#I’m still mad about that hike so I’m not even touching that

[safirefire]

if we don’t get a cassian redemption/return to his acowar personality nessian would fit a Kevin Can F**k Himself AU so well it’s a take on sitcoms where the bumbling husband makes fun of his nagging wife constantly and it’s played off for laughs but as soon as he leaves the room the tone shifts to a drama because the wife has to deal with the fallout of everything

[brokenmenswhore]

i need more of that dont look seriesss i need sirius and reader to go against remus’ rules or summmm please and thank you if u choose to do so

whatever the people want, i shall give them 🙇‍♀️

don’t look | remus & sirius

part 2

pairings: remus lupin x fem!reader, sirius black x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), language

part 1

────── ☾ ──────

Sirius opened his mouth to say something as Remus approached, but Remus put a hand up to cut him off.

“Nope, don’t even, I’m still mad at you,” Remus stated, walking past Sirius.

“Oh come on!” Sirius called to him, “look, I said I was sorry.”

“I know, but I’m still mad,” he called back, “and jealous, I guess.”

Sirius shrugged, “well maybe you should stop eating out your hot girlfriend in a communal space, Moons, what did you expect?”

Remus stopped in his tracks. He turned around and approached Sirius, stopping only a few feet away from him.

“You know you aren’t supposed to look at her like that.”

“Jeez, Moony, you aren’t my dad.”

Sirius’s nonchalance bothered Remus. Remus was hot-headed, and it was nearly the full moon, which meant his emotions were heightened even more than usual.

It also meant he was hornier than usual.

He marched to your dorm, swinging the door open, despite the two other girls sat on the floor, textbooks sprawled across their laps as you all studied together. “I need you.”

Your eyes shot up at him, the other girls scanning his figure up and down. “Rem, I’m studying,” you told him, as if he couldn’t see you doing just that.

“Please, I just need to borrow you for a minute.” Remus tried not to sound desperate, but he most certainly did. He didn’t care if the girls knew he wanted to borrow you to fuck you senseless, he only cared that he remained level-headed until he was alone with you.

You gave a smile to the other girls, closing your textbook and placing it on the floor before standing up and following Remus to his dormitory. He anticipated that it would be empty, but instead he found Sirius, cross-legged on his bed, a book in his lap.

Remus contemplated his options. Ever since Sirius’s infraction, he had avoided being with you in front of him, worried Sirius would try something again. However, today, he was angry, and he wanted to piss off Sirius by asserting his authority and dominance over you.

He pushed you onto the mattress, immediately hiking up your skirt and pulling down your underwear.

“Remus!” you squealed, taken aback by his haste.

He shushed you, saying, “need you bad.”

“Remmy, it’s not even a full moon tonight, you can usually wait until later in the da-“

Remus cut you off by shoving two fingers into your hole, not caring about warming you up as you squirmed from his touch.

“Shit,” you whined as his mouth connected with your clit, his tongue lapping up any wetness.

You moaned, your hands gripping his hair as he continued to shove his fingers in and out of you, his unoccupied hand pushing (with difficulty) his trousers down until he was left in his underwear, his hand sneaking past the waistband to lightly stroke himself at the sight of you.

Sirius was already in a fight with Remus over watching you, and part of him didn’t want to make anything worse. Part of him also thought that since they were already in a fight, what did it matter? He would just have to be more careful.

You whimpered when Remus hit a particularly good spot, and Sirius looked toward you through hooded lids, ready to retreat his gaze if Remus checked in on him, but Remus was focused only on you.

He had almost forgotten Sirius was in the room, his desperation and need growing more intense with each moan and whine you let out.

He pulled away from you, pulling his boxers all the way down before crawling on top of you.

“I need to feel you, pretty girl, are you ready for me?” he cooed, stroking his cock faster and faster as he waited for you to respond.

“Please, Remmy,” you begged, and he nearly came in his hand at the sound.

He lined himself up at your entrance, slowly pushing in despite his need. He would never give up watching your face as he pushed into you, even if he was desperate. The way your face contorted, the small whimpers that left your lips, the way your hair looked sprawled out on the pillows, the way your skirt bunched up around your waist-

He bottomed out inside of you, immediately starting to thrust in and out of you.

“Shit, Rem,” you moaned at the feeling, “you can use me.” You knew what he needed when the full moon was near, but your statement still drove him crazy as if he had never heard it before.

Remus placed both of your wrists above your head, holding them with one hand as his head dipped in the crook of your neck, his unoccupied hand finding your clit and rubbing fast circles as he fucked you. He didn’t care about timing, he just needed you bad. He needed to come inside of you, but he needed you to come first, even if it all happened quickly. He adored the feeling of you coming on his cock, and needed to feel it to achieve his own high.

You turned your head so that Remus had more room to rest his on your shoulder, and you glanced at Sirius, who shifted his seated position as he heard you moan. You remembered the last time he was in the room, and you hoped he would look over at you again, your eyes focused on him as Remus pounded into you at a ruthless pace.

He finally did glance at you, but he did a double take, checking if you were really looking at him, and you were. You nodded your head up and down, a way to tell him it was okay with you if he watched, and that you wanted him to do as such.

His eyes remained on you, scanning your body up and down, watching your thighs fall more and more open as Remus’s hand moved faster and faster on your clit.

He loved seeing you with your hands above your head, a new sight for him, Remus having full control over your body.

Your back arched off the bed, causing the pressure on your wrists to increase as your climax threatened to hit, Remus’s hand and his cock almost too much to hold it together.

“Sir- shit, I’m gonna-“

You squeezed Remus’s cock like a vice, your high washing over you as your thighs shook.

“Shit, baby,” Remus breathed.

He didn’t catch your almost-slip, but Sirius certainly did, his eyes darkening as he watched you come down from your high, your body still shifting back and forth on the bed from the force of his best friend’s hips snapping against yours.

“Gonna come in you,” Remus moaned, a final few, sharp thrusts sending him over the edge as he came, groans in your ear that only you could hear as he spilled his seed inside of you.

You signaled for Sirius to look away as Remus let go of your wrists, pulling out of you before standing up and gazing at your fucked-out frame.

“Thank you, baby,” he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “let me get you cleaned up.”

He stretched a hand out to you, and you took it, allowing him to guide you to the bathroom.

✶

Sirius did not speak to you for an entire week after that.

You tried to spark conversation, but he always found an excuse to leave the room or divert his attention. Remus noticed, but assumed it was because of the first time he watched you, and he quite enjoyed the thought of Sirius leaving you alone.

You were seated in the common room, everyone apart from you and the boys at a party in the Ravenclaw dorms. The boys had decided to skip this particular party thanks to Remus, who was falling behind in Transfiguration, and who cursed the Ravenclaws for throwing a party the night before a massive Transfiguration exam.

“I can’t fucking focus,” Remus spoke, annoyed at his inability to comprehend the subject.

“I have some extra notes in the dorms,” James spoke, “I can try to find them, maybe they’ll help?”

“Yeah, alright,” Remus agreed, “worth a shot.”

Remus sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead as he and James retreated up the stairs to search for James’s extra notes.

You turned to Sirius, who avoided meeting your gaze.

“Please talk to me, Sirius.”

He ignored you completely.

“Siri, please.”

The pet name broke him out of his mindset. “Don’t call me Siri.”

“Why not, Siri?” you teased.

“Because it does things to me. Stop.”

“Why?”

“Seriously, Y/N-“

“Seriously what? Why won’t you talk to me?”

Sirius lowered his voice, whisper-yelling, “what do you mean why won’t I talk to you? I’m finally in a decent spot with Remus, what am I gonna do if he finds out I eye-fucked his girlfriend again while he was in the middle of railing her?”

“What does that have to do with you speaking to me?” you questioned.

“Because every single time I look at you, I see- I see you like that.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at Sirius’s confession. “Really?”

“Shut up.”

“You like what you saw?” you teased.

“Shut up.”

“You wanna see more?”

“Stop,” Sirius warned.

You listened intently up the staircase, and heard James yell, “I fucking swear they were here! Check in that one.”

You propped your legs up on the coffee table, allowing your legs to fall open and give Sirius an unobstructed line of sight to your core.

“Do you wanna see more?” you asked again, running a finger over your underwear, just above your folds.

“Don’t fucking tease me.”

You nodded your head no, you were indeed not teasing him. You really were going to touch yourself.

You moved your underwear aside, giving Sirius full view of your most sensitive area as you put one of your middle fingers into your mouth.

You made a show of sucking on the digit, wetting the skin before slowly inserting it into your now-wet hole. You let out a light whine, so as not to alert Remus of what you were up to.

Sirius tried to restrain himself, but he quite literally could not take his eyes away from you. He was obsessed; a man starved who finally found sustenance. He couldn’t look away if he tried.

You began to move your finger faster and faster, your other hand coming up to squeeze your breast over your shirt.

“Shit, Siri,” you moaned, and Sirius nearly lost it right there.

He stood up and approached you, gripping the wrist that was moving your finger inside of your hole.

You assumed he would stop you, but instead, he pulled your finger out, pressing two of his fingers to your lips and allowing you to suck on them.

When he was satisfied with how wet they were, he replaced your finger with his own, his pointer and middle entering you slowly as you threw your head back.

Sirius turned his head to the staircase, hearing “well why wouldn’t they be with literally every other set of notes?” and “fucking hell, can you check the trunk over there?”

Sirius met your eyes, watching you squirm as he fingered you, his thumb finding its way to your clit and rubbing circles, a small smile finding its way onto his lips as he watched your reaction to his touch.

As he pumped his fingers faster and faster, he began to curl them against your spongy walls, a euphoric feeling.

“Siri, fuck,” you whined.

Sirius’s unoccupied hand went to your mouth, covering it to keep you from being loud enough for Remus or James to hear.

“You’re so fucking pretty, did you know that?” Sirius spoke, hand still ruthless on your core, “staring at me with someone else’s cock in you, thinking it won’t affect me?”

You whined under Sirius’s hand, your hips beginning to grind on his hand as he continued speaking.

“Silly little girl, don’t you know Remus said we shouldn’t look at you? You keep breaking his rules, and that’s only something bad girls do. You’re not a bad girl, are you?”

Sirius only moved his hand from your mouth to hear you respond. “Maybe I am, Siri,” you moaned.

Sirius placed his hand back over your mouth, his fingers fucking you faster and faster after you spoke. “You wanna be a bad girl? I’ll treat you like a bad girl. Isn’t that what you want, huh? Staring at me when you have Remus inside of you?”

Your high was dangerously close, Sirius’s fingers better than you could have ever imagined, when Sirius heard “fuck this! I’m just gonna go back downstairs.”

Sirius immediately pulled away, placing your legs back in a normal seated position as he sat back down across from you, scanning the pages of his textbook as if nothing had just happened.

“Sorry that took so long, dumbass couldn’t even find the extra notes,” Remus said, plopping down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, “did I miss anything good?”

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

realised i never posted this here lol, my contribution to the "tav sneaks into house of hope and gets caught" trope

AO3

contains voyeurism, haarlep (lol), minor sexual degradation, a very special cum shot 😉 and other filth i probably forgot

-

This incubus was more deadly than any Absolute, any mad tadpole cult or god of death or unhinged murderous doppelganger. His hands on her were Hades and Valhalla entwined, tweaking and plucking nerves she didn’t know she had with the skill and passion of a musician dedicated to his craft. He’d let her touch him first, satiating her curiosity with amusement as she, fascinated, felt every ridge and divot, every swollen vein and bulging muscle of his – no, Raphael’s infernal body. But he was not Raphael. He wasn’t even a devil. He was a demon, a creature of the abyss birthed from chaos, sin, and sex, and he controlled her far better than Raphael and his contracts could ever dream.

“Haarlep,” she wept; he kissed her tears, licked them from her cheeks while he held her thighs aloft and slid his molten hot cock in and out of her slowly, languid, unhurried and uncaring about the climax she’d been teetering on the edge of for what felt like forever. She was so wet there was no resistance, their coupling noisy and obscene and so messy. Her throat shredded raw from her moans and screams. She clawed desperately at his broad, muscled back, dragged her calloused fingers over bumps and strange cartilage of devil anatomy, pawed at the joints where his wings began. All he did was purr, laugh, suckle a mark into her neck.

“Yes, pet,” he cooed, gold eyes glinting with delight, “that’s my name. It does sound so very alluring from your pretty lips…”

He let one hand trail up her belly and sternum, resting it in the sweat-slicked valley between her breasts. Feeling for the thunder of her heartbeat. All at once and yet as though she’d felt that way forever, Tav was overcome with the sensation of pure, true love – and this was where an incubus was at his most dangerous. Emotion, compulsion; here he could ask her to do anything, surrender her life and let him pry her ribcage open to feast on her heart and lungs while they were still at work, and she would gleefully help him carve her flesh to get it out of the way.

“Haarlep, please…”

“Say you’re mine,” he growled, the sharp points of his claws suddenly digging into the skin above her heart but not breaking it – not yet. His inky black pupils consumed his irises until they were naught but skinny rings of fire. He hiked up her legs, her knees at her shoulders, forcing her damp thighs further apart before he viciously sheathed his cock to the hilt, its blunt head nudging the spot inside her that turned her legs to jelly as he bent her forward. He was so deep inside her his cock was kissing the opening of her cervix. She should have been in agony. Instead: ecstasy. His full weight pushed her into the soft mattress. The places where their bodies joined burned like the sting of water running just a bit too hot. Haarlep oozed demonic hunger, wings spread wide, tail curling like a serpent waiting to strike. “Say it, little thief. Scream it. You’re mine.”

“I…I’m…” Tav gasped, squealed, when he pinched her nipple – punishment, perhaps, for her hesitation. Above her head, above the grinning gold devil face nailed to the headboard, loomed a massive portrait of Raphael, one of many in his House of Hope. The painting glared down at her, as if challenging her conviction, and Haarlep’s iron grip on her desire wavered. Sensing it, he followed her gaze, humming low in his throat with fake disappointment but very real cruelty. They both knew the only reason Tav got on her back and spread her legs in the first place was because of the form he wore.

“Poor thing, lusting after a devil. And what a devil you chose indeed!” He cupped a hand around her throat. He didn’t squeeze, but the threat – the promise – lingered, smoke after the flames. Otherwise he remained still, his weight making it difficult for Tav to writhe and use his cock the way she wanted. He shushed her gently when she whined, though she was far from comforted. “You deserve much better than a brat like Raphael as your Master, sweet mouse. If you stayed with me…if you were mine…we could be entwined in ecstasy like this forever.”

Haarlep dragged the pad of one sticky thumb across her kiss-bitten lips, sighing when she took it into her mouth and suckled. He tasted like her own sweat, the slick of her cunt, and something she instinctively knew as dark magic. She was wrecked, a mess; in comparison, Haarlep seemed completely unaffected despite the lurid, ravenous expression on his face. Barely a stray hair out of place between his magnificent horns. His breathing measured and even. It shouldn’t have been so arousing for Tav – that when she stepped into this boudoir, this secret little pocket of overwhelming sin, she’d strayed so far out of her depth there was no glimpse of land in sight – but she was doomed the moment she saw Not-Raphael lounging near-naked on his huge bed, leering at her like he starved and she was a three course meal. He was the Siren luring her into the depths. She was drowning in red velvet sheets, and the rest of Faerun would burn to ashes in the aftermath. Tav couldn’t quite drum up enough willpower to care.

Right before she gave herself away, her fate narrowed to a breath of whisper on her tongue, Haarlep tilted his head back, pointed ears listening intently. Tense silence hung between them. Tav didn’t know what he heard, couldn’t hear much beyond the roar of blood and her own shallow breathing. A truly malicious smile spread across the incubus’ borrowed features. Tav shuddered, aware that something was about to happen without truly understanding why. Haarlep freed his thumb from her mouth, scraping its claw along her tongue hard enough to hurt and smearing drool on her chin; then, to her dismay, he freed his cock, too. She cried out, the snag of its soft barbs and ridges teasing pleasure from her cunt even as she mourned the loss. Felt empty and alone without it.

“Hush,” he murmured. “Up, now. On your hands and knees for me.”

He laughed at how she scrambled to obey. Her legs were weak, of little use. Her arms shook beneath the task of holding her weight. Still, Tav presented herself to him, this time facing the boudoir’s entrance. Haarlep pressed behind her, a looming spectre of succulent suffering. He snatched her hip with one hand, wedged his large thigh between hers to push them further apart, and rubbed the fat head of his shaft up and down through her slippery hot folds. She groaned every time he bumped her swollen clit. He seemed content to drag and tease no matter how she urged him to fuck her. She had no authority here. All she could do was whine and beg.

“Poor little thief,” he crooned. His chest, his own pebbled nipples, brushed against her back. He let go of her hip to instead knead and squeeze her breasts. He was so much bigger than her in every way. She felt utterly consumed by him. “Don’t worry. You’ll get what you want very soon, I promise.” Tav gasped, her arms collapsing as Haarlep thrust his cock into her without warning. Face down, fingers clenched in the sheets, she arched her back, shameless in her chase for pleasure. Release.

Haarlep grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back up. “Ah, ah,” he tutted, “I want him to see your face when he walks through that door.”

Tav didn’t get the chance to ask who. Her question was already answered. The air grew thick, electric. The souls of the damned forever trapped in those halls quivered and wailed with fear and exaltation. The Master of the House had come home. Raphael was a sight when he stormed into the boudoir; still in his human guise, but with none of its usual composure. Eyes wild, face twisted into a frightening snarl. He’d unbuttoned his fancy coat, loosened his frilly collar. A lock of his soft brown hair strayed out of place, stuck to his forehead damp with sweat. His cheeks were flushed. He was gorgeous, and terrifying.

“Haarlep!” He roared.

Fear skittered like insects on Tav’s skin. She’d never been afraid of Raphael before. Foolish, perhaps, but he hadn’t given her much reason – and yet a devil was still a devil, no matter how charming or attractive they were. Haarlep didn’t seem to share the same sentiment.

“Welcome home,” he hummed seductively, “how was your day?”

Raphael wasn’t listening. He stared at them, at Tav, his face slackening with shock. The expression was alien on him. It made him look younger. Almost boyish. It didn’t last. His thin lips pulled into a sneer and he regarded her with utter contempt.

“Well, well,” he drawled, “who should I find breaking into my house and indulging in my pet without permission…why, none other than the little mouse, of course. She’s ever so good at scurrying into places where she does not belong. How dare you.”

“Raphael…I…” If she could have spoken, Tav didn’t know what she would’ve said. She had no defence, not really; no reason seemed good enough for such a prideful devil not to tear the skin from her bones and the soul from her bloodied husk in retaliation. She couldn’t try to escape, caught so tightly in Haarlep’s vice. She couldn’t even act contrite, because Haarlep languidly rolled his hips and tore a sinful gasp from her throat with his torturous stimulation. Raphael’s fury had not dampened Tav’s arousal any.

“I assume you wanted the hammer,” Raphael continued snidely, “but being the dogged creature that you are, you thought you would sniff around and see what else you could steal from me, didn’t you? And look at you now. Caught in a trap because you couldn’t keep your legs closed. Pitiful.”

“Don’t be too harsh,” Haarlep purred, all dark delight and careless mischief, “I offered her other forms, but she only wanted yours.”

“Is that so…” Though he tried for indifference, despite the way he looked at her like she was less than dirt on the sole of his boot, Raphael’s body gave him away. An obvious bulge between his legs tented his trousers, and his pupils were completely blown. He was still angry, but that little piece of information had intrigued him, stroked his ego like phantom fingers on his cock, mollified him enough to reconsider skinning her on the spot.

