#still the prettiest boy in blue lock even if he's sweaty

[choccorin]

[s-seishiro]

hi, how are you? i it's ok, can i please ask for some lapsitting hcs for bachira, nagi, chigiri and shidou? >_<

LAPSITTING w/ BLUE LOCK BOYS ft. bachira, nagi, chigiri & shidou

notes: sorry it took me soooo long to do this, I didn’t get notified of your request so I haven’t checked my inbox in a long time.

warnings: none, fluff, fem!reader

MEGURU BACHIRA!

He would probably be the most willing to do it!

For some reason I feel like he would be the one sitting on your lap at first. Like if he came back from a long practice, and he just plops down on your lap as soon as he sees you.

You guys would cuddle each other and you’d just hold him until he falls asleep.

I think Bachira would often love sleeping in your arms ;)

Other times you’d probably talk with him about how his practice went & funny things that happened. And after that you’d probably tell him to take a shower because he’s sweaty. 😭

If you were a manager for his soccer team, or maybe someone who helped blue lock behind the scenes, I think after a long day of work you would plop down on Bachira’s lap.

He’s freshly showered, hair still a bit damp—but he smells amazing!

The two of you just cuddle into one another and the sleep comes naturally.

SEISHIRO NAGI!

On the note of sleeping…Nagi would most likely be sleeping when you climb onto his lap.

Feeling your presence he would wake up.

“Hm…[Y/n] ?” Nagi’s groggy voice called out to you, as you snuggled closer to his neck.

“Mmh…I’m sleepy…”

You two were the same beings—two sleepyheads.

I headcannon that his lap is extremely soft and comfortable, like you would fall asleep easily whenever you lay on him.

He holds you closer as you wrap your hands around his neck, and the two of you drift to sleep.

HYOMA CHIGIRI!

For some reason I feel like Chigiri wouldn’t let you sit on his lap that easily 😔

He’ll always say, “My leg hurts a bit right now.”

But there are certain times when he wouldn’t really mind. Like when you do his makeup!

Sometimes you’d just appear in his room with your makeup bag in hand. He wants to make up for all the times he denied you from sitting on his lap.

You would have to sit on his lap to put the eyeliner right—because he keeps moving.

You frequently tell him, “close your eye like this so I can get this part right.”

Most of the time you just draw designs on his face—but this time you make black stars on his eye corner.

“My boyfriend is so pretty…” you say with a dreamy sigh, handing him a mirror so he can see himself.

As Chigiri looks at himself he suddenly hugs you closer, and you tumble down onto him.

“Only because my girlfriend is the prettiest.” He tells you, as the smile on your face grew.

RYUSEI SHIDOU!

Let me tell you right now, Shidou is a menace.

Immediately after you sit on his lap I feel like he’s make some sexual joke about it. 😭

Of course after threatening to get off, he would stop the teasing.

I feel like he would let you sit on his lap after practice, like when he’s all burnt out. Other times he may fight against it.

You would just plop onto his lap and he wouldn’t even have a comeback to it.

But once you do that—your not getting off.

He will HOLD you down, and I mean HOLD.

You would barely notice his hands creeping up your waist due to your excitement of finally sitting on his lap.

Once he hugs you closer to him, you’d be stuck there until he decides to let you out.

He’d pass out asleep so the only thing you can do is just cuddle into him and sleep with him.

[evafrechette]

It’s a Match

↠ yoongi x jimin | smut | hookup au | 18+ | 3.4K

↠ Summary: Loneliness can make you do questionable things. Like signing up to a dating app to suck the cock of a stranger.

↠ Warnings: deep throating, public blowjobs, cum sharing, kind of a social media au - but not, drunk Yoongi, flirting, masturbation, gagging.

Yoongi never thought he'd be desperate enough to download the app on his phone, but here he was at 11:37 on a Friday night, finger hovering over the install button.

"Ahhh fuck it.."

He clicked and watched as the app downloaded and installed on his phone. He never thought it would get to this point. He'd been single for years. Preferring his own company, he never found it necessary to date. People annoyed him, too loud, too intrusive, too manipulative. So he remained alone. But 4 years is a long time to be on your own and he was starting to grow tired of his own hand. Plus he'd watched evey fucking video there was on his favourite porn site a year ago. That should have been the sign he needed to get laid, but his dumb ass wallowed in misery for another 12 months and that's why he's here now, creating a profile in the hopes of getting fucked this weekend.

A frown formed on Yoongi's face, he had been scrolling through profiles for the last 30 minutes and hadn't matched with anyone. He knew it was because he was being incredibly picky, swiping left on nearly every single profile he'd come across. He wasn't gonna get his dick sucked carrying on like this. He swiped left on a profile of a man in his 40s - already starting to bald, arms wrapped around a girl half his age - when his eyes landed upon the profile of a young man.

Yoongi was intrigued. The man had the prettiest face Yoongi had ever seen, beautiful plush lips pulled into a seductive smile, with his blond bangs hanging over his eyes. Yoongi clicked to view the profile in full, Jimin - the beautiful man's name was Jimin. He used emojis in his profile, which made Yoongi let out a frustrated groan. He hated emojis, too childish. He continued to read the profile and decided that the two of them were too different and even though the man was beautiful he would swipe left, like he had been all night. Maybe it was an accident or maybe Yoongi's subconscious wanted those plush lips around his cock, because instead of swiping left he swiped right.

He put the phone down and got up to make a drink. He shouldn't have a coffee this late, but apparently he was living recklessly tonight. With the steaming hot drink in his hand he climbed back onto his bed. He took a sip of the dark hot liquid when he heard the ding of a notification. He cautiously leaned over and grabbed the phone, swiping away his lock screen. He could see that he had been notified of a match, so he quickly opened the app, curious as to which one of the very small pool of men he'd swiped right on that would like him back. Yoongi could feel his cheeks starting to heat up. He didn't expect to match with the blond with the lips to die for. Not only that, but the man had messaged him too.

Yoongi couldn't tell him the truth, he WAS going to swipe left, what the fuck happened with that anyway.

Yoongi choked on his coffee, Jimin looked like an angel, but an angel wouldn't talk that way. How the hell does he respond to that? Does he even want to respond to that? He placed his coffee on the side table and dragged his hand through his hair. If he didn't take this opportunity his blue balls would actually kill him. Well fuck, his response just made him sound like the world's most pathetic asshole.

Yoongi checked the time, it was quite early in the morning now. The coffee had helped wake him up, but the prospect of meeting with the cute man had him feeling even more awake than what was humanly possible. The two of them talked for the next few hours. Sharing stories of their worst dates, childhood pets, who was more powerful Superman or Ironman and their favourite songs. Yoongi finally said goodnight and put his phone on the charger. They had agreed to met at Jimin's favourite bar the 'Hit List' at 8pm that night. Seventeen hours for Yoongi to work himself up into a worried hot ass mess. Fucking great. And yet as he stared up at the ceiling a small smile broke out on his face.

Yoongi spent his Saturday doing everything he possibly could to distract himself from his date that evening. Was it a date? Do you call meeting some random off the internet to possibly fuck a date? He was too old for this shit. He rearranged his vinyl collection, read a decent chunk of his new book and practiced a few new songs on his guitar. Once the sky had turned a beautiful shade of orange and pink Yoongi knew he had to stop stalling and get his ass ready. He took an extra long shower, debating on whether to do some manscaping (since all the young kids do it these days) before deciding not to. He liked his bush, and if pretty boy wasn't a fan well tough shit for him.

He teamed his black and white shirt with a pair of black jeans ripped at the knee, a leather jacket and finished it off with a few pieces of jewellery. With one last look in the mirror Yoongi slid his phone and wallet into the pocket of his jeans and left his apartment. Just as he stepped into the lift his phone pinged. It was a message from Jimin.

*******************

Jimin is sitting at the bar when Yoongi arrives. He's deep in conversation with the bartender, so Yoongi stands by the entrance awkwardly looking around. It's a nice place, very quiet and intimate. It's dark, a few low hanging lights scattered around and tealight candles sitting in a whisky glass on each table. To his right is a large floor to ceiling window, surrounded by a mix match of old leather chairs. There is a faint smell of smoke in the air. Oddly this smell starts to calm Yoongi down, it reminds him of his grandfather. Okay, now he's nervous again. Thinking of his grandfather at a time like this?

"I'm a fucking mess." he mutters to himself as he walks over to the bar.

"Uhh sorry to interrupt, Jimin right?"

The blond turns his head and smiles, he is really more beautiful in real life Yoongi thinks to himself. He's wearing a black shirt with one too many buttons undone, his hair parted in the middle falling gracefully to each side framing his angelic looking face.

"Mmm that's right and you are?"

Um what?! Fuck, Yoongi knew he made a mistake by coming here. Ahh fuck, why did he have to make that stupid profile? He loved Amateur Bareback 3-Way #2, he could have easily watched it 100 more times.

"Relax cutie, I'm just playing, you should have seen your face," a giggle escaped from Jimin's lips. "Nice to meet you Yoongi." he stood up and extended his hand out to shake. Yoongi quickly wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and returned the handshake. Jimin's hand was engulfed in Yoongi's. He looked down and couldn't help but smile at the scene. Jimin's hands were so petite compared to his. It was a rather lovely sight.

"Order yourself a drink and we'll go sit over there." he pointed to the leather chairs Yoongi has been eyeing up earlier. He ordered an Irish Mule for himself and a Negroni for Jimin. He carried the drinks to the table, while Jimin followed closely behind. A little too close Yoongi thought. He could smell his perfume starting to mix with the smoke smell. It was a delicious combination.

The first half an hour was straight up torture for Yoongi. Even though the two of them had spent the night messaging each other it was different once he was sitting face to face with the most stunning man in all of Seoul. Yoongi avoided eye contact, mumbled and laughed dryly at Jimin's jokes. He was well and truly fucking this entire thing up.

Jimin huffed "You don't have to stick around you know, you can leave whenever you want."

Yep. He had fucked this up.

"Uhh it's not that," Yoongi starts to bite at his thumb nail "Jimin, I'm terrible at this. People stress me the fuck out, I haven't been laid in four years, I don't like leaving my apartment, you are lovely, fantastic even and that's making me even more nervous."

Jimin played with the hoop in his ear while looking directly at Yoongi, he tilted his head to the side "How can I help you relax? I thought we clicked last night?"

They did

"I'm sorry I make you nervous, I can't help it that I'm so cute." Yoongi finally looked into Jimin's eyes and they burst into laughter.

"It's not your fault. Fuck it, I need another drink . . or five that will help." he rolled his eyes before waking back to the bar.

With a few more drinks in him Yoongi was relaxed, he could feel the whiskey warming up his body. The heat in his stomach though, he was sure that was because of the attractive man sitting in front of him. The discomfort had finally vanished and instead a mellowness had fallen over the two.

"I've always liked older men." Jimin purred, his delicate small fingers, adorned with multiple silver rings, brushing against the now half empty glass.

"Aiisshh I'm only two years older than you!" Yoongi huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, but you act like you're nearly 60.” Jimin let out a hearty laugh, his eyes turning into crescents, cheeks plump and slightly pink. He slapped the table causing their glasses to shake. Yoongi quickly grabbed his to prevent it from spilling.

"It's not that funny." he didn't want to admit it, but the blond's laugh was hypnotic, he could watch Jimin laugh for hours and never tire of it.

Jimin straightened up, fingers now tracing the rim of the glass "I bet you don't fuck like an old man though."

Yoongi gulped and looked directly into Jimin's brown eyes, gone was the playful light, it was now replaced with desperate firey lust. He knew what the outcome of this date could be, and yet he was still nervous. He could feel his heart starting to race, his breath becoming faster. "Aaahh shit" Yoongi thought to himself as his left hand started to twitch, the blond's smell - a mix of orange blossom and patchouli was becoming overwhelming, he needed to calm down, he'd cum within seconds if he didn't get his shit under control.

"Heh, well I guess you'll find out later huh?"

Jimin reached over and ran his soft fingers over Yoongi's hand, playing with the bracelets that sat around his wrist.

"Why don't I find out now?"

Yoongi's friends love roasting him for his personality change when drunk. All of a sudden the quiet reserved man becomes giggly and loud. Cracking terrible jokes and singing at the top of his lungs. Sober Yoongi would never dare dream of taking a stranger to the bathroom to jerk off. Drunk Yoongi though? Try to stop him.

"Mmm Jiminshi are you sure?”

Jimin giggled at this "You are SO cute" he continued to draw his fingers over Yoongis hands "Of course I'm sure, do you wanna go back to mine? Or we could go to yours if you're more comfortable with that..."

Without thinking Yoongi stood, grabbed the blonds arm and pulled him up. They walked towards the exit, but before descending the stairs they took a left and made their way into the restroom. Once inside Yoongi pushed Jimin against the door and started kissing at his neck. "Fuck! Jimin, there is no way in hell I can wait to get back to my place, I need to feel you now." Yoongi whispered between kisses.

Yoongi leaned down and kissed his exposed chest, thank fuck Jimin had left those top buttons open. They had been torturing Yoongi all night long, but now he was thankful for it. Jimin's skin was so soft and it faintly smelled like cherry blossom lotion but he wanted more. He was desperate for more. Jimin ran his hands through Yoongi's hair and grabbed hard. Small moans escaped his lips, which drew Yoongi even crazier. He undid the buttons on his shirt and stood back. Jimin had the body of a god. Perfectly sculptured, with beautiful brown nipples begging to be sucked on. Who was Yoongi to deny god his wish?

Jimin let out a squeak when Yoongi ran his tongue over his nipples, hungrily licking and sucking at them. His right hand found it's way to the bulge in Jimin's pants and he pressed his palm down onto it. Jimin was now starting to get louder which made Yoongi smirk, he lightly nipped on Jimin's nipple before standing up and leaning in to sloppily kiss Jimin on those perfect, perfect lips, the taste of spice and bitterness still lingering.

"Uuuhhh Hyung, please touch me."

"That's what I'm doing Jimin."

"No you asshole, I want to feel you properly, get my fucking dick out." Yoongi stopped and looked at Jimin, slightly taken back by the tone of his voice. But he just smiled back - a wicked smile.

Yoongi got onto his knees and began undoing the zip of Jimin's pants. He pulled them down to his ankles, he then drew his hands up Jimin's legs, enjoying how smooth they were. He palmed Jimin's cock through his underwear eliciting a moan from the man above him. Yoongi pressed his face into Jimin's clothed cock. He took a deep breath, Jimin smelled wicked, his arousal mixed with body lotion was rousing. He alternated between sucking and licking on the cock trapped behind Calvin Klein underwear. He repeated this action a few more times before finally removing the now very damp briefs.

Jimin wasn't the biggest cock Yoongi had ever seen, but he was thick and absolutely smooth. He stroked his long fingers over his chiseled abs, along Jimin's length and then down to his balls which he cupped in his hand, massaging back and forth. He let go and brought his hand to his mouth, running his tongue over his entire palm. It was so fucking dirty and Jimin shuddered at the sight. He reached back up and gripped Jimin's cock in his now saliva covered hand. He drew his hand up and down at a frantic pace. He was too worked up to go any slower, but Jimin didn't seem to mind by the noises he was making. Oh shit, he was being too loud now. They'd get caught and thrown out or even worse the cops called.

"Shit Jimin, you need to be quiet or someone will hear us.”

“Mmm Yoongi I don't think I can cutie, why do you think I said we should get out of here."

Yoongi huffed and slowed his hand down. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jimin's briefs, so he picked them up, stood and shoved them in Jimin's mouth.

"That should shut you up.... Is that okay? I can take them out if you don't like it.”

Jimin shook his head and moaned around the underwear. His mouth was stretched open and drool already starting to pool at the corners. What a fucking beautiful thing to witness. Pleased with himself Yoongi got back on his knees and kissed the tip of Jimin's cock. His tongue played with the slit, circling it before he slowly kissed down each side of his shaft. He then licked the base to tip, never taking his eyes off Jimin's. They both looked so fucked already, pupils blown out, flushed cheeks and lips swollen from the rough kissing earlier.

He started pumping slowly, wanting to tease Jimin a little, the blond was impatient though and bucked his hips into Yoongi's fist, letting him know he wanted and desperately needed it faster. Yoongi let out a small chuckle and started to move his hand at a pace the gorgeous man would enjoy. Muffled moans of pleasure let Yoongi know he had found the magic speed. He continued like this for a few minutes before letting go and taking Jimin's cock in his mouth. Oh he tasted good - of course he did he was perfect in every way why would this be any different? Yoongi hollowed his cheeks as he bobbed up and down on Jimin's length, taking it deep before pulling up and letting go with a 'pop'.

He took hold of Jimin's cock and rubbed his lips all over the head, spreading precum all over his lips and chin. He felt like such a slut, but he was loving every moment of it. Yoongi closed his eyes and slowly buried Jimin's entire cock in his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He moaned around the feeling, this was what he had needed. To feel stuffed by a pretty cock attached to a pretty man. Jimin was squirming above him, his panting and moans muffled by the briefs in his mouth, but there was no doubt he was in ecstasy just like the cock starved brunette. Yoongi felt petite hands fist into his hair and start pulling and pushing trying to take some control of the situation, Yoongi slowed down and allowed Jimin to start fucking into his mouth.

With each of Jimin's thrusts his grunts became louder as he was getting closer to his orgasm. Jimin wasn't the only one getting close, after having practically become a born again virgin, Yoongi's head was dizzy with arousal and he wasn't sure how much longer he would last, his grip on Jimin's thighs tightening, bound to leave light marks the next morning. He closed his eyes and could feel the heat from his stomach rise throughout his body, his muscles tensing as he felt his release. The wet patch in Yoongi's pants made him feel absolutely filthy. He came just from sucking someone's cock? Before he had too much time to start mulling over how much of a slut he is, Jimin spills his load inside Yoongi's hot mouth. He thrusts hard a few times causing the cum to spill out of Yoongi's mouth and dribble down his chin, landing on the floor.

Jimin hisses as he slowly removes himself from Yoongi's mouth, he leans down and Yoongi yanks the underwear out of his mouth before smashing his lips against the blonds. He doesn't care that his mouth is still full of Jimin's cum, he tastes so good he wants him to experience the intoxicating taste too. When their lips part Jimin stands to put his softening cock away. Yoongi stands with him and looks around the room, avoiding eye contact.

"Umm thanks for that, that was .. uhh really good."

Jimin's bewitching smile returns "Yeah, that was amazing cutie can't say I've ever had my underwear shoved into my mouth though, but there is a first time for everything. Come here and I'll treat you good too."

"Well um, no it's okay. Honestly. I may have cum already." he sheepishly replies, still avoiding any damn eye contact.

A small "oh" left his pouty lips "well I'm glad I could have been of assistance."

The two stood awkwardly for a while before Jimin held Yoongi's hand and walked him over to the sink. He made the older man sit on the bench while he cleaned up all the mess he had made. Yoongi's heart couldn't stop beating. There was no need for Jimin to be so nice after what they had just done, but here he was doing something Yoongi actually felt was more intimate than painting the walls of his throat with his cum.

"Ah there ya go, now you can go back into the real world without anyone suspecting a thing.”

They walked outside together in silence, Yoongi had never had a hook up before. Do you crack jokes? Profess your love? Or just act like what happened never did? His mind was a million miles away when soft fingers were suddenly stroking his cheek.

"Please message me anytime you want to see each other again, and I'll be the one doing all the dirty work okay?"

This made Yoongi blush "Yeah okay. Thank you Jimin, truly I had a great night."

And it was the truth, he had so much fun he could relive the moment in his head for the next four years. Amateur Bareback 3-Way #2 wouldn't be needed when the memory of small hands, captivating moans and cum drizzling down his chin was enough to get him hard again. It had been less than 20 minutes. God dammit!

[interstellarflare]

Bend and Break || Homelander

-PART FIVE-

Warnings: Gore, violence, course language, angst.

Summary: People can only bend their morales so far before they break. Homelander is the world’s greatest superhero, and you, a tech analyst, somehow become entangled in his world when he learns that you provide intel to The Boys. He makes it his personal mission to find out exactly what you know, but he never expected such resistance from someone as damaged as you. But broken things can be mended, sometimes in the most unexpected ways possible.

Author’s Note: As a bit of a disclaimer, I have only seen snippets of The Boys. I haven’t actually watched all of it, so forgive me if there are some details that are wrong, as well as the many spelling errors that will undoubtedly be in this series. There is a tag list open for those who wish to be added. I apologise for the long chapters. Gif by @theseymourbirkhoff

|PART ONE| |PART TWO| |PART THREE| |PART FOUR|

���We’ve been at this for hours, and you still haven’t managed to break into Vought’s servers”.

“Well by all means, you are more than welcome to try and hack through dozens of impenetrable firewalls yourself...” You replied, bitterly, running your tongue over your bottom lip “or would you rather that I get through them undetected?’.

The two of you had been arguing for hours and hours, neither if you coming up with a solution. Max sat beside Noir on the couch, the two of them exchanging wordless and annoyed glances in relation to your constant bickering. Homelander groaned, rolling his eyes as his head fell back against the back of the armchair. “There has to be something you can do” He whined, folding his arms over his chest as he began to pout. You glared at the Supe before breathing deeply. There was no point in yelling and screaming at each other. You figured that the leader of The Seven was just as stressed as you were. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you grimaced as your headache began to worsen. “Maybe you’re right, there has to be something else I can do”.

You sighed heavily, trying to come up with a way to retrieve the intel you so desperately needed. You stood up from you seat at the dining table, stretching your legs as you paced about the living room. You bit your lip in deep thought, ignoring Homelander’s ever-watchful gaze as his eyes followed you about. You were completely stumped, clueless as to what to do. Then Homelander laughed. It wasn’t a laugh of amusement, oh no. It was a mocking laugh, one that made the Supe smirk evilly. A shiver ran down your spine, the hairs on your arms standing on end as you turned to face him. “What?” you asked slowly, not liking the way Homelander’s expression changed to a shit-eating grin. “If I’m correct...” he began, standing up from the couch with a small groan “it’s easier to obtain the intel we want from inside the building, right? It just so happens that Vought is holding a Gala to unveil a new...something, I wasn’t really paying attention to what. But the Gala is tomorrow night”. You nodded along to his words, taking in what he said without really listening. Then you caught his suggestive stare, and you froze. A Gala at Vought International...a Gala!?

“Oh no, fuck no!” You shouted, pointing accusingly towards the man in front of you “I’m not going to a stupid fucking Gala. Have you seen my closet? There is not one expensive thing in there!”

“Y/n, come on now...” Homelander cooed gently, recoiling sharply as you swatted his hands away “we need to work together on this-” “And when I get caught, what happens then? That is a stupid idea, we’re not doing it”. The room fell into a deadly silence as both you and Homelander stared each other down, neither of you wavering. But when Homelander’s serious glare suddenly contorted into a teasing smile, your eyes widened in horror. “The Gala starts at seven tomorrow night. I’ll send a car to pick you up at six”. Before you could process what had actually been said, Homelander bolted for the open window before you even had time to retrieve a plush black cushion from the couch. You chased after him, throwing the cushion out of the window and towards the Supe’s retreating form. You missed horribly, of course, as the cushion bounced into the overgrown vacant lot next door. “You’ve given me very little time to find a dress!” You shouted angrily, your knuckles turning white as your hands clenched the windowsill in fury. Homelander laughed obnoxiously, no doubt thankful for the safe distance between you as he replied “I’ll take care of that, don’t worry your pretty little head about anything”.

Gritting your teeth in frustration, with an annoyed growl escaping your lips, you slammed the window shut to hide the growing blush on your cheeks. Taking a long and exasperated breath, you turned around to face Max and Noir, your eyes widening slightly as you shamefully realised that you had forgotten that they were even there. “He still doesn’t know about about the accident, does he?” Max questioned, his eyebrow rising in emphasis. When you nodded your head slowly, Max scoffed. “He will never find out. Understood?”. Your nephew grumbled. Noir, confused and unsure how to respond, merely shrugged awkwardly.

You groaned loudly, storming into your room and slamming the door harshly.

When the dress arrived early the next morning, accompanied by a box of expensive high heels, you tossed both boxes onto the bed and refused to look at them. You didn’t want to know what horrific thing Homelander had chosen for you. You didn’t have the nerve to even enter your room until three in the afternoon.

The curiosity of knowing had been eating away at you for hours now, the nerves in your chest growing as you finally gave in. With two hours left until you were whisked away to the worst night of your life, you hesitantly entered your room and begrudgingly opened the box containing the dress.

The dress was beautiful.

You marvelled at the beaded lace bodice, running your fingers gently across the fabric fearing that it might tear at the slightest increase of pressure. The dress itself was a deep royal blue, a fraction off the same colour as Homelander’s suit you realised with an amused roll of your eyes. It was the prettiest thing you owned, by far. And the shoes, a spectacular glittering silver that matched your dress perfectly. You were left in awe. But the question now was, would they fit?

You ignored all of the negative thoughts as you entered your bathroom, beginning the tedious task of applying your make-up. You didn’t want it too heavy, but light enough so that you were bold and noticeable, but just another face in the crowd. You had to apply enough make-up to completely cover your dark circles, which had become prominent due to your prolonged experiment creating a device that would hack into Vought’s servers all last night. You chose a light smokey eye and bold deep red lips, a deep crimson, almost burgundy. Perhaps a little darker. You allowed your hair to fall in loose natural waves, to complete the look, leaving you with a few minutes to spare to put on the dress.

You felt sick to your stomach as you slipped through the gown over your form, not liking the way the fabric stretched and tugged. The shoes fit no problem, then you moved to the bathroom to see the final product...and your mouth fell open in a stunned gasp.

You looked absolutely gorgeous.

The dress fit perfectly, hugging all the right curves and all the right places. You hadn’t realised how revealing the dress actually was, entirely backless with the base of the lace bodice stopping at your lower back. It left you completely exposed. But you felt powerful, you felt incredible. 

There was a loud knock at your door, and you released a string of unladylike curses as you realised that the time was now six. Stuffing your newly invented device, disguised as a pager, into a black clutch before walking out into the hallway of the building, locking the door to your apartment behind you. You were met by a man in an expensive-looking tux, who motioned for you to quietly follow. The elevator seemed to move agonisingly slow as you couldn’t wait to reach the lobby floor.

The man led you out to an awaiting limousine, opening the door for you as you stood on the curb completely dumbfounded. ‘He’s really pulling out all the stops, isn’t he?’ you thought to yourself, nodding your thanks to the man as you clambered inside the limousine. Sooner than you thought, the limousine pulled away from the curb, and you were on your way. Your stomach backflipped with butterflies, and your palms became sweaty as countless thoughts raced through your mind. What if everything wen wrong? What if your little device couldn’t break into the servers? What if...this was a trap?

You were so consumed by your confusing thoughts, that you hadn’t realised that you had arrived at your destination. The door to your left flew open, allowing a chorus of excited cheers to flood the interior of the limousine. Your eyes widened as your (eye/colour) hues landed on the luxurious red carpet leading up to a horrific staircase that belonged to the architectural wonder that was the Town hall, lit up in the colours of red, white, and blue, with banners of The Seven illuminated by individual floodlights. For a brief second, you hesitated on staying the car. Away from prying eyes. But you forced yourself to move, out into the open, where you found yourself shying away from the flashing lights of photographers and the microphones of journalists.

You weaved your way through the crowd of famous celebrities, politicians and high-end government officials, smiling an awkward greeting if your if your gaze met their own. you had just reached the middle landing when you heard them, the ecstatic shouts of ‘there he is’ and ‘Homelander’ taking the crowd by storm. You turned, careful not to step on your dress as your gaze followed that of the crowd.

And there he was. The Homelander, The World’s Greatest Hero, descending from the sky and onto the red carpet below. The crowd loved him, they cheered for him. They loved him. A sad smile formed on your lips as you watched him indulge the crowd with glorious waves and Hollywood smiles, stopping to give the occasional  interview with the odd reporter here and there.

Whilst in the middle of talking to a blonde bombshell of a reporter, her hair a stark contrast to the blood red dress she wore, her lips a little too red for his liking, Homelander’s eyes wandered over the a-listers gathered here tonight...until his gaze met your own. He stopped short, his words catching in his throat as he stared up at you, two flights above him in dumbfounded awe.

You were breathtaking.

To him, you stood out amongst the crowd, and not just because you looked slightly out of place. You outshone many of the women here tonight, highlighted by the numerous flashes of cameras left right and centre. The dress complimented your figure well, and he felt his chest tighten in a rush of unfamiliar emotion. Not bothering to excuse himself from the infatuated reported beside him, Homelander scaled the next two flights to stop on the landing in front of you.

All eyes were on the two of you now, and you could feel them burning holes in your gorgeous dress. You swallowed thickly, timidly casting your gaze to the carpet below as you spoke teasingly “That was quite an entrance”. Homelander’s smile was genuine as he stared down at you brightly. “Anything for you...” he spoke quietly, quiet enough so only you could hear “shall we?”. With your heart leaping into your throat and a bright blush covering your cheeks, you nodded. Homelander ushered you up the remaining stairs, his hand resting on your lower back as he guided you through the crowd and inside.

“Town Hall? Bit of a weird place to hack Vought International from” You spoke lazily, to which Homelander laughed. “There is a direct line to HQ from here. It would be easier for you to get through here than there”.

You laughed bitterly, finding slight amusement in the situation. “Why am I not surprised?”.

