

“Weird! This is… the exact same order?”

Reluctantly, you finally dragged your gaze away to the staff member. “What?”

“Some kind of glitch in the new system?” The employee posited, pulling the first bag away from both of your still outstretched hands.

In your periphery you saw the mutant move and pull out his phone.

“The order numbers and names are different…” The employee struggled and juggled both sacks.

“Simply a coincidence.”

Both you and the employee jolted at the mutant’s voice.

“I’d like my lunch now if you’re done manhandling it.”

The employee nodded dumbly and before placing both bags on the counter. He then made a scared show of pushing one in each of your directions. You caught your bags at the same time and you turned to see the mutant still scrolling his device with what you supposed was purpose.

“Some coincidence, huh?” You remarked, clutching your lunch.

The mutant gave a curt nod and you heard the employee retreat.

You were about to do the same when he seemed to find what he was looking for. In a flash of movement, his device fell in a slack arm and he leaned forward. You had no time to move away as he entered your personal space. You heart hitched as he reached out to your bag. Basal instinct told you to pull away, but curiosity kept you in place. You watched as a tridactyl hand passed the sack itself and moved to lift the receipt attached to it. From this distance you could finally see the color of his glasses; it was a barely there shading of blue in one and red in the other.

“You have my order.”

One of your brows descended while the other shot sky high. “So?”

You watched for the second time as his gaze seemed to struggle to focus on you like a malfunctioning camera lens.

“Just like the guy said: the orders are the same.”

You could only glean information from his eyes and they were set sternly to stoic. He bypassed responding and instead lifted his device. The screen was turned toward you and proudly displayed his own receipt.

So, that’s what had kept him.

“You had trouble with the internet too!”

In the first show of emotion you had seen, you watched one of his brows incrementally raise. A full centimeter seemed like quite the hurdle for him.

“I’m to assume you won’t give me my sandwich.”

He straightened and your heart sank the tiniest bit.

That was strange.

You knew nothing about this man other than he was apathetic and apparently a stickler for order numbers.

Still, he was the most interesting thing that had happened to you all day.

Hell, maybe even all year.

When was the last time you had gotten to interact with a someone in banal terms?

It didn’t have to be a long lunch to be fulfilling.

“How about…” You tilted your head to the side and did your best to peered into his eyes. “I give it back to you if you sit down and have lunch with me?”

His stare was completely flat.

“If… you have time that is?” You shoved the afterthought in quickly.

He rolled his shoulders and adjusted his sandwich into the crook of his arm. You watched as he then placed his device into his pocket and pinched one of his lapels. You continued to wait with ever growing curiosity as he then swiveled his neck to look out over the dining room. You followed his gaze for a moment trying to spy exactly what he was looking at. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it and his head crawled back to you before he gave a little sigh.

“You have terrible taste.” He said simply and made a slight movement with his neck for you to follow.

“I literally ordered the exact same meal as you.” You bounced in line with him as he lead you both over to a table tucked into a windowed corner.

He waited for you to sit before he delicately took the one across from you. His posture was so perfect it was almost laughable as he set his order on the table. In contrast, you heaved yours down and struggled to take your bag off. When you’d finally slipped it to your side, you rose up to find him still holding his meal as if it were a valuable item in a criminal handoff.

“Not what you meant, got it.” You noted, grabbing your order in a similar manner to indulge him.

His head tipped down incrementally and you both made the switch. He seemed to examine the contents while you, in contrast, shoved your hand down the paper bag to retrieve your parchment wrapped sandwich. You wanted to gripe about how he had eyes on the meal from the employee until now, but he hadn’t spoken past insulting you.

Oh, yeah. You should probably be more upset about that.

Your stomach grumbled as you dismissed the thought to instead languish in his curious company. Instead of fully unwrapping your sandwich, you peeled back the wrapper to keep your hands clean before taking a big bite. As you chewed you watched as he made work of flawlessly folding his parchment until his own meal was fully exposed. He then procured napkins from his bag and set his shoulders to finally eat.

“At least you’re aware.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at that. He certainly liked to take his time to respond.

“Why this sandwich?” You took another hearty bite and relished the way the tomatoes burst with flavor.

“A club could be considered a base standard for a sandwich shop.”

You slowed your bites as he reached both his hands up. It was only then that you realized he’d have to remove his mask to eat. It seemed like a delicious cherry on top of your silly little scheme. You watched curiously as you noted that he had no ears for the straps to attach to. Instead you took notice of the poignantly sewed on buttons to his ball cap that were keeping the elastic in place. His head came down as he removed the mask and his green snout came into view. He then tucked the mask into his coat as if it were a pocket book and brought his hands back to his sandwich.

“Enjoying the show?” He kept his eyes down on his meal and seemed to be calculating the best way to tackle it.

“Yes, actually.” You hummed, swallowing your bite. You watched with tepid joy as your stark response caused him to flick his gaze at your momentarily.

He hadn’t needed to adjust that time.

“Do you have a mutant kink?”

What a return lob.

“No, it’s just been awhile since I’ve been able to have a civil conversation with someone.”

He finally picked up his sandwich and though you could see his mouth now, its tight line read the same as his eyes, giving nothing away. He seemed to digest your words as he brought his purchase up. You felt your hands squeeze a little too hard as his lips parted. Maybe it was your imagination, but it seemed to open a little wider than necessary and you got a good luck at the pricks of his canines as he bit down into the relenting bread. A tomato falling into your lap brought you back to your senses.

You cursed and switched to palm your sandwich with one hand to retrieve the red offender. A napkin slid across the table in your periphery and you grumbled out a thank you as you took it. Wiping your slacks and frowning at the oil that had already seeped in there, you huffed.

“Very convincing.”

It was almost impressive how much sarcasm he could inject into his flat tone.

You snapped your gaze to him and scooted closer to the table to prevent another spill. “It’s not an obsession! I mean you must know…”

He didn’t bother to look up and instead inspected the crescent carved out of his meal.

You gave him a few more moments, but it seemed apparent he wasn’t going to answer so you continued on. “What you look like.”

“And what is that?” Dropping his sandwich back to the folded parchment, he peeled back the top bread to examine the ingredients.

Though his question had appeared devoid of emotion, your cheeks flushed at the thought. You didn’t mind saying it as you had long grown past that kind of fearful shyness, but it still struck you how he was able to conjure up those sort of nervous butterflies when he didn’t seem particularly interested in you in the slightest. If that aloof attitude was why, then maybe it had been far longer that you’d previously thought since you’d had a decent conversation. You could consider the ramifications of it later. For now, it was a nice reprieve to be able to indulge in the sensation of a crush, even if it felt like the meeting would only last through lunch.

“You’re attractive.” You hid the little flip your stomach made by taking another bite.

You heard a little hum and chanced peeking at him through your lashes. He wasn’t looking at you, but his attention had finally been split away from his sandwich as he considered your statement. You continued to eat until, after a certain amount of time, he joined you. You smiled to yourself through a bite of turkey. He’d deemed it another non-response, but something about that was almost endearing. If he were anyone else you probably would be labeling him rude, but there was something about his aura that you found intoxicating in a mysterious way. His looks certainly helped, but you tried to see past the superficial.

No harm in being the reacher if only for a bit of fun.

“Earlier you mentioned something about a standard?”

There was a slight hitch as he brought his sandwich up to his lips. “That’s correct.”

“Are you like a food reviewer?”

You could have sworn you heard another hum, but this time the concurrent sounds of the shop made it impossible to be sure. You waited nonetheless and prepared a few other questions just in case this one also didn’t take.

“I’m looking for a new lunch spot.”

“Oh?” You gave him a once over and watched as he dabbed his face with a napkin.

“I’d been going to one shop for years, but despite my best efforts it closed down.” He passed you another look and your heart clenched at the sight of his eye line.

“You would be a creature of comfort.” Maybe another tease would bring his gaze back to you.

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky.

“Presumptuous.” He said in a manner that seemed for his ears only.

“Am I wrong?” You tilted your head curiously.

