#no lipstick in Lebanon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

last-words-ofashootingstar · 1 year

Text

Melody : Otona Blue

February Filth Fest Special

Yandere Kang Yeosang x fem reader

a/n: i'm such a baby for these two i had to write more.i was giggling like crazy while writing this. happy(now late) valentines <3

"Maybe- maybe the way that you held onto his shoulders as you moaned, so tightly that your nails left indentations for two whole days?" -Otona Blue

✫彡wordcount: 7k

(>ᴗ•)♡´･ᴗ･`♡genre: smut w plot, yandere, story extension

ಠ_ಠwarning/contents: ONLY FOR THIS CHAPTER ; the smut hinted at in 'Otona Blue's main story (you don't have to read that story to understand but i'd really appreciate it because it's my all time favorite), build up and plot because i love them sm but also lots of smut like so much smut, emotional vulnerability, yandere tendencies, age gap (19-23/college freshman-college senior) — first time together, hickeys, making out, dry humping, hand&blow job, throat fvck, spit as lube, spit in general, cum eating, masturbation, fingering&cunilingus, literally so needy, discussing saftey and consent&contraceptive(YAY!), cream pie, praise, multiple orgasms, crying very very briefly — after care and short epilogue — there is definitely typos i'm sorry

ヾ(´〇`)ﾉ♪♪♪ song recs: Close by Han Jisung - "You, who's shining among countless people. You became clearer bit by bit and now I can only see you."

Kiss Me Until My Lips Fall Off by Lebanon Hanover - "I've tried everything to block out the pain, but it just seems to haunt me in every possible way. Kiss me until my lips fall off."

You're All I Want by Cigarettes After Sex - "We fucked so hot it left me faded. For all you are, you're all I want. There is no other love, it's only yours."

FFF tags: @cherryxsang @k-drizzle

Otona Blue tags: @thatswhywerefever

SMUT UNDER CUT MDNI

"You look fancy." Kai mentions as he pauses at Hiyyih's open door. You chose to get ready there, because she had many more shades of makeup than you did (and as you said twelve times, definitely not because you were nervous for your date with Yeosang and needed her to calm your nerves).

It was a simple one, that you had planned. Just to go down to the instrumental store a little outside of town and pick out some new sheet music, maybe spend some time learning it together.

"Fancy? Hiyyih, I'm not supposed to be fancy!"

She looks up from her phone and gives Kai a death stare. "I've been spending the past two hours getting her to calm down, look at what you did. You went and sent her into a spiral!" He chuckles as he comes into the room, sitting at the double bench next to you and inspecting you closer in the mirror.

"Where are you going?"He asks, taking a small sip of his drink.

"Yeosang and I have a date," you state proudly, wiping away the dark shade of lipstick and picking up the shoebox filled of you and Hiyyihs shared collection.

"No shit! Since when?" He's slightly shocked, to say the least. When he approached Yeosang undercover, he seemed like a shut-in. "Damn, Hiyyih was right. When does that ever happen? Ow!" He slaps her foot away as she kicks him, leaning into you and cowering from his little sister.

"It's our second date," you smile fondly, looking over at the clock on the pastel wall. "And he'll be here in like ten minutes?! Oh, no, no. Hiyyih, I can't do it! I should call and canc-"

"Not on my watch!" She stands up, snatching the box and dumping it on the bed in her place. "You will not cancel your date with Kang Yeosang because you can't find the right shade of lipstick! That man is in love with you, and I won't let you ruin this for me."

"For you?" You ask with kitted eyebrows.

"Yes for me! I have to live vicariously through you, so get your cute dress out of the top of my closet before I beat you silly."

Kai laughs, standing to get said dress for you. You take a sip of the smoothie he leaves behind sneakily and offer it up to Hiyyih, who holds back a laugh and turns back to the pile of makeup. You set it back where he left it and fix up your hair one last time as he turns around with the dress. "Think it still fits? When was the last time you wore it, might have outgrown it by now."

"Psh," you chuckle, taking it and laying it next to the pile as he turns to face away. "You know your track shorts from twelfth grade and they still fit?"

"Yeah?"

"This dress is my track shorts. It always fits, it's my fashion soulmate. Zip me up?" He help you zip it the rest of the way and makes you do a twirl for the both of them. "See? S'Like my glass slipper, but it's a dress I got from the Goodwill."

The three of you let out a laugh, and Hiyyih slaps a gloss into your hands. It's a pretty pink, and it goes well with both your dress and your complexion. "This one."

"Are you s-"

"Yup!"She pushes you to sit at the bench and leans over one of your shoulders, Kai hunching over the other as the watch you apply the gloss. "Jesus, feel like a beauty pageant princess with over bearing parents."

"You are, now chop-chop. We've got four minutes 'till noon and that psycho will probably be right on time." You go to scold her for calling him a psycho when your phone dings with a special message tone. You yell, and so does she. Kai looks on in confusion as the two of you grab each other.

"Oh my god!" He comes to the realization, rolling his eyes slightly. "He has his own ringtone? I don't even have my own ringtone!" He swipes up the phone and unlocks it with the same password you've had since middle school. "Yeo," he sing-songs, "blue heart emoji. Wow. He gets a heart emoji, I'm kind of hurt, (Y/n)."

"Don't be dick," Hiyyih yells at the same time you ask what he said.

"I'm a few minutes away, he said. With a blushing smiley face." The two of you freak out, Hiyyih scrambling to the dresser and grabbing the necklace she placed out for you as you grab at Kai's sleeves and mumble incoherently.

"It's just a smiley face, damn!"

"You don't get it," she speaks as she drapes the jewelry over your neck. "It's not just a smiley face. When was the last time you sent someone a blushing smile emoji unironically?"

He thinks for a moment as he picks up a handful of makeup and drops it back in the box. "When I was trying to flirt with - oh my god! He's totally in love with you! My baby's growing up so fast," he fakes a pout, yelping as you smack his shoulder.

You unscrew the cap of the gloss and apply it with a shaking hand, smacking your lips lightly and smiling at your reflection. "See? Looks perfect! Right, Kai?"

He nods, sipping his drink as he inspects you."I think you look great. He's going to be on his knees,(Y/n)."

"You think so?"

"Know so!" The siblings chime, and Hiyyih messes with you hair mindlessly trying to fix it even though it's as perfect as can be.

You give her a big smile in the reflection and thank her. The smile is replaced with a look of terror as the door bell rings. Kai, funnily enough, is the first one to dash out of Bahiyyihs room and to the door.

"Hey!" You hear him greet as you whisper-yell at her to kill him after you leave. "C'mon in. Yeosang, right? She'll be right out."

You can feel your heart beating in your throat. You don't know why you're so nervous. It's just Yeosang. You've known him for almost five months. You've already been on a date with him. Two, if you counted the one time he came over and burnt made homemade pizza with you.

"You got this, sister. You don't have to be so nervous," she shakes you by your shoulders and tells you to, "snap out of it."

When you round the corner with Hiyyih, he doesn't even notice that she's there. All his attention is on you. He hasn't seen you for a few days and by God he missed you. You look so pretty and soft and you've clearly done yourself up to impress him.

"Hi."

"You look nice."You say as you take in his shaggy mullet, straightened down his neck. He has on a few dainty necklaces and a ring on his thick middle finger.

"You too, Petal." You hear Hiyyih squeak from her spot beside Kai, and your look over yours shoulder and give her a side-eye.

"We'll be on our way!" You grab Yeosang by his hand and all but drag him out of the Huening residence. You mumble a sorry about their weird behavior and pull him along as he laughs.

You had successfully completed your trip to the musical supply shop and made your way back to his apartment, now sitting down at the table with him as he flips through the book of songs.

"What about that one, do you know it? I've heard it a few times." You stop him at a particular song, tapping on the title.

"No, I haven't. Should I learn it?"

"I bet it would be beautiful," you smile at the thought, and he asks you to go and grab his violin from his bedroom. You've only been to his apartment thrice before, and it somehow means something to you that he trusts you to go into the place which is most him.

You grab the case from the chair in-front of his small desk and smile down at the picture he has of you and himself, taken by Soobin. It was taken after the concert, and he couldn't help himself but place the fond memory somewhere he could easily see it.

"Here you go," you snap it open and slide it in-front of him, besides the book. He offers you a smile and a forehead kiss, giggling as you pout when he pulls away.

"Will you warm up my fingers?" He asks shyly, but he knows you will. It's become a sort of tradition between the two of you. You take up his hand in both of yours and rub his highest knuckle gently.

"What did you think of the store?" You make small talk as you go from finger to finger, crouching beside his chair to get a good grip.

"I liked it. They have a lot. I don't think I've seen so much sheet music in my whole life. And for so many-sorry." He stops himself from ranting as he sees your growing smile.

You look up from his finger with a bit of wide eyes, "oh, my bad. My bad. That was just cute. I barely see you get so excited."

"Cute?"

"Mhm. You're so passionate about music. It's so... endearing? And not like, in the 'that's a weird little quirk that's not weird enough to call it weird but I need to let you know I find it strange way', in the 'oh, wow he's so interested in this and it's so refreshing to see someone st-"

He stops you with a quick kiss, smiling into your lips. He pulls away, leans back into his seat with a small smirk. "What was that for?"

"Just cute." He mimics your words form before and you drop his hand dramatically. He eyes you in his peripherals as he pretends to read over the notes.

"Yeo," you pout, leaning closer to him. "You can't just tease me like that."

"Can't I?"

"No, you can't! Give me a real kiss, Babe." The nickname slips past your lips before you have a chance to stop yourself. "Sorry, was that ok-"

He slips off his chair and falls ontop of you, wrapping his arms around you head and pulling you into his chest while you laugh. "Yeo!"

"Oh, Petal," he hums happily, "you have no idea how long I've waited for that!" He grabs your face between his hands and pulls you in to give you an aggressive forehead kiss, making it a point to make a smooching sound as he pulls away.

"Can I have a real kiss, then?"

It's small, almost fleeting. But his lips are so soft and warm against yours. You don't find yourself minding as he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours. "My beautiful flower."

The next kiss is feverish, much like the one you shared in the library. Softly animalistic in the way your lips mesh together gently, but with the intent to devour one another. The way his tongue pokes out and slides against your lips is new, but you don't mind. You open up your mouth and let him in, moving your head slowly and wrapping your fingers up in his hair as he explores everything his tongue can reach. He moans into the kiss.

This feeling... this feeling. What even is it? He doesn't know and he can't bring himself to care as you maneuver into his lap and bring yourself closer. Just like how it always is: he's filled with a peace he's only ever know when he's with you. But as you start to moan back, that peace is mixed into a pot full of passion.

When you pull away to finally breath, you see the glaze in his eye. It's the darkest and most noticeable it's ever been. And he doesn't bother to blink it away or try to hide it from you. He looks right at you, letting you get a good look at how much you affect him.

"Is it too soon to say I love you?"

"No," you hum, tracing the collar of his sweater.

"I love you," he mumbles as you scoot away from him and stand slowly, leaving him on his knees below you. He looks up and follows your movements as you turn and walk away, making it a point to sway your hips as you look over your shoulder on the way to his bed room. He trips over himself as scrambles to his feet, all but running after you.

You've settled yourself on his bed, facing away as you move your hair out of the way of the tall zipper on your back. "Will you, Yeo?"

"Oh, Petal..." He crawls on the bed and comes up behind you, his hot breath fanning over you. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Im sure. I'm really, really sure." He leaves a short kiss on the back of your neck, reveling in the way you lean closer to his touch as he plants his hand on either of your shoulders. "I wan... I wanna go further. Do you?"

"God, yes, I do." He slides one of his hands to the zipper and slides it down slowly, breath catching in his throat as it rolls past your bra and exposes it. He pulls it as far as it will go and then leans back as you let it pool around your thighs.

"Here," he softly pulls you up and out do the dress, laying you on his soft sheets. He pushes it off the bed and climbs over you, taking in every little detail and committing it to memory.

"You're so beautiful," he admits lowly. He's never seen someone so precious. He would scoop you up and keep you in his pocket if he could. "Could you- can you say it again?"

"Wh- Babe? So you liked it? That's okay?"

"Yes, yes," he whispers, holding you closer. "It's okay, it's so okay, Petal."

"Babe?" You test it out, grinning into his sweater. He purrs contentedly, stroking his hand up and down your side.

You stay there for a moment, basking in each others hold until you whisper. "Can I... Can I give you a hickey?" He grabs onto your hips in shock, looking down at you to see you staring at his neck like a sort of predator.

"What?" He needs to make sure he hears you correctly. There's no way you just out and said that... right?

"Please, Yeo. I want to give you a hickey."Yeosang has officially lost his self control, opening gawking at you as he bites his lip and thanks God he chose to transfer to your class all those months ago.

"You wan- You want to give me a hickey?"You nod, dragging your hands around his hips and caressing the small of his back. "You drive me crazy, Angel. You know that?"

You smirk up at him with a new found confidence. No body has ever shown so much unfiltered love and admiration towards you. Yeosang is the first who's ever loved you enough to stand up for you (besides they Huenings, but they stood up for everyone). He's the first person you've felt so deeply about. And you want to show him off to the world.

He straddles over you, knees on either side of your thighs and hands on the pillow besides your head. Your hands grab the edge of his sweater and you look up at him. "You can give me one, too."

He all but tears his top from his body, leaning back as he throws it to give you a view of his toned body. "Can I touch you?" You ask, nervous now that he's finally in front of you, now that it's so real.

You've been fantasizing about him for months, not that you would ever admit that out loud. Lusting after your senior before you were even friends? It was strange, sure- but you couldn't help it. Yeosang had burrowed his way into your mind since you handed him his book that very first day.

"Yes, touch me..." he looks down, eyes dark as they track your every move. "Touch me, please. Don't make me wait any longer, Petal." He's been wanting this for months. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud. Ever since he switched classes and accidentally sat in your seat. Chasing after your junior? Doing anything for her? Threatening people to stay away from her before you'd even kissed? He knew it was unhealthy. But he didn't care.