Tag List: @lauraaan182​ @tardis-23 @freshmakertaco @shilsvampsinger @cynthianokamaria  @delicatetimetravelarcade @coloursunlimited @clean-soap @themarch-oftheblackqueen @soft-hargreeves @kennedywxlsh​

[bakatenshii]

Grapefruit

Oikawa Tooru x reader (haikyuu!!)

word count: 2.3k

TW: 18+, lemon, wattpad, crack

A/N: I’m so sorry. This is actually a joke, a parody, I promise, it’s written like this on purpose for the collab. Terrible (or lack entirely of) grammar, dialogue so cheesy I threw up multiple times in my mouth, too many specifications of shades of the colour pink. For @undermattsun’s whorehouse wattpad garbage fire collab. I’m so sorry.

grape·fruit

/ˈɡrāpˌfro͞ot/

In the world of fandom (check out fan fiction, fanfics, or fics), a grapefruit is a story which consists of sexual explicit themes in bizarre situations.

An orange-twinged pink, almost coral.

haikyuu series!! :3

disclaimer: haikyuu does NOT belong 2 me. Or else I would make XXXX go w/ XXXX ;)

༻✧༺

𝑝𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠

𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠

༻✧༺

“hurry up y/n!!!” - i remove my skullcandies out my ears, hearing my best friend sunnie(with an ie! not y!) shout to me from down the hall.

flipping my baby pink (NOT cotton candy pink! god there’s a difference, get it right. last week ash-lee with her stupid bleach blonde hair called it cotton candy pink and I wanted to kill her) hair behind my shoulder, i skipped down the lockers.

i was in my best outfit, checkered pink and white (bubblegum pink, this time) leg warmers with my matching pink + white skirt and white denim jacket with a pink butterfly bedazzled on the back. i saw paris hilton in it on her myspace too, so you could say im pretty trendy.

not like the other girls, like brittney (with her dark hair with a blue streak with a puppy shaped purse she swears is designer.) or ash-lee with her stupid ugly blonde hair that’s deffo fake. oh i already said that

anyways

it’s just an average tuesday morning, and i’m just your not-so-average girl. my name’s (y/n) (l/n) and im (age) years old. my best friends are sunnie, rachelle, and meeky. oh, and lindt, sometimes, when she’s not too busy with trying to save the world from global warming.

i’m on my way to p.e. which UGH is my least fav class, who even came up with it? but at least there’s the hottie oikawa tooru-sama in my class (ha! eat that ash-lee + brittney) and all the girls luuuuurv him. he’s soooo hot i bet he has abs

(brianna with the ugly hair who wears green shoes with red socks said she saw him change once and she totally saw his 8pack but she’s a liar so i dont believe her)

(even tho he tooootally has one)

i was on way just skipping down the hall to go to p.e. when someone crashes into me from behind.

‘-u-GH!’ i fall.

‘hey!!!!’ i turned around to yell at who’s bumping into me-

it was oikawa tooru-sama!! the most popular boy in school!!! i felt like i was in a dream i pinched my hand but... it hurts!!! this isn’t a dream!!! the oikawa tooru-sama just crashed into me!!! with his body!!! his shoulder touched me!!!!!

he turn and looks at me and... my heart stops. i think im dying omgomgomg

‘a-are you okay (y/n)-chan?’ he asks me and holds his hand out.

i cant believe it. the oikawa tooru-sama is giving me his hand to hold?!?! is this heaven???

‘i-i-‘ i stammer. i’m so shocked i swear my face is beat red. ‘i-i’m ok.’

i was too scared to hold his hands because mine were so sweaty from seeing him this upclose. i stand up and dust my knees because i want him to think i’m tough. that’s right. oikawa tooru-sama is a professional vball player! (v for volley-ball) he’s not going to like some dumb average weak normal crybaby girl.

‘ok. see ya in class!’ he smiles and waves at me before walking down the hall, shooting me his signature smile. the one that makes flowers bloom around him and glitters around his whole body.

h-how did he know? did he just say in class??? the oikawa tooru-sama knows who i am???

i take out my phone to frantically text my bffs (sunnie, rachelle, meeky and lindt) and see the group chat had some unread new messages. i click open it.

(beep)

𝚋𝚕@𝚑𝚔𝚞𝚐𝟶𝟶: omgzzzz i juss saw tsukki-sama xDDD

𝕣𝕒𝕖𝕖𝕖𝕖𝕩𝕠𝕩𝕠: STDU XDD wut wuzz he wearin?!? hes sooooo hawt oh em geez

tsukki-sama, aka tsukishima kei-sama, is the hot blondie in the other class’s vball team. rachelle and sunnie are sooo in love with him, but i don’t blame them. he’s soooo tall, taller than oikawa tooru-sama even. (but that doesn’t matter because oikawa tooru-sama has the prettiest smile in the world and no one’s seen tsukki-sama smile like... since he came outta the womb)

i quickly type out my txt because this is more important than what the blonde vball star is wearing.

(beep)

𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖗𝖇4𝖐4: guizzzzz guizzzz GUIZE!!!! GUEZZ WUT JUSS HAPPND!!

𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖗𝖇4𝖐4: u’ll nv beliv it!!!!! omGZZZZZ IM LAIK DYINN XDDDDDDD TT_TT

ｓｋ８ｅｒｇ１ｒｌ: omgawd wuuuut

ｓｋ８ｅｒｇ１ｒｌ: w8 kita-sama jus sk8dd by me i fink he haz a new b04rd!!!!! be are be

𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖗𝖇4𝖐4: uGGGHRRR MEEKY DIS IZ MOAR IMPOARTAN!!!!!!

before i have the chance to tell them about my fateful encounter with the oikawa tooru-sama someone snatches my phone away. i turn around, maybe it’s oikawa tooru-sama again?

UGH NO IT’S OUR STUPID BALD PRINCIPAL. now i’m in trouble.

‘no phones in the hall (y/n) (l/n)-san!’ he yells at me. his breath stinks, yuck.

he takes my phone and puts it in his pocket and i realize that he’s putting it in his pocket and taking it away.

‘b-but-‘ jimmy i protest. not my flip phone with my pink bedazzled hello kitty charm on the end!

‘no buts!!!! see you after lecture missy!!’

god, this is just like, the worst day ever.

༻✧༺

𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑏𝑦𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

𝑙𝑒𝑡’𝑠 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑑𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑

𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑛

𝑤𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

༻✧༺

p.e. is the same as always: im sitting on the side, not doing sports because girls like me can’t risk breaking my perfectly painted pink (hot pink, not baby pink) nail with diamonds on it. i tell my bffs about the encounter and they all agree that it’s deffo fate.

‘i know right??’ i giggle staring down at the man of my dreams, at his chocolate brown locks, thinking back at his dreamy brown orbs staring into my dark black ones offering me his hand.

‘you should totes ask him out!’ giggles sunnie.

‘oh em gee, never!!! that’s sooo embarrassing, he’s totally gonna say no!’ i said.

‘seriously, (y/n)-chan, what do you have to lose?’ rachelle said.

‘just like, my dignity and self respect.’ i reply sassily.

at that we three burst into laughter, and the fat p.e. prof turns and tells us shhhhhhh.

i love my friends.

i tell them about our bald principal taking my pink flip phone with the hello kitty charm on it away.

‘oh no!’ rachelle exclaimed.

‘what are you going to do?’ sunnie asked.

i shrug, feeling at a loss without it.

‘it’s like, seriously dangerous without a phone.’ the blonde said.

‘what if you get like, kidnapped or something?!’ the purplenette said, clasping her hand over her mouth in a show of shock. (ps. bluette vs. blunette?)

‘kidnapped?!?’ i laugh. ‘who’s gonna kidnap me?!!’ we all burst into laughter again, causing our p.e. prof (still fat and annoying) to shhh us again.

little did i know that the brunette vball star was staring up at me, plotting.

i had no idea what was about to come.

༻✧༺

𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦, 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎𝑦

𝑤𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒

𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑛’𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑠𝑎𝑦

𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑤𝑎𝑦

𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛, 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑒

𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒, 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

༻✧༺

when i open my eyes, my eyes are heavy, staring up at a bright light above my head. i squint my eyes because the light hurts my eyes.

‘well, well, well’ i hear a voice behind me. ‘(y/n)-himesama’s awake, i see.’

wait-

i know that voice-

that’s-

that’s the oikawa tooru-sama’s voice!

‘w-what?’ i stuttered, surprised but feeling a warm rush going down my body at the sound of his voice. ‘what’s going on?’

he chuckles. ‘can’t you tell?’

i look around and see my arms taped up behind me on a chair and my legs tied together by... something. rope maybe?

‘where am i?’ i ask, even more bewildered.

‘tsk tsk tsk, silly (y/n)-himesama. i’ve kidnapped you, my dear.’ he said. ‘we’re in my mansion right now’

my eyes pop out of their sockets. am i hearing him right?

‘no,’ he corrects himself. ‘we’re in our mansion.’

i can’t help but blush at that suggestion. our mansion?

that’s right, i must be crazy, i think to myself. this is all just a dream, i’m still in school, on the bleachers with my bffs and i fell asleep in our class.

‘this isn’t a dream, darling’ he singsongs, and i feel more warmth flood downwards. god what is wrong with me? turned on in this situation? but can you blame me? who wouldn’t get turned on when the oikawa tooru-sama is standing in front (or behind) them and calling them ‘darling’?

‘w-what- h-h-how?’ i ask him. ‘i was just at school, staring at you play vball in the gym- i mean n-not staring at you- and-‘

he chuckles darkly.

‘i know you were, (y/n)-himesama. that’s why i kidnapped you, because you’re so cute.’

i blush at his words. m-me? cute??? did the oikawa tooru just call me cute?

i suddenly remember what rachelle and sunnie said in p.e. today about being kidnapped, and shudder. god, h-her mind! they’re totally gonna tell me i told you so! when i tell them.

‘b-but, h-how?’ i bit my lip looking at him beneath my lashes, or however anastasia steele did it in too many shades of grey. (it wasn’t actually that bad, but ill never admit it. it’s sorta kinda hot. also pantone says theres only like 37 diff shades so.)

‘i saw you with your friends, and i served a ball at your head knocking you out.’ he explained. suddenly i feel a pang on my head reinforcing what he’s saying.

‘ow...’ i say quietly.

the brunette man built like a god walks into my frame of vision for the first time after waking up and i notice he’s shirtless, all 8pack exposed for me to look at.

(i guess brianna was right, but she’s still a liar that wears green shoes with red socks.)

he comes up to me and kneels in front of me until he’s kneeling in front of me. he carresses my cheek with his hand (the same one he reached out to me earlier that day, pre-kidnapping) and i sigh.

if this is a dream never wake me up. i think to myself.

‘wh-‘ before i can get the words out asking him why me?, he presses a finger to my lips, shushing me.

he looks at me with his brown chocolate orbs, and i get lost in them, counting the stars and constellations in those glowing beautiful orbs that i never thought i could look at so up close. (except in photos i secretly took)

‘i love you, (y/n) (l/n)’ he says.

i fainted.

༻✧༺

𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠

𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒

𝑤𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑟𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑢𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

༻✧༺

i wake up (for the second time that day, god what is up with today?), my eyes still heavy.

‘good morning, darling,’ i hear a voice say, and suddenly i remember everything that’s transpired so far.

(for reference: i crashed into the oikawa tooru-sama this morning, had my phone taken away, and now kidnapped by none other than the oikawa tooru-sama, now in his- no, our mansion.)

‘o-oikawa tooru-sama?’ i stutter out weakly, still groggy.

‘just tooru, my hime-sama.’ he says and i feel my body heating up again.

suddenly, i’m filled with an overwhelming emotion, and the worlds spill out before i can stop them.

‘i love you, t-tooru.’ i stutter on the foreign name, biting my lips (for good measure).

he looks at me, chocolate orbs piercing right into my super dark black pupils, and he starts to cry. i cry too, because he just looks so beautiful, even when he’s crying.

he holds me in his arm and i nuzzle my nose into his neck, smelling his deep chocolatey velvety sweet minty musky scent. he smells so good i could just stay here forever, bathing in the chocolatey velvety sweet minty musk.

‘u-um...’ i start, and he nuzzles his face into my neck some more. i can feel his wet tears on my shoulder... is he still crying??

i try again. ‘u-ummmm...’

he finally looks up at me and i peer into his deep chocolate orbs, feeling him stare intently into my dark block orbs. i wiggle my arms to show him i want him to release them, because if you remember they’re still taped up by like, tape or rope or whatever.

‘o-oh!’ he exclaims and unties them.

i don’t know what came over me but suddenly we’re kissing, our tongues are battling for dominance within our hot wet cavernous mouths, and it’s soooo hot.

he grips my legs and spreads them apart, tongues still fighting a mighty battle, and i see him take out his big massive rock hard member in his hands.

i wrap my legs around him, thankful for the pink (bubblegum pink) and white checkered skirt im wearing today for easy access, and he pushes his hot shaft into my core. i can feel his member in my wet gushy wushy pussy and it feels so good i came.

he cums too.

‘w-will you marry me?’ he looks up at me, his member still inside. i feel tears brimming in my eyes again as I nod.

‘i do.’

༻✧༺

𝑤𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑠

𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑒’𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔

𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑜 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒

a/n: ta-dah!! the end!!! tankzz 4 readin guyzzzz lawl im thinking of making dis a series so... ;))) tell me who u wana be kidnapped by next! xD

a/n #2: speshull tankz 2 uwucatgirlprincess99 4 da line (u kno da one ;))) + sk8erg0rl666 4 havin me in da collab! + also cummin up wiv da title!! lawlzz rawr x)))

a/n #3: OH WOW . erhm. Longest chappy thing ive written. Hope you liked it. so uhm. ENJOY ! [btw, I'm considering doing the NEXT CHAP; sneak peek thing. Should I? :3 Comment?] plz R&R!! :]]] kudoz 4 u <333

p.s. da colour i used 4 da lyriczzz is fuschia pink! :3

p.p.s. comment below if u reconize dee song!! ur a kool kat if u do ;))

[prettynxsty]

Again

Sub!Kevin x Domme!Reader

Contains: futa/girlcock, mentions/use of alcohol, pwp, squirting, Kevin has a pussy, fingering.

Summary: You and Kevin have a slightly established relation to the effect of being friends. Both of you are drunk and have filthy sex. There’s hardly any plot this time, sorry lmfao.

AN: :))))) here is some sub!Kevin, bc there’s not enough. And one good niche fanfic for the children, be fed.

You have a plastic cup in your hand, swirling with something mixed with soda. Kevin, he's swaying in a small crowd of his friends, wearing the smallest fucking shorts and a cropped hoodie with a shirt underneath. So naturally, you slide your way through and down the last few sips of your drink before tossing the cup onto a nearby table. You slip your hands around his waist and press against him in a slight hug, following his rhythm. He glances back and quirks a small smile.

You didn't realize that he could completely feel your dick against him until he rolls his hips and presses back against you. Your hands slip over his lower belly and glide firmly down his thighs before dancing back up to grip his hips. You danced with him until the song tapered down. As you began to pull away, he turned to face you and wrapped his arms around your neck.

You didn't completely want to leave either, so you settled your hands back on his hips and nudged your knee between his thighs. He does the same and grinds forward over your thigh. A chill climbs your spine as his thigh scrubs over your bulge. You kept on back and forth like that through the next song.

You look up at him, seeing no reason to hold yourself back and lean into his mouth. You can taste the artificial sweeteners of a hard lemonade when you kiss him. He opened his mouth for more, but you suckled his bottom lip between your own and bit it before pulling away. Leaning toward his ear, you whispered for him to find you later and you’d bring him back to your place.

You sauntered away to your friends, hanging and dancing with them for a while before plopping yourself onto a vacant couch. You were getting a little sweaty anyway. After a while, you were getting ready to push yourself off of the linen cushion and try to find him, but he seemed to know where you’d be already. He had a stupid little bounce in his step, a little wobbly from toeing the line of blackout drunk. His phone was clutched in his fist as he straddled your lap and sat straight down.

"Missed you.."

He slurred off the rest of his sentence, cupping your cheeks and giving you a wet kiss. The vodka punch tasted a lot better on his tongue than the lemonade from earlier. He makes a breathy noise when your teeth scrape his fat little tongue.

You were still at a party, and you were both clearly ready to get out of there. But there was nothing wrong with sampling the food. Your lips part with a wet smack and you kissed along the corner of his mouth, stopping to suck a hickey on the underside of his jaw. Things were getting a bit more dangerous. You slid my hand up his stomach and locked it firmly around the base of his throat.

He was so stupid when he was drunk. He was probably trying to text Jacob and let them know that you were leaving together. But it shouldn't have been a surprise that he'd slipped to his camera and pressed record. His mouth fell open as you squeezed the sides of his throat, pressing wet kisses along the column.

"Mnh, kiss me again," he whispered. 

His eyes fluttered shut as you moved your head from his throat and back up to his mouth. He loses himself in the way you thrust your tongue in between his lips, his thumb brushing over the button to stop the recording as he falls into you.

The noise of the party re-enters your ears and reminds you that you wanted to take him back to your apartment. He makes a whiny noise when you stop kissing him, bottom lip swollen, puffing out in a pout.

"Come on, let's go back to mine."

.

Back in your apartment, his steps are a little shier, as if he hadn't visited plenty of times before. His fingers curl a little tighter against yours as you nudge the door shut with your foot before toeing off your shoes. In the sanctuary of your room, you blinked blearily.

"Get naked for me, baby."

You unlocked your phone with your thumbprint, connecting to the speaker beside your bed. In no way were you all the way gone, but reading wasn't as easy as it was when you were sober. You flicked upward until you settled on a playlist and set your phone on the side table.

You stopped in the middle of yanking down your underwear, seeing just how wet he'd gotten. It was just enough to make the smallest damp spot through the tiny slivers of blue silk hugging his cunt.

You let your garments pool at your ankles, kicking them against the pile of clothes you created. You shuffle over and plop down on the side of your bed, thighs spread. Kevin seemed to have some intentions in mind, slipping off of the mattress and onto his knees between your thighs. He didn't have to ask you to touch it, because he knew you’d love how he worked it. 

"So fucking big.." He marveled.

Wrapping his cool fingers around the base. His tongue lolls over his bottom lip as he gently slaps the head against the center of his tongue. He stopped to swallow, parting his lips and cramming part of your dick into his mouth.

His mouth goes from wet to sticky and slippery as he bobs his head up and down. He jacks off what he can't reach, lips kissing the top of his knuckles as he swallows down. You hissed, resting a hand on the back of his head, twirling your fingers through his little black locks.

Kevin makes a small noise in the back of his throat, he swallowed just a little too much and lurched forward. He didn't seem very phased by it, because he just kept going. As much as you enjoyed watching the game, you really liked to play. You pressed down on the back of his head just a bit and he seemed to understand, shifting his hands to rest on your bare thighs. Steadily you pushed him down, you could feel his drool leaking down your shaft.

Your toes curled and your chest rumbled with a groan. Your knuckles tighten in his hair, yanking him back with a smirk. He panted noisily through his nose, tongue darting out and sweeping across his lips.

"You're such a fucking pretty boy." Your hand drifts from his head, cupping his chin and thumbing apart his lips.

"Open." You command.

You spit in his mouth, chest bouncing with a laugh.

"Get up on the bed, lemme see your pussy."

His eyes widened, swallowing as he shakily rose from his haunches to climb up on the bed. You reach out a hand and grab his, steadying him as he climbs up.

He rolls onto his back, propped up against your pillows with his thighs spread. Had he gotten this wet from you using him?

“I want you to cum over and over again.”

Kevin was already in such a daze, sleeping with the person he’s been in love with for so long. God, he was already so drunk. No one had ever made him feel this hot. All of the boyfriends, girlfriends, and hookups just used him and kicked him out.

It’d make sense that you’d be better than all of them combined..

You crawled between his thighs, resting your hands on the softer flesh as you leaned up to kiss him before descending.

Meal time.

You spat at his mound, watching a shiver travel its way up his body as your saliva drips down his puffy labia. You hummed, leaning in and scrub your tongue against the swollen pink lip. You sucked it between your lips, gently tonguing it.

You slip your fingers into your mouth, lathering them. He whines pitifully as you drag your fingers over his slit, nudging apart his inner pink to slip your fingers in. His voice shakes as you work your index and middle into him. You flick your tongue around the hood of his clit, resting the heel of your palm against his skin.

You dug in deeply, curling your fingers upward. His voice rises in pitch, hips squirming.

You pull your fingers out to the second knuckle before pushing them back in with a wet sound, digging in and out before suddenly increasing in speed.

His drawn out moans break into short cries through his noisy panting. His pale muff rosied as your palm slapped against it.

He could never get quite used to the rhythm because you changed it so often. He clenches his teeth, tensing his core as he thrashed his head against your pillows.

“Fuck- oh fuck! F- uckfuckfuck!” He squealed, his inner thighs trembled against your wrist. You shift your free hand, gripping the upper portion of his left thigh and pin it down.

“Oh my god, unh!” The Weeknd’s crooning voice leaks under the door, the melody rattled the walls enough to keep your neighbors blissfully unaware.

-

I put you on top.

-

“I’m gonna fuckin’-!” He threw his head back, back arching in the prettiest curve. You couldn’t have mistaken the wet noise and warmth coating your fingers. You carry him through it, jerking your fingers in and out even though your wrist began to ache.

-

So call out my name.

-

Droplets splatter as you plunged in and out of him, slowing your pace as he tried to squirm away. You slid your fingers up the length of his folds, smearing his cum over the crook of his inner thigh. Just about a teaspoon of his milk, spurting over his hole and running down the backs of his thighs down to his ass.

“I’m not done, I wanna make you cum again.”

He looks up at you rising onto your knees with amazement in his eyes, glittering with the kiss of almost-tears.

You prop the crooks of his knees over your hips, scooting forward as you pumped your cock in 

your hand.

-

I want you to stay.

-

You tilt your head down, carefully spitting onto your shaft and massage in a few globules. For his sake, you reconsidered for a second, releasing your cock and letting it plop onto his cunt. Reaching forward, you stabilized yourself with a single hand on the headboard as you leaned forward to dig in your side table.

You pop the cap with your thumb, leaning back and squirt a generous amount over your dick and a small puddle on top of Kevin’s cunt. Clicking it closed, you tossed the tube back into the drawer and nudged it shut.

Resting back on your calves, you spread the lube over your shaft down to your very base. With care, you swept your fingers through the small pool dribbling over his blood swollen lips and spread it around.

-

When I- Kiss you- So gently-.

-

He watches you with a reverence, nudging apart his lips with your cock before slipping it past the mess he’d already made.

He breathes in deeply, your dick was quite a bit thicker than your fingers. You leaned down, propping yourself up on your elbows and pressed a kiss to his mouth. You swallowed his heavy breaths, just pressing your lips to his over and over again.

He could feel the tingling in his hamstrings from being folded forward like this. You rebound slowly after bottoming out, pressing in even deeper than you’d reached before.

You jumped quickly from moving slowly to reaching a moderate pace once he seemed a bit more accommodated. It didn’t hurt him, but the stretch felt so overwhelming.

“More,” he moans foolishly, kissing your upper lip.

You’d give him exactly what he needed, because you needed the same. You reared your hips back, pounding into him. Your thighs clapped against the back of his, and he was too far gone to return your kisses.

You felt his thighs shaking, his socked feet flopped uselessly in the air as you used him. He could only gasp noisily, his exhales are slutty keens.

“Oh fuck, you like it when I use you like this?” You panted, pressing wet kisses below his ear.

“U-h uh!” He babbled, throwing his arms around your neck and pulling you closer to him.

“Unh! F- uck! Again! Again, again, again!” He squeals, biting down on his bottom lip before falling into a noiseless moan.

You growled, clenching your teeth as he spasms and clenches around you. He was even more fucking wet and slippery, you were so fucking close.

You couldn’t control the animal inside of you, wrapping your arms around him before hammering in. Kevin’s cries were almost loud enough to rival the music as you abused his cunt, fucking his cum back into him.

You couldn’t take it anymore, it was a voice, just barely a whisper in the back of your mind to remind you that you couldn’t breed him yet. You growled something inhuman, ugly, freeing your dick from his cunt and hump against it like a dog.

Your voice loses its bass, shaking as viscous droplets and ropes splatter over his stomach, jumping with each deep breath.

You peel apart your eyes, he just simply watched you. Worshipful. He moves his hand to the back of your head, pulling you in to peck your mouth as you slumped against him.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

a redo or sequal to my previous ask where the prince isnt arrogant or an asshole and the knight never rejects him?

I apologize for not realizing that you wanted the prince to be humble and that the knight wasn't suppose to regect him. I just did not pick up on that when you messaged me about the story, so I am sorry.

However, I am not redoing the story because I spent a couple hours on it and put some effort into it and also I have a plan to "redeem" him from his arrogant qualities.

And finally to the anon who I know is not an anon. Yes, I know who you are just by how you asked for it. Correct me if I'm wrong.

@chicken0mcnugget I am including some of those oh so wonderful plot twists we thought of, so please make time in your day to read this (if you can of course, i know you're busy).

Anyway, enjoy.

Oh yeah, not edited. Sorry, I want to try to write at least half of another ask tonight.

The Knight and the Prince Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: aftermath of rejection, ambush, arguing, kidnapping, kicked by horse, implied broken hand, magic

~

A shocked chorus of gasps followed the knight's unexpected rejection, but perhaps the loudest astonished voice came from the cracked throat of the prince.

"What?!" He exclaimed, gasping slightly. Or was that due to the fact that he was trying not to cry?

"Yeah," the knight crossed her arms, leaning her weight to one leg. "You heard me. No."

"You'll be arrested for this," the prince threatened, standing up. His face was a pure mixture of anger and loathing, blue hair dangled into his gray eyes.

"Great way to foster a relationship," the knight clapped her hands mockingly.

"Just wait until he get home," the prince growled before turning around to receive his uneasy praise.

After the unruly clapping was done, the prince was given a wreath made of flowers and grapevine. He took them greatfully, a small smile on his face, completely devoid of any emotion- sadness, embarrassment... just pure nothingness other than faux euphoria.

"Thank you! Thank you, for the kindness and acceptance you have shown me King of Neighboring Kingdom and to you, my worthy opponents. It has been a pleasure, but I must return to my kingdom. Good day!" The prince waved to the crowed, trotting leisurely on his horse.

"Why must you go?" A loud voice boomed for the King of Neighboring Kingdom stood up in his seat. "Dine with us! Make yourself comfortable, Champion."

"I'm afraid not," the prince politely turned down the offer. "I apologize for such a short stay, but I must head to my home kingdom."

The prince smiled broadly at the crowd before turning his horse. The smile immediately turned into a sneer the second his charcoal colored irises met the blonde knight's fair face.

The two stared long and deep at each other with such intensity and notion that neither noticed, nor heard, their neighboring king whisper to his nearby captain:

"Get the bag of jewels in the knight's saddlebag and then bring me them along with knight herself. Let this be a lesson to them, no one declines my offer of hospitality, absolutely no one."

The king cleared his throat before continuing,

"Not even the grandest and strongest prince of the century."

《~~》

The duo walked their horses through the forest in silence for a while, until they came upon the welcoming village where they stayed a couple nights before.

"You can't just regect your future king, my knight," the prince scolded, taking on a teacher's mannerism.

The knight didn't respond. Actually, she clucked her horse forward until she was a good few strides ahead.

"Knight ta-"

"Why would I marry someone who only cares about his wife being the prettiest, strongest-"

"No, no, no," the prince shook his head. "That, that's not it whatsoever."

"Then why do you want to marry me. Give me a reason, right now."

"Because I love you."

The knight turned her chestnut mare around, throwing her arms up in the air, and glaring daggers at the prince. "I am," she said. "your bodyguard. We've never went on a date, or even talked about anything other than business. How can you love me when you don't even know who I am?"

"Knight, I-"

"Just stop, Prince," the knight shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "Just stop, please."

The knight turned her horse back around and asked for a trot.

"Knight!" Called a voice, but the knight ignored the prince's pleas of return.

"Go on a date with me. Right here, right now."

The knight pulled back on the reins, and once again turned the mare around- the mare who had her ears pinned in annoyance.

"Now?" The knight scoffed.

"Yes, now," the prince gave her a flirtatious smile, white and wide. "Please?"

"Mm I-"

An arrow whizzed past the knight's shoulder- obviously trying to miss. The knight quickly drew her own bow and loaded it while the prince got ready with his sword.

"Ambush," the prince whispered earnestly. The knight nodded.

Another arrow flew past the pair, nicking the chestnut Arab's shoulder. The horse spooked, jumping into the stallion. The knight looked down an the wound, not too big and wouldn't require immediate attention.

Then, the raining arrows ceased, leaving the forest in stunned silence. The prince started to lower his sword- an ignorant move- but the knight kept her bow loaded and ready.

Abruptly, a figure crashed into the prince, knocking him off horse who reared in surprise. The knight wheeled her horse around with just her seat, the Arab mare picking up on the danger.

On top of the prince laid a human, a man of burly weight and heavy iron metal. The knight released an arrow, but it bounced harmlessly off his back.

Before the knight had a chance to grab another arrow, arms grappled around her pulling her off the horse.

"Let the prince go!" One of the men holding the knight bellowed. The man reclining on top of the prince chuckled and said,

"Why? He is plushy, like a chair, with all that fat-"

"GET OFF!"

"Okay, okay," the muscular man hopped off and helped the prince to his feet. "Hope that won't bruise," he whispered, ruffling the blue hair on top of the prince's head, laughed once more, and joined his patrol.

Two men held the knight in between their hefty steeds- shires, no doubt, and not the knight's favorite breed.

"Let her go," the prince reached for his sword, but it was quickly kicked away.

