#they really through away everything good about the show for a forced white girl white boy relationship

[whatohitsonfirewelp]

The fact it wasn’t Scott (or even Malia) who remember stiles when no one else did is something I will never forgive

[erwinsvow]

Imagine if Rafe let R try a joint

Like, her brains getting all fuzzy and she's even more giggly than usual, and he's just, like enamoured. He thinks she's adorable.

"one hit, that's it-" rafe says, low and quiet in your ear.

you're curled up on his lap at the party, both of you resting on the couch while you observe the scene around you with big eyes. rafe's friends were snorting powder off of mirrors, washing it down with liquor that was definitely harder than the fruity seltzer your boyfriend allowed you to drink. rafe said you couldn't handle anything harder, and you agreed without questioning him, like you always did.

you had pointed to the white lines on the table infront of you and asked him as sweetly as you could if you could try some. kelce overheard you and starts pushing the mirror in your direction, and you look at him with a smile, before rafe stares him down and delivers a tap to your cheek. it's just to get your attention, not really to hurt you, but you feel your face flushing where he touched you when he speaks.

"hey, you don't listen to him, you listen to me, right?" you see kelce in the corner of your eye, taking the tray back and offering it to the girl next to him.

"i know, i just-"

"no, no just anything. y'can barely drink this watered-down crap without trippin' over your feet." he rests back on the sofa, hands gripping your waist and leg tightly. "wants to snort coke. you're funny, kid."

you pout, taking another sip of your drink. you're only half way through the can but your head is starting to feel fuzzy, already. you decide then and there that rafe always knows best for you, but you still want to try the things he tries, show him that you can handle it. the boys next to rafe pass a blunt over you, directly to him. when they blow out the smoke, you start coughing, but watch carefully as your boyfriend takes a long hit. just as he's about to pass it across to kelce, you catch his wrist.

"can i try that instead? please?" you try your best to straighten up, to show him you can take it and that you're not already drunk. "please," you whine, and his friends turn their head to look. you're sure that they think it's silly, the way you have to ask rafe for permission for everything and anything. you don't care, though.

"kid, stop-"

"i can take it, promise. just this time. i won't ever ask again."

that's how you had ended up like this, rafe talking into your ear while he holds the blunt to your lips.

"alright, suck in. long as you can. you're a pro at that, aren't ya?" his words make you lose your concentration, breaking into a coughing fit before you can even try to inhale.

"rafe!" you whine again, pummeling your fists into his chest, still choking on the smoke. your throat feels scratchy but you know that couldn't have been enough.

"what, kid, i gotta do everything for you?" he takes a long hit, and then grips your cheeks with his hand, forcing your mouth open and then blowing the smoke into your throat for you. then he clamps it shut, holds your shoulder while you cough, and passes the blunt along to kelce.

you cough a little, but before long, you're putty in his arms, leaning your head against his shoulder and giggling at nothing. you poke at his chest and then start playing with his chain, then his hair, and then back down to his fingers. he lets you do it, watching you play with his ring and pressing a kiss to your forehead. you're cute like this, he thinks, less shy and not as worried what everyone must think about you. he thinks he likes it, that maybe he should let you smoke with him every once in a while.

"feel good, baby?" he asks in your ear, and you squirm in his touch, pulling away before resting your head again.

"mhm. really good. this is fun. wish it wasn't a crime." he laughs, taking another sip of his beer. you try to copy him, reaching for your seltzer but knocking it over by accident.

"oops," you say with another laugh. "sorry to-wait, whose house is this?"

"c'mon kid, makin' a mess," he groans, picking up the can and watching the fizzy liquid travel.

"sorry, daddy." in your state, you don't realize how loud you said it, but even with everyone's eyes on you, you don't care much, smiling back sweetly at rafe.

"alright, we're leavin'."

[maxineryx]

part 2 of this fic | wc: 2.2k

It has been two months since you received that letter from Gojo.

It has been a month and three weeks since you went on a date with Gojo.

It has been one week and three days since you started dating Gojo. Well, Satoru.

Yes, you’ve been counting. And yes, you have kept a very, very, close eye on him since the day you both were official.

When you met up with him at the back of the school, you spotted him leaning against a wall, his phone in one hand as he peered down at it. He was dressed informally, how he always was, with very darkly tinted glasses that covered his blue eyes. You weren’t sure why he wore them, but you thought he looked great nevertheless.

And as if he had spotted your presence from behind him, he turned, putting his hand up and flashing you a smile. You blushed in response, glad that it was at least somewhat dark and that he was unable to see the redness that coated your cheeks (he did, he was a master in spotting out these things).

“Hey! Glad you came, thought you’d never show up.” He chirped, patting down his wrinkled clothes, shooting you with a calm, toothy smile. You were surprised your knees didn’t give in right at that moment. In reply, you smiled back and nodded, dropping your bag on the floor and leaning on the wall a couple of metres away from him, staring down at your feet.

In the corner of your eye, you noticed him staring at you, his wide, crystal-like blue eyes slightly visible through his darkly tinted glasses. Gojo then pulled out his phone when he heard a notification, the gentle sounds of his fingertips against the device being the only thing breaking the silence. You realised how the dim light from a nearby lamp managed to brighten up his already snow-white hair, causing it to sparkle a little, and you found yourself to realise that everything about him was so… majestic, as if he was written to be a perfect human being. And the more you stared, the more captivated you were.

He tilted his head and chuckled. “Like what you see?” He fiddled with his pockets as he pushed his phone into them, looking up at you with a smug look.

You cursed internally for staring too long.

Upon noticing his overconfident look, you cleared your throat and instantly wondered when you got the sudden confidence to even dare to look him in the eyes. “Let me remind you that I received a letter from you. I still want to know why I’m here, so will you tell me or not?” You weren’t meaning to come off as rude, as your tone had implied, but you were simply nervous that you were another one of his ‘victims’ as those hypocritical girls would say (hypocritical, because they’d always drool over seeing him despite saying these things).

You were surprised when he showed you another smile.

Gojo suddenly pushed himself off the wall and walked over to you, swiftly slamming a hand on the wall next to your head. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, swallowing your saliva and feeling an overwhelming amount of nervousness. He made sure that, if you wished, you’d be able to set yourself free, but after giving you a couple of good seconds and realising you weren’t going to, you could say that it pumped up his ego a ton.

He angled his head down so that you could see his bright eyes, staring at you intensely. “Didn’t you read the letter?”

You leaned your head against the wall, averting your gaze, feeling embarrassed by how easily you were to fluster, knowing your face was about ten shades of red. “W-well… I did–”

Gojo leaned closer, his gentle breaths fanning your skin. You could spot out all the hues and patterns stretched across his irises like an endless sea of sparkling blues. “Oh really? Then wha-”

“Oi, you two!”

A bright light was forced upon you two causing you to wince. Gojo frowned and pulled his glasses up with his index finger, bringing his hand up to block the blinding light. His other hand was still next to your head, and even when the person holding the light was revealed to be an older teacher, Gojo didn’t budge. He scoffed, and you lifted your head, instantly looking away as the teacher’s rather disgusted gaze landed on you.

“What do you think you’re doing? The school’s been shut and you’re expected to be gone! W-wait!” His demands were cut off as soon as Gojo grabbed your hand and swiftly maneuvered around the old man, hauling your bag over his shoulder, heading towards the closed gate, the man hot on your heels.

“Gojo!” You yelled as you pressed yourself against the gate, unsure of where to go. He winked at you, bending at the knees before you felt yourself being picked up, his muscular arms wrapping around your legs. You knew he was strong, from what you heard, but not that strong. Letting out a yelp as you instinctively clutched the top of the gate and pulled yourself up with his help, you got over the gate and stumbled slightly when meeting the other side. You watched keenly yet slightly concerned as he hoisted himself upwards, muscles flexing through his sleeves. He laughed at the now furious old man, snatching your wrist and sticking his tongue out before disappearing round the corner together with you.

You panted frantically as you fought to catch your breath, hands on your knees as soon as Gojo let go of your wrist. Looking up at him, you frowned when he was already peering down at you with a grin playing on his lips, and you stood up straight, looking at him. “Well done, now we’re in trouble.”

“Don’t worry. They rarely bring any notice to it.” He spoke smugly, looking up, his blue orbs reflecting the stars that were scattered along the dark sky.

“And how do you know?”

“I just do. I’m an expert in everything, sweetheart.”

The pet name rolled off his tongue so smoothly that it took you a while to process what he said. You blushed when you came to the realisation, covering your burning face with your hands.

A couple of seconds later, you heard the soft sound of footsteps, opening your eyes to see him slowly walk away, your bag still hoisted over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” You asked, hating the way your tone suggested that you were disappointed, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t.

Gojo didn’t turn around. “I’m going to walk you home.”

He missed the way you smiled at his words as his back was facing you. You stood still, chuckling to yourself, then calling out to him. “Do you even know where I live?”

There was a long silence, only the sound of passing cars somewhere far away and his footsteps echoing through the street. He then stopped and turned his head only, pointing to you with a cocky smile, one eyebrow raised.

“Nah. But you’ll show me.”

You put your hands on your hips as he continued to walk, white hair blowing in the gentle breeze. “That’s the wrong way, genius.”

He instantly turned on his heels and made his way towards you, shrugging off the temporary embarrassment. “Pffff, of course I knew. I just wanted to see if you cared.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes, walking off in the other direction, Gojo catching up to you, and the rest of the walk was spent laughing, flirting, and him annoying you.

When you got home, just when you were about to thank him for the rather… interesting night, you could tell that something was on his mind. And despite knowing him for only such a short time, from what you experienced, you knew that something must have happened if he was doing anything but running his mouth (saying this most politely).

He then suddenly clasped your hands gently together with his.

“Listen, this might seem like it’s all outta the blue.” He started, looking at you solemnly, brows pulled tightly into a frown. “But I like you. Everyone says that I’m a player and all that bullshit– but I promise that when I say I like you, I mean it. I think you’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen. You’re kind– easy to be flustered– and it makes me want to know you better. So go out on a date with me, please?” He pulled his glasses down with his index finger and batted his eyelashes. “You’re not allowed to decline.”

He rendered you speechless.

You nodded after a hot while, heart hammering in your chest so loudly that you were scared he’d be able to hear.

He smirked, handing your bag over to you. Then, stepping back, winking, he lifted his hand, the brightest smile on his face. “Cya later then, pretty girl.”

And that’s how you ended up going on a date with the ever-so-popular Gojo Satoru just a week later.

Thinking back at it, you still didn’t know where you got the confidence from. Most people saw you as shy and antisocial– but with Satoru, you found out that it wasn’t just him you were finding new things about, but also yourself.

You came back to the present when a hand was shaking rapidly before your eyes, causing you to jolt backward.

A pair of blue eyes entered your view, a hint of mischief in them, causing you to frown.

“Daydreaming about me, sweetheart?” He spoke arrogantly, fluttering his eyelashes as he rested his head on his arms that were folded in an ‘x’ shape, the quiet voice of a teacher speaking in the background.

You scoffed, however a faint blush gave you away as he hit the jackpot. “You wish.”

It has been one week and three days since you started dating Satoru.

Yes, you’ve been counting. And yes, you have kept a very, very, close eye on him since the day you both were official.

On the first day, you voiced your concerns to him about the other girls and how they’d react if they ever found out that someone like you managed to catch his eyes. You were also scared that they’d feed you fake lies surrounding him– and he was too. Therefore, you proposed that it’d be more logical if it was a secret, and that only a couple close friends were allowed to know. Of course, he wasn’t thrilled with said idea, wanting to show you off, but also insisting that he’d beat up anyone that dared to hurt your feelings. You said that he had only two options: to be with you, but in secret, or not to be with you at all. He whined and agreed unhappily to the first.

Despite it being secret, you were outright surprised to see the sudden change in his attitude towards other people.

For example, instead of taking all of the numbers that other girls passed to him, he quite rudely declined and said loudly, and proudly, “I’m not available.”

So obviously, another rumor started, and it pained you to hear everything they said about him, like how another girl fell into his trap, how he was going to use her, only to throw her away a couple of weeks later. However, upon hearing this, he was quick to envelop you in his arms and reassure you that everything said was false, whispering sweet things into your ear.

A couple of days ago, you also complained to him about how you rarely got to see his beautiful eyes, and that you were close to forgetting what colour they were. He gasped dramatically, immediately taking off his glasses, and pointing to the orbs that were swirling with blue. “I’m such a monster! How could I neglect my darling’s needs?” From that day he never attempted to put on his glasses whenever he was in your company.

Then yesterday, you happened to have a class with his best friend, Geto Suguru. You talked to him a couple of times before that, but after having a conversation with him about Satoru, you realised that he was way more mature than your childish boyfriend.

“He never shuts up about you– in the most polite way,” Geto spoke with a huff and a roll of his eyes, writing a couple of notes down in his book as the teacher spoke. You laughed in reply, turning your head to look at the words written on the board, ignoring the way your heart hammered in your chest at what he just said. Satoru’s mature friend noticed the furious blush creeping up on your face, yet he chose to stay silent about it, smiling, happy that his friend had finally found someone who returned his feelings.

And then tomorrow, Satoru kisses you feverishly behind the school where you two first talked, with his fingers holding your chin, pressing you gently against the wall until the sky got dark and covered with stars, before getting chased by the same old and angry teacher.

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

A/N : A lot of people asked me so I have delivered. I planned on making this longer, then started panicking because I actually have no idea what to write. Either way, I think this turned out pretty well. Thank you all for the support :)

Taglist : @ichigostrawberry15 @i-am-silver @maybe-a-bi-witch @edenofeve @luciledreamz @danithefanficenthusiast @vampsins @pyschopotatomeme @wordskeeper @icy9 @tobaccosunbxrst @hoothootreiber @strangehuman101 @vlrspace

There were others I was unable to tag, please forgive me!

[pedge-page]

Ahhh asking again!!!! I love and laugh about Joel and Preggo. What if she wants Joel to prepare the nursery? They go to pick out paint ….she says needs to see it in the room, he paints sample areas. ……she picks one, he paints it and then she cries because she hates it and accuses him of doing the wrong color. Please change this prompt anyway and every way! Basically about preparing nursery to her whims. Or he does everything and she has changed her mind.!!!!

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife - Oh the Colors You'll Choose

Warnings: girlie is up to her usual tactics, slight Jealous!Joel at the end

- - - -

One thing Joel’s really excited about with the baby on the way is getting to design the nursery. Finally having an excuse to throw away your old high school gear you haven’t touched in over a decade, the clothes that had no style in the modern era, collecting dust in bins, all the Christmas gifts you never were going to use just stocked up in the spare bedroom for storage. Now the room was vacant. Tarps and old sheet cover the carpet, walls primed and prepped for the first round of paint.

Joel picks out a nice pink neutral tone, something perfectly lovely for the little girl he’s about to have.

You barely glance at the swatch in his hand, just nodding and waving him off as you lie sprawled eagle in bed, trying your best to cool underneath the high speeding fan.

He’s spent the entire afternoon of your nap getting the room partially painted. The whole time, giddy with the idea that he’s going to be changing diapers in here, reading stories, cradling his baby’s soft small head and walking around the room to get her to sleep—

He finally notices you patting gently into the room, just awoken from your fresh nap. He’s halfway to an excited smile until he sees the absolute wrought look of disappointment all over your face. 

"What, what's wrong?"

There’s no hint of happiness or enthusiasm in you. You survey the walls disappointingly, crossing your arms with a disgusted look before walking out without a word. 

Joel’s not going to let this room be the thing that upsets you—no you’re going to love it, he’ll be damned sure.

He shows you 5 more colors—all ranging from pinks to purples and—

“Does it have to be pink? Why are we forcing the gender thing on her?”