“Don’t let him fool you, Mousie,” Haarlep stage-whispered into Tav’s ear, continuing to make things worse and loving it, “he can feel everything I’m doing to you, every squeeze of your tight wet cunt, every kiss from your naughty mouth…he’s just as desperate as you are.”

“Enough, Haarlep,” Raphael barked. The incubus ignored it. He dragged his tongue along the shell of Tav’s ear, blowing hot breath into it. Her entire being shook, skin erupting in goosebumps. Haarlep’s chuckle was so deep, so dark, it was almost a growl.

“You would do anything for me right now, wouldn’t you? Sweet little mouse. Obedient little mouse. More’s the pity that Raphael didn’t try to win your allegiance this way, hm? He would have had much more success…”

“Haarlep.” Magic crackled through the air like summer lightning, ozone. A warning; Raphael’s simmering temper would not be tested any further. With a put-upon sigh, Haarlep finally released Tav’s hair. She yelped as she fell forward, catching herself before she face-planted, yelp dissolving into a groan as she got some friction on the cock firmly inside her. Her breasts bounced and swayed, something Raphael’s clever eyes feasted on. She was the thing, the pretty little mortal, these two monsters were snarling at each other over, like dogs fighting for a scrap of juicy meat. She felt debased, humiliated, and thrilled in a primal way.

“Well then, Master,” Haarlep drew the word out with biting sarcasm, resting his hands on Tav’s hips, “what are you going to do now?”

Raphael didn’t answer with words. He clicked his fingers and a plush chair appeared. In silence he unbuttoned the rest of his coat and tossed it aside. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing the tawny skin of his forearms lightly dusted with dark hair. His loose collar opened enough to glimpse broad pecs and the column of his neck. Tav’s heart leapt into her throat. Raphael positioned the chair at the foot of the bed, almost close enough to touch, and sat down. He maintained direct eye contact, infernos raging in his black hole pupils – she couldn’t look away – and spread his legs. Tav sucked in a sharp breath. Deliberately slow, Raphael unbuckled his belt with long, deft fingers, and Tav watched in breathless anticipation as he loosened his trousers enough to free his cock and balls. He sighed as he did so. A pearlescent glob of precum was already dribbling out between his glans. In his human suit, Raphael’s cock was a little larger than average, flushed dark pink and stiff with blood, a thick vein running along its length, crowned by a neat thatch of pubic hair. His balls beneath it were smooth and fat. A handsome and well-crafted package. He preened under Tav’s ogling. She knew intimately what his cambion form offered, and so he had decided to let her see this, too.

“As you were,” he ordered his incubus, voice rough, but he didn’t take his eyes off Tav. “Since you’ve caused me such inconvenience, it’s only fair you give me a show.”

“How fun,” Haarlep hummed, the mercurial beast. He stroked the tip of a claw down Tav’s spine, pinching her ass cheek when he reached it. “You see, pet? I told you you’d get what you want.”

The rhythm he started then was brutal. Had Tav mewling, fisting the sheets again, groaning every time the demon’s hips touched her backside. His own balls smacked against her thighs, hot and heavy with infernal seed she hoped he was more than prepared to stuff her with. Overwhelmed, overstimulated, she buried her face in the bed to muffle her sobbing squeals.

“Oh no, little mouse,” Raphael growled. With one hand he reached out and pulled her hair, hard, making her look at him. Both of them seemed to like doing that. “You do not get to hide. Not from me. You are in my house, and I see everything here. Keep your lovely eyes firmly on me, lest I find myself tempted to pluck them out and make jewellery with them.”

Tav obeyed. In consequence, she was witness to Raphael unravelling to the sight of her being savagely mated by his lookalike. Satisfied by her obedience, Raphael settled back into his chair, got comfortable, and tugged on his cock. Lazy at first; slow, firm squeezes from root to tip, enough to push his foreskin up over his weeping glans and back down again. His groan was decadent, rich like wine and melted chocolate, the sternness of his expression dissolving into burgeoning rapture. He was stunning. An erotic vision splashed onto the canvas of life – and he fucking knew it. Smirked at her as she stared, open-mouthed, panting like a bitch in heat. Somehow, Haarlep’s thick cock inside her wasn’t enough. She needed the one Raphael was rubbing, too. Needed it in her mouth, her ass, anywhere. She knew he wouldn’t give it to her, because she didn’t deserve it.

Haarlep leaned down, moulded himself to her, back-to-front. Curled his hands over her fists where they were clenched, white-knuckled. His blood-red skin was sweltering. The room reeked of sex, fire, and cherries. “Beautiful, isn’t he?” The demon husked. At last, his sexual stoicism was cracking. The tinge of affection in his voice couldn’t be ignored. “My little princeling.”

“Yes,” Tav slurred, barely able to speak. This new angle was making black spots pulse softly in the corners of her eyes. Her orgasm was approaching, tired of being teased away; it was a violent thing squirming in her womb, desperate to unfurl. She didn’t know if she would survive its impact. “Nngh… G-Gods… please …”

“There are no Gods in Hell, my mouse. Flesh and fire are our Nirvana. La petite mort.” Raphael murmured raspily, drinking in her delicious despair as he thumbed his cock head, smearing his precum about. His free hand clenched and unclenched the arm of his chair before he shifted to stroke his balls. “And who do you sing to? Who would answer your prayer and free you from a depravity of your own making? No Divinity is truly so magnanimous, I assure you.”

His breathing had quickened. Fast, greedy inhales and exhales. His head lolled back. His eyes glazed like warm honey by lust, desire. He licked his lips once, twice. He rubbed his cock furiously now, fondled his balls, rocked his hips in time with Haarlep’s. His noble features twisted beautifully with his feral pursuit of pleasure. While she was ruined, he was elegantly debauched. Completely in his element. He wore his passion well. It suited him. Like everything else. What a terrible creature he was.

Haarlep, without warning or fanfare, slid his fingers through the soaked curls of her pubes to rub her swollen clit, and Tav’s orgasm hit her like an avalanche. She screamed when she came, unprepared and out of her mind, her body convulsing uncontrollably. Haarlep groaned as she gushed around his cock, the fluttering walls of her cunt milking it over and over, trying to pull him deeper. His hips stuttered, flush with her backside. His claws dug into her pliant skin. His teeth bared. Raphael watched all of this, seared it into his memory.

Tav was near-boneless in the wake of a climax like that, limbs wracked with tremors, chest heaving. Tingles spread from the tips of her toes to her crown. Haarlep held her up. Her head fell against his chest, his demonic heart pounding. She could do nothing at all when Raphael stood, aiming his ruddy cock at her face. She had disrespected him by encroaching on his privacy; now he would return the favour. She watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth pulling into a handsome snarl. He grunted when he finished, spurts of hot cum splattering across her chin, cheeks, and nose. Every splash of his Hellish seed on her skin painted his ownership, his brand. He purred when he was done, an apex predator satiated. Then he simply stood there for a moment and basked, relaxed, wringing the last drops of spend from his prick as it began to soften, before he admired his work.

“That’s a good look for you, little mouse,” he said softly, not a shred of gentleness in his tone. “I almost want to keep you this way. You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you? Displayed in here like a sloppy whore for me to finish on whenever I desired.”

“The best little whore,” Haarlep breathed in agreement. The lurch in Tav’s belly would have bothered her, if she had the energy.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m not in the business of rewarding trespassers.” Raphael tucked his cock away but left his belt undone. He smoothed his hair back, then reached forward with two fingers to swipe a drop of his cum from her chin before it dripped down onto her chest. He put those fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean, grinning nastily at her when she moaned. “No, I have very different plans for you.”

“Depraved, naughty mouse,” cooed Haarlep, reigniting his rhythm again, to her dismay. The demon who had started it all wouldn't be denied his own end. “I told you so.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

THE BRITS

A/N: we all witnessed his madness last night, he got me hot and bothered

WORD COUNT: 2k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: You and Harry are getting drunk at the BRITs and you can't control your desires for each other.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You’re drunk.

But not as drunk as your boyfriend who is having the time of his life on national TV.

Somehow it seems like the BRITs Awards is always the most unhinged show Harry attends, maybe it’s the feeling of being home or maybe it’s the amount of tequila he tends to drink on these occasions.

Probably the second one, but who knows.

You’ve had shots with him as well, the familiar dizziness has taken away your anxiety of appearing on TV next to your boyfriend and now it’s more like just one big party. You’re sitting between Harry and Gemma, your legs crossed underneath the table, Harry’s hand wedged between your thighs this time. He’s been super touchy all evening, most likely the alcohol has gotten the neediness out of him, but it’s not like you mind it, he looks devastatingly good tonight and always feeling his touch is more than fine by you. Though it’s making it hard for you to hold back your dirty thoughts you’ve been harboring ever since you laid eyes on him in the silky shirt, the top buttons strictly undone.

You have to switch position because your legs are going numb, so Harry’s hand slips off your thigh until you settle comfortably and it returns immediately, hiking a little higher this time, giving you a few gentle squeezes. A shaky breath slips through your lips that almost turns into a moan. Luckily, Gemma didn’t notice it, but when you turn to your right you catch Harry’s smirk.

“You alright, babe?” he asks as he leans closer.

“Don’t be a brat,” you warn him, to which he just starts laughing, smacking your thigh before his hand rests on top of it.

“I know that look better than anyone, Y/N,” he murmurs, pretending to be looking at the stage.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. We could sneak away for a quickie,” he simply suggests and you smack a hand against his chest, but you kind of regret it when you feel the warms of his naked skin against your palm, you kind of want to just keep it there, run it deeper into his shirt.

“Stop! Someone might hear you!” you chuckle, heat crawling up your neck.

“So we’re not having a quickie?” he pouts his lips at you.

“No!” you laugh, but leaning closer you steal a quick kiss. “Stop making it hard, I’m already struggling over here,” you mumble against his lips.

“That’s why I suggested to have a q—“

“If you say it again, I’m walking away, Harry,” you warn him, but it’s only for your sake. You have no idea how long you can sit still while your boyfriend is talking about having sex while you’re already drenched between your legs.

Harry chuckles and reaches for the champagne bottle before filling up your glass.

“Come on, drink one with me then.”

“I think we’ve had enough.”

“Nope, gotta make sure we’re still drunk when we get home,” he ignores your comment, pouring one for himself as well.

“Why?”

“Because I wanna have sloppy drunk sex with you.”

You’re fucked. You definitely will be, but you’re fucked already.

The madness carries on, Harry has won every single award he was nominated for, he has taken a shot on the stage and kissed Lewis Capaldi. Right in front of your nose. You tried to act hurt when he returned to the table after the kiss, but you couldn’t, especially when he started begging you to kiss him.

You’re a giggling mess by the time he accepts Mastercard Album Of The Year and you brain barely can process that your boyfriend is standing next to Stanley Tucci on the stage, joking around and laughing like old pals.

“Babe! Babe, did you see me and Stanley?!” he whisper-yells when he returns to the table.

“If this is the point where you leave me for Stanley Tucci, I have to say I won’t even blame you,” you laugh into your drink.

“Aw, you’re jealous?” he grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead before taking his seat.

“Of you! Yes!” you laugh. “And Stanley too,” you add.

“Oh babe, don’t be,” he smirks and leans so close, his lips are brushing against your ear. “You’re the only one I want to fuck.”

“Harry!” you gape at him, reaching for your drink, hoping it would cool you down a bit, but you’re way over that point.

“I really want to fuck you right now, babe. You sure we can’t have a quickie?”

“We’re at an award show,” you whisper, but can’t help biting into your bottom lip.

“I’m sure we wouldn’t be the first ones to have sex at an award show,” he giggles, his hand returning to your thigh, this time slipping way under your dress. “Come on, I’ll find a place for us. If I find a place, will you have sex with me?” he asks, eagerly squeezing your thigh which makes it impossible to resist.

“Harry…”

“Give me five minutes, okay? I’ll find us a place.”

And before you could even say a word, he is up on his feet, off to his little quest.

“Where is he going?” Gemma asks when she sees her brother lurk away.

“Um… I uh… I have a headache, he is gonna ask if I can lay down somewhere for a bit,” you lie, but a giggle bubbles from your throat, giving you away completely.

“Oh my God, you guys are… something else,” Gemma laughs, not wanting to know any more details about your dirty business. You kinda feel bad for her, but at the moment it’s funny.

You almost lose your shit when you see Harry jogging pack towards the table, the cheesiest grin on his face as he navigates between guests.

“I found a place!” he mouths at you and then grabs your hand instantly, pulling you up from the table. “Come on—Um, Gemma we’re just gonna, uh…”

“Shut up, just… go!” Gemma waves at him, making you both laugh before you escape from the table.

He pulls you out to the hallways and you’re just trying not to stumble over your feet, keeping up with his pace. You reach a dressing room that has his name on it, you arrive just when two women walk out with headset on, they are definitely working backstage.

“Thank you so much, she’ll just lie down for a bit, thank you!” Harry nods at them, pushing you into the room and you have a feeling they know what it’s all about, but as soon as the door is shut closed and he throws his suit jacket off, nothing else matters.

You kick your heels off as you run to the vanity, Harry catching up with you instantly, his arms locking you in his embrace from behind as his lips attack your neck.

“Fuck, I don’t think I would have lasted until we got home,” he rumbles, his hands pulling your dress up already, palm moving between your legs to feel just how wet you are.

“You sure you wouldn’t prefer Lewis or Stanley now?” you tease him, head rolling back to his shoulder, a moan slipping through your lips when his fingers dip into your underwear.

“Don’t talk about other men when I’m trying to fuck you,” he groans before turning you around with one swift movement, his hands grabbing onto the back of your knees to help you sit up on the vanity.

You eagerly undo his buttons, the silky shirt sliding right off his broad shoulders and you finally let your fingers dig into his pecks, something you’ve been fantasizing about for hours.

“It’s gonna be quick, we don’t have much time, but we’ll have a round two when we get home,” he smirks down at you, urging your legs to wrap around his waist as he unbuttons his pants and lets them pool at his ankle.

“Did you lock the door?” you gasp as he pulls your panties off, running two fingers through your lips to check you’re truly ready for him without any more foreplay. Usually you’d need more attention before taking him, but this whole evening has been one long foreplay.

“There’s no lock.”

“What? Harry—“

“That’s why we have to be quick,” he grins and the next thing you know is that he thrusts so deep into you, you’re seeing stars.

Harry loves to make gentle love, but he is also very good at fucking you senseless so fast you feel like you’re about to pass out. This is an occasion like that this time.

The vanity is violently shaking under you as he fucks into you, one hand planted on top of the wood, the other one on your back to keep you against him, though you have your feet locked just above his ass, helping you stay in place. It’s so harsh and raw, if someone asked you your name you wouldn’t be able to answer. You grip his hair, tugging on it, keeping his face buried in your neck where he keeps kissing and biting your soft skin as he keeps up his ruthless pace.

“Harry! Oh my God!” you practically scream when he hooks an arm under your right leg, lifting up higher so he can push into you even deeper.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” he shakes his head, definitely out of breath, but he has no intention of stopping.

When you let go of his hair you fall back, your dress slipping down on your chest, making Harry go feral. Now you’re lying on top of the vanity in a kind of diagonal position since it’s too narrow to fit you, but it doesn’t bother either of you, Harry tightens his death grip around your thigh he has lifted up and he practically climbs up to the vanity, leaving just one foot on the floor. Your ass is sore, your legs are going numb, but you’d start crying if he stopped now, you’re so close to a mind-blowing orgasm you’ve been yearning after all evening.

“I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna come inside you,” he warns you between pants.

“Yes, yes, come inside me!” you gasp for air and mustering up the last bits of your energy you push up, hooking your arm around his neck to press against him, right on time.

Harry comes hard, grunting against your lips, his thrusts becoming rigid, long and out of rhythm and seeing him fall apart throws you over the edge too.

The two of you are one big mess as you try to recover, chest heaving, vision slightly blurry. When Harry gently pulls back you moan in protest, lying back on top of the vanity, one foot planted on top, the other one dangling off the edge.

“Let’s clean you up,” Harry hums to himself and you faintly notice him get dressed before he grabs a clean towel from the bathroom joined to the dressing room, he wets it and gently cleans you up while you just lie there, limbs feeling like jelly.

He pulls your underwear back halfway up your thighs before he needs you to stand up. You don’t want to, but you know you have to, so he helps you off the vanity and then dresses you like you’re a toddler.

“You’re good? Can we go back out?” he asks after doing his best to make you look like you did before. He has his arms around your waist as you turn around and have a look at the two of you in the mirror at the vanity.

“God, it’s so obvious we just fucked,” you chuckle seeing the state you both are in.

“It’s not that obvious,” he tries to protest, but he doesn’t believe it either. “Okay, well… we can’t do anything about it now. It was worth it though,” he grins, giving you a sloppy kiss on the lips. “Can’t wait for round two when we get home.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Crimson Tango: A Dance of Diamonds and Revenge Chapter 3: How Wonderful Life Is While You’re In the World✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: I hope you are enjoying our Moulin Rouge au that me and @mountainsandmayhem have created! Cheers to another chapter and please let us know how you liked it ❤️

Chapter Summary: Your feelings for Joel are growing faster than you imagined, but you have to deal with Terrance. The man you can’t stand to be alone with. Will Joel be able to save you or will you have to suffer alone while he watches helplessly?

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Word Count: 10.2k

Chapter Tags: Reader buys a new dress, mutual pining, feelings, smut, oral receiving (fem), secret date, angst, desire, longing, Joel teaches reader guitar, reader shows Joel how to dance, reader is a sex worker who’s put in a position from Terrance and his friends that involves nonconsensual touching so please read at your own risk

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Even though you’ve calmed down a bit, you practically stomp back to your room as your high heels dig deep into the floor. You’re feeling every single emotion that you can possibly feel right now. Obviously mad after the screaming match with your uncle, but also sad and scared about what you have to do with Terrance. Not scared in the way most would be, that some man they don’t know is about to own you and your body completely, but scared to lose Joel. That kiss is still burning on your lips and your body is aching for more of him. Worst of all, you’re scared for your heart. Your poor battered heart. You’ve ignored it for years, and right when you open it up it’s about to be absolutely obliterated.

When you open your bedroom door, you see Joel under your sink replacing the pipes. This might be your only chance to be alone with him again. A little voice inside your head tells you to be selfish, just this once. So you listen.

You saunter over to him and hover above him, one foot on each side of his body as you smirk down at him flirtatiously.

He turns his head slightly and smiles warmly as he sees you standing above him. “Whatcha doin’ up there, darlin’?” Joel asks, grunting as he tightens the pipes.

You slowly lower your knees to the ground, hiking the skirt of your dress up as you sink down to hover right above his lap. “I wasn’t expecting you,” you say seductively.

He glances out at you as his eyebrow raises high on his forehead. “I can’t, in good conscience, have you in a room without working water, baby.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” you giggle, “where did you even get the parts or -” You cock your head slightly to be able to see his face and wave your hand around under the sink.

His hand lightly circles your wrist and he moves it out from the cabinet chuckling slightly. “I’m working here, baby girl. There’s an empty room down the hall. I took them from there, and I’ll replace them tomorrow.”

You're silent for a while as you straighten your neck to look at the edge of your countertop. The bitter biting feeling floods your thoughts as no one has ever treated you like this, gone out of their way to fix something for you. But Joel does. He’s probably exhausted, but he’s here, happy to be here in fact, fixing something for you, so you can have basic comforts. Pushing his own comfort of sleep aside for you.