"Get the jewels," the man with the booming voice ordered. Two skinny, probably teenaged, boys ran to the chestnut mare and grabbed her reins. The knight watched as her horse reared and striked one of the boys in the hand, who came back hollering, but the other was able to open the saddlebag and retrieve the jewels.

"Perfect." The loud man wrapped the knight's hands with rope and swung her over the chestnut mare's back, tying her wirsts to her ankles.

"Let her go!"

"Let me go!" The knight struggled and struggled, but failed to rip through the ropes. The prince ran towards his love with madness in his eyes, but a swift backhand sent him sprawling to the ground.

"Let's get!" And they all ran off.

《~~》

"Why I am here?" The knight asked as she lazily knelt in front of the king, her hands still bound in front of her. Her demeanor was let's say disappointing to the king. He expected fight and courage, not the saddened girl practically sitting on his red carpet.

"I hate people refusing me," the king quickly explained. "And your prince, well, beating my son just not win a trophy and a one way ticket out of my kingdom. Mm, mm, mm no it does not. So, you, will have to pay."

"Love the monologue sir, but we have an army and in case you didn't realize, the prince kind of is in love with me," the knight retorted, some of her previous energy and smartness returning to her voice and posture.

"Now, now, don't need to get like that;" the king chuckled. "He won't be able to find you. Guards! Take her to the Enchanted Cabin and have the sorcereress put a spell on. Whichever one she deems appropriate."

《~~》

The prince recovered from the blow, groaning as he got to all fours. Squinting through his still muddled vision, he made out his black horse grazing a few feet away. At least he has the heart to stand by me...

The knight.

The prince rushed to the horse and leaped into the saddle- which was horribly ruined for good measure, apparently- and galloped off. He recognized the colors.

Green and pink- the colors of Neighboring Kingdom.

The prince, for once realizing the lack of speed his horse was granted with, pushed him forward. By the time they were on the edge of the territory, the horse was dripping with sweaty lather.

The prince busted through the doors of the castle with his boot, sword clanking against leather chap, as he stormed over to the old man in the throne.

"Where is the knight? Where is she!"

"Locked away in an enchanted cabin. Why, may I ask? Being in there with all the pleasures in the world is most definitely more enjoyable than living the rest of her life with your royal jackass," the king tutted. The prince scowled and ran back out the door, desperation getting to him.

《~~》

Like King of Neighboring Kingdom told the lovestruck prince, the elegant lady was stuck in a world of earthly pleasures- food all over from storage in the walls, sugar off the ceiling. The backroom was expandable as well, leading into a meadow filled with dainty foals and grand stallions.

But the knight, amidst these treasures, was not blissfully exultat like the sorcereress imagined.

"Need anything else, dear. A kitten?" The sorcereress waved her hand and three mewling balls of fur sprouted from her hand.

"I shouldn't have said no, I shouldn't have," the knight whimpered, chastising herself for her arrogance. If she said yes, she wouldn't be lolling in self-pity and would probably find a way to break out.

"You can always say yes," the sorceress tried to reason. She suddenly glanced out the only window and a faint smile appeared on her face. "You will get your chance again," she promised, flicked her fingers, and vanished into thin air.

The knight looked out the window, curious to see what the sorcereress found so interesting, and nearly exclaimed in joy.

The prince, coming to save her.

"Knight!" He yelled.

"Prince!" She squealed back, jumping on her toes.

She reached her hand out to grab his and-

Boom!

The prince was thrown backwards, spiraled through the air, and landed on the forest floor.

Great, just oh so great.

The prince tried again. Once, twice... three times... four... until he gave up, reclining against a tree awkwardly.

"Try the door?" The knight asked, leaning against the windowsill. Even though she could leisurely dangle her arms, the door was still locked even to her.

"No," the prince shook his head. "It is under a magic spell. I-i can't..." he sighed, "It is under a Personified Spell. That means, that the one breaking in has to overcome their greatest fault."

The knight's face dropped, as did the prince's.

"Arrogance," they whispered at the same time. The prince sighed and stood up, walking as close as the mystifying barrier allowed.

"I love you," he said, tears in his eyes, before walking away.

"I love you too," the knight whispered and sunk to floor, crying softly,

"I love you so much."

[julietandcinderellavocaloid]

Determined Alice Chapter 4

The inside of the bar was a sight to behold. It wasn't falling apart, exactly, but it did have that older, run down look. Sickly green paint peeled off the walls, the wooden tables wobbled from under the patrons' elbows, and there were a couple of what Meiko desperately hoped were beer stains on the floor. Animal heads with bald spots dotted the walls. None of the bar stools matched.

Wearing confidence like a new outfit she was eager to show off, Meiko stalked into the bar and dropped onto a barstool next to the guards. Their conversation came to an abrupt halt, and Meiko could feel their eyes traveling up and down her body as they sized her up, and some maybe checked her out while they were at it. Meiko was used enough to it that it didn't bother her if one or two of the guards kept their eyes on her for a moment too long, which she was sure exactly what happened.

"Gimme the strongest thing you've got," Meiko said when the bartender came to request her order. She slapped a gold coin on the counter. "And some bread, if you please?"

The bartender grunted and accepted the coin. He bit it to test its authenticity, and Meiko had to resist grinning at the look of surprise on his face. Now that he knew the coin was real, the bartender didn't hesitate any longer to fill Meiko's order.

Meiko spun around, rested her elbows on the bar, and leaned back. Most patrons may have turned their heads when she first entered, but now they returned their attention to whatever they were doing before. The guards, however, still studied her.

"Excuse me, miss," began one of the men. He was neither the oldest or the youngest of the group, instead somewhere close to the middle, but the way the others let him speak indicated that either he was the one in charge or the only one they trusted to speak for the group. It was possibly because he had the prettiest face.

Receiving her drink and loaf of bread, Meiko took a big gulp from the mug before she responded, "Yeah?"

"Would you mind sitting elsewhere? My men and I are discussing important matters."

So he is in charge. "Don't mind me," Meiko casually replied before taking another sip. "I'm not bothered in the slightest."

"With all due respect, we're not really concerned whether or not you're bothered."

Meiko turned the upper half of her body and allowed part of her now unzipped coat to fall with the gravity, exposing some of her cleavage. "Then I don't see what the problem is."

While the other men definitely noticed Meiko's breasts, even if some pretended not to, the one speaking didn't react. He merely maintained eye contact as he stated, "Please, my men and I are tired and would like to relax somewhat as we discuss future affairs. If you could relocate elsewhere so we can discuss confidential information without risking too much civilian eavesdropping, you would have my eternal gratitude."

I'll tell you what you can do with your gratitude. Meiko mentally swore. Either he's got some serious self-control, or he's queer or ace. Just my luck.

Changing tactics, Meiko picked up both mug and loaf and said, "Well excuse me, sir. I didn't realize only men in uniform were allowed to relax wherever they pleased."

The man didn't appear to care if Meiko's feelings were hurt. It was fine. Nose turned upwards, Meiko spun around and stalked towards an empty table in the corner, close to the washroom. She plopped down into the chair and took another swig of her drink, the alcohol burning her throat as it ran down. For as cheap as this bar looked, at least it didn't water down its beverages.

"I'm so sorry about him."

Just as Meiko anticipated, when she set her mug back down, one of the guards had approached her table. He was the youngest of the bunch, and in every way, the stereotypical cute guy. With light brown skin, blond hair and blue eyes, and the confidence of someone who knew his dimples could kill but wasn't sure how to use them to his advantage, Meiko knew all the right things she needed to do to play this lad right into her hands.

"I'm not too salty about the whole thing," Meiko said, waving her hand in a way that invited the lad to sit with her. "I'd walk around like I sat on a broom handle too if I came from the Capital. Is it really as bad as the news is portraying? It seems like the sweaty armpit of the goddess's evil twin sister over there."

There was a pink tinge to the lad's cheeks. It took him a moment to find his voice. "Yes, ma'am. An assassin was caught spying inside of Lady Sora's mansion. His execution was meant to be just like any other execution – done and over with, hardly anyone caring at all.

"Only we got word of rebels intending to break him out. Now we're running around all over the district, trying to stop any suspicious individuals."

It took all of Meiko's self-control to not furrow her brows. Who sold us out?

"Oh, um," the young soldier began looking around, "but I suppose I shouldn't be telling you this."

"Don't worry," Meiko promised as she placed her index finger against her mouth, "my lips are sealed."

The lad relaxed in the chair and let out a steady breath. His curled fingers loosened. Seeing this, Meiko promised not to wring too much private information from the boy. This lad was too innocent-looking to be much of a threat. If Meiko got him into too much trouble, she wouldn't feel good about herself for a day or two.

"So," she said lightly, as if discussing the best time to purchase oranges imported from the Summer Continent, "are you coming from the Capital or returning?"

There must not have been any harm the lad could see in answering the question, for he responded, "Coming. We're on route to Synchronicity. Higher up cares more about stopping anyone from coming in than fighting them once they already arrived at our doorstep."

"Really? Won't that leave the Capital vulnerable?"

"In most cases, yes, but some of our best fighter teams have stayed behind while the best scouters and the rest of us nut cases are out and about in search of rebels we don't even know for sure will show."

You're a talkative one, aren't you? So glad your pretty face came to check on me.

Before Meiko could open her mouth to wiggle the last bit of information she needed – in which direction was the Capital, someone cleared his throat. When Meiko and the lad turned their attention towards the sound, they saw the guard from before looking down on them. The lad's fingers curled again.

"Return to your seat," the man said. "Now."

"Yessir," the lad said in a rush, jumping from his seat and scurrying away without another sound.

Meiko hoped he wouldn't get into too much trouble for her sake.

Pretending that the lad did not just reveal potentially sensitive information, Meiko leaned back in her chair and said, "Why'd you have to ruin the conversation? The pretty one was just telling me the best place to get a drink around these parts."

"He doesn't drink."

"That you know of."

The man narrowed his eyes. "Look, lady, I don't know what game you're playing, but you need to stop it right now. It's obvious enough already that you're up to something."

"I'm not up to anything." Meiko slowly tore a piece off the loaf and popped it into her mouth. "All the lonely woman I am wants is some decent conversation. Is that too much to ask?"

"I think you should leave."

Laughing without humor, Meiko said, "I'm sorry, but who are you to tell me to leave this establishment? This isn't your business. I doubt you can kick anyone out just because you got a fancy uniform on your person."

"You think I won't?"

"Go ahead," Meiko challenged, smirking. "I'd like to see you try."

The problem, however, was Meiko didn't expect the man to try. She was sure he would grunt and storm away, and maybe complain to whoever was in charge about having her escorted off the premises. So when he lurched forward and grabbed Meiko by the wrist, instinct took over.

With her free hand, Meiko instantly had a knife prepared to make its new home inside the man's neck. However, something faster than her caught her wrist before she could send her blade flying. Before she could contemplate what had happened, a gruff voice spoke.

"Is this lady causing you trouble, sir?"

Eyes flickering to Meiko's exposed knife, the man replied, "A lot more than I would like to think."

"Shall I remove her from the premises?"

"Yes."

That was the end of the conversation. The man behind Meiko yanked her weapon away and pinned both her wrists behind her back. Kicking and screaming, Meiko tried to break free from the man dragging her out of the bar. Everyone turned their attention towards the scene, but none made any effort to help Meiko. All the thrashing Meiko could do was single-handedly but futility fight her way out of this large man's grip.

When she was hauled out of the bar, the winter air bit into her skin again. The wind had picked up. Jerking, Meiko reacted to the piercing air as she continued to try and fail to break free.

"Meiko! Meiko! Enough! It's me, Meiko."

Meiko's flailing came to a halt when recognition crashed through her. In her stunned state, the man holding her back loosened his grip. When she regained herself, Meiko broke free, spun around, and glared at Big Al.

"I had everything under control back there," she snarled.

Big Al didn't even bat an eye. "Really? It didn't look like it from where I was standing."

"You didn't have to get involved."

"I'm pretty sure if I didn't, a fight would have broken out by now, and the police would have been called. Is that what you want? To get arrested? Maybe you aren't aware of this, but you would be useless to help anyone if you were locked up in a jail cell of some small town in the middle of nowhere."

A remark was on Meiko's tongue, but before she could say it, Big Al grabbed her by the upper elbow and began dragging her away. Meiko again reacted by trying to get one of her knives, but she stopped when Big Al snapped at her to not try it. For a moment, Meiko began to reason with herself that this was Big Al and she didn't need to fight him off. Only emotion didn't always find logic. Not when this scene was all too familiar.

The last time something like this happened—

"LET ME GO!" she shrieked, and Big Al immediately dropped his hand. Meiko took a big step back, heartrate accelerating.

Big Al stared at Meiko as if he had never seen her before. His golden eyes widened at her curling in figure. Meiko could see the understanding beginning to form in his softening features.

Before he could so much as utter a sound, Meiko spun on her heel and dashed away from the man. The winter wind stung her eyes. That was why tears were rising and threatening to fall.

Finding an empty alleyway, Meiko turned the corner and dropped to the ground. She hugged her legs and rested her chin on her knees. For the next few minutes, Meiko focused on her breathing. Her heartrate slowed. Her inhales and exhales soon became even again.

All the while, she kept her eyes open. Nobody would sneak up on her a second time, not if she could help it. That was how she noticed Big Al find her a minute after she fled but remained a few feet away while she regained control of herself. Shame dropped onto Meiko like a ton of bricks. The last thing she wanted was for anyone, especially Big Al, to see her like this.

Well, she reluctantly decided, there's no going back now.

Picking herself up, Meiko shuffled her feet towards the older man. Big Al kept his arms crossed over his chest, only tightening his hold on himself as Meiko drew nearer. When she stopped approaching after coming within earshot, Big Al kept his words short and low.

"Either you can run off again, or I can give you a second chance in this mission. The only condition is you do as I say. No questioning orders. No doing things your way. Just what I say when I say it. Your choice."

As much as Meiko didn't want to be honest with herself, she knew there were no better choices. This mess they were in was all her fault. If not for her, she and Big Al would still be with their legion, possibly in the Capital by now instead of God knew how many miles away.

"Fine," was all Meiko said, and that was the end of it.

Big Al merely nodded. "Good. Now, let's go. While you were gathering your information, I found a way to get us to the Capital and get some much needed sleep in while we're at it."

"Really? How?"

"I'll explain later. Right now, we need to move."

With that said, Big Al turned and began to walk away without checking to see if Meiko would follow. Meiko hugged herself and contemplated walking the other way, leaving all of this behind for good. After a few seconds and a deep breath, Meiko marched forward, walking at a quick enough pace to not lose Big Al but to keep the distance between them.

[honestandsincere]

when the party’s over

“Oh my god, Grayson! That’s so funny!” the painfully high-pitched squeal permeates the thin wall between their bedrooms. “Uh, yeah I guess it is, Lindsey.” she can hear him laugh almost uncomfortably. “You’re so funny!” “I’m glad you think so, have you-” Y/n can’t stick any more, throwing her measly pillow over her head and burying her face into the bedsheets. This has become the norm; listening to Grayson attempt to coax some form of conversation out of the girls he’d bring home from frat parties, cringing at their lack of response and praying to every mentally conceivable diety that they would just shut up.

Grayson Dolan knows these walls are thin. He’d stood in his room with the door closed and managed to have a lengthy discussion with y/n about that week’s weather predictions through the pathetic plasterwork on the day they’d moved in. He knows she can hear him. Part of her wants to think that maybe Grayson’s assuming that she’s a heavy sleeper, that she dozed off halfway through reading Anna Karenina because he knows how much she despises Tolstoy’s seemingly interminable passages about agriculture. But this is Grayson and y/n knows that she’s the last thing on his blatantly preoccupied mind. He’s got Lindsey all up in his business and that’s far more of a priority than y/n’s eight hours of rest. She understands this now.

It’s not even that late. She had been surprised when she’d heard the key turn in the lock and the reverberations of drunken stumbles that traveled into his room. Grayson usually stays out late on Saturdays. He revels in the sweaty closeness of fraternity dancefloors and is resident Keg King of Delta Beta Gamma and therefore has no reason to want to come home until the despondent early hours of the morning. Lindsey must have changed his mind. Y/n had tried to put a face to her voice, but it was indistinguishable. She couldn’t determine whether that made things better or worse. Y/n thinks that she has blonde hair, just because she sounds like she does, and maybe blue eyes. Lindsey’s probably really pretty because Grayson is also really pretty and pretty people have a tendency to attract pretty people. Y/n doesn’t understand why she’s making herself feel sick. This happens every week, you’d think maybe she’d consider investing in earplugs. But with each Saturday that rolls around y/n has to stamp on the embers of hope that maybe Grayson won’t bring home a girl this time. Their voices have become inaudible murmurs, but Lindsey’s squeaks are still definable. Y/n screws her eyes shut, willing sleep to overtake her queasy body before she starts crying. But not over Grayson. Y/n’s determined to never let Grayson Dolan be the source of her tears. They’re friends, have been seen Orientation Week and will continue to be provided that nothing catastrophic intervenes. He’d asked her to move into an apartment with Ethan, his brother, and Cassie one of their close friends during the second year. Y/n assumed that living with Grayson would be relatively easy, considering they’d been so close for the first year. But closeness sometimes transpires into an intense feeling of attachment, or maybe something that stretches beyond that. Y/n is certain she has no feelings that could be deemed romantic for Grayson. This is mostly because he is Grayson; the boy that projectile vomited onto her brand new converse at his first college party. He’d apologized profusely and y/n had forgiven him almost instantaneously having watched him be coerced into taking far too many shots that night. Grayson just wanted to fit in.

Grayson is no more than an annoyingly attractive, overly sentimental best friend. He loves a lot and is loved just as much, if not more. Y/n thinks this is a curse wrapped neatly in blessing-covered wrapping paper. He’s too lovable and people sometimes decide to monopolize on this. She wants to protect him from those that want to be near him for the sake of saying they’d been near him, from the girls that’ll string a web of perfect lies to end up in his bed. Y/n can see right through. She can also hear right through, being able to decipher every Saturday night or Sunday morning conversation he has. Y/n knows that Grayson wants more than sex, she can hear him beg for some kind of interesting debate or a conversation that surpasses the trivialities he’s given in reply. She forces herself to sleep before she hears any more, dreading to think what hearing him actually doing it would make her feel.

Y/n doesn’t want Grayson, but thinking about him being with someone else is almost agonizing. She assumes it’s just a jealous fad because he’s her best friend and she wants to be his best friend too. Yet introspectively, y/n understands that Grayson is far more than a friend. He’s never really been a friend. He eclipsed the point at which friendship seems an appropriate term to label their relationship. They’d met at Orientation Week, stumbling into one another as they drifted from stall to stall that had been set up in the Student Union. Grayson wanted to speak to the lacrosse team and y/n had wanted to ask a question - which looking back seemed incredibly inconsequential - to the student finance team when they collided. A string of apologies and a few snide comments about the state of their timetables later, they’d become friends. Things stayed that way for a while until fraternity parties suddenly existed and the need to get blackout inebriated transcended every academic priority. Grayson had spotted y/n across the living room of some frat house Ethan knew the name of one night. He’d staggered over to her with his vision swimming and a gratifying numbness weighing down his limbs.

“Y/n!” he slurred, catching himself on one of the damp walls as he tripped over his own feet, “Didn’t expect to see you here.” “Hi, Grayson,” she laughed at his sudden ability to look perfectly composed, “You having fun?” “Nah, not really,” he lied, “Just been looking for you all night.” “Oh really?” y/n wasn’t stupid. “Yeah, so happy you’re here, y/n. Makin’ my dreams come true!” “Whatever you say.” “Not even joking! Not even a little! You’re the funniest person here, except for Ethan and I’m funny too sometimes! But you’re witty, y/n. I like witty people.” “That’s cool.” He threw a ridiculously muscular arm over her shoulders and pulled her into his chest, placing a kiss to the crown of her head, “You’re so precious, y/n.”

Y/n quickly became Grayson’s favorite person to accidentally run into at parties, he’d always get up onto his tiptoes and scan the room in search for her. She’d always wear the prettiest dresses or the cutest little tops with her favorite pair of jeans. He’d always wear dress pants stolen from Ethan or khakis and really soft t-shirts that she’d always have her face pressed into when he’d greet her. That was their thing, being around each other when they were drunk. Sometimes he was worse than she was, stumbling falteringly around the place with her arm wrapped around his waist to keep him from toppling over. Other times she’d be stood in front of him, his arms wrapped around her middle and her head lolling back onto his shoulder as they stood outside watching their friends of friends puff little rings of smoke into the night air.

“I think it’s always gonna be me and you, y’know?” he mumbled one night after they’d escaped the third playing of Rack City to join the stoners in the garden of some random senior’s house. “Yeah?” she’d hiccupped in reply. “Yep, always gravitate towards you and you towards me. I don’t ever see us not being...” then he stopped speaking. He knew what he was about to say but he didn’t want to say it. Y/n was far too intoxicated to understand the situation, “Besties?” “Yeah, that’s it. Besties.” Every night had ended the same. Grayson would lead her to her group of friends, whispering a joke or sarcastic comment into her ear. “Call me when you’re back safe, yeah?” he’d always ask. 

Until he didn’t.

Y/n isn’t too sure at what point Grayson changed. Drunken giggles have deteriorated into friendly acknowledgments when they run into each other in fraternity kitchens. She’s still his best friend, they laugh together at Ethan’s pathetic attempts at DIY. They go out for breakfast at the cafe at the end of their street every Friday morning. She proofreads his essays and he quizzes her with flashcards. It’s this unspoken yet mutually recognized affair that festers under the surface of every sentence they speak to one another. Ethan and Cassie have noticed it too. Y/n and Grayson are close but not close enough. From the outside, everything looks normal; they could be snuggled under a blanket on the couch watching a travel documentary one evening but as soon as y/n leaves Grayson visibly tenses. When he’s doing the dishes and y/n walks into the kitchen for a bottle of water, she lifts up her hands as if to hug him from behind, hesitates, and leaves. Y/n doesn't know it but things shifted about a month into their second year of college. It was a Tuesday, which is usually uneventful compared to most days of the week. Grayson was sprawled out on the couch playing solitaire when the front door had opened. Y/n had sauntered into the living room followed by a rather tall lanky looking boy with tousled brown hair and glasses that made him look like he could quote Nietzsche verbatim. "Gray, this is Nat." she declared excitedly, her red tea dress flowing about her thighs with the soft blows of the fan he'd set up, "He's helping me with that Lit module I was telling you about." Grayson looked up from his virtual card game and grimaced, lifting his hand into an understated wave, "Hey, man." "Hi," Nat had said with what Grayson liked to think was a disgustingly patronizing smirk, "This is a nice place you've got." "Thanks-" "Nat's a senior, Gray." y/n had interrupted breathlessly, turning to look at the older boy with a grin Grayson wished he had caused, "He's majoring in Literature and Philosophy. Joint honors!" "That's dope." Grayson nodded along, not being able to comprehend why y/n was so enthralled. "Thank you, y/n here is quite the enthusiast." Nat chuckled, wrapping his arm around y/n's shoulders and pulling her to his side. That was Grayson's thing. "I can't help it! We're gonna go work now, see you later!" she'd taken the senior by his arm and lead him out of the living room. "Enjoy solitaire!" Nat had called over his shoulder.

This was a feeling Grayson wasn't that accustomed to. This was a new burning sensation that pulsed through his veins. He felt his jaw clench and his thumbs ran over the white of his knuckles. This epiphany had struck Grayson in waves, the first being anger. He couldn't understand why his best friend was enraptured with Nietzsche 2.0 and didn't want to analyze him even further to try and it out. It was in this moment that Grayson understood that y/n wasn't really his, nor was he y/n's. Of course, they were best friends and would always have an affinity for one another. That was a given at this point, wherever she was is where he wanted to be. But, in being friends they were offered the option of mixing with other people, having other people.

The concept of being with a girl hadn't crossed Grayson's mind all year until y/n had waltzed in with Nat. Subconsciously he must have assumed that he and y/n would eventually see sense and become romantically exclusive because he's certain there's nobody else that will ever eclipse her. Grayson now made the conscious decision to let y/n breathe, because clearly, that's what she wanted to do. So Grayson Dolan distanced himself from his best friend, calculating his every gesture or word towards her or every thought about her, making them strictly platonic. He figured this was best for them, to avoid him being hurt by y/n making new connections and taking his anger out on their friendship. Because that's all this was; a friendship. Regardless of the way she looked at him when her eyes were glazed over with drunkenness or the way she'd laugh at one of his cheesy jokes he'd read off a pack of cookies or the way he constantly wanted to be around her, they were friends. Y/n didn't notice these changes at first. She was so absorbed in her schoolwork and papers that days merged into weeks and fitting in hours of sleep became a challenge. Grayson was still part of her life, as were Ethan and Cassie, so things felt blissfully normal. Until she got invited to a party at one of the fraternities the twins knew relatively well. Ethan and Grayson had arrived earlier than her and Cass, so she was expecting to find her lumbering, tipsy mess of a best friend when she got there. However, Grayson was nowhere to be found. He wasn't on the dancefloor begging whoever was in charge of the aux chord to just play one Kid Cudi song, even if it was Day 'n' Nite. She couldn't find him in the kitchen handing out water bottles to the freshmen boys that looked worse for wear. Y/n even searched upstairs, walking in on many an intimate encounter. "E! Where is he?" She'd yelled over the pounding EDM music when she'd spotted his twin. "He's gone home," Ethan had winced before he disclosed the last morsel of information, "He's taken a girl home." Y/n was in shock. Grayson didn't take girls home. He stayed until the party was over then stumbled into her bedroom with a glass of water at five in the morning, begging for a cuddle. Y/n had forgotten that Gray wanted other girls. It is impossible to disregard the fact other girls want Grayson. Their eyes follow him wherever he goes, watching his every effortless move with sheer awe. He’s gorgeous and funny and kind and she knows that’s what makes him so undeniably attractive to everyone around him. But never once did it occur to her that maybe Grayson wanted other people as much as they want him.

That was the first night y/n heard almost every word that was shared next door to her when she’d returned home after throwing up in the seedy bathroom of the fraternity. She’d put on her earphones and forced herself not to think about what was occurring on the other side of the plaster. Y/n hadn’t cried that night, she is still strangely proud of it. Little does she know that the last thing Grayson Dolan wants to do with the girls he brings home is to sleep with them. He wants to want to. He wants to stop comparing their every detail to y/n’s because she’s unattainable and too good to be his. Grayson feels sick every time a girl tried to initiate anything with him, apologizing profusely and explaining that it’s not her, it’s him. He feels like a dick. Yet every Saturday night without fail, the girl he brought home leaves quietly through the front door after he calls her a cab and tells her that she’ll find Mr. Right eventually.

“Lindsey,” he says after a while of awkward silence, “I’m not in the mood for anything tonight.” “I kinda guessed,” the brunette girl sat beside him on his bed laughs softly. “I’m so sorry-” “Jesus, Grayson don’t apologize!” He turns to look at her, his eyes filled with exhaustion, “Thank you for understanding it’s just I-” “I know.” “Sorry?” “You like someone else, it’s obvious. It’s ok, I get it.” Grayson doesn’t have the energy to argue, he’s tired of pretending. “I’ll call a cab.” Lindsey smiles, elbowing him gently in the ribs. “No, I’ll get you an Uber.” he reaches for his phone. “Thanks, Grayson.” “No worries.”

There’s an awkward silence as he fiddles with the brightness of his screen because it’s making his eyes sore. “She loves you too,” Lindsey says, “Everyone can see it.” “Huh?” “Don’t play dumb. The way she looks at you says it all.” “Things are a bit too complicated right now.”

“Only when you get in your own way.”

Ok! So this was a little random lovechild of mine that sort of spawned from songs that kinda make me a bit emo. It definitely feels like a part one of something to me. Hope you enjoyed it! Exam season is just around the corner and if any of you are from the UK, you’ll be aware of the insufferable pain that is A-Level induced. I’m going to try and balance writing and studying though, just because it’s so rewarding seeing all your support and getting lovely little messages from you all! So thank you so much! Lots of love - K x

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Darling: Bonus “Rude Boy” Story (Stucky Modern California AU)

Twelve:

As Steve continued his delicious torture, he slicked up his fingers and pulled back to add a finger. Catching Bucky completely off guard and earning a surprised guttural groan in return. And due to Bucky's surprise, Steve couldn't help but chuckle.

Not wanting to tease Bucky any more than he already had, Steve wasted no time opening him up. Quickly adding a second finger and scissoring Bucky open. Marveling at the way Bucky was pushing himself back onto Steve's prodding fingers, as though his only want was for Steve to be deeper.

Tripping the pads of his fingers over Bucky's prostate, Steve gave in to Bucky's begging and added another finger. Properly and thoroughly opening Bucky as quickly as possible without causing Bucky any discomfort.

Satisfied with his work, Steve removed his fingers and pressed a sweet kiss to Bucky's stretched-open hole while he slicked up his neglected cock. As Steve started lining himself up, however, Bucky stated, "No, wait."

"What?" Steve sincerely asked, removing his hands from Bucky's body. Fearful that he had done something, Steve wondered, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky reassured, turning over and laying on his back. Spreading his legs wide, so there would be enough room for Steve, Bucky smirked. Running his hand up Steve's thigh, Bucky clarified, "I just wanna see your face, love."

"After twelve years," Steve stated, the corners of his lips tugging up as he lined himself up at Bucky's entrance, "You'd think you'd be tired of looking at my ugly mug."

"Shut up," Bucky giggled, but gasped when Steve started pushing in.