He really didn't care as your hands finally made contact with his stomach and roamed up slowly, avoiding his nipples and gently scratching down his shoulders. "You're so pretty, Yeosang."

The sound of his name falling past your lips makes him hold back a shiver, smiling down at you. "My pretty boy," you speak lowly, like you didn't even mean for him to hear it. But he did. And it lit the sparks in his stomach fully ablaze.

"Your pretty boy?"

"Huh?"

"I'm your pretty boy?"You can feel your face heating up, but you don't let it deter you as you lean up and wrap your arms around him and feel his smooth back. "Am I?" He asks, voice tight.

"Yes. My pretty boy...all mine." You claim before pulling him back down with you and latching your lips onto his neck.

He lets out a sigh, melting onto you and propping himself up on his forearms as he elbows give out. "God, oh my god." His voice is frenzied, wavering as he reaches his fingers out and catches your head in them.

You detach from his jugular with a little wet pop, smiling in bliss as you see the small mark that's forming from just the small amount of work you did. "More, Baby," he whispers into the pillow, breathing heavily as he tries to control himself. "Want more."

You comply, leaving opened mouth kisses all over the side of his neck and latching onto a spot just below his ear when he lets out a small moan. He tests the waters with a small grind down on your core, and when you moan against his neck and wrap your legs around his hips, he doesn't dare stop. You suck and suck away at his smooth skin, nibbling gently. He moans quietly into the pillow,rolling his hips lightly into yours as his blood rushes down.

Your tender biting makes his brain fuzzy, and he can't help but sigh contentedly as you continue rubbing up his back as you leave your marks. His heart is racing out of his chest, and he's shocked you haven't heard it with how close to his pulse you are. Your hands settle just above his hips, smirking as you slide one between you and dip your finger tips just into his jeans. "Fuck, fuck, please."

"Take them off, Babe," You whisper as you breath heavily onto his neck. The way your hot breath hits the cool saliva on his neck and the new nick name, it all makes his body feel light. He hurries away from you and stands up, unbuttoning his pants and kicking them away to get back to you as quickly as possible.

You smile at his eagerness, sitting up with your legs folded under you. He joins you again, copying your stance right infront of you as he smiles at you. He cups your cheeks and smooshes them together as he leans in and kisses you. Short and sweet.

"I want you so badly."

Your skin heats up at his confession, sucking in a breath before you even think of responding. "You got me."

He turns and hangs his legs off the side of the bed, then grabs you and leads you to sit on his lap, grinning up at you. "I got you," he says- like he can't believe it. "My flower, I got you." He laughs in disbelief, kissing down your jaw. "All mine." He licks a stripe up from you collar bone, making you shiver. "All fucking mine."

He wraps his lips on your skin and sucks harshly. You whine, grabbing onto his hands as they rest on your thighs at either side of him. His lips keep their suction as he parts his teeth, swirling his tongue around on your hot skin.

"Ah, Yeo!" You grind your hips down on him, groaning as the small button on his boxers grazes over your covered clit. You continue to mumble, drifting into meaningless nonsense as he slides his hands and grabs your ass through the fabric of your panties. His touch only serves to make you more and more worked up, grabbing his shoulders and digging your nails into them. He groans into your neck, pulling away to lean his head back in ecstasy while you swirl your hips on his covered cock.

You take the opportunity and weave you lips into his, smiling as you swallow up all of his small moans. You steady yourself with one hand on his shoulder as the other reaches between you. You take the button between your thumb and index, pulling away to look at him.

He says nothing, only nods and bites his lip as you slide the button undone. It's a bit strange to you, unfamiliar as you take him out and glance down. You never did anything like this with your past partners. But they weren't Yeosang. And you wanted to spend as much time as much time as you can with him. You want to be as close as possible. You want to become one with him.

When he notices your unsure of what to do, he takes your hand and brings it up to his mouth, letting spit dribble into your palm as you watch intently. He holds the back of your hand and wraps both of your hands around his girth.

He openly shivers at the feeling, and you can't help the small smile the tugs at your lips as you watch him closely. He mumbles under his breath, and you can't quite catch it. You lean forward and connect your foreheads, kissing his lips gently and pulling away quickly to get his attention.

He opens his eye and moans at the sight of you, hand tightening around yours over his dick. He keeps one hand planted firmly just behind him to keep him upright as you lick your lips.

"Just like this, Baby. Okay?" You nod with a small smile and lean into his hand as he wraps it in you hair.

You continue just how he showed you, sliding your hand over him with just as much pressure he left you with. His chest rises and falls heavily, eyes dropping as he keeps his gaze on you.

"So good," he praises, fueling the fire in your gut as he strums his thumb across your jaw. You break your eye contact and look down, getting a good view of him as your hand slides up and down slickly. He's big, but not intimidatingly so. He has a long, thick vein on the side of it which branches out. Your hands slows as you inspect it, feeling his breaths against your face.

You withdraw your hands and he watches your thumb run over it. "Oh my - God!" Your mouth waters at the sight of him twitching, cunt leaking as you hear his moans. You haven't been this worked up in your life.

"Can... I can- uh."

"What, Petal?" He asks softly.

"I want to suck you."Your low eyes meet his, wide once again.

"O-okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah- yes, Baby, yes."

You slip off of his lap and kneel between his legs, reaching up and grabbing the elastic band of his boxers. He lifts his hips and his heart swells at the way you look at him as you throw them to join your dress. He leans back on his hands, watching as your tongue falls from your lips. You leave a fat kitten lick from the middle of his length to his leaking tip. He bites back a moan as you swirl your tongue.

"Yeosang," you look up and ask, "do you want to be rough with me?"

"Are you sure?"

You nod enthusiastically. "We can start slow, and if it's too much," you think for a moment, "if it's too much I'll hit you a few times. Is that... is that okay? I want to make you feel good, Babe. You can be rough, I can take it for you."

"I don't deserve you, Petal." He scoots to the very edge of the bed and wraps both of his hands in your hair, pulling you up gently to give you a long kiss. "Too good to me." He lowers you back down to your knees and smiles sweetly before he speaks, "open up, Baby."

You drop your jaw as far as it will go, flattening your tongue as he inches his way inside of you. He moans as the warmth of your mouth envelops him, pulling you further and further onto his cock. You grab onto his knees and look up through your lashes to watch his lips part with a sigh.

"Doing so good. So good, Baby." You gag around him and he stops, sliding one hand down to your jaw and massaging gently. When your breathing even out he asks, "ready?"

You tap on his leg gently, following his lead as he buries his cock in the depths of your throat. He sighs deeply, committing the view to memory. "Fuck, Baby."

The tip of your nose presses against his smooth pelvis. Your lips stretched out around the base of him. One hand dipped in your panties, toying with yourself. Closing your eyes only to snap them back open and focus on him.

You must be a God. You have to be. You are.

His God.

"Look so pretty. My pretty girl."You swallow around him and he nearly ascends. "Oh, fuck!" He holds onto your hair tightly as you twirl your tongue around as much as you can. He uses it as leverage to pull your head back just a small bit, before slamming his tip to the back of your throat. You sputter around him, moaning and gagging and making a mess.

He continues to buck his hips into your warm, wet mouth, nearly panting as he uses his hand wrapped up in your hair to pull you closer. Your spit slide down your chin, soaking his underwear and making his shiver.

When your close your mouth just a fraction of an inch, the edges of your teeth scrape against his veins and he has you pull you away frantically.

You swallow thickly, rubbing his thigh. "Why'd you stop?"Your rasp, soothing the indents on his thighs.

"Gonna cum," he moans with eyes closed, mouth parted.

"Can I taste it?"

"Fuck, oh my God!" His arms give out as your words float around his mind, laying flat and moaning loudly as you wrap your hand around him. He feels like he could cry as you take his tip and suck it like it's the sweetest lollipop in the world.

"Ah- Oh, fuck!" He has a death grip on the sheets as you work him with one hand and slide the other up his clenching stomach. "Oh, please," he whispers, teetering on the edge of pure bliss. "Baby, please, don't stop. Don't stop! Fuck!"

It feels like he's died and gone to heaven as you continuously swallow up his release, moaning as the warmth settles in your belly. A string of broken curses leaves his mouth as he's dunked into a tank of pure pleasure. He needs you more than he needs oxygen. He doesn't bother to pull you away until it physically hurts.

"Fuck, Petal..." he huffs out, guiding you up and wrapping his big arms around you to pull you flat against his heaving chest. "So good." He feels almost numb, floating on a cloud of peace that only you can provide. It's the welcome feeling you always offer him, but it's multiplied by a hundred. Any doubt, any worry, any voice nagging in the back of his head- all of it is gone as you kiss him and let him taste himself on your swollen lips.

"I love you." He prays, eyes closed: that he will never have to live another day without you.

"I love you, Yeosang." Your voice is slightly hoarse, raw with both emotion and dryness, and your words make his heart skip multiple beats. He opens his eyes and sees yours right above him.

It's the first time you ever said that to him. He said it everyday. All day. Ever since he confessed to you. And to hear his words returned in earnest makes every thought fly away from his mind. He flips your positions and pulls you to the edge of the bed, reversing your roles from just a moment ago. He kneels in front of you like you are a precious, breathtaking, art.

"Please, please, let me make you cum, Baby. Let me eat you out, please!" He seems more desperate than you are, grabbing the little lace edge of your panties and begging for you to let him tear them away.

"Ye-" the second a single sound of confrontation falls past your lips, he has the garment thrown far away and has his mouth wrapped around your weeping cunt.

He dives right in, eyes closed in pure joy as your slick coats his tongue. He swallows it down like he's dying of thirst, with his mouth wide open, scooping up as much as he can with his tongue.

"Holy shit, Yeo!" He steadies himself by lifting the back of your thighs onto his shoulders, letting your legs dangle on his back as he pulls you inhumanly close. "D-don't stop, please!"

He would never dare. He hums into you and it brings you to a mumbling mess. He forces his eyes open as he places a finger at your entrance, watching for any signs of discomfort as he presses them in slowly. But all his finds is unfiltered pleasure as your back arches up and you throw your head to the side.

He moves it in and out slowly, giving it a few good moments before his middle finger joins it. When his palm connects to your dripping core, he can feel you clench around them. He curls them inside of you, smirking against you as your arms spread out beside you, one gripping at his pillow and the other at the end of his blanket.

When he spreads his fingers out inside of you, you nearly faint. Holding back a scream and looking for anything to hold onto as your hips jerk. Your fingertips find his pillow and bring it to your face, screaming into it to muffle yourself for the sake of his neighbors. He laughs against your cunt, pulling away with heavy breaths to speak, "is it that good, Petal?"

"Yeah," you groan from below the pillow, "so fucking good, Yeosang." His cock twitches to life between his folded legs as he hears your muffled praise. He knows exactly what you said, but he asks anyways, "what? Does it feel good, Baby?"

"Yes! Please, keep going, Babe! It feels so good, s' so good, I love it!" Content with the praise you've flooded him with, he slips his mouth lower. The tip of his tongue joins his eager fingers and his nose rests against your clit, making you moan every time he moves his head on the slightest.

You mind is gone by the time you realize. He's about to be the first man to ever make you cum. Wether its because you're so emotionally attached to him, or the way he's so feral to please you, you have no idea.

"Yeo!" You cry out, legs gaining a mind of their own and wrapping around his head. He doesn't complain, nor would he if he could. He only leans closer and looks up to watch your chest rise and fall violently as your reach your peak.

When he gets the first taste of it, he hums contentedly and it breaks the wall holding you back. You cum, and you cum hard. You subconsciously toss the pillow away from your face to get more oxygen and you meet his eyes- it feels like you cum again before it's even over as you see his eyes peeking out from being buried in your pussy. His pupils have completed taken over his brown eyes. His beautiful, shaggy blonde hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat. His hands dig into your thighs, the cold metal of his ring brings you back to Earth as you're tempted to float away.

You suck in a small breath and slump onto his bed, completely fucked out. His fingers leave you with lewd noise, and you can barely watch as he sucks them clean without combusting. When he's had his fill from there, he turns his attention back to your cunt as it drips slick onto his knees and slides to the floor. He kitten licks as gently as he can, holding your hips still as they twitch and writhe.

"Yeo, s'too much!" He pulls away with a small smile and climbs over you, "taste so good, Petal. I could get addicted if we aren't careful."

He scoots you up so that you lay in the middle of his bed, albeit sideways and with your feet dangling off the side. You swallow thickly, biting your lip as you look between you and see how hard he is. You know you want to keep going, and it's clear he does as well. But you can't take it just yet. So you grab onto his neck gently and bring him down to your face, face burning hot as you stick out your tongue and lap at his chin, cleaning up your own arousal.

He has to catch himself from falling straight onto you, making both of you laugh lightly.

"You want me to clean you up, Babe? I made such a mess on your face, m'sorry." No, you aren't. That was the best orgasm you've ever experienced. You can still feel your clit buzzing between your legs.

He hums in response, wrapping his arms around your head and letting you lick his chin, his jaw, his cheeks, his nose.

You smile up at him with your mission accomplished and push his hair back out of his face."Want you to fuck me now."

Again, he finds himself shell shocked. He wants nothing more than to oblige and fuck you silly. But he asks first, "are you on the pill?"

You stretch out your arm and show him the little bump on the inside of your bicep, "implant. Do you want to use a condom anyways?"

"No, do you?"

"Fuck, no. I want to feel you as close as possible."

"Good Jes- Baby, dotn talk like that, we'll never leave this room if you keep this up." He slides his hands to your thighs and spreads them, pumping his cock a few short times before he inches his way into you.

"Tell me of you want to stop," he whispers as he holds your hands at your hips, slowly sinking into you and stretching you out deliciously.

"Don't," you moan, licking your legs around him, "don't you dare stop." When his hips finally collide with yours, you both can't help the pornographic moans that rip though you.

You fit together so perfectly. Like no body has ever fit together before, like you must be the first to be so undeniably perfect for each other. Your warm, gummy walls hug him so beautifully, he fears he might go mad without you after feeling you so intimately. The tip of his cock rests right up on a spot that makes you feel dizzy. It feels so right. And so, so, so good. "Give me more, Babe."

