#Even Santiago he was turned in a moment of fear

[santiago-cavazos]

"If you don’t do this, I will leave you.”

April 2, 2024

Leala Cavazos was pacing across the living room, hand on her hip, teeth pulling at her lower lip. She was anxious about something. Glancing at the time on her Apple watch only made matters worse. She felt her own heart beginning to beat more quickly, her hand sliding off her hip. She clenched and unclenched her hands, palms beginning to sweat. The controlled, long exhale did not soothe her in the slightest.

Just as she was about to head into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water, the outdoor security camera picked up movement by the garage. She checked the footage and relieved to see her husband pulling in the garage to park his car. She met him at the door, opening it before his hand grabbed the handle.

Santiago was hardly ever taken by surprise or startled but the sudden appearance of his wife made him jump slightly. It was enough for Leala to notice.

Her own anxiety faded into the background, her brow furrowing while she placed her hands on his chest. “Amor, what’s wrong?” she asked, pulling him into the comfort and safety of their home.

Santiago clenched his jaw tightly together, not daring yet to meet her gaze. “I think I was followed home,” he admitted, fear mixed with anger towards himself mixed in. He had made a mistake, one that could have cost him his life. Their lives.

Stinging pain bloomed across his cheek, Leala’s hand raised to strike him again. Tears were forming in her eyes, her free hand fisting his shirt. He didn’t bother fighting. He deserved her anger.

“I want you out. Now,” Leala stated, her voice unwavering. It wasn’t a plea but a command.

“What?” Was she kicking him out of their home?

“You heard me. I want you out of Los Lobos. It’s too dangerous and now you brought it home. You promised me that would never happen!” she explained, her chest rising and falling quickly.

Santiago shook his head, his chest tight with dread. “That’s not how this works. There is no getting out. There’s only jail or death. That’s it,” he explained, pulling out of his wife’s grasp. He couldn’t look at her, his eyes heavy with shame. “We will relocate. Everything will be fine. I can stay in and we’ll be okay.”

Leala shook her head, watching as her husband turned his back to her. “No, we won’t be. Baby, I’m pregnant,” she said.

It was almost as though he could not process the information right in that moment. He turned around and just stared at her.

“Did you hear me?” she asked, her voice softer now. “I need you to protect us and that starts with you getting out. It’s not just you and I anymore.”

Santiago only stared. First at her face then at her stomach which showed no signs of pregnancy that he could see just yet. Finally, he nodded and stepped forward to pull her into his arms. “You’re right. I will, I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her hair, closing his eyes.

“You’ll get out? If you don’t…I will leave you, Santiago,” Leala told him, even if it pained her to do so. “I swear to God I will.”

Santiago could not look at her. He kept his face hidden from her view as a tear slipped from the corner of his eye, sliding down his cheek. He had never felt more vulnerable, scared, and weak in his life. He was about to lose everything, and he would only have himself to blame in the end.

“Yeah, we’ll find out a way out, mami. I promise,” he vowed. “For all of us,” he declared, resting his hand on her stomach. She pressed a hand over his and kissed the cheek she had slapped earlier, nodding and closing her eyes.

“Thank you.”

[pacipinka]

*taps mic* is this thing on? Yeah okay so every vampire in the vampire chronicles is turned at critical a moment in their lives and beyond just the body they are in when they are turned, their mentality stays at that standstill for their entire immortality, Lestat was turned against his will, he was clinging onto Magnus begging him to be freed, so he’s constantly seeking freedom and only finding loneliness and thus turning back to people again and again, however he can’t STAND being told what to do, since he desires agency in his life so desperately, Armand was turned after years and years of abuse and lack of control but such a desire for genuine love, by a man he ‘loved’ so wholly who he felt was barring his love from him, he needs control in his life, he needs a ‘master�� but he does not desire it, it does not fulfill him, he is trapped in a room but the door is unlocked! Louis was mourning his brother, he felt like an utter failure and so he’s always seeking family, seeking people he can care for, he can coddle, he can prove he is good too, but he loves people who either cannot stand coddeling and need a sense of looseness to live (Lestat) or people who grow out of coddling who prove to Louis he will always fail the people he loves (Claudia), Claudias turning, in many MANY ways mirrors lestats in that it was against her will, she was stolen from her home, and in her immortality she desires freedom but unlike Lestat does not have the agency/ form to get it, she will always be small, she will always be looked down on, even by Lestat who cannot deny how much she is just like him *taps mic* ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME!! NONE OF THEM CAN BREAK THE CYCLE!!! TO BREAK IT WOULD BE TO UNDO THE VERY FIBER OF THEIR IMMORTAL SELVES!! THE CYCLE IS THE BLOOD THEY DRINK IT IS THE HEART IN THEIR CHEST AND IT ROLLS AND ROLLS DOWN THE MOUNTAINS AND VALLEYS OF THEIR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER AND IT CAN NEVER BE STOPPED BECAUSE THEY WILL NEVER STOP LOVING EACH OTHER!!!!!!!!!!!!

[theworldsownoptimist]

Armand is already setting himself up as a Judas figure in the sense that he was a coward who failed his beloved God in a moment of weakness. It's "human" failing, one that he can admit to whilst still underlining his vulnerability. I was laughing about Louis and Armand having a Judas painting in their bedroom last month, but it makes sense that it would be so prominent because that's the narrative that's dominated their marriage. But when you start to look at the story being presented to us (and with prior knowledge from the books) it quickly falls apart.

He didn't read the minds of the coven because he was distracted, but he'd know if Claudia and Louis eavesdropped on his conversation with Madeleine. Santiago is plotting right in front of him and doing a bad job of hiding it, but he doesn't notice despite picking up on Claudia laughing. He feared the coven would kill him even though we've already seen him knock them all out without breaking a sweat. He's not present at Madeleine's turning because he disproves, but this is also a convenient way to cover his own back. He claims to need protection from Daniel and his questions after we watched him throw him around like a ragdoll in last week's flashback. All of the excuses he gives go back to emphasising his self-described weakness. He's just a poor, unworthy disciple who made an awful mistake he has to atone for. The elephant in the room isn't that Armand is a Judas figure, but that he was far too involved and far too powerful to convincingly inhabit that role.

[thefluffyrailway-official]

𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. (𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲)

[TW: SENSITIVE CONTENT]

Santiago Shore, or how every engine knew him, Salty, was a friendly and experienced dockside diesel, who works at the Brendam Docks in the Island of Sodor.

"He doesn't shut up even under water " Could be the first phrase his workmate, Cranky, would describe him. And he wouldn't be wrong! Because it's true that this unusually nice diesel engine loves to talk and tell stories about the sea.

But what i'm gonna tell you now, is about the day all that cheerful (and sometimes annoying) talking turned into a cold (And mysterious) silence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even though it was very rare that Salty didn't like to do a job, there was something he hated with all his soul. But still, he had to do sometimes.

That morning, Sir Topham Hatt arrived at the docks for an special job for the garnet engine.

-You must go to the Dieselworks deliver spare parts there Salty.- He ordered.

The golden-eyed diesel felt a chill running through his metalic body. He hated going to the dieselworks. (Or any place without sea nearby)

-Wait wait... Me? Couldn't Porter go instead of me? There's many work to do here- He stuttered.

The short man in the suit nodded. -You're right. And Porter will do it for you untill you're back- He said. -Now. The sooner you go, the sooner you'll come back here.-

Salty nodded with a little roll of his eyes, while the turquoise steamie behind him let out a little giggle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soon, he was coupled to the trucks full of pieces. And in an hour or less, he arrived to that imponent and kinda scary place that was the Dieselworks.

Since that moment he heard a crow's cry, Salty felt something wrong with that place.

-Alright...- He cleaned his throat -Now i just have to talk with D-Diesel 10... And i can go back to my shed...- He whispered in fear. The simple thought of that enormous golden beast was enough to make any engine shiver and maybe think twice before doing or saying anything.

He went into that dark garage-like place, and only his younger brother, Bert, was there.

They weren't what we can say close brothers. They even tried to not talk to eachother. But this time, Bert broke that brotherly rule they had.

-Hey Wet Wheels! Have you seen Diesel 10?- He asked with a slightly arrogant tone.

-What do you mean? Isn't he here?- Salty asked back trying to not look annoyed by the younger's attitude.

-Are you stupid or did sea salt rot your brain? If i ask you is because he's not here!- Bert growled.

-Yo, cool up your engine rusty brain.- Salty grinned. -I just came to deliver this spare parts. Fighting is only weekends for me-

The younger diesel rolled his eyes.

-Well now that you're here why don't you do something useful and try to find Diesel 10? You can't leave without telling him about your delivery- He hissed before leaving.

-Fiiiine. Just don't try to take the credits if I find him...Stupid...- Salty replied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But the truth was, not only Diesel 10 dissapeared. Splatter and Dodge did too.

They were having... A little conversation in a hidden cave.

-What?! You're crazy Diesel 10- The lilac diesel protested -First you make me kill your rival's pups and now this?!-

His lime-green twin approached to his side and placed one of his paws on his bufferbeam.

-We are not gonna follow your orders anymore! What you're doing is wrong!- Said Dodge.

Diesel 10 was sitting in front of them. A sinister shadow covered half of his face.

-Oh you're not?- He asked with his usual soft tone.

The twins shared a nervous gaze for a second before answering.

-N-No.... We won't...- Splatter nodded. -Now let us go! Before we decide to tell Sir Topham Hatt about what you planned to do to his railway!- Dodge hissed.

Diesel 10 stood up and slowly approached to them.

-Of course i will let you go... -He started. -Go with Lady's pup i mean-

The huge golden male grabbed Dodge tightly by his neck in an almost invisible movement... He began to tear at Diesel 10's strong gray legs, without success in being freed.

As soon as he reacted, Splatter jumped into Diesel 10, digging his jaws into the blue-eyed male's biceps. Although this one got rid of the lilac with a blow of his paw.

Dodge's face was starting to look blue from the lack of oxygen. Seeing this, Diesel 10 relaxed his paws, believing that they had learned their lesson.

Taking advantage of this moment, and that the large male's belly was unprotected, the greenish diesel took the opportunity to tear it with his hind legs, getting 10 to let go.

-Ugh! You will regret this!! -He hissed while cleaning that oily dark blood of his belly.

Dodge turned, ready to escape. But the blue-eyed attacked again. This time tearing off much of the meat from his neck.

-BROTHER!!!- Cried Splatter.

The greenish diesel fell... Staining the ground with his blood...

The golden engine pushed the dying diesel's head with its paw, slightly scratching its side.

-Last words? -Diesel 10 whispered

Dodge remained silent for a few moments. Only his heavy breathing was audible.

Suddenly, his gaze was fixed on the entrance to the cave.

-T...Take care... Of Diesel...-

He whimpered with a smile as he slowly closed his eyes... Letting his head fall against the ground... Just before his breathing and his life went out...

-Of course I will take care of him... So well that he will never know about this.- D10 grinned

Splatter cried next to the body of his older twin brother.

He felt like his heart was breaking into a thousand pieces... His workmate... His best friend... His brother... The one who was always there in that misery of life that they both had... He was no longer with him...

-And about you... -The blue-eyed growled interrupting the brothers' goodbye.

The lilac diesel turned to look at him. With his eyes completely filled with tears.

-I'll make sure you don't rebel against me too...- Diesel 10's tail rose imposingly, showing the sting that, years ago, he would have used as a lethal injection to calm the suffering of the engines incapable of being saved, was now a deadly and poisonous torture.

In seconds he nailed it to the shoulder of the defenseless and paralyzed Lilac Diesel...Causing him to fall into a series of seizures and spasms almost instantly...

Foam came out in large quantities from the mouth of the dying engine...His eyes rolled to his rear as his back arched...

Luckilly for him....

Diesel 10 didn't notice Salty right behind the cave's entrance...

He saw... Everything...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

«I must get out of here... I must...» Salty backed away carefully...

But its pistons squeaked inopportunely. Causing Diesel 10 to see him there, standing with his eyes fixed like a deer about to be run over.

Diesel 10 frowned silently. Then he moved on to the garnet diesel, and when he was close enough he told him...

-You're lucky to be important to Mavis... But don't get overconfident and tell this to anyone... Or your blood will be the new fuel for diesels...-

Salty froze. Staring at Dodge's corpse, and Splatter's painful gaze. Staring at him intently... As if even in his last moments he was begging for help...

Diesel 10 left the place. Although, he returned soon with a truck with purple and green wheels. carrying a saw in his mouth.