He puts the wrench down gently on the ground, keeping his eyes fixed on the pipes above him. “Everything okay out there?” he asks as he continues tightening the loose pipes.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You can’t be with him, but fuck you need him. You know he’d treat you properly, but you also know that as of tomorrow you belong to fucking Terrance. You bite your lip nervously and decide you can’t go the rest of your life not having this moment with Joel. He can’t possibly feel the same way you do, it’s illogical of you to say that you’re in love with a man you don’t even know yet. Joel seems level headed, he’ll just think he got a night like you give to everyone else. You wouldn’t even be surprised if he tried to pay you after.

You swirl your hips, just grazing against his hardening cock as you moan at the thought of having him. “Yes,” you whisper.

He sucks in a breath and moves his hands to your thighs as you feel his calloused fingers brush lightly over your exposed legs. “Careful, baby girl.”

You grind down harder, hands falling to the bottom of his shirt as you slide your fingers up along his soft, warm skin. You say his name with a moan. Joel lifts you slightly and slides his body down between your thighs.

“No,” you whine, already missing the feeling of his bulge pressing against your needy center.

Joel continues sliding down until his face is in line with your pussy. He looks up at you, his lust filled eyes blowing out as they meet yours.

Fuck, he’s beautiful.

“Don’t whine, darlin’. I got you, if that’s what you want.”

“Please, Joel.” It comes out airy and breathy, much needier than you intended. Your breaths are coming in rapidly as you cup one of your breasts in your hands, desperate for any sort of touch you can get.

Joel traces a thick finger up your inner thigh slowly as your body writhes with anticipation. “Sshhh, sweet girl. Relax.”

“I can’t,” you whine, your body twitching with every little touch he gives you. “Please Joel, I need you.”

Joel moves your skirt out of the way, his fingers finding the center of your wet panties, lightly tracing up and down your slit. The fabric is soaked and his touch is causing more slick to build between your thighs. Joel is growing painfully hard, the zipper of his work pants pressing into his cock that’s already fully hard for you. Joel Miller is a lover though, and that’s exactly what he plans to do. To love you, to show you just how a man should treat someone as beautiful as you.

“Relax,” he says with encouragement. “You can do it. Take a deep breath, baby.”

He continues his ministrations, adding just a bit more pressure as he slides his thumb against your aching clit. You cry out with a plea and then follow along with what he says. You close your eyes and take a slow, deep inhale, releasing your breath as everything seems to go quiet around you. You don’t have a single thought or any emotion, there’s nothing in this room aside from you and Joel but thick tension that sits in the air. As the trembling in your body slows, you soften around him, letting out a deep moan that seems to set you on fire.

“That’s my girl,” Joel praises.

You smile a look down at him, just able to see his blown out pupils from in between your thighs. You take another breath while holding his gaze, seeing his amber eyes start to glaze over into deep black pits. You’ve never been looked at quite like that before. It’s not lust, it’s something much, much more. You return the look at him, biting the inside of your cheek to stop a smile from breaking the surface.

“Darlin’?” Joel asks, his voice deeper now, more sensual.

“Yeah?”

“Grab onto the edge of the sink with both your hands.”

You keep eye contact, raising one eyebrow before reaching up and wrapping both hands around the sink. The steel of the sink is cold, it only helps draw you deeper into the heat of Joel’s body, his mouth just a hair away from your clothed core. Your panties are soaked through with your arousal after he teased you with his finger.

“Good girl,” he growls. The heat of his breath hits your clit and you cry out just a little, hips bucking towards his face as your clit drags against the edge of his hooked nose, causing you to cry out again in awe. You manage to regain your composure, Joel’s thumb hooking your panties and pulling them to the side hurriedly. “So gorgeous, baby. You tell me if you want me to stop, got it?”

“Oh my God, Yes. Yes, just please - please, I need it.”

“I’m gonna give it to ya, darlin’. Hold on tight,” he instructs with a deep growl.

Joel dives in like you’re his oxygen and he’s fucking drowning in your air. He has always liked doing this, making women feel good with his experienced tongue. It feels sensual and intimate to get to see someone like this, to have them trust him like this. But with you, he really fucking loves it. The feel and taste of your sweet arousal on his tongue is euphoric to him, angelic. If he was on death row, he’d ask for this for his very last meal.

You cry out loudly as his tongue expertly teases your clit, alternating between tight circles with the tip of his tongue to long, flat licks. Your arousal leaks down his throat, and he swallows you down eagerly as he tastes the honey-like flavor hit his tastebuds. He moans loudly as he licks and licks, sending warm sparks up your lower regions.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you repeat his name over and over like a holy prayer, and your orgasm builds faster than you thought possible. He pulls away for a second, bringing two thick fingers up to your wet folds as he slides them back and forth slowly. He moves them up and down teasingly, coating his fingers with your sweet juices.

“Can I put my fingers inside of you, baby girl?” His voice is full of lust. Hot, hungry, needy.

“Yes,” you say quickly, “yes, please, Mr. Miller.”

“Let me hear you say it,” he instructs, his deep breath coming out scratchy and so fucking hot.

You bite your bottom lip as you taste your cherry flavored chapstick. You’re good at teasing men, doing things for them, but not for you. And now Joel wants you tell him what you want, and it shouldn’t be so fucking hard.

“You can do it, just say the words.” His fingers are still lazily running along you, slowly teasing as he makes more slick run down your center.

“I - I want…” your cheeks flush and you throw your head back in mere frustration. Why the fuck can’t you just ask for what you want? Why was that so difficult for you?

Joel can sense your frustration, or perhaps discomfort with the situation. He stops what he’s doing and softly says, “Hey, look at me, baby.” When you look down his face is soft, big brown eyes staring up at you. “You don’t have to say it if it makes you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I pushed you, but you don’t have to hold back from me. Anything you want, ask. Ask and I’ll do it.”

You swallow hard. You’re in love, so very out of this world in love, and this is your only chance to do something about it. You can’t spend the rest of your life with Terrance regretting not saying a few simple words. You have to do this. Say it.

Your eyes dance around Joel’s face before you whisper, “I want your fingers, please. I need them inside of me.”

Joel lets out a deep moan and growls, fuuuuuuck.

He latches his mouth to your clit again, gently pushing his index finger into the sensitive entrance of your needy pussy as you writhe in pleasure. He pushes his fingertips slowly in and out a few times before pushing it all the way in, hooking his fingers up into that spongy area that sends you gasping for breath. You moan loudly, one hand falling from the sink to grab his tousled curls. The second you make contact with his head everything stops - his fingers are gone, mouth pulled off your clit with a loud pop.

“No!” you cry, needing him to continue as your insides ache for him.

“I said to grab onto the edge of the sink with both hands,” he demands, his eyes narrowing up at you.

You shakily move your hands back to the sink.

“Be my good girl and keep them there, understand?” The lust filling his eyes and deep gravel in his voice are almost enough to make you come.

“Yes,” you coo, leaning forward to get closer to his mouth.

“You let go, and I’ll stop.”

Your back arches more, trying desperately to get the attention that you think you might die without. Joel moves in again, lapping at your clit before sliding two fingers all the way inside you. You're tight and warm around his fingers and he has to remind himself to slow down, be gentle with you. He wants you to savor it just as much as he wants to savor you.

He curls his fingers inside you and he feels your pussy flutter slightly, he knows you're close. You squeeze your eyes tightly, gripping the edge of the sink like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

“There she goes,” he says, “let me see it, baby.”

Your moans turn desperate, but you aren’t sure what you’re more desperate for. If you come he’s going to stop, you aren’t sure if you want him to stop, but fuck do you need to come. Your walls start to flutter around Joel’s fingers again, feeling that warm sensation building in your spine.

“Show me,” he praises, “be my good girl.”

That’s what does it, the sparks in your belly radiate out to every limb. The waves of pleasure weaken all your muscles. You feel your arms giving out, but there’s no way you’re going to let go of that sink. Screams and moans fill your room, “F-fuck, Joel. Oh, fuck.”

He praises you as you shamelessly grind your hips down onto his face. “You’re so fucking perfect. Take it, baby girl.”

Before the pleasure becomes overstimulating, Joel slows his fingers inside you and pulls his tongue away from your swollen bundle of nerves. He works his fingers slowly, placing an occasional light kiss to your pussy and slowly you start to come back down to earth.

You’re trying to catch your breath as Joel slides out from under you and then scoops you up into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck, breathing him in as he walks you towards your bed. He places you down gently, one of his big hands coming to cup behind your head until it lands softly on your pillow, and he covers you with a soft fleece blanket. No one has ever tucked you in before, at least not that you can remember. A simple act, filled with so much love and tenderness. You reach out for Joels hand, and he doesn’t hesitate to grab onto you.

“Stay,” you whisper, suddenly desperate for his warmth.

“I’ll get fired, darlin’,” he whispers sadly, sitting down on the edge of your bed carefully. You roll onto your side and move close to him, reaching one of your arms out as you grab onto his wrist.

“Stay,” you repeat again, your eyelids starting to become heavier as the weight of your orgasm takes its toll on you.

He places a light kiss on your temple and whispers gently, “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

You melt into his kiss, lips tasting like coffee and sunshine. “Will you come back tomorrow?”

He brushes your hair back, and one finger trails down the bridge of your nose lightly. You close your eyes, a little smile lifting your lips. “I would love that, baby girl. You can teach me how to use that pottery wheel.”

A small ‘okay’ leaves your lips as he kisses your forehead again. “Go to sleep, my love.” And so you do, drifting off to sleep with the brush of his calloused fingers running along your upper arm and his smooth lips trailing kisses against your cheekbone.

You wake up to sunshine on your skin and the feeling of fresh slick between your legs. Dreams of Joel invaded your sleep last night, and all you could think of was his warm tongue sliding up and down your drenched center. You blush at the images that paint your mind and look over to the other side of your bed. You frown when you realize Joel isn’t here, but he did stay till you fell asleep. You wish he could’ve stayed the entire night, holding you in his strong arms, drinking up his mahogany scent that haunts your memories. You want him here, need him here, but he said he couldn’t stay. He said he’d be fired.

Why would he be fired? Your uncle said you could have anything. And you want Joel. You want him. He couldn’t be fired, he wouldn’t be. Unless…. unless your uncle gave him strict orders that he couldn’t touch the dancers, that he couldn’t touch you. Would your uncle really do that? You’re starting to realize he would.

A light knock on the door shakes you out of bed, and you pull on a long pink robe and tie it in a tight bow. You pace over to your large door and open it up to find your uncle leaning up against the doorway with a huge grin on his face. He barges right in and brushes past your shoulder as you close the door behind him and turn his direction.

“Today’s the day, petal!” he almost yells as his green eyes beam down at you with a stupid grin that takes over his wrinkled features.

“Today’s the day?” you ask confused, then suddenly realize what he’s so jolly about.

“Terrance! Remember? He’s going to be here this evening, and he expects to see you,” he replies, eyes gazing into yours as you nearly revolt against his wishes.

“Oh, right…” you say quietly as the weight of his words settle in on you. Maybe when you’re eighteen, you can join them. The words make you sick, make you want to push him in the chest and tell him no. You want to scream, throw your lit up lamp across the room and watch the glass shatter into a million pieces, but you can’t. You can’t.

Your uncle places his hand under your chin and lifts your eyes up to his. “Now, now. Don’t be like that, petal. He’s paying us well. The Moulin Rouge is saved. We don’t have to worry anymore,” he encourages as he smiles down at you with enthusiasm spilling over his tongue.

He’s paying us well. The words sound like long nails running down a rusted chalkboard, filling the room with a deafening noise as you cringe at the words. He was not the one being sold to Terrance, you were. You were the one that had to entertain this man for God knows how long. It was you that had to pretend, not your uncle.

“He’ll be here around 7:00pm sharp. I want you down there no later than that, understand?” he asks as he looks over you slowly, making sure you don’t make a fuss.

“I’ll be there, uncle. If I must,” you say with a slight huff, trying to keep your spirits up for him.

“Here,” he hands you a crisp one hundred dollar bill and places it in your hand as the material crinkles together under your touch. “Go buy yourself something nice. Maybe a pretty dress for Terrance. His favorite color is red.” He places a light kiss to your forehead then pads off to the door, leaving the room feeling hollow and empty as his footsteps trail down the hallway. You stand there gawking at his vacant shadow.

Go buy yourself something nice? His favorite color is red? Who the fuck does he think he is?

The words make you feel cheap, the money makes you feel used, dirty. You don’t want the money. You want to run out of the room and throw it back at him, make him regret ever selling you to a rich prick who only wants you for your body. You don’t want to fucking do this anymore! But what choice do you have? The deal had already been made…

You throw your hand out and hit the wall hard as pain radiates down your arm like fire running through your nerves. You wince and shake it out, letting the pain simmer away as you walk into your lit up pink bathroom and run the shower water, staring at yourself in the mirror until your face is lost in fog. How poetic, you think to yourself.

You peel off your robe and let it land in a heap on the floor, stepping into the heat as you let the scalding water cascade down your porcelain skin, washing away the scent of regret and anger. You lather the shampoo through your long locks, run the citrus soap over the entirety of your body until it drowns you, rinsing it off as you watch it run down the drain in swirling colors brighter than your own future.

After sulking in the shower for nearly half an hour, you dry your body off with a fleece towel and throw on a soft pretty flamingo colored dress. You dry and curl your hair, applying red lipstick to your soft lips and mascara to your long lashes.

You take a second to look at yourself in the mirror, examining every feature as you see sadness in the soft glow of your eyes, holding back tears as you hold your chin up and wipe away a distant tear. Time for you to take a walk.

You close up your room as you shove the hundred dollar bill into your scarlet purse, feeling dirty for even having it in your grasp. You shake your head and walk down the lit up halls of the Moulin Rouge, passing some dancers as you saunter out the front doors and into the sunlight.

You let the glow of the sun warm your cold soul, let it fill you with ease as you walk down the crowded streets to one of your favorite dress shops. As soon as you step in, you’re met with a busy seamstress and a batch of dresses that hang loosely over manicans and display on long hangers.

“Anything I can help you find, miss?” the petite blonde asks as you enter the store.

“Just looking around for the moment,” you say as you gaze around at all the colorful, fancy dresses.

“Just let me know if you need anything,” she says as she turns back to the cash register.

You pace around the room, trailing your hand on various types of fabrics as you circle the large shop. The colors go from deep purples to ombré to bright shades of yellow. Almost any color you can imagine fills the room, giving you a ton to choose from. It’s almost overwhelming.

You see a long, luxurious dress that sits in the middle of the room. It’s a deep crimson color, one that Terrance would probably kill to see you in. You roll your eyes and walk past it, you’re not getting that one.

You look through the rack of dresses, assessing each one as none of them stick out at you. You’re about to give up when you turn and see a deep blue colored dress that sits displayed behind a hidden curtain. You pull it back and gasp at the beautiful dress that seems to call your name.

The dress is as blue as the depths of the sea, the fabric of the skirt reaching the floor as a long slit divides the left corner of the dress, leaving an opening to show off your long legs in. It’s sleeveless, and the material making up the low cut front shimmers against the glistening sun. It’s absolutely perfect. You think Joel might love this, might run his fingers up the slit to feel the smooth skin of your leg, might lose his voice while he mulls over how it fits your curves, might want to rip it off you so he can see what’s underneath…

Without another thought you take the dress to the counter, taking out what feels like hush money and pay for the dress. The dressmaker wraps it in a nice box for you, and you grab the handle and step out into the sunshine. You know you should go back, but the walk here helped clear your mind and you aren’t ready to go back and face your future quite yet. You spin the opposite direction of the Moulin Rouge and come face to face with the one man you want nothing more than to be with. Joel.

“Hi,” he says, blushing slightly.

You bite your cheek to stop from smiling, he’s so fucking beautiful that it almost hurts. “Hi.”

“Whatcha got there?” he asks, nodding towards the box in your arms.

“Oh no no, the Sparkling Diamond never reveals her secrets,” you smirk, curling your red lips up into a playful smile.

“I’ll tell you a secret of mine if you let me peek in that box.”

You stare at him for a second contemplating. Joel Miller is definitely flirting with you.

“You go first,” you say with a giggle.

He steps into you, placing his large palm on the small of your back, his lips close to your ear and whispers, “You were beautiful coming apart on my tongue last night.”

You feel your cheeks and chest redden at his confession, and your clit twitches with the memory of how he felt lapping at your center. You’ve had all sorts of sexual experiences before, but he seemed to know exactly where to touch you without any help. That was the first time in a long time that you didn’t feel like you were going to have to fake an orgasm.

He steps back and taps the box, and you generously open it a little as his eyes widen. “Wow, that's, wow.”

You smile to yourself triumphantly. He’s already speechless, and it’s still in the box. “What are you doing here?”

“I just live right over there,” he says as he points to an old brick building. “I was running some errands before my shift tonight.”

“You’re coming to see me after, right?” you ask shyly, fluttering your long eyelashes up at him. He seems to melt at the weight of your eyes.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, darlin’,” he replies, lowering his voice and adds, “especially if you’re going to be in that fucking dress.”

You gasp at his words. That fucking dress. “Guess you’re going to have to come find me to find out then,” you wink, flashing him your best smile. He smiles back, and it sends warmth flooding through your lower regions.

“You busy now? I could show you my place, if you’d like,” he says shyly, running a hand through his tousled curls as crimson flashes across his cheeks.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

You flick your eyes up to the tall brick building and contemplate your options. You want to, you really want to, but you can’t. You need to get back to the Moulin Rouge and get ready to meet your awful date.

You sigh and shake your head sadly. “I’d love to, Joel. I really would, but I have to get back. I have a busy day.” You see his Adam’s Apple bob up and down, and you want so badly to run your fingers through his hair and press your lips up against his. Sooth him over. Not here though. Not where your uncle or Terrance could see.

“Another time then?” Joel asks with a hopeful glance your way.

You nod in response. “Another time.”

He grazes his hand against yours and discreetly entwines his fingers with yours. It feels so good, so safe, so right. You can’t wait till the night is over, until you can be in Joel’s arms again. That’s where you belong, where you want to be.

You slowly squeeze his hand and then let go, letting your fingers fall to your side against your silky dress. “I need to go. I’ll see you tonight, handsome.”

“Tonight,” he promises. With that you turn and go back to your demise, to the Moulin Rouge.

Joel arrives at the burlesque twenty minutes before his shift. He sneaks in the back door and tucks his guitar away in the maintenance closet and then goes to find Edward. He finds him at the front, in the same pressed, crisp suit from last night. He’s greeting men with enthusiastic handshakes and seems happier overall tonight.

“Joel!” He calls from across the hall, “great to see you, son.”

Joel gives him a tight lipped smile, stuffing his hands in his pockets and heading over to Edward. The men who turned their noses up to him the other night glare sideways at him. He still can’t believe that he’s considered the scum in this place.

“We are using the VIP area tonight after the Sparkling Diamond performs. It hasn’t been used in a while. Can you go up there and check the lighting, make sure the tables and chairs are set up? Also need someone to help the bartender bring up everything.”

His throat tightens at the thought of you having to be up in that room with some of these men. He replies through gritted teeth, “Of course, sir.”

He wanders up one of the spiral staircases off the main dance floor, men clamouring around trying to get the best seat before the girls come out for them to grab at. The VIP area overlooks the burlesque, there’s a private booth along the back with a curtain that the guests can draw closed. Bile rises in his throat at the thought of you being back there, but he knows what you do for work, and even though he knows that he’s madly and wildly in love with you. But it doesn’t mean that you feel the same way. You invited him over tonight, you sat on his lap last night, so he’ll take this at your speed and maybe one day he can get you out of here.

The two tables along the shiny black railing have chairs tipped up on them, so he flips them and places them on the ground neatly. He tests to make sure the tables aren’t wobbly before moving over to the private bar and picking up a knocked over stool.