He starts a languid, almost massaging pace, grinning like an idiot as he rests his head besides yours. "Why're you looking at me like that," you manage to ask between your deep breaths.

"Fucking love you." He states simply, letting go of your hands to caress your jaw. "And you feel so good." He kisses your shoulder, rolling his hips. "Can't believe I've got you all to myself." He draws out and pushes back in quicker, making you grab onto his shoulders, nails digging in deeply. "I'm so fucking lucky."

He stops as he sees your tears welling up. "Did I hurt you?"

"No! God, fuck," you wipe the wetness away aggressively, going back to holding him quickly. "I'm just so happy. I love you. I do." The tears you had just wiped away come back to mess with you. Yeosang wipes them away, cursing them for blurring your beautiful eyes. The kiss is soft. Almost ghostly in the way your lips graze together. "Keep going."

You wrap your arms around his back and latch on- legs and arms now keeping him close as he resets a tender pace. "Feels so good," you mumble against his lips, smiling as his forehead rests against yours. "Love it, love your cock."

He can only moan in response, lifting your shoulders gently to wrap his arms around them. Your chest presses against his, nipples pressed together and making the both of you groan at the friction. "Faster, Sangie." Before he even has a moment to register the new nickname, his hips respond for him, picking up the pace and building up a rhythm until his all but pounding into you. "Fuck, ye-yeah!"

He groans into your neck, eyeing the forming hickey. The next noise that comes from him makes your lists clench around him. He growls. "My Petal." "My girl," he speaks softer. "My fucking girl."

"M' gonna cum, Sang."

"Wait for me, Angel. Can you?" He looks up and you swear you see the Devil behind his lustful eyes.

He must be a Devil. He has to be. He is.

Your Devil.

"Yes, yes, I- ah!" Your hands find their rightful place on his shoulders, digging into the indents you've already left and making him hiss. You bite your lip, closing your eyes as your orgasm gets closer and closer with the way he's fucking you to another universe.

"Let me hear you, Baby."

"C-" Whatever words on your tongue fall short, cut by your loud moans as he reaches down and swirls on of his fingers around your sensitive clit.

"I can't, Yeo! I'm goi- fuck! I'm gonna cum, please, please," you grab at his head wildly, bringing his face right up to yours, "cum inside me. I want it! Want it so bad, Sangie!"

His unoccupied hand grabs yours and that's all you need to gush around him, cunt clenching and unclenching. Pulsing around him, trying to pull him inside you and make him apart of you. He releases deep inside of you, whimpering and closing his eyes as you cradle his face. You both stay there for what feels like hours, but in reality must have been only a few minutes.

When he pulls away, your legs fall limp and you groan at the ache in your hips. The warmth of his cum dripping out of you makes you shiver in his arms as he curls up next to you. You place your hand over his which rests on your sweaty stomach, "I love you."

"I love you... was I too rough?" He rubs circles on your hip bone gently, reveling in the way he can see his handprint in your skin.

"No, perfect." You lean into his warmth as your adrenaline settles. "Never," you laugh, "never been with some one so good. I feel fucking faded."

He laughs with you, sharing the sentiment and telling you that that's probably the hardest he's ever came. You laugh again, smiling over at him. He leans forward and leaves a quick peck on your lips, acting shyly like he wasn't just balls deep inside of you.

He rubs your hip, leaning in and kissing your neck before you pull his head away by his mullet. "If you get hard again, you're on your own. I love you, but I also love my ability to walk."

He chuckles, nodding. "Told you I'd get addicted, Petal."

"Have a good shower, Baby?" He asks as he hears your padded footsteps behind him.

"Your water pressure is amazing, I might have to move in." You toss fix up your wet hair as you sit across from him at the small table.

The sun is setting behind him through the cracked blinds, casting shadows on him. "Well, I'm not complaining but one Mingi gets home, he's be pissed I've found a new roommate."

He slides you a pair of chopsticks with a smile and takes in your appearance as you eat. You're wearing one of his orchestra shirts as a night gown, towel across your shoulders to catch the drips from your hair. You fumble a bit to get your chopsticks situated and take a big bite of the food he prepared. You look at home. Like you truly belong here infront of him. And you do.

"I love you, Petal."

You smile, swallow you food quickly and speaking as you gather up another bite, "so you've said." You offer him the bite, hand under the chopsticks as you hold it out. He leans in and takes it as you speak, "I love you too, Yeo."

Even if you don't... he'll make it so.

—

#kang yeosang #yeosang #ateez yeosang #yandere yeosang #ateez #yandere ateez #yander fic #yeosang smut #ateez smut #smut fic #february filth fest

112 notes · View notes

enigma-naturae · 1 year

Text

Obey me characters as type of goths!

Authors Note: This is my first time writing so sorry if its really repetitive and these are just some of my personal headcanons and little mini imagines. I myself am also relatively new to the goth scene these might now be 100% accurate.

I hope you enjoy!

Lucifer:

I could really just choose one but I think that Lucifer would really like romantic, vampire, and victorian goth

Just look at him

He already has the whole vibe

Out of all of them I think he would like romantic goth the most since he's an old romantic at heart

definitely uses to name caramia as a term of endearment to you <3

Likes to wear more formal attire such as suits and lots of jewelry preferably chunky rings

Listens to Lebanon Hanover

Imagine spending a night with him listening to his records, sipping on nice red wine and him speaking sweet nothings to you

Mammon:

This one was actually really hard but I think Mammon would be into gothabilly

He gives me the vibe that he likes any type of 50s style clothing (think greaser style)

Listens to Elvis Presley

Definitely into things like vintage cars and decor

LOTS OF LEATHER JACKETS

Collects vintage horror movies

He doesn't watch them (mainly because he thinks their scary) just collects them because he thinks they look cool

Has at least one pin up girl tattoo

Loves going to old diners with you and taking you to old car shows

Definitely uses old slang

Calls you sugar or babe

Dances rockabilly like it's no one business

please look up real 1950s rockabilly dancing it looks like so much fun

Imagine him driving in his Demonio with you listening to rock 'n' roll and going to a club and dancing all night long just laughing with each other and just forgetting everything else :)

Leviathan:

I personally think he would be very into visual kei

He dresses a little more on the colorful side

Tries to incorporate some of his favorite animes into his fashion

Also gets a lot of his inspiration from them

Makes him feel more confident and it's kinda cosplay to him so he really likes it if you dress up with him

Learned to play guitar and bass because he wanted to play his favorite solos

Loves to do your makeup (only if you ask him bc he's too shy to ask you)

He still gets kinda shy if you compliment him but he really appreciates it

Especially since his outfits take a while to get on

HE LISTENS TO MALICE MIZER I DON'T MAKE THE RULES

Imagine getting ready with him to go to a concert and just seeing how excited he is to see his favorite artist and just having an overall great time with him

Satan:

To me this one is simple

He is a 100% New England Gothic type of person

He loves learning about the history such as the Salem Witch trials

His favorite authors are H.P. Lovecraft and Stephen King

His favorite book is Misery by Stephen King

Listens to The Shortwave Mystery

Fashion wise his style is more dark academia

Loves going to places that are haunted or hold cursed items

Frequent visitor of the Ed and Lorraine Warren museum

Also an old romantic

Writes love letters to you and closes them with a wax seal that has his sigil on it so you know it's him

Gives you flowers with special meanings

Calls you my heart or my joy since your the person who always makes him the happiest

Imagine him sending you a letter telling you to meet him in the library and he takes you on a date treating you like royalty and reading poetry he made specifically for you

Asmodeus:

Asmodeus would LOVE pastel goth

To him it's a perfect mix of dark edgy colors and bright bubbly colors

Loves accessories, mainly chokers and hair clips

Has A BUNCH of outfit choices for you if you want to try his style too

If you ask him to do your makeup say no more he's already sprinting to his room to get his makeup kit

Can and will dye your the brightest pastel colors if you ask him

His outfits are always perfectly coordinated

Pulls off black lipstick surprisingly well

Has graphic shirts and decorated socks for DAYS

Listens to Melenie Martinez

Calls you sweetie or love

Imagine him taking you out to Majolish, helping you buy pastel goth clothes since you've been wanting to try it out, he gives you the best tips about what accessories go best and him giving you endless praise saying how cute you look

Beelzebub:

Beel would definitely like health goth

He dresses more casually than his brothers since health goth is more wearing black and white sports brands

Really likes the music though

He listens to Molchat Doma during his workouts

I think he really likes tattoos but either is busy to get them or Lucifer doesn't let him

He works hard to keep both his physical and mental health in top shape so if you need a shoulder to lean on (both metaphorically and literally) or want a gym bro he's your guy

Calls you peach or honey

Knows a lot of comfortable goth brands if you want to buy some active wear

Imagine you come home from a long day at RAD and just being generally exhausted, you go to your room and soon Beel comes since he felt like you weren't feeling the best, he comes with your favorite snacks and you spend the rest of the night together enjoying each others presence

Belphegor:

I personally think that Belphie would be a trad goth but he barely has the time and energy for all that so I he would be an emo goth

I know what your gonna say BUT EMO AND GOTH ARE DIFFERENT I know that but I feel like he would find a way to combine them (also he thinks it's funny how it manages to get people angry)

Asmo takes his picture sometimes and adds a horrendous amount of blingees

Cuts his own hair

Owns so many band tshirts that his closet looks like a hot topic

I think he listens to Black Veil Brides or Twin Tribes

Acts like a stereotypical emo for shits and giggles

Always ends up forgetting to take off his eyeliner

Probably has a blog dedicated to astrology (Asmo got a hold of it and decorated it so much its like looking into the sun)

Probably has a few piercings

I think has has an eyebrow piercing and snake bites

Loves watching Tim Burton movies

Calls you my one and only or baby

Imagine waking from a nap to have a message from Belphie saying "Meet me in the planetarium", you go and he's there with a blanket and you two spend the rest of the night either stargazing, talking about astrology, or him reading to you some overly edgy poem talking about "your the light that reaches even the darkest parts of my soul" and "Will you be the Pon to my Zi?" (please tell me if you understand that reference)

It sounds super sappy but you know deep down he means it

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me x gn!reader #obey me x gn!mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me shall we date #novella

149 notes · View notes

chicinsilk · 8 months

Text

US Vogue August 1, 1955

Model Kathleen Wallace wears a blanket coat in her country setting with gold beads, a silk broadcloth shirt and a Lebanon jersey skirt. All by Sportwhirl. Marvella gold beads. Lipstick: “Coral” by Toni.

Modèle Kathleen Wallace porte un manteau-couverture dans son cadre champêtre avec des perles dorées, une chemise en drap de soie et une jupe en jersey du Liban. Le tout par Sportwhirl. Perles dorées Marvella. Rouge à lèvres : « Coral » de Toni.

Photo Roger Prigent

vogue archive

#us vogue #august 1955 #1955 #fashion 50s #fall/winter #automne/hiver #sportwhirl #marvella #toni #kathleen wallace #roger prigent #plaid coat

24 notes · View notes

quill-pen · 11 months

Text

Somewhere Out There

Wait, no--wrong fandom!

Consider this something as a continuation to 'Like George'. At least for the part with Oliver.

Summary: Bess discovers her fiancé, Oliver Sprague, isn't quite as decent as she once thought.

Warnings: Drama--cheating and breakup drama specifically; cursing, physical violence (doesn't last long), heartbreak and angst that comes with it, lack of self-confidence and self-esteem, self-loathing, mentions of wishing and wanting to die (said in the heat of the moment), just a young woman with a broken heart being comforted by her father and her best friend.

Theme:

youtube

Lebanon, Ohio--October 1842

Bess Sullivan, despite her youth, did not lead and had never led the most carefree life. From the moment she was born, it was as if the Devil himself had taken one look at her and decided, "Yes, this one, in particular, is offensive to me. Make her suffer!" Her birth father had abandoned her and her mother, and her mother blamed and loathed her for it. Most people who knew much about her held grudges against her simply for the fact she'd initially come from England (revolutionary sentiments still held a bit of potency); and more than a handful were convinced she was the bastard of a high-ranked British official and the reason she and her mother had fled from England was in order to escape ridicule and the rumored man's wife. Bess had grown up friendless, only making her first real friend her age when she'd been fourteen. Due to horrific circumstances, that girl was long dead now, leaving Bess to deal with the aftermath of what they'd both been put through, alone. A life like that tends to beat the optimism right out of you and only leave you with the barest minimum of realistic expectations. For Bess, those expectations were simple: Loyalty and honesty. The fact she had gotten neither of those, was why she was currently sitting in the dining room of a fancy hotel, waiting for her beau of nearly four years, Oliver Sprague, to come waltzing through the door.

"Any sign yet?" Bess asked her friend and roommate, Debbie Little. She was relying on Debbie to be her eyes, as her back was to the door so Oliver wouldn't spot her. Oliver and whoever else he would be with.

Bess had suspected it for months now--the infidelity. Actually, if she were being totally honest with herself, she'd suspected it for years, as Oliver had always been a flirt with other women: The young man knew he was attractive and enjoyed the attentions of the fairer sex. Of course, during their courtship, he'd always assured Bess that she had nothing to fear, that he was hers alone, and the women were merely friends or that flirting was just part of his personality. (How could that possibly be when he'd never flirted with her?) For reasons she could never quite understand, Bess had always let it slide, even when she knew she shouldn't have. But then just after New Year's, she'd caught it: The whiff of perfume that was not her scent on his clothes. When she'd asked him, he waved it away saying a client had embraced him and she liked to wear heavy perfume. Bess couldn't say for certain that wasn't the case, so she'd let it go. But her gut had screamed otherwise; she'd stayed vigilant.

