#men in crop tops *french kiss

[crazyworldofemmamarie]

To all the boys and men of the world,

What is stopping you from reaching your full potential and dressing like this (80s horror hunks)

[donatellawritings]

hola bebesita!!!! sooo curious to see how rafe's friends are towards his sweetheart latina :PPPP

all of rafe’s friends loved you — much to his jealousy-ridden dismay. they held you in a highly respectable regard, majorly due to the fact that you were rafe’s girl, and partly thanks to the fact that they each had premature crushes on you. you were always stretching your plump, gloss-smeared lips into a achingly sweet smile, always treating them with a basic kindness and warmth that they never received from rafe, despite years upon years of friendship. it also didn’t hurt that you were a sight for sore eyes, tight mini skirts and low rise yoga pants clung to your plush curves just right, cropped baby tees and skimpy shirts pushed your supple breasts up to the perfect height, and you were always dolled up — glittery shadows accenting you wispy eyelash-clad doe eyes perfectly, hair always shining and voluminous whether it was curled or tousled into a flippy blowout.

sometimes, rafe’s friends obsessively thought about just how he secured a bombshell of your likeness. i mean, sure, they knew it would be easy for rafe to secure some coked up kook with blonde hair, but you were a dream. and there were instances where they would bashfully listen as you whispered into rafe’s ear, licking over their suddenly dried lips as the sing of your slight accent peaked with certain words.

today, rafe had invited the likes of topper, kelce, and barry to tannyhill — you stood at the kitchen counter, pulling at the hem of your baby pink micro skirt, shifting your weight on your dior mules as you carried a tray of freshly assorted fruits and hors d’oeuvres atop of your french manicured hands, your swarovski tennis bracelet glinting against the sunlight as you made your way to the backyard, a smiled pulling on your glossy lips as you reached where rafe and his friends sat, placing the tray on the table, slightly bent over as the three young men stole quick glances at your off-shoulder clad chest, the swell of your breasts pushed up against your chest.

sat with his legs spread, rafe patted your inner thigh with a proud grin on his face, “thank you, princess,” he nodded, bringing your free hand to his lips, kissing your soft knuckles as you turned to him with a close-mouthed and blushing smile. your freshly blown out hair flipping over your exposed shoulder as you took your seat beside rafe, one of your legs neatly crossed over the other.

“thank you!” the three young men who sat across from you and rafe sang in unison as they jabbed toothpicks into their food of choice. your stomach bloomed with happiness as you leaned into rafe’s side with a content sigh.

wordlessly, you leaned over, stabbing a toothpick into a cube of soft mango, cupping your hand underneath the juicy fruit as you carried it towards rafe’s face, “try some, papi,” you smiled, batting your pretty lashes at rafe you smirked, lowering his arm to sit around your hip as he accepted the fruit, gently taking the toothpick from your hand, “s’so good,” you hummed, raising your eyebrows as rafe bit into the fruit, pulling you in closer to him as he nodded his head, before kissing the top of your head.

kelce huffed silently, sharing a knowing look with topper as the two young men watched the way your soft hand rested on rafe’s belt buckle. barry sat silent, stabbing his toothpick into a piece of sliced salami as your obnoxiously thin lace thong peeked from underneath your ridden up miniskirt. the three men were quickly torn from their problematic thoughts and stolen glances when rafe decided to clear his throat.

expecting a slew of insults and profanities to be hurled their way, topper, kelce, and barry were pleasantly surprised when you straightened your posture, biting down into your plump bottom lip in excitement. “uh, i just wanted to invite you guys to my birthday, m’finally turning twenty-one so i am super excited,” you beamed, your doe eyes bright with glee as rafe slid his hand up to the dip of your waist, giving it a soft squeeze of approval. “i know that rafe would want you guys there, and it would mean a lot to me if you all could come,” you sealed with a sweet smile.

“yeah, s’gonna be a fuckin’ lot of people here, but she wants to see y’guys,” rafe sighed, scratching at his buzzed hair as you jabbed your shared toothpick with rafe into a crisp red grape.

barry let out a breathy chuckle, “yeah, we’ll be there, princesa, gotta make sure that country club over here doesn’t freak the fuck out when jj and them boys get here,” he teased, sinking back into his seat as rafe scoffed in return. barry had the least of a crush on you — did he think you were drop-dead-gorgeous? absolutely, but he felt more of a need to make sure that you were comfortable around him, he’d felt a weird brotherly sense of protectiveness over you.

topper and kelce, however, they had school boy crushes on you. they found you to be so kind and adorable, maybe due to rafe’s strict demeanor towards them, they were often silent or carelessly staring at you. kelce was more reckless than topper, falling victim to many scalding lectures from rafe, due to how many times he’d been caught ogling over you. nonetheless, you remained impartial to topper and kelce, maintaining your kindness towards them.

“you two gonna keep fuckin’ starin’ at her, or are y’gonna speak up?” rafe called out, his eyes low and jaw tight as his knee began to bounce while he subconsciously dug his ring clad fist into the plush of your thigh. you silently tapped your nails against rafe’s belt buckle, causing his eyes to fall on yours as you silently pleaded for him to calm down. rafe lightly slapped the side of your thigh in acknowledgment with a roll of his eyes.

topper let out a nervous laugh, running his fingers through his hair with a forced smile, “yeah man, we’ll be there!” he laughed once more, before focusing his attention on downing the rest of his beer.

“can’t wait!” kelce added, refusing to make eye contact with neither your or rafe, an embarrassed smile now pulling on his lips.

letting out a laugh of false humor, rafe roughly grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you into a sloppy kiss, his eyes set directly on kelce. you let out a shocked gasp into rafe’s mouth, humming in excitement as his tongue slid across yours, both of your mouths eagerly fought to deepen the kiss, before rafe pulled away from you, leaving you dazed as he wiped your smeared lipgloss from his lips. “keep lookin’ at her and i’ll fuck her in front of you — y’can ask topper if m’being serious,” rafe swallowed, bring his bottle of beer to his lips as your eyes widened in embarrassment, your swollen and smeared lips parted in shock.

topper awkwardly shifted in his seat as barry let out an amused laugh, “shit, y’all got it bad for this girl,” he commented, taking another swig from his beer as rafe glanced at you, motioning for you to sit on his lap.

you were quick to comply, your plush ass now sat square on rafe’s bulge, his hand resting on your stomach as his chin leaned on your shoulder, “stay still,” rafe whispered, pulling down the front of your skirt as you felt him shift underneath you, “keep your legs closed, mama,” he huffed lowly, leaving your eyes widened at the feeling of rafe’s thick tip sliding into you in one fluid motion, a sharp exhale leaving your lips as you forced yourself to hold in a moan.

your eyes remained blown and bewildered as you made an awkward eye contact with kelce, your lips parting in a silent moan as rafe leaned back into the seat, remaining subtle as he raised his hips slightly, his tip lightly grazing your g-spot.

“let’s see how long it takes him to figure out that my dick is in you, right now,” rafe chuckled, the volume of his voice carrying only to your ears. rafe’s hand remained on your stomach as he brought his beer-clad hand to his lips, taking a cool and long sip.

[ughdoir]

꣑ৎ shawn michaels

˚⋅ birthday sex in a hotel what more could you ask for.

˚⋅ contains black female reader, lowercase intended, insertion, dirty talk, birthday sex, make up sex, rough at times, aftercare, unprotected sex (no glove no love), squirting, creaming, orgasm. minors don’t interact

shawn’s adamant about not wanting anything for his birthday the older man not fond of aging as his position in the wwf was unknown. with new talent emerging and titles changing hands the thought of being replaced was daunting.

he settled into the hotel room alone without the presence of his girlfriend. hot water from the shower cleansing him of the sins he partook in with hunter earlier. the men sharing everything together and coincidentally a birthday five days apart.

getting caught up in the limelight that provided much more than this evenings house show. alcohol would’ve been his speciality but tonight was different opting to be sober as his mind couldn’t stop racing.

the girlfriend in question hasn’t responded to him all day a bit annoyed of the decision to spend a birthday in sin city knowing that women were practically hanging their panties from the turn buckles for the degenerates.

shawn understood why he was in the dog house so he didn’t bother to call again. a year of dating that wasn’t short of heated arguments and headaches. so instead he’s sipping from a wine glass rewatching the god father with a box of cheese pizza positioned on the counter.

midnight approaching as a soft knock on the door breaks his focus thinking it was the movie before he hears another thud his eyebrows raise in confusion. from the peephole he recognizes you cautiously opening the door.

a genuine smile gracing his features as you’re holding a chocolate cake decorated with chocolate frosting a tub of his favorite french vanilla ice cream at your feet.

his eyes scan your appearance high waisted denim jeans with a white crop top. silver hoops matching a butterfly necklace the hint of makeup subtle with nude glossy lips.

your hair shoulder length and slightly curled at the end small flower clips securing it from falling into your face.

“happy birthday baby.” your voice soft the smile unmistaken as your boyfriend takes the cake from you fingers joining together in the process.

he’s ushering you inside eyes inadvertently lingering on the curve of your ass. grabbing a fork to dig into the chocolate he’s chewing slowly ensuring to place the ice cream in the freezer.

you note the tidiness of the hotel room a stark contrast to his on screen personality. “a year of dating and i never would’ve took you for a baker.” he’s forking another piece the chocolate melting in his mouth with a hum. light blue eyes warm with affectionate at your gesture.

“you’ve never asked.” your response a little snarky settling on the couch as shawn is all to familiar with your attitude.

over the next few hours you’ve decided to forgive shawn considering the stress at work and fact that he hasn’t stepped out of the relationship.

you both became immersed in a conversation of wrestling asking the superstar himself about his everyday experience within the wwf. you met outside of the company wrestling not being your favorite pastime but you were smitten the day you saw him.

one conversation leading to more, not bothered by your younger age of twenty three as you kept his head on straight. the man patient allowing you to question everything, being open with his responses and pleased with how much you’ve learned about his craft. feeling as if another year around the sun with you was worth it.

he’s comfortable reclining further as a scent of tangerines and vanilla entices him to pull you closer placing one arm behind your head. small kisses placed to your temple as the atmosphere shifts shawn knowing how to make a particular pulse grow between your legs.

“never knew a younger women could be so sophisticated.” his breath is fanning your face. you’re so timid it makes him want to claim you. cute not enough to summarize how adorable you are.

“then maybe you don’t know a lot about younger women.” the rebuttal slipping out casually as shawn smirks his eyes turning a shade darker.

“is that so? perhaps you can enlighten me.” your breath hitches as he kisses you, the older man taking the lead as his tongue wrestles yours. a connecting trail of spit as you separate leaving you sticky.

“i never said you were forgiven.” the man shakes his head laughing with a tsk his hand coming to guide you towards the bed. round ass sinking into the plush as he stands in front of you staring down at your frame.

“arms up.” he’s stern you obeying as he’s discarding your shirt across the room tits on display as he toys with your nipples pulling slightly. mouth then coming to latch on the sensitive bud sucking harshly as his fingers find your pussy.

your thong adding for separation as he taps your clit embarrassed with how turned on you are. “i’m sorry babe.” you can barely focus on his apologies as he’s rubbing your clit jeans and underwear feeling a bit tighter as he’s purposely teasing you.

shawn somehow always having to be in control and on his birthday was no exception. he’s pulling away turning you around and propping your ass up on the edge of the bed. peeling your jeans and thong down to your ankles.

he locks eyes on your glistening folds tongue lapping at your clit as he eats you from behind arms holding you in place as he slurps. you’re squirming around eyes rolling back as he’s hungry for you tongue going as deep as it could.

“fuck, no running princess.” shawn’s vocal his own pretty moans slipping out as he’s flicking your clit the cream coating his mouth as he pushes his face deeper the sweetness simply delicious.

“shawn” is all you can moan pleading as you can feel your abdomen clenching helplessly grinding on his face. his blond hair in disarray as he’s humming the sensations have you shaking reduced to a cumming mess.

“fucking brat.” the words make you whimper as he’s lining his dick up with your entrance tip slick as he’s collecting the juices a chuckle erupting from him.

“think you can take it?” he taunts not waiting for protest while pushing his dick inside of you with a groan. the warmth and tightness inviting as you hissed still not fully able to adjust to his well endowed length.

your head is pushed into the mattress back arching deeper as your cunt made several sounds his dick throbbing inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you babble.

his actions rough with a hint of being gentle ensuring to place kisses on your back everytime he swatted your ass.

you’re drunk from his dick mouth agape as your drooling gripping the bed sheets while small tears of pleasure form being so full is heavenly indeed. “my precious girl you’re getting so good at this.” shawn is praising you the way you’re taking him so well driving him crazy.

liquid spilling from your pussy as your squirting the juices staining the sheets underneath you both whimpering as you’ve never came so hard before. feeling him deep in your stomach as shawn’s eager hips slamming as the birthday boy chased his own high.

his cock stiffens pulling out of you as ropes of cum lands on your thong and jeans, some dripping on your brown skin literally marking his territory. he’s still hard though eyes still feasting on your body as round two looms in the air.

“i’m not done with you yet it’s still my birthday.” the statement has you on your back legs spread open as he’s smiling ready to destroy you.

[heeliopheelia]

IM HERE FOR THE WORST DATE EXPERIENCE RECS HEHE (also yet another loser Hee smau? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP)

Alright so when I first started dating, and I didn't realise I was gay as fuck yet, there was this guy I met on Bumble and he was like In the law department, and I was like ok men who can argue smartly kink let's gaur, so I ended up talking to him and he was really nice and funny and made dumb science jokes (pls note my standards were so low then) and then we agreed to meet in person. So we went and arranged a date at this French restaurant where we would meet after our classes. And let me tell you law classes here ARE GRUELLING. The students legit look like zombies when they come out, but I thought nothing of it and just went with it, deciding that I have had enough of a loveless life. And then I met this dude and I was impressed cause he legit came in a suit while I was dressed in a crop top and a leather jacket. My hair was relatively shorter, like almost a boy cut, and I kid you not this man legit said "So do you have cancer or something?" And pointed to my hair and I was like BITCH WHAT. And that's not even the worst part, like the waitress who was serving us was a friend of mine so I was friendly with her, as I usually am, and this man legit was like "are you gay cause I'm not interested in women who are a part of the LGBTQ community?" Like first of all yes I am gay, and second of all WHY THE FUCK SHOULD THAT AFFECT YOU? I legit went home that night and said to my roommate "Men are dumb" and she was like omg I was about to say the same thing and THEN PROCEEDED TO SHOW ME A PICTURE OF THE GUY I WENT ON THE DATE WITH. Apparently he had a date with her the day before and he dumped her because he had a better date the next day WHICH WAS ME. Like I don't understand this man to this day. And somehow he made it onto the men's basketball team so I have to endure him on our practice days so I make sure to dramatically kiss my gf infront of him. 😎

But if you want a cute worst date experience idea, there was this one I had with my gf on our first anniversary, when we went to a pottery date, and I made this teacup for her and she made a vase for me, and when we were painting the things, I somehow managed to get my fingers smooshed by some heavy rocks and they broke and we had to go to the hospital and I had a panic attack cause I thought I ruined our date and I was apologising so much to her, so in order to calm me down, she smeared some clay in my face and slapped me gently cause I am adorable And when I asked her why she did that she was like, I wanted you to know how I feel when you apologise so much like that. And that was the day I was like "yep I found the one"

YOU BROKE YOUR FINGERS ON A DAYS OH MY GOD 😭 and the first dude is just... NO!! Your gf is an angel tho 🫶

[l-r-christian]

Sorry to ask again but I was wondering if you could do a poly!mikaelson fic were the reader is camilles sister because I've been so obsessed with the fics lately and I need some more to feed my obsession tysm love your writing btw and happy writers appreciation day💕❤

Yes and no problem 💕

Warnings: Fluff, Sassy Reader, Mikaelsons being protective,

A/N: sorry this took so long....it got buried in other requests.....also got carried away with this

Y/N O'Connell was Camille's 21 year old sister who was currently sitting in the bar being stared down by her older sister. Y/N had been suspended from school for being rude to her professor which Y/N explained that her French professor was trying to sleep with her to change a grade.

"You can't keep getting in trouble Y/N."

"Then maybe my professor should keep his cock in his pants." Y/n said texting a friend as Klaus walked in with Elijah both stopping see the young woman. Y/N sat wearing short jean shorts and crop-top lavender colored hair up in two buns.

"I understand but still, honestly Y/N how are you going to graduate?"

"Not sleep with my French Professor and continue on my art degree. Worst comes to worst I'll become a cam-girl." Y/N said getting a pointed look from Camille as both Elijah and Klaus was a bit shocked with how candied Y/N was with Camille.

"I am kidding Cammi. Besides Onlyfans is where the real money is at."

"Y/N! You will not do that!"

"Again kidding Cammi. What your sugar daddy artist not giving you a good fuck?" Y/N said tone light joking as Camille blushed angry and embarrassed by her baby sister noticing Klaus and Elijah. Both Originals looked at the bartender wondering who the young woman was.

"Elijah, Klaus meet my baby sister, Y/N. Sorry for her behavior." Camille said face burning with blush as Y/N looked up from her phone not embarrassed at all. Y/N let out a low whistle getting both men's attention seeing her clearly checking them out.

"Cammi, you lucky bitch. You get hot men while I'm stuck with frat boys that don't know how to please a lady."

"Y/N! Please stop talking." Camille hissed at her sister who just rolled her eyes going back to texting as Klaus smirked leaning on the bar finding it all amusing as Elijah looked the younger O'Connell over again.

"I'm gonna head over to uncle Kieran's and listen to him tell me that I am a heathen." Y/N says getting up then winked at Klaus and Elijah before walking out leaving behind a every tired Camille.

"My sis is a bit adventurous so can you both do me a huge favor and keep her safe?"

"Of course Camille. You have my word that nothing will happen to her." Elijah says as Klaus smirked mischievously looking at Camille who frowned.

"Don't Klaus. My sister isn't one for dating a one-night stand kinda girl." Camille said making both Mikaelson men smirk.

"Of course she is.

Y/N was bit of a handful and Camille knew this as Elijah had finally found the young woman at a bar, drunk dancing on top of the bar with another woman. Men let wolf whistles when Y/N kissed the other woman and Elijah took out his phone calling Camille who was worried sick about her baby sister but since she was stuck working. Camille asked the Mikaelsons to help as all of them had gotten close to her sister over the last month.

"I found her Camille."

'Great! Please get her home....I should be done by 4am so if you.....'

"I'll take care of it, dear Camille." Elijah says hanging up walking over to the bar catching the drunk college student before another man could even touch her when she fell.

"Oh! 'Lijah! I was....gonna call and ask to sit on that handsome face."

"Some other time when you aren't drunk, sweetheart." Elijah says smirking noting to bring this up when Y/N was sober, Y/N hummed laying her head on his shoulder wrapping her bare smooth legs around his waist clinging to him like a koala.

"Sounds awesome....can you take me home? I want sleep." Y/N mumbled against Elijah's neck as he chuckled rubbing her back as he payed her bar tab.

"Of course." Elijah says walking out much to the disappointment of the men in the bar as one guy got brave following Elijah out. Before he could even touch Elijah the man groaned lay on his stomach arm twisted behind his back.

"Hello Rebekah."

"You found our little lamb." Rebekah said digging her heel in the man's back as Y/N smiled at the blonde vampire.

"Beka....I get to ride 'Lijah's face ...later." Y/N said as Rebekah raised an eyebrow at her brother as Elijah chuckled.

"She asked so when she isn't drunk, I said she could."

"....'Lijah....can I sleep with your sister?" Y/N mumbled as both Elijah and Rebekah looked at her and Rebekah walked over kissing Y/N's cheek.

"When you aren't drunk, love." Rebekah said following Elijah as they took the young woman back to her apartment she shared with Camille.

"Awwww fuck....if I open my eyes, there better not be an idiot in my bed."

"I'm hurt Y/N, Rebekah and I stay as your request." Y/N heard Elijah's low baritone voice in her ear as she opened her eyes finding her self on Elijah's chest.

"Fuck......we didn't?"

"No no. Rebekah and I wouldn't have took advantage of you like that." Elijah says watching Y/N get pulling off her pajamas clearly more comfortable being undressed in front of Elijah than most women would be in front of a man.