He retracted ever so slightly and it brought your elbows to the table as you leaned in. He stood strong against the move before finally, instead of only a flitting glance, he looked straight at you. If you hadn’t  already craned yourself to the table, you might have collapsed.

“It was meant as a negative. A note about how you venture to guess my habits based on so little data.”

This guy was something else. He suddenly reminded you of a computer. He was the embodiment of an analytic assault. If it wasn’t the way he picked apart his food and his talk creating a sandwich baseline, then it was how he seemed to be tallying up some sort of report on you.

Gosh, you just wanted to tease him.

“But am I wrong?”

If it were possible his level gaze became even more sardonic.

You couldn’t keep the widening smile off your cheeks.

He went back to his sandwich and you were starting to get a feel for when a subject had been dropped. Maybe a little data was just enough.

“I get it.” You dropped a new line in amity. “Everyone has a favorite place and it sucks when it closes.”

You didn’t get a sense that he was ignoring you this time, but rather had little to comment on the kindness you extended. It made you all the more curious.

“Why the club? Was it your favorite?”

One of his brows arched incrementally and the fact that you noticed surely meant you were just flat out staring at him. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to care or if he did, his face continued to betray nothing.

“No.” The rounded shape his lips made around the word lingered past when it left his vocal cords.

You wondered which of the two questions he had answered or if he had tidied both up in one go. You could almost curse yourself for not spreading them out.

“Almost every shop has a club sandwich.”

You perked up slightly, putting together what he meant. He had answered the questions in reverse order. You wondered what about them had confused his processors.

“Then why modify it?” Remembering your own sandwich preferences brought attention to the fact your lunch was being sorely neglected. It was still in hand, but you still couldn’t touch it as you found him giving his first emotion of the day: the slightest downturn of his lips.

Who knew a frown could do so much for the chemicals in your brain?

“It’s frustrating that something so basic doesn’t have a clear consensus.”

“Wha-?”

“It isn’t supposed to have ham on it and yet an infuriating amount of establishments default to the product. Plus that isn’t even mentioning construction which can be slapdash at best and I’ve even been to a shop that had the audacity to put an egg into the stack!”

You blinked wide as you realized it wasn’t just a frown, but something akin to anger. The way he bit down on the end of the sentence and then shifted in an almost imperceptible way to recompose himself made your heart rate spike. What a hang up! Your mind went into a flurry. You wanted to ask if he disliked eggs in general or just on a club. You didn’t even know his name, but you wanted to know all about his culinary preferences. Imagination running wild with the list, you imagined making his favorite breakfast after a night of-

Infatuation was a hell of a drug.

You squashed any further excitement with a tepid and, hopefully, understanding smile. “And the tomato?”

The way his chin tipped up seemed to say something, but you weren’t sure what. He opted to fold his arms and you found yourself unconsciously leaning ever more forward as you awaited his response.

“The cooking process concentrates what little flavor industrially-grown tomatoes have.”

You nodded, this time genuinely knowing what he meant.  

“And the oil to add fat?”

His tightened grip on his arms laxed as he moved from looking at you to a full on survey. Feeling very seen, you dropped your gaze and picked at what was left of your sandwich.

“Yes, it also enhances mouth feel and can combat dryness.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up. Though his own tone could use a little of that seasoning, you swore you caught the tiniest note of appreciation for the catch.

It was also entirely possible you just willed it to be that way.

“Salt Fat Acid Heat…”

There was that hum again. This time you were sure you heard it.

You brought your gaze up to find his squarely on your face.

“Quite the read.” He gave a single approving nod and you could feel cupid’s arrow shoot straight through your heart. If nothing else this lunch would serve as an emotional meal for at least a week.

You really needed a new job.

“I’ll take that as you changed your mind about my tastes.” You gave a satisfied smirk and moved with the the intention of finishing your meal off.

“Absolutely not.” 

His instant reply halted your hands mid journey.

“But you just…?” You trailed off weakly.

“Something can be said about your gastronomic choices, but that wasn’t what I was referring to.”

Did he mean earlier?

Was he talking about himself?

Your head tipped to one side curiously.

You watched him stare at you long enough to blink a single time before he returned to his sandwich. Remembering you had been trying to do the same, you followed suit. You were able to get through one more bite before another question chomped at the bit.

“How many shops have you evaluated so far?”

Under the guise of popping the final corner of your lunch into your mouth, you watched him through your lashes.

His cheeks paused in chewing before he swallowed. 

“This will be the 12th one.”

You gave a snort as you stole one his napkins to wipe your hands. He responded by reaching into your forgotten bag and replenishing his supply.

“You’ll just keep going until you find a suitable replacement?”

He gave a single nod and you balled up your dirty parchment. 

“How does this one rank? I’ve been here a few times before.”

He finished off his own sandwich and took to a careful process of folding his parchment further before depositing it into his bag.

“Mid, the turkey was nothing more than watery deli slices and the bread is particularly unremarkable.”

“Yeah, I can see that. The tomato was pretty good considering it’s out of season though.”

“Quite.” After thoroughly scrubbing his hands, he wiped any errant crumbs off the table and gathered up the trash into the bag as well. “You work nearby?”

You had been in the midst of following his table manners when you faltered and ripped your bag in the process of depositing a used napkin. Your lips parted and you almost wanted to ask him if you had heard him correctly. He had actually asked you a question.

“Yeah… How did you know?” You tried to salvage the bag as your mind ran rampant again.

Had he seen you before?

Were you really about to live out some kind of romantic comedy scenario?

“Why else would you chose the mediocre if not for proximity’s sake.”

Crushing your bag along with the ridiculous thoughts, you smiled at him a little too brightly. “You got me there.”

His chin tipped again, but this time it was down. You really wanted to map out all his little tendencies, but you’d need a notepad for that. You had the perfect one in your office, but that would mean heading out.

Your heart sank.

“My lunch break.”

The statement hung in the air as you left your trash abandoned in exchanged for your bag. Within a few flurried motions you pulled out your phone and stared in anguish as it awakened with the time.

“I am so late…!” Your voice waned and you looked to the mutant with desperation.

He seemed immune to your plight and moved to stand. Though you had long resigned yourself to satisfaction of the little time you’d gotten with him, the closing window didn’t sting any less. Squinting weakly at your trash, you dropped your phone into your bag and heaved yourself up. Gathering your things, you couldn’t help the surprise that passed over your features as you found him standing beside his pushed in chair and the mask back on his face, waiting.

“Thanks.” You mumbled off and he brushed by it as he headed for the door.

You followed him and waited your turn as he dumped his bag at the receptacle.  

You had so many questions once.

Where had they all gone?

You waited sullenly as he seemed to take an extra moment before he stepped aside and you hucked your garbage ball into the appropriate hole.

“And thank you for indulging me. Works been…” You trailed off with a grimace and a wave of your hand.

He reached for the door handle, but kept his even gaze on you.

“Let’s just say this long lunch is not going to help the matter!” You sighed and wondered if that angelic coworker could distract your boss with even more edits.

That would probably be asking too much.

“It’s just a shame I won’t be able to hear the rest of your reviews.” A bit of dry laughter found its way out of you.

Finding a grip on the door, he opened it and slipped out first.

You chased after him having a feeling he wouldn’t hold it.

“I’ll just be stuck eating the same old meh meal!” Twisting your bag into both hands, you prepared for the parting.

You found him staring down at you with that ever-present aloof nature.

You opened your mouth to say your goodbye when you saw his hand come up with a clean napkin.

You tensed and forced your awareness to your face in attempt to feel if something had been left dried up there.

“I’m going about my search in an orderly block by block manner.”

Twisting your neck, he pulled your attention with his sudden speech.

“I’ll be in this vicinity for the next few days. Your options might not be so limited.”

Finding nothing in his eyes, you let your gaze trail down to his hand. Between green fingers you saw the telltale scrawl of numbers.

Your heart skipped such a beat you thought you might go into cardiac arrest.

“Though I’m going to the next shop tomorrow, so do find a way to appease your superior.”

You watched in horror as both your hands came up to take the slip as if it were some precious artifact.

You wondered if he found it funny.