-Go back to the docks boy. You've seen enough...- Diesel 10 growled as he approached to the twins and grabbed one of their legs...

...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(AU inspo creds: @steam-beasts <3)

[soulofapatrick]

Party Favours - Raphael Santiago x female reader 

Summary: One of Magnus’ parties leads to the unexpected 

Words: 1.8k 

Warnings: beginnings of a panic attack 

Y/N’s POV

Alec’s dragging me through the door of Magnus’ apartment, his grip firm but gentle, drawing a sigh of resignation from me. I don’t put up much of a fight, not because I particularly enjoy parties, but because I love Alec so much. 

He’s always been there for me, a constant presence in my life. Two years older than me, he’s not just a brother figure, but also a father figure in many ways. His protective instincts kick in whenever he senses my hesitation or reluctance. 

I squeeze his hand in reassurance, offering a small smile as we step into the vibrant chaos of the loft. The music pounds in my ears, the chatter of voices blending into a dizzying hum. Downwards and Shadowhunters mingle together, their differences monetarily forgotten in the revelry. 

Alec leads me further into the room, his expression a mixture of determination and excitement. I follow along dutifully, trusting him to guide me through the sea of unfamiliar faces and overwhelming sensations. Despite  my reservations, there's a part of me that's grateful for Alec's insistence. He knows how much these gatherings mean to Magnus, how important it is for us to show our support for him.

We weave through the crowd, catching glimpses of familiar faces – Izzy's infectious laughter, Jace's cocky grin, Magnus' sparkling eyes. They all seem to be in their element, revelling in the festivities with a sense of abandon I can't quite muster. But, Alec is by my side, his presence a grounding force amidst the chaos. And for that, I am grateful. With him beside me, I know I can face whatever the night may bring, even if it means stepping out of my comfort zone. 

As we navigate through the crowd, Magnus slinks over with the grace of a cat, his eyes alight with mischief as he greets us. His magnetic presence draws attention wherever he goes, and tonight is no exception. 

“Ah Alec, my dear boy,” Magnus purrs, his voice laced with amusement, “Might I steal you away for a moment? There's someone I simply must introduce you to.”

Alec glances at me, silently seeking my approval. I offer him a reassuring smile, nodding my consent. Magnus and Alec share a unique bond, one that transcends mere friendship, and I would never dream of standing in the way of that.

“Of course , Magnus," Alec replies, turning to me with a gentle squeeze of my hand. "I'll be back soon.”

As Magnus leads Alec away with a flourish, a pang of loneliness tugs at my heart. I watch them disappear into the crowd, feeling a twinge of envy for the easy camaraderie they share. But I quickly push aside those feelings, reminding myself that Alec deserves to enjoy himself, especially in the company of someone as captivating as Magnus.

Alone now, I shift uncomfortably in the too-short dress Izzy insisted I wear. The fabric clings to my skin like a second layer, its tightness making each breath feel constricted. The pulsating energy of the party presses in on me from all sides, overwhelming my senses with a cacophony of noise and movement. 

As the minutes tick by, the intensity of the crowd becomes almost suffocating. Conversations blend into an indistinguishable buzz, laughter rings in my ears like chimes in a storm, and the kaleidoscope of colours and faces whirl around me in a dizzying blur.

Panic begins to gnaw at the edges of my consciousness, a cold knot of fear tightening in my chest. I feel like I'm drowning in the sea of people, struggling to keep my head above water as I desperately search for an escape. With trembling hands, I push my way through the throng, each step feeling like an uphill battle against the tide of bodies. My heart pounds in my chest, a frantic rhythm matching the pulse of the music that reverberates through the loft. 

Just when I feel like I can’t take another moment of the overwhelming chaos, an icy grip clamps around my wrist, drawing me sharply from the crowd and into the hallways with lightning speed. Instinctively, I try to wrench my hand free, my heart hammering in my chest as I spin around to confront my captor. 

But before I can even form a coherent thought, I find myself face to face with Raphael Santiago, his dark eyes searching my face with an intensity that takes my breath away. Relief floods through me like a tidal wave, washing away the fear and panic that had threatened to consume me only moments before. 

“Raphael,” I gasp, my voice barely more than a whisper as I practically collapse into his solid chest, seeking refuge in the safety of his embrace. 

His arms wrap around me instinctively, holding me close as if to shield me from the chaos of the world outside. For a long moment we stand there together in the quiet stillness of the hallway, the only sound the slightly muffled thumping music in the next room. 

Feeling a sense of calm wash over me in Raphael's embrace, I let out a shaky breath, allowing myself to relax for the first time since arriving at the party. With his steady presence by my side, the overwhelming panic begins to ebb away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through me like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

As the tension slowly melts away, Raphael gently guides me towards the spare room I had been heading towards earlier. With each step, I feel a sense of gratitude welling up inside me, grateful for his unwavering support and understanding. 

But as we step into the dimly lit room, my cheeks flush with embarrassment when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. The black dress Izzy had insisted I wear barely reaches past my ass, leaving little to the imagination, while the plunging neckline barely covers my cleavage. Paired with the knee-high boots that add a significant amount of height to my frame, I can't help but feel exposed and vulnerable. 

I tug self-consciously at the hem of the dress, trying in vain to cover a little more skin. I can feel Raphael’s eyes on me, his gaze warm with amusement as he takes in my discomfort.

“You look beautiful Birdie,” He murmurs, using the nickname he gave me the first time he met me, his voice soft but sincere as he steps up behind me, eyes meeting mine in the reflection of the mirror. 

His hands cold as ice, settle on my hips, their touch sending a shockwave of awareness through me. There’s an eerie chill to his fingertips, a stark reminder of his undead nature, as they trace delicate patterns on my skin. When his lips press against my jugular, there’s no warmth, only what should be the unsettling sensation of death brushing against my skin but it’s Raphael. My pulse jumps beneath his touch, his lips curving into a smirk against my neck. 

Flushed with heat, I feel a rush of flustered embarrassment washing over me. It’s not just Raphael’s proximity that sets my heart racing, but the realisation of the feelings I've harboured for him for so long. Despite the impossibility of it all, the boundaries that separate our worlds, I've never been able to shake the ache in my chest whenever he's near. Shadowhunters can’t date downworlders and the law is the law but sometimes laws have to be broken. Izzy’s been sleeping with Meliorn…

As I stand there, lost in the intensity of Raphael's gaze, my thoughts drift to Alec and Magnus, two souls who could be so happy together if not for the unjust laws that govern our world. The bitterness of the truth sends a surge of frustration through me, and before I can stop myself, the words spill out. 

“Fuck this…” I mutter, my voice laced with defiance as I spin around in Raphael's grip, determination burning in my eyes. 

Before he can react, I grab his face with both hands, pulling him into a kiss I've wanted for so long. His initial surprise is evident, his body stiffening for a moment before melting into the kiss with a raw, unbridled passion. For a moment, time seems to stand still as our lips meet, the world fading away around us as we lose ourselves in the heat of the moment. His kiss is electrifying, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through me as I lose myself in the sensation of his touch.

Suddenly, I feel myself falling, the sensation of weightlessness overwhelming me as I land on the bed with a soft thud. Raphael hovers over me, his eyes dark with desire as he leans down to capture my lips once more. His kiss is fierce and possessive, a silent declaration of the longing we've both denied for so long. In that moment, as our bodies entwine in a tangle of limbs and desire, I know that there's no turning back. 

As our lips remain locked in a fervent embrace, Raphael's kiss becomes a whirlwind of passion and longing. Every brush of his lips against mine sends sparks flying, igniting a fire within me that I never knew existed. But just as I feel myself becoming lost in the intensity of the moment, he breaks the kiss, allowing me to catch my breath.

I inhale deeply, the rush of air filling my lungs as I stare up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. His eyes, dark with desire, bore into mine with an intensity that steals my breath away. And in that moment, as our bodies remain entwined on the bed, I realise just how long he's been waiting for this.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long," he whispers, his voice husky with emotion. "But I needed to wait for you to make the first move.”

His words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning and unspoken desire. In the silence that follows, I feel a surge of warmth spreading through me, knowing that he's waited for me all this time, just as I've waited for him.

With a shaky breath, I reach up to trace the contours of his face, my fingers trembling with anticipation. His gaze softens at my touch, a flicker of tenderness in his eyes as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. 

“Better late than never.”

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[inthiseverymoment]

silhouettes emerging: chapter iii

“Ever-Soaring Melodies on Unstable Chords”

having theatre-kid-ed her way into this mess, isabelle realizes she needs to theatre-kid her way out. or, as the case may be, theatre-kid her way in even deeper.

iwtv oc x armand, this chapter ~2.8k

this one takes place entirely in flashback and prose for Melodramatic Anne Rice Reasons. don't worry, we'll get daniel's thoughts (spoiler alert: our boy is Less Than Convinced) and some good good analysis in the next chapter

...currently realizing that, if last chapter was "y/n gets noticed at a concert", this chapter is the fight song by rachel platten moment. but, again, IT'S IWTV SO IT'S DEEPER THAN THAT

ok it is three forty eight am enjoy

chapter ii fic masterlist chapter iv

“I’m not sure why he insisted on keeping her in here. It’s not like she’s different from any other once-fresh meat.”

“Did you hear what they were saying before we caught her? She wanted a job.”

“A job! Here! Mon Dieu, the humans are getting bolder and bolder these days.”

Liquid voices were beginning to work their way into Isabelle’s consciousness as she awoke, her eyes eventually opening to reveal a few members of the last night’s cast and crew.

Last night?

Last week?

Last hour?

She didn’t know.

Suddenly feeling as if she hadn’t breathed in too long, she gasped in a lungful of air and was overwhelmed by a tantalizing smell combining rust, hair gel, potpourri, and…night itself, if that could even be said to have a smell.

Backstage.

Despite being in grave danger, just knowing she was in a dressing room environment sent a shiver of comfort through her that she tried to ignore.

Isabelle’s breath alerted the others to her presence, and as her vision gained focus, she began to recognize them one by one as they looked over her. Given her condition, all she could do was string the occasional tired word together.

“So. I take it…you are…real.”

A moment’s silence, and the vampires burst into debatably-natured laughter.

“That’s a new one,” tittered a slim woman with dark, perfectly rolled curls.

“And I realized that, and now you’re going to kill me? That’s how it is?”

“She’s a quick young thing,” a woman with hair like her own said between drags of her cigarette. “Almost wish we didn’t have to drain her.”

“I mean, you really don’t-”

“I’m afraid we do,” came a familiar drawl, and Santiago seemed to dramatically part his Red Sea of castmates. “Our Great Laws state that no vampire can allow a mortal to live who has had the vampire’s true nature revealed to them. Being that you now know the true nature of the entire Théâtre des Vampires…ah, well. The Laws must be followed. Too bad, my sweet, really. It’s what they say: so full of artless jealousy is guilt-”

“It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.”

However much terror was running through her veins at the thought of imminent death, the second half of her favorite Hamlet quote had come through her lips low, calm, and controlled. She breathed in something like relief; here was one thing to hold onto. Santiago, who’d clearly been expecting to continue grandstanding, regarded her with something like a challenge flashing through his cold eyes.

“Stars, hide your fires-”

“Let not light see my black and deep desires.”

“Anger’s my meat: I sup upon myself-”

“And so shall starve with feeding.”

Her adrenaline turning from fear to the high of competition, she would have stood to face Santiago if it were not for her realization that she was tied to her chair. He was advancing on her, an attempt at intimidation, but she matched him play for play and quote for quote; these words were her comfort, her lifeline, her blood.

“Run when you will. The story shall be changed:”

“Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase.”

“Or if I live, is it not very like-”

“-the horrible conceit of death and night-”

“-together with the terror of the place,” they finished in unison before Santiago started up again-

“No, sure, my lord-”

“My mother cried,” they said together, reaching the crest of their increase in volume to the point where they were both shouting-

“But then there was a star danced,” she concluded on her own,  more conviction in her voice than she had ever felt before, “and under that was I born.”

A long, long, long silence seemed to pass as the other cast members stared at them both with endless amusement. Eventually, Santiago allowed himself the smallest of chuckles.

“Yes, we’ll have to fog this one’s mind quite a bit for the next performance. Otherwise, she’ll get the audience on her side, and we can’t have that.”

…What?

No.

Nononononononono-

Eventually, she realized she was saying this repetition out loud-

“Someone get Armand,” she cried out. “You can’t do that to me. He wouldn’t allow it-at least I thought-what happened to the sympathy you had for me? That speech, to that girl? She was always entirely an act-I didn’t know all of you were-I-Armand!-please, please don’t-merde, I’m begging now-I’m saying-”

“Do not take her mind,” a measured yet half-flippant voice came from the staircase, and she turned to see him there.