More and more often she smelled that same scent on his clothes. Then she'd seen the lipstick stains on his collars. Then later on his neck as well, as if he'd just simply not taken care to wipe them off and hide them. Again, he blamed overly friendly clients. Bess had been bold enough to state that time that she wasn't sure she believed him, and the boy had shot back: "The fact that I didn't wipe them off and try to hide them is proof that I'm telling the truth. If I'd tried to get rid of them before seeing you, then I really would have something to hide, wouldn't I? This is me being honest with you, Specks." Bess' instinct had screamed that was manipulation; but again, what proof did she have besides her gut that Oliver was lying? So she'd held off again.

Then she'd heard the gossip; rumors from people in her and Oliver's circles that only further confirmed Bess' suspicions. When her beau had come to her and informed her that he was traveling for a job and would be away for the weekend again--something that had started to become more and more frequent--Bess knew she had to put it to rest. Through his roommate, Albert, (who seemed to be as fed up with the whole ordeal as she was) she discovered Oliver was planning on heading to Lebanon and would be staying at the Golden Lamb. Immediately Bess had begun making secret plans for the journey. She would catch Oliver in the act if it was the last thing she ever did, no matter how painful it was. This bullshit needed to end! Now!

Debbie had insisted on coming with her and, despite her better judgment, Bess had agreed. If everything went how she expected it to, she'd need a good friend. She would pay for everything, of course; no matter what it bit out of her savings, Bess would not allow Debbie to spend a single coin out of her pocket for this man, even if it was in aid to her. Though she may have needed moral support, this was Bess' fight.

"Not yet," Debbie sighed, her dark eyes locked on the entrance to the dining room. She looked away to grab her glass of wine and lift it to her lips. Her gaze shifted back to the door as she sipped and she choked, snorting into her glass.

"He's here?" Bess asked, voice remaining low.

Debbie nodded, still coughing on the wine down her windpipe, eyes watering slightly.

"Is he with someone?"

Again a nod.

"Someone we know?"

"Oooohhhh, yes," Debbie drawled, a significant look on her face.

Intrigued and worried by that answer, Bess carefully turned and peeked over her shoulder to see Oliver standing with the maître d' at his podium. Hanging off his arm in an obviously new and very fancy and rather risque dress was none other than-

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!"

This wasn't how she'd planned it going, nor was it how she wanted it to happen and she knew she'd be mortified and furious with herself later. Causing public scenes was not her thing; Bess was a private person who wanted to stay out of view of everyone and hated drama. But at the moment she couldn't help herself: The wave of humiliation and rage and pain of betrayal that had instantaneously crashed down upon her without warning was so something only Jesus himself could have withstood the maddening force of. Bess quite literally had no choice but to let it carry her. And now she was standing in the fancy hotel dining room, surrounded by dinner-goers who had all fallen dead silent and were staring at her with expressions ranging from curious to repulsed.

Thankfully Bess was so enraged she didn't care. Nor could she really register anybody else but the two fools, now white as sheets still, standing with the bewildered-looking maître d'. "WHAT THE HELL, OLIVER?!" she screeched again.

Oliver had never looked closer to death or more emotional in all the time she'd known him: All of the blood had drained from his face, his gray eyes were saucer-like and filled with disbelief and scandalized horror as he stared across the room at his livid fiancée. "Bess?!" he yelped. Almost instinctively he turned to face the dark-haired woman, pulling the girl on his arm behind him, either to protect her or try and hide her it was unclear. "Wh-What the hell are you doing here?!"

"What the hell am I doing here? What the hell are you doing here with Abigail McClintock?!" Bess' eyes were fixed on the redhead huddled behind her fiancé, peeking out around him with glittering gray-blue eyes and an impish, ruby-red smirk. The bitch--she was enjoying this! Bess could have stormed over and ripped that carrot-colored hair right off her scalp, just as she'd tried to do when they were children. There wouldn't be much of anyone to stop her now. She had at least fifty pounds and a good five inches on Abigail--she would definitely be able to take her and make her sorry for ever showing up here!

"How did you find out where we were gonna be?!" Oliver demanded, sounding and looking angrier and less fearful now. He clenched his fists and stepped more directly into Bess' line of vision, cutting off her eye contact with Abigail and forcing her to look at him. "Are you stalking me? Going through my things?"

Bess rolled her eyes and snorted derisively. "Right, because I have nothing better to do with my time than track your every move! Albert told me. By the way, he's kicking you out of the flat--he's sick of having to cover your half of the rent for the last six months. But you didn't answer my question: What are you doing here with Abigail, Oliver Howard Sprague?"

All at once Oliver looked nervous again. "Uh-um... w-well..." he stammered.

"It's our anniversary," Abigail piped up, her nasal voice mocking and acidic in tone, just like Bess always remembered it being. The girl pushed her way out from behind Oliver and wrapped her arms around his chest, pressing herself right up against his side and making sure to angle herself in just the right way so that her ample breasts were made even more prominent. She smiled sweetly up at the young man in her arms before snapping her head back to Bess, her lips curling wickedly again.

Bess knew what she was looking for: Confirmation that she was hurt, upset, emotional in some way. It was just like they were back in school again, only it was somehow much more humiliating. Or it would have been had it not been for the fact Bess found herself feeling completely dumbstruck and blindsided by the information she'd just been given. "An-Anniversary?" she rasped, her mouth and throat suddenly dry as chalk.

"Yes!" Abigail chirped. "Six years ago we began courting." She smiled back up at Oliver, who actually smiled just as lovingly in turn.

"Excuse me?!" Debbie shrieked incredulously from behind.

Bess had never felt so sick. She would have been sick right there on the fancy carpet if her stomach hadn't plunged so deep that it disappeared. "Six years," she repeated. Her voice sounded alien to her own ears, hollow, distant, scratchy. She and Oliver had been together for four; that meant Abigail and Oliver had been courting an entire two years before he'd ever asked to court Bess. What was worse--Abigail had known! She'd known Bess and Oliver were courting--considered each other sweethearts! They'd gone on dates right under Abigail's nose, sat there while Abigail worked at the same pub and waited on them!

Oh, Lord, no--the pub! Bess' stomach wanted to heave at the very thought of Mack's: Every time she and Oliver had gone out, that's where they'd gone without variation. Abigail had been working every time they'd been there--waited on them every time! "Was that the point?" the question escaped Bess' lips before she'd really even known she's formed it. Her eyes flitted from Abigail to her fiancé. "Was that why we always went to Mack's, Oliver--so you could see her while you were seeing me?" Bess felt her heart clench as another thought occurred to her: "Was it some sort of joke? Huh? You take me to a seedy pub, feed me disgusting, badly cooked food and flat beer, and then take her out to have a laugh about it after you drop me off back home?"

"That was never the intention," Oliver admitted a bit awkwardly. He still looked rather nervous about all this (that was the least of what he should have felt) but it didn't stop him from holding Abigail tight about the waist. That was something he never did to Bess; not even when he hugged her.

"But it's certainly happened from time to time," Abigail piped in again, bitingly, her smirk and gaze growing even more mocking and mean-spirited. "Your first Valentine's Day was particularly funny! Remember, Ollie-Dolly? How she was made up all pretty and thinking she was going to a nice, fancy restaurant and then you took your hands off her eyes and she finds out she's at the pub!" Abigail began laughing. No, not laughing--cackling--like the vilest witch. "Oh, StrawBessy, you should have seen your face!" Abigail daintily wiped her eyes so as to not smudge her makeup. "I've never seen anything so funny!"

Bess felt her face flush burning hot; she was sure she looked like what had earned her that infuriating nickname, but she was much too enraged to be embarrassed by it right now. Her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms; she was snorting air so hot it could have been steam spewing out her nostrils. She wanted to run away screaming, rip somebody (preferably Abigail or Oliver) in two, and collapse to the floor bawling all at the same time. "Well, I'm glad somebody enjoyed that evening," she snarled, her eyes shifting back to Oliver to glare daggers at him. She was just about ready to lunge across the room and strangle the life out of the boy--she didn't care if they hanged her!

A small but firm hand warmly gripped her shoulder. "Okay, hey," Debbie said, trying to smile between the parties. "Why don't we continue this conversation somewhere else? These fine folks didn't pay for dinner and a show, right?" She gave Bess' shoulder a gentle, supportive squeeze.

Bess was not paying attention. "Why?" The word came out more emotional and desperate sounding than she wanted it to, but there was no changing that once it was out in the open. As if taking that as the go-ahead to let loose, tears began pricking at Bess' eyes, making her blink much more than she would to try and control them. Her vision started to swim. "Why do this, Oliver? If you had her and were happy with her, why would you..." her voice faltered with an undeniable quiver. Bess took a deep shuddering breath and swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. "What was the point of... me?"

Oliver and Abigail shared a look again and both smiled softly at each other, Oliver bowing his head to press a kiss to Abigail's perfectly styled hair. "My little goldfish isn't exactly... ideal wife material," he stated, somehow managing to make it sound loving. (Oliver Sprague sounding loving--Bess' head was about to explode.)

"It's true," Abigail lamented with a dramatic sigh. "Unfortunately I'm not very... domestically inclined. Comes from growing up with so many brothers, you know." Smiling up at Oliver again, the girl reached up and pinched his cheek fondly. "Oh, but my pwecious Owwie-Dowwie deserves a wife who can keep his house clean and cook him whatever he likes whenever he likes." She looked back at Bess, glaring down her snubbed nose at Bess despite how much taller Bess was than her. "Even if that wife is you," she grumbled with disgust.

Bess felt like the wind had been socked out of her; a bitter coldness settled over her insides; she was sure her heart completely shattered. It wasn't as though she'd believed Oliver was really in love with her, and over the years had come to suspect that Oliver only wanted to marry her because of her domestic skills. But to have her suspicions confirmed, and from Abigail McClintock, in a crowded dining room no less, was an absolutely sickening blow.

Bess wanted to scream, to curse out both Oliver and Abigail, to throw every insult and offensive word into their faces and tell them both what she really thought of them. She felt idiotic, just standing here in bewildered silence. But she had no voice. She wasn't even sure she remembered how to talk. Before she could stop it, a tear dripped past her eyelids and began to trickle down her cheek.

Thank God for Debbie! She immediately came to Bess' aid. Wrapping a protective arm around her friend's broad shoulders, she pulled her into her side, angling them so that she stood a bit between Bess and the couple--protective, motherly. Debbie glared at the pair. "So what, Oliver?" she spat like his name was the most vile thing she'd ever tasted. "Were you gonna move Abigail in after you married Bess and you two were gonna live like the happily married couple while she was chained to the housework?

"She would've been taken care of," Oliver declared rather defensively.

Debbie arched an eyebrow. "Oh, so you would've been a bigamist?"

Oliver blushed hotly. "No!"

"Ah, so Bess would've just been your glorified maid with no rights or benefits as a wife?"

Oliver was looking very angry now, the veins in his head and neck popping out through his reddened skin. "It's not like she would've been locked in a cell!" he fumed.

"No, just locked to you," Debbie snarled. "And with nothing to show for it."

Abigail rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Please, she wouldn't be able to show anything for it anyway."

Bess, who had fallen into a bit of a stupor, immediately snapped to attention at that declaration. "What the hell does that mean?" she demanded, her voice croaking. She took a step towards the ginger, her intense gaze cemented on her and only her, daring her to come out and say what Bess knew she had to be implying. She both wanted and didn't want to hear it: The idea of anyone else knowing--especially someone like Abigail--would destroy her, Bess was sure. But if Abigail did know, Bess needed to be aware; she couldn't stand the thought of people being privy to her secrets without her knowledge or consent.

A wicked fire gleamed in Abigail's eyes. It seemed, for the first time, she'd come to realize it: the power she held; the ability to hurt Bess, her life-long enemy. A cruel smile pulled at her lips. "I think you know exactly what it means," she replied, tone venomous. She cocked her head and gave the black-haired girl a patronizing look. "Even if you lived as Oliver's wife, you'd never be able to show anything for it, because you can't have children, can you Bess?"

Bess released a slow shuddering breath, the rage beginning to flare back up in her veins. She whirled on Oliver; if looks could kill, he would have dropped dead on the spot. "You told her?" she demanded, her voice deathly quiet. Her fists, which had relaxed a bit, clenched again, harder than ever.

Oliver was smart enough to look frightened and cower away at that. He shrugged, looking baffled. "I-I didn't mean anything by it, Specks," he insisted as if that would make it any better. "I didn't make it like a joke or anything--honest!" He turned his gaze back on Abigail and pulled her closer, nuzzling into her hair. "It's just Goldfish was nervous about what might happen if... things ever happened between us and... you got pregnant. So I told her so she would stop worrying.

"Oh, how noble of you," Debbie growled.

Bess took it a step further. Practically on their own, her feet began moving, and in a few long, swift strides she'd crossed the dining room. Then was winding up her left fist--THWACK!

Oliver stumbled back and fell to the floor with a pained groan. Abigail shrieked and rushed to his side. A chorus of stunned gasps and cries resounded throughout the dining room, and Bess was sure she heard the maître d' drop his posh act and exclaim, "Goddamn!" But she was much too upset to focus on any of it: Her heart ached, with betrayal, tears streamed down her cheeks, and now her knuckles were throbbing too.

"You rat bastard!" Bess bellowed, glowering down at the young man as he clutched at his right eye and cheek while Abigail tried to soothe him. "You turn me into the other woman, humiliate me, and spill one of my darkest secrets to someone who has no business knowing about it?! I've done everything I can to be the best girl and fiancée for you! I've cooked for you! I've cleaned and mended for you! I've done nearly everything that you wanted to do and never complained or forced you to do something I wanted to do--not once! And you're telling me it may all as well have been a lie?! I WASTED FOUR YEARS OF MY LIFE ON YOU, OLIVER SPRAGUE! FOUR YEARS!!! AND FOR WHAT?! YOU BETRAYED ME! YOU HAVE NO RESPECT FOR ME! YOU USED ME!"

All at once Bess was laughing like a mad woman, her hand covering her mouth as tears continued to fall down her face. "And-And you wanna know... you wanna know the really pathetic thing? As angry as I am with you, it's nothing compared to how infuriated I am with myself! Because I wasn't happy with you even without knowing all this, and I knew I wasn't going to be happy! But I stayed with you because I was a pathetic coward so afraid of being alone, I would've taken literally anyone no matter how horrible they were! Or so I thought, because now I realize that I do have a limit for bullshit--so thanks for that I suppose!"