“I mean, I don’t know. Doesn’t have to be. Thought maybe could be something sweet…” his voice trails off as you make a disgruntled frown. 

“We can pick a neutral color if ya want.”

Joel pulls out a few colors he had stored in his bag—some greens and blues, grayish whites and browns.

You make a firm decision on one—the light green forest color. It’s bold, but it seems to make you happy.

Until he starts painting:

“No! No it’s not right.”

Joel sighs. “What’s not right? This is the one you picked!”

You shake your head again. “The light from the window makes it look so bland. It just doesn’t look good.”

“I can’t control the sun…”

“You’re doing it all wrong, Joel.”

He wipes the paint off of his beard. It’s been 2 days of painting now, much longer than he expected.

He lays 5 different colors on the walls in tiny samples; this time you’ll be able to see the one exactly as it will be when he finishes painting.

You walk back and forth, finger pressed to your lip in hard concentration. “Oh! This one!” You exclaim: an orange tan.

“Are you sure?”

You nod.

He starts doing the color, now halfway through the room, fumes suffocating his brain, but now you’re telling him it's just not as pretty as it looked on the swatch. 

“Why are you painting the wrong color!”

“It’s the same one!”

“No it’s not!”

You've now moved on to the next color of the rainbow on your hit-list since he somehow fucked orange up. He lays out 10 swatches of blue. All of which look the same to him but none appeal to you. 

“Can we just pick one and settle on it? This much paint on the walls aint good. Gonna take forever to get the smell out.”

“Joel, this is going to be our BABY’s FIRST COLOR she'll associate with. It has to be perfect for her! She’ll be stuck with it forever!”

He raises his eyebrow unconvinced.

“…Until I decide to change it again,” you add plainly. “Or until she’s old enough to decide for herself. Do you really want a tween picking out her own bedroom color to haunt us?”

He huffs but agrees.

You are eating a banana just as Joel's finishing laying on the neutral ocean blue throughout the whole room. You had come in twice already but hadn’t made a peep either time, so maybe this one is the one—

 "Oh my god!" You exclaim. Joel nearly falls off the latter with worry that the baby somehow just dropped from between your legs until he sees you point to the banana peel excitedly. 

His shoulders slouch in a ‘you gotta be kidding me’ sort of way. His back fucking hurts. Hands cramped up. There’s gotta be a permanent strike of white in his hair right now. He drops the paintbrush, splashing it into the now wasted paint can of blue before taking your peel and walking out the room. Of course, its already nighttime, so the hardware store is closed and he’s gotta wait till morning to get the new paint.

The next day, he's rolling on the new yellow.

You wrinkle your nose disgustedly. "Ugh what the fuck is this?"

"It’s the banana!"

"No it's not! This is so much darker!"

"BANANAS GET DARKER EACH DAY. YOU WANTED ME TO MATCH FROM A HALF EATEN PEEL.”

“It sucks. You've put this god awful yellow in my mind now I don't want anything like it.” 

You turn around and survey the room, repulsed by its bright wrongness. Joel opens his jaw wide and silently screams into the air, pounding his fist into his head angrily without letting a sound out.

You turn around just as he drops into a neutral, emotionless demeanor.

The lightbulb in his brain flickers on. “You know what? I got an idea."

-

Joel takes you to the Home Depot.

"Hey Rick,” he says towards the man behind the paint counter.

Rick just chuckles. “Hey Joel, getting another paint? Your wife gonna make me match to the crazy fire in your eyes when you tell her to—“

Joel clears his throat when you waddle quickly to hold his hand like a child eager to stay close to dad in an unfamiliar land. Your mouth agape as you stare up at the ceiling and around all of the endless aisles of lumber and tools. Luckily, you were too stunned to hear Rick’s passing words.

"Why is it so big here?” You ask innocently. “And woodsy. And ... orange."

Joel grabs your hand and plops you in front or the swatches wall.

You gasp, “THERES SO MANY OPTIONS,” eyes sparkling and wide like a child in a candy shop.

"Pick a couple to take home, and then we're getting the paint for it. Ok?"

"How much are they?"

"They're 40 bucks each—“ Joel starts.

But Rick, the ever so helpful manager to anyone but Joel, buds in. “The swatches? You don't gotta pay for them darlin,” he winks.

Joel gives him a dagger look, but you smile so wide and start slipping swatches like they’re on fire.

Joel shakes his head and grabs some more rolls and brushes since his are all worn out. By the time he returns to the swatch wall, all 23 seconds later, you’ve got a giant of colored papers pile barely held in your hands of every single color. “We should check them all!”

He grits his teeth but bares a smile.

-

Joel tapes every single swatch on the wall at home. You walk and study each one. Holding one eye closed, tilting your head to the side, putting a different color next to it. You couldn’t see him pretending to bang his head against the wall on the other side of the room as you debate for an hour now.  

Finally, you stand back and take in the entire multicolored wall. “Oh thats it! It’s all of them! We make it like rainbow ombre in like little squares.”

"I would have to buy a can of every single paint. No. We're not doing that. We said one color only.”

"They can't give you like little cups of each color?"

"No.”

"That's dumb. What a scam!"

You wonder downstairs for more inspiration. Something homely. Something familial yet not too obviously Joel or your own style. You come across an old picture of young Tommy and Joel standing in front of Joel's truck, that had just been passed down by their dad. Their smug grins and messy hair, wrinkled clothes and slung arms around one another make you feel pleasantly at ease. Your baby needs to have that same sense of security, youth, and warmth. You study the photo a bit longer, and then it hits you. 

-

Joel wakes up, and the first thing he subconsciously does every morning is to reach for you on your side of the bed until he’s in contact with your warm body. It puts him at ease, touching you, knowing you’re there and he’s home. The only times you wouldn't be there would be if you were in the bathroom. But as he looks through heavy eyes, the bathroom door is open, dark, unoccupied. He furls his eyebrows back to your cold, empty side of the bed.

The sound of his truck rumbles distantly through the open window, growing closer and squeaking to a hault in the driveway.

He throws the blankets off and rushes down the stairs 2 at a time just to see you hauling a big heavy paint can slung down low with both your hands desperately holding the handle, all by yourself, bloated tummy and all, through the front door.

Barreling to you, he snatches the can from your sore fingers. 

“Are you crazy??? You can’t drive! You can't carry heavy shit! What were you doing—“

"Yes I can!” You challenge back. He sets the can on the table with a loud slam just as you drop his keys in the tray. “I’m not completely helpless, Joel! I can get my own pain and drive my own ... your own truck!"

"Yeah? Go paint the room yourself then, if you're so independent."

You scoff, bemused by his suggestion. “I’m not doing that. That's what I have you for.”

He shakes his head and looks at the new can.

“This better be worth it. "

You smile. “It's the one. Trust me." 

-

Joel finishes lying on the paint. It's a breezy, toned down pinkish salmon. Definitely not something that you would have gotten from a swatch. No, you had this one custom matched, and he can't quite put his finger on why it feels so familiar. And gives him little irksome itch too. 

He’s about to call you up when he hears Tommy greeting you at the front door.

The two of you make your way up the stairs, Tommy with a muffin shoved half in his mouth. When you round the corner, your husband stands in the middle of the room, awaiting your response.

"Well?" Joel asks curiously. 

To his relief, you've got the brightest, sweetest grin plastered all over your face. "It’s perfect. I told you!"

Its worth it--to see the excitement in your face--this is what he was hoping for the whole time. "Thought we weren't doing the gendered color thing?"

you nuzzle yourself under Joel's broad arm. "Well... this one is special."

Tommy nods in agreement "this looks good!" He walks around the room, more so noting Joel's handiwork rather than the choice of paint. It's kind of funny that Tommy almost disappears like camouflage with how closely his favorite shirt matches—

Joel's satisfied grin immediately drops to a shocked frown.

“You made me match our baby girl’s bedroom to Tommy's old ass shirt??"

You nod happily. “Isn't it so good!"

His arms flex angrily across his chest—it’s not good at all. “What’s next, you two havin’ an affair I don't know about,” he accuses between his brother and his wife.

"Joel!”

"Dude!"

"No! We're not painting our daughter’s room after him! This can't be your favorite color! What about every other color we looked at? What about all my shirts?"

Your eyes feel like they’re about to bug out of your sockets for such a ridiculous suggestion. “Plaid????????????" you ask audaciously.

"I got some denim too!"

Just as you two are screaming at one another over who’s shirt to match the room to, Tommy tiptoes backwards out the room quietly while swallowing the rest of his muffin, hoping to snag one more in the kitchen too before dipping.

"...and I'm just to assume our daughter is MINE when you got me painting HIS shirt—“

"I wouldn't be hanging out with your sensitive ass if it WAS his baby, damnit Joel, its just a color, what is WRONG with you—!”

Suddenly, he dips his hand into the bucket and slaps two saturated handprints onto your breasts. 

You gasp, backing away. Two Joel-sized hands in pink are wetly printed onto your large t-shirt, your favorite tee, as you stare down in shock. "You. Did. Not.”

Joel shrugs proudly. 

You grab the wet brush on the table next to you and slash it across his face before he could stop you. 

you try not to laugh, his face dotted in splotches of pink paint dribbling down his whiskers and neck. He rolls his pursed lips before looking at you, a predator smirking at a silly little bunny who’s just been put herself in a trap. 

".... This stuff comes off clothes...  right..." you ask hesitantly, backing away as he grasps the roller slowly and strides toward you.

You make a run for it, but the big belly doesn’t let you get far as he closes the distance and snatches you. You squeal out, giggling in his arm arms as he rolls and pats paint all over your clothes and body, the two of you getting soaked by the thick pigment. He pulls you around and smashes his lips for a heated kiss. Pink-colored hands rub paint all over your cheeks and chin affectionately. You rub your nose along his bridge, grinning at one another, covered in the glossy acrylic without a care in the world right now.

You peck his lips once more. “It’s a good color on you too, ya know…” 

He rolls his eyes. “Tell ya what. We’ll keep the room like this since ya like it so much. And next time I see Tommy, I’m bleaching that shirt. Win-win.”

“Deal.”

- - - -

Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[cowboykento]

Come on Barbie, Let's Go Party!

characters: nanami kento x fem!reader x gojo satoru (nanami x reader is the main pair/relationship.)

warnings: slight dub-con (everyone is a little drunk), alcohol consumption, threesome, face fucking, hair pulling, degradation (they call reader a slut (usually affectionately) a lot), dialogue heavy, other nicknames used (princess, angel, sweetheart, sweet thing, little girl, etc.), no protection used bc i didn’t even think about it (be safer than this irl!!!). let me know if i missed anything big here.

word count: 2.5k

minors and blank blogs dni or i'll block you :3

You were shocked Kento had agreed to go to Gojo’s halloween party, although it hadn’t been without effort on your part. You’d first mentioned the idea almost as soon as Gojo had asked you—an intentional move on his part, he knew the only way to get Nanami there was through you—but Kento had said no. 

That didn’t dissuade you, however, and after showing him countless pictures of cute couple’s costumes that you knew the two of you could pull off incredibly well. It had been the Barbie and Ken costumes that had finally won him over in the end. Well, more truthfully it was the outfit you’d shown him for your Barbie costume that sealed the deal. 

It wasn’t a conventional costume, or really even a costume at all by itself. You’d picked out a cute, two-piece pink dress, a white headband to match, and some frilly pink and white stockings. You knew exactly what you were doing, and Kento knew that you knew how to win him over, but that didn’t convince him enough not to finally agree.

Now that you guys were at the party, you could tell Nanami is restless to go home, and has been since you’d arrived. Nobody could deny that the two of you were the most attractive couple there, but Kento knows all eyes are really on you and your short skirt and pretty top that showed off the perfect amount of skin. 

The more depraved part of Kento thinks he should have left marks along your throat and collarbone for everyone to see, and you probably would have let him, too. Instead, he’s forced to stand dormantly and do everything in his power not to pull you away from Satoru’s wolfish smile and charming words. 

Truthfully, Kento isn’t having a bad time at all. In fact, he’s enjoying himself much more than he thought he would—only because he can shamelessly ogle you as you talk to everyone and could drink free booze, but he’s still having a good time nonetheless.

You’re plenty drunk yourself, anyone with a set of eyes could tell, but Nanami knows better than anyone. You’re being careless—more than you can afford to be with the skimpy little outfit you’d chosen. Part of him, the more jealous and unreasonable part of him thinks maybe you were doing it on purpose, just to rile him up, but he tries to quell those thoughts and blame it on the liquor. 

What he refuses to blame on the alcohol, however, is the way Satoru looks at you. Sure, he’s guilty of exactly the same thing, but you’re his. You’re not Satoru’s, and Kento can feel his blood boiling with the way Gojo eyes you up like he doesn’t know fully well that you’re taken. 

Eventually, Kento makes his way over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as you smile brightly at him, thrilled to see him like you’d forgotten he had come with you. 

“Ken!” you shout, smile nearly reaching your ears as you stand shakily on your tiptoes to press a sloppy kiss to his cheek. 

“Hey, angel,” he replies, voice much softer than yours but just as full of affection. “Are you having fun?”

You nod quickly, “Mhm! We were just about to play a game! You should play with us!”

Kento frowns—he’d been hoping you’d be just about ready to leave by now, but alas it seems like you’re having the time of your life. 

“I don’t know, princess,” he starts hesitantly before suddenly a new weight has landed on his shoulders.

“C’mon Nanamin!” Gojo shouts, “It’ll be fun!”

Kento shrugs Gojo off, “Yeah, I’m not sure I want to be involved in anything you consider fun, Gojo.”

Before Gojo has a chance to be offended, you’re batting your eyelashes up at your boyfriend, “Aww, but Ken, what if I say it’ll be fun? Please?”

Nanami’s jaw clenches. You know as well as he does that he’ll never be able to deny you when you look up at him all pretty. He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs, trying to ignore your and Satoru’s anticipation as you wait for his reply.

“Fine, I’ll play.”

****

About four rounds of shots and a game that’s devolved into something unrecognizable and Kento’s never wished he had more willpower to tell you no than he does now. 

You’re sitting pretty on Kento’s lap, have been since he agreed to play, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t turned on right now. Your skirt, which was already so short you had to be careful how you moved, had ridden up just enough that the only thing keeping everyone else at the party from seeing your panties was Kento’s hand placed on your thighs. Unfortunately for him, that also means he can feel every time you rub your thighs together when he would whisper something into your ear. He isn’t even trying to get you worked up, but it was working nonetheless, and he knows it.

“You wanna feel good, sweetheart?” Kento whispers, fingers dancing along the hem of your skirt.

You turn in towards Nanami more, trying to hide yourself from everyone else as you clench your thighs together in a desperate attempt to feel any relief between your legs. At this point, the only people left at the party are Satoru, Suguru, Shoku, and Haibara, and they’ve all turned into their own conversations, ignoring you and Nanami. 

You look up at him, your eyes wide and a bit watery—Kento isn’t sure how he let you get this drunk, but he’s far from sober himself at this point and doesn’t have the mind to think about anything other than making you feel good. You nod desperately, hanging on to the front of his shirt like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth.

His fingers reach farther up your thighs as he kisses along your neck. It takes the little shreds of dignity and control you have left in you not to moan out. His thick, demanding fingers reach your panties, his thumb ghosting over your throbbing clit. 

“Kento,” you groan into his ear, “need you so bad, need to feel good, please.”

“I know princess, I know. But you gotta keep quiet for me, yeah? Don’t want all of our friends to hear you being a little slut at Satoru’s party, do you?”

You shake your head as Kento continues thumbing at your soaked-through panties, making your head spin with pleasure. 

“You’re so wet for me, sweet thing. You’ve got no shame, do you, princess? That’s okay, I’ll take care of you even if you’re a slut.”

You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips, and instantly Kento’s actions halt.