Was he watching this whole exchange?

An ember of shame threatened to burn within her for wielding power through words that weren’t truly hers and then, at the threat of losing what she valued most, crumbling and calling out desperately to someone she’d met only hours ago; but it was soon swallowed up by more pressing matters-namely, the fate of her agency and life.

“People come to the Théâtre to be entertained,” Armand was saying as he descended the staircase. “It is not often that one of our victims puts up a true intellectual fight, and our audience will appreciate the chance to see it.”

“Maître, it won’t work otherwise, she wouldn’t fall for the-”

“Not too fast, Santiago,” came the interruption, and the maître in question silenced his leading man with only the lift of a hand. “We don’t want to spoil the surprise for her.”

“I-”

A blush painting her wearied face, she had to search for words for a moment as the vampires turned their piercing eyes to her. It took quite a bit of willpower to regain her composure, but regain it she did.

“I was there for the last performance. It will not be a surprise. You-you read their minds, I suppose, point out their flaws, and make them wish for the death you provide. Is that it?”

A beat, and then an outburst-

“Fog! Her! Mind!” Santiago said in the verbal equivalent of an exasperated eyeroll.

“I will not,” Armand held firm, “and neither shall any of you.”

He stepped behind Isabelle’s chair and touched two fingers to her temple, and an odd wave of something seemed to wash over her as the rest of the cast dispersed to their coffins, whispering all the way.

“That is a protection,” came Armand’s whisper to her. “I’ve stopped them from getting into your thoughts-”

“What, so that you can turn around and do it yourself?”

She ripped herself away from him as much as she could in her current position, her breath finally falling into tears, and he somehow seemed genuinely wounded.

“You do not trust me, then.”

“Why on earth,” she choked out a laugh, “would I trust you? It was your voice in my head last night, you who took me where I could see the bloodstain, you with so much power-apparently both hierarchical and supernatural-over everyone else here.”

“My promise regarding the audience was simply so that they would spare you. I have a plan, Isabelle-”

“And, whether that’s true or not, I suppose you could make me believe it somehow? How-”

Isabelle broke off, trying to keep from heaving a sob. The sudden longing for her tiny apartment with dripping ceilings and creaking tables overwhelmed her, if only for a return to when she was hers, when she was safe.

“How can I trust anything about you?”

After a moment, he swallowed hard but silently, then looked her in the eye for the first time since their last night’s conversation.

How she ever could have seen those eyes for even a moment and not realized that this man was something more than human was quite a mystery now. The deciphering of him that Isabelle had delighted in as an audience member with a crush had turned into a full-throated attempt to read his every flicker of the eyebrow, with her life now on the line. And all this time, the man in question had been silent.

“I’ll prove it,” he said simply.

Finding nothing more that he could do, Armand turned and retreated, going back up the staircase with every quiet footstep ringing.

He’d saved her last night. He’d claimed to have saved her now. And he was apparently planning to save her tomorrow from the death that his cast-his coven-hoped to carry out.

She was left alone with many questions, above them all being:

Why?

~

Isabelle’s day on the chair as the vampires slept had been spent half in silent contemplation, half in fruitless attempts to escape from her surely-supernaturally-assisted bonds. There was, needless to say, a lot to grapple with, but one thought nearly as alarming as losing her memories was the knowledge that-

If these people-people?-weren’t trying to kill or otherwise disarm me, I’d…

I’d adore them.

She’d never felt anything like this before. Immersive theatre that delved into grief and every facet of humanity, both beautifully artistic and unapologetically messy, was an idea she could only dream of for most of her life. The thrill of finding herself a little bit infatuated with half the cast throughout each play, then seeing all of those same bright eyes turned towards her; the offbeat adrenaline rush of a Shakespeare-off; the fact that she was no longer the most dramatic one in the room, not by a mile; so much about this group was intoxicating.

And the short conversation she’d had with Armand before everything fell open, as well as the restless dreams she’d had of him that she was sure he’d somehow placed there, still took the forefront of her musings.

Why is it that the first time I have genuine reason to feel wanted, it’s under…

Her leftover makeup had started to flake, and the rope was near biting into her wrists after the hours it had spent there.

…these circumstances?

Last night, she’d thought that a performance gig here would be her last chance, and this now seemed to be true in a whole new fashion. It took quite a lot of figuring, hoping, and crying to come to terms with the extremely high likelihood that there were only two ways that this night would finish:

Either Isabelle de la Rue, once Bella Ditell, would be killed…

…or she would be embraced.

It was clear that, for a few fleeting moments, in even the slightest way, these vampires respected her a little bit. They clearly thought she was dangerous enough to necessitate intervention, that she had enough presence of mind and will to live to stop her from falling for Santiago’s beckon to death. They now knew, too, that she was clearly a performer by trade and by passion. Armand had mentioned her possibly being of entertainment value, and that had sparked something of an idea; as little as she wanted to be valued only for that, if this was the only way to survive, she would show them that they wanted to keep her around.

The audition of a lifetime.

~

Hours later, she was behind the very same curtain that she’d been on the other side of only a day before. In any other circumstance, this would be a dream-to see a show at a theatre company one night and be part of said company the next.

Apparently, manifestations need to be more specific.

The redheaded woman who’d expressed not wanting to kill her held one of Isabelle’s arms, and the other was taken by a pretty-boy type who had played a woodcutter in an earlier skit. They both seemed surprised at her silence, but didn’t address it.

Probably makes it easier for them. It’s simpler not to see their victims as people, and all that.

But when they dragged her onstage after a very long monologue for Santiago-as-Death, Isabelle did not stay silent, and she also did not scream.

She sang.

It was an aria of a mythical queen awaiting her death, one that she’d known for years. She felt an odd sensation of multiple telepathic attempts to shut her mouth being ricocheted away by whatever spell Armand had placed, and with the knowledge that this might be the last aria of her life, she poured her entire being into it. Santiago played along in character, partly amused and partly furious, and the sound of his half-chaotic French made her head spin even further, and everything whirled around at once-

All of a sudden, Isabelle was a capella no longer.

She glanced into the wings and made eye contact with the pianist, who grinned at her.

I won’t let myself imagine that anything comes out of real sympathy, that’s too dangerous-they’re playing with their food, is all.

Still…

What a moment!

Roughly half the audience was laughing in disbelief, but the other half seemed genuinely tuned in to what she was doing. She reached out to them, to her fellow humans, every trace of desperation and brazen hope sparking up in her eyes. She even managed to find and share a moment with the girl she’d met the previous night, who had seemed greatly worried upon recognizing her but now smiled at her and leaned forward to take her hands-

-until Santiago grabbed hold of her waist from behind and dragged her upstage.

A few audience members gasped, but Isabelle continued singing, looking between them and her reaper with more fire than she had ever trusted herself to possess.

Unable to stop her voice by supernatural means, Santiago skipped to the end of his usual blocking, straight to the part where he held the victim by the throat. This nearly choked her, and the tears that had started during her frenzied aria threatened to break loose.

A cold shiver ran through her every bone.

This is it.

It didn’t work.

She tried to turn her head, intending for her friend in the front row-her first friend-to be the last face she’d see.

If I go out, I’ll go out singing.

Santiago’s grip tightened, and-

“Arrêt!”

Out of pure surprise, the bony grip around her neck released, and she looked over Santiago’s shoulder to find the source of the voice she already knew.

Armand, now in full makeshift costume, was holding a very real prop sword to his leading man’s throat.

He began to speak in French, with every dramatic inflection of the rest of his coven, but broadcasted a more earnestly spoken translation to her as he did so:

You will not harm her.

Apparently greatly enjoying the improvisatory nature of how tonight was shaping up, the offstage orchestra struck up a soaring, string-soaked theme.

As Orpheus meant to save Eurydice, I mean to claim my love from the hands of Death. Only I, I will not falter. I will not doubt.

He now lowered his sword and looked straight to her, directly, intently.

I will give her reason to trust.

Whether it was the torrent of Purcell-assisted emotion and the promise of certain death that preceded this, her go-with-the-moment theatrical training, the single curl falling in front of Armand’s face, or some overwhelming combination of all three, Isabelle slowly moved to take his hand, deeply affected by the way he seemed to have genuinely expected her not to.

He kissed her birthmark again, and she started to cry.

Never one to miss a chance at upstaging a scene, Santiago swooped in once more, but was repelled. By the way each vampire looked at the other, she knew this was a battle being fought with eyes and telepathy alone, one which the maître would undoubtedly win.

Mighty Reaper, Armand’s speech and translation continued, cliché as it may seem, my love-my lark-is too strong in her soul and in her love to fall to you this early. With the two of us fighting against you, life will…

These words seemed almost to stick in his throat; understandable, she thought, after years-possibly centuries-of existing by the opposite mantra.

This time, life will prevail.

She shook her head, looking to Armand in total bewilderment. Why was he doing this? Why was he saying all of this?

Why me?

This he heard, and this he answered.

She of the ever-winding, ever-sparking mind, she of the soaring and unafraid voice-both of which you, Death, wish to silence-is the only one I ever wish to hear.

What followed was a kiss so tentative, then so tender, then so deep, that the sound of the violins seemed to be circling around the pair in swooping whirls that caught in each contour of their breath.

For the first time in her life, Bella Ditell allowed her guard to fall.

The audience, caught off guard by something resembling a ‘happy ending’ and having quite a lot of fun with the dramatics of it all, roared their appreciation. Above every sound was the delighted, encouraging wolf whistle of the young woman in the front row.

Perhaps it was wrong. Perhaps it was horrid. Perhaps it was everything she’d feared wrapped up in everything she’d hoped, or perhaps it was the opposite.

But now, at least, at last, Isabelle had the chance to find that out for herself.

[creative-heart]

"In the arms of love"| Enzo Vogrincic

Lucia’s notes: This One Shot was fueled by my lovely @lastflowrr who said she heard the song “Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby” by Cigarettes after sex and wanted to see it in writing. So here goes nothing. I hope you enjoy it, especially my girl Lucy. I also suggest you listen to the song while reading this. 😘😘

+18 MDNI: Please stop reading after the cut if you don't want to read the smut part.

Content Warning: Mention of past relationship trauma, Sex scene, a short mention of heavy social drinking, some degrading name calling.

Word Count: 1.2k

Enzo knew from the moment you two got together for the first time, that getting you to overcome your fears and traumas wouldn’t be easy and he had been trying for the past three years to help you get past what you had lived through. The dark-haired man had to admit, that he liked the little dynamic you had established for yourselves, he didn’t mind being a little bit of a dominant person when it came to you and apparently, it helped you stay centered.

When he saw the way you were drinking at the party in Mati’s house, he knew he needed to tread lightly with you or it could go southways. So he approaches you from behind wrapping his long arms around the middle of your body and whispers “Be careful now baby girl, if you get too drunk I won’t be able to fuck you when we get back, and then I will have to punish you won’t I?” and as soon as you hear those words coming from his lips you can feel your skin filling up with goosebumps, and even through the fog of your brain courtesy of the alcohol you’ve consumed already you are now burning with the anticipation his words brought into the mix. You know full well that Enzo means what he said and so you nod softly before turning around and looking up into his now dark brown eyes biting your lips “I’ll be good, I promise”. The only problem with this is, that you kind of enjoy it when he punishes you because you know he would never actually hurt you, as he’s repeated to you tirelessly, nothing’s gonna hurt you, as long as you’re with him, you’ll be just fine; you know this is true, you trust this man with your life.

When you walk away from his embrace, you’ve already devised a plan for how you will push his buttons and test how serious he is about the punishing part. The first step of this plan is locating the guy you know is going to drive him the craziest you flirt with; you slowly scan the room until you find your target, sweet Santi is sitting on the couch having a beer and you make your way to him, your hips swaying honestly a little more than they should, you sit down next to him your leg crossed in a way your knees are brushing slightly. “Hi Santi, did you do something different to your hair? it looks exceptionally good tonight” You smile playfully playing with his blonde curls. You can already see two things happening, first, Santiago’s already blushing like crazy, and second, you can feel Enzo’s glare drilling into you from across the room.

Of course, it doesn’t take more than 5 minutes for your boyfriend to make his way to you and bend down to talk to you at a volume he knows no one else will hear above the blasting music “What did I say about behaving baby? now we’re gonna have to go home and I’ll have to do something about this” You can already hear the lust filling his voice and you can’t help but bite your lip looking up at him, you can’t help it, you love being a bit of a brat sometimes. Even if you know this may come at a price.