"Thanks for...last night."

"Of course besides I promised you that you could ride my face." Elijah smirked watching her put on comfy clothes and put her auburn hair in a messy bun. Y/N gave Elijah a mischievous smirk leaning forward like she was gonna kiss him but pushed him back on the bed before skipping off. Elijah layed though blinking before following after seeing Y/N laying her head on the counter as Rebekah made her breakfast.

"Lazy day?"

"Yeah."

Klaus and Kol had got word of Y/N's drunken adventure and how open she was to both Elijah and Rebekah as on the human's first week in New Orleans, the Mikaelsons agreed to share her as each of them fell for her.

"Busy love?" Klaus asked walking into the apartment with Kol following behind as both found the human sitting on the floor with art books. Y/N had reading glasses on in just a football jersey, lace panties and socks hair in a messy ponytail.

"Yeah....writing my paper on why there was gay artists in the Renaissance and why I think that's neat." Y/N answered going back to tapping away on her laptop as Klaus smirked leaning down reading over her shoulder.

"You should ask Elijah about it after all he has first hand knowledge on it." Klaus said nipping at her neck while Kol layed next to her on the pillows. Y/N looked at Klaus smirking there was that twinkle in her eye.

"Here I thought you were the artist? Shame thought you would also have known first hand too."

"Oh love wouldn't you love to know." Klaus said as Y/N jumped feeling Kol's hand on her bare thigh as Klaus let close and Y/N made no move to stop them.

"Not in my living room!" Camille said spraying Klaus and Kol with water from a bottle as Y/N let out a loud laugh picking her stuff up heading back to her room. While Klaus talked to Camille, Kol followed after Y/N flopping down on her bed seeing her working on her paper.

"Can I ask a question darling?"

"Yeah, shoot." Y/N says feeling Kol's thumb rubbing her lower back, over the last month the Originals couldn't help but notice how comfortable Y/N was with their affections as not once had she told them to stop. Y/N let them take her out, when it was late one or two of them slept in her bed.

"How are you so comfortable with us? Hell some would say you are dating us."

"Because you four are the first people that I can actually see myself being with long term. And I say the last statement is true."

"Wait really?!"

"Yeah, like I can which schools to be closer after all you guys grew on me." Y/N said squeaking when the wildest Mikaelson tackled her kissing her roughly. Y/N mewled gripping Kol's shirt as hips moved against one another as Kol latched his mouth on Y/N's neck.

"Y/N! Can you not." Camille said sighing as y/N groaned in frustration before mumbled something in French under her breath.

Of course the vampire's were over the moon knowing Y/N liked them back and were more protective of her. Laying in bed one between Rebekah and Elijah, a thought entered Y/N's mind as Rebekah was laying on Y/N chest as Elijah was pressed against her back.

".....'Lijah you own me a face ride." Y/N blurted out making Rebekah laugh as Elijah smirked kissing her shoulder while Klaus and Kol joined.

"I know baby, I'll be more than happy to let you ride my face as long as you want. But it is nearly 4 in morning so sleep."

"Fine but I will not let this go. I'm hold you to this." Y/N said squeaking when Kol lightly bite her abdomen mumbling for her to go to sleep as they relaxed. Once Y/N fell back to sleep with Rebekah and Kol, Klaus looked to Elijah showing him the small ring box he and Kol making Elijah smiled as they too fell asleep knowing soon they will be spending the rest of forever with the woman they just adored.

[the-slasher-madame]

★ Random Thoughts Masterlist! ★

Why I got tumblr

Casually insecure reader writing prompt

I’M the jealous one here

Why the twins would kill me

Bo and his double barrel shotgun

Vinny knows French

Seggsy Vinny 👀

My biggest regret

Fruity Sinclairs

Sinclair twins’ birthday

How to make internet friends

Pride month 🌈

Proofreading?? Don’t know her

Sinclair childhood writers

To awkward for the ruse

Road salt

My father and the Sandman

Vincent vs. Bo

The deal

Notifications

Manhandled by Thomas Hewitt

To awkward to engage

Bo bringing hell with him

Painting cures depression

Drawing a header

Analyzing Thomas Hewitt’s breakdown

I hate my memory

Miniature tools

Fiery anniversary

Blogs v. Time

About to Stan one Lester Sinclair

Wet cat Billy Lenz

Don’t apologize

Pikachu man

I feel loved 🥺

It’s Brittany bitch

Don’t wanna disappoint

House of wax on Instagram is 0/5 ★s

ETHAN HAWKE???

Love and comfort <3

There’s a bee in my tumblr

The Black Phone (but as a date)

Fang ily so much 🥺🥺

Sleepy Mikey sleepy me

Barbie and the Hack Saw

Barbie’s hollow tits part 2

Jason and Michael’s headaches

Devotion *shudders*

Requests and traumaversaries

Photographing art tips pretty please

Metal thoughts?

DCAU slaps

Slipknot got slipnapped

Uma Thurman?

I love slashers

CUPCAKE

David Bowie and Geography: A Confused Disaster

Knitting

Christian Bale

Brahms and ‘The Haunting’

They done knew

Request update

Christian Bale pt. 2

Shirt

Lester vibes 🦝

Beauregard Sinclair is an ass

SLASHERS IN CROP TOPS 2022

He kinda short tho

Friendly reminder that I love y’all <3

Gay Grabber Moment

Eddie nickels

Mick Thomson

I really hate my memory right now

⭐️ anon and Ethan Hawke’s tits

Brain freeze

Sinclairs and Tourette’s Syndrome

Brahms, Stu, and Lester have never seen stretchmarks before IG

Milk

Bo Sinclair and the Grabber have no right sounding that sexy

Some Positivity!!

The Sinclairs are touchy in the summer 👀

Brahms and Bo, once again, have sexy voices that make me weak

The Grabber and that 70′s boob window shirt

Hot men short-circuit brain

Simping pays off

Mello Yello

I want Bo to glue my lips shut 🥺

Kiss me Bo please 🥺

Art update

Thank you Ziggy <3

Lester stans Miku

@ neurotypicals

More of me feeling bad about my request times

Prophetic flash

My first piece of hate 🤩

The deal part 2: the electric boogaloo

I’M BACK BITCHES

ROCK CANDY

Can you spare a crumb of Ghost lore?

Horrorsexual

[crybabytoy59]

Resignation of fate....

Getting older now I had decide to resign my fate of submissive feelings of having a True Dominant partner, sadly putting this behind me, to stop torturing my self over my inner held submission...After all I had try’d?  

My tumblr page made no secret I wished to be used in a true 24/7 submissive relationship.

But nothing had ever become of my ask along the way, only fake so called Mistress/mummy’s ever messaged with but one thing on there mind a “Tribute” easy cash from despairing sissy submissive’s like Myself was there goal.

So with a heavy heart I could still have small windows in time for myself...

I would simply visit a Pro Dominant that way although paying it would be the real thing not some set of Dom instructions over the net from some faceless person who didn’t even take the time to read any of my stories, to better get to know me or my kink !

That’s how I found Jessica she was ten years my younger 5’7” with long red hair, very athletic as she kept in great shape, a bubbly personality & wit to match...

After lots of questions we arranged a meeting at a hotel of her choice, the drive there had my gut in knots ...I was finally going to meet a True Dominant not some fake kid-on person.

Jessica was a Professional with over 15years in the business her knowledge was vast as were her skills !

Knocking the door to the suite she opened it with a huge smile ! She was stunning even more beautiful than her pictures in real life!

“Hello sweetheart in you come” as I passed her she spanked me lightly, then threw her arms around me like she had known me all her life !

Cuddling me she kissed me very passionately running her hands down to my crotch she giggled “My my someone is a very excited submissive aren’t we ?”

I stammered out a yyyes Jessica! She was great again chuckles came,

“Relax sweetheart this is your time with me I want it to be special so that over the course of out ten meetings you will be in no doubt about your next ten sweetheart ! “

This we both smiled over ...this was just what I had always dreamed of it felt So natural.

Jessica told me to go for a shower then come out with a towel around me once “Fully cleaned” I knew what she ment from our talks pre-meeting, so in the shower I gave my self one last enema to make sure I was clean inside but only clean water came out, after all I had spent two hours Deep cleaning myself for this first meeting !

After my shower I took a Deep Breath & walked out with the towel around me.

Jessica was standing at the foot of the bed in a lace black top with no arms a black corset & black leather jodhpurs! She looked the perfect picture of Dominance to me at that moment !

On the bed lay a pink pvc maids dress with a small pink frilly hood to match the outfit, there were white tights & pink Mary Janes with a pair of frilly french knickers with a garter belt.

My heart pounding now Jessica motioned me over with out a word she threw a pillow on the floor pushing my shoulder, I did as she wished without words I knelt obediently putting my hands behind my back.

This pleased her as she kissed my forehead “Well done sweetheart let’s get you properly dressed for today’s chores my New sissy maid !”

Her touch as she dressed me in the pink frillymaids uniform was simply indescribable!

She took her time going very slowly & sensual with her every touch...

I was in sissy heaven !

My first task was to clean her boots as she sipped a glass of wine, she gave me a small black wax pad for this task & a white cotton cloth this took me an hour to do both boots.

Jessica was very pleased with me & more passionate kisses came from her it didn’t feel very Dominant? She was in control but in a soft gentle way....

Next was brushing her hair then I was to pleat it into a long ponytail...

This to pleased her very much as more kissing followed, the third task was very different she asked me bend over facing the dressing mirror put my hands around & pull my cheeks apart!

I watched as she lubed up a butt plug it wasn’t to large & she slid it home only holding it enough that my anal muscles pulled it in by them selfs!

Next she had me sit on the dresser chair as she applied makeup to me ! After the pink base layer, I jumped slightly in the chair as Jessica had picked up Her mobile the plug started a rhythm of vibrations!

More make up went on as she smiled at me straddling my thighs on the chair as she Finished my makeup !

Stepping away she stood behind me I got my first look at what she had done !

I looked like a China Doll !!!!

The look was utterly fantastic..So much so I gasped to her giggling!

“So my new maid likes her look this is your look Sissy lemon 🍋....Yes sweetheart that’s your new name Sissy Lemon”

With that she tied my ankles to the chair & my arms behind me, she then produced a pair of silk white soiled pants letting me smell them over my face her scent was very powerful !

I was absolutely rock hard now...”Open Wide Maid lemon !” She fed the pants into my mouth then lifted a black leather panel mask, it had a head harnessing from it this was buckled into place & she knelt between my legs pulling my engorged member from its silk prison!

Very slowly Jessica ran clear wax type gel over my shaft it felt warm as she put it on...

Slowly she started edging me...Very slowly...over the next hour she would edge me until I twitched then would stop to drink some wine, she would touch my nipples making me moan for more play !

This girl was very good at getting what she wanted men’s submission !!!

An hour later I could hold No longer I threw my head back as it shot from me ! I felt my balls were coming out Such was the force !

Jessica simply kept pumping every last drop from me !

Without any warning she popped open the leather pad on the front of the gag removing her pants she wiped her hand clean!!

Then uttered the words again ...."Open Wide Maid lemon !”

She pushed the cum soaked pants back into my mouth popping the leather panel back into hold the wadding in place....

She got up walking away to get something? When she returned she pulled the chair further back without a word...

Then lifted a huge black leather flogger ....”Sissy Lemon did Mistress Jessica say you could climax ?....No she did Not ...So my wee disobeying maid a punishment I think !!”

She unzipped the dress pulling it down my torso exposing my chest !

Jessica pulled the flogger back ....she spent three hours flogging cropping & whipping my nipples with a riding crop !...

It was very painful but I was in True submission at her touch...

At the end of my 8 hrs with her I truly could not thank her enough...

She told me that’s all she wish for in her sessions that I would feel I could let go of my inner submissive....

We arranged to meet at the same time each week for my sessions....each one became a bit kinkier & more painful for me ! Jessica would put me in my maids uniform, then spank me !

Sometimes head to toe ! Edge me...have me eat my own cummie as she called them !

It was great just to let go & Be Myself !

But on the second last visit Everything changed...

She had edged me & was putting me through a Very intense chest whipping...this she had stopped to put on a new set of nipple clamps ...this was my chance to show her my submission to her each time I would “present to her Fully arched (this made the clamps tighten) & put my head Fully backwards till she appeared to kiss my forehead!

Then I would be allowed to do My cummie....

But this time was different I truly broke !!!

Holding out not to say my “Safe-word”....something happened..

I burst out crying hysterically...

Jessica ran over pulling the clamps off gently she spoke ....

“It’s ok am sorry ...Breath try to relax....lemon...Your ok...hey it’s ok Mistress Jessica has You Lemon”

I muffled into her pantie gag....So Jessica removed the leather panel then her wet pants (she had soaked them in her pee this session )

It was all too much I didn’t know what day of the week it was ! or Where I was let alone what I was Saying to Jessica !!!!

I can’t even remember what I said...but thirty minutes later I was lay on the bed next to Mistress Jessica she was stroking my face...

“Are you Ok sweetheart ? ...(I nodded ) Good have a shower we need to talk...

After my shower I changed into my day clothes & came out Jessica had done the same , she was now in jeans & a white shirt...

“Ok That was too much ...Am truly sorry but I can’t take you for your last session, I will give you your money back & you can’t see me as your Mistress any longer !

I was utterly shocked & Deeply saddened over this but not knowing what I has said to her I thought best to simply accept that I had over stepped my mark with Jessica....

I told her there was no need to give me money back, that I would rather she got something for herself.

I told her I was truly Sorry over this incident..But I hoped she didn’t hate me...

“No silly it’s fine I just feel that was to much for me as a Mistress.....Your a lovely guy & I truly hope you find what you want of life”

I left that day with such a heavy heart, my world truly shattered knowing my type of submission was to be kept locked away, deep within me forever this being the last straw I had upset another with my innermost submissive....Enough I thought....Enough!!!!..

Three weeks later I got a message from Jessica...?

“Hi you we need to meet up for a chat...This is Not up for negotiation You will come meet me here *******, at 7pm see you then do Not reply simply turn up !”

My mind now racing over why she would message me ? But also the message was very cryptic? ...but what had I to loose ?

I did think of not going to meet her, but my feelings for her were very strong.

So at 7pm I walked up to the house & knocked the door...

Jessica opened the door dressed in the same jeans & white shirt ?...it was like the three weeks had not passed...

She ushered me into her home, then asked me if I would like a hot chocolate as she was just having one, I said yes as we both stood in her kitchen she spoke..

“Now am guessing your wondering why I invited you to my home ?”

I again nervously spoke as I did when first meeting her....”yyyes Jessica”

“Well relax this is my home & your my guest, we have a lot to talk about but let’s go through to the fire & we can have a nice chat” she handed me my chocolate as she sipped at hers....she led the way to a large room with a log burner, the flames cracked as she sat in a red leather chair to the left of the burner she motioned me to sit in the other one opposite...

“Ok where to start...It has been a very long three weeks for me as what happened with you has changed something in me, I need you to realise am just a girl at the end of the day, I have feeling & needs just like any other!

Now I know that day you opened a window to who “you are”

As you fell into sub-space you let lots of things out that day !”

I interrupted Jessica saying I was truly sorry if I had hurt her in any way it was Not my intention...she simply smiled at me & spoke...

“Let me Finnish ! Stop being a brat it’s not All about You !”

This took me by surprise so I remained silent as a drank my chocolate...Jessica continued...

“I want you to drink up the last of your chocolate & I have something to show you...Are you done ?...Ok follow me”

As I followed her she took me to an upstairs room as she put her hand on the handle she told me to close my eyes...I felt her soft hand take mine as she led me into the room ...”Now not a word not a single word You do Not have my permission to speak .....Open your eyes !”

I was in a pink adult baby nursery ! A full size cot, high chair, changing table ..rows of white terry nappies ..diapers of all sorts.. pink frills were everywhere ! The cot had pink frilly bumpers around it ! ....

I stood dumbfounded !!!!...As Jessica spoke to me...

“I have never had children & always wanted a baby ....I thought that had passed me by ..until you broke down in sub-space and let your true self to the surface...I couldn’t believe it when You Called Me MUMMY !!!!....So the question is Crybaby..

Do you want me as your Mummy ?”

Jessica was opening a side room door to a second pink room with an adult size baby bath full of hot water & bubbles....!

“If you do Not want this go back to the living room I will understand...If you do just get into the bath for Mummy.....(I strayed to strip off) Clever girlie Crybaby that’s the Right choice....Hey don’t cry sweetheart....well not yet anyway ! let’s save them for after your bath sweetheart..then mummy will bring Crybaby out to play !!!!”

As I stepped into the bath I was crying but not tears of sadness tears of pure joy ! How could this be ? How could this gorgeous girl want me as hers in this way.....was I dreaming...As Jessica lifted the soap & sponge ...I found it was no dream...she truly wanted Me !!!! ....I truly wanted her.....

She spent the next hour washing me as I sat in the bath Obediently not talking..

she told me my stories were very colourful & that I had told her in my Sob-space of my little want in life to be a 24/7  little, even of my tumblr page & story writings !

After my bath she led me to the changing mat then sat me down.

“Ok lay back ...handies out to your sides...Clever girlie “

I was put into a thick terry Nappy that had a folded soaker pad inside, As she pinned the Nappy on with three large pins each side....next came what looked like hollow fabric pants they were very stiff & ridged, after they were on snuggly she pulled on thick heavy rubber bloomers ! Patting them she spoke to me...

“Up we get ..give Me your handies Baby “

I was pulled to a sitting position then had a large petticoat put on me followed by a pink dress covered in frills & bows....next was my garter & tights I had worn as A Maid, then my Mary Jane shoes, the last item was a pink matching bonnet !!

Jessica took time over my make up painting me as before like a china doll but this time with long lashes to boot !

“Clever girlie Crybaby that’s much better, let me look at you...give Mummy a twirl, ..no silly like a toddler...a Three year old baby girl ! That’s a clever baby ! My my ...now do you know how to curtsy Crybaby?”

Giggling at my face she proceeded to Do a curtsy..one foot behind she bent at the knee....”Clever girlie Crybaby..Now You Please....Wow Baby Girlie is a natural...Ok let’s get you down stairs as Mummy has lots of surprises in store for You Crybaby Toy !”

Mummy Jessica led my by the hand down stairs to the log burner she put pink contact lens into my eyes giving a pink haze to everything I looked at they also narrowed my vision....This made me slightly uncomfortable...

As Mummy turned my around she was not alone someone stood beside her....

“Now Crybaby this is Nanny Bee she is going to help mummy this evening as when mummy has to work Nanny Bee will look after you sweetheart as My baby girlie will never be on her own Not Ever !...Now Open Wide As am going to Gag my girlie...As Crybaby will not be having or using her safe-word ever again sweetheart...this is All about My Pleasures Crybaby Pain Toy !!!!”

As Jessica told me this they both laughed....but not a sweet laugh....

A wicked laughter !!!!!!

[ladyfloriographist]

Valentine

Pairing: Captain Nicholls (War Horse) x femme!Wife!Reader

Warnings: WWI setting, alternate ending fix-it of sorts?, war and death themes, bad for Joey good for James, writing letters (sometimes sexy), yearning, features Major Jamie Stewart (Benedict Cumberbatch)

XXXX

Captain James Nicholls poured himself a drink and gazed at the sepia photograph. He kept it in his barracks so that he’d always have something to come back to; always, a reason to return to his quarters alive.

He sighed, looking at your photograph. The lighting had been wonderfully golden that afternoon, and your hair had sat so prettily about your face. He picked up the small frame and traced over your image with his thumb.

The urge to write you overwhelmed him. He was certain you hadn’t yet received his most recent letter, having despatched it only yesterday morning—but the desire to feel closer to you was too strong to ignore.

It didn’t ease his heavy heart that the only thing he could do was send you words on a page written by his hand, but the thought of you ripping open the envelope and avidly reading his correspondence before eagerly writing him back compelled him to sit at his desk and scratch out a note.

James loosened the standard-issue khaki-green tie as he pulled a pencil from the top drawer of the desk. He flicked open the top button of the long-sleeved beige-green shirt and ran his long fingers through his neatly-parted, close-cropped, blond hair.