Or endearing.

Or maybe he already regretted his decision entirely.

“Don’t worry. Sometimes I think he keeps me on just to bitch at me.” He let go of the napkin and it came fully into your possession.

Even though it acted as a record, you tried to commit the writing to memory.

Donatello

XXX-XXX-XXXX

Curt and to the point.

Just like him.

“Also, I don’t care for idle banter. Only message me when completely necessary.”

“Sure.” Pulling the napkin close, you looked up to find him already moving away. You jolted at his retreating form before planting your feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He surely heard your shout, but continued on unperturbed.       

NEXT

[tachimichishrine]

wld it be crazy of me to request smut with margaret mitchell bsd. like. idk. could be plotless -🍳

<yk what would be crazy? if I already had a margaret smut in my drafts. that's crazyyyy right. i totally didn't already have this fully planned in my head and thats the reason this came out so quickly. yeah nope that's insane. (BTW WELCOME 🍳 ANON MUAHAHA)>

"reputation"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

sugar baby! margaret mitchell x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw ; HARD bondage (shibaru) + bdsm ; oral (giving+receiving) ; masturbation (f) ; brat taming ; degradation/praise ; im getting a lil too comfy on this account so yall are gonna start seein my kinks ; intended lowercase ; cursing ; unedited mnmnmn ;

her family's reputation.

her family's reputation was the reason margaret joined the guild.

her family's reputation was the reason she had to work so hard, trying to repay all their debts.

her family's reputation was the reason she found herself at one of fitzgerald's fancy parties with the elite, rich and most posh out there, acting as though she belonged. there was once a time where she would've felt like she truly did, but that was long ago.

it was the reason she was wearing her most refined clothing, dressed up to appear as though she was still part of a family of importance when you caught her gaze from across the room.

the reason she laughed a little bit too loudly at all your jokes and quips once she found out you were truly a woman of high class, several small fortunes all available at your fingertips whenever you so desired.

the reason for the rest of this tale was a little more blurred.

you invited her over to your home often, offering her lavish gifts and meals that she hadn't experienced in ages. if you spotted a single tear in her dress, you not only recommended a tailor and seamstress to fix it up for her, but you picked out at least five similar dresses in your closet and ordered her to wear them in the meantime.

your intentions became clear after one week, when you had been shopping (and insisting you foot the entire bill) by her side and pointed out a lingerie store.

then you asked for her measurements.

you proposed it so elegantly, just like the aristocrat you were; it was an arrangement, is all. she would come over a few times a week, and you would pay off all of her family's debts. all of them. margaret couldn't say no, although she had quite a significant amount of doubts about the dignity of it all. nevertheless, you convinced her that the payments would be untraceable, simply an anonymous donation to your family from a benevolent third party. it wouldn't become a scandal unless she wanted it to be.

so, she didn't just let you take her measurements, but she also tried on any and every erotic outfit you picked out for her. some were cut-outs, her nipples bare and exposed as you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching her with a hungry look in your eyes, while others were hugging all over her curves. however, you let her chose her favourites, and bought them in every colour imaginable. you wanted your darling to look pretty, after all.

today, she was wearing a new outfit: rope started at her neck, wrapped around in a skillful double loop that was merely tight enough to choke back any of her retorts, and trailed along the rest of her body in a spiderweb of masterful knots and patterns.

slightly tipsy, that was all she was, yet she couldn't remember what moment you'd begun taking off her clothes and turning her into modern art. margaret found you to be gentle, ever loving while you fucked her beyond her wildest dreams, but this time you called her over with a slight twinge in your voice. the drive over here felt shameful, shameful that she was selling her body for the sake of her family's reputation, but it wasn't her place to judge herself. this had been going on for so long that it felt natural to show up at your every beck and call.

"beautiful," you kept muttering over and over, almost to yourself, as you spun her around. it appeared that you recently returned from a trip in japan, where you somehow stumbled across the art. in one of the hundreds upon hundreds of rooms you had, the infrastructure was fitted with a simple hook dangling from the ceiling, reinforced so that it wouldn't collapse under the weight of a human being.

she was hanging from it, a slightly painful experience but it was distributed so masterfully all over her skin that the searing was somewhat pleasurable. what wasn't pleasurable was the overstimulation, the way you'd been looking at her for hours, touching yourself in front of her while she was restrained, unable to move even a single millimeter.

the rope was expensive, somehow— she wasn't sure where a woman of high class would go to buy rope. you'd created a collar at her neck, the remainder of the material creating a line of knots running down in between her legs, rubbing right on her dripping pussy, then up from her ass to re-attach to the neckpiece. a symmetrical zigzag of red lined both her sides, connecting right under her collarbone, above and below her tits, and her bellybutton. as for her legs, you seemed to want them as untouched and bare as possible, so you only wrapped the rope around her wrist and ankles before throwing it across the ceiling fixture.

she truly was a sight to behold, so gorgeous and naked, all for you. your initial goal was just to try it out, a new and illustrious type of bondage that was too exciting to pass on. you opted against the gag in case it ever became too much for her, but you never really established a safe word. you just assumed that she would tolerate it like the brat she was.

you'd cum twice already just watching her and fucking yourself, aided by the feeling of her squirming as she shifted attitudes. at first, she seemed to be having fun, telling you how to shift the ropes so it didn't hurt too much and enjoying the harsh hair pulling you did to get her to face upwards and allow you to kiss her loosely.

after a while, margaret got demanding, a little bitchy even. your hands stopped playing with her face and began taking advantage of your position of power, hers of powerlessness. you grabbed her tits, massaged them with greedy fingers, then seemed to get the better of yourself as you hoisted her higher so she was the right height for you to suck on them. and fuck, did your tongue work magic, impatient as always but the desperation made it feel so good. you flattened your tongue on her sensitive nipple, dipping the tip all around the bottom of her chest then let your teeth sink into her, deep. she let out a soft groan at your nibbling, biting down on her lower lip to keep quiet as you got rougher, grabbing her in between your index and thumb in order to secure her in place while you coated her in your saliva.

"fuck... so good..." you murmured at her taste, shifting to the other side while your free hand rubbed on your panties in between your own legs. "you taste so goddamn sublime, my dear. absolutely exquisite when you're all tied up for me, so patient. you'll be patient, won't y-"

"s-shut up," she breathed out, voice shaky as she tried to shift around mid-air and ease the tension in her core. she managed to rut her hips back and forth by arching her back, painfully rubbing her clit on the rope, desperate for friction.

her efforts were amusing. "now, now, sweetheart, the whole point of this is that you just relax and let me take control, no? so why do you have to be such a fucking whore and ruin it all?"

you tightened the restraints, not allowing her to do anything except breathe, if that. not to mention, you went from caressing her thighs and littering them in kisses to grabbing the end of the rope and continuing your line down her legs, completely typing them together so that her entire body was just one long line of restrained limbs. the more concerning part was that you'd gone from holding her knees apart so you could dip your fingers on her soaking cunt before you licked them clean, to sealing them shut. the wait had already been agonizing, but now you made it clear you had no plans on fucking her any time soon.

you dropped her torso, her shoulders hitting the floor and head contorted so she had no choice to look up at herself, wrapped like a fucking christmas present. you looked down at her, look both sadistic and amused, then spun her around so that she was facing the other direction.

"you know I like to hear your pretty voice, my dear margaret," you said sweetly, then smacked her ass roughly. "you know I don't like it when you hold back"— another slap —"when you open your bratty mouth to say anything except my fucking name like a good whore" — you spanked her once more — "which you are, dear. you're such a good whore, worked up and trying to get yourself off on the rope just from me sucking your needy tits." you slapped her once more, but this time you didn't pull your hand off, instead groping her from in between the tightly woven rope. she moaned, rolling herself on the floor as she tried to listen to anything you just said, but all she could think about was feeling you on her again.