“Be good,” he pinches your thigh, warning you. “If you make another sound, I’ll have to stop. Understand?”

“Mhm, I’ll be good, promise.”

Kento kisses your temple, as he continues circling your clit, “That’s my girl.”

You can’t help but grind down into the little bit of pressure Kento’s providing, so desperate for your release and mind so foggy from lust and alcohol.

“So close, Ken, ‘m so close,” you whimper as quietly as possible.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he replies huskily, slipping a thick finger into your wet heat. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your orgasm shakes your body, jolts of electricity pulsing throughout you as you bite down on your lip to hold back the moan that tries to rip through you. 

You’re panting as Kento puts your panties back into place and presses a kiss to your shaking lips. 

“You finally ready to leave, princess?”

“You better be,” Satoru’s voice interrupts. “Been waiting for the two of you to be done so I can start cleaning up. Thought Nanamin would have a little more decency, but I guess even he can’t help himself around a pretty thing like you.”

Neither you nor Kento had noticed that everyone else had filtered out of Satoru’s apartment, but now instead of pleasure you feel a hot flash of embarrassment rush through your body. 

“Are you jealous, Satoru?” Nanami’s voice cuts through the awkwardness shockingly. You turn to him, eyes wide and misunderstanding his boldness. 

Satoru takes a step toward the two of you, gently grabbing your chin to force your gaze to fall on him, rather than Kento. 

“Mmm, I just might be. She’s real pretty like this, isn’t she?” Satoru teases, looking over your head and  at Nanami like you’re not even there. 

“Of course,” Nanami replies, something in his voice challenging Satoru. He grabs a fistful of your hair, not too roughly but enough to force tears to prick at the corners of your eyes as he turns you back towards him. “What do you think, princess? I think Satoru wants me to share you. My sweet little girl. Don’t know if he’s worth sharing you with.”

Nanami’s expression is hard to read, especially with the traces of alcohol still in your body, but it’s not hard to feel the swell of his dick underneath you, stretching against the fabric of his pants. 

“Do you wanna give Satoru a turn with you, baby?”

Your eyes are wide and wet, and Nanami’s grip pulling at your roots is only making thinking straight that much more difficult. Still, you whisper out a shy, “Y- yeah.”

He pulls your head back to kiss your neck harshly, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. 

“Knew you were a little slut. Good thing you’re so pretty and perfect,” he speaks into your neck. “I’ll let Satoru have a turn with you, but remember who you belong to, princess.”

He presses another kiss to your lips before releasing his hold on you and letting Satoru pull you back towards him. 

“He’s right, you really are a slutty little girl, letting him finger fuck you right here on my couch at my party,” Gojo teases, pulling you off Nanami’s lap and onto his. “How sweet of Nanami to warm up your little pussy for me.”

You moan loudly at his words as he flips your skirt up, fully revealing the pretty pink panties you’d picked out just to match your costume. 

“Oh, you’re such a doll. All dressed up just for my party? Almost like you knew we’d slut you out right here. Or maybe that’s what you wanted this whole time? What do you think, Nanamin?” 

Nanami has since pulled his dick out of the confines of his costume pants, fisting it slowly to the sight of you hovering over Gojo, “Seems just about right to me. Is that what you wanted, princess? For me to share you? To get your slutty little pussy fucked right in front of everyone? Could’ve just asked, sweetheart, didn’t have to be a tease.”

“Please,” you whimper to Gojo as he unzips his own pants, pulling your panties to the side and lining himself up with your quivering cunt. “Please, want it so bad.” 

Gojo clicks his tongue, “You’ve taught her well, Nanami. She begs so pretty for me.” He turns his attention back toward you, hitting his dick against your sensitive clit a few times before pushing into your tight heat. 

Both you and Satoru moan loudly as he enters you. He doesn’t take any time at all before bucking his hips up into you fiercely, and you hold onto his shoulders for dear life. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan, throwing your head back as Satoru pounds into your cunt. 

“Shit,” he moans, “Fuck, this pussy is so fucking good.” 

You hear Kento moan from where he sits, and the thought of him watching you get fucked by Satoru is only turning you on more. You want to put on a show for him, to make him so jealous he comes and steals you away from Satoru and takes his turn fucking you. 

Instead, Kento stands and grabs a fistful of your hair once again, pulling your head back to look up at him. Your body is alight as Nanami tells you to open your mouth before he spits directly onto your tongue, staking his claim to you as you swallow. 

“Turn her around, Satoru,” he commands, “I’m gonna fuck her slutty little throat.” 

Satoru is quick to oblige, the thought of you taking both of their dicks turning everyone on even more. He takes no time in returning to his brutal pace, fucking up into your pussy and chasing his own orgasm desperately. 

“Open wide for me, sweetheart,” Nanami tells you, pressing the tip of his dick against your lips before you comply, taking as much of his length in as you can manage. You hold onto Nanami for balance, Satoru’s thrusts pushing you to take even more of Kento’s dick in your mouth, forcing tears to fall down your cheeks. 

Kento groans loudly, his grip on your hair firm as he fucks himself into your tight throat. His pace isn’t quite as fierce as Satoru’s but it’s overwhelming nonetheless. 

“Fuck, princess, tight little pussy’s sucking me right in. I’m so close, want me to fill you up nice and good?” Satoru pants. 

“You better fucking not,” Nanami replies sharply, his hand squeezes your hair even tighter and you yelp. “That pussy doesn’t take anyone’s cum except mine.” 

Satoru moans even louder at that, his thrusts becoming erratic as he nears his orgasm. You’re close too, the coil in your tummy tightening so much that you think a wayward gust of air on your clit would send you hurtling into bliss. 

You look up at Kento with tears in your eyes, his big thumb brushing them away as they fall down your cheeks. 

“Are you close, angel?” He coos sweetly. “Look so gorgeous like this, letting both of us stuff you full. Cum for me, sweetheart, go ahead.” 

It only takes two more thrusts from Satoru to finally send you over the edge, your vision whiting out as you cream around Satoru’s dick. You gargle around Nanami’s cock as you cum, the vibrations only getting him that much closer. 

Satoru pulls out shortly after you finish, and you only have a second to be confused before you feel his hot seed shoot all over your back, his voice pitching as he lets out a loud, whiny moan. 

Kento continues fucking your throat, his pace picking up as he chases his climax, “So perfect for me, sweetheart. Fuck, gonna swallow everything I have to give you, won’t you?”

You do your best to nod, and that’s all it takes for Nanami to shoot hot ropes of cum down your throat, groaning loudly and pulling your hair, forcing you to take him all the way to the base. 

When the last of him is spent, Nanami pulls out of your throat tiredly and flops onto the couch next to you and Satoru. None of you can remember a time in your life you’d cum that hard before, the overwhelming pleasure enough to wake you mostly out of your drunkenness. 

You curl into Nanami, your breath still ragged and your bones reduced to nothingness. Nanami rubs a hand along your back as he catches his own breath, and Satoru gets up to fetch water and a washcloth. 

You tilt your head up to look at Kento with glassy, worn out eyes and a tired smile, “And you said you didn’t even wanna come to this ‘stupid party.’” 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. You’re lucky you’re irresistible, you little minx. Made this night interesting for all of us.”

i literally wrote this at work i don't even know what came over me. did not plan this or even think about it before words started pouring out of me. didn't even plan on including nanami hair pulling but what is a girl to do after the new episode ??? n e ways hope you all enjoyed as much as i do :3

commissions open!

[pretzel-box]

The scars we share [Leon Kennedy Soulmate AU] [Part 1]

Warnings: Mentions of scars

Tags: Fluff, comfort, Leon as a protective friend!

Words: 1.3k

Summary: You and your soulmate share scars. While you worry about them, the man you met in the supermarket worries about you.

"In this world people find their soulmate through the strangest things. Sharing a red string. Seeing the world in black and white till the right person appear or having a word written on your arm. Every pair of soulmate has an unqiue bonding."

The page ends there. The paragraph in this book alone left you annoyed and you smashed it straight against the wall, hoping it will throw away your negative feelings too. The excitment of having an own soulmate quickly disappeared, when you found out that your supposed partner and you shared scars. Every time when they get hurt, you get the same scar. Same the other way around. First it was nothing to worry about, it was simple things like a cut on the finger. This was the first scar that they gave you. A small white line on your pinky finger, like a pinky promise that your soulmate will forever be a part of you.

Over the time, the scars appeared more frequent. On your chest, shoulder, hips and legs. First it worried you, maybe your fated person was in danger? But time passed and it quickly became a bothersome issue. Yes, you're still worried for them but at the same time people thought you're the one in danger.

Thats how you met Leon, some millitary guy at the store. The man actually had trouble buying groceries, so you kindly helping him out. While taking a pack of dishwasher tabs from the higher asile shelves, the sleeve from your shirt fell down, exposing the rather nasty scars on your arm. The man definitly noticed since he started to ask in a low tone. "Are you okay?" The sudden low-voiced question caught you off guard and it took a moment for you to realize what he was talking about. "Oh, those? It's from my soulmate. Don't worry, I'm absolutely fine!" You forced yourself to laugh and hoped it reassured the worrying man. It was sweet for him to worry about you, despite knowing you for only a short moment.

Leon and you ended up becoming friends and exchanging phone numbers. He is an absolute sweetheart despite his stoic and serious face. And he ended up giving some useful tips for treating scars. Apparently even an military guy like him does a good skincare routine. He would also check up on you a lot, asking for your well-being and if you got more scars. He was like your personal male mom-friend.

Few days passed and you're sitting on the couch, caressing your elbow. Your soulmate actually managed to give you both a scar on the elbow. Exactly when you wanted to groan in frustration, a message popped up on your phone display.

'One new message from Mr.Lele'

Leon was sending you a link for a pricey skin lotion. Quite the sum for your poor budget.

"For your scars, I could give you some to try out." Sweet carrying mom-friend.

This was the reason for your first visit in his minimalistic appartment, and you could swear this man has more dust in his home than furniture at this point. He excused it by explaining that he's usually on business trips or crashing at other places. The whole appartment was just a cheap space to store the things he owned. It was hard to make out what kind of person Leon really was based on his belongings. While he fetched the lotion from the small bathroom, you walked around his bedroom and looked at the different items. Among them was a cute little postcard with a childish drawing, on it were three people presented as stickmans. A brown haired woman in a red jacket, a small blond girl and a blond man in a police uniform. Over their heads was a huge text written in a red crayon. "ThAnK yoU foR sAvIng Me YoUr SherRy." Sweet.

Next to it was a picture, it showed Leon standing in a line with other men who wore military uniform.

That was all. Everything else didn't showed any important items. Just some dusty untouched books in a bookshelf that are serving as decoration, a dead potted plant and a simple selection of clothes thrown lazily over a chair.

"Got it." His smooth voice catched your attention. In an instant you turned around and greeted him with a smile before looking at the small lotion box in his hand. "Mind if I?" He pointed to your arm that he already saw in the supermarket. You didn't turned him down and raised up your sleeve, displaying your arm to him. Leon started to hold your arm gently and traced the lines of the scars with his thumb. It was sending a tingle down the spine. Somehow it felt right to feel his touch just like that. You even missed the worried gaze he held. The man was totally focused on your arm, frowining softly as if he felt guilty for your scars.

"I know. They look bad. But I'm sure my soulmate didn't gave me those on purpose. I'm actually hoping that they are okay." A chuckle escaped your lips as you rambled about your scars and sorrows. The whole moment felt right, as if Leon always has been your friend and you know each other for ages. "Maybe they are clumpsy, or bravely spending their time saving other people." The man seemed less tense and lets out a content sigh. "They are probably sorry for hurting such a stunning person as yourself."

That caught your off guard and heat rushed into your cheeks. Did he just gave you a compliment? His thumb continued to caress the skin and you could feel the care and love he puts into his movements, it felt soothing and relaxing. You could melt right there just from the single touch he gave you. "It will be cold for a moment." He warns as he got some white lotion on his fingertips. He massaged it with care onto the scars. The steel blue eyes watched the movements of his hands closely.

"How come you know so much about scar-treatment? Is military rough to you?" You quickly came up with a topic to speak about before he was able to see the thick blush on your cheeks.

He hesitated, probably thinking about what to say next. Maybe it was embarassing for him to admit that he simply had a thing for skincare? Or he has a deep secret backstory? The thoughts made you smile to yourself. No matter what it was, it was cute that he's sharing his knowledge and experience with you.

"I got a soulmate." He starts. "They seem to live a pretty peaceful life." His eyes looked up to meet yours. The worries and guilt turned into certainty. "Or at least a violent-free one." His grip tightens around your arm, but it didn't hurt. "And they make me feel save. To know that they don't get in danger or have risky military operations like me, makes me feel happy."

The way he spoke was like a personal speech, as if he was sharing something personal and important with you.

"I wanna see them save but at the same time I hurt them."

"I'm sure you don't, Leon." You touch his cheek gently to cheer him up a bit. He sounds genuinely like a good person and there is no way he is capable of hurting someone. Especially someone that he shares a deep bond with.

"I hurt you." Leon pushes on your scar. "Multiple times." Then he lifts his arm and touches your elbow. Your hips, your leg, your shoulder... And thats the moment when the conclusion came into your mind. Your eyes widden and left your mouth agape. There are so many questions. So many words. And yet only one thing left your mouth.

"Are you hurt?"

[subformuscularalpha]

"Hey, why is such a handsome boy sitting alone in the bar?" The guy I had been checking for the last hour suddenly dropped down on the couch next to me.

"I'm... My friends wanted to dance", I pointed to the other room where music was coming from.

"And they left you alone here?"

"I'm not really keen on dancing", I felt embarrassed in the presence of such a good looking man. And I couldn't stop looking at his biceps — shirt's sleeves were lying so tightly around them, it seemed like they were about to burst.

"I'm Vlad", he extended his hand.

"Jake", I put my trembling hand in his and felt the warmth of his palm. Vlad gave me a firm handshake and then moved his hand on the back of the couch, inviting me to get closer to him.

We started chatting. Vlad was in his early thirties and was already working as a senior manager in a local tech company. I managed to get to know a little bit more about his life and job but it was more like Vlad asking questions and me answering them. He wanted to know everything about me and he was into asserting his dominance in that way. I couldn't withstand him and I enjoyed that. The way he looked at me and the way he talked was seductive and was showing his self-confidence.

When a waitress was walking next to us, he snapped her attention. "Another mojito for the boy, please. And whiskey for me". The girl nodded and headed to the counter. A moment later she returned with two glasses.

I didn't notice how I slowly moved closer to Vlad. He then wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pressed me against him, so that now I could smell his strong body odor mixed with a nice cologne, and feel his warm and hard body next to mine. As we were drinking, he moved his arm away from my shoulders and instead put it on my thigh. He rubbed my thigh, sending shivers down my spine. Then his hand moved to my crotch and clenched around my weenie. Vlad's hand was big enough to easily encircle my penis and balls all together. The glass almost fell down from my hands as a stroke of sensation hit my body. Fuck, I was so close to cum at that moment. Vlad wasn't squeezing my crotch to hurt me, it was just a way of marking his property.

After we finished our drinks, Vlad proposed to move to a better place. He paid the bill even though I tried to protest. "Don't worry, boy, a man should take care of such things". Then he led me to his apartment that was right around the corner.

It was a pretty luxurious complex with a concierge that welcomed us in the entrance hall. We took the elevator up. The corridor up there was clean with white walls and a marmour floor. Vlad led me to his apartment.

We entered into a living room which was combined with a kitchen and dining area. There was a modern couch in the middle of the room and a big plasma TV on the wall. The whole room was furnished in a modern style combining wooden texture with dark colors.

