#damn I forget my beading tag

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

I still need to finish up the right and add fixings to both but :)

Color inspiration was in part Quetzalcoatl

[vampsol]

WORST BEHAVIOR | 양정원

⟢ PAIRING: yang jungwon & fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 2K ⟢ GENRE: smut ⟢ TAGS: established relationship, actor!jungwon, a bit pwp, pet names (pet, love, sweetheart, etc), dom & sub elements (dom!reader & sub!jungwon), sensory play, multiple positions (cowgirl, reverse cowgirl), ass play, unprotected sex ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Jungwon's perfect in front of the camera—a film darling in the eyes of the fans who love him and the team that calls him their "shining star." But sometimes it's too much; sometimes he needs you to be chaotic so he can handle his own chaos, especially in the bedroom. -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Requested by anon and inspired by the song by kwn. This is also my first fic for Wonnie which I did not expect to write so quickly but I love him and this so much. Also bless up @ghstzzn for letting me carry the torch of this idea lol ilysm. It's not proofread this time, but I think it's good grammar-wise! Let me know if there's any mistakes, though!

He wants this. He wants it all, you tell yourself as you tug the knot of the silky red blindfold tighter until it's snug. You wipe the bead of sweat from his forehead, his body already taut in anticipation of what you plan to do.

"Do you remember your safe word, pet?" you ask. One of your fingers trails down his cheekbone, an acrylic nail dragging lightly across his soft skin, and he shudders from the contact. You unfurl your entire palm for him to rest his cheek inside of, and it melts you like warm honey, similar to the color of his newly dyed hair.

"Artemis," Jungwon whispers. He gasps when you move your hand lower, nestling the palm against his racing heart.

The first date you ever went on, Jungwon called you the goddess's name like it was the greatest title in the world to hold. "She's not a sufferer of fools, right? I know we've just met, but you give me that same impression." Maybe it was the bottle of wine you shared that night, but you couldn't forget how smoothly the compliment slid down into your soul. It's apt to use it now, you think.

He looks like pure sin laid out on your shared bed. His skin is well tanned, muscles toned, strands still slicked back from his earlier photo-shoot. The only thing out of place for him is how swollen and painfully hard his cock is, his tip red and leaking already. You've barely touched him, only a few writhes of your hips being enough to make him crumble before things have even started. But it's more than enough. It's everything, how well you take care of him.

He walked into the apartment with a dejected pout on his face and his fists balled tightly at his sides. You thought the muscles of his face had to be sore from the tight set of his jaw as well. You stopped cooking then to run to him, arms immediately circling his middle.

"Another press junket in Los Angeles." he grumbles into the crown of your head. "They just told me before I left. You'd think they'd give me a break after this damn premiere."

"Didn't they say no more engagements after March?" You furrow your brows in confusion, suddenly angry for your boyfriend, but definitely not to the same magnitude as him.

"Yeah. But that was before they got some famous starlet to interview me for Actors on Actors and landed an entire spread in GQ." He pinches the bridge of his nose to stop the impending bang across his temple, one of his anxiety-induced tension headaches on the horizon.

You squeeze him tighter to fight the negativity in his voice, hoping your touch will settle him and ease his irritation. His blazer rubs against your cheek, the fabric cool despite the wearer's blazing ire.

Film production is stressful; Jungwon's never discounted the level of effort you put into your own career. However, it's no match for the expectations placed upon him as a media starlet or the stress that accompanies the success he's garnered. He's not ungrateful, though; he knows the acclaim will not last forever, and he needs to work hard now to make up for when calls stop coming.

You want to shelter him from every piece that rattles him to alarming degrees, tuck him into your pocket so he can forget it all and coast instead of crash.

"It's not forever. You'll have the entire summer after this," you swear, although it's not up to you to determine completely. You hear the beat of his heart slow, its pace transitioning from frantic to steady, and you think things might just be right in the world again.

Then Jungwon says he needs you—"Please touch me" to be exact—and you know that for him, his stress is far from gone until he's given exactly what he wants.

Lucky for him, you know the solution to every problem he has—what will pull him back to normalcy—even if your methods to get there are unorthodox.

You grip his cock in your hand, lightly squeezing as you run your hand along the shaft. Jungwon can't fight the subtle raise of his hips to meet your touch, nor can he stop the "fucking finally" that slips from his mouth.

You remove your hand altogether, clicking your tongue. "What did I say before we started, pet?" you ask, the question entirely rhetorical. But you expect an answer, even as Jungwon whines. You stiffen. "Do I need to gag you too?"

"No! N-No, Mistress, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to misbehave." He shakes his head at you to articulate his point, and you swear you can see the tears forming behind the blindfold. Jungwon's cock twitches, his sex aching. It begs for your tender, lewd touch once again, even if Jungwon doesn't say the words out loud.