"luckily, I'm in a good mood," you smiled, tying her wrists together behind her back then twirling her around again so you could look at her. you got on your knees, cradling her face in your fingertips lovingly while you pressed a soft kiss onto her lips. "you've had enough of watching me fuck myself, haven't you my dear? would you like to do it for me? would you like to fuck me, margaret?"

it felt like a trick answer, so she just waited, looking up at you with those beautiful eyes of hers she knew you couldn't resist. you used the fact that she was suspended from her ankles at a height that allowed her head to rest flat on the ground in order to part your knees and lower your aching pussy onto her face.

she tried so hard to please you (at first, it was about the money. she was your sugar baby after all, and that was essentially the extent of your relationship. and yet, as time passed, she really did want to make you feel as good as she did when you had her laying down on your plush duvet and pillows, eating her out). before you could even lower yourself all the way, her tongue was already sticking out, reaching upwards to get you on her as soon as she possibly could.

"eager now, aren't we?" you teased for a second, halting your descent just so you could feel her breath hitting you in a feverish attempt to get your cunt on her lips for a few more seconds, then gave in with a stretched out moan. "oh... oh my fucking... mmmn... margaret... you needed me that badly, did you?"

the words stopped and the moaning begun; you didn't have any reason to hold yourself back, nor did you. she sucked on your lips so hard, bottom teeth grazing your throbbing clit while you helped by bouncing yourself on her. you grabbed onto her tits while she finally managed to thrust up into you, fucking you on her tongue with the kind of skill that felt unnaturally good.

the stimulation was wonderful, but her sobs muffled into your ass were even sweeter. she tried, so hard, to rub her thighs together while she ate you out all the way to your orgasm, but you'd learned your lesson and made them tight enough that there was frankly no point in trying. but she'd been so obedient that you figured you'd indulge your sweet darling once you finished screaming her name through your high.

you got off of her face, delicately kissing off the remnants of your cum on her cheeks. "amazing as always, my beauty. shall I return the favour?"

one yank and the whole thing fell apart— margaret fell onto the ground, still tied up with her arms bound behind her back and legs practically sewn together, but no longer hanging from the ceiling. you grabbed a knife off of the table in the corner (your safety net, so to speak) and cut off the attachments on her legs and her wrists. her torso remained bound with her tits sticking out of the circle of red rope, however, because you had thought about it a bit longer and decided you did indeed want to watch her try to fuck herself pathetically on the piece of rope tied between her thighs.

and so, you did. with her on all fours, you grabbed onto the piece of rope now loosely sticking out of the collar and yanked it. she gagged, a beautiful, needy choking noise as it simultaneously collapsed around her throat and her pussy. you eased up a little bit, but in no time your other hand was clutching a handful of her now messy hair while she tried to rub her hips on the piece of rope.

she was starting to cry again, the frustration too much to bear but not enough for her to voice her desire out loud, not letting up on her pathetic humping. you softly kissed the back of her neck, whispering into her skin that this was enough, that she could rest and you would take care of her, but she didn't seem to believe a word of it.

to show that you were serious, you flipped her on her back and stopped kneading her soft flesh in favour of kneading her gushing pussy. you intended on fingerfucking her, you really did, but she was so wet and you didn't know if you could handle letting all that perfectly good arousal go to waste. you grabbed some of the pillows you had stashed in the corner of the room, placing them under her so she would be comfortable as you went down on her, shoulders under her knees and her cunt open to you and only you.

she really did have a beautiful voice, especially when she sung your name out. high pitched, but sultry in the most gorgeous of octaves, as though she were an angel condemned to this world. she let out needy whines as she started to get closer and closer, but she was already on the edge for the past hours and it barely took a few thrusts of your tongue inside of her to have her spasm all over your face.

you laughed, scolding her briefly for not warning you but at the same time, exceedingly pleased. somehow, the ropes looked as flattering on her as the finest pieces of lingerie, and you told her so as you cut her free and kissed her softly.

"how was that, dear?" you helped her back into her dress once you'd put on your own clothes. "was I too harsh?"

she shook her head. "not at all, it was rather... fun. you really do have the most incredibly lewd ideas, though. I'm not sure how you do it," she added with a gentle tease.

you helped secure the body of her dress, tying it from the back before sliding your hands around to the front and holding her from behind. you kissed her neck up and down, taking your time as you smelled her and relished in her taste.

"I have to confess, I was hoping I could've kept you here longer, but it would've been cruel for me to deny you for that length of time. you see, as I promised, every... session, I repay part of your family's debts."

margaret was such an impatient woman. "and? why are you reminding me of this?"

you ignored the tone of her ask and laid kisses along the back of her ear. "well, they're all paid up. I put in the last payment right before you arrived today."

an awkward silence ensued, neither of you sure what to say next. thankfully, she was the one to do it.

"in that case, our arrangement... it's over."

"yes," you said solemnly. "margaret, dear, I know I called it an arrangement, but—"

"shut up."

this kind of brashness was common with her, no doubt, but what surprised you the most was her swirling around to meet your gaze and pulling you in by the waist.

"our arrangement is not over. I should still like to continue to meet you for these sessions, as you say," she stated, very matter-of-factly, like there was nothing you could do to argue her words. "will that be a problem?"

you hid your elation well, instead leaning in to kiss her deeply. "not at all. but I'm not sure how I will be able to compensate you for your time, darling."

"oh really? I could think of a number of ways. a day at the spa, a reservation at the splendid restaurant that just opened on fifth, the roses are quite expensive this time of year too..."

you giggled, picking her up so that she would be weightless as you spun her around excitedly.

"anything you want, margaret. I'll get you anything your heart desires, because all that mine wants is you."

[maxident-xx]

you know what. fuck it. *posts entire phony wip in here*

WC : 3628

@wabatle @sillynene-13 since yall like phony

Chapter One - 02/01/2XXX

Death Corps. Everyone feared the four knocks on the door. Four, the unlucky number. That's when the Death Corps recruiters would come, forcing you to join the army. Everyone had to join, starting at the age of 13. I think they started doing it because of the amount of wars that have been going on lately. They need more soldiers to defend our crappy country. There were two ways you could get out of serving in the Death Corps: if you had some serious disability or if you were filthy rich. If you paid enough money, you could avoid going for half a year. If you keep paying, when you turn 35, they stop caring. My parents have been using the payment method of saving my brother and I for the past few years, up until now. The four dreaded knocks. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

I silently ran downstairs to overhear the conversation between my dad and the recruiter. The recruiter was a woman with blonde hair and dark brown roots. She had dark siren eyes and was dressed in an all black attire. She was utterly terrifying.

“Yes, Mr. Terry Black? We're here to enlist Mallory Poppy Black and Fitz Aster Black for their necessary Death Corps Service. We didn't receive any payment, and in the Death Corps Handbook, Section 37B it states if there is no payment to spare yourself from serving for a month, a Death Corps recruiter is obligated to come and take you or your children to training.”

“Recruiter, ma'am, we might've run out of money, but please don't do this to my kids. I'll pay double the amount next year.”

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Black. I cannot do that, I don't make the rules. I listen to the handbook. Can you please call them over?”

“Mallory, Fitz! Come down!” 

I went down first, my twin brother, Fitz, following shortly after. His face paled as he recognized the skull embroidered on the recruiters uniform.

“You're shitting me,” Fitz choked out.

“I'm so sorry,” My dad chanted as he squeezed us. “I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, please stay safe, my babies,” He was beginning to cry now. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to sob with him.

“Come with me, you two,” The recruiter ordered. Fitz and I followed her to her van. “Everyone in Death Corps has a code name. Mine is Guerilla. I am not telling you my real name, as per Death Corps Handbook section 1B. You two need to serve 18 months each.” She reapplied her cherry red lipstick before starting the van. “I'll be picking up more kids after. If any of you guys try to escape, you will suffer immediate consequences. What are they? You don't want to know.” 

“Guerilla scares me,” Fitz whispered.

“Real, if I have to serve in her regiment I don't know what I would do,” I whispered back. I couldn't shake the question off my brain, why can't she say her real name? Is it for privacy reasons? What if we did find her real name?

For those of you reading this story, sorry to interrupt, but I'm Mallory and I hate my life. My parents are divorced because they have absolutely no love for each other. The world is at a constant state of war. My twin brother is a weirdo. I probably won't get to eat mint chocolate chip ice cream for the next 18 months. But it could be worse?