Arching his back, Bucky moaned as Steve seated himself. Steve kissed the tip of Bucky's nose and affectionately pushed the loose strands of Bucky's hair away from his face. Still wondering how he got so lucky. When Bucky's eyes fluttered open to reveal the prettiest shade of blue that Steve had ever seen with his pupils blown wide in his lust, Steve leaned in to tenderly kiss him.

Rocking his hips, Steve was soon building up an unforgiving rhythm. From experience, Steve knew that it wouldn't take long for them to both reach their climaxes. Knowing that after all the foreplay, they wouldn't last long at all. And despite him wanting nothing more than to make Bucky come -- and to come, himself -- Steve stilled. Wanting to prolong the inevitable.

"What are you doing?" Bucky asked, almost offended.

Steve's brows furrowed as he explained, "I want to make it last."

"Well," Bucky linked his ankles behind Steve's back, giving him leverage to nudge Steve just a bit deeper, "I want to come."

Chuckling, Steve nuzzled his face into the crook of Bucky's neck. Pressing a kiss to Bucky's sweaty skin before saying, "I thought you'd want to... I don't know... we don't get many opp--"

"I want to come," Bucky demanded, causing Steve to chuckle again. Then, Bucky said, "Unless you wan--"

Bucky keened as Steve started rolling his hips. Building a rhythm that is meant to get them both off, while pulling back so he could hook Bucky's knee over his shoulder. Leaning back down -- nearly bending Bucky in half -- Steve desperately kissed Bucky, knowing that at any moment he was going to come.

Steve was a gentleman, and made sure that Bucky always came first. So, while groping Bucky's pec, Steve stated against Bucky's lips, "I'm not coming without you."

"Don't have to worry about that," Bucky moaned, arching his back when Steve rubbed the pad of his thumb over Bucky's pert nipple.

Another brush of Steve's thumb and Bucky was coming. Spilling his load with his dick between their muscled abs. Steve moaned at the feeling of Bucky painting their abdomens and Steve couldn't help but come then. Especially with the way that Bucky's body clenched around him while he was buried deeply in Bucky's warm heat.

Going limp, Steve snaked his arms from underneath Bucky's body, holding him close. Bucky didn't seem to mind as he slid his own hand up to softly smooth down Steve's blond locks. Their breathing erratic, their hearts hammering in their chests, and Steve held Bucky even tighter.

Pressing a kiss to Bucky's sweaty temple, Steve whispered, "I love you, James."

Bucky giggled, "You're such a dork, Steven."

In retaliation, Steve playfully swatted Bucky's hip. Bucky wistfully sighed and said, "I love you too."

Lifting his head from the crook of Bucky's neck, Steve asked, "How about that bath now?"

Bucky nodded and giggled when Steve kissed him before he pulled out of Bucky and climbed off the bed. Bucky laid there for a moment in bliss before calling out, "Don't forget the bubbles!"

[casskaykingston]

momma who bore me:

cass & olivia kingston ; sunday, january the 27rd. 11:40 AM.

tw: past and current verbal/emotional abuse

The first time Cassidy Kay Kingston II set eyes on Olivia Charlotte Dean, the first thing he wonders is where she came from, because it hadn’t been from here. He knew Wilmington inside and out, nearly every moment of his twenty five years being spent here, and he knew the townsfolk, their families, their daughters. She couldn’t have been one of them. Because if she had, C.K. would’ve tried to make his move long ago. He spotted her for the first time while at the grocers, Stetson in his hands while he waits to pick up the ham his mother wants for supper, and he sees her. Strawberry blonde hair, the deep blue eyes of an angel, and a smile that quite frankly made his head stop. Little pearl earrings catch the artificial light from above them as she stands on her tiptoes to accept the slice of strawberry shortcake from the baker, and C.K. is momentarily mesmerized by the swing of her light green skirt. Turning around, he kind of stares aimlessly at the glass in front of him, lunchmeat not processing to blue-green eyes as the mental image of that skirt flirts through his mind, taking a few moments before his stupidity hits him like a shock of lightning as he bolts towards the door.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, miss!”

A wrinkle of a creamy brow, and the mystery girl turns, one hand on her car door as she had been preparing to leave. He makes a bit of a sight, scuffed up button down with a kerchief around his neck, cowboy hat being murdered as he crumples it in his hands, dirty blonde hair with a slight cowlick and a smudge of dirt on his cheek. He's handsome, sure, but not traditionally so, and it's not the smile lines by his eyes that makes her keep pausing. It's the slow draw of a crooked smile, and the words he lets drop his country boy accent as casual as you please. “I'm sorry for stopping you, but…” he shakes his head, and the wattage in that smile slides up just a tick. “I couldn't let the prettiest thing I'd ever laid my eyes on just up ‘n walk away.”

Months of courtship and a pearl and diamond engagement ring later, and twenty year old former secretary from Virginia has become a wife. Not only a wife, but Olivia Kingston, steadily adjusting to a new world wherein walking out the front door of her home normally greeted her with sweaty men and plentiful horses. Fast forward four years, and she's cradling a baby given to her by the man who'd stopped her, a boy who carried his same name. Crystalline blues blink up at her, downy blond hair on his small head, and Olivia coos at the person who already held her whole heart, rocking him in the same chair his grandmother had rocked his father. “I'm going to love you always, sweet boy.” She whispers to him, thinking there could be nothing more beautiful than he, this child she had made and would try to fill his life with joy. “You can always, always count on me.”

Cut to now, Cass and his mother taking a walk on one of the trails in the woods that framed his house on three sides. There was no snow today, but a cold rain had fallen the night before, the thin layers of ice crunching underneath their boots. Olivia, Hudson's leash in her gloved hands, having been talking to her son for ten minutes or so so far, discussing the plans she has for a new menu once the seasons change once more. That's one area of the business Cass tends to stay out of, leaving it to his very competent and qualified head chef and his only a bit less skilled in the kitchen Momma, especially after her strawberry lemonade recipe was a smash hit and helped put the as then fledgling B & B on the map. Today, however, Cass isn't much interested in what successes they've had in the past adding a specific amount of cinnamon to their French toast recipe. What he wants to do is ask his mother is something he's wanted to know since the time his father grilled him mercilessly at the table because he'd started on his chores late after going to football tryouts. What he'd wanted to know since he'd stopped depending on his mom having his back when it was against his father. It was an uncomfortable conversation to have with a loved one, especially so close on the heels of the catastrophic one he’d had with Amy barely three days before, but it was one he’d already been avoiding for years.

Pushing the past the feelings of dread that wrapped their uncomfortable fingers around his throat every time he'd imagined this semi confrontation, Cass clears his throat, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of the vest atop his fleece lined jean jacket. “Momma, I need to talk to you about something.”

The furrow in Olivia's brow that her son inherited makes an appearance at what he says, pulling a wayward strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. Smile lines crinkle as she frowns, touching his arm. “Cassidy, honey, what's wrong.”

“What's wrong,” her son begins, subtly moving his arm, forcing his steps to keep going and not lose his nerve. “Is Dad. And how I need to distance myself from him. And why...why you weren't there for me. Then. Now.” Cass's hands curl into themselves, hidden by the puffy fabric of the vest he wore, and he isn't sure his lips are cold because of the temperature or because of the words he's trying to push out of them.

“What do you mean? There's nothing you can't ask me for Cassidy; you're my son. I would do anything -”

“Yeah. Anything. Anything but protect me from Dad.”

Olivia falls silent for a moment, Hudson's overly loud sniffing as he inspects a place to pee stopping their progress, causing them to halt. “I know your Dad is hard on you. But he really does love you and want the best.”

“Does he, Momma?” The thirty two year old man's voice is rusty and short, hard on his throat. “Does he though? Did he want what was best for me when he made sure Greer and Bailey knew how much they were loved and cared for and couldn’t do anything wrong? And if I looked in the wrong direction when he was talking to me, I’d get a lecture that lasted for hours and made me feel like a piece of shit. No fourteen year old should feel like a piece of shit, Momma.”

On some level, Olivia had known that the relationship between her husband and her son wasn’t exactly the best. For the few years, maybe there had been the kind of relationship she always dreamed of for them, but when the girls rolled around she noticed a difference. Showering attention on the other two, C.K. treating Cass more seriously and differently. When he got older, and C.K.’s attention shifted to the next generation leading the ranch, Olivia had mostly left it up to the two of them. Bonding time, she thought. Sure, she noticed over the years that Cass hated being alone with C.K. Spent as much time out of the house as he could if he wasn’t working, thin lips and blue eyes that forcibly cleared of pain when they locked on her own. Their moments had been private, private and devastating in a way she wasn’t aware of. Devastating in a way that she was only hearing now.

“In the beginning, it wasn’t too bad. He’d praise me for getting a full day of work done, for making the football team. And then it seemed to be few and between, the kind words. The spaces between them were killed with nasty ones that made me feel like the lowest of the low. I couldn’t do anything to please him, Momma. Couldn’t then, absolutely can’t now. Not when I committed the gross sin of leaving. I wasn’t going to come back, Momma. Not at all. Not when he was what I was coming back to.”

“Cassidy, sweetie - “

“Actually, can you wait until I’m done?” Cass interrupts, shooting blue eyes sidelong to her. He might not be walking to a noose but every moment spent talking about this seemed to tighten around his neck, a suffocating hand of years of hurt and frustration bubbling up and anxious to escape. This isn’t a safe space the same way that Ashley’s office is, and Cass isn’t sure how to operate in it. To reveal the dark truths hiding in his Momma’s house, but then again - hadn’t she been the one to turn a blind eye? Hadn’t she been only a passive ally? It was only after the accident that she started helping him keep distance between he and his father, that dark spectre that had tainted so many things in Cass’s life. Including, it seemed, his relationship with his mother.

“On my sixteenth birthday, he gave me shit for not showing up to work that night. My friends threw me a surprise party at one of their houses, and I thought he’d be fine. He liked that I was popular, after all. A good face for the family.” The bearded man laughs, but it’s not the full and golden one he usually lets out. This one is scratchy and raw from past pains and incredulity of the sheer lack of humanity C.K. had shown him for much of his life. Something Cass would never, ever do to a loved one, much less a kid. Another pang, a reminder of the fight he was struggling through with Amy, and the thirty two year old fights the urge to grab at his heart. It wasn’t going to ease the hurt. “When I got home, you made me a cake. He didn’t sing me Happy Birthday with you and Greer and Bailey - and when everyone else went to sleep, he came to my room and told me how ashamed he was to have a son who rang in such an ‘important’ age with irresponsibility.”

They’ve given up on walking at this point. Hudson, let off the leash, eats snow and bounds around about them until the stress radiating from his owner reaches the point that even the dog feels it and tries to make his owner feel better. Stories spill from Cass, ugly ones with poisonous words and memories that still whip his spirit. The lectures of the way he wasn’t, couldn’t ever measure up. References to him in front of others designed to tear him down piece by piece. At every turn, Cass was a disappointment. A blight to his father and his name. How no matter how long he worked at the ranch, he was still the traitor who’d left the business behind. How C.K. refused to acknowledge any good that Cass did, anything that went wrong automatically was his fault. How scared he would be when bringing home a C, how many nights he stayed up wondering if his father was right. The incidents that he only recognized now, mostly on the other side of it, as anxiety attacks when C.K. was on the warpath. As he continued to talk, Olivia’s hands slowly seem to rise, covering her mouth. Horror is reflected back at him from his mother, horror and a deep seated sense of inadequacy; for all that C.K. had been a bad parent with all the bells and whistles, even if Olivia couldn’t quite believe all of it, she had failed in her protection of him. “I’m sorry.” Is all she manages to get out, whispered at intervals, soft with regret.

“Momma, he’s literally told me the only things he has to be proud of are Greer, Bailey, and the ranch. When Amy came over for dinner, he couldn’t stop talking about how I’d tricked her into being there. How I had to be holding something over her, or she wouldn’t be there. Because who would want to date his failure of a son, huh Momma?” Winter still has its grips on the landscape, inhabiting the seat sized rocks they’d managed to find on the trails, seeping through Cass’s jeans and yet not the cause of the shake in the broad mans voice. Cass was 220 lbs, almost 80% completely muscle, and six three, carrying an imposing figure that few wanted to mess with. Talking about his father, he seemed frailer, weaker, genuine belief in what had been drilled into his head for over thirty years almost making him try and fit into the descriptive terms C.K. assigned to him so many times. “All I’ve ever heard from Dad for years has been that I’m weak. Stupid. Useless. Incapable of doing easy things the right way, and always a step away from disaster. He’s always right. I’m always wrong. I’m not an iota of the man he is, to hear him say it. And do you know what’s the worst thing? It’s that I know I’m not. At the very least. I don’t use my words to hurt people. To make them feel like horse shit on someones shoe is probably of more use than you. But he’s poisoned me, Momma, and I hate it. He’s targeted me so many times that sometimes, my thoughts turn to aiming at others the same way. I just had a fight with Amy - and no, I don’t want to talk about it - and I said horrible things to her. I knew what to say, how it was going to hurt, where she was vulnerable. I don’t want to know where my girlfriend is vulnerable, Momma. If I do, I should only learn so I can figure out how to protect it. Not use it against her.”

A touch, Olivia’s hand on his knee, and Cass looks up at her with eyes that he’d deny to his grave were stinging, shaking his head, not done. “When he discovered that the other ranch hands actually liked me, that working wasn’t as bad with them, he made it a point to give me solitary assignments if I’d pissed him off. He reminds me every moment that the ranch is not mine, that it was his name first that goes on it and all its successes are his, all its failures are mine. If I lost a football game, he’d give me the silent treatment for a week. He’d only talk when at the dinner table, because you and the girls were there. He made jokes about erectile dysfunction when my friends were over. I learned how to stop bringing people that weren’t my forewarned girlfriends over the house so my dad would stop trying to sabotage my friendships. Do you know how long it took me to realize that other kids dads weren’t like that? Too long. I doubted everything. Dad made me believe I was just being overly sensitive, that he was just trying to push me to accomplish more. To reach my full potential. I should’ve known I’d never be enough. I won’t ever be, not for him.” A harsh truth, but one that Cass had come far enough to be able to say. Even if in his core, the root of him, longs for one sign of his father being proud of everything. Despite of everything. Because of everything. Hope, that hardest bastard to kill. His eyes give up the ghost, let tears slip down ruddy cheeks and disappear into a full beard, sparkes of shine in the gold. Hudson’s head is heavy in his lap, big brown eyes concerned whilst Cass’s shaking hands stroke his dogs forehead, gaze dropped as it had been for most of his unloading. Olivia, having long since started crying, just keeps rubbing his leg and nodding her head.

“For years I thought I was selfish for wanting his love, when he only seemed to have enough for my sisters and not for me. This ranch - this damned ranch, this thing that I love, this place that I call home and work and that I pour my existence into to make it work, the B & B that was my brainchild and my greatest pride - it’s a miracle that I’ve gotten to this place. Crazy that I feel about it the way I do. Because for years, I know it’s meant more to my father than my own life. I’m so angry about it, Momma. I’m angry, and I’m hurt, and I hate being around him, and you have to let me cut him off. You have to.” Olivia’s arm curls around his shoulders, shushes falling from lips that kissed him on the forehead more times that he could count, and Cass holds on, even as he chokes out the last words,  a show of stark vulnerability he could only show with his mom. “You didn’t protect me then. But dammit, Momma. You’ve gotta do it now. You’ve got to…”

Sure, Ashley’s prompting in therapy had been a big push to getting him there. The recent blow up he’d had with C.K., Olivia absent as always, when he laid into him for the burned barn, disparaging words about being too distracted by his relationship to do his job properly, of blaming him for hiring pyromaniac workers, and more that Cass is sure he would’ve had if he hadn’t found the strength to book it out of there, that probably helped. Whatever the final push, this was long overdue. How his mom would react to it, only time would tell, but he’d said his truth. Laid out how she’d done him wrong, and explained how. She’d apologized. And she’d probably keep doing it, even now when his tears get absorbed by her scarf and she rocks back and forth with the two of them, a woman half his size who’d been tasked with protecting her son and who had failed. Time would tell where the revelation would take them.

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

Fruit Punch Lips & Leather Jacket Dreams

Part 2/3: Heliophilia

Part 1 - AO3 

A/N: This part made me hate life and everything in it. I’ve re-written it more times that I can count. Sorry for making you wait this long, this didn’t want to come easy at all! I hope at least it’s semi-decent and enjoyable. :) Also, this is 40 something pages long so you might wanna grab some snacks or drinks and make sure you have plenty of time for that disgrace of fanfiction. Anyway, hope you enjoy!  A/N (2): Later on the chapter, when the steamy action starts, the song that’s playing is Ready For Love by Bad Company. Listening to it will get you more in the mood. ;) Warning: Rating changed because Serpent Jughead only comes with a lot of sin.

The River Vixens.

Young, beautiful, sanguine, an ornament of fine femininity throughout the entire sports history of the quaint town of Riverdale.

Cheryl Blossom; the Redhead Amazon, the top of the pyramid, the woman in charge, the H.B.I.C. of this squad of model-like beauty and long legs. The leader-born, even though second-born, the rebellious spirit, the cold sweat laced wet dream of every teenage boy that couldn’t make it to her selective list of conquests.

Veronica Lodge; the Midnight Pussycat, the city girl that shook the easy-flowing waters of the town that lay sleeping, the socialite that climbed the school’s social ladder overnight, the cheerleader that got the quarterback in an fairytale adolescent love story that was bound to lead to a June wedding somewhere in Upper East Manhattan.

And then, Betty Cooper; the Ethereal Goddess, the student most-likely to succeed, the trophy daughter, the next-door sweetheart, the old starlet beauty with doe eyes the shade of lush meadows and pouty lips in the prettiest cherry color of Lolita innocence.

The girl that came from a successful line of Coopers. (Hal Cooper, varsity captain of the championship winning football team of 1984, Alice Cooper (nee Smith), vice-captain of the cheerleading squad, Student Body President, Prom Queen, Chic Cooper, head of the school’s newspaper, star football player and top scorer of Riverdale Bulldogs, his jersey with the number 26 still hanging proudly on the school’s gymnasium, Polly Cooper, multiple award winning Mathlete and the first and only cheerleading captain to achieve first place for the River Vixens at the Nationals.)

The girl that had the background and the talent to be Vixen captain but refused because she knew that was her cousin’s childhood dream.

The girl that passed out on last year’s Homecoming, even though she was going to be crowned Queen, to mop over ice-cream with Veronica because Archie was being a dick.

The girl that held Kevin’s hand the first time he came out to his father.

The girl that self-stitched Archie’s practically ruined punching bag, making it better than new.

The girl that wrote an expose about sexual harassment and rape culture flourishing inside the grounds of their high school, a place that was supposed to shape brilliant young minds not deteriorate them.

The girl that co-founded the first high school club of young feminists.

The girl that was volunteering at the Southside.

The girl that stood her ground against a seemingly dangerous but poorly educated Serpent.

The girl that right now was being just a girl, rolling her glorious hips in some tight spandex Nike training shorts in ash grey in coordination with her fellow cheerleaders but better than the rest, sassier, deliciously tantalizing.

Jughead Jones was putty for all the versions of that girl.

Sprawled on the wooden bleachers of the school’s gym the five Serpent friends were watching the mouthwatering sight of the dancing girls in front of them. The young leader was at the center, Ricky and Gush on either side of him with eyes round and barely blinking and mouth lightly agape, Blaine on the bleacher behind him, where Jughead was resting his elbows, having a leg perched up casually and a dumbfounded smirk on his blushing face and Reggie in front of all of them, giddy grin intact and mischief in his shinning coal like eyes, laying comfortably on his side and holding his head up on an elbow, next to his best friend’s outstretched and crossed at the ankles long limbs. No one was talking, no one was even breathing because, truthfully, there were a lot of bare legs and tight active wear clothes on feminine curves to allow enough blood supply in their brains for another body function apart from staring.

Looks like you've been starving

You've got those hungry eyes

You could use some sugar

'Cause your levels ain't right

Any other time Jughead would appreciate the female virility but today sex-on-legs Cooper was to Cheryl’s right, making it a herculean task to look away. It was like watching her in slow motion; stunning face shining with glee, messy ponytail and rebellious locks swaying to some pop song he’d never heard before with every gracious twirl she took, a veil of sweat coaxing her collarbones and some salty droplets leaving a zig-zag trail down her sternum, disappearing into her white sports bra that pushed her breasts up deliciously, the perfect round mounds bouncing to the beat and making him follow the action with hooded eyes and a tiny side smirk of appreciation.

'Cause I'm all that you want, boy

All that you can have, boy

Got me spread like a buffet

Bon a, bon appétit, baby

They were supposed to be rehearsing for some kind of innovational musical the theater kids were due to perform in a month, thus their own choice of athletic wear instead of their usual cheerleading uniform or their yellow and blue practice attire. However, he wasn’t sure how on earth this seemingly food related play was appropriate enough to be performed in front of elated, camera holding dads and proudly cooing moms when clearly the type of tasting the lyrics implied wasn’t dinner time material. As quickly as the thought sprung to his mind though, it vanished completely because Betty Cooper was exquisitely shaking her sexy body in skin-tight shorts and a fitting sports bra and all he could do was ogle her strong legs and watch her firm butt pop and move side to side, Jughead being minutes before actually groaning at the soft porn performance she was offering, with witty eyes concentrated only on him the entire time.  

“Betty, on one!” the redhead captain’s imposing voice sounded over the loud music, startling the raven haired boy but not the girl in question that merely nodded and formed a line along with the others behind Cheryl, before the girls divided in two and Betty was left standing in the middle, bouncy ponytail and all. Jughead’s grin reached his ears, like the one of a five-year-old boy on Christmas morning; she was going to have a solo part and he shifted more comfortably on his seat, intrigued to watch the marvelous show.

So you want some more

Well, I'm open 24

Wanna keep you satisfied

Customer's always right

There was a hip bob in perfect coordination to the beat before she dropped to the maple hardwood floor in a split position at the “open” part with a wink thrown his way and Jughead was gone, practically feeling himself twitch against the zipper of his dark grey jeans and his teeth painfully bite on his lower lip, as she was now rolling on the floor, arching her back and rising up with a subtle but utterly sinful twerk of her butt. The cheerleaders around her were doing some kind of choreography too but he couldn’t even register people let alone motion when there was a hurricane of blonde hair blurring his vision, as she twirled her head wildly, and her stomach muscles were flexing in a titillating way while her hips were rolling, fueling his desire to move along with her in a similar way that required less people and definitely less clothes.

And it's okay

If you take your time

Eat with your hands, fine

I'm on the menu

(Go ahead)

She was joined by the rest now, but even with a million girls around Jughead would always see her, especially when she was challenging him to a food fiesta with not burgers and fries but her as a full course meal. An image of the blonde beauty sprawled on his bed covered with whipped cream and strawberry frosting as a creek of milky chocolate was drawing a path from her slim fingers to her full lips, down her neck, the valley of her breasts, dipping in her navel and disappearing to the place he bet she was sweeter than any baked good invaded his mind and the foxy smirk on his lips was inevitable along with a hard gulp, the boy trying but failing to keep his hormones at bay. He could actually feel his mouth salivating more, drooling at the sight of her being confident and smiling and happy, and Jughead couldn’t wait anymore for tomorrow night to come, for finally being alone with her at the first date he had solemnly planned and he was praying to be of her liking. At least he hoped that neither his sweaty palms nor his - perpetual around her, it was ridiculous really - boner would be evident enough for him to send her away running.

“Alright, Vixens, that’s enough for today. Hit the showers; you stink.” Cheryl’s voice brought him out of his reverie once again, along with Reggie’s loud attempt to coordinate his long limbs and stand up straight before erupting in some wholeheartedly approving clapping that echoed boastfully in the now silent gym. The Vixen captain raised a cold eyebrow at their direction.

“Great job! Totally.Freaking.Great.Job!” Jughead’s childhood best friend unashamedly hollered in his baritone voice with a shit-eating grin and face elated and colored with boyish appreciation, earning a snobbish look from Cheryl and some giggles from the amused girls around on their way out of the gym and to the locker rooms.

Betty followed the same trail, engaged in girly chatter with Veronica and two other cheerleaders while taking a sip from her water bottle, some droplets trickling down her chin, hydrating the skin around the chain of her tiny silver key necklace and dripping in the valley of those luscious breasts that Jughead got acquainted with nearly a week ago, making the mesmerized boy lick his suddenly dry lips, as if to taste the water mixed with salty sweat for himself, another vision added to his midnight reminiscing of her and her glorious anatomy as he laid on cold bedsheets against his overly heated skin. She felt him staring and she turned to send him a lovely look over her shoulder and her tiny bra strap, offering him a blushing smile and then biting her lower lip when he reciprocated it with her favorite boyish smile, and that was enough of a sign for Jughead to take the hint that she longed to spend time with him just as much, that she had missed him just as much. Suddenly, the hours felt too many and tomorrow too far away and the urge to kiss her lips even for a blink of a moment felt compelling, the boy jolting to his feet abruptly, snapping violently the hormonal bubble that his friends were still floating into.

“Someone’s in a hurry to get his cheerleader fix.” Reggie commented with a crooked smile, eyeing his friend that practically jumped over him in his attempt to skip down the bleachers two at a time.

“At least I’m getting mine.” He teased him good-heartedly, looking up at him with a clever smirk while taking some steps backwards and towards the door. “Here, pal” he then pointed at the corner of his mouth wittily “you’re drooling more than Hotdog at the sight of shoelaces.” He threw in his snarky comment and walked out of the gym doors, hearing Reggie behind him laughing loudly as he swore to make him pay for that, his own lips slowly curling upwards in amusement.

He lurked at the corridor for some minutes before double checking both ways and then smoothly, like a night cat, he sneaked into the forbidden territory of the girls’ locker room, being extra quiet and cautious not to get caught but, mostly, trying to be respectful in case some cheerleader was still changing or getting dressed. The sound of running showers and girly chatter could be heard and the room seemed pretty empty so Jughead exclaimed in relief before spotting with a giddy smile the reason of his rule breaking, Betty, bent over a wooden bench, too busy in untying her white sneakers to notice any kind of movement. Tip-toeing to her while unashamedly checking her raised butt with a tiny smirk, his large hands grabbed hold of her firm hips, bringing her flat against his chest and causing her to yelp out of surprise and almost fear.

“Jesus Christ, Jughead!” she hissed as a hand shot to clench the front of her chest, nerves relaxing upon recognizing his distinctive scent of faint nicotine mixed with minty body wash, but heart still thudding against her ribcage because of the same scent and the close proximity of their bodies. “You scared the hell out of me!” she whispered-yelled, alerted eyes darting around in fear of a prying audience, but his hot breath against the nape of her neck was too tempting to ignore and focus on anything else.

“Sorry.” He smirked against her skin, leaving the softest of pecks on her pulse point. “The element of surprise is my specialty.” His lips were tickling the side of her neck and his fingers laced against her bare abdomen, pinkies slightly pushing against the elastic waistband of her training shorts, as he grounded his hard body more against her soft curves.

Betty sighed, eyes fluttering closed and head tilting to the side lazily, offering him more skin. “You almost got me fainting in your arms.”

“Almost?” Jughead exclaimed in faux offence. “Well, let me try again.”

His tone was playful, light, but his actions proved to be the exact opposite as Betty found herself trapped between him and the row of blue lockers, back slamming roughly with metal and the impact causing a sharp gasp out of her bubblegum lips, before she was shushed by a demanding mouth that opened hotly against her own. The kiss was ferocious, her ponytail getting squished against a locker as he was trying to taste every inch and every corner of her mouth, wet tongues twirling in frenzy and his lips bruising hers in his desperate attempt to have her closer, inhale her if possible. His hands were firm on her hips, keeping her flashed against him, and her fingers were clawing the leather on his shoulders, tiny female whimpers and deep male inhales filling the already steamed from the showers and their sexual tension atmosphere around them.

They had missed each other terribly. Yes, Betty’s punishment had been lessened – tree days of suspension instead of five all because Alice Cooper was a force to be reckoned with and extremely vocal about her disgust towards Weatherbee’s favoritism, shooting him down with threatening mentions of an expose regarding the verbal sexual harassment of a female minor – and yes, Chuck was also reprimanded with not being able to play at two of the following football games – Alice Cooper was practically glowing after leaving the principal’s office in a chaos – but still with Betty’s small absence and Jughead’s one-week detention that was unnegotiable, the two love-struck teens hadn’t had the chance to catch each other alone after that sole time of their first kiss or, more accurately, heated make-out. Small glances, tiny smiles and his trademark winks were their only interaction but they were still enough to keep the fire burning between them, maintain their intense connection and fuel the anticipation for their official first date.    

With a pretty nasty swipe of his tongue against hers that made Betty sigh inside the kiss and a hard tug of her lower lip from his sharp teeth, Jughead’s lips started traveling south, nibbling her jaw, licking her neck and exhaling hotly over the trickling sweat that still lingered on her collarbones, their pants and heartbeats in perfect coordination.

Betty blinked rapidly to the hideous ceiling as her voice came shaky and weak with need. “Are you trying to kill me or something?”

“No, Cooper.” He let a breathy chuckle against her collarbone, teeth biting her flesh hard and making her groan lightly, squirming inside his embrace. “I’d say my ulterior motive is charm and enchant you.” He watched proudly as a round redness spread across her irritated skin, before moving to her grey bra strap and giving it a light tug with his teeth, the elastic material snapping back against her skin causing her to momentarily arch her back against him. Jughead smiled, loving how responsive she was at the simplest of his touches, before raising his head, nose brushing against nose and witty blue eyes connecting with her hazy ones. “But I wouldn’t say no to offering you some multiple little deaths.” Betty’s cheeks flashed crimson at his naughty smirk and his innuendo, the girl biting her lip at the rush of adrenaline and arousal that shot through her veins, her chest heaving sensually against his khaki S t-shirt.