He cleared his throat, and hovered the pencil above the paper, before launching in:

My dearest, loveliest Mrs Nicholls, Today your photograph caught my eye more than it usually does. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you reclined on the chaise in the sunroom, the photographer’s bulb snapping pictures of your angelic form. My sketches of you like that keep me company still. But today was different. I wish the photograph had some way of conveying the colour of your eyes. This is not to say that I have forgotten the look of them. Quite the contrary, dear heart. My memory of the hue of your iris, the fathomless black of your pupil, and the curl of your lashes are of’times the only things that grant me sleep at night in this dreary France. My darling, how I long to see them again. To see the two perfectly shaped crystal orbs in your face and look into them until I lose myself in your soul.

James paused, and supped his drink. He glanced at your photograph on his dresser and a crushing weight descended on his heart.

He gulped down the knot in his throat and continued on:

I count the days until this bitter biting winter is over and we British return home to our loves. We are assured that triumphal victory over the Germans is in our sights and you, my dear one, are in my thoughts always.

He signed his name and addressed the envelope to the home you shared in south Oxfordshire, and it was only when he started to write the date that he realised the significance of the day. He smiled and wrote it at the top of the letter:

14 February 1915

XXXX

He was frustrated with no where to put the frustration, and cold with no way to shake the chill. James slumped down into his chair and sat with his head in his hands. His eyes burned.

He dragged his hands down his face and groaned. He’d buried too many today.

Alone in his barracks the Captain privately wondered whether King and Country were worth the cost of so much, so many lives, so many lessons on how to break a man.

Recalling the stench of the gas and the death soured his breath in his mouth and sickened his gut.

He visibly shook the thoughts from his mind and reached for the only relief and release he’d come to count on: a pencil and a scrap of paper, and the sepia photograph of you.

My love, the dearest Mrs Nicholls,

My sweet heart, I miss you.

James held the pencil in his hand, poised to say more, paralysed to write it. The blunted nib hovered over the textured paper and he swallowed, picturing your radiant smile, hearing the trill of your laugh.

He coughed. “Write on, Jimmy,” he murmured to himself, more surprised than he should have been at the croak in his voice. He flexed his fingers on the pencil and wrote:

It soothes me some to address you as my darling wife. Please do not think of me a lesser man, but it is a great comfort to me to know that you are mine and I am yours, and you wait for me on the other side. I fear I shall never see the end of it – this wretched mess. Lord knows many of my men will not—not anymore. The snow has given way to the muddy sludge of spring in the land of the ancient Frank and I find myself longing for nought but a flat, hard stretch of Earth to walk our staunch British soldiers through. They are weary, as I confess I am.

James stopped. He rubbed at his eyes and took a swig of whiskey, sighing as it burned down his throat. Cheap, but the best available. He wrote on:

My Joey doesn’t much mind the mud. A beautiful beast and I am lucky to rely on such a fearless creature. I shall enclose a drawing of the noble steed. I am told that soon we shall spot fruiting mulberry trees between the thick French forests of oak and beech. I can’t imagine anymore something so fresh and vibrant as a berry. Ridiculous trifle. Nothing here is as sweet or juicy as you, my love. My darling heart.

James laid the pencil flat on the desk for the last time tonight. He sighed, lost to reminiscence.

XXXX

Captain Nicholls tipped the glass to his lips only to find it was empty.

He huffed as he put it down on the desk and slid it away, wanting to get up and re-fill it but knowing he has perhaps had too much already.

James looked back at his drawing. It was quite the likeness, if he did say so himself. He hoped he’d gotten the relaxed fall of the towel right and commended himself on your shoulder blades and waist. He added some more details to your hair, and then some more shading to your back and the folds of the rippling towel that covered your lower half.

His favourite part was the way he’d captured your nose and chin, your face turned ever so slightly over your shoulder, your downcast eyes wordlessly beckoning him closer.

Absent-mindedly, James swallowed the excess saliva that had pooled in his mouth—a consequence of his own imaginings. He wished he had even one or two colours to add to your portrait, to bring the plain picture somewhat closer to the rich images he nurtured in his mind.

He wrote your name in the bottom right corner, and underneath it:

After a Bath Cn. JN Artois, Sep ‘15

James sat back in his chair, and as he gazed at his drawing of you he felt the stirrings of arousal, deep in the pit of his gut. He glanced to the side where your most recent reply lay, scented with a fine floral perfume from the array of pressed flowers: orange-toned iris, pink ranunculus, red rose, and purple-hued lavender.

And read them, he had—for what they truly meant.

I love you, you’d said. I’m promised to you. I’m devoted to you, and I want you.

I desire you.

His heart had leapt up into his throat at the small and precious bouquet, and he’d immediately set to work sketching you.

For a few moments James closed his eyes and let his mind drift far and away from the nightmare that plagued his days. He thought about the last time he saw you, on the morning he left Oxfordshire to take the ferry into France. You hadn’t let him out of bed until the last possible moment, and he hadn’t attempted to leave until then either.

He blinked slowly back to the present as his desire grew, then quickly picked up a pencil.

James wrote:

My darling Mrs Nicholls,

My dearest love, tonight I remember the time we danced together in our new kitchen. We’d just moved to Abingdon and everything was new. Your dress that night was full of red blooms and your bright red lipstick dazzled me. We swayed to Sweet Adeline, my darling, do you remember? You smelt like orange blossoms and evening jasmine, I remember.

He sat back in his chair and let the memories crowd him like a swarm of bees: how he’d kissed you and where he’d touched you and the way he’d fucked you so thoroughly that your hair pins had come undone.

You never did find that one rogue button that flew off as he ripped open your dress.

His desire became a hot, burning need—long and thick between his legs. He resisted the urge to touch himself.

It’s cruel, my love, he wrote. The gift of your flowers tantalises me. Memories of you flood my mind like the waves of the ocean flood the sandy shore. Would you do this, loveliest lady? Most sultry sorceress? Would you leave me with your kiss upon my lips and your taste within my mouth, on my tongue to tease and torture me so sweetly? I feel you even now.

James adjusted in his chair as a distracting ache settled at the juncture of his thighs. He was desperately aroused, so stiff and hard, so ready to take you to bed and open you on his cock—to watch you bloom for him like the petals on your soft, pretty flowers. He continued:

Like Henry’s Catherine there is witchcraft in your lips, but also in your deeds, and you enchant me. I ache for your touch, my darling.

James let his eyes fall closed and ran a light touch of his palm over his swollen cock. The sensation shot through him like a bolt of lightning from the Heavens and he shuddered. It had been so long. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and bit down.

Shall I take myself in hand and think of your sweet cunt? Your hot wet mouth? Your own soft hand? I am caught in your spell—I cannot resist, and I am too far gone for restraint. Dear sweet heart, were that you the flower and I the honey bee, I would horde your nectar for myself and eat all your sugary sweetness until it dribbled down my chin. Darling, how I long to dip my wick in your wax and feel you catch alight.

He dotted the period onto the paper with force, and threw the pencil onto the desk with a groan of frustration.

He breathed hard, panting breaths for a few moments, until he hastily unbuttoned the khaki slacks that confined him.

James decided to finish this letter tomorrow morning.

XXXX

“Ready, Jim-boy?” said Major Jamie Stewart good-naturedly, crossing one leg over the other and readying a pencil and small stack of papers.

James smiled as his friend and commander settled on the chair beside his cot. The Captain felt as though too much of a fuss was being made; as though he was taking up a valuable bed in the field hospital.

“Now, no funny business,” said the Major, his words in jest and his face faux-serious, “I’ll hear no pillow talk and I will certainly not dictate it.”

Despite it all, James had to laugh. Despite the pain that shot through his arm from his shoulder to his fingertips. Despite feeling like a deserter, a man who abandons his oaths and his friends. Despite wishing for nothing more than to be wrapped up in your arms.

Jamie smiled ruefully. He’d medically discharged that many men that by now, he could watch the emotions at war on their faces. He decided not to let his friend dwell on them. “How shall I start, Jimmy?”

James rested properly against the two flat, uncomfortable pillows beneath his head. He sighed, “My dear love, sweet Mrs Nicholls.”

Jamie scribbled onto the pages.

“First,” said James, “allow me to apologise—no. Not that, sorry Stu—”

Jamie scratched out some words.

“First, I must apologise,” James said, and Jamie nodded, “for the long interval in writing you back. Allow me to explain the delay, dear one.”

“Mhm,” Jamie hummed, his eyes trained on the paper as he wrote James’ words for him.

“There is no cause for alarm. I am well—no. I am… hurt, but recovering. Yes. Hurt but recovering.”

“Hurt,” Jamie echoed as he wrote dictation, “but… re-cov-er-ing… Yes, go on, Jim.”

“Two days past—”

“Three,” Jamie interrupted.

“Has it been three? Truly? Good God. Three days past we launched an attack on the Germans. Joey charged on ahead at a gallop and was struck by artillery fire. I am not sure where—no, Stu. Erm—struck by artillery fire and… and bolted behind the German line. In his panic he bucked me from his back and I fell. I know nothing more of his condition.”

James breathed deeply to steady himself. It would all be far less anxious if he could explain in person, but as it was, he was already behind in his replies to you and the trip back to Oxfordshire—in his condition—would not necessarily be a quick one.

At his friend’s silence, the Major looked up and said, “alright, Jim-boy?”

James cleared his throat and continued dictating his letter. “My injuries consist of a dislocated shoulder and a fractured radius, both on my right side where I came down hard on the ground.”

Jamie looked sceptical. “’My injuries consist’?”

James shot his friend a look and Jamie quickly scrawled the words onto the paper.

“I am to be discharged and despatched from camp shortly. Darling, you can expect me home by the end of the month.”

Jamie smiled at the endearment. “Anything else, my friend?”

James swallowed. “My heart beats to see you, dearest.” Hot tears swelled in the Captain’s eyes as an acute longing pierced his chest. He cleared his throat and looked up at the tent ceiling of the makeshift hospital. “Dictated by Major Jamie Stewart, forwarding address, all my love, Captain James et cetera, et cetera,” he mumbled quickly.

He felt the phantom touch of your hand wrap around his and he held back a sob. He was coming home to you, but the guilt of leaving his purpose, his men, and his commanders chased away any happiness with blazing torches and sharpened pitchforks.

Jamie’s warm hand gripped his shoulder. “James. I know, James.”

“Stu,” said James thickly, his eyes falling closed as warm, saline tears slipped down his temples and into his hair.

Jamie squeezed James’ flesh where he grabbed him, attempting to reassure his friend. There were no words for such moments where immense relief blended with crushing disappointment. Jamie felt his own eyes well with tears to see his strong, brave friend and soldier overwhelmed by such conflicting feelings.

He clutched James’ hand in his. “Jimmy,” his voice cracked on the nickname, but he continued on. “Jim-boy. If we post this tonight, by six o’clock, we can make the express.”

James sniffed and coughed. “Mm? And?”

“And, she’ll get it by Valentine’s Day, all things being equal.” Jamie squeezed James’ hand and gripped tight. “Valentine’s Day, Jim!”

James opened bleary eyes. “Do you mean that, Stu?”

Jamie snatched the pencil and leant the paper on his own thigh to write on it. “Tell me how to spell her name, Jimmy,” he said, “I’ll ask her to be your valentine.”

XXXX

Note: The song ‘Sweet Adeline (You're the Flower of My Heart)’ by the Haydn Quartet, first recorded around 1908 I think, can be listened to on the YT: https://youtu.be/jRA4fdZytJQ (under 3 min)

[lordseochangbin]

scene stealers

3racha imagine + smut— this is so filthy im so sorry i don’t know what this msksks

the dim, neon lights of the large studio and the consistent beat that allured your attention kept you distant from the few people around you. headphones covered your ears as your fingers brushed the dust off of the mix board in front of you and when the song came to an end, you quickly took them off.

“it’s perfect!” you said to the three boys sitting in the small black sofa behind you.

“dope!! now lets get this shit on the new album” chan winked before getting up to get the door.

“look who’s here” changbin smirked as jennifer walked in, her long legs practically glowing in her tight green shorts despite the dim lighting. you let out an annoyed sigh before waving at her and pretending to go back to work. 

how many times has jennifer been joining the four of you in the studio now? 15.. no no.. 20 times now? you didn’t know what it was about her. when she was around you seemed somehow.. lacking. the presence of three handsome men around you made you feel loved but when their eyes were on someone else you felt at loss. their eyes were definitely on jennifer, in fact if you didn’t have such a harsh deadline to meet you probably would’ve drooled over her in gay as well. just like the three men behind you, their focus entirely on her figure as she sat on chan’s lap.

enough about jennifer, what about this harsh deadline in front of you? you were no where close to finished, in fact jennifer’s arrival made it all the worse. for no reason you just felt the need to slap that dumbass bitch in the face. but you had no reason to. 

well, no justifiable reason. 

your feelings for jisung were the only things in sight, like it contaminated your occipital and the only thing that functioned was your beating heart and the jealously practically raging inside. if jennifer dared to look at jisung for one second, you would slit your throat- no. no... too dramatic. if she even touched if swear to motherfucking-

“y/n.. why are your shoulder’s so tense babe” changbin whispered in your ear, his hands wrapped around your neck as he slowly pressed on your pleasure points. changbin knew your body like a map, your midnight conversations about your kinks and expectations practically drawing the road for him. but he never took advantage of this.

you stretched your back when changbin’s hands drifted to your waist, his eyes glued to the screen realizing you hadn’t gotten any work done. “i’m just... not feeling it today changbin” you sighed, taking a sip of water before chan could seat himself on the chair next to you.

oh no, not this again. chan and changbin, they were like your two little horndogs. always wanting to get their hands on you, and you only encouraged it. letting them get a taste before leaving them to fend for themselves.

chan slyly placed a hand on your thigh, massaging it through the denim as he stared at the screen as well. “your not doing so well, huh princess?”

yes, these words did get you dripping wet. yes, you did want to take these two boys to the private rooms upstairs and...and maybe do things you shouldn’t do with your two best friends. wait, two?!

you turned your spinney chair around, ignoring the two men beside you before seeing the sight before you. jisung and jennifer literally making out on the couch, fucking disgusting. 

you got up in your seat, causing jisung to look up and chan to jump. “i’m leaving, i’ll finish it tomorrow” you said, grabbing your bag and exiting the room. the slightest of tears blurring your vision before you could whip them off and call it a night. 

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

after a long night of tossing and turning, you decided to start the morning fresh and brand new. you, and i mean you, were going to confess your feelings to han jisung. there was a little hope for mutual feelings but mutual or not you decided this was the only way to move past him. just rip it off like a bandage, and then you can give chan and changbin a real chance. 

you wore a black crop top with a plaid skirt and jisung’s favorite combat boots and headed out for the door. by the end of the day, you would be smiling in satisfaction whether you liked it or not.

small skips made your trip down the hallway to your studio cheerful before jisung could step in your tracks, making you stop abruptly in front of him

“hey, y/n! are you good? i saw the way you looked last night before you left”

“yeah, i’m doing alright.. thanks jisung!” you exclaimed before continuing your way to the studio. wait shit, maybe you should tell him now?? later??

you turned on your heels to see jisung facing you as well. “wait!” you both said in unison. laughing at the coincidence you two quickly met again

“you go first” jisung said eagerly before you could stop him, “no..no you go first!!” you replied with a smile on your face. you were sure what you had to say was going to end the conversation. 

“i...ummm” jisung started. 

“mhmm” you hummed, waiting for him to get over what he had to say as butterflies flipped your stomach

“i... i think i’m falling for jennifer. i’m gonna confess to her tonight”

you almost choked on your breath before you could pull a quick cover, “i’m sorry.. what?”

“i really like her y/n, only you and me know about this”

“well.. good for you jisung!” you said, giving him a pat on the back before looking back at your studio door. “well i have to get working now, good luck with jennifer” you winked before running back. 

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

seven hours later, you found yourself writing a track about how you should “never follow your heart” and “it leads to heartbreak, dont trust yourself folks”. completely different from stray kids message. as one of their producers you knew this was a failed production, pulling down your pair of headphones and throwing them to the ground

what was up with you? you told yourself by the end of the day you were going to feel brand new. at the moment you felt raged over past lovers. it was devastating, to see jisung find a girl like that but it was the only truth.

finishing off the song on a terrible note you grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you walked past the hall in the full moon’s midnight.

the building was dead silent, only for the slightest of sounds to be heard. your instinct asked you to follow it, the sounds leading to the spare room. you stood by the doorway, taking a peek inside to see jisung and jennifer.

“shit” you cursed, quickly turning away and blinking quickly a few times. this wasn’t real right?? they weren’t seriously fucking in your company building right?

you took another peek inside to find yourself taken back. jisung found on the edge of the table, his hips thrusting into jennifer’s at rapid pace and it only got you thinking, ‘what if that were me?’

shit, bad move y/n. it was one thing to imagine it, but after you said it to yourself it became real. what if that were you? you felt the all too familiar wetness build up near your core as the need to fulfill it came by.

screw it, if they thought they could make out in the company building, what’s wrong with pleasuring yourself? your felt your hand unconsciously pull your jeans down, your fingers brushing over your folds as you teased yourself before dipping them in. you knew it wasn’t jisung but the thought of him kept you doing as your fingers came in and out.

adding a third finger in, you felt yourself come your orgasm, the juices falling over your fingers. taking a second to regain your posture you grabbed a few tissues from your bag to clean up.

after you pulled up your jeans you took a second to look back before walking away, leaving all your feelings at the door.

“y/n!” you heard a voice call from behind you.

you were hoping to not be disturbed as you tried to runaway, but you quickly found yourself running into chan’s arms.

“y/n...” chan whispered, his arms inviting you in for a hug. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his fingers running through your hair.

“nothing’s wrong chan” you replied with a shaky voice.

chan grabbed your cheeks in his hand, giving it a little squeeze before responding.

“don’t lie y/n, im not a stranger you know”

you chuckled at how well he knew you before giving him a tight hug.

“ill explain later, now can we grab some food or something? im starving”

“of course, my treat” chan said before dragging you to the elevators nearby

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

the next day you had to work with jisung to finish the song you had been procrastinating on ironically because of him. a few hours were dedicated to purely finishing the track before you two could plop down on the couch, sharing a burger and fries like you two always did.

“hold on.. wait jisung you have a little something” you said, grabbing a napkin to wipe the ketchup off his face

jisung watched as your leaned closer, slowing leaning himself back

“jisung, quit it!!” you giggled as jisungs expressioned turned into a smile.

you reached out to wipe the sauce off because you could lose your balance, falling on jisungs chest.

jisung panted in relief, his chest rising and falling below your cheek. “y/n...” he whispered, his hands finding themselves wrapped around your waist.

he missed times like this, and so did you. the sudden comfort you two brought each together was indescribable and that’s why you two worked so well with music. you were each other’s muse, each other’s inspiration.

you got up from his chest, smiling as his smirk turned into a frown. your cheeks flustered red as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“i missed you, you seemed off these past few days but i want you to know im here- okay?”

“okay...” you whispered in a soft voice, “im gonna go to the bathroom” you continued, trying to break the awkward vibe in the room.

“no problem” jisung said, grabbing the bag of french fries as he watched you leave the room.

you walked out the door, your heart beating out of your chest. not being able to handle it, you had to get yourself out of there. seconds could’ve slipped by and you would’ve kissed him. you really wanted to kiss him.

checking the clock, you realized time passed by much quicker with jisung and it was already late in the night. the quiet halls of the building gave it away, except this time you knew you weren’t alone with jisung.

funny thing was, you heard those voices one again. was this like... some sort of ghost trying to remind you of what happened last night? the sounds felt all too real, all too heated as you followed them to the same room from last night...

and you saw what you never thought you’d have to witness.

it was jennifer and chan.

your jaw dropped at the night, chan biting his lip and jennifer’s naked figure ahead of him. but this time you didn’t feel the same.

cut chan some slack, you remembered jisung mentioning you were the only two who knew about the relationship. but jennifer, god you knew there was just something about her. you should’ve followed your first impressions.

you made your way to the door, taking a second to catch your breath before contemplating about what you were about to do. should you tell him what you just saw?

without a response, you unconsciously opened the door. jisung was playing on his phone before you could interrupt him.