As soon as you walk into the apartment your back is against the wall and your hands are up and out of the way held by one of Enzo’s big hands, the other resting on your hips squeezing just enough to make you feel it. “You enjoy making me jealous by flirting with my friends, don’t you princess?” It’s the tone of his voice matched with the sweetness of the pet names he uses which makes you weak at the knees, your breath hitching at the back of your throat as you nod softly looking at him through your lashes. “No no, use your words, baby girl, you know I like hearing your voice”. Just as you’re about to talk back you feel his right knee pressed up gently against your center and through your opened mouth instead of words comes a whiny, needy moan, your eyes fluttering closed. Just as your eyelids close you feel the grip of his hand on your hip tightening and you know that  to be your final warning so you force the words out of your mouth “Yes Enzo, I enjoy it” you say barely above a whisper. 

Just as you finish saying that Enzo picks you up tossing you firmly yet gently over his shoulder walking straight to your bedroom “well then… I guess that means there’s no orgasm for you tonight then, that’s what you get for being a little slut” He puts you down on the bed taking your clothes off before folding them neatly on the chair beside your bed. “Come on babyyy” you whine aching for some release between your legs, when he catches you  through the corner of his eye he turns his head clicking his tongue admonishingly shaking his head. Once you’re both in your underwear he grabs your legs behind your knees bringing you to the edge of the bed and without breaking eye contact with you kneels down between your legs “now… you know not to flirt with my friends, it’s not respectful to me” he says in his low sultry voice in between kisses up your inner thighs just before depositing the last one right on your already pulsating nub. When you feel his mouth making contact with your already slick aching center you close your eyes a loud moan flowing from your lip before you can even stop it digging your nails on the heels of your hands leaving crescent shapes on them knowing better than to tug at your boyfriend’s hair.

Enzo might enjoy this a little bit too much if he’s honest with himself, but there’s something about having you like that, laying on the bed and at the mercy of his skillful fingers and mouth begging for some release that just drives him crazy. He’s been at this for almost an hour now, his fingers moving in and out of your dripping center which so lusciously tightens around them as he accompanies each thrust of his digits with alternating sucking and lapping at your throbbing core and once more when he feels your breath hitching in the back of your throat and you trying to move your hips into him trying to look some release and pulls away before you can get the so coveted release you so much desire. As he gets back up to his full height he looks at you seeing how distraught you look and smiles softly “Come on babygirl, let’s get you into the shower, a nice warm soothing shower to get you better”.

Before you can protest he’s disappeared into the bathroom running the water, once  he’s back by the bed Enzo  picks you up in his arms cradling you against his chest and walks to the shower standing under the water gently placing you down as he proceeds to wash your hair and body making sure to give you a soothing massage until he feels you relax under his touch. It's become a habit now, after one of these sessions of yours, he likes taking care and pampering you, he knows sometimes he can get a bit taken away in the situation and more than anything, he wants you to remember nothing’s gonna hurt you as long as you’re with him.

Lucia's notes: I relly hope you enjoyed this little one shot, as usual, reqs are still open for a bit longer until I get in the mood to start my new series.

Taglist: @madame-fear @cyliarys-starlight @castawaycherry @luceracastro @espinasrubi @koiibiito @candycanes19 @nperoconelcositoarriba @lxdyred @deepinsideyourbeing

[the-little-ewok]

I've never done a request before! Could you do tummy kisses with a plus size reader? I'm always down for nsfw but you decide where it goes! Please and thank you 😁

- @mandinlore

Every inch of you

Santiago Garcia X Plus size F!Reader

Rating : E / 18+

Word count : 2300 (ish)

Warnings : Reader is plus size, Explicit, Oral (f- receiving), lack of body confidence, insecurities, love bites, one actual bite, quick fingering, soft Santi being soft. And I do mean soft. (Yea it's cliché. I have no regrets)

Prompt/Summary : Tummy kisses/ Santiago helps show you how perfect you are

A/N : Keep the prompts short, she says, ease yourself back into writing she says…. Hahahaha enjoy your 2k ;) I got carried away. @mandinlore

Also thank you for requesting plus size! As a curvy girl myself, I absolutely loved writing this!

Side note - if anyone (who has prompts outstanding or wants to send new requests) wants a specific reader (plus size, short girl, specific job etc) please don't feel shy about asking! I'll do my best to write it!

"Cariño, you gotta tell me what's wrong? We can take things slow if that's what you want. You already know you're in control here. But, is something else wrong?" Santi sighs, sitting back on the couch after you pushed him away, yet again, before things could go too far. You couldn't blame his reaction, not after you had been hot and cold for weeks now.

Everytime he had tried to take things further, into anything that involves you removing clothing, you had made excuses to stop. He'd always backed off without complaint, reassuring you that he'll wait until you're ready, but you know he's starting to suspect there's more that you're hiding. God damn over observant Santiago Garcia. His military training served him too well in that.

The truth was, it wasn't that you didn't want things to go too far. In fact, you wanted very much to have his body pressed up against yours, his mouth against your skin, his cock buried deep inside you.

But for that to happen he had to see your body. And that was what scared you the most.

"Hey." His voice, and his fingers gripping your chin, turning your face to force you to look at him, rips you from your thoughts.

Meeting his questioning gaze you're struck, and not for the first time, by how pretty he is. Especially now — hair tousled by your fingers, eyes bright with lust, lips kiss swollen, cheeks flushed.

It makes you want to drag him back down onto the couch and lose yourself in his kisses once more.

"Tell me where your head is at," he pleads, his gaze soft. "Whatever it is, we can talk about it.

"I don't want to take it slow," you whisper, swallowing hard, sliding your vision away from him, even as he holds your face. You focus your eyes on the coffee table, the empty glasses and half eaten snacks, the movie still playing quietly in the background. You had stopped watching some time ago when you caught him watching you more than the film.

"There's a but coming, right?" Santi prompts when you lapse into silence.

"It's just…"

It's just I don't want you to be disappointed.

It's just I don't look like your exes.

It's just I don't think you'll want me.

You trail off, struggling to find the words to explain your fears.

"It's just, what?" Santi presses, his tone still gentle as ever.

"Idontwantyoutoseeme," you mumble out quickly, flicking your eyes back to him for a split second before you look away again.

Santi lets out a sigh, although it's not one of impatience, or disappointment. It sounds more like he might be… relieved.

"That's what you're worried about? Jesus, you scared me." He gives a small chuckle, shaking his head as he takes your face in both his hands, which forces your gaze back to his. For a long moment, he studies you, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"You are beautiful," he states simply before his hands drop to your waist and he shifts, leaning over you and guiding you back to lie down against the couch, once more taking up his position over you, nestling himself between your thighs.

"Have you noticed what you do to me?" He asks, hammering home his point by pressing the bulge in his pants up against your core, making you gasp, despite the anxiety coiled tight in your stomach.

"With my clothes on maybe," you mumble, unable to quiet the vicious thoughts still seeping through.

"I want to see you. I want to see all of you. You don't have to hide from me," he whispers against the shell of your ear, dipping his head to place a trail of kisses down your neck.

"I don't think you'll like what you see." Even as the fear builds you can't stop the moan that steals its way from your lips as he seals his lips against your neck, sucking a mark there.

"Can I be the judge of that?" He asks, leaning up on his arms to look at you. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." Your response comes with no hesitation. You don't even have to think about it. You do, wholeheartedly, entirely, trust him. He's done more than enough to earn that trust from you.

"I'm not going to force you into anything you don't want to do, but please trust me when I say I will love every inch of you."

The sincerity in his voice makes tears prick your eyes.

You swallow hard, still arguing with the voice in the back of your mind that tells you you aren't good enough for him, that he won't want you.

Santiago waits patiently while you muddle through your thoughts.

After a long moment, what feels like a millennia of debating, you give him a nod, and watch his smile transform into one of absolute pride.

"If you're uncomfortable at any time, stop me, okay?" He requests, and you nod again, not trusting your voice not to waiver if you answered.

He captures your lips once more in a long, slow, passionate kiss. His tongue mapping out every corner of your mouth, sliding along yours, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, keeping you breathless.

This time when his hands begin to tug the hem of your shirt up, you don't stop him.

He unpeels each layer of your clothes carefully, waiting for you to relax before he moves on to the next, almost maddeningly slow in his actions. Still, you appreciate his patience.

When you're finally fully bared, what feels like an age later, he sits back, dropping your panties to the floor as his eyes roam the flesh laid out before him.

You feel sick, dizzy with anxiety, waiting for him to realise how bad you look, how much he doesn't want you, to make excuses for you to leave.

Santiago does none of those things.

Instead, he lets out a low groan.

"Shit, you are incredible."

You could almost think he was lying, just to make you feel better, but as you look up at him, his eyes hooded, pupils blown wide, licking his lips like you were a meal he's been waiting all day for, you could actually kid yourself into believing him.

You squirm under his unwavering gaze, your hands automatically going to cover your stomach, twisting away from him.

Santi`s eyebrows pull together in a deep frown, shaking his head.

"Don't do that. Don't ever do that again. Not with me," he scolds you softly as he pries your hands away from your body, pinning them down to the couch.

Leaning over you he captures your lips, his kisses tender and loving. His hands wander your body slowly, mapping each curve as he grinds himself against your core. Each slow roll of his hips pushes the zipper of his jeans up against your clit, drawing muffled moans from your lips. Each sound you make he swallows as though they were a vintage wine, something to be savoured.

"Want to make you feel good," he slurs, finally giving you a moment to breathe. "Can I make you feel good?"

Still unable to form words, you nod, probably a little too enthusiastically, causing Santi's eyes to crinkle as he grins.

"Yeah?" He confirms, moving his kisses down to your breasts, peppering them with soft brushes of his lips. "Baby gonna be good and let me kiss her all over?"

You can feel the slick wetness pooling between your legs, the heat blazing across your skin, the blood roaring in your ears, and the ever present anxiety nipping at your thoughts, a constant companion which never seems to quiet.

Well, that is until Santi bites your nipple, turning your yelp at the sharp pain, into a moan as he soothes it with his tongue.

After that, all your thoughts, good and bad, begin to get a little hazy.

"Mmmm I like that noise," he hums, lathering your other breast with the same attention, making you struggle to catch your breath with the pleasure he was already wringing from you.

As his kisses trail lower, his lips pressing against the plush of your stomach, you can't help but try to curl in on yourself, trying to hide as much as you can in the small space of the couch.

It's a pointless endeavour. Santi's mouth pays particular attention to every part you try to twist away, or subtly hide as you move your arms.

He spends an age trailing soft kisses all the way across your stomach, before working his way back to your naval, and then down, leaving tiny love bites in his wake. A trail marking you as his over all the places you hate, before he stops, head between your already trembling thighs, looking up at you.

When your eyes meet his, he grins before he dips his head, holding your gaze as he thrusts his tongue deep inside you.

Your head slams back against the arm of the couch, your eyes squeezing shut, the image of his face buried in your pussy blazing behind your eyelids. You choke back a moan as his tongue loops up around your clit, before back down to taste you again.

"Keep making noises like that and we're going to have a problem," he warns, warm breath fanning out across your already heated skin, making you squirm with the stimulation.

You have no idea what problem he's talking about, and as his tongue slides through your folds, up to circle your clit a second time, you really couldn't care less about it either.

Your back arches as you chase the warm pleasure of his mouth, a groan of his name falling from your lips. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, holding you open for him as he feasts on your pussy like a starved man.

Curses and praises fall freely from your lips, accompanied by whimpers and moans as he expertly coaxes you closer and closer to the edge, all your anxieties silenced by the overwhelming pleasure that stops you from concentrating on anything else.

Santi groans, a noise that vibrates through your entire core, and pushes you dangerously close to the edge. When one of his hands disappears from your thigh, you can't help but open your eyes to glance down at him, your breath catching.

His eyes are closed, a look of pure bliss you haven't seen before on his face, as his tongue laps languidly at your slick cunt, while he palms his hard cock through his pants.

You throw your head back once more with a whine, unable to continue to watch him as he chooses that moment to seal his lips over your clit and suck, hard.

The vision of him, the overwhelming pleasure, the heat of his mouth, is too much, and you come undone with a strangled cry, your body trembling, and your vision going white as the pleasure crests and crashes over you.

Even through the roaring noise of blood in your ears, and the way your orgasm makes your mind fuzzy, you still catch the tail end of Santiago's gasped curse, followed by a low, broken groan. You can't help but think it sounds suspiciously like….