With that, Bess turned her attention to her left hand. Without a second thought, she yanked her engagement ring off her finger. For a moment she held and studied it, getting one last look at the opulent garnets and strange seashells and scallops and oceanic theme that had tormented her for two years. She would not miss it in the slightest. "Honestly, I have half a mind to chuck this godawful thing down the toilet," she stated, sniffling to try and keep her runny nose under control. "But out of respect for it being a family heirloom, I won't." She turned her eyes to Abigail, who was now examining the cut and rather impressive ring-shaped bruise beginning to form on Oliver's cheekbone, and whistled sharply to get her attention. "Here. I'm guessing this is really yours." Bess flicked the ring unceremoniously in the couple's direction; it hit the floor with a sharp ring and bounced and rolled out of sight somewhere in the foyer. Bess couldn't have cared less. "I hope you choke on it." And with that final word, Bess stormed out, Debbie hurrying after her.

Bess flew through the lobby and up the stairs toward their room shoving and blowing past and through people, knocking more than a couple bellhops out of her way. People scowled at her and cussed her out, but she didn't care or even hear them. Tears streamed down her red face, but she wasn't sobbing yet. She couldn't bring herself to let a crowd of strangers see her break down. Go ballistic on her ex, sure; but the humiliation of people watching her cry her eyes out was just a bit more than she could handle in one sitting. Especially since she'd just been royally humiliated by finding out she'd been the other woman for her entire relationship.

"Bess!" Debbie's voice called from behind her. "Bess, wait!"

Bess didn't hear her. Approaching their door, she reached out and--thank the Lord they'd left it unlocked--threw it open and dove into the darkness beyond, slamming the door behind her. The girl threw herself down on the nearest bed, and finally let go of everything she'd been holding back: Burying her face into the duvet, Bess cut loose and wailed. She wailed until her throat hurt and voice cracked. she wailed until her sides felt like they would split; she wailed until her head hurt and rang with her own screams.

She didn't hear Debbie come into the room. She hardly felt it when her friend came and curled up next to her and wrapped her arms comfortingly around her. She heard Debbie's sympathetic words, only because they were right in her ear.

"I'm so sorry, Sweetheart," the swarthy girl murmured sorrowfully. "I'm so, so sorry. He's an idiot, Bess, and she's a class-act bitch! I'm so, so sorry you have to go through this. I'm sorry."

Sniffling, Bess pulled her head from the blankets for a moment. "You... You wanna know... the worst thing?" she hiccuped pathetically. "I-It's not even Oliver I'm heartbroken over--it's the life I thought I was gonna have with him. And I was dreading it!" Then she was sobbing into the mattress again overcome with her own miserable self-pity.

Debbie had nothing to say after that. All she could do was hold her friend as tightly as she could and rock her, trying to offer any sort of comfort. But how did you comfort someone whose world had just been turned upside-down and corkscrewed 'round?

»»————-　❦ ————-««

First thing the next day, Bess and Debbie were on the first coach back to Cincinnati. Thankfully they had it all to themselves, so there was no one else who had to witness the absolute mess Bess was. The girl hadn't slept a wink, and she hadn't bothered to put herself together apart from dressing that morning either. She looked horrible, but she didn't much care; at least her outsides were in unison with her insides.

Riding on opposite sides of the cab, neither girl said anything. Debbie, after having at first asked Bess if she wanted to talk and being given a glum 'no', had her nose in a book. Bess lay across the bench seat she occupied: Very unladylike perhaps, but she couldn't have cared less--it was the best way to avoid looking at the romantic cover of Debbie's book without putting a crick in her neck or looking like she was trying to avoid it. Silently she stared at the roof of the cab, watching the light make intermittent patterns on the wood.

As silent as Bess was outwardly, inside her head and heart was anything but. Her mind was spinning in a million different anxious directions; her heart was caught in the middle of a crashing storm of emotions ranging from depression to confusion. Tears continuously pricked at her eyes; she blinked them away, biting her lip to keep the sobs down. Above everything, one thought kept crashing into the forefront of her mind: What now?

It was mid-morning when the girls arrived home. The minute they entered their apartment, Bess went to her room and locked the door behind her. Not bothering to unpack except to dig out her nightgown, she stripped, got back into her gown, and crawled into bed. She wasn't hungry, despite the fact she hadn't eaten anything but a roll at the hotel last night. She wasn't really sleepy either when it came to it; she was just tired. So tired--with no will to participate in the world. Her bed was the best place to wallow in her misery: And maybe, if she got lucky, she'd manage to fall asleep and perhaps escape her misery for an hour or two.

But of course, with her luck, that didn't happen.

An hour passed. Then two. Then three. It got past noon and Debbie finally came to her door to knock and ask if she needed or wanted anything. What Bess wanted and needed nobody on this Earth could give her: She said 'no'.

Another couple hours. And another. Debbie did not come back to her door. Bess did not rise from bed but once to rush to the bathroom to be sick after having spontaneously burst into an extended and horrid fit of sobs. Immediately afterwards she was back in bed.

It was going on six o'clock when another knock finally came. It wasn't Debbie.

"Mudpuppy?"

Instantly, Bess was scrambling out of bed, her body practically moving of its own accord. In two strides she was across her cramped room and throwing open the door to launch herself into the big, burly arms already waiting to catch her on the other side. The girl was so desperate for a hug--so desperate to be wrapped up in pure, unquestionable love; and she found just that in his embrace.

"George!" she choked out. Wrapping her arms tight as she could around the big man, Bess buried her face, already wet with freshly falling tears, into his barrel chest. Before she could stop herself, she was sobbing again, as hard as she had the night before, if not harder. She instinctively knew she was safe with him; George, the man that had chosen her and loved her as his own, the man who had adopted her and given her his name--her father. With her mother, she never could have been half as open as this, but with George it was different. He was safety, and he was love; he would give her as much as she needed of both for as long as she needed it. She would need it forever.

George closed his muscular arms around her, cradling the young woman close to his heart as possible. He nuzzled into her tangled, ratty hair. "There, there," he gently soothed, voice as soft and tender as butterfly wings against her ear. "I'm here now, Mudpuppy. I'm here--I gotcha. I gotcha." Automatically he began rocking the girl, swaying back and forth on his feet.

"O-Oliver!" Bess gasped out before she knew what she was saying. Her voice was muffled into her father's shirt. "H-He...! A-And Abigail! They're... I wa-wasn't... h-he wasn't... Oliver was going to... he told her... I broke it off... the ring...!" A million and one things were trying to rush out of Bess' mouth at once as she tried to explain, and none of it made sense.

It didn't matter to George--he understood completely. "Shh, I know," he soothed, stroking a large, work-roughened but gentle hand down her trembling back. "I know, Bess. You don't gotta say anythin'--I know. Debbie told me all about it--I know."

"H-He... betrayed m-me, George," Bess squeaked. She clutched at the man, fisting the back of his shirt into her hands, out of anger or a desire to hold him tighter, it was unclear even to her. "Ol-liver be-betrayed me. He d-didn't really wa-want me--he wanted a m-maid and cook. H-He used me, George! He used me!"

George's grip on her tightened protectively, and a savage growl rumbled up from deep in his chest. "The smarmy little rat bastard," he hissed. "He better pray I never see him again: I'll knock his teeth down his throat on sight!"

"You'll have to get in line," Debbie remarked drily. She approached the duo holding steaming mugs in either hand and offered them a small smile. "Here, I made us all some cocoa. Let's sit down and make ourselves comfy."

»»————-　❦ ————-««

"I thought I'd prepared myself to see Oliver walk through that door with someone else," Bess grumbled as she stared glumly into her cocoa, "but I was not ready for that someone else to be Abigail McClintock."

As Debbie had suggested, all three of them were seated in front of the fireplace; George and Bess side by side on the loveseat, his arm draped over the back around her; Debbie perched in the little rocking chair. All three held big mugs of hot chocolate--a perfect drink for this dreary, chilly autumn evening. It was a rather comfy, cozy situation. Or it would have been except for the topic of conversation.

"Yeah, I thought you said she used to bully him in school, too," Debbie remarked. She sipped gingerly at her steaming beverage.

"That girl was a menace to everyone if I remember right," George said. "Even adults. Coddled too much, I say."

"Well, when you're the only girl out of twelve kids, that's bound to happen," Bess sighed. "Abigail always said what she liked and got what she wanted. So I guess if, somewhere along the way, she decided she wanted Oliver, she'd get him too. He always did think she was pretty now that I'm remembering it. I think he might've even had a crush on her."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Why do boys always go for the bitchy ones?" she huffed. "Even when the girl's bitchy to them, they chase after her like a dog chases a stick."

"Hmm. It's the challenge," George stated with a shrug. "And sometimes... it works out." He swigged his cocoa, shooting his stepdaughter a meaningful look out of the corner of his eye.

Bess smiled softly back at him, warmth enveloping her heart for a moment. A man enjoying the challenge of trying to win over a cold woman was exactly the situation that had brought George and her mother together. What George had ever seen or did see in her mother, she'd never know or understand, but in the end, Bess didn't really care because it had gotten her an amazing stepfather. She would have been lost long ago without George.

Silence fell over the room for a long while, the crackling fire, creak of the rocking chair, and occasional, soft slurping of cocoa the only sounds to break it up. All at once, Debbie broke out into a snort of laughter. George and Bess stared at her in some alarm.

"S-Sorry," the dark-skinned girl giggled. "I was just seeing when you punched Oliver in my head again: I've never seen anything so funny or satisfying! Damn, Bess, you're a beast--you cleaned his clock! And you didn't even flinch!"

George chuckled a little smugly. Turning his eyes on his daughter, he smoothed a gentle hand over her crown and brushed some wild strands out of her face. A proud smile curved his lips. "That's my girl," he murmured fondly.

Bess tried to smile back, tried to feel some sort of positive emotion towards the memory, but she couldn't. She just felt sick and depressed all over again. "Yeah, well, I learned from the best," she sighed, leaning her head back against George's arm. "And most of the damage done was thanks to that godawful ring."

"Lord, I hated that thing!" Debbie groaned. "It was such an eyesore on you, Girl--did nothing for you at all. It was like that was the first thing anybody saw and the only thing they looked at on you. I don't know how you could stand to wear it as long as you did--I'd've been taking it off whenever he wasn't around!"

"It certainly wasn't meant for you, Darlin'," George stated. "Took from your beauty rather than added to it. As did the boy himself." The big man was unable to hide the derision in his voice, making his feelings for Oliver Sprague known once again. He'd never liked the boy; ever since Bess had come crying home from school after being teased with the nickname "Specks", George had begrudged Oliver. Anyone that hurt his little Mudpuppy was not a good person.

"Amen to that!" Debbie agreed, raising her mug high in cheers. "You were always at your best when Oliver wasn't around, Sweetheart. I say good riddance!" She gulped at her cocoa almost triumphantly.

"Maybe," Bess rasped quietly as she watched one of the logs start to crumble into embers in the fireplace. "But now what?" She turned her eyes to her friend, tears starting to sting her vision once again. "With Oliver gone, now what? What am I? What am I supposed to do?" There was a soft challenge in her words that left the other girl befuddled.

Sighing heavily, George took Bess' mug from her grasp, leaned forward, and placed both it and his on the coffee table. "Bess," he groaned, sitting back again and holding her gaze with his, "you know as well as I do that boy wasn't the One for you."

"No, he wasn't," Bess agreed, her voice strained. "But..." she stopped and took a deep, shaky breath to try and control the urge to break down again, pulling her gaze from his tender, loving one as she did, "... but I don't think... that there is a One for me, George."

"Bess, don't say that," George gently scolded, giving the girl a hard look. "Of course, there's a One for you."

"Honey, I'm a much harder personality to put up with than you," Debbie added in, "and more high maintenance. If there's a One for me-" she held up her left hand so her engagement ring glittered in the firelight, "-there's absolutely a One for you."

Bess stubbornly shook her head. "Yeah, but you're not..." her voice faltered as a lump suddenly formed in her throat and she looked away, her vision swimming. Screwing her eyes shut, she breathed deeply, slowly, trying to rein herself in again. This time it wasn't working.

"I'm not what, Bess?" Debbie gently prodded.

Bess bit her lip and tilted her eye back as she opened her eyes, thinking, maybe, that would keep the tears from being noticeable and falling. "Damaged goods," she croaked. A sob escaped her before she could stop it and with it, the tears began falling again, so Bess lowered her face and buried it in her hands as she started to cry all over again. She'd never felt so pathetic.

"Bess, don't you dare say that about yourself!" Debbie snapped, lurching forward to the very front of her chair.

George was a bit softer as he wrapped his arm around the young woman again and pulled her into his side to cuddle her. He smiled sadly as Bess instinctually turned and leaned into him, just as she always used to do growing up. Even now, at nearly 23 years old, she was still very much his baby girl.

"Hey," he murmured, giving Bess a gentle squeeze, "what have we talked about, huh? I don't ever want'cha to use those words for yourself. Not out loud, not in your head, not at all, yeah? 'Cuz they're not true, Mudpuppy."

"Yes, they are!"

"No, they're not. And what have I told ya 'bout tellin' lies?"

"But, George-"

"Don't 'but, George' me, Young Lady. "Damaged goods" is a nasty phrase and a wicked lie and that's all it is. Elizabeth Felicity, you look at me right now." George waited until his daughter had pulled her face out of her hands and peeked meekly up at him. The tears cascading down her freckled cheeks and the pain in her eyes made his tender heart break into a million pieces. Oh, Mudpuppy... "Elizabeth," he started sternly, slipping a large, calloused finger under Bess' chin to force her to look at him, "I've said it to ya a thousand times, and I'll keep sayin' it till ya start believin' it: You are strong; you are kind; you are brave; you are smart; and you are so beautiful and special."

