#I warned you about Jasper

[musicfromtheceiling]

Jasper is in charge in the F1 AU ?!

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I can't stop thinking about Orpheus and Eurydice...

[blood-loving-leech]

“he made fun of me for having an ed”

no bitch

you got laxatives

i said don’t abuse the laxatives

you abused the fucking laxatives

you constantly complained about the consequences of abusing the laxatives

i got tired of it and said you shouldn’t be abusing the fucking laxatives

and then you got mad

[boatemboys]

little fucked up actually that a few years ago when trying to get my back problems diagnosed. a doctor told me that my back was never going to get better and to fix it i (14 years old, average weight) needed to lose weight

[adiraargent]

In a world full of boys, he's a gentleman <3

Synopsis: the Slytherin boys and the 'gentleman' things they do Warnings: None :) Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Tom Riddle, Blaise Zabini, Jasper Rowle

This is Part 1 :)

Mattheo Riddle: opening doors for you

"Hey there, my love," Mattheo greeted, flashing a grin as he held the door open for you. You rolled your eyes playfully at the endearment, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you looked up at your boyfriend.

"Always the gentleman, huh?" you teased, stepping through the door of the Slytherin common room as he held open with a light chuckle.

"Hey, gotta treat my girl right," he replied, trailing behind and falling into step beside you. He nudged you gently with his elbow, his laid-back demeanor effortlessly charming.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. His lips lingered for a moment, and you couldn't help but blush at the tenderness of the gesture. "You're my everything," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine adoration.

Whether they were heading to class, grabbing a bite to eat, or just strolling through the castle halls, Mattheo made it a point to hold doors open for you. It wasn't a grand gesture, just a simple act of courtesy, but it spoke volumes about his thoughtfulness.

"You spoil me too much, you know that?" you remarked with a grin, as Mattheo held the door of his dorm for you.

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Can't help it. You deserve the world," he shrugged, following you inside. He wrapped his arms around your waist, playfully throwing you on the bed before snuggling up next to you, holding you tightly against his chest.

Their laughter filled the air as they chatted about anything and everything, discussing everything from stupid things their friends had done recently to their favourite movies. Mattheo listened intently, his eyes lighting up as they shared their stories.

Theodore Nott: Holds your face with both hands when kissing you

"Hey," Theodore greeted softly, his fingers trailing gently along your jawline before cupping your face tenderly, drawing you into a sweet kiss. His touch was always gentle, his palms cradling your cheeks as if you were the most precious thing in his world.

"Hi," you whispered against his lips, smiling as he leaned in to press another soft kiss, his touch grounding and comforting.

"Did you have a good day?" Theodore asked, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek as he held your face in his hands.

"Mmm, it was alright. Nothing compared to this though," you replied, your voice softening as he leaned in for another kiss, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still cupping your face, his eyes filled with warmth as he gazed at you. "You always make everything better."

"You too," you said, feeling a surge of affection as his touch lingered, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your skin.

"Can I just kiss you forever?" he murmured, his forehead resting against yours, his touch never leaving your face.

"That sounds like a plan," you chuckled, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your cheeks, grounding you in the moment.

As he leaned in for another kiss, his hands framed your face once more, holding you gently but firmly, his touch sending a rush of warmth through you. Each kiss felt like a silent declaration of his love and care, his hands a constant reassurance that you were cherished.

"Promise me something," he said softly, his gaze intense as he held your face in his hands, his touch so tender it made your heart flutter.

"Anything," you replied, feeling a rush of emotion at the sincerity in his eyes.

"Promise you'll never forget how much you mean to me," he whispered, his hands trembling ever so slightly against your skin.

"I promise," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings.

Theodore smiled, his touch becoming even more gentle, as if he was memorizing every contour of your face. "I love you," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

"I love you too," you replied, feeling a surge of emotion as his hands cradled your face.

Tom Riddle: Subtle things to make sure you don't get hurt

In the midst of a quiet classroom, Tom and you sat side by side, the ambiance filled with the hushed tones of a lecture. You were unconsciously fiddling with your quill as your tired eyes lingered on the teacher, doing your best to listen to whatever he was saying.

A small sigh slipt from your lips as your dropped your quill, the small object rolling under your desk. As you leaned down to retrieve your quill, Tom subtly shifted, his hand discreetly finding its place at the edge of the desk, ensuring you wouldn't hit your head upon rising.

"Thanks love," you whispered, meeting his eyes for a fleeting moment, noticing the faint blush that graced his cheeks as he quickly looked away.

"Wouldn't want you getting hurt," he murmured, his voice barely audible, trying to cloak his concern with an air of indifference as his eyes went back to the teacher.

"I appreciate it," you replied softly, a small smile playing on your lips, acknowledging his unspoken worry.

Throughout the class, the subtle ways Tom looked out for you were apparent. Whether adjusting his posture to prevent you from bumping elbows or discreetly sliding a book closer to your reach, his actions spoke louder than his reserved words.

As the lesson progressed, you dropped a parchment, and before you could react, Tom swiftly picked it up without a word, his gaze briefly meeting yours with a hint of concern before retreating into his usual stoic demeanor.

"Thanks," you said, your voice warm with gratitude, feeling the corners of his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile before he composed himself.

"Merlin you're an idiot," he mumbled under his breath, a small smile twitching on the corner of his lips. He loved you, and he did his best to show it. To some, these may just seem like small gestures, but to you, these acts meant everything.

Blaise Zabini: Looking after you while you are sick

"Blaise, I think I'm dying," you groaned, your voice muffled by the mountain of blankets you'd buried yourself under. The room echoed with your misery, and you could practically feel Blaise's amused gaze on you.

"Quite the melodrama you've got going on there," he chuckled, entering the room with a tray in hand.

You peeked out from under the blankets, giving him a weak glare. "This is not melodrama. I'm genuinely dying. I might need to write my will."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Last I checked, you're broke. And if you're going to die, at least wait until you've cleaned up the mess in the bathroom."

You shot him a scowl before returning to your cocoon of misery. "I'll have you know that this is a serious illness. I even got Pansy to get me a book from the library so I can read about my symptoms."

He set the tray on the bedside table, glancing at you with a mix of amusement and skepticism. "And let me guess, according to Dr. know it all, you have a rare tropical disease only found in the depths of the Amazon rainforest?"

"No, it says I have a severe case of man flu," you deadpanned, voice muffled by the blankets.

Blaise burst into laughter. "Man flu? Really?"

You shot him a glare from under the covers.

He shook his head, still chuckling. "Ok, ok. I come bearing gifts to nurse you back to health."

He lifted the tray to reveal a steaming bowl of soup and a cup of hot tea. Your eyes lit up, and you managed to sit up, sniffling pathetically.

"Ah, the healing powers of chicken soup," he declared dramatically, handing you the bowl.

You took it gratefully, inhaling the comforting aroma. "You're the best, you know that?"

"I try," he said with a wink, settling onto the bed beside you. "Now, eat up. We can't have you wasting away on my watch."

As you sipped the soup, Blaise watched you with a soft smile. "Feeling a bit better already?"

You nodded, the warmth of the soup soothing both your throat and your mood. "Maybe I won't die today after all."

He chuckled, running a hand through your hair. "Good to know. I was planning on having a quiet night in, not attending a funeral."

You swatted him playfully, earning a smirk from Blaise. "You're lucky I'm too weak to defend myself properly."

"Consider it a mercy on my part," he teased, taking a sip of his own tea.

As the night wore on, Blaise stayed by your side, occasionally offering more soup, fetching tissues, and regaling you with stories to keep your mind off your misery.

"You're surprisingly good at this whole nurse thing," you admitted, snuggling into the blankets.

He grinned, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Well, when the patient is you, it's almost enjoyable."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played on your lips. "I must be really sick for you to admit that."

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. "Maybe you're just bringing out my softer side."

You sighed dramatically. "I never signed up for a softer Blaise Zabini."

"Too late now," he replied with a smirk, holding you a little tighter. "You're stuck with me, even if I have to nurse you back to health every now and then."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling grateful for the care and comfort he provided. "I suppose I can live with that."

And as you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in blankets and the warmth of Blaise's presence, you couldn't help but feel that maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all, especially when you had someone like him to take care of you.

(This is my favourite for sure)

Jasper Rowle: Doing your shoelaces

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow into the room as you and Jasper sat comfortably on a bench in Hogsmede just of to the side of Zonko's, enjoying a leisurely stroll that had turned into a serene moment of shared silence.

"Oops," you pouted, looking down at your untied shoelaces, a small sigh falling from your lips as you went to go and tie your laces.

"I've got it darlin'," Jasper said with a gentle smile, bending down on one knee before her.

"Jasper, you really don't have to," you protested, a faint blush gracing your cheeks at the unexpected gesture.

He shook his head with a grin, his fingers deftly working on your shoelaces. "I've got it, can't have my girl tripping on her own shoelaces, can I?"

You chuckled softly, unable to hide your affectionate smile as you watched him tie the laces with care. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

He glanced up at her with a warm smile. "'Just don't want you getting hurt."

As he finished, he ran his thumb over your knee softly a few times before standing up and placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head, causing your heart to flutter. The simple act filled you with warmth and adoration.

"Thank you," you murmured, touched by his gesture.

"Anytime, my love."

Their fingers intertwined as they resumed their stroll through Hogsmede, the cool breeze carrying the faint scent of baked goods, more than likely from a stall near by. The world seemed to slow down around them as they walked hand in hand, enjoying each other's company.

Hi all! This is my first post, hope you enjoyed it :) I take requests for many different fandoms and characters <3

[creatingblackcharacters]

“The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth” - Violence, Violent Imagery & Black Horror

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of death, violence, blood, hate crimes, antiblackness, police violence, rape

Note! I am going to be speaking from a Black American point of view, as my identity informs my experience. That said, antiblackness itself is international. The idea of my Blackness as a threat, as a source of fear and violence to repress and to destroy, is something every Black person in the world that has ever dealt with white supremacy has experienced.

There are two things, I think, that are important to note as we start this conversation.

One: there is a long history of violence towards Black bodies that is due to our dehumanization. People do not care for the killing of a mouse in the way they care about a human. But if you think the people you are dealing with are not people, but animals- more particularly, pests, something distasteful- then you will be able to rationalize treating them as such.

Two: even though we live in a time period where that overt belief of Blackness as inhuman is less likely, we must recognize that there are centuries of belief behind this concept; centuries of arguments and actions that cement in our minds that a certain amount of violence towards Blackness is normal. That subconscious belief you may hold is steeped in centuries of effort to convince you of it without even questioning it. And because of this very real re-enforcement of desensitization, naturally another place this will manifest itself is in how we tell and comprehend stories.

There are also three points I'm about to make first- not the only three that can ever be made, but the ones that stand out the most to me when we talk about violence with Black characters:

One: Your Black readers may experience that scene you wrote differently than you meant anyone to, just because our history may change our perspective on what’s happening.

Two: The idea that Black characters and people deserve the pain they are experiencing.

Three: The disbelief or dismissal of the pain of Black characters and people.

You Better Start Believing In Ghost Stories- You’re In One

I don’t need to tell Black viewers scary fairytales of sadists, body snatchers and noncoincidental disappearances, cannibals, monsters appearing in the night, and dystopian, unjust systems that bury people alive- real life suffices! We recognize the symbolism because we’ve seen real demons.

Some real examples of familiar, terrifying stories that feel like drama, but are real experiences:

12 Years a Slave: “This is no fiction, no exaggeration. If I have failed in anything, it has been in presenting to the reader too prominently the bright side of the picture. I doubt not hundreds have been as unfortunate as myself; that hundreds of free citizens have been kidnapped and sold into slavery, and are at this moment wearing out their lives on plantations in Texas and Louisiana.” – Solomon Northup

When They See Us: I can’t get myself to watch When They See Us, because I learned about the actual trial of the Central Park Five- now the Exonerated Five- in my undergrad program. Five teen Black and brown boys, subjected to racist and cruel policing and vilification in the media- from Donald Trump calling for their deaths in the newspaper, to being imprisoned under what the Clintons deemed a generation of “superpredators” during a “tough on crime” administration. And as audacious as it is to say, as Solomon Northup explained, they were fortunate. The average Black person funneled into the prison system doesn’t get the opportunity to make it back out redeemed or exonerated, because the system is designed to capture and keep them there regardless of their innocence or guilt. Their lives are irreparably changed; they are forever trapped.

Jasper, Texas: Learning about the vicious, gruesome murder of James Byrd Jr, was horrific- and that was just the movie. No matter how “community comes together” everyone tells that story, the reality is that there are people who will beat you, drag you chained down a gravel road for three miles as your body shreds away until you are decapitated, and leave your mangled body in front of a Black church to send a message… Because you’re Black and they hate you. To date I am scared when I’m walking and I see trucks passing me, and don’t let them have the American or the Confederate flag on them. Even Ahmaud Arbery, all he was doing was jogging in his hometown, and white men from out of town decided he should be murdered for that.

Do you want to know what all of these men and boys, from 1841 to 2020, had in common? What they did to warrant what happened to them? Being outside while Black. Some might call it “wrong place wrong time”, but the reality is that there is no “right place”. Sonya Massey, Breonna Taylor- murdered inside their home. Where else can you be, if the danger has every right to barge inside? There is no “safe”.

It is already Frightening to live while Black- not because being Black is inherently frightening, but because our society has made it horrific to do so. But that leads into my next point:

“They Shouldn’t Have Resisted”

Think of all the videos of assaulted and murdered Black people from police violence. If you can stomach going into the comments- which I don’t, anymore- you’ll see this classic comment of hate in the thousands, twisting your stomach into knots:

“if they obeyed the officer, if they didn’t resist, this wouldn’t have happened”

Another way our punitive society normalizes itself is via the idea of respectability politics; the idea that “if you are Good, if you do what you are Supposed to do, you will not be hurt- I will not have to hurt you”. Therefore, if my people are always suffering violence, it must be because we are Bad. And in a society that is already less gracious to Black people, that is more likely to think we are less human, that we are innately bad and must earn the right to be exceptional… the use of excessive violence towards me must be the natural outcome. “If your people weren’t more likely to be criminals, there wouldn’t be the need to be suspicious of you”- that is the way our society has taught us to frame these interactions, placing the blame for our own victimization on us.

Sidebar: I would highly suggest reading The New Jim Crow, written in 2010 by Michelle Alexander, to see how this mentality helps tie into large scale criminalization and mass incarceration, and how the cycle is purposely perpetuated.

You have to constantly be aware of how you look, walk and talk- and even then, that won’t be enough to save you if the time comes. The turning point for me, personally, was the murder of Sandra Bland. If she could be educated, beautiful, a beacon of her community, be everything a “Good” Black person is supposed to be… and still be murdered via police violence, they can kill any of us. And that’s a very terrifying thought- that anything at any point can be the reason for your death, and it will be validated because someone thinks you shouldn’t have “been that way”. And that way has far less to do with what you did, than it does who you are. Being “that way” is Black.

My point is, if this belief is so normalized in real life about violence on Black bodies- that somehow, we must have done something to deserve this- what makes you think that this belief does not affect how you comprehend Black people suffering in stories?

Hippocratic Oath

Human experimentation? Vivisection? Organ stealing? Begging for medicine? Dramatically bleeding out? Not trusting just anyone to see that you are hurt, because they might take advantage? All very real fears. The idea that pain is normal for Black people is especially rampant in the healthcare field, where ideas like our melanin making our skin thick enough to feel less pain (no), an overblown fear of ‘drug misuse’, and believing we are overexaggerating our pain makes many Black people being unwilling to trust the healthcare system. And it comes down to this thought:

If you think that I feel less pain, you will allow me to suffer long before you believe that I am in pain.

I was psychologically spiraling I was in so much pain after my wisdom teeth removal, and my surgeon was more concerned about “addiction to the medication”. Only because Hot Chocolate’s mom is a nurse, did I get an effective medicine schedule. My mother ended up with jaw rot because her surgeon outright claimed that she didn’t believe that she was in more than the ‘healing’ pain after her wisdom teeth were removed. She also has a gigantic, macabre (and awesome fr) scar on her stomach from a c-section she received after four days of labor attempting to have me… all because she was too poor and too Black to afford better doctors who wouldn’t have dismissed her struggles to push.

As a major example of dismissed Black pain: let’s discuss the mortality rate of Black women during childbirth, as well as the likelihood of our children to die. When we say “they will let you bleed to death”, we mean it.

“Black women have the highest maternal mortality rate in the United States — 69.9 per 100,000 live births for 2021, almost three times the rate for white women, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Black babies are more likely to die, and also far more likely to be born prematurely, setting the stage for health issues that could follow them through their lives.”