“jisung! jisung look im..” you said in a ‘hate to break it to you’ tone

“what’s up?” jisung said, putting his phone away to listen to you

“look... i was walking past the hallway and in one of the rooms i saw chan.. and jennifer”

“chan and jennifer?” he said, unsure of what you were trying to point out

“and jennifer was naked” you put emphasis on the last word to see if it’ll help jisung connect the dots but nothing seemed to happen

“y/n...” he chuckled, “look i know what you’re thinking. jennifer is some soft or slut or whorebag and she’s stealing all my attention for you but that’s why im here today!! you didnt have to make up a lie or something” he explained, getting up from his seat

“no..no wait! im serious!!” you responded anxiously, stopping jisung from leaving before he could grab your wrists and give it a small squeeze

“y/n, stop being such a spoiled brat. i know we’re best friends but i can’t always be there.”

“spoiled brat?” you repeated jisungs words. as shocked as you were to see him call you that, you were even more surprised that he had chosen to believe his girlfriend over the girl friend he had for 14 year.

“fuck you, jisung. leave. just go” you said, pointing at the door before watching him shrug his shoulders and leave.

sobbing into the napkins from your mcdonalds order,youre trying to be as quiet as possible now that you’re aware of how the walls fail to be soundproof.

your thinking about apologizing, just going back into jisungs arms when you feel the comfort of two buff arms above you.

“y/n, you good?!” changbin asks in a worried tone, bring your head to his chest.

“i really need someone to hug right now” you said, your voice shaky as you broke into tears again.

“im all arms” changbin said. you grabbed his biceps, pulling him into a hug before finding comfort in his warm upper body

“literally” you giggled, giving his arms a little squeeze

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

the next day, you found yourself stuck with jisung again. he seemed quite sympathetic however, not apologizing for last night but still treating you with a kinder tone.

chan and jisung seemed closer, and it gave you chills. your mind wondered around, what if chan knew jennifer was jisung’s girlfriend?

you shook your head, no.. no that can’t be.

diverting your attention to the boys, you walked out on them again. they watched you leave the room in silence before you could, once again, hear that all too familiar sound.

taking a few steps towards the room, you placed your ear next to the door.

soon your senses forced you to look inside, seeing jennifer seating herself on changbin’s leg.

jisung... god jennifer needs to just fuck off. before you knew it jisung was staggering out of your studio, running towards the door you were listening into.

“jisung...”

“y/n.. what are you looking at?” jisung said, taking a peek inside before gasping

“you were right, she was cheating on us” chan said, not hesistating to take a step forward and open the door.

in a split second, jennifer turned her head, startled for your arrival. “guys!” she exclaimed, before changbin could softly push her off her leg.

“guys... what do you mean guys? fuck off jennifer” jisung said, making you smile at the words you had wanted to say to her so badly

“look changbin...jisung.. chan i can explain” she started before being interrupted by chan

“there’s no explaining, just leave before we embarrass you even more”

chan’s words made jennifer’s cheeks red before she could run out of the room.

you gasped at the way she left, looking towards the boys who were now standing side by side in front of you.

“wait, you guys knew?!” you asked, looking at jisung

“yes y/n.. im so sorry i didn’t listen to you”

you shook your head in disbelief, “well how did you find out?”

this question left changbin and chan laughing before chan could grab jisung’s steady shoulder

“y-you won’t believe it y/n, she said jisung’s name while making out with me! you think this beauty could even compare to that?!” chan asked sarcastically

“ i hope you’ll forgive me.. i didn’t mean to get mad at you. i only found out last night” jisung said, his hands tight in his pockets as he waiting for you to reply

you looked down at the ground trying to put the pieces together before responding “it’s alright jisung, i won’t let some girl get in between the three of us”you smiled.

looking at the three boys in silence was something of a rare occasion. your legs squeeze together as you remember how well they worked around jennifer... just thinking.. hoping

“fuck, y/n” changbin said, biting him lip. “if you could be any more obvious”

jisung snickered at changbin’s comment, “who is y/n looking at with her pussy so wet like that? i really can’t tell”

you inhaled sharply at chan’s words.

“now tell us y/n... who do you like out of the three of us?” chan asked, his arms crossed as he looked down on you

“uh…i don’t know. i used to like jisung but now i like all three of you?” you replied with a stutter.

in the three years of being with 3racha you never knew it’d end up like this. the sexual tension in the room made your heart beat fast and their presense intimidated you like no other.

“pfft, you hear that hyung? she likes all three of us” jisung said with a smirk, taking you by surprise that your own friend could call you out.

this excitement only reached its peak when changbin stepped forward, placing a finger beneath your chin so your eyes can meet his

“that’s right… y/n is our little slut” he smirked. you let out a whine at his tone before chan’s arms could wrap around your waist from behind, “and what should we do with our little slut?” he asked, making your body fall into his touch like putty

jisung let out a chuckle before he could join the three of you, his hand slithering underneath your dress.

“hyungs, we fuck her senseless until she can decide who she likes

chan was quick to grab your hips, grinding your ass over his hard member as jisung slowly tugged down your pretty skirt

“babygirl, who are you so wet for?” changbin whispered in your ear before his hands could rip open your shirt, quickly reaching for your bra.

with chan’s assistance your bra was taken off, jisung’s fingers giving you no mercy and thrusting his fingers in and out of your core.

the three boys set you on fire, your back arching for more of each boy. changbin’s lips met your erected nipple and he sucked on it harshly. chan’s pants coming off as you continued to grind on his member. jisungs fingers working wonders on your clit.

it felt like an endless cycle of pleasures, receiving and giving with no stops. you were so close to your high, your ass moving on chan so jisung’s fingers could meet your sweet spot.

hands were all over your body, each exposed piece of skin warm as the boys spoiled you with love.

“fuck.. fuck y/n are you close?” jisung said, groaning at the sight of you tightening around his fingers.

“g-god yes!” you squealed as you cummed all over jisung’s fingers.

chan smirked, making eye contact with changbin as they held onto your shaking legs.

“you think you can help us out now babygirl?” chan asked, placing a few kisses on your neck to help you calm down from your high.

you nodded submissively before you could lie down on the ground. not knowing how this was going to work, you lied on your back hoping the three would figure it out and oh boy did they figure it out.

changbin held his member to near your lips. “open up, princess” he commanded, you politely obeying and letting his slip his cock into your mouth.

he started off with slow movements, your tongue playing around as he stroked your cheeks. “you’re doing so well” he praised, smiling as tears came across your eyes while he sped up.

the pain soon turned into pleasure, your hips squirming before chan could hold them tight.

“you ready babygirl?” chan asked, placing a few kisses on your abdomen. you nodded, bobbing your head up and down on changbin’s member as you did so causing him to moan.

at the sudden movement, chan entered his member into your dripping core. one hand held onto your hip, nailing digging into your skin whil the other grabbed changbin’s shoulder to pace himself.

both boys groaned as their high was approaching, jisung pumping himself as he watched the masterpiece before himself. it seemed almost like a porn clip, something people would throw their money at if broadcasted.

three beautiful boys and you, the two of them reaching their high. chan’s thrusts slowed down as his nails digged deeper into your skin.

“im close y/n” chan said before he could cum inside you.

a line full of curses followed as your tongue swirled around changbin’s cock, causing him to cum inside your mouth as well.

to make sure you were okay, changbin got off you and watched as your heavy panting could take over. you licked your lips dry before collapsing onto the ground, “fuck, that was so hot” you chuckled to yourself.

“that was..” chan agree before the three boys could sit side by side next to you.

jisung came closer to your lips, pressing a small kiss before pushing away the stranded pieces of hair that stuck to your forehead with sweat

“you did amazing love” jisung whispered with a smile

changbin joined in as well, his hand rubbing your inner thigh as he kissed a few spots near your core making you whine from the pain

“don’t worry baby, you did so well”

you smiled as the three boys looked at you with such satisfaction before chan could grab your hand

“but i guess the original question was... who do you like out of the three of us?”

you took a deep breath as they looked at you with anticipation, waiting for an answer. you took a second to look at chan, jisung, and changbin before licking your lips.

“i like....”

a/n: you choose reader ! :D

[afy2018]

My First Love Ch. 1

“I mean, they say that after a while you just forget stuff,” Laura shrugged pulling on her flannel pyjamas, “Do you remember everything, or how does it work with being a vampire?”

Carmilla glanced at Laura and slid under the covers. “I guess whatever I’ve forgotten I just can’t think of.”

Laura nodded and climbed in next to her, cuddling into her wife after turning off her bedside lamp.

Time passed by slowly, but Carmilla just couldn’t sleep. Looking at Laura, she decided to think back on her life, wondering how she even got here, alive no longer under her mother’s thumb. She wondered how true Laura’s theory was. Carmilla didn’t know, nor understand why memories had to fade away. She truly didn’t want to forget anything, but maybe somethings were gone. Carmilla slowly sat up and slipped out of bed, walking to Laura’s basket of old tattered journals and took the least used one, a light brown faux leather book with a metal clasp.

She walked to the kitchen, turning on a light and grabbed a cheap pen from a cup and began to write:

“I don’t want to forget anything, so I think I should start to recount my life before it’s too late. Maybe you’re right, Laura, maybe I’ll forget important things and dates, but I’ll find out while pleasing you adorable curiosity.” She began before explaining her memory.

(1697 Versailles, France)

My first memory was of a Christmas party I went to at the Château de Versailles. It was so large. There were people everywhere and food up and down the tables. Servants were dressed in pure white garments like angels. My parents were already talking with other royals. We were representing Austro-Holy Roman Empire. I felt lost in the hall of mirrors. The crystal chandeliers, that hanged low in the room, glittered and sparkled across the ground as the sun set in the windows and reflected in the tall mirrors painting orange, pink, and red as their temporary wallpaper. I walked around the room, taking time to look at all of the golden statues and mural on the ceiling.

Distracted, I ran into someone.

“I am sorry.” I fervently apologized.

I came face to face with this beautiful woman with grey-blue eyes. She had a strong and fierce look in her eyes. Her hair was pulled tight and had velvet yellow and purple flowers tucked in the back to match the golden and royal purple dress she was wearing. Though even with her impenetrable aura, she looked like she was holding something back.

“There is no reason to look so afraid, madam.” She smiled. “I take no offence.” She took a sip from her glass and glanced around the room. “This must be your first party.”

“It is. Well, my first one outside of Austria.”

“Oh, so you are a representative from the Holy Roman Empire?”

“One of them, my parents are somewhere else.”

“So you are a lost puppy?”

I blushed a deep scarlet and shrugged. “I guess so.”

“My name is Anne Princess of Denmark.”

“Mircalla Gräfin Karnstein of Styria.”

“Now you have met your first friend.”

“I guess I do.”

“I can introduce you to others, play a bit of politics while we are here right?”

“I do not think I should. My parents should be in control of that.”

“Being royal is all about politics.”

“I know, but I still need to learn more.”

“Alright, then I shall help you.” She smiled, walking to a wall. I followed her to and rested against one of the mirror's frames. She pointed to a group of people near the table. “See the royal with brown hair in the red? He is a Duke of Beja from Portugal talking with a Lord of Biscay from Spain. Over by the drinks is almost all of the French Court cornering a Boyar from Russia. Oh my, watch, a Prince from Latvia is making his way to them.”

“How do you think this will...?” I began forgetting the English word.

“Work out? I do not know. We will have to watch.”

“What is their history?”

“Well being on opposite sides of Europe, the biggest problem they have with one another is trading rights, but Latvia and Russia, well, that is something else.”

“Do you think they will make an argument?”

“No, but what happens after tonight is something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, why create gossip in front of everyone and seem… juvenile, when one could simply have a professional fight behind closed doors?”

“You are very wise in royal conduct.”

“Thank you. I have had to be savvy in what I do and say for years now.”

“You speak perfect English, yet you are the Princess of Denmark?”

“I am from England, but married to Prince George of Denmark.” She explained, turning to me with a polite smile, “Your English, it is good but more practice and it will be perfect.”

“Conversational is difficult for me.”

She finished her drink and gave me a quick wink. “If you want some lessons, I could give you a few quick lessons.”

My words were caught in my throat, and I found my head nodding even though I didn’t tell it to do so. She just smiled and took my arm, walking briskly out of the room, taking the wall and slipping past the maids. Down the hall, we walked until we made our way to her chambers. She closed the door behind me and pointed to the chair.

“I will actually help you despite your eyes being the size of the moon and your cheeks red flush as the Duke of Biscay’s clothes.”

“I… I”

“It is okay Mircalla. I am told I have an effect of the Sappho kind.”

“Sappho?”

“She was a Greek poet, popular among the ladies.”

“I have never heard of her.”

“Lost to time and to men.” Anne sighed walking closer, reaching out for me.“But history is for another day. Today is English lessons.”

“What can I practice?”

“You said you have trouble with conversations, we shall practice.”

“Oké.”

“How has your day been?”

“I am good, und you?”

“And.”

“And, the words… they are very close.”

“I am well.” She answered. “How is your land?”

“Great. My people are well… we ehh… our farmers are successful.” I tried.

“Your crops are doing great. Great. Your ‘W’s need the most work.” She shrugged. “Let’s try it.”

“Okay.” I nodded, trying it.

“Don’t bite your lip.”

“Okay.” I tried again.

“Closer.” She sighed. “Here, this might help.” Anne placed her hand on my jaw and pulled my lip down as I made the sound again. “Better, try again.”

“I feel stupid.”

“I know you do. Now try again.”

I nodded and made the same sound earning a nod. Glancing at her distance, I stepped closer and tried a word starting with ‘W’.

“Wonderful.”

“Good.”

“Worry,” I said stepping closer.

“Understandable.”

“Whimsical.” I tried standing centimetres away.

“Better.”

“Well?” I whispered.

“Bolder.” She commanded.

I quickly stood on my toes and kissed her, getting pulled in tight. Anne placed her hand on the back of my neck and turned her head to the side. I moaned into her mouth, never having felt this way with any of my betrothed men, but with the future Queen of Britain.

~~~~~~~~~~

(1698 Vienna, Holy Roman Empire)

I remember a lot from that night. The first moment that comes to mind was getting tied into a satin blue dress with dark indigo velvet accents. There were pearls sewn into the collar by a French seamstress. My father couldn’t come, so my mother and I left for Vienna. It was a long and silent ride. I can’t remember why, but my mother chose not to say a word through the four-hour ride.

There is an ingrained memory I have of getting out of the coach and going to the foyer where I found my old friend, Anne. I remember her name being announced by the herald at the top of a staircase.

“Her Royal Highness The Princess Anne of Denmark.” He proclaimed.

I turned around, leaving my mother in the dust to watch her descend from the staircase. I seemed like no one when compared to her. She was a vision in red and magenta silks imported from all over the world. She was married and we’d known each other for years, though that never stopped us. As soon as she escaped the crowd, I pulled her aside.

“Mircalla!” She quietly exclaimed, “I did not know you would attend! If I had I would have worn something else.”

I shook my head with a grin and pulled her into a kiss. She grabbed my hands and pulled them around the back of her neck. I sighed, pulling away and tucked my head into her shoulder.

“I missed you so much.” She chuckled, holding me close. “I have been practicing my German. George thinks I am doing so for talks I may have with William.”

“How is it?” I asked with my strained English accent.

“I do not know, it is a bit embarrassing.”

“I will try not to laugh.”

“Okay. Du bist so hübsch. Sobald wir uns versteckt haben, werde ich deine kleidung abreißen.”

“Just meine dress?”

Anne smirked and placed her lips next to my ear, whispering, “Then you will have a kiss avec la petite mort.”

I felt a searing chill shudder through my body as she finished her sentence, making me chuckle, “Does not really translate, but I still understand.”

Anne pushed me against the wall and began to bunch up my dress, pressing brazen kisses against my pale skin. She wrapped one hand around the back of my neck and held me close. Anne pulled at my collar, pressing warm kisses against my flush flesh, unbuttoning the front and letting it drop to the ground.

“Was ist, wenn uns jemand erwischt?” I gasped out.

“What if someone what?” She asked between kisses.

“Finds us?”

Anne shook her head, biting lightly on my breast. I let out a low groan, the pain cutting through my voice.

She swirled her rough wet tongue around my soft and sensitive-

“Princess Anne? Princess Anne of Denmark?”

“For God’s sake!” She hissed.

“Scheisse!” I seethed having Anne help me tighten everything again.

“Coming!” She called back, kissing my cheek.

“Good day, Anne.”

“Auf wiedersehen, Mircalla.” She whispered leaving with a final kiss.

I watched her escape to the party as I righted myself, tightening the front of my gown before heading back to the party. It was dark already, so I just stuck close to the wall, looking across the hall to the portraits of past occupants. The silence was broken only by the clicks of my shoes and the slight drag of my dress. I found my way to the room with my family name on it. Opening the door, I spotted a figure on the bed.

“Mircalla?” The thin voice asked.

“Ja?”

“I thought you would come by during the party.” They explained. I kept my distance, waiting for them to turn around. “Nothing to say?”

“I know not much English,” I responded. “Who are you?”

They stood up and turned around, a stalking tall woman somehow completely hidden in the dark.

“A shadowy gift.” She purred.

I turned around, but I then felt a rough hand wrap around my arm and tug my close. I was shocked as everything flew by fast. In moments, I was forced up against the bed, looking into the veiled face. She purred into my ear, her mouth a breath away from my neck. She smelled of iron or rust with a strong musk of the forest. I struggled against her grasp, getting slammed back on the bed. She grazed her teeth against my neck, her tongue searching, drawing up and down over one point. I felt my pulse quicken as the assault continued.

Suddenly and violently, she sank her teeth into my neck. My scream quickly dampened as I tasted blood flood into my mouth. Everything spun and faded to black in mere seconds.

~~~~~~~~~~

I opened my eyes to a low lit room. I noticed a dark figure in the corner. I was mistaken in thinking they were the same being that took my life. She neared me, her beautiful dark skin reflecting rays of the sun from the small room. She walked closer, staring down at me.

“Welcome Countess Mircalla.” She greeted. I jutted up, getting held back by her. “My name is Matska.”

“Was stimmt mit mir nicht? My head spins.” I muttered.

“It will be like that for a while.”

“Warum?”

“First, you need to learn English, Mircalla. It’s the language of the future.”

“I only speak some.”

“I will help you.”

“What happened?”

“It is complicated, you were attacked and now you are in hiding.”

“Does my mother know?”

“She believes you are dead, it is for the better.”

“How long was I sleeping?”

“7 months, longer than usual.”

“Was zum teufel?”

Matska sat down next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “I am sorry, they succeed in your assassination.”

“My what?”

“You are no longer human.”

“What?”

“You are a vampire, like me.”

“Ich bin tot?” I asked in disbelief.

“I am sorry. I…”

I pulled away and hid my head in the pillow.

“I will be back.” She whispered.

Once the door closed, I got up and looked at the room. There was a closet and a mirror, nothing else. I walked to the mirror, glaring at the reflection. I was even paler, gaunt, my hair was sleek though, my eyes were a brilliant red. I looked terrifying. The door opened.

“I thought vampires had no...ähm…”

“Reflection, couldn’t be seen in mirrors?”

“Ja.”

“Just myth. I brought some food, here.” Matska gave me a goblet of blood, my first feeding. “You’ll feel better.”

Once I took a sip, a primal hunger took over me and I just engorged on my bloody feast. I licked the cup clean, wiping the blood from my mouth. I glanced at her and handed back the cup.

“When will my eyes turn… back?”

“After your first kill.”

“I… I do not want to kill.”

She nodded and kissed my forehead, leaving the room. “You are not locked in here.”

“Thank you, madam Matska.”