“Are there any thirsty gents out there tonight?” Edward’s voice booms over the burlesque. Men cheer and whoop in anticipation. “Get ready boys, a little teaser with the Diamonds before your - err umm - the Sparkling Diamond comes out.”

A bartender comes up with a big box full of glasses and alcohol. “Thanks umm…”

“Joel,” he says.

The bartender reaches out his hand and they shake. “Pierre. Thanks for this. Terrance is gonna be up here soon though so you better go.”

“Yeah, the light above the booth is out so I’m gonna change that.”

Pierre laughs to himself, “I wouldn’t bother man. I’m sure whatever woman he takes in there will want it to be dark.”

Terrance, who the fuck is Terrance?

Joel heads down to the main hall when he hears there’s an issue in one of the bathrooms. He sighs and then races off to assess the damage.

You slip the silky blue dress over your body and then slide your feet into sparkly high heeled shoes. The bedazzled strap of the shoe goes up your strong calf, and even though you’re nervous and shaky at the thought of being alone with Terrance in the VIP area tonight, you’ve never felt stronger or sexier than you do in this look. Joel’s flirtations from earlier wash over you and make heat rise in your cheeks. As long as you’re wearing that fucking dress.

You’re not looking forward to Joel seeing you with him tonight. Maybe you should have told him, but you’re just not ready for your time with him to be up yet. Just the thought of not getting him to your room again feels like someone is clamping clothespins along your insides as pain starts burning there.

You slide on some red lipstick and flick your eyeliner out in black sharp lines. As soon as you put the eyeliner down you hear your uncle’s booming voice on the microphone, asking the men to call you to the stage. You take one last look at yourself in the mirror, but you don’t recognize yourself anymore. This painted woman, not even a name or a face on the other side of that curtain. But in your room with Joel, you’re his person. Someone he wants to cherish and care for. You’d do anything for him to feel the same way and take you away from here. Maybe one day he would.

The band starts your music slowly and you act almost robotic as you take the stage, a puppet on a tight string where the men call all the shots. You practically disassociate, letting muscle memory take over as you start to move. It brings you to the stage, pulling you into the bright lights of the large room as the men stand and wait. You point and flirt, spin and tease the men with the long slit up your leg, exposing soft skin that the men practically claw at. You bend and push your cleavage together towards the faceless men in the audience, hating that you have to do this night after night.

After your music ends, your uncle comes out with the other Diamonds. “This little petal is spoken for tonight, gents,” he calls. They groan as their hopes and dreams of getting alone time with you fly out the window. You can’t believe there was a time when that made you feel good about yourself, now it makes you feel cheap and used. “But I have some lonely Diamonds that could use some polishing, if you know what I mean,” he says with a wink as the men cheer at his announcement, already reaching for the other dancers.

Your uncle leads you off the lit up stage and pushes you towards the spiral staircase. “Make him happy, petal.” You groan as you climb the winding staircase, dreading what you know is about to come.

You didn’t look up during your performance once, not that you would have been able to see with the bright lights shining in your eyes, but when you reach the balcony you’re shocked to see Terrance with five of his friends. They whistle and catcall as you appear, and you feel hot bile rise in your throat.

“There you are. Gents, this is my girl. Give them a little spin,” he says with a greasy grin. You spin slowly, one of the men grabbing at your ass when your back is to them. You cringe at the unwelcome hands as they claw at your dress.

“Hey, hands off,” Terrance growls. For a second you’re grateful for him, until he opens his mouth again. “Unless you wanna pay me for her.”

His small, cold hand wraps around your wrist and he pulls you over to sit on his lap. His leg is bony and uncomfortable, but he pins you to him. The men order more bourbon and talk while your mind wanders to Joel. He doesn’t have bony legs, no. They’re thick and muscular, filling out his work jeans nicely. You find your eyes scanning the Moulin Rouge looking for him. You need to see him, you need that reminder of what you have to live for.

That dreadful feeling hits you again, weighing you down as cold air floods your insides. You don’t want to do this anymore.

After what feels like hours, you finally see Joel coming out of the men’s bathroom with his metal toolbox in hand. You look away from him, scared that your gaze might somehow attract his, and you can’t bear the chance of seeing any sort of hurt in his eyes that you might be causing him right now.

The men around you have gotten increasingly more drunk and sloppy, hands reaching for you clumsily. Terrance’s hand roams up the bodice of your dress, and your stomach clenches as you feel a heavy weight in your chest start to burn. He grazes your breast slightly before pushing your hair out of the way and places a wet, slobbery kiss to the back of your shoulder. You swallow hard, fighting the urge to retch.

“So, we can pay you then?” One of them asks Terrance. They’re talking like you’re not even here, like you’re mute and unable to do anything of your own free will.

“I don’t like to share what’s mine, but look at her.” His hand comes back to your breast and squeezes hard, making you bite down on your tongue as you taste blood run down the back of your throat.

“Let me see her, decide if I want to get out my checkbook or not,” another one says raspily.

Terrance tries to lift you up off him. You stand begrudgingly as he shoves you towards his friend. The other man gropes at your waist and pulls you roughly into him. You stumble, ripping the skirt of your dress as you fall into his lap. You let out a little squeal at the impact, the slit of your dress falling open to expose your upper thigh.

“I think she likes it,” he laughs, one of his hands grabbing a lock of your hair as he takes a strong whiff of your citrus shampoo. The other lands on your soft milky thigh as he adds, “You definitely picked the best whore in the house, Terrance.” Whore. The word makes you tense up and makes you feel completely disgusting. He goes to cup your breast and slowly slides the top of the dress down, exposing your breast completely as he kneads at it while the other men howl like wild dogs.

You feel the sting of tears in your eyes, feel one roll coldly down your cheek as it splashes against the wooden floor. Terrance just sits there, marveling at your body as he watches his friend ravish your bare skin. You try to get up, but he holds you down. “Where do you think you’re going, gorgeous? We paid for you, don’t think you’re going anywhere else tonight,” he smirks, his lips running hastily down your neck as you cringe away from him.

“Alright now, that’s enough. Give her back now,” Terrance demands as he yanks you off his friend and sits you back in his lap. Now it’s his turn to pry his cold hands over your body.

He slides his hand up to cup your exposed breast, softly kissing your earlobe while his wet mustache tickles your skin. One of his other friends bends down and picks up your leg where the torn slit sits, running his hand up your exposed thigh. A second friend grabs your other leg, parting your thighs and exposing your lacy panties. You freeze, there’s no stopping it, this is what you must do to save the Moulin Rouge, so you just sit there and take it, letting another hot tear run down your face as it lands with a splash on your ruined blue dress.

Maybe when you’re eighteen you can join them.

The room seems to blur as your wet eyes gaze at the ceiling, looking anywhere but at the men that take and take and take from you without any say from you.

Joel… Save me…

Joel's eyes scan the crowded room, looking past flirtatious dancers as they flock around handsy men in expensive suits. When he doesn’t find you anywhere on the dance floor, he lifts his eyes slowly to the balcony, praying he won’t see you in that dark booth. His gaze stops cold as he sees just what’s happening. You are in the booth and there are six men feasting their eyes and hands on you, devouring you up as they take and take and take from you without any remorse on their sly faces.

He sees the way you close your eyes and look away, sees the hot tears that roll down your face as they paint the front of your dress wet. Something in the depths of his stomach snaps. Pure red hot rage blinds him as he drops the heavy toolbox on the ground, grabbing the hammer and clutching it tightly in his fist like a drawn weapon. He squeezes the metal handle as he flares his nostrils and clenches his jaw, snarling his teeth so tight that he swears he’s about to break them. He’s going to fucking kill every single man up there that has their grimy hands on you. He’s going to destroy every last one of them.

He takes one step forward and feels a hand pull him back into the shadows. He turns around as fast as lightning and finds one of the dancers shaking her head at him. “Leave it alone, Joel. Do not go up there and bother them,” she warns with red matte lips and purple eyeshadow that cakes over green eyes.

“What do you mean don’t go up there? Look at her, she’s crying and looks like she wants to die!” he yells, anger seething him as he looks back up to see your eyes open, staring at him as if you’re screaming for him to come save you.

He parts his lips and furrows his eyebrows together, watching the man who’s beneath you kiss down your neck with a sloppy tongue while his other hand kneads your exposed breast. It makes Joel sick, makes his hand tighten around the hammer that much more as he takes another heavy step forward.

The dancer stops him once again. “You don’t want to do that, Joel. That’s Terrance.”

Terrance. Ah. That’s who that fucking is. He wants to murder Terrance slowly and painfully, make him suffer for everything he’s done to his girl.

“Who the fuck is Terrance?” Joel growls as his teeth gnash together.

“Terrance is filthy rich. A powerful man you don’t want to cross. He’s given this place a lot of money, invested a ton in the Sparkling Diamond. Do not fuck this up, Joel. Leave it alone. Leave her alone,” she warns.

Leave her alone? He can’t, he won’t.

“Fuck that, I’m going to make him pay,” he growls.

“Joel!” She says his name loud and firm, digging her long nails into the skin of his wrist. He has no choice but to turn and look at her.

“Look, I can see what’s going on. I see the way you look at her. I saw the smile on your face last night when I caught you leaving her room. You need to be more careful. You’re not supposed to be seeing her, remember? If Edward were to find out you’d be…”

He cuts her off before she can finish her sentence. “What, fired? Don’t you think I know that? Do you think I don’t think about that every fucking minute of the day? But you know what? I don’t care anymore. Because I… fuck, I think I fucking love her.”

The words hang heavily between them before he continues. “No, I know I do. I love her, and if you want to tell Edward then be my guest. I’ll somehow manage without the job, but I can’t manage without her.” He points up to the balcony to make a strong statement and watches as you keep your eyes fixed on him. You need him. You need him.

“Joel…” the dancer says quietly. “I’m not going to tell Edward. She’s basically a daughter to me, and I hate what’s happening up there just as much as you. Just please, be careful. Watch your back and don’t get yourself caught. I’d hate to see what would happen if you did,” she says sadly, eyes gazing back up at you as Joel’s eyes follow.

They watch together as you get torn to shreds, your beautiful dress absolutely ruined by those starving pigs. Joel can’t remember ever being this angry, so very angry. He feels hot lava run through his veins, feels his lip quiver as he watches defenseless. He can’t save you right now and that alone kills him the most.

You nod slowly at him, eyes still wet with tears, but you tug a small smile on your face and mouth ‘it’s okay’ to him. But it’s not okay, it’s just fucking not.

His hand clenches around the base of the hammer, and he has to steady himself as he feels anger, sadness, and helplessness wash over him. He can’t do anything right now which makes him feel like he’s fucking drowning underwater. He hates this, hates you having to sit there and take it. He can’t watch anymore. It’s too much, this is too much. He bends over and picks up the heavy toolbox again and takes one more glance in your direction, eyes locking for a few seconds before he turns the opposite way and heads down the hall.

“I can’t watch this anymore, just tell me when it’s over,” he sighs as he leaves the dancer’s side and trudges down the dim lit hall, away from the men that paw you like starving animals. He can’t do this. He can’t do this. Not when he loves you so goddamn much. It kills him, this kills him. So he decides to go drown himself in work just so he won’t have to see it anymore, won’t have to see your pleading eyes as they stare at him helplessly, begging him to rescue you.

You sigh when you see Joel disappear down the hall, almost cry out his name as they continue to bleed you dry. You need him. You need him.

Come save me, Joel. Come back, come back.

Another hot tear falls and splashes to the floor as you turn your head back to the men as they have their fun with you. This isn’t worth the money, this isn’t worth anything. You’d rather be standing out on the streets than be ravished by disgusting men. You’d rather be with Joel in your room, getting lost in his velvety lips and soft brown eyes. After this you would, after this he’d be yours. You just had to hold on a little longer, give these men what they desired most, which was you. You just hoped Joel still wanted you after seeing you like this…

“More bourbon!” Terrance calls to the bartender as he watches his friends do vile things to your partially naked body.

“Sorry, sir, but we appear to be out.” The bartender says sheepishly.

The men groan, one of them saying, “Let’s go then gents.” Terrance and his disgusting friends grumble about the horrible service and leave you laying there, exposed and raw on the seating of the dark booth. Your body is slick with your own nervous sweat, as well as the clammy sweat of those men's hands and only God knows what else.

“Come on, kid.” The bartender says, helping you up and wrapping you in a silky red table cloth. “Let me take you to Edward.”

“No,” you breathe out, shaking your head quickly. He's just as responsible for this as Terrance. You want to be alone or with Joel, not around money starved pigs. “I’ll get myself to my room, thanks.”

You walk quietly across the balcony, feeling like your legs will give out at any minute. You place your shaky hand against the stair rail and descend the curvy staircase. You see the men downstairs staring up at you, feel their eyes devour you as they see you wrapped in the red tablecloth. You know what they think of you, know what they’d like to do to you as well. You just gulp down a whimpered breath and continue on to your room, ignoring every catcall and question thrown your way. You just want to be alone, to be away from all this loud madness. You want Joel, need him like you need air to breathe.

When you open your heavy door, Joel is already there. Sitting at the small bistro kitchen table, elbows propped against the edge with his head resting heavily in his hands. You swallow loudly and clear your throat carefully. “I’m sorry,” you apologize quietly, fidgeting with the red tablecloth that wraps around your shoulders.

Joel’s head whips up fast, tears running down his face as his wide eyes lock on yours. “How? Why? I - I thought you weren’t… I didn’t know you were entertaining other men.” He looks so sad. So very sad, and it nearly shatters your heart into pieces.

“It’s complicated,” you say as you stare at the floor, tightening the table cloth around your body a little more.

“Don’t do that, don’t shut yourself off to me.” Joel gets up and walks over to you slowly, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. Your mascara is smudged, lipstick stained across your chin, and you’re sure your hair is a mess. “I’m not blaming you, just please tell me how this happened?”

You wet your lips nervously as he continues staring at you intently. It’s almost overwhelming when he’s looking at you the way he is now. All soft and concerned. The wet trails down his cheeks feel like a hot stake to your heart. “Edward sold me,” you whisper sadly.

“What?” he gasps, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“He sold me,” you repeat as shame crosses your face.

“Why would he do that? Why!” His voice is angry, hurt. He doesn’t understand, so you’ll have to tell him everything.

As you tell Joel everything that happened the other night he leads you to your kitchen, pushing back a chair as he sits you down slowly. He crouches in front of you, rubbing his warm palms over your chilled skin, and it feels good. So good.

“That’s,” he breathes out in disbelief, “that’s awful. I’m so sorry, baby. You don’t deserve this, being treated like this by your boss.”

“My uncle,” you correct, eyes dancing along his concerned face.

“What?” this time it’s not a gasp, it’s anger. Pure wretched anger. “Edward is your uncle? Your uncle sold you? Your own family, someone who is supposed to protect you, sold you!” he asks angrily, eyes darkening as his nostrils flare uncontrollably.

He stands and starts pacing around your room, clenching his fists beside him as he can barely keep the anger in any longer. He’s going to fucking murder him, too.

“Please calm down, Joel.”

“Calm down? Calm down! This is vile. Cruel. Abhorrent. This is, there’s no words for what this is!” He’s raising his voice, and you start to feel yourself putting up your walls again as you jump onto the defense.

“Why did you even come here tonight if you’re just going to yell at me?” you ask shakily, standing up and dropping the table cloth to the floor as you expose your torn blue dress. The skirt of your dress is almost fully detached from the bottom of your hips and wet patches of spilled bourbon stick uncomfortably against your skin. His eyes widen as he takes in the torn dress, eyes turning to sadness as he sees the beautiful material ripped to shreds.

“I’m not yelling at you. I’m just,” he pauses, running his hand over his patchy scruff in frustration, the other falling to his side defeatedly. “I think I’m - well I…” He stops his sentence and drags his eyes over your ruined dress. “Baby, your dress…” he says quietly, eyebrows knitting together in full concern.

You lower your eyes and run your hands over the torn material of silk, see the way the sparkly material hangs like a ripped up washrag. This was your favorite dress, too…

“I know, I know. They just couldn’t help themselves, could they?” Your eyes flash up to his, and you see sorrow in them as soft brown eyes search yours carefully.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You sure did look beautiful in it, too. So very beautiful. My Sparkling Diamond…”

Both his hands fall to his hips as you walk over to him. You need to know what he was about to say before he changed the subject. Save me, tell me you love me, you think to yourself. “What were you going to say to me, Joel? You stopped your sentence,” you coo, eyes flicking up to his softly. Finish what you were going to say.

“Nothing. It’s not your fault, I don’t want to make you feel that way.”

“This can be our space, Joel. What happened tonight is part of my job, but I can endure all of that if it means that we get this. Can you?”

He looks at you carefully, weighing his options. But it doesn’t take him long before he pulls you into his arms, one hand landing on your lower back as the other cradles the back of your skull. You relax into his touch, sinking all your weight into him. You you can endure anything as long as it brings you back here. To Joel. To the man that you are sure loves you just as much as you love him, even if neither of you have dared to say the words yet. You know. This is it for you, Terrance or not, this is where you belong.

“Yes, darlin’. Even if it kills me to see it, I’ll always be here for you.” He presses his lips to the top of your head. “Go take a shower, baby. I’ll be right here waiting. I brought my guitar if you want to play?” he asks with hope in his large brown eyes.

You smile into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist tighter. “I don’t really know how. I only managed to learn a little…” you say quietly.

He laughs a little and pulls back to look into your eyes. “You have a guitar in the corner of your room,” he chuckles softly.

“I know,” you say, laughing back at him, “I want to learn more. Will you teach me?”

He lowers his head to press his lips gently to yours. “Go shower and I’ll teach ya.”

“Alright.” You brush past his hand and feel the warm heat inside you as you walk away towards your lit up bathroom with beads of pearls strewn across your wide mirror. You turn back to see him watching you, and you smile shyly as you close the door and disappear from his view.

You unzip your torn to shreds dress and let it fall in a heap on the ground, climbing into the shower as you let the warm heat rinse away the taste of regret on your sweaty skin. You take the dusty pink washcloth and soak your skin with vanilla soap. Making sure to scrub off every inch of bourbon and dirty fingerprints that those nasty men had left on you.

You watch the dirt fall down the drain, feel your skin come back to life as the clean skin seems to glow. This is how you’re supposed to feel, not like how you felt up there on the balcony with those savages. You felt used, like a dirty ragdoll that they could do whatever they wanted with you, but you wouldn’t let them do it again. You’d rather ruin your chances with Terrance and watch the Moulin Rouge fall apart than be back up in that dark booth again where no one could save you. Where your silent screams couldn’t be heard.

When you finish with your shower, you cut off the water and dry off quickly, wrapping a pink silky robe around yourself as you comb through your curls and put on fresh red lipstick. You pucker your lips together and spray a dash of sweet smelling perfume on your neck. As you take one more look at yourself, you pull the sliding doors open and walk back into the room to find Joel sitting on the window seat by the open balcony strumming along softly on his guitar.

You watch the way his thick fingers graze gently along each string, watch him hum to the beat of the song he plays quietly. He looks so good, so beautiful sitting there in the moonlight with his tousled curls falling gently over his eyes. You think you see heaven in those soft brown eyes of his, think you see the man you want to spend forever with.

When you pad across the wooden floors, he looks up slowly and smiles at you as his lips curl into an infectious grin. “There’s my girl. C’mere.” He curls his index finger toward him and coaxes you to follow. You do so without hesitation.