Even gynecology roots in dismissal (and taking brutal advantage of) Black women's pain:

“The history of this particular medical branch … it begins on a slave farm in Alabama,” Owens said. “The advancement of obstetrics and gynecology had such an intimate relationship with slavery, and was literally built on the wounds of Black women.” Reproductive surgeries that were experimental at the time, like cesarean sections, were commonly performed on enslaved Black women. Physicians like the once-heralded J. Marion Sims, an Alabama doctor many call the “father of gynecology,” performed torturous surgical experiments on enslaved Black women in the 1840s without anesthesia. And well after the abolition of slavery, hospitals performed unnecessary hysterectomies on Black women, and eugenics programs sterilized them.”

If you think Black characters are not in pain, or that they’re overexaggerating, you’re more likely to be okay with them suffering more in comparison to those whose pain you take more seriously- to those you believe.

What’s My Point?

My point is that whatever terrifying scene you think you’re writing, whatever violent whump scenario you think you’re about to put your Black characters through, there’s a chance it has probably happened and was treated as nonimportant (damn shame, right?) And when those terrifying scenes are both written and read, the way their suffering will be felt depends on how much you as a reader care, how much you believe they are suffering.

There’s a joke amongst readers of color that many dystopian tales are tales of “what happened if white people experienced things that the rest of us have already been put through?” Think concepts like alien invasion and mass eradication of the existing population- you may think of that as an action flick, meanwhile peoples globally have suffered colonization for centuries. The Handmaid’s Tale- forced birthing and raising of “someone else’s” children, always subject to sexual harassment by the Master while subject to hate from the Mistress- that’s just being a Mammy.

There’s nothing wrong with having Black characters be violent or deal with violence, especially in a story where every character is going through shit. That is not the problem! What I am trying to tell you, though, is to be aware that certain violent imagery is going to evoke familiarity in Black viewers. And if I as a Black viewer see my very real traumas treated as entertainment fodder- or worse, dismissed- by the narrative and other viewers, I will probably not want to consume that piece of media anymore. I will also question the intentions and the beliefs of the people who treat said traumas so callously. Now, if that’s not something you care about, that’s on you! But for people who do care, it is something we need to make sure we are catching before we do it.

“So I just can’t write anything?!”

Stop that. There are plenty of examples of stories containing horror and violence with Black characters. There’s an entire genre of us telling our own stories, using the same violence as symbolism. I’m not telling you “no” (least not always). I’m telling you to take some consideration when you write the things that you do. There’s nothing wrong about writing your Black characters being violent or experiencing violence. But there is a difference between making it narratively relevant, and thoughtlessly using them as a “spook”, a stereotypical scary Black person, or a punching bag, especially in a way that may invoke certain trauma.

The Black Guy Dies First

The joke is that we never survive these horror movies because we either wouldn’t be there to begin with, or because we would make better decisions and the narrative can’t have that. But the reality is just that a lot of writers find Black characters- Black people- expendable in comparison to their white counterparts, and it shows. More of a “here, damn” sort of character, not worth investment and easy to shrug off. The book itself I haven’t read, just because it’s pretty new, but I’m looking forward to doing so. But from the summaries, it goes into horror media history and how Black characters have fared in these stories, as well as how that connects to the society those characters were written in. I.e., a thorough version of this lesson.

Instead, I wrote an entire list of questions you could possibly ask yourself involving violence or villainy involving a Black character. Feel free to print it and put it on your wall where you write if you have to! I cannot stress enough that asking yourself questions like these are good both for your creation and just… being less antiblack in general when you consume media.

Black Horror/Black Thriller

We, too, have turned our violent experiences into stories. I continue to highly suggest watching our films and reading our stories to see how we convey our fear, our terror, our violence and our pain. There are plenty of stories that work- Get Out, The Angry Black Girl and her Monster, Candyman, Lovecraft Country (the show) and Nanny are some examples. There’s even a blog by the co-writer of The Black Guy Dies First who runs BlackHorrorMovies where he reviews horror movies from throughout the decades.

Desiree Evans has a great essay, We Need Black Horror More Than Ever, that gets into why this genre is so creative and effective, that I think says what I have to say better than I could.

“Even before Peele, Black horror had a rich literary lineage going back to the folklore of Africa and its Diaspora. Stories of haints, witches, curses, and magic of all kinds can be found in the folktales collected by author and anthropologist Zora Neale Hurston and in the folktales retold by acclaimed children’s book author Virginia Hamilton. One of my earliest childhood literary memories is being entranced by Hamilton’s The House of Dies Drear and Patricia McKissack’s children’s book classic The Dark-Thirty: Southern Tales of the Supernatural, both examples of the ways Black authors have tapped into Black history along with our rich ghostlore.” “Black horror can be clever and subversive, allowing Black writers to move against racist tropes, to reconfigure who stands at the center of a story, and to shift the focus from the dominant narrative to that which is hidden, submerged. To ask: what happens when the group that was Othered, gets to tell their side of the story?”

For on the nose simplicity, I’m going to use hood classic Tales From The Hood (1994) as an example of how violence can be integrated into Black horror tales. Tales From The Hood is like… The Twilight Zone by Black people. Messages discussing issues in our community, done through a mystical twist. Free on Tubi! If you want to stop here before some spoilers, it’s an hour and a half. A great time!

In the first story, a Black political activist is murdered by the cops. The scene is reflective of the real-world efforts to discredit and even murder activists speaking out against police violence, as well as the types of things done to criminalize Black citizens for capture. The song Strange Fruit plays in the background, to drive the point home that this is a lynching.

The second story deals with a Black little boy experiencing abuse in the home, drawing a green monster to show his teacher why he’s covered in wounds and is lashing out at school.

The fourth story is about a gangbanger who undergoes “behavioral modification” to be released from prison early. Think of the classic scene from A Clockwork Orange. He must watch as imagery of the Klan and of happy whites lynching Black bodies (real-life pictures and video, mind you!) play into his mind alongside gang violence.

Isn’t Violence Stereotypical or antiblack?

That last story from Tales From The Hood leads into a good point. It can be! But it does not have to be! Violence is a human experience. By suggesting we don’t experience it or commit it, you would be denying everything I’ve just spoken about. We don’t have to be racist to write our Black characters in violent situations. We also don’t have to comprehend those situations through a racist lens.

Even experiences that seem “stereotypical” do not have to be comprehended that way. I get a LOT of questions about if something is stereotypical, and my response is always that it depends on the writing!!! You could give me a harmless prompt and it becomes the most racist story ever once you leave my inbox. But you could give me a “stereotypical” prompt and it be genuine writing.

Let’s take the movie Juice for example. Juice in my honest to God opinion becomes a thriller about halfway in. On its surface, Juice looks like bad Black boys shooting and cursing and doing things they aren’t supposed to be doing! Incredibly stereotypical- violent young thugs. You might think, “you shouldn’t write something like this- you’re telling everyone this is what your community is like”. First- there’s that respectability politics again! Just because something is not a “respectable” story does not mean it doesn’t need to be told!

But if we’re actually paying attention, what we’re looking at is four young boys dealing with their environment in different ways. All four of them originally stick together to feel power amongst their brotherhood as they all act tough and discover their own identities. They are not perfect, but they are still kids. In this environment, to be tough, to be strong, you do the things that they are doing. You run from cops, you steal from stores, you mess with all the girls and talk shit and wave weapons. That’s what makes you “big”. That’s what gives you the “juice”- and the “juice” can make you untouchable.

I want to focus particularly on Bishop, yes, played by Tupac. Bishop, the antagonist of Juice, is particularly powerless, angry, and scared of the world around him. He puts on a big front of bravado, yelling, cursing, and talking big because he’s tired of being afraid, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it otherwise. So when he gets access to a gun- to power- he quickly spirals out of control. His response to his fear is to wave around a tool that makes him feel stronger, that stops the things that scare him from scaring him.

Now, that is not a unique tale! That is a tale that any race could write about, particularly young white men with gun violence! If you ever cared for Fairuza Balk’s character in The Craft, it is a similar fall from grace. But because it is on a young, Black man in the hood, audiences are less likely to empathize with Bishop. And granted, Bishop is unhinged! But many a white character has been, and is not shoved into a stereotype that white people cannot escape from!

Now would I be comfortable if a nonblack person attempted to write a narrative like Juice? Yes, because I’d worry about the tendency to lose the messaging and just fall into stereotype outright. But it can be done! The story can be told!

“But if Black violence bad, why rap?”

The short answer:

“In order for me to write poetry that isn’t political, I must listen to the birds, and in order to hear the birds, the warplanes must be silent.”

Marwhan Makhoul, Palestinian Poet

First, rap is not “only violence and misogyny”. Step your understanding of the genre up; there are plenty of options outside of the mainstream that don’t discuss those things. Second, every genre of music has mainstream popular songs about vice and sin. The idea that Black rappers have to be held to a higher standard is yet another example of how we are seen as inherently bad and must prove ourselves good. We could speak about nothing but drugs and alcohol and 1) there would still be white artists who do the very same and 2) we would still deserve to be treated like humans.

That said, many- not all- rappers rap about violence for the same reason Billy Joel wrote We Didn’t Start the Fire, the same reason Homer first spoke The Iliad- because they have something to say about it! They stand in a long tradition of people using poetry and rhythm to tell stories. Rap is an art of storytelling!

Rap is often used as an expression of frustration and righteous anger against a system built to keep us trapped within it. I’m not allowed to be angry? Why wouldn’t I be angry? Anger is a protective emotion, often when one feels helpless. Young Black people also began to reclaim and glorify the violence they lived in within their music, to take pride in their survival and in their success in a world that otherwise wanted them to fail. If I think the world fights against me no matter what I do, I’d rather live in pride than in shame with a bent head. Is it right? Maybe, maybe not. But if you don’t want them to rap about violence, why not alleviate the things leading to the violence in their environment?

Whether you choose to listen to their words, because the delivery scares you- and trust, angry Black men scared the music industry and society- doesn’t make the story any less valid!

Conclusion

I am going to drop a classic by Slick Rick called Children’s Story. I think listening to it- and I mean genuinely listening- summarizes what I’ve said here about how Black creators can tell stories, even violent ones, and how even the delivery through Blackness can change how you perceive them. Please take the time to listen before continuing.

I’ve been alive for 28 years and have known this song my whole life, and it just hit me tonight: not once is the kid in this story identified as Black! My perception of this story was completely altered by my own experiences, who told the story, and how it was told.

That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You can tell stories of violence that involve Black characters. I love and adore a good hurt/comfort myself! But you need to be cognizant of your audience and how they’ll perceive the story you’re telling, and that includes the types of imagery you include. It’s not effective catharsis via hurt/comfort for the audience if your Black readers are being completely left out of the comfort. “I wrote this for myself” that’s cool, but… if you wrote racism for yourself, and you’re willing to admit that to yourself, that’s on you. I’d like to think that’s not your intention! You can write these stories of woe and pain without mistreating your Black characters- but that requires knowing and acknowledging when and how you’re doing that!

@afropiscesism makes a solid point in this post: our horror stories are not just fairytales full of amorphous boogiemen meant to teach lessons. Racial violence is very real, very alive, and we cannot act like the things we write can be dismissed outright as “oh well it’s not real”. Sure, those characters aren’t real. But the way you feel about Black bodies and violence is, and often it can slip into your writing as a pattern without you even realizing it. Be willing to get uncomfortable and check yourself on this as you write, as well as noticing it in other works!

If you’re constantly thinking “I would never do this”, you’ll never stop yourself when you inevitably do! If you know what violent imagery can be evoked, you can utilize it or avoid it altogether- but only if you’re willing to get honest about it. You might not intend to do any of this, but it doesn’t matter if you don’t change the pattern, because as always, it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[prythianpages]

'Cause It Was Always You | Azriel x Reader

summary: After eavesdropping on multiple conversations, Azriel finally gathers the courage to confess his feelings to you, thinking he's on the verge of losing you.

word count: 1,741

warnings: I guess angst at the beginning? But I promise it ends with fluff!

a/n: Billie Eilish's Birds of a Feather has been on repeat in my head and it prompted this cute little idea. Also shoutout to @nocasdatsgay for helping me with a codename for Az.

“I fear I’ll love Lapis until the day that I die…until the light leaves my eyes…until I’m in the grave, rotting awa–”

“y/n, you’re drunk,” Feyre had giggled.

“Drunk in love,” you sang in response with a giggle of your own.

And when one of Azriel’s shadows reported the silly little smile on your face, the silly little sparkle in your eyes, he shrunk back into the ones that had remained. His heart sank to his stomach, a cold, heavy weight settling there. 

Because you were in love. 

With someone that wasn’t him.

Azriel told himself that was the last time he’d eavesdrop. And perhaps, that wouldn’t have been a lie, if it wasn’t for the pesky little shadow that followed you around. It enjoyed dancing and flitting around you. Sometimes, it’d make its presence known by weaving through your hair or slithering up your arm. Most times, it’d trail behind you, like a little duckling.

Azriel tried to call the shadow back home but it was unwavering, choosing to linger in your presence instead. The same way he wished to linger by your side. And recently, the inky traitor had gotten into the habit of summoning more of his shadows to your side, weaving an invisible bond between you and him.

Every time a shadow returned to him, it brought whispers of your laughter, the sparkle in your eyes, and the softness in your voice when you spoke of Lapis. Each word you uttered about that male tore him apart, every confession cutting deeper than any blade ever could.

“If you don’t ask Lapis out, Jasper will do it for you and believe me when I say you do not want that to happen.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll ask him out. Tomorrow.”

That was a snippet of a conversation his shadows had reported to him earlier, cutting his morning training short. It lingered with him, haunting him throughout the day. And now, he found himself unable to sleep, constantly turning in his bed.

Azriel’s stomach twists into a tight knot, the storm raging outside echoing his inner turmoil. Tomorrow. He was running out of time.  Fear and perhaps, even pride, kept him from telling you how he truly felt about you. But now, he found himself fearing something even worse. Losing you before he even had a chance to say it…

He didn’t want to wake up one day and regret his silence, regret not telling you how he felt because of pride or fear. He needed to do this for himself, to break free from the shadows of his past. He had failed to confess his love twice before, and the thought of a third failure was unbearable. This time, he couldn’t let fear hold him back. The risk of losing you to someone else was a pain he couldn't endure.

With a deep breath, Azriel steeled himself. He needed to find you, to tell you the truth about his feelings. Before anything between you and Lapis could blossom. He couldn’t let another moment pass without you knowing how deeply he loved you.

Which is how he found himself at your doorstep, in the middle of the night, clothes sticking to him like a second skin as the rain pours relentlessly down on him. His shadows stir in excitement, whispering anxiously as they hear your approaching footsteps. His heart is pounding, so fast and hard that he fears it’s going to explode.

“Azriel?” 

Your voice is still marred by sleep as you blink up at him. That traitorous shadow hovers behind you, peering at him over your shoulder. He glares at it, and it quickly hides behind your hair. You don’t seem to notice it, either unfazed or truly oblivious to the shadow that had been following you around for so long.

“Did something happen?” You speak again, brows furrowing in concern. You step back into your apartment, a silent gesture for him to follow after you and come inside. 

“I–” Azriel begins but he can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. He can’t even bring himself to move as his eyes catch the movement of your arms wrapping around yourself to ward off the chill of the downpour. The nightgown you’re wearing is thin and short. A  glimpse of your exposed skin has a warmth rushing to his face and he’s blushing.

"I—" He tries again but when his eyes meet yours, his heart leaps into his throat, choking off his words. Oh gods, he can’t do this. He’s grateful for the rain as it masks the tears beginning to sting at his eyes. He thinks he’s going to be sick and–

“Are you okay?”

His shadows push him forward, wings shuddering in response. It’s now or never. He can do this. He takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I love you.” 

The words spill out in a rush, raw and unguarded. He watches you with bated breath, his shadows whispering every nuance in your expression—from the way your eyebrows raise and your mouth parts as a gasp escapes, to the way your eyes glisten with something he’s too scared to discern.

You’re rendered speechless, the silence that follows feeling like an eternity. Azriel’s wings slump, growing heavy. He clears his throat, averting his gaze. The need to retreat is overpowering what little courage he had gathered moments ago. 

“That’s all I had to say. I should, um–I’ll be leaving now,” he stammers, so unsure and so unlike himself.

“Az–” you start, reaching out to him, but he’s already stepping back into the rain. He doesn’t think he can face your rejection, much less witness the look on your face if you don’t feel the same.

“Goodnight.”

His shadows are like a wall of resistance, fighting against him as he turns to make his leave. He asks them—begs them, even– to swallow him whole. To winnow him away and save him from further mortification. But they refuse. Stay, they insist, tugging and weighing his wings down. 

It leaves him with no choice but to walk away. Every step feels heavier than the last, the rain soaking him to the bone. Listen, his shadows urge as they continue to tug relentlessly at his wings for him to turn back around and face you. 

But he can’t. Not when the Mother has seemed to have cursed him with loving those who could never love him back.

“Azriel!”

His mind screams at him to keep going, to keep walking away. However, the plea echoed in your voice has his chest tightening. His heart overrides his mind, shadows only encouraging him further. He turns around just in time to catch you as you leap into his arms.