“Mati.” She corrected

~~~~~~~~~~

I had no control at first. She taught me how to change. She taught me my true form and I got to see her in her form as well. She just ran by my side, her dark coat only a shadow of mine. I caught the scent of someone, in it I followed until I saw my first victim. He was short and full of blood. Ripe and unknowing. I pounced on him, sinking my teeth into his back. Mati watched me feast, partaking after I backed away.

She shifted back to her human form and began laughing.

“Now you have had a taste of fun. We should go out more.” She chuckled.

“Is there a catch to you?”

“Not me, but Mother does, yes. Every twenty years we have to sacrifice someone to appease the gods and survive.”

“Is it… worth it?”

“Yes, immortality for a life.”

I don’t know why, but I nodded and went back to feast on my prey. Though if I knew then what I know now, I would have wanted to escape from their grasp and run as far away as I could. Mother turned out to be a depraved woman I should have avoided from the beginning. The century turned and to the world, Countess Mircalla Karnstein had long since passed and now a new ever-changing vampire was rising through society. Her light brown hair was stained and dyed black, her eyes were no longer a joyous brown but a desolate black. I honestly don’t know if I would now recognize my original self. I thought life was easy, hunting and partying, feasting and playing every night. A new gala with new girls, but I was disheartened when 1714 can to be. Mati Mother and I went to Silas where we stayed in a palace surrounded by other creatures. We brought along a young girl, a virgin to sacrifice.

I remember going to the building’s foyer, it was crowded in the basement and outside. I didn’t know where anyone was. I was alone, despite being surrounded by other mythical creatures. Everyone was barely dressed, some people were dancing and drinking, doing hedonistic things to each other and themselves.

“What is such a cute creampuff as yourself doing here, alone, on such a glorious night?” A soothing voice asked in the noise.

I looked up to see this beautiful woman with her stomach bare and very little covering her legs. She had these brilliant green eyes and thin gaunt features almost like death. Her hair was bright blonde and her skin was almost pearlescent. She had such a sinister, but inviting, smile I couldn’t resist.

“I have never been here before… I guess… I guess I just don’t know what to do?”

She held her hand out and smiled down at me. “Then let me show you.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Nanaya.”

“I’m-”

“Mircalla, I know. I know everyone, sweetie.”

I took her hand and she lead me outside where a large bonfire was. Drums and instruments played strong simple beats which created an air of ecstasy that took over my emotions as soon as I joined the pit of dancers. Nanaya placed her hands on my hips and danced. I put my hands on her shoulders. She pulled my hips against her leg, slipping between my thighs.

I felt beads of sweat begin to form on my forehead. The bonfire’s heat and our intimate contact made the world close in on me in a hot blanket that collapsed against my skin.

Nanaya ground my hips down against her leg, bringing her face closer to mine. She looked into my eyes, a grin appearing on her thin lips like a snake about to attack her prey, but I couldn’t pull away. I was completely entranced by her eyes, the music, and the feeling of her hands' firm grip on my hips.

Her grin turned into a malicious smirk and took hold of my skirt, tearing it off and tossing it into the fire, leaving me in my pair of short tight pants.

I don’t remember much of the night, only her eyes. They were just so green. They almost seemed to melt into blue as the night progressed then to a vibrant magenta when the day ended. The moment memories come back is when Mati tore me away from her.

“It was fun while it lasted, buttercup.” She smiled, kissing my hand and let me walked away with Mati.

“Don’t trust the creatures who come here. I usually just hunt. You get this new found energy.”

“What is she?”

“One of the main runners of this, like mother, only worse.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15667245/chapters/36394935

[smallerinfinities]

Closer: All Hallows Eve (Vampire!Shawn)

a/n: hello, my dear friends! I haven’t written in an age and then Halloween happened and I couldn’t help but revisit my friend vampire!Shawn. this was going to be a blurb LOL and then ended up turning into a 5.5k oneshot(?) of this little universe I’ve created. I honestly think Closer is going to be non-linear. a series of oneshots of different periods in Shawn’s vampire life. this is one such period. btw, some of this is based on characterizations found in the show Versailles, so if you’re into that show you might find familiar things in here! enjoy!

The first chapter of Closer, along with the rest of my writing is linked in my masterlist! ❤️

warnings: smut, blood, bisexuality, more blood, aggression, mentions of infant mortality

Two fingers of scotch swirled in the tumbler in front of him. Some tawdry monster song poured from the jukebox to a full crowd on the dance floor, accompanied by hoots and hollers from the humans. Halloween was always an event at The Trinity. Old and young, sire and fledgling, all of them flocked to the city for the festivities, for the time when the wall between paranormal and normal was but a translucent curtain, easily passed through or, in the case of The Trinity, ripped down. It was this one night a year that vampires could feed openly and no one batted an eyelash. Humans came dressed in costume and paid a pricey cover fee to get in. Liquor flowed freely from John Somerset’s bar and The Trinity vibrated with energy from sundown to sun up.

“It’s not what it used to be, is it?” John walked over with Shawn’s favorite scotch to top off his glass. Shawn hummed his assent, remembering a time when humans knew nothing of vampires, and their feeding habits weren’t such a spectacle. He missed the old days. Missed the thrill of the chase.

Tonight, he’d put forth minimal effort to keep up with the expectation, just painted black fingernails and a touch of eyeliner. Humans didn’t need much convincing once they looked at him. He had always been beautiful, even when he was a human in the 14th century, but when he became a vampire, that beauty was eternalized, frozen forever. Neither women nor men could resist him and he knew it.

“Remember 1685?” Shawn sat back and tilted his head at John.

“Ah, yes. You were in France then, oui?” John winked, clearing the wine bottle that had stacked up behind the bar.

“I was,” Shawn hummed and swilled his glass, tipping it up and letting the brown liquor burn his throat all the way down to his empty and aching stomach. His eyes shut, lulled by the warmth of his drink. Hazy memories burst into color behind his eyes.

+

His heeled shoes clicked against the parquet floor, the burgundy brocade bows adorning his toes kept in place by antique silver buckles. It was 1685, and Louis, le Roi Soleil, was King of France. The chandeliers above the king’s new mirrored walkway were lit with dripping candles, makeshift skeletons hanging from them. A macabre scene set for the masquerade happening at the palace. The noise rose to deafening as he crept toward the ballroom, filled with courtiers and royal family members, all of them ready to lay down at Louis’ feet. He entered quietly, like he usually did, not wanting to draw attention to himself in a room full of humans.

“RAUL!” The Duke of Orléans shouted Shawn’s French name over the crowd. The King’s brother came rushing over, his advancing age finally beginning to show in his face, “how long have you been here?!”

“Philippe, you just saw me walk in the door. Don’t be coy.” Shawn drew him in for a kiss on each side of his face. Philippe reached up and tousled Shawn’s cropped, curly brown hair.

“You know if you just wore your hair long people wouldn’t ask so many questions.” Philippe knew Shawn’s dark secret, knew what others whispered about him. Shawn could look around the room and pick out the handful of courtiers he’d fed on, courtiers he’d taken to his rooms in Philippe’s wing of the palace. Though Philippe had never shared his bed, he’d been Shawn’s friend for years, since his brother welcomed Shawn to the palace in the wake of the English Civil War thirty-five years ago. The duke had been ten then. The forty-five year old man in front of him was starting to gray.

“What makes you think I don’t want them to ask questions?” Shawn smiled wide enough to show his already lengthening fangs responding to the adrenaline and blood present in the room. There was no better place to feed than at a party in the presence of the king.

“Monsieur!” The Chevalier de Lorraine came up behind Philippe, tickling his sides. Ever since he’d returned from his second exile, the Chevalier and Philippe had been more and more open about their continued affair, despite Philippe’s wife dancing not ten yards from them in the ballroom. In fact, Philippe was wearing one of her heavy brocatelle gowns, much to his brother’s chagrin, and a golden mask that hid his whole face.

Shawn’s own mask was black with burgundy texture, a demon in plain sight. His jacket and culottes were black, embroidered with burgundy bats and stars. The leather sewn sleeves allowed his deep red shirt to show beneath. He was every bit a vampire, but the fools in the ballroom were too blind to see it. Especially tonight of all nights, All Hallows’ Eve.

He could see a few others here. His kind stuck out like blinding beacon amongst this crowd of flushed and greedy humans. Some were regulars in this crowd. He spotted Reynald de Chatillon, an old foe, in the corner with his ruddy beard and thirst for young ladies-in-waiting. He regarded him, nodding, receiving little more than a sneer in return. But others were new. A delicate shoulder brushed against his and a brilliant jewel caught his eye. She was cold as ice with a matching frozen glare. Her perfectly coiffed and powdered gray wig bespoke her fledgling age. The older the vampire, the more out of fashion they tended to be, and she was the epitome of fashion. Down to the smooth yellow sapphire delicately tied around her neck. He’d never seen her before, not quite a rarity, but he would be sure to ask Philippe about her later.

“Gentlemen!” Shawn clapped one hand on Philippe’s shoulder and one hand on Chevalier’s, “we feast tonight!” The two men led Shawn to the front of the room, giggling at his double entendre. Before any feasting though, the three of them had to acknowledge the king. Shawn bowed.

“Raul. So good of you to come,” the king’s lip curved up in the corner somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. Louis had never been able to stomach the truth about Shawn, even though Shawn’s money had helped make him the so-called Sun King. His disgust relegated Shawn to his brother’s company, which caused no complaint. Philippe was pleased to keep Shawn close, an addition to his band of privileged misfits.

“You know, you might be the only person my brother is more disappointed to see at these functions than me,” Philippe bumped Shawn’s shoulder as they walked away.

“Disappointed and yet he keeps you here,” Shawn reminded Philippe.

“That’s the real humor in it. To trap me under his thumb, he must gaze upon my face every day.” The duke smiled wide and curtsied, fanning out his overskirt and sticking his tongue straight out when he stood up again.

The party had been going for hours before Shawn had walked in. Generic golden masks littered the tables, some soggy from tipped champagne flutes. Chevalier seized one, licking up some stray champagne from its edge. He’d come unprepared for the occasion as he usually did, unbothered by party themes especially those hosted at Versailles. Affixing the mask to his face, he grabbed at Philippe’s hand.

“Darling! Let us dance!”

Shawn let them skitter into the center of the dance floor without him. The crowd parted  to the center as it always did. Philippe was still the king’s brother and that afforded him privileges no matter what others thought of his choice of lovers. The two of them were so caught up in each other that the opinion of others didn’t matter.

Shawn kept to the perimeter, preferring to stalk the room. He caught eyes here and there. He could smell their responses to him before he saw them. A girl no more than eighteen flushed immediately when his eyes met hers, her giggle betraying her girlish immaturity. He turned from her, hearing her little sigh of disappointment, before his eyes stopped and lingered at someone else.

He was feeling aggressive tonight. Though his body was devoid of blood, the chemicals that had once made him human still coursed through his muscles. They made him strong and virile and, more than anything, an animal. He needed to chase tonight, to delight in the thrill of catching his prey.

He turned his nose toward the breeze in the room and let it guide him, taking quick sniffs, trying to cut through the smell of champagne and red wine. Closing his eyes to strengthen his other senses, he caught a whiff of cinnamon and turned his head. He honed in on the spice of it, the touch of bergamot that thickened the blood. When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t stop himself from gasping.

It was a man. A young man dressed in uniform with a navy blue mask, peacock feathers sprouting from the temples. The gold of his buttons glimmered in the candlelight, his jacket settled against a defined chest untouched by war. His turquoise and gold eyes contrasted starkly with the black eye kohl that ringed them, eyes that kept darting to and from Shawn’s face. Shawn stared, moving toward him slowly. Even though the room was filled with music and dancing and the dim hum of a thousand voices, he knew that his feet made no noise.  

The hunt had begun.

“Do you know,” Shawn reached out his hand and fingered the delicate feathers, “that these are the same color as your eyes?”

“Enchanté to you too, Monsieur Mendès. Or should I call you Shawn?” He emphasized the name with a curl in his lip.

“You know me?” Shawn’s eyes widened in surprise. In this court he’d only ever been known as Raul Mendès, the French rendering of one of his Christian names.

“If by know you, you mean do I know the truth of what people say about you?” he bowed low, his outstretched hand brushing Shawn’s shoes. “Then yes, I know you quite well.” When he reached his full height again, he had removed his mask and revealed his flushed pink cheeks. Shawn could see the blood rushing wildly with his quickly beating heart just under the skin. His mouth watered despite the panic rising in his throat.

“Well, well, and who are you, monsieur?” Shawn dipped his head, filled with nerves he’d never show. If he had a pulse right now, if would be racing. Thank God he hadn’t fed in over a month. A vampire’s name was a closely guarded secret, known only to familiars, especially a former name.

“I am Lucien de Foix, a captain in the king’s army,” he stuck out his hand for Shawn to shake. Shawn took it hesitantly, a creeping unsteadiness overtaking him. How does he know my name? He kept a grip on Lucien’s hand, squeezing a little harder than he normally would, squeezing until he could see the sweat forming on the young captain’s head. Lucien’s brow creased, his mouth opening as if he might cry out, but as he looked past Shawn something caught his eye and to Shawn’s horror, he smiled.

“There, there, Shawn,” a cold hand, accompanied by a female voice, ran down his back and caused him to shiver. “Fear not, we are the only ones here who know your secret.”

It was the young fledgling vampire with the powdered wig. Her skin, unlike the white painted faces in the room, was naturally pale as blank china, marred only by a pair of starkly painted black eyebrows and two round circles of blush. She pursed her lips, tinted crimson as if she’d recently fed and left the stain. She circled Shawn, stopping in front of him and linking her arm with Lucien’s. Shawn turned his hand, exposing Lucien’s wrist and the livid, purple pinpoint marks left by repeated feedings. He should have fucking known.

“So,” he squeezed his hand again, enough to feel the bones grind together, “you’re a blood slave.” The fledgling hissed at him, whether it was at sensing her toy’s pain or at his implication, he didn’t know. If he hadn’t been in a ballroom full of people, he might have snapped both their necks without consequence or remorse. As it was, he had to play nice.

“He is my husband,” she cooed into Lucien’s neck, her tongue darting out to trace the bulging vein running from his collar to his well-defined jaw.

“A tasty one at that, I presume,” Shawn smirked at her. He knew this game. Vampires developed a taste for certain humans, enthralling them, keeping them as pets. She may have convinced him that he meant something to her, something more permanent, but one day she would move on. He would not. He would likely descend into madness, looking for her or for his next pleasure fix, but no vampire would touch him after that. He would be persona non grata, tainted and tossed aside.

“Very,” she purred, “can I interest you in a taste?”

“That depends,” Shawn hated that his mouth was still watering, still craving the spice that his blood promised, “who are you and what do you want from me?”

“I,” she held her hand out for him to kiss in a deep curtsy, “am Madame de Montpensier, enchanté.” Her wig was fixed with several small doves, matching the embroidery on her silver and white gown. Even at her most bowed, the wig still reached clear over Shawn’s head. This vampire wanted to be seen.

“And I would like you to introduce me to your friends.” She nodded toward the two men still at the center of attention on the dance floor.

“To Philippe?” Shawn tipped his head and laughed, “Philippe has little time or regard for women. I doubt you’d gain any ground on that front.”

“Oh, it is not pour moi,” she nodded at Lucien and he advanced toward Shawn, his heart kicking up speed. Shawn’s fangs grew to full length. They ached to sink into his beautiful tan skin. God, it was as if she knew he hadn’t been feeding, knew his habits and preferences. His weakness for young men with ambition and a false sense of power. It was as if this Lucien had been groomed for this.

The pieces finally clicked. His eyes darkened and his voice lowered to a whisper through his teeth.

“Tell me, Madame, has Reynald fallen so far out of favor that he sends his young fledgling to do his bidding?” Fucking Reynald. This was low, even for a leech like Reynald. His claws were always in some king’s coattails. It was the only way to keep up with his ravenous appetite for blood and power.

“Reynald does not need you! He is just as powerful as he always was!” She seethed, tilting her head toward Lucien again. He draped himself in front of Shawn, practically offering himself for the taking. Shawn could feel his body stirring. He wanted this man, wanted to rip into his veins and drink until he couldn’t anymore, until his whole body was hot and flushed with the young captain’s blood. Until his heart beat again and the memories surged behind his eyelids.

“Reynald needs me plenty or you wouldn’t be here,” Shawn spat, locking eyes with Lucien, a hair’s breadth away from taking him right then and there. He dipped his head to Lucien’s ear, licking the outer shell and relishing the feel of his body shivering beneath him.

He could see his ministrations were having an effect on her. Her fangs were lengthening. Shawn could smell her arousal, the blood and adrenaline a trap for one so young as she was. She couldn’t have been more than fifty years dead, frozen forever in her twenty-year-old body. She was thirsty. All the time. That feeling, the clawing beast inside her skin that could never be sated, the endless need for blood in the first century of her new life would be almost unbearable.

He took Lucien’s earlobe between his teeth, grazing, but not breaking the skin before he whispered.

“Run.”

Lucien shot from Shawn’s arms, past his mistress and toward the enormous French doors that led to the outdoor terrace. Shawn was so attuned to him now, so caught up in the chase that he could hear Lucien’s booted footfalls on the delicately manicured grass over the din of the crowded room. He stood in front of Madame de Montpensier and waited.

“Thank you for the gift, you’re more than welcome to join me,” he heard his prey stumble on the gravel path near the great fountain in the garden, “but you can tell Reynald that it will take more than a beautiful boy and a game of blackmail to get me to do his bidding.” He brushed past her, too concentrated on the blood waiting for him in the garden to hear her cry of indignance.

Exiting the ballroom to the terrace, he crouched down and laid his palm against the chilly stone. He could hear Lucien breathing hard. He was running. His footfalls vibrated against the stone from the treeline, slower and slower until he stopped to catch his breath. Shawn smiled, finding his opportunity.

He sprinted, almost faster than a human eye could track, his vampire speed in the dark rendering him practically invisible. His feet barely touched the ground, silently making his way closer and closer toward Lucien’s gasping breaths. He stopped behind a tree, looking past it. Lucien was doubled over, his cheeks flushed with exhilaration, sucking cold air into his lungs and huffing out little clouds with every exhale. Shawn snapped a fallen twig under his heel on purpose.

“Who’s there?!” Lucien’s head snapped up.

“There, there, monsieur,” Shawn cooed, using his softest voice to soothe, “you knew it was me.” He smiled wide, his fangs extending past his lower lip, as if they might cut into his own skin. Stalking silently, he moved closer, taking measured, slow steps to put Lucien at ease. The blood tasted so much sweeter when it wasn’t tainted with fear.

“You won’t hurt me? Madame never makes it hurt.”

“I make no promises.” Shawn stopped just in front of him, dragging a cold finger down in his pink cheek. His skin was on fire despite the chill in the air. The warmth of his blood sang a rich melody that only Shawn could hear. It was intoxicating. He bent down to Lucien’s mouth, where the smell of him was strongest.

“Can I kiss you?” Shawn asked, an honest question. He prefered intimacy with his prey. He wanted them to feel the truth of his desire, wanted them to know that without them, he was nothing. As powerful as he was as a vampire, he was nothing without their blood. He wanted them to want it.

Lucien nodded his head, a crease between his eyes as if he was surprised he felt agreeable to it. Shawn grinned. Men were always surprised at how far they were willing to go to gain Shawn’s approval.

Shawn pressed his lips to Lucien’s and gasped into his mouth. It was simple, two lips pressed together, but it was heady with that natural spice that men always seemed to have. The power they sacrificed to be fed upon, the beautiful surrender of delicate ego. It was everything that he loved about being a vampire captured in a moment of pure submission. He pulled away light-headed, his eyes black with hunger.

Shawn’s cold fingers found Lucien’s neck, tipping it to the side, exposing that deep, pulsing vein that he could see beating a quick rhythm full of blood, even in the low light. He cradled his head and ran his tongue along the sinews, the muscles that would become his chalice. Lucien shivered, gasping a hot breath against Shawn’s cold skin, filling Shawn’s nose with that warm spice that he’d smelled on the air inside.

His fangs broke skin.

Lucien cried out. In pleasure or pain, Shawn didn’t know. He didn’t care. All he knew was the taste of the warm, viscous liquid pouring from Lucien’s neck. Cinnamon, citrus, smoke. Each note bloomed behind his closed eyes in brilliant jewel tones. Rubies, emeralds, and amethysts swirled like a kaleidoscope.