"Then answer my first question. What did I say before I put the blindfold on?"

Jungwon whimpers, the sound high-pitched and full of cracks. "Stay still until you tell me to."

You take his face in both of your palms, rubbing circles into the apples of his cheeks. "Yes, my love. Now do as I say and you'll be rewarded like the good boy I know you are, okay?"

"Yes, yes, please."

You go back to holding his cock between your fingers, running the pre-cum at his slit down the length of him. Its girth and length are in unbelievable harmony, the muscle snug every time he fits inside of you. You admire it as you twist your wrist, enjoying the sound of its slickness as it fucks your fist.

In so many ways, Jungwon is the puzzle piece you didn't recognize was missing until he came into your life with endless witty banter and his soul's infinite fire. It's what makes him so worthy of adoration, fame and love.

But where he burns, you're there to cool him into a calm state again, the pinnacle of fortitude and composure. The core answer of why you work so well together is in that balance. And you're reminded of why you love him every second he asks you to take over like this, make him succumb to all your whims before you repay him in kind.

It's salacious how easily you sit on his cock, no preparation needed on your end to become accustomed in record time. He fills you so completely; you don't mind how he once again bucks up into you, a throaty groan ripping from his lips from finally being inside of you. He keeps his arms at his sides, but you know he wants to touch. He loves everything about your body, especially the voluptuousness of your breasts and how freely they bounce when you ride him.

"You can touch me now, pet." Jungwon doesn't need to be told twice, immediately running his thumbs over your nipples until they pebble. He kneads them in his hands as you set the pace, slamming down now and then to make him cry out.

The blindfold is both constricting and necessary. Jungwon was initially terrified of it, but he couldn't get enough after you first wrapped it around his head. Now, his sensory perception goes into overdrive every time because of his loss of sight. He loves to see you on top of him and against him, without a doubt, and there have been days where he was already so sensitive he could do without the cloth. But, most of the time, he'd rather soak in the passion like this compared to any other way.

You guide one hand from your chest to down to your clit, and he immediately pinches and pulls like the expert he is. He's well attuned to what works to get you off and what doesn't. If he wants to orgasm, he knows he has to let you do so first.

A mewl crawls out of your throat at the rhythm of his thumb and forefinger against your slick, the digits almost running down to where you're both connected before going back to the hood of your cunt.

"You feel me, Mistress? Is it good? Do you love it?" Jungwon may be stationed in the submissive form often, but it doesn't keep his mouth from running. You adore every sinful word, all his statements and questions that hold a hint of wonder at how good he's making you feel, and vice versa.

"Yes, yes, it's so good—ah, fuck—you know you're such a good boy." You suddenly switch positions, you're riding Jungwon in reverse. Laying your hands across his thighs, you move faster, slam down in lewd slaps to each other's skin, clench around him with more force than before. You feel the traces of your orgasm with every movement, and you'd be a fool to not chase it.

"I can feel how close you are. Your cunt is squeezing me so tight," he moans. He grips an ass cheek in his hand, massaging it while his opposite palm continues touching your clit.

You know the thought on his mind, and even though he can't see, you look over your shoulder with a wolfish grin. "You can do what you want, my love."

Jungwon groans low in his throat, the timbre of it animalistic. He sucks his thumb for a long second before pressing it to your perineum. The digit slowly enters you, and the taste of ecstasy coats your tongue with each centimeter that goes in. It's too much all at once, his fingers in tandem working against your clit and ass while his dick fills you up.

"Come, Mistress, pretty please?" is what does you in. You wail as you shatter into a million discomposed pieces, saying his name the entire time as your body floats. You laugh, your chest heaving up and down, from how incredible all of your synapses firing off at once feel. But it's more than just your orgasm. It's in how much you love the man underneath you, how eager you feel to please him the second you come back to your senses, and how lucky you are to love him.

"Do you want to come now, too, pet?" you ask him, voice ragged but still acceptable to speak with.

Jungwon nods eagerly, his thumb still inside of you while he runs his other fingers along your lower half. "Please, Mistress. It hurts so bad."

"Don't worry," you coo, "you'll get to soon, I promise."

You move your hips once again, using the last drops of your shared strength and spirit to ride him to completion. His hands come up to your bare breasts once again, and you use them as leverage to continue, intertwining his fingers with your own.

"You're too good for me, my love, always so eager to please me. You're my beautiful boy, Wonnie." His pet name on your tongue unravels him. His face contorts as his hips stutter up into you. He covers your insides with his cum, painting your walls white with his seed like it's all he knows how to do. It warms you to the brim, and your body practically glowing in the aftermath.

You move from his lap as he tugs the blindfold free. He may be sweaty, as are you, but it doesn't stop you from burying your face in his sweat-soaked chest.