The action wasn’t unnoticed by the young Serpent, his eyes traveling to the silky pushed up mounts, before his lips returned on her neck, sucking wetly at its hollow and moving to the central bone of her sternum, leaving open-mouthed kisses and dirty bites, feeling the vibrations of her heavy breaths and enjoying the rise and fall of her soft breasts against his jawline.

“Ugh, stop, I’m all sweaty and gross.” Betty complained self-consciously, her slender fingers threading inside his thick hair and tugging lightly, a tiny groan echoing from his throat.

“Sweaty yes, gross never, sexy always.” He whispered smugly against her lips, the blonde girl smiling sweetly as her heart fluttered at how he made her feel, before leaving a chaste kiss on his now swollen lips. “That was some show you put on out there.” He raised an eyebrow in appreciation, hands sliding from her hips to her waist so for his arms to curl around it.

“I had a feeling you’d like it.” She giggled, tightening her own arms around his neck, massaging his scalp gently.

Jughead hummed at the tenderness of her touch, eyes blinking closed for a second, before opening again, playful and agile this time. “Well, the pop song was insufferable but it had mentions of food and you were in tiny shorts so that was a pretty safe way to my heart.” He joked sarcastically as always, bopping his nose against hers.

“Good to know.” Betty head-butted him playfully, making him snort a tiny chuckle.  “We’re also gonna be dressed as sweets.” That caught his attention, eyebrows rising in intrigue. “Yeah, nothing else apart from pink colored pillow filling wrapped around our hips to resemble cotton candy and two cupcake toppings right above here.” She dragged the word deliciously as she was twirling her pointers cheekily around her breasts, before halting the action so her fingers were pointing at her nipples. With a dorky smile and her lip trapped between her teeth, Betty waited for his reaction as a dumbfounded grin slowly crept on his lips, baby blue eyes blinking slowly in shock and mind trying to hold even an ounce of blood as all of it was rapidly gathering south.

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” Jughead finally breathed, head tilting to the side in self-pity at how easy it was for her to turn him into a pathetic fool.

“Of course I do!” Betty burst out laughing, him shaking his head at her brilliant antics. “This is a school play, Jug! There’s not a chance on earth that Weatherbee would let us dress, or more correctly, undress like that.” She pointed out, her hands sliding up his shoulders once again to keep him trapped against her.

“You minx.” He pretended to scold her before his voice turned deep and laced with a sex-appeal he only seemed to muster. “You know, there is no wardrobe policy in my bedroom.” He informed her cleverly, hips rolling ever so subtly against her hipbone.

“A little presumptuous, aren’t we, mister?” Her tone turned flirty too, dropping her head back to send him her best good girl look under her eyelashes that had his eyes darkening intensely.  “Who said that I’ll be interested in a tour of your bedroom?” she challenged, a perfect eyebrow urging him to hit her with his best shot.

Jughead let a low chuckle that screamed danger, moving to whisper hotly against her ear. “Oh, you will, trust me. You may got your moves but I got mine too.” The promise was dark and sinfully exciting and Betty felt her knees give away a little at the sound of his husky voice. He smiled – he knew what he was doing to her – and brushed his parted lips against her cheekbone, leaving a sensual kiss against the corner of her mouth, before unwrapping himself from her body. The trembling sigh that left her lips at the loss of contact nearly made him lose his mind.

“Eight o’clock tomorrow, Cooper.” He reminded her with a boyish smile, readjusting his bag against his shoulder. “I was promised a mini dress and a smile.” He winked, reluctantly taking a half step away from her.

Betty smiled breathlessly, supporting herself to the locker behind her and with cheeks still vibrant red. “Never the one to back out on a deal. I’ll see you tomorrow, Juggie.”

“I still can’t believe you are not grounded.” Hints of genuine shock were coloring Poly’s voice, the speakers of Betty’s dusty pink MacBook complaining at the high pitched remark.

“I am grounded. I just have some allowances.” Betty shrugged a shoulder, too preoccupied with applying some light powder over her already flawless face, laptop perched to her right on top of the white wooden vanity.

“Well, I never had allowances when grounded.” Polly raised an eyebrow at her sister, even though the younger Cooper had her eyes glued to the mirror. “Nor Chic, for that matter.”

“Guess we now know who the beloved child in this family is.” Doing a dramatic flip of her head, Betty beamed in fake arrogance before flattering her eyelashes vigorously at her sister in innocent sibling teasing.

“Ugh, take it down a notch, daddy’s princess; I still got nana Kathryn on my team.” Her sister scrunched her nose in a snooty manner, the three Cooper kids always joking around about which family members showed more affection to whom. “And Uncle Timothy is swerving lanes as it seems; he sent me an espresso coffee maker the other day!” Betty gasped in amused shock at her flabbergasted tone and round green eyes while grabbing her mascara, the rare occasion of their dad’s uncle sending someone a gift, let alone this someone not being Chic, coming as a total surprise for the whole Cooper household. “Well, probably second-hand and the most horrendous one on EBay but still, he sent me a gift, Betty. Brother Dearest hasn’t spoken to me all week; he’s pissed and I’m pleased.”  Polly giggled in delight and she joined her loudly, before turning serious again to tend to her eyelashes.

“Well, he’s pissed at me too for showing my boobs to the world.” The youngest murmured with a hint of a sigh around her words.

“I’m not completely okay with the idea too” Polly agreed with the rest of the family “but you had a purpose and I’m female so, I understand the unfairness.” The older girl gave her a supportive smile which she returned in gratitude. That’s why Betty had allowances; her mom was a female too, and although she always wanted her children’s behavior to be proper and according to the rules, she couldn’t help but rebel at the idea of a teenage jock turning her daughter into a sexual object without facing consequences. Deep down, secretly in the depths of her chest, Alice Cooper was proud of her daughter’s fiery personality which reminded her so much of herself in her youngest, more carefree years.  

“And on the bright side, I told you, Betty, your boobs looked great.” Polly tried to lighten the mood with the first thing that had come out of her mouth upon her too seeing the infamous video of Betty flashing her bra to the world, when some lovely classmates of hers had hacked the school’s website to share Betty Cooper’s semi-nude debut.

Betty snorted a laugh at her sister’s comment.

“Veronica and Cheryl thought so too.” She shook her head in amusement, picking a brush to apply some faint blush on her naturally rosy cheeks. “And Kevin. And probably all the jocks and all the creepers around the world that logged into the school’s website before that video was taken down.” She stopped the ministrations on her cheekbones, eyes turning wide, before her whole face dropped, a painful whine escaping her throat upon turning to look at her sister with a disgusted expression. “God, am I internet porn now?”

“It’s a career?” Polly winced adorably at her attempt of light teasing, her sister sending her a glare. “But seriously it’ll die down like everything in high school does, don’t sweat it.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Remember when I was pissed about those outrageous pregnancy rumors in junior year? Barely lasted a week.” She assured her lovingly, the two sisters sharing a smile.

“Now” Polly’s tone screamed excitement and the atmosphere changed. “Tell me all about this date you are getting all dolled up. Where is this Jughead taking you?” she asked in intrigue, cooing lightly at the shy smile that immediately creeped on Betty’s lips.

“I don’t know.” Betty blushed more than the adding shade of petal pink on her cheeks, a warm fuzzy feeling spreading all over her body at the mention of her big upcoming date with the Southside boy. “He said it’s a surprise that he thinks I’ll enjoy very much.” She bit her lip in a silly girly fashion, briefly contemplating a nude lipstick and a shimmery strawberry flavored lip-gloss, before naughtily picking the second. She had the feeling Jughead would appreciate the extra flavor.

“Aw, he’s cute.” The eldest Cooper daughter clasped a hand over her heart with a dreamy smile. “Is he picking you up with the bike?” His beloved means of transportation and Betty’s second source of excitement was trademarked at this point.

“Yeah.” Betty squirmed adorably, sporting a blissful smile that all girls welcomed on their lips upon talking about the guy that decorated their teenage notebooks at the center of colored pen hearts. “Oh, Pol, I feel like a giddy hot mess.” She groaned in despair, green eyes focusing on her sister anxiously. “Why do I feel like this? Everything was very cool and casual with Trev or, you know, Chuck.” She spit his name and grimaced at her choices but that didn’t cloud her mood nor eased up the knot of nerves low in her stomach.

Betty Cooper was royally screwed.

“Well, my guess is that this certain someone is gradually making my lil sis fall in love.” Polly replied with a smile so big that reached her ears, a small sing-song tone of girly delight adorning her statement.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Betty scoffed, rolling incredulously her pretty eyes. “We’ve kissed only a week ago.” She argued but not with her best persuasive face.

“I’m not saying that you are there yet.” Her sister shook her head, explaining softly. “But you like him a lot and he seems to like you just as much, so, embrace the feeling and grab that bad boy from his messy raven locks tonight.” She proposed boldly, perfectly plucked eyebrows wiggling in an awful attempt to appear seductive.

“You are embarrassing me, stop.” Betty frowned at her dork of a sister, earning a loud laugh from the young woman at the other side of the Skype-call, before she gave her blonde locks a shake, checking her hair and make-up in the mirror. She had opted for trading her usual tight ponytail with golden curls cascading freely down her shoulders, wanting to try something different for the occasion, something different for him. Taking a deep breath, she stood up, readjusting her mini dress, and made a small twirl in front of her MacBook screen, showcasing her choice of outfit.

“So, you think he’ll like?” she asked for a second female opinion, lightly chewing at the inside of her cheek, more anxious now than ever.

“Oh, he’s gonna love, trust me.” Polly winked, making Betty let a big sigh and then laugh lightly in relief. “Nice to know that my dress didn’t get lost on moving day.” The older Cooper girl remarked in a scolding tone, an eyebrow raised at how awfully bad Betty was at being sly.

The other girl huffed, curling her arms over her bust and narrowing her eyes. “And it’s nice for me to know that my sweater didn’t shrink in the washing machine as somebody claimed it did.” Polly gasped in fake offence, making paws with the sleeves of her, well Betty’s, cashmere sweater uneasily before curling her arms too in a defensive manner. Both sisters burst out laughing at their childish attitude until the chime of Betty’s iPhone interrupted the easy-going fun of the two, the girl rushing to retrieve it from where it was thrown next to her bag on her floral bedspread.

Down and waiting. I’m the one dressed in black.

Betty smiled at his text, biting her lip so for her face not to break under the wave of nervous enthusiasm his silly words had spread all over her body. “He’s here. Gotta go, Pols.” Her eyes were shining in elation when she addressed her again, shoving her phone into her bag before lacing it over her shoulder in a cross-body way.

“I’ll be up late studying, skype me when you’re back! I want all the juicy details!” Polly matched her enthusiasm with a wide grin. “Oh, and remember protection is always always unnegotiable.” She fixed a serious expression on her beautiful face, the Dr. Cooper expression Betty and Chic always teased her about, urging her sister to begin a healthy and respectful sex life.

Betty eye’s widened for a minute, urgent fingers moving rapidly to lower the volume on her laptop and cheeks turning crimson, before continuing in a hushed tone, hoping that her parents were still working at the study downstairs. “Polly, I’m on birth control since I was sixteen and I’m sure nothing to that extend will happen.” Well, there was going to be heavy make-outs involved for sure and Betty was willing to get a sample of more of his touches if he was up to it but apart from that, well, they had to wait and see how it would go.

“Oh, please, like I don’t know how your ovaries explode every time he just happens to be in the same room as you.” Polly snorted, throwing her silk curls over her shoulder in a ‘whatever’ manner. “And if he is sexually active, condoms are a must. Do you know how high the transmission rate of STDs—” her med student spirit was creeping up again but Betty was quick to cut her off this time.

“Geez, Pol, now it’s not the time for one of your crazy Dr. House rants.” She exclaimed in exasperation, palms slapping on top of her vanity as she almost stuck her nose against the camera of her laptop, passing her frustration to her sister from up close. “I’ll call you later. Bye!” she barely spared her a wave and ended the call, huffing loudly before taking a deep breath to ease up her nerves.

Chin up, Betty Cooper. You got this.

The confirmation that she indeed got this came a few minutes later when she was walking to the next block of her house – because a beasty black Harley stopping right in front of the Cooper residence would attract a lot of unwanted attention – her steps becoming more and more eager once a vision of black invaded the pristine white suburban aura of her neighborhood. Jughead was leaning back on the leather seat of his bike, long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles on the pavement and fingers drumming aimlessly against the polished black cover of the fuel tank while he was lazily enjoying a smoke with his free hand, his attention turned up to the changing blue and lilac undertones of the skyline.

Damn, he looks good, Betty thought as she took him in with delighted eyes, creating a bee-line over his appearance, and smiling to herself at what seemed like a more spruce version of his everyday style. He had combat boots on, not his typical dark brownish, but some seemingly more new and ceremoniously gleamed ones, a nice pair of black jeans, not skinny but formfitting enough to show off his slim legs, rolled up at the ankles, a blue denim shirt with a white t-shirt peeking from underneath the two top undone buttons and his trademark leather jacket stretching deliciously over his board shoulders. Not that any other day Betty didn’t feel weak in the knees at the sight of his gorgeous self in any type of clothing but still, she appreciated the effort he had put to appear more attractive in her eyes, even if that was humanly impossible.

Betty put an extra skip in her step, her footsteps echoing but still not loud enough at this distance for him to be alerted. Placing the alight cigarette between his teeth, he untangled his limbs and bended his knees to be on eye level with the bike’s side mirror, the girl watching him as he went to check the condition of his untamed raven locks, ruffling them a little before combing through some waves that fell freely on his forehead to smooth them in an attempt for his hair to coordinate with his more cared for appearance. It seemed that he had spent some time on his hair too, trying to style somehow his unruly mane but with no success back at the trailer and with no success now too, since the stubborn strands bounced back, poking his ocean blue eyes as usual. Jughead huffed audibly in anxiety laced despair, a huge cloud of  smoke swaying seductively in front of his handsome face and Betty bit her lip as she felt herself get flustered by the old-school bad boy vide he obviously had prescribed in his DNA.

“Excuse me, Mr. Danny Zuko; did you happen to see my date?” she caught his attention with her clever remark, Jughead’s eyes snapping from the mirror in front of him to the source of the teasing voice, the impact of seeing her all dressed up for him mimicking the one of a deadly bullet piercing right through his chest. His breath got stuck in his throat and he felt as though everything had frozen around them for a torturous minute, upon seeing her walking towards him in a nice yellow mustard slip dress, spaghetti stipes barely visible against her creamy collarbones, fabric tight against her luscious curves and reaching a tantalizing length at the middle of her toned thighs, and long legs bare and offered on a plate for him to hungrily devour with his eyes, appearing even more shapely than they already were with the low-heeled brown sandals she had opted to wear, a delicate thin stripe closing around her equally delicate ankles. Her golden hair was down in loose waves, soft, silk and lightly kissed by the wind, framing her stunning face in a way that caused his stomach to drop in a foreign manor, tingles of electricity shooting in all of his nerve-endings at the sight of the most beautiful woman on this earth walking over to join him, a mere mortal caught in an amorous adventure with Venus and Athena reborn as one.

“Tall, broody, flannel draped around his hips, ring any bell? Name’s Jughead Jones.” She toyed with him impishly as he rose again in his full height, a pleased smirk trembling on his lips as he pinched the stud of his cigarette with his thump and pointer, taking a last, long drag, before yanking it off his lips, blue eyes narrowing at the smoke that invaded his nostrils.

“Sounds like a weirdo.” Jughead went on with her little theatricals, apathetic and snarky as always, flicking the now useless stud at the nearby bin. “Run now when you still can.” He advised her in all certainty, eyebrows raised for good measure.

“Nah” Betty dragged the word with a foxy little smirk “he has a bike so I’m pretty sold.” One of her fingers brushed over the shining silver details on the side of his motorcycle before his own fingers laced around it, pulling her gently flat on his chest, her legs ending on either side of one of his, as he curled his arms at the small of her waist, not an inch of personal space left between them. “Hey.” She giggled, slender fingers forming a loose grip at the opening of his denim shirt, as she relished in the perfect feeling of contentment and warmth the faint nicotine along with his minty body wash and pure Jughead scent were creating.

He smiled, boyish and happily, baby blue eyes caressing her face and the blush on her cheeks, making it deeper under the intensity of his gaze. “Wow, Cooper…” he then looked between them, spending a minute too long tracing her left leg resting casually against his. “If looks could kill, I��d definitely be your victim right now.  You look gorgeous.” The compliment was said in awe but the rasp in his voice indicated desire and raw male appreciation. Betty felt as if she was already floating in cloud nine.  

“Thank you.” She replied sweetly, a pretty smile highlighting more her gorgeous futures, Jughead dropping a tender kiss laced with a playful groan on her cheek because truly he couldn’t resist her and her soft skin and her jasmine perfume and the sunshine that seemed to pour right out of her pores. “You don’t look bad yourself.” It was time for her eyes to travel down between them, smoothing her palms against the fabric of his shirt and biting her lip at how good it fitted him in all the right places. “But you lied; I thought you were the one dressed in black.” She looked up at him cheekily, eyebrow rising in fake reprimand.

He chuckled incredulously. “Technically I am. I just added a little splash of color.” He informed her in his most convincing fashion blogger voice, straightening his posture more as she swayed merrily inside his arms, giggling.

“Well, I like it.” She confirmed with a playful nod before adding in a soft tone, lovely smile intact and green orbs gentle and shining against his. “It brings out your eyes.”

A dopey grin curled his lips and some color found its way to his nice cheekbones, him ducking his head in modesty to hide it, and Betty felt her heart fluttering in her chest at the sight. Smoothly, like a cherish cat, she snuggled more against him and left a gentle kiss against his jawline, the ends of her grin colliding with his as she felt the vibrations of a faint short chuckle at her sly action, Jughead turning his head lightly and finding her lips with ease, groaning at the taste of strawberry that invaded his senses and making her smile inside the kiss in triumph for her choice of lip gloss, before saucily tugging on his down lip with her teeth. Their short make out was lazy and wet, with deep moaning inhales of much needed oxygen and desperate clinging to each other’s arms, before pulling back for air.

“So ready?” Jughead asked, a tad breathless, reluctantly uncurling his arms from her tiny form to swing his leg on the other side of the bike, ready to start the engine.

“Duh!” Betty exclaimed in enthusiasm, like a kid at the gates of Disney world. “I can’t wait to get on this thing.” Her green eyes were round in joy and Jughead couldn’t help but laugh good-heartedly at her unique self, before handing her something from behind his back.

“Here, take this.” She frowned down at her now filled hands, a white and pink, glitter adorned helmet staring back at her, an epic contrast with the black, hi-tech one of his that was lying on the console between his opened legs.

“I didn’t know biker guys had helmets with fairy princesses on them.” She grimaced in amusement, shimmery lips pushed together to hold back the waves of laughter that were threatening to escape in full force.

“Shut up.” He let something between a groan and a huff, eyes rolling in fake annoyance. “It’s Jellybean’s and, yes, of course, she hates it too.” He let her know in sarcasm, scoffing at his sister’s, irrational in his eyes, loathing for the girly item. “It’s the very first one I bought for her when she was little but apparently now all this pink feast is tarnishing her reputation or whatever.” He waved a hand in a bored manner, literally hearing JB’s voice complaining each time she had to ride with him in that helmet. “I’m saving money to buy her a new one but, in the meantime, she and you, hoity-toity ladies, need to follow the rules of the driver.” He pointed a warning finger at her, like a parent scolding their rebellious child, sporting his best alpha male expression.

Despite finding him extremely sweet, Betty curled a palm around his finger, playfully pushing it away and altogether ignoring the command. “I thought hot bikers cared more about style and impeccable sex-appeal and a helmet definitely defeats the purpose.” She challenged him in a clever tone, arms curling over her chest stubbornly.

“What?” he exclaimed in fake offence. “Safety is sexy.” He threw back in his smartass tone that made her scoff a tiny laugh. “Besides, trust me, nothing can shadow the power of those legs.” He winked devilishly after a brief checking out of the said legs and a lick of his lips, making her smile to the ground as her cheeks flashed crimson, the engine coming violently to life snapping her back to its rider. “Hop on, Cooper.” He yelled over the noise with an impish grin, putting on his own helmet and accelerating the engine in the sexiest way Betty had ever witnessed.

With a deep breath, she shoved his sister’s helmet over her blonde tresses, before using his board shoulders to climb behind him, each of her long legs resting on his sides and arms wrapping loosely around black leather and flexing abs.

“I look ridiculous! You look like a motorcycle god right out of GQ or something and I’m like an eighty year old grandma, riding on my grandson’s bike with a stupid borrowed helmet.” She shouted more than necessary, voice getting muffled behind the clear glass, feeling the vibrations of his laugh against her front, before Jughead turned lightly to give her an amused side glance.

“To be fair, you do make a hot grandma.” He replied boyishly, knocking lightly her helmet with his in affection, making her roll her eyes but eventually laugh at his awfully charming self.

“So where are you taking me?” she asked impatient now.

“Heaven, Hell, who knows?” he shrugged in fake innocence. “You’ll tell me by the end of the night.” With a last smirk, he pushed down the black non-transparent glass of his helmet and kicked the side stand with the heel of his combat boot, before they were speeding down the road and through the dusking sun.

The feeling was euphoric; travelling on two wheels rather than four, piercing through the wind, almost flying, almost floating in the depths of the horizon. Betty never felt this light or carefree or exhilarated before in her life, like she can do anything, like she is invisible, like she is seventeen and ready to take on the entire world. He was the one to show her another way of living, as he maneuvered steadily and expertly between cars and traffic lights, picked up speed when necessary and made the fine piece of vehicle roar obediently under them, or let her feel the heat of the asphalt grazing her bare knees at every turn they took, the chill-rising leaning over from side to side appearing controlled and sure in his strong arms, him treating the rules of gravity like a true bad boy was supposed to; by defying them.

But the highlight of the night was one and only; the intimacy. Betty could feel the hard planes of muscle against her forearms, the flexing shoulder blades against her cheek, his strong arms taming the beasty vehicle and Jughead was relishing to the wonderful sensation of her tiny frame practically glued on his body, her soft curves pressed against his back, the ends of her blonde tresses teasing his neck as they fought viciously against the wind, her miles long legs keeping him trapped against her body heat, the new length of her dress barely leaving anything to the imagination as it was getting wrinkled against the hem of his Serpent jacket.

The drive wasn’t long and soon enough Betty knew that they were heading at the outskirts of town but on the south side of it, somewhere she’s never been before. The buzzing of people could be heard gradually and after a couple of minutes a wide opening appeared, right at the edge of Sweetwater River, filled with twinkle lights, neon signs and, much to Betty’s delight, cars; beautiful, polished antique cars.

“What is this?” the excited girl practically jumped off the bike, once Jughead has safely parked, wobbly legs stumbling adorably as she yanked her princess helmet and shrieked loudly, her green eyes shining while taking in the sight of people strolling between multiple rows of fine vehicles.

Jughead shook his head in amusement, mentally exhaling in relief at her joyful reaction, before hopping off the bike himself and curling an arm around her shoulders. “It’s the annual car exhibition here at the Southside.” He started explaining to the flabbergasted girl to his side who gasped, clenching the hem of his leather jacket still watching the sight in front of her in awe.

“The Serpents are avid four-wheel collectors so every year at this day they leave their bikes at home and showcase their retro taste in cars. It’s non-profitable and there’s not an auction or anything but people do vote for the model of the year. It’s a fun gathering; you can talk with the owners, learn more about cars and mechanics and generally ogle nice wheels.” He shrugged casually, a small smile adorning his face too, loving their little tradition and the look of pure elation on Betty’s profile. The arm that was draped over her collarbone squeezed her affectionately to his side, before he spoke next to her temple. “I thought it would be something you’d like.”

“Of course it is!” Betty exclaimed, turning her head up to look at him, chin resting on the base of his neck and dashing smile curling her bubblegum lips. “Juggie, this is incredible! I don’t know how to thank you enough.” She gushed in total happiness, eyes boring into the ocean blue ones of the guy that made her heart beat faster than ever before, of the guy that now was feeling his own heart throb for the first time at the look she was giving him.

“Well, a kiss would be great.” his thinking expression had her laughing carefree at his theatrics, Betty raising on her tip-toes and cupping his cheek as she kissed him, his free hand landing on her waist and fisting the material of her dress as their lips kept moving in a heated slow-dance.

Jughead pulled back with a wet smooch, lips slightly red and eyes closed, a tad lightheaded by the spell she was casting upon him with every kiss and every touch. “You really wanna go to this car festival instead of making out with me right now, huh?” he breathed in his usual sardonic manner.

“Yes! Badly!” Betty squirmed giddily against him, hiding her face at the crook of his neck and giggling as he shook his head in fake disappointment. She left a peck against his soft skin before focusing up on him and taking his hand, walking backwards to the exhibition. “I promise I’ll kiss you more after.” She gave him her best puppy dog expression and of course he caved, letting a tsk sound as scolding to himself at how whipped he already was but couldn’t help the happy smirk that appeared on his lips as he let her drag him towards the crowd of people.

They spent the next hour or so strolling around hand in hand or with his arm curled loosely around her shoulders, while her arm was resting casually on his waist with fingers cheekily playing with his belt loops or getting buried inside the back pocket of his jeans and making him smile incredulously at the good girl glance she had spared him unashamedly. Jughead was introducing her to the Serpents he knew and being a great tour guide but mostly listening to her bombarding him with trivia about each car they would come across or watching her, proudly if he dared to confess, interacting with car owners of his kind and mesmerizing them, just like she had done with him. Truth be told, Jughead didn’t want anything more from this date; the glow on her face and the utter excitement in her sparkling eyes were everything he had ever hoped for, making him more and more smitten with the magic that was Betty Cooper.  

“So tell me again, how you, pastel colors and all, ended up with grease stained hands and a love for anything automobile?” they were reaching the end of the exhibition by now, hand in hand as always and with Betty’s free hand curled around his elbow, an easy-going chit-chat interrupting the crowd noise from around them.

“My dad is an ultimate gearhead so I guess I got the gene.” Betty shrugged a shoulder, eyeing with interest an old Ford Mustang. “He used to work at a mechanic shop when he was in high school but even after he and my mom got married and started the newspaper he kept going there as a hobby, to pass time or blow off some steam when my mom was driving him to the wall.” She laughed lightly, Jughead smiling fondly too even though her attention wasn’t on him. “For some reason I always wanted to tag along so eventually it became our Saturday morning father-daughter ritual.” She shot him a pretty smile, upon turning to look at him, caressing affectionately the inside of his elbow where her fingers were resting.

“That’s nice.” He nodded, tightening the hold of their hands as a reflex. “You must be really close then.” Jughead assumed, reciprocating her smile with a nice one of his own.

“Yeah, we’re buddies in every sense of the word.” The blonde girl laughed lightly, loving the close relationship she still had with her beloved daddy. “Our favorite is bringing vintage cars back to life.”

“That sounds pretty cool. Yet, you drive a Mini-Cooper, Cooper.” His eyebrows rose in emphasis, teasing her for the consequence of her choice of transportation and her last name being the same.

“Not you too!” Betty groaned, eyes rolling in exasperation and making him chuckle. “I’ve had enough of Kevin’s and Cheryl’s mockery since I got my license.” She huffed annoyed but not really holding it against them. “And this is just my mom’s insane obsession about new cars equaling better safety, which is ridiculous, but no one in our household can deny her anything.” She was wildly gesticulating now, a habit that Jughead found rather adorable, although that word was not very flattering for his vocabulary. “If it was up to me I’d choose a ’64 Pontiac or, I don’t know, a Volkswagen Camper van.” She murmured matter-of-factly, him looking down at her in shocked amusement.

“Seriously?” Jughead scoffed in disbelief.

“What?” she exclaimed like she was offended. “They are cute!” she snuggled to his side in a girly manner, voice oozing sugary sweetness, and the boy next to her couldn’t help but let a silly grin at her adorableness. A kiss was delivered to the top of her head as a comfortable silence spread between them.

“Doesn’t your parents worry that you drive a motorbike?” Betty casually questioned after some minutes.

“Well, I’m from the South and most dads there are bikers. What makes you think that mine isn’t?” He offered a pretty good point which emphasized with a rise of his eyebrows. “As for my mother” his body language changed all of a sudden and the word held a foreign bitterness that Betty had only heard him use before when addressing Chuck Clayton “she’s not in the picture in order to have an opinion.” He stiffened besides her, looking straight in front with an expression that she could hardly read, a dark ominous cloud shadowing his handsome features.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Betty caught herself muttering with a frown and suddenly a heavy heart.

“Don’t be.” Jughead sighed as if to chase his demons away, momentarily closing his eyes before turning to her and offering her a small smile in assurance. “She never loved this side of the town and apparently having two kids wasn’t reason enough for her to try and adjust. She ran away when I was nine; haven’t seen her since.” He laconically let her know.

It was Betty’s turn to squeeze his hand that was intertwined with hers, the revelation and his sullen exterior breaking her heart. “That must have been tough.”