The next person that boarded the van is some kid who looks our age. He was too busy crying to say anything about himself.

After that there was this one kid who just stared off into space for three minutes before talking. “My sister is in the Death Corps. I wonder how she's doing. She's almost done with her service.”

“What's her name, child?” Guerilla asked from the front seat.

“Eden. Eden Mendoza. I'm Wren, her little sibling,” The kid said. I could not tell the gender of that thing, and apparently, neither could anyone else.

“Oh, Himmel. Her left leg's been completely blown off I tell ya. Blood everywhere, it flew six or seven feet away from her, what a sight! But don't worry, she's doin’ better,” Guerilla informed. 

Fitz and I looked at each other, eyes both wide. The boy started crying harder. Wren's mouth was agape. “Her- Her leg was blown off??”

“Mhm, that's not even the worst I've witnessed on the battlefield. She uses a prosthetic leg now.” The fact Guerilla could say that with such a straight face shows how traumatizing serving for the Death Corps would be. I can't wait. (That's sarcasm, for those of you who are a little slow.)

After Guerilla collected all of the recruits, there were a total of eight people in the back of the van. Four boys, three girls, and one whatever the hell Wren was. The oldest in the van was a 21 year old man, the youngest was Wren, being 14 years old.

When we arrived at the camp, boy, was it crowded. There were varying expressions, from people trembling and crying to people being… excited to be here? You have a 51.6% death rate from serving in Death Corps, and you're excited? I wish I was that optimistic about dying. 

“Mallory, if I die, please hide my phone from Dad. One wrong click and he's going to bring me back from the dead and kill me again,” Fitz told me. I wonder how he'd feel knowing two years after he said that, I went through his phone and found out exactly why he said that.

“Same goes with me. If Dad found the drawings in my sketchbook, I'm done for.” I've never gotten along with Fitz well, but I guess it's easier to talk with someone when you're both in a life-or-death situation.

A loud siren came from way up front and a man who appeared to be around his mid-30's stepped up on the podium. “Welcome all Death Corps recruits. I am Eifrit, the current General of Death Corps. You are all gathered here today to serve your required 18 month term. You will undergo training and testing to decide which subunit is the most fitting for you. We wish the best for you, and as our founder would say, ‘Experiri non mori.’ Thank you.”

I think I'm going to start writing my suicide note. Death Corps, you guys can get a special shout out.

Chapter Two - 02/01/2XXX

“Alright, everyone from van SK431 come to this side! I will be doing a fitness test to see if you are fit to be in battle. I will be doing this with the aid of my helper, Andromeda. Introduce yourself, Andromeda!” Guerilla announced.

Andromeda was slightly shorter than Guerilla and had a nose piercing, a mole above her lips, split dyed black and white hair, and purple eyes that seemed as if they lost the glimmer in them a long time ago. “Hello trainees, my name is Andromeda, as Guerilla said, and I serve as a medic in the Death Corps. I will be doing a full body examination, and then we will run some exercises to test your stamina, dexterity, and strength. Any questions before we begin?”

“Ew a full body exam?? Are we going to like, have to strip naked or something?” Some ugly boy exclaims. He was one of the guys that were excited to be here.

“I don't want to see your small dick either, buddy. I have to do this, unfortunately.” Most of the group burst into laughter as whoever that guy was tried to come up with a comeback.

“Oh yeah? Well I bet um… Um… I bet you uh… You smell bad?!” That was the worst attempt at an insult I've ever seen.

Andromeda ignored his statement and moved onto the actual inspections. Fitz went first in a dingy tent with a caduceus on the front. He came back ten minutes later traumatized.

This part is icky and I'm sure you don't want to read it so I'll skip to the part after the whole medical exams. There were person shaped targets lined up and we were each handed a pistol. 

“You all have to shoot the targets. You get two tries, we'll be looking for people that have great accuracy,” Guerilla explained. “You kid, you're up first.”

Wren closed an eye and got into shooting position. The bullet hit a perfect bullseye.

“How did you do it? It was probably just a lucky shot!” A guy shouted.

“I'm used to shooting, my parents taught me when I was younger to prepare me for this. I prefer sniping more, though,” Wren said.

“You're hella good kid, shoot again?” Guerilla rested an arm on their shoulder. They nodded before getting back into position and shooting again, this time a little off from the bullseye. Guerilla wrote something down on a paper and let the weird guy– who's name I later learned was Lawrence– shoot. He used both his shots immediately and just barely hit the target. Guess we know who isn't going to be a shooter. Fitz was after two other people, and he did average. He hit pretty close to the bullseye the first time, and hit somewhere on the outer edges on the second try. I went last, and I had a stunning realization: I need glasses. And I need to find out which eye was my dominant eye. 

“Loser,” Fitz snickered. I elbowed him.

“This is why you're the one that was an accident,” I retorted. He didn't say anything back.

“Next up is close combat! Since there are eight people gathered here, we'll do this tournament style!” Guerilla seemed a little too enthusiastic to watch people fight each other.

First match was some random girl against Fitz. I'm not sure if pitting a girl against a boy is a good idea but equal rights, equal fights. The other recruits, Guerilla, and I watched as Fitz and the girl threw punches at each other. Fitz landed a punch on her nose, and I think something in that girl snapped because she kicked him right where it hurts the most. Everyone felt the pain Fitz felt as he fell to the ground with a groan.

“I win!” The girl smiled. She held her hand out to help Fitz up, but he swatted it away.

“I'm in extreme pain, I don't think I can get up yet,” Fitz groaned. Who's the loser now?”

“I know you can do it, Fitz. Get up if you want to survive,” Guerilla walked towards him and slightly nudged him with her foot. He got up immediately and stood right next to me.

I let him rest his arm on my shoulder as the next match started. It was Wren versus the 21 year old. Okay, these matches are getting a bit unfair now, aren't they? Wren probably just started going through puberty and they're fighting someone who's old enough to drink? The match started with Wren charging directly at the man, and the man retaliated by body slamming Wren on the floor. The thud was loud, but the silence after Wren's eyes closed was louder. 

“That was a child? You could've gone easier on the thing!” Guerilla squatted to feel Wren's pulse. “They're still alive, I'll go call Andromeda. You shouldn't have done that during training, but I like your attitude, man. You better show the same strength on the battlefield, soldier. I'll be back soon. Mallory, you look after everyone.”

The sound of Guerilla's boots hitting the ground decrescendoed as she left the training site. The man looked down on the floor where Wren laid and sat down. “Damn,” He said.

Damn indeed. 

Guerilla returned with Andromeda, who came to pick Wren up, with another girl by her side. She had the same chocolate eyes and facial structure as Wren. The doctor's coat and skirt were long, but not enough to cover the prosthetic leg she had. Was she Himmel? 

“Wren has a minor concussion, but they'll be fine with a little rest. When they wake up, tell them big sis says hi.” Himmel patted their hair before getting up. “Andromeda will supply the medicine to quicken recovery.”

“Thank you, Himmel. I'll tell you when the kid wakes up again.” Guerilla seemed like a genuinely nice person outside of the battlefield. “In the meantime, let's have our third match. Mallory versus Lewis.”

Lewis was the kid that was crying the whole trip here. When the match started, he stood and waited for me to attack. I was about to do the same until I realized that it was a pussy move. So I kicked his shins hard. He fell to the floor immediately and begged for mercy. I think what happened to Wren scared him.

“Mallory wins… I guess. I don't think that counts as much of a win, but great job?” Guerilla stared at Lewis with a pitiful expression. “I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Alright, fourth match starts in a minute!”

“You only won because Lewis is weak. If you went against anyone else, you'd lose,” Fitz told me. 

“You're not wrong.” I weigh 100 pounds and I am 5’6, of course I would lose against anyone that wasn't Lewis.

The fourth match was Lawrence versus a girl. These people need to say their names. I'm going to confuse the readers by saying “this girl” or “this guy” for the millionth time. I should use adjectives to make it a little easier to differentiate. Pink haired girl. That works.