When you make it over to him, he puts his guitar to the side and spreads his thighs to make room for you. As you turn around, he pulls you up against his broad chest and places the guitar in your hands, hooking his arms around you as he puts his hands gently over yours and guides them to the strings. Your breath hitches at the contact.

“Is this okay, baby?” he asks. You nod your head before he continues. “Let me take you through all the basic chords, then I can show you a simple song or two.”

He grazes his calloused fingers over yours and slowly takes you through each cord, careful to explain each note and how to be gentle with it. It doesn’t take you long to pick up on what he shows you and takes less time to actually teach you the first song.

“Alright, go slow,” he instructs, keeping his hands on yours as he talks you through the notes. “Yeah, just like that. There ya go. Doin’ so good, sweetheart. You’re a natural,” he praises as he brushes his lips against your jawline, dragging it down slowly as he places a gentle kiss against your cheek. You about melt at the sweetness of it all, of him.

“You really think I’m doing good?” you ask with a giggle, feeling his right hand trace lines up and down your right arm as you continue to strum along the taut strings.

“Think you’re doin’ amazing, darlin’. Such a good little guitar player,” he praises as he places another kiss to your jawline. You nearly fall apart every time he praises you, kissing you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever planted his lips on.

When the song ends, he places the guitar to the side and wraps his arms around your waist as he entwines his fingers with yours. He makes an assessment of the bright walls that are covered with pink wallpaper and jewels and looks down to take in the soft pink robe that’s latched around you.

“You sure do love pink, don’t ya?” he asks with a soft chuckle that sounds like music to your ears.

“Mhm,” you hum as you lean against his broad chest and melt into his touch.

“That your favorite color?” he asks gently.

“How could you tell?” you ask with a playful smirk.

“Lucky guess,” he laughs as he grins down at you with soft brown eyes.

“And yours? What’s your favorite color?” you ask as you turn to face out the window, looking upon the lit up city as it sits below your view.

“Blue. Not just any blue. A deep navy blue, like the color of your dress. That’s my favorite color, the one you picked out at the dress shop. Thought I was having a heart attack seein’ ya in it tonight. You looked beautiful, just like a rare precious diamond. But you are a diamond, aren’t ya? You’re the rarest Sparkling Diamond I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he breathes out quietly as he trails a finger along your jawline, gently pushing a curl behind your ear as you turn around to face him.

You look up into his eyes and all you see are warm flecks of sunlight that shine down upon you, sinking into your eyes as you let your arms hook around the back of his neck. You think you see love in his eyes, and you’re sure he sees it there in yours, too.

“Joel Miller, you’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met. The most handsome, kind, and gentle man I ever laid eyes on. You know that?” you ask with a smile as he cups your chin and raises your face to his, just inches from his lips.

“Yeah? You think so?” he asks with the corners of his mouth curling up into the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Mhm,” you nod as your fingers wind around the curls on the nape of his neck.

“Does that mean you’re mine?” he asks quietly as he traces his thumb against your lower lip, making butterflies flit down in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m all yours,” you answer. And that’s all the answer he needs as he falls into your lips and kisses you deeply as his fingers curl around your long locks and his other hand pulls you tight to his chest. He tastes like heaven, smells like his acoustic guitar, all woodsy and mahogany. And you think you want to stay right here in his arms forever.

“Good, I’m yours, too. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you again.” The two of you sit quietly, tangled into one another, almost as if you’re trying to become one. “So? You gonna teach me something now?”

You giggle into his skin, contemplating what you should show him. You don’t have any clay, but you planned to pick some up tomorrow on your day off. “Hmmm, we will have to get up if you want me to teach you something.”

He loosens his grip on you, wrapping his hands around your waist and helps lift you up. You spin gracefully towards him and grab his hands, tugging him up to his feet. He looks at you with one eyebrow raised as you place one of his large palms on the small of your back, your hand trailing up his strong forearm and bicep before finding a home on his shoulder. You place your other hand in his and hold it out to the side of your body.

“What are we doin’ here, sweet girl?” Joel asks, slightly nervous that you’re about to see him make a fool of himself.

You smile up at him, stepping in so close that your breasts are pressed up against his broad chest. “I feel sexiest when I’m doing the waltz.”

Joel feels his stomach drop. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that right?” You giggle a little as he adds, “But anything for you, always anything for you.”

“I promise it’s easy, the tempo is slow-slow-quick-quick, you repeat it twice in the shape of a box.” Joel looks at you like you’re speaking a different language, confusion furrowing in his brows and you can’t stop the smile that lights up your face. “Just follow me.”

Joel can’t tear his eyes off you, trying to follow but bumps into you and presses his toes against yours instead. You carry out a loud laugh. “Joel, look at your feet until you get the hang of it.”

“Can’t,” he says, “you’re too pretty.”

You stop moving your feet and look up at him. “Kiss me then.”

His lips come down to yours gently and he brings the hand he’s holding to rest on his shoulder, sliding his hand down to your waist gently as he hooks his arms around you tightly. You hum into his kiss as he starts to sway from side to side. He might not be able to waltz but this feels better, so much better.

You break the kiss hesitantly and look back up into honey colored eyes. “Please, stay the night. The club is closed tomorrow, Edward is leaving for the day. Please, Joel?”

He kisses you again slowly as his lips graze softly against yours. “I can’t say no when you say please like that, darlin’.”

You kiss him again, curving your lips up into a tight smile as his lips mould against yours. “Then it’s settled then, tonight you’re mine.”

“Tonight I’m yours,” he whispers back as his forehead leans against yours and his fingers entwine around yours.

Minutes later you’re tucked snuggly under the fuzzy fleece blanket, laying against Joel’s chest as he wraps his arms around you and combs his fingers through your smooth locks. You sink into his space, feel yourself get lost in his savory scent as your fingers trail up and down his inner arm as you trace each vein like they’re the map to his heart.

You could stay here forever in his arms, get lost in each other as you both breathe each other in again and again and again. This is where you belong, in Joel’s arms. This is right. This is home.

You let your eyes fall closed as he continues to soothe you to sleep with his warm touches and gentle kisses. “Goodnight, sweet girl. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You let his words bring you peace as you feel yourself fade off into the dark. The last thing you remember is him kissing the top of your head and whispering words you can’t quite make out.

Home. He’s home.

[crushedsweets]

Hey! I love your artwork! I think it’s beautiful!!!

I just wanted to ask, what would Toby and Natalie’s relationship be like if they were able to start dating? I’m genuinely curious.

P.S. LONG LIVE TICCIWORK AND NINAKATE!!!!!

HIIII OK I LIKE THIS OMG i cant believe i hadnt thought about it before. ok i spoke a lot more than i thought i would...all under the cut LOL omg..

okay so, like i mentioned, they would probably have some random drunk kiss one night. maybe a christmas party and nina brings in mistle toe and its stupid. maybe new years party and the clock strikes 12 and they were like 'fuck it why not'.

natalie would have to initiate a lot of the starting conversations and touches. toby grew up with people thinking he was some gross virus roaming around, with boys pushing him around and girls sneering at him, so he's really hesitant. and natalie does get upset pretty easily if toby tries doing things without her permission, even if its something like doing her laundry - he has to ask. and he always does

it would start off pretty awkward too... neither of them know what to say, and both of them are so stubborn with egos the size of the moon - their pride knows no bounds. but at times, toby's ego can morph into something more cocky and he'll say stupid shit. 'you wanna kiss me so bad i know it' 'oh should i get nina to buy some mistle toe again' 'if you wanted to spend the night you couldve just asked'. at first clocky would get mad and pissy, and toby would laugh at her, and they'd move on. but eventually instead of moving on, one of them would say something like 'well.... do you actually want to' and they would. awkwardly, of course. a kiss, laying in bed together, brushing eachothers hair, etc.

their most intimate moments probably happen in the kitchen. that's always been quite the place of love for toby, so to lean against a counter and bring natalie close and give her a kiss in the warmest room of the house while something good is cooking in the oven ... probably means a lot to him

i think they'd love hikes. theres a waterfall in my au that they'd go to often, strip down to their underwear, and sit under. they'd wrestle and splash water and laugh and eat some fruit they packed and fall asleep under the sun after hours of just fucking around. kisses constantly swap between sudden acts of passion and excitement, to a quiet, lazy, quick kiss while throwing a towel over their shoulder.

but of course, they are still difficult. toby's reckless and natalie is picky, so theres a lot of arguments that spring up from nothing. this would be a constant thing until one of them eventually cries - something neither of them are used to. that would probably be a tipping point for them to start really looking into being a better person for eachother. but that is not easy by any means and neither of them are capable of being perfect. at fucking all

their biggest issue would be close to their canon shit.. toby wants to stay, clocky wants to leave. run away from all the bullshit she got trapped in. clocky is more likely to truly just fuck off and leave toby behind, and that scares the everliving shit out of toby every day - he'd swap between 'i have to be so good she'll never leave' and 'you fucking asshole just leave already its inevitable theres nothing i can do to change it'. but clocky just wants to live a normal normal normal life. she wants to grow old with kids and a career and a nice dog and to make dinner every night. she wants her biggest problem to be the dog tracking in mud.

eventually toby settles down, and while he cant just walk away from slenderman, they figure something out. a shared apartment, toby gets closer to the farm owners and he starts working more often. clocky gets into tattooing. toby is the first person she ever tattoos on. they both have to compromise a lot, but they can't imagine doing this for (or with) anybody else

[final-girl96]

Ageless Secrets Chapter Thirteen

Joel

Joel stacked a few flat rocks on top of each other by the rivers edge. It was the only way he could honor Tess. Yn sat not far from him, sitting on the rocks, staring blankly at the water. She had fallen asleep in his arms, exhausted from all the crying and grieving was now going through. He knew she didn't mean what she said; about it being his fault that Tess was bitten and is now gone. He also knew she didn't hate him. She might hate him at the moment but she'll forgive him; she'll forgive Tess too. She'll recover…hopefully.

He walked over to her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. “Come on, we got a five hour hike to Bill and Franks.” She didn't say anything and didn't make an attempt to move. “Yn, we need to go.” That got a reaction out of her. She shrugged his hand off her shoulder and stood up, turning to look at him.

“Don't fucking touch me. I know what you're thinking, Joel. As soon as we get to Frank and Bills you'll finally be rid of me; be rid of Ellie. Then you can go off to find your brother. Have you ever thought that maybe he's not answering you or trying to reach out because he's dead or maybe he just doesn't want to deal with you anymore.” She pushed past him and walked back towards where Ellie was waiting.

Joel's hands formed into fists, he clenched his jaw so tight he thought he was going to crack his teeth. He had to remind himself she was grieving the loss of her sister. He would be that same way if it had been Tommy. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it before walking after her.

Yn

I felt guilty the second I said what I did to Joel. I shouldn't be taking my anger out on him. It wasn't his fault that Tess was infected. It could have happened to any of us. There have been countless times that I've almost gotten bitten only for Tess or Joel or Tommy saving me. I would like to say the person I was really mad at was Tess. Mad at her for getting herself into this shit and getting herself killed. But I'm not. I'm not mad at her or Joel or Tommy or even Ellie, no, I'm mad at myself.

I'm mad at myself for not talking her out of coming on this fucking trip. I'm mad that I pulled away from her. Mad that I didn't Spend more time with her. I'm mad that it wasn't me. She's all I had left and she's gone, of course I'm going to be pissed and everything and everyone. Even though I feel guilty for what I said to Joel, a part of me still thinks he's going to be happy to get rid of Ellie and I once we get to Frank and Bills.

As soon as Joel and I got back to where Ellie was waiting she stood up and started talking. “You want your jacket back?” She asked Joel, handing him his jacket. He took it from her and went over to his backpack. “I’ve never been in the woods. More bugs than I thought. Look, I’ve been thinking about…” Joel turned and looked at her, “I don’t want your sorries,” he said. I rolled my eyes and scoffed.

“I wasn’t gonna say I’m sorry,” Ellie snapped at him. “I was gonna say that I’ve been thinking about what happened. Nobody made you or yn or Tess take me. Nobody made you go along with this plan. You needed a truck battery or whatever, and you made a choice. So don’t blame me for something that isn’t my fault.”

“Nobody blames you, Ellie,” I told her, ignoring Joel's eyes bruning to me. “This wasn't your fault. It wasn't Joel's or mine. It was unfortunate. Like Tess said, our luck had to run out at some point.” Silence fell between the three of us for what felt like hours until Ellie broke it. “How much longer?” She asked. “Five-hour hike. We can manage that.” She nodded and grabbed her bag and put it on her back.

We walked for about two hours until we got to the road we needed to be on to get to Bill and Franks. It was mostly silent the whole way besides Ellie's attempt at whistling. “What the hell are you doing?” Joel asked her. “I'm trying to whistle,” she said and attempted it again. “You can't whistle?” I asked her. “No. I'm still trying to learn,” she said. I hummed, nodding my head, “They didn't teach you that in FEDRA school?” Joel asked. “Oh, ha ha ha.”

Another hour and we were getting closer and closer to our destination. “You’ve gone this way a lot? No Infected?” Ellie finally asked, breaking the silence. “Not often, no,” Joel answered.

“What are you looking out for?”

Joel sighed, “People.”

“Oh. Are Bill and Frank nice?” She asked, looking between Joel and I. “Frank is,” We said in unison. We walked a few more miles with Ellie asking questions the whole way. “How’d you get that scar on your head?”Joel side eyed her but didnt answer. “What? Is it something lame? Like you fell down the stairs or something?”

“I didn’t fall down any stairs,” Joel said, sighing in annoyance. “Okay, so what then?” She pressed. “Someone shot at me and missed.”

“See, that’s cool. You shoot back?” She asked. “Yeah.” Was Joel's simple answer. “You get him?”

“No, I missed, too. It happens more often than you think.”

“‘Cause you suck at shooting or, like, in general?” I couldn't help but let out a small laugh at how annoyed Joel was getting with all her questions. It was entertaining for me and took my mind off of what happened. “In general.”

“You know, seeing as it’s just the three of us, I was thinking I should pro…” Joel cut her off, “No.” I shook my head too agree with Joel, “Definitely no.”

Finally Cumberland Farms, a place we would stash stuff and where Joel would meet Bill sometimes, came into view. “Hang back a minute. I gotta grab some stuff I stashed.” Joel started walking towards the doors with Ellie hot on his heels. “Stashed? Why do you have stuff stashed here?” She asked. “You ask a lot of goddamn questions,” he said to her, huffing out a sigh. “Yes, I do.”

I hung back and let Ellie follow Joel inside. “So, are you gonna answer me or what?” I heard her ask and the heavy sigh of Joel. “We hide supplies on routes in case we find ourselves short on gear, which I currently am ’cause…” He was cut off and I saw Ellie over at the video game.

“No way! You ever play this one? I had a friend who knew everything about this game. There’s this one character named Mileena who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth, and then she swallows you whole and barfs out your bones!” She said excitedly. “That's pretty cool. I used to like going to the arcade when I was your age. Pacman and Donkey Kong were the ones I liked playing the most.” I stood there leaning against the door frame listening to Ellie talk more about the game until she looked over at Joel.

“Ah. Oh, man. You forgot where you put your stuff,” She said. Joel didn't look up at her, just kept trying to find where he stashed the shit. “No. I’m just zeroing in on it. It’s been a couple of years.” He would never admit to anyone that he in fact did forget where it was hidden. “Okay, well, I’m gonna take a look around, see if there’s anything good.”

“Trust me, it’s all been picked over already,” he told her, still looking for the loose flooring. “Maybe, maybe not. Is there anything bad in here?” She asked. “Just you,” he retorted. “Ah. Getting funnier.” Ellie rolled her eyes and headed into the back.

“Fuck.”

There was some clunking coming from where Ellie was that caught Joel's attention, making him look up. “You alright back there?” He asked loudly. “Yep!”

“It's over there,” I said, pointing to where the loose floorboards were that we stashed shit in. He looked back at me and I raised my eyebrows at him. “I know that,” he said, going over to where I pointed. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that old man.” He scoffed at my jab and knelt down. “Old man. i'll show you old man,” he mumbled under his breath but I heard it.

I stayed by the door looking back every once in a while, keeping watch to make sure nobody snuck up on us. It was about five minutes with no sound from Ellie. “Ellie?” I called out, looking over at Joel when I didn't get an answer right away. “Ellie!” Joel yelled, standing up now with his gun slowly coming up to his shoulder. “Ellie?”

I jumped a little when she came out of the back room, “Picked over, my ass,” she said, holding a box of tampons up. I could see the heavy breath and went back to what he was doing. “What are you doing?” Ellie asked him as he put the rifle that he got off the guard in the hole with the other stuff. “There’s not much ammo out there for this thing. Makes it mostly useless,” he told her.

“Well, if you’re just gonna leave it there.”

“No,” Joel and I said in unison. Ellie rolled her eyes and we walked out of the store and headed on our way.

[was-theoretically-theo]

Twenty questions that he has to answer.

How is your sleep schedule like? Don't mess with Theodore's. I annoyed him for a year about it and finally he got it right. Tho I am sure he got it right because of someone else. (Aka you) 😏

What are your friends like? Explain in brief. Treat this like a three marks question.

What is your ideal way to spend weekends? Will you take Theodore to museums or not? Will you stay in and cancel your plans if Theodore doesn't feel like going? Without blaming him?

Do you know your love language? Do you know how to convey it? (You don't have to tell me what it is just say yes or no)

What's your favourite thing about dating my best friend? Treat this like a three marks question too.

What are some things you and him have in common?

Will you give all your chocolates to him if he asks?

What's your favourite movie?

Favourite way to relax?

Will you say sorry after an argument even if it wasn't exactly your fault? I believe that saying sorry doesn't mean that you are wrong it just means that you care enough to keep your ego aside and take accountability.

Do you like Spiderman/Percy Jackson? (Very important question)

Hobbies?

Any new hobbies you want to pick up?

Will you read a book just because it is Theodore's favourite?

Favourite poet, if any?

Will you get Theodore roses?

Will you help/ask whether you can help Theodore with his chores without him having to ask you?

Extroverted or introverted?

Most played song on your playlist?

If you could master any instrument than which one?

That's it. I guess. Hope you have a wonderful day, take care of yourself and him. Also, nice to meet you, I am Eleanor. Theodore is my best friend, I am his casual friend. I am from India. Eleanor is not my real name but that is what you can refer to me, for now. Any queries? Message me. Take care of my best friend for me. Give him hugs from my side. Time to time, lots of hugs. Theodore, give him a handshake from my side. Thank you.

passing the phone to him

Shalom!! Eleanor (can I call you Ellie?  Oo or even Elea ~pronounced Ella??~ if not that’s groovy too)

I’m very excited I’ve heard lots about you! All good don’t worry babes)

I try to sleep about seven hours a night but sometimes I sleep 8 but I couldn’t do anything less unless absolutely necessary I physically could not lose a day of beauty rest of it would ruin me

Friends….all pretty diverse actually and there are several different personalities.. I’ll give you my ride or dies so okay we All went to an alternative school not because we had disciplinary problems but because we had different problems that made normal schools challenging. Like I for example have dyslexia and ADD. Anyway my best friends and I sorta bonded over this and I’ve been friends with Elton since grade five and we still keep in touch even now but he decided to go to college and I did not he’s a literal fashion icon and the sweetest smartest cinnamon roll you could meet but if he’s not doing his work you need to get on him because he procrastinates like crazy. So now we only see each other on weekends. Kaleb on the other hand went overseas and we FaceTime every morning except Sundays because of church and she’s really into anime and I can’t tell you much about that stuff except the seven deadly sins is better than demon slayer and bleach is something Kaleb rewatchs every few weeks so you best expect that it’s going to be playing when you visit but my life really doesn’t have interesting drama thank goodness. (No offence starshine👀)

I love to spend my weekends exploring I used to hike a lot but Arc is not a fan of the outdoors though we’ve found he has a knack for gardening and does very good on the family farm he just really doesn’t see the point and I don’t really blame him I suppose it’s not for everyone and I know Arc is more of a moon person. Yes actually we do go to museums and no I wouldn’t ever get mad at him for that we all have our off days

Yes and yes but ours is not the same so it’s good to keep of communication in our relationship so we stay afloat. We really haven’t had any problems though as words of affirmation is something Arc is good at unknowingly because of his poetry addiction and I’ve always been a really touchy person

My favorite thing about dating Arc is his ability to express himself though body language for example we’re at a party I don’t have a ask in front of everyone if he’s tired from all the human interaction he just shows it with expressions or posture..or whatever he chooses to convey but I never have to ask. This can be a problem on the small occasion that I can’t see him because I cannot rely on him to tell me because I usually know.