“It was, especially for my dad.” Another sigh and his focus was on his boots, kicking tiny pebbles as Betty snuggled closer to his side, a tiny gesture of support and understanding. “Overnight, he was left all by himself and two kids; my sister was barely three at the time.” He remembered with frown lines getting deeper on his forehead, Betty wondering internally how on earth a mother could abandon her children like that. “And you know how people either step up or get drowned in the face of a challenge? Well, he did the latter. He started drinking, getting involved in some very tricky situations, distancing himself from us.” Jughead shook his head for the bad memories to scatter away and then continuing in a chirpier tone, his mood gradually brightening again. “But he came through and I’m proud of him. He cleaned his act and I can say now that he is someone I am not ashamed to call a father.” The two teens shared a smile of contentment, him at his fighter of a father and her at the way his blue eyes seemed to shine so lovely every time he smiled happily. “Maybe he is a tad unconventional and at times it seems like we are more college dorm roommates than adult and child” he chuckled and Betty lightly giggled at the image “but he is pretty incredible. And I have a feeling that he is going to love you.” He told her shyly, his lips never shredding that smile she loved and she felt her heart flattering at the statement and the amazing guy he was proving to be.

Teasingly, she bumped her shoulder with his bicep, throwing him a glance that screamed confidence. “I charmed one Jones man; I think I can handle one more.”

“Definitely.” He breathed with that intensity that always seemed to use when addressing her, leaning down to capture her lips in a slow kiss, his hand covering the side of her neck in affection. “Now” he spoke against her lips, eyes darting in a clever manner at something behind her “I can spot a sleek black Pontiac right there waiting for you.” The speed that Betty turned around almost made him faint since a hurricane of blonde waves thwacked his face, the scent of her shea butter shampoo attacking his senses and turning his mind into musk. “Why don’t you hop in and I’ll take care of the food?” he suggested with a light chuckle at her reaction.

“Can I?” Betty’s eyes had never been rounder in surprise and bliss.

“Yes, you can.” He confirmed still laughing at how adorable she was. “The guy that owns it is a friend so, even though getting in the cars isn’t exactly allowed, he can turn a blind eye for us.”  Jughead winked, outstretching his arms to catch her as she squealed and practically bounced to hug him.

“You’re the best, Juggie!” Her excited voice came muffled against the leather of his shoulder, slender arms closing around him in a thigh, affectionate grip before pulling back with smiley eyes and aching cheekbones. “But I’ll go half on the food, here, let me—” she made a move to reach her small bag but he stopped her, closing lazily his arms around her waist again.

“Cooper, you are on a date with me. And, damn straight, I’m going to spoil you.” The tip of his nose brushed against hers, a tender habit that he seemed to grow around her and Betty secretly loved, the girl biting her lower lip at the kaleidoscope of butterflies he only knew how to set free inside her stomach. “Are we cool with hotdogs? Anything to drink?” he wanted to make sure.

“Do they have milkshakes?” Betty went with her all-time-favorite go to drink.

“Only the best.” He bounced his head back smugly. “What’s your flavor, Cooper?” for some reason the question sounded so sinful coming for his lips, undertones of sexual innuendos and another type of flavor coloring his seemingly innocent words and she couldn’t hold back, as she let her mouth dance over his in a flirtatious whisper.

“What do my lips taste like?” She challenged and a smirk trembled on the said lips at his tiny groan, the raven-haired boy eyeing her shimmery pink flesh and moving to close the almost nonexistent distance between them, not because he didn’t remember – oh no, at this point that exclusive Betty Cooper taste was imprinted on his mind – but because her mouth was sinfully irresistible and the greatest addiction he ever experienced in his life.

Her pointer on his lips prevented him for doing so, the little minx toying with him like she only knew how.

“Mmm” Jughead moaned again, licking his own lips while eyeing hers in a trance of desire “strawberry.” He sighed around the answer, seeing her grin in triumph. “You’re such a little menace.” His teeth grazed the pad of her finger in warning, promising to get her back and get her good. Betty just rubbed herself sensually against him, green eyes sparing him a bring-it-on look that had his pupils dilating in lust in seconds, before pulling away. “Go, I got this.” He urged her to the direction of the car with a small push at the small of her waist and a lopsided smirk that she reciprocated with a dashing smile over her shoulder, as he walked to one of the food vendors to take care of their order.    

He came back minutes later, hands proudly presenting her with a red plastic tray full of hotdogs and two large orders of fries, a strawberry milkshake with extra sprinkles and whipped cream for her and a coke for him, Betty laughing in shock at the amount of food he insisted was mediocrely sufficient for the both of them.

“Okay, this is a little weird.” Jughead scrunched his nose upon eyeing warily the bread and sausage goodness in his hand. “I have a dog and his name is Hot Dog so me eating this violates so many owner-pet friendship rules.” Betty almost chocked around a mouthful, a series of laughter erupting from her chest as she tried to chew around her fist bite. The sight was truly unladylike and Jughead was hooked.

“You named your dog Hot Dog?” she shrieked incredulously once her giggles subdued, Jughead sending her a side glance.

“Hey, I was five and obsessed with junk food!” he protested. “Burger just didn’t have a nice ring to it.” He rested back on the leather interior of the car with a shrug, officially taking a rather large first bite of the forbidden fast food.

“Can I meet him sometime?” Betty murmured sweetly, brushing her palm in a silly manner against the corner of his lips where some breadcrumbs were left behind, offering him an equally silly grimace. Jughead’s eyes widened for a minute and some faint color appeared on his high cheekbones, sending her an apologetic smile. She didn’t care; she all but found him extremely cute and that was another plus in the pleasant surprise that was Jughead Jones.

“If you want.” He went on with their small chat, nodding happily at the thought of her wanting to do so. “Though, fair warning, he is sickening friendly and you’ll definitely fall in love with him.” His tone was alluring, a small smirk playing on his lips at the teasing warning that applied not only to Hot Dog but its owner too.

“Well” the blonde girl shrugged in faux apathy “it helps that I have a soft spot for his owner.” She threw him her best sweetheart-material smile and Jughead actually felt his chest puffing with a strange longing, a feeling of numbing heat and warmth spreading all over his ribcage and shaking him to the bone. His baby blues stayed trained on her and intensity made them crease at the edges, him being unable to look away.

“What?” Betty spat in confusion upon catching him staring, her hand immediately shooting up to her mouth in panic. “Do I have something on my face too? I swear to God, sometimes, I’m such a messy eater I end up—” a fierce kiss in full force had the words dying on her lips, almost making her drop her unfinished hotdog, as he took her breath away one more time with the lewd tenderness of his actions.

“You’re good.” Jughead let a breathy chuckle, forehead resting against forehead as she tried to slow down her heart. “It’s just…” he toyed with a blonde lock before pushing it behind her ear delicately, connecting their eyes. “Your hair looks great like that and it’s quiet distracting, okay?” he chuckled again in disbelief at how sappy he was turning overnight, only for Betty to peck his grinning lips lovingly before he reluctantly pulled back from her warmth. “Plus, a girl with an appetite is a huge aphrodisiac.” He sent her a wink, biting playfully at what seemed like his third hotdog for the night.

Betty felt the heat rise in her body, the goosebumps appearing on her skin just from his sexy choice of words and that damn distracting signature gesture of his. Without thinking twice she leaned over, melting against his side as he draped his arm around her shoulders in reflex. “In that case then” her voice dropped a suggestive octave, slender fingers coming to play with the buttons of his denim shirt “and since, due to recent history, having an audience is not really my scene, I’m down for expanding my horizons and seeing more of the Southside.” She proposed in a seemingly standoffish manner, arching her chest against his in a delicious way. “Like, its make out spots?” the grin that slowly found its way on her full lips was borderline illegal, inviting him in nighttime shenanigans that he was oh so willing to engage in with her.

Faking scandal, his eyes widened and a single eyebrow arched in boyish mischief. “Are you trying to get into my pants, Cooper?”

Betty slid more up his chest, Jughead casting a brief glance down at the modest cleavage her dress allowed. “Well, technically, I’m trying to get you out of them.” She replied with a playful grimace.

A dark chuckle echoed faintly between them, his eyes turning dark blue and boring lustfully against hers. “Watch what you are wishing for.” His wicked toned sent a pool of desire low in her stomach, Betty biting her lip to keep herself from moaning. “Come on; I know just the right place.” He left a final chaste but wet kiss against her bubblegum lips before getting out of the car, her mimicking his actions. He waited for her to round the fine vehicle, before his arm was once again curled around her shoulders, Betty finishing her remaining milkshake on their walk back to his bike, the cold sensation of the melted ice cream doing nothing to ease the heat of anticipation and giddy nerves he had arisen inside her with just one look.

The drive was short, through neighborhoods that Betty didn’t recognize but held a haunting mystique, an intriguing aura of an old retro movie. Everything looked more natural at the Southside, more raw and untouched and that was something that mesmerized the girl on the back of the Serpent’s bike, desperately wishing she could paint or photograph as her bewildered eyes were taking the scenery in with a hungry lust for life. And when the pine trees at each side of the high road they were speeding down narrowed, creating a thick barrier of nature, Betty was awarded with a view so gorgeous, she was sure it only belonged to a fairyland far far away.

A small clearing right by the edge of Sweetwater River, the whole North reflecting with faint shadows against the peaceful waters, yellow flickers and moonlight painting a silver trail that connected earth and night sky. She practically had the whole Riverdale at her feet.

“Wow…” she was held spellbound, eyes not even blinking as she stood frozen on her spot while Jughead was securing his Harley. “It’s so beautiful. It feels like the city lights are floating on the river.” She mused in awe, subconsciously taking some steps back to lean at the sponge seat. Once she registered the boy next to her chuckling, she turned to him, a playful smile trembling on her full lips.  “Does this view work on all the girls you bring up here?” Betty teased him wittily.

Jughead chuckled again, this time timidly and with his focus turned on the ground, rubbing the back of his neck before addressing her again with shiny blue eyes, a hint of hope and nervous anticipation intensifying their lovely color. “You tell me. Is it working?”

Betty frowned adorably, despite how lightheaded she felt by the look he was giving her. “Wait… Am I like the first one you come here with? What about all the others, Mr. Biker God?” she snorted a small laugh in disbelief.

“They were just…” he struggled, watching his fingers fidgeting with the keys of his motorcycle “others.” He settled then with a defeated sigh. “It never felt right enough. But you, Betty Cooper” his attention was back at her once again, tentatively moving closer and closer to her with that intensity of his stare, making her insides twist and turn in a ridiculous dance of nerves and hormones and feelings “you are something else; special.” He found his place right in front of her, a long leg finding its way between her slightly bended ones, face inches away from hers, hot breathes mingling, fireworks erupting in the depths of both their souls. Betty felt the need to gasp at the earth-shaking connection but not a single sound came out of her parted mouth. In fact, that wasn’t necessary; the magnetic pull of their bodies said it all, the sense of gravitation towards each other, the feeling of electricity running through their veins without them even touching.

“You—” Jughead choked in a breath, the words getting stuck in his throat, as he examined her awestruck and confused, her pretty face glowing under the moonlight and causing his heart to beat in a way he had never felt before and that was terrifying and disturbing and exquisitely exhilarated.

Betty’s fingertips found his mouth, silencing him. She didn’t need any of his words or declarations; it was in his eyes. “Kiss me.” She begged him in a hushed whisper, needy and ready to get lost into the world of recklessness she was careful not to indulge in all those seventeen years of her life.

Their lips crashed, mouths falling open in lewd despair, her whine embracing the heat of his soft moan at the contact. His tongue gained easy access in the tantalizing abyss of her mouth, exploring every inch of hidden flesh and forcing her own muscle to sway with his in an erotic dance that had her mind spinning in coordination with the sinful twirls of his experienced tongue. Her hands found their favorite place inside his thick ebony hair, pulling and fisting just how he liked, making him pant heavily against her opened mouth and kiss her back with more vigor, more heat, more desire to have her impossibly close. With a naughty tug of her down lip with his sharp teeth that had her half-gasping while he soothed the irritated skin with a tender suck and a swipe of his tongue, tasting strawberries and going insane, Jughead’s hands grasped her hips and slid her back on top of his bike, nesting between her legs and colliding his hard chest with her soft feminine mounds. Their bodies started that delicious push and pull, igniting sparks of desire like two electrified bare cables that attract each other violently and deadly.

Moans and groans mixed with wet sounds and hard breaths were the only thing disrupting the silence of nature, Betty bringing her hands to fist the lapels of his jacket in wanton desire, urging him more against her body, her thighs flexing at each side of his hips. He grunted and the said hips bucked at the involuntary action of her muscles, Jughead feeling himself growing harder by the minute, by each dirty swirl of her tongue, by each rub of her breasts against his chest, by the heat that radiated right at the place that ached for her. Forcefully, he gripped her hipbones harder, nails digging at the soft material of her pretty dress, and jerked them against him, Betty being dipped back from the force of him attacking her mouth more enthusiastically as they both moaned loudly at the sensation of his prominent erection against her center.    

“You are the most addicting thing I ever tasted.” Jughead breathed a primal groan against her mouth, lips dancing to change the angle of the kiss, Betty’s tongue curling to leave a sultry wet trail against the center of his chapped lips, from down to upper, too high on him and the way he had her whole body burning with his illegal kisses and sinful compliments.

“Good girls are not supposed to kiss that way.” He grabbed her chin to force her to look at him, green eyes hooded and filled with filthy promises, as her fingers slayed against his scalp holding him captive against the softness of her bee-stung lips.

“Guess you unlocked the bad girl underneath…” her erotic voice travelled all the way through his bones, a gut-wrecking grunt erupting from his chest before he dived forward in sexual frenzy and demanded to torture more skin, his skillful mouth travelling south, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her porcelain neck laced with soft moans of appreciation at her natural female essence and that lilac perfume that made him instantly a weak man at her mercy. A series of filthy sucks and dirty licks had her gripping leather once again or anchoring herself from his now more unbuttoned shirt, the denim a wrinkled mess under her claw like fingers, Betty moaning her enjoyment with her head thrown back and her blonde locks cascading like a waterfall of lust down her arched back. Her legs hitched higher in reflex as he delivered a hard bite at the sensitive skin of her pulse point, the soothing figure eights the tip of his tongue was applying sensually afterwards making her dizzy and a mess of high-pitched sighs and heavy pants, as her hips were rolling in-sync with his. One of his large hands slid to her smooth leg to caress softly from her knee to the pushed up hem of her dress, his lips found the valley of her breasts, her wet underwear grinded roughly against his thickness and Jughead groaned against the curve of her heaving mounts, gripping forcefully the skin of her thigh to restrain himself, thump inches away from the lace he was sure adorned her perfect curves underneath.

Betty’s hand shot between them, grabbing hold of his wrist, both of them pulling back to look at each other, breathless and panting like they had just ran a marathon. “Jughead, I haven’t…” she admitted in a small voice, doe eyes filled with lust turning shy and alert waiting for his reaction. She hoped her inexperience wouldn’t be a deal breaker for the utterly hot and definitely widely experienced guy in between her legs.

Jughead blinked a couple of times to collect his blood-less brain. “…Nothing?” he stupidly blurted, mentally kicking himself in the gut as soon as the word left his swollen lips for sounding so insensitive and such…a guy.

Hopefully, in between all the awkwardness of the situation Betty found some amusement that made her smirk cheekily, despite her scarlet cheeks and still timid eyes. “Well, my brief fling with Chuck had me excelling in manual labor and him enjoying plenty of benefits, if that counts.” She bit back in sarcasm, despite her more rosy cheeks at the sexual activities she was admitting of.

“Always an ass, can’t say I’m surprised.” Jughead nearly growled, his hold on her thighs tightening possessively for a minute, before he sighed lovingly, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. “It’s fine. We don’t have to—” like the perfect gentleman he was, he went to let her know that everything was absolutely perfect as it was and she didn’t need to indulge in anything she wasn’t ready or didn’t fancy at the moment.

She was quick to cut him off, the edges of her voice colored with desire. “I want to.” Without missing a beat or breaking their heated eye contact, she buried her hands under her dress, shaky but determined fingers taking hold of her panties at her hips and tugging forward, the blonde Vixen momentarily retracting her long legs from around his waist to push the offensive garment completely off her body. Jughead gulped at the action, burning desire and a knot of anticipation making his Adam’s apple bob in a painful manner, leaving her eyes to look between them when he felt Betty pushing the skimpy lace inside the front pocket of his jeans, a part of it hanging out loosely like a shiny trophy or a flag of conquer. It was the same baby blue thong Jughead had complimented with a round hickey against her prominent hipbone during their first make out session, the blonde minx staying true to her promise, and right now Betty Cooper was approaching a very dangerous Jughead Jones territory.

“Touch me.” She breathed in bone-aching need, making a show out of opening her legs once again on either side of his hips, Jughead moving more against her body and gripping the back of her knees as his predatory orbs slid from her flirty eyes to her heaving breasts and down to his own promise land, still hidden by her utterly frustrating mini dress.

“You know, Cooper” his wicked little smirk and gravelly voice made her whole body shiver as he slithered his body against hers, cheek pressed on cheek, chapped lips talking hotly against her ear as the fingers of his right hand were running torturously slow on the inside of her thigh and towards the center of her arousal “right now you are making my ultimate fantasy come true. Public place, my bike, a long legged beauty perched on top of it, open-wide and” the pads of his fingers reached their destination emitting a breathless gasp from the said beauty “so fucking wet.” He growled against her cheek, his teeth grazing the blushing flesh, before grinding together at the sensation of her being already so ready for him.

The hurricane of lust that followed had them in a wrecked mess of broken signs and desperate push and pulls. With a strong hold on his biceps, short nails digging painfully on leather, Betty forced his whole weight on her, Jughead lashing forward with a moan that got suppressed by her hot mouth, their tongues sliding against each other passionately, feverishly. His fingers were massaging her nether lips, spreading the salty wetness in a teasing way that had her losing her mind and grinding helplessly against his miraculous hand, loving the grunts and heavy male breaths he was leaving inside her wide open mouth. His thump found her clit easily, rubbing the sensitive nerves in slow but film circles, Betty throwing her head back and disconnecting their lips to let a deep throaty sigh as he watched her with his mouth open in desire leaving cries of pleasure under him.

Her broken more was all it took for Jughead to completely unwind.

The intrusion of his fingers was slightly uncomfortable but utterly fulfilling, the first one teasing her like no one ever had, the second burning her alive and causing a chorus of filthy moans and erotic high-pitched sighs to escape from the depths of her subconscious.

“Juggie, oh God…” The girl dropped her head back, eyes rolling at the back of her skull at the newfound feeling of pleasure he was offering her.

“Fuck, baby girl, you are so tight.” His dirty talk only made her moan louder, her legs tightening involuntarily at his sides and her hips rolling to meet his heavenly fingers, both of them hearing  how soaking wet she was at this point.

His free hand caressed heavily down her neck, collarbone, sternum, his pitched black from desire eyes following the movement until her breast got captured in a strong hold, the young Serpent palming the round flesh slow and erotic, making Betty dizzy and in the verge of slipping off the edge. His fingers played with the hem of her dress around her rich cleavage, slowly lowering it along with the cup of a strapless baby blue bra and revealing a dark pink and perky nipple, Jughead groaning low in his chest at the steamy visual the sexiest girl on earth was offering for his eyes only. Without warning his lips captured the hard nerve-ending in coordination with his thump finding again her clit and Betty lost it, fisting violently his now messy raven locks and forming sounds she never thought she would.

“Let go, baby.” Jughead murmured against her skin, freeing the abused flesh with a pop and delivering a wet lick with the flat of his tongue from the curve of her breast all the way up to her neck, nibbling at her jawline. His fingers curled inside her, pumping hard and fast now and poking that very spot that even Betty had trouble finding, Jughead bucking against her heat involuntarily when she tightened even more and her moans became heavier. Splaying a hand on the side of her neck and using his thump on her chin to get her to look at him, he commanded with that dark sexy look in his intense eyes.

“Do it, Betty.” The use of her first name, uttered for the first time and in the hottest situation she ever experienced, drew the much needed orgasm out of her, Betty’s whole body spasming at the force of the feeling and her head dropping heavy on his shoulder, her hot moans and pleasure-filled sighs causing goosebumps to appear at the sensitive skin of his neck.

Her wince of complain at the loss of contact turned into a filthy groan at the sight of him sucking his fingers clean, tasting her sweet feminine essence on his mouth and moaning his appreciation. 

“Okay, officially best date ever.” Betty let a breathy chuckle, Jughead joining her too with a shake of his head, the blushing girl curling her arms and legs around the boy that not only made her heart flutter but her bones melt too with desire.

“Who told you that I’m done with you?” He raised his eyebrows with a wicked side smirk, his fingers trailing again at the inside of her thigh.

“Oh God, again?” Her shiny green eyes rounded in bisbelief, her hips jerking forward once the pad of his index finger connected with her clit, still hyper-sensitive after her amazing high. “What about you?” She worried her down lip with her teeth, momentarily glancing down where his prominent erection was stretching his jeans, only for him to lean forward and leave a chaste kiss on her lips. 

“Shush, Cooper, and enjoy your benefits for once.” Jughead grinned, bopping his nose against hers and making her giggle happily despite the fingers that were again spreading her wetness under her dress. “Plus, I really wanna cross ‘eating on a motorbike’ off my bucket list.” He told her cheekily, lowering himself to the ground in front of her and offering her that sexy wink of his right before disappering between her thighs.

Betty Cooper found a new love for motorbikes that night.

“So those cryptic memoirs of yours involve me in any way? And, if so, how PG are they?”

A hot breath next to his ear startled him, denim clad shoulders jumping lightly in fright at the sudden intrusion, and Jughead snapped out of his deep state of concentration which roughly translated to him muting the annoying human beings around him and sulking in self-pity that he got to spend yet another Monday in the hellhole that was called Riverdale High. The sly giggle that followed though, along with a blur of blonde hair gathered in a bouncy ponytail, forced a sigh of relief to tremble out of his smiley lips, watching in amusement as his favorite girl rounded him to take a seat on the cement step he was sprawled over. His right foot dropped on a step lower to make room for her and his left one stayed put behind her, the inside of his leg touching the tan material of her jacket at the side of her arm that complimented nicely her natural beauty along with her soft teal sweater and white slightly ripped at the knees skinny jeans. Suddenly, his mood was as bright as the happy colors of her outfit and her personality, contradicting every choice and belief of his moody self.

“Nice attempt at snooping, Cooper” he scoffed, closing the small black notebook he was always scribing away in, trapping its black cord inside to mark the page “but my lips are sealed.” He shot his eyebrows up in a playful manner, leaning a tad forward while she did the same, a dashing smile on her shimmery lips. “Hey you.” His tone turned soft as well as his handsome face, fingers timidly sliding to drum against the small patch of bare skin on her knee in subtle affection. “Any reason you are awfully cheerful today?” he questioned teasingly, blue eyes shining in delight under the morning sun.

“Mmm…” Betty made a thinking expression, as her hands made grabby motions against the sheepish lapels of his jacket, her eyes roaming over his torso in appreciation. She hadn’t really seen him in anything other than his Serpent jacket and, even though the black leather was something that always made her mind go spiraling, she had to admit that the blue denim he was sporting today was definitely a strong worth-drooling-over look for him.  “Probably the yummy hotdogs I had on Friday night.” She replied with an Oscar-winning poker face, before curling her lips into a cute grin, green eyes impishly darting around as she dragged her next words. “Maybe a yummy guy too.”

“Is that so?” Jughead faked obliviousness. “Do I happen to know him?”

“Probably not.” she pushed her lips together while nodding in all seriousness. “He’s way too cool to be of your league.” At his offended gasp, Betty couldn’t help but burst out laughing, him smiling big at the carefree sound.

“Really, Cooper?” he knocked the side of her knee with his while she kept on giggling, the fingers now full on splayed on her thigh, delivering a torturous slow caress. Their eyes connected as he leaned even closer, Betty’s laugher fainting into a lovesick smile and his voice dropping an octave as he whispered practically against her inviting lips. “Well, I could show you some cool tricks with m—”

“Ah, predictably.”

A chirpy and borderline annoying voice dissolved the amorous cloud around them as a flash of red voluminous hair invaded their peripheral vision. Betty sighed, closing her eyes momentarily at the interruption, both of them leaning away from each other and turning to face a demanding Cheryl Blossom.

“Well-well, another episode of Betty and Cry-Baby caught in a maypole of denial and restrain when all they wanna do is shove tongues down each other’s throat.” The redhead waved a hand to indicate how fed up she was with their cat and mouse game. “If this was a TV-show, it would be canceled by the second episode.” She deadpanned.

Jughead frowned at her, Betty let an amused scoff. “What’s up, Cheryl?”

“Oh but I’m not here for you, Betty dearest.” Her voice turned sugary sweet, shooting a teasing smirk at her cousin. “I’m interested in you” she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Jughead “Jax Teller of our quaint little town.” The young Serpent shook his head at the comparison while the blonde girl formed a mirthful grimace. “Next Saturday mommy and daddy dearest are going to be in all their successful business people glory in an out of town investors trip so there’s gonna be a party at my place, 9 o’clock. Don’t be late, bring booze and even your” Cheryl paused to find civilized words “werewolf pack of corny Neanderthals.”

Betty and Jughead shared a look. “You do realize that you are planning weeks ahead, right?” her cousin just shrugged nonchalantly, way too excited to spread the word about yet another epic party organized by the Queen Bee of Riverdale High. “And anyway, when was this impromptu party decided?” she questioned her suspiciously.

Cheryl pushed her bloody red lips in thought. “Uh, first period. I am horny plus craving alcohol so this equals a big Blossom party minus my clothes!” she shrugged matter-of-factly.

“Math genius, right there.” Jughead remarked in his usual sarcasm.

“Thank you, you walking orgasm.” The popular girl thanked him almost sincerely, placing a hand over her chest, and making him raise his eyebrows smugly at the nickname. “So that’s all, I’ll let you get back to ruining Betty’s panties one per glance.” The aforementioned girl huffed in scandalous embarrassment, the raven-haired boy next to her nodding in appreciation with an amused smirk as the chaos that was named Cheryl Blossom turned to leave. “Later, losers.” She threw over her shoulder with an essential flick of her red tresses before she was sprinting down the school’s backyard in search of other innocent victims.

“Okay, she is a bit…” Betty struggled to find a suitable word as they watched her joining some girls from the cheerleading squad.

“Of a psycho crackhead that reincarnated into the body of the teenager version of those bratty toddlers right out of Toddlers & Tiaras?” Jughead quickly offered cleverly.

“I would say excessive but you’ve got a point.” She grimaced as he turned back to her, merriment obvious on his face. “I’m sorry about all this” Betty sighed “I haven’t even told her about our date and already she is making a fuss about the two of us.” She squirmed uneasily, hoping that the tactless ambush wasn’t going to scare Jughead away.

“You didn’t?” he eyed her surprised, a frown of confusion shadowing his face. They hadn’t had the chance to meet again over the weekend, mainly because he was neck deep with Serpent duties and she was prepping hard for an upcoming English quiz, but they were practically glued on their phones talking and texting non-stop, so in his books that appeared to be pretty auspicious. The lack of her not blubbing all about their date to her best friends, just like any other typical teenage girl, well, that brought an alarming code red sign to flash in his mind.

“No, not really.” She refused with a small shrug. “I mean” she was quick to add when she saw his face drop at the revelation “I didn’t know if that was something you wanted or, more so, if there’s an “us” to begin with.” A nervous chuckle accompanied the end of her sentence, as she dropped her head, suddenly eager to watch the picking of her fingers.

“Betty” there was the use of her first name again, uttered so softly and sweet that made her feel warm all over, as the hand that was on her thigh slipped between hers and he laced their fingers together, Betty eyeing their joined hands with a small smile “we went out and had a great time and kissed a lot and it was amazing…” his voice trembled around the adjective, as if he still couldn’t believe the kind of connection they had. “Plus, you know” he ducked his head to find her eyes, his tone becoming a naughty, collusive whisper “there’s still a blue thong in the pocket of my nice pair of jeans.” This made her blush and bite her lip in embarrassment, Jughead chuckling lightly at her reaction and tracing the red on her cheek with the thumb of his free hand, mesmerized. “So, there’s definitely an “us” for me.” He concluded in all honesty, ocean blue connecting with meadow green in a stare-off that held so many newfound feelings and words unsaid.

At her silence, he hesitated. “Isn’t this something you want? For us to be us…” He was mildly frustrated by his poor vocabulary and anything but eloquent word structure but he was too preoccupied with searching for any hint of rejection on her pretty face to care about his crumbling ability to talk, his heart beating impossibly fast at the possibility of her not spending the previous nights awake and thinking of him just like he had done, rewinding every moment of their date with shiny eyes happy and alert towards his bedroom ceiling.

“Yeah, of course.” Betty assured him passionately. “I had a great time too, obviously.” She smiled wholeheartedly at him, tightening the hold of their hands and watching him exhale the big breath he was holding, relieved and content. “And all this with you is new but very exciting and incredible…” her eyes rounded in delight and her cheeks became crimson at the way he made her feel. “I just wasn’t sure how official you wanted to make it.” She admitted in a small voice.

Jughead’s fingers curled under her chin, raising her head to look at him. “Well, how official can it get if I do this?” he whispered cheekily before his lips were on hers, Betty letting a squeal of surprise that gave the perfect opportunity for his tongue to invade her mouth, the kiss turning feverish and needy in a second. Heads twirling from side to side in languid passion with demanding lips nibbling and sucking and drowning every sigh and sharp inhale of breath, both of them lost themselves inside the kiss ignoring the hushed whispers that instantly rose from the prying eyes of the teenagers around them in the crowded yard.