Back to the story, I watched Lawrence win against the pink haired girl, but she put up a pretty strong fight. She seems normal, unlike Lawrence. She was crying a little in the van, but now she looks like she's just accepted her fate. Girl same. 

“What a fight, huh? Most of you guys did great. After Wren wakes up, we'll do an obstacle course,” Guerilla declared. An obstacle course doesn't sound too bad. I'm pretty quick, I have experience. By experience I mean running away from my brother after I eat the last piece of cake. But I'm sure it won't be that bad, right?

Right?

Chapter Three - 02/01/2XXX

I was wrong. It was that bad.

Wren woke up 30 minutes later after Andromeda and Himmel visited, confused. Hope they didn't get amnesia. Guerilla gave them some of the pain medication, but other than the confusion they seemed alright. 

“Sorry for knocking you out and giving you a concussion or something,” Wren's opponent apologized.

“It's okay. Maybe. I understand why you did that, I would've done the same.” Wren forced a smile. Really shitty apology, but good on them for accepting(?) it.

“Okay, now that Wren is back, it's time for the obstacle course. I'm tired of explaining so this should make sense. Y'all have seen obstacle courses before. Coming back in one piece is optional, I'll tell Andromeda to wait at the end and I'll stay here and make sure none of you losers cheat.” Guerilla does not get paid enough to deal with us and I feel her. 

It started with loser boy Lewis tripping and falling face first on the mud. I- along with many others- ran over him. Sorry Lewis. We had to jump hurdles, which almost led to my downfall. After that, it was climbing a cliff and landing the jump on a mattress. 

You get what happens during obstacle courses. I was neck to neck with pink haired girl for most of it until the final stretch, where I made it first. Fitz was third and Wren was behind him. Lewis was last, as always. This boy is a true example of a loser, Fitz, not me.

Guerilla decided to give us a break before starting an… intelligence test? Lawrence failed, as expected. Zero questions right, how does that happen? Fitz got half the questions right. I got 80%, good for me. Wren got one more question right than I did. I got outscored by a 14 year old. I need to evaluate my life choices.

“Folks, since we've completed all the tests, y'all get a break and tomorrow morning we have an assembly. There, you will get sorted into groups based on your performance today. I'm going to drink until I pass out, don't disturb me, your dorms are over there.” Guerilla pointed to a rundown shack. 

I only had one word when I walked in. Gross. Even my brother's underwear doesn't smell as bad as this place.

When I stepped in, it smelled like literal ass. There were four bunk beds, so I played safe and got a bunk above Fitz. The shower was freezing, but it felt refreshing to be able to shower. 

“Guys, appear normal. The troop leaders are doing a check on every training regiment and I want a raise. If you're on your best behavior, I'll let you sleep in an extra five minutes.” Guerilla entered our shack 45 minutes later when most of us were all freshened up. 

Waiting didn't take too long, because it was only two minutes after Guerilla announced a troop leader was arriving when one actually did.

Dear readers, I don't usually find anyone that attractive. But this troop leader? God damn, when I tell you she was fine! She had light blue hair that went to her lower back, a scar that started from her nose to above her right eye, electric blue eyes, and a tank top that revealed her arm muscles. She had a black cap sporting the Death Corps emblem on too. She looked scary in a different way than Guerilla did.

“This the training regiment from van SK431, correct? May I see the results of the tests?” She inquired. “To those who don't know me, my name is Lupus. I'm troop leader 172. Some of you guys might be in my troop, depending on your scores.” Please Lord let that be me. “Hey, Guerilla. This year we have a lot of interesting candidates, hm?”

“Yup,” Guerilla agreed, passing Lupus the papers with our scores, “Sirens little cousin is here, right? Van AE382? I recall working with Siren. Cool guy.”

“Mhm. He was a beast on the battlefield. Let's pray his little cousin is like that.” Even I have heard of Siren. One of the Death Corps best recruits. He killed a bunch of people and showed zero remorse. He left after his term was up, however. The top generals would pay him millions if it meant he would come back. If his cousin was coming here, maybe they would be just as badass as Siren.

Lupus examined the papers, eyes widening at some. “You have some good recruits, Guerilla, but…” Lupus whispered the second part to Guerilla.

“Mmm, we're probably going to put ‘im in the clean-up crew. Scores are underwhelming compared to everyone else in the group.” Of course they're talking about Lewis. The same Lewis who was, for some reason, fast asleep. For context, it was 5:21 pm. 

Lupus and Guerilla chatted about tomorrow and sorting us into troops. I also heard something about code names. The code names they suggested for me before they actually chose my current one were bad. If I had to tell people my name was Speedy I would leave Death Corps even if it meant they would hunt me down. I'll reveal what my code name was at a later point. For now, back to Lupus.

She left our shack, taking the papers to the higher ranks. Guerilla praised us and told us we were good little children for behaving and we would get our 5 minutes of extra sleep. Are we going to have our lesson on coloring in the lines next? Are we going to learn the alphabet? Guerilla was only three years older than the oldest person in our training regiment, so her treating us like kindergarteners doesn't make much sense.

The rest of the day was pretty eh. It was just me doodling in my sketchbook and talking to the only two people I was okay with talking to.

Lights out came shortly after I had finished one of my drawings. I can barely fall asleep on normal days, so of course me being on a bed that felt like a brick made it even worse. The next day we would finally figure out who would go where for extra training based on our strengths and weaknesses. I was going to be separated from Fitz and Wren. I was going to be in a war that changed everything.

Chapter Three Point Five - Why am I Here??

I should interrupt the story with some Death Corps lore. It all started with the war for more land. Humans are selfish beings, they always want more than what they have. they were willing to do anything for some land that was discovered. That land also happened to have a bunch of resources and riches, so that made the wars much worse. The war has been going on for just about a decade now. Every army is different, but in the country I'm in, it has the infamous Death Corps. Death Corps was founded by two siblings, Shams and Qamar. Their real names are unknown, but it was founded just before the war started. At first, it was just recruiting whoever wanted to join and whoever was strong enough. Then, they started getting desperate. They needed more support. They let in whoever wanted to join. The conditions worsened, and they had to resort to forcing everyone to serve in the army.

[sizebrained]

Unstuck Together: Hazel's Perspective Part 9

Recovering...

Content Warning: Adult themes and language. Mentions of fear, death, danger, terror, therapy, injury, and first meetings. Some touching of sensitive bits, nudity and body talk. FLUFF!

***

"Or whatever?" Hazel said incredulously and crossing her arms over her chest.

"What are you expecting I would be doing that constitutes whatever?"

Ben swallowed hard afraid to answer, not even sure he knew what he had meant.

Oh my god he is a child...Hazel thought to herself sarcastically as he sat there in silence.

"Ben, please." She said, the affection dripping from her voice. "Look at me, I am covered up."

Hazel said thinking her crossed arms counted as covering herself up. It was a very poor attempt at modesty.

Ben took his hand away from his eyes and dared to peek. He saw her lower half this time, her arms covered her chest at least.

"You did not!" he insisted.

"Oh bloody hell..." Hazel said wanting to wipe her face but even her forearms across her chest felt sticky. She was like the underside of medical tape.

It was a new sensation. In a strange way, it was refreshing for its novelty.

She'd been in such a daze at the home and then scraping by in the shed. New was almost exciting, or should be, but for the fact she felt disgusting.

Her tail bothered her the most. The baby oil actually worked to free its fur, even if she did smell like coconut now. She noticed how much heavier it felt behind her.

"Benedito…Please look at me and try to act your age for a moment. I knew boys younger than you that died in war, you can deal with this." She paused for a moment before continuing.

"I still need your help. Will you please help me a little more?" She said softly and expectently up at him.

Ben cleared his throat and took a deep breath, taking his hand away to look at her again.

"Oh god don't call me that! Only my vovó calls me that...Now you really do sound old..." He said looking at her straight on in desperation.

As he looked at her, really looked at her.