Bess' lips quivered. George's words were so wonderful, but they were also so full of bias. He was her dad--why wouldn't he think and say those things about her? The rest of the world certainly did not share the same viewpoint, and that was the one Bess was most inclined to believe: Majority rules after all. "George, please-"

"And I know how hard it is to believe me when I say that, especially when you got everybody else whisperin' all the bad stuff in your ears; but ain't a word of it true, Mudpuppy."

"Not a word," Debbie agreed with an adamant shake of her head.

"Yeah, well, if you guys are right," Bess countered rather bitterly, "you're the only ones who can see any of that stuff, apparently, 'cuz seems like no one else can. So how is that any better? The truth of the matter is, I just broke it off with someone who was going to have me anyway regardless of whether or not he could see how special or pretty or strong or anything I am or am not; and the odds of ever finding something like that again are next to impossible for someone like me!"

Debbie gave her an unimpressed look. "Something like what? A passionless, loveless relationship with someone who wouldn't even hold your hand in public? A marriage to a man who was in love with and would be sleeping with another woman while you did all the work around the house and acted like a glorified maid?"

Bess looked into the fire and grumbled: "It wasn't such a bad prospect until Abigail."

Debbie scoffed. "Bess, it was always a terrible prospect and you know it! You even said yourself last night that the life you thought you were gonna have with Oliver wasn't something you wanted."

"But at least it would have been a life!" Bess snapped, still gazing into the fire. "It would have been something beyond... whatever this is--whatever I'm living now! It would've been something closer to normal--regular! It wouldn't have been walking down the street feeling eyes on me and knowing people are wondering if the rumors are true. It wouldn't have been getting catcalled and leered at and propositioned by disgusting perverts. It wouldn't have been looking in the mirror every day and wondering if I will ever be good enough for someone to marry."

The tears were coming hotter and faster than ever now, making Bess' vision blur-out until she could see nothing but bleary, wavering shadows and orange-red light. Her breath caught sharply in her throat, causing her to stutter-gasp. Self-pity and self-loathing wracked her soul in unison, each emotion making her feel even more of the other until she was swimming in nothing but utter misery. Bess hated herself. She really and truly did; more so than she'd ever be able or willing to admit. And she would have given anything to stop.

"And... you think ya woulda been happy with that?" George asked softly. "Married to a man you didn't love who didn't love you? A man who teased ya until ya cried as a little girl?

Bess held her hands out desperately. "I dunno!" she exclaimed. "Maybe!" But not even that deep down, the girl knew that she wouldn't have been. However much she pretended and tried, no--she would never have been happy with Oliver, with or without the Abigail situation. She would have, at best, been merely surviving.

But how was that any different from what she was doing now?

Sniffling, Bess wiped her wet face on her sleeve and tried to clear her throat. "But it doesn't matter," she sighed, trying to act stoic and logical. "That life was never gonna be real anyway--it doesn't matter."

"Bess, of course, it matters," Debbie gently insisted. "Losing it hurt you."

"No," Bess insisted much more harshly through clenched teeth, "it doesn't. My feelings were based on lies--it doesn't matter if I didn't know or not. That life wasn't real--those plans weren't real--it doesn't matter, Deborah." Another shuddering breath rushed out of her lungs, and Bess quickly covered her face again, breathing deeply once more.

After a moment or two, she'd gained enough control of herself to be comfortable and she sat up straight again, looking determinedly forward. "This entire conversation, it's..." she sniffled. "It's all pointless to talk about. It's not real." Another quiet sob escaped her and her voice sounded heartbreakingly small and hopeless as she continued: "N-Not for me. Let's face it--nobody's ever gonna wanna marry me." Wishing she could disappear, Bess curled up into a small ball, hugging her knees to her chest and burying her face in them as her chest began to swell with more sobs. "Nobody's ever gonna fall in love with me," she squeaked to herself. "I'm not... l-lovable like that. And I'm not worthy of it anyway. I'm... nothing. Just... just nothing."

Without warning, large rough hands were upon her, forcing her out of her protective shell, and Bess found herself being forced to gaze into her father's eyes again while he held her face steady in line with his. The large man was knelt on the floor in front of her but was big enough that they were at the same eye level for once. His face, which was normally friendly and soft, was hard and serious, his usually gentle brown eyes blazing with an intense, almost angry fire that frightened Bess with its unfamiliarity. His hands, while they didn't hurt were gripping her much more tightly than was customary with them; Bess could only ever remember his grip being this tight when he held her in moments of absolute desperation or relief.

"Now, you listen here, Girl, and you listen up real good!" George practically snarled. He sounded savage, but in the same breath sounded sad too. His eyes shone with a thin line of unshed tears. "You are not nothin'--you are everythin'. Ya hear? You are everythin', Bess Sullivan."

Bess could not look away from her adopted father's eyes; his gaze held her completely captive. Again his words reached deep and tried to touch her soul and soothe the throbbing ache that pained it. She wanted to let it. She wanted to believe it with all her being, but something refused to let her. What that something was, she wasn't sure, but it wouldn't budge out of the way, no matter how much she willed it.

"You are such a special woman, Mudpuppy," George continued. "So amazing and gorgeous in every possible way. And you are gonna make some man incredibly happy someday."

Bess was compelled to shake her head, her chin and lips quivering. "Nobody could ever be happy with me!" she sobbed.

George shook his head right back. "You're wrong. That's them jackasses talkin' 'bout'cha again, Bess. I guarantee ya, you're gonna make some special man feel like the luckiest fella in the world. He's gonna come along and fall so head-over-heels in love with ya, he ain't gonna know which way's up. And he's gonna spoil ya with so much love and affection, you're gonna forget every bad thing anyone's ever said or done to ya." The tears in George's eyes were dripping down his cheeks now and into his thick beard. "Mark my words, Mudpuppy, your One's somewhere out there, waitin' for ya--I can feel it in my bones!" His hands fell to her shoulders and squeezed them tightly, reassuringly. "I know ya don't believe me," he murmured. "I know it hurts too much to hope. So let me be the one to hope for it. I can keep enough faith going for the both of us."

Whatever dams Bess had been able to hold up on her emotions came crumbling down at that. "Oh, George!" Waterworks unleashed, Bess threw herself into her father's arms and buried her face into his neck. She wailed harder than she had the night before. Harder than she had when her favorite horse had had to be put down from colic. Harder than she could remember having cried in years. She felt she would die this way. She would be fine with that; anything would be better than feeling like this--like her chest was about to explode from the pain of a broken heart.

George held her tight, rocking her just like he had so many times when she was little. Just like he'd done not so much earlier this evening. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay, Bess, you cry. You just have a good cry, yeah? That's what ya need right now. I gotcha, Baby Girl--I gotcha." He stroked his fingers through her messy hair before cradling the back of her head like a babe's.

Tears pricking at her eyes, Debbie quietly got up and retreated from the room to give the pair some privacy. Bess didn't need her sassiness or blunt remarks right now.

"It hurts!" Bess bawled into George's shoulder.

The man gripped her tighter as if he could squeeze out the ache that plagued the girl. "I know, Mudpuppy," he crooned. He kissed her hair.

"It hurts so much, George!"

"I know."

"I wish I was dead--I wanna die!"

"I know ya feel that way right now, and that's okay. Just as long as you remember that ya can and will get through it. You got so much left to live for, Bess. And I promise ya it'll all be worth it."

"S-Some... where... ou-out th-there, yeah?"

"Exactly, Mudpuppy: Somewhere out there."

For a second, despite her better judgment, Bess almost felt she could almost believe him.

(Look, Bess--see? See? Your future hubby's just being a goofy gooferson and hiding!🤗 It's okay! Don't cry!)

(I love this scene--it makes me snicker like an idiot every time.)

Taglist: @rom-e-o @oldmanlusting @the-house-of-auditore-frye @christmasgaybusinessmen @crimson-phantom-designs @purgratoriat @witchypandamonium @girlbosseveyhammond @neonshoe @orangewierdo @crowwritesthings @beascrooge

10 notes · View notes

brookston · 9 months

Text

Holidays 7.29

Holidays

Armed Forces Day (Peru)

Americans For Prosperity National Day of Action

Army Chaplin Corps Day

Chincoteague Pony Round Up (Chincoteague & Assateague Islands, Virginia)

Constitution Day (Moldova)

Don’t Be A Dick Day

Emancipation Day (Bermuda)

Festival of the Polymorphously Perverse

Fiery Night Festival (Elder Scrolls)

Four Tops Day (Michigan)

International Butler Day

International Tiger Day (UN)

Life Stories Day (UK)

Mary Prince Day (Bermuda; 2nd Day of Cup Match)

Mohun Bagan Day (India)

NASA Day

National Anthem Day (Romania)

National Challenged Champions and Heroes Awareness Day

National Harold Day

National Lipstick Day

National Thai Language Day

Ólavsøkudagur (a.k.a. Ólavsøka; Faroe Islands)

Oslok (a.k.a. St. Olaf's Day; Norway)

Pardon of the Birds Day (Quimperle, Brittany, France)

Photograph Your Children When They’re Not Looking Day

Rain Day (Waynesburg, Pennsylvania)

Special Operations Forces Day (Ukraine)

Territory Day (Wallis and Fortuna)

Switchgrass Day (French Republic)

World Oral Rehydration Salts Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Cheese Sacrifice Purchase Day

Chicken Wings Day (Buffalo, NY)

Gnocchi Day (Argentina)

National Chicken Wing Day

National Lasagna Day

5th & Last Saturday in July

Day of Lament [Last Saturday]

International Decora Day [Last Saturday]

Kulmbach Beer Week begins (Germany) [Last Saturday]

National Dance Day [Last Saturday]

National Drowning Prevention Day (Canada) [Last Saturday]

National Self Storage Day [Last Saturday]

National Water Gun Fight Day [Last Saturday]

Paddle for Perthes Disease Awareness Day [Last Saturday]

Pierce County Trails Day [Last Saturday]

Procession of the Witches (Beselare, Belgium) [Last Sunday, Every Other Year; Uneven]

Ukrainian Canadian Heritage Day (Manitoba) [Last Saturday]

Independence Days

Peru (from Spain, 1821) [observed]

Wendatia (Declared; 2020) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Ashura (Islamic) [Began at Sundown Last Night; 10th Day of Muharram] (a.k.a. ...

Achoura (Algeria)

Ashorra (Parts of India)

Ashoura (Lebanon)

Ashura Holiday (Afghanistan, Bahrain, Iraq, Pakistan, Somalia)

Muharram (Parts of India)

Remembrance of Muharram

Tamkharit (Senegal)

Tamxarit (Gambia)

Tasoua Hosseini (Iran)

Tasu’a

Yaum-e-Ashur (Pakistan)

Yawmul Ashura (Gambia)

Birthday of Set (Ancient Egypt)

The Bookworms (Muppetism)

Brigham Young Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Dave Stevens Day (Humanism)

Eastman Johnson (Artology)

International Beer Day (Pastafarian)

Lazarus of Bethany (Christian; Saint)

Lupus of Troyes (Christian; Saint)

Martha of Bethany (Catholic, Anglican, and Lutheran Church) [Innkeepers]

Mary of Bethany (Christian; Saint)

Olaus, King of Sweden (Christian; Saint)

Olaf II, King of Norway (Christian; Saint)

Raphael (Positivist; Saint)

Simplicius, Faustinus and Beatrix (Christian; Sibling Martyrs)

Stikklestad (Honoring Asatru Martyrs)

Susanoo’s Day (Pagan)

Thor’s Day (Norse)

William of Brittany (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Taian (大安 Japan) [Lucky all day.]

Premieres

Aristocrats (Documentary Film; 2005)

Attack the Block (Film; 2011)

(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes, by Elvis Costello (Song; 1977)

Bad Moms (Film; 2016)

Barcelona (Film; 1994)

Bosko’s Mechanical Man (WB LT Cartoon; 1933)

Cocktail (Film; 1988)

Compressed Hare (WB MM Cartoon; 1961)

Cowboys & Aliens (Film; 2011)

DC League of Super-Pets (Animated Film; 2022)

Enter Sandman, by Metallica (Song; 1991)

The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien (Novel; 1954) [Book 1 of The Lord of the Rings trilogy]

The Fox Hunt (Disney Cartoon; 1938)

Help! (Film; 1965)

Jason Bourne (Film; 2016)

Kiki’s Delivery Service (Studio Ghibli Animated Film; 1989)

Krull (Film; 1983)

Little Red Riding Hood (Disney Cartoon; 1922) [1st Disney Short]

Lt. Robinson Crusoe USN (Film; 1966)

The Mask (Film; 1994)

Must Love Dogs (Film; 2005)

National Lampoon’s Vacation (Film; 1983)

The Negotiator (Film; 1998)

Old King Cole (Disney Cartoon; 1933)

Private School (Film; 1983)

Renaissance, by Beyoncé (Album; 2022)

The Shindig (Disney Cartoon; 1930)

The Smurfs (Animated Film; 2011)

Snowman’s Land (WB MM Cartoon; 1939)

Stardust (Film; 2007)

The Trumpet Artistry of Chet Baker, by Chet Baker (Album; 1954)

Whenever I Call You Friend, by Kenny Loggins and Stevie Nicks (Song; 1978)

Today’s Name Days

Landislaus, Martha, Lucilla, Olaf (Austria)

Kalin (Bulgaria)

Flora, Lazar, Marta, Urban, Vilim (Croatia)

Marta (Czech Republic)

Oluf (Denmark)

Olaf, Olav, Olavi, Olev (Estonia)

Olavi, Olli, Oula, Uolevi, Uoti (Finland)

Beatrix, Loup, Marthe (France)

Olaf (Germany)

Kallinikos (Greece)

Flóra, Márta (Hungary)

Marta (Italy)

Dzilis, Edmunds, Edzus, Vidmants (Latvia)

Beatričė, Mantvydas, Mantvydė, Morta (Lithuania)

Ola, Olav, Ole (Norway)

Beatrice, Beatrycze, Beatryks, Cierpisław, Faustyn, Konstantyn, Lucylla, Maria, Marta, Olaf, Serafina, Urban (Poland)