Your legs wrap around his waist, arms encircling his neck in a desperate effort to keep him from leaving. His own arms respond immediately, securing you to him. 

“Don’t go.”

Your breath is warm against his neck as you tighten your embrace, and his wings curl around your smaller form in response, wanting to shield you from the relentless rain. He feels you shift in his arms, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. One hand reaches out, tenderly brushing the dark fringe from his forehead. His breath catches, and you must sense his inner turmoil because you gently smooth away the furrow of his brow with your thumb.

“I love you,” you say, your hand caressing his cheek. Despite the cold, harsh downpour, your touch is warm and soft. A balm to his frayed nerves.

His heart swells with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming joy. He had prepared himself for rejection, for the familiar sting of unrequited love. But here you were, confessing your love to him with the same vulnerability he had shown you.

“Really?” he whispers, voice thick with emotion, eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“Really.”

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with relief. “I thought I’d never have the chance to tell you.”

“Lose me? Azriel, you’ve always had me.”

“But you said you loved Lapis? You were going to ask him out–”

“So you were spying on me!”

Azriel’s eyes widen, cheeks flushing all over again and he’s glad it’s dark enough to conceal it. “No–I–not intentionally…my shadows, they…,” he trails off, realizing how ridiculous he must sound.

Yes, his shadow refused to come back to him. But he didn’t stop the others from reporting back to him so with a defeated sigh, he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Azriel,” you giggle and he’s frowning at you, not finding the humor in the situation. “You are Lapis.”

“What?”

“You’re Lapis. Cas is Jasper and Rhys is Amethyst.” You explain, lips curling into an amused smile at the sigh of relief that comes from Azriel. How had he not realized that all those names shared one thing in common? And more importantly, that they were color coded to his and Cassian’s siphons?

“I needed a codename for you so I can gush about my feelings for you without, you know,” you tilt your head toward that nosey, barely visible shadow that had been following you around. Sensing the attention, the shadow dips and hides again, curling around the back of your neck. 

“I fear it’s yours now,” Azriel replies, almost sheepishly.

“Good,” you smile at him. “I’ve grown rather fond of it. Just as I have over its master.”

His shadows take your words as a welcome invitation, swirling and dancing around you both. Azriel’s arms hook underneath your thighs, pulling you even closer to him. Your arms find their place around his neck again.

Then, you're closing the small distance between you and kissing him. Warmth spreads throughout him, reveling in the sweet sensation of your lips against his. The rain continues to pour, but neither of you care. 

When you finally pull away, he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes remaining closed as if in fear that this is all just a dream. You gently kiss his nose, your soft voice reminding him that this moment is real.

“I love you.”

Azriel’s eyes open, looking right into yours. “Until the day that I die,” he tells you, echoing your devotion.

There’s a knowing spark in your eyes as they search his own for answers. It has his lips lifting into a smile that mirrors yours, confirming that he had been eavesdropping on your drunken confession weeks ago.  Your smile widens. 

 “Until the light leaves my eyes.”

This was a better idea in my head but hey, at least I finished it. I also don't know the logistics of having a conversation in the rain but that's the beauty of fanfic, I guess?lol Anyway, I could not get these lyrics out of my head. They were so Azriel coded for me:

I'll love you 'til the day that I die 'Til the day that I die 'Til the light leaves my eyes 'Til the day that I die I want you to see, hm How you look to me, hm You wouldn't believe if I told ya You would keep the compliments I throw ya

the way I keep fixing these lyrics but I think tumblr is glitching or something uggghh, pls ignore the random mismatched sizing

Also just wanted to point out that if Az hasn’t confessed, reader would’ve done it the next day anyway 💀

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

[im-ovulating]

For Kinktober: anything with Jasper Whitlock, but preferably size kink (short reader), voice kink, hand kink, and some on top of the clothes action / sex in the clothes. Choose all of it or one, I don't care, just having a brainrot about him: my ovaries explode every time I see this gif

(A/n: Kinktober Day 6/15! I wanted to keep all of this year's kinktober fics below 2.5k, but this one got away from me ;v;)

Word Count: 3,842

Summary- Well, you HAVE to take on his challenge -I mean, experiment. It's only the responisble thing to do as his study partner.

Warnings: Strip game, Fingering, PIV, Creampie, Cocky! Jasper, Not proofread

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Jasper Whitlock x Fem! Reader: Study Buddy

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

"Did you know that predators have front-facing eyes, but prey normally have eyes on the side of their faces?" You ask Jasper as you scan your textbook. He had agreed to help you study for an upcoming test. "It's because the prey has to be able to look out for danger."

Not only is evolutionary bio not your strongest subject, but your professor is an asshat so you really can't afford to fail this test.

"I did," he mumbles as he highlights a section that he thinks you should go through again. "Did you know that when two animals make eye contact, the first to look away is the submissive?" Jasper asks back.

"That's gotta be BS, right? What if one just doesn't want to look at the other's ugly mug?" Your retort is weak, but your tone has the confidence of a straight, cis, white man who's telling you what your own name means.

Jasper lets out a small, huffed laugh and finally looks up at you, warm gold meeting e/c. "I don't think animals think that way, darlin'."

"Are you an animal whisperer?" You snark, crossing your arms with a cocked eyebrow.

"Do you really think it's not real?" He gets back on topic. When you shake your head, he turns his chair towards you before doing the same to your own so you both face each other. "Really? Then, let's test that theory, hm? You seem pretty confident in yourself, so what's the harm?"

"I seem pretty confident because I am pretty confident." You mark your place and shut the textbook.

He chuckles with a small shake of the head. Leaning back in his chair with one arm thrown over the back, Jasper says, "Let's play a game."

"We're supposed to be studyin-" "It's a science experiment."

When you fall back against your seat, he continues. "We'll make eye contact, we'll stare at each other, and the first to look away loses. And if you lose..." he smirks a little, "you lose a piece of clothing. Best out of five wins."

You chew on your lip as you mull it over. You're confident that you can keep eye contact. And the submissive thing is bullshit, anyway, so it's not like your pride will take a hit. "So, strip poker but with a staring contest?" He nods.

"Exactly."

"...okay."

You meet Jasper's warm golden gaze, determination etched on your face. There's no way you're going to lose this little game of his.

"I know what's going to happen. You're going to give in; you can't take the pressure." You ignore him, zeroing on a small fleck of dark gold in his eyes to ground your thoughts.

As the seconds tick by, you resist the urge to look away, focused solely on holding Jasper's stare. His voice, low and smooth, sends shivers down your spine. "That's a good girl, keeping those pretty eyes on me."

Your breath catches at the sudden praise, your lips parting in a small, silent gasp. You won't let him distract you that easily, though. You're in it to win it.

Jasper's long, slender fingers drum lightly against his jean-clad thigh, drawing your gaze for just a moment before you force yourself to look back into his eyes. His lips curve into a knowing smirk.

It takes you a second to realize. "...fuck!"

"That's my round, darlin'." He goads.

With a small grumble and more force than necessary, you all but rip your socks off and throw them at his head. He catches them before they even get close. You're less coordinated in your attempt to dodge them, and all you can do is grumble more when they hit you square in the middle of your face.

"Stop looking so smug - there's still plenty of time for me to whoop your ass." You can't decide if you want to wipe that dumb-ass, unfairly charming smirk off his equally handsome face or if you want to pull him in and kiss him silly. Probably both... Yeah, both is good.

Jasper's eyes gleam with amusement as he watches your continued huffing and puffing. He leans back in his chair, his fingers still tapping against his leg.

"Don't be so sour, darlin'," he grins, his voice low and velvety smooth. "The game's just getting started."

You narrow your eyes at him, determined not to let his distracting voice and looks throw you off this time. "Just shut up and start the next round, Whitlock."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he holds your gaze. The air crackles with tension as you both refuse to back down, each daring the other to be the first to look away.

The seconds tick by, the only sound the quiet rhythm of your breathing. You can feel the weight of Jasper's stare, intense and captivating, drawing you in. Your pulse quickens, palms growing sweaty, but you refuse to lose again.

Just when you think you might actually win this round, Jasper's lips curve into a slow, predatory smile. "You know you want to look away. You want to give in, to submit; it's in your DNA. C'mon... Just look away, prove what we both already know: that when it comes down to it, you'd do nothing but roll over and show your belly..."

You roll your eyes in a subconscious attempt to ignore how his words, no matter how much they were shit talking, made your heart leap into your throat. With a triumphant smirk, Jasper declares, "My round again."

"That's not fair! You shouldn't be able to annoy me into losing!" You lie through your teeth about the true effect he's having on you.

Barking out a laugh, he says, "The only rule was that we can't look away. We never decided talking or touching were off limits. You lost fair and square, sugar, so lose an item."

"But-" "Three seconds before i decide which one," he interrupts with a cheeky grin. "and you might not like what I choose... Three. Two-" You let out a frustrated groan, quickly removing your shirt and tossing it to the side. His laughter only serves to further stoke the flames of your competitive spirit. "There we go! Good girl."

"I thought we're supposed to be studying." You try to feign nonchalance as you sit there, bra exposed and with only three items left. Technically, you're tied in terms of clothing remaining, but it's also not lost on you that it's currently 0-2 in Jasper's favor.

"We are studying; this is a science experiment, remember? Unless you're ready to admit that you're wrong AND that you're submissive. That would be quite the win on my end." Well, shit. Now you can't back out. You'll be damned if you let him have something to hang over your head.

"Just you wait, Whitlock," you snap, trying to regain your focus for the next round. "I'm just getting warmed up."

You narrow your eyes at Jasper, determined not to let him fluster you again. The stakes are higher now, but you've got this.

Taking a deep breath, you meet his gaze once again. The tension in the air is palpable as you both refuse to back down.

Jasper's lips curl into a challenging smirk, his long fingers still tapping a steady rhythm against his thigh. You force yourself to focus solely on his eyes, blocking out everything else.

Seconds turn to minutes as you hold his stare, your heartbeat thundering in your ears but you refuse to waver.

Just when you think you're finding a groove and might stand a chance at winning, Jasper leans forward, his voice low and sultry. "You're doing so well, darlin'. But I can see it in your eyes - you're starting to crack."

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, but you grit your teeth and push on. You will not lose this round, no matter what underhanded tactics he tries.

The room fills with an intensity that almost makes it hard to breath as you continue your silent battle of wills. Jasper's gaze is unwavering, a predatory gleam in his eyes that makes your breath catch and waver.

Jasper's hand suddenly moves, his fingers slowly inching up your thigh. Your eyes widen and your pulse quickens but you refuse to look away.

"Good girl," Jasper acknowledges, his cool touch burning through the fabric of your jeans. "Just keep your eyes on me."

His fingers continue their slow, tantalizing trek up your thigh, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. His gaze is electric, drawing you in despite your best efforts to maintain composure. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, but you refuse to break eye contact, stubbornly holding his molten stare.

"Jasper…" you breathe, unable to keep the quiver out of your voice. His lips curve into a knowing smile, fingers inching higher.

"That's it, darlin'," his voice is low and velvety smooth. "Just focus on me. Don't look away. It should be easy for you, right? You're a strong, dominant girl, after all."

The temptation to give in, to let your eyes slip shut, is nearly overwhelming. But you dig deep, summoning every ounce of willpower to maintain the intense eye contact.

Jasper's hand reaches the waist of your jeans, his fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin just above. Your pulse quickens and a shiver runs down your spine.

"J-Jasper…" you stammer, grip tightening on the arms of your chair.

His eyes shine with a predatory gleam as he watches you. "C'mon, sugar. Just a little bit longer… You can do it. Keep those pretty eyes on me.

"Or you can look away, let me take these pants off." he adds with a self-satisfied smirk.

You know you're teetering on the edge, your resolve rapidly crumbling under the onslaught of his touch and his words.

The seconds stretch on, the tension in the room palpable. Jasper's fingers continue their torturously slow ascent, and you find yourself struggling to keep your focus on his eyes.

His fingers dance along the underwire of your bra, "And after that, I'll pull those panties off of you with my teeth; maybe dive right in and see if that pussy tastes as good as I think it does." Your eyes flutter shut as a white-hot spike of arousal shoots straight to your core. He pulls his hand away and when you reopen your eyes, you see a triumphant grin has spread across Jasper's face. "That's my girl." Your eyes widen as you realize - you've lost. Again.

"You've got two chances left. Still think you're going to win?" Jasper asks. "I'm sure you can do it. Right? You can turn it around. Round 4."

As you settle in for yet another round, he gets in another jab. "You're gonna break. You're going to and it's going to be really fast."

His hand returns to your thigh; this time it only takes a second for him to reach the hem of your panties, his fingers dancing along the elastic. You swallow harshly, but keep his gaze. "You're not even trying to fight it; you're just letting me touch you."

"You're gonna keep looking me in the eyes when I move your panties to the side and slide my fingers in, aren't you?" Your breath hitches. "No, don't lose yet. Come on, look at me. Don't look away, I don't want you to look away." It's hard to fight against the urge to hide your face but you manage. You can feel how hot your cheeks are, and you can only imagine the expression on your face.

"Good girl," Jasper murmurs. "Don't look away. Don't you dare look away." You start to squirm a little, clenching your thighs desperate for some friction. "Why are you turned on?" He teases, his fingers still threatening to dip under the thin fabric. "Is it because you're submissive and you like losing? There's fight and flight, but you... you freeze. And you're gonna let me take what I want."

He finally tugs your panties aside and dips two fingers into you. your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you try to focus. You're so wet you swear you can feel it dripping down towards your ass. Fuck this is embarrassing but you realize you'd rather die than stop now; you want this. You want to just let go and let him take and take and take.

You crave his touch, crave to be used by him.

Jasper's fingers crook up into a spot that has stars dancing in your vision. Somehow you manage to just barely keep your eyes on him.

"C'mon, don't lose. I only have three pieces of clothing; you can still win this..." he taunts. "Don't look away, don't look away. Don't look away. Don't lose. Come on, look at me in my eyes. Good girl- don't look away."

"There it is..." He muses, pressing his fingers into your g spot as your back arches away from your chair and a debauched moan rips from your throat. "You lose again, darlin'." He brings his hand up to his mouth to clean your arousal off his fingers.

You let out a frustrated whine, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Jasper's smug grin only infuriates you further - he's clearly enjoying this power he has over you.

"That's not fair," you pant, your body still tingling from his touch. "You're cheating."

Jasper chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he examines you hungrily. "Darlin', I don't need to cheat to make you submit to me. You want this just as badly as I do. Like I said earlier- we never agreed 'no touching'."

You can only glare half-heartedly at him, knowing he's right.

"Hey," Jasper ducks his head to catch your eyes as you look at the ground to avoid his gaze. "You got one more. It's the last round. You're still in this; you can still win. You've got to get at least one piece from me. you can't lose every time - that would just be pathetic..." You go to smack his arm, but he avoids it.

With a resigned and frustrated sigh, you unhook your bra and let it fall to the floor. "Let's get this over with already." you grumble. you want this to end partly to stop the embarrassment of losing this badly, but mainly because the sooner this is over, the sooner you can fuck him.

As the final round starts, Jasper reaches up to grab your chin, tilting your head up to barely brush his lips against yours. His eyes never leave yours as he asks, "Why don't you just look away on purpose so I can take these off and fuck you?"

His other hand reaches down to press his thumb against your clit, causing your eyes to shut as you let loose a shaky moan. "Oh- you lost..." The grin he gives you can only be described as devilish.

Faster than you can process, he is picking you up by the thighs and setting you on the table.

True to his word, he drops to his knees between your legs and. after pressing a few possessive kisses along your belly and the apex of your thighs, he takes your panties between his teeth and starts to slide them off of you.

You shudder with anticipation as Jasper's cool breath ghosts over your most intimate area. With painstaking slowness, he tugs your panties down, revealing your glistening cunt. His eyes never leave yours, molten gold boring into your very soul.

A playful smirk graces his perfect lips as he tosses the flimsy fabric aside. Calloused hands caress the soft skin of your inner thighs, urging them to part further. You comply willingly, heart racing in excitement.

Jasper hums appreciatively, drinking in the sight of your exposed cunt. Leaning in, he trails feather-light kisses along your dripping folds, teasing you mercilessly. Just when you think you can't take the anticipation any longer, his talented tongue darts out, parting your swollen lips and delving deep.

An involuntary moan escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. Jasper sets an agonizingly slow pace, savoring every twitch and tremble of your body. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he explores every inch of your most sensitive area. "Fuck, I knew you'd taste amazing..." His low groan vibrates against you and forces another small gasp to leave you.

Jasper's skilled tongue continues its agonizingly slow exploration, eliciting more breathless sighs and whimpers from you. His grip on your hips tightens as he senses your growing desperation for release.

With a low growl, he suddenly picks up the pace, licking and sucking with purpose. Your back arches as the coil of pleasure tightens, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you feel the first tremors of your impending climax, Jasper pulls away, leaving you panting and aching. He gazes up at you with hooded eyes, a smug expression on his face.