Shawn felt Lucien’s fingers curl into his hair and push his neck farther into Shawn’s mouth, forcing Shawn to pull even more of his precious blood. It overflowed, dripping in rivulets from Shawn’s mouth. There would be stains, evidence of what had happened, but Shawn didn’t care. He was lost in this man. For a split second, he understood why Montpensier had taken him as a slave. Regular encounters with these veins would surely drive him mad.

The kaleidoscope swam as it always did into images, the moments from his past that he hid from between feedings. The list he kept of the humans he’d fed on turned into faces, one by one swimming into his mind. Memories of blood, of battle, of humanity. His heart was coming alive again, beating strong with Lucien’s blood, stronger than Lucien’s own heart.

He pulled away panting. Lucien’s head lulled, still alive but incoherent. Shawn laid him gently on the cold ground and backed away, controlling the temptation to take all that Lucien would give him, all that he had to give. Leaning heavily on a massive old oak, Shawn’s mind swam. His old life, his old humanity was coming back to him on a tidal wave, slamming him over and over into the bark against his back. Poitiers, Agincourt, Bosworth, Paris, Bologne. So much death and blood and iron, battles between kings and men, all dead and buried, turned to dust.

The final wave of memories was always the same hazy image. A fire burning in the hearth of the home he’d built with his own hands, a woman and child in a chair before it. He walks up behind her, touching her shoulder, and she looks back smiling. The child suckling at her breast, warm and pink, fixes him with a blue-eyed stare. It was everything he’d ever wanted.

And it was taken from him.

His chest rose and fell. The compelling need to breathe to keep up with his newly beating heart overwhelmed him. He always felt most human in the seconds just after the feed. Though blood coated his chin and ran down to his now ruined shirt, his senses were dulled to that of a living thing. He couldn’t hear past the beating of his own heart, couldn’t taste past the life he’d consumed. He was vulnerable and she knew it.

Madame de Montpensier had been watching. She came out from behind the tree where she’d been hiding, smiling wide, fangs grown to their full length. Closing the gap between them quickly, she planted her hands above Shawn’s shoulders, her fingers playing with the loose curls at his neck.

“Isn’t he lovely?” She cooed, looking back at her pet lying on the ground.

“He is,” Shawn licked his lips, turning her head with his fingers to look him in the eye, “‘tis a dangerous game you play with Reynald. You would do well to not cross me again.”

“Reynald is gone,” she whispered, “and besides, I’m not sure he interests me anymore.” She set him with a look, a look that shouted his needs and greatest desires into existence. If he wanted her, he only needed to reach out and take.

“Oh, does he not? Madame, I know you are young,” he rested his forehead against hers, his earlier anger eroding by the second, “but you will find disavowing your sire more difficult than you think.”

“That may be,” she lifted up onto her tip-toes, reaching her tongue out to lap up some of Lucien’s still warm blood from Shawn’s chin, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun while I try.” She ran her hand down his chest to where the blood he’d taken from Lucien was rapidly pooling in his groin.

He growled, taking her hand and moving to drag her off to the nearest bedroom. She dug in her heels to stop him, looking back at Lucien still passed out.

“Leave him,” Shawn barked, “perhaps it will teach him not to dally with vampires.”

In a moment, they were back in Shawn’s rooms, a trail of shredded clothing on the floor from the door to the bed. She moved to remove her choker but he stopped her.

“Leave it on,” he snarled, rolling his hose down and removing the last of his ripped and bloody shirt. She moved her hands away from her throat and sat back on the bed, leaning back on her hands. She spread her legs in an open invitation.

She was fucking beautiful. Her skin glowed in the half-burned candles sitting on every surface, smooth and unmarred by age or sickness. He couldn’t stop himself from groaning. It had been some time since he’d been with a woman. Too long. He approached her slowly, bending down to crawl on his knees to her.

He covered her body with his, taking in her clean scent suffused with Lucien’s. They were both warm, hearts beating together with the same blood. She curled her legs around his thighs.

“I want you inside me.” She purred in his ear.

All he’d needed was permission. He drove his hips into hers, pumping deep into her warm cunt. She cried out, arching her back and clamping her arms into his wrists. Her nails dug into his skin, drawing blood. Hissing, he pulled back and lifted onto his knees. She laughed, licking each of her crimson stained fingers.

“Come on, Shawn. Give me everything you’ve got.”

He roared. Grabbing her hips, he pulled almost all the way out of her warmth and then tugged her back onto him. Their skin met in a deliciously wet slap and echoed off the ornate walls. It was intense. He felt her clench around him, deep inside, all the way through his repeated strokes. He rowed into her over and over and over again until the delicate doves placed in her wig flew off the bed, cracking loudly against the floor. She held tight to the bedpost behind her, her strength creating resistance for him to fuck harder into.

He wasn’t going to last much longer like this, but he needed her there with him. To fall off the cliff and into the ocean of Lucien’s blood that they shared. He wrapped his arm around her middle, hauling her up to his chest and slamming them both backward against the headboard, still fucking his hips up into hers.

Her eyes were black, her mouth open in silent pleasure. He wanted to hear her scream.

Shawn ducked his head to her chest, placing open mouthed kisses along her breast bone. Her red-flushed nipples called to him, grazing his chest with every thrust.

“Come with me.”

He sank his fangs into her breast, suckling on her perfect diamond-hard peaks. Blood rushed again into his mouth, filling him with that spicy, citrusy blood he’d lost himself in earlier. It mixed with florals, oleander and magnolia, inside her body and he came hard with the mix of masculine and feminine.

“Shawn!” she cried, bearing down on him harder than ever, riding her own orgasm into the wall behind her. They rocked back and forth together. Shawn fucked his hips up into hers as she held his head to her chest. Her memories came to him, blooming in front of him as strong as her shaking body in his arms.

There were not many of them; as he had suspected, she was not old. He saw her as a young woman, a human, hand in hand with a child, a daughter, with bouncy, loose blond curls. He saw her dressed all in black, saw Reynald finding her on her knees beside a child’s mausoleum. He promised he could take her pain away.

Reynald lied.

He let go of her breast, breathless for the second time that night. She heaved against him, clawing at his face, pulling him to her lips. Blood poured into her mouth and they both moaned, her memories and his mixing. New and old, predator and prey, lovers.

They collapsed onto the blood stained sheets. Shawn held his arms open and she crawled into them quietly, fingering the bit of chest hair that had grown before he had left his humanity behind. She knew what he’d seen. When vampires fed from each other, the memories flashed in both their minds.

“Reynald made false promises because he wanted you,” he whispered, tracing patterns on her bare skin, “he is nothing but a liar.”

“Will I ever forget her?” she asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it from someone she knew would tell her the truth.

“No,” he kissed her forehead, “she will come to you every time you feed, just like I see my wife and child even now more than three hundred years since their passing.”

“Teach me,” she pleaded, the hazel of her human eyes bright after feeding, “teach me how to live with the pain.”

“Shhhh,” he smoothed her hair, “let us sleep.” He draped the heavy blankets over them and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Nothing could dare hurt you here.”

+

“Shawn?” John clinked his glass with an empty beer bottle, “I think someone is watching you.” He nodded to a far corner, beyond the sea of human and vampire heads now dancing idiotically to “Monster Mash.” The figure moved with inhuman speed through the crowd.

He blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing a ghost.

How in the —

“Oh, don’t look so shocked to see me, Shawn,” she lifted her black leather covered leg over his, “All Hallows Eve always was our time.” Her lips, always painted red, lifted back over her cartoonishly long fake fangs.

“Hélène, what are you doing here?”

“Don’t you mean, Hélène, how did you escape when I left you for dead?” She narrowed her eyes to slits, her long chandelier earrings tinkling under her blunt-cut black bob haircut.

“It was 1792, Ellie. You wouldn’t leave France. You made your choice.”

“It was my home!”

John made a clicking noise, “vampire disputes go outside.”

“There’s no need, John. She was just going,” Shawn glared at her. “We have no dealings. If you are only interested in blaming me for what I could not change, then we have nothing to discuss.”

She slammed her hand down on the bar, leaving a wax-sealed envelope in front of him. An ornate, crimson R was pressed into the black wax.

“Reynald requests your presence.”

“You went back to him?” Shawn shook his head, a humorless grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, “after all that time?”

“Yeah, well he didn’t abandon me.” She picked up her leg and turned to leave, giving his curls a tug at the last second. He caught her hand and pulled it to his lips. She was warm, recently fed. He had always loved her skin in the days after a feeding, curling into her warmth every night in bed. They fed and fucked and drank and danced for a century and she still went back to him.

“I never meant for that to happen.” He wasn’t sure what he had meant to happen all those years ago when he left her, the peasants breaking windows and setting fires a few blocks from their Paris apartment, but he sure as hell didn’t mean for her to go to him.

“We never mean for bad things to happen, but it’s like you said that first night. I don’t know why I ever thought I could disavow him.” She wiped at the corner of her eye, ripping her hand from his and hurrying away from the bar.

Shawn ripped open the note she’d left.

Dear Shawn Peter Raul Mendes,

Did I get all of your names in? I do love knowing them all.

Isn’t she lovely? Thank you for taking her in all those years ago. She was too headstrong, too willing to leave. I love her now. My beautiful broken pony. She begged for my forgiveness. I gave it to her. It took awhile. Fifty years in an abandoned well. That was how long it took to get your stink off of her.

I do hope you’ll come see us. I’m sure you remember where to find me.

Best wishes,

  Reynald

Shawn crumpled up the old piece of paper and lobbed it into the fire near the stairs to the street. White, hot anger courses through him. He needed to leave before he took and fed on the first thing that fell into his arms, unsure if he could feed without draining. He needed to find Hélène. He needed to find Reynald.

I’m going to kill that bastard once and for all.

taglist: @justanotherfangurl272​ @siennarossi​ @trustfundshawn​ @alone-in-madness​ @harryandmolly​ @mendesromano​ @fromthicctosticc​ @esoltis280​ @softmendesss​ @sinplisticshawn​ @nedthegay​ @september-lace​ @itrocksmysocks​ @disaster-rose​ @mendesoft​ @luvluvxx​ @i-play-video-games​ @ihearthemcallingforyou​ @hi-my-name-is-sid​ @gentleshawn​ @kitykatnumber​ @enchantingbrowneyedgirl​ @ijustreallylikeshawnokay​ @shhhawnmendes​ @shawnsblue​ 

[hello-robin-goodfellow]

TOP 13 FAVORITE COUPLES (PART II)

07º Lise x Colas (La Fille Mal Gardee, 1789)

Status: Canon and adorable.

La Fille Mal Gardée (French for "The Poorly Guarded Girl" and sometimes called "The Girl Who Needed Watching" ) is a comic country ballet inspired by Pierre-Antoine Baudouin's 1789 painting, La Réprimande. The ballet was originally choreographed by the Ballet Master Jean Dauberval to music based on fifty-five popular French airs, and premiered in 1789 in Bordeaux, France. It's been revived multiple times and is one of the oldest ballets, kept alive due to these multiple revivals.

The story starts with Lise, a peasant girl, and her fiancé Colas. Though they're in love, Lise's mother Widow Simone (usually played by a man) wants her to marry Alain, who is stupid, but very wealthy. But Widow Simone cannot keep Lise and Colas apart. At a picnic lunch with Alain, Simone, and Alain's father Thomas, the maypole and clog dancing is interrupted by a thunderstorm. Alain's umbrella carries him away. At home, Lise spins and dances. After her mother falls asleep she tries to steal her key but is unsuccessful. The crops are brought in, and Lise, home alone, thinks about Colas, and imagines being the mother of many children through mime. Colas then appears from a stack of crops. When Simone returns Lise pushes him into the bedroom to hide him, but to her horror her mother gives her her wedding dress and demands that she go into her bedroom and put it on.

Thomas, Alain, and the notary for the marriage arrive. Alain unlocks Lise's bedroom door with the key Simone gives him. Lise enters wearing her wedding dress, with Colas by her side. Insulted, Thomas tears up the marriage contract and they leave. Lise and Colas beg the Widow to agree to their marriage and she finally does. Everyone leaves happily, celebrating the love between Lise and Colas. Alain returns to the empty house looking for his umbrella. He too has a happy ending; with his umbrella.

06º Karaba and Kirikou (Kirikou and the Sorceress, 1998)

Status: Canon and fantastical.

Kirikou and the Sorceress is a 1998 French animated film, directed by Michel Ocelot, loosely based on a West African fairy tale.  It tells the story of a tiny baby boy, named Kirikou, who is born in a spectacular way (all by himself, without effort of his mother nor outside help) and can speak and walk immediately after being born. After a couple of questions, he learns that a wicked sorceress, Karaba, has cursed the village and devoured all the men and boys, except his uncle, who is on his way to fight the sorceress. He tricks the sorceress, saves his uncle as well as the children of the village (twice!!), brings the water back to the dried-up spring and, among other things, discovers the sorceress' true motivations: Karaba is evil because of all the suffering she went through at the hands of men, including a very subtly implied rape. All the bad things that she allegedly had done are ultimately proved to be false. She does hate everyone, but she gets better. Despite being a baby, Kirikou asks Karaba in marriage when she pulls a Heel–Face Turn, saying that he doesn't like little girls. She doesn't accept, of course, but then her kiss turns him into a handsome young man.

05º Queen Annika x Queen Neha (The Dragon Prince, 2018)

Status: Canon majesties.

Annika and Neha were the former queens of Duren and mothers of Aanya. They were killed by Avizandum, whom they distracted in order for the mission to retrieve the heart of a Magma Titan to succeed. Annika and Neha cared deeply for their daughter Aanya and their people and were willing to travel to another kingdom to ask for help when famine plagued Duren. They were also courageous warriors and would not hesitate to sacrifice their lives so that others may live. The series is at the fourth of its pretended seven seasons, and i hope to see more flashbacks with this power couple in the future episodes.

04º Ruby and Sapphire (Steven Universe, 2013-20)

Status: Canon made of love.

The two Crystal Gems whose love formes the heroine Garnet. Ruby is a small, red Gem described by the creators as "someone who cares a lot". She often lets her anger and frustration get the best of her, and so is complemented well by her more reserved partner Sapphire. Sapphire is a small blue Gem who possess ice powers and future vision. She can often be very withdrawn and emotionally distant, and so is complemented well by her more open partner Ruby. In the Crystal Gems home planet, their classist society tried to forbid Ruby and Sapphire’s love due to Sapphire being a noble and Ruby a bodyguard supposed to serve her. But combining their forces, this red and blue couple resisted, earning a happy marriage in the end.

[fanfictionaries]

Playing the Game - Chapter 1

Summary: When aspiring writer Grace Caulder is met with financial troubles, she finds herself reluctantly limping back to a life she never thought she’d go back to. The new personal assistant for two of the most successful Managing Directors in New York investment banking, Grace can’t help but feel disgusted with herself and everyone around her. Struggling to come to grips with childhood memories and an eerily familiar boss, Grace tries to find out just who she is and who she loves? 

Steve Rogers wasn’t always the high powered, elite business he was today. No. At one point he was a skinny, little kid, fresh out of Brooklyn, just trying to make it through the daily torment of high school bullies. And his biggest tormentor just became his new personal assistant. Now’s his chance to get his revenge. But, is everything he thought he knew about her, true? 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, NSFW/18+ only, Darkish

Author’s note: First chapter is up! Please, please, please let me know what you think! 

***

Have you ever woken up and found yourself possessed by the imminent feeling of greatness? You roll over in your bed, well-rested and content, the sun shining through your windows, the birds chirping outside, and you know that it is going to be your day. A great day. A life changing day.

Well, that was exactly the opposite of how Grace Caulder felt the morning of her first day at Stark Investments. In fact, her emotions could probably be placed somewhere between puking and flinging herself off the fire escape of her fourth story walkup. But, seeing as she’d never had a weak stomach and the fall not being nearly high enough to kill her, she did neither. No, instead she laid there, a writhing mess of self-pity with just a dash of self-loathing, before dragging her butt out of bed and getting ready.

As her tall, black stilettos clicked audibly across the marble lobby floor of one of New York’s most esteemed investment banking institutions, Grace tried to put herself in a state of mind similar to her surroundings. Men in sharp suits and cutthroat smiles eyed her up and down and in return, she flashed them an award winning smile, her red lips parting to reveal the perfectly straight, white teeth her parents had spent so much money on. Money. The whole building reeked of it. Not literally, but as she wedged herself in between designer suits and handbags, before the doors of the elevator closed, she couldn’t help but feel like she was sixteen again.

She was alone when the elevator chimed, and the doors opened revealing the 35th floor.  Clean lines and a grey monochromatic color palette filled the space in front of her. Marble, glass, and minimalist furniture created a sense of movement and growth. It was futuristic. Innovative. No nonsense. It evoked a feeling of success. Walking straight to the front desk with as much poise and elegance as she could must up, she smiled, “Good morning Natasha.”

“Well look who it is. I’ll let Marie know that you’re here,” said the receptionist, her tone monotonic and expression bored, as she pressed in a number, paused for a few moments, and then spoke into the mic piece of her headset.

“Maria. Grace Caulder is here. Perfect, I’ll let her know.” She ended the call, turning her attention back to Grace.

“She’ll be out in a second—” she paused, looking Grace up and down before a small smile spread across her face “—You know, I was hoping you’d get the job. Out of all the miserable little creatures that walked through here, you were the only one that seemed acceptable enough for the position. I mean, you seriously should have seen the people that Maria had interviewing! I was beginning to think we were doing some sort of outreach program.” Rolling her eyes dramatically, she adjusted the sleeves of her cream colored blouse. Grace smiled at her in amusement, admiring her dark red hair and the way that every curl was perfectly swept into a French twist. Truthfully, she had always wished she possessed the same deep shade of auburn and not her coppery shade.

“You know, I love your blouse Natasha. Is that from Miu Miu’s new spring collection?” She leaned over the front desk a bit to get a better look as Natasha eyed her devilishly.

“Gracie, dear, you are a woman after my own heart. I should have known when you walked in here with genuine Prada donning your pretty little feet, we’d be best friends. We should get lunch some time. I know a great, little tapas place right down the stree—”

“Grace?” Turning, she saw Maria walking towards her. An older woman yes, but she hardly looked it; everything about her was primped and manicured. Grace’s eyes followed her long, sharp acrylics as they tucked a piece of her jaw length mahogany hair behind her ear. Grace took the perfectly manicured hand in her own and shook it firmly.

“Lovely to see you again Maria. I just wanted to thank you for this opportunity, really,” she kissed ass. She hated herself a little for it, but she did it anyway. It’s what these kinds of people responded to best.  

“Oh, the choice was obvious Ms. Caulder. I mean with your level of professionalism and your references! Not to mention when I found out who your father was…well how could I not?” Maria finished, placing her hands on her narrow hips.

Grace fidgeted a little, uncomfortable with the mention of her father. She should have known that they would make the connection.

“Well, come this way. I’ll take you to your new office and show you where everything is. Mr. Rogers should be in around noon. He had a few early morning meetings today across town,” Maria informed her as they walked across the lobby and around the corner. Rogers…every time she heard the name something pulled in the pit of her stomach and the back of her head. Something was so familiar about the name, but for the life of her she couldn’t quite place it.

“And Mr. Barnes?” Grace asked as they entered a small office. Just big enough for a desk and a single bookshelf. Behind the desk was a window overlooking the city. There had to be some perks to the position. She placed her purse carefully on the desk and hung her jacket up a hook on the wall before adjusting her silk blouse.

“Well, he’s in right now actually. Shall we go say hi?” Maria suggested as she turned back towards the hallway, not waiting for an answer.

With their heels click-clacking in syncopation, they walked towards past office after office. Grace wasn’t the only personal assistant on this floor. In fact, the 35th floor was one of three floors at Stark Investments that housed the Managing Directors and their immediate personnel. However, she was the only personal assistant to Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers, the two highest paid MDs in the company. Reaching the end of the hall, Maria knocked on the door of the corner office.

“Come in!” called a muffled voice from the other side.