Towering over me, Vlad pressed me against the wall, grabbed my jaws with his big hand and started kissing me. His lips pressed over mine with a strong sensuality and his tongue forced my mouth open and started exploring it. The harsh stubble of his beard rubbed against my sensitive skin, while his hands caressed my body. He touched my arms, then moved to my hips and then down to my ass. He squeezed my buttocks through the pants and I gave out a small moan of pleasure. 

I enjoyed the moment but at the same time I was frightened. I had often dreamt about being used by a man like Vlad but I had never experienced it in real life. Being trapped between a wall and his rock hard body, I knew there was nothing I could control. 

Vlad ripped my shirt off and threw it away. After undoing my belt and unbuttoning my jeans, he picked me up and threw over his shoulder like a child. He pulled my pants and briefs off in one swift movement, leaving me all naked. Actually almost naked — as the last, Vlad took my shoes off and carried me to his bedroom.

Before being thrown on the bed, I got a firm smack on my bare butt, that made me squeak in pain. Vlad stood in front of the bed. His muscles were bulging out of his clothes. He quickly took his clothes off and stood there revealing his incredibly beautiful body. My eyes wandered over his body and stopped at the thick shaft that was hanging between his legs. It wasn't even hard yet but it already seemed to be around 7 inches long. I knew what he was about to do next and I was scared. I had never had a man inside of me before. Not even mentioning such an endowed one.

Vlad jumped on the bed and spread my legs. I felt the head of his cock rubbing against my hole. He put his one hand on my neck pressing me against the bed and used his other one to direct his dick. I took a deep breath as he pushed inside of me. I closed my eyes and moaned. At the same moment Vlad pressed his lips against my mouth and continued moving deeper inside of me. I felt my body stretching over his growing member. I started crying and tried to push him away but I wasn't able to move him even a little bit. He was controlling everything and I just had to obey. 

Vlad broke our kiss and looked into my eyes. There was something in them saying "you're mine now". He put his hands on my waist and slowly pulled me closer until his balls pressed against my butt. He then stopped for a moment, "Are you ok, boy?". I nodded my head while my eyes were all red from crying. It hurt so much but at the same time it felt so good.

Vlad pulled his cock a bit out and pounded back inside of me. He started moving his hips back and forth faster and faster. My body was shaking from the pain and pleasure. My ass was burning and it felt like Vlad's massive coke was pushing from inside of my belly. I closed my eyes... It seemed like it was going to last forever. But then Vlad thrusted deep inside of me and stopped. Shots of his cum unloaded into my gut while drops of his sweat were falling down on my face. 

Vlad pulled his cock out and dropped on the bed next to me, "How did you like it, boy?"

I was barely able to speak and my inner self felt so empty. I turned to Vlad and crawled under his armpit. "It was... awesome...", I managed to say.

[bloodyknucklesforme]

New Year's | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Agent!F reader

You technically had plans for New Year's but a little skull emoji popping up on your phone next to the message "Taking you away for New Year's. Be packed by Friday evening. I’ll pick you up at 5." had you changing everything.

CW: Smut, filthy smut, anal, cock warming, light degradation, dom!Simon, soft!Simon, creampie, idk, filth

WC: 4k

You were half asleep, sleeping off the Christmas hangover on Boxing day when the text came through. He never texted. He barely called. The little skull emoji showing up on your screen pulled you and shot through you like lightning.

'Taking you away for New Years. Be packed by Friday evening. I’ll pick you up at 5.'

He was a man of few words and fewer questions. You could decline and he wouldn’t hold it against you. You did technically have plans but a party at a coworker's flat wasn’t the most exciting thing. You did buy a cute dress though. You could wear it for him now. 

You weighed the options. Party with work friends who weren’t really friends or a weekend getting fucked stupid. 

You replied to him with a simple ‘okay’. 

You were giddy. You were like a teenage girl whose crush finally texted back. Butterflies floated up from your stomach and out your mouth as giggles. 

Big scary Ghost was taking you away for a weekend. You had to let all the excitement out over the next five days before he picked you up. You had a reputation to maintain. 

Acquaintances with benefits was the aptest description of your relationship. You shared the same field. He did all the dirty work while you sat in London looking over satellite images and decrypting communications. 

He did all the dirty work in your relationship as well. He was a dominating presence that knew you just wanted to forget about everything else when he was inside you. 

Maybe you let him do it cause he saved your life. Maybe because he was the one to check on you after you woke up. He was the one that drove you home from the base. Left his number on the notepad on your desk.

‘Call me if you need me’

Maybe it was because when you told him he could come back whenever he wanted after the first time in your flat, he did. He came back over and over and over. 

As sure as the wind blows, Ghost would show up at your door. Normally between 9 and 10 pm. He wouldn’t text or announce himself. You’d hear the click of the front lock (you gave him a key after he came in after midnight once and forced you out of bed) and hear his boots against the floor. 

The air in your flat always felt colder when he was there. It made you clingy and begging. He always locked the bedroom door behind him. You couldn’t lock it yourself now. You’d never tell him but the sound made you horny. Pavlovian response to a click that made your thighs slick for him. 

You reached under the bed and pulled out your vibrator. Letting your mind wander to all the places you thought he might take you this weekend.

It was five o’one and he was already outside waiting. He was never late, that's for sure. You’d never actually seen his car before. He always walked up to your building. It was an older Land Rover, black, mid-90s. 

He got out and took your bag. Wordlessly gesturing for you to get in the car. As you said, a man of few words.

He shut the door behind you. Before he started the car you pulled a bottle of bourbon from your bag, a gold ribbon tied around the neck.

“Trying to loosen me up?” He asked, taking the bottle. 

“You are always tight in the shoulders. Might be good for you.” 

He chuckled and put the bottle in the backseat. He tossed a paper bag in your lap as he started down the road. 

It was a simple brown paper with white handles. In it was a book.

“The SAS Survival Handbook?… fuck you.” You said, flipping through the pages. It wasn’t useless but it was filled with stuff you already knew for work. How to staunch bleeding, how to hit someone the right way, how to start a fire. It was annotated. Little scribbles and doodles. Approval and disproval. 

“Need to make sure you’re okay when you go back in the field. Won’t be able to keep my eyes on you all the time.” This was his idea of a joke. “Where would I put my cock if you died?”

“Oh.. fuck you, Simon.” You hit him in the arm with the book. You weren’t actually angry. It was funny. You pulled out the name to be cheeky. He grabbed your thigh and squeezed tightly. 

“Watch it or I might put that mouth to work sooner rather than later.” 

“Where are we going?” You asked finally. 

“Somewhere private. Was tired of hearing about your neighbours' complaints.” 

You could be loud, very loud. The sound of a broomstick hitting the floor couldn’t even be heard over the sound of him splitting you in two. 

“You have plans then?”

“That would make the devil himself blush.”

He took you out of the city, past the suburbs. Almost two hours. Past Oxford to some small town with a B name you forgot as soon as you passed the sign. 

You were eager, grinding your thighs together. He’d never planned anything as far as you knew. Your relationship was mostly spontaneous. The first time he’d ever tied your hands was because he said he liked the scarf he found on the floor. Any use of toys was because you’d already had them out. He always took you as you were. 

It was dark as he pulled up the gravel drive. It was an older house. One story made of red brick and a dark-colored roof. There was already a light on inside. 

He carried your bags in and kicked the door shut behind the two of you. He dropped the bags and pushed you up against the wall, his chest against your back crushing your breasts against the wall. 

His warm mouth was against your neck, sucking a heavy mark. He gripped an ass cheek in one hand, squeezing till you whimpered.

“You ever been fucked here?” He hummed, a finger pressing between your cheeks to rub your hole through the fabric. You shook your head. “Do you want me to fuck your ass, agent?” 

“Yes.” Spontaneity. It wasn’t something you’d ever really considered before. He’d mentioned it, once before, a cum drenched finger grazing your hole and a promise to return one day. That day was now you guessed. 

“Yes…?”He slapped your ass, hard.

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good girl. Always such a good slut for me.” He reached around to unzip your jeans. “Did my good girl bring anything special to wear for me?”

You had. A split-second choice to bring your one nice lingerie set. He’d never seen it. He’d ripped too many panties off for you to dare, even if he did replace them. 

“I did, Sir.”

His hardening cock was pressed against the small of your back. He hummed in approval as he pulled your jeans down. 

It was a black mesh set you got last year on sale. Didn’t leave much to the imagination but lifted your ass and breasts up nicely. Lots of straps with matching garter and stockings. You’d felt a little dumb putting jeans and a sweater over top at least until you heard him exhale behind you. 

He’d knelt down behind you. The rough polyester of his mask rubbed against the small of your back as he kiss your ass. Another quick slap.

“Spread your legs, agent.” You did as you were told, as wide as you could with your jeans still wrapped around your ankles. He pressed his face against your covered cunt. He sucked on the damp fabric. You whimpered. He pressed his hands against the walls on either side of you, keeping you in place. 

“Use your words, agent.”

“Please, Sir. Take them off.”

He obliged, taking the back edge between his teeth and pulling down slowly to your knees. He pressed his face back against you, licking your folds slowly. He groaned at how slick you were. He brought that out in you. 

He could fuck you like no one else. Hold you like no one else. It felt like a deal with the devil sometimes. You could have the perfect hookup, someone whose body felt made for yours but you could never talk not in any way that mattered. You couldn’t even use each other’s names. 

His tongue fucked you. He treated your cunt like an oasis in the desert. There was always the lingering smell of desperation when he fucked you. He might walk out your door and never come back. You thought about it a lot. You’d use your clearance on occasion to check in on him when he was gone for too long. You’d never tell him that. You were too busy moaning at the moment. 

His hands left the wall to spread your cheeks apart. You shuddered as the cold air brushed against your hole. 

“You look beautiful, love. Almost makes me feel bad about what I’m going to do to you.” You almost jumped out of your skin when his spit hit your hole. He licked it up and ran his tongue over your hole. 

He left you panting as he fell back on his haunches. He slapped your thigh.

“Go to the bedroom and lie down on your stomach. I’ll be there soon.” He placed a chaste kiss on your reddened thigh. He was gone before you could say anything. 

You stepped out of your jeans and panties, leaving them on the floor. Your legs were shaky as you made your way down to the bedroom. 

It felt too quaint. Pink florals on a light mint background covered the walls. The bedding was white with frills. It felt like a grandma’s house. Something out of red riding hood.  It wasn’t suited for what he had planned. 

You looked yourself over in the mirror across from the bed. Fixed your hair, making sure it fell the way you liked. You wore minimal makeup but chose the cheap mascara you knew run a lot. He liked it when it ran down your face. 

You were confident but not when staring too long. You got nick picky. Too caught up with stray hairs sticking out weirdly or a new little bump on your cheek or forehead. 

You were pretty, you had been told it enough but being the object of desire was different. It stripped you to your messiest and most swollen. ‘Fucking gorgeous, love’ he’d murmur after finishing while he looked over the damage he did. 

It wasn’t a matter of confidence just you never felt appreciated enough. Sometimes you questioned the purely physical nature of your relationship with the lieutenant. Did hookups take weekend trips on holidays? Couples did but couples also used each other's real names and not titles or code names. 

You climbed onto the bed, facing away from the door, spread your legs, and waited for the wolf. 

“You ready for me?” He knocked softly on the door frame. You looked over your shoulder to look at him.

“Ready.” You didn’t mean for your voice to shake like it did. You weren’t scared but he brought out a certain timidness in you. It didn’t help when he walked in with his hand around his cock. You always forgot how big he actually was.

He threw a black bag onto the bed as he walked over. 

He kissed the back of your thighs, rubbing your ass with a free hand. His mouth moved up your legs to your ass and to your back. He stopped at the nape of your neck. 

“Can I blindfold you?” He murmured. It was his way of saying he wanted to take the mask off. This was a special occasion. 

“Yes.” You closed your eyes and tilted your head back. He chuckled at your obedience, your eagerness. He unzipped the bag and cool leather pressed against your face. He moved your hair out of the way and tied it around your head. He placed his face by your face. “If you need something to hold on to.”

He climbed on top of you, kissing his way back down till he straddled your thighs. He rubbed your cheeks, massaging his fingers deep into the muscle. 

“Relax, love. We have all the time we need. I’m not going to rush this.”

“How long have you been wanting to do this?” You asked, stretching out underneath his touch. 

“Since I first bent you over that crate in Germany.” 

“And I’m the slut?” Munich, a distant reminder of your first time, was still your safe word. 

“You bring it out in me.” He laughed softly. You liked his laugh on the rare occasion you could tug it out. 

He moved and you heard him unzip the black bag, dumping its contents out onto the bed. He placed something hard and rubbery in your hand. It was a small plug, a little longer than your thumb. 

“Hold on to it for a moment.” He said. There was a snap of plastic. You yelped as cold lube hit your skin and pooled around your hole. You gripped the toy. He ran a finger through your folds, gathering up the wetness. 

He dragged it around the edge of your muscle, pressing lightly. You grabbed the mask laying by your face with your free hand. He chuckled. 

“Breathe…relax..if it’s too much let me know.” He pushed his finger inside you. You held still, getting used to the feeling. It was a stretch but a good stretch. You lifted your hips up to him, offering him more, begging him for more. He was slow as he pumped his finger in and out of you. Cooing out words of praise, rubbing your lower back. “You’re going to take me so well. I know you will.”

He pushed himself in to the last knuckle. You moaned softly.  His hand skated over yours till you released the toy. He took it and laid it on your back. The snap of plastic again and his finger was gone. More lube dripping into your stretched hole. You reached blindly for a pillow and pulled the first one you touched underneath your head. 

“If you need anything, ask me.” He said, rubbing your hip. 

“I need you to keep going.” You whined. He spread your cheeks again with one hand with he teased the toy at your entrance. He pushed it in, taking less time but the same level of care. One hand fucking you while the other rubbed your skin, making sure you were okay. 

He adjusted his hips and you felt the hard tip of his cock against your thigh. You were getting antsy. A puddle forming underneath you on the bed. You moved your leg to rub against him. He exhaled hard. 

“Careful, agent.” He warned. “I’m doing this for you.”

The words hanging off the edge of your tongue were dangerous. 

“I want you inside me.”

“We’re not even halfway there. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Not my ass.” He pauses. His knuckles brushing against your hole as the toy is pushed fully inside you. “Let me keep you warm.”

He pulls the toy out and drops it on your back. His hands are on your hips and he’s pulling you up against him. You love when you cna get him to lose control. Break his sharp edges, shatter his resolve into pieces. 

He lines himself up with your cunt. He rocks into you with one fluid motion. He rocks the air from your lungs. You grin wickedly as he fills you. 

“I’m glad you suggested it.” He’s by your ear, covering your body under his. “Watching you squirm was getting difficult.”

He checks the tie on your blindfold and grabs you another pillow to rest your head against. 

“Don’t get cheeky.” He warned before leaning back. He picked the plug back up and pushed it back inside you. He kept a hand on your hip, making sure he was as deep as he could be. 

“Ready for the next one?” He asked, slowing down his pace with the plug.

“Yes, sir.” You moan.

“Good girl.” He replaces the plug with a larger one. You squirm on his cock as he slides it in. You hate how gentle he can be sometimes. How delicate he is. He could be rough and was rough often. Never like that first time.

You suspect it’s because of how you almost died. He had to hold your stomach together on the helo back. Twelve hours earlier he had you bent over that crate. He’d seen your mortality too soon. You resented it sometimes. He was the one who saw you at your weakest. He held your life in his hands. 

You got taken out of the field, put on desk duty. He was out there, while you stared at a screen. He was so much larger and so much more real than you. You could fade into something else so easily. You didn’t have many friends, maybe because you never gave anyone a chance. Maybe because instead of being at a party you were here in this cottage with his cock inside you while he fucked your ass with a silicone plug. 