"Not yet, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark promise. "I have other plans for you."

Jasper's hands grip your hips firmly as he effortlessly maneuvers your body, guiding you to bend over the sturdy table. A gasp escapes your lips at the sudden change in position.

With your upper body pressed against the cool surface, you feel impossibly exposed and vulnerable. The long-forgotten books and scattered papers crinkle under your weight as Jasper's powerful frame looms over you, his presence radiating a primal dominance.

A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers trail along your spine, eliciting goosebumps in their wake. Leaning in close, he places a series of searing kisses along the back of your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin before pulling back and undressing.

Trembling with anticipation, you arch your back, silently begging for more of his touch. Jasper growls low in his throat, the primal sound sending a shiver down your spine. His large palms slide up your sides, calloused fingers caressing the curve of your waist.

You whimper, desperate for him to finally fuck you.

Jasper chuckles, the deep rumble of his voice sending sparks of desire through your body. "So impatient," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't worry, sugar, I'm just getting started."

Jasper's grip on your hips tightens as he slowly, teasingly, presses his body against yours. You can feel the hard lines of his muscles and you ache to have him inside you. His hands slide up your sides, caressing and exploring your body.

Finally, after what feels like ages, he lines his cock up with your sopping pussy and starts to press in.

You gasp, arching your back as the head of his cock teases your entrance. "Jasper!" You moan, shuddering with anticipation.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he slides into you, inch by delicious inch. You feel every millimeter of his legnth as he fills you up, stretching and claiming you. His grip on your hips tightens, and you can feel the way his forearms bulging as he struggles to maintain control.

"Fuck," he growls, finally bottoming out inside you. He holds still for a moment, his lips pressing against your neck as he regains his breath.

Then, without warning, he begins to move, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in with a force that takes your breath away. Over and over, he thrusts into you, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythm that is both primal and possessive.

You drop your head to the table, letting out a long, keening cry as you feel his cock hit your sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Jasper!" You cry out, your voice echoing in the room.

His hands move to your breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipples as he fucks into you harder and faster. You can feel the heat building between your legs, the sensation growing more intense with each passing moment.

"I knew you were a submissive little thing," he says between grunts. "We could've gotten here a lot quicker if you had just dropped the act earlier, darlin'." You can feel his shit eating grin against your shoulder.

"Really?" you gasp out, body sliding against the table with each thrust. "You want to argue about that now?"

His chuckle is low in your ear. "Just making a point, sugar." Jasper presses a kiss to the space just behind your ear before leaning back and fucking into you harder.

The rough wood of the table bites into your shoulders, but you don't care. All that matters is the feeling of him inside you, claiming you.

"Jasper," you moan, your voice filled with pleasure and desperation. "I need… I need you to cum inside me." You beg, your back arching impossibly more as he reaches around to toy with your clit.

He picks up the pace even more, slamming into you over and over again. "Almost there, doll," he says, his voice rough with lust. "Just wait for it."

You clench around him, trying to draw him deeper inside you. The sensation is almost too much to bear, but you're so, so close.

You feel your body tense and then release in a wave of pure pleasure. Your muscles clench around Jasper's cock, milking him as you experience your orgasm. A loud moan escapes your lips, and your hips buck against the table unconsciously. Sweat beads on your forehead, and your skin feels flushed with heat.

As your climax subsides, you feel a cool rush between your legs. Jasper's release. He groans deeply, his body shuddering against yours.

After a minute of him staying plastered to your back, keeping you bent over the table, you feel him slowly pull out of you, and you can't help but whimper in disappointment.

"Don't give me any of that, doll," Jasper gently chides. He scoops you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest. You wrap your legs around him, holding onto him tightly. The chill of his skin against your heated sex is comforting, soothing the ache.

He carries you to the couch, setting you down gently before standing up and pulling his boxers on and heading into the kitchen. While he's gone, you take the opportunity to catch your breath and compose yourself. When he returns, he has a damp cloth. He gently cleans between them, his touch soft and careful as he wipes up the remnants of your tryst. Neither of you speak as he cares for you, reveling in the comfortable silence that blankets the both of you.

Once your cleaned up, he helps you redress; he helps you pull your panties back on along with his shirt. He scoops you up into his arms again as he lays on the couch. As you curl against him once more, he kisses the top of your head. "There's my good girl," he whispers. "I've got you."

[autonomousroboticorganism]

period madness (TF Prime)

featuring - Optimus Prime x F!Reader, Bumblebee x F!Reader, Smokescreen x F!Reader, Knock Out x F!Reader, Soundwave x F!Reader, Shockwave x F!Reader, Wheeljack x F!Reader

summary - your Cybertronian partner finds out just what a human woman's period entails.

warnings - none

a/n - Knock Out's takes place when he defects to the Autobots. also, don't fight me, these are based on my experiences and what helps me.

OPTIMUS PRIME - cramps

While he may not fully understand what's going on and what's happening to your body, he is still extremely attentive and supportive. He is there to provide any comfort you need, and will not hesitate to take one of the other humans out to a convenience store if you need anything. He knows when it's that time of the month because he'll walk into base after another mission and see you laying face-down on the couch.

"Are you okay, (Name)?"

An unintelligible grumble from you was the only response, before Miko spoke for you, "Her cramps are bad this month. Really bad."

Optimus looked back at your figure, then reached over the railing to carefully lift you into one of his servos, ever the gentle giant. If there was one thing he did know during this time, it was that you were somewhat appeased by warmth.

"How was the mission?" You finally looked up at him, eyes glassy with tears from the pain.

"I shall tell you all about it when you are warm and comfortable," the Prime replied, taking you to his room in the base and laying on his berth. He lay you on top of him, right over his spark where it was warmest. "Is this better?"

"Mhmm, much," you sighed in relief and satisfaction, curling up on his warm chassis. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he smiled, happy that your pain was eased, if only slightly. "Today was quiet, no sign of Decepticon activity. We found an empty Energon mine that had been stripped entirely of its contents."

"Aw, man," you empathised, "I hope you guys find some soon. But I welcome a quiet mission, as opposed to you going out and getting hurt."

It warmed his spark to know that even while you were in pain, you still worried about him getting hurt. He knew you cared very much for him and the team, but he was unaware it was to this extent. He carried on with his story, explaining how they had found something more disturbing than an Energon mine filled with cons. You listened intently despite being overwhelmed by pain in your uterus, happy to be distracted by one of his tales. And it always helped that you liked to listen to his deep voice, because it was soothing to hear.

BUMBLEBEE - emotional

Bumblebee knows a bit more than Optimus, but less than he feels he needs to. So a few days before your period, when you exhibit the warning signs, he asks Miko - with Raf as translator - to help him with research on the topic so he's better prepared to help you. He doesn't want to let you know he does this, but you know and you think it's very cute. And sweet.

He knows when you have it, because on your first day you storm into base looking for him and you cling to him like a little koala. He has no complaints of course, until you end up crying into his arm.

Immediately he's concerned, his little beeps translating in your mind to 'are you okay?' Apart from Raf, you were the only human who could understand what he was saying. Neither of you knew why, but it was so convenient and a happy coincidence that you never questioned it.

"Today I saw a duck," you sobbed, "And you know, it reminded me that Jasper doesn't even have ducks because we don't have any lakes and..."

You rambled on and on, tearfully so, while Bumblebee shot Smokescreen a confused look. Your guardian shrugged.

"She's been emotional all day."

The scout turned his attention back on you and held you up, whirring and beeping in concern. You stopped whatever story you had launched into afterwards and looked at him, before your eyes lit up.

"Ice cream? That sounds great!"

Bumblebee beeped and whirred again, telling Smokescreen where you two were going before transforming and driving off with you. He played some of your favourite music, and eventually you calmed down enough to look at birds and not burst into tears.

Once you had your ice cream, he took you on a nice, long scenic drive. The long way back to the base. You relaxed in his passenger seat, happily eating your cold treat.

"Thanks, Bee," you smiled, "I can always count on you."

The scout beeped back that you're very welcome and he'd do anything for you. And he mentally thanked Raf and Miko for telling him that ice cream might be a good idea for mood swings.

SMOKESCREEN - cravings

The newbie is not as great with human beings as he'd like to be. He'd had to learn a lot since coming to earth, and one of those things was to navigate a relationship with a human being. One that was both his girlfriend and his charge. So throw periods into the mix and you have...a very very confused Autobot. He knows absolutely nothing about periods, stemming from his lack of knowledge about the human anatomy.

"So...why don't human guys bleed?"

"SMOKESCREEN!" You protest with a burning face. "You can't just ask that!"

"I...thought it was a valid question?"

You sighed, "Men don't menstruate because they don't have to have babies." At his clueless expression, you added, "They don't have to give life to what you call sparklings."

"Ohhhh..."

He still didn't understand. Nonetheless, he was eager to help. Anything you asked of him, he tripped over himself in his rush to do it. Anything you wanted or needed, he found a way to get for you. Hugs and kisses? Of course! Cuddles? He would never say no to that. He had grown so fond of and attached to you that he was even clingier than you were on your period. But you thought it was sweet.

"So it hurts...here?" The giant mech prodded your uterus, gently.

"Mhm," you nodded, devouring a slab of chocolate Jack had given to Smokescreen to give to you. "Hey, don't poke me!" You smacked his servo away.

"Sorry," his faceplates burned in embarrassment.

He watches you happily munch on your chocolate, amused that such a small thing could appease you when just moments ago you had been screaming at Ratchet for not knowing about female human anatomy.

KNOCK OUT - body pain

Knock Out knew humans were fragile. He's used that against the Autobots multiple times when he was a Decepticon. But now that he's become an Autobot, he has to be extra careful around you, Jack, Miko, Raf, June and Fowler. Especially you. But it seemed that every month you would go into a state where your body hurt for no reason at all, and it wasn't until June explained to Knock Out what you were experiencing that he finally understood.

"(Name)! Are you okay?!" The medic panicked, rushing to your side the moment he heard a pained whimper come from you.

You were trying to roll over on the couch, but sharp pain erupted in your lower back causing you to let out that sound. You looked up at your concerned boyfriend, pretty optics putting you at ease.

"Mhm, just really sore."

Knock Out looked at June in desperation, and the older woman laughed at the fact that he had once kidnapped her and forced her to play a crueler version of hide-and-seek, but now he was desperately seeking her medical advice.

"I'll get some painkillers and water that you can give her," the nurse stood to go retrieve those items.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" He asked you in the meantime. Knock Out hated feeling useless, helpless, which was a side effect of being criticised so often.

"Pick me up?" You suggested.

The bot was more than happy to oblige, lifting you onto his servo with surprising gentleness. You happily laid on your back on the warm metal, sighing contentedly until your head started to hurt.

"Maybe also poke me in the head?"

"What?! I could kill you!"

"That's kind of the idea. My head is already doing that."

"I will not terminate the one good thing I've managed to earn, thank you very much," he insisted, cooling his free servo and pressing a non-lethal part of it to your temple. "That better?"

The pain in your skull receded, and your body relaxed, "Oh, much better. Thank you, Knock Out."

The bot beamed at the grateful response, "You're very welcome!"

June returned with the painkillers and a bottle of water, which Knock Out carefully handed to you with the servo he had used to ease your headache. He watched you intently as you took the medication, before lying back down on his palm.

"Now just hold me."

The former con eagerly obeyed that command, even taking you to his assigned room in the base and laying with you on top of him on his berth. He placed a servo over your smaller frame, practically blanketing you with it. He further eased your pain by slowly running it up and down your back, gently and affectionately caressing you. The mad doctor had truly changed for the better.

SOUNDWAVE - nausea

Soundwave had taken it upon himself to learn about humans when he'd first taken you. So he knew very well what the warning signs of anger, hunger and cramping meant. He was well-equipped to help you, because this bot is hardly ever ill-equipped for anything. He searches the human internet for things he can do to help ease your pain and make this uncomfortable period of time more bearable for you. So you usually find stuff you need and crave during your period already laid out on his berth when the first day comes.

The Decepticon walked into his berth one of those days to see you happily munching away on the snacks he'd gotten Laserbeak to acquire for you. Speaking of the little bird, you were laying atop one of its wings, and Soundwave always liked to see how comfortable you were around it.

But then a weird look came over your face, and you turned a little sickly. The bot worried that the snacks had done something to you, but you just set them down and curled up, breathing in and out deeply. Soundwave was by your side in a second, touching your shoulder in concern.

"I'm-I'm fine," you reassured him. "Sometimes I just get nauseous. And sometimes it's the snacks that I like that cause it. I can't explain it."

The silent Cybertronian nodded to say he understood, before scooping up into one servo and soothingly rubbing your back with the other. Then he handed you a sugary drink he'd also obtained for you, his screen showing you research saying that something sweet and fizzy might help.

You smiled at him and took the drink, taking a few sips and finding that he was right, "Thank you, Soundwave. I can always rely on you."

His screen showed something else now, a bright red heart. Your cheeks heated up, and your smile became flustered at the gesture. Despite being committed to not speaking at all, he could be expressive and sweet when he wanted to be. His actions always told you more than his screen did, though.

SHOCKWAVE - bodily insecurity/bloating

Like Knock Out and Ratchet, Shockwave is scientifically and biologically knowledgable. He's an expert in all things physical and mental. Unfortunately, he spent so much time on a dead Cybertron that he was completely helpless when he first got attached to you on earth. Fortunately, he was a quick learner and very studious. Meaning he found out pretty quickly what he was meant to do during a time like this. Though sometimes, you still confused him.

Like now, when he walked into the room to see you sitting in front of something that mirrored your reflection. You were frowning and poking your midsection, eyes becoming glassy and bottom lip trembling.

"What has happened?" The intimidating Decepticon approached. "Are you hurt?"

"No," you wailed. "I'm getting fatter!"

"..."

Shockwave was, well, shocked. He never thought once that you were a displeasing weight or size, and he would never mind or care if you were picking up weight. But in this case, it was not true.

"Little one, that is a most illogical statement," he picked you up with his one servo. "You are not looking any different."

"Then explain this!" You cried, poking your stomach again.

Once more, Shockwave failed to see the issue, "You are perfect, my little human. There is nothing wrong with you."

"You're just saying that!"

"Have you ever known me to lie?"

"No..."

"Then cease your worrying," he reassured you. "I understand that on your...period, as you humans call it, you may feel bloated. But that does not mean you have increased in size. It is normal, and it will go away."

That was...oddly comforting.

"Thank you, Shockwave. That means a lot coming from you."

"Good. Now stop crying, little one. I have something to show you."

WHEELJACK - anger/frustration

Wheeljack was generally a lot more sensitive and considerate towards you than anyone else on base, but that doesn't mean that he was perfect. There were times when he didn't mean to offend you or incite your fury, but his actions or words that just tumbled out of his mouth left you shaking. He wasn't aware of human periods until Miko told him about them when you'd first started dating him, but he still continued to piss you off.

"WILL YOU STOP FOR ONE SECOND!" You screamed at the Wrecker one day while you were lounging in front of the TV while watching Jack and Raf play video games.

Wheeljack and Bulkhead were lobbing a giant ball of metal around, as they tended to do every other week, and Bumblebee and Smokescreen had been tempted to join. They promptly changed their minds at the sound of your yell and the glare on your face.

"Sweetheart, we're just playing around," Wheeljack responded calmly, shrugging your attitude off. Bulkhead got nervous, though.

"Well could you go play somewhere else?!" You snarled, rubbing your temples. "You're making my headache even worse!" You were usually irritable on your period, so Wheeljack took this as a sign.

He sighed, "Would you stop being such a buzzkill?"

Dead silence. Everyone beside Wheeljack froze up, knowing that was exactly the wrong thing to say to you at this time. Your eyes narrowed, and you stood up so fast your head spun.

"Well if I'm a buzzkill then I'll just leave!" You spat, storming down the stairs while trying not to burst into tears. Both angry and sad.

"Sweetheart, I didn't mean that," the bot immediately regretted his words, spotting your glassy eyes. "Come here."

"Go away!"

He sighed and grabbed you before you could leave the base, "Where are you going to go? There's nothing but dirt outside this base, sweetheart."

"I'd rather walk across the desert than spend more time arguing with you," you grumbled.

"Alright, alright," he relented. "I'm sorry. Can I make it up to you? We'll go sit in my berthroom and I'll project your favourite movie onto the wall."

"...Fine."

Wheeljack was an idiot, and impulsive, but he sure knew how to charm his way back into your good books. He cuddled you and rubbed your uterus for you, getting help from Miko to get you snacks that would keep your temper at bay.

[hislittlesparklejumpropequeen]

One thing, everything

Carlisle Cullen x female!reader

Summary: Carlisle wants only one thing for himself and you want nothing more than please him. Warnings: AGE GAP, oral sex (m receiving), mentions of vampire thirst, mentions of rough sex, mentions of creampie, cheating, pet names, unhealthy dynamics, kinda dark?Carlisle

Word count: 1033

An: just wanted to write something short for daddy. I wrote this half asleep, so if there are mistakes sorry about that.