"I love you so much," he says into your damp hair. "Don't ever say you're not good enough. You're just right in every way." He tucks a finger under your chin to kiss you firm on the lips. You moan into his kiss, tongues intermingling. "You're perfect for me, you know that right?"

You blush, squeezing him tighter against you. "As you are for me."

You fall asleep like that, basking in a love that is so whole, so equal, you don't think anyone else will ever recognize it the same way you both do. It's yours, in all of its unique facets.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @frenchkisstheabyss @prkhaven @tinycatharsis @fangel @aaa-sia @yvnempire @addictedtohobi @innocygnet @filmnings @lovetaroandtaemin @xylatox @dawngyu

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators @cosyhomenet @sweetvenomnet

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[illumose]

Lovesick • castiel

⋆⭒˚.⋆ PAIRINGS: female reader × Castiel + the winchester brothers

⋆⭒˚.⋆ CONTENT: fluff

⋆⭒˚.⋆ SUMMARY : Castiel has fallen in love with you but he does not realize it.

masterlist

Prompt : I was wondering if you could write Castiel x reader , the angel being completly unaware that he is smitten with the reader and thinks he’s potentially ill or that she’s practicing witchcraft 😂 Just pure fluff bonus points If dean helps set him up with the reader

author's note: thanks you @drowninghell for the request! Hope you’ll enjoy it.

Castiel quickly glanced at your angelic form in the backseat of Dean's car. When the Winchester brothers called for his help, they did not say that you'd be tagging along. He was now stuck with you. A mere human, with no power or self-defense skills. A human that he'd hate to see dead, somehow.

As you played with the hem of your sweatshirt and chewed on your lip, Castiel felt a weird feeling in his thoracic cage. A sort of explosion that he could no longer bear. Beads of sweat dripped down from his forehead. Was he falling sick? He did not know of any angel who fell sick with a human disease. He touched his forehead. No fever.

"Alright, demon’s dead and Sam’s got an arm to patch up. I think we did great," announced Dean, emerging from the dilapidated barn on the side of the winding road. "You don’t look…. normal." He squinted at Castiel’s trembling silhouette.

"You do look like a sick Victorian child," added Sam, holding his right arm close to his chest. Blood drops were spattered on his denim.

Castiel ignored both comments. His attention returned to you. You had fallen asleep. Your cheeks were rosy from the heat and your eyes fluttered once in a while. So fragile. Innocent. All these words came to his mind whenever he thought of you.

"Stop staring. You look like a creep, dude." Dean patted his back, with such force that the angel was propulsed forward.

"I was not staring."

"You were. Damn it, you’re supposed to be smart, given your age. How can you not realize what’s happening?" The man appeared exasperated by his friend’s total lack of awareness. Angels acted as if they were superior beings, but in the end, they had no clue what to do when they felt a tiny bit of emotion.

You represented a problem. An issue he couldn't fix. The more he tried to forget you, the more you haunted his mind. Perhaps he was not falling sick. Perhaps, he was falling in love. Something no angel had ever experienced.

"Want a tip?"

The angel shook his head, pushing Dean to roll his eyes and exhale loudly.

"You’re smitten, dude. You’ve got those lovesick eyes whenever you look at her. You always come flying when she calls you. You get her food when she’s on her period. That’s not friend behavior if you want my opinion."

"Cas?"

As soon as he heard you, he rushed to the car.

"D’you think I’d be unreasonable if I asked you to teleport to a bakery on the other side of the world? I’m so craving a French croissant." You batted your eyes, knowing that this was over the top.

The angel nodded.

"Really?"

Again, he nodded. However, before he left for France to steal a croissant from a random bakery in a crowded street, he planted a kiss on your cheek. Taken aback, you held out your hand to grab his coat, but he was gone in the blink of an eye.

[eilaafterhours]

Champion’s Gloves [Lighter Lorenz]

Content: Glove Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Pussy Slapping, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None (AFAB)

Header: selenitis on Bluesky

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Remember: I’ll block you if I catch your ageless or under age (not 18+) ass in my activity :)

This work's concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

“You see something you like?”

“Yeah. You—but more specifically, your gloves.”

“What? You wanna wear’em?”

“I want them in me.”

And that’s how you ended up on Lighter’s lap. Your legs were hoisted up on his, keeping you spread nicely as his leather-bound fingers stretched your pussy even better.��

“Hah…fuck…!” Your hips bucked suddenly which pulled a chuckle from him. 

“You like it that much?”

“Mmm…and your fat dick likes it too—so shut the fuck up.”

He yanked his fingers out suddenly, and you were about to curse at him when that same hand gave your wet cunt a slap. You jerked off him a bit (you probably would have completely fallen off him if it hadn’t had a firm grip on your hip). 

“You keep talking like that, and I’ll