You didn’t realize how close you were till he gave his hips a roll. 

“Fuck….me.” You moaned. 

“You’re getting tighter. Is this all it takes now? You used to be a challenge.” You pushed back against him, forcing the tip of his cock against your womb. He picked up his pace with the plug. “Fuck yourself against me. Make yourself come on my cock.”

He could get you to do anything. You rocked your hips back and forth, trying to angle him against that sweet spot. He refused to help, letting you use him like a toy. You whined and cried as you fucked yourself with him. The heat pooling in your stomach. You arched back, throwing yourself into him. 

“When you cum, I’ll fuck your ass.” He hissed. You found the mask and buried your nose in it, taking in the smell of him. How full of him you were. How pathetic he made you. How much you wanted him, more of him, all of him. 

You thought about how you would wake up tomorrow morning with him next to you. That was all it took. You spasmed, clenching around his cock. He groaned loudly. 

Your thighs were wet and shaking. You whimpered as he pulled out of you. You could have cried when he pulled the plug out.

“Look at you. You’re always so fucking greedy for me.” He pushed your hips down. He dragged the head of his cock around your hole. “Always so wet for me. Both of your holes clenching around nothing.” 

His hand rested on your hip, holding you firmly in place. 

“What’s our word?” He asked. You could barely think. You tried to push back against him, use him again, let him slip inside of you. He tutted and dug his fingers into you. “I need the word before I continue.”

“Munich.” 

He was always bigger than you remember. You bit down on the polyester mask as he pushed inside of you. Your eyes rolling back into your head. 

He hunched over you, his breath was heavy against the nape of your neck.

“So tight, love. So fucking tight for me.” He pressed his lips in an open mouth kiss against the nape of your neck. Every thrust driving him deeper inside you. 

He’d reduced you over his heat. You were nothing but a squirming, moaning wet mess. Too tired to even raise your hands up to touch him. Cock drunk and begging like you were in heat. 

“Might never fuck your cunt again.” He chuckled at your sad whimper. “Don’t worry, I’d miss it too much.”

He took a moment as he bottomed out, his balls slapping against your core. He kissed under your ear. 

“Can I come inside you?” He rubbed circles on your hips. He was twitching inside of you. You could feel the drum of his heart against your back. His question dripped with need. You weren’t without protection but it wasn’t something you’d ever discussed before. He wouldn’t ask if he wasn’t clean. He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want it that badly. You wanted it badly too.

“Please.” 

You awoke something in him. An arm came to wrap around your neck, tucking your chin against his forearm. You felt so small. Drool poured from your mouth around the mask. 

“You’re mine,” he growled. “You’re fucking mine.”

You were close again. His words edging you closer. 

“If some other cunt touched you, I’d kill him.” 

Six months of no emotion, no attachments, just him fucking you till your legs cramped. Now here he was, buried deep inside you, touching a part of you no one else ever had and claiming you as his. 

You reached behind you, nails digging into his own ass. Your weak attempt to hold him. Blood was rushing in your ears, sloshing your brain around in a lustful storm. You could only hear the sound of his hips smacking against your ass and your teeth grating against fabric. He was talking, you could feel the breath against your cheek. 

You forgot how to talk and listen. You were an animal. An animal begging for him to cum inside you. 

“Simon, please. I want you. Please.” You came, legs shaking hard. He had a habit of making you cum so hard you forgot to breathe. 

“Breath, love. Don’t pass out on me.” He blew cold air against your neck. You gasped, the world crashing around you.

He came, pressing his full body weight against you. He shuddered, moaning your name loudly. You could feel his cum inside you, spilling out as he pulled his cock out. 

“Don’t move.” He ordered. He rolled over. You waited, legs too weak to defy him. You felt the gentle push of a new plug against you. “Good girl. You took me so well.”

He laid gentle kisses against your thighs and ass while he pushed the plug in, trapping his cum inside you. 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. 

“You got my mask wet,” he laughed. “Can’t wear it now.”

“I’ll keep the blindfold on.” You murmured. You wanted to sleep, just the two of you together in bed. You could close your eyes and pretend you were something more. 

“You have high enough clearance.” You flinched as he undid the satin ties of the blindfold. You kept your eyes closed as he tossed it to the side. “I’ve seen your insides, you can see my face.”

You were slow to open them. Blinking in the dim light of the bedroom. His nose was crooked and scars crisscrossed over his face. He was dirty blonde with soft curls. He had deep circles under his eyes. He looked a little older than you expected, years of war, cigarettes, and stress. 

Six months. It took six months to see his face. You loved it. 

“Not scaring you off, am I?”

You kissed him softly, his knuckles grazed your cheek. 

“Never.” You buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“You can take a short nap but then I’m bathing you. You already ruined the duvet cover, I’m not paying for the sheets as well.” He stroked the back of your head. 

“Just wake me up in time for New Years.” You mumbled. “I want my kiss.”

“You’ll get your kiss, love.” He kissed your forehead. “Get some rest. You earned it.”

Maybe things were changing. They could be different. You could wake up tomorrow next to him and the day after that and the day after that and maybe even the day after that. 

[imagobin]

Can you do one of Winter Prince introducing S/O to Ice!Marceline (not sure if that's what they call that Simon's Marceline, haven't seen all of the show)

Thank you for this request, Anon! Took me some time to get inspiration, but that's a super cute idea! I'm gonna make this into a one shot, feels like it'd fit this scenario best, hope that's okay and that you'll like it!

Genre: Slice of Life 🍃 Word count: 1.6k

Icy Daughter

(Y/n) had been dating Winter King for almost a year now. It was an odd relationship to say the least; they could tell the man had a lot of secrets, but he also seemed to truly love (y/n), so they never really asked questions, confident that the King would slowly give them answers as time went by.

He was a very cryptic man after all; despite the months of dating, he’d only managed to trust (y/n) enough to let them move in in the last month or so, and they could always feel the presence of a little Ice Scout following them around whenever they weren’t with the King himself.

Still, (y/n) loved him and was willing to put up with his odd tendencies if it meant they could make progress in their relationship.

One morning, (y/n) was having breakfast while idly chatting with one of the Ice Scouts, sipping on tea which had gone cold by now due to the table’s icy surface.

Winter King had spent the whole night in his laboratory again, which honestly concerned (y/n). That was one of the rooms they had no access to yet, and they always wondered what in the world he could’ve been up to.

The Ice Scout reassured (y/n), however, that the King was in great condition, and would be joining (y/n) for breakfast soon.

As if on cue, Winter King walked through the lab’s doors, making his way towards (y/n) and wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “Good morning, dear!” He said with a slight softness in his voice.

(Y/n) looked at him and smiled, kissing his cheek, which felt cool to the touch, as usual. They couldn’t help but notice how the King had dark circles under his eyes. “Good morning, love… Did you spend another night awake?” (Y/n) asked, looking into the man’s white eyes.

“Oh, there’s no need to worry about me! You know I’m never tired!” The King replied, forcing out a laugh, before spinning (y/n)’s chair around so they’d be facing him. “Actually… I spent the whole night thinking about something of the utmost importance, and I’ve finally made up my mind on the matter.”

“Thinking… about something?” (Y/n) repeated, widening their eyes, whatever could that be? If it kept him up all night it must’ve been something REALLY crucial, maybe… a proposal?!

Winter King nodded, “yes, since you’ve been with me for a while now, I actually want you to meet someone special”

Oh, so… no proposal. Wait, someone special?! “I thought I knew all your… friends already!” (Y/n) exclaimed, their eyes widening in surprise. Winter King had kept that knowledge away from them for that long? But why would he?

“Weeeell, this isn’t a friend as much as it is family!” The King grinned, taking (y/n) by the wrist and lifting them up from the icy chair, while they stammered, trying to process what the king was telling them. Family? Winter King had a family and he’d never told them?!

“H-hold on just a second, I thought you didn’t have any rela-”

(Y/n) was promptly shushed by his finger gently placing itself on their lips. ”Hush… You’ll understand everything as soon as you meet her, I promise.”

Upon that request, (y/n) stopped asking questions, even if they had MANY, but they knew they’d be answered soon, so they managed to hold them off.

 Winter King led (y/n) down to the castle’s oubliette, where a single room opened up, blocked by icy prison bars. Inside the room, a small Ice Girl with pointy teeth was sitting on her bed, playing an axe-shaped bass.

(Y/n) looked at her in a mix of shock and curiosity.

“Dear, why are you keeping her behind bars?” They asked in a whisper, looking back and forth between the two.

The King looked at (y/n) and laughed, “Oh my fair (y/n), don’t look at me like that… it is simply so I’m certain she’s safe from harm!” He explained.

His laughter alerted the little girl, who stopped playing her instrument and ran up to the bars, clinging to them. “Dad!! You came to visit!” She beamed, watching as the man unlocked her door and walked in alongside (y/n). “Who’s… that?”

Winter King grinned and picked up the little girl. “Marceline, this is (y/n), my partner! I figured today was the perfect day to have you two meet, aren’t they lovely?”

(Y/n) flinched slightly at the compliment and chuckled awkwardly, feeling Marceline’s eyes on them. “Uhm… hello there! I’m happy to meet you, Marceline,” they waved their hand, feeling rather tense. He’d never EVER hinted at having a daughter, and she was suspiciously similar to those Ice Scouts, although… she seemed to have more emotions.

Marceline blinked a couple of times, and then smiled. “It’s nice to meet you too!” She replied enthusiastically, holding out her hand.

(Y/n) shook it, and surely enough, she was made of ice. The questions in their head only increased as the seconds passed. Did Winter King create her to have a sense of family? Was she someone who he used to know? Someone who died maybe? Someone he cared a lot about?

However, now wasn’t the time to worry about that. Marceline was right in front of them and (y/n) didn’t want to discuss her nature right now, fearing she might get upset.

“So, Marcy, you’re Winter King’s daughter? I can definitely see the resemblance!” They chuckled softly, letting go of her cold hand. “I heard you playing the bass before, you’re really good, you know? Do you wanna play something?”

The little girl’s eyes sparkled “Y-yeah!! I’ve been practicing a lot!” She answered, getting off of the dad’s knees and picking up the bass again, excited to show someone what she’d been working on.

Winter King just observed as Marceline played her bass, wrapping a hand around (y/n)’s waist. He was glad that things were going well; (y/n) so readily accepting Marceline was something he’d really hoped for and it seemed like it was actually happening! That only made him feel like (y/n) was really the right one for him.

The afternoon went by smoothly, with Marceline showing (y/n) around her room and telling them stories about her good memories with her dad, wishing that he’d visit more often.

“Don’t worry, now that we know each other I’m sure he’ll be more than glad to visit you every day!” (Y/n) had reassured her.

Marceline gasped “Every day?! Is this true? You’ll visit me every day from now on?!” She asked, clinging to the King’s jacket.

“Yes, yes I don’t see why not, after all… I’d love for you two to become even better friends,” he reassured his icy daughter, who seemed overjoyed to have more people to play with.

Soon enough, however, little Marceline had grown sleepy, and Winter King tucked her into bed, before leading (y/n) out of her room, locking the door once more.

“So… what are your thoughts on Marceline?” The King eventually asked, wanting to be sure.

On the way back to their shared room, (y/n) got a bit of a serious look on their face, however. “My love… Little Marcy is adorable, but… why have you never told me about her before? Where did she come from? And why do you keep her locked up in there, when she’s such a well-behaved girl?”

Winter King slightly tensed up at all those questions; he knew (y/n) always had lots of them, but he wasn’t always certain he could give them all the answers, though maybe, he could make an exception this time around. “Dear, I was simply worried… worried that you might not accept her existence. Indeed, as you may have noticed, she is made of ice, just like the Scouts who work for me, she’s very frail, that’s why I hesitated…” He tried to explain.

“So… she’s your creation as well? Is she based on someone?” (Y/n) asked, but the King didn’t seem to like that question.

“I’ll… tell you soon, I promise, it’s just not… something I want to talk about right now. It’s been such a wonderful day, I’d hate for it to end on a sad note…” He whispered softly, looking for the reassuring warmth of (y/n)’s hand, his cold fingers intertwining with theirs. “I promise I’ll tell you…”

(Y/n) looked at Winter King and squeezed his hand lightly. “I understand… I can wait… but will there be a day in which I know everything about you? I don’t care when, I just want to know if that’ll happen.

He paused for a moment, and then slowly nodded, embracing (y/n). “Certainly, you will, I can swear on that…”

(Y/n) smiled a bit “Thank you… I have one more request however…”

“What is it, dear?” Winter King asked.

“Will you… please allow Marceline to roam around the castle? At the very least when she’s with us? I know you’re keeping her there for her safety, but… please, she deserves to have more freedom, and this castle is the safest place in all of Ooo.” (Y/n) replied, hugging the man tightly, and looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Winter King seemed amused, it was true, the castle was very safe, maybe he could allow it, Marceline would’ve probably been happy about it too… “I can’t say ‘no’ to a face like that,” he chuckled, kissing (y/n) on the lips briefly, but intensely. “But you must promise me you’ll keep her safe as well… you two are the most important pieces of my life…”

“I promise, I will…”

The End

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Can you write some smut soon? Your story called whore is seriously so good. I’ve read it so many times. The drunk girl at the bar is so realistic

I do not know why this ask inspired me to write about the Marquis and his girlfriend the cop but here it is. I really tried to show the feelings they have and the turmoil. I think for these two to even attempt to continue with this, they’d have to have irrational attraction and neediness. Almost a kind of madness.

Sorry to say this isn’t smut. It’s steamy, but I feel like it’s good this way. I have some smutty goodness I’m working on for these two.

Enough of me blabbing… enjoy!

Making her way through the cavernous mansion, she decided she’d tell him that she was aware of who he was and that it wasn’t right. She’d tried to say as much in a text message, but decided any type of connection or trail was unwise, but ghosting him was beneath her.

So here she was, showing up unannounced, at god knows what time, to tell it to him straight.

Stepping inside the parlor shed been lead to, she thanked his staff and closed the door behind her. Deciding to spit it out, before she lost her nerve, she let it all out.

“Vincent, I’ve come to end whatever it is we have. I know who you are now, and as a public servant, I cannot continue associating with you.” Biting her lip, she waited for his response but he just continued gazing out the window with his back to her.

After a very awkward couple minutes, he turned and made his way towards her, with an almost predatory look in his eyes. “Say that again, but this time to my face.” He stated, coming to a stop closer than he’d ever been before.

Invading her space.

His smell surrounding and intoxicating her.

“I…. I…”

He smirked arrogantly at her, leaning his face in even closer to hers. He knew what he was doing. He knew he was very physically appealing. She closed her eyes reflexively. "You what?" he growled, as his hands slipped down to grab her waist.

"I don't think we should be doing this," she forced out finally, trying desperately to ignore how gorgeous he was and how irresistible he was with his close proximity.

"You want this. I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone or anything so much in my life.”His hands drifted lower, coming to rest on the small of her back. She felt his thumbs tracing lazy circles, and she shivered before she could stop herself. It was like electric current swimming through her bloodstream, electrifying every inch of her body. He leaned even closer- he couldn’t contain a genuine chuckle, when she shivered, and he looked into her eyes so open and vulnerable, it broke her heart.

“Sit.” He commanded, and she did without thought, obediently sitting on his white leather sofa, prettier than any art that adorned his walls.

He couldn’t get over how perfect she was. He had the best of everything, and she was no exception. This was beyond infatuation or even obsession. This was love. He was sure of it, and he was terrified.

He’d tried to resist, but he kept seeing her that day in the hospital; dressed in that gorgeous gown and tiara, singing terribly to that sick child. Even with her less than stellar performance, the purity and kindness that shined from her, made it the most beautiful thing he’d witnessed in all his existence.

Taking a seat beside her, and taking her hands in his, he was amused to see her eyes close expectantly.