Carlisle is sitting in his office. It’s a smaller room compared the places he owned in different hospitals, way different than his offices when he used to teach in universities. It’s gloomy and has a small window. His patients always complain about lack of oxygen in the room. When it gets dark in Forks, his office turns into a cave without the weak fluorescent lights on the ceiling. He would get them changed but he doesn’t need light. In fact, he runs away from light.

His eyes travel trough the walls. There are pictures of his family. His beautiful wife Esme, smiles gracefully as she hugs him. His daughters are beautiful too, Rosalie looks confident as always and Alice is just as joyful. Emmet is holding Rosalie and Alice in his arms in one picture as Jasper smiles- which is quite rarely since they moved back to Forks-. Edward is in only one picture, a family portrait. He remembers how difficult it was to convince him that day. Yet he still couldn’t manage to get him smile.

His gaze finally finds you, kneeling between his legs, looking up to him with doe eyes. Your mouth is full of his cock, lips stretched around his girth. And your spit mixed with his precum drools down your chin to your new top. He notes to buy you a new one this weekend. He smiles softly when you try to take him deeper into your throat. You are holding his thighs, fingers digging in, creates half moon shapes with the sharpness of your nails. His cold fingers caresses your cheek before he holds the base of your hair tight. Your body trembles and your wetness drips onto your underwear. He can smell your arousal, and the flavour of your very existence makes his throat sore with thirstiness. It’s been so long since he craved for a human’s blood. But you, you make him crazy with need.

“Come on pretty girl. Do better for me.” He says gently. Carlisle knows how much power he has over you. Gosh, you’re just a fragile, little human and he looks like a god in your eyes. Tears are flowing down your cheeks and you try to suck him faster. It’s almost like you can feel him down your throat, in your gullet. The sensation is painful and uncomfortable. Yet the satisfaction of Carlisle brings you more pleasure than anything ever. He groans when he feels your lips at the base of his cock. Your breath hits his blonde pubes, your warm, welcoming mouth drives him over the edge. He loves seeing you struggle on your knees, only for him. He loves having you by his feet, and pat your head when you’re good. You look so beautiful when you look up to him with those beautiful eyes of yours, beg for something you want him to get for you and then thank him with different ways he taught you.

He tries to be gentle, as much he can, and guides your head up and down on his cock. You try to catch your breath as he fucks into your mouth. He’s frowning, eyes shut tight and he looks only focused on his climax. Last time, he came on your face. This time he wants to leave his seed deep into your stomach. He knows how much you love when you are able to taste him fully. And he loves making his pretty girl happy. His hips thrusts up few times and before you know, he’s coming in your throat.

“Fuck!” He mutters and his head falls back to his leather chair. His tight hold on your hair loosens as you try to catch your breath and swallow his load. He hears you cough few times but he doesn’t look at you. He thinks of his choices. He knows he has a family, a wife to go back to. And he knows Edward can see his thoughts every single day when they all sit down in the living room, as he hold Esme in his arms. And he knows he doesn’t like it even though he wouldn’t say anything. He wonders if Alice saw this was coming or if she sees something about you that didn’t happen yet.

“Did I do good?” You ask, voice shaky and tears keep running down your cheeks. Your mascara is smudged under your eyes and there are big wet stains on your top. You look like a mess. Carlisle knows what he’s doing is wrong but having one thing for himself feels too good. Having one thing that he doesn’t need to share with others, with the rest of the world is precious. Every single time you enter his office he tells himself that he won’t do it again. And the next thing he knows that he’s fucking you hard on his desk. And in those moments he feels like the weight on his shoulders disappears.

When you’re kissing him, he doesn’t need to think about Jasper’s constant hunger. When youre riding him as your breasts bounce, he doesn’t need to think about Rosalie’s grumpy complaints about everything. When you’re begging him to come deep inside you, he doesn’t need to think about Edward’s century long depression. He only thinks about you when your tight, wet walls clench around him and your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Yes, baby. You did so good.” He says as he pulls you up this lap. Your arms wrap around his neck when he settles your shaky body against his own. He holds your thigh and kisses you. The kiss is deep and makes you dizzy. His tongue swirls around yours, cold lips pressed against your burning ones.

“My turn to take care of you.” He says as his fingers trace over your skin to your underwear. His lips are right on your neck, kissing slowly when his fingertips meet with your wetness. His tongue stops right on your pulsing vein on the neck. He can only imagine how sweet you might taste. And the thrilling fantasy sends shivers down his spine. The thought of tasting you feels depraved, sick. But nothing in his life delights him more lately.

[kiiwiigii]

Dirty Books

Jasper x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your scent has been driving Jasper crazy from day one. After catching you reading a rather interesting book, your scent finally makes his self-control go out the window.

Warnings:

NSFW 18+

SMUT

Oral (F Receiving)

Virginity

Scent kink

Word Count: 1.4k+

Requested?: For Kinktober!

Possessivr and rough scent kink with jasper mayhaps 🫣

A/N: I'm not sure if this really counts as scent kink but… I tried.

-Jasper-

She was sitting in the reading chair in the corner of her room when he slipped silently through her open window. They would have a talk about that later, but for now, he took in the sight of her, reading and clenching her thighs, her hips wiggling just the slightest. She had that look of concentration that screamed that she was reading something rather dirty. 

The fact that she could even act so normally after everything that happened with Victoria baffled him.  

"Y/N." 

She jumped nearly a foot out of the chair, clutching the book to her chest. She was turning red. 

"Jasper!" 

He ignored her and nicked the book from her hands before she could even blink, raising his eyebrows at the page she had been reading. He looked up at her from under his lashes, a smirk on his face. 

"Just what have ya been reading, darlin'?" 

She blushed, standing up quickly to snatch the book back, and he let her. Her eyes darted down to the pages and then back up to him before she could stop herself. He could picture the wheels turning in her head, her thoughts and emotions a jumbled mess. Although one emotion stood out among the rest: lust.

"Noth-nothing." 

"It didn't look like nothin'." 

The scent of her arousal only deepened, and Jasper tensed, fighting against his instincts to devour her on sight. 

He yearned to bury his face somewhere between her thighs and drown himself in her scent, to feel her quiver under his tongue and soft kisses. 

"Jasper?" 

Jasper took a deep breath, trying to calm himself yet again. That was a mistake. She smelled too good, and he felt his self-control snap. 

He was on his knees in front of her before he could think, his hands wrapped firmly around her knees and pushing her gently back into the chair.

"Jasper-" Y/N gasped as he opened her legs and pressed his face into her stomach, breathing her in. 

He groaned against her skin as her arousal flooded his senses even more. It was overwhelming, practically choking him. 

And there would be no one to hold him back this time. Unless, of course, Y/N said no. But Jasper had a hunch that she wouldn't. 

She was leaning back into the chair, her fingers in his hair. She wasn't trying to pull away from him. Y/N seemed to be frozen in shock, her chest heaving as she remained still.

He would have laughed if he could have found the breath. 

"Ya smell like ya need me, darlin'." 

He let out a sigh as he nipped at her inner thigh. Her nails dug into his scalp as she jumped, and he couldn't help but hide a smirk as he nipped a little closer to her heated center. 

"Jasper," she moaned softly, and he felt the wave of desire that rolled through her body. 

He looked up at her, eyes burning. 

"If you don't want this, tell me now." He demanded. 

Y/N shook her head almost violently. 

"Please." She whimpered. 

That was all he needed to hear. 

Jasper closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, suddenly very happy that she was wearing a skirt. It made everything so much easier.

"Let's put your legs on either side of the chair, darlin'."

He helped her get into position, drinking in her nearly exposed pussy, already wet and glistening through the fabric of her lacy panties.

Those panties really needed to go, but all in due time.

He pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh, grazing his teeth against her skin, and he heard her intake of breath. He moved his hands up under her thighs, holding her steady as he buried his face against her. 

She gasped, a small sound that was accompanied by a low moan as his tongue slid against her inner thigh. He used his nose to push her panties away, slowly licking his way to her pussy and clit. 

Her back arched as she pressed herself into his face, her fingers digging into his scalp and her lips parted.

Shrle was hot and tight, pulsing around his tongue. He could hear her heart pounding, and he could almost taste her blood as it raced through her veins. 

"Fuck." He groaned. "You taste like heaven." 

"Jasper." Y/N whimpered. 

"I'm not letting you go until I've had my fill, Y/N" He looked back up her, eyes darkening until they were nearly black. "You are mine."

His fingers dug into her thighs as he pulled her pussy to his mouth, sucking on her clit and sliding his tongue inside of her again and again as she began to grind against his face. 

He licked and sucked at her, fucking her with his tongue until he felt her legs begin to shake in his hands. 

"Jasper, I'm gonna-" she panted, her breath hitching as her breathing grew heavier, faster.

She went tense for a second, her body shuddering and her fingers twisting in his hair. He could feel her heat against his face, and it brought in another wave of desire. 

He pulled back, feeling her body tremble as she tried to regain control over her breathing and attempting to close her legs, but he wouldn't let her.

"I- what?" She panted. 

"I can smell you." He murmured, leaning forward until their lips were barely brushing. "And it's been driving me crazy ever since I met you." 

"Jasper," she groaned as he pressed her lips to his, sliding his cool tongue into her mouth. 

Y/N's hips bucked as she whimpered. 

"Keep your legs open for me, darlin'."

He smiled against her lips as she obeyed. She even went so far as to open them a little wider, her legs still on the arms of the chair and her skirt sliding further up her hips. 

He nipped at her bottom lip as he slid a hand beneath her panties and pushed his fingers into her. 

"Jasper." She gasped. 

He moved his fingers in slow precision, pumping them in and out of her as she whimpered. He was keeping her on edge, and a sadistic part of him was enjoying it. 

She was close. He could feel it when she started to tighten yet again. 

He pulled his fingers out of her, and she let out a low whine at the loss. Jasper trailed his lips across her cheek and up to her ear. He whispered to her, his voice low and raspy  

"I want ya, darlin'." 

"Jasper…" she whimpered. 

 Fuck. He loved how she said his name. 

He pulled back, making eye contact with her. 

"Tell me ya want me."

Y/N blinked dazedly, her eyes hooded and glazed with lust. Her arms slipped around his neck, pulling him back to her until she was kissing him again.

"I want you," she gasped, her tongue sliding across his lips. "I want you to fuck me, Jasper. I want your cock fucking me deep and hard."

"Fuck."

With a groan, Jasper ripped her panties, barely acknowledging her indignant gasp before he kissed her again. He got rid of his jeans and underclothes quickly, palming his length before he entered her without any further warning. 

Y/N let out a pained groan against his lips, pulling back momentarily to rest her forehead against his.

Her tightness was almost painful, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out. He pushed himself in inch by inch, pausing only when he was fully inside of her. He could feel her slippery heat around him.

He had hurt her. He heard another pained intake of breath as she gritted her teeth and could smell the blood from between her legs. 

Despite that, he started to rock his hips, slowly at first and then faster and harder. Y/N responded by wrapping her legs around his waist, her ankles hooking behind his back. He could feel her nails scraping against his skin, and he knew that she was close. 

He could feel her muscles tremble, her whole body shaking as she came. It was so hot, he could feel her juices coating him as he moved. And then he was gone too, his orgasm crashing over him like a wave. 

He collapsed against her, his breathing ragged. He could still hear her soft moaning, could still feel her contract around him as she came. 

They lay there like that for a while, until Jasper moved, picking her up without slipping out of her. Y/N gasped, flinging her arms around him and her pussy tightening around his already hard-again cock. 

"Jasp-" 

He cut her off with a kiss, rocking his hips into her gently. Y/N moaned, her whole body trembling. He kissed his way back to her jaw and neck, nibbling at her pulse point. 

"I think a move to the bed is in order, darlin'." 

{Kinktober}  // {Masterlist}

Taglist:  @alecvolturi @alecvolturiswifeforever @belladonna-xox  @birdiebeesblog @bunbunbl0gs @hyperuseless @jana-jaeynneee @itsmytimetoodream @lack-lust-3r @lucansmina @pawspurpaw @pooka167 @rosedpetal @targaryenmoony @twilightlover2007

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[little-diable]

Christmas Trip - Jasper Hale (smut)

Just another Christmas Drabble. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. Xxx

Summary: Jasper takes the reader to a Christmas market and she’s ready to properly thank him for it.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), road head

Pairing: Jasper Hale x fem!reader (1k words)

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” (Y/n)’s soft voice filled the car, eyes set on Jasper’s features. He shot her a smile, cold hand finding her cheek to pull her in for a kiss that made her heart skip a beat or two.

“You know I’d do anything for you.” His words made heat rise to her face, still not used to being treated this kindly by a man she was head over heels in love with. (Y/n) pressed her forehead against his, cherishing his closeness for another moment before slowly parting from him again.

“I know, Jas’, and you know I’ll gladly reward you later for doing this with me.” Her chuckles filled the evening as she stepped out into the cold before he could reply. Instantly her attention was drawn towards the small Christmas market, the stalls offering food and handmade goods. Jasper found her hand to pull her along, keeping close to (y/n) who looked like a child in a candy store.

“You don’t know how happy this makes me.” She shifted her weight onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek, fuelled by her gratefulness and excitement. He squeezed her hand, trying to let his attention rest on her and not on the different smells lingering in the cold air, accompanied by the sounds the crowd surrounding them made.

Something about this evening had something awfully special to (y/n), something she had been aching for the past years. Spending time with her boyfriend was always special, of course it was, and yet this evening was different somehow. Perhaps it was the fault of the many blinking lights that wrapped them in a soft glow. Perhaps it was the fault of the sweet scent she clung to, reminding her of her childhood. Perhaps it was simply the fault of Jasper, who had put so much effort into making this possible for her.

She felt him close wherever they went, looking at crafts, speaking to a few locals, cuddling for a moment while she sipped on her hot drink. And all Jasper could do was admire her, the way her body clearly fought against the cold nibbling on her cheeks and nose, how she seemed to cuddle herself against him at any given chance, further strengthening their bond.

Only as they made their way back to the car, set on warming (y/n) up, did she let go of his hand, “Thank you, Jas’. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“You’re stealing the words right out of my mouth, darlin’.” He shot her his signature smirk before he started the car, driving back towards Forks while (y/n) slowly began to warm up. For a while, neither of them spoke, lingering in their memories of this evening, how her smile had grown brighter with every passing minute, how she had clung to her newfound happiness like the luckiest woman earth had ever seen.

Her eyes lingered on his side profile, thoughts set on the reward she had promised him. Jasper must have felt the switch in her emotions, letting his grin linger on his lips while her hand found his thigh, stroking along the cold fabric. He didn’t move, kept his eyes focused ahead to give (y/n) the confidence to keep moving, shifting in her seat to reach his crotch.

“Fuck, darlin’. Careful there, don’t want you risking your safety.” She could only hum, not picking up on his words as she brushed her fingers along the stretched fabric. It didn’t take her long to free his hardening cock from the confines of his clothes, she spat into her palm before she began to stroke the soft skin.

Jasper’s raspy moans filled the car, eyes flickering to meet her widening pupils. She looked like a goddess to him, wrapped in the dark lingering in the car, emanating something soft though teasing enough to push him further towards his doom. (Y/n) was his everything, something to love and to cherish, while keeping a protective hold that was supposed to keep her chained to him until the end of this very earth.

His name left her, rolling off her tongue as if she wanted to speak her truth - no needed to give room to the adoration she couldn’t shake. But no further word left her, nothing but the echo of his name that rang in his ears all while (y/n) moved again. With that innocent look in her eyes, she stared up at him, watching his reactions the second her tongue brushed over the tip of his cock.

Jasper’s moan filled the car, guiding her to take more of him down her throat. The taste of his precum stuck to her, all too familiar as it reminded her of the endless hours they’ve spent tangled between the sheets. She loved being this close to him, loved the feeling of his twitching cock pressing against her tongue. He was the centre of her world, the one thing she’d never let go of.

“God, that mouth of yours is heavenly, darlin’.” His cold hand found her neck, holding onto her in a possessive manner. Jasper didn’t allow her to move - not that she wanted to - he needed her close, ready to fill her mouth with his much needed release. She gagged around him the second he jerked his hips, forcing his cock further down her throat.

She was making a mess on his thighs, saliva dripping from her lips as if her mouth was watering from the mere sight of him. And it was, fuelled by her never ending need for her partner. (Y/n) pulled away for a second, pumping him faster with her skilled fingers while deeply inhaling.

“Want you to fill my mouth, Jas, please.” The words filled the car before she took him back into her mouth. Another groan left him, rumbling through Jasper before a “fuck” clawed its way out of him. He came in her mouth with a raspy sound, filling her cheeks with his cum and the taste she loved.

For just a flicker of a second, he closed his eyes, letting the feeling wash through him while she greedily swallowed. Then his eyes were back on the road, filled with a dangerous twinkle that told her he’d ruin her tonight.