Reluctantly, Jughead pulled back, eyes still closed and lips wet and dark red from their intense make out, leaving Betty gasping and leaning forward for more. “Definitely front page material to the school’s newspaper and the talk of the town.” She confirmed his speculations breathlessly against his lips, combined with a faint dreamy smile and flattering eyelashes, still trying to steady her poor heart and reconnect her brain with reality.

“Hm” the shaky breath of his hum fanned her face, his thump caressing the corner of her now lip balm free lips. “I was aiming more for a worldwide trend but I guess there’s always tomorrow.” He joked still lightheaded, leaving a chaste kiss on her grinning lips and fully pulling back, his hands dropping to rest casually on her hips.

“Listen, about this party…” Betty shook her head to rearrange her thoughts. “I mean it’s in two weeks, I don’t even know why Cheryl is spreading the world just yet, I guess she is always extra like that, but anyway because I’ll be there, you don’t have to—” she started to rant uncontrollably, anxious and scared that she was forcing him into something he was better off without, but he was fast to cut her off.

“If you’ll be there, I’ll be there.” Jughead promised. “Plus, Reggie is really getting on my nerves with his constant nudging about me not being an effective wingman because apparently it’s my fault that every logical human being flees at the mention of him taking off his pants.” He used a snarky excuse but Betty knew that him coming to this party was all for her sake. And her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

“Well, I’m sure a party at Thornhill will grand him the heartfelt love story he is desperately seeking.” She grimaced in fake understanding before laughing at Jughead’s eye roll. “Gotta go, I have a freshman waiting for me and my AP Physics brain at the tutor center and I’m already late.” She announced with a tiny groan, patting his jean clad thigh before standing up.

Jughead smirked in confusion. “Seriously, Cooper, what else can you do?”

She leaned down, closing his chin between her thump and her pointer before whispering flirtatiously inches away from his face. “Right about everything and a lot of other things that you haven’t seen yet.” She challenged with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows, leaving a wet smooch on his gasping in shocked amusement mouth. “Talk to you later.” she laughed as she gathered her backpack, loving the fact that she caught him biting his lip at the promise. “And” she was minutes from skipping down the small stairs before she turned and fisted the sheepish lapel of his jacket “don’t brood.” She warned with round, mischievous eyes. “Now that we’re official, it tarnishes my image of sunshine and rainbows.” The blonde menace snorted a laugh as she freed his jacket only for him to collide with the cement half wall behind him, Betty earning a light smack on her butt from his notebook that made her squeak happily, Jughead watching her with a shit-eating grin make her way through the crowd.

Oh, Cooper, it’s so on.

There was nothing atypical about this night. The crisp night air was lingering like a thick veil as a true reminder of what spring always looked like in Riverdale, the heavy downpour was staying true to the words of every meteorologist and every weather forecast that promised biblical storms before the residents of the small town could enjoy some sunnier days. It was an ordinary Wednesday, a little after nine, and two teenagers were running down the abandoned roads of the Southside, soaking figures in search of a shelter.

Three weeks together and of course there was never a boring moment between them.

“We’re gonna catch pneumonia, you crazy girl!” Jughead hollered, more amused than annoyed, eyes squinting under the ferocity of the water droplets against his face.

“We need to take this beauty somewhere safe.” Betty insisted for the hundredth time, voice rising over the noise of nature around them, gripping tighter the right handle of Jughead’s Harley, as she was assisting him in the manual task of pushing the broken down vehicle. They were having their usual date night after Betty’s shift at the Southside Elementary, enjoying a refreshing drive down at the edge of the river when suddenly the bike stopped working only for the malicious rain to be added to the equation of unfortunate events.

“Believe me, I’m crying really un-manly on the inside but right now the bike is not a priority.” The raven haired boy sent her a side glance under his dripping locks against his forehead, pushing her hands out of the way to take control of both handles stubbornly.

“We can’t just–” The blonde girl started to object, equally stubborn too with a scrunched nose in a girly whine, only for a loud thunder to cut her mid-sentence, its earth-shuttering echo making both teens jump and Jughead to lash forward, his torso curling over hers in an attempt to shield her from any danger and potential harm. Once the ominous sound subdued, Jughead, taking matters into his own hands with determination, pushed down the side stand of the motorbike, leaving it to lean over the pavement, before quickly ushering the angel of a girl on his side to the nearest wall, the edge of its rooftop offering the much needed protection from the violent cries of heaven.

“Jesus, Cooper, I should have known from the start that you are going to be the death of me.” The young Serpent huffed in disbelief, face glistering from a thin layer of water and eyes from the adrenaline running through his veins.

Betty chuckled lightly, resting back against the wall and fisting his leather jacket, pulling his soaking form flat against hers. “I thought you were a fan of wild rides, Jones.” The teasing in her tone screamed trouble and her smirk was the definition of sin as she let her lips brush against his ever so lightly.

“Fire.” Her murmured inches away from swallowing her whole, eyes closed as he desperately tried to control his breathing. “You’re always playing with fire…” he sighed in warning, always putty under the spell of her feminine presence, and joined their mouths in a kiss that made Betty’s toes curl deliciously inside her ruined sneakers.

“Are you okay?” Jughead asked once they reluctantly pulled back for oxygen, concerned about her wellbeing, rubbing the side of her arms vigorously to offer any added warmth he could manage to her freezing limbs.

The blonde beauty let a faint giggle at the adorableness of the action, prompting him to laugh lightly too. “I’m perfectly fine.” She let him know in all honesty, down lip trapped inside her pristine whites in order to prevent her face from breaking from the giant smile of happiness and love that threatened to appear on her rosy lips.

Jughead examined their surroundings briefly, frown lines deepening between his eyebrows. “The rain is only getting worse. You stay here; I’ll run to the trailer and then come pick you up with my dad’s work truck.”

“You’re not running anywhere in this weather!” Betty objected to the absurd idea in a high pitched voice.

“It’s fine.” Jughead shook his head in an aloof manner. “Driving you home safe is number one on my emergency list right now.” He made a move to pull back from her, ready to go on with his plan, only for her to grab the inside of his forearm.

“Jug…” she all but whispered, green eyes intense and hiding so many undertones of things unspoken. “I don’t wanna go home.” The sentence was simple but the desperate whine in her tone, the need in her stare, had Jughead’s mind spiraling.

“Betty…” he breathed, the rare use of her first name indicating that the situation was serious or tender, examining her carefully, double-checking, needing to make sure.

She sensed his hesitation, driven solemnly from his principal of always making her feel comfortable. “I don’t wanna go home.” She repeated, firmer, more sure, nails digging in the leather on his forearm and eyelashes fluttering over the sensual shade of her irises.

There was the silence of a heartbeat, Jughead’s eyes dropping down over her dripping figure, a white t-shirt clinging on her curves and turning his throat dry at the faint shadow of some vibrant colored bra underneath.  “Okay.” He answered in a pant, taking off his black leather jacket in a hurry and draping it over her shoulders and her light grey jacket for extra layers. “C’mere. I know where we can go.” He told her softly against her ear, Betty too preoccupied with the butterflies in her stomach to even nod, as she let him guide them back towards the waterfall of rain.

Moments later they were climbing up a slippery fire escape, Jughead expertly flicking open the wide window at the very top and helping her climb inside before following behind her with an agile hop. Illuminated only by the moonlight and the horrendous white light of the lamppost down the road, the room looked tiny under Betty’s trying to adjust eyes, with barely minimum furniture; an old desk tucked against the wall under two selves suffocated by books, an old TV-set with a basket full of old movies next to it on the floor, a round floor mattress covered neatly with some dark purple sheets and littered with random throw pillows, creating a colorful puffy headboard. It was cozy and sheltered, the atmosphere of the small attic offering a weird soothing feeling at Betty’s spiked nerves of anticipation, the drumming of the water against the wooden roof mingling with the faint sounds of some old school rock coming from the rest of the building beneath them.

“It’s called The Wythe Wyrm; it’s our most popular Southside bar.” Jughead went to explain quickly upon watching her examining the place. “My dad owns the place and when my sister and I were younger he used to leave us up here while he worked.” He moved to turn on a small heater at the corner, shaky hands fumbling with buttons. “Now this is mostly my lone wolf dent when I want to write or read or just disconnect myself from the world.” He concluded with a sigh, rising up to his full height, before turning to face the girl that all this time was watching him with doe eyes alight and delighted by the view of his slim figure clad in a soaked black band tee and ripped jeans while leaning back against the wide arched window.

“Also” the word got caught in his throat, his hands getting buried inside the pockets of his jeans for him to hide his ridiculous and newfound awkwardness “my intentions are purely innocent; I’m not assuming anything by bringing you here.” He told her truthfully, his baby blues soft as they connected with her shining green orbs.

Betty bit her lip while slowly taking off her jacket – his Serpent jacket already folded and placed on the window sill with care – her icy cold fingers then moving to play with the hem of her t-shirt. Jughead followed the action, eyes drinking every inch of porcelain skin, until the sticky garment was a worthless puddle on the hardware floor. “And what if mine aren’t?” She whispered the visual innuendo she was offering him, freeing her wet and frizzy golden locks from their elastic prison, the ends of her halo-like hair grazing her heaving mounts and the magenta silk of her elegantly sensuous bra.

“We don’t have to do this…” Jughead breathed with difficulty, his hands curling in fists inside his pockets at his attempt of self-restrain, slowly walking to stand inches away from her inflamed half naked body. “As bad as I want to, I-I can wait.” He promised her in all honesty, his face the epitome of a guy in love for the first time.

“I don’t wanna wait.” Even though a whisper, Betty’s voice was certain, determined, the innocent-like girl sliding her hands up his arms to rest lovingly against his cheeks. “I wanna feel this with you.” The confirmation that he wanted her just as much came through his eyes, pitch dark and pupils dilated, and Betty didn’t need any other sign to rise on her tip toes and move to crash her lips against his, only for the sensation of his hot breath on her parted mouth to disappear last minute, along with the air inside her lungs, as she felt his strong hands turning her around, her back colliding with his strong chest and her semi-bare front being forced against the already foggy window.

Walking down this rocky road

Wondering where my life is leading

Rollin' on to the bitter end

Finding out along the way

What it takes to keep love living

You should know how it feels, my friend

The faint echo of a slow rock song started filling the silence between their gradually heavier breaths and Jughead’s wet sounds against her skin. Holding her hip for leverage, his free hand brushed her dumped hair off to the right side of her neck, attacking the other one with lazy sucks and teasing bites, his teeth nibbling and marking, having her writhing against him and throwing her head back against his shoulder in despair. She wasn’t cold anymore but she was shivering, not from the rain, but from his heated ministrations and the filthy way he was starting to ravish her body, the wetness in her underwear competing against the rain-inflicted wetness all over her body and winning. With an on-point and rather hard bite on her pulse point, Jughead tugging skin and moaning around the abused flesh, her own moan fogged the window and one of her hands shot back to grab his thigh, her firm behind finding him half-hard and ready to introduce her to a new world of wonders and sin. Both of them moaned loudly at the contact, Jughead’s hips bucking against her glorious ass and his fingers turning white around her hipbones.

Ooh, I want you to stay

Ooh, I want you today

“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” Jughead’s manly whisper caressed the shell of her ear, before his teeth grazed the soft skin, his long palms caressing hotly from her shoulders to her shoulder blades, ribs, hips, where they stopped to jerk her backwards and ground her heavier against the place that felt heavenly thick and hard against her round curves. Betty sighed loudly in wanton and bit her lip at the thought of feeling him without any barriers, between her legs, inside her, her thighs clenching involuntarily at the images her dizzy brain was creating, images that were minutes away from becoming reality.

She felt his lips travel from the back of her neck all the way down her back, biting and leaving open mouthed kisses before his fingers were at the button of her jeans, quickly undoing it and pulling the damp material down with difficulty, his make-you-weak-in-the-knees kisses continuing down the long expense of her legs until the denim was abandoned to the side. The midnight blue thong that greeted him, barely there and utterly lacey, had him groaning low in his chest and involuntarily delivering a hard bite against the curve of her ass, causing Betty to squeal a moan of approval. Sliding back up, Jughead used the tip of his tongue to leave a wet, sinful trail all the way up her spine, unclasping expertly her bra on the way and throwing it to join the rest of her clothes on the floor. Betty was a moaning and mewling mess at this point, head rolling back against him and body following his hands blindly in search for something, anything, that would give her sanity back.

“Please, do something. Touch me.” Betty whined in dark desire, one of her hands landing with a slapping sound on the glass in front of her, her short nails clawing the transparent surface in frustration, as his hands kept roaming all over her body, her stomach, hips, thighs, ribs but never on the places that were aching for the simplest of his touches.

“Where do you want me to touch you, baby girl?” His hoarse from arousal voice had her thighs clenching, a groan leaving the depths of her chest when his palm lightly caressed her underside of her breast. “Here?” he faked innocence as he squeezed urgently the soft mount, moaning low in his throat at the sensation of her nipple hardening more under his touch. “Or, better yet, here?” his free hand pushed her panties to the side without any warning, finding her dripping wet, Jughead grunting painfully at the discovery and the high pitched erotic sigh that left her plump lips.

The firm circles and hard pinches on her nipple were in coordination with the expert rubs on her clit, the neglected pink bud of her left breast enjoying the miraculous cooling sensation of the cold glass as the blonde angel was forced under the weight of the guy that was pleasing her, coaxing her into engaging in a filthy concert of operatic moans. When two of his fingers invaded suddenly her wet heat, immediately curling against the spot that always made her see stars and planets, both of them cursed under their breaths, her at the wonderful things he was doing to her body and him at the unbelievable tightness she was promising him.

“I want to feel you inside me.” Betty’s stuttering around a loud sigh was what stopped him, the said girl groaning in frustration at the loss of contact before he turned her again, effortlessly picking her up and urging her long legs to close around his hips, one of his arms curled around her waist while the other held back the waterfall of blonde waves to kiss her senseless and with all the passion he had for her and only her.

I'm ready for love

Oh baby, I'm ready for love

Ready for love

Oh baby, I'm ready for love

Oh, for your love

“God, I have to taste you.” Jughead growled while dropping her on the round mattress, Betty’s soft gasp blowing away the balls of dust that were caused by the action as she landed on the dark sheets with a soft thud and on a cloud of slick hair, her miles-long legs still wrapped around his waist, while he rested on his knees between them, fisting the back of his shirt to pull it off his chest, hard planes of muscle glistering under the moonlight from the dumbness of the rain. Her slender fingers came to caress the hardness of his torso on their own accord, her doe eyes following muscles and popping veins as she could practically feel her panties getting ruined by the state of arousal she was in, her index finger curling around his belt loop and her hips rising up to seek some friction in coordination with the embarrassing mewl of want that left her swollen lips.

A devilish smirk curled on his lips, dark blue eyes impishly provoking and connected with hers, as he confidently popped open the button of his jeans and lowered the zipper, wanting to give his suffocated self some room to breathe and giving Betty a dirty sneak peek of a thickness that made her stomach drop with excitement. Without breaking eye contact, Jughead curled his fingers around her lacey excuse of panties, pulling them down her shapely legs torturously slow until they were only an accessory around her ankle, exposing her fully to his eyes and groaning low in his chest at the sight of her open and ready. He dove for her neck with a faint growl, teeth unmercifully creating purple marks and palms caressing hotly the sides of her open legs, Betty moaning loudly and anchoring herself on his strong back, as her own lips started leaving kisses on his cheek and neck, making him groan into her skin. She could feel the ends of his dark waves tickling her skin as his lips moved lower to nibble on the bony valley of her round breasts, making her throw her head back in a series of moans, both his palms caressing up her sides until they settled on her soft mounds, massaging them and pushing them together while he watched from his spot between them her pretty face getting lost in pleasure. Once satisfied with the growing hickey on her central bone, Jughead’s lips traced the soft skin until a perky nipple was inside them, causing a loud moan to leave Betty’s lips while he sucked and licked the pink bud. He brought his other hand to tease the neglected one and she felt up in the air with the wonders his tongue and teeth were doing, the guy that was featured in all of her late night fantasies switching between his breasts to pay the other the same treatment and making her a moaning mess under him. He sucked harder his time and Betty almost ached off the bed with eyes round and covered in lust, causing him to groan along with her around the sensitive bud and continue more vigorously than before, his hips giving an involuntary hard thrust against her heat and pinning her hips more forcefully under the weight of his.

She didn’t find it in herself to feel ashamed when her back arched and her lips let a whine of complain as he freed the abused flesh with a wet pop, or when she caught a glimpse of the dampness at the front of his black boxers caused by her. Her brain couldn’t function when the tip of his tongue gave her hard nipple a last teasing kitten lick, or when his open and breathing hotly mouth trailed down her stomach or when his palms took hold of the back of her already shaking thighs to push them more open and back towards her. And she definitely lost every ounce of sanity she had left when his tongue licked sinfully from the inside of her thigh to the place that was burning for his attention.

Now I'm on my feet again

Better things are bound to happen

All my dues surely must be paid

Many miles and many tears

Times were hard but now they're changing

You should know that I'm not afraid

Betty never thought it would feel that way. But with her legs open wide and thrown over his strong shoulders, his fingers toying with her sore nipples and his mouth not letting even a drop of her arousal go to waste, she was forced in a sweet agony, with her waist arched like a perfect bow and her head thrown back against the pillows, the veins on her neck popping under the volume of her erotic sounds and a shade of crimson coloring her inflamed skin. He was licking and sucking, teeth grazing just as much, tongue curling in all the right places, and the vibrations of his manly moans of enjoyment felt so filthy, Betty looking down momentarily at the guy between her legs but losing the staring battle once she caught him watching her, then awarding her with a loud wet suck. She spat a “fuck, Jughead ”, her legs tensed up and shivered and her hips started grinding against his tongue with vigor, his groan of surprise and arousal at the use of the swear word and the single digit that slipped effortlessly inside of her triggering an orgasm so intense that changed the whole route of her existence.

Betty used her strong hold on his messy hair to pull him up in a desperate need to have his lips against her moaning ones again, their tongues meeting instantly and starting battling with hunger, the taste of her arousal having them both panting heavily. She felt him nibbling her down lip and she let another moan when he tagged it between his teeth, her in reflex sucking at his tongue and driving him crazy, making him fist her sprawled on his pillow golden locks and angle her head to smother her mouth with his, desperate to swallow all her feminine sighs and groans. Jughead pushed into her opened legs more, her arching her waist towards him and curling a leg around his thigh, succeeding in rolling them over and gaining the upper hand with a victory grin inside their kiss.

“I’ve never been so wet before.” Her bee-stung lips danced hotly against his ear, hard nipples grazing against his pecs and hips rolling deliciously over his, her tongue curling teasingly over the spot behind his earlobe that always made him shiver in her arms. He let a moaning chuckle, closing his eyes at the treatment and the filthy mouth that no one else but him knew she, Betty Cooper good girl extraordinaire, possessed.

“I guess I’m that good after all, Cooper.” The Serpent teased her with that cocky smirk of his, his hands squeezing heavily her bare ass and his lips nibbling at her prominent collarbones.

“We’ll see about that.” She forced him back against the mattress by his shoulders, looking down at him with that glint in her green eyes and her good girl smile, circling her hips over his painful erection and smiling bigger when he threw his head back against the pillows, too wound up by the action of her hips and the sight of the naked goddess on top of him. The blonde angel leaned forward, lips starting to leave a trail of wet peck kisses down his heaving chest as they kept their hooded eyes locked with each other’s, Jughead’s fingers threading in her hair as she moved more south, teeth lightly tagging at the skin next to his happy trail before sucking a mark on one of his prominent V-lines that she always wanted to taste, causing him to grunt painfully and his hips to buck violently against her face.

“Careful.” Jughead warned with his raspy aroused voice and that dark intensity in his predatory stare. “You are approaching war zone.” Even his sarcasm had turned dark and sinfully wicked, Betty licking her lips at the promise behind his words.

“Any lethal weapons?” She decided to play along, raising a perfect eyebrow in a challenge, while sliding his jeans down his legs and leaving him to kick them off completely as she climbed back up his raven hair littered thighs.

“Ready and loaded.” He offered her the boyish smile she fell in love with, only this time it screamed danger and hedonic sin.

Betty lowered his boxers, his impossibly hard erection springing free, and making her lick her lips again around a delighted smirk. “Then I can’t wait to pull the trigger.” She told him in a sultry whisper before her glossy, full lips wrapped around his tip and sucked sensually, making him hiss unceremoniously and curse under his breath. Jughead felt his member getting more and more buried in the heat of her mouth before being released wet and dripping and an unknown force gave him strength to lazily jolt his head up and watch her incredulously, eyes wild with sexual arousal at the sight of the symbol of Riverdale’s purity, the one and only Betty Cooper, greedily licking the underside of him from bottom to top with a loud slurp that made his knees weak and his heart drum like crazy inside his chest.

“Jesus Christ, Betty…” her lips engulfed him again and his head dropped back with a puffy thud, Betty taking more of him in her mouth this time and actually bobbing her head a couple of times, creating an amazing friction and tightness low in his belly, Jughead feeling three hundred percent positive that if she kept that up he would be spilling everything inside her pretty little mouth in a mere matter of seconds.

“Fuck, stop…” The writhing boy underneath her let a deep moan, resulting in her gasping around him and letting her tongue caress heavily the vein on the underside of his thick member, Jughead’s hips shuttering at the change of temperature and the depth of her mouth. His eyes scrunched closed and his hand shot to fist her still damp golden locks at the top of her scalp, his legs tensing at the back of her thighs as she was straddling him.

She was not in a mood to stop but he was not in a mood to be disobeyed.

Ooh, I want you to stay

Ooh, I want you today

The air left her lungs and her lips opened in a silent scream as Betty was forced again on her back, Jughead’s weight heavy on top of her and one of her hands violently pinned over her head. “I need you, goddammit.” He snapped against her lips, frustrated and minutes before exploding, his hips thrusting against hers and the tip of his cock parting her, making them both moan at the contact. Jughead could feel his heart thudding loudly inside his heaving chest, the first time wanting a woman with such frenzy, trying to control his male urges from fucking her to oblivion.

“Take me.” Her breathless whimper dissolved every small ounce of self restrain he had left. His gaze was all-consuming as her naked chest was rolling deliciously over his, her dripping center rubbing up and down his iron hard on and he dropped his opened mouth against hers, their lip-lock immediately turning wet and urgent and dirty, as the hand that wasn’t holding her wrist captive blindly went to search for his jeans.

Betty moaned inside the kiss, grabbing his bicep to stop him, Jughead pulling back with concern painted on his disorientated face. “I wanna feel you whole inside me.” She bit her lip timidly, her cheeks turning even rosier and his eyes a tad wider at her breathy request. “I’m on the pill and I haven’t been with anyone before.”

“I have.” Jughead lamely stated, his hushed tone a mix of shame and regret and his eyes softening upon examining her beautifully flustered face, scared that he was disappointing her, scared that he was disappointing his own self by not knowing any better and not waiting for his first time to be with that amazing girl.

“I don’t care about that, Juggie.” Betty offered him a dashing smile, her hand coming up to cup his cheek and wash away all of his doubts and worries. “I just care about being with you and being—” he didn’t let her finish, his turn to vanish all her worries.

“I’m clean, annual checkup and all.” He was quick to inform her. “But still, we can do it with a condom, it’s fine, whatever you want.” He was more quick to assure her again that her being comfortable was a priority.

Betty’s heart melted at his thoughtful and sweet nature. “I want your skin to burn my skin. I want your everything.” She whispered against his lips lovingly, forehead rubbing against forehead and her thumps forming idle circles on his cheekbones.

“Okay.” Jughead breathed in barely a whisper, his eyes close and his senses in hyperactivity.

“Okay.” Betty agreed, letting a trembling sigh as she felt his cock twitch against her warmth, Jughead nesting more comfortably inside her open legs.

“You’re shaking.” her observation was a hushed mumble, her own heart shivering against her ribcage in anticipation and sweet nerves, her green excited eyes boring into his calming sea blue ones. 

“Good shaking.” Betty barely heard his voice breaking, his eyelids fluttering closed as he claimed her lips again, soft and tender, his strong arms wrapping around her waist and his hips pushing forward, until their bodies became one, an overwhelmed gasp filling his mouth and long legs shivering against his sides as his own body shot weightless in the clouds of heaven and the depths of hell.

I'm ready for love

Oh baby, I'm ready for love

I'm ready for love

Oh baby, I'm ready for love

“Are you okay?” There was concern in his hoarse voice, his forehead dropping heavy and dizzy on hers, Jughead breathing loudly through his nose and never letting go of her eyes as he tried to keep a painfully slow push and pull of his hips to prevent her from any further discomfort. The newfound feel of him buried to the hilt inside her without any barriers was not making his task any easier. Their skin started to grow sweaty and their heavy pants and cries were tangled together as they kept their lips against each other’s and parted but never fully kissing, both of them getting lost at how good he felt pushing and pulling inside of her.

“Yes, yeah…” It was a confirmation and a sigh of pleasure, Betty only experiencing a tiny sweet ache but mostly insatiable desire, a burning need to have him closer, harder, deeper. “Please, faster.” Her mewl was high pitched and desperate, her slender fingers sliding through his raven locks at his scalp and tugging lightly, loving the soft moans and manly breaths he was leaving against the sensitive skin of her lips.

Jughead complied, hands tightening their hold on her hipbones. “Fuck, you feel…” the words dried on his lips as his mouth opened in a silent moan, his pulsing member sinking deeper inside her and hitting a spot that made her let a loud sigh, her ankles coming to close on his waist, holding him captive inside her feminine abyss. “Mmm, Betty, you are burning me alive.” His teeth bit her shoulder, losing his mind and forcing both her wrists over her head in dominance, the action causing her to curse loudly next to his ear and then start sucking on his neck, as their hips kept meeting in fast, curt thrusts.

“Jug…” his name sounded so erotic out of her swollen and bitten lips that he actually had to restrain himself from coming undone right at that second. Her small muscles started spasming, wetness dripping all around him and to the sheets beneath them. “I-I need…” she stuttered with a long moan, throwing her head back and giving him the change to lick a wet trail from the base of her neck to her jaw.

“I know what you need, baby.” He murmured between his labored breaths, his forehead dropping on her chin and his eyes taking a glimpse of how good she was taking him inside of her. “You need to come around my cock.” He accompanied his order with a hard, forceful thrust that had her back arching off the mattress, her walls closing impossibly tight around him and threatening to coax his undoing. “Do it, angel, come.” He used one hand to keep her wrists over her head and the other traveled down her body, forcing her legs more up his back and delivering a loud slap against her ass that had her trashing uncontrollably under him, leaving moans and sighs of pleasure.

“With me.” Betty whispered out of breath, almost in a trance of sexual frenzy, freeing her hands from his hold and curling them tightly around his shoulders. “I need, oh God, please, with me.” She kept begging and begging, her legs shivering violently and her hips following his urgent thrusts, her body stiffening and tensing asking him to get lost inside her.

A hard rub of her clit with the pads of his fingers was all it took for her to disconnect from reality, shot up in the sky and shutter in a million pieces, her legs closing around his ribs and her muscles forming a tight vice around him. Her orgasm came hard and fast, wild moans of his name being repeated like a mantra while riding the high Jughead was offering her, her palm smacking his back in order to hold on to something and her nails clawing down his flexing muscles in erotic despair. Jughead grabbed her hips, as she clenched and quivered around his cock, her legs shaking violently around him and making his own groans increase at the sight of her being in such state because of him and at the painful pleasure her nails and tight muscles were offering him back.

Betty was a vision to behold at the final state of pleasure with blonde tresses a mess, body arching and crimson - the redness interrupted by the occasional light purple of his kisses - eyes painfully shut, rosy full lips open in the most sinful expression of bliss. For the first time in his life Jughead felt his whole body numbing and spiraling out of control, surrendering completely and being reborn, restarting, living. Pinning one of her legs on the mattress by her thigh, opening her more for him in order to continue his trusts, now sloppy and more urgent than before,  Betty’s eyes snapped open at the intense pleasure he continued to give her, making her spasm and shiver through her aftershocks, and she felt him starting to twitch inside her before sighing loudly, his own orgasm being minutes away.  She bit hard on his neck, nails digging in his ass to force him fully inside of her and help him find his release too, and he grunted loudly, his hips thrusting sloppily two or three times before she felt his body go rigid and his chest erupting a moan that went straight to their joined cores. He forced her lips on his with a strong grip on her hair and he pinned her on the mattress, hips slapping against hers in frenzy and bones surely getting bruised at his forceful actions. He came right after her, filling her up and sensing his arousal running down the inside of her trembling thighs, his lips leaving hers and forming an animalistic grunt of her name as the marks of his nails against the irritated skin of her hipbones became deeper.

Her still spasming legs gave up and dropped open against the bed as Jughead fell on top of her, weightless and in a mess of jelly bones, both of them trying to control their breathing, as their lips connected in a slow make out, their tired, sated grins getting swallowed inside the new intensity of their kiss.

“Wow... Is this what I kept missing? Does it always feel that way?”

“No… It takes something more to create that kind of magic.”

I’m ready for your love 

Oh, for your love

“This is not a crocodile!”

“How can you not see it?”

“Well, because it isn’t!”

“Says the girl that only knows how to shape butterflies and weird looking cats.”

“Oh, I’ll eat your stupid crocodile!”

“Not before I eat you first.”