He paused, and licked her bottom lip.

Her eyes snapped open, and he pulled away from her. A dangerous, sexy smirk played across his lips, and she felt her face grow red.

He never failed to fascinate her. She’d just essentially broken up with him, yet she was sitting next to him, getting licked.

Throwing all caution to the wind, she grabbed his face and pulled him into a searing kiss. Running her fingers down his jaw, she pulled away to see his reaction.

What met her, was the most seductive irresistible look, she’d ever received. Heat she could practically feel, radiated from his eyes.

“You still want to say that you don't think this is right?" He wrapped his arms around her and tightened his grip on her body. "Tell me to stop, cuz I am no longer able to on my own." His lips were so close to hers that she could almost feel them. That heat that he exuded was taking over her rational thought. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Tell me you don't want me, last chance, I’m yours to control.”

She realized what was happening, and she wasn’t sure if she should allow it. She was a police officer and he was the leader of a huge criminal network. Hired assassins; serial killers.

She pulled away.

Or tried to. He quickly grabbed the back of her head, and brought her to him again. His touch wasn't gentle- it was demanding, passionate, and rough. But that was how she expected him to be. He was never hesitant, and she had never realized before just how much she admired that quality. Reading his record, he was called cold, ruthless and evil, but she couldn’t see any of these qualities in him. Every inch of him radiated a tantalizing warmth and passion- it was invasive, and powerful. She was utterly lost in his kiss. All her concerns and reservations were gone from her mind. Only he was there. Only them.

He was just as lost. It was divine; the actions that he had previously thought were overrated were turning out to be even more satisfying than he could have ever imagined. Although he’d had his fair share of women, none compared to her. The electricity he felt from just kissing her, was more pleasurable than full on intercourse with others. He was hopelessly lost.

Neither were sure what exactly was going on; neither one was really in a condition to stop and consider what they were doing. All he knew was that he had to have her, and all she knew was that no one had ever made her feel more beautiful.

He tasted as crisp as she had imagined: like the freshest spring water with a hint of mint, or starlight, or the steam from a coffee cup, or a million other beautiful, wonderful things. The feelings he excited in her were almost painful in their intensity. She ignored the alarms going off in her head. She silenced her voice of reason.

Soft, feathery kisses rained down on her neck.

He was so close to her; everything was blurring, no sight, no sound, no thought was real except for the ones pertaining to him. She was lost and she didn’t want to be found.

Hand sliding up her back. Searching hands tangling themselves deep in his hair. Her mouth had given up resisting, and it was as though she surrounded him, the kiss so all consuming.

He was biting punishingly on the skin of her throat, smoothing over each nip with a soothing tongue. Even though he was practically laying on top of her now, as she laid half-on half-off the couch, she couldn't bring herself to tell him to stop. "You will be the ruin of me” she whispered heatedly, "I know I should push you away, but I can’t seem to do so.”

He stopped for a moment, gazing down into her eyes with an unreadable calculation in his expression. Then he grabbed her face in his hands, and attacked her lips again, violently and challengingly. "You will never," he said against her lips, the headyfeel of his shallow breathing absolutely intoxicating. “Do anything of the sort. You are mine."

She wanted to resent his possessive claim, but as he caught her earlobe between his teeth, she couldn’t lie to herself. She loved how sure he was of them, despite the enormous probability of it blowing up in both their faces.

Neither cared as they hurtled themselves toward a future that was impossible to be.

All he could feel was her lips on his skin, and breaths coming out in little pants all around him.

All she could feel was his steady heartbeat under her palm, and his lithe form pressing against her.

Hot.

He felt so hot.

Safe.

He trusted her completely.

They both were completely consumed by the other.

Nothing else mattered.

Like falling.

When someone fell from a great height, and was aware that it all would be over once they met the ground, is that all they focused on? She highly doubted it. She was certain they gave themselves over to the moment, lost within themselves, or in this case… each other.

There was no fighting this.

They couldn't ignore it.

He kissed her again, softly and gently, his lips passing on some unspoken plea. Desperation, reverence, obsession and utter contentment wrapped in a moment.

He’d never let her go. He’d make her understand. He’d never hurt her. He only wanted to make her happy. Rationality and an ingrained natural manipulative nature presented so many problems. His tactical mind realized the impossibility of a happy ending, but he pushed all reason aside.

He only focused on how he felt right now, with her. This moment.

Indescribable.

The moment could never be stolen.

No one would understand them together.

Maybe they could keep it a secret?

A deadly, beautiful secret.

Throwing that thought away completely, he knew he’d never be able to deny her. She could only be his in every way, and everyone would know.

But would that put her in harms way?

He wouldn’t allow himself to think on it now.

The only thought that ran through his mind was how breathtaking she looked, her hair a mess and her face flushed from his ministrations. Lips swollen from his kisses, and chest heaving with exertion. He couldn’t find a single flaw or imperfection on her.

The feel of his hands caressing her side. Squeezing her, worshipping and appreciating all she had to offer.

The slide of her dress falling from her form as she was lifted into his warm embrace.

The warmth of his bare skin against hers as he crawled across her form.

The cool, smooth, crisp sheets at her back and down pillows beneath her head.

In was in that moment, she realized that it didn't matter what happened in the future. Now was all that mattered.

She didn’t care what anyone thought of them, because there wasn’t much she would not do for this man.

Dangerous.

Neither one could bear the thought of there being no us.

Theirs.

Nothing seemed so innocent or pure as both their hearts becoming one.

Their bodies one.

To find your soulmate and know you are loved….

Beautiful.

Arousal reaching a fever pitch in both of them, the need for each other drowned out any other thoughts or reservations.

The shedding of all final garments, left the two lovers bare to one another. They took a moment to appreciate the other before joining together with a blissful gasp.

Never had he felt such happiness.

Never had she experienced such security.

Two people came together that day, but they did not become one.

They became three.

[sweetbillwriting]

The Finer Things

His Real World - Part 7

Characters: Vincent De Garmont, The Marquis, From John Wick 4.

Setting: This story is set in my own universe, so not exactly the John Wick universe.

Warnings: 18+, prejudice and stereotypical thinking about nationalities, smut, violence, talk about death and more. This chapter can be triggering!

Ines looked at the Marquis’ violent behavior with a smirk. She hadn't realized what emotions took over watching him transform into a dark force. She bit her lip and wondered what he said to the man. Sexy threats. Showing off his power and maybe leading questions about what he wants to know. While her thoughts drifted away, the victim turned his face toward her. His face was bloody and swollen, but Ines looked at him like she didn't take in the awful sight. The man pleaded something that just made Vincent laugh and stomp him hard in the chest, so the man started to cough in panic for his life.

Vincent let the man cough while turning to Mylan and saying something to him, who gave Pierre a look instead. Ines looked at them interested until Pierre took a grip on her upper arm and started to walk to the door.

“Hello?? I want to stay!” She tried to push him away, but it was impossible. “Vincent? Baby??” Said she upset. The nickname had just slipped; feelings she hadn't felt before swirled around in her whole body and made her think like a worried girlfriend.

“Let me be here with you!!”

She looked back at him but didn't get any response; he had sat down on the lonely chair and looked at his nails with an inspecting face.

Pierre dragged her out of the room while she kicked to get free, but then he pushed her into their suite. Ines couldn't even talk with him; they didn't know each other's language, so she just stood and stomped in the middle of the hallway while Pierre closed the door.

She couldn't understand why Vincent had decided to push her out just when it started to get good. The man had even turned to her, and she felt like a part of the fun instead of just an audience. She had felt power and excitement floating like warm soda in her veins, as well as something that traveled down to her sex. She sat down on the couch and thought everything through, scene for scene. She thought about the man's face and felt another feeling creep up on her. This wasn't normal. This was psychopathic behavior, or even much worse, and she wished to be a part of it. It wasn't about Vincent. It was she who got a kick out of it and wanted to have a bigger one; see the man's eyes get matted and lifeless. She put her hands over her face and bent back on the couch.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” She exclaimed and hit herself in the head. This was just insane. Who had he made her to? She was just a normal Brooklyn girl. Almost. Almost.

When she had calmed down a bit, she took a big glass of Vincent's Jim Beam and then moved to her room to once again put on the Dr. Dre t-shirt. What surprised her also was how fast she actually calmed down. She had felt panicked fifteen minutes ago, but now, when she sat on the bed, a feeling of indifference sneaked up on her. She didn't care about the man. She didn't care about his life. Instead, she started to think about what had slipped out of her mouth. Baby.

She had called Vincent baby. Like he was her boyfriend. The embarrassment took over her body instead, and she shook her head in disbelief. She had really said it to a man like Vincent. He wasn't a baby.

He wasn't anyone's baby, and because of his need to be a hard, elegant man, he wouldn't be pleased. She called him that in front of his security. They probably didn't even know he had let her come a bit too close.

It took time for Vincent to come to the suite, so she ordered up a burger to eat and tried to calm herself down by pouring Jim Beam in her coke. When she had eaten it all except for some fries that were laying dismissed on the plate, the door to the suite opened up. It was Vincent, dressed in a white robe, newly showered. He gave her a long look, and she looked back with interest at him, but he didn't say anything. He walked to his room and closed the door silently. Was he mad? Was he upset with her for the nickname? Her heart was beating hard in her chest, and she sat down on the couch, waiting for him to come out of his room. She didn't even know if he would come out, but she decided to wait there as long as she had energy.

An hour later, he came out to her, and to her surprise, he just sat down next to her. He was dressed in a loose-fit shirt and pants in beige linen, and his hair was still unstyled. He breathed deeply and looked in front of him for a while.

“To see someone die is something else... I didn't think you were ready,” he said, then looked at her. He laid his hand on her underarm, and it made her soften. She would have been angry if he hadn't looked at her so sweetly and dragged his fingers over her skin so softly. Ines nodded a little and licked her lips. It wasn't meant as a seductive move, but it made Vincent move closer to her and kiss her with perfect pressure. She would never push him away, especially after having built up so much energy from seeing him hurt that man. There is so much excitement.

Their kisses became deeper and deeper, like they searched for something inside of each other. Ines could feel his hands slowly move their way up her thighs, but he let her go with one hand to be able to fix his crotch. Ines released his lips with a smack and looked down curiously. It was embarrassingly obvious that he was already fully hard and probably didn't wear any underwear under the loose pants. Vincent tried his best to hide it; he probably didn't feel it suited his elegant ways to get erect by some kisses.

Ines looked fascinated by his stiff cock. She had believed his injury had made it impossible for him to perform sexually, but the impressive hard on that tried to escape his pants told her something else.

“I didn't think...” she said as a reflex and looked at his face. Vincent looked at her with heavy eyes and just shook his head. Ines didn't know what that meant, but the lust took over, and she attacked his mouth again. Vincent answered fast, and when she straddled his lap, he just took a greedy grip on her ass and encouraged her to grind against his crotch. Ines giggled, helped him take off his shirt, and then caressed his flat chest while moving over his cock. Vincent leaned his head back against the couch headrest and enjoyed how her lips traveled down his neck and chest.

“It was...” His voice betrayed him, and he cleared his throat. “It was a long time ago for me... Being with a woman,” he said when he realized Ines’ attention had started to glide down to his erection. “I can't even remember.”

Ines glided down between his legs and dragged teasing fingertips over his shaft, which answered with a light movement inside the pants. She giggled and kissed his head over the fabric of his pants.

“We will remember together, okay?”

Vincent looked down at her and nodded, then he himself unbuttoned his pants slowly. It felt like he wanted to taunt her, but it was because of nerves. His blushing cock slapped up on his stomach. Vincent had seemed nervous earlier, but he smirked proudly when Ines looked at his size.

“Like you haven't seen that I've always had an impressive bulge,” he said cockily, and it made Ines laugh and take his erection in her hand. It was hot and thick, in a lovely blushed color. Vincent made a liking sound and pushed his crotch out like he showed off his most prized possession. Ines dragged her hand over his thickness and let her palm roll over his tip to collect the pre cum. She looked at him with big eyes. The art work. He was completely naked in front of her while she was fully dressed, and in that moment all she did was to admire him—the perfect craftwork he was. If he was beautiful in his luxury suits, he was even more beautiful now, exposed and vulnerable in front of her.

Vincent looked at Ines intensely, but with heavy eyelids still. He breathed deeply and looked calm and pleased.

“Take your clothes off.”

He had lost the accent again and sounded just as American as herself. It was weird how that felt exotic for Ines, but she guessed she liked every surprise he could give her. On her wobbly legs, she stood up and pulled off her clothes with the help of Vincent, who pulled off her pants to her knees and let her do the rest. He looked at her with big, glassy eyes and dragged his thumb in the corner of his mouth, like the vision had gotten him to salivate. He leaned back and let her straddle his thick thighs. He laughed when he dragged her hands from her waist to her breasts, where he, with light fingers, teased her nipples.

“I've forgotten… This feeling...” he said and laughed again. His voice sounded much kinder and softer without the accent, and Ines liked how sensitive and soft he suddenly felt. She took grip of his cock behind her, and with some awkward struggle, they together succeeded in pushing his cock into her.

“Oh fuck, you're so wet... God,” he said, groggily. Ines moved rhythmically up and down his cock and rolled her hips extra skillfully when Vincent looked down at their connection. When Vincent noticed her rhythm started to fall, he flipped her down on the couch in one swift motion. She could feel his back tense in an alarming way but didn't say anything because Vincent pushed into her hard while kissing her in a way that made her wonder if maybe he had other feelings for her. She was sure she was in love with him, even if he was such a mystery.

×××

“Vincent Beaumont," he said with a raspy voice. He was calm and soft after their lovemaking, and maybe he spilled his real name because of post-sex hormones. Ines laid on his chest and looked up at him when he finally answered her question. He was pink in the cheeks, and his hair was messy with sweat.

“I lived in New Orleans as a kid. But I am French.”

Ines couldn't stop herself from looking at him skeptically. He had lied quite a bit.

“Like, because you want to be it?”

Vincent looked offended and furrowed his brows.

“No. Both my parents were French. They were just stupid enough to leave France and move to my dad's family. Cheap fucking Americans.”

Ines sat up, and now she looked offended.

“Is that what you think about me too?”

“No. If you had met them, you would have understood me. They were trash. My aunt's husband smoked some cheap cigarettes, and he needed to spit often because they were... cheap, but he spit in the same glass jar that stood on the table. Jar with his brown, fucking cancer spit.”

Ines made a disgusted face. She understood him. It didn't sound at all like his life now. He had really turned his life around.

“I moved here when I was fifteen, after my parents' deaths.” He gave Ines a pointed look and pushed away his sweaty hair from his forehead. She swallowed hard and looked away. She understood what he was saying without words, and it made her sit up awkwardly and look around in the room. Vincent dragged a hand over her naked back. Long fingers dragged over her waist and searched for her breast. He didn't seem to think much about what he had insinuated.

“I won't make a thing of this, so you shouldn't either,” he said, taking a soft grip around her upper arm and trying to drag her down over him again. Ines followed his movement and laid down on his hairless chest again. She could hear his heartbeat and smell his scent close. It was everything she had wanted for the last few weeks. Be close to him and get treated like she was worthy of his attention. It felt different now when she lay there. She was still as happy being close to him and still as attracted to him, but other emotions had also blossomed.

Her own heart beat heavily in her chest. There was something else there that she couldn't say she had ever felt before. There was potential. He wasn't like her ex-boyfriends—boring and wanting to hold her back. Vincent was menacing to society and didn't expect her to be a good girl; he probably didn't even really know what a good girl was; for him, it meant just manicured nails and good table manners. There was something there. It was something special. Ines kissed his cheek, buried her nose behind his ear, and breathed him in. Vincent made a little sound; maybe it tickled, but he stayed as close as possible anyway. Ines smiled and closed her eyes. This was special; maybe it was love.