You don't even get to fully finish the thought before your body shudders in desire. That couldn't be the case when you haven't even touched him.

Then again the look on his face before…

When you can finally feel your limbs again you lean up on your elbows to look down your body at him, as he, somewhat awkwardly, sits back on his heels, a wet patch blooming out on his pants.

"Santi…did you…?" You swallow, trailing off as he looks somewhat abashed.

"Um, yeah," he admits, an unmistakable blush forming on his cheeks.

"Because of….me?" You ask quietly, feeling a strange sense of pride that, even as you are, you were able to do that to him.

"Oh, enjoying this, are we?" Santi laughs teasingly, relaxing a little when he sees your wide eyed surprise and the smile you're trying to bite down.

Putting his arms either side of you, he cages you in, as he runs his nose up the length of your neck. Even the lightest of touches makes your body shiver with desire.

"Maybe…a bit," you admit, a little distractedly as he places a kiss below your ear, pressing his body against yours, clearly knowing exactly what he's doing to you.

"Good," he mumbles into your skin. "Although next time I cum I want to be buried inside you."

He whispers it so sinfully low in your ear, you swear you could cum again just from his words.

Your breath catches and you can feel Santiago's smug smile against your neck, where he's still busy pressing soft kisses.

"I'm a little bit disappointed though," you manage to swallow out, trying to ignore the way his hand is skimming across your sweat damp skin, down the outside of your thigh, before slowly working its way back up.

Santi pulls back to look at you so quickly, you're surprised he doesn't put his back out.

"Disappointed?"

You can't quite tell if it's outrage or concern, that laces his tone, but whichever it is, you can't stop the laugh that bubbles up and out of your mouth, only making him frown more deeply.

"Cariño," he starts, stopping when you put a hand over his mouth to interrupt him.

"I'm disappointed I didn't get to see you."

It takes a moment for him to catch up, still clearly trying to work out what he has done wrong to disappoint you, but the moment it clicks his face transforms into a wolfish grin.

"Well, give me half an hour and I'll show you anything you want," he winks. "For now I guess I'll go back to admiring you." His eyes flicker once more down your body, surveying you like prey.

It makes your pussy clench.

"You really mean it don't you?" You whisper as he tilts his head in question. "You do like me the way I am?"

"I really mean it," he confirms seriously, "you are perfect."

He doesn't give you much time to think too hard about his confirmation, or really anything at all. Leaning back into you he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, clearly working on making you forget your own name.

You wrap one hand around the back of his neck, holding him to you as the other slips down his back to playfully squeeze his ass, drawing a low growl from the man above you.

Santiago is quick enough to get his revenge, slipping a hand between your bodies to brush his fingers against your clit.

You let out a gasp, and shudder with the over stimulation, as his fingers draw tight circles against your sensitive nub.

"You said half an hour," you practically whimper, unable to stop your hips canting up against his hand.

"For me. I didn't say you get a break." He smirks, slipping a finger into your wet heat, drawing another broken sound from you. "I want you to make those pretty sounds for me again… and again… and again."

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

If you enjoyed this please, please, reblog and tell me your thoughts! Reblogs and feedback are so important to content creators. It keeps us creating!

Special thank you to my patient, most lovely beta, who puts up with every smutty Santi thought that enters my brain @beldroxramscal

I no longer run a taglist. If you are 18+ please follow my blog and check the master list for updates. More fics are coming 👀

[romanarose]

Bad Days

Santiago Garcia x Fem!Oc!Laci Dumas

LaL universe

Summary: After the events of For the Longest Time, Laci and Santi are expecting a baby. Despite having a loving supportive husband, Laci is still struggling some days, and the pregnancy hasn't been easy.

Warnings: Mentions of past sexual abuse, pregnancy difficulties, eating problems.

***

It hadn't been easy on Laci, the pregnancy.

Firstly, it had come at a difficult time. Ben wasn't allowed to talk to her because if his bitch of a girlfriend, and for a long time she'd taken it out on Santi. The pregnancy hormones didn't help any of it, but Santi had never given up on her. Even when he didn't know what was happening, why she was acting like that or how to help, he was never going to give up. She'd been through so much, maybe she was finally allowing herself to feel the anger.

And then she'd gotten hurt. Alice had hit her, knocking her down while pregnant and it was revealed she was hitting Ben and shit had hit the ceiling ever since. Their relationship had repaired and he'd realized the little things they'd been arguing about didn't matter, just that she was safe. Worry about Ben made things worse, but it was good to know she wasn't alone. Ben had all of them on standby, ready to help the moment he was ready to accept it. Lorelei would beat Alice's ass given the chance.

Santi couldn't help but smile as he cooked. Lorelei was short, but never underestimate what she could do to protect someone vulnerable. She had a crazy side to her. Reminded him of himself, if he were honest.

But outside of all her general stress, Laci had health concerns with the pregnancy. She'd actually lost weight in the pregnancy for a while there, and had struggled to gain anything since. After their wedding, they'd gone to France for a honeymoon, but she was having complications so it was cut short, and she'd been put on bed rest. That's where she lay now, napping while Santi got some food ready in the hopes she could actually eat.

She'd done pretty good for breakfast and lunch, he even got her to eat some snacks during the day, but dinner could be tough. If Laci didn't have an appetite, she physically struggled to swallow even if she wanted to, which she did. Laci would do anything for their baby, he knew that, but her body was not something she ever felt she could trust.

When Santi heard a whimper from her room, she turned off the stove and quickly went to check on her. He found Laci clearly in the throws of a nightmare. Unlike many people, she didn't yell or thrash around when having nightmares. Everything she'd been through, her body learned that when in fear, it's safer to freeze. Laci was crying in her sleep.

When Laci had a nightmare, it was a very delicate procedure. He couldn't just wake her up like he did when Frankie would struggle; waking up in a bed with a man could scare her more, and if he did anything that made her feel pinned down or held, she'd be sent into a panic attack.

Santi was careful not to sit on the bed or lean over her. Instead, he reached out a hand and wiped a tear from her face. "Laci, it's me. It's Santi, I'm here." He continued to carefully stroke her face, something he did frequently, slowly wake her up. "Wake up, munequita. You're safe. You're safe with me."

Suddenly, pail blue eyes flashed open, flooded with water. As soon as she recognizes Santi, Laci's body language relaxes and she bursts into tears. Long ago, Santi would have been hurt but he fact she's only crying more, but now he knows why. With him, Laci feels safe enough to feel what she feels. She can be sad with him, she can be angry. That's not something she was allowed to do when she was in captivity, and not something she felt safe enough to do with anyone of her exes. They never let her be herself. Santi did.

Once he knew she knew who he was, Santi gets into bed to hold her, and Laci practically crawls into his arms. She's still so small, even with the baby bump, and he cradles her. A hand strokes her hair the way he knows soothes her, another one placed on her arm. Laci needs skin to skin when she's like this.

After she calms down, head rested on his chest, Laci gives a little sniffle. "I'm sorry."

Slightly shocked she'd say something like that, Santi looks down at her. "Baby, why are you apoligizing."

"I'm sorry I'm l-l-like this..." Her voice wobbles, and she won't like him in the eye.

"Lace, you've been through-"

"I know!" She didn't yell or raise her voice, but the irritation in her tone was clear. Guilt spread across her face and she spoke softer. "I know. And... I appreciate how patient you are, but it's been over a year. I get the nightmares, you have 'em too it's just..."

She sighs and wiggles a bit in discomfort, so Santi sits her up on the bed. Laci wipes her faces and leans back on her arms on the bed. White bedsheets frame around her grey clothes, highlighting the pink undertones of her skin. Pregnancy had been kind to her skin at least, leaving her glowing and clear. She had enough insecurity with that scar on her forehead.

Santi still holds her at her ankles. "Lace... It wasn't just when you were... taken." he's careful in his word choice, knowing she doesn't like talking about it. "It was years and years of one thing after another. You were orphaned, Antoni's death, addiction, horrible exes and bad friends... You can't expect to get over it in a year, or a few years." He sat up on his knees, Laci bouncing a bit in the bed with the motion. Cupping her face, Santiago looked her right in her pretty eyes. "You are the strongest person I know. There's so much you went through completely alone. You beat addiction without anyone to hold your hand, you survived a year of hell, something I never- Lace, look at me- I could never have survived that, do you understand me? You're incredible."

Her face was still down, but softening. "Santi... I can't even go to wal-mart by myself. We can't have sex most days. I can't drive."

"You'll learn to drive, Lace. You can drive enough that you can get somewhere in an emergency. You don't need to be able to go into Wal-Mart because I'm here, and there's always the glory of Carside pick-up for my lazy ass."

That was enough to make Laci giggle, and Santi laughed to.

"And baby... I told you a year ago if you can never have sex again, that's okay with me, and I meant it. I love you, I love showing my love to you with our bodies but you are so much more to me than a sex object. You tell me you don't want to have sex anymore, and I'll spend my life watching old sitcoms with you in my arms."

Laci gave a real smile now, sleepy still but genuine. "i definitely still want to have sex."

This time it was Santi's turn to laugh. "I'm glad." he brushed hair behind her hair. "I know every struggle you have, just as you know every struggle I have. You've taken me as I am, and I love you for all that you are."

"And all I'm not?"

"Miss Lacina... There is nothing you are not. You are everything to me."

She rubs her belly, looking down at the baby growing inside her. "I'm starving... were you cooking?"

Santi lights up at that. "Oh yeah baby, I'm chef'n it up." He practically runs out the door, calling out behind him. "You're gonna love it!"

Laci watched smiling as he ran off. She knew she would, because it came from him.

***

tagging my LaL friends <3

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missdictatorme @poeedameronn @garrettandoscarsgirlblog @miraclesabound

[volterran-wine]

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀɴᴏɴʏᴍᴏᴜꜱ: “ I don’t have anything specific in find but I need more Santiago headcanons Please -🔮”

It it always a joy to receive requests for our dear Santiago. Though his popularity has grown slightly on my blog, he is far from the most popular man in the palazzo. Though, I hope my continued peddling of piping hot Santiago content will convert the masses. I know this request took a good while to get to you dear CrystalBall!Anon, but I hope it greets you well.

!𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒! None.

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐎

Now, where do you even begin in order to explain a vampire like Santiago in the most appropriate manner. If I were to use a single word it would be “Enigma”, it is the only one that I can fully agree with.

In a sense, he is one of the secret “weapons” among The Volturi. Not like Jane & Alec, but in the sense that very few vampires outside the coven takes him seriously besides the general respect vampires have for guards. Santiago comes off as a very friendly and jovial type, he does not particularly flaunt his smarts or expertise, because that does not benefit him in the long run. All of this to keep one thing shrouded in mystery; Santiago is a mighty good fighter. There are few ungifted vampires that can take him in hand to hand combat, the ones in the Palazzo being Felix, Caius and Marcus. In a similar vein that Afton (Santiago’s unofficial official best friend.) operates, Santiago has ensured that he almost always have the upper hand. Nobody sees an underdog coming after all.

I have previously spoken of how Vampires in my worldbuilding do not all sparkle in the traditional sense, it is more like a glow and luminescence that is uniquie to every individual depending a lot on what ethnicity and race that they are, and the paritcular strain of venom that ends up turning them. Santiago happens to glow like the most beautiful bronze statue you can imagine, with a tint of green if the light hits him correctly. It is a sight many have marvelled at. 

Santiago speaks five languages; Portuguese, Spanish, English, Italian and Latin (most of it through Caius’ cursing during drills).

At the moment he has the second most cluttered room in the palazzo, he only loses out to Alec who is eternally a thirteen year old boy in many regards. Demetri and Santiago are in fact the same level of messy but the tracker claims it is an aesthetic and blames part of it on the cats that frequent his room. Santiago is not convinced.

A fun fact is that Santiago is the only person in the coven who has an inkling of what chocolate tastes like. Import of cacao to Europe did not occur until 1500 AD or so, a time when all Volturi members had already been immortal for a good while. 

One time Santiago and Afton was sent out on a mission together to spy on a coven that opposed The Volturi to some extent. The pair were gone for quite a few days, Demetri kept reassuring his masters that the two were still well and alive despite being in the enemies camp. Two days later Santiago would return with two of the opposing covens members as recruits for the lower guard. He had managed to befriend them and had the coven stand down. Ever since he has been part of the vampires who get sent in if The Volturi has to calm a situation down peacefully when fear of exposure is imminent. 

Santiago is the fifth tallest vampire behind Felix, Afton, Marcus and Caius. Though Afton is a fair bit taller than him, he could bring the vampire to the ground with his eyes closed.