He felt his breath catch in his throat and he held it in focus. Her black hair against her pale skin made both look more vibrant than either alone. He could just make out the sharp blue of her eyes looking up at him expectantly. She was stunning…even with the tail.

"Fine. Ben. But only if you act like the grown up you are, deal?" Hazel said, tempted to make him try and shake on it having seen so many Americans do it.

But she realized she'd expose her bare chest and didn't want to start from square one again.

"Deal." He said. He waited for what she was going to ask before putting the pieces together himself and double checking, “I guess you could use some food and a bath?"

Hazel nodded with a slight smirk. He felt dumb.

"You are clever...for an athlete." Hazel said, but she wasn't quite so sure of that…just yet.

"Uh thanks, let me go get uh..." Ben replied finding his other crutch. He then realized as he turned that there was popcorn all over the floor. And he had left his other crutch in the janitor's closet.

Later, after some back and forth, he made a makeshift warm bath for her using a dipping bowl that he used when he ordered take out wings.

It was low enough that she could step in and out on her own. He made a little pile of things and whatever food he had left over next to it.

They were both eating, but Ben was only doing it to feel less self-conscious about just sitting there watching her eat alone. He thought he might look weird if he did that, so he just nibbled on a few things.

She sat there wrapped up in a hand towel.

She was so fascinating, and he kept worrying that this might be some kind of dream. But he hadn't taken any of his pain medication...would those make him hallucinate or dream about this?

It seemed way too specific and real for it to be a dream.

But then was it just a coincidence that he found this beautiful, tiny, and apparently, British woman with a tail trapped in the janitor's closet?

He stopped wondering in silence, and reached over to the bag from his order earlier. The whole affair had taken so long the ice cream was liquid.

He looked at the clock on his wall and saw it was already after 6 am. Then he turned looking at his balcony. The sun would be fully up soon.

He excused himself and left his condo, explaining that he was going to go get his other crutch. She asked he also retrieve her pack since he wanted to go anyway. Hazel considered riding on him or asking him to carry her...but it didn't feel right just yet. She felt the urge and lack of barriers with him. It was a bad sign in some ways. It had taken far longer for her to feel comfortable enough with Mary for either of them to let each other touch.

But with Ben she felt it now...like they were already comfortable enough to cross that line.

After she had explained where to find her pack, under the shelf and behind the cutout, Ben left to retrieve both it and his crutch.

Ben had a much more difficult time getting to her tiny pack than he expected. She really made a small opening even for her. He had to use his pinky finger like a hook to finally retrieve it.

But he returned to his condo a short time later with his crutch, her pack, and the vacuum cleaner rolling behind him. It took some time to alternate dragging it with the crutches.

Then in silence, Ben turned around while she made quite a makeshift outfit from one of Ben's freshly laundered socks he offered. It was more fabric than she could ever use.

Hazel paused along the way to continue to eat and drink slowly so she didn't get sick after being forced to go without for so long. Ben decided to clean as she did.

Finally, his apartment cleaned again after quite an unforgettable night, Ben returned to the stool. He took her in as she stood there. "Hey" Ben simply said.

Hazel smiled saying "Hey yourself."

Their eyes had locked on each other as she continued, "And thank you for the food and letting me destroy your clothes for this." She finished gesturing down at what she had fashioned from it.

"Oh no big deal, I think I lost the other one for that pair anyway so I wouldn't have any use for it." Ben lied. Even though he was so curious about her, she managed to keep asking him question after question like he was the interesting one.

They went on like this for a couple more hours. Hazel learned about childhood, playing basketball, his sister and parents, car accident which sounded truly terrible, and how he came to be in this nearly empty, new building.

As they talked, Ben didn't seem to notice or feel himself slipping lower and lower on the countertop.

Before long, he was resting his chin on his arms. He was very tired and she was very easy to talk to, something he hadn't had since Max died.

Hazel turned around after eating something to ask another question and saw he'd fallen asleep on the stool. His head resting on his crossed arms.

She took in just how massive he was again, realizing he was probably taller than if Mary had gotten onto Jack's shoulders when they were both spry enough to attempt something like that.

She felt the sun shining through the wall of windows on one side of his apartment. They must have been thick, because she couldn't feel the warmth of the light shining in through the wall of windows.

She was overwhelmed and tempted to lay down and sleep herself. But she had to go find Cob, who she was sure was besides themselves with worry. She wondered whether to ever come back. It had been such a terrilbe yet amazing night with this strange, massive new human.

After Mary she was sure she'd stay away from them and live more like her parents had before the Professor came into their lives.

But she could feel something she couldn't describe in words with Ben. And she had a feeling that she'd not only return, but what it would mean for her future. But that could wait for now.

For now she needed to find Cob.

***

End of Part 9

[the-brothers]

.Adoption.

"You kids know how I've been wanting to expand the family," your father started as the four of you had gathered around the dinner table.

"But Pops," you interrupted, "isn't it a bit late to be adopting more kids? I mean you're already so busy and not as young as you used to be."

His golden eyes narrowed slightly, "I'd like to remind you lass, that even though you are mature beyond your years, you are in fact only sixteen." he sighed, "These boys really need a home and can only be adopted together. You yourselves know how hard it is being grade school age in an orphanage."

You and Marco frowned. It had been almost eight years since your adoption, but you could never forget the way potential parents lit up when they saw the nursery. Not to mention all of the people who wanted to separate you from your self-professed twin. The social workers would always tell couples you were actually two years apart and not blood-related. You'd cry and shout to make things difficult, Marco would roll up his little sleeves and challenge anyone who dared to take you away. You were his sister and your DNA had nothing to do with it.

The day Edward Newgate arrived the two of you were separated to meet the man before he could take you home. It was less likely for you to act out if you didn't have your brother. When you entered the office, you were greeted by the enormous blond and another kid who had to be in his late teens. You were terrified, and shy having left all of your confidence with Marco.

After introducing himself and Thatch he began to ask you about your interests, typical stuff favorite colors, animals, what you wanted to be when you grew up, to which you murmured quick one-word answers. You also kept your distance.

"They told us you're quite the entertainer lass." Newgate pressed trying to figure out how the outgoing singer that was described to him was this timid girl.

You shrugged looking down.

Before you could think of a response there was a scuffle outside and the door burst open revealing the seething ten-year-old.

"Marco!" a worker desperately called after him.

He stood protectively in front of you scrunching his face at the man, "You can't take my sister, yoi."

"Sister?" Newgate sat back surprised, they hadn't told him you had a sibling.

"He isn't actually her brother," the woman corrected, "they've just been here for the last three years and are fond of each other."

"No," Marco growled, "she is my sister and you can't just take her."

Newgate watched you cling to the little blond, tears streaming down your tiny face. He was impressed by the boy's will to protect you and the bond you shared despite not being related.

"If they feel this strongly why on earth would you split them up?"

Your eyes snapped toward the man.

"That's just how it works sir, sometimes even siblings have to be separated. Our goal is to get them into a loving home, sometimes it's by all means necessary." the woman replied taking a step toward Marco.

"Marco was it?" Newgate leaned forward, "How would you like to leave here with your sister?"

Marco remained guarded but gave the man a nod.

"Then there we have it." he boomed, "Do you kids have any special belongings you'd like to bring?"

"But sir, you've only done the paperwork for F/N." she gaped.

"Then make copies for the lad," he smiled at her, "I'm doubling in fees. One would think you'd be thrilled."

"Boys?" you asked, "as in more than one?"

"Three." Pops nodded.

"She's just upset she won't be the baby anymore, yoi." Marco teased.

You swatted the blond.

"Two seven-year-olds and a four-year-old," Thatch confirmed.

"Awe~" you sang, "They're just babies!"

Marco rolled his eyes while Pops smiled and shifted.

"We'll go shopping tomorrow they've given me the boys sizes and the youngest will need a booster seat for the dinner table and the car." your father rumbled.

_____________

"They're here, yoi!" Marco shouted up the stairs.

"I'm coming!" you covered the receiver of the phone to reply, "Shanks, I have to go my little brothers are here."

"Call me tomorrow, babe." your boyfriend cooed, "Good luck with the rug rats."