Grace followed the older woman through the door to find a bright, inviting space. Floor to ceiling windows showcased all of New York’s financial district and then some. The office still possessed the same modern flair, but little touches here and there made it feel warmer. A picture frame here, a knick-knack there. Her eyes focused on Mr. Barnes as he stood from his desk. He was tall, and broad through the shoulders, but not overtly imposing. She eyed his suit. Expensive but simple. His face was clean shaven, and his brown hair was cropped short on the sides, the longer hair on top gelled back. There was no denying that he was an attractive man, but so were a lot of people in this business. Good looks and charisma often got you just as far as smarts and a cutthroat attitude.

As he walked towards them, it was with the air of someone who held a level of self-assuredness. Not cocky, but confident. Mr. Barnes was from money. Only someone who had known the comfort of money all their lives could hold that level of ease and look so relaxed in such a high-stress position. He eyed Grace up and down before addressing Maria, “Who is this? You know it’s not my birthday for another month.”

Maria gave him a stern look.

“Joking as always,” Mr. Barnes replied, tongue in cheek.

Grace watched as Maria relaxed, “We just stopped by because I wanted to introduce you to my new replacement.”

“Replacement? So soon?”

“Well, I leave for Amsterdam next week. I figured it was acceptable timing,” said Maria, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Right, of course. I guess I just let time slip away from me. Haven’t quite accepted that you’re leaving us.”

“Speaking of which, don’t forget the party is this Thursday. You and Sophia are coming, correct?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Grace fidgeted in her heels, catching Mr. Barnes’ eye.

“How rude. Sorry doll,” apologized Mr. Barnes. “James Buchanan Barnes. Pleased to have you on board.” He shook her hand firmly, the exuding stench of businessman charm nauseating her. He would be the kind to his personal assistant, whom he’d just met, something like doll.

“Grace Caulder, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Barnes,” she smiled big, making sure to maintain eye contact.

“Oh please, call me Bucky.”

The sound of the door behind them opening abruptly and then slamming took Bucky’s attention away from her. A deep voice, irate and resounding filled the room.

“Buck, I’ve just come from JPMorgan and you would not believe the absolute shit that—”

“We have company Stevie—” Bucky interrupted “—come here and meet our new assistant.” He seemed to be completely unfazed to the loud and aggressive man that had just entered the room. Turning around to meet her second and decidedly angrier boss, Grace froze.

“Steven?” Grace choked out quietly in disbelief.

The tall, blue eyed ghost of her past gave her a look of confusion, “Pardon? Have we met?”

Shaking her head, Grace collected herself, smoothing her hands down her black pencil skirt and stepping forward.

“Sorry. Um, no. Grace Caulder, your new assistant. It’s very nice to meet you Mr. Rogers.”

“I swear to god Wanda, it was terrifying. I’m pretty sure I saw my entire adolescence flash before my eyes!” said Grace as she sunk the sharp chef’s knife through another carrot, cutting the pieces julienne.

“Oh, come on G.C., you’re being a little overdramatic, don’t you think?” Wanda scoffed from her place in front of the stove.

“No! I don’t! You don’t get it Wanda. You didn’t know me back then,” she shuddered at the thought. Grace Caulder. Queen Bee Bitch of Trinity.

“I know you’ve probably blown it out of proportion over the years,” said Wanda tasting the tomato sauce in front of her before adding a dash of salt. Wanda, Grace’s roommate of three years, did most of cooking in the apartment. After several instances of near fatal stovetop fires, they both decided it was safer that way. That being said, Grace could wield a kitchen knife like no other and so she often covered salads and sous chef responsibilities. It was a nice give and take that they participated in.

“I mean, you couldn’t have been that bad,” Wanda continued.

“You would have hated me,” Grace responded, pointing the tip of her knife in Wanda’s direction before stabbing it down into the wooden cutting board. Wanda side-eyed her, challenging her statement with a look.

“I was the head cheerleader, took my daddy’s limo to school every day, and made girls cry for sport,” Grace responded, deadpan.

“Alright…maybe I would have hated you a little.”

“I’m pretty sure a couple girls transferred because of me.”

“Well I’m just going to argue that you’re a pretty awesome person now, so I don’t think you should beat yourself up about it. You were young. People grow; they change,” said Wanda, walking past her to grab two plate from the cupboard. They dished up Wanda’s spaghetti and Grace’s salad before walking to the couch.

“That’s the thing though. I was completely self-aware all those years. I knew what I was doing, and I hated it!” Grace exclaimed before digging into her pasta.

Confusion flash across Wanda’s face as she pressed further, “Then why did you do it?”

Grace finished her bite before taking a deep breath and answering, “Growing up where I did was like being thrown in a shark tank. You either learned to swim or you were eaten alive.”

“So, you learned to swim?”

Grace scoffed, “Worse. I became a shark. God…there was always all this pressure from my mom and dad to look a certain way, act a certain way, be friends with certain people, date certain people. Those people weren’t always the nicest, but if I wanted to make my family proud and keep them off of my back, I had to play nice. Of course, playing nice usually involved an array of status degradation rituals very specific to teenage girls.” She shook her head trying to free herself of the memories.

“G.C. that’s some intense shit. No wonder you don’t like to talk about home.”

“Yea and now that I’m at this new job it just feels…I’m just worried I’m gonna turn back into that person. I mean you wouldn’t believe how easy it was for me to slip my Grace Caulder mask back on. Everyone there just cares about money, looks, and status!” She took another bite of pasta, chewing angrily.

“I’m sorry G.C., if I had known I never would have let you take the job. Quit! Don’t work there, we’ll figure something ou—”

“Don’t—" Grace interrupted. “—I don’t want to hear another word. It’s not your fault they cut back your hours and I’m not gonna let you get a second job while you’re trying to get your Masters.” Grace sighed, looking down at her lap, “I always knew that freelance work wasn’t going to pay the bills forever. Maybe, this is a wakeup call. Maybe I just need to realize that I’m not cut out to be a writer, ya know? It’s a hard career and I probably shot above my head. We need this job. We need the money. I’m not gonna let either of us live on the streets. I can do this. I just need to swallow my pride first…and a whole bottle of pills.”

Wanda gasped, picking up a pillow and hitting Grace with it, “Not funny G.C.!”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop with the suicide jokes…for now. But seriously, I have a way for us to live comfortably; it would be selfish not to take advantage of it.”

“Okay enough sappiness. I can’t handle it! So, this Steven, are you sure that he’s your new boss?” Wanda asked, putting her plate of pasta on the coffee table.

“I don’t know! I mean, there has to be a million Steve Rogers in the world, and it didn’t seem like he recognized me.” The topic had been melting her brain to mush all day. After their brief introduction, Maria and she had left Bucky and Steve to talk. She hadn’t seen him at all the rest of the day, but her mind kept going back to the absolute lack of recognition in his eyes when they shook hands.

“Well that’s good then! It’s probably not him!”

“Yea, I wish it was that simple. Here, look up ‘Steven Rogers Stark Investments’ on your phone really quick. I’ll be right back.” Grace ran to her room and dug into the back of her closet. After some effort and a lot of dust, she pulled out the item she was looking for. When she reentered the living room, she found Wanda with her eyes glued to her phone.

“You’re in trouble. Why the hell did you not tell me that your new boss is gorgeous?!” she spun her phone around to reveal a picture of him on the cover of Global Finance.

“I’m sorry Wanda. I was a little too preoccupied seeing this when I looked at him,” Grace retorted before opening her old yearbook and thrusting it in her face. It was a page out of the clubs’ section. This particular club was Art Club and there stood Steven. Standing barely five feet tall, thin as a rail and sporting some very ill-fitting, obviously second-hand clothes.  

Wanda let out an audible gasp that turned into a giggle.

“Wow. He’s just a little guy!” she turned the yearbook back to Grace. Snatching the book out of Wanda’s hands, she flopped onto the couch next to her roommate.

“Shut up! For your information he happened to be really sweet and smart and funny…” Grace looked down at the face of the boy she had left long behind.

“Oh my god, G.C.! Did you have a crush on him?”

“Yes. Which meant I was worse to him that anyone else. No way I was going to let my friends know I liked Teeny Tiny Rogers.” Grace scrunched her face in distaste.

“Teeny Tiny Rogers? I thought you said you went to a private prep school; doesn’t that require some skill?” Wanda gave her a disappointed look.

“Wealth doesn’t always equate cleverness Wanda.”

She watched as Wanda’s eyes flicked between the yearbook and her phone, concentration on her face. “G.C. they do look a lot alike. I mean, give him a major growth spurt and about ten years in the gym and this could be him…”

She groaned, “That’s exactly what I was hoping you wouldn’t say. So, what do I do?”

“Well…you said he acted like he had no idea who you were. Maybe he’s forgotten?” Wanda suggested.

Grace let the idea bounce around in her head, “I’d like to imagine that he did, but considering the amount of development that happens during that time in adolescence…memories stick. I mean what do you remember most about high school?”

“Elizabeth Germer. She told everyone that I was born with a tail. I had people oinking at me in the hallways for years…okay I get your point.”

Grace buried her face in the pages of Trinity School 2010, “Wanda, this is a disaster!”

“Well maybe he’s forgiven you. Maybe pretending to not know who you were was his way of saying it’s all water under the bridge. I mean, obviously he’s doing okay. More than okay! You’re working for him. He’s won!” Wanda stood, grabbing their empty dishes and walking towards the kitchen. Grace followed her, thinking over her point.

“But what if you’re wrong? How am I going to walk into that office tomorrow and not act like I didn’t torture him for four years? What do I do?” Grabbing a sponge and the soap from under the sink, she turned on the water and began to wash the dishes as Wanda stored the leftovers.

“You want to know what you’re gonna do? You’re going to stop acting like a giant, overdramatic baby and stop whining! You’re going to put on your overpriced, big girl panties, slip on an expensive dress, step into those ridiculously high heels and go to work. Do your job. Act like nothing is wrong. In fact, you’re going to treat him like a complete and total stranger. Okay?” Closing the refrigerator door, Wanda turned to face her, clearly having heard enough on the subject. Grace rinsed the last dish and put it on the wrack before drying her hands. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at her roommate.

“Okay. You’re right. You are completely right. I’m obviously not going to quit so I just need to do my job. Play the game for a little and if I eventually have to face up to what I did then…so be it,” she decided. Wanda walked towards her, arms outstretched, bringing Grace into a big hug.

“Don’t worry G.C. Everything will work itself out. I promise and besides you aren’t even sure it’s the same guy. I mean sure, they look alike but plenty of people do. Maybe you just happened to find his incredibly good looking and successful doppelganger.” Patting her on the back, Wanda walked past her and towards her bedroom. As she stood there, in the kitchen, by herself, Grace wouldn’t help but think about her new boss. Was he the Steven she’d known all those years ago? The sweet and sincere dork. Or was he some freaky ripped lookalike that happened to have the same name? She couldn’t know for sure, but what she did know is that night she laid awake in bed trying to convince herself that incredibly attractive doppelgängers did exist.  

Marvel Taglist: 

@caffiend-queen​

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​

[sincerelyensouled]

Dani taz, Carmen Sandiego, and Mary Sage

I apologize in advance for how long this post is going to be ;;-;;

Dani

favorite thing about them I think she’s fun! Who wouldn’t love an artist who’s also into plants, a wlw, living a hotel and also a cryptid vampire creature? 

least favorite thing about them Honestly, she got so little development, I wish we got to see so much more of that. Like how long has she been at Amnesty Lodge?? Why did she get exiled from Sylvain?? What’s her favourite food?? there are so many unanswered questions 

favorite line “Aubrey you feel like home” makes me SO SOFT!

brOTP Jake Coolice bayybeeee!!! Also Barclay for some weird kitchen antics. Also Thacker! Also Mama!!! So many friends. I might have the incorrect interpretation of that Brotp is or I just might want Dani to be very loved

OTP Aubrey of course

nOTP Literally anyone else

random headcanon I think I say this literally any chance I can get but her nickname is Dandelion and only people she’s very close to can call her that! unpopular opinion uhhh.. here’s one that only might get me a callout post. At the moment, looking at canon content exclusively, Dani’s only real purpose seemed to be a prize for Aubrey. I really wish Griffin had some really rad lore to give her and I extra wish we would’ve gotten it song i associate with them Dog Days are Over by Florence + The Machine. Also, unfortunately, Riptide by Vance Joy for whatever reason. No thoughts, head song the ukulele's equivalent to Wonderwall I guess 

favorite picture of them Okay I have one piece from @/kyllu as my desktop background and it’s a drawing of Aubrey and Dani having a sleepover and Aubrey has illuminated the room with a fireball. It’s so pretty and I have such vivid memories of the first time seeing it because I was in an airport waiting for my flight home and I genuinely started crying looking at it. Also from the Davenport blog 2020 April Fool’s goof, Dani sitting on top of the roof with the caption “Tonight’s Dani misses home” is also VERY up there. 

Carmen

favorite thing about them I love older Carmens too but there is really something fun about the 2019 version actively rebelling against the way she was raised and who raised her just so she can fight for what’s right. And she’s very strong and was able to make that decision and escape all on her own! Having three “teams” in the show rather than just the two “good guys” vs “bad guys” is something I enjoy

least favorite thing about them hmmm I genuinely cannot think of anything. I am very neutral about my opinions of Carmen specifically 

favorite line ”Player, I made it. I’m off the island. I need to know where on earth I am” brOTP I *LOVE* the way her and Player’s friendship is portrayed and I can not get enough of it. They’ve been friends for over 4 years!! They call each other “Player” and “red” because that’s what they're comfortable with, no need to change it. They have a bit of an age gap but they’re still really close and they support each other so much. Geography special interest buddies. Amazing friends, respect each other’s boundaries.

OTP As much as I enjoy Carmivy I am actively opinionless

nOTP (ignoring a lot of BAD takes I see on instagram) If I see the words re//d//c.rackle one more time I am quitting

random headcanon I don’t remember how or why but one time my mom brought up the idea that Carmen has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and I probably think about it every day of my life now. It’s not based on much because my mom hasn’t watched the show but -shrug- Oh also Carmen’s hot drink of choice is hot cocoa

unpopular opinion Player and Carmen have absolutely no reason to meet up in person, do not force them to and overstep pre-established boundaries. Also, the headcanon that she and Player are siblings simply because they are both brown people who have a close bond fucking sucks. 

song i associate with them I am bad at music favorite picture of them I’m pretty sure this doesn’t actually count but there’s this one shirt we made in a TKO game that is an image of Carmen and the caption is “carsvenm sidjsnem” and I cry laughing looking at it to this day and my biggest regret in life is not being able to buy it because the shop page got corrupted before we could save the link

Mary Sage

favorite thing about them Clint just really WENT FOR IT while making Mary. The concept of her parents owning a Bible Amusement Park, the fact she’s HIDING in said park, the anger, the betrayal, being abused and used as a living weapon by the dgf, she has the highest swear ratio in all of Commitment, the fact she is I think only once depicted standing on level ground with the PCs (almost every mention of her location is her being on top of a platform of some kind because she likes to be tall and dramatic) it’s *chef’s kiss* Let her learn how to trust people again.

least favorite thing about them WE DID NOT GET HER FOR LONG ENOUGH CLINTON. Also knowing deep down that if Commitment season 2 ever does happen the first thing that will happen is leaving Mary in the middle of nowhere never to be seen again :(

favorite line “nn-where d’ya want to go?” sticks out a lot  “Everybody wants to hurt Space Cadet!” “And Mary begins to scream”  “You… Shithead! You were gonna make me kill thousands of people!“

brOTP Remy! Remy! Remy! You don’t just unload your dramatic backstory on a person you met 5 minutes ago like that and just.... abandon them. They’d be pure chaos together, unstoppable. 

OTP Nadiya uwu

nOTP Anyone else

random headcanon Mary finds a lot of comfort in hiding in small spaces. I was going to credit this to being caused by Halleluland but that makes zero sense if anything Halleluland would be a wide-open space. But small spaces are easy to keep track of, hide away from prying eyes and control everything that’s going on with-in them. Absolutely would steal all the available pillows just so she could sit comfy in a closet or something also she’s bilingual in French because rich kid in Lousiana 

unpopular opinion uhhhhhhhh no idea. I don’t think a lot of people really gave Mary a chance

song i associate with them Dirty Imbicile by The Happy Fits

favorite picture of them The one everyone (read: 3 people) in a discord server used as their icon for a couple months because we all thought it was funny (and it was). It was cropped from a comic panel of Mary seeing Kardala for the first time which was drawn by @/ 1010lilfoot

no checking for typos we die like men

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Episode 1 Review, Part II: Jacques’ Vintage 1630s Wedding Party

I meant to post this on Halloween, but this post took much longer than expected and I was too tired from work yesterday to write. So happy belated Halloween to anyone who is reading this and I hope that you find it interesting.

In my review of Episode 1, I wrote that I wanted to analyze the flashback from the episode in a separate post “because, despite being only a minute and a half long, there is a lot to unpack and I want to critique the costumes in addition to analyzing the content.” I am publishing this a little later than I originally intended (as the first part of this review took longer than I expected to write), but I don’t think that anyone minds.

Unlike the more famous Gothic soap opera Dark Shadows, which ran extended flashback arcs that lasted months, the flashbacks on Strange Paradise all lasted only a scene each and were infrequent. Maljardin had only three (although Ian Martin had planned at least one more (spoilers)), and the first half of Desmond Hall had none. Desmond Hall Part II had a lot, but none of them were costumed if the screencap slideshows I’ve seen from them are any indication. (I haven’t seen any episodes from 131 onward yet save some short clips, because I don’t currently have access to them. I have, however, read the synopses of 131 through 160 on this website and 161 through 195 on this old Yahoo! Group and looked at all the screencaps I could find, so I’m at least familiar with what happens and what the characters look like in the final arc.)

So let’s look at the first flashback, shall we?

Flashback

The flashback opens at a ball on Maljardin at some point in the late 1680s, with Jacques drinking from a huge red goblet while cheesy fake harpsichord music plays in the background. “Zounds, mon cher Jacques des Mondes,” a man in a beard and very obvious wig teases, “you are a poor chevalier! You marry a young beauty like this, but stand off in a corner drinking by yourself. That’s damned unchivalrous!” (I was about to write, “He might have said ‘monsieur‘ and probably meant to, but the guy’s French pronunciation is so bad that he honestly could have said either one.” However, I just pulled up the script to this scene* and discovered that he does indeed say “mon cher.” So I was right the first time.)

Madame Huaco des Mondes and Bad Wig Guy.

“And unromantic,” Madame des Mondes (Patricia Collins) adds, fluttering the feather fan she is holding despite Jacques obviously not paying attention to her. According to Episode 6, her first name is Huaco and the original draft of the script that I linked to in the last paragraph indicates that she “might be an Inca princess.” (The first two Paperback Library novels confirm this. while the third mistakenly calls her an Aztec princess.) Presumably, this means that she is of Inca royal blood and would have been a princess had the Spanish not defeated the Inca Empire in 1572, more than a century earlier. Or, alternatively, it could mean that Chevalier of Worlds Jacques traveled back in time to marry her, perhaps using the des Mondes family’s magical clock that is mentioned in a later episode.** There is also the possibility of a critical research failure on the writer’s part, but I love this show in spite of all its glaring flaws and so I want to try to justify this blatant anachronism.

Jacques--who is still clearly uninterested--approaches her and kisses her hand. “You do me wrong, my pigeon,” he says, comparing her to the likes of Speckled Jim. “To question your husband’s devotion?”

The newlyweds. Huaco looks really pretty in this shot, and Jacques is dashing as always.

“How could I not, when my eyes see your eyes on every woman in the room?” I’m not sure who talks like this. Presumably it sounds more natural in Huaco’s mother tongue. Either way, this is the first indication that Jacques is a womanizer.

“To compare, my dove,” he responds insincerely. “Your loveliness. So far above theirs.”

“Is it then my turn to bed?” she asks, grinning widely in a questionable acting decision that pushes this flashback to David Wells levels of so-bad-it’s-goodness. How many women has he bedded already on what is presumably their wedding night? Or before, to her knowledge?

Jacques, however, has other ideas: “First, let me show you the cliff heights at sunset,” he says, leading her outside. “And then my undying love.” This is followed by Bad Wig Guy laughing about the bed being in the other direction (when Jacques clearly said that he was going to show her the cliffs first), then the close-up of his smouldering face from the last entry, which seems to imply that he at least was contemplating pushing her from the cliff. I, however, doubt that he pushed her that day, considering that Bad Wig Guy’s dialogue implies that he just got married and that this is his wedding ball, and, by the time of the next flashback, Huaco (who is still alive then) has given birth to Jacques’ heir.

Costumes