[lunajay33]

Waiting🖤 Part.2

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

Part.1

•Masterlist•

Friday came and I was a nervous wreck, I didn’t care to tell Bella or dad about this seeing as Bella has already distanced herself from me and I didn’t wanna get dads hopes up, sitting in math class, the last class of the day I kept glancing at the clock ticking closer and closer to the final bell, trying to distract myself I delved back into the worksheet infront of me, soon enough the bell rang and my heart jumped

Anxiously I threw everything into my bag and left the school straight to the parking lot, where Emmett was leaned against his silver jeep, when his eyes landed on me that bright smile stretch across his face making his amber eyes shine

“Hey gorgeous you ready for the best night of your life?” I could feel the heat rush to my face only making his smirk widen

“Not like that y/n, not yet anyways, come on hop in” he said as he held the door open for me, quickly getting in the drivers seat next to me

“Sooo um what’re we doing?”

“Thought we could go hiking, maybe get out of the cloud bank into some sunlight”

“I love hiking! Sounds like fun” finally relaxing knowing now it’s something I’m use to doing

He drove for a while out of forks to a near by hiking trail not commonly used by the public, we got out and started our journey

“So tell me a bit about yourself Angel” he said breaking the silence

“Well there’s not much to know, I’ve lived here my whole life, my sister and mom left when I was young so it’s just been me and my dad, I became homeschooled until now and I usually just read and do homework”

“Not a big social butterfly I assume?”

“Not really, what about you? Tell me everything!”

“Well I have 4 adopted siblings, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie and Edward, you’ll love Alice she’s the sweetest, I like getting out into the forest, love music and working out”

“Yeah I can tell” I smiled glancing at his bulging muscles under his long sleeve shirt

“Woah she’s got some fire in her after all” he laughed nudging my arm

“What can I say you bring it out of me” his hand grazed against mine until he went for it and intertwined his fingers through mine

“Why so nervous pretty girl? Do I fluster you?”

“Maybe, I’ve never really done stuff like this but it’s nice” I saw his features soften as he looked down at me and gently squeezed my hand

“Really? A beautiful thing like yourself, I’m surprised you don’t have boys on their knees begging for your attention”

“I think you have me mixed up with my sister” I laughed nervously

“And who might that be because I don’t even need to see her to know your beauty is beyond anything of this world”

“Emmett stop you’re just trying to make me blush, and my sister is Bella, Bella swan she’s new to the school” he stopped dead in his tracks with a shocked expression

“Bella is your sister, like your actual sister?”

“So you already know her, not a surprise”

“No it’s not that, my brother Edward has been after her since she came at the start of the week, kind of funny how two brothers can like two sisters, but I must say I got the more beautiful”

“You’re too sweet Em, I can’t believe she hasn’t said anything”

“Edward is a very awkward secretive guy I’m sure Bella is the same way maybe that’s why she hasn’t said anything”

“Can’t say you’re wrong”

He looked me up and down trying to judge something, curious

“Do you trust me?”

“I only just meet you but yeah, I do”

In an instant he flung me over his back so I was clung to him like a monkey

“Hold on tight sunshine” everything flew by in a blur, there was no shape to anything with the speed he was going, but however he was doing this it didn’t scare me or make me wonder what the hell was happening, I actually felt at peace

Soon enough he stopped as we cleared the cloud bank and the sun was beaming, he placed me gently back down on my feet and turned around, his skin was like a million tiny crystals, I was in awe by how much more beautiful he became

“Are you scared?” He asked as his face scrunch with worry

I raised my hand and traced down his cheek feeling his hard cold skin

“No quite the opposite, you’re beautiful Emmett”

“Don’t you wanna know what I am?” He asked placing his hands on my hips

“Whatever you are I’d never judge, I feel you’d never hurt me so I don’t care what you are”

“How did I get so lucky” he stated as he lifted me like I weighed a feather, wrapping my legs around his waist

“What do you mean?”

“Us vampires have mates and the moment you bumped into me in the hallways I knew you were mine, the one I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with”

“But why me, you could have anybody”

“You’re everything I’ll ever need, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you Angel, and I’ll spend the rest of eternity showing you how amazing you are”

My heart swelled with the most love I’ve ever felt and I’m lucky enough to finally find the one who will brighten my life

Taglist: @whit0912 @serenadingtigers @twilightlover2007

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 10

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content (smut) Wordcount: 7.3K A/C: here we go you freaks (happy game day)

-

Before London

“Whaddup bro?”

“Hi- uh, why are you talking like that?” I ask, holding up the phone to see the familiar and comforting face of my brother, Kiran. 

“Whassup fam,” he grins in a horrible American accent, smirking smugly at his own joke. “I’m American now,” he laughs, forcing me to roll my eyes - nothing new.

“Quit. Please,” I groan, rubbing the bridge of my nose. A habit I had picked up from Paige, who did it every time she was getting fed up. 

“C’mon man, you’re no fun,” Kiran chuckles. “I’m trying to practice.”

“Practice for what?” I ask, confused. Kiran’s wide smile, almost identical to mine, is growing even bigger, revealing a row of straight white teeth.

“For when I’m flying over.”

I gasp, trying to look for any hint of a cruel joke or a prank on my brother’s face. He’s dead serious. 

“You got off work??” I ask in shock. Kiran nods, smiling excitedly, making me squeal. 

“Promise me you’re not joking!” I laugh, nearly jumping up and down with excitement. I had missed my baby brother so badly. I felt obnoxious with the way I was constantly speaking about him to everyone, to Trey, to Paige, to my other co-workers. But now, in only a matter of weeks, I would be able to see him face to face. Finally.

“I promise Izzie,” Kiran smiles. The only people in the world that called me Izzie were childhood friends, my family, and I suppose Paige.

I hadn’t told my brother about Paige, or what was going on between us. Whenever he brought the particular blonde up I just swiftly changed the topic of conversation, always hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush on my cheeks, the way the corners of my mouth twisted into a grin. And as observant and caring as my brother was, he was still a man. So of course he didn’t notice. 

“Oh my Gosh!! When?” I ask, my voice rising an octave as it always did when I felt excited.

“In a couple weeks. I’ll be there for the Storms game, can you get me tickets? Please?”

I chuckle nodding. “Of course Kiran.”

A devilish grin spreads across his lips as he falls into thought. “Can’t believe I’m gonna get to see Paige Bueckers. Phew.”

My face turns red, whether with annoyance, jealousy or disgust I’m not sure. I roll my green eyes again, scoffing. “She’s gay. Leave that poor girl alone.”

“You don’t know if she is.”

If he only knew.

“She’s gay, and you’re not about to embarrass me,” I say sternly.

Kiran groans, throwing his head back. “Speaking of embarrassment, bumped into Jasper the other day.”

My jaw clenches just hearing his name, immediate frustration growing inside me.

“God, what an asshole. What were you thinking getting engaged to that knob?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I wasn’t, pretty sure mom was thinking for me.”

“When is she not,” Kiran sighs when I hear a stern knock on my door. Strange, I wasn’t expecting anyone. The knock repeats, now louder and more desperate.

“Who is that?” My brother asks on the phone as I walk to the front door and look through the peephole. There she stands, 6 feet tall, rocking back and forth in a hoodie and basketball shorts, her blonde hair in a ponytail. Immediate butterflies release in my abdomen, fluttering everywhere making me feel giddy and warm.

“Uhh, I have to go. Let’s talk more tomorrow, yeah?” I say into the phone and hang up before my brother can even reply, opening the door for Paige.

The moment she sees me her mouth stretches into a charming smile, looking me up and down. I’m wearing white linen shorts and a matching button down, Paige’s eyes lingering on the bare skin of my thighs, my collarbone and right shoulder bare due to the lazy manner in which I had buttoned the shirt on my day off. The Dallas heat had forced me to adapt, to stop styling my hair since it would grow frizzy throughout the day, so I let it grow unruly (for my standards), allowing my natural waves to come through.

“Hey,” I hum, leaning against the doorway waiting to see what the blonde might need.

“Whatchu up to?” She asks with urgency.

“Nothing.”

“I’m boreeeeeed,” the younger girl whines, throwing her head back theatrically. “Let’s go on a road trip.”

I chuckle affectionately at her insane idea. “Paige I have work tomorrow love.”

The blonde’s blue eyes land on mine, making my heart skip a beat. “Iz I’m serious, I’m so bored I might die. Let’s go see the Big Bend.”

“Someone’s a little dramatic today.”

“Come with me. I’ll get you snacks,” Paige pleads, grabbing my smaller hand into hers, jolts rushing all throughout my body.

“Paige,” I warn her. “I have work tomorrow. Early. That’s like an eight hour drive.”

“Fine, somewhere else then. We’ll be back by… uh…” Paige checks her phone for the time. It’s three in the afternoon. “By nine. Or ten.”

“Paige!” I groan pulling my hand away. “We won’t even make it out of town. It makes no sense. Texas is too big. Maybe we can plan something for next week or something.”

Honestly, what stressed me out the most was that we hadn’t planned this.. That I had no idea what would happen, where we would even go. I was a planner. No discussion about it. I had always hated everything spontaneous, everything unsensible.

“Izzie, c’mon, trust me,” Paige’s voice softens, blue eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun like the surface of the ocean, lower lip pouting just a little. Something about her made me unsensible, made me want to do things that I knew weren’t smart, that made no sense. It was almost too easy for her to convince me.

“Please mama,” she coos almost silently and I nearly fall to my knees. No, not almost - it absolutely was far too easy for her to get me to cave.

“Where are we going? Do I need to pack? What do I need with me?”

Paige’s mouth twists into a glorious, winner’s smile. “Just bring a sweater it might get cold later, I’mma get us snacks on the way,” the girl says turning around. “I’ll meet you in the car!”

“Paige!” I yell after the blonde girl, making her stop in her tracks.

“What mama?”

“Back by ten okay?”

She smiles reassuringly. “I promise Iz.”

-

The soft hum of Paige’s Jeep is overtaken by the sound of r&b as we speed up on the highway, the blonde next to me singing quietly to herself. There was something exciting about the fact that neither of us knew where we were heading, just driving aimlessly towards the horizon, continuing as far as eyes could see. I pop another sour skittle into my mouth from the bag on my lap, Paige mindlessly reaching to my lap and doing the same, our fingers gracing as they touch. I immediately blush, chills running up my body just from the sheer momentary touch. 

“My bad,” Paige chuckles, her voice a little shaky as she pulls her hand back. I giggle and grab some of the skittles, offering them to the blonde. Instead of grabbing them, the girl opens her mouth. I hesitate for a second, but feed them to her, one by one, my finger brushing against her lip. I watch as she grins, lost in the memory of how she kissed me. The weight of her mouth on mine. I’d be lying if I didn’t miss it.

“You hot?”

“Huh?” I ask, feeling the heat rise from my abdomen up my neck to my cheeks.

“Your face is red as hell,” Paige laughs, glancing at me. Embarrassed, I cover my face, knowing the reason deep down wasn’t the heat. No, it was the way I had been eyeing Paige’s tan hand wrapped around the wheel, the other resting on her lap on her Louis Vuitton basketball shorts, veins popping and prominent, fingers looking long and strong. It was something about the humid heat, and the excitement of our little spontaneous getaway that had the butterflies in my stomach fluttering. 

“Whatchu hiding for?” She laughs, pulling my hand off my face.

“I must look ridiculous,” I groan, letting Paige’s big hand wrap around my dainty wrist with ease.

“You look cute when you get red like that,” the blonde murmurs, smiling to herself. I watch closely as she lowers both windows on her and my side to allow the breeze to come in and cool us down.

“Wait!! My hair!” I complain, quickly beginning to put the window back up. Paige pulls my hand away again, shaking her head. With the wind rushing in and cars speeding past, Paige has to yell over the noise.

“C’mon Iz just chill for one day,” she laughs. “You always look fine as hell. Let your hair down for once.”

With a sly smile I Ieave the window open, leaning towards the breeze and breathing it in. The wind plays in my hair, dark strands dancing wildly as we speed across the highway. The blonde girl beside me can’t keep her eyes on the road, blue eyes gazing at me with an affectionate smile. Ease begins to take over me, my never quiet mind finally beginning to slow down. A calm I hadn’t felt for years warms my chest, spreading across my body. It’s everything - the breeze in my hair, the smell of Paige lingering in the car, sandalwood and deodorant, her favourite songs playing, her presence beside me, the comforting certainty that no matter what I have a friend. Suddenly the car jerks, nearly swerving off the lane.

“Paige!” I gasp, snapping my hair towards her. A laugh spills from my mouth with ease. 

“Shit, my bad,” the girl chuckles, her eyes snapping back onto the road. “You in a good mood huh?”

I nod, leaning my head against the seat and gazing into her gorgeous, tanned face. “Yeah, my brother called. He’s flying to Dallas in a couple weeks.”

“Kiran?”

She remembered my brother's name? I had mentioned him by name maybe once. A little shocked, I nod. “Yeah, Kiran.”

The blonde smiles, veiny hands holding the wheel a little lazily. “That’s awesome, am I gonna meet him?”

“I don’t know, I mean he wants to come to a game.”

“Yeah, I wanna meet him for sure,” Paige murmurs. “You two similar?”

I chuckle, nodding. “He is also a big list maker, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I love your little lists.”

I feel my heart swell, butterflies fluttering deep in my abdomen. I’m distracted though by What You Heard by Sonder beginning to play. Paige is caught off guard too, memories of that night at Lala’s and Arike’s flashing back apparent on both our faces. Her grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. But she lets it play, licking her plump lower lip as her face turns redder and redder.

“A lot of people find my list making annoying,” I mumble, remembering Jasper and the way he rolled his eyes whenever I took out my notebook and pen. 

“That’s crazy. I love that about you,” Paige answers mindlessly. I look at the girl for a while, finally realising I had never felt so easily accepted by someone, just as I am. I could be myself, I could be uptight and high strung, I could have my hair undone and be overwhelmed and she still accepted me. All of me. It was strange, new, safe.

“Paige?” I ask, my voice softening. She lowers the volume of the song and glances at me.

“Yeah Iz?”

I sigh softly, watching the blonde. “Thank you for being such a good friend.”

The genuineness and vulnerability in my voice make Paige’s cheeks flush red. I notice a slight quiver of her lower lip. 

The girl clears her throat, opening her mouth to speak and then thinking for a moment. “I thought I’d hate it in Dallas. Like I’d never get used to it, you know?”

I know. So I nod.

“But then I met you Iz, and you changed my mind about everything. The entire place.”

Her voice is soft and careful, even nervous. I watch as her right hand moves off her lap, inching to the center console and turning her palm upwards, knowing exactly what she meant. I’ve grown weak over the time I’ve known her, Paige’s gentle tone enough to make me fold. It wasn’t harmful, it wouldn’t lead to anything. So I reach over and place my hand on hers. Paige’s fingers lace perfectly with mine, the heat of her skin spreading like a careful, tender spark, tingling up my arm.

Paige takes a deep breath, the sound growing heavier and heavier as a response to the simple touch. “I don’t know Iz, the couple weeks we didn’t talk were hell. You’re the one thing that makes this place feel like home.”

-

It’s killing me. The way we’ve been holding hands for the past hours, just talking about everything. Our childhoods, our families, our first impressions of each other. Each time I had to pull my hand away the moment it returned to the center console Iz grabbed it quickly, as if eager to feel the warmth of my touch. I knew this was nearly crossing the line, but I could keep my emotions in control. I knew I could. I knew I could. After all, friends held hands all the time.

The smell of her perfume—pear and jasmine—was making me dizzy. Staring at the road became increasingly hard the further we drove, it becoming far too tempting to turn my eyes to the beautiful dark haired girl beside me.The sun begins to disappear behind a veil of dark clouds that roll in, a few drops of rain hitting the windshield of my jeep.

“Those clouds look dark,” Izzie murmurs, checking the time. It was early evening, our aimless drive having lasted for nearly four hours now. “Where even are we?”

I look around, watching the buildings around us. Must be some sort of nearby city. “I guess we oughta turn back,” I say, as the rain grows stronger, forcing me to turn on the windshield wipers.

Izzie looks around nervously, the drumming on the car roof becoming louder. Just as she opens her mouth, a downpour hammers down from the sky, streetlights blurring into golden smudges in the horizon. The windshield wipers struggle, not doing enough even on the fastest setting, making it impossible to see.

“Uh oh,” Izzie murmurs, chewing on her lower lips as her tension grows.

“Nahh, don’t worry. It’s gon pass soon,” I comfort the girl, reaching over to allow my fingertips to graze against her warm thigh gently. Her skin’s soft, goosebumps forming right underneath my touch. I pull the car over on the side of the street, watching as the people of the city scurry to hide from the storm underneath storefront canopies, rainwater pooling along the curb.