"Of course. Now I gotta go before Marco drags me down." you flushed and said your goodbyes before hanging up and excitedly rushing down the stairs.

Thatch entered the house first with the small raven haired toddler in his arms. The two older boys followed with wide eyes taking in their new surroundings. The youngest shifted against Thatch's chest and turned toward you with an adorable grin. Immediately your heart melted, every fiber of your being was beckoned to protect him for all time.

"This is your new brother, Marco and your sister, F/N." the brunette introduced pointing at each of you

"I'm Luffy!" he chirped, tiny voice full of confidence.

"This is Ace," Thatch pointed to one of the boys who looked up at you with large ruby eyes that only accentuated the smattering of freckles on his face, "And this is Sabo." he motioned toward the other boy with messy blond hair.

The older two crossed their arms remaining guarded though Ace gave you a curt nod Sabo's green eyes refused to acknowledge you or your siblings.

"They've been to a few rough foster homes so give them some time." your father piped closing the front door behind him.

"Well, welcome home." you murmured, "Would you like to see your room?"

Luffy reached for you wrapping his legs around your waist.

"You guys have to share for now, but we'll be moving soon, and you'll have your own spaces, yoi." Marco added.

"We're used to it." Ace muttered following you up the stairs with Sabo far behind.

"Can I stay wis you?" Luffy asked squeezing your neck.

You squealed internally that the cutie in your arms already seemed to be attached to you, "Of course you can! I'll even read you a story."

After giving the boys a tour of the house and backyard Thatch called everyone in for dinner, which was a bit of a mess to say the least. Luffy rocked back and forth and side to side in his booster seat after clearing his plate trying to snatch food away from your and Sabo's plates as you both were stationed on either side of him at the table.

"I've never seen a toddler eat so much." Thatch said quickly fixing Luffy a second helping.

"Please hurry I can't fend him off much longer." You muttered blocking the kid again.

"He's always like that." Ace commented handing Thatch his plate to fill next.

"Are you not hungry?" you asked Sabo watching the blond poke at his food.

His green eyes moved toward you before quickly glancing away. He had been like this all evening carefully listening and watching but refusing to speak or make eye contact. It bothered you that he seemed to distrust the family so much. He must have survived some trauma in foster care.

"He'll eat when he's hungry, lass." Your father rumbled, "No pressure lad, if you don't like it there are plenty of other things to eat."

"But this is real good," Ace added.

The blond scrunched his nose at the freckled boy as if he were betraying him somehow. You could only hope he'd warm up to the rest of you in time. As you reached to wipe Luffy's face clean there was a sudden clatter of dishes and cutlery. Ace seemed to have passed out in his food splattering mashed potatoes everywhere.

Marco panicked and stood yanking the boy from his seat as he groggily opened his ruby eyes and muttered, "I'm not done."

"He has narnolopsy." Luffy chirped.

"Narcolepsy." Sabo quietly corrected.

"Does this happen a lot?" you asked watching Marco help Ace wipe his face and clothes.

"Yus." Luffy replied.

"If I'm still for too long or bored I guess. It's not so bad." the freckled raven replied getting back to his food.

After dinner, you set the boys up for a bath. It seemed the three felt comfortable all going at once though you worried if two seven-year-olds could really keep an energetic toddler in the tub or from drowning for that matter. So, you waited outside the door listening for any distress until they were done.

Luffy rubbed his eyes and yawned wide as you tugged him into the living room to pick a kid-friendly chapter book off the shelf. Not knowing what he was looking at he just picked the one with the most colorful cover and handed it to you.

"Pirate Adventures? Good choice." you hoisted him up on your hip and took a seat in the old recliner in the corner of the room.

Leaning back and covering up with a throw you read until Luffy was sound asleep snuggled into your chest and your eyes were too heavy to keep open. You dog-eared the page and set the book aside before drifting off yourself.

Some hours later your slumber was interrupted abruptly by the blaring pinging of the home security system. Not feeling the weight on your torso anymore your eyes shot open in a panic. Luffy was gone. Covering your ears, you stumbled to your feet and bolted up the stairs as the house phone began to ring.

Marco had already burst into the boy's room and was holding Sabo by the back of his shirt. All three boys had full backpacks strapped to their backs and the window was half open. Finally, the alarm cut off as Thatch entered the room still speaking on the cordless phone.

"No worries, it was just our little brother's opening the window," he spoke politely as he frowned at the boys.

The coming days, weeks, months, years, were sure to be interesting.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Barbara Stanwyck (Ball of Fire, The Lady Eve, Double Indemnity)—I hope someone else has submitted better propaganda than I because I don't want my girl's prospects to rest on me just yelling PLEASE VOTE FOR MY TERRIBLE HOT GIRLFRIEND. She is a delight in everything! She is often a sexy jerk! (It's most of the plot of Baby Face!) Even when she plays a "good girl" (as an example, Christmas in Connecticut, which more people should see) she's still kind of a jerk and I love her for it! She won't take men's shit and she sure wouldn't take mine!

Margaret Lockwood (The Wicked Lady, The Lady Vanishes)— Gorgeous feisty funny talented and the sexiest stubborn face ever committed to film. And if people haven't seen the original Wicked Lady they need to be introduced to a glorious poly highway romp of a film. When a woman outsneers James Mason you know she has sex appeal!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Margaret Lockwood:

Barbara Stanwyck:

"THE leading lady of the golden age of hollywood. One of the only actresses to work independent of a studio, making short-term contracts that enabled her to make movies wherever she wanted. She had so much range, and could act in basically any genre. She's been rumored to be a lesbian literally since she was active in Hollywood; most notable is the rumor that she had a long time on-and-off relationship with famously bi Joan Crawford, her "best friend" for decades (They lived right next door to one another). She also lived with Helen Ferguson, her "live-in publicist" for many years. She was the quintessential femme fatale in Double Indemnity, and really pushed sexual boundaries in her pre-code films like Baby Face, and the famous screwball The Lady Eve, where she plays basically a downlow domme. Allegedly, when a journalist asked her if she was a lesbian, she straight up threw him out of her house. She even played a lesbian in Walk on the Wild Side"

"THE queen of screwball comedies. I adore her, I'd kill for her, I will cry if she's not gonna win this poll."

"listen ok she had awful politics she was a mccarthyist right wing wacko BUT she's so incredibly hot that i've deluded myself into believing i could fix her. if you see her onscreen she carries herself in a way that's just so effortlessly sexy AND she has just a stunning face. imo she was at her hottest in the 1940s but even as early as the late 1920s she had a rly captivating screen presence and just a beautiful face, and then post-1950 she was just irresistibly milfy so really she was just always incredibly hot. she was also an incredibly talented actress who was equally stellar in melodrama, film noir, and unhinged screwball comedy. the blonde wig they made her wear in double indemnity is notoriously silly looking but she still looks sexy in it so that's gotta count for something. i've watched so many terrible movies just for a chance at seeing her that i think her estate should be paying me damages."

"Not often thought of for her sultriness, Barbara Stanwyck was incredible in that she could actually choose to be hot if the role called for it, and then have a glow-down to look ordinary for another role. She wasn't the most beautiful or effervescent, but damn did she have rizz. Watch her with Gary Cooper in Ball of Fire teaching him about "yum-yum" or with Henry Fonda in The Lady Eve whispering huskily into his ear."

"She is always the smartest woman in the room. Watching her play Henry Fonda like a befuddled fiddle in The Lady Eve was a highlight of my life. Femme fatale in Double Indemnity, comedy queen in Ball of Fire. She can do anything."

"She was part of my gay awakening"

"SHE'S A PRE-CODE QUEEN. She did everything, drama, comedy. The most beautiful woman in the world to watch weep. Beg for to step on you with those legs. Fun Babs story: Ginger Rogers was offered the role in Ball of Fire but said, “Oh, I would never play that part, she’s too common.” So they called Barbara Stanwyck and they said “We offered this to Ginger Rogers but she’s turned it down, would you be interested?” And she read the script and she said; “You bet! I LOVE playing common broads. [link]"