Alevtina, Valentina (Russia)

Marta (Slovakia)

Beatriz, Marta (Spain)

Olof (Sweden)

Seraphim, Seraphina (Ukraine)

Bea, Beatrice, Beatriz, Beattie, Marta, Martha, Olaf, Olav, Serafina, Trixie (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 210 of 2024; 155 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 6 of week 30 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Tinne (Holly) [Day 20 of 28]

Chinese: Month 6 (Ji-Wei), Day 12 (Wu-Zi)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 11 Av 5783

Islamic: 11 Muharram 1445

J Cal: 30 Lux; Ninthday [30 of 30]

Julian: 16 July 2023

Moon: 87%: Waxing Gibbous

Positivist: 14 Dante (8th Month) [Raphael]

Runic Half Month: Thorn (Defense) [Day 1 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 39 of 94)

Zodiac: Leo (Day 8 of 31)

Calendar Changes

Thorn (Defense) [Half-Month 14 of 24; Runic Half-Months] (thru 8.10)

#calendar #Holidays

0 notes

brookstonalmanac · 9 months

Text

Holidays 7.29

Holidays

Armed Forces Day (Peru)

Americans For Prosperity National Day of Action

Army Chaplin Corps Day

Chincoteague Pony Round Up (Chincoteague & Assateague Islands, Virginia)

Constitution Day (Moldova)

Don’t Be A Dick Day

Emancipation Day (Bermuda)

Festival of the Polymorphously Perverse

Fiery Night Festival (Elder Scrolls)

Four Tops Day (Michigan)

International Butler Day

International Tiger Day (UN)

Kaljakellunta 2023 (Beer Floating Festival, near Helsinki, Finland) [Weekend varies]

Life Stories Day (UK)

Mary Prince Day (Bermuda; 2nd Day of Cup Match)

Mohun Bagan Day (India)

NASA Day

National Anthem Day (Romania)

National Challenged Champions and Heroes Awareness Day

National Harold Day

National Lipstick Day

National Thai Language Day

Ólavsøkudagur (a.k.a. Ólavsøka; Faroe Islands)

Oslok (a.k.a. St. Olaf's Day; Norway)

Pardon of the Birds Day (Quimperle, Brittany, France)

Photograph Your Children When They’re Not Looking Day

Rain Day (Waynesburg, Pennsylvania)

Special Operations Forces Day (Ukraine)

Territory Day (Wallis and Fortuna)

Switchgrass Day (French Republic)

World Oral Rehydration Salts Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Cheese Sacrifice Purchase Day

Chicken Wings Day (Buffalo, NY)

Gnocchi Day (Argentina)

National Chicken Wing Day

National Lasagna Day

5th & Last Saturday in July

Day of Lament [Last Saturday]

International Decora Day [Last Saturday]

Kulmbach Beer Week begins (Germany) [Last Saturday]

National Dance Day [Last Saturday]

National Drowning Prevention Day (Canada) [Last Saturday]

National Self Storage Day [Last Saturday]

National Water Gun Fight Day [Last Saturday]

Paddle for Perthes Disease Awareness Day [Last Saturday]

Pierce County Trails Day [Last Saturday]

Procession of the Witches (Beselare, Belgium) [Last Sunday, Every Other Year; Uneven]

Ukrainian Canadian Heritage Day (Manitoba) [Last Saturday]

Independence Days

Peru (from Spain, 1821) [observed]

Wendatia (Declared; 2020) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Ashura (Islamic) [Began at Sundown Last Night; 10th Day of Muharram] (a.k.a. ...

Achoura (Algeria)

Ashorra (Parts of India)

Ashoura (Lebanon)

Ashura Holiday (Afghanistan, Bahrain, Iraq, Pakistan, Somalia)

Muharram (Parts of India)

Remembrance of Muharram

Tamkharit (Senegal)

Tamxarit (Gambia)

Tasoua Hosseini (Iran)

Tasu’a

Yaum-e-Ashur (Pakistan)

Yawmul Ashura (Gambia)

Birthday of Set (Ancient Egypt)

The Bookworms (Muppetism)

Brigham Young Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Dave Stevens Day (Humanism)

Eastman Johnson (Artology)

International Beer Day (Pastafarian)

Lazarus of Bethany (Christian; Saint)

Lupus of Troyes (Christian; Saint)

Martha of Bethany (Catholic, Anglican, and Lutheran Church) [Innkeepers]

Mary of Bethany (Christian; Saint)

Olaus, King of Sweden (Christian; Saint)

Olaf II, King of Norway (Christian; Saint)

Raphael (Positivist; Saint)

Simplicius, Faustinus and Beatrix (Christian; Sibling Martyrs)

Stikklestad (Honoring Asatru Martyrs)

Susanoo’s Day (Pagan)

Thor’s Day (Norse)

William of Brittany (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Taian (大安 Japan) [Lucky all day.]

Premieres

Aristocrats (Documentary Film; 2005)

Attack the Block (Film; 2011)

(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes, by Elvis Costello (Song; 1977)

Bad Moms (Film; 2016)

Barcelona (Film; 1994)

Bosko’s Mechanical Man (WB LT Cartoon; 1933)

Cocktail (Film; 1988)

Compressed Hare (WB MM Cartoon; 1961)

Cowboys & Aliens (Film; 2011)

DC League of Super-Pets (Animated Film; 2022)

Enter Sandman, by Metallica (Song; 1991)

The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien (Novel; 1954) [Book 1 of The Lord of the Rings trilogy]

The Fox Hunt (Disney Cartoon; 1938)

Help! (Film; 1965)

Jason Bourne (Film; 2016)

Kiki’s Delivery Service (Studio Ghibli Animated Film; 1989)

Krull (Film; 1983)

Little Red Riding Hood (Disney Cartoon; 1922) [1st Disney Short]

Lt. Robinson Crusoe USN (Film; 1966)

The Mask (Film; 1994)

Must Love Dogs (Film; 2005)

National Lampoon’s Vacation (Film; 1983)

The Negotiator (Film; 1998)

Old King Cole (Disney Cartoon; 1933)

Private School (Film; 1983)

Renaissance, by Beyoncé (Album; 2022)

The Shindig (Disney Cartoon; 1930)

The Smurfs (Animated Film; 2011)

Snowman’s Land (WB MM Cartoon; 1939)

Stardust (Film; 2007)

The Trumpet Artistry of Chet Baker, by Chet Baker (Album; 1954)

Whenever I Call You Friend, by Kenny Loggins and Stevie Nicks (Song; 1978)

Today’s Name Days

Landislaus, Martha, Lucilla, Olaf (Austria)

Kalin (Bulgaria)

Flora, Lazar, Marta, Urban, Vilim (Croatia)

Marta (Czech Republic)

Oluf (Denmark)

Olaf, Olav, Olavi, Olev (Estonia)

Olavi, Olli, Oula, Uolevi, Uoti (Finland)

Beatrix, Loup, Marthe (France)

Olaf (Germany)

Kallinikos (Greece)

Flóra, Márta (Hungary)

Marta (Italy)

Dzilis, Edmunds, Edzus, Vidmants (Latvia)

Beatričė, Mantvydas, Mantvydė, Morta (Lithuania)

Ola, Olav, Ole (Norway)

Beatrice, Beatrycze, Beatryks, Cierpisław, Faustyn, Konstantyn, Lucylla, Maria, Marta, Olaf, Serafina, Urban (Poland)

Alevtina, Valentina (Russia)

Marta (Slovakia)

Beatriz, Marta (Spain)

Olof (Sweden)

Seraphim, Seraphina (Ukraine)

Bea, Beatrice, Beatriz, Beattie, Marta, Martha, Olaf, Olav, Serafina, Trixie (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 210 of 2024; 155 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 6 of week 30 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Tinne (Holly) [Day 20 of 28]

Chinese: Month 6 (Ji-Wei), Day 12 (Wu-Zi)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 11 Av 5783

Islamic: 11 Muharram 1445

J Cal: 30 Lux; Ninthday [30 of 30]

Julian: 16 July 2023

Moon: 87%: Waxing Gibbous

Positivist: 14 Dante (8th Month) [Raphael]

Runic Half Month: Thorn (Defense) [Day 1 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 39 of 94)

Zodiac: Leo (Day 8 of 31)

Calendar Changes

Thorn (Defense) [Half-Month 14 of 24; Runic Half-Months] (thru 8.10)

#Holidays

1 note · View note

butchdyketoy · 2 years

Text

i’m gonna be honest i LOVE being a pierced and tatted goth femme. i wear tall chunky platforms and have a love affair with spikes; the metal in my face is one of my favourite things about myself. i go through eyeliner so fast it’s almost concerning and you’ll never catch me outside the house without lashes. i love glittery highlighter and contrasting nose contour, 99% of my closet is black. i love the aesthetic of victorian style vampires and when i can afford it, my claws are done, always dark red and black, always stiletto. i have an affliction for the cure and lebanon hanover. i’m dramatic and extra and love to look like a video game character. i love small punk concerts, mosh pits, dark maroon lipstick, and dangly chains and earrings. i love being a pierced and tatted goth femme.

1 note · View note

menalovers · 6 years

Text

My honest opinion on No Lipstick in Lebanon

This review may offend some people, but I honestly don’t care. I post to keep things real and give my honest opinion NOT to lie. Before I get into some details about the book, I just want to say that whats happening to African and Asian maids in Lebanon and around the Arab world is truly a form of modern day slavery. This is a stain on the Middle East, especially in a country like Lebanon which upon first impressions seems more Western and open than even many European nations. In 2008, Human Rights Watch estimated that an average of one maid a week died in Lebanon. Considering this statistic and after reading this book which brought me back in time to my days in Lebanon, I now see its beyond hypocritical when Arabs and Arab Americans complain about racism, xenophobia or Islamophobia in the West. They need to look in the mirror and examine their own actions before they attack Westerners for racism because they themselves are beyond racist in their own countries and treat immigrants terribly.

Background info aside, No Lipstick in Lebanon was the first book I could not put down in a long time and surely one of the best I have ever read. I highly recommend it to anybody who is interested in the MENA region and/or learning more about the culture. The book centered around a 16-year-old Ethiopian maid named Meron who was terribly abused by her host family. The book also takes place during very politically charged times in Lebanon; the assassination of Rafic Hariri and later the 2006 war when Israel entered Lebanon.

Faith also played a central role in this book, as Meron found solace in a picture of Mary and the baby Jesus, which made this book a perfect read for Christmas time. Also, reading Meron’s account of the madam of the house ripping off her scapular and mocking her Christian faith really reminded me of many of the Sunni families in Tripoli who always seemed to treat the Christian maids even worse than the Muslim maids. I honestly noticed so much hate not only based on race, but also on account of religion and reading this book made me think back to these times. Still, I do not want to generalize because I also remember some older Muslim men who treated maids of all religions with respect. Likewise, the character of Abdul in this book who is the elderly husband of the evil madam befriends Meron as does the older Muslim lady living in an apartment below.

I pray and hope this book will reach many Lebanese and inspire them to be champions for the rights of maids. The kefala system has many flaws. In the future, I would like to see unions for domestic workers in the Middle East and more safe houses. I also hope and am confident Michel Aoun will be the man to change things. Many positive changes have already happened during his presidency including the first animal welfare bill and the repeal of article 522 which allowed rapists to escape prosecution if they married their victims.

#Lebanon #no lipstick in Lebanon #review #book

3 notes · View notes

farizak · 4 years

Video

shade beauty @shadembeauty ❤️ models by @fariz_talent_agent ❤️ #shade #beauty #makeup #beautiful #fashion #fashionblogger #lebanon #beirut #beirutlebanon #modeling #modelingagency #arabic #lipstick #lipstick💄 #photography #casting #saudiarabia #saudi #qatar #dubai (at New York, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9g3Hbkpk1I/?igshid=glfd45kf1pcf

2 notes · View notes

drcharbelmedawarplasticsurgery · 2 months

Text

Facial Beautification by Dr Charbel Medawar at Style Beauty Clinic, Beirut Lebanon

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Dr Charbel Medawar Style Beauty Clinic (@charbelmedawar_md)

instagram

Golden Touch Beauty ⚜️

Contact Information:

+961 70 610469

Stylebeautyclinic.com

1 note · View note

rebeccanakhle · 6 years

Photo

Showing my #lips of the day for Funky Lips Monday, Burgundy and White Polka Dots Lips #rebeccanakhle #hudabeauty #zukreat #vegas_nay #auroramakeup #amrezy #glamrezy #batalash #mayamiamakeup #motivescosmetics #morphe #universalhairandmakeup #mua_world #makeupartistsworldwide #dressyourface #anastasiabeverlyhills #lookamillion #mua #makeupartist #lipstick #powerofmakeup #lipsoftheday #funky #jbeil #byblos #lebanon #turkey #istanbul #أحمر_الشفاه

1 note · View note

daydreamingintheimpalax · 3 years

Text

Unexpected

Prompt: “what happened to your clothes?” “I think i’m falling in love with you.” “I think ive always known, deep down, i think i’ve always loved you.”

Dean x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, somewhat detailed sex scene, iunno not much really.

A/N: Sorry it’s so long, i had this idea and thought it’d be a fun read. Enjoy :)

Dean sat on your bed, mindlessly watching and waiting as you hid in your closet, dress after dress, skirt after skirt flying out, one almost hitting him in the face. He caught it mid air before tossing it down next to him.

“I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up, its just a few drinks at the bar, Max already knows you, you dont need to impress him, he already likes you.” Dean spoke, watching as you popped out from your closet, three different shirts in your hands.

Dean was your best friend, you had met him and Sam as a child, your fathers had been hunting partners for a few years, always leaving you and the boys at bobby’s to cause trouble for the old man. You could still hear bobby’s voice sometimes, demanding Dean stop influencing you with his schemes.