Ever since I watched this show for the first time, I have wanted to take the flashbacks from Episodes 1, 6, and 20 and give them the Frock Flicks treatment. I’ve even thought about requesting a real Frock Flicks review of the flashbacks, but I fear that they’d judge the show too harshly, especially given the complete absence of the late 17th-century full-bottomed wigs they love so much. I, on the other hand, find full-bottomed wigs ugly, so I don’t mind their absence. In fact, I don’t really mind the absence of anything even remotely resembling what a French nobleman like Jacques Eloi des Mondes would have actually worn in the 1680s, because I’m not fond of most men’s fashions from the Louis XIV period.*** (If you are fond of them, good for you! There’s nothing wrong with liking periwigs or anything else that was fashionable in the Louis XIV era; they’re just not my taste. I prefer men’s styles with no/more naturalistic wigs and a broad-shouldered/narrow-waisted silhouette.) Nevertheless, I shall try to review the costumes as objectively as possible--and I shall try to keep it brief, because the amount of time I have already spent writing about Episode 1 alone has gotten me seriously questioning my life choices.

In late 17th-century France, fashionable dress for men consisted of a long coat called the justaucorps which reached to around knee length, a vest of equal length underneath, silk stockings, a lace cravat tied at the throat (sometimes with a ribbon to hold it in place), and an enormous long, curled periwig which, from 1675 until the 1690s, increasingly featured curls piled high on the crown of the head. Judging by this series of engravings of Louis XIV, who set the fashions of the era, noblemen’s justaucorps cuffs were often huge with voluminous shirt sleeves underneath. If you want more images of real 1680s men’s fashion, see this gallery on Kipar.org or this category and its subcategories on Wikimedia Commons.

Obviously, this style bears little resemblance to the clothes that Jacques and Bad Wig Guy wear, which are clearly patterned after styles from their grandparents’ generation. They most closely resemble the clothing popular in France in the 1630s, particularly post-1633 when Cardinal Richelieu passed an edict outlawing excessive decoration. (Source: Tom Tierney, Jacobean and Early Bourbon Fashions, p. 31.) Compare their outfits to that of Henri II de Guise (the grandson of that Duc de Guise) or this unnamed courtier. Obviously, there are some differences, most notably the higher waistline and the sleeve openings on Jacques’ doublet being on the outside of the sleeves instead of the inner seams like they are in every painting I’ve seen from this era. Jacques also has a massive baldric (the belt over his shoulder, which noblemen of the era used to hold their swords) compared to the men in the period images linked to above. But the aesthetic overall is very 1630s-esque, and it may be that Jacques and his friends are into 1630s vintage. ;)

From Episode 20, carefully cropped to avoid spoilers. Jacques’ baldric is much wider and his waistline a few inches lower than that of Henri II de Guise or the courtier in the Bosse engraving. For some reason, he wears a baldric but not a sword, which is weird.

As for their hairstyles, they are not historically accurate. Jacques’ hairstyle is just a messier version of Jean Paul’s 1960s combover and not 17th century at all. Bad Wig Guy’s bad wig is about the right length for the 1620s (see here and here), but not curly enough. It goes without saying that neither one resembles a late 17th century periwig in the least. (Thank the Great Serpent! *makes wavy hand motions in air*)  Bad Wig Guy’s beard is a very early 17th century style that I associate with King Henri IV of France, who died in 1610. It is also very much not the aesthetic of the Louis XIV period, when most men either shaved or wore a small mustache.

The best screencap I could get of Huaco’s dress.

Huaco’s outfit also bears little resemblance to 1680s French women’s dresses. In that period, fashionable French noblewomen wore dresses called manteaux that were cut in one piece (as opposed to as a separate bodice and skirt) over petticoats and conical corsets designed to push up their breasts. Necklines were low-cut and did not have collars, in contrast to styles in the first half of the century. (Source) In the late 1670s, Louis XIV’s mistress the Duchesse de Fontanges invented the fontange, a style that consisted of curls piled on top of the forehead and topped with a distinctive ruffled headdress. Here is a good engraving showing the style. See also this gallery on Kipar.org and this one on WIkimedia Commons.

The most noticeable differences between Huaco’s dress and the actual fashions of 1689 are (1) the lace collar and (2) the separate bodice and skirt, with tabs on the bodice. Both of these are more characteristic of English styles from earlier in the century, particularly circa 1630-1640. Compare the screencap of her dress above to this 1632 painting of Queen Henrietta Maria of England and her daughter Mary’s dress in this 1640 portrait (no tabs, but otherwise very similar). Also, I don’t think that she is wearing a 17th-century-style corset underneath, because her torso is not a rigid conical shape and her breasts are in their natural position. So, in short, more vintage 1630s for Madame des Mondes.

Her hairstyle is...fascinating, to say the least. It appears to consist of a bouffant decorated with large faux pearls and white ribbons and/or strings of more faux pearls, with tight curls around her face, pigtails resting on her shoulders and some loose hair hanging from the back of the bouffant. The decoration may have been inspired by images of early fontange hairstyles like the one from 1682-83 in the center of the first row on this page, but it does not resemble the more common fontange look. While there are some examples of beehive-like hairstyles in 17th century paintings with a similar shape (take Anne of Denmark for example, or the Spanish lady in this Velázquez painting), they are from much earlier in the century and don’t involve pigtails. Her makeup is definitely 1960s and not even close to any authentic 17th-century European looks, which rarely used noticeable eye makeup.

The best view that I could get of her hairstyle.

I think that Huaco’s bouffant may have been intended to imitate a head shape created by artificial cranial deformation, which the Incas practiced at least until the Spanish outlawed the practice in 1585. (More evidence, perhaps, for my “Jacques traveled back in time to marry Huaco” theory?) Alternatively, she could just have a bouffant because the pilot was filmed in the 1960s and TV shows and movies back then tended to put bouffants on characters in inappropriate historical periods. But I like my theory better, so I’m sticking with it.

In conclusion, the costumes in the flashback are a loose hodgepodge of styles from the early to mid-17th century, with some elements that are not from the period such as Jacques’ and Huaco’s hairstyles and Huaco’s makeup. I’m not certain whether the costume designer knew or cared that the styles weren’t even remotely accurate to the 1680s. Even so, I am only slightly ashamed to admit that I prefer this loose adaptation of 1630s men’s fashion to the styles that Jacques would more likely have actually worn were he a real person in 1689.

With this post, I am done writing about Episode 1, save perhaps to post more screencaps. My post about Episode 2 should be up sometime next week.

Notes

* This link is part of a series of webpages comparing the original draft of the pilot script to the final screenplay for Episode 1. Bryan Gruszka, the author of StrangeParadise.net, has some interesting commentary about it.

** Episode 60, to be exact (which was written by Cornelius Crane). Why the writers never did anything with the magical clock idea is beyond me.

***Now I feel like a hypocrite for making fun of the men’s “Elizabethan” costumes on A Discovery of Witches on my other blog for the lack of ruffs and trunk hose, when I have less of a problem with the historically inaccurate costuming on Strange Paradise. (Still, there is a huge difference between a modern high-budget drama based on novels written by a professional historian and a low-budget soap from the 1960s hastily thrown together to compete with Dark Shadows. One expects historical accuracy from the former but not the latter.) While Colin Fox probably would have still looked cute in a full-bottomed wig and 1680s justaucorps, I prefer his vintage 1630s(-esque) outfit.

{ <-- Previous: Episode 1, Part I   ||   Next: Episode 2 --> }

[iamhereforthesmut]

Heart Shaped Crop (NSFW)

WARNINGS for soft femdom, wipping, bondage, breeding kink, dirty talking, edging, cock ring, oral, bad english (I’m french-canadian) and I’m probably forgetting a few other warnings but meh, if you follow me, you know I don’t write for kids!

BLUSHING EUGENE IS LOVE!

You watched Eugene smile slightly when he saw Gabriel meet with Rosita and Siddiq. You knew he was heartbroken, but you couldn’t help it: you were glad Rosita didn’t felt the same toward him. Of course she was one of his good “friends”… or at least Eugene considers her his friend, even if she treated him horribly a few years ago with the whole Negan stuff. She kinda makes it up for it, started smiling to him and let him talk even when nobody cares… well, except you.

You never get to really talk to him, you were far too shy for that. What were you going to say? “Hey, I really want to ride your face while you’re tied up to my bed, then ride your cock and make you moan my name, beg me to let you cum and maybe I could slap your chubby cheek and make you call me Madam?” No way in hell he’s ever going to let you approach him anymore if you tell him all about your femdom fantasies.

You recently found a red heart shaped crop into the house you raid with Alden, along with a few other bdsm items. You hid them into your sport bag, then brought then right back home, hiding under your bed. Some nights, you play with the crop, imagining Eugene writhe under the cold touch of the red leather as you would trail the crop across his thighs, up to his ass, than the little helpless yelp he would let out as you slap him hard, leaving a cute heart shaped red mark on his bottom.

You imagine him grinding the bed, his hands tied up, exposed and embarrassed to be so turned on by your teasing, trembling as he waits for the next slap. God, if he knew... Unfortunately, your imagination isn't satisfactory anymore: you need to actually see him tied to your bed, naked, helpless and begging for more after you had left numerous red little heart marks on his bottom, thick thighs and back. Then you would slowly kiss and lick each one of them, hearing the man moan as you would ran your tongue in a much more intimate place.

You turn red when you noticed Eugene staring at you with a frown, probably wondering why you were looking at him with that smile on your face.

"Are you fine, Y/N? I hope you’re not pregnant too…”

You look at him with round eyes.

“Does I look pregnant?”

Your tone was making him nervous, but he still dared to reply.

“Well… you’ve been acting strangely lately: less patient, more clingy and your moods changed a lot. You seems quite happy to see me back, but at the same time I could sense you were angry.”

Of course you became worried when you heard he was missing, angry at Rosita when she left him alone in that barn, happy he came back alive, but also angry after you overheard his confession to that bitch.

“I simply hope you know who the father is…”

Without even thinking twice, you slap him hard across the face. It was so hard, it resonate in the street and you could swear even Michonne had heard it in her reunion room.

Eugene looks at you in shock, holding his cheek, and you immediately felt bad about it. At the same time, you loved the red mark you left on his face. It kinda felt like marking your territory.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m not pregnant, Eugene. I don’t even have a boyfriend, you know it…”

"Apologises accepted," he said with his monotone voice and his face return to his usual emotionless state, "Rosita can punch harder than you."

You can't believe he compared you to Rosita. You start yelling at him and crying.

"Is that why you're always around her, trying to catch her attention? She treats you like shit when I've always been nice to you! I can't believe I felt in love with someone like you!"

Eugene stayed silent, frozen in shock. He stutters:

"I... I deeply apologise. I didn't knew you harbored such feelings toward me. Socials interactions are obviously not my strength. Is there something I can do to earn your forgiveness?"

Your anger left as quicky as it came.

"I can ask you anything?"

"Affirmative."

A few moments later, you got Eugene tied up to your bed, wriggling uncomfortably and testing his restrains, looking hella anxious while you pull out your box of s&m toys from under your bed.

"Y/N... I... I know I agree to do anything you want to prove I deeply apologise for my recent behavior... but it is really what you want? Because I must admit this is not what I imagine when you said you wanted to slap me and I don't really..."

His sentence end in a yelp when you hit him on his thick thigh with your crop.

"I'm not good with pain..." his voice was trembling and you felt like a wolf about to eat his little scared sheep.

"Don't worry, there will be more pleasure than pain, I promise..." you said as you let the crop slide slowly up your captive's body, lifting his shirt a bit before going down to tease the inside his thighs. You heard his breath become deeper.

"This is crossing so much boundaries... Are you sure about that? You know there will be no going back..."

You took place between Eugene's legs on the bed. You lick your lips and runs your hands on his body.

"You mean going back to ignoring I even exist?" You says while you slowly cup the growing bulge inside his cargo, looking at the light red tint coloring his cheeks.

He looks at you with a sad pouty face, knowing he had hurt you more than he previously thought, shaking from your exploration on his touch-starved body. Your heart melts. He's so damn cute when he's acting all shy. Still holding the crop, you let your fingers gently caress his blushing cheeks and you smile.

"I'm really curious to see what's the deepest shade of red I can make you turn..." you didn't let Eugene reply and lean down to kiss him. He lets out a soft whimper as your hand on his crotch became more insistent. When you part, his face was bright red and he could form a coherent sentence anymore, stuttering about relationship, friendship, his sexual experience (or lack thereof) and his tendency to traditional/vanilla preferences in porn.

"You can't know if you hate it before actually trying it, don't you?" was your reply as you put down his pants to his knees before pushing them up to his chest, exposing his soft bubble butt. You tied his legs up to the head of the bed with his hands, delighted to feel him trembling under you. Once you made sure he couldn’t get free, you sit back on your heels to take a look at your prey.

You couldn't help it but laugh.

"Preferences in vanilla porn? Really? Look at you..." you said as you slide your finger on his leaking cock. "Hard as steel and already leaking even if I barely touched you." You hit him softly in the butt with the crop. "Come on sweetie, why you just don't admit you like femdom?"

He gulps loudly, gathering his courage.

"I... I admit I like strong women. Leadership is something I admire in any person, men or women, but I don't feel any kind of masochist tendencies. The only reason why I'm currently hard is because of your interest in engaging sexual activity with me, which never happened to me before. I'm slave to my animalistic urges and my body is craving contact, so am I... perfectly disposed to satisfy you any way you see fit."

You smile before slapping him hard on the butt with the crop, earning a yelp.

"Then, let's see if I can make your ass as red as your face, shall we?"

As you continue to hit him harder and harder, listening to his whimpers and cries, it become clear he actually enjoyed it. His cock bounce and pulse with each smack, leaking like crazy and harder than ever.

You only stop when his ass was bright red, but not enough to draw blood. Eugene was shaking and repeating over and over again how sorry he was to compared you to Rosita and hurting your feelings. You look down into the box and pull out a tube of vitamin E ointment. You pour a generous amount on your hand and start soothing Eugene's red bottom.

"It's ok now, I forgive you sweetheart... you had been a good boy..."

He slowly calm down, letting out moans as your caressing hand fondles his butt. He gasps when he felt your wet fingers slide playfully between his cheeks, rubbing against his entrance. You felt him tense under your touch.

"Y/N..."

He pulls against his restrains and looks away, unable to maintain eyes contact as you slowly push a slick finger inside him.

"Relax... It'll feel good, I promise."

He closes in eyes shut as you start your exploration of his inside, knowing very well where to found that feel-good place. Eugene's reaction to your discovery was breathtaking. Eyes shot open, body arching, pushing his bottom against your hand, moaning like a little slut and precum rolling down his shaft… it was quite a sight.

"See? Told you it'll feel good."

You reach into the box again and pull out a cock ring with a vibrating butt plug. You replace your finger with the plug, then attach the cock ring around his length and let Eugene get used to it.

"Is it too tight? I must admit, you're bigger than average down there..."

Breathing hard and sweating, Eugene looks down between his shaking legs and you could swear he was about to cry.

"I can endure the whipping and prostate playing, but cock ring? Really? You're gonna make me beg for release, aren't you?"

You smile at him as you untie his legs.

"That wasn't my intention, but it's an interesting idea. Actually, I just want to make sure you won't cum too fast, considering your lack of sexual experience. Virgins are known to have a very low stamina, I consider myself lucky you didn't cum already."

You let him put down his legs as you removed your panty, then climb on top of him, letting your pussy rub against his length before going up, one knee on each side of his face. You lift your skirt and watch him blushes furiously at the realisation of what you expect from him.

"Come on now, be a good boy and lick me. You want me dripping wet for your dick, doesn't you?"

He can't stop looking at you in awe as you lower your cunt to his face.

"Oh dear Lord, thank you for this meal..."

You giggle at his words, but quickly your giggles turn into moans as you feel him lap hungrily at your lady parts. He was not exactly good at it and lack of know-how, but his enthusiasm make up for that. He was devouring you like the juiciest peach, making out with your cunt and occasionally, you felt the flick of his tongue brushes against your clit. Gripping the headboard, you rock your hips against his hungry plush mouth, muttering encouragements and tips to help him drive you toward your orgasm.

"Good boy, good boy... lick there again... gently... that's good... you can suck on it a bit... oh yea that's it..."

No matter how fast he learns to please you with his tongue, it wasn’t enough to make you cum and you quickly became desperate to claim his v-card, feel his hot pulsing length stretch you open.

You stand up to straddle his hips, rubbing your now drenched pussy against his swollen cock. You marvel at the sight of the veins now very apparent on his manhood: the cock ring work like magic, this is going to be fun. You turn on the vibrations on his butt plug and he groans in delight. Looking back at his face wet from your juice, you slowly sit down on his thick dick, moaning at the feeling of fullness.

It was difficult to control yourself: Eugene wouldn't stop trusting up. You can see in his clouded eyes he's not there anymore, he's far away into wonderland. You slap him across the face, hard, to bring him back to earth and calm him down. It has the opposite effect.

"Oh god slap me again, I'm a dirty, dirty bad boy..."

You sat in his hips to make him stop moving, moaning at the feeling of the vibrations and his hard cock buried deep inside you. Eugene was still writhing under you and you wonder if he was even conscious of the situation or if the only thing left was his animal instincts.

"I know it's hard but you have to stop grinding up so I can ride you properly."

He didn't seem to heard a single thing you said. You try to slap him again, but he stops your hand and you didn’t have time to wonder how he got free, Eugene throws you off the bed, on the ground, and pin you down. His mind didn’t seems to work anymore because he didn’t remove the cock ring before entering you again, holding your legs open wide. The way he fuck you was the definition of wild, and you loved it. You couldn’t close your legs or push him away as he ravages you, groaning like an animal.

"Oh you feel good... so good..."

Trusting deep inside your dripping wet cunt, Eugene couldn't stop moaning and calling your name, his warm shaking breathe tickling your ear. You felt your stomach tighten and moan as you clamp around his cock, cumming hard. The intensity of your orgasm make you shiver and your eyes widen when you notice Eugene wasn’t slowing down. He still has the cock ring, so he can’t cum. You try to push him away to free him, but he was by far stronger than you. Being fuck so relentlessly after you just cum make your mind goes blank and you start seeing stars.

"Eugene... please..."

His strong hands were griping your hips so hard you're sure it will leave marks.

"Oh yes... you like that don't you? Begging for my cock now?" He breathes out in his brawl, his warm breath tickling your ear.

"Your plump pussy feel so damn good, I've never been that hard in my life..." the rest of the sentence were just groans and some more obscenities you never knew Eugene could say.

“Isn’t what you wanted? For me to pound your lustfully soft pussy until you can’t take it anymore? That’s why you used a cock ring, isn’t? Dirty, dirty girl…”

You felt like coming again, but it goes on and on, leaving you breathless as Eugene's rock hard length continue to pound inside you. He was not stopping; even as you come down from your high, he doesn't even slow down. You clawed at his back.

"Eugene... please… the cock ring..."

You gasp when he pulls out and the cock ring was gone in no time, then he buried himself back in your wet heat with a deep moan. He continues to thrust in you relentlessly, his whole body pinning you to the ground as he ravages you to his heart content.

“I have a huge load for you… Oh God I’m going to fill you, naughty girl… Want me to stuff your plump pussy with cum, don’t you?”

You couldn’t get free, waiting for him to blow his load inside you, your legs wrapped around his waist and begging for his cum.

“Oh yes baby! Give it to me!”

You can’t believe you could have another orgasm, but there it is. As you felt him pulse inside you, filling you with his warm baby-batter, your cunt clamps around his incredibly hard and thick cock. You weren’t pregnant before, but now for sure you were carrying Eugene’s baby and you kind of expect it was intentional. Once Eugene catches his breath, he lifts up your legs to your chest and slowly pulls out, watching in awe as his cum roll down between your cheeks.

“Was it ok?”

“Ok? It was wonderful!” you praise him, still breathless.

“So… so you accept my apologies then? I never should have compared you to Rosita, and I’m also sorry for hurting your feelings. Be confident I won’t ever let that happened again… I love you.”

You sit up to kiss him.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

TAGS: @eugenessix @mortifilia @lucybellrocks @protecteugeneporter idk who else I should tag ?