We’re people pleasers and that’s one of things we sorta bonded over when we first met we feel horrible égéen if the thing wasn’t our problem or responsibility because it made whoever upset. We don’t have very good people skills I’m overbearing and him not enough which has lead a lot of people to sorta stay away unless of course you’re also like us. I’ve found that we both share an appreciation of art mine is more in fashion design and makeup while his is writing and visual sorta stuff

Without hesitation(I’m not a huge fan of chocolate)

Geek charming (I’m not sorry)

Meditation.

Yes because I will feel bad for making him upset though he’s probably right anyway as he’s more logical than me…but one cannot always choose mind over morals so maybe I might be right on the off occasion

Not really l…sorry..but I think wonder woman is cool if that’s the same fandom? 

Crocheting, sewing, working out, and I love to sing but I’m not very good at it despite what Arc says but I do want to get into photography 

I would if he asked me but I don’t really read them because he likes to tell me about them and I love hearing about them…he also probably wound be very happy at my reading for him because he knows reading is a struggle for me

Oh this is a good one! Probably the Edgar guy I like when Arc recites them especially Anabel Lee

No because he prefers Aster white aster to be exact..

Of course! Most our chores are mutual so we don’t have it set on who does what but if he’s doing something I’d definitely help him finish whatever it is

Extroverted

Teenage dirtbag by weetus I honestly have no Idea how I’m not tied of it yet and a close second is  in this shirt by the irrépressibles which I listen to while designing 

Definitely guitar it’s just so pretty but Theodore might get me into piano he plays like a dream

I do Hope your next three days go spectacularly well and this was really fun I definitely might consider this app or the website at the very least thank you.

[minheelovelee]

hii 🦋 anon here again!! how are you doing?? are you excited for the epex comeback? i’m really looking forward to the full album and i can’t wait to learn more about the concept~

i was hoping to request some dubcon or cnc epex keum thoughts if you’re comfortable writing for that genre? if not, i respect that of course and won’t ask again, i checked to see if there was anything in your “about me” but i didn’t see it but i’m not sure if you’ve mentioned it otherwise :(

thank you sm either way!!! <333

hi 🦋 anon!! it took me a long time to reply i’m SORRY :((( but!! im here now :)) thanks for requesting, sweetie. i haven’t put anything about ok/not ok topics in my intro post, that’s something i should look into. but yeah im totally fine with dubcon or cnc and just about anything!! usually if i receive an ask i don’t care for, i just delete it hehehe.

nsfw under the cut

when thinking about cnc with donghyun, an idea that really stuck with me was him having his way with you while you’re sleeping.

on particularly long days, donghyun will come home later in the evening with energy and stories. his phone reads 12:48, but he’s still surprised to find you passed out on the couch. your rhythmic breathing making that apparent.

12:51 he makes his way to the shower, trying his best to be quiet. part of him wishes you were awake. he wants nothing more than to wash your hair and hold your body in his arms. and push you to your knees :)

1:04 donghyun sneaks out to the living room once again, leaving a trail of water droplets behind him. he’s not sure what’s turning him on more, your calm breathing or your exposed tummy.

1:05 his hands touch you for the first time that night. he’s hardly making contact with your calf, but he can’t believe how warm your skin feels. your thighs draw his attention. he lays kisses on the skin, starting from the outside, making his way in. no longer is he holding your calf. his hand have made their way to your ankles, pulling them apart to expose your inner thighs.

1:08 you’re still sleeping? damn. the material of your shorts rubs on donghyun’s nose. a slow, calculated movement brings them down to your knees. he follows them to the bottoms of your feet and lets them fall off the couch’s armrest. he’s completely hard now. he imagines how you’ll tease him when you wake up. but maybe you’re just as needy.

1:11 your tummy is his next focus. he wonders if you’re still ticklish while asleep. you’re still unmoving, so he assumes not. wet kisses appear and lead down to where donghyun is most excited to see. thin, black panties cover your pussy. his brain provides him with a memory of what you look like underneath. he hooks one finger beneath the material and pulls. the stress proves to be too much for the cheap fabric, as it rips at the seam. “shit” donghyun whispers, speaking for the first time since arriving home.

1:14 will you be mad if he rips these off your body? probably not. he’ll buy you a new pair. he’ll buy you a dozen if that’s what you want. he uses one hand to hold the fabric in place while the other grabs a hold and pulls up. another swift rip detached the garment from your body. he throws the, now useless, cloth near your shorts. hovering over your mound again, your pussy is met with nothing but his hot breath. his mouth has been watering for the past 10 minutes, waiting for this moment. he swallows the spit in his mouth and takes a moment to appreciate the fact that you’re still asleep. you must have had a long day if you’re still off in dreamland.

1:16 his lips meet your cunt for the first time that night. sweet kisses are left on your outer lips to put pressure on your clit. he wants to lick around your hole, he wonders if you’ve gotten wet at all. having your legs together won’t do.

1:17 “i’m so sorry, princess. keep sleepin’, imma make you feel so good.” he grabs your right leg at the knee and hikes it onto his shoulder. one more shaky breath escapes his lips before they meet your entrance. “fuck, you’re wet. how are you wet right now? what are you thinking about?” that pulls a reaction from your body. your head jerks and leg muscles tighten. but your eyes are still closed.

1:19 he moves up to your clit, wetting it with a few long licks. when he wraps his lips around it, he moans. he’d built up the anticipation and looked forward to this all day. he earned this. does it really matter if you’re asleep?

1:20 shoving his tongue into your hole once more, he lets his nose rest on your clit. the smell draws him in deeper. he lets himself get messy as he eats with fervor. his hands grab a little too tight on your ass, and it becomes apparent that you’re now awake. he hears a broken “donghyun? wh-at? oh.”

1:21 “babygirl, you are fucking soaked right now. did you know that? was i givn’ you a nice dream?” his shiny lips gave you a clue, but he doesn’t give you time to answer. “close your eyes again, princess. let me take care of this pussy.” you didn’t have to be told twice. there’s no stopping him once he gets a taste.

donghyun who’s addicted to giving head is so real. thank you for requesting!!!

[silkendandelion]

Pomegranates, A Stardew Valley fanfiction

Pairing: Lance (SVE) x Farmer (male, character sheet here)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Farmer Max didn't listen to the wizard's warning and encounters a spell that shows him a version of his life where he married Elliot, instead of Lance. Hurt/Comfort, happy ending.

AN: Spoilers for Lance's 10-heart event and several late game quest lines, references to the outcome of these quests or rewards. Player is an OC with established characteristics, story, mannerisms. It's fine, we have fun anyway.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for sexually suggestive content, unsafe situations, characters worried about infidelity (No actual cheating). One-shot. Cross-posted to Ao3 here. Send me a DM: yell at me, send flowers. Cheers.

He always saved the best pomegranates for Elliot.

The shiniest fruits of the batch, so heavy with juice they nearly jumped off the branch and redder than wine-stained, kiss-swollen lips. They always got washed separately, scrubbed twice, and packed in a box that had become known as “Elliot’s box” because of the blocky, handwritten label that declared it.

“That time of the year again?” Lance smiled as he set his satchel on the kitchen floor, mindful of the farmhouse’s stone counter-tops ever since they discovered that life elixir is surprisingly acidic. Luckily, the microwave now hides his shame.

“Just in time for his birthday too, since the summer was so cool,” Max said, clicking the crate shut.

“Well, I’m off to the Highlands.” Lance glanced in the fridge while the farmer tugged on his boots. The sticky rice he made the night before was untouched, a cursive note that read ‘goodnight, my love’ still attached to the top.

Poor farmer, he works so hard, he thought. “Actually. There’s not much to do the first week of the season, besides observations. If I only do a half day, I could make it back by say… 8 o’clock? What do you think, love, want to quit early with me?”

His mushy thoughts of hiking up to the bath house and splitting a pot of cider on the couch were dispersed by Max reaching for his coat with a wince. “I’m sorry, honey, probably not. Leah wants to do a brunch thing tomorrow for Elliot’s birthday and I gotta turn in early if I’m gonna finish the chores before I go.”

Lance opened his mouth to point out the flaw in his plan, but settled for a frown as he slung his satchel over his shoulder. “No worries, love, just a thought.”

They parted ways with a kiss, soft and sweet: the farmer’s preferred choice of apology when he knew Lance wasn’t actually looking for one.

“Stay safe up there. And say hi to Marlon for me if you see him,” Max said.

“Of course. Safe travels, farmer,” Lance teased him with a smirk.

He watched Lance leave their homestead and down the road, the smell of freshly-tilled soil washing away the scent of his husband’s soap before he even turned the corner. By the fifth day of the season, the crops were all settled into their neat little rows, the promise of pumpkins already in curly little saplings, and colorful mushrooms peeking up from plush, sleepy grass. The trestles by the fence would have grapes on them soon enough—best to keep an eye out for Petunia then, lest his horse be tempted out of her stall and he find her foundered in her sin.

Elliot loved the fall.

And Max almost slapped himself as he started the rest of his chores.

The wizard had warned him, “you can peruse my library at your leisure, but don’t touch any of the books behind that altar. It’s for your own safety,” and gestured to a menacing golden creature atop a spell circle, the statue’s ruby eyes seeming to follow him around the candlelit room.

It was one book.

A simple spell, just a single, short paragraph among the hundreds of others, found by parting the book to a random number and beginning in the middle of the page. The spell explained itself to have no ingredients, casted only by reading, though Max couldn’t have guessed how literal the instructions were.

“Spirits alive, spirits alike, spirit made flesh. The mind is a shallow cup, cursed to overflow with too many memories, but the soul remembers. Never forget, dear spirit. Recall your journeys, dear spirit… allow us to enter your mind, spirit. And look with us.”

Even Max knew not to speak aloud from spell books, but just reading the words left him breathless, his wheeze condensing in front of his face. He slammed the book shut, quick and careful to replace it on the shelf exactly as it had been found before fleeing back to the warp hall, his fumbling hands yanking at his coat’s zipper.

“Too creepy… Never again,” he said, believing now that Magnus wasn’t exaggerating when he placed the shelf off limits.

But the spell was already cast, brought to life by being read, and Max found himself visited by the most vivid dream he’s ever had—and hasn’t had one like it since.

A farm, what must have been his farmhouse, and an autumn day like today. A striped cat rushed to the kitchen under his feet while the writer hummed at the stove, his ginger hair pulled back to the nape of his neck.

“Good morning! Come eat, darling, I made your favorite.”

He never cared for pancakes but his stomach growled regardless, heart squeezing unbidden when the writer fluttered over to greet him with a milk coffee kiss.

Lance drank his coffee black.

It wasn’t his farm, not his cat, not his husband, so why did it feel so warm?

Why did he wake up missing the rosy lens of that other place? With syrup on his tongue and a pain in his chest for a man he’s never looked at before with anything other than friendship? His heart sank, belly cold as he rolled over to seek the warm back of his sleeping husband, minding the pomegranate hair draped over his pillow.

“Mm—hello,” Lance rumbled with fondness, awoken by the way the farmer squeezed around his middle.

“Go back to sleep, Lance,” he said against his hair. The smell of magic never did manage to wash out, like lightning in a forest. A happy huff was his only reply, though Max would stay awake for the rest of that night, and for days after.

He never should have read from that damn book.

The dream wasn’t anything more than a glimpse. He didn’t know the farmer’s story, who raised him, but he knew why his belly twinged when the writer kissed him. And if this flash of a feeling could haunt his thoughts in broad daylight, he knew he would die if he ever knew the truth about their entire life together, killed gloriously by the knowledge of one single lifetime, out of the thousands this other valley might know.

And he would never recover if Lance knew.

How could he ever say that in another life, some other place just like their valley, he was married to Elliot? And that they were so happy?

He couldn’t, he would rather jump naked into a bath tub of lava slimes than hurt Lance.

Lance, who when he was contemplating giving up farming to be a full-time adventurer declared with that self-assured grin that Max was the only one who could help him with his research.

Lance of the First Slash Clan, seasoned adventurer, who becomes as red as his hair, suddenly shy when Max reminds him that on his first visit to the First Slash Guild Hall, he took off his clothes and suggested they squeeze into the single bed.

The same man who when Max came to him with the insane idea to turn their cellar into a guild hall, didn’t poke holes in his dream or complain about how much the construction would cost, instead swelling with pride to say “My farmer, always thinking of others.”

Lance, whom without the world would have no spring.

Max looked at the crate in his hands, having walked all the way to the beach after his chores, and knocked on Elliot’s door with his boot. What am I doing?

“Max, hello there!” He opened the door with a gasp. “Are those for me?”

“What—yes. Fresh from Haddenfield,” he said reflexively, pulled from his thoughts to follow Elliot inside and put the crate on the piano bench for unpacking.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” he said, holding one up to the window to admire it’s ruby glitter. “Won’t you let me pay you this time?”

“No no, of course not,” Max waved his hands. “I brought it to you without asking, it’s a gift. Happy birthday.”

“Well, thank you.” Elliot bowed his head, but was struck by a thought. “Wait. This is heavy, too big for Petunia. Did you walk all the way here? Let me make you a cup of tea before you go.”

Max remembered the smell of green tea from his dream, knowing what he would offer even before Elliot opened the metal canister. “I’ve got green tea, do you mind a travel cup?”

This life is enough. No memory, intangible and false, will come between him and his valley.

“I’ve actually gotta get going. Somewhere to be. Thank you, Elliot, and happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Max, please be careful. Say hi to Lance for me!” He called as Max was already marching his way up the beach with a wave. ____ ___ __ _

Good, Marlon didn’t take the boat, he thought as he found the dinghy by the mountain dock, tied and ready. The trek to the Highlands always managed to be twice as long when you were in a hurry, and Max prayed the clouds gathering overhead would hold off on their rain until he made it to the outpost.

A distant crackle of thunder caught Lance’s attention, and he paused his note-taking where he was crouched beside a sleeping mushroom sprite.

“That’s enough for today, I guess,” he said, accidentally startling the creature awake and having to cast a recall spell to avoid its tiny rage.

On the river, Max struggled with the frantic sail of Marlon’s little boat, holding his own against the wind despite the way the waves slapped against its fragile sides.

“I can hear the conversation now—Sorry Marlon, I took your boat out into the storm without your permission but it was all for love! No no, it’s in pieces but I’ll buy you a new one, I promise.” Max yelled to no one as the little boat bobbed and thrashed around the last bend before the dock.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Inside the outpost, Lance closed the line on his emergency phone when no one answered.

“He must be on his way home… oh, I hope he’s all right,” he said, going to pilfer his satchel for supper.

“Oh no,” he groaned, realizing his packed dinner was still in the fridge at home, probably next to the forsaken sticky pudding.

“Crumbs,” he said with a huff. Rain on the stone roof meant it was too late to try to fish, too far to try to go home.

A loud thud came from the direction of the dock, heard clearly even through the heavy wooden door, and the hair on his arms stood up.

Debris from the storm? No, it sounded like a person. Marlon? But why? It could also be a monster.

“The warding should keep them away…” Unless the storm fractured my spell circle.

The lumbering came again, closer now, until both Lance and the mysterious noise stood on opposite sides of the door.

His fingertips sparked with a welling of magic. “Aureus lux—“

The door flew open to crash against the opposite wall. “DAMN it all—”

“Max!” Magic leapt from his hand to scorch across the stone wall, but at least the attack hadn’t landed on his soaked husband, frozen in the doorway.

“Did you just try to zap me?!”

“Of course I did! How am I meant to know you’re the one stomping around like a Golem in the middle of a storm? What are you doing here?” He helped the farmer inside, setting him down at his workbench to begin taking off his boots. His fingers shook on the dripping laces, but not with magic.

“You’re soaked—what were you thinking?! What if the boat crashed, how would I ever even know what happened to you? Drowned, or, or—” Max hushed him with the hand that wasn’t holding his bag.

He pulled him close, uncaring he was likely dampening Lance’s shirt, he needed to feel him before he floated away. “You forgot your dinner.”

Lance blinked at him, watching the farmer open his bag to take out two portions of curry and a bottle of wine. Blue Moon, his favorite. “No hard feelings that it’s not from Haddenfield,” Max said, like every time he gifts it to him with the same cheeky grin.

“Have dinner with me? Maybe?” He tries again when Lance is quiet.

“That was an incredibly foolish thing you did,” Lance finally says, flat, but his eyes are soft when he pulls him into a long kiss. They can hardly tell which one of them deepens the kiss first, lips sliding and tasting of petrichor by the time they part to breathe.

“… So you’re not mad?” Max says, dazed and a little warmer where his jacket collar bows away from his skin.

“Of course I’m angry. But I’m also helplessly in love with you, farmer.” He shakes his head and reaches for the bottle.

“I’ll open the wine if you’d like to change your clothes.”

“You have extra clothes here?”

“No,” he says, flat again, and punctuated by both the pop of the cork and his affectionate smirk.

Well, at least the bed is dry, he thinks as he sits in his underwear. Lance never stayed mad for long, and by the time they finish supper he’s coaxing the farmer under the duvet and into his arms. For body heat, he insists, not because the outpost bed, while bigger than the one at the guild hall, is still a squeeze for two grown men.

“It reminds me of that first night at the First Slash,” Max said, accepting the wine bottle when Lance passed it to him.

“Oh Yoba, hasn’t my heart been through enough tonight?” Lance rubbed his tired eyes, albeit smiling behind his hand.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you were very charming,” Max grinned and passed the last sip back to him.

“How long had we been dating? Not long at all, and I threw myself at you.”

Max grabbed his hand to invite his gaze. “I caught you, didn’t I?”

Lance waited a beat, eyes softening as he squeezed their hands. “Yes, you did. Handsome farmer, I couldn’t help but need to know how you felt.”

“I promise, the fact that you were pressed up against me with your abs out had no influence on my answer.” Lance’s chuckle made his stomach flip, a familiar feeling he wanted to happen over and over for him alone.

He drifted easily into a useless dream about keeping Petunia away from the grapes, deeper than he’s slept in weeks, and wondered if pomegranates would be important in his next life too.

[unknownjpegs]

stuff

Maran doesn’t particularly enjoy strenuous physical activity that doesn’t fall under the realm of sex, but he likes Lark, and Lark likes exercise. So, when the invitation to accompany him on a hike is extended, Maran takes it happily. 

“I’ll need shoes, huh?” Maran says, touching his toes together pointedly, as if the absolute state of his white converses is a mystery that doesn’t already draw attention.

“Yeah,” Lark says from the kitchen table, pen tapping down a list of supplies. “Unless you want to end up back here afterwards with bloody stumps.” 

He’s multitasking: has Benny’s tablet open next to him, propped on the table to scroll through potential trails — nothing too babyish and easy, because Maran’s complex about getting kid-gloved must be obvious, but also nothing that’ll outright kill him. 

“Metal.” He intones solmenly as he flops into the chair opposite, tossing his feet over Lark’s knees and toeing the shoes off. “Look up some recommendations for me. M’thinking sequins.”

“So the bears can see you better.” Lark swings his pen in the air. “Good idea.”

Maran sits upright, arms folded as he peers at Lark with big, worried eyes. “Mate. Tell me you are fucking lying about bears, please.”

*

Regardless of the very real potential for black bear-related death, Maran’s buzzing with excitement for the next week. When the day of their trip arrives, he tucks a kiss beneath Benny’s ear just to listen to the noise he makes in response. Won’t get any of that for the next two days, so he needs to fill up the tank.

“I’m going to come back, like, totally rugged.” He promises. They’re technically running late, which Lark will not be happy about, but the extended goodbye is going to be something he needs to get used to if he’d like Maran to continue tagging along. “And ripped, Ben, like fuckin’ —”

“Shut up.” He mutters, hand flat between Maran’s shoulders. He’s been carefully balanced across his thighs, even arched his back a bit so pale hands can tease under the hem of the borrowed thermal undershirt. Benny’s pretty face is set in with an annoyed, turned-on sneer that gets Maran worryingly hotter. “God, sh-shut the fuck up.” 

Maran grins into the next kiss, is still grinning like mad while a couple wet presses of a mouth touch to his neck. He licks his own lips as they descend further, the neckline of his shirt tugged impatiently away from collarbones and throat. When Ben puts teeth there with intent, he shakes his head. 

“C’mon,” Maran whines, pulling gently at Ben’s hair. Neither the plea nor the gesture holds much intention at all; he’d be perfectly fine running them an extra hour behind schedule, if Ben’s going to be so sweet about the absence. But, and honestly expected on Maran’s side, the fist makes Ben worse. If at all possible. “I gotta go. I can’t —” he gasps when those teeth pinch down, tongue flattening over the sting immediately. 

“Zipper.” Ben demands, voice raw. 

“…Yeah, hah, okay.”

When he finally stumbles into the living room fifteen minutes later, lips and the skin surrounding his mouth noticeably reddened and a new bruise beneath his jaw, Lark rolls his eyes.

“Causing a delay means carrying extra in the pack.” He bends and lifts the backpack with a shocking amount of strength, holding it out for Maran to take. When he does, he lets out a shocked huff of air as it drops to the floor with a thud. 

“It was Ben’s fault,” Maran whines under his breath as if it’ll absolve him, then has to stop thinking about Ben or kissing or how they’d fit nicely, briefly, frantically together for that goodbye.  

*

 “Sorry,” Lark apologizes with a contained wince. He silences his phone and then tucks it back into his pack, shoving it deep enough that it’s out of immediate reach. Maran does that when he knows he’s hit his sugar limit for the day. Puts the tempting things in the back of the cabinet, in a pocket of a jacket he doesn’t often wear. Out of sight, out of mind. “Eugh, that’s fucking eight now. Sorry.”

They’re on afternoon one, stopped by a spring-soured creek that runs so crystal clear an animal part of his brain screams fucking dunk your face in that. Maran instead crouches beside it, watching a filtered bottle collect water that laps cool and refreshing over his knuckles.

“Mum calling?” Maran teases. But Lark makes a sort of wounded expression, flits across his face for a so split a second it might not be noticed if it wasn’t being watched for — Maran is, though. “Aw, shit. M’turn to be sorry. Rough with ‘em?” 

Lark nods but doesn’t offer anything further than that stiff gesture. He’s has the same energy kids in their positions all do, a tightness to his shoulders that practically screams ‘I have got parents with issues worse than what is acceptable to talk about’. Not the normal way people have problems with family— a sort of neglected, maybe grown into adults left wanting for better emotional connection, mum didn’t show up to recitals, aunt that demands a hug, a dad that stepped out a bit too brazenly but was present at least, cousins with opinions a little to loud and far too 1950s. 

“Fuck,” Maran says again with a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, alright. Enough said.” 

“You get it.” Lark points out with another shrug, recognizing in turn. 

“Sure do,” he snorts, hoisting his bag back over his shoulder with a grunt. He lifts the transparent water bottle, shaking it a bit and peering at the filter. “That’s pretty cool, man. Survivalist type shit.” He holds it up between them. “You should show that to Ben, he’s real into the doomsday weirdo stuff.” 

“He has four of these bottles under his bed with that fucking apocalypse prepper stash.” Lark finishes filling his own bottle and then stands as well. He’s not looking at Maran, but at the loose sediment and not quite clear creek water as it swirls in the upper portion. The air goes thin without their voices weighing it down, and all that happens there is the spin of the world, the moment of companionship punctuated by distant birdsong. 

“What was their deal?” 

Maran blinks down at him. “My parents?” Lark nods and moves like he means to stand, then sways a bit in place. Sits heavily on a ruddy, massive stone jutting from the bank. He seems not to mind that it’s been wetted slightly by the splash of the current. Maran pauses before finding a seat of his own a few feet away. He whistles. “I mean, what wasn’t their deal, you know?” 

Lark laughs softly, but doesn’t offer commentary to that. Stays quiet, offers that in cupped hands for Maran to fill with what he’d like. And, thinking about it, Maran discovers there’s a lot he could put there. That he wants to share, things he feels like Lark would get and still keep sacred, if Maran asked him. It’s a careful empathy that only shared experience skills you in. 

“Mum grew up pretty fuckin’ poor, so —” he waves a hand, snaps his fingers. Starter gun before a race. “There’s that, right from the kicker. Hang-ups about accepting help, which kinda frames the whole lot of it. She’s Sicilian, but her side’s everywhere. Like, global. Back home in Liverpool. Down there on the islands, New York, Ethiopia mostly.” Hey nudges a rock along the bank with the toe of his boot. “S’how she met my old man, bouncing around. Anyway, she grew up orthodox but then went real traditional, capital T. Got into some religious group. More hippy shit than anything, kinda cult-y. Leaders weren’t even Jewish. Just usin’ it for the aesthetics or whatever. One of those things that preys on people who don’t know better, who want something better and think they’ll get it from doing massive amounts of drugs in the woods.” 

He laughs. Than he sobers. Then Maran weaves the rest of the story with an air of detached detail. He’s matter of fact because he hasn’t told it in such clarity before. It feels good and strange to approach it like a narrative. Something that happened rather than something he lived through. Easier, and maybe not in good ways, to think of that whole messy period when things were the worst he’s ever experience. Bit of nastiness that he can look at from a far, nod disparagingly, and give himself a pat on the back for surviving. 

And Lark, for his part, sits through the whole lot of it. Allows him the time to talk. Describe how his parents met, their travels, picking Liverpool for whatever reason, being happy for a bit. Domestic. And then the domesticity souring, because they’d met young and vulnerable and probably either of them shouldn’t have been with the other, certainly shouldn’t have had a kid. Maran doesn’t think the responsibility for the ensuing years is on him. Knows that he didn’t made it worse.

But he also thinks his presence failed to give them that better. 

“She’d disagree,” Maran says quickly. “I love her a lot.” He feels some need to defend his mother, has always felt it. Can’t imagine being young with no resources, nobody to tell her how to do it proper, to do it right. And yet she’d eagerly signed up for parenting classes, stretched the change to buy birthing books, threw herself into research — like parenthood would be a test she could ace. And he loves her a lot for that well-intentioned neuroticism. He gets it from her, anyway. 

“And him?” 

Maran contains a flinch. Never hit her, he should say. Or kept money hidden, or cheated, or did anything criminal. Never to her. “In and out since I was a kid, kinda always just…popping in when it pleased him. At least he popped by, yeah? Fucked off into the woods for good when I was about twelve, haven’t heard a peep since.” He shrugs. “Last I knew, he was doin’ one of those new age cults in the outback, or something?” 

Lark hums thoughtfully. After a bit of a pause, he says: “Think there’s gonna be, like, a Netflix true crime piece about him someday?” 

The joke absolutely stuns Maran into a shocked laugh, head tilted back towards the blue sky. His hand goes to his stomach with the force of it. 

“Man.” He huffs once he’s caught his breath, shaking his head incredulously. “Fuck yeah, most definitely.”

*

The next day on the descent back down the mountain from the campsite, which almost has Maran wheezing more than the climb up, Lark talks. Not as much as he had, or in as specific detail. But enough for him to get the picture with a bit more clarity. 

Maran doesn’t say: Your sister sounds like a prick. Everybody deserves a Benji or a Saha. Lark, you’ve got no idea how fucking lonely its was growing up in that house alone. Hearing you talk about this kinda makes me glad. Also really, really fucking envious. Every time I talk to siblings, no matter how rough their relationship, it makes me want to cry. ‘Cuz it must be nice knowing somebody else out there has your DNA, right? That there’s another part of you, no matter how much it hurts sometimes to be attached.

Instead, Maran claps him on the back so hard as they descend an incline that he nearly goes sprawling into the dirt. 

“What car,” he asks near-breathless, “d’you think she would’ve thrown a monster of a fit over for her birthday? Like, if it was a My Sweet Sixteen scenario — you seen that?” 

Lark goes from grumbling and trying to find his balance to laughing raucously. He has a good belly laugh when he feels the freedom to unload it, pretty and loud but in a different way than Benji’s gets obnoxious boisterous. 

“Of fucking course I’ve seen it.” He says. They stumble together on another bit of rock and Lark helps him leap off the edge. And then, as Lark guides them back towards the trail he’d taken them off of to find that view, he tells Maran all about his sister’s real sixteenth, and how it could have been  its own chaotic episode.

*

“Are your parents cool?” Maran asks suddenly, lifting his head from the window. He’d been dozing on the drive back — thirty minutes of the hour gone by basking in the warm sunlight as it filtered over the highway’s hazy, wavering horizon. 

“Did we or did we not just spend like that entire trip talking about how really totally uncool they can be?” 

Maran shoves up from his slump in the passenger side to turn towards Lark. “No, I mean. Are they like…cool?” Lark offers him a brief peripheral glance, an eyebrow raised. He falters at that, realizing that he’ll need to be more specific but worried he lacks the knowledge to do that without being…shitty. “About the — y’know. Your stuff.” 

“My stuff.” Lark snickers. He shoots another look Maran’s way. This time, clearly teasing and meant to get his face pink. “What stuff do you mean, Mar, and why are you so invested in mine?” 

His cheeks skip pink entirely. “Awh, shove off. You know what I mean, you fuckin’ dickhead.”

“Oh,” Lark chirps happily, nodding his head so hard the fluffy white of his hair bounces. “That.” 

The rest of the ride contains a thoughtful, honest mostly-Lark monologue about his experience growing up. How his parents were, yeah, for the most part cool. About cool as they could be, from their generation. But that his grandfather was cooler. He speaks with such genuine fondness of the old man that Maran is a little teary by the end, thinking of his nonna and her strawberry patch on the breezy coast, his own grandfather and the cane he’d used for decades with those shiny red fruits painted on.

“Sorry if that was an overstep.” Maran says once he’s done. “Didn’t want to make you dig into nasty stuff, but I just —” he shrugs. “Dunno, saw it rough on people before, but Benji’s family is so accepting that I kinda forget that it can be not like that.”

Lark meanders them off the highway on an exit towards the university. The turns become more and more familiar as they close into town, and that recognition aches his chest a bit. He’s bad at picking up directions usually. But the college town is becoming another home; like his grandparents’ seaside village and Liverpool and Benji’s house there and they’re flat here. He’s scared of uprooting himself from another place like that. Leaving another bed that he calls his.

“Are you worried your mom isn’t going to be cool?” Lark leaves the question vaguely open. Another of his cupped hands outstretched moments, waiting for Maran to put whatever he’d like into his palms. 

“No.” He says slowly, thinking about it even as he answers. And then, more firmly: “She loves Benji. And Saha.”

“Sounds like she might be fond of you too, dude.” Lark says kindly, a bit of a laugh to his voice. “But Benny’s something special, so you might want to prepare her for that more than the —” his laugh goes louder suddenly, as if he’s startled himself with the thought. Maran grins, too. “More than your stuff.”

Stuff, Maran finds, that becomes steadily easier to talk about. 

Better.

[egittae]

It felt like things had truly gone way over their limit for both men, but Lambert was caught off guard by Matthias’ reaction. There was a list of things he expected- perhaps a punch to the jaw, or either of them storming off leaving the other fuming in place. But instead came a punch that hit him in the chest, in a way Lambert truly couldn’t register as an attack.

Not when he noticed the other man was shedding tears over this.

“What….what are you talking about?” A suicide charge- in which he dragged others along with him? Where did that even come from? “You are speaking nonsense…” Lambert didn’t want to look for a place to die- he wanted to live. He wanted to retrieve the life he once had and enjoy the second chance he was given. Even if it felt unearned. He wanted to say he’d never do such madness, to drag others- including his own child as well as another man’s son, into something like that.

But Matthias didn’t seem to have any reasons to lie. Not when he was hurt by his own words to the point of tears, a man Lambert assumed would never allow himself to do that before others.

Why did he do that, then? Why did he jump into the jaws of death and dragged others along? And if Dimitri was involved in it all- the tears, the apprehension, the denial. Did he force his son to watch him die?

Why would he do something so vile?

There was nothing Lambert could say to comfort the other man, not when he found himself stunned by his words- trying to decide on whether they were to be believed or not…and yet looking back at himself, at that treacherous trail he still struggled to hike, and feeling bits of snow slowly fall against his clothing, slowly blanketing him with the unfortunate fact that his heart did believe Matthias’ words were true.

And yet he couldn't cry. Even if his throat burned and wanted to force a sob out, it just wouldn’t come out. It was almost laughable how it felt like his body was punishing himself for something he barely understood was his fault, weaponizing his sorrow against his own being. He stared down at Matthias’ head, only seeing his mop of red hair. His hands rose as if deciding on whether to hold him or not, freezing in the air for a moment before he closed them into shaky fists.

“Forgive me for not being the person you wanted me to be.” It had been one of his biggest fears so far. To completely go against who he was supposed to be and be faced with rejection from his past friends and family as they were left to deal with a stranger. “For not being able to see your side of things…nor the gravity of my own actions in the past.”

Gods, he really was trying. But every new discovery seemed like a setback.

“But I…I won’t let this defeat me. I can’t. Not now. Not when I can’t even understand why you hurt so much or why Dimitri behaves so oddly around me.”

“Curse me if it comforts you, but know that I don’t…I don’t hate you. I can’t. Because something- or someone in me, holds on to you tighter than hatred ever could.” He placed his hands on Matthias’s fist, still against his chest. The touch was surprisingly careful. “And the fact that I can’t understand where it comes from hurts me more than your words ever could.” Because it was simple. 

The realization that yes, he had a second chance at life- but it felt like this life wasn’t his’ at all. His body and his self simply didn’t agree with each other, both remembering different things and choosing different priorities- his brain far too confused to settle on a path to follow and instead locking itself in a perpetual loop of trying to reach a middle ground that didn’t exist. Lambert had been fighting himself all this time with no winner in sight.

“I’m sorry that your friend is dead, and that I’m not him.” And probably never will be, even though he wanted to.

Lambert gently took Matthias’ fist off his chest and took a shaky step backwards, putting some distance between them. “But I will keep going. I must. If I am to have his body but not its person then…then I should at least get as close as I can.”

@cielenruine

the real housewives of faerghus | lambert & matthias

continued from here

[kryptonitejelly]

👀 flyboy I’m just saying. After you and Jake have sex for the first time, I’m convinced he couldn’t go a solid hour without being inside of you

But the first time you do anything at the hard deck and he gets head from you? When you tug him outside and practically pin him to the wall and you’re all needy to be on your knees for him? I’m telling you this man is next level pleased and cradling your face as you drop on your knees for him- practically begging. “Already so needy to have my cock in that pretty mouth of yours darlin?” He was grinning, drawling. Even if y’all were trying to hide it from everyone, the thought of seeing you on your knees with your mouth around his cock in the pretty sundress of yours?

And of course who is he to say no? His eyes would be so fucked out when you go back in, but everyone would just be like?? Drunk?? Maybe drunk?? And he’d lean down to chuckle in your ear “I think I need to make you beg more often darlin. Let them hear you begging” and as he wraps an arm around your waist, he just keeps talking “let everyone hear you calling my name and begging for daddy while I fill every inch of you up with my cock”

And no one knows why just yet you have turned 50 shades of red or why exactly your eyes are so dilated and you can’t seem to sit still. Phoenix is glaring daggers the moment she notices, “what did you do to her bagman?”

“Why don’t you ask her what she did to me?” He smirks and takes a sip of his beer, amusement bright in those green eyes.

Context: Flyboy (readable without)

nsfw - minors DNI; this got longer and dirtier than I intended

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh dlsnsjkskdjakajsdnk 👀 FLYBOY THOTS. THANK YOU. Yup yup yup - the next day when Jake goes off to work after you guys have had sex, all he can think about is you - mainly because you both have finally taken it to the next level (which let’s face it, is what he has been longing for his whole life) and all he wants is to be closer to you, touching you, buried deep in you. So it kills him when he has to get home, and sit through dinner with the rest that night - especially when you had spent your day at the beach lying in the sand, are wearing the smallest sundress he thinks he has ever seen. He can see the straps of your bikini tied around the top of your neck, peeking out, and there is nothing more he wants than to undo it with his teeth.

Once the rest are out of the house, and Jake shuts and locks the front door on them, he is gathering you in his arms, pressing lips to your lips, face, neck, while saying “wanted to do this the moment I stepped through the door. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

If you laugh and tease him, asking “all day?” He’ll pull away long enough to tell you “baby, I’ve thought about you every single day for years,” and push his hands up your dress, squeezing your hips, his hands undoing the strings on either side of your bikini bottoms, tugging them off and tossing them onto the nearest surface.

His admission manages to be both the sweetest, but also the most lustful thing on earth from the way he is staring at you. Jake’s fingers start to go to your cunt, but you stop him, pulling his hands away, trailing fingers down to his belt, undoing it and the khakis he is wearing before dropping to your knees telling him, “I bet you thought about this,” with a smirk. The moment your lips touch his cock, the moment, the second your tongue swirls around the tip, he is. done. for. He has his hands carding through your hair, holding it back, his eyes half hooded, mouth slightly agape as he watches you suck him off. If you tell him to cum in your mouth and swallow - well, it drives him mad. The sight of you on your knees, bikini string untied, sundress strap slipping down on your shoulder, breasts spilling out, your dress hiked up around your waist, the curve of your ass visible from where he is standing, the flesh of your thighs fanned out from being pressed in a kneel; the moment your eyes meet his while your lips are around his cock, a dribble of saliva mixed with pre-cum running down the side of your mouth and coating your bottom lip in a shine - Jake decides it is one of his favourite sights in the world.

And and and - the first time you give him a blowjob at The Hard Deck - because well, lucky for him, while you on your knees, his cock in your mouth is one of his favourite sights, you actually happen to enjoy sucking him off - you are all needy for him, because you are slightly tipsy from the shots Phoenix had made you and Bob throw back with her and Fanboy earlier, Jake also had been (unknown to everyone else) running his hand along and up your thigh the whole night, muttering the dirtiest things in your ear every chance he gets, aaaand because it is a weekend - does he look good in those jeans and a simple black tee. So it reaches a point where you are begging for him to let you take him in your mouth. So he lets you tug him outside on the pretext of getting some fresh air and thank god he parked at the far end of the carpark today - so there you both are, sandwiched between a wall and the side of his truck, and let me tell you his words are saying one thing, smooth, cocky, confident, Jake, but the hardness in his pants is telling you another.

Your eyes are locked on his, and it makes him absolutely feral, because you, drunk, needy, coupled with the wet, slick sounds of your mouth hungrily gliding up and down along his length like he is the best thing ever, and the moment you take all of him, choking slightly - he basically blows his load faster than he has ever.

And when you go back in - yes bestie, y e s - he’ll be holding your waist from behind, guiding you back in, fingers around your waist, whispering how he is going to fill you up with every inch of his cock the next time you beg for him at The Hard Deck - your mouth, cunt, pump you until you are wet and dripping against him with your own juices and his cum. He looks almost deranged, his eyes wild, riding off the earlier wave of his orgasm and the sight of you taking him between your lips in public still burning in his brain - because god knows how many times Jake has though about this all the time you had gone out drinking together, whether in college or after and it has finally fucking happened; his own personal fantasies with you and about you coming true. Everyone at the table sees you coming back and are wondering is Jake drunk? Has the alcohol hit him because of the look in his eyes. But by the time you are finally back at your table with the rest - the tables have turned and everyone is wondering just what is wrong with you.

“What did you do to her bagman?”

“Why don’t you ask her what she did to me?” He says, smirking and sipping his beer, amused, and everyones head swivels to you, which makes you tip back your own drink. It will only male Jake chuckle again and Pheonix stands up declaring you need more shots and drags you off towards the bar. Of course Jake lets you go - because the way you are now? You? Getting more tipsy and needy? He can take care of that once you both get home >:))

Bahahahahha thank you for this t h o t anon <3

[noel-noa]

we're good

marius von hagen x reader

a/n: shout out to that one anon, sorry it took so long!

tw cw // bathroom sex , nsfw , mdni , enemies fucking , something like break up sex but they aren't in a relationship so , dubcon if you squint

“Hey princess” Marius said catching you alone on the bathroom of this mansion. There was a garden party happening right now, forcing you to socialize with those high society brats, yourself included. “Go away, Marius” you replied, not even bothering to look at his way as you re-applied your makeup.

“You really want me to get away when we can do this?” Marius whispered right in your ear then slipped his hand around your waist. You stopped his lips before it could touch your neck. “No, we hate each other remember?” you said to him, still with the same expression as before, bored. “But I hate this party more than I hate you” Marius replied back but you always knew what to say back at him “Well, we aren’t the same because I hate you more”

“C’mon princess, I’m bored as hell here. I already done my fair share of talk with those greedy old bastards” Marius whined, planting his face on the crook of your neck. How to say this, but you really didn’t care and besides maybe this enemies with benefits thing had gone way too long. Maybe it’s time to end this shit once and for all, you thought as you remove his head from your neck and looked face to face at him instead.

“Then go to your little attorney girlfriend. She’s pretty” you said, tapping him on the shoulders before stepping away ready to leave the bathroom but again Marius intercepted your steps. “Hold up, did you reject me because you are jealous?” “No, I’m just saying the truth and truthfully this has gone way too long. We always fight, we are like cocaine and sleeping so it’s better to end it” Marius was speechless, he was confused because for the first time he didn’t sense any sarcastic tone underneath it. For the first time ever you are being sincere with him.

“And honestly I’m thrilled you got someone want to be with your troublesome ass. So what I’m saying is, we’re good Marius” you said, beaming a smile at him. Why did you have to do that? It irked Marius so much that the first time you being sincere and sunshine like this with him was when you thought he was with somebody else. When you were the reason he couldn’t pursue Rosa. She was mature, sweet, kind and playful at times, she balanced him very well. Yet Marius still yearn for you and when you had been nothing but hating him.

Marius wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid beautiful smile off your face, the next thing he knew he was kissing you, his hand on the mirror while the other one placed on your waist. “Marius- ah!“ you wanted to stop this, he was certainly a bit mad and off but you can’t help but moan when he sucked on your lower lip. You began to kiss him back, damn him and his irresistible tongue!

He hoisted your legs up on his shoulder, his lips had moved form your lips to your neck while his other hand had been all over your body.  Marius bit your collarbone a little bit harsher than usual making you yelp out in pleasure. His wandering hand hiking up your shirt revealing your clothed pussy before finally settling in on the opening parts of your lips down there.

“Marius!” You gasped on pleasure while one of his fingers was rubbing you through your panties, it had been damp before but it was soaking wet right now. He was impatient to take it off al the way through, so he opted to pushed it aside, exposing your pussy glistening with your juice.

“Damn look at this glistening pussy, only I can make you wet like this and you are still okay with letting me go after this? Your lips may can lie but your pussy definitely couldn’t”

Marius smirked and you were about to retort something sassy to him back and he knew you, so instead of hearing something he didn’t want. Marius instead one one of his finger inside making you yelp, forgetting about your original complaint. Marius could felt how your pussy had been gushing around his one finger pumped in out and then he added another one, your moans becoming more wanton and needy with the erratic pace of thrust his fingers had been in and out of your body. Marius could felt his cock became suffocated inside of his boxer, it was ready to sprang free and wrapped around your lips down there.

“Are you ready?” Marius said, asking for a confirmation this time, looking you straight at your eyes. You nodded, you couldn’t think of anything else right now. Mind was too clouded with lust to care about your high pride. “Put it in me right now, daddy” you said needily, Marius let out a small chuckle, you always knew the right thing to say to turn him on weren’t you? The same thing with words to break his heart apart to pieces.

With one swift movement Marius placed you on the bathroom stall, your back pressed against it. While his other arm unbuckle his pants and pulling it down just enough for his dick to be free. He didn’t waste a time, almost immediately inserting inside your abdomen. His thrust from the get go was relentless, attacking your lower abdomen in such a brutal pace not letting you adjust to his pretty massive size first. You were taken aback at first but right now your mind only care about cumming all over his pretty cock. And Marius wouldn’t worry about it too much after all he had caved your pussy to his dick shape, with the perfect hold and grip only for him.

Your moans were getting uncontrollable and you didn’t seem to care much if someone had happen to walk in here or hear it. Marius could felt his high was coming, so he kissed your lips in a heated passionate one. Tongues were dancing with each other, his dominating kiss muffled your moans, shifted your attention to his tongue inside your mouth. Marius seated his dick deep inside, hitting your cervix, painting your womb white. With that you came all over him, your cum mixed together inside of you. Marius then broke the kiss, leaving both of you panting and huffing for air from the kiss and your high.

“No, we aren’t good”

Marius then said. If it didn’t prove his point, Marius then didn’t know what else would made you realize that maybe you were mant to be with each other. But you were too dishelved at the moment to response and instead of answering, you found your hands pulling his tie to kiss him hard. Looks like Marius did get his point across though, maybe not to your mind but your body seemed to response to it really well.

[clareguilty]

Arthur Morgan/reader, desperate sex

Here is my second fic for kinktober! The next should be up on Wdnesday <3

Arthur Morgan/fem!reader | desperate sex, dominant Arthur Mentions of death and injury, mild angst. I made the cowboy cry. Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~2000

“Who goes there?” a gruff voice demanded as you rode up the trail to camp.

“It’s just me, Bill,” you called back, tipping your tattered hat.

“What the hell?!” He blinked and rubbed his eyes like he couldn’t believe you were right in front of him. “You’re alive?”

You grinned, opening your arms wide. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

He watched dumbfounded as you rode the rest of the way up to Horseshoe Overlook. You had been gone more than a few days, and your worst fear was that the gang would have packed up and left. The job had gone terribly -- so terribly you had been stranded and lost with no way back -- which was a good reason for the gang to move on to somewhere where the law didn’t know their faces.

But everything was exactly the same. People milled about, scrubbing or packing or chopping. Dutch’s gramophone played on, louder than a dynamite blast and seemingly never ending.

“What in god’s name?” Hosea took one look at you, bruised and battered and covered in every inch of wilderness you had hiked through trying to get back to camp.

“Glad to see y’all are still here.” You groaned in pain as you slid out of the saddle, smacking your ‘borrowed’ horse on the rump and pointing her back to the road. “Go on, girl. Find your way back home.”

The horse slowly headed back the way it came. Hosea was staring at you.

“I know,” you frowned. “I look terrible.”

“No,” Hosea waved his hand, shaking his head. “It’s not that -- though you do look like shit. We thought you were dead. We mourned you.”

It was your turn to look taken aback. “Dead? You gave up on me that quick?”

“Sweetheart.” He gripped your arm as if he was still trying to convince himself you were real. “You fell off a bridge. Those rapids… the rocks…” he trailed off.

You grimaced. “It certainly wasn’t my best performance.”

“There wasn’t any time to go back and look for you, but we weren’t even sure we would have found a body.” He looked ashamed. “We failed you.”

“No,” you took his hands in yours, squeezing. “You did what you had to do. I couldn’t bear it if you had lost someone trying to come back for me.”

Sean was walking by, bottle in hand. He did a double take when he saw you standing there, glanced at his bottle, and then back at you. “You mean Dutch gave that long fancy speech for nothing? You had better not die again.”

You laughed and shot him a wink. “I don’t plan on it.”

Sean seemed satisfied with that response. “Your man’s been a right mess since we lost you. Hopefully he quits moping around all the time now.”

“Arthur?” you glanced around. “Is he alright? Where is he?”

Sean shrugged. “Probably the same place he’s been for a week now.”

You turned to Hosea, desperate. “Where?”

“He’s been at his wagon mostly. I didn’t want him going out in the state he’s been in.”

His words only made you more worried. You had finally made it back to camp. All you had been able to think about -- the only thing on your mind as you clawed your way out that ravine and stumbled through the woods -- was that you had to get back to him. You couldn’t leave him. “Is he hurt? Did something happen?”

Hosea didn’t get the chance to answer. Whispers of your arrival back at camp must have spread fast, because Mary-Beth was dragging Arthur by the arm to where you and Hosea were standing.

“Arthur.” You were running -- as fast as you could move with all your injuries and exhaustion. He finally saw you, freezing in place and staring in disbelief.

You slammed into his chest, flinging your arms around him.

He hesitated before returning your embrace, leaning in to bury his face in the crook of your neck. The two of you stood there for a long while as you sniffled into his chest. Arthur held you tightly, as if you would disappear if he let go.

“Isn’t this sweet,” a familiar booming voice rang out. “Glad to see you alive and well, dear.” You didn’t even turn to look at Dutch. Not when Arthur was clinging to you.

The ground disappeared beneath your feet and you found yourself hoisted over Arthur’s shoulder. The crowd that had gathered around the two of you dispersed as he stalked across camp. The world flipped right side up again as Arthur sat you on his horse, swinging into the saddle behind you and taking off at a full gallop.

You made it to Valentine in record time. The ride was harsh and agitated your injuries, but you didn’t mind with Arthur at your back. He helped you down to the ground and practically carried you inside the hotel, slamming the door open. “A room for me and my wife, please,” he demanded.

The hotel clerk handed over the key. You clung to Arthur the whole way up the stairs, nuzzling against him and just glad to be near him again.

The lock clicked behind you and Arthur… changed. His embrace became more insistent. His eyes darkened. The edge of the bed hit the backs of your knees and Arthur laid you down. It was gentle, but he pressed you into the bed, climbing over you. “Where are you hurt?” he asked.

“It’s not too bad-” you tried to play it off.

He cut you off. “Where. Are. You. Hurt.”

It was terrifying, but thrilling. You shivered under his intense gaze. “My hip,” you grabbed one of his hands and gently lay his palm over your hip. “Makes walking and riding hard.”

He nodded. Clearly waiting for you to continue. “My back is pretty messed up, and my shoulder.”

He noticed the rips and tears in your shirt. All the places you had scraped or torn. His hands went to the buttons, lifting you carefully so he could get you out of the sleeves.

Your trousers were next, slowly pulled down over your hips. When you winced in pain, Arthur stopped to kiss you, cradling your face in his hands.

He stripped you down. His expression was pained as he took in the full extent of your injuries. You had fallen off of the rail bridge and gotten swept into the freezing rapids. The current slammed you into the rocks and swept you down the ravine before you washed up on the bank of the river. From there, it had been a grueling process of making your way out of the ravine and through the woods.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you reassured him. Glancing down, you got a good look at just what he saw. “It does look pretty bad, though,” you frowned.

Arthur’s expression was hard to read. You wondered if he was disgusted by you. It would take a long time to heal, and you knew he might not want to look at you while you were so beat up and battered.

He nearly collapsed on top of you. Luckily, he knew to brace his weight. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, breaths ragged.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he gasped. “I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

You reached up to run your fingers through his hair. “I’m still here,” you promised. “Busted and bruised to hell, but I’m not gone yet, honey.”

He kissed his way along his jaw until he found your lips. It was perfect. You had missed him so much, so worried you would never make it back to him. But now you were here in his arms and kissing him. 

“I love you,” you said as soon as you caught your breath.

“I love you so much, darling.” He hovered his hands just above your skin, too scared to touch you.

You placed your hands over his and guided it to where you weren’t scraped or bruised. “Touch  me,” you begged.

He sighed as soon as he felt your skin against his palms, as if he just needed to know you were really there.

“I need you,” you tried to pull him against you, attempting to slot your hips together. “Please, Arthur.”

He hesitated. You could see the desire in his eyes, how badly he needed you, needed to feel you. But he didn’t want to hurt me. You would have to convince him.

“Arthur,” you grabbed the waistband of his pants. “I fell off a bridge and climbed out of a ravine and walked across half the damn state. I want you to fuck me, and I don’t care if it hurts.”

He seemed dazed, but lust clearly won out as you tried to slide your hand under his shirt. He was undressed in seconds, kissing his way over your neck and unable to keep his hands off you.

The pain was bearable, and you were too distracted with the warmth of Arthur’s skin under your hands. You couldn’t get enough of him, so glad to be near to him after all of those cold nights in the wild. 

He was impatient, desperate. He wanted all of you at once, and he didn’t know where to start. Now that you had given permission, he wasn’t afraid to take what he needed. And take he did. He sucked a mark into your collarbone before kissing down to your chest. You gasped as his lips found your breasts, teeth scraping along the skin.

“Please,” you rocked your hips.

He got the message, gently pressing your thighs apart so he could stroke your clit. It felt so good. The stretch when he slipped two fingers inside made you cry out. You sighed and pulled him closer, winding your fingers in his hair as he pulled moans and gasps from your lips.

“That’s it,” he said. “Good girl. I wanna hear you.” He doubled his efforts, determined to make you come around his fingers.

You pulled him up for a searing kiss, biting his lip as you came. “Fuck me,” you breathed.

He was just as needy, cock hard and aching against your hips. He grabbed your less injured leg and hooked it around his hip, dragging his cock against your slit. The teasing was going to drive you mad, but luckily he was just as impatient. He sank into you with one slow motion.

He hissed a curse against your skin, lost in the feeling of you around his cock. “God, darling. Need you so bad.”

He didn’t even try to start slow, setting a quick, frantic pace as soon as he began to move. His fingers dug into the bruises on your skin, but you didn’t mind the pain. It only reminded you that Arthur was there, that you had made it home to him.

You were so close, clinging to each other so desperately. You couldn’t imagine what Arthur had been through the past several days. He had truly believed you were gone, he had been in mourning. While you were focused on not getting eaten by wildlife, he was grieving your death.

It made sense why he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, why he sighed so deeply every time his hips met yours. The way he drank the taste of your lips as if he could never get his fill. You gave him everything you could.

The two of you went three rounds that night, fighting through your exhaustion in a desire to be close to one another. You fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, curled together on the rickety hotel bed.

“I can’t stop seeing it,” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off you. “The sight of you falling off that bridge, the way you just disappeared. It’s kept me awake every night.”

You can see it. The dark circles under his eyes, how haggard and underfed he looks. You can only imagine how broken up he must have been.

“Not tonight,” you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You have me here, safe and sound.”

[edwardsapple]

Tense (smut)

Pairing: fem!reader x edward cullen

Summary: Y/n was stressed about finals coming up, but with Edward by her side. He could help ease the tension

CW: Grinding, Nipple play, Oral (female receiving), service top!edward

By 10 pm sharp, I saw him through my window. My smile grew as I quickly got up to open it for him, greeting him with a kiss on the lips.

“You couldn’t just wait, could you?” Edward smiled

“You know I needed you” I told him

“Well what’s wrong?” He asked

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not awake at 10 unless something is bothering you” Edward pointed out

“I’m fine” I lied to him

Edward always knew I was a bad liar, even when I pretended to be mad at Charlie. I could tell that he knew my response wasn’t true by the way he stared at me in disbelief.

“Okay well— I’m just really stressed about finals tomorrow” Sighing as I admitted to him

“Do you want me to help you?”

“I’ve already studied”

“Maybe I can be of assistance another way” he offered

I raised up one eyebrow, “I love the way you think, sir”

He gave me a smirk

“But first, you should come in” I offered him

I let Edward enter my room and laid down on my bed.

Now that I think of it, I’ve never needed him so bad than how I do right now. I hadn’t even felt his touch in so long since all I’ve ever thought about these past few weeks was school.

It’s like I’d forgotten how it all felt like.

God, I wish he knew what I was thinking right now.

Once he laid down beside me, I got onto his lap. Grinding against his clothed length, when at first we were kissing slowly to frantically making out.

His hands were feeling my ass while I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“You don’t know how much I missed this” He muttered in between kisses

He hiked up my shirt and I helped him take it off, now the only thing that was left were my panties.

Edward’s hands creeped from the curves of my waist to my breasts and began to fondle my boobs gently. As his fingers ran past my nipples I whimpered against his touch.

“Please.. touch me, more” I begged him

Yet once I begged him, he’d suddenly stopped touching me.

“Edward please!”

“Please what? Y/n?”

“Please!-“ Before finishing my sentence, I was distracted by the feeling of his hips suddenly bucking up against me.

“You have to finish your sentence, baby” He told me

“I beg you please touch me again!” I cried out

Edward, pleased with my response. He started to suck on my breast my caress the other one.

I could feel his fingers pinching my sensitive buds, the pleasure from it felt so good I could feel my back arching. During the time that my hands were splayed all over his chest.

Then I felt the touch of his cold lips pecking me from my jawline, to my neck, then my collarbones, and gradually began to suck on my left nipple.

The temperature of his lips gave me goosebumps and made my nipples hard. Caressing the other boob, I gripped onto the back of his shirt.

“Please- keep going!” I blurted out

“As you wish”

He stopped and began to swirl his tongue around the other nipple. I tried to remain silent so no one else could hear me but at times I’d slip up and moan into his ear.

Edward stopped sucking my breasts and laid me down on the bed as he got down on me. My legs were wide open for him as we caught each other’s gaze.

He pulled off my panties and throwed them to the side, he licked the entrance with a flat tongue. Then started to flick his tongue around my swollen clit

“Mmph..” I let out a moan, “You do this so well, just for me”

“Anything to please you, darling” he responded to my praise

His wet tongue was swirling around my clit, and at that point my nails ranked through his hair. Once we locked eye contact, I gave him a smirk to let him know how well he was doing.

Things eventually felt hotter, and I moved my hips while he was still eating me out. I bit my lip as I wasn’t even able to say anything clearly.

“Yes!- right there- ah!” I groaned

And without realizing it, I found myself twitching while his lips were still on me. Letting out a breath-taking orgasm, without covering my mouth.

“Come here” I demanded him

He came to me and I pecked his lips

“Better?” He asked

“Way more than better” I smiled at him.

“Would you care for a bath? I’ll be there with you, if you wish”

“Of course”

(If you guys comment, I’ll write a part 2 that’s just fluff about the aftercare from this. But I really hope you guys enjoyed this!!!)