We wait—10 minutes, 15, half an hour. Nothing changes, everytime we think it’s about to pass, the downpour only grows louder. Nervously, I tap on the radio and turn the volume up, listening for any reports on the rain. Like clockwork, the radio program is interrupted.

“We interrupt this radio program for a weather warning. There is severe rainfall expected in the area, causing potentially dangerous driving conditions. We heavily encourage everyone to avoid driving until the following morning.”

The silence between me and Iz is deafening, the tension in the car rising abruptly. I could sense her anxiety bubbling right underneath her skin.

“Shit,” I murmur, sighing as I look at the girl next to me, staring blankly at the city. Then, she finally sighs and buries her face into her hands.

“I am so fucked,” she groans, chest heaving with stress. “What are we going to do Paige?”

“Hey,” I murmur and unbuckle my seatbelt to reach over the center console. My hand rubs Izzie’s back soothingly through the thin fabric of her linen button down. “I’mma figure it out, okay ma? I’ll find a hotel for us.”

“No, I got work tomorrow! I can’t just stay here!” Izzie groans. I knew this was her worst nightmare coming to life. For once I got her to be spontaneous, to let her guard down, and this happens. She’ll never let me take her anywhere anymore.

“Iz, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out. I can call someone up and tell em you can’t make it tomorrow.”

“No, you can’t call Linda. She can’t know you’re with me.”

“Okay, then you’ll call her up, just tell her you’re sick or sumn,” I say, trying desperately to find a solution. I never wanted to see her upset or stressed and couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt over the situation, despite it being out of my control.

Izara sighs, lifting her gaze from the palms of her hands. “What if she fires me?”

“Over one day off?” I laugh, but from Izzie’s face I can tell she doesn’t find it as amusing as I do. So I quickly straighten my face. “She won’t. Trust mama, you can take one day off.”

the dark haired girl sighs and looks at me, arched brows furrowed with worry. Without much thought I raise my hand to her cheek, stroking the skin with my thumb. She leans into my touch, exhaling shakily.

“I promise, Iz.”

-

The hotel room is much smaller than I’d hoped, the air smelling stale, the dust floating around making Izzie sneeze as she enters.

“Bless you,” I mumble, lowering the bag of toiletries we had bought in a momentary panic onto a single wooden desk. I look around at the faded yellow curtains and the double bed barely fitting in the room, white sheets covering it neatly. Iz leans down and smells the fabric, pausing for a moment.

“At least I think they’ve been washed,” she groans, taking her sandals of and flopping into the bed. I felt a little embarrassed not having found anything better for her. She deserved the world, if only I could give it to her.. Not this musty hotel room with a bed that would just about fit both of us for the night. I swear it was the only room left in the entire town.

“Iz I’m sorry I couldn-”

“Nonsense,” she stops me middle of the sentence with a simple raise of her hand, closing her eyes and rubbing her stomach. “I’m just happy to be in a bed after that meal.”

"You didn’t even eat that much," I scoff, walking over to the bed and flopping beside her.

"Yeah, how does one eat three double cheeseburgers?" She asks, amusement flickering in her eyes.

My mouth falls open in mock offense. “I’m an athlete, and tall, I gotta eat to keep these muscles.” I flex my arms, Izzie’s green eyes watching my bicep, a momentary flash of hungriness in her eyes before they snap to the ceiling.

“I don’t believe you haven’t had McDonald’s in like 10 years,” I mumble.

Izzie laughs. “My parents hated McDonald’s.”

“Your parents strict?” I ask. The girl chuckles and nods.

“Very. But it comes from a loving place. They just… always think they know what’s best for you, even better than you do,” Iz explains. “My mom’s still trying to get me to get back with Jasper.”

“Never get back together with that asshole,” I murmur, feeling protective over what she had told me back in Chicago.

“Trust me, I will not,” she says certainly, shifting a little. Our arms press together, tingling with electricity. My heart thrums in my chest as silence settles between us, the beating of my heart the only sound in my ears. My entire body buzzes as I come to the realisation that we’d be spending the night here, sharing a bed, the tight space forcing us to stay close. A month ago the idea of this would’ve driven me insane. But I knew now losing our friendship was much worse than losing the opportunity of having her body. I’d much rather bury my wildest thoughts deep inside and never let them show. Never let Izara see how badly my body ached for her, how she was the only thing in my mind every time I brought a girl home, how I closed my eyes and imagined their gasps and whimpers were her’s. She never had to know. As long as she was my friend I could live.

Yet I can’t help it when my middle finger jerks towards the soft skin of her hand, brushing against it gently. I feel the girl’s hand press closer to mine, her pinky mirroring my movements in soothing strokes. I swallow loudly, praying to God Izzie can’t hear the pounding of my heart the way I can as I gather my courage, carefully entangling my fingers with hers. 

I hear the way the dark haired girl’s breath hitches in her throat in response to my touch. We lie there for a while, side by side, staring at the ceiling, holding hands. The dust settling in the air made me want to cough, but I was afraid it might ruin the moment, or disturb Izzie, making her pull back. I want to turn my head to see the girl’s face. To try to read her mind, to figure out what she was thinking.

But then I feel her leg moving on the mattress, bare silky skin of her calf pressing into mine. My eyes flutter shut as I inch closer, feeling her leg wrap around mine, our feet touching. My mouth parts to gulp air in an attempt to calm down. It doesn’t work, my ears and face turning hot. 

“Paige?”

Izzie’s voice is trembling when it cuts through the silence. I try to gather myself enough to speak, her proximity driving me insane.

“Yeah?” I whisper, my voice weak and hoarse. The stretched out silence after only makes my heart beat faster, mind spin even more as I wait for the girl to answer.

“I’m gonna get in the shower.”

Suddenly Izzie is getting up, leg and hand untangling with mine as she disappears into the bathroom, leaving only the faint smell of pear and jasmine.

-

Pull yourself together. You’re a grown woman. You need to stop playing this cat and mouse game with this poor girl. It’s all I can tell myself as I stare into the mirror, my own reflection staring back at me. I tighten the white towel wrapped around my torso, splashing cold water onto my face. Letting my hair down from a clip, I allow it to fall over my shoulders, trying to clear my mind of Paige. But it killed me, knowing she was right outside that door, lying in bed in her sports bra and basketball shorts, waiting.

I pull my white linen set back on, rubbing at my stiff shoulders from the long drive and the turmoil in my mind. I felt like I was in a fight with myself, constantly debating between what made sense and what I really wanted. Honestly, the entire time I had known Paige it felt like that. Like I couldn’t come to an agreement with myself.

Stepping out of the bathroom I find the blonde slouching on the bed, flipping through TV channels and snacking on Tru Fru. Her gaze quickly lifts to me, lingering on my face. Still, I don’t think twice about not having make up on. Something about Paige made me feel confident in myself. Like I didn’t have to control the way she viewed me 24/7.

“Shower’s good,” I mumble, sitting on the edge of the bed. Paige throws the remote onto the blanket and sighs. 

“They don’t got any good channels,” she groans, pouting as the laugh track of whatever sitcom echoes through the tiny room. I chuckle, rubbing the muscles on my shoulder absentmindedly to ease the tension. Paige sits up, worried.

“Your shoulders hurt?” She asks. I nod with a low chuckle.

“When do they not.”

“Lie down,” the blonde commands carefully, patting the bed. I shake my head.

“No it’s okay love,” I murmur.

Paige pats the bed again. “C’mon Iz, let me help.”

I can’t resist the neediness of her voice, let alone the desperate look in her eye. If she only knew how wrapped around her finger I already was, despite acting like I would never be. So I lie down flat on my stomach, letting my shorts hike up to my upper thigh.

The blonde climbs on top of me, careful not to put all her weight on me as her fingers brush my dark, thick hair aside. Immediate goosebumps rise to my skin as she touches my neck.

“You wanna take this off ma?” She whispers carefully, tugging on my button down. I know she’s right, yet something about how intimate it felt makes my head spin. Wordlessly, with a shaky hand, I unbutton the shirt, each button a struggle. Paige helps me, pulling it off my body once it’s undone, leaving me only in a black lacy bra and the hiked up shorts. My heart pounds too loudly to hear Paige’s breathing growing heavier.

Gently, the girl's fingers dig into my muscles, starting off slow and gentle. Massaging away knots by my shoulder blades. Her hands work skillfully, increasing pressure before I could ask, like she knew exactly what I needed. I grow more and more relaxed, becoming unaware of the soft sighs spilling from my lips. Paige’s hands travel downwards, onto my lower back, big hands wrapping around my sides and kneading the muscles. I bite my lower lip trying not to moan, feeling myself growing wet at how perfectly my body fit into her skillful hands.

“Is this good?” Paige whispers, the sitcom still murmuring in the background. I barely hear it though, too ecstatic to be aware of anything but how good this feels.

“So good,” I coo softly, letting the blonde’s hands work my back. She hisses, clearly pleased with the praise.

“You need to learn to relax ma,” she sighs, her fingertips carefully sliding beneath the strap of my bra to massage there. “Told you I could get you to relax.”

“Feel so relaxed,” I murmur half asleep. “You’re so good.”

The blonde groans, but I don’t hear it, my eyes growing heavy as my body melts underneath Paige. I lose awareness of everything around me, drifting into a restful sleep.

-

I lie next to the sleeping girl, lazily stroking her back, my hand tracing along her spine as the sitcom grows more interesting the longer I watch. I couldn’t bring myself to wake Izzie, so after she fell asleep, I turned off the lights and tucked her in, though the blankets were hardly necessary in the heat of Dallas.

I glance down at Iz, her mouth slightly parted, heavy breathing turning into quiet snores at times, long dark eyelashes resting against her cheeks as her face pressed into the pillow. She had never looked so beautiful, her guard fully down, the arch of her brows softened in her sleep. 

I inch lower on the bed, turning to my side, blue eyes roaming her face. Her sharp nose, plump lips, round chin. Her skin that had gotten darker in the sun, making her even more gorgeous than before if possible. I was utterly, completely obsessed with everything about her. If she only knew. She’s perfect.

I lift my hand off her body, careful not to disturb her. She stirs slightly, a contented hum escaping from her lips. Izzie’s brows furrow the slightest bit, as she lets out a barely audible moan. Her lips part further in a quiet whimper as she stirs yet again, legs shifting underneath the blanket.

I watch closely, concerned, considering waking her up. Maybe she’s having a nightmare. As I’m about to place my hand on her arm I hear it. My name. Or I think I do.

“Paige…” she murmurs against her arm, shifting a little yet again. The sleeping girl moans again, now the sound much clearer. “Paige…”

My heart nearly stops, breath hitching in my throat as I realize she’s not just stirring—she’s pressing her thighs together under the blanket. She's not having a nightmare, no, not at all.

My breathing grows heavy as I watch the girl’s cheeks flush red in the dim light coming in through the window, Izzie’s mouth falls open as she lets out a soft whimper, flipping onto her back sleepily. My need to touch her that had been killing me all day suddenly grows large enough to make me groan, my hand coming to rub my face as if to distract from my thoughts. It doesn’t help that as she flips over her full, round breasts are on display, sitting pretty in the black lace bra.

Suddenly the girl stirs again and her eyes flutter open, too quickly for me to turn away. 

“P-Paige?” she whispers with a shaky voice before turning her head to me, just inches from mine.

“I’m right here ma,” I mumble, feeling my boxers growing wet.

Her tired green eyes find mine, a shaky breath spilling from between her lips. My tongue darts out to wet my lower lip, eyes fluttering all over her flushed face. “You fell asleep,” I coo.

Izara’s eyes are locked into my own, as she comes out of her tired confusion. “I…” She murmurs, her long lashes fluttering against her cheek. Then, her hand comes to my face, brushing off a strand of hair, touch tickling on my skin. And I can’t take it anymore.

I lean over and my lips press into hers, mouth opening in desperation. Izara’s mouth parts as quickly as mine, both of us moaning as our lips glide together, swollen and slick. I feel breathless, pulling back to catch my breath but Izzie’s hands are already pulling me back in, a hopeless whine coming out of the girl.

“Please don’t stop,” she whimpers, making my mind spin. My perfect girl, who I had been aching for since I met her, begging me not to stop. 

“Won’t ever stop unless you want me to,” I groan into her mouth, tongue clashing into hers. There’s a struggle for dominance, which she quickly gives up when my hand lands on the warm skin of her waist, squeezing.

I’m taken by surprise when Izara pushes me to my back, climbing on top of me without ever breaking the kiss. I moan embarrassingly loud, my hands roaming up and down her back, toying with her bra clasp.

“Let me take it off, please Iz,” I murmur against her lips. I had been imagining what she looked like completely topless since the moment I met her. I needed to see her, now. 

Izzie chuckles gently and sits up on top of me, pulling away from the kiss making me wince. 

“Then take it off,” she says, gazing down at me. I look up at her in desperation, shaky hands working the clasp until it pops open. The straps fall off her shoulders, and gently I pull the bra off, revealing her perfect, round breasts, groaning loudly at the sight.

“Oh shit,” I moan, watching the way her puffy nipples harden as I touch her side. My hand travels to the back of her head, and I pull the girl down, kissing her neck desperately.

“Paige…” Iz murmurs, grinding her hips into mine. My nose nuzzles into her ear, kissing it sloppily before returning to her neck, careful not to leave marks.

“Say that shit again,” I whimper. “Say my name.”

“Paige,” Izzie moans. My hands on the girl's waist maneuver her so I’m face to face with her breasts, mouth wide open as I kiss them. The moment I latch onto her nipple, a loud gasp escapes her lips. “Oh fuck.”

“Perfect tits, all for me,” I mumble, tongue circling her hardened nipple before sucking. Izara whimpers again, body yielding to me. Tenderly, I flip her onto her back, leaving a small red mark on her left breast, fitting into my large hand perfectly.

Izzie arches her back as I pull back to really look at her, to take in the moment that I’d been dying for. My chest heaves, my mind struggling to wrap around what was happening. I didn't dare to miss a moment, a twitch of a muscle, a single soft sigh. I needed to savour all of it. I run my hand from the girl’s face downwards, gently caressing her breast and ribs and lower stomach, eyes blown black with lust.

“Paige,” Izzie hums, eyes fluttering open. Her pupils are barely green anymore, filled with need and desperation.

“Iz,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss her gently, trying to show her how badly I needed this. How beautiful she was, how much I wanted to please her. How badly my core ached for her.

“Please,” she whimpers into the kiss, bucking her hips. 

“Shh, it’s okay mama,” I answer, beginning to kiss her neck. “You’ll get it. Need to take my time.”

A desperate whine escapes Izara’s mouth, her hands coming to my shoulders. “No, now.”

The sternness in her voice takes me by surprise, sending a shiver down my spine. 

“Oh she bossy huh?” I grin, pulling back to see the girl’s face. It’s just as stern as her voice, her fingers weaving into my hair and yanking just enough to force me to let out a moan.

“Now,” she repeats, hands pushing me. I immediately melt, my boxers growing wetter as I’m pushed down her body. My nose nuzzles against her abdomen, fingers eagerly coming to the band of her shorts. She wants it now? I’ll give it to her now. I’ll do anything for her, anything to make her happy.

Suddenly I feel desperate too, tugging her shorts and underwear off at once. Izzie moans, feeling the air hit her core, glistening in the dim lighting from how wet she is. My mouth immediately begins to water.

I lower myself between her legs, breath tingling against her skin. “Are you sure, Iz?” I ask carefully, wrapping my arms around her thighs.

Izzie whines and arches her back, looking down at me. “Yes, Paige, now. Please.”

I don’t hesitate, diving straight in. My tongue darts out licking along her slit, tasting her. Really tasting her. It’s heaven. She tastes better than I could have ever imagined. My eyes immediately roll back, overwhelmed by her. “Oh my God…” I groan into her clit, beginning to work her with all the skills I had in the world. It felt as if my entire life had led to this moment.

“Ohhh… baby,” Izzie whimpers, voice shaking and hands grabbing a hold of my hair. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world. I moan again, feeling like I might cum untouched by the time I’m done with her.

-

Paige’s mouth is wrapped around my clit, sucking and licking through my folds. I swear in only a few minutes of her working me I could feel my core pulsing and dripping, the blonde getting me close faster than I even knew was possible. I was a mess, eyes teary, loud moans filling the room, hips squirming and Paige following with ease. I look down and watch the blonde, who’s whimpering and moaning as if she’s the one getting off.

“Paige, baby…” I cry out, pulling on her blonde hair. 

“Tell me…” she gasps between licks. “Tell me how good it feels.”

It felt downright filthy, the way we spoke to each other, the way we wanted each other. I had never experienced it before.

“Feels so good my love,” I moan, my back arching as her tongue lies flat on my clit, moving in a sloppy circle. “You make me feel so fucking good.”

Paige moans, reaching up to knead my breast, my hard nipple pressing against her palm as she keeps up with her pace, the knot deep in my tummy tightening and tightening.

“Izara you taste so good,” she hums against me. “Never gonna get enough. This pussy’s perfect.”