Santiago is the only coven member who has had his head ripped off and re-attached again. It was a surreal experience he is not fond of talking about. 

[nalyra-dreaming]

With Ben Daniels' comment about Louis and Armand it reminded me that in the book Santiago goes so far as to say that he liked or felt attracted to Louis

Does he now?

In the scene where he says he "likes" Louis he tries to get him to tell him Lestat's name, because he knows something is afoot.

“But then a voice came softly to me on the air, too faint for mortals: ‘How is this so? How did you wrong him?’ “I turned round so sharp that my breath left me. A vampire sat near me, so near as to almost brush my shoulder with the tip of his boot, his legs drawn up close to him, his hands clasped around them. For a moment I thought my eyes deceived me. It was the trickster vampire, whom Armand had called Santiago. “Yet nothing in his manner indicated his former self, that devilish, hateful self that I had seen, even only a few hours ago when he had reached out for me and Armand had struck him. He was staring at me over his drawn-up knees, his hair dishevelled, his mouth slack and without cunning. “ ‘It makes no difference to anyone else,’ I said to him, the fear in me subsiding. “ ‘But you said a name; I heard you say a name,’ he said. “ ‘A name I don’t want to say again,’ I answered, looking away from him. I could see now how he’d fooled me, why his shadow had not fallen over mine; he crouched in my shadow. The vision of him slithering down those stone stairs to sit behind me was slightly disturbing. Everything about him was disturbing, and I reminded myself that he could in no way be trusted. It seemed to me then that Armand, with his hypnotic power, aimed in some way for the maximum truth in presentation of himself: he had drawn out of me without words my state of mind. But this vampire was a liar. And I could feel his power, a crude, pounding power that was almost as strong as Armand’s. “ ‘You come to Paris in search of us, and then you sit alone on the stairs...’ he said, in a conciliatory tone. ‘Why don’t you come up with us? Why don’t you speak to us and talk to us of this person whose name you spoke; I know who it was, I know the name.’ “ ‘You don’t know, couldn’t know. It was a mortal,’ I said now, more from instinct than conviction. The thought of Lestat disturbed me, the thought that this creature should know of Lestat’s death. “ ‘You came here to ponder mortals, justice done to mortals?’ he asked; but there was no reproach or mockery in his tone. “ ‘I came to be alone, let me not oend you. It’s a fact,’ I murmured. “ ‘But alone in this frame of mind, when you don’t even hear my steps....I like you. I want you to come upstairs.’ And as he said this, he slowly pulled me to my feet beside him. “At that moment the door of Armand’s cell threw a long light into the passage. I heard him coming, and Santiago let me go.

That is the scene where Santiago says it. That... isn't "liking" imho. This isn't being attracted. This is trying to wheedle something out of Louis. To get the name.

And Louis knew instinctively that Santiago was a liar... and up to no good.

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Surprise chapter 1

here is the first chapter of the first fic in my loumand mafia au

Here is their thing; Louis pretends not to know Armand is in the mafia, Armand pretends to let him.  

Louis sits at one end of the long mahogany table and Armand at the other.  He has his hair slicked back and dark liner around his eyes.  He has that look in his eye, like a predator that spotted a wounded gazelle.  He’s wearing  one of his crisp white shirts that he never manages to get blood on, even though Louis’ seen him slip noiselessly into the bathroom at night and wash blood from his hands in the sink.

Hands that he lets slide over his body and take him apart.  Sometimes he imagines blood smeared on him, Armand’s guilt rubbed all over him.  Only guilty in that he is guilty of a crime, because Armand feels no shame, no remorse.  So Louis is left to feel it instead. 

“I don’t revel in violence,” Armand has often said, “but sometimes it’s necessary, my dear.”

“I don’t like it in the house,” he blurted one day at dinner after Armand came in from his office, cheeks flushed with color.  He had that cold, dispassionate look in his eye he got when he took a life.  

Armand blinked at him and said “What?”

“The killing,” Louis said, “I don’t like it in the house.”

“You want me to stop killing in the house.”

“Yes.”

Armand had tilted his head and looked at Louis for a long moment, then said “As you wish.”

And from that day on there had been no killing inside the house, though sometimes people were taken into the yard.  Now, that dangerous look is turned on him and while Louis knows Armand would never hurt him, fighting with him is a special kind of psychological warfare.  He hunches in on himself under Armand’s gaze.  

He says nothing.  This is what he does, in the wake of Armand’s anger; he withdrawals and goes silent.  Louis closes himself off and waits for Armand to pry him open when his anger has faded to a softer thing.  Armand can be as bitterly silent in turn, and they could have long, icy silences that lasted weeks before one of them would break.

Louis pushes his food around his plate and Armand glances down sharply.  “Louis, have you eaten today?”

Louis can’t remember.  He doesn’t think so.  “I had a cup of coffee this morning.”

“Eat your food, then we’ll talk.”  Armand’s using his listen-to-me voice, the one he usually reserves for the bedroom.  It irritates Louis, for Armand to think he can just seduce him into listening.  

“I’m not hungry,” Louis says and Armand’s fingers drum against the table.

“I didn’t ask if you were hungry, Louis.  I told you to eat,” Armand’s voice is cold and utterly indifferent.

Sometimes, when Louis gets in a funk, he forgets to eat.  He just doesn’t get hungry, so he doesn’t bother to eat.  So Armand makes sure he gets three square meals a day, usually by having a Chef on hand to prepare something.  At least, until Louis told him he didn’t like it, some person just in their home all the time.  Now he prepares breakfast and lunch for the next day and puts them in the refrigerator.  

“Can we just skip to the part where you tell me I made you look bad, or something?”

Armand sighs gently.  “You are my husband; you may ask for anything at any time.”

Louis frowns.  “You’re not supposed to kill them in the house.”

Armand’s fingers drum on the table again, the only sign of his impatience.  His expression is impenetrable.  “We were outside, darling.”

Technically, they were outside.  But the backdoor was open and Louis could see the man down on his knees, could see the fear in his eyes.  He felt sorry for him, is all.  So he had shouted stop, after Armand issued the order to shoot.  It was Santiago and Eleni, and Santiago had never liked Louis.  Louis had confronted Armand about it after they were married; didn’t he know Santiago was in love with him?  

Of course, Armand knew.  He explained that it made Santiago unflinchingly loyal. Louis had said he didn’t like it, so Armand had offered to kill Santiago, if it would please Louis.  And Louis hadn’t wanted all that, but he found himself satisfied that Armand should offer.  

Eleni had been the one to hesitate and shout out “Boss?”

Armand had ordered them to stop and both had, though it was a close thing for Santiago.  Armand had let the man live, though the look he sent Louis’ way let Louis know he was in trouble.

Louis says nothing.  Armand watches him for a long moment, doing nothing to break the silence.  Louis realizes he’s waiting for him to eat.  He takes a small bite of pasta.  Chews.  Swallows.  His stomach turns.  

“I hope you understand, Louis, that you only prolonged the inevitable,” Armand says, and his voice is like silk.  “You spared a man’s life today, but the first man to call me soft for it will have to be made an example of.”

Louis jerks his head up and looks at Armand.  “No one would say you’re soft.  They’re too scared of you.”

Armand smiles slightly.  “That’s because I’m scary.”

Right.  And sparing a man’s life on the whim of his husband wasn’t scary.  “You could have just killed him anyway.”

“Have I ever denied you anything, my dear?”

He hasn’t, is the thing.  Armand gives him whatever he asks for.  Louis doesn’t want to argue with him.  “...I won’t ask again, that what you want to hear?”

His tone sounds petulant even to his own ears.  Louis wishes he hadn’t bothered to interfere.  He and Armand wouldn’t be having this conversation

“I have things to work on,” Armand says, rising from his seat.  “Come see in my office when you’ve finished your food.”

Armand crosses the distance between them and presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead.  It’s a reassuring gesture, one he didn’t have to do.  His office is the other direction, so he’s gone out of his way to show Louis affection.  It likely means he’s already over the earlier infraction.  

Louis tips his head up in silent request for a proper kiss.  Armand kisses him, chaste and proper, until he slips his tongue along Louis’ bottom lip and Louis gasps.  Then he slides his tongue into his mouth and kisses him till he’s delirious.  

Louis chases his mouth when he pulls back, but Armand presses a hand on his shoulder and holds him in his seat.  “Eat first, then my office.”

Then he bends so his mouth is near Louis’ ear and whispers something filthy in Italian.  He’s been paying for Louis to take lessons, as if being fluent in two languages isn’t enough already.  Louis only knows that it’s filthy because Armand has that tone.  Armand brushes a kiss against his throat and backs away.

“Armand, I don’t know what that means.”

Armand smirks at him.  “Then it will be a surprise.”

Louis likes surprises.

[charlenasaxen]

We Jace You a Clary Xmas - A Long Conversation

“Simon would talk to them about what it meant to become a Shadowhunter after a mundane life”

“Simon seemed to truly enjoy helping scared mundanes”

“Beatriz screamed with excitement. Some of the students, fearing a demon attack, also screamed. One of them fell off a rafter”

“Clary burst into happy tears and threw her arms around Simon”

“Jace lay down on the floor, arms thrown wide. “We’re going to be family,” he said glumly.”

“You and me, Simon, we’re going to be brothers. People will think we’re related.”

“No one will think that”

“get up and congratulate Simon or I’ll pour all your expensive shampoo down the drain.”

Jace bounced up”

“Jace and Simon had been friends for years now, but Jace still seemed to think he needed excuses to show his affection”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were going to do it.” Clary smacked Simon on the arm. “Did you have roses? Izzy loves roses.”

“Shadowhunters don’t do that,” said Jace”

“Open bar,” said Jace, who had developed an interest in mixology that Clary found amusing”

“When Jace spoke, his voice was flat. “She wants to do it on Max’s birthday.”

“Max, the smallest, the sweetest Lightwood, Izzy and Alec’s little brother. He would be fifteen now”

“at a time when it would feel most genuinely to her that Max was there”

“The ballroom that was hardly ever used was being turned into a second training room, and several floors were full of stacks of tiles”

“Clary groaned. Jace ruffled her hair. “You can do it,” he said, and she could tell just from the tone of his voice that he was grinning.”

“Every once in a while Magnus would change it up a little, and illusory rose petals would blow”

“Sometimes, late at night, she would hear the high lonely sound of the Wild Hunt’s horn as they pounded through the sky, and think of Mark Blackthorn, and grieve”

“he had agreed with her, both in his capacity as her boyfriend and also as second head”

“Jace was playing, his velvet blazer tossed over the back of his chair, his slim hands dancing over the piano keys”

“Clary couldn’t help but remember the first time she’d seen him in the Institute, playing the piano, his back to her. Alec? he’d said. Is that you?”

“He glanced up as if he could feel Clary’s gaze on him, and smiled at her.

Even after all this time, he still gave her shivers down her spine.”

“No one could force someone to head up an Institute, and they’d planned to go around the world together, while Clary painted and Jace fought demons in unusual locations.”

“But he’d wanted to do it. She knew that in his heart he felt it was a way of paying back”

“For the good fortune they’d had in coming through it all with most of the people they loved unscathed”

“Alec, and Isabelle, and Clary, when once he’d thought that he would never have a best friend, or a sister, and that he would never fall in love”

“her knowledge of the mundane world and its practicalities, his ancient Shadowhunter blood and training. Jace had always been the natural leader of their small group, a proven strategist”

“Where’s Isabelle?” she whispered.

“She wants to make an entrance”

“Jace liked her in green, and it matched her eyes, but there had been a time when the color had troubled her. She had been unable to look at it without thinking of her brother, Jonathan, whose eyes had turned green when he died.”

“Isabelle’s allergic to tulips,” said a voice from the shadows. Clary jumped. Alec Lightwood was seated in a chair at the far end”

“Clary stared. “And?” she said. It wasn’t as if Alec was a wanted criminal.”

“He would be their son, and Max’s brother.

They named him Rafael Santiago Lightwood.”

“I won’t let them,” said Alec. “I’d kill them all first. But that would be awkward and ruin the party.”

“Clary had a brief but vivid mental image of Alec shooting at the party guests with his bow and arrow”

“Is it poisoning the punch?” Alec asked with worrisome eagerness.”

“Alec’s eyes glittered for a moment, bright blue under coal-black lashes”

“You didn’t always think I was wise.”

“No, I thought you were a pest, but I know better now.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head and went out the door, still carrying his tulip.”

“We lost a lot of Shadowhunters in the war five years ago. And since then we’ve been trying to make new ones.”