The ferocious attack of her unconventional tabby cat on what he claimed to be a crocodile, along with her playful grunts of attack and silly nom-nom sounds were cut short by the nibbling of his lips against her laughing ones, him pretending to eat her alive with giddy loud groans while drowning her giggling shrieks inside his grinning mouth, their childish behavior lasting barely a blink of a second before they were kissing with the newfound intensity they had acquired earlier that rainy night. Naked and sated bodies tangled up in the dark purple cotton sheets of the round mattress, they were relishing in the afterglow of their first time union wrapped tightly around each other with Jughead’s back perched on a throw pillow and Betty laying horizontally on his lap, one of his long legs bended to support her back and his strong arms curled around her as he cradled her lovingly against his muscular chest. The silver moonlight was the only witness of their surrender to each other and the water droplets trickling down the stained glass of the window their background symphony, in perfect pitch with their soft laughs and hushed words as they watched shadow puppets dancing and kissing and running and flying with the assistance of their hands against the wall opposite them.

I used to do that with my sister, he had told her, heartfelt blue eyes focused on the fearless eagle his long hands were making fly away in utter freedom and loving green ones focused on his handsome profile, her index finger drawing abstract shapes on his abs absentmindedly at her still lightheaded state. When she was young and my parents were fighting or later on when we were just the two of us and she was scared, I’d make up a story for her and bring it to life with shadows on the wall. It always took her mind off things.

Betty had felt the need to ask what about his mind and if it was ever at ease but the words hadn’t been strong enough to escape her mouth, not when he was resting utterly vulnerable and open next to her. Instead, she had brought him down for a kiss, a loving and tender one that gave his eagle more strength and will to fly on his own wings, before she had joined him, adding a cheerful butterfly on the moonlight illuminated white canvas so for his sullen eagle not to be alone.

Equally affectionate was the kiss they were sharing now, with his tongue exploring gently the inside of her bruised and swollen lips as one of her hands was curled at the back of his neck, urging him closer, needing him, his own arms tightening the hold around her bare shoulders and fisting the hem of the sheet against the soft skin of her back.

Pulling back, their lips disconnected but barely an inch of distance separated them. “Betty…” his voice was almost a whisper, still a tad raspier from the kind of high he had never experienced before. “I think I’m falling for you; fast, hard, crazy.” The declaration held something so raw and honest, uttered in a broken tone that shook Betty’s whole being, the soft pads of her fingertips moving up on their own accord to trail feather lightly against his cheekbone, his eyes fluttering close at her touch.

“I think I’m a step ahead of you, Juggie.” She matched the volume of his voice with a small disbelieving smile, a silent agreement between them not to desecrate the moment, Betty feeling her heart thudding violently against her ribcage at his words and the captivating look his sincere baby blues possessed in the darkness.

A beat of silence washed over them and then he said it; the only thing she never expected to come out of his lips.

Forehead upon forehead, blues upon greens, soul upon soul and his baritone voice in the weakest frequency.

“I’m scared.”

Betty pulled back lightly, taken aback by the honest declaration, a frown settling on her pretty face. “Of me?”

“Of the way you make me feel.” He admitted in defeat, feeling smaller in size, lesser, his orbs timidly dropping from her face to the space between them, the sheet the only thing preventing their skin from touching. “Because you make me feel.” He corrected himself quickly, snapping his head back up to look at her, spying on her reaction behind raven locks, disheveled and untamed. “Because when my heart gets involved it never leads to a happy ending. And I don’t know how many more stitches and bandages it can endure.” Her own heart cracked painfully at his confession, the bad guy she was raised to believe he was, transforming into the saddest boy on earth, seeking his own safe place to land.

“What are you afraid of?” Betty gently pushed those ebony waves back, her body snuggling even closer to his in a subtle sign of affection and support, in a subtle sign that she was here, with him and she was more than willing to chase all his demons away.

Jughead sighed, his arms tightening ever so lightly around her delicate frame.

“You remember when I told you that I haven’t seen my mother since I was nine, since the day she left?” He saw her nodding, her attention on him never fazing, and he took a deep breath to continue. “That was not true.” He admitted in a small, defeated voice, her genuine confused frown contradicting his stoic and troubled expression, the young Serpent licking his lips to try to find the words, to try and slow down the chaotic corridors of his brain.

“Two years ago, when my dad was still in too deep with alcohol and his refusal to acknowledge us, I was angry and frustrated and desperate so I tracked her down. I wanted an answer, not just a figure disappearing like a thief into the night; I deserved that much.” His voice raised an octave, its tone vibrating into the silence of the room in a firmer and upset manor, Jughead shaking his head momentarily and letting a small cooing sigh to control his growing anger. It worked; his soft, calm voice adorned the rest of his words. “I don’t know what I was hoping for, maybe nothing, maybe everything. So I got on my bike and drove four hours to the city, where some Serpents had told me they had located her. I don’t even remember how many hours I was just out there, staring at the nice house that my mom was now living and feeling like I was intruding, like I, her first son, didn’t have the right to be there.”

Betty could see the pain in his now icy eyes, the agony and desperation behind his words, her fingers caressing lovingly the hard planes of his chest, taking great care of the place that his heart laid underneath, broken and beating fast.

“And at some point the door opened and a man came out, holding a bubbly little boy no more than five, before my mother appeared right after them with that dashing smile of hers that still haunts the very few joyful memories of my childhood.” His face had turned cold at this point, a mask of disappointment and pain hardening his handsome features. “She took the boy’s other hand and the three of them disappeared down the street in a chorus of happy laughter and family chat, not even noticing me, not even sparing me a single glance.” He laughed with no humor at all, bitter and defeated, eyes focused on the wall that his hand shadow of an eagle was flying fearlessly some minutes ago, his stare hard if it wasn’t for the thin layer of salty water that was softening the dark color of his irises. “She called him my little Icarus and that was always her nickname for me.”

His voice broke, a tight knot suffocating his already dry throat and this time Betty’s heart not only cracked but shuttered into a million tiny pieces at the image of him getting betrayed by the only person he needed most, at the image of him now beating himself up and carrying around some self-inflicted guilt and notion that he wasn’t worthy of anything. In Betty’s books, he deserved the world and she vowed to keep telling him that until her voice was stronger than the one of that heartless woman inside his head.

Jughead sniffed lightly, snapping out of his nightmarish reverie and dropping his head to the floor in shame, giving it a shake to put an end at his moment of weakness before sending her a side glance and a forced smile.

“It stupid really” he let a faint chuckle, wanting to ease the worry and frustration and sadness that were painted on her face before turning serious again “but she always used to say that the story of Icarus fitted me; the sense of freedom, the drive and ambition, the will to escape. Later on, I understood that it did fitted me but not for the reasons she gave me that nickname. It is the melted wings and the burning torture and the drowning that resemble the story of my life.”

Betty knew all about the Greek myth and the boy that felt exhilarated and careless upon flying with his wax and feathers made wings, getting mesmerized by the sun and moving closer and closer towards its golden light, only for his wings to melt and him to end up drowning tragically in the ocean beneath him. Icarus didn’t have anyone to save him but Jughead had her, pulling him out of his own personal sea of loneliness after years of suffocation.

“That’s not true.” The golden haired girl exclaimed passionately, cradling his cheeks in her palms and forcing him to look at her, a heartbreaking pout on his face. “You have eagle wings, Jughead Jones, and you have me. If you’re drowning, I’m drowning with you.” She promised him, fiercely, honest and clear, her thump caressing the corner of his curled downwards lips.

Resting his forehead on hers with a grateful sigh, he breathed tired and hopeless. “I don’t wanna drown. I’m tired of drowning.” He knew she was his own personal sun; and he feared that maybe getting too close would result to his ultimate destruction.

Betty could feel moisture gathering in her own eyes that stayed soft and connected with his. “Then I’ll help you fly.” She whimpered with a small tender smile, prompting him to smile back with an affectionate rub of her forehead against his.

Jughead offered her a boyish lopsided grin, the burden on his chest lessening a tiny bit at her promise, warm sunrays embracing the winter of his soul, not burning deadly, just offering him a contentment he was never before fortunate to have.  

“I only ask that you be gentle with this.” He brought her hand on his chest, laying her palm flat against his erratically beating heart and lacing their fingers together, pleading her with his lovely eyes to be the exception in his world of disappointment.

Betty took his other hand to do the same against her own fragile heart, his bony fingers resting against the swell of her breast, the sheet now barely covering the sensitive pink flesh of their peaks. “Only if you promise to do the same.” She snuggled even closer to him, her voice coming out as a breathy gasp, vulnerable at the words exchanged and already hyperaware of his touch against her skin.

The promise was sealed with a kiss, loving, tender, slow, bone aching and earth-shuttering.

“Will you stay with me?” Jughead’s breathless murmur was delivered against her wet lips, his innocent hand on her chest fisting the dark purple sheet and, tantalizingly slow, pulling it down to reveal her glorious breasts to him.

“Yes. I will.” Betty half-gasped, his hand already on a mission of sweet assault on her sore, bruised flesh before their lips met with passion and inevitable magnet-like attraction.

He didn’t mean only for tonight.

And she agreed because she had forever in mind too.

Under the flickering lamppost across the road, a dark silhouette spoke hushed and collusively to the receiver of their late night phone call.  

“It’s me… I’m on the Southside. They are together.”

[cececreativewriting]

Riding Horses to the Moon

Content warning: sexually explicit situations, drug use, mental illness

“Edrei!”

My mother’s voice amplifies in my ears like the vibrations of a heartbeat on a cheap pillow. My eyes, now wide open, settle to the bright sun shining through my dusty window. I look around to notice I am all alone in the room, and suddenly I feel the urge to squirm.

Getting up, I touch my toes to the cold wooden floor and shiver a moment before grabbing a soft, pink gown to put on. I know Father really likes this dress.

Looking in the mirror, the bright light reflects against my pale skin, and I notice each crevice, each line, each mark of impurity. I drag along the perimeter of the mirror and let the dust plague my fingertips.

I brush out my blonde locks and watch as they curl up like a pig’s tail when I let go. I think about how lucky I am that of all the moms here, I got my mother, the one with beautiful, long, thick hair. Many of my sisters aren’t lucky enough to have this, and some of them have to struggle with ratted, tangled hair.

I tiptoe downstairs to find my mother wiping sweat off her furrowed brow. She wears a long, baby blue silk gown with lace trimmings, and I wonder if I will ever be as beautiful and elegant as she.

She is sweeping to the sound of her hums, and I watch for a moment, unable to stifle a grin from emerging on my face. Sunday mornings always make me appreciate this existence because it is the only time you really see everyone at their worst while simultaneously at their best. Sunday is the day to fix everything you messed up in the previous week, to repent, to begin the new week with a better outlook.

Sunday is also the day we have Adoration. Father call’s Sunday, “Dad’s Day”, and each week, we all come together during the evening to exist as a family, in harmony and happiness.

Adoration has made me who I am, which is why I am a bit anxious. Next week, I will be eighteen, which means I will enter the outside world. Father says that he wants all of his children to experience the outsiders so that we can appreciate all he sacrifices for us when we come back. But, not many who leave return. I can’t imagine not returning, I mean, where would all my sisters and moms be without him?

Mother kisses my forehead and I look up at her. She squeezes my puffy cheeks and I laugh a little.

“Edrei,” she begins, her eyes fluttering away, focusing on nothing in particular, “Maria needs some help with the kids.”

I spin around in my dress, letting it puff out and watching my feet touch the kitchen floor.

Maria just gave birth to twins. Father has never had a pair of twins before, so this is obviously a huge and exciting event for the whole family.  

I enjoy living in peace with my family, apart from the outside world. I am safe here, I don’t face the normal struggles of high school drama and boys like I’ve seen during ‘Television Time’ or heard of from Father’s tales. During ‘Television Time’, Father brings a special box out, and we all gather around and watch as Father shows us what life is like on the outside world, with ‘Puppets’, these sock-like creatures that only have consciousness when on Father’s hands. He is powerful like that, giving life to all. Father educates us, and Father makes sure we steer clear of boys until we are old enough to understand. “Boys don’t love you”, Father says, “Boys will never love you. Only I will love you.”

We have a good amount of land, I am not really sure how to put it in units that outside people would understand, as Father taught us his own, better system of measurement. It is large enough that to get to certain spots, we must ride horses.

The horses roam free here, besides during times we need a ride. Father thinks horses are powerful. He does not want to tame them, he wants them to exist with us. It’s mutually beneficial, we’re equal to the horses, really.

All mothers are moms to all the children on the commune, and are referred to as ‘mom’, but personal mothers are referred to as ‘mother’. Each mom gets her own little hut, where she raises her personal children. Each mother has different numbers of kids, depending on how many Father deems she should have. Mother had me and Channing, my older sister, who is about 21 now.

Channing left the commune a few years ago, and we have not heard from her since. Channing was my best friend, truly. At night, when the wind would whisper fear into my ear, she would yell, scaring the breeze another day. When the days were dark, she would hold my hand, remind me that light will come again. She always knew just what to say, she always knew just when to say it.

Perhaps Channing and I were so close because she claimed to be a male. Father is the only male I have interacted with before, so having my sister claim to be a male was the closest I had to understanding the male mind outside of Father. Channing cut her hair short, actively upsetting Father. I was confused why Channing was not ‘Freed’ as a baby, like all other males born into the family, and she said it is because she is male in a female body. I do not understand what that means to this day, but I wanted to support my sister. Father was always unhappy with Channing’s behavior. Channing left about three years ago, and I have not heard anything regarding her since.

Father says that he loves all of his children equally, but I think he knows I’m special. He always tells me I’m special, that I’m the prettiest of all his little girls, that I look just like my mother did when he met her.

Father will be 64 years old this year. I wonder if his wisdom has grown with his age, or if he has always been this knowledgeable.

Sometimes, my sisters and I talk about the history of the family, even though we are strictly prohibited to do so. Whispering with eagle eyes, we talk about the first moms that Father discovered.

Rumor has it that Father found two 13-year-old girls, best friends Sharron and Stylone, who ran away from home together. Father found these girls on the street, they were having sex with multiple men to pay for ‘Drugs.’ Father taught these girls the value of love and family, these were the first people he introduced to Adoration. Together, the three had 11 children, 7 surviving past infancy. Only three of these kids are still here today, and nobody, not even themselves, know if their mother is Sharron or Stylone. Stylone died before I can remember her, but Sharron is still here. She doesn’t leave her hut very much, and neither do the three kids, who are even older than my mother. I do not know if they have left and come back, or if they have never left.

Father has saved many women from ‘Drugs Abuse’ and ‘Dependency.’ Father’s mission is to teach women all around the world that the outside world is full of disappointments. But, life with our beautiful family, and through expressing your love and devotion to Father, all will be okay. Outside world ‘Drugs’ are dangerous, impure. In our community, everything is pure, coming from our family and Father, you never have to fear what you are taking, as Father would never want to hurt any of us. I would trust him if he stuck a needle in my blue veins.

Outside, I can feel the sun on my skin, darkening the pigment as I roam the fields. I like the feeling of the grass between my toes, the moisture of the dirt taking over my senses.

I can’t help but squint my eyes because the sun is so bright. I look out at the field and see the horses running, playing. I want to join them.

I make my way to Maria’s hut, and each step makes the ground breath harder. My eyes widen as the grass opens and closes, breathing in the air as I soak in the light.

“Good morning, Edrei!” I hear out of the corner of my left ear.

I quickly turn my head and notice one of my sisters, Valery. She is on a horse, her black hair pulled back into two braids, her dark under-eye circles overtaking her soul.

I smile at her, “Excited for Adoration tonight?” I ask, squeezing grass between my sweaty toes.

“Oh yeah!” She yelps while trying to calm down the horse, “I just sewed the most beautiful yellow dress. I think Father will love it, I do.”

She smiles, and I notice the gap between her two front teeth, which seems to grow in size each time I see her, like an abyss or a lake that’s deeper than you believe.

“I can’t wait to see it, and I hope Father enjoys!” I say as I walk off, waving.

I get to Maria’s hut and knock on the front door, though it is half open.

“Edrei, is that you, sweetie?” I hear through commotion.

I step inside, “Yes it’s me, mom!” I am immediately engulfed by the smells of childhood- barf, beets, and oatmeal.

As I reach the room Maria is in, she quickly hands me Ella, one of the recent twins. Ella has twiggy blonde hair that is greasy to the touch. Maria asks me to clean her up and get her ready for Adoration, so of course, I comply. I would never want one of my sisters to look a mess for Adoration, and Maria is not the best at keeping her children properly up to Father’s standard.

I brush out Ella’s hair lightly, trying not to hurt her tender head. I put her in a purple dress, which Father taught me is the color of royalty.

Ella and I sit out front of Maria’s hut, playing in the grass. She crawls around and I chase her, letting her get away easily.

I hold her to my chest and I cannot wait to be a mother myself. I wonder how many children I will be told to have.

As the day passes, the shadows on the mountains change shapes, and the clouds begin to swirl. The sun is completely still, standing there, watching me, plotting its move. I have always felt that the light follows me, but I have no proof. Father says he thinks I’m onto something.

As Ella and I continue to lounge around outside, a couple of sisters stop by. Ava, age 12, Claire, age 22, and Sabrina, age 7, are walking by, dressed beautifully for Adoration.

When Claire turned eighteen, she left for about seven months, returning at a much higher weight and lower mentality. She never told anyone what happened. She never even told me if she saw Channing.

Ava, Ella, and Sabrina are running around, Ella in Ava’s arms, Sabrina dragging along behind them. I look around and see that the grass is breathing at a much calmer rate than before. The clouds are calmer too, like the sea before the moon got involved, swaying the ocean from shore to shore.

As Claire and I stare at the clouds and dream of riding horses to the moon, suddenly I speak, though I try to hold my tongue.

“What, uh, what was it like when you left?”

I don’t know why I say these words, I hate to break Father’s rules, but they exit my lips like a fish escaping someone’s underwater grasp.

Claire’s face is like a light switch, quickly going from a bright smile to a blank stare, from at-ease-with-the-evening to eyes-dull-but-wide.

She looks around, eyeing our surroundings. She sighs, “Next week, right?”

I nod.

“It’s going to be… weird.” Her bottom lip hangs fat and low beneath her crooked teeth. I see it vibrate, but she does not speak.

We sit in unison silence, the sun slowly fading the sky to a swirl of pink and orange shapes.

“It’s different. We’ve been raised to believe in one truth, well-” She cuts herself off, and grows much quieter, “There is more than one truth.”

I see her bottom lip linger again, shaking like she wants to speak.

“What do you mean?” I ask, “How can there be another truth?” Again, the words leave as though my body forces them out, not my mind, “That’s impossible. You know this is the way to live, Father has tested it multiple times, you know this.” I become aware that I sound frantic, and I don’t mean to cast judgement upon her, I just truly don’t know what she means, how can there be more than one truth? Doesn’t that defeat the point of having a truth?

Claire looks me deep in the eyes and begs me to not say anything, especially to Father. She tells me that though she learned ‘other truths’, she came back, she believes in the truth of the family.

I promise her I won’t tell anyone, but as she is walking away I grab her hand, “Did you-” my words stumble over themselves, “Did- did you see Channing?” I ask, my eyes ample with hope, the blues feeling brighter than before.

She looks at me and her mouth falls flat before she walks off.

The sun is almost down, and the colors grow deeper, as though paint is splattered and mixed across the sky, each stroke texturizing my existence.

I have to run home to change for Adoration, so I tell Maria I will see her there, handing Ella back into her mother’s delicate arms. To my surprise, Maria cleaned up the other children nicely, and even had time to prepare for Adoration with a Poppy.

I rarely take Poppy’s, as I can only when I am well prepared and finished with my day’s work. Poppy’s are these vibrant colored items of all shapes and sizes. Swallowing one makes colors seem brighter, music sound better, and makes everything to the physical touch feel absolutely amazing. To describe the feeling, imagine how the sun radiates heat. Well, it feels the opposite of that, as though you are soaking in the energy, warmth, anticipation. All you want to do is dance, sing, love. It is only positivity.

Father says Poppy’s are either to be taken alone, or promptly two hours before Adoration. Poppy’s make the experience of Adoration a bit different, though of course, every time is different in its own regard. But, Poppy’s can either intensify the positives or exacerbate the negatives of Adoration. And this effect can be extreme.

I change into Father’s favorite red satin slip, and look at myself in the mirror, letting my hands roam from my neck, to my chest, down to my waist, where I slowly graze my skin with my nails, feeling goosebumps immerge on my inner thighs.

I pull my hair back and look again in the mirror, practicing my smile and greetings for the night. I think about if Father truly thinks I am the most special. I mean, out of all his children, is it wrong of me to think I truly could be his favorite? The thoughts keep coming, and though I try to digress, they eat me away. I try to shake the ever-flowing thoughts, and focus on Adoration. I know that Adoration will remind me that Father thinks I am special, and that it is not important to be his number one, but rather to experience the life he has given us.

Mother and I walk to Adoration, since it is a nice summer evening and Father just invented a special spray to keep away the insects. He is so smart, I am so lucky to be a product of his passion.

My mother’s plump pink lips glisten in the evening glow as she purses.

“My sweet Edrei. It just occurred to me that this is our last Adoration together for a long time.”

Her cheeks falling and eyes looking away, she attempts a smile.

“Mother,” I give her a hug, “Let’s enjoy the time we have together, now.”

She nods, wiping a single tear. I can’t help but listen to my own advice, for thinking about the future can drive one to madness.

As we walk, mother’s favorite horse trots by, slowing to her whistle. She pets the horse roughly, but the horse enjoys it. She plants a kiss below its eye.

We arrive at Adoration and say our hellos to all of my moms/mother’s sisters, and all of my sisters/mother’s children. Mother makes her way to the other moms around her age range while I go more in the crowd. Everywhere I look, my sisters run around, my moms converse about Father’s latest discoveries. Though I try to fight, the thoughts return, and I can’t help but notice how it’s beautiful but it’s horrible, it’s revolting but I never want to leave.

The thing about the family is, a good amount of people here are truly practicing love, and I believe that everybodyhere truly attempts to practice love, but their minds get in the way. Father says Adoration is to clear this mind puzzle, to remind everyone why we are here, to be together happily with Father, but if anyone here is anything like me- and considering we all come from the same ‘dad’ I am assuming we are- Adoration sometimes just makes the mind issues even more confusing. I mean, of course it can help solve so many mind problems, but it can also make other ones worse.

And one of the biggest issues I have noticed is the jealousy amongst everyone to win Father’s utmost love. He claims that we all have it, and we all believe him, but everyone wants to be Father’s number one, his prodigy, his special one.

My family is willing to do whatever it takes to be Father’s best. Including me. I can’t help it, I want to practice love and be equal amongst my family, but I crave being Father’s favorite, being his number one.

I run into one of my sisters, Caroline, who is seventeen, but looks maybe fourteen. We hug, I notice she smells like goat cheese, and I question if I should say anything, then decide I better not. She smiles largely at me and speaks in a high pitch,

“Wow, you’re leaving next week!”

I sigh and look at my feet, bare in the dirt like everyone else. I shrug my shoulders but don’t say anything. Caroline continues,

“You must be so excited! You must have the longest list of things you want to do!”

I open my mouth but let it sit still for a moment before speaking, “Honestly, I don’t really have much I want to do. I’ve been so wrapped up, I guess I haven’t really thought about the outside world, I’ve just been enjoying my time here.”

Caroline nods and blinks quickly, “Wait, so this is your last Adoration!”

A deep pit knots itself in my stomach, “You’re right.”

I want the conversation to end, but Caroline continues,

“If you don’t mind me asking,” she looks around and lowers the volume of her voice, “How do you always get Father to pick you as one of the firsts for ‘Dad Time’ during Adoration? And how do you get him to pick you every time? I only get chosen every couple Adorations!”

I look at Caroline’s wide thighs, then notice how her dress is bunched oddly at her stomach, and make my way up to her face, where freckles complement her white eyelashes and ill colored hair. I smile at her and shrug.

Finally, the times comes for us to all take our seats on the ground for Father’s arrival. I sit next to Valery, Ava, and one of the babies, Sarah. She sits in my lap and holds my thumb- it takes all of her fingers to wrap around one of mine.

The crowd grows silent as Father walks to the front, smiling at us all. I swear he looks right into my eyes and winks, even though nobody believes me.

“My children, my lovers,” Father’s voice soothes a part of me that I don’t understand, but still desire to be appeased.

“Adoration, ‘Dad’s Day’, Sunday, my favorite day of the week. The day where we all come together, as the beautiful, indestructible, loving, strong family we are,” -some of the moms wipe tears from under their swollen eyes- “a day where I get to show each and every one of you just how much I love you.”

Father pulls out a sheet that has an image of colorful swirls printed on it. He passes it down. Each family member over the age of 10 rips off one tab, then passes the sheet to the next. Those between the ages of 3 and 9 take half a tab, while anyone under 3 takes only one fourth. Father says too much can hurt the developing brain.

When the sheet reaches me, I rip off my tab and look at it on my finger tip. How can something so small as to fit on my pinky prove to be so powerful? I place the tab on my tongue, then let my wet finger touch my lips and close my eyes, excited for the journey I am about to take.

The first 45 minutes are always difficult, especially if Father chooses you for ‘Dad Time’ during this period. We usually sit around and create music or art during this.

Though it feels like forever, the time does eventually pass, and Adoration can commence. The world becomes a different place, with each single fissure introducing a million different possibilities. Everywhere you look, everything becomes something else, reminds you of something important, teaches you some type of lesson. Your mind zooms in and out of your current situation and shows you the importance of balance, of structure, it shows you the way you’re supposed to live.

Father has us chant for certain hours of Adoration, as well as consistently leaving a tape on of the chant. It goes, “Father loves you, he won’t hurt you, Father loves you, it’s only him”. This is heard 100% of the duration of Adoration. There are images of Father put up, with statements under his smiling face stating his love for all of us.

And, of course, there is ‘Dad Time’. ‘Dad Time’ is when Father commits thirty minutes to one single family member to show her his love. Everyone wants to get chosen, and each Adoration, he usually goes through about fifteen family members. I am almost always chosen, and have been since the day I turned thirteen. Father very rarely takes anyone under thirteen to ‘Dad Time’, but he does want to show younger family members his love sometimes too, so he does occasionally. I don’t think he has taken anyone under three, though.

As the time passes, my mind continues to deconstruct in ways I can never put to words. My essence falls, my sense of reality becomes immersed in an acidic pool of mixed senses.

I feel myself melt deeper and deeper into myself, like I am shrinking in my own skin, and suddenly I cannot feel the difference between the dirt and grass between my toes.

I feel blissful, and my attention is suddenly drawn to the horses. They roam without fear, without ego, without the senses I so despise. I use my hands to push myself up from the ground and start to walk towards the horses, to run with them, but am promptly stopped by Elizabeth, one of my moms, who tells me that it is my turn for ‘Dad Time’.

Butterflies dance around the inside of my stomach, and each time a wing hits my lining, I don’t know if I am excited or nervous.

I make my way to Father’s hut. I knock three times, as I should, and slowly open the bright red door.

“Hello Father,” I say, going in for a big hug.

“Edrei!” My father exclaims, “My beautiful, special girl. How is your Adoration journey going today?” He turns around in his chair slowly, as he cannot move swiftly do to his on-growing age.

“Very lovely, Father, I am really experiencing the realms,” I look at his face, and it begins to age more than it already is. He ages beyond humanly possible, each second adding another ten years to his face.

“I am so happy for you,” Father exclaims, “My dear Edrei, I’m sure you know this is last Adoration for a while, and I want you to enjoy it, so I won’t keep you too long.”

I sit on the bed, on top of the blue wool blanket, “You could never keep me too long, Father.”

And when I say that, it comes out without force, naturally, as though I am a robot programmed to speak those exact words. I don’t even think about the words as the exit my brain, I simply feel them disperse.

“Edrei, I am a loving man, as you know. I want all of my children to experience the outside world for themselves. I want them to know what’s out there. But, I do this so they understand why I have provided this secure life for them,” He speaks lightly, like feathers drip from his tongue, “That being said, you must promise to never release any information about the family- what we do, where we are- never, no matter what. The community is sacred, and the outside world does not understand sacristy.”

As he speaks, I watch his wrinkles turn to geometric shapes, and it is hard to focus on his speech while he continues, “Edrei, this is always the hardest thing I ever have to say to my beautiful children, but if you release any information to the outside world, you will be ‘Freed’ by means of betrayal.”

I try not to gasp, but I am shocked that Father would ever go that far. He always states that he wants his daughters to experience life before they are ‘Freed’, and I cannot imagine him cutting this short for anyone he creates (besides a male).

“Edrei, baby, you know how much I love you.” He grabs my hands and they shake, appearing miniature in his, “That’s why you must understand that this hurts me more than it hurts you. You could never imagine the pain of having one of your own children be ‘Freed.’ There is nothing more painful.”

I want to ask Father why he would Free his own children if there is nothing more painful.

“Now, my beautiful, beautiful Edrei,” Father grins at me and lifts up my chin, “Let’s get to it, time is running out.”

I am timid and my mind is racing. I am still melting into myself, my mind acting as putty, so taking in all this information is a lot. I feel words against my body, I hear colors in my mind.

Nonetheless, Father undresses me and lays me down on the bed. I quiver when he touches my right thigh and grazes my hipbone.

Just as Father removes his pants and begins to show me his love, I am struck with a sudden, terrifying question, did Father Free Channing?

“Father,” I say as he moans, pulling me closer, my body miniscule next to his, “Father!”

He takes my pleads as pleasure.

“Father, Channing is still out there, right?” The words exit between Father’s thrusts. The thoughts returning at a much more intense rate, and I feel that if I do not speak these thoughts I will implode.

“I’m almost done baby,” He says out of breath. I sigh and let him continue until he is pleased, as my head turns over and stares out the window at the horses.