Her filthy words ignite something within me, my climax beginning to roam over my body. 

“P-Paige, don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” I whimper desperately, my voice turning high pitched.

“Fuck, you already close?” She asks shocked, but continues the sloppy, skilled movements of her mouth. I nod desperately, gasping for air as Paige pins me to the mattress, face glistening with my wetness.

“Mhm, don’t stop. Don’t stop. Fuck, I-”

“I gotchu beautiful, c’mon baby. Lemme make you feel good,” Paige coos.

“P-Paige!” I gasp, the knot in my stomach snapping as I pull her even closer into my pussy, her moans getting muffled against my folds. My back arches and the whimpers get louder as jolts of pleasure wash over me like waves,  body trembling badly. I feel ecstatic, completely out of it. I had never felt pleasure like this before.

She keeps eating me through my climax, my hands pulling her back by her hair once the sensation becomes too much. The blonde lifts her head, looking completely fucked out, lids heavy and a dopey grin on her face, my wetness dripping down her chin.

“I’m never getting sick of that,” Paige says breathlessly, licking her chin clean of me. I blush covering my face in embarrassment of what just happened.

“Come here,” I giggle but the blonde shakes her head. 

“Lemme clean you up first. You made a mess,” she smirks, leaning back down and beginning to gently, carefully licking every inch of my sensitive, dripping cunt. My eyes roll back immediately, hand grabbing the sheets, the cotton soft under my sticky back.

“Paige, I’m already done,” I chuckle, pushing her off lightheartedly. But she grabs my hands and pins them against the mattress, lifting her face.

“Only once?” She asks, which surprises me. To finish twice felt selfish. I was lucky if I finished once in my previous relationship.

“Baby you don’t need to, it felt so good.”

Paige chuckles, coming back up from between my legs and kissing me sloppily. Her tongue slips into my mouth, forcing me to taste myself. It’s dirty, making that fire deep inside me ignite again. Suddenly I wanted more of her. Paige can tell, reading my body with ease.

“Need to fuck you again,” she whines, hand squeezing my thigh. “Please mama.”

The whine of her voice, the way she’s begging drives me insane. So I nod, chasing her gaze. “Fuck me Paige.”

Without a warning, Paige’s finger slides inside me, the sudden intrusion making me gasp. Paige grins satisfied, breathing shakily. 

“How is this pussy so tight,” the blonde groans, struggling to fit in a second finger. My body molds around her, eyes rolling back from the stretch. 

“Oh fuck,” I moan, feeling her fingers curling against the spongey tissue inside me, finding the perfect spot with incredible ease. My hand goes to Paige’s shorts, tugging on them desperately. “Take these off.”

“Shit,” the girl hisses at my command, pulling them down with her free hand. There’s a visible wet spot on her grey boxers, making my core pulse around her fingers. The blonde pulls the boxers off too, and I watch as she presses her dripping cunt onto my thigh.

We both moan at the contact, the air thick with the sound of our joint gasps and the squelching sound of her strong, skilled fingers buried inside me. It doesn’t take long for both of our bodies to be trembling with pleasure, Paige’s blue eyes locked with mine as she grinds her clit against the soft skin of my thigh. 

“Wanted this for so long,” the blonde moans, brows furrowed in deep pleasure. I nod, agreeing and gasping for air as the pace of her fingers speeds up.

“Me too baby,” I whimper. “You fuck me so good Paige.” It was so unlike me to be saying these things, but it’s something in her that got me to do new things. To find an ease.

Paige moans in response to my words, her head lulling as her eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous. The most beautiful girl in the world I swear,” she hums, grinding on me faster, more sloppy. “You know that?”

I moan, Paige’s fingers beginning to pump into me at an incredible pace, my entire body beginning to burn up. I feel my pussy throbbing around her fingers, squeezing her. The blonde feels it too, her jaw falling slack.

“Perfect girl with a perfect pussy.”

My eyes roll back at these words, feeling my orgasm begin to take over. However, Paige’s hand grabs my jaw, my eyes opening from the contact. 

“No, Izzie, keep those eyes on me. Wanna look at you- fuck,” she moans for a moment, unable to speak from how close she’s getting. “Need to look into your eyes when I cum.”

No one has even made me feel like this, this ecstatic. No one has ever been so good to me. Made me feel this heavenly. No one’s ever said these things to me. Looked at me like this. It’s borderline overwhelming. 

As Paige adds a third finger and pushes it inside me, my moans turn high pitched and desperate. The stretch is overwhelming but I keep my eyes open on the blonde’s scrunched up face.

“Shii- Tell me you’re- fuck, please tell me you’re close baby,” Paige moans, the movement of her hips turning frantic, fingers curling against me with force. My body tightens around her fingers, body writhing in pleasure. The climax right around the corner, coming on even stronger than the first one.

“I’m- I’m close,” I cry out as Paige’s thumb presses into my clit with every pump of her fingers.

“Oh sh- Iz- Izzie, you feel so good,” the blonde gasps, rambling as her orgasm approaches.

“Paige,” I whine.

“Look at me. Look at me Izzie.”

My eyes lock onto her face as my climax washes over me a million times more intense than the first time around. My back arches off the bed and eyes involuntarily roll back. The sight sets Paige off, her eyes locked on my face as she comes with me, rambling in a daze, something I can’t even hear over how loud my own moans are.

The girl collapses on top of me, making me wince as she pulls her fingers out of me. Paige’s skin sticks to mine, her nose nuzzling against my cheek. My eyes flutter open, watching the blonde girl’s face resting on the pillow next to me.

“Hey,” Paige murmurs, leaning over and kissing my forehead. It makes my chest flutter.

“Hey,” I copy the girl, smiling gently. A bright smile spreads to her face.

“That was…” Paige starts, shaking her head.

“Amazing,” I finish her sentence, giggling a little. Truthfully no words could describe how good that felt. How euphoric it was. However, as the silence settles, I can see a hint of hesitation on the blonde’s face. I suppose this changes everything, I knew it did. Worst of all I had come to a realisation that would flip everything on its head.

“Paige,” I whisper, chasing her gaze. The girl’s blue eyes meet mine, expectant.

“Yeah?”

I take a deep breath. “I don’t think I can be just friends with you.”

-

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[screams-of-the-damned84]

(flops on stage) i now present to you my very silly swap au,,,

essentially jasper is now the co-leader of the society who was bitten by a werewolf and is trying to hide it, jekyll is the uni student who got kicked out due to his experiments and then picked up off the streets, etc. jasper and rachel can’t communicate and jekyll and lanyon are living the world’s weirdest horror romcom you’ve ever seen. more info under cut hehe (feat. bad explanations and doodles)

in simpler terms, jekyll and lanyon swap narrative positions (?? is that the right term) with jasper and rachel respectively. (lanyons and rachels swap doesn’t technically work as well as Jekyll’s and jaspers does but shhhhh). Frankenstein becomes the mad scientist that attacks the society and moreau becomes jaspers idol.

longer explanation but WARNING!! it is 3am when i am typing this and i am terrible at explaining. it may be slightly incomprehensible.

so like jasper and rachel founded the society after jasper publishes his research and gets semi famous. two years before current events jasper is out on a research venture and gets bitten by a werewolf. he doesn’t want to scare rachel or the lodgers so he keeps it a secret (to his own detriment). flash forward to now and jasper gets a call to investigate a “creature” terrorizing the streets of london only to find hyde.

before jasper can process the dumpster man he is looking at hyde transforms back into jekyll. jekyll explains that while trying to prove his theory of spiritual alchemy at his university he may or may not have split his own soul. and got kicked out. and is now living on the streets.

jasper, not really knowing what else to do and kinda relating to the poor guy, takes him back to the society. he introduces his co-leader rachel, who pretty much keeps this entire thing up and running. (rachel and jekyll still become friends but she especially takes to hyde. that little brother shaped hole in her heart is still very much present!) then theres the lodgers (idk how they all swap) and then there’s lanyon, a university student at the society because it was mandatory for one of his courses. he is not enjoying it and would very much rather be breaking boy’s hearts back at school. lucky for him tho, there’s jekyll!

this goes about as well as you would expect. lanyon then spends the rest of his stay at the society trying to understand (and woo) the conundrum that is jekyll and hyde. it’s very fluffy and they learn to communicate like jasper and rachel in canon (yippee!)

unfortunately for jasper and rachel, they have been playing the “just friends” game for the last decade. im having a bit of trouble trying to flesh out swap rachel so i don’t really know if she’s in a lavender marriage like canon lanyon is or is estranged/divorced or just single but whatever the case is she likes jasper but thinks he just sees her as a friend while jasper is madly in love with her and is too scared to tell her. this problem has only worsened since jasper got bitten. everyone else tho is aware of how they feel about each other and are stuck witnessing their tortuously long slow burn.

(hyde and lanyon at some point probably come up with a scheme to try and get them to confess. it goes horribly wrong.)

so yeah. this au has been floating around in my head ever since i read the comic for the first time. it mainly came to be because of how well jasper and jekyll parallel each other and because i wanted to draw stupid fluff and older jasper lol.

if anyone has any ideas/questions/etc TELL ME!!!!! this is just a rough idea if you have a better concept go for it awhdvgevd

[entitled-fangirl]

Are you scared of me, Princess?

Jasper Hale x human!reader

Summary: The reader sees the scars on Jasper's arms, prompting him to tell her the truth.

Words: 1,646

Warnings: talk of murder, vampire stuff idk, scars, cursing

Author's note: God this is angsty. Someone get 8th-grade me in here right now because this is what she thought she was reading at her age.

Masterlist &lt;3

.......................................................

Jasper sat in the bed placed in his room, his mate resting her back against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her waist and his face found its way into her hair. Her hands were placed on top of his on her waist, relishing in the feeling of comfort he gave her.

They were a strange pair, the two. The bloodthirsty vampire fighting his instincts to feed and the helpless human girl who wouldn’t be able to fight him if she tried. 

But she trusted him with her whole heart. It had been hard at first. She had to marinate in the knowledge of the existence of vampires, and he suffered the constant smell of her sweet scent, calling out to him every second.

It was so hard for him, even on a good day. Her smell of her blood always drew him in. 

The only thing holding him back from draining her was the feeling he knew he wouldn’t fight the minute her body became lifeless: dread.

But now, they laid in each other’s arms in complete trust. 

Her hand wandered up his forearm, stopping at the unevenness of his skin. She looked down, pulling his sleeve up briefly.

Bite marks and scratches laid all up and down his forearm. She didn’t want to know how far up his arm it went, thankful for the sleeve.

She felt him shift. He felt uncomfortable. Scared of her reaction. But above all else, he cared for her. She could practically feel his gift poking at her emotions, intertwining them with his. A sense of calmness fell over the two of them before words could form.

Her hand still laid against his arm gently, her thumb brushing one of the bites to comfort him in her own way.

She felt his head move away from hers, leaning back against the bed frame. She used this opportunity to turn in his grip, now facing him. Once there, she pulled his arm into her lap, her eyes inspecting the scars in front of her. 

He simply watched. He couldn’t hide them, and he would never lie. Not to her. So, he simply sat there to let her ask him or draw her own conclusions.

She finally looked up, her eyes locking on his. She’s thankful of his gift, because otherwise, she may have been teary-eyed. “T….Tell me, Jasper?”

His eyes softened. God, she was so good to him. So perfect. So innocent and pure. Everything he knew he wasn’t.

Her blood would be so easy to take. The feeling of adrenaline would be worth the-

“It’s… a long story, Princess. I don’t think you wanna hear it.”

She was visibly hurt by his answer, her hand retreating from his. “Oh. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry… I just… just thought…”

He chuckles to himself, teasing her, “Thought what, Princess? You really wanna know?”

She nods, her eyes glossy, holding an unreadable expression.

He sighs. He wanted to hold off from telling her this. That was his plan. But now, she had ruined the perfect plan in his head. Not that he could be mad at her. His heart couldn’t do that.

He pulls his sleeve up his other arm, showing her the scarring. “D’you know much about the Civil War, Darlin’?”

She nods, her eyes never leaving his forearm. 

He smiles, “Good girl. Knew you would.” He took a deep breath, not that he needed to, but it allowed him to collect himself and decide what to say. “I was turned during the Civil War. A woman named Maria convinced me to help her train a vampire army. I was foolish and naive. I thought she was doing the right thing.”

He looked up at her to gauge her reaction. She simply stared at the scars, her head low in thought. He took this as a sign to continue.

“You know.. I was, uh, a major, in the war?”

Her head perked up at that, her eyes meeting his. “A..a major?”

He smirked, “Yeah. Major Jasper Whitlock.” As he said so, she felt a wave of pride come from his body. She didn’t need Jasper’s gifts to sense it, for it had come so plain. 

He continued, “I trained them myself. Her army, I mean. I know you don’t know much about us, but newborn vampires are more dangerous. More deadly. They’re stronger than most.” As he said this, she could feel his tone becoming sharper. 

“Stronger than Emmett?”

He nods, “Yes, Princess. Much stronger. You stay away from a newborn.” It had meant to be advice, but it came out a demand. “They’re more deadly than you can imagine. I’ve watched them do…” his eyes look off in thought, “…unspeakable things…”

A small silence overtakes them before she breaks it. “And you trained them?”

His eyes quickly move back to hers, the amber color glowing, “Yes, ma’am.”

“How?”

“Not easily. They don’t take too well, as you can see,” he said, his head motioning forward at his arms. “I punished them, too. Killed them when they got out of hand or weren’t what we needed.”

He feared to look up at her, but he couldn’t resist. Her gaze was on the window. He didn’t often wish for a gift different than his, but at this moment, he wished he could read her mind. See what was going on in that lovely little human brain of hers. But he couldn’t. He sensed she wasn’t distressed. He had to see her eyes to be sure. Not for his gift’s sake, but for his own. His hand outstretched to grab her jaw gently, pulling it towards his own. “Are you scared of me?”

Her eyes catch his, their faces a foot apart. “…Sh…should I be, Jasper?”

He considers her question quickly with a nod, his voice low. “Really fucking scared.”

She blinks at his wording, her brain struggling to comprehend everything in front of her. 

He wanted to joke, take the dark mood away, but he knew this was serious. “I killed before this,” he gestured to himself, “I killed during this…. I’ll probably have to kill sometime after this. I’ve murdered many with no remorse, their bodies laying at my feet. Innocent lives and murders, too. I overpowered the strongest vampires with ease, ending them mercilessly. My heart holds no mercy. So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared of me?”

She wasn’t sure what to think. She couldn’t put it into words. Was she scared? She supposed so. Any sane person would be. But she trusted him. She trusted him. She trusted him. “You… You won’t hurt me, Jasper.”

He wanted to laugh at her sweet response. How naive of his little lamb. She said it so sure of herself. Of him. She didn’t know of the constant, deep thirst of blood he fought back every time their eyes met. She didn’t know of the pain he felt when she parted from him. She didn’t know of the horrors he had endured. And most importantly, she would never understand the terrors he had caused.

“You don’t know that, Princess.”

She took a quick breath in at his response. Every reasonable thought she ever had was gone. She should run. She should hide. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Her body remained here, on the vampire’s bed, his hand gripping her jaw while staring at her like she was prey. Every reasonable thought was gone.

She reached her hand up to place on top of his on her jaw, flinching at the cold feeling of his skin on hers. “You won’t, Jasper.” She began to even sound confident.

He smiled at her, his sharp teeth peeking out. This girl believes in him that much. What a stupid girl. Too trusting. Too hopeful. Too pretty. Too good. Too perfect. He could absolutely ruin her. But he wouldn’t. “C’mon, Princess. Admit you’re a little afraid.” He needed to hear her say it.

Her hand gripped his, pushing it down her jaw lightly until it rested over her throat. His hand now wrapped around her neck, her hand lightly resting on his. 

He was speechless at her touches. Her movements. Her willingness. Her loyalty to him. His eyes stare at his own hand, admiring the view in front of him. Her hopeful eyes staring into his while his hand rested above her only source of oxygen. It was intimate. It was scary. It was perfect. She was perfect. 

His thumb brushed her throat lightly, feeling her heartbeat quicken at his touch. He could practically feel the blood running through her veins. And she trusted him still. 

They sat there in silence for a while, simply admiring the other. 

She was perfect. Too innocent for her own good, but so loyal and willing for him. Her pretty face was the perfect view for him. He could stare at it until the end of his days. And she trusted him with her life. 

She trusted him with the one thing his body thirst to destroy. And he loved her all the more for it.

He was strong. Resilient. An open book for her to read at her leisure. Protective was a word she was familiar with. She felt like his arms were the only thing she needed to live in the world. She trusted him with her life.

His other arm moved up her body, his hand getting lost in the hair on the back of her head. He pushes her forward, capturing her lips in his. 

The hand on her neck stayed. But it never twitched. 

They pulled away from each other to let her catch her breath. Their faces were close as they tried to think of the right words to say.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. She wasn’t afraid of him. 

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