They connected one more time before falling asleep. The first time hadn't she come, but that time she did to Vincent's luck. It was obvious he had covered up his bruised ego when she said she hadn't come, but he let it glow even more when he noticed her come over his dick. She wondered how he had taken it if she hadn't come at all and could picture him being childishly pouty and maybe even being a bit upset at her, like she could control it. She was happy she had come, not just to feel the ecstasy from an orgasm but also to escape from seeing Vincent in a sour mood. He was a kid when he was in a bad mood, and while she looked at him sleeping, she wondered if it was maybe because he had never really been a child when he was young. Just like herself. Both of them wanted to act out now, even if they were grown up and now play violently and messy.

×××

Maybe it was weird that Ines didn't ask him any questions about what had happened in the conference hall after she had left, but other things took all her attention. The relationship with Vincent. Their relationship actually looked more and more like a couple's relationship. It went much slower than she was used to; he was much more stoic than other guys she had been with, but he let her sleep in his bed. They kissed in the morning and had sex a few times more. They did things together; he had taken her to the ballet, the opera, and luxury restaurants. He never kissed her in front of people, but he always acted like a gentleman, treating her like a lady. The lady she obviously wasn't. She fantasized about making out at the opera, playing with his cock at the ballet, and getting fucked on the restaurants’ toilets. She knew it would never happen; he didn't even let her touch his hair in public. She had tried once, and he had ducked so fast, like her hand was filthy. She invited him into her world of hip-hop and Brooklyn art. He wasn't amused and didn't seem to listen to music at all when he wasn't at the opera to show off in front of rich people. After a while, he let her into his world. His real world. His glossy fashion magazines and violent movies. They weren't any expensive Hollywood productions; instead, they were cheap darknet productions of masked men torturing crying men, speaking in languages she had never heard before. Vincent could even laugh while looking at it. Ines didn't feel much; the blood was sometimes gross; otherwise, it didn't give her much. She wanted it for real.

Their relationship was probably strange, but when she laid in his arms at night, talking about cute cats they had met or stupid people they had seen that day, it was so normally safe and sweet. Ines liked it all. The darkness and mystery, but also his boyish charm and pouty mood.

×××

“I have a new speculator tomorrow," he said while they sat at the minimalistic restaurant with a view of the whole of Paris. Ines chewed her venison slowly and looked up at Vincent. He was dressed in a burgundy suit that made his eyes pop.

“Oh? I… I haven't thought about the painting in so long.” Ines laughed, embarrassed. “Almost forgotten it?”

Vincent looked at her. She was dressed in a silky black dress that ended under the knees. She had started to find her own classy style, much black and different textures. He liked it. It was sexy and fit her personality.

“This is a really important person. A really important person. I wonder if you want to see it all this time.”

Ines looked at him with big eyes and then smiled big. She took his hand that was lying on the table and hugged it into hers. Vincent answered by braiding their fingers together and smirking, pleased.

“Oh my god! Yes!” She giggled with heated cheeks and a beating heart. There were many emotions in her chest. She still felt a sense of shame for how much she liked the violence, but the excitement took over. She had dreamed about that day in the conference room and woke up with a broad smile on her lips.

“Maybe you even want to be a part of it?” Vincent said this and leaned back in his chair, twirling his red wine glass.

Ines swallowed hard. She didn't know if she dared to do that and looked out of the window. Vincent played with her fingers and exhaled.

“It would be special for me.”

Ines turned her gaze toward him with furrowed brows. She didn't really understand why he wanted her to hurt someone so much.

“Hm?”

Vincent licked his lips and looked at their hands.

“That man… He hurt me really badly, and it would just be amazing to see you kick his teeth in,” he said with a low voice, so no one would hear him. Ines gave him a small smile. It was warming how she was important for him that way, and she played with the necklace around her neck.

“God, I just want to kiss you. You're so sweet,” she said, looking at him warmly. Vincent gave her a similar look, and she wondered in silence what this was for him. They did really romantic things together; for three weeks, they acted like a couple.

“I want to suck that big cock when we come home,” she said, giving him a teasing smile. Vincent lowered his eyes, and she could see a blush on his pale cheeks.

“Not that sort of talk in a restaurant,” he said, shaking his head. He didn't give her the sort of scolding she had done before, but he still corrected her. Now she liked it, she liked to tease him.

“You just said you want me to kick someone's teeth in, but I can't talk about your third leg.” She continued to tease and made him close his eyes hard. It was always difficult if he got that way of feeling shame, hornyness, or a bit of both. He cleared his throat and continued to eat in silence. Ines giggled to herself and continued to eat too, but even then she thought about the suffocating feeling of his cock in her throat.

“How did he hurt you? Was it your back?” She spoke carefully when the hornyness had slowed down and she thought more about what he had said. Vincent looked up at her, but was silent. He turned instead to a waiter and ordered something. He didn't talk again until the chocolate fondants stood in front of them. He took a big spoon of it and chewed slowly.

“He's my ex.”

×

[butterflydm]

wot rewatch (book spoilers edition): 2x1

And here is the very spoiler-filled follow-up to my earlier post!

Not only is this one going to have spoilers for all the aired episodes plus any teasers, it will also have book spoilers through book 11: The Gathering Storm.

Thinking of the Darkfriend Social in terms of spoilers -- the x-ray notes that the 'location' for the scene is Tel'aran'rhoid. What does that mean for the little girl? Hmm.

2. I also wonder if this scene isn't set a little earlier than the rest of the episodes are set. We know that by the end of this episode, it's been a full year since 1x1, because Bel Tine has rolled around again. Other things that this being in TAR could mean: that the fallen seal is symbolic rather than reflecting reality and is a representation of the fact that Ishamael has been released from his prison.

3. Darkfriend roll call! We've got Fain, who is still a member in good standing (has not yet killed a Fade); we've got Lord Ingtar; we've got High Lady Suroth; we've got at least two Black Ajah sisters (Sheriam and Liandrin? One of them is wearing a black dress and one is wearing a red one, I think); we've got Unnamed Tuatha'an Mom; we've got a Whitecloak (probably Carridin). I'm not 100% on anyone else at the table. I'm pretty sure our main characters are basically surrounded by Darkfriends right now in their various storylines!

4. The storyline of Moirine fighting her depression over not being able to touch the One Power by forcing herself to have a sense of purpose each day and not give up to the despair... it really does show how poorly served the male channelers are by the Tower. After they get gentled, they get shoved into prison, basically, but the White Tower knows that a sense of purpose is what makes severed (or, in Moiraine's case, probably shielded) channelers have the will to keep living. And that gets denied to the men who are gentled.

5. Verin being merged with Vandene feels like a perfect example of a merged character -- the much more important character is plucking bits and pieces from the minor character and folding them into her characterization. It does really make me wonder how the future is going to go down, though! Will Verin be ordered to kill her own sister and feel like she has to do it in order to maintain her cover? Also: I wonder how much of the reason why Tomas 'picked' Verin over Adeleas had to do with him being a repentant Darkfriend and Verin finding out about it. Also, in our first major storyline, we have two Darkfriends interacting with main characters. Total count so far: 2.

Both the Verin/Vandene merger and the Elyas/Hurin merger should be, I think, our hints as to how the show is handling mergers and it's roughly what I would expect: the more important character swallows up the more minor character. This is why I don't think Liandrin & Elaida would be merged, because Elaida is a more important character than Liandrin, so 'Elaida' is what the merged character would have been named imo.

6. Haha I can't believe that I got so caught up in everything else that I didn't even mention Doman in my first impressions post! I loved his scenes. I think they did a good job giving him a purpose that suited what he does in the books, and he also delivers key plot info to Moiraine. Given that he calls the broken piece part of a 'moondial', I'm guessing he found part of Lanfear's seal (and he's being chased by the Shadow to recover the prophecy that he sells here to Moiraine, maybe?). I suspect that the poem is the Dark Prophecy, which means that we've already got a way for Rand to find out that he needs to go to Falme/Toman Head and he may even go there having zero idea that his friends are in trouble there (which makes sense since he's already in 'stay away from them to protect them' mode; either way would make sense to me, so I'm just curious what road the show takes).

But if Doman takes Moiraine's advice, he might be sailing right into the Seanchan's arms.

7. Egwene taking a moment to look at the official Amrylin outfit. I See You, foreshadowing. I See You. And as much as it pained me not to get my girl Elayne in the first episode, I do think it was a good idea for us to focus on Elayne and Nynaeve as they are before we get our third Wondergirl added to the mix.

8. Given that both Nynaeve and Egwene have learned about The Wonders of Poly (That Are Not For Them, Personally), I wonder if that means that we're going to get them finding out about Rand's polycule situation over the course of the series (maybe as someone for Elayne to talk to?) but in a more gradual and natural way. Also, I noticed a handful of novices watching the sparring down there, but we don't get to see the faces of the people sparring -- could one of them be a Certain Someone?

9. Haha, it's kinda weird seeing Nynaeve as a novice given that she spent zero time as one in the books. But this scene with her was a perfect illustration of why she makes a terrible novice, lol. She's perfect, but she's also a terrible novice. But also, the show is continuing to build up the characters' toolkits for the future - last season, Rand watched Moiraine pull the corruption of Shadar Logoth from Rand and this season, Nynaeve is learning how to purify water (and the Power is often compared to water/rivers). It does also point to the cleansing being more of an actual team-up instead of just Nynaeve being Rand's battery.

10. Poor Alanna is surrounded by Darkfriends in this next scene. We have Liandrin, Sheriam, and Joiya (literally every speaking character apart from Alanna is a Darkfriend in this scene, lol RIP). Total Darkfriends hanging out in main character plotlines: 5. If the show has preserved the 'heart' format from the books, it's entirely possible that none of them actually know that they're hanging out with other Black Ajah Sisters right now, too. Were Liandrin and Sheriam working together or are they both working under their own interpretations of their orders but don't know the other one is also Black Ajah? Given the way Joiya backed up Liandrin in this scene, I suspect that they may know about each other.

The show has done such a good job making Alanna understandable, empathetic, and charming. But she also has already shown herself not to be great at... appropriate boundaries.

11. We don't get much time with Uno before, well, Future Events, but the show did a good job painting his character very vividly, and using him to show the comradery that has built up between Perrin and Loial.

12. So I did a little post mentioning it but the girl who runs away while Fain is killing the other girl! I think that's the girl from the Darkfriend social scene! She looks like she's wearing the right outfit and is the right age with the right color hair. "There was a child who made it out." Her entire family (except her Darkfriend mom?) was slaughtered by Fain and his Trollocs. I wonder if we'll see her again. Hmm, actually, if Fain attacked a Tuatha'an caravan that he knew had a Darkfriend in it, was this his first move of going against the Dark One's/Ishamael's wishes?

13. Now that we're in Perrin's plotline, time to mention that Lord Ingtar, who doesn't want to hear Uno go on about how evil the traitor soldier was, is also a Darkfriend. Total Darkfriends surrounding our main characters: 6.

14. They did a good job in hitting all the main points of the actual Hunt for the Horn, tbh. In the first two episodes, we've got Perrin using his heightened senses, we've got the abandoned village and the room of flies, we've got the Fade nailed up that imo shows the moment when Fain stopped taking orders from the Dark One/Ishamael, and we've got Ingtar bonding with one of the main characters. And Rand's 'pushing people away' arc was pretty well covered with him faking his death. And Mat Suffering Terribly is also covered, lol.

15. I do feel like what Alanna tells Egwene here about poly relationships is probably something the show is going to lean into once Rand's situation starts rolling. "things are messy before they are perfect; nothing worthwhile is neat and tidy". Them leaning so much into Alanna's relationship is definitely giving me some good reassurances about poly plans for the future, because they're investing a relatively large amount of time into showing that this is a valid type of relationship to have, and explaining it to the audience.

16. Per Fain, the Darkfriends do know that 'all five' ta'veren will be important and will matter to how things go down with the Last Battle, so I feel like Liandrin trying to cultivate Nynaeve makes a lot of sense in that case. She wants to take Nynaeve under her wing to turn her to her point of view and her side. It's actually interesting to compare and contrast what Moiraine knew vs the Dark One, because they were actually pretty close in their timelines of figuring out when the Two Rivers was the hot spot.

17. I feel like it really works to give Siuan's scene to Liandrin here, in training Nynaeve. The Two Rivers folk are more vulnerable and more 'exposed' in the show than in the books. So it makes a lot of sense to me. It also feels like they are leaning into the idea that not all Aes Sedai have to 'surrender' in order to channel (so women don't always need to submit and men don't always need to dominate, per Jordan's canon), which is a change that I like.

18. And the Perrin and Ingtar stuff is also working really well for me. I think it helps his character a lot to have him be the one who is going through this with Ingtar instead of Rand (who has plenty going on already). And Ingtar! "Perhaps Padan Fain had a reason for doing what he did."

19. Moiraine's platonic breakup with Lan feels a lot more grounded in the show than it was in the books imo.

20. The letter! Oh, gosh it's so beautiful. It does feel like a little promise from the show that they aren't going to forget about the EF5 bond, and I'm hoping that we'll get more moments of reconnection than we got from the books.

21. So, what are everyone's thoughts on if what Liandrin tells Mat about the letters ("not a single mention of Mat Cauthon") counts as a lie and our confirmation that she's already Black Ajah or was it a wiggle around the truth (either going by the logic of there being multiple mentions of Mat and/or SHE didn't mention Mat and or well it doesn't ever say Cauthon)? I mean, she also seems to be keeping him as her completely isolated little secret. I feel like it's a Black Ajah clue but maybe there's wiggle room.

22. Mat also seems VERY aware that Moiraine is partly responsible for his current circumstances (he notes her along with Liandrin when he's saying he's not a danger to anyone). Liandrin probably read him the note that Lady Amalisa sent from Fal Dara. The show is doing such a better job of actually establishing Mat's motives for various ways he behaves than the books did -- in the books, he seemed to take against Aes Sedai for the terrible crime of... healing him? But selling him out to someone who has kept him locked up for six months and who spent that time psychologically torturing him is an EXCELLENT reason for him to feel wary about being around Aes Sedai. He's seen the worst of them! Because it's not just Liandrin and the Reds. It's Moiraine too!

And they did this in s1 too, giving Mat actual reasons for his canon-typical behavior by changing his background to one more fraught with tension.

[elystelleven]

So I've finally finished the update, and this is all I have to say.

Oh my god.

OH MY FUCKING GOD.

I don't think I've ever been so on the edge of my seat over a game like this. The FACT that the episode itself is paced slower is already a good sign... but for it to go down THIS route?! I can't believe it man. Oh my god.

Here's everything I liked about this update:

1: the writing itself. It's clear from the get go that narrative-wise, the devs wanted to branch out after that underwhelming anniversary update. The story was experimental in the way it handled rather mature topics for what's otherwise a kiddie game. The topic of plagues, loss, resilience, and even existentialism and mortality are brought up, and perfectly blend well with Cacao's development. The references to Buddhism were a treat too! Simply *chef's kiss* that's all I have to say.

2: Mystic Flour Cookie. I came into this episode expecting her to be another typical shallow stoic villain, but turned out to be WAAAAAAY more than that.

Her entire domain was just beautifully designed and it's safe to say she may be one of the best written villains in the entire franchise. The story succeeds at showing off how intimidating she truly can be but doesn't shy away from the nuances of her philosophy. Her interactions with Dark Cacao solidify this even more, exposing what appears to be HIS personal drawbacks to the audience that all turned out to be portrayed in her own lens. The voice acting was the cherry on top and I applaud the VA for doing such a successful job! Now I'm infatuated with her even more! My girl really out here helping me discover my love for characters like her and White Lily <3

3: Dark Cacao and the rest of the cast. Remember when I talked about his personal drawbacks and how they're exaggerated to a certain degree? Well APPARENTLY, the devs finally discovered how to thread it all and used those flaws as a driving force for his character growth! I find it extremely clever especially with how it coincides with his themes of resolution. The plot twists and *those* scenes were DELECTABLE, I was at the edge of my seat this whole time as I progressed!