“Simon talks to them, tells them about becoming a Shadowhunter, why it’s hard—and why it matters.”

“But when Clary and Jace had taken over running the Institute, they had sworn to each other that they would be a new kind of guardian”

“After all, Clary and Simon had both once been mundanes”

“I don’t understand any of this. But my little brother is a big deal, right?”

“my mom said to me: ‘That girl is going to bring magic into his life.’ And you did.”

“Literally,” Clary said. Rebecca looked blank. Oh, dear. Jace would have laughed.”

“The heads of the New York vampire clan and the New York werewolf clan, together.

Not that it was that unusual to see them together: They were friends.”

“I tried to talk to Jace, but he is playing the piano”

“Magnus and Alec are busy with those small creatures.”

“Children,” Clary said. “They’re children.”

“I understand that at functions such as this, it is a tradition to humiliate the future bride and groom with pictures from their childhoods”

“This is Clarissa Fairchild at the Institute.”

She paused. “Yes, the head of the Institute.”

“I know you’re on the High Line. I know you’re about to fight a clan of vampires. I need you to stop.”

Indignant yelling followed. Clary sighed.”

“More subdued arguing.

Clary cut it off.”

“he had better hop to it or I might nibble one of those children of his.”

“It’s not me I worry about,” Emma had said. “It’s Jules. I would do anything, if only Jules would be all right.”

“Clary!” The door burst open again. It was finally Isabelle, looking radiant”

“The moment she stepped into the room, she started to sneeze.

Clary bolted upright. “By the Angel—”

“Ib not your foot,” Isabelle said”

“I’ll go down to the florist and kill them tomorrow. Or maybe Alec might do it. He seems murderous tonight.”

“I’m getting married! To Simon! I’m happy!” She beamed.”

“Isabelle shrugged a little shyly. “It’s just that you love so much. So hard. You give so much. And it’s always made you stronger.”

“You know, you marrying Simon means we’re going to be sisters, basically, right? Isn’t the person married to your parabatai like your sister?”

Isabelle threw her arms around her.”

“more white in her hair now than Clary remembered her having when they’d met, but her back was straight, her stance still a Shadowhunter’s.”

“Good,” Isabelle said, “then I can make an entrance,” and she linked her arm with Clary’s”

“he looked over when she came into the room and winked”

“Clary thought of Tessa, who had given her that ring to give to Jace, and wished she were there. She always loved to see Jace play the piano.”

“A framed quote flashed up against the wall: Marriage is like a long conversation that always ends too soon”

“Simon glanced at the picture and smiled at Clary, his eyes crinkling around the corners. Clary touched her fingers to her right forearm, where her parabatai mark was.”

“Jace was across the room, whispering to Alec, their dark and light heads bent together. Alec’s hand was on Jace’s shoulder and he was nodding.”

“She’d known how much Jace loved Alec, known since the first time she’d seen Alec injured and Jace—whose self-possession was near terrifying—had come apart”

“Now that Simon was her parabatai, she understood so much more. The way you were stronger when your parabatai was there.”

“Keep him safe, Isabelle Lightwood, she thought”

“He was behind her now; she could smell the cologne she’d given him for Christmas”

“Just for a second,” he said, in that low voice of his that made bad ideas seem like good ones”

“Well, nearly unnoticed. Alec was watching them go, and as Jace shut—and locked—the door behind him, he flashed Jace a thumbs-up”

“mostly because Jace strode toward her with a determined look on his face, took her in his arms, and kissed her”

“he’d had a childhood that had left him uncertain of love, and fragile as glass”

“she let herself relax into the kiss, her hand lingering against his cheek”

“Shh.” He grinned. His blond hair was tousled, his eyes sleepy. “Let me be in the moment.”

“His expression was serious. He leaned in to kiss her, hands on her waist”

“Jace,” she whispered. Her heart was pounding. His body leaned into hers, pressing her back”

“she could hear Jace’s quick breathing, remembered the boy he had been, in the grass with her in front of the Wayland Manor in Idris, when they had kissed and kissed and she had realized that love could cut you like the edge of a blade”

“His lowered eyes glittered in the dark. “‘Green to mend our broken hearts,’” he quoted.”

“His eyelashes brushed her cheek; his voice was warm in her ear. “You mended my heart,” he whispered. “You picked up the pieces of a broken, angry boy and you made him into a happy man, Clary.”

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” he said, soft as music”

“you’re my heart.”

“His were stark gold, hard and beautiful. She loved him so much her rib cage hurt”

“Marry me,” he said. “Marry me, Clary.”

“I would say ‘Don’t you knock?’ but it seems evident you don’t,” he said. “We are, however, busy.”

“I’ve walked in on your ancestors doing worse,” he said. “Besides, it’s an emergency.”

“But I was going to give a toast,” said Jace. “Can’t the apocalypse wait?”

“He stopped short as he caught sight of Clary and Jace’s flushed faces”

“Excuse me,” said Robert.

Jace looked awkward. Robert looked awkward.”

“Can we stop being weird about Jace and Clary’s sex life and get going?”

“Jace moved up beside her, taking her hand in his. She felt the light pressure of his fingers.

Marry me, Clary.”

“she would have to give him her answer. She dreaded it.”

[court-mills]

{ DAMIAN HARDUNG, 21, DEMI-BOY, HE/THEY } Is that COURTNEY MILLS ? A JUNIOR  originally from CHARLESTON, SC, they decided to come to Ogden College to study PRE-MED on an ACADEMIC SCHOLARSHIP. They’re THE  HIMBO on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance.

THE ESSENTIALS

TBD

CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS

seth capella (zodiac academy) - scott russell (cruel intentions [2024]) - chris traeger (parks and rec) - elle woods (legally blonde) - finnick odair (the hunger games) - aaron samuels (mean girls) - troy bolton (high school musical) - finn hudson (glee) - jeremiah fisher (the summer i turned pretty) - wally clark (school spirits) - amy santiago (brooklyn 99) - seth cohen (the oc)

TV TROPES

THE HIMBO, book smart, ditzy genius, endearingly dorky, lovable jock, dumb muscle, beautiful all along, in with the in crowd, more TBD

OGDEN COLLEGE 2023-2024

MAJOR:

Pre-Med with a Gender and Sexuality Studies Minor

EXTRACURRICULARS:

Lacrosse (Defenseman), Sailing Queer Alliance, Pre-Med Society

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Courtney Rhys Mills

NICKNAME(S): Court, Coco

DATE OF BIRTH: May 29, 2002

AGE: twenty-one

ZODIAC SIGN: gemini sun, leo moon, libra rising, taurus mercury, cancer venus, gemini mars

OCCUPATION: ogden college student

HOMETOWN: charleston, sc

NATIONALITY: american

ETHNICITY: white

LANGUAGE(S): english

GENDER & PRONOUNS: demi-boy, he/they (typically does use he/him pronouns to minimize people’s confusion around the lack of understanding of the fact that gender isn’t a binary, but uses they/them as well…potentially would prefer them if he wasn’t an overwhelmingly anxious people pleaser) 

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual

PHYSICAL INFORMATION

FACE CLAIM: Damian Hardung

HEIGHT: 5'11”

EYE COLOR: light blue

HAIR COLOR + STYLE: light brown/dirty blonde, swoopy over his forehead

ACCENT + INTENSITY: very, very slight southern drawl

TATTOO(S): none

SCAR(S): TBD

PIERCING(S): one pierced ear, thanks to link 

GLASSES: yes

CLOTHING STYLE: TBD

PERSONALITY

MBTI TYPE: TBD

POSITIVE TRAITS: extroverted, sociable, clever, practical, determined, goofy, determined, intuitive

NEGATIVE TRAITS: scattered, flighty, indecisive, two-faced, over-sensitive, inconsistent, closed-off, judgmental

SKILLS: solving a rubik’s cube in about 10 seconds, can tie essentially any type of knot that exists, doing a standing back tuck (he does celebrate the rare goal as a defenseman in lacrosse this way)

GOALS/DESIRES: TBD

FEARS: TBD

HOBBIES: TBD

HABITS: TBD

SMOKES? yes, weed at least

DRINKS? yes

DRUGS? yes - he injured his knee last year and has been lowkey using opiates to help him deal with it because he can’t be kicked off the lacrosse team and lose his athletic scholarship. he completely downplayed the injury at the time, and has been consistently trying to hide the lasting affects - before that, he wasn’t much of a hard drug user.

PLEASE EXPAND ON HOW THEY EMBODY THEIR CHARACTER TROPE: THE HIMBO

Court is extremely smart. He’s pre-med, after all, and fully intends to go into a branch of medicine where he can focus on helping people who - like he had - struggle with their gender identity. He’s intelligent, motivated, and has lofty goals - a lot of people just don’t see it at first. He’s got the blue eyes, the pretty face, the easy laugh, and gentle voice, and people see the whole package, and the way he goofs around, and assume he’s not the brightest. It’s fair, honestly - he does have his ditzy moments. And he definitely does lack a little common sense and can come off like an idiot at first, just because he’s so not worried about coming off smart, or proving anything to anyone, and just wants to enjoy himself. But once people start to get to know him a little more, they realize there’s a lot more under the surface. Even if the surface is that pretty. 

expanded personality tbd

CONNECTIONS

connection page tbd

RELATIONSHIP TO GREER: NEW FRIEND

Two years ago, when Court showed up as a freshman, his newly developed looks and the confidence that went along with them found him blending right into the popular clique. While he was aware that these were the very people who would’ve ignored him in high school, he couldn’t help but go along with it with the slightest sense of awe. Maybe because he is friendly with both Kit and Jesse, he never had anything but positive interactions with Greer, the two blondes actually getting along extremely well. They often goofed off together, Court definitely someone that could bring out her more easy going side, though that could be said for most people he interacted with.  

IC QUESTION: “You wouldn’t have wanted Greer to disappear, would you?”

Court let out a scoff, shaking his head. “Of course not. She was my friend,” they said, a frown crossing his face after the words as he looked at the officer. “I know people have a lot of contradicting opinions about her, but when you just…hung with her, she was chill. And people never bothered to get to know her before talking shit. Was she the nicest? No,” he answered, the words honest, if a bit blunt. “But she also wasn’t the horrible person some people like to paint her as. I don’t know. I only ever had good interactions with her. And even if I hadn’t, it’s not like I’d never want her to disappear. Or anyone.” 

BACKGROUND

FAMILY: 

SOCIAL CLASS: upper class/upper middle class

FATHER: TBD

MOTHER: TBD

SIBLING(S)? TBD

family page tbd

BIOGRAPHY:  

court was definitely more shy/reserved/closed off in his younger years - before going through puberty, he was skinny and felt so outta place in who he was, so he held himself back a lot and was very much one of the shy nerdy kids

there was definitely some bullying as well through middle school/early high school, which definitely didn’t help him feeling comfortable in his own skin

his personality started to come out a lot more once he began to feel more confident, and people realized he was a complete goofball, albeit one who is very pretty

he had a glow up around senior year of high school, and was suddenly much more welcomed into the popular cliques

not being one to hold grudges, ash became friends with a lot of the kids who were previously mean to him

when he came to ogden, he was instantly accepted in as a jock, and fit in with the quote-unquote cool kids. it was a shock for him, and he tries to hide his still very loud nerdy side so they don't realize he doesn't belong and kick him out

expanded biography tbd

SOME FUN FACTS

TBD

he has def like...concussed himself on his own locker at least once

thinks ollie is g!

was not invited to the social butterfly's new years eve

[arcadianambivalence]

I...have two theories about this.

The first one is fairly straightforward, but heavily dependent on a backstory that the show has only barely touched on.

I think the events with Claudia and Madeline triggered a memory he'd kept buried. My personal headcanon is that Louis saying "I've seen what fire does. I don't want to go out that way" in 2x03 was what convinced Armand to let him go the first time. It's why I think he was so angry at Louis after the suicide attempt in 2x05, even though he saved him again and pulled him back inside. Because he'd seen Marius burn (to death, he thinks), and he can't go through that again.

Later, Armand describes the choice as one between his coven of 200 years and Louis, whose love he couldn't count on. He chooses whatever path of least resistance keeps him alive. That's how he survived every experience so far.

Maybe it was a combination of fearing he'd lose Louis to Lestat (or Claudia), or resentment towards Lestat for abandoning him the first time, or fear of being overthrown and taken down by the very coven he built. But then he saw Claudia slowly disintegrate, screaming, turning towards Lestat in her final moments, and it's too similar to his own abduction by the Roman coven to ignore.