His buddy Max had run into him at the bar last week while you guys had stopped in during a hunt and they had caught up for hours, you had connected with Max off the bat, and when he’d asked you out, you were skeptical, see deep down you always knew Dean was your guy, your never ending crush on him had turned into deeper feelings years ago, you tried to deny it for years, and definitely never told him, but when Dean had convinced you to give it a shot, go out on ONE date with a guy he knew and liked, you gave in, never being able to say no to him, i mean, to be fair you hadn’t been with a man in over 2 years and you could use a night out, maybe even some quality time in bed with a good looking guy, plus, Dean trusted him, and that was enough.

“Dean, i haven’t been out with a guy in 2 years, i’m not going out with a guy looking like a swamp monster, first dates are everything, and looking your best can make or break the date.” You huffed, holding out a shirt to him for an opinion, he shook his head, grimacing.

“First, you never look like a swamp monster, you’re stunning no matter what, you hardly have to work at that, secondly, that’s an old ratty tshirt you stole from me, really?” He pointed at it, now realizing he was right, why the hell you were even suggesting this. It was time to pull out the big guns. You sighed, hiding back into your closet, you had to have something date worthy.

Dean had popped away, grabbing himself a beer, giving himself a break from outfit advice. You were his best friend and he wanted nothing more than to see you happy, even if it meant trusting Max to take you out on a date. It was one date, it’s not like he was stealing you away forever. He had always had a soft spot for you, you were his first kiss as a kid and he’d looked out for you ever since, and even though he trusted Max, seeing you get all worked up over a guy that wasn’t him still didn’t settle well with him, but he shoved his feelings down and tried to be as supportive as he could.

He walked back into your room, realizing you were finally working on your makeup, you were slightly bent over your bathroom sink, reaching closer to the mirror as you did your eyeliner, truth be told, he loved when you did that black wing thing, it enhanced your big E/C eyes and drove him nuts everytime. He looked you over, realizing what you finally had chosen to put on, a shorter than he’d like black leather mini skirt, a matching leather shirt thing that looked similar to a bra more than anything. He cleared his throat.

“What happened to your clothes?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You finish your eyeliner before walking past him, fetching lipstick out of your little makeup bag before making your way back to your bathroom, “What do you mean? Theyre fine.” You spoke, applying your lipstick as he piped up.

“I mean like, where’s the rest of it?” he sassed and you rolled your eyes as you walked back into the room. “It’s not that bad is it? It’s literally all i can find that isn’t covered in holes, old blood or stained monster guts.” You looked down at yourself, smoothing out your skirt. Dean cleared his throat as he eyed you properly, trying hard to calm his way out of a boner.

“Uh, no, no i’m just teasing, you look incredible.” He smiled, nodding, you shoot him a innocent smile, “Better, Winchester. Much better, right answer.” You shoot him a small wink and he chuckles. He had come a long way on talking to women because of her, she helped him realize as a teenager and a young man that he didn’t need to be vulgar or gross to pick up women and he’d learned a long time ago thanks to her that chivarly was key.

He watched as she put on her coat, Max waiting by the door to take her out, she gave him a little wave as she told him not to wait up, she’d be fine.

“Be safe, have fun.” He smiled as she walked out the door, his internal groan coming out of his mouth and he kicked himself for being too scared to ever make a move himself. He’d liked her since they were teenagers, but he was too stubborn to do anything, his fathers voice telling him hunter relationships never worked.

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

The night had been a blast so far, you and Max were having a great time chatting, dancing and enjoying each others company at the bar, he was sweet, nice and had a good view on life and hunting. He told you entertaning stories, some even involved moments he and Dean shared as young teenagers hunting together, being boys and trying to get girls, Max pranking Dean. They had a good friendship and you were happy Dean had someone besides you and Sam he could pal around with.

You had moved to his truck a while ago, the mix of alcohol and pure need affecting you both as you made out like teenagers, the windows began steaming up, it was an unusually warm evening in lebanon and you were thankful you wore this outfit or would have soaked right through it from the heat.

His hand moved freely on your thigh and you straddled him, his back against the backseat of his pick up with you on his lap, dry humping him like some silly teenage girl who hadn’t had sex yet, you made the first move, desperate to feel a mans touch, it had been so long.

You yank your top off, nothing but some nipple covers to cover your exposed breasts, Max lets out a soft moan, “Beautiful,” he mumbles while he kisses softly around your skin, he slowly peels off the covers off you and his mouth lands on your nipple and you let out a louder Moan than you want to but it doesn’t seem to bother him.

Before you know it, your both down to nothing but your underwear, you reach down and pull down his boxers, reaching a hand in and grabbing him and placing him at your entrance, you’re already so turned on you don’t need foreplay tonight, not when you’re this sexually frustrated.

You sink down on him slowly, and you both moan out, yours comes out as more of a shout, and you begin to move, slowly at first before changing into a soft but faster bounce, he’s making sounds, you know that for fact but you’re so distracted by the feeling of pure pleasure you haven’t felt in so long you aren’t even fully aware of what’s happening, you let out a shout, and before you know what’s happening, it all suddenly just stops.

You come back to reality and notice Max has pushed you off, he’s pulling his pants back on and avoiding your eye. Oh for fuck sakes, you haven’t even came close to your release and Dean set you up with a 2 minute one pump chump. You were going to kick his ass.

“What’s wrong? are you done already?” you ask, his looks at you, letting out an exasperated huff before licking his lips and shaking his head. “I’m sorry Y/n, i don’t think this is going to work out, besides, you shouldn’t really sleep with a guy if you’re not going to rememember his name.” He scolds, glaring at you before he shoves his shirt on and climbs out the back, you put your skirt and shirt back on, deciding to skip the panties all together.

“Hey! I do remember your name, it’s Max, i’m not stupid!” You yell at him, angry now that he would even suggest that. Max turns to you, glaring, “Oh yeah, then next time maybe you should try screaming my name out and not Dean’s, jesus christ y/n, if you want him that bad just go fuck him, i doubt he’ll say no!” He shouts and you stand frozen.

“What? Dean?, i didn’t...I don’t-” you stutter, he cuts you off. “It’s kind of obvious y/n, you screamed his name for a reason, you obviously have lingering feelings for him, and im not going to be your pitty fuck.” He sighs, he ushers you into the passenger seat, offering to drive you home in what is the most uncomfortabe, quiet, embrassing drive home ever.

You slam the bunker door closed, worst date ever. You make your way past Dean and Sam in the library as you try your hardest to avoid them, especially Dean, you were embarassed enough, you didn’t need to face him right now, and you sure as hell hoped Max kept his mouth shut about it too.

“Y/N? That you? “ You hear Dean call out but you avoid answering, flying past them to your room before slamming the door shut.

Dean’s eyebrows furrow.

“I guess the date didn’t go well then.” Sam speaks out, looking over at Dean. He shrugs, before getting up and walking towards your room

He knocks on the door softly, “Y/n, you okay? did Max do something cause if he did i’ll beat the living crap outta him.” He calls out, he can hear your sniffle, he sighs, before softly opening your door. You’re cuddled up in bed, watching your favorite episode of golden girls as you cry softly. He sighs and heads over, sitting on your bed.

“Bad date?” He asks and you shrug, “Something like that.” He gives you a soft smile. “Want to talk about it?” He asks and you shake your head. “No, i just wanna forget it.” You speak, he notices you never meet his eye. He nods and agrees to leave it alone, he joins you quietly, watching tv with you but giving you your space. When you finally fall asleep, he goes to bed himself, but not before shooting Max a text.

“Whatever the fuck you did man, she’s upset, and if i find out you hurt her, i’ll kill you.”

---------

It’s two weeks later when things finally come out, you haven’t spoken to Max since that night of your date. The bar is busier than usual, a few more college kids then there usually is but it is spring break, most of them are probably home for the much needed time away from school work.

Dean is at the pool tables, hussling some airhead jock out of pool money. You watch and laugh when he heads over to you, cash in hand.

“Ha ha, stupid brainless jocks. Always so much fun seeing how much of daddy’s money i can get out of them.” He chuckles, setting the money back in his pocket. You roll your eyes but smile. Why did you put up with this dork.

Before you know it, someone is calling out for Dean. “Yo, Dean!” You both turn to spot Max, waving Dean over for a game. You swallow, nervous that the details of your date will come out, you still weren’t fully over it, and you dreaded Dean ever finding out, he’d never let you live it down and he really didn’t need a bigger ego. Luckily Max hadn’t noticed you yet.

Dean motions he’ll play one round and be right back and you try to give him a smile, dreading this inside. Just don’t ask him about the date, you interally tell him, even though he’s long gone and can’t hear it.

You sip your drink, asking for another one and you try to keep your cool at those two being in the same room all of a sudden.

-----------

One game had turned into 4 and before you knew it, the two guys had captured a crowd, some betting on Max and some on Dean. It was becoming a friendly competition between the two boys.

“Aw come on Max, don’t be a sore loser, i’m sure you can come back from that.” Dean teases, watching as Max lines up his next shot.

“Easy for you to say Winchester, tell me, do you ever get sick of being a pompous prick?” Max winks at him and Dean smiles, “Eh, Sometimes, but then i remember how fun it is to watch you lose and its all worth it.” Dean chuckles, Max suddenly isn’t in a joking mood and he shoots, it goes in, he gets a few more and Dean’s actually surprised.

“Not bad, man. You’re getting better.” Dean smirks, “Still no match for me though, i always win.” Dean leans in, takes a shot and gets his last three balls in, He lines up with the 8 ball, looks up at Max, and smirks, then his eyes find you, sitting behind Max a few tables down and he shoots you a wink, before sinking in his ball. Game over.

Max turns around, realizing who Dean winked at, he turns back around, slamming his pool stick down. “Good game, I’m done, guess you won Dean, you got the money, and the one girl i’ve liked in a really long time, guess you always do win, huh?” He spits out, a bitter tinge to his voice. He scoffs and walks away.

Dean’s suddenly confused, what the hell was he talking about. He looks over at you, you’re watching the television over the bar, no clue what had just happened, he follows Max outside catching him before he reaches his truck.

“Hey! I didn’t get anything, if this is about y/n, you screwed that up on your own, okay? I had nothing to do with that!” Dean shouts. Max laughs and turns to face him. “Oh bullshit Dee, you have everything to do with it!” He sneers, “I really liked her man, she was cool, but like always, Dean Winchester always gets the girl!” He scoffs, making Dean frown, confused.

“Y/n isn’t mine! she’s my friend, whatever you did to piss her off on your date was your problem, she didn’t tell me what you did but if you wanted her that bad, you had the chance to fix it!”

“REALLY DEE? Tell me, how the fuck would you fix the girl you like screaming your best friends name in bed when shes with you? Huh? How the fuck do i fix her thinkng about you while she’s fucking me?” He swallows, “Man, forget it, you wouldn’t understand, god forbid that ever happened to you.” He spits, before he’s in his truck, driving away. Dean’s still standing there, more confused than ever.

He finally makes it back inside, his eyes roaming around for you. He finds you in the same spot, the female bar tender chatting with you and making you laugh. Your eyes find him, beckoning him over and he moves.

He finally reaches you and you smile, “I got you another beer. How did the game go? You disappeared.” You ask, and he stares at you, he finally pipes up, and your heart sinks. Oh no. Please no.

“Max seemed very upset when he saw you, what happened on your date again? Why didn’t you ever go out with him again?” He asks, you take a sip of your beer and shrug. “I dunno, he wasn’t my type, just didn’t work out.” You bite your lip, hoping to god he lets this go, you don’t need to relive that embarassing moment.

He nods, taking a drink of his own beer, “Okay, so he just wasn’t your type, that’s all? It had nothing to do with you screaming my name in the middle of sex?” He calmly points out and you nearly choke on your beer, spitting beer across the bar table, everyone close by stares at you, you turn red, apologizing and grabbing napkins to clean up your mess.

You turn and face Dean, “He fucking told you!” Dean raises an eyebrow, “In a not so nice way, so it’s true? You really did?” He smirks and you bury your face in your hands, “Oh god...” You call out and when you look back up Dean’s cheesy grin is staring back at you, “Actually, apparently it’s Oh Dean.”

You throw a nice solid punch into his shoulder before you run out of the bar, “Y/n...y/n wait!” Dean calls out but you’re already half way across the bar and out the door. He throws down some cash and chases after you, catching you half way down the road.

“Y/n...” He calls out, “Just leave me alone Dean, i knew you would use this against me, i knew it. You’re a jerk.” You wipe away a tear, he finally reaches you and grabs your arm, turning you to face him.

“Hey, i didn’t mean to upset you, i’m sorry, i just, i was surprised, that’s all.” He sighs, “Why didn’t you just tell me? I thought Max was the one who hurt you or something.” He speaks softly and you sniffle.

“it’s embarassing, i didn’t even know i did it, i was so into it and then he just stopped, for a second i thought he’d already, you know, i was disappointed then we got into an argument about it and he took me home.” You shrugged.

Dean nodded, he was quiet for a while, and then he spoke, revealing something that made even you question if you were drunk.

“I uh, i guess i wasn’t expecting to hear that, and i guess i got a little excited cause iunno i just, i think i’m falling in love with you, and when Max told me i just uh, i guess i was hopeful that maybe it meant you felt the same.” He swallows before going quiet, watching your reaction carefully.

You nodded, frowning as you realised you weren’t dreaming, Dean loved you, Dean Winchester loved you.

“I think i’ve always known, Deep down, i think i’ve always loved you.” You shrug, “Every since we shared our first kiss, i think part of me has loved you ever since.” You smile, finally meeting Dean’s eyes, the grin on his face tells you all you need to know, this man is crazy about you, always has been.

“oh yeah?” He smiles, reaching out to grab you, you chuckle, leaning up and placing a slow, deep kiss on his lips.

“Yeah, what can i say, you’re just my type.” You smirk and Dean laughs.

“Well then, why don’t we get back home and i’ll give you a real reason to scream my name.” He smirks, leaning down quite a bit to place wet warm kisses along your exposed neck.

“You’re never going to let me live that down are you?” You roll your eyes, he meets them and a sexy grin appears on his face.

“Not a chance.”

#Dean x Reader #Dean winchester x Reader

155 notes · View notes