The old dumpling people, despite only appearing for a short while, were quite a delight to meet. They only had a minimal ounce of screen time but I can already see their personalities shining through! Peach Blossom was adorable as well but I wished we got to know a little more about him.

Overall? This update may have stirred up some controversy in the Cookie Run community, but hey! At least its story definitely exceeded my expectations.

The hype was worth it. 9/10. It's definitely up there with Golden Cheese as one of my favorite story arcs.

[nolsaesthetic]

Hi all! I've been kind of obsessed with Good Omens lately and decided to maybe write a fic about my favorite angel and demon (we all know who I'm talking about)

Since the second I watched the show, I always thought they would make wonderful parents. So here's an excerpt based on that concept!

Crowley burst through the bookshop doors. He was extremely reluctant to come back, especially given the last time he was there. 

They have replayed the scene a million times in their head. Everything she couldve done better, different things she shouldve said, the  anger, hurt, and disappointment that she had felt... 

The demon forced all those emotions down as he frantically looked around the shop. Having kept in contact with Muriel for emergencies only, Crowley panicked the second he had heard he needed to immediately return to the shop. She'd feared the worst, but, as she searched for the danger, she soon came to the realization that nothing perilous was occurring. There was no fire, no damage to the books, the shop looked exactly the way they had left it. 

Taking a moment, Crowley took a breath. Almost instinctively, they reached up to take their glasses off before stoping themselves. Sighing, he let the doors swing shut behind him as he entered in search of Muriel. Just because the danger wasnt as immediate as she had thought, doesn't mean it wasnt there. 

Muriel was soon found in the backroom of the shop. They had long switched their completely white constable outfit for a tan pleated colored skirt, button up, and jacket. 

Although all seemed well according to Muriels usual body language, they seemed to be watching something. 

Following the gaze, Crowley's eyes landed on the floor, or rather, the person sitting on the floor. 

There sat a child. Looking no older than nine, she was coloring what seemed to be stars on a sketchbook. Having noticed Crowley coming in, the girl stood up and dusted herself off.  

She wore a black dress along with a pair of tights and dress shoes. Her outfit was accented with gold, a ribbon tied around her waist and a bow that held back her long blonde hair from getting into her face. But what was the most striking about her was her blue snake eyes and the pair of wings that sprouted from her back.  The feathers were unlike anything Crowley had seen before, being mostly white they faded into black towards the ends. 

Softly, the girl smiled at Crowley, revealing a pair of fangs that looked like a snakes.

"Hello, my name is Eden! What's yours!?"

As she waited from a response, Eden observed Crowley. Suddenly deciding she liked him, she hastily picked up her drawing and showed it to them.

"Look! I drew the stars! Ive never seen them myself.. but I saw them in pictures! Do you like it!?" 

Crowley was still standing in shock. He had never seen any creature like Eden before, he wasnt really quite sure what she was in the first place. 

"Yes.. well um- very nice." They complimented the drawing before turning their attention to Muriel, who was now staring back at them. 

"Could I have a word with you? In the other room." She quickly asked the angel standing across from her. 

"Alright then!" Muriel cheerfully replied before  walking out into the main space with Crowley. Eden watched them go before sitting back down and returning to her drawings.

Once they were a good distance away from the backroom, and Crowley was sure the child wouldnt hear them, they started to question Muriel.

"Who was that?" He whisper shouted, extending an arm in the direction they'd just come from. 

"That's Eden!" Muriel happily replied.

"Ya, I gathered that! But why is she here, is that the emergency I was called to handle?" 

"I'm under strict orders from the Supreme Archangel.." Crowley glanced away when they mentioned Aziraphale, glad that the sunglasses meant Muriel couldnt see it "..to ask you to watch over her!" 

"...what?" 

Suddenly, the two were aware that Eden had wandered into the room. Having heard the last part of the conversation, she stared up at Crowley. 

"Are you Mr.Crowley?" She questioned, her eyes very obviously filled to the brim with joy.

In resonse, Crowley just noddded.

Somehow more excited now, Eden procurred a letter and held it up to the demon.

"I was told to give this to you!" 

Cautiously, Crowley took the letter out of her small hands. On the envelope it displayed the writing 'for Crowley' is a fancy, almost cursive handwriting. They immediately recognized it as Aziraphale's.  Hastily opening it, Crowley began to read.

She hoped it would reveal some answers she desperately wanted. Who exactly was this child? What was this child? Why was he expected to watch after her? Why this so soon after their fight? 

But above all they hoped it mentioned something about them. Does Aziraphale hate her now that she refused to go to heaven? Are they even friends anymore? Why did he leave me..

‐------------------

Dear Crowley,

           I know you probably don't wish to hear from me at the moment, but this is important.  I have reason to believe that the child, Eden, may be important to us in some way. I had found her in a remote corner of heaven where only the archangels and metatron have access to. The poor thing was in a cage. After looking through her file, it seems to me that the miracle we split to disguise Gabriel may have had more effects than we thought...

I couldn't stand to see a child like that, so I've cleaned her up and sent her your way. I know you have it in you to care for her. Somewhere deep down, you are truly good. I'm afraid I won't be much help as I'm preoccupied, though I will keep my eye out for any clues.

Her file informed me that she is half angel, half demon, and can be harmed with both holy water and hellfire, so please do be careful. Through my questioning, it seems she is unaware of much in the world. That's all I know for now.

                                               *Yours*, Aziraphale

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

It took Crowley a minute after he was done reading to tear his eyes away from the paper. It left them with more questions than answers. She wanted to frown, smile, yell, but instead she just tucked the piece if paper back into the envelope and shoved it in their jacket. 

Looking back up at Muriel and Eden, he saw Muriel just happily staring at him, waiting for him to say something. Eden was doing the exact same, almost mimicking Muriel.

They sighed and stated down at the child, putting a smirk on their face, Crowley reached down and ruffled Eden's hair. 

"Guess I'm stuck with ya, kid" 

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

I hope that wasn't too atrocious, I didn't do much editing. If you're curious, I was using she/they/he pronouns interchangeably for Crowley, they/them for Muriel, he/him for Aziraphale, and she/her for Eden, if that was a bit confusing, let me know! I know none of them really have gender and Crowley and Aziraphale often switch how they present, I chose to switch Crowley's up more, though, because we see them present differently more often in the show. Any feedback is helpful! ♡

[thedestructionofgrace]

Tlou ep6!!! (It’s 2:07am, please excuse any mistakes as I haven’t proof read lol)

You just know the couple at the start have a great relationship, even though we only got to see them briefly I loved the back and forth between them and the fact that the lady made joel and Ellie food, it was interesting to see Joel’s interrogation technique (regarding the map) on the couple especially since he’s so violent with it in the game. The white rabbit that Ellie steals reminds me of the rabbit she shoots in the winter phase of the game.

I also love how the show has a much deeper insight to Joel’s mental health, we all know he’s a badass but to know it takes a toll on him mentally makes him a lot more relatable and human, when he has his first panic attack outside the cabin I was like oh shit

The show is also more realistic in regards to his age, the fact he’s slower, looks like he’s having trouble with his hands and his instincts aren’t quite as sharp, it’s really sad to watch him realise that those kind of things are catching up to him and the fact that he doubts his ability to get Ellie to the fireflies is just 😢 I believe his age is something we see more in the second game. I felt so bad when he thought that girl was Sarah.

Oh I was scared for a minute when the dog was approaching ellie but it was so cute when it ended up liking her. The group riding up on their horses was really cool, I love the western theme that’s been applied, and maria hanging back then realising Joel is her brother in law, can’t imagine what she was thinking there, especially since everything she knows about him is through Tommy, she probs never thought they’d meet. Rutina Wesley did an amazing job as Maria.

Joel shouting for Tommy 🥹 you could tell it was such a relief for Joel to find his little brother and for Tommy a surprise after all these years. Gabriel Luna is just spot on with tommys voice especially in that first episode, he sounds just like Tommy from the game

Communism lol, tommy having to pause, realising that that is what their town is like and Maria being like “yeah it is communism!! 😁” just made me laugh

Joel mentions sheep once and now they’re eveywhere, also that’s exactly what Ellie and Dina end up doing at the end of tLou 2, raising jj and sheep, ugh just makes me 😫😫

I had real conflicting feelings towards joel, you just found your little brother after years of being separated and you can’t be happy that he has a wife and their going to be starting a family together “guess we’ll find out” ???!!! What on earth would ever possess you to that to someone, your little brother is trying to tell you some good news and even confesses that he thinks he’ll be a good dad and that’s what you say 🤬 and Tommys confused face after Joel saying that 😫. On the other hand Joel’s moments with Ellie, teaching her how to shoot, telling her about his job and what he would like after this is all over and that he used to want to be a singer, that was all super sweet. While being a sorry excuse for a brother his dadness really came through in his moments with Ellie

I love how we get to see how Ellie ends up with all her iconic outfits, first getting her red palm tree top from bills place and now getting her jacket from Maria, love it!!! It’s such a simple nod to the game but so satisfying to watch as someone who’s played it. I really love being able to point out things to the folks I’m watching the show with and noticing all these little details.

Maria providing Ellie with a mentrual cup, again I love how realistic the show is and that it isn’t shying away from these kind of things, also Ellie inspecting it and being like cool 😁 made me chuckle. Maria giving Ellie a haircut too was 🥹 they gave Maria a lot more back story and I appreciate the way they did it cos it didn’t feel forced, she had a son, was an ADA, is on the council etc. I’m looking forward to seeing her and Tommy having a kid in the second season

Was that Dina??!!!! Please tell me it was Dina!! Also, Shimmer!!!!

It annoyed me when Tommy went to talk to Joel and started apologising, I personally believe Joel is the one who should be apologising but you know 🤷🏻‍♀️

The house they set up Ellie and Joel in, had a really beautiful exterior lol it’s not really relevant but I really liked it, cool how Ellie’s room was the one she ran away to in the game, would have been cool to see a Joel/Tommy/Ellie team up but I think it made sense the way the shows done it too. Bella is also spot on with her acting, she’s doing such an amazing job, her accent doesn’t even hint that she’s English, her facial reactions and emotion in her voice are just on point, I really really don’t understand the hate towards her 🤦🏻‍♀️

Joel letting Ellie drink??!!! Lmao why not 😭

Pedros voice “you have no idea what loss is” oh my god, 10/10, perfect

Curious as to why they’ve bunched Jackson, the university and probably what is going to be the cannibal episode next into the one season (I mean winter season) maybe it’s just to shorten the jumps between the next few episodes?

I kind of like how much they cut out (most of) the university part and got straight to the point, don’t know if they could have made that into an entire episode of them being at the uni so I think it makes sense, loved seeing a classic Joel take down when he strangled the guy that came at them with the bat, also was shocked that the goon manage to stab Joel with a piece of the broken bat, it’s nice that the writers stay really close to the original material but are still able to surprise us

Little moments that deserve shoutouts

Ellie talking about space and seeing northern lights 🥹✨

Joel’s smirk after proving Ellie wrong with the rifle and of course he gets a bullseye 😏

The fact the target said asshole on it

Random but Bella Ramsey looked really cool with her hat on

Joel trying to repair his shoes (with duct tape lol), realistic in terms of the shoes durability

Marias nose piercing, I know it’s a random thing to point out but she looked good

“Some people wanted to own everything and some people didn’t want anyone to own anything at all” Ooft can’t get any realer than that, plus “which one were you?” “Neither” 😂

The dining hall looks like where the dance is held and where Ellie and Dina kiss in tlou part two!!! Fitting that their first kiss is in the place the first see eachother 😍

“Damn” (dam)

Ellie mind your manners at the dinner table lol

Also “you gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant” no fucking way did she say that 😂😭

I really think and hope this next episode (which I’m assuming will be the cannibal episode with David and Troy baker!!) will be bellas turn to shine and we’ll get to see her own her own for a bit. She’s gonna do such a good job I know it already.

[sleepingdeath-light]

yandere hcs ; black lemonade cookie

requested by ; anonymous (16/07/23), anonymous (21/07/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; black lemonade cookie

outline ; “yandere black lemonade, ik ur not writing for her until she comes out but i love her so”

&

“yandere black lemonade?”

warning(s) ; obsessive behaviour, yandere!black lemonade, stalking (online and in person), guilt tripping, worshipping

for black lemonade cookie you are more than just her partner: you’re the centre of her world, her muse, her obsession, her blessing, her bias — you’re everything and more, an angel born down on this earth just to make her life worth living and she treats you accordingly

she dedicates every song, every album, every performance and interview and post to you — always talking about her ‘awesome partner back home’ and making her fans and onlookers awe at how loving of a spouse she must be, how ‘goals’ and ‘otp’ your relationship is and how much they want a partner who is as ‘devoted’ and ‘so totally into them’ as she is to you

there are entire fan communities dedicated to the two of you: fanfic, fan art, fan edits and accounts dedicated to posting updates on you both (where you were last seen, any posts/mentions that have been made to you by black lemonade cookie, etc.) — it’s so expansive and large that it’s honestly hard to keep track of

but she manages somehow, always keeping on top of the latest trends and seeming to always have a tab open on her phone displaying some fan content of you (usually something less than sfw) because she’s just as obsessed as those fans — she’s just a bit better at hiding it

she keeps tabs on you wherever you go, and she’s been doing it since before she got the confidence to actually approach you — with her constantly refreshing your social media when she’s away on tour or, if she’s in the area, always miraculously showing up wherever you are and joining in on whatever you were doing (errands, shopping, leisure, etc.)

she’s quick to get jealous but she never takes it out on you — always going to extremes to embarrass and intimidate the hell out of whoever was getting too close for her liking (especially if it’s at one of her gigs when she’ll stop what she’s doing to point out the offending party and mock them in front of her crowd of fans, who, of course, will all join in)

she does feel like she doesn’t deserve you — well, really it’s the idea that you’re so good that nobody deserves you rather than just her — and that makes her that much more terrified of losing you, which in turn makes her default to using a lot of manipulation and guilt tripping to keep you locked down in your relationship (it also contributes to her stalking you)

like she’s forever messaging you to ask you if you love her and refuses to leave your home until you’ve kissed her — she thrives off of your affection and attention, really, and she’ll use whatever tactics she can in order to get what she wants from you

if you spend time with anyone else then she’ll start off by constantly texting and calling you because she misses you, then she’ll move on to stalking you through the cameras, and then she’ll feign some sort of injury or mishap during practise which would force you to come home and take care of her — she really doesn’t like sharing your attention with people

definitely tries her best to separate you from your loved ones to make you more reliant on her at first, but if that fails then she’ll integrate herself so perfectly with your family that you’ll feel too entangled and guilty to ever leave her — either way her goal of making you attached to her is achieved so she’s happy

she’d never take a life, she’s not that type of girl, but she’s not afraid to ruin a life — especially if she has shining glitter and rockstar cookie on her side (a little white lie never hurt, and they’d never doubt their new friend after all), which makes the process a whole lot smoother

but that’s only a last resort if someone keeps on taking your attention away from her and can’t get the hint that you’re taken — you’re hers — and they need to be properly dealt with as a result

with all that being said, for as obvious as they seem when written out black lemonade is excellent at keeping all of these things on the down low and playing them off as much more innocent than they are (it’s down to her chilled out demeanour, mostly) so you’re unlikely to notice anything different about her as a yandere compared to how she acts in a normal relationship — well, not until it’s far too late to leave anyway