A child screaming for help that isn't coming. The taste of ashes in one's mouth. Someone being ripped from the condemned only to be shoved in a coffin cage and buried alive.

My second theory is a little more convoluted. This was part of an agreement Lestat and Armand made. Lestat would get him offstage, then Armand would do the rest.

There's no way Claudia could ever walk away from the trial. She confessed on paper and before the audience. But Louis didn't. And just as Louis repeatedly picked Lestat (and Armand) over Claudia, the same can be said for Lestat picking Louis over Claudia.

Lestat figured out how to save Louis, or at least delay his death, and make the audience cry for his banishment. A hopeless trick...except Santiago permits it. How would Lestat know he'd cave to the audience when they barely know each other? Because someone else knows Santiago more.

Perhaps Lestat and Armand had worked out this second rescue during the trial, which is why Lestat is oddly subdued during the tower scene instead of overjoyed that his rescue worked (and why he's so certain Armand can't kill him). It's why they kept that line of communication open enough to speak in 1973.

That these two could overcome their turbulent past to save Louis would be something of an olive branch after everything that's going to happen with Nicki in season three.

Underrated detail of the whole trial situation is that in the end Armand DID save Louis. Like I get that we're mad at him because he didn't save Louis when we thought he did, but the fact remains that Armand was totally fine with watching Louis die, and then at some point he changed his mind! Whether it was about Louis or his trauma from being starved by the Children of Darkness, he made a decision somewhere in there. And Armand is allergic to making decisions, so that's worth noting! I really hope we get to hear his side of Paris eventually because I would love to hear what his narrative of that moment is, why his reaction to his murder plot failing was to save his would-be victim and then dedicate the rest of his life to keeping him alive. Did he misjudge Louis' strength? Did hearing Lestat's side make him change his mind? Did watching Claudia die make it all real for him? Was he hedging his bets, or was he sincerely sorry??? I would like to know!!!!

[psychedelic-ink]

kinktober '22 ║ XIX

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 2k

summary: once a month you and frankie play a game.

warnings: pray/predator, chase kink, piv, gun kink, facial, lotta pet names used by frankie, dirty talking

a/n: it's not mentioned specifically but there is a safeword in place, this is a consensual scenario. enjoy xx

MLISTS .  LIBRARY. TAGLIST . KINKTOBER '22

You can hear the blood pounding in your ears, the tips of your fingers tingling with fear, numb from the cold. Your lungs feel like they might explode at any given moment. They convulse as you inhale shuddering breaths, the air chilling your organs. Running becomes more difficult with every passing moment, the maze you’re in doing little in showing you the way out. He’s not that far away, you can sense his deep brown eyes observing your every move, taking across your skin like the prey that you are. 

Once a month you two played this game. Santiago, the fucking magician that he is, knew someone that owned a maze. It’s a horrific place, and you’re hundred percent sure that The Shining was filmed here. No one could convince you otherwise. 

Your feet slow down, coming to a halt. Another dead end. Chewing your bottom lip raw, you look up, all you can see is the dark cloudy sky. A series of loud caws echo within the maze, it makes you tremble and urges you to go back the way you came from. Just as you’re about to turn, you see a dark silhouette passing by. You jump, fear coating your skin in the form of cold sweat. The click of a gun follows and you immediately start to run the other direction, not caring if you’d already taken that path or not. 

“You’re getting sloppy,” you hear Frankie call out, his voice low laced with an unspoken threat. “I would’ve already caught you if I wanted to,” 

He means that. However, it isn’t your fault. The only thing you know is how to run, and even that you can barely do with such little exercise that goes on in your life. Frankie is a trained soldier, and a good one at that, you don’t stand a chance against his skills and  experience. You swallow, the knot in your throat growing as you desperately try to ignore the ache between your legs. You enjoy seeing him like this, it’s thrilling. There was just something so enticing about seeing him so in control, fully in his element. 

You will your legs to move faster but stumble instead, catching yourself at the very last moment. Your chest heaves, hurting and throbbing as you take in deep breaths. You feel sick, stomach churning uncontrollably. You feel disoriented as you run, every path you choose seeming familiar but not at the same time. Your mind tricks you into thinking that the moist soil underneath you starts to slip, the maze spinning and spinning. His steps grow closer, or maybe he’s already ahead of you. You don’t know. 

“I can smell the fear clinging to your skin. Being afraid isn’t going to help you sweetheart!” 

Where is his voice coming from? Is he behind you? In front of you? Shit. 

You lose this race every time, just once you would want to win. Just once you want to see that finish line–

Another turn and you see it, the iron gate. Ivy fills the emptiness between bars, roses mid-bloom scattered across the dark green. If it was any other moment you would revel in their beauty, take a mental picture, but you can’t stop when you’re already so close. Your calves tremble. You don’t hear nor feel Frankie anymore. Doubt curls around your mind like the ivy does to the gate, is this actually the exit? You’ve never seen it before so you don’t really have a base of reference. 

A slow cap rings into the night, the sound nothing bu mocking. Goosebumps lick your chilled, yet still warm, skin. You shudder at the sound, slowly turning as your heart beats like a bird in a cage. You see Frankie right behind you, his head tilted, a cruel-mocking smile tugging at his flush lips. The gun hangs loosely on his back, the strap covering a part of his chest. What a shame, you think as your gaze lingers on the strap. 

“You almost made it,” he teases, taking a step forward. “Congrats,” 

“I can still make it. You still haven’t captured me,” 

There’s an unbridled challenge in your tone, you tilt your chin up. The wind blows cold between you, his smile grows and you watch as his thick fingers curl around the strap around his shoulder. He gestures towards the gate with his chin, his grin never wavering. 

“Go on then, try to make it.” 

Your heart stills. The tone of his voice is enough to strengthen the pull your body already has towards him. You almost move towards him instead, your mind deeming that you’re already fighting a lost battle. His eyes glimmer with amusement, his eyebrows knitted together, it completes his look of pity. 

And only then you snap out of it. 

You run towards the gate, skin bursting with sweat, you feel the grime and dirt that clings to your skin. It disgusts you but you don’t care. Every nerve in your body is screaming for you to push forward, to run faster. You reach forward, a phantom sensation of iron touching your fingertips makes you smile– 

Your world shifts and the air is forced out of your lungs. The gate disappears. You feel his rifle on your throat, his chest flushed tightly against your back. You struggle but it’s in vain, his grip as strong as steel. Frankie hums, the curve of his nose brushing the side of your face, he inhales your scent and pulls you closer to him, you let out a whine. 

“So close,” he keens. “Yet so far,” 

He grinds his hips into your ass, a hushed gasp falling from your lips as you feel the hard outline of his cock. The gate forgotten, you lean into him, your body seeking to feel more of him. 

“I love watching you run, mi pájaro bonita,” his tongue touches your neck, a shiver climbs up your spine. “However, I think I like having you trapped in my arms a bit more,”  

You find yourself suddenly laying on the ground, the soil cold underneath your heated body. Frankie towers over you, still standing tall as he keeps the rifle upright between your legs. When your gaze flickers up to meet his, you can barely see the color of his eyes. 

“Make yourself wet for me,” 

When you stay completely still, he presses the gun further into your arousal, you whimper at the friction, your pussy already throbbing from the chase. 

“Do I need to repeat myself?” 

You quickly shake your head, his tongue similar to what he used when he was still a soldier. Biting your bottom lip, you raise your hips, grinding up into the weapon with trembling legs. The pressure makes your eyes roll back, arousal staining the seam of your underwear. Frankie’s hungry gaze prompts you to move faster, and you thrust your hips accordingly. Each time you slide up the barrel of the gun, light bursts within your eyelids, little black dots hovering in your vision when you open them. Your moans become louder, breathier. For a split second you drag your heavy gaze up to him, a gasp parting your lips at the same time, with a growl he starts to move the rifle up and down, adding more pleasure to your already aching pussy. 

“Frankie–” you mewl, your back arches. “Please fuck me–” 

His nostrils flare as he breathes, exhaling from his mouth. You roll your hips, your gaze falling to the rifle, you see it shine with your slick. Your head falls and you stifle a moan with the back of your hand. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” he rasps. “So pretty…You like it when I chase you around baby? You like it when I tease you with my gun?” 

A whimper escapes your throat and you furiously nod, lips still hidden behind your hand. Annoyed, Frankie clicks his jaw, head tilting to the side. 

“Words baby,” he hisses. “Let me see those pretty lips,” 

Shaking, you remove your hand. 

“I-I love it when you chase me around…and when you tease me with your gun,” 

“That’s my girl,” he coos. Frankie lets his gun fall to the ground and kneels between your legs. He tugs down your jeans, thumb notched between your wet falls. Frankie hums with approval. “So wet, want me to fuck you with my big cock now amor?” 

“Please…” 

When he’s inside you the world around you stops. Everything is a rainbow of blurred shapes and colors except for him, sparks fly across your mudded skin at the way he stretches you wide, a tingle of pain pooling between your legs and spreading throughout the rest of your body. It feels impeccable. Frankie lets go of his body, his full weight heavy on top of you, a feeling akin to a heavy blanket. His skin smells of sweat and gunpowder. As he thrusts into you, you inhale him again and again, reveling in the way he groans into your ear. 

It doesn’t take you long for you to shatter underneath him, the adrenaline and the pleasure combining into one mind numbing firework. Your body lifts from the patchy earth, arms wrapping around the column of his neck as your muscles go taut. His hard thrusts fades into a soothing grinding of his hips, his eyelids flutter as you squeeze his cock and gush around him. 

“You were just waiting for my cock to cum weren’t you?” he asks between pants and you whimper. With a smile Frnakie leans in to nuzzle your neck. “So good to me, always. Can I cum on your pretty face sweet girl?” 

“Yes,” 

Frankie chuckles at the way you pout when he pulls out of you, his cock still hard and heavy as he makes his way up to straddle your chest. The tip of his cock is a mouthwatering red, you stick your tongue out, watching with a lust filled gaze as he fists himself only an inch away from your face. His head falls back, your eyes follow the way his veins meander down his neck, his muscles tense as he groans. You swear it’s the most beautiful sound you hear. 

“Mine,” you hear him say from underneath his breath. “Mine, mine, mine–” 

He sounds hysteric, animalistic, it makes you shudder. 

“I’m yours,” you whisper, his gaze drops to you and you repeat. “I’m yours, now mark me, baby– Please,” 

His hips stutter as he cum, a loud moan following as thick ropes of cum stain your face. You feel his seed heavy on your eyelashes, on your lips, on your cheeks– You dart your tongue out to taste him, and as you do the feeling of his lips follow. 

Frankie kisses you deeply, tongue swirling in your mouth and sucking yours between his lips. You openly moan into his mouth, your insides shivering with the memory of his cock. 

He pulls away and you feel him wipe away the cum from your face, when you finally open your eyes, he decorates your skin with fleeting soft kisses. Your lips part with a giggle. 

“You’re tickling me– Stop!” 

“Fine,” he grumbles, looking down at you. “You lost, you remember this month's bet right?” 

You roll your eyes but your lips give away your good mood. 

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be cooking for two weeks,” 

“I still think it would be fair if we made it a month,” 

“Nothing about this is fair, in which universe do you think that I could ever outrun you?” 

“Hey you were actually close this time,” 

“Yeah you allowed me,” you place a hand on his cheek, thumb drawing slow circles across his damp skin. “I’ve read history before you know, you’re acting like one of those monarchs that gives their people hope on purpose so they keep submitting,” 

“How about I tie one hand behind my back next time,” 

“That sounds intriguing but you have nothing to worry about Frankie,” you lift yourself up to kiss him. “I love doing this, I don’t ever want to stop,” 

“Hmm, I’m happy to hear that,” 

“The tying your hand thing sounds fun thought, if we do that I can consider doing the punishment for a month if I lose," 

“You got yourself a deal.” 

kinktober tags: @tusk89 , @amneris21 , @witchisenpai , @pedrito-friskito , @tom-whore-dleston , @lola766 , @batdarkladyvampir , @dindjarinswhore , @dnxgma , @eyelessfaces , @queenofthefaceless , @softtdaisy , @saintlike78 , @timpletance , @xdaddysprincessxx , @stardust-galaxies , @spacecowboyhotch, @queenofthecloudss , @prettyouttherethoughts , @reaperofmen , @partr1dge , @bbyanarchist , @alwaysdjarin , @thevoiceinyourheadx , @absurdthirst , @levi-llama , @damnyoupedro , @stardust-galaxies , @all-the-way-down-here , @welcometostayingawake, @bullet-prooflove , @rainbowcreepie