#almost ran me over... classic! [music]

[thalwri]

TEACH ME, SIR!

part 2!

STARRING: art professor!rafayel x art student!reader

synopsis: you've been struggling in your art classes, and your professor hadn't made it any easier for you. who would have thought he'd come looking for you when you stopped coming to the lessons?

warnings: porn with plot, all characters are aged up (and in university), fingering, body worship, cunnilingus, cockblocking, male masturbation, dirty talk, cock slapping, overstimulation, cum eating, pure filth.

wc: 7,5k

MINORS DON'T INTERACT!

you were more than prepared to throw that chunk of clay out the window. you could feel the pressure looming over you, mostly on your neck. you were just over a month away from your practical exam and you were drowning in absolute shit.

how did you end up in this unworthy predicament? 

out of the kindness of your heart, and the fact that you owed them big time, you decided to take up an art course with one of your closest friends so that she wouldn’t be lonely throughout the semester. 

you were registered and everything, with the needed supplies clean and fresh and ready for use. the glossy joy of it slowly disappeared when you slowly came to realise over the following days that your friend wasn’t attending classes for a reason. she dropped out. not of the class. of the university. and ran to another country with her boyfriend for a six month vacation.

perfect. now you were all on your own in an art class as someone who had no clue on how to draw, paint, or do anything art related. the only consolation – and misfortune – was your unnaturally handsome professor. despite his pretty face and alluring voice, he had a certain knack that always got on your nerves.

based off the rumours you’ve heard, professor rafayel worked as both a teacher of art and classical music, specialising in opera. apparently he had a voice so divine that half the auditorium fainted or fell ‘madly’ in love with him. his artwork was basically on par with his voice. 

not only was he a renown artist globally, he often worked on pieces to send to the gallery near the university which attracted multiple art lovers from all corners of the world. he was rarely in lectures in the previous years but this year he decided to buckle down and teach full time. 

and the first thing he had you do for your finals was a trial sculpture. you had started with something basic: a fish. a cute little fishie that would be surrounded by a wave. not too simplistic but it had enough detail to be easy to look at and mark. 

you were almost certain your professor would compliment you for the detail you’ve meticulously added to your work. the way you’ve made something so simple so beautiful especially for your first time.

“it’s lazy.” that melodic voice quickly soured into a baneful buzz of noise. rafayel stared at your work with a hint of disdain on his face. your hopeful smile slowly fell in disbelief. you spent hours on that. hours. you could hear the giggles from the girls in the studio erupt behind you. 

it wasn’t surprising that the professor had gathered a cutthroat fanbase of women who would do anything to gain his favour– and from some others, fuck him. solidarity clearly didn’t exist when it came to the illusive rafayel. 

“this is something a child would do,” he scoffed, brushing his finger across the still-drying fins of your poor fish. “this may be a trial practice before the real thing, sure. but it’s no excuse to show no effort. you’ll get a 50 for this if it gets moderated.”

a pass. barely. those charming purple-blue eyes scanned your solemn face before he glided off to the next sculpture, immediately grazing the artist. but not as badly as he did with you. 

you stared at your little fish, its form now scorned with the assault of his graceful, well maintained finger. for someone so effortlessly handsome, he was such a bitch. and you weren’t afraid to say it out loud. in fact, you did. 

it came out as a mumble low enough not to be heard. yet he somehow did. those ethereal eyes glanced at you momentarily as if he acknowledged it, and a small grin curved on his lips.

you wouldn’t say you were accustomed to his ‘bullying’. however, it wasn’t the first time he’d pick on you. during the theory-based lectures, rafayel would turn his attention to you, poking and prodding you endlessly for the historical accounts of artists that you didn’t know existed. then he’d ask you – mind you, only you – which techniques should be used with which equipment for whichever type of painting style that came up in that stupidly pretty mind of his. that extensive mind covered and protected by a mane of purple wavy hair. 

you had often wondered how soft his hair would be. and what his hands would feel like in yours. soft? calloused? he was always well dressed, adorned in expensive garb, always appearing in ways that would have any passerby fall madly in love.

he must have been some kind of siren. you were almost lucky you weren’t damned to hear his voice live. 

but the picking and scolding was becoming unbearable. you were beginning to question your worth in the class. you knew you had minimal experience from the get-go, and you never dishonoured yourself by lying or trying to fake it. 

with that being said, there’s only so much slander you can handle from not only your peers but your own professor before it becomes unbearable. eventually, like all straining predicaments, today was your inevitable breaking point.

you sat as you usually would, smack bang in the middle of the lecture hall, taking notes of whatever your professor said as quickly as possible. you took every word seriously, even if he repeatedly mentioned things like “you all should already know this,” or “which you should have learned from last year,”. 

you had worked diligently, listening and writing and occasionally glancing at the board to keep up, in a constant flow determined to finish the course well. up until the lecture hall fell quiet, followed by multiple rings of notifications, even your phone vibrated. 

and one by one, giggles erupted around you, gradually bursting into relentless chortles and laughs. the classmate seated beside you, showed you her phone revealing a devastating sight.

your trial sculpture, that was graded with a bare pass, was crushed and ruined before it could even dry. and right in front of the crime scene, stood a very familiar purple haired artist looking down on your besmirched work. his face was not fully clear in the image but you could see what you believed was a scowl. 

with blurring vision, blinded by your tears scorching your eyes, you raised your gaze to rafayel and the professor’s face masked no shame, no grief, no remorse, just confusion. almost like he didn’t realise what had taken place. 

but he must have. especially if he gave you such a low grade. your teeth ground and pressed against each other, forcing a tick in your jaw. you watched his face slowly contort in a slight realisation of what was happening. he stepped forward, his plump lips slowly split to speak but your things were already packed in your back and you were on your feet, ready to leave.

to make matters worse, the exposure clearly wasn’t enough to embarrass you. of course you had to sit in the middle of your row and stumble out under the sharp, scrutinising gaze of your peers. their snickers, hisses, and cruel whispers did not fall deaf to your ears. you absorbed them like a sponge, your face hardening more and more.

if it meant saving the last few threads of your dignity, you’d keep your head high. you stormed down the stairs, not sparing anyone a glance to push the doors wide open marking your escape. 

and by your word, that was the last time you would ever touch that lecture theatre for the rest of the year.

“i shouldn’t have bothered with that course,” you hissed, stabbing your fork into a fresh pastry. “i should have dropped it when i had the chance.”

it had been three weeks since that embarrassing event. you kept your word to yourself and didn’t bother going to the lectures or the studio sessions. your absence initially did not go unnoticed. as expected, your more confident peers would occasionally tease you or laugh behind your back to get a kick at you. fortunately you knew better than to bite back. 

like clockwork, the whispers dulled into eventual silence and you were at peace for once in the last few months. good riddance.

“you need to go back to your lectures.” zayne, a close companion of yours, muttered as he reached to have another piece of cake. that would be his third slice in the last hour. “your prac is in less than a week.”

“you’ve got a med lab tomorrow and yet you’re here for a limited cake.” you scoffed, watching his eyes light up in delight from the bursting flavour of chocolate mixing with vanilla. you wondered if he would have the same reaction with a carrot cake. mind you, he was likely going to be your future doctor.

“that handsome dickhead thinks he can almost fail my trial and then destroy it?” stab, stab, stab went your fork until it made the table shake. zayne swiftly held his plate up to protect his cake. “does he think i won’t report it to the dean?”

honestly, if you did there was a high chance you wouldn’t succeed. with rafayel’s reputation and the allegations of his donations to the university, you were more likely to be bullied into either apologising to rafayel for causing a ruckus or you’d be forced into silence. judging by the look on his face, zayne seemed to have the same idea.

“it’s only a month left of this crap. i’ve just got the prac and i can put all of it behind me. besides,” you stabbed the pastry again, visualising it as that stupid professor of yours. again and again, you stabbed until you felt it would reach your heart’s content. 

and then a striking idea seeped into your mind. what better revenge than to crush him too?

“besides?” zayne repeated with a raised brow. he held out his hand, waiting for you to explain yourself. 

“i have a plan.” your lips spread into a devilish grin. zayne cringed at the sight. he knew that face well. and it only meant trouble was near. “i’m going to make a sculpture of him. dying terribly.”

“isn’t that unethical?”

“i saw someone make a sculpture of their dick, i’ll be fine.”

your alarm went off abruptly, bringing your mind back to your revenge plot. you had already started creating rafayel’s annoyingly perfect head, using pictures you found of him online as a reference. 

you were supposed to do it at the studio, but one of your senior art friends let you use their private room to prepare it. you would do anything if it meant you’d never have to see him more than you had to. after that stunt he pulled, he’d never get the chance to make fun of you again.

you quickly said your goodbyes to zayne – quickly swiping a bite from his cake – and rushed back to the art faculty, beelining straight to the private studios. you mind buzzed with images of you drowning rafayel in the ocean, watching him gracefully swim with fishes, of you burning him alive, of him seducing you with his looks and his tragically angelic voice as his bare form lay for you to replicate with clay– 

a mere pause wasn’t enough for you to gauge what you were just thinking about. those juxtaposing thoughts had your hand on the wall to hold you upright in case you toppled over from your breath being wheezed right out of you.

since when did you find him that hot?

in all honesty, it wasn’t a lie. rafayel’s an insanely attractive man. truly, if you weren’t more reserved with your attraction to him, you’d probably tried to shoot your shot like all the other desperate people in your class. 

his skin was almost pale like he had spent his entire life underwater, clear and soft and constantly emphasising his damn perfect features. not to mention the moles all over him. it was only up to your imagination what everything beneath his clothing was like. perhaps he hid his muscles well under his clothing.

you quickly shook your head, swatting away those mischievous thoughts about him. those visions of him kissing you, and painting you– fuck.

you deeply inhaled, filling your lungs with as much air as you could muster. your eyes fluttered shut, holding back the profanities brewing deep in your throat.

“that damned–“ within an instant your centre of gravity was toppled and travelled to your arm, which was bring dragged by an almost inhumane amount of strength. 

you couldn’t look at who was pulling you without completely losing your balance and toppling over. you stumbled as your dragger’s pace sped up until you were yanked into complete darkness except the small ceiling lamp dimly illuminating the small space.

as your vision adjusted, you observed the room noting a second heavy breath outside of your own. you felt for whatever was close to you. soft bristles, cold metallic cylinders, the overwhelming smell of chemicals. of paint. this was the supply room.

“where were you?” a siren’s melody swam into your ears like water clearing out the impurities from your hearing. rafayel.

you swiftly turned to face him, following his voice. and fuck damn.

he was disheveled. like, roughed up like he ran all the way across campus just to find you. that dumb big chest of his rose up and down las if a child was using it as a trampoline. small beads of sweat dripped down the opening of his button-up shirt to his abdomen, hidden by silk. 

he asked again. “where were you.” less of a question this time, more like a statement.

“that isn’t any of your business.” your eyes narrowed in scrutiny. why would he care?

“it is my business.” he protested, stepping towards you. instinctively, your legs took you an equivalent step back. this was reminding you too much of those cliche scenes– and they only ended in two ways.

to be frank, you wouldn’t have minded the more action-based ending. you may hate the man but that didn’t mean his face wasn’t pretty.

again and again he draws near and close, and again and again does the space between you and the cabinet full of paint grow smaller and smaller. your tongue slipped out, lubricating the small cracks forming on your dry lips.

a small groaned erupts in the room, rafayel slapped his hand over his mouth and halted in his steps. those purple-blue irises rolled back for a millisecond then returned both hazed and dilated. you tugged at the collar of your shirt, your body warming up the more you brought air into your lungs. 

he was acting weirdly. was it the smell of paint? 

“you haven’t been attending classes.” you couldn’t help but laugh. since when was that his concern? “it will affect your final mark.”

“i’ve checked the handbook,” you scowled. yes, you took the time to read the handbook in depth to make sure you weren’t going to get screwed for skipping lectures. “attendance is recommended but optional.”

pink slowly tinted his cheeks under the dim light, contradicting the enraged look on rafayel’s face– almost a bit too similar to the face he made when he scrutinised your sculpture. your lips twitched, almost exposing your smug satisfaction.

truly, you had no reason to be in his class anymore other than the fact that you had given too much of your time to it already. all those sleepless nights, those days of endurance, those moments of temptation– temptation to walk out the door and never turn back. you wanted it. you often felt that you desperately needed it. 

but you knew better. your friends knew better. in those three weeks of your absence zayne persisted in ensuring you finished what you started, whether it was forcing you to work or giving you moral support by making his own botched version of whatever assignment you had to complete. though it did end up helping him when it came to making notes on anatomy. 

you’ve had endless mounds of support in those three weeks. where you felt like absolute shit. where you wanted to just hide. where you were almost willing to drop out.

fucking rafayel wasn’t going to take that away from you. you had nothing to lose. and he wasn’t going to plague you any longer.

“so if you think dragging me into this supply room will do anything, it’ll only get you into a very dangerous meeting with the dean.” you harshly grinned, waving your phone in your hand. rafayel’s eyes slowly widened upon seeing what was displayed on the screen.

you were recording the conversation. you had been since you got tugged away.

“no donations and pretty artworks can take away the blow of harassment,” your phone rested on top of a can of paint on the floor as you glided towards him in a new air of confidence and spite. “professor.”

his response was disappointing. literally, he said and did nothing. like a marbled statue purely there to be admired. damn him, he was so unnecessarily handsome on a godly level. those disrespectful plump pink lips parted and closed as if trying to figure out what words to spout. 

your smile twitched in agitation under his gaze scanning you from your hair to your skintight top pronouncing your curves, and back up to your face. your stance remained rigid, head held high and face taut with wavering spite.

rafayel’s calmness as unsettling, too calculating for your own preference. “you bite your pen when you concentrate in lectures, did you know that?” his voice dropped an octave, reaching a husky flow. a shiver rolled down your spine as it arched in response to his voice. like a siren calling a damned sailor.

“what?” your disbelief came out in a choked whisper. the moisture in your throat was wiped clean from you, leaving complete dryness almost worse than a desert. 

“and you like to listen to the questions,” rafayel continued, moving closer to you in tandem with your rising pulse. his eyes were locked on yours, dragging you deeper into his abyss intending not to let you go. “you bite your lip whenever my voice deepens. and you always have questions but choose not to ask.”

he was getting too close. you were too close. the heat of his breath fanned your skin as his height forced you to raise your gaze to maintain your stare-off. something about it felt a little too hot for your liking. your skin prickled in sensitivity rubbing against the fabric of your clothing.

there was no way this was getting you aroused. no fucking way.

“do you know why you don’t ask?” his hand gripped the edge of the cabinet, just a few centimetres from your head. the distance between your lips slowly yet inevitably closed. your breath was trapped in your throat almost clawing for release but it remained trapped. 

“you’re scared.”

“i’m not afraid of drawing, rafayel.” first name basis already? you were really testing your luck. you expected him to return to that unsettling silence again before telling you that your suspension was pending.

instead, rafayel broke into a chuckle, sweat-slick chest and shoulders shaking as he laughed. he quickly straightened his lips upon seeing your eye twitch, only to burst into another fit of suppressed laughs. 

“who in their mind would be afraid of a bit of paint?” his voice returned to that familiar serene, light tone. the one that brought half the student body to its knees. “no, no, no. i’ve managed to reduce it to two things.” 

you instantly jerked back as far as you could – which wasn’t really that far because were already at your dead end – and balled your hand into a tight fist, ready to punch him square in the jaw. the side of your neck tickled with heat as his lips hovered by your ear.

“me, or the chance that you’ll do incredibly well.”

bewildered was an understatement. you were discombobulated at the least. you couldn’t even say it was a bizarre assumption because it was true. 

not the fact that you were afraid of rafayel– he’s a walking model who pouts whenever someone speaks to him with a bit more sass than him. even his relentless critique of you doesn’t illicit fear. the only thing he’s gained from that was you growing to despise him.

but your confidence in your artistic abilities were never high. remember, you only joined the course for your friend. and they ditched you last minute. you walked into the studio with the mindset of knowing that you were likely to fail even if you put your hardest work in. 

clearly, he noticed.

“you walked into my class knowing nothing,” rafayel leaned back to face your gaze once more with a stern look on his face. “it’s only understandable that you’d be afraid of messing it up. i can see it in your art. i can sense the fear.”

“yeah, right.” you huffed, turning your face away to blink away the stinging sensation burning your eyes. “you prefer to call it lazy and then destroy it.”

for the first time in however long its been since you were trapped in this room with him, rafayel’s facade broke. a flicker of guilt flashed in his gaze. then confusion.

“destroy?”

“don’t act coy.” he could not just play coy. “you destroyed my trial sculpture. there are pictures of it spreading everywhere. you know what you did.” 

rafayel slowly shook his head. “i found it like that,” his voice was grave, eyes almost darkened just from the memory. “i was trying to get a scope of the damage to see if i could redo it for you, but it was beyond repair.”

a grave heaviness weighed on your heart. he wanted to fix it? despite being so cruel to you he was that willing to repair your work on your behalf… but that didn’t answer the footage.

“and the picture?” what was meant to come out as a scrutinising hiss escaped as a whisper, holding back the many tears brewing in your eyes.

“i had heard giggles outside the studio, but they ran out before i could check.” his perfect brows furrowed as he observed you. it was more than just intuitive for him to comfort you, console your shock away. his hand reached to hold your arm, to transfer his remorse through his body’s warmth. “i am sorry about what happened to your sculpture. really.”

“don’t.” the involuntary pang in rafayel’s chest did not go unnoticed. his lungs filled with shaking air, unsure of how to proceed. you weren’t pushing him away nor were you hiding. it looked like you were equally as unsure.

“the mark you gave it–“ you seethed, voice cracking as the venom of your tongue delivered each words with malice. “the embarrassment. the shame it left me drowning in, all of it. it was you. and you think you can play innocent and ask why i haven’t shown up?”

rafayel’s fingers twitched, hovering over your skin hesitant to move away. perhaps he was too hard on you, too particular in his interest to monitor your growth in the arts. his face scrunched up, unsure of what you’d allow him to try without violating your space.

“you think you can use that stupidly pretty face to ask for forgiveness?” it was clearly intended to be a mumble that he wasn’t supposed to hear but he did. loud and clear. the tips of his ears instantly warmed and his brows rose.

“stupidly pretty face?” 

shit.

shit.

of course he heard you. of course he fucking heard you call him pretty. you just wanted to crawl into a pint of paint and choke on it until it filled your lungs with chemical pigment. and there was no way out of this too. rafayel quite literally had you trapped with his body. 

his tall, divinely sculpted, soft, gorgeous body. that artistically designed form that you’ve dreamt of touching, that you’ve touched yourself to in your quiet nights– not that you’d ever admit it to anyone let alone him.

warm, almost hot, fingers slide up your arm trailing the standing hairs on your skin. they rounded your shoulder and meeting with the fabric of your clothing, fondling it to check its quality. they reached higher, and hotter, slow and intentional feeling the curve of your throat until the pad of his thumb reached your chin, lifting it until your gaze found his. a raw, newfound level of unspoken, familiar need engulfed you— and you weren’t uncomfortable with it.

“you think i’m pretty?” that husk tone returned, tickling away your nerves replacing them with something more feral. 

“everyone does.” you huffed, trying to maintain the front of rafayel’s charms not affecting you. it was almost obvious to you both that you’d fallen in deep. 

and yet despite embarrassing yourself, rafayel refused to back down. his thumb’s touch on your chin roughened into a grip with his hand. a mischievous glint twinkled in his eyes. 

“say it again.”

it was either the way he said it or the way he looked at you while saying it. regardless, it left your core warm and throbbing with an unprecedented level of need. this was wrong but it felt so right.

you slowly swallowed. “say what?”

the distance between your lips slowly closed, bit by bit. “that i have a stupidly pretty face.”

“no.”

his soft laugh fanned your face like a warm, mint scented breeze. “say it.”

your eyes darted between his own, noting how unnatural yet befitting the colours mixes and emphasised his almost inhumane beauty. it used to sink you yet now you could tell he was starting to drown in yours.

“make me.”

an erratic charge surged between you like lightning striking a tense, hot night. rafayel softly tutted, shaking his head– almost desperate to shake off his unspoken desire to pursue this. to pursue you. his hands did not leave you though. his grip on your face returned to your neck, securing a gentle hold on the base of your exposed flesh, both soft and pulsating with nerves.

rafayel pressed his forehead on yours, your connection anchoring him to reality and restraining his needs. “tell me you think i’m pretty.” his eyes grew heavy with heat, hazing in and out of focus as they moved from your spit-slick lips, your eyes, and every distinguishable feature on your face.

in twisted, lewd synchrony, your lower lip found itself caught seductively in the bite of your teeth. the corners of your lips twitched like they wanted to expose your snarky grin. like your body wanted to show rafayel how you’ve dreamt of that moment.

you should be pushing him away. you should minutes ago. but you didn’t. you didn’t want to. your eyes fluttered shut as rafayel’s grip on your face tightened, finally pulling you both into the passionate embrace of your lips. 

the first contact was a shock, forcing you into a soft jolt. his lips were even softer than you imagined, his hands gentle yet crushing to keep you in his hold rubbing small circles on your skin with his thumb.

then the erratic hunger kicked in like a shot of vodka. your faces pushed deeper into each other almost desperate to keep yourselves deep in your embrace. your fingers tangled in his soft locks, your mind drowning in the flowing currents of his scent. 

lips waltzing in a push and pull fell into an intoxicating dance of tug and bite. it drove you insane until it was just too much. 

you slowly pulled your head back, still connected to him by his teeth latched onto your lower lip nibbling at your swollen flesh.

“this can’t be right.” you sighed against his lips, leaning your head back to catch some air without feeling like your face will get hotter. “we must be violating some code of conduct.”

that irritating chuckle escaped his lips again. “then push me away.”

you should have. you definitely should have. before you could even consider it you found your lips back on his, drooling tongue sweeping past the enclosure of his lips to meet his. it was hot and deliciously wet meeting in a careless fight to taste as much as your breaths could allow.

you rolled your hips against his– slight and subtle– just enough to feel a slight brush of him. to feel it. he felt so big and thick. 

a sharp curse flooded your ears, his hands tugged at your waist to pull you closer and make you feel it. his fingers twitched and squeezed you, caressing your waist without abandon, rising ruthlessly higher until his hands disappeared under your shirt. he was boiling, a human inferno trapped in a body of flesh and bone restricted by restraint yet fuelled with hunger. 

they reached inchingly closer to the swell of your breasts, barely contained by your bra– you needed him to rip it off at this point. they curved over the lace and enclosed on each one, pulling your perked nipples out to fondle.

his tight hold on you dragged out a sound not meant to leave your lips. it was enough to make him snap. two hot bodies pressed to each other, clothing almost completely unravelled, and the door behind you still unlocked.

the air was thick and hot with heavy pressure and mutual need. 

a low grunt rumbled deep in rafayel’s throat as he pulled away from the intoxication that was your lips. “tell me to stop.” his lips ghosted over your skin, dragging a light trail of your mixed saliva down your neck until it stopped with a gentle peck. “tell me to walk away.”

“fuck no.” you panted. your hand tugged at his soft hair, pushing him deeper into your neck. “finish what you started.”

he laughed against your skin, marvelled by how much wittier you became when you weren’t tense. when you were fogged in temptation. he could only imagine how much more of you he’d experience the further down his lips went.

perhaps you tasted just as good as you smelt. his knees buckled at the thought, the mere sight of his eyes looking up to you as you lost composure was as unprofessional as it could get. his cock throbbed in his slacks, pumping so loudly he could barely hear himself breathe.

still gripping your fleshy mounds, rafayel sunk beneath your gaze never breaking contact with your beautiful eyes. one hand slowly crept down out of the warmth of your shirt to your alarmingly short skirt.

it was the third time he had seen you wear it since you joined his class. and every time his eyes were attached to you more than before. the vision of raising it above your pretty ass had always crossed his mind but he always had the mind to maintain decorum. the sea must have blessed him with this privilege today.

“need to eat you,” he whispered into your skin, spreading kisses all over you like invisible marks of his name. “taste you.”

your imagination conjured many things for you to indulge in, but this was beyond what even you could dream of. his glossy gaze, deliberate hot touch, his damned soft lips searing you with his affections… how could you say no?

your head hit the edge of the cabinet as you nodded in desperation, so needy for his mouth to explore you everywhere, so aroused that nothing could hold you back from sinking deeper and deeper. your legs slowly split apart, welcoming rafayel’s gentle hand with grace.

completely sat on the floor, the professor stared at your legs in a daze of reverence and worship. he was salivating the scent of your dripping pussy reeling him in like a fish swimming to bait. and he wouldn’t even consider himself damned if it meant being hooked by you.

his grip tightened on your thigh, fingers pressing into you to memorise your shape and how you felt by his touch. his hand slid down your leg in a great struggle to hold onto the last of his restraint while your pants and soft moans just made things so much worse.

“don’t make too much noise,” he quietly groaned, licking a line up your thigh up to the lacy panties covering your warmth. his eyes rolled back as your scent flooded his senses like a drug. in a fuss, rafayel pushed your skirt up revealing red lace. 

he almost came on the spot. 

his fingers slipped between the hem, feeling you up and down. he just had to go a bit further… just a little to get a taste of that sweet nectar. his eyes darted upwards to find you completely disheveled, pretty lips parted, chest heaving with your nipples pressed against your shirt, and your hands holding his head as close to your cunny as possible.

rafayel’s lips curved into a lustful smile and finally pushed his fingers further into your panties, brushing over your sensitive nub. a sharp gasp sounded in the room, his scalp ached from the harsh tug you forced on him before slowly pushing him back where he was.

you were so cute.

you didn’t feel cute. you felt like you were boiling up, throbbing to the point where it hurt, dripping like a fucking river. you were surprised your wetness wasn’t dripping down your legs already. rafayel was definitely the type to lick it up to prevent it going to waste.

his fingers crept around your clit, ghosting circles round and round in a teasing tickle almost like he wanted to pull a reaction out of you. every subtle reaction, every jolt and twitch, and every hesitant tug at his hair made his hips jut into the air with his cock roughly straining his slacks.

he tilted his head, lips enclosing around your clothed clit, swiping his tongue sloppily around you, loudly moaning at your taste. his fingers finally found your pussy, soaking before they even went inside you. you slapped your hand over your mouth. he was going to drive you insane.

loud squelches echoed around you with his fingers teasing and tapping your hole to draw out as much of your nectar as he could. your pussy lips were as swollen the lips he kissed and bit, sensitive to his finger sliding up and down before slowly plunging into you.

just as his lips parted more– a loud bang! shocked you both out of your trance of indulgence. you yelped and jerked back, pussy walls tightening around his fingers as he swiftly moved his head away from your core– a string of saliva connecting him to your clit cruelly reminding him how far he let his desire take him.

the shockwave of the noise sent the door rattling as if someone was about to walk in on you. rafayel adjusted your underwear back in place and tugged your skirt down, rearranging it so that you were somewhat presentable. your hands shakily fixed his messed hair in a sore attempt to ignore the aching need your pussy screamed to you.

your clothes stuck to your skin from the heat, your vision hazed by lust and interrupted pleasure so filthy and sinful that you couldn’t help but bite your lip. 

rafayel licked his lips as he rose to his feet, knees aching even though it felt like he had only been beneath you for seconds. he straightened his clothing, mustering the courage to face your gaze. you were dangerously close. dangerously beautiful. dangerously arousing. he just had to kiss you again. 

“i’ll deal with the person that damaged your sculpture.” his voice both husky and cracked still rumbled deep within you. “please forgive me and the incident.” 

without another word, he stalked out of the supply room leaving you to fully dissect what just happened.

he almost ate you out.

rafayel, your professor, almost ate you out. in a supply room. and he left you in need for so much more. a single step would send your poor clit, and your pussy really, into a frenzy– both sore and soaked, vibrating with pleasure. 

you were going to have to figure out how to deal with it.

but rafayel was determined to deal with it now.

he almost sprinted to his office, dizzy with lust. it was locked and dark with only candles giving him light. stacks of paper was spread out all over his desk left abandoned while he sat in front of his recent work– a completely blank canvas.

gods, his length was already leaking through his pants and aching so fucking hard that any subtle movement would have him cumming for hours.

rafayel didn’t bother removing himself with the delicacy of taking care of himself properly. his hands fumbled at the buckle of his belt, fingers slipping out of control before he could tug it off and toss it to the floor.

his vision was blurring him blind and abandoned him in the memory of your lips, your divine mixing scent, your melodic voice, and your taste. your noses had brushed and bumped into each other while his tongue ventured deep in your mouth, tasting the remains of the sweet pastry and bitter coffee you had consumed beforehand.

the office was somehow as hot as he was, the air burned with the fading remnants of your scent driving into a state of great distress. the zipper to his pants were already forced down from the sheer will of his cock raging and throbbing against its confines. he barely bothered himself with pulling them down, hurriedly gripping his girthy length both recklessly pulsating and near suffocating in dribbling precum.

his fingers rose to his lips, rubbing at the swollen effect of you attacking him with your teeth. it still stung from a light touch and that only aroused him more. his fingers were still sticky from caressing and plunging into your juicy cunny�� explicitly reminding him how delicious you were.

without further thought, he pushing his digits on his salivating tongue and the flavours that were you burst into his senses like an inferno raging through a dry forest. rafayel’s eyes fluttered as they rolled back, a loud and deep moan soon to follow. 

“f-fuck.” he could just curse and curse for hours. “you did this to me.”

his tongue swirled between his fingers to absorb and savour as much of you as it could. he wasn’t too sure on whether he’d get the privilege to be so close to you again. he suckled on the tips of his finger like he would with that swollen clit of yours. fuck, you just somehow got a grip on him that he couldn’t shake off.

every moment he spent observing you just made him attach more and more even when he knew he shouldn’t have. but you intrigued him. your determination despite your lack of confidence. your thick skin in the face of his - often unnecessary - critique. 

not to mention of good your lips felt with his own. 

a shaky sigh shuddered out his lips as his hand slowly stroked up and down reaching to his base and tickling the leaky slit of his reddened tip. his hips jerked into his hand violently sending his head lolling back over the couch. 

the tandem rhythm of his hips remained constant, thrusting into the air and being squeezed tightly by his hand to simulate that jaw clenching strength your pussy walls used to grip on him. no matter how hard he’d try nothing would be able to replicate the effect you had on him. 

your name bouncing on the walls in an endless prayer turned to a song of moans and grunts. rafayel’s saliva-slick hand ran down his neck to his chest and slipped through his shirt to circle his perked nipples now rendered completely sensitive to even a breath.

while feeling each vine surrounding his cock pulsate, a lewd idea slithered into his mind like his most devious desires slipping right out to control him. he was so painfully hard it hurt. his clothes were sticking to his skin, dampened by his sweat and precum mixed together.

and then he raised his palm and struck it across his cock. smack! the sound struck through the room like thunder. 

a gasp, then a laugh, then another smack! followed by a husky moan.

the sting melted into rousing pleasure so instantaneously it almost gave him whiplash. he did it again.

smack!

and again.

smack!

up until the pain was enough to knock him unconscious. with each swing, his cock flew back upwards and jutted into the air shooting drops of precum up. rafayel bit his lip at the sight, greedily laughing at the pure slutty act he performed for himself. 

he could only dream for you to do the same thing.

his hand did not stop once it returned to stroking. the plap! plap! rapidly sounding as his hand fisted his cock to oblivion was disrespectfully slick. but it could be so much wetter. rafayel swiftly leaned over his length and spat straight onto his sobbing cockhead, pulling his hand right up to swirl and mix it all with his palm.

the wet friction alone was debilitating. he fucked himself into his hand like a rabid animal in intense heat, rutting like a fool drunken by a mere whiff of your scent. his hips lifted right off the couch, chasing his climax and hand that wasn’t even running from him– though could imagine you would.

“so– fucking– tight–“ he squeezed harder until his entire cock was red. the pain no longer affected him. his only devotion was hitting his edge in the hopes that it would feel like a fraction of what it would be like inside you.

inside your wet mouth, stretched wide open for him, drooling down your chin right onto your tits. or even inside your sweet cunny, throbbing and fluttering as your walls squeeze him with each thrust that tickles you to multiple orgasms.

“take it– take– oh fuck.” his voice cracked into a whiny whimper as his hands rolled over his leaking slit every time his hand brushed over his tip. the other hand continued to assault his chest, abusing his sensitivity to the max. 

the hand pumping his cock raised to smack it over and over, left and right in a broken tempo. his cock jumped, legs practically shivering from the pleasure and spreading wider and wider like you sat between them to take him deep in your mouth.

he couldn’t help himself. smack! the pain felt so good. smack! it was so wrong yet so stupidly right. smack! he’d do this for hours if he could. his core tightened, awaiting his incoming climax as his cock pulsed in a plea for him to stroke it to oblivion.

his grip became utterly brutal, rapidly pumping his shaft like his hand was a fucking fleshlight. he was messy, wet, and his lewd mixture of fluid was dripping down his legs onto the couch beneath him, staining and soaking the fabric. he twisted his hand right at the tip shocking his senses beyond the board.

he brought his hand to his tongue, lapping up all the precum sitting so impolitely on him, swallowing every drop like sacred water. his free hand slid down to finish what he started and rubbed and stroked with the intention to push him right to the end.

his body tensed as one more cruel squeeze snapped the tight thin rope within him. his eyes crossed, seeing only pure white. his breath hitched, and thick ropes of hot, sticky cum shot up like rockets and splattered all over him like fallen paint.

moans and whimpers shivered out of him like a broken record, your name remained mixed within his curses. his hand didn’t stop its relentless strokes. it persisted in dragging him through his high no matter how many times he’d try to stop himself. 

his cock ached and weeped, leaking hot white all over his hand as it gradually slowed. it had gone right up to his chin. rafayel lowly groaned, both fucked out and ruined beyond comprehension. ruined by his own hand and the thought of what more you could have done in that supply room.

rafayel raised his shaking hand to his face, analysing the way it glistened over his flushed skin. his tongue poked out of his lips and swiped all the way up from his wrist to the tip of his finger then took it deep inside. the flavour of his own juices mixed with your own, drawing a lustful moan from him.

he slurped it all up, licking his hand completely clean in an obscene and deliberate manner. like he was putting on a show for you, even though you weren’t actually there, and swallowed it all with great satisfaction.

he slouched into the couch, breath still laboured and heavy. he was still filthy and drenched and yet he still had the greed for so much more. 

that beautiful laugh replaced the echoes of his lewd noises once his high slowly dissipated. 

all that from a kiss?

rafayel was fucked.

might just post a calm part ii if you guys like it

[kissandtellus]

Lemurian Nights: Omegaverse Version

Synopsis: This is a full-length version of my ‘Into The Slick’ of it Drabble! Alpha!Rafayel is fighting his Rut which involves you, a bathtub, and double the trouble.

Warnings: Omegaverse,Merfolk Sexy Time, Bath tub Smex, Double Merfolk D’s, Talk of Oviposition, possible spoilers for RAF’s myth, Breeding quink.

The soft lull of the classical music playing over the old record player filled the bathroom. The open area gave way to the foggy glass mirror that separated the massive bath tub from the rest of the lavatory.

From the frosted glass, a shimmering blue fin flicked in irritation. You rounded the corner with the fresh fruit your loving mate had requested. The bathtub, although big enough to fit 5 more people, was still just a bit too small for the massive Lemurian.

Despite his intimidating size, the claws on his webbed hands and the way his fangs glinted in the moonlight, he was pouting.

“I came as fast as I could. Do you know how hard it is to find strawberries out of season?” You put down the paper bag and scooped the container of strawberries out. “Here, your Highness.” He looks at the plastic container as if it were poison itself.

“You know I don’t touch such…awful things.” Oh even in the throes of Rut he is a Drama King. You sigh and pluck out a strawberry, pulling off the green stem. You hold it to his lips and he takes a small bite. The red juice stained his fans, the tiniest bit of juice leaking from his mouth.

He takes his time with the strawberry. It’s…intimate. And for some reason he doesn’t take his eyes off of you when his tongue pushes forth past the sweet juices and flicks up-

“Rafayel! No!” You scold, your face exploding in a blush.

Rafayel’s pout deepens and he eats the rest of the strawberry in a single bite, fangs barely nipping at your finger tips. “No fuwm.” He mumbles with a mouth full of berry. He swallows the treat, his pink tongue darting to clean the corner of his mouth.

His smell, the musk of an Alpha but somehow more…floral….permeates the bathroom. “Do you know why I chose strawberries?” He hums, grasping your sleeper to pull your hand to his mouth. His tongue licks between your fingers, being careful to get every last drop.

“They smell like your sweet cunt.” Rafayel wasn’t above using expletives, but it never lessened the shock of the Alpha growl behind his voice. “Taste like it t-“

“Rafayel, no. You made me promise.” But you were just a sweet, simple Omega! An Omega who would be going against the laws of nature if you ignored his command, right?

No. No, Rafayel wasn’t a normal Alpha. The large, merman-like tail flicking over the side of the tub was evidence enough of that.

But his grip was unyielding. The blue eyes tinged with pink star who down like prey. His hand guided yours against the toned muscles of his abs.

“Just a touch- no-more.” His mind was warring with himself. He wanted all of you. If he weren’t in such a godforsaken bathtub-

His hand guided yours to the slit on his tail, right where his normal groin would be. There, a slit you had never really noticed, rested. Usually such an office would be closed tight, but for an Alpha in Rut, it was nearly impossible.

But the sweet noise that fell from Rafayel’s lips was intoxicating.

“Please…” His whisper was breathless. He guided your finger tips up and down the slit, his free claw scratching into the porcelain tub. “Almost-…”

The slit blossomed like a flower. From it, bloomed not one, but two cocks. Not the stereotypical lengths that other Alpha’s proudly presented like an honor. No, these ones were longer, tendril like and smooth.

Rafayel’s arched spine returned to a relax position, panting as if he had ran a marathon. A thin sheen of sweat glistened against his already wet chest.

He looks up at your through lidded eyes, his grip on your wrist tightening just slightly.

“You can’t just leave me like this.” He whines pitifully. He leans over the edge of the tub towards you. What water droplets collecting on your skirt. “It would be so unfair, Miss Bodyguard. Aren’t you here to protect me?” His voice is nearly a purr now.

Those mischievous eyes now flashed with something new, a hunger.

His body shuddered violently as the twin organs emerged, already hard and leaking pre-cum. The larger one was thick and veiny, while the smaller was slender and more sensitive. Both twitched and pulsed with need. “I can't... can't hold them back... please, my love, help me...”

What sort of mate would you be if you left him in such a condition?

His voice was a desperate whine now, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back his release. The twin cocks slapped against the water's surface, dripping with clear liquid. “I'll go insane if you don't. Please... just wrap your hand around them... squeeze them, anything.”

You let him guide your hand back around his cock. The thickness far too much for just one hand. “Just a touch, okay?” You whisper.

He nodded frantically, his eyes pleading and desperate. His breath hitched as your hand hovered over his leaking cocks, the anticipation almost too much to bear. When your fingers finally wrapped around his twin organs, he let out a guttural moan, his hips bucking into your touch.

The moment your hand made contact, his body relaxed slightly, but the need was still overwhelming. He watched you through heavy-lidded eyes as you stroked him slowly, his tail swishing in the water. "More... please, faster!” His voice was strained, filled with desperate desire.

His chest heaved as he panted heavily, his hips moving in time with your strokes. The larger cock throbbed in your palm, while the smaller one twitched and leaked constantly. He could feel the pressure building inside him, his orgasm approaching quickly. “I'm... I'm close-please Cutie-“

With a choked cry, his body tensed and his twin cocks pulsed violently in your hand. Rope after rope of thick, pearly cum spilled into the water, staining it white. The smaller cock squirted weaker bursts while the larger one emptied itself completely, draining him dry.

You cooed at him as his tail thrashed violently, his face flushed as a blush sat under his eyes. “Good boy. Feel better?”

He collapsed back into the tub, boneless and spent, his twin cocks twitching weakly as the last drops of cum leaked out. A shuddering sigh escaped him at your praise, his cotton-candy eyes drooped with satisfaction and embarrassment. “Not fair..." he murmured weakly.

He was far from done. His Rut was building up faster than before. He needed to knit, needed to breed. And fuck, you smelled delicious.

His body began to tremble again almost immediately after the first release. The scent of your arousal filled the air like a sweet perfume, driving him wild once more. His cocks started to harden again despite just having emptied himself completely. "Need..." he moaned softly.

His eyes locked onto yours, filled with desperate hunger. He started to move towards you in the water, his tail wrapping around your leg possessively. “Need to breed.l His voice was low and growling now, the scent of his rut filling the room. “Need my cocks inside you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. You could run if you wanted to. In this state, he was confined to the tub. Rafayel seemed to see the hesitance on your gaze.

You swallow the lump in your throat. You could run if you wanted to. In this state, he was confined to the tub. Rafayel seemed to see the hesitance on your gaze.

His eyes searched yours intensely, understanding your hesitation. With deliberate slowness, he leaned against the edge of the tub, showing he wouldn't lunge. "Fuck..." He ran a hand through his wet hair, breathing heavily. “Come-come here... or leave."

He was trying to hold himself back, if only for a moment. But he was a creature of habit, a hunter. So when you dropped your guard and leaned forward, the merman lunged.

His strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into the tub with him. Water splashed everywhere as he tackled you backwards onto the smooth marble floor of the tub. His twin cocks pressed urgently against your stomach and hips as he pinned you down, golden eyes wild with rut-driven need. “Caught ya.”

Your skirt was hiked up your legs, the water was up close to your ears. An inch or two more and your head would be submerged. Rafayel was always sort of intimidating. His cocky attitude, witty mind and his unwillingness to back down was the charm that drove you to him.

But now as he was leaned above you, overshadowing your body, you never felt so afraid aroused.

The two tendril-like cocks pressed insistently even through the thing cotton of your panties. You clung to the scales on his arms, yelping under his weight.

“Raf-! I-a-ah! Wait-!”

“No waiting.” He growled against the plane of your throat. His nose bumped against the thin bandage covering your scent glands. They were swollen, pulsating, barely contained under the bandage. “Off.” He growled.

Your shaking fingers peeled away the scent patches and Rafayel nearly came at that very moment. His tail flipped against the water, splashing water into the bathroom floor as he dove in.

His fangs nipped, sucked, threatened to pierce the flesh of your throat. His cocks rutted against the soaked fabric of your underwear. Rafayel took a deep whiff of your throat, his arms keeping his upper body upright around your shoulders.

“You smell divine~.” He purred. His tongue-had it always been so sharp?-lapped at your scent gland. “Let me in, little human. I promise I won’t bite too hard.” With a hand on your hip, he flipped you both over. You were now straddling his tail, the thick, muscled flesh rippling between your thighs.

His webbed claw tears through the fabric as if it’s nothing but paper. “Ah, there she is. So fuckin’ pretty.” The way your glistening walls met his line of sight was something no amount of expensive paint could capture again. You were slowly losing yourself to him. His pretty words, pretty cock and those sweet pheromones were far too much.

“Rafayel, need-need you-“

“I know what you need, Cutie. Sit up for me.” With a clawed hand on your lower back he pushed you forward enough for his larger cock to slowly-. “Bigggg stretch, Sweetheart.”

And GOD was it a big stretch. He was filling every nook and cranny of your cunt. The smooth service of his length gave little resistance. Just when you thought in there couldn’t be more, yet another inch wormed its way inside.

Rafayel’s mouth fell open. His Rut was doing more talking than his mind was. “Beautiful, Beautiful-My Beautiful Girl-“ His common tongue became intermingled with words you could only assume was Ancient Lemurian.

But your brain was too frazzled to differentiate the two. When your plush lips finally made contact with the slimy slit at the base of his length, your mind was numb.

Rafayel was an impatient soul. Without giving you a second to adjust, he was using that sinful tail as leverage to drive up into you. “Raf! I-ahhh, shit!”

Rafayel growled, sharp fangs nipping at the flesh of your shoulder. “Watch your mouth, pretty art pieces shouldn’t speak such filth.”

How did he expect you to act when he was drilling into you at a pace that should be impossible for his merfolk tail in a cramped tub. His claws shredded through your remaining clothing. The pieces floated in what was left of the bath water.

Rafayel was bursting at the seams. “That’s right, right there-you look so good taking my cock.” He praised. His cock rammed into your over sensitive cervix. He bullied his way in, your juices coating the pink flesh. But then-oh.

“No! Raf, just one! I can’t-“

“Hush, deep breath My Lady,” his lips encircled your nipple, the second cock, eager and leaking, insistently nudged right by his first one. “Relax Cutie, don’t take my precious jewels now.”

You get him back later for his teasing. But right now, all you could focus on was the delicious burning as his second cock forced its way inside. Lemurian Omega’s could’ve easily taken both of his lengths with practiced ease. But a tight thing like you needed to be coerced. Pleaded with.

“Look how well you accept me. Your body knows who it’s true God is, hm?” He looked like a hungry animal as he watched you sob, babble even, over the stretch. “Oh Hush, you can take it.”

With a final, firm thrust, both lengths were buried to the hilt. A white flash blinded your vision. So hot, the heat in your lower tummy. You hadn’t even realized what had happened until Rafayel’s shocked laughter echoed in the bathroom.

“Did you just-? Oh Cutie, look at you! My little waterworks!” When you had the courage to peel open your eyes, his abdomen above his tail wasn’t soaked in water, but your juices.

Your face erupted in a deep blush and you wanted nothing more than to disappear. But Rafayel wouldn’t let that happen. You tried covering your face, but Rafayel pulled away your hands and kissed each palm.

“Don’t be embarrassed, we have so much to accomplish.” He held your wrist in one hand against your lower stomach, the other digging his claws into your hip.

The bathroom became a symphony of eager cries, growls of pleasure and the splashing of water.

Rafayel’s multi-colored eyes were glazed with need. This was right where he belonged. In his true form, rutting up into his Beloved Bride, breeding a sweet cunt he’d wait another 600 years to taste.

The ache in your stomach built up again. Each length took its turn battering into your more than willing pussy. The slick noises edged you both on. The smell of sex and pheromones overwhelmed the bathroom.

Your gummy walls are just as mean to his poor cocks. Milking him for every drop he would seem release like tidal waves into your orfice.

“Kiss me.”

The Demand of a Sea God couldn’t be ignored. Your mouths meshed in a battle for dominance. Humans had sharp teeth in ruts and heat, but nothing compared to the massive fangs resting in his jaw. Your lips with nipped at, bruised and one even split from his kisses but you couldn’t care less.

Rafayel let go of your wrist to grip the edge of the tub. His hair clung to his forehead as he panted. “Gonna fill you so full-“ You chest tightened at his words. You weren’t on any protection. He was in Rut, and god knows how potent Lemurian males were in Rut.

“N-no, hold on-“

“What?” He pouts, that innocent face would be so adorable if he wasn’t driving up into you like his life depended on it. “Don’t you want my pretty eggs? Oh we’d have such cute hatchlings.” His claw presses in your lower abdomen-where you could feel his cock-and where his eggs would lay. “I’ll take you to the sea to lay them. I’ll be the one feeding you fruits. I’ll be the one singing them Lemurian lullaby’s. I’ll be the one worshipping you-.”

“Cum in me.”

“What?”

“Breed me.”

How could he deny his Queen?

Rafayel didn’t need to be told twice. The command itself sent him tumbling into a spiral. The remaining bath water was splashed across the marble floors. His eyes rolled back, a ferocious growl echoing in your ears. Your walls clamped down around his dual cocks as you both reached the peak.

The first few spurts were expected, but when it kept going- “Raf!”

He wrapped his arms around you, refusing to let you escape him so quickly. “Easy Girl, they’re not done yet.” How much cum could he possibly have?!

Each spurt sent a warm feeling in your tummy that had you sobbing from pleasure. Your aching walls weren’t helping. When Rafayel gave one final groan and released you to lay against his chest, the iridescent cum trickled down your shaking thighs. It resembled pearls, all shiny and reflecting in the sunset peeking through the windows.

“Rest now, My Love. My Beautiful Queen.”

[chrissv4mp]

𐙚 ᯓ stupid crush — ᡣ𐭩

she didn't understand why she felt like this, why she felt so... warm. especially when you were around. any time you even came within a 5 feet radius of her, she'd feel like she was going to explode. her cheeks would heat up, and she wouldn't know how to act, what to say—she didn't even know how to breathe when you were around her. which reminded her... you were lying right on her chest, and that only made the struggle to breathe worse. she hopes you didn't notice, but with the way your hand ran across her stomach so often, she was sure you might've caught on earlier than she expected. billie had been the one to invite you over after you got off your shift, and you happily accepted her invitation because she was never really the one to ask.

so, here you were, your bodies laying on her bed as a song from your shared playlist plays at a low volume from the speaker on her nightstand. the rain from outside hit her window, the quiet pitter-patter noises making the whole scene complete. it was something straight out of some classic friends-to-lovers film. her bedside lamp was on, lighting the room up just enough so that you could see her face and she could see yours. she was counting each of the little freckles on your face as you shut your eyes, relaxing into her. she ran a hand through your hair, her fingers scratching your scalp so softly, so carefully as she lulled you even further into a sleepy state of mind. she was praying you didn't hear the fast beating of her heart as she held you, not moving too much because she was scared that she'd do something wrong and you'd leave.

she grabbed her phone from her pocket, careful not to make too much noise as she unlocked her phone and went into her voice notes. she was sure you were asleep by now, your gentle breathing and quiet demeanor, a crystal clear sign. but, as she played the most recent one, titled 'stupid crush,' she regretted not making sure that you were actually asleep. her voice erupted from the speaker on her nightstand, and the first words that were heard were, "this is fucking stupid. i... love y/n. there was that—?" until billie finally came to her senses and paused it, the music resuming almost immediately. if her heart wasn't racing, it sure as hell was now. you stirred in your... sleep?—daze?—she didn't know, but now you were looking directly into her eyes with the... softest expression on your face. your eyes spoke for you, but billie was sure she was misreading the smile that began to creep onto your face. you were going to laugh. make fun of her—

"what's so 'fucking stupid' about that?" you giggle softly, voice slightly raspy and eyes glossed over with multiple emotions. all of which were for billie to decipher because she knew damn well she wasn't gonna get any answers from between your pretty pink lips until she finally admitted her feelings. but she didn't know what to say, and not even the music playing softly in the background calmed her anymore. she shut off her phone, tossing it to the empty side of the bed as she gulped quietly, "tell me, i'm quite interested." you sat up, sitting on her lap as you always did because you could never not be at least somewhat in her personal space. maybe that's part of what helped develop her crush on you. her stupid crush. on you. her best friend, of all people. she cleared her throat of the suffocating feeling as she sat up straighter, body tensing as she hopelessly murmured, "because you're my best friend. we're—y/n, we can't be—"

"who says we can't be together?" you scoff, a half-amused, half-annoyed look on your face. when she blinked, it was like you were a million miles closer to her, your lips inches apart, breath fanning over her face. she gulped again, eyes scurrying over to the empty side of the bed, biting on her lip nervously as she tried to think about what to say. it wasn't like she didn't want you to be her girlfriend, she was just... scared of messing it all up. when you cupped her cheek and turned her head back towards you, her eyes widened, "gimme one reason." you whisper, eyes darting down to her plump lips as you scoot closer to her body, shorts riding up your thighs. she doesn't respond, feeling frozen in the same song that just ended began to play again through the speaker, "billie," you murmur, lips only inches away from hers, almost brushing against each other as your hand travels down and wraps around the back of her neck, pulling her in closer. when your other hand comes up to her shoulder, she only then decides to speak, "because it'll be ten times harder to let you go."

"then you better hold me tight so that won't happen." you whisper before your lips crash softly against hers, pulling her closer by her neck. she doesn't pull away, your words slowly processing in her head as her own hands cautiously grab a hold of your waist, almost pulling you onto her lower abdomen in an attempt to get you closer. she wanted you two to be whole, even after all the doubt she spat out before. your words sunk deep into her heart, and now she didn't have a worry in the world. as long as you were with her, everything would be fine. she'd just have to hold you. close. tight. secure. as long as possible... and maybe even forever. she smirks against your mouth as she feels your tongue run across her lower lip, pulling away only a few inches as she opens her eyes, staring deeply into yours and never looking away, "so... i guess i should rename the voice note 'stupid girlfriend,' now?" she giggles as you roll your eyes, pushing her shoulder softly, "i think you're the stupid one."

𐙚 amiyaps : guys the landing of my flight scared the absolute SHIT out of me... cus tell me why we were dropping so fast bro 🙁

𐙚 tags : @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @her-favorite @cannibalsclass @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @meliciousmel13 @zayluvss @hrtsdollie

[s0ulja-g1rl]

Late-Night Drives & Mixtapes

Rodrick Heffley x Fem!Reader | Fluff | 1.2K words

The low rumble of Rodrick’s van was the only sound in the stillness of the night. The neon glow from passing streetlights cast fleeting shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel. You sat beside him, your legs tucked under you, basking in the comfortable silence that only came with being around him.

It was past midnight, and the world felt softer, slower, as Rodrick drove with no real destination in mind. The cool night air seeped through the cracked windows, carrying the scent of asphalt and pine. Your town always felt different at night—quieter, almost like it belonged to just the two of you.

Rodrick exhaled through his nose, tapping the dashboard with his palm. “Alright, Y/N, serious question,” he said, his voice scratchy from a mix of exhaustion and whatever energy drink he’d chugged before picking you up. “If you had to listen to only one band for the rest of your life—like, no skips, no variety—who would it be?”

You hummed, pretending to give it deep thought. “Löded Diper, obviously.”

Rodrick groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That doesn’t count. You’re just saying that ‘cause you feel bad for us.”

“Maybe.” You grinned. “But also, I like your music, okay? So sue me.”

He side-eyed you, lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he flicked on the stereo, and the van filled with the opening chords of a song you didn’t recognize.

“What’s this?” you asked, shifting in your seat as the steady drumbeat kicked in.

Rodrick shrugged, gripping the wheel tighter. “Just a mix. You’ll like it.”

You didn’t miss the way his knuckles flexed, how his knee bounced as if he was waiting for you to say something. His usual cocky attitude was nowhere to be found—just nerves, poorly hidden under the dim glow of the dashboard.

You leaned closer, letting the song wash over you. It was a mix of classic rock and some heavier alternative stuff, but then, a song that was unmistakably different played through the speakers—something softer, melodic, almost sweet.

You turned your head slowly. “Rodrick… did you make this?”

He snorted. “What? A playlist? Yeah, Y/N, that’s not exactly rocket science.”

“No, I mean… for me?”

Rodrick drummed his fingers against the wheel, gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I dunno,” he muttered. “Maybe.”

A warmth spread through your chest, something soft and fluttery. You had known Rodrick for years, and despite his general ‘I don’t care’ attitude, there were always these moments where he’d surprise you—where he’d let that tough exterior slip just enough to show the messy, endearing boy underneath.

“Rodrick,” you pressed, smiling despite yourself. “Did you just make me a mixtape?”

“I didn’t put it on a tape, did I?” He groaned, but you saw the tips of his ears go pink. “Just—ugh, don’t make it weird, okay?”

You let out a small laugh, watching as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was so bad at this—at being soft, at admitting when he did something thoughtful—but that just made it all the more endearing.

“I love it,” you said simply, because you did.

Rodrick peeked at you, and the tension in his shoulders eased, just a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the hum of the engine and the music filling the space between you. The city lights faded as Rodrick turned onto an empty backroad, the kind lined with trees where the only illumination came from the headlights slicing through the dark.

He ran a hand through his already-messy hair. “Alright, your turn. One band for life—not Löded Diper.”

You tapped your chin dramatically. “Hmm… Nickelback.”

Rodrick gasped, swerving the van slightly. “Take that back.”

You cackled, throwing your head back. “Make me.”

Rodrick shot you a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re lucky I don’t pull over and leave your ass on the side of the road.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you challenged, poking his arm. “You’d miss me too much.”

Rodrick rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” But his grip on the wheel tightened, and there was something softer in the way he glanced at you, in the way his lips parted like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t quite figure out how.

The mixtape—his mixtape for you—kept playing, the tracks bleeding into each other, each one carefully picked by him. It was so painfully obvious now, what this was. He hadn’t just thrown together a bunch of songs he liked.

He’d picked songs with meaning. Songs that told you things he didn’t know how to say.

The van rolled to a stop at the edge of a hill that overlooked the town. It was a spot the two of you had come to before, but tonight, it felt different. The lights below twinkled like tiny stars, and for the first time in a while, everything felt… easy.

Rodrick leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms before resting one over the back of yours. He was pretending to be casual about it, but you could feel the warmth of his fingers, just barely brushing your shoulder.

“You wanna know something?” he asked suddenly.

You turned to him, resting your cheek against the seat. “Always.”

Rodrick licked his lips, drumming his fingers absentmindedly against the dashboard. “I, uh… I don’t really do this. Like, the whole, y’know…” He waved a hand vaguely. “Feelings thing.”

“I never would’ve guessed,” you teased.

He shot you a look. “I’m being serious.”

“I know,” you said, a little softer this time. “Go on.”

Rodrick exhaled sharply, like he was bracing himself. “I just—look, I like having you around, okay?” He squirmed, like the words physically pained him. “And not in, like, a ‘you’re cool to hang out with’ way, but in a ‘shit, I think about you all the time and it’s annoying’ way.”

Your heart stuttered, heat creeping up your neck. “Rodrick—”

“Wait, I’m not done,” he interrupted, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before forcing himself to look at you. “I made the dumb mixtape because every time I hear a song I like, I wonder if you’d like it. And I wanna know what you think about it, and—ugh, this is so lame.”

You laughed, but it wasn’t mocking—it was light, breathless, because God, he was a mess, and it was adorable.

“Rodrick.” You reached over, slipping your fingers through his. His breath hitched, and he tensed, but he didn’t pull away.

“…Yeah?”

You squeezed his hand. “I think about you all the time, too.”

Rodrick blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

You grinned. “Yeah, idiot.”

For a second, all he did was stare at you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, with a sudden burst of confidence, he leaned in.

The kiss was quick—just a hesitant brush of lips, warm and a little clumsy—but it made your stomach flip all the same. When he pulled back, his cheeks were red, and he was trying so hard to act cool about it.

“Well,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t terrible.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him back in.

This time, he kissed you properly.

And if the mixtape continued playing softly in the background, with lyrics about love and late-night drives and stupid teenage feelings—well, neither of you were complaining.

[discotitsposts]

meant to be

Spencer trying and failing to flirt with you because you are oblivious to his attempts.

spencer reid x reader

i picture this as later seasons spencer maybe sometime around 12-14?

some mature themes mentions of sex at the end so 18+

writing this because i saw something about people who are bad at flirting and that’s literally me. (i hope ppl get the reference w the nickname)

Spencer had tried every day to get your attention romantically. It didn’t work. Nothing did. You were so oblivious to all of his flirting attempts. He figured maybe you had trouble understanding so he worked harder to make you think of him as more than a friend. He tried everything his genius brain could come up with.

He even made up a nickname for you, Bean, because you always had a coffee in your hand, and because he was taller than you.

Today you were getting coffee with him as usual. At your favorite coffee shop and library. You didn’t work at the BAU so you would eventually have to go to your own job so Spencer decided to try again.

Since you lived in the same building, neighbors in the same hall, he picked you up every morning. Drove you to get coffee and you each picked a book for each other and then he drove you to work.

He knocks on your door awaiting anxiously. You come out in your outfit, just a t shirt and jeans. you didn’t have a dress code at your job, you were an author and usually went into a nice office that the publishing company provided to write since you had a hard time focusing in your apartment. Too many distractions.

In Spencer’s car you make small talk as he tries to think of a way to flirt with you. Normally he’d call Morgan but his son was a toddler now so he was busy. He gets so lost in his head he doesn’t realize he just ran a stop sign on accident and almost hit someone.

He hears you yell “Spencer what the fuck!” and slams the brakes. The other car honks and his heart is pounding in his brain. He pulls to the side of the road and stops.

“Spencer. Breathe. It’s ok.” You worry tracing your face at the sight of his extremely fast breathing and you rub his back reassuringly.

“Holy shit.” He barely chokes out. His face is beet red and he looks like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“Switch.” You tell him. He looks at you and feels comforted immediately by your face. “Let’s go, switch.” You get out of the car and switch sides.

‘So much for flirting’ he thinks. Then it hits him. When he picks your book for the day, he’ll give you a romantic story. Something that says ‘I really like you but I’m an idiot so I don’t know how to tell you but i’m not actually an idiot because im technically a genius but my fucked up life has ruined romance for me but i’d love to try it with you if you are okay with that.’

When you take over driving you don’t talk. You just focus on the road. You had even turned the music off. He hopes you’re not upset with him. That thought quickly dissipates when you pull into the parking lot and your face is beaming. You both race to the entrance and he gets there first and opens the door for you. You stick your tongue out at him and he smirks.

You order your usual drinks and he gets himself a breakfast bagel and you get a croissant. He puts the food at a table and you both get up to grab each other a book. You had yours picked since last night, The Godfather. It’s only a little over 400 pages so he’ll probably finish it by lunch time but at least it will be fun for him since it will make him think of you. At least you hope it does.

You have a habit of making funny commentary during movie nights. When you watched ‘The Godfather’ trilogy with Spencer he had laughed so hard he cried.

Meanwhile Spencer is searching rows of books looking for the right one. He moves to poetry but nothing feels right. He feels slightly frustrated so he moves back to classics and picks ‘A Little Princess’ instead. A favorite of yours you had read in elementary school. Not romantic but shows he knows you well.

When he makes his way back to the register to check the book out, you’re already seated munching your croissant. He makes his way to you and hides the book behind his back. You discreetly pull yours out of your bag and hide it the same way.

“1,2,3!” You both count at the same time and then reveal your books. Spencer cracks up when he sees the book you had picked. He had read this before but he enjoyed it because it reminded him of you. You both eat and finish your coffees. You look at each other.

“More?” Spencer asks.

“Obviously.” You answer. You both stand up and order more coffee.

Back in Spencer’s car you open the book and start reading. He’s about to put the key in the ignition when sudden confidence hits him. He doesn’t know if it’s the caffeine but he doesn’t care. He should kiss you right now. He stares at you until you look up.

“You’re going to be late for work if you don’t start that engine up soon Mr. Chauffeur.” You tease him.

He leans closer and puckers his lips slightly. He’s so filled with lust he just can’t wait anymore.

You look at him strangely. Was he trying to kiss you right now? Probably not. Truth was you were always so filled with doubt whenever you liked someone. Especially Spencer. He was just too handsome and sweet and perfect.

He leans in even closer to you and tilts his head. You, however, had gone back to your book and weren’t even looking at him.

“Does this make you uncomfortable” Spencer leans in closer. He closes his eyes and you lean down to reach for something from your bag. He doesn’t feel your soft lips on his and thinks he may have missed your face. He opens his eyes.

“Everything does. I have anxiety Spencer. All the time anywhere day and night. ” You reply while eating a yogurt you had found in your tote.

Spencer pulls away and smacks his forehead. He starts the car and drops you at your work and drives to the BAU feeling defeated. What would it take for you to realize how bad he wants you.

That night he decides to drop by your apartment. You had gotten a ride home from work by a friend tonight. He opens his door and walks the short distance to yours.

When his hand knocks on your door he feels nervous. You open the door and greet him.

“Hi!” You cheer.

“Hey, I was gonna order a pizza. You want?” He lies. He actually wasn’t the biggest fan of pizza. He didn’t eat it too often but it was your favorite food so why not.

“That would be great. I’m starving.” You clutch your belly dramatically. Which makes Spencer laugh.

He picks up the phone, “What would you like on the pizza m’lady.”

You tap your chin and think. “Sausage.” You reply. Spencer thinks of a way to flirt. Kind of.

“How much sausage would you like?” He asks smirking.

“Uhh, 5? I don’t know dude. The normal amount that goes on a pizza?” You answer sarcastically, going to your dvd rack to pick a movie. Spencer sighs. He calls and places the order and helps you pick a movie.

“How about ‘How To Be A Serial Killer?’ That’s a good one. I love Matthew Gray Gubler in this one so much.” You fan girl a little.

“Who the fuck is Matthew Gray Gubler? Also, no, not with my line of work. I need a break from that.” Spencer asks with a hint of jealousy in his voice. You clasp your hand over your heart dramatically.

“Ok, fine. how about a Disney Classic? Sleeping Beauty is my favorite.” You ask. Spencer nods. You put the movie on and grab two root beers from your fridge. Spencer thanks you when you hand him one and you lay a big fluffy blanket over you both. Not far into the movie the pizza arrives and you cheers Spencer with your pizza slice.

After you both eat and are full the movie is still on. You’re starting to feel sleepier by the second. Spencer offers you to lay with him and you take him up on it. He’s basically a giant teddy bear. He’s so warm and comfortable.

“I’ve got a real life sleeping beauty right here.” He whispers to you. You smile with your eyes closed. Too sleepy to open. He gets out from under you, to your dismay. He cleans up the trash from eating. He even washes some dishes you had left sitting. When he comes back, you’re still half awake. He sees you sneak an eye open to look at him and your smile after.

“It seems there’s a fair maiden who has fallen asleep. However can we wake her? What if she sleeps for a hundred years?!” He exclaims. You start giggling softly. He leans closer to observe you.

“I don’t believe it! She’s laughing in her sleep! Must be quite a funny dream. Wonder what it is. Only one way to find out.” He gently leans down and kisses your lips softly. This action puts you in shock and you’re blushing. He starts to pull away because doubts fill his mind. You grab his hair and pull him back in.

You both pull back and he starts to ask you,

“Were you ok with that?”

You cut him off, “Yes.” Then you rip your shirt off. Spencer’s in shock. He follows your lead and starts undressing. He picks you up and carries you to your bedroom. The kiss you’re sharing is deepening by the second.

“Fuck why is it so hot in here.” You complain.

“I can think of a few reasons.” Spencer had been kissing you on your neck sucking the skin softly. He lays you back on the bed. He makes you comfortable. He goes down on you and then fucks you like you’ve never been fucked before.

The next morning you woke up naked next to him flashes of last night replaying. You couldn’t believe it. Spencer was so passionate! You didn’t even imagine he liked you like that.

He groans next to you and turns over. You get up and put on some coffee. When you come back into the bedroom he’s awake and looking for you.

“Hey, coffee’s ready.” You lean over and kiss him. He groans too tired to give an answer. He pulls you into the bed and holds you longer.

With him, this felt so easy and realistic.

Then you realize something.

This was meant to be.

the end ♡

to anyone who read this far: hope u enjoyed reading!! please let me know if u enjoyed! xoxo

[wyniepooh]

Snow

snow rarely falls in district twelve. but when it does, it always takes something, or someone away with him.

peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x district!reader. reader meets snow at the hob in district twelve. Written with blonde buzzcut white tee blue uniform and dog tag in mind ofc. In which reader peaks an unhinged corio’s interest post lucy gray… whether it’s a pure or toxic interest is up to u babe (but it’s meant to be a lil toxic okay).

“You can’t be here if you’re not gonna dance. Or drink.”

A flash of blonde swished towards you, so bright it seemed to reflect even under the dim light.

“excuse me?”

You chuckled as you stepped into the corner he was hiding in, hopping onto the stool and grabbing two pints of the watered-down beer before sticking an arm out. his arms remained crossed, eyes focused on into the bubbling liquid.

“Oh, come on, mr. peacekeeper. You’re off duty. I won’t tell.”

his lips thinned in an attempt to smile before he finally grabbed the glass from your hand. you took a sip, using the opportunity to scour the quiet man in front of you. peacekeeper, obviously. if the classic blue uniform and dog tag didn't give it away, the buzzcut identical to an array of people in the room certainly did.

Although, his hair was a brilliant shade of blonde, white, almost, forcing a separation from him and the rest of his comrades.

you set your cup down, wiping your mouth with the frilly sleeve of your dress. "so, why aren't you dancing?"

he opened his mouth, then closed it. you raised your eyebrows, chuckling lightly at his wooden expression. "well?"

He sighed. “I’m leaving this district tomorrow. I've been reassigned to district two," he finally spoke. "I'm here because they," he swiped a hand over at the men behind him, "wanted to celebrate. I don’t… care for it."

you blew out an annoyed breath, rolling your eyes lightly at his response. his eyes squinted, silently assessing the way you gulped down the last of your drink and the way in which you brushed your tongue over your lips.

"you're looking at this all wrong..." you paused.

"coriolanus."

you grinned, "...coriolanus."

you hopped off the wooden stool, patting down your fluffy skirt. "you think they have bars like this in district two? you think they have beer, music, and dancing like this over in that fancy district?"

"well, I assume-"

"Well, stop assuming,” you ran your hands through your hair, staring into his blue eyes as you strode in his direction. “And simply live. You never know what might happen. tonight's your last chance to celebrate in the best district there is, corio. your last chance to dance, drink..."

going on your toes be at level with his face, you stepped even closer, close enough to smell his freshly washed shirt and feel his slow breaths on your eyelashes.

"...kiss," you whispered. the corners of his lips perked up ever so slightly, his blue eyes glossy from the flickering candles. you backed away with your eyes still locked together, only looking away when you slotted your way into the expanding dance circle in the middle of the room.

you laughed and yelled as you twirled and tapped your feet, linking arms with the seamstress you always see at the supermarket, holding the hands of the baker that always snuck you an extra muffin. when the lively music finally came to an end, you instinctively looked in his direction-- but he was no longer there, cup still half full on the worn-down table.

Wiping your forehead with a cloth, you panted as you opened the door leading to the outside. you relished in the cool breeze, feeling an immediate relief from the humid dancing quarters. you looked to your right, and there you spotted the same shimmering blonde hair, the same shiny blue eyes making their mark on you.

your feet were moving before you even realized. when you neared him, he looked down at you with an unexplainable gaze in his eyes, hands clenched by his side.

you opened your mouth to speak, but your words never got a chance to escape. In one moment, you were close enough to touch the brick wall in front of you with your hand, and in the next, your back was up against the prickly surface.

He inhaled sharply before he pressed his lips against yours, his fingers skimming your chin as yours grazed the back of his head. you couldn’t help but smile at the bitter taste of beer still on his tongue, pushing his head harshly against your mouth while you relaxed against the wall.

his lips lingered on yours for a long moment before he pulled away.

"snow," he breathed against the flesh of your lips.

you scoffed, still dazed and breathless. "what?-"

"coriolanus snow."

you slowly reached for the silver tag dangling around his neck, turning it around to observe the cold metal. "if you ever come to the capit-"

"I am never going to the-"

his hand came up to clutch your hand, which was still latching onto his chain tightly. "if you ever come to the capitol..."

pressing his forehead against yours, his other hand danced along your waist while he pulled your chin closer to him again.

"come find me.”

-

a/n: hey guys... did I just write a pic about president snow? yeah I did. I would like to formally apologize to katniss, finnick, peeta, johanna, etc and suzanne collins I’m sorry but I’m just a girl

Btw everyone I’ve only ever seen the movies n have never read any of the books (shame on me ik but I’m planning on it) so pls excuse any inaccuracies in setting, timeline, etc, etc.

[demonic0angel]

Jason has to be cursed. For weeks now, he's been trying to set up a cute met with a pretty girl he met as Red Hood. Every attempt has had something go wrong, from his bike getting a flat tire to missing her at her favorite coffee shop by a few minutes.

The Dannies are livid. Some creep is trying to firt with their sister. Their doing everything they can to keep him away from her.

Jason groaned. Another coffee spilled on him. He didn't even know how it happened. His hand just seemed to move on its own and pour his coffee all over himself. Thank goodness he had made sure his coffee was cool before he started drinking, since this had been happening all too often.

He glared at his feet, ignoring the glances he received at the coffee that was staining his clothes.

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and then started walking to the beautiful girl he saw again.

He didn't know much about her. Only that she liked her drinks milky but not too sweet, she liked her pastries to be warm and chocolatey, she read nonfiction books at the cafe (like an adorable psychopath), she listened to a variety of music like classical and pop, and she was tall, kind, beautiful, and was named Jazz.

He probably could've found more if he wanted, but then where was the thrill? He wanted to know her personally, hearing about her from her own lips.

He was quickly thrown out of his thoughts when something tripped him and he slammed head first into a pole. He yelped, dropping to his knees as he cringed away from the sudden ringing pain on his forehead. Something slick began to drip down his face and Jason cursed, gingerly touching his forehead, where the pole had split open his skin.

There were cries of panic all around but no one helped. Jason grit his teeth, struggling to get up as his vision spun and his face flushed with heat and embarrassment.

"You there! Call the ambulance, please! Sir, are you alright?" An angelic voice asked. Something knelt before him, dark jeans and long, red hair scattering over the ground before hands gently reached for him.

Jason blinked and stared at Jazz, who was smiling at him kindly. "Will you let me help you?" She asked sweetly, her voice like a heavenly choir.

Jason turned red again and nodded. She gently patted the blood away with a couple of napkins from her purse and as the crowd lingered around and murmured, she asked, "Do you want to go to the hospital? Or is somewhere else fine? Will you be okay with going to my apartment? I have medical supplies there, since I'm a somewhat of a doctor."

"Your apartment, please," Jason breathed, suddenly feeling like god was taking pity on him and finally showing him some blessings.

Jazz smiled at him and said, "Okay. C'mon, I'll help you there." She talked a little more to the crowd, something about canceling the ambulance and thanking them for help and asking them to move on. There were several people who praised her and a lot of people lingered, but they all moved to the side like a parted sea as Jazz helped Jason to his feet and steadied him.

God, she was so fucking cool. Jason almost wanted to cry. His head still hurt, but Jazz was pressed against him and now he was able to go to her apartment and hopefully, he could ask her out now.

Yes, everything was perfect.

Danny, who was being glared into submission by Jazz over Jason's shoulder, winced and tried not to look at Jason's bleeding (but also annoyingly blissful) face as he floated behind the two.

Damn it all. Everything was ruined.

[viaaaviaaa21]

the urge for chaos

The sun had been high for a long time, but no one had moved. The afternoon stretched out like an old beach towel: warm, limp, salty, slightly damp with boredom. The Clairmont terrace was steeped in an almost unreal lethargy, as if the entire island had stopped breathing.

You, lying on the sun lounger closest to the edge, stared at the sea without really seeing it. Your bare legs stretched out, sun-kissed golden, your glass of iced tea abandoned half-empty on the weathered wooden coffee table.

Johnny was lying on the ground, his head resting on your leg, eyes closed, fingers lazily tracing circles on your skin. A lock of hair stuck to his forehead, and his wrinkled t-shirt rode up slightly on his stomach. Each time he breathed in, his ribs gently protruded under your hand.

Cadence was lying flat on her stomach on a rug, earbuds in, scribbling in her notebook like her life depended on it. Mirren had fallen asleep on the outdoor couch, one leg dangling, a straw hat covering her face. Gat was silently reading a poetry collection, sunglasses perched on his nose, one hand resting on Mirren’s hip.

Nothing was happening. Absolutely nothing.

And maybe that was the problem.

You ran your fingers through Johnny’s hair.

“Don’t you want to do something?”

He barely stirred, almost grunted, but smiled.

“We’re already doing something. We’re surviving the heat.”

“This is the slowest summer in the world.”

“And yet, it’s my favorite.”

You rolled your eyes, then sat up, forcing him off your knee. He grumbled softly and let himself fall back with a dramatic groan.

“Come on, Johnny. We have an entire island. And all we’re doing is... sleeping and tanning.”

He turned his head to you, one eyebrow raised.

“You don’t want to sleep with me?”

You threw him a pillow. He caught it mid-air, pressed it against his chest with a grimace, then sat up slowly.

“Okay. You want to move. What do you want? A walk? A fire? A night swim?”

“No. Bigger.”

“Like... a picnic with Mirren forgetting the plastic cups?”

You leaned your elbows on your knees, your eyes gleaming.

"What if we threw a party? A real party. Not just the five of us and a playlist of old hits. A party with people. With outsiders."

Johnny flinched.

You saw it. The tiniest tension in his neck. But he didn’t say anything right away.

"You want to invite strangers to Beechwood?"

"Why not? We act like this island is some kind of sanctuary. But it’s just a place. A place where we could create something other than a summer routine."

He remained silent for a moment, staring at the sea.

You continued, softly:

"We’re young. This is our summer. And honestly... I want something to change. Not explode. Just... shift."

Johnny turned his head to you, and his eyes had that particular blur they got when he looked at you too long. He smiled, not showing his teeth.

"You want to stir things up a bit."

"Don’t you?"

He shrugged.

"I’ve spent my life playing by their rules. Even while hating them. But now... if you’re the one proposing chaos, I’m in."

You smiled.

"You think Harris will let us do it?"

"Harris won’t know. Or he’ll pretend not to. Like always."

The evening fell like melted honey, slowly, slowly, and the house lit up with garlands and lanterns. The Liars had dressed for the occasion: Gat in a white shirt over a black tank top, Cadence in an ivory linen dress, Mirren in a sequined top, already barefoot. You wore a lavender backless dress, soft and flowing, tied at the neck with a single ribbon. Johnny had on a sky-blue shirt, open to the chest, and his fingers never stopped seeking your hand.

Music pulsed gently on the beach. The campfire crackled. Guests arrived, some by service boats, others on foot from neighboring properties. A light crowd. Laughter. Red cups.

The Sinclair house buzzed like a joyful hive. Mirren's playlist had been looping for an hour—a mix of summer classics and recent hits, remixed in a chill style. An improvised buffet stretched across the big outdoor table: chips, red cups, bowls of fruit, chilled bottles of prosecco. Everyone looked beautiful. Beautiful like only young people can be when they're sun-kissed, carefree, and no one has told them yet that eternity doesn't exist.

Johnny hadn't let go of your hand since the start of the night. You'd drawn a heart on his forearm with a pen. He'd whispered "you look perfect tonight" three times, each time sounding more certain than the last.

"See?" he murmured, one arm around your shoulders, as you both watched the guests move around the garden. "Your party idea... I was skeptical. But you were right. We should open up Beechwood more often."

You smiled against his neck. "This is just the beginning."

He was about to answer when a movement caught your attention below. The wooden ramp leading to the beach vibrated under a group’s steps. Excited, noisy silhouettes climbed up. New voices, masculine, full of energy.

You frowned. "Were we expecting more people?"

Johnny straightened, eyes fixed on the newcomers. Five or six of them. All young, tall, athletic, in shorts and open shirts or tank tops. A bunch of athletes from the mainland, clearly. It didn’t take long for you to realize they were from the neighboring tennis center—the same one Johnny had played against in a tournament weeks earlier.

And there, in the middle of the group, a too-familiar face appeared.

Blake Beaumont. Dark-haired, insolent smile, a half-unbuttoned white polo, sunglasses hooked to his collar, a beer already in hand. He climbed the last steps like he belonged, like he’d been invited.

Johnny froze.

"You’re kidding."

You looked at him. His body tensed, his jaw too. His fingers left yours. He didn’t speak loudly. But you felt the current shift inside him.

He watched Blake mingle, greet strangers, laugh loudly, clink glasses with two girls he didn’t even know. His presence was... overwhelming.

And you knew something was off.

"Did you invite him?"

"No. I don’t even know him."

Just then, Mirren appeared with a big smile, holding two mojitos.

"They’re here!"

"Who?" Gat asked, approaching.

"The tennis guys. I told them to swing by when I was at the marina. Didn’t think they’d actually all come, but..." She shrugged, lighthearted. "It’s cool, right?"

Johnny glared.

"You could’ve warned me before inviting people from my school, Mirren."

Mirren raised an eyebrow, stung. "Didn’t know you hated them that much. They’re just tennis guys, Johnny. Not the devil."

"They’re not just tennis guys. They’re pretentious assholes."

"You’re overreacting."

He turned on his heel, furious, saying nothing more.

"God, I’m tired of his stupid mood swings," she muttered.

You followed him immediately.

"Hey. Stay with me."

He stopped under the porch, back to the garden, fists slightly clenched. He took a deep breath.

"I’m sorry. I just... I don’t want them here. Especially not tonight."

You placed a hand on his chest.

"We can stay in our bubble. There are a hundred people here. They won’t ruin it."

He closed his eyes. "You don’t know what it is... that guy. He... he messes everything up."

"Why? Did something happen?"

Johnny opened his mouth, then stopped himself. He looked away.

"Nothing important."

And you knew, in that precise moment—without yet knowing how or why—that it wasn’t true.

Then, in the distance, Blake Beaumont appeared. Accompanied by two friends from the nearby tennis camp. Tall, tanned, his white tank top clinging to his athletic chest. Sunglasses tucked into his hair, smirk already on his lips. He scanned the house like he was stepping into enemy territory. And when his gaze met Johnny’s, the air turned electric. Johnny clenched his jaw, his hand slipping away from yours, his eyes locked on Blake. There was something hard in his stare… and something else. A disturbance you didn’t understand right away. Blake approached, relaxed, insolent.  “Johnny Sinclair. I thought you only fraternized with your cousins on this golden island.” Johnny shrugged, feigning calm.  “And you? Here to enjoy the pool or start a fight?” Blake smiled, extended his hand — Johnny didn’t take it.  “I came to have a drink. Maybe dance with your girlfriend.” Silence fell around them. You stepped closer. “You can drink, Blake. But keep your hands for your racket.” He raised his eyebrows, impressed. Then laughed softly.  “Alright. Promising evening.” And he walked off, nonchalant. Johnny didn’t move. His eyes followed him, unblinking. He was no longer smiling. And in that silence… there was something else. A fire, or maybe a fracture.

Twilight stretched over Beechwood like an endless caress. The last rays of sun mingled with the golden glow of the lanterns strung between the pines, casting warm, flickering halos on the faces. Around the large campfire, the Liars had gathered, forming a messy circle where laughter erupted, tangled together, and vanished into the falling night. The air carried a mix of scents: pine resin, sea salt, freshly cut grass, and the earth still warm from the day. You stood near Johnny, his hand gently wrapped around yours. His fingers were warm, slightly clammy, and you could feel against your skin the nervousness he tried to hide behind a discreet smile. The music, chosen by Mirren, was a subtle mix of old pop classics and modern alternative tracks, creating a nostalgic yet light ambiance, perfect for a summer night at Beechwood. Johnny slowly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.  “I wanted it to be simple. Just us. The Liars,” he whispered in your ear, his voice hoarse with fatigue and longing.  “Come on, the party isn’t that bad,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder. But in Johnny’s eyes, you could feel a quiet tension. An invisible weight pressing on every smile, every gesture. In the group of newcomers, you spotted Blake. His laugh rang out louder than necessary, his gaze lingering too long on Johnny. There was that familiar arrogance in his posture — the kind of overconfidence you gain when you’re used to dominating the court — and not just the tennis one. You squeezed Johnny’s hand a bit tighter.  “You feel that too, don’t you?” you asked softly. He nodded silently, still watching Blake with a hard stare. A few minutes later, you both moved away from the fire and settled near the buffet. The lantern light was dimmer there, and the noise of the party became a distant murmur. You pulled out two glasses of prosecco, handing one to Johnny. He took it but only sipped once. “I wish this was different,” he muttered, staring into his glass. “That this night was just for us, without the tension.” “ I know.” You placed your hand on his cheek, gently brushing his hot skin. “But we can’t control everyone. Or how they feel.” He turned away for a moment, gazing at the emerging stars.  “Blake... it’s not just a rivalry. It’s something else.” You frowned.  “What, exactly?” He remained silent, his face closed, jaw clenched. You wanted to push further, to understand, but your body was too soaked in alcohol to force the conversation. So you rested your head on his shoulder, letting the softness speak instead. The evening breeze rustled the branches, bringing with it a scent of promise and unease. Gradually, the groups dwindled — some already leaving, tired. But Blake and his crew stayed, laughing loudly, challenging the festive mood. You noticed Johnny growing quieter, his eyes often fixed on Blake, charged with an intensity you couldn’t decipher. Trying to distract yourself, you pulled him into a light dance in the center of the circle. He was clumsy, his hands unsure, but when he held you close, everything seemed to calm down — even if the unease never left. Later, as you rested your head on his chest, a burst of laughter drew your attention. A slightly aggressive tone. You looked up and saw Blake talking to Gat, a smug grin on his face, arms crossed. Johnny scowled and quickly grabbed your wrist.  “Stay with me,” he murmured. You nodded. You could feel the night was about to spill over, that something was going to snap — but you didn’t know what yet. You only knew that what you had built with Johnny, fragile and precious, might not survive this tension.

Voici la **traduction complète en anglais** du texte que tu viens d’envoyer :

---

The air was filled with music and whispers, voices rising now and then in laughter or fleeting arguments.

You stood a bit apart, near an old rough wooden table where empty glasses were piling up.

You had spotted Gat a few minutes earlier, who seemed to deliberately avoid your gaze, staying not far away, in the shadow of a tall pine.

You had noticed his strange behavior for a while.

He spent long seconds watching you, his jaw clenched, as if weighing every word he wanted to say but didn’t dare to. His movements were nervous, his fingers fidgeting, searching for a courage he couldn’t quite summon.

Earlier, you had overheard the hushed conversation between Blake and Gat, not far from there. Gat had seemed shaken, lost in thought, throwing heavy glances at Johnny. Their nods and forced smiles had tipped you off.

Something was going on.

You approached Gat gently, careful not to startle him.

 “Gat? Are you okay? You seem… distracted.”

He turned his head away, his expression tense.

“I… I wanted to talk to you.”

You waited, your heart slightly tight.

 “About what?”

He waved vaguely in the air.

 “It’s complicated. And I’m not sure how to say it.”

You took a step closer.

“You can tell me anything. I’m listening.”

His gaze finally met yours, filled with a new intensity.

“It’s about Johnny.”

Your heart sped up without knowing why.

“What about him?”

Gat took a deep breath, as if gathering energy he’d been avoiding for weeks.

“Do you really think you know everything? That you understand?”

You frowned, confused.

 “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

He turned toward the garden, then looked back at you, more direct now.

 “Johnny hides a lot. Not just from you. From everyone.”

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because he puts on an image. That perfect, nice, loyal façade… but he’s… a hypocrite.”

Your throat tightened.

 “Hypocrite?”

Just then, Johnny appeared, walking quickly toward the two of you. His dark gaze locked on Gat.

« What the hell is this?” he growled.

You gently stepped between them.

 “Let him talk, Johnny. I want to know.”

Gat gave you a grateful look, but the tension rose another notch.

“ Hypocrite? You’ve got some nerve,” Johnny spat, clenching his fists. “You pretend to be honest, but you lie more than anyone.”

“I don’t lie!” Gat shouted. “I’m telling the truth you don’t have the guts to face.”

The other Liars had drawn closer — some worried, others curious.

Mirren placed a hand on your shoulder.

“What’s going on, Gat?”

He shook his head.

— “You need to know. You all do. Johnny’s been playing a double game for a long time.”

“You’re going too far.”

“No. I’m done pretending. Done staying quiet. Done acting like everything’s fine when it’s burning inside.”

Johnny swallowed hard, visibly shaken.

“I’m not hiding anything from anyone.”

“Yes, you are. You’re even hiding from *her* half of who you are. And that makes you dangerous.”

You felt your chest tighten — fear, anger, and sadness mixing together.

 “Stop,” you whispered. “I want to understand. Not fight.”

But Gat, fired up, wouldn’t stop.

 “You deserve to know. You deserve the truth. Even if it turns everything upside down.”

Johnny met your gaze.

You didn’t know yet what all this would unleash. But you knew nothing would ever be the same again.

---

The cool night air hit you suddenly, like a brutal gust ripping through the suffocating heat of the argument.

You slipped away from the tense circle, where voices had risen into a storm of long-repressed emotions.

Your heart pounded too hard, as if trying to escape your chest. Your legs, heavy and unsteady, carried you without real intent.

You walked a few steps into the darkness, out of reach from glances, voices, the turmoil.

The distant chirping of cicadas, the rustling of leaves brushed by the wind — everything seemed both soothing and cruel, in contrast with the still-burning fury in your veins.

Each breath was thick with confusion, a dull pain that the alcohol amplified, clouding your thoughts and judgment.

You reached a small wooden bench, slightly hidden near a bushy area where the glow of the lanterns faded into fragile flickers.

There, you sat, your head lowered, hands trembling, searching for an anchor in the chaos inside you.

“Hey…”

A soft voice startled you.

You lifted your head to see Cadence’s concerned face, her eyes trying to pierce through your sadness.

 “Are you okay?” she asked gently, as if fearing the answer.

You shook your head slowly, unable to express the storm boiling inside you.

 “I… I’m not really sure.”

Before you could say more, Mirren appeared, approaching calmly, her expression just as worried as Cadence’s.

 “We heard the argument. It was intense,” she murmured, sitting beside you.

You looked at them both. That blend of compassion and worry in their eyes made a lump rise in your throat.

“I honestly don’t understand what’s going on,” you said with a broken voice. “Johnny, Gat… Blake… It’s like everything we built is crumbling at once, and I can’t figure out why.”

Cadence crossed her arms, her eyes shining with restrained frustration.

 “Me neither. Ever since *they* arrived, it’s like some invisible storm hit the island. Everyone’s avoiding the real issues.”

Mirren nodded, nervously biting her lip.

“I thought it was just a sports rivalry between Blake and Johnny, like before. But it’s way more complicated than that. I feel like it goes way beyond the court. There are secrets everywhere.”

You let out a heavy sigh.

 “And I’m… stuck in the middle of it all. I want to be there for Johnny, support him, but I feel like he’s hiding things from me. Gat wants to spill everything, but he can’t or won’t.”

You lowered your head, letting your hands fall onto your knees.

“I feel so lost… And the alcohol isn’t helping me see things clearly.”

Cadence placed her hand on your arm — a simple gesture, but comforting.

 “All three of us are in the dark. We don’t know what to believe anymore. But I want you to know you’re not alone.”

Mirren added softly,

“We’re here for you. For all of us. This party, this summer… I can feel it’s a turning point.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill your lungs, trying to calm the storm in your mind.

 “I’m scared this is the end of something. Not just the party, but our group… who we are.”

A silence settled, heavy with unspoken truths.

You looked up at the stars above, their distant glow seemed fragile — like your crumbling certainties.

Cadence spoke in a near whisper,

 “Maybe it’s already changed. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

You turned to her, surprised.

 “What do you mean?”

She gave a faint smile, as if drawing from some inner strength.

“Sometimes things need to crack, to burn a little, for something new to grow. Maybe we have to go through this storm to truly understand who we are.”

Mirren nodded.

“Exactly. It’s hard. We’re scared. But we’re holding on together, you see? That matters.”

You let their words wash over you — a mix of relief and melancholy.

You knew you needed them. That in this chaos, they were your anchor.

 “Thank you for being here,” you murmured, resting your head on Cadence’s shoulder.

They both wrapped their arms around you. A calming silence settled — the only refuge in this night of uncertainties.

---

Night had wrapped Beechwood in a dark, starry cloak — one that felt far too calm compared to the storm raging inside you.

The shouting, the argument between Johnny and Gat, the heavy atmosphere you were all drowning in… had carved a void inside you, a dull burn.

You walked a little, searching for a hiding spot, a shadowed corner far from prying eyes, far from questions, far from this party that now felt almost alien.

You sat on an old wooden bench, back hunched, head bowed.

The bitter taste of alcohol slid down your throat, clouding your mind, blurring the edges of pain and doubt.

A faint rustle caught your attention. Cadence appeared beside you, a lopsided smile on her lips but a dim light in her eyes. Her cheeks, flushed by the alcohol, betrayed that she too had sought escape from her thoughts.

“You know what?”* she said, leaning toward you with a teasing tone.

---

You shrugged your shoulders, your heart still tight.

“What?”

She burst out laughing, a clear, almost liberating sound.

“At worst… fuck the boys.”

That simple phrase echoed inside you like a small explosion of truth. A moment of pure rebellion, weariness, and bittersweet rage.

You looked at her, a smile beginning to form on your lips, mixed with a hint of relief.

“That’s… easy to say,” you murmured, feeling the sadness creeping into your voice.

“Not really,” Cadence replied, her eyes shining with brutal honesty. “I’m done, you know. Gat, his girlfriend… I saw her come. Like everything was going to stay calm and simple, but no. It’s getting tangled, complicated.”

She took a long sip from a beer bottle she had found, then handed it to you.

“I drank too tonight. To forget, not to think.”

You hesitated, but the weight on your chest was too heavy. You took the bottle and drank in turn, the familiar burn warming you a little.

“Drink with me.”

She leaned toward you, a knowing smile on her lips.

You stayed like that for a moment, drinking in silence, the world around you seeming to drift away.

Then Cadence placed a light hand on your arm.

“You know, I feel like they’re hiding a lot from us. That everything is more complicated than what they want to show.”

You nodded, squeezing her hand gently.

“I want to believe in Johnny, in us. But I’m scared.”

“Me too,” she murmured. “But I decided not to let this eat me up. I want to laugh, enjoy this summer, even if it’s hard.”

You let out a small laugh, almost a breath of freedom.

“At worst, we don’t give a damn about the boys,” you repeated, and both of you burst out laughing—the kind of laughter that frees, that feels good.

The night went on, but in that suspended moment, only that fragile and precious connection mattered.

“You know what?” Cadence said after a while. “I think we should promise never to lose that. No matter what, we stay together.”

You looked her straight in the eyes, feeling that silent pact would carry you.

“I promise you.”

You stayed there for a long while, talking softly, sharing your fears, hopes, and silences.

And in that night of alcohol and confidences, you understood that sometimes, to move forward, you had to let go.

---

After that moment of raw sharing, you felt a new surge of energy rising in you, as if the alcohol slowly dissolved the oppressive weight of the evening.

Cadence, still with that mischievous smile on her lips, grabbed your hand, almost pulling you to your feet.

“Come on, let’s go clear our heads. We have to enjoy a little, while we can.”

You followed her without thinking, your steps light guiding you to the heart of the party, where the music was at its peak, vibrating under the dim lights of garlands hanging between the pines.

The DJ, a friend from the island, was spinning a catchy track, a perfect mix of driving beats and hypnotic voices. The warmth of the night, the music, and the alcohol merged into a gentle, almost magical intoxication.

Cadence grabbed a half-empty bottle from a table and, with a conspiratorial wink, you shared another sip, the sparkling liquid awakening your senses.

“Remember when we were younger, dancing all night without a care?” she laughed.

You nodded, a genuine smile lighting up your face.

“Yes, like the whole world just stopped for us.”

The music pulsed through the warm night of Beachwood, the glowing garlands between the pines casting shifting highlights on smiling faces.

You and Cadence, still wrapped in the soft warmth of your complicity, moved toward the heart of the party, drawn by the rhythm and the desire to let yourselves go.

Suddenly, a group of boys appeared, their eyes shining with confidence and their smiles sometimes a little too forced.

“Hey, girls! Wanna dance with us?” called one of them, a tall blond with a charming smile, accompanied by his friends.

You felt your stomach tighten slightly—a mix of excitement and caution.

Cadence, with her sly smile, answered without hesitation:

“Why not? We’re here to have fun, right?”

The boys moved closer, slipping into your space, their hands occasionally brushing your arms, their laughter ringing around you.

The music’s rhythm intensified, and soon you found yourselves at the center of an improvised dance circle, carried by the rush of adrenaline and the light intoxication taking hold.

But gradually, their gestures grew more insistent, their words more suggestive. You felt a shiver of discomfort run down your spine.

Cadence laughed, trying to keep the mood light, but her eyes betrayed a growing unease.

One of the boys, bolder than the rest, placed a hand a little too low on your waist. You instinctively stepped back, scanning for an escape.

That’s when Mirren appeared, coming out of nowhere with a fierce smile and… a colorful water pistol in her hand.

“Hey, guys! You think this is a pool or what?” she shouted loudly, brandishing the makeshift weapon like a shield.

The boys burst out laughing, incredulous.

“What do you want, Mirren? We’re just having fun.”

But Mirren wasn’t joking.

With a quick move, she sprayed a burst of water that splashed the group, surprising everyone.

“That’s the cold shower.”

Amidst surprised shouts and splashes, the boys stepped back, shielding themselves.

Mirren took the chance to approach you and Cadence, placing a firm hand on each of your shoulders.

“You’re way too drunk to deal with these guys. I’m taking you away from them—that’s better.”

The boys, soaked and a bit humiliated, grumbled but stepped back.

Mirren led you to a quieter spot under a large oak, where the air was cooler and the music a bit more distant.

She sighed, visibly satisfied with her intervention.

“You have to be careful. These guys aren’t joking. They’re looking to take advantage, and you’re too spaced out to notice.”

You blinked, still a bit breathless, realizing how much worse things could have gotten.

Cadence spoke, amused despite everything.

“I never thought a water pistol could be such an effective weapon.”

Mirren smiled, shrugging.

“Sometimes you have to be creative to protect your friends.”

You silently thanked her, feeling a mix of gratitude and relief wash over you.

The alcohol was still doing its work, but you felt safer, more protected.

The party could go on, but tonight, you knew you had to watch out for each other.

---

You slowly left the oak corner, still a little dazed by Mirren’s water pistol stunt but relieved the situation had calmed.

The cool night air on your skin contrasted with the heavy heat pressing on your chest. You needed to center yourself, drink something cold, be alone for a bit.

You headed toward the house, the ground crunching lightly beneath your steps.

The music and laughter had faded, far behind you, mingling with the rustling of the pines.

Arriving in the kitchen, you turned on the tap, letting a stream of cold water fill your glass.

You drank slowly, appreciating the icy contact soothing your dry throat.

But as you turned to leave, a sound stopped you.

Voices. Two voices. Words escaping from a nearby room.

Curious and a little worried, you quietly approached the slightly open door, barely lit by the dim hallway light.

Intrigued, you crept closer to the opening.

On the other side, in the office lit only by the soft glow of a desk lamp, you saw Johnny and Blake.

Johnny was leaning against the wall, his crossed arms gripping his own silhouette a little too tightly.

Blake, meanwhile, stepped toward him with a mix of confidence and hesitation.

Their words were barely audible, but the tension in the air was palpable.

Johnny stepped back a little.

“Back off. Don’t come closer.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but firm.

Blake didn’t move, a sly smile on his lips, almost challenging.

“Why does this already feel like a scene you’ve seen before?” he said, his eyes sparkling with troubling mischief.

Before Johnny could answer, Blake stepped closer, closing the distance between them.

Then, with a speed that surprised even Johnny, he gently pushed him against the wall, his warm breath brushing Johnny’s tense face.

Silence settled, charged with electricity.

Suddenly, without warning, Blake pressed his lips to Johnny’s.

The world seemed to freeze around you.

You held your breath, eyes wide open, watching the scene unfold a few meters away like an unreal dream.

You held your breath, unable to look away.

Their bodies seemed to search for each other, hesitate, merge.

Then Johnny pulled back abruptly, gasping, his eyes shining with conflicted emotions.

“Blake…” he murmured, his voice trembling, full of confusion.

Suddenly, you felt a movement behind you, a breath that stopped sharply, as if the very air had frozen.

A gaze settled on you, heavy, filled with tension you couldn’t ignore.

Johnny.

He was there, just behind you, at the doorway, eyes wide open, realizing the truth that had betrayed you.

His face slowly crumbled, a shadow of pain crossing his eyes as he understood you had seen everything, heard everything.

Without a word, he stepped toward you, his voice hoarse and urgent:

“Wait. I… I can explain everything.”

But you didn’t want to hear.

Not after what you had just witnessed.

Without replying, you broke free from his gaze, heart tight, legs trembling.

You turned around, avoiding his outstretched arms trying to hold you back.

“No, Johnny. I don’t want to,” your voice was firm, almost harsh.

You headed down the hallway, your fast footsteps echoing on the cold floor.

Johnny called after you, but you didn’t stop.

You felt the tears burn deep in your eyes, anger mixed with pain enveloping you like a storm.

The hallway seemed to stretch infinitely under your hurried steps, each beat of your heart echoing like a drum in your chest.

---

“Wait, please! Don’t leave like that.”

But you didn’t slow down. You just wanted to get away, to run from the heavy burden you were carrying tonight.

His steps grew closer, fast and determined. He reached out, but you didn’t turn around.

You felt his breath, his words hanging in the air behind you.

“I can explain everything. Please.”

But anger and pain tightened your throat, stopping you from answering.

Around a corner, you nearly bumped into a figure who stopped dead.

It was Gat.

He looked at you immediately, his piercing gaze searching your marked face, your eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked softly, as if sensing the storm raging inside you.

You stared at him for a long moment, your breath still shaking.

“You knew, didn’t you?” you finally said, your voice rough, almost accusing.

“That’s what you wanted to tell me earlier, but couldn’t.”

He sighed quietly, lowering his eyes for a moment before speaking calmly again.

“Yes. Blake came to talk to me.”

You furrowed your brows, silently inviting Gat to continue.

“Earlier this evening, he found me, away from the crowd. He wanted me to know what was going on between him and Johnny.”

You stayed silent, his serious and sincere look making you listen fully.

“He explained that Johnny is bisexual, but never wanted it to be known. He’s handling it all alone, and it’s complicated for him.”

You felt the lump in your throat tighten even more.

“Blake just wanted to be honest, but he knew it would cause waves.”

You looked at Gat, emotions mixed in your eyes — anger, sadness, confusion, but also some relief at no longer being the only one who knew.

“So why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you asked, voice trembling.

Gat shrugged, a sincere sigh escaping him.

“I wanted to. But I didn’t know how. And I didn’t want you to find out like this, by accident.”

He placed a comforting hand on your arm, firm but gentle.

“I understand it shakes you up. But I’m here.”

You let your head fall on his shoulder for a moment, the weight of the evening crushing you, but finding in that simple contact a bit of comfort.

“Thank you, Gat,” you whispered.

You still felt Gat’s reassuring hand on your arm, a touch that kept you from collapsing.

His gaze fixed on you, attentive, full of understanding, seemed to want to give you a strength you no longer had.

But despite this fragile calm, a heavy weight squeezed your chest, a mix of confusion, anger, and sadness.

You looked far down the dark hallway, at the reflection of the party continuing — the music, the laughter, the voices fading softly.

Everything seemed both so close and so far from you.

Then suddenly, hurried footsteps broke the silence.

You felt Gat tense beside you, and you straightened instinctively.

Johnny appeared, his silhouette outlined in the shadows, his face marked by fatigue and a pain you had never seen in him before.

His eyes landed first on you, and he immediately read the tension on your face.

A shadow passed through his eyes, a dull bite he couldn’t hide or deny.

He stopped dead, his throat tight, jealousy clutching his chest.

“What…?” he started, his voice broken.

You gently pulled away from Gat, surprised by the sudden tension.

Gat released you, standing straight, his eyes meeting Johnny’s, calm but defiant.

“Nothing like what you think, Johnny,” he said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder to reassure you.

Johnny took a step toward you both, his gaze seeking yours. But he saw only sadness and misunderstanding and without a word you brushed past him, bumping into him as you headed as far away from him as possible.

---

The night had thickened over Beechwood like a dark sheet fallen over the muffled laughter and songs of the party continuing in the distance. The breeze came from the shore, cool and salty, but it didn’t calm anything you were feeling. Your heart beat both fast and hollow, like a war drum emptied of meaning. You didn’t know if it was anger or sorrow making you tremble. Maybe both.

Now he stood in front of you, shoulders slumped, eyes red-rimmed, and you didn’t know how to talk to him without exploding.

He took a hesitant step forward.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this…”

You took a sharp step back, your look burning.

“No. Stop. Don’t even start. You didn’t want me to find out? You lied to me, Johnny. How long have you lied? How long have you known how you feel about Blake?”

He shook his head nervously.

“It’s not what you think. It’s not… a story. It’s not something planned. It just… happened.”

“Happened? You kissed him. You pushed him away, then you kissed him again. And you want me to understand? You want me to do what? Congratulate you?”

Johnny lowered his eyes, helpless. He ran a hand through his messy hair and murmured,

“I panicked. I was scared. Scared of what it meant, scared you’d leave if you knew. Scared to face myself.”

You shook your head, tears beginning to well at the edge of your lashes. But you refused to cry in front of him. Not yet. Not now.

“And you think I’m not scared? You think I’m not terrified by what I feel, by what you just made me live through? But at least I never lied to you. Never.”

Johnny looked up at you, pleading.

“I love you.”

That sentence, in other circumstances, would have broken you. But tonight, it tore from you a cold laugh, a flash of pain turned sarcasm.

“No, Johnny. You love the idea of me. You love telling yourself you’re a good person because you love me. But you know what? You betrayed me. You stole the trust I had in you. And even your love can’t fix that.”

He took a step toward you, reaching out, but you stepped back again.

“Don’t touch me.”

A freezing silence settled. Then, voices in the distance. Laughter dying out, footsteps coming closer.

The Liars.

Cadence, Gat, Mirren at the end of the hall. They had heard. Or rather, they had seen. The tension, Johnny’s nearly trembling body, your clenched jaw, your fists tightened.

Cadence stopped, confused.

“What’s going on?”

No one answered right away. The silence had become too heavy.

Gat looked at Johnny with a dark glare, jaws clenched.

“You want me to tell them? What you did? Or do you want to keep playing the victim?”

Mirren stepped in, nervous.

“Hey. Calm down. We’re supposed to be together tonight. It’s summer. Not… some damn Greek tragedy.”

But nothing quelled the anger. Johnny stared at Gat with disgust.

“You think you’re better than me, huh?”

Gat stepped forward.

“No. I just think I’m honest. That I don’t betray the people I love.”

Your heart raced. You felt exposed in the middle of them all. Like everyone had just seen the intimacy of your wound, your humiliation.

Cadence looked at you, worried.

“You want to get out of here? Come on.”

But you shook your head.

“No. I want him to tell the truth. In front of everyone.”

Johnny looked at you, lost.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Too late. You already did.”

The tension in the group was palpable. Something had just shattered. It wasn’t just a lovers’ quarrel. It was a crack in the cement of your friendship. A fracture that even summer couldn’t mend anymore.

Mirren crossed her arms, icy.

“Do you realize what you’re doing? This group was supposed to be the only thing that was real. And you’re ruining it all.”

Johnny took a step back, shaken.

“I’m sorry.”

Gat exploded.

“You always say that. And then? You do it again.”

Cadence tried to calm the tension, but it was useless. The fire was lit.

You looked down at the ground. You hurt everywhere. Not physically. But that dull, nagging pain of a heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

You looked up at Johnny.

“You can say whatever you want, Johnny. But I don’t believe you anymore.”

And in the silence that followed, you turned on your heel. This time, for good.

You left behind the voices, the looks, the pain. You walked alone on the wooden boards creaking beneath your feet, toward anywhere. Just far away.

Something had broken that night in Beechwood. And even the ocean, just a few meters away, seemed to know it.

[sturnzsblog]

empty dreams and false promises 36

summary: y/n life changes and not for the best she is forced to move in with three people that she barely knows. She ends up falling for one of these strangers, but who will it be?

Warnings: mentions of death, stalking, drugs ( not actual use) and smut! this is for all parts of the story! please let me know if i missed any!

I stood by the tall glass windows at the gate, watching the New York skyline blur into fog. The sky was painted in heavy gray, almost as if it knew I was leaving something behind. My fingers curled around the strap of my bag, and in my chest, everything felt tight. Not suffocating like it used to—but heavy, like a door slowly closing.

Chris’s arm slid around my waist. He didn’t say much. He didn’t have to.

“You did good,” he whispered against my hair.

I turned to look at him. “I don’t feel good.”

He looked down at me with that patient, soft gaze he always saved just for me. “You will.”

⸻

Matt was snoring softly by the window seat, head tilted back with his mouth open. Jimmy sat beside me and chris whispering something to Chris about what he was going to eat the moment we landed.

“I need like… four breakfast burritos,” he muttered, making Chris snort beside me.

I rested my head on Chris’s shoulder, letting the hum of the plane lull me. The city I was born in slowly disappeared beneath the clouds.

I thought about my dad. About standing over his grave and not falling apart like I thought I would. I thought about the girl I used to be in that house in Brooklyn—the one who was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m leaving something behind…” I whispered to myself, barely audible. “But also taking a piece with me.”

Chris’s hand found mine and didn’t let go.

⸻

The second we walked into Chris’s house, I felt it. That shift.

Before, it was a safe place to hide. Now, it felt like something more.

Home.

Jimmy ran straight to the kitchen. “I swear I can smell takeout. Who left food in here?”

Matt dragged the luggage inside, muttering about how he needed a nap. Chris lingered behind me at the door, watching me quietly.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“I don’t feel like a guest anymore.”

His eyes softened. “That’s ‘cause you’re not.”

⸻

IV. New Year’s Eve Begins

The backyard sparkled with string lights draped from the trees. There was a bonfire crackling gently in the pit. Music played from the speaker on the porch—old classics and soft indie stuff.

Lisa showed up first, a bottle of sparkling cider in one hand and mittens on both. Nate came running in five minutes later wearing a massive top hat that said “2026” in glitter.

“Oh my God,” I laughed. “You look like a New Year’s traffic cone.”

“You love it,” he winked, pulling me into a hug.

We were all bundled in jackets and hoodies, passing around hot cider and joking about how terrible Matt was at lighting sparklers. I took photos of everyone—Chris with a sparkler, Jimmy dancing like a dad, Matt pretending to roast a marshmallow on a lighter.

Then Chris came up behind me and wrapped a blanket over both of our shoulders. I leaned into him without thinking.

It felt… warm. Real.

“Hey,” Chris said, taking my hand gently. “Come with me?”

He led me to the side yard where the crowd and laughter faded. The night sky opened above us, stars barely visible behind clouds.

And then the fireworks started.

Red, gold, green explosions filled the sky.

Chris looked at me, his face lit in color. “I know this year wasn’t easy for you… but you made it. And I’m so proud of you.”

I didn’t mean to cry. I didn’t want to. But suddenly it all poured out—grief, fear, relief, and something I couldn’t name.

“I didn’t think I’d get through it,” I whispered. “But I did. I lost so much… but I gained something too.”

Chris pulled me in, holding me close. “You didn’t lose everything. You found yourself.”

His lips brushed mine. And then he kissed me—slow, grounding, while fireworks lit the night around us.

⸻

VI. Midnight – Happy New Year

The countdown echoed from the backyard.

“10… 9… 8…”

Chris and I returned to the group. I saw Lisa standing beside Matt, both of them holding sparklers.

“5… 4… 3…”

I stood surrounded by people I loved.

“2… 1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Cheers erupted. Fireworks screamed. And then Chris leaned in and kissed me again. I smiled into it.

Matt kissed Lottie. She beamed up at him after.

We all hugged—Nate, Lottie, Jimmy, Chris, Matt. It felt like every part of me was alive.

Hours later, after everyone had calmed down and the fire burned low, I walked into the kitchen to grab water.

Matt was leaning against the fridge, red-cheeked, texting someone.

“You and Lisa were cute tonight,” I said casually.

He blinked. “She’s cool.”

I smirked. “Matthew. You’re blushing.”

“I am not!”

“Oh my God, you are!”

He turned redder and let out a flustered giggle before practically running out. “Shut up!”

His bedroom door slammed, and I laughed until I had to sit down.

⸻

Later that night, I was curled up in bed wearing my dad’s old hoodie—the one I’d taken to New York.

The room was quiet. My journal lay open in my lap.

“I think I’ve found where I’m supposed to be. Not because everything’s perfect, but because I’m not running anymore.”

I put the journal down and padded softly downstairs.

Chris was asleep on the couch, his arm draped over the back, mouth slightly open.

I curled beside him, and he stirred, blinking once before smiling.

“You okay?” he murmured.

I nodded. “Yeah… I am.”

He pulled the blanket over both of us and tucked me in close.

The first sunrise of the new year spilled soft gold through the window.

I watched the light stretch across the floor, touching everything gently.

And for the first time in a long, long time…

“For the first time in a long time… I feel like I’m home.”

YAY!!!

all done

Janae 💋

Taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @xsturnkay @katiebae333 @dummyslut00 @eszt1 @kalel2005 @nessaisabelartemas333

[anotherbrahmsfangirl]

Kissing Lesson

Brahms Heelshire x Unnamed Fem!Nanny

Warnings/Tags: Nothing really, just a cute fluff piece about Brahms learning how to kiss. Word count: 2K Authors note: had this little scenario stuck in my head so I came onto tumblr to vomit it out, enjoy.

'This is ridiculous.' Was all that went through her mind as she moved to sit down on the imported Persian rug that carpeted the floor of the study. Sitting cross-legged, she leaned back against the couch seat and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. In the back of the room, classical music played softly on the old gramophone, an ever present feature now that 'He' appeared.

"This isn't going to be like a good-night kiss, you know..." she let out a huff, still absentmindedly fussing with her long tresses as if the constant sensation would soothe her nerves any. It didn't.

The Boy, no, the Man, similarly sat stiffly on the floor, also cross-legged, fidgeting with his fingers. His blank, expressionless mask still tied tightly over his real face, keeping his true visage a well-kept secret. Not that she REALLY wanted to see what he looked like under that porcelain facade, but it sure would have helped if the mask was off, what with his ever increasing need to be 'kissed proper' at night before bed.

She'd lost count of the times a simple kiss to those cold unyielding lips resulted in a painful bruise or an almost chipped tooth due to the force of him trying to feel the warmth of her mouth, the sensation of her kiss through that uncanny mask. But enough was enough. If he so desired a real kiss from her, he was just going to have to compromise a bit.

"Did you brush like I asked?" She finally spoke again. She could tell her voice was already cracking with her flustered emotions right now, and was sure Brahms could hear it as well.

Silently, he dipped his head in a few short nods, indicating that he had. 'Thank god for that.' She thought, her eyes darted over his form, grateful he wasn't the pungent dirty wall gremlin that showed himself just a few days ago. No, surprisingly, he cleaned up rather well. His unruly neck beard was now trimmed and neat. She found he had no problems bathing himself as long as she took care to wash his clothing and maybe gave a gentle reminder now and then. He was presentable now, save for the creepy doll face he insisted on wearing at all times.

"OK, so..." she started, unsure of how to word things for him without incurring a mood shift in the sometimes unstable man. "I know you'd... prefer.... to keep your mask on, but it's just not practical if you want to learn how to kiss properly. " She spoke hesitantly, testing his temper through his eyes, the only feature she could use to judge what was going on in that brain of his.

"It's more than just... pushing... our lips together." Brahms's eyes hadn't changed. They were still as intense and focused on her as they were when he first crawled out of the wall. While he had relaxed quite a bit, she definitely could see the spark of interest as she spoke to him now. This was clearly something he very much wanted from her.

"So...the mask..." She gestured to his face, hoping he'd get the hint, but no, he sat just as rigid as always. She sighed again, much louder and more exaggerated. "You HAVE to take the mask off!"

He quickly shook his head, rearing back to emphasize his displeasure of the idea.

"Then how am I going to kiss you, Brahms?" She almost shouted, frustration rising in her voice. "I refuse to kiss that ...thing... anymore! Is that what you want? No more good night kisses?"

Brahms shifted forward, his hands on the rug as he shook his head even more fervently than before, his mop of dark curls dancing over the doll face.  'Oh please don't take away my kisses', he seemed to say through his pleading eyes.

"You're going to have to work with me on this, Brahms." She folded her arms over her chest, letting out a huff that sent a strand of her hair flying away from her face. Tapping her finger on her arm, she thought of some way to coax him out from under that horrid mask. She really didn't care if he was deformed under it. In fact, she was certain he was due to his bloodshot left eye and what little bits of skin she could catch glimpses of through the eye holes of the mask. The skin there looked red and stretched tight, a byproduct of a severe burn. Just how bad his face was, remained to be seen.

A stalemate. Their silent glares at each other felt electric. She persed her lips tight, thinking of something to say. Gradually, an idea crept into her mind. Like a child, she may have to bribe him with an even more tempting offer. Threatening to not kiss him would be fruitless as he'd just throw a tantrum that would end up dumping more work onto her shoulders in the long run.

"How about this." She paused, making sure he was listening. "I'll close my eyes, and you can take off the mask to kiss me. Or we could turn out the lights before I give you your good night kiss. Does that sound fair?"

Brahms sat up straight, his eyes cast to the ceiling as he took in the offer she proposed, mulling  it over.

Before getting his answer, she decided to sweeten the deal with an extra bonus. "You won't even have to wait for bed time. Just say 'kiss' and I'll know that's what you want. I'll close my eyes and keep them closed the whole time, and you can kiss me WHENEVER you want."

He looked back to her, his eyes narrowing as if to ask 'do you really promise?' To answer him, she held up her one hand and made an X over her heart with the other. "Cross my heart."

Brahms eyes immediately softened, a quick enthusiastic singular nod was all he gave. Now that glint in his eyes seemed to shimmer with excited anticipation.

She took a deep breath, hoping she hadn't created a monster with this arrangement. "OK I'm going to close my eyes now. Just lean in and press your lips to mine. I'll...um..show you what to do next. Ok? Just...sort of...follow my lead, yeah?"" She instructed, closing her eyes and leaning forward, her lips slightly parted as she waited for Brahms.

In the quiet room while Chopin played a slow piano melody, she heard the sound of him shuffling closer, their knees bumping as he positioned himself directly in front of her. Another rustling was heard. She figured it was the sound of him pulling his mask off. Several seconds ticked by before she felt his warm breath against her lips. He was hesitating? Maybe he was waiting for her to make the first move? Her brows furrowed in thought. After all, she was giving him kissing lessons. It then dawned on her that this was probably his first kiss. His first real kiss that wasn't from his parents. His first kiss with a girl. No wonder he was hesitant. He was probably just as nervous as a teenager on a first date. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips from the thought. Maybe he was just studying her face? Maybe taking it all in? Savoring the moment?

Swiftly, her lips were caught by his, ushering a small inhale through her nose. He leaned in, pressing more firmly to her. She felt herself stiffen, pushing back against him while their lips molded into each other. 'Not bad' she thought to herself, he already seemed to get the gist of it easily enough. Not too open, but not the puckered kiss of a little kid either. Her memories drifted back to her middle school youth and the kissing games her peers would play like spin the bottle. How many people had their first kiss from a dare or a child's game like that?

'Let's go for something more challenging.' She thought to herself, pulling back enough to change the position of her mouth. She tilted her head and pushed forward, now snatching his lips in return. A low hum rumbled in his throat. Oh yes, he was very much enjoying the lesson. Unable to stay still, Brahms hands went to her face, cupping her jawline and neck. The kissing became more pronounced as their lips suckled one another in increasing pecks and pulls. Her teeth dragging his lower lip out a ways and letting it slip through with a soft pop.

Both chuckled pausing to re-calibrate. "Like that?" She asked, biting her lower lip, eyes still closed her raised eyebrows doing the expressing for her.

"I do." He answered in that soft tone between man and boy he would sometimes use.

"Ready for me to open my eyes yet?" She asked, having been without the use of her eyes for about 5 mins now.

"Not yet.." He responded in a whisper, his lips grazing over hers as he spoke, craving more contact with her. He latched with her again, opening wider this time and really pressing into her. She felt pushed back against the couch, his large hands now gripping her shoulders as if using them like handles. He was getting much more assertive this round, testing the waters on how forceful he could get with her. She whimpered, half surprised by the sudden change in temperature but not disliking it either.  Folding her arms, palms sliding up over his tank top she felt his heart pounding like a drum through his chest. Sliding up more, she draped them over his shoulders in a loose embrace.

"Easy..." she panted once they parted for air. Her, sitting back up, and him settling back on his knees. "Kisses can be forceful like that.. but I prefer the softer ones." She gave a satisfied sigh. "A rough kiss like that hurts when done with your mask on... now you see why I'd rather do this without it?"

He gave a low grunt in acknowledgement. "I prefer these unmasked kisses, too."

"Can I open my eyes now?" She giggled, growing impatient to see the room again.

"One more?" He begged, already closing in, his hands this time finding the back of her head, thumbs resting on her jaw. She could feel from this angle, he must have moved from sitting to kneeling over her, her head tilting back as he came down and crashed his lips into hers. Another forceful kiss, dominating in its presence. She felt him tilt his head, using the technique she'd shown him earlier. Indeed, he was a fast learner.

Another slow pull back, and now it was her lip that was tugged through his teeth.

"Mmmm... that was nice." She smiled. She was sure the both of them were quite flushed. Her cheeks burned with the heat of her blush. She patiently sat, listening to the music play on and Brahms moving back to his spot on the rug.

"Now?" She asked again, almost wanting to sneak a peek as her curiosity was much more piqued after such an intimate moment with him.

"Now." He replied, his voice an octave higher than before, but still in a range that she preferred him to talk in as the baby voice was just too unnerving to hear from a grown man. Slowly she opened her eyes, the light from the mid afternoon sun seemed brighter after having her eyes shut for so long. Blinking, she focused on his face, as he slowly pulled his mask into place, giving her just the briefest glimpse of his scars before masking them again.

"Good lesson today, huh." She said, pretending not to notice and standing up before she'd loose any more feeling in her legs. Brahms rose with her, straightening his back and rumpled clothing. "How bout a snack?" She offered, turning to him.

Without a word, he stepped over to her, wrapping his arms about her waist and tugging her in close to him. "Kiss..." echoed from behind the porcelain face. She huffed a long, drawn-out sigh, shaking her head in resignation. Was he already testing the validity of her promise? "Ok, yeah...I did promise." She shut her eyes once more and tilted her face up to him. Quickly, he lifted his mask and clasped his lips to hers in a soft, sweet, but quick peck before stepping away towards the kitchen, ready for that snack. Opening her eyes, she licked her lips, that cheeky smile returning. 'Hmm, maybe tomorrow I'll teach him how to French kiss' she mused to herself before following behind.

[stellamarielu]

john mitchell headcannons

what i think it would be like to date everyone’s favorite golden retriever vampire

nsfw under the cut

despite being a blood thirsty vampire, mitchell would be the most thoughtful and caring partner.

he is literally the definition of a golden retriever boyfriend

following you around with those big puppy dog eyes and a goofy smile on his face ready to do anything and everything you ask of him

it’s cute really, how much of a lover boy he is

his love language is quality time for sure

homeboy loves spending time with you; cuddling on the couch while watching classic films, walking along the country side while you chitchat about your day, cooking dinner together after both of you get off work– and then taking an impromptu break from cooking just to dance around the kitchen to your favorite music

really he just wants to soak in all the simplicities of the whole “boyfriend and girlfriend” thing with you. he finds all of the mundane things about human love to be so endearing

he would always be so attentive to your wants and needs, doing everything under the sun just to see you smile

and he would be even more attentive in the bedroom

mitchell is the biggest simp known to man, i’m talking a straight up desperate freak

he could never get you alone fast enough, sweeping you up to his bedroom or pushing you into the doorway of your apartment– always so needy to have his hands on your body

that man would kiss every square inch of you until he memorized the taste of your skin, literally worshipping every part of you as his lips explore your body

he’d call you baby and my love in bed

“does that feel good baby?” in a low sultry whisper while he would take his time between your legs or “that’s it my love, let go for me” when he had you moaning and writhing beneath him.

he would be a passionate lover which meant slow, tender sex but it also meant he would get super riled up if he was angry which in turn led to him taking it out on you, but you never protested

mitchell has some anger issues (i mean he is a hundred year old vampire after all, he’s bound to be a little crotchety) so it would be no surprise that he’d often be all hot headed and ready to burst with frustration some nights

that’s when you’d let him pin your hands behind your back and pound into you so feverishly that you thought your headboard might make a hole in the wall

“oh my love, so sweet for me, letting me use you however i want.” he’d be so worked up that his words would come out in a sadistic chuckle as he continued to have his way with you

it was almost as if he’d lose control in those moments, fully giving over to the side of him that indulged in being bad and let’s be honest that’s a little hot

but no matter how sweet, or rough, or insanely intense the sex between you was, it always ended with your body fit snuggly next to mitchell’s as he played with your hair or ran his fingertips gently over your shoulders

like i said, lover boy

the two of you would always mindlessly chat until you eventually dozed off all snuggled up underneath the sheets– you always being the big spoon

my masterlist

[madpanda75]

To Build a Home Chapter 4

Summary: 

We’re back! Joel goes to the dance with the reader where things take an unexpected turn. We also find out about the reader’s past and how she got tangled up in her horrific marriage. It’s about to angsty, y’all with just a wee bit of smut mixed in!

**Heed the warnings! 18+ NSFW, descriptions of domestic abuse, violence, PTSD, some smut…like “smut light”**

If anyone ever wants to be tagged, they can let me know. Thanks for reading!!

Word Count: 5729

A soft snow was just beginning to fall when Joel stepped inside the lodge. He was grateful to see the place was not decked out with cheesy hearts or cupids plastered on the wall. Just a few extra candles and some red roses strewn on the table. 

Several people stared wide-eyed in surprise, whispering to one another that the town’s perpetual bachelor was even at a dance. Typically he would attend some of the community festivities,  even lending a helping hand at the grill for cookouts, but when it came to the more “couple-centric” events like tonight, Joel kept his distance. 

The stares shifted from him to the main door. Turning his head, he realized why when he saw you standing there, smiling at him.

Joel didn’t have many happy memories in his life. Memories where he could look back and fondly reminisce. Just a few precious fleeting moments— his mother’s hugs that would envelope him in her warmth; tossing a football outside with Tommy until the streetlights turned on; the day Sarah was born and how perfect and tiny she was in his arms; taking Ellie to the science museum on her 16th birthday. 

Now you walking toward him, wearing a deep dark red dress that showed off your curves.

Joel was utterly transfixed by your beauty. The world didn’t just stop turning. It stopped existing. An alluring powerful force that he was inexplicably drawn to.

“Hi,” you softly said. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It's ok. I just got here myself.” Joel dragged his thumb against his lower lip, subtly looking you over from head to toe. He could count the snowflakes still lingering in your long lashes. 

Dina ran over and gave you a massive hug, practically knocking you over. “Oh my God! You look amazing! C’mon, let’s dance!” She grabbed your hand and made a beeline to the center of the dance floor, shouting back, “ Don’t worry, Joel! I’ll bring her back in one piece!”

A part of you was terrified someone from DC, like Daisy, would be there tonight and make an embarrassing scene, but that was soon forgotten once you started dancing. The energy was electric. Couples swaying to the music, whispering in darkened corners with the hope of stealing a kiss or two. 

Joel was not much of a dancer, opting to sit with Maria and Tommy, watching while you dipped and spun in circles with Ellie and Dina, laughing with abandon. He shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the growing bulge in the crotch of his jeans. There was something so carefree, almost wild about you. An eroticism to your movements. It was captivating. Glancing around at the other men, Joel could tell they were captivated as well. The green-eyed monster deep within began to rear its ugly head.

The band switched gears and began to play a classic Elvis song when Tommy nodded towards the dance floor. “Better be careful, brother. I think someone might be asking your date to dance.” Sure enough Brian or Byron or Barry, Joel didn’t even remember his name, was shamelessly flirting with you. He downed his whiskey in double time, slammed the glass down on the table and headed straight for you.

As he got closer, remnants of the conversation could be overheard. “Oh that’s very sweet. But actually—”

“Actually,–” Joel cut in, putting a hand on whatever his name’s shoulder and pushing him aside, his deep eyes never leaving yours. “--she promised me this dance.”

Your heart was racing as he took your hand while placing his other around your waist, the melodic romantic song playing in the background. 

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you

“Thank you! You just rescued me from having a really awkward conversation.” 

“I definitely owed ya’ a dance, I’ve been on the sidelines all evening.” 

“I’m not sure why you were. You’re a pretty good dancer, Miller.”

Joel gave you a lopsided grin, showing off his dimples. “It’s slow dancing, there’s nothing much to that.”

“Nu-uh, I disagree,” you said, shaking your head. “You need a good partner for slow dancing.”

“And what makes me such a good partner?” he asked with a furrowed brow, feigning seriousness.

You bit your bottom lip and glanced up at the ceiling as if the answer would be in the lights shimmering above your head. “Well, you’re a strong lead. You’re not trying to cop a feel right now.” You got on your tiptoes and leaned forward, taking a whiff at the base of his throat. “You smell good and you make me feel…safe.”

A tightness began to form in Joel’s throat. At your confession, he swallowed it down in the hopes that his voice wouldn’t betray the hurricane of emotions swirling beneath his ribcage. “I do?”

“You do,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “Whenever I’m in your arms, it’s like nothing bad could ever happen.” 

Take my hand 

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Tears blurred the edges of Joel’s eyes. As if you were magnets, you drew closer to him, wrapping both arms around his neck, your fingers toying with the curls at the nape. His hands held you by the waist, fingertips flexing as they pressed into you, almost marking you as his. With your bodies pressed together, his forehead resting against yours, it truly was only you and him…until it wasn’t.

“What is she doing here?” Over Joel’s shoulder you could see Daisy, visibly shaking, pointing her finger straight at you. 

You took a cautious step towards her. “Daisy, please. Let me explain.”

“Get away from me!” she hissed.

Joel reached out to her with a steady hand. “Hey, now. Let’s just calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down? Who the hell are you to tell me to calm down!” Daisy said, becoming more and more hysterical. As she got louder, the music stopped and all eyes turned towards you.

She laughed cruelly and began addressing the crowd. “Do you know that you have a murderer living amongst you? This woman is a monster. She shouldn’t be allowed to be here with people.”

“That’s enough!” Joel said sternly, pushing you behind his back. “We’ve all done things to survive in this world.”

Several people came forward. Some faces you recognized, others you didn’t. All of them had daggers for you. Another woman stepped up, she was younger than Daisy, pale and gaunt. “We were starving. We were being tortured and murdered. We had to watch our children die, meanwhile you lived a life of luxury with your husband.”

At the word ‘husband’ even Joel couldn’t hide the surprise on his face when he met your gaze.

Maria stood up and clapped her hands. “Ok, everybody stop!” She turned toward the band on the stage. “How about some music?”

But everyone ignored her. All you heard were shouts from the crowd. You were the witch at trial about to be burned at the stake. Your body was frozen, you couldn’t move, couldn’t think. You just stood there and took each insult that was hurled at you.

“She made us watch while our family was killed by clickers.” 

“She ate and drank and hosted parties while we had nothing!”

“Monster!”

“Whore!”

“Murderer!” 

“Music please! Dammit!” Tommy shouted, but no one listened. The drama on display on the dance floor was just too good to upstage. 

One man stepped forward, a jagged scar where one of his eyes once was. “You shouldn’t even be alive! If there was any justice, you would be dragged through the streets and beheaded.” He reached out to take a swing at you when Joel punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground.

The sound of the crowd reacting brought your fight or flight senses into overdrive and you fled the lodge, running as hard as your legs could carry you. Joel was quick on your heels, calling your name, but the panic and adrenaline pumping in your veins made you faster.

If you hadn’t tripped on the last porch step, he never would’ve caught up with you, but he did. “Wait!” he said out of breath, resting his hands on his knees. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving,” you huffed and went inside, slamming the door behind you. 

“Hold on. You can’t leave.” Joel followed you inside, up the stairs and into your bedroom where you were furiously stuffing items into your backpack.

“You’re not my keeper, Joel!” you snapped. “You heard those people. I can’t stay. I have to get out of Jackson. I have to get out of here. I can’t breathe.” In your hurry to pack, the framed picture of your sister fell, the glass littered the floor. You bent down to carefully pick up the shards. It felt like the walls were closing in and you gasped for air, trying to remember to count or think of something you could see or smell or anything to make it feel like you weren’t suffocating.

Joel crouched down and reached out to place a hand on your knee.

“Don’t touch me!” His hand immediately retreated. “Everything I touch gets destroyed,” you murmured more to yourself, your eyes red-rimmed and shiny with unshed tears. “I’m not a good person. Those people. Everything they said. It was true.”

Joel shook his head, helped you up to sit on your bed before taking the seat next to you. “I don’t believe that. I’ve killed people too. So did Tommy and everyone else in this damn town. You do what you have to do to survive and then try to make it better.”

“You have no idea what it was like living in DC. There was so much more I could’ve done to help people. Instead I just saved my own ass.”

“I don’t care what anyone says. Fuck’ em. They don’t know you.”

“And you do?” Your question silenced him.  “I saw the look on your face when you found out that I was married. Did you also know that my husband was the head of Fedra. That I was the one to kill him. Do you know the things I had to do to survive my marriage? To escape?”

“And if you hadn’t killed him, those people would still be under his thumb,” Joel retorted. “I may not know you as you say, but I know enough. What I don’t know I want to learn and I’m a persistent stubborn pain in the ass so it looks like you’re stuck with me.”

You choked out a laugh. “You may have just met your match then.”

Joel’s eyes scanned over you. “Hmmm we’ll see about that.” His gaze intensified, twisting your stomach into knots. 

You bit your bottom lip, which only made him laser focus on your mouth. “Don’t look at me like that,” you whispered.

“Like what?” he said in a gravelly voice.

“Like I’m this precious person that deserves to be loved.”

He cupped the side of your face, catching one of the tears that had slipped down your cheek with his thumb. “But you do.”

Ever so gently, as if you were made of glass, his lips brushed over yours. Your body melted against him, returning the tender kiss. Gauging your response, his lips began to move more insistently over yours, a hunger that had been growing for months finally being satiated. 

You tugged lightly on his hair causing him to moan against your mouth. Your lips parted allowing his tongue to slip inside. A deep desire began to unfurl within the deepest pit of your stomach. You hadn’t felt this way in years and the only time you did, it was certainly never with your husband. 

Joel laid you down on the bed, his hands beginning to roam your body. “God, you’re so beautiful. Is this ok?” he whispered against your neck, his breath hot and heavy.

You gasped. “Yes….please…. more.”

Wanting to do some discovery of your own, you untucked Joel’s shirt and let your hands roam under his broad muscular back. He smiled against your skin, moving his thick thigh between your legs. You began to ground down against him, the friction making you desperate for release. The noises emitted from your mouth spurred him on. He grabbed your hips and encouraged you to move more. 

Even through your panties, Joel could tell you were soaked, a wet spot dampening his jeans. The sensation made him wonder what you tasted like. Thoughts of burying his head between your thighs, plunging his tongue inside you as far as it would go was enough to make him practically cum in his pants alone. 

Reaching for your neckline, he pulled down your dress and released one breast from your bra. Tracing your nipple before taking it fully into his mouth, licking and sucking until it was swollen and slick with his saliva.

“Joel,” you whined and ran your fingers through his hair, arching into his touch while he kissed his way over to your other breast. 

This was better than any fantasy, dream, or fumblings with old boyfriends. You were in ecstasy until you opened your eyes and saw Henry, his face bloody and charred, hovering over you. 

“Well isn’t this cozy?” he sneered.

A scream pierced the air. Your scream. 

Joel shot up, panting, “Are you ok? I’m so sorry did I do something–”

“Where is he?” you shouted, covering yourself and searching around your room in a panic. 

“Where’s who?” Joel got up and helped you look. “There’s no one here.”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t. I’m not ready,” you sobbed and collapsed in his arms.

“Shhhhh, it's ok,” he murmured into the crown of your head, rubbing your arm and leading you back to bed.

“Don’t leave just yet,” you pleased.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He turned off the light and laid down beside you.

 You turned towards the window and watched the snow softly falling outside, losing track of time, but judging by how Joel was breathing, you knew he was still awake. “Joel?”

“Hmmm?”

You let out a heavy breath. “I am ready to tell you about DC.”

“Baby, you don’t have to if you don’t–” 

“No, I want to.” You shifted around so you were facing him. “You deserve to know what happened.”

*** DC QZ 2 Years and 11 months ago ***

Another truck backed up into the pit, delivering dead bodies–some killed by infection, others killed by Fedra, all disposed of in the same manner. You took hold of the legs of one corpse while an older man from your crew took the arms and swung it into the fire. The stench of cooked charcoal-like flesh combined with the sulfuric scent of burning hair made your eyes water. 

The work was endless, body after body. Sweat was dripping off your face and soaking your makeshift mask. Towards the end of the morning, Fedra officials approached, observing your movements. You kept your head down, working double time, trying not to draw any attention to yourself. A whistle called your attention and you saw the Fedra General beckoning you over. 

 It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he already knew your name, but it was still unnerving. He was handsome, tall, muscular, and rumor had it he was the youngest Fedra General in the country. But it didn’t matter if he was the most beautiful man in the world, the DC Fedra were the scum of the Earth. The only exception being your childhood sweetheart and current supervisor, Max, who was forced to join Fedra once his father had passed.

The General smiled at you. “What’s a beautiful creature like you doing down in the depths of hell?”

You took down your mask and replied, “Oh, I don’t mind the hard work, sir.”

“Well, aren’t you just like Persephone trapped in the Underworld.” He lifted your chin up and appraised your face before taking a handkerchief from his pocket to clean the ash, dirt, and sweat off your cheeks. “That’s better. A face like that shouldn’t be hiding underneath all that filth.” He held onto your chin a little longer than you would’ve liked before finally letting go. “I hear you can bake.”

“Yes sir,” you softly said, your eyes focused on your shoes. 

“Call me, Henry. I’ve got some fresh strawberries and I’ll need about 50 scones made for tomorrow. Do you think you can manage?”

“Yes, I can have them for you by 8 this evening if that’s ok with you, sir….I mean Henry.”

With a snap of his fingers, one of his men handed over a basket full of huge ripe strawberries. “How about a treat for that pretty little mouth of yours.”

With the Fedra General, the word, “No,” wasn’t a proper response, you held out your hand to accept the fruit. 

Instead Henry took the strawberry by the stem and dangled it in front of your face. “Allow me,” he purred. You hesitated, embarrassed at the stares you were getting from his officers and the workers. Max was frozen in place, his jaw dropped open before he subtly closed it and instructed folks to get back to work. 

“Go on,” Henry urged, his steel blue eyes sending a shiver down your spine. 

Tilting your head back ever so slightly, you opened your mouth and allowed him to place the fruit on your tongue. “Good girl. Now bite down.”  You bit down and although the juice tasted  sweet on your tongue, it was like drinking poison. 

Henry traced your bottom lip with his thumb. “Nice, right?”

“Excuse me, General!” Max approached and saluted his superior before placing his hand on your right arm. “May I have my worker back?”

“We’re a little busy,” Henry said in a curt tone, his hand going straight for your left arm. You were about to be caught in the middle of a tug of war.

“I know, sir, but we’re about to have a shift change and if she doesn’t finish. You know what happens. We have to punish her and then it’ll take longer for her to get your baking done.”

You nodded your head in agreement. “Unfortunately, it is true. I just want to make sure you have your scones on time for your event.”

Henry snarled at Max, upset that his playtime was being interrupted. “Go,” he instructed you.

You had never been more grateful to see a truck full of dead bodies, wanting nothing more than to get as far away from Henry and his goons. During the last hour of your shift, you focused on loading more corpses into the fire until the bell rang announcing a crew change.

While standing in line to wait for your ration cards, a sudden hand on your sleeve pulled you into a side alleyway causing a yelp to escape your lips.

Max pushed you against the brick wall and covered your mouth, silencing your scream of surprise.

You pulled his hand away and playfully smacked him. “Jerk! You scared the crap outta me!”

Max laughed and cupped your face, kissing you deeply which you eagerly returned, your tongue tangling with his. “Be careful with Henry. I don’t trust him,” he mumbled between kisses.

You rolled your eyes at your jealous boyfriend. “He’s just trying to show off. Besides–” Grabbing Max by the shoulders, you spun around and pinned him to the wall. “--I can take care of myself.”

“Rumor has it he’s looking for a wife.”

“Now that I don’t have to worry about. It’s not as if I’m the most desirable woman in the city.”

Max shook his head. “I beg to differ.” He kissed a trail from your lips, across your cheek, and down the column of your neck while his hand began to unbutton your jeans and reach under the waistband of your panties.

“Max!” You gently chided. “At least let me shower first.” Not much of a fight was put up when you felt him drag his finger up and down your slit. With his dark hair and big blue eyes, just one look at him and you were soaking wet. “Are we all set for tomorrow?” 

“Mmmhmm.” He nibbled at your earlobe. “My contacts are going to meet us at the wall at 1am. Then we’ll leave this place and be together.” With a growl, he plunged two fingers inside you while the heel of his hand rubbed your clit.  Your head was spinning as your orgasm crested, not sure what was going to make you come harder—his hand or the fact that today was your last day in DC.

In a state of post-orgasmic bliss, you rushed home to wash and finish packing. Everything was going according to plan. You were leaving the city to build a life of your own with Max. The hope was to stay close by in Maryland for a few weeks, then help your sister escape, and head out west.

When you got out of the shower, you heard a familiar voice–that same voice from earlier today that had made your skin crawl.

“I know this is unconventional, but it's not like there is a wide selection to choose from and I would be willing to pay. As quietly as you could, you tiptoed down the hall and peered around the corner to see Henry hand over a wad of ration cards, cigarettes, and jewelry to your aunt. “You would be living in luxury in the QZ.”

Your aunt’s eyes gleamed. “Let me just go see if she’s here.

You ran down the hall to your shared bedroom, terrified and panicked. Max was right. Henry did want to make you his wife. When the door slammed shut your baby sister, Charlotte, glanced up from the bed at your pale form plastered against the door frame. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Char—” 

A knock on the door caused you to leap from the door. Without even announcing herself, your aunt barged in. “Charlotte! Get dressed. The General wants to take you out this evening.” She opened your closet, rifling through the few outfits that were in there in search of a suitable dress.

Charlotte’s shocked face matched yours. “But I’ve never met him,” she said.

“Apparently he noticed you walking back from school today. Must’ve liked what he saw!” Your aunt raised her eyebrows and held one of your more form-fitting dresses up to your sister.

Finally finding your voice, you yanked the dress from your aunt’s hand and wrapped a protective arm around Charlotte. “She just turned 18. He’s in his 30s.”

Your aunt scoffed and ripped the dress from your hands. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint the General. This is a huge opportunity for you, Charlotte.”

“Charlie,” you still used the same nickname since she was a baby and in truth she was still a baby–rosy cheeked and innocent. A reminder that there was still good in this world. “You don’t have to go.”

She smiled and enveloped you in a hug. “I’ll be fine.”

“Hurry up and get dressed then! You don’t want to keep the General waiting,” your aunt said before looking over at you, still only wearing your towel from the shower. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready to bake.”

There was a big age gap between you and Charlotte. By the time she was born, you were already in high school. A few years after that the whole world went crazy.

When both your parents were both killed by cordyceps. You became a mother figure to Charlotte, having raised her for several years until your aunt moved into your home and taking over. She had a way of ruling the roost and not just manipulating your little sister but also making you feel like a child.

The scones were finished early. Just in time for you to drop them off and be able to finish packing and take a nap before Max would meet you at your window. But a huddled figure at the door of your house would change everything.

“Hello?” You cautiously approached the figure. It was difficult to tell who it was with daylight waning. “Are you ok?”

As you got closer, you noticed the figure shaking and crying. The cry was familiar. “Charlie?” Your fears were confirmed when the figure stepped out of the shadowy doorway. There was your beautiful little sister–her dress torn, her knees scraped and bleeding, bruises in the shapes of fingerprints already forming on her arms. She could barely breathe, hiccupping through her tears.

You swallowed down your rage and hugged her, running your fingers through her tangled hair. “Shhhh, it's ok.” You comforted her, but it only seemed to make her cry harder. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Not wanting to wake your aunt, you tiptoed upstairs to the bathroom and put the toilet seat down where you instructed your sister to take a seat while you got some antiseptic, bandaids, and a wash cloth. Every bruise broke your heart and when you felt wetness on your face, you realized it was from your own tears streaming down your cheeks.

Charlotte just sat there and allowed you to tend to her wounds then take her to bed. “He wants to marry me,” she said barely above a whisper.

“I know. Did he?” you asked, unable to even finish the question, let alone think about Henry touching her, hurting her.

“No….he tried to, but I fought him back. That just made him angrier. I can’t be his wife. He told me he’s going to break me in once we’re married. I’m so scared.” Her voice broke and she clung to you, her body shaking. 

You pulled her back and cupped her face. “You don’t have to.”

She furrowed her brow. “But–”

“Shhhh, just try and get some sleep.”

There was no way Charlotte could marry Henry. He would break her spirit, her body, or worse. You knew what had to be done. When she finally fell asleep, you quickly changed into a skimpy dress that you had been saving for scrap fabric and snuck to the Governor’s home. 

Henry opened the door, his shirt halfway unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, a whiskey bottle in his hand. “Well, well, well what do we have here.” His eyes scanned your body from head to toe as if he had x-ray vision. “You know its past curfew.”

 “I know but I had to see you,” you purred and looked up at him through your lashes. “May I come in?”

Henry opened the door wider and allowed you in, leading you to the living room where he poured you drink.

You settled into a chair and crossed your legs. “I have a proposition for you.” 

“I’m listening,” he said, handing you two fingers of whiskey and sitting across from you.

In desperate need of liquid courage, you drank the alcohol in one gulp. “Instead of marrying my sister…. you marry me instead.”

Henry laughed and for a moment you felt utterly foolish for even offering this proposal. “Where was this vivacious woman at the pit today?”

You blushed and twirled your hair. “I can be shy with an audience…but I’m not shy now.”

“What about your boyfriend? What his name again? Max?”

“I don’t care about Max. Frankly, he’s too boring for my taste.”

“You know, I contemplated asking you to be my wife but then I’d have to kill Max and I just can’t afford to lose someone in my troop. Your sister is a fine replacement.”

“My sister is inexperienced. She’s a little girl. What you need is a woman by your side.” You stood up and sauntered over to his chair, slowly letting the straps of your dress fall until you were standing in front of him in nothing but a lacy lingerie set and high heels. “With me, you don’t have to bribe my aunt. In fact she’ll give you money to take me. We don’t exactly get along.”

“Is this-” Henry motioned to your seductive act, “-supposed to tempt me.”

You arched a brow and glanced down at the crotch of his pants. “Judging by the erection you’re sporting, I gather it's working.” You crawled onto the chair and straddled his lap, kissing him deeply. He was all too eager to return the kiss. It was messy and heated.

You wanted to vomit when his tongue plunged into your mouth, but you continued your ministrations. ‘You’re doing this for Charlotte.’ It was the only thought that kept you going. 

Henry was left sated and asleep when you crept out of his house with a large emerald cut diamond engagement ring on your finger. Your stomach churned and you vomited in the street outside his house, disgusted with yourself and what you had done. You felt lower than low, using your body, letting him use your body however he wanted. But this was your life now. Henry had made that clear. You were no longer your own person, but his property. His plaything.

Rather than go straight to your room to tell Charlotte, you went to the kitchen to grab a knife then headed straight for your aunt’s bedroom. Her eyes popped open when she felt the cool metal blade against her throat and you hovering above her, your hand covering her mouth. 

“Charlotte is not going to marry the General. I am. Tomorrow you’re going to go over to his house and give him this.” You placed a wad of ration cards, stolen cigarettes, everything you had scrimped and saved for that could be used as a dowry on the nightstand before leaning down closer, your nose practically touching hers. “If I find out differently, I won’t hesitate to cut your throat from ear to ear before I have Fedra skin you alive. Are we clear?”

Her eyes followed your hand, stopping at the giant diamond ring on your finger and she vehemently nodded her head.

Once in your bedroom, you shook your sleeping sister by the shoulder “Charlie! Wake up! Get dressed!”

Charlotte grumbled and rubbed her eyes. “What? Why?”

“Because you’re leaving tonight.” It was already 12:30 and there wasn’t much time.

Your sister sat up in bed and watched while you started to take your clothes and items out of your pack and replace them with hers. “Why? I don’t understand?”

“Charlotte?!” You grabbed her by both shoulders and shook her a little. “Do you want to marry Henry?”

She shook her head no.

“Then you need to trust me and start packing. I’ll explain everything.”

In thirty minutes, Charlotte was packed and understood the plan, although she fought you most of the time about you staying behind. The only person left to tell was Max. In some ways that seemed even harder than telling your sister.

You and Charlotte approached the abandoned L’Enfant Metro Station where Max was already lurking in the shadows. “Wait here a second,” you instructed your sister before going up to Max.

“Hey, let’s go,” Max said. “We have to meet the smugglers at the Roslyn Metro. So we have quite a trek.”

“I’m not going.”

“Whaddya mean you’re not going? We’ve been planning this for a year.”

“I’m marrying Henry,” you murmured.

Even in the dark, it was easy to see the look of disappointment on Max’s face. He was silent for a few moments. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.” He paced in front of you, shaking his head.

“Its not like that,” you pleaded. “My sister is going to take my place. She’ll explain more when you’re on the road.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this after everything we’ve worked for.” He stopped in his tracks and moved closer to you, cupping your face. “I love you and you’re just throwing this away.”

“I’m not throwing this away. I'm saving my sister. Because that’s what you do for someone you love.”

Max’s blue eyes went cold and he dropped his hands from your face. “Funny, I thought that when you love someone you stand by them no matter what.”

“You do.” You grabbed him by the neck and hugged him tight. “So stand by me and take care of Charlotte. Ok?”

Max pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, his eyes shiny with tears. “Ok. We’ll come back for you.”

“You better,” you teased before kissing him hard. That kiss. That night sealed your fate forever.

You told Joel everything–about the marriage, the prisoners you tried to save, your escape from DC. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. The floodgates had opened.

After everything that was said, you were shocked that Joel was still there listening, but he hung onto your every word. “They never came back for you?” he asked.

“After my wedding night, I was sedated in the hospital for a few days. One of the nurses told me that Henry had Fedra search outside of the city limits looking for my sister and Max, kidnapping and torturing smugglers, trying to get answers on where they were. I don’t even know if my sister is alive or not. To be honest, I gave up on her being alive a long time ago.”

You looked up at Joel in a panic. “Please don’t tell anyone what I said. Tommy or Maria.”

He shook his head and held you close to him, kissing the crown of your head. “I won’t. I promise. Just relax and get some sleep.” 

With the emotional turmoil of the day, it wasn’t long before your breathing evened out and you were sound asleep. Joel, on the hand, lay awake, his mind reeling over everything you told him. All of the puzzle pieces finally put together.

Your bravery. Your sacrifice. He was in awe of you. This woman in his arms who had endured so much. His heart was full of nothing but love and admiration. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now. Nothing bad will happen to you anymore. I promise,” he whispered as his eyes finally shut.

The next morning Joel woke up alone. He sat up and noticed all of your belongings were gone except for a note on the nightstand with his name on it that read:

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

@orcasoul @smvtwitchmiller @littlemisspascal

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[samwinchesterswifu]

Unwritten (Sam Winchester x Reader) Blurb Fluff

Early seasons era

Song Inspo: "Unwritten" by Natasha Bedingfield

Warnings: holy mother of CUTENESS!!

MINORS DNI

A/N: oh my god. oh my god. This one is so damn cheesy but I loved writing it !!!! also, i love love love early seasons sammy!!

Word Count: 472

Summary: A night out, a drunken dance floor and nothing but the emotions around them.

A night out after a successful hunt was exactly what all three of them needed. Grabbing a table at a random ran down bar, the each start to take in shot after shot. Dean was down 6 or 7 at this point. She had lost count after the 4th one and Sam seemed reasonably sober. Sam looked dazzling in the bar light. Grinning at any joke he made.

She had the biggest crush on Sam since they were younger. Of course, life as a hunter got in the way of things but her feelings for Sam never left. She never really got to experience the college side of Sam but he shined through from time to time. After a few more shots, the music of the bar was really starting to flow through her. They had a tiny dance floor with a few other patrons dancing along to whatever song was on.

But then, she heard the classic opening of “Unwritten” and squealed. Not really one for pop, this is one of the only songs that really got her going. Standing up, she held her hand out to Sam.

“Come on Sammy! Come dance with me!” She says in a semi-high pitched voice.

Sammy laughs, “Y/N you’re drunk.”

“So?” She drags at, taking a look over at Dean who was making his moves on one of the girls at the bar.

“Deans not gunna care!” She yells over the music.

Sam groans, getting up and taking her hand. She drags him to the dance floor. Practically shoving others out of the way and Sam apologizing for her behavior. She begins to sway her hips to the beat, singing along. Sam just standing there awkwardly. She puts out both hands, encouraging him to grab them, which he does and she sways the two of them. Her cheeks were growing hot with blush as she felt the liquor flow through her. Giving her liquid encouragement.

But slowly and surely, Sam was starting to let loose to the song. He was taking the lead, grabbing her hips and pulling her flushed against him. Both of them laughing at the silliness of their dancing. Sam throws her out for a spin, and brings her back in.

The part of the song with the choir comes on after colliding back into Sam. The two of them stand there for a few moments, staring into each other’s eyes. The world around them seemingly disappeared. She grins brightly at him.

Then, Sam dips down and connects their lips in a kiss that sends lighting like shocks through her body. Almost like resetting her entire anatomy. They held the kiss as the song heads towards the end. Leaning away at the final notes, and each having the biggest grin plastered on their face.

Yeah, maybe this is where the book begins.

[xuntybitxh]

where can you be

Hwang in-ho x reader

Part 2

Edited

Masterlist

Warnings: death, mentions of death, fighting, angst, horrible writing, cursing

Summary: you enter the games unaware of the horrors you while have to endure. Fighting and loving, your destiny awaits you.

The sound of classical music fills your ears, causing you to wake up slowly. You groan as your eyes open. Taking in your surroundings you notice your in a green tracksuit. And so is everyone else

People started gathering around the middle of the room, staring ar everything with confusion written all over their faces. You get out your bed and stare at them before looking at the screen above some doors.

"456 players"

You sighed "what the fuck.." you mumbled before the doors opened and men in pink guard outfits and mask come into the room.

"I would like to extand a heartfilled welcome to you all. Over the next 6 days you will complete 6 games. Those who win all 6 games will receive a handsome cash prize"

The square guard spoke before a girl with short black hair and the tag 120 spoke, then another girl spoke, asking for the pink outfit, then a purple haired guy, and then another guy with the tag 333

You listned to everyone complain before a piggy bank with yellow light came down.

"Above you is where your prize money is going to be stored" the masked man said causing everyone to gasp, including you. That could pay off your fatheds debt. Buy a nice home. You could buy anything

Your fantasys where quickly interrupted by some yelling. Apparently this poor old lady came here to pay off all of her sons debt but he was there to

---

The rest was a blurb, you almost moved when player 456 started yelling. You scoffed at him, thinking he was crazy, saying something about guns in the walls, you wanted to laugh that was until this girl moved, she tried swatting a bee, you stared at her before a ring pierced your ears.

When you saw her she was dead with a bullet straight to her head. More shots came and so did screams. You stood there in shock before 456 began to scream again.

"DONT MOVE!!" he yelled

"Green light" the voice echoed into Your ears but nobody moved. You hesitated before getting closer to 456, almost falling when it yelled red light

When it yelled greenlight nobody moved

"IF YOU DONT REACH THE END BY THE TIME THE TIMER RUNS OUT YOULL STILL DIE! THE DOLL CANT DETECT MOVEMENT SO LINE UP ON THE NEXT GREEN LIGHT IF SOMEONE IS SHORTER THEN YOU PUT THEM BEHIND YOU!" 456 yelled.

You stayed behind player 390, following him every move.

redlight

"DONT MOVE" 456 yelled

You were shaking and holding your breath

Green light

"RUN FOR IT! GO" 456 warned everyone.

You ran as fast as you can before falling on a death body. You were about to get up.

Redlight

"Please. Don't leave me here" someone grabbed onto your ankle

Greenlight

You kicked him off of you before looking at the timer.

0:15

Redlight

Your lips began to wobble as you held back tears. Where you not going to make it? The timers now on 8 seconds

7 seconds

6 seconds

5 seconds

Green light

You ran as fast as you can.

---

You jumped over the line, falling onto the floor, then the timer ran out. You made it by half a second

"Oh fuck" you mumbled and rubbed your eyes, your heart racing from the fear coursing in your veins. You then looked up and the sky started closing.

Everyone looked around, confused.

The guards led the players back into the Dormitory. You and some other people begged to go home

"You players have completed the first round. 381 players survive which leaves 75 players eliminated" the guard spoke as the player number went down on the screen

You ran off you bed into the middle of the floor as you cried

"Please ill off all of my debt! I promise" you cried and begged on your knees and then the mother and her son join in. After more people joined in a guard shot in the air causing you to back away and get off your feet.

"We have not put you in here to collect debt. Each player is here to have a new begining and win a cash prize" the guard spoke. "As promised after every round players will vote.

Some more guards came and brang out a machine with an O or an X.

---

Players voted to stay or go home

Your heart was pounding as you held back a sob.

Ding, Another O

You cried "please! Let's all go home. I don't want to die In here and I'm sure all of you that stay are still gonna die in here! Without that money"

"SO you want us to go into our old lives! We will die out there if we don't get this money!" Player 100 yelled

"Yeah!" 223 agreed and so did alot of other people.

"SO you'll rather risk everyone's lives just for money! Nobody knows the next game! We all will die because of you! Old man you only have 1 year left! Why don't you spend it with you grandchildren and not over here taking lives!" People on the X agreed with you

After the fight was settled the vote continued

Everyone stood in a circle waiting for the players to vote. 456 voted to stay and warned everyone to vote to go home which broke out into another big argument.

"IVE PLAYED THESE GAMES BEFORE" he yelled. You looked at him. Why would he come back? Everyone thought it

"SO whyd you come back! You wasted all your money already? You bastard!" Player 100 yelled

"Hey so since he's played these games.. he already knows what we are going to play! He can help us all get that cash! Everyone just one more game!" Player 100 yelled to everyone

"One more game! One more game!" The O team chanted.

"Player 120" O

"Player 115" O

Then it came up to you

"Player 112"

Everyones eyes went onto you. You walked up to the machine and slammed your sweaty palms on the X. You recieved your patch and walked over to the X corner.

The O's let out an aw while the X's cheered

You held back a cry, you wanted to leave, to.go home, to run into in-hos arms. But even if u did go home. You would just run into the arms of your fathers debt.

As the votes went up so did your heart beat.

Player 100.

Player 89

Player 70

Player 67

It was slow and boring. Everyone on the O team cheered as the number went up.

Then everyone on the red cheered as their number went up.

Finally after some time The votes where 182 against 182. It was all up to player 001 to decide everyones fate

"Now everyone say O!" A guy shouted as people began to yell O and then your team yelled X. Your heart was racing as the man went up to the machine....

"Press X!" You yelled and so did the rest of the X's

Ding. The player vote went up to 183...on the O team.

You watched as the O's began to cheer, you held back tears

"What is wrong with you people!" You yelled and went back to your bed.

You sat alone bitting your nails before some lady, player 044 came up to you.

"You foolish little girl. I see you. You were brought here by destiny. Its your fate the gods havent decided yet, but soon enough." She spoke before you got up and pushed her away

"What old lady?" You muttered, you had enough already

"You heard me. Fate hasn't decided but you were drawn here for something, you serve a purpose. The gods have told me. But soon after you'll be punished." 044 closed her eyes

You quickly got off you bed

"You want me to kill you before your gods decide my fate then you wont have to worry huh!" You began pushing her.

People stared at you guys but you didnt care. "And what! You think your god hasnt decided your fate either? You pressed O and now your gonna die in here to!"

You pushed her to the floor, before you got to lay a hand on her you heard a click the behind you.

"We will tolerate violent behaviors outside of the games" the guard said as his gun was pointed to the back of you head.

You froze and stood with you hands up in defense before you turned towards him and slowly went back to your bed.

Soon enough another fight happened. It was the purple hair guy. He almost pushed you during red light greenlight. Him and 124 were jumping this guy 333. Everyone stared, you stared.

"SO you let them fight but when it comes to me you put a gun to my head!" You yelled at the guards.

You felt someone staring at you and when you turned it was the witch girl.

You gulped slightly and turned your head back to the fight. That was when you saw him.

"In-ho" you mumbled to yourself as you watched him beat up the purple hair guy.

What was he doing here...

124 tried fighting him but he quickly kicked the front of his foot and 124 fell.

He choked 230 and pushed him to the ground.

He looked up as people cheered. He slicked some hair back and smiled, as he walked away back to 456 he saw it.. you. He suddenly made eye contact with you.

'What are you doing in here' he thought. He didn't want you to ruin his plan but he didnt want you to die in here.

You stared at him in disbelief, anger, sadness. You quickly looked away and stared at the blood on your shoes.

---

You laid in your bed as the dim yellow light from the piggy bank covered you.

Your tears came out one by one. Was the shaman right? Was coming here fate.

Why was in-ho here... why didnt he tell you... why did he ghost you.

Millions of questions fill your mind as you teared up.

You got up and saw in-ho and 456 talking. You ignored it and banged on the doors

"Hey! I have to use the rest room" you spoke. And the triangle guy opened the glass

"Open it up please! Or... ill pee myself and make sure you slip in it!" You banged on it again before 222 and 149 came behind you

"They won't open it" you told them before 149 went to the door

"Hey mr. Triangle guy! See we really have to go and see shes pregant, and im a poor old lady! What would your mothers think when she knows you wouldnt let an old lady use it!" She spoke before it opened up

"Can i come.." you turned around and saw 120

"Oh yes see! Shes a women to!" 149 spoke and the guards let all 4 of you into the ladys room.

You did your buisness and washed your hands. 120 was beside you splashing her face. You stared at her through the mirror before she looked at you. "Sorry" you mumbled and looked away.

"I like your nails." You pointed at her black nail polish "I paint them sometimes to but I usually bite it off" you smiled

"Oh thank you...112" she smiled and put her hair in a ponytail

"You look very pretty with you hair up" you complimented her but before she could respond you were interrupted.

222 began to cry and 149 went to her

"Dear, are you having contrastions!" 149 exclaimed.

222 cried "I'm so scared"

You and 120 watched the scene unfold infront of you.

All 3 of you comforted her

"Once we all get out of here, we can all have a girls night. And buy your baby's lots of toys, and eat alot. Don't be scared. We will all make it" you smiled at her

She smiled slightly and 149 and 120 nodded

After the heartfilled moment, yall went back to the Dormitory

----

The rest of the night went smooth for you until the next game

The guards led everyone up the stairs into the next game.

"For this game you will need to get into groups of 6" the infamous voice spoke.

"You will have 10 minutes to find a group. I Will repeat myself. For this game you will need groups of 6"

456 said it was dalgona.. was it not?

For some timw You walked around looking for a group, but everyone was taken.

"Uh, do you need a teammate?" You asked a group, but they ignored you

You sighed and began began to have an overwhelming feeling.

You rubbed your palms toghter and continued to search for a group.

"Do you" you mumbled to a group before someone else asked before you.

Everyone had a group and you didn't do well in crowded places. In-ho knew that but he wouldn't be able to comfort you anyways.

You stood still, as defeat rushed over you, you had no group.

You rubbed hamd against your green pants to find someone but then

You felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked to see who it was

"join my group. You dont have anyone" in-ho warned you.

You froze and thought about it, maybe after the game he can explain why he disappeared? You were caught up in such a mess and no answer came to your mind

'Do i say yes' you thought

[r3ita-g4zette]

I saw u write for clark and i was curious if u could write anything random for john constantine hes like my favorite ilhsm!!

Interruption

John Constantine x GN! reader

How come you always manage to interrupt him while he's in the middle of sex? Bloody Hell...

You knocked on the door that belonged to a scrawny, bitchy, and annoyingly amusing John Constantine. The faint sound of punk music could be heard down the hallway of the dirty apartment. After waiting for a moment, you furrowed your brow, knocking even harder. "Hey! I can hear your loud ass music, John, open the door!" You exclaimed against the door, pausing for a moment.

"I swear, if you're in there havin' sex after knowing I was coming over." You groaned, a loud noise erupting from inside the apartment. Suddenly, the door swung open as that blonde angrily grumbled.

"I was in the middle of something, bloody hell!" John grumbled angrily, walking back into the bedroom.

Awkwardly, you stood there, some guy quickly dressing in the back before rushing out the door, bumping slightly against your shoulder. As if by habit, you raised a brow, "Ooookay.."

John slammed the door and walked back into the bedroom, cursing himself for allowing you to surprise him as you usually did. Or maybe he just had no perception of time. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, looking back at his bed with a wistful expression…and promptly shoved his face into the sheets to drown out his irritation.

"Bollocks…" he murmured, cursing himself. Again.

You took a detour and clicked the power button off on the speaker, the home filled with a silence. John heard you step into the room, and gave you an almost pouty glare. "You'd best have a bloody good reason for ruining my evening."

"You told me to come over!" You defensively whined, following John and standing in the doorway of his bedroom. After a long silence, an odd one for John, your brow furrowed and your head cocked.

"You actually mad?" You asked, a teasing smile painting your lips as your posture relaxed ever so slightly.

John sighed, flopping down on the edge of the bed and rubbing a hand over his face, still feeling the effects of his interrupted "relaxation."

"Yes! I was in the middle of two man snake wankin' when you interrupted me!" John whined, still half naked due to his comfortable nature around you.

"It's a real crime, you know! I've got a reputation to maintain."

"Haha! a reputation? What is this, some kind of whore house?" You responded with a boastful laugh. "Id be more embarrassed playing Misfits while having sex than to be interrupted."

John rolled his eyes dramatically, his irritation fading slightly as he played along. "Oh, my reputation's got nothing to do with what I do with my free time, love. It's about the music.” He paused, giving you a mock-indignant look. “And the Misfits are a classic, you can't deny that." Of course, you couldn't agree more.

He smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Now, you came here for somethin', didn't you? Or did you just want to interrupt my little private time and ruin my fun love?"

wc; 488

[simplyholl]

Out of My System Pt 5

Summary: Loki doesn’t understand Thor’s attraction to Midgardians. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Avenger Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI.

W/C: 1.9K

See My Masterlist Here

The midnight pool party was all you could talk about. You decided to wear the tiny, red bikini you had only wore around the compound. And only in front of people you were extremely comfortable with. Nat bought a black one just like it, so you could match for the party. It helped you to feel less self conscious too.

Everyone who was anyone would be in attendance tonight, including Tony’s nephew Ben. You went on one date with him a few weeks ago, but it wasn’t anything serious. You still texted with him sometimes. It was mostly flirting, nothing too deep. He was attractive, but you couldn’t see yourself with him long term. Maybe that’s just what you needed right now, some fun.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, admiring how the small garment made you look. You fluff your hair one last time before walking down the hallway to meet up with Nat.

Loki’s mind hadn’t stopped racing since the kiss that almost was. He had made up a million different plans to seduce you. Each of them worse than the last. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. Under usual circumstances, he could get a woman out of her panties without so much as talking to her.

He just turned on the charm and they fell at his feet. But he had never seduced a mortal before, had never wanted to. He couldn’t figure out the hold you had on him. He knew Fiona was right. He was merely curious. Once he had you in his bed, the spell you had on him would be broken.

The music blared out of the speakers. Most of the guys were jumping into the pool. Steve was grilling by the side of the compound. You and Natasha were dirty dancing on everyone who came over to you. You were laughing and smiling so much, your cheeks hurt.

Loki watched as you danced with Ben Stark. You were wearing that red bathing suit that was often the subject of his fantasies. Loki wasn’t jealous. He just wished it was him you were dancing with instead.

The song changed and you ran over to Natasha, both of you screaming about the song choice. Nat sat in one of the lounge chairs. You crawled on top of her grinding against her in time with the music. The Ying Yang Twins was the artist playing. Loki recalled Lang introducing it to him months prior, so he would be familiar with Midgardian music. A classic, he had called it.

Loki couldn’t take his eyes off you. You made eye contact with him. He looked away too quickly, failing to hide that he was staring. He saw you say something to Natasha. You crawled out of her lap, and walked towards him.

“Hey Loki, can we talk for a minute?” He nodded, scooting over on his blanket to make room for you to sit beside him. “You’ve been weird with me since field day. I just wanted to know why.”

“I haven’t meant to behave strangely with you. I apologize.” He’s looking at the other party goers instead of you. “I thought you were going to kiss me.” That gets his attention. He whips his head toward you.

“I wanted you to. I replayed it over and over again in my head. I thought I misread the situation. It’s so hard to read you. I never know what’s on your mind. Tell me what you want, Loki.”

A sigh escapes him. He pushes a stray hair behind your ear. “I want you.” It seems like a weight has been lifted off him with that confession. You’re feeling more confident now. “Then have me. What’s stopping you?”

He leans in cupping your jaw, tilting your face toward his. His lips meet yours with more softness than you expected. You could tell he’s holding back. You deepen the kiss, climbing into his lap. Your hands travel the length of his back.

You pull him as close as you can. You’re the first to break the kiss. You sink your teeth into his neck. With a primal growl, he flips you over onto your back. He traps you with his bulky body. He nips your earlobe, his large hands covering your breasts.

You squirm underneath him trying to rub yourself against him, desperate for friction. He laughs wickedly, looking down at your trapped legs held captive by his own. You feel his hard length pressed against you. You slip your hands in his swimming trunks taking him between your eager hands.

You pump him once, twice. He says your name through gritted teeth wrapping his fingers around your wrist to stop you. “Slow down, love. We have all night.”

You find yourself in Loki’s apartment pinned to his door. Your wandering hands take in every inch of hardened muscle as he feverishly kisses you. “We shouldn’t do this.” Loki murmurs against your neck. You let out a shaky breath. He’s right, you shouldn’t but you don’t care. You’ll deal with the consequences later. Tonight all you want is him.

“My forbidden fantasy.” He whispers as he cups your breasts. His fingers slide under your bikini top finding your pebbled nipples. You arch into him. “Tell me to stop.” His voice is barely audible. It sounds almost like he’s begging you.

“I can’t, Loki. I want this so badly. I want you. Don’t you want this?” He continues tugging your nipples. “I want this more than my next breath. I’ll have you just this night.” He lifts you, carrying you to his bed. He places you gently on the satin sheets.

“Since this is all I get of you, if this is the only time we are together this way, I’m going to savor it. Every inch of you. Everything you have to offer.” He pulls on the flimsy fabric of your top. The material snaps in his powerful hand.

He lowers his head to your chest taking a hardened peak into his mouth. He settles between your legs, removing the rest of your bikini. He presses a soft kiss to your thigh. You are almost shaking with anticipation.

He dives right in, flattening his tongue against you. He fastens his lips around your clit gently sucking. Your hands tangle in his dark curls. You hold his head as if it’s the only thing keeping you here on Earth. You’re sure if you let go, you would float away.

He moves his hot muscle in quick flicks over your clit. One of his hands finds your chest, rolling a nipple between skilled fingers. The other is on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin. He swirls his tongue in a pattern that blurs your vision. You writhe against his face as you explode.

He looks up at you, his lips turned upward in a cocky grin. He’s never been more attractive than right now. Propped between your legs, his mouth covered in your arousal. “I need more.” He states with all the seriousness he can muster. He spreads your trembling thighs once more.

His tongue parts your swollen folds, gliding through you with ease. Loki is ravenous. He eats you like you’re the first meal he’s had in weeks. His face is pressed to you so closely, you’re not sure how he’s even breathing. You know he is from the moans coming from between your legs. He’s not satisfied until you come a second time.

He lays his head on your thighs letting you catch your breath. You play with the messy curls splayed against you. “I’m glad you don’t want to make this a regular thing. If we did this often, I would fall in love with you.” You’re joking, but there is a lot of truth to it. You laugh, but his expression changes as if he is really contemplating your words.

He places a tender kiss on the inside of your wrist. “I’m not capable of love, darling. But if I was…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead he lines himself up at your entrance, pushing into you slowly. You release the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He rocks into you with slow, deep thrusts. You buck against him, needing more.

“My needy girl, perhaps you would like this better.” You gasp as he suddenly flips you. His back is now the one against the mattress. You grind down on his lap. You decide to try something different, swaying forward and back. Loki watched intently.

“Sorry. This probably isn’t doing anything for you, is it?” You pause your movements waiting for his answer. “This is everything. I want you to take your pleasure from me.” He grips your hips, rocking you back and forth on his hard cock. The angle hits your g-spot, causing you to cry out his name. You grip his shoulders for support. He continues controlling your movements until you shatter once more.

Loki finds his place on top of you claiming you again. He handles you like you’re the most delicate, precious thing in the world to him. Like he’s afraid you will break with one wrong move. He slips his hand between you, his finger tracing your clit. He sinks into you deeper burying his face against your neck.

You claw at his back, moaning his name with each tilt of his hips. “Can you come for me once more, love?” You sigh. You’re so exhausted. You think another orgasm might kill you. “I don’t think I can, Loki.” His fingers move faster, in time with his thrusts. “Just one more. Will you try for me?” You confirm that you will. His next movement deliciously brushes your walls, hitting your sweet spot again.

You gasp his name with such longing, it makes his heart soar. You come apart at the same time losing yourselves in each other. He presses gentle kisses to your neck, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “That’s it, such a good girl for me.” Once you’ve both come down from your high, he takes his place beside you. You’re smiling so widely you’re sure you resemble a creepy clown.

He smiles back taking in your appearance. Your disheveled hair, the flush of your cheeks. He was sure you’d never been more beautiful. It was like Valhalla having you for the first time. It had never been like this. Then he realized what he feared most was true. Fiona was wrong. He would never get over this. He would never be able to get you out of his system.

You notice his smile falters. You interpret it as him wanting you to leave now that you were done. Even though it couldn’t be further from the truth. “So is this the part where you kick me out and tell me it was all a huge mistake? That you regret it and we can never talk about it again?”

Loki takes your hand in his, entwining your fingers. “I’ve made plenty mistakes in my life, but this is not one. I swear it. I could never regret this, regret you.” He looks at you with such vulnerability. You’d never seen him like this before.

You know he doesn’t actually mean it. He is the god of lies after all. It’s probably something he says to everyone he sleeps with, but it’s too late. His sweet words take root in the depths of your heart, even though they shouldn’t.

He wraps his arms around you, snuggling in to you. You close your eyes, enjoying being this close to him. If this is all you’ll ever have with him, you want it to last.

Loki knows he should let you go. He should leave you and go sleep on his couch, or throw you out like you had suggested. But that only makes him hold you tighter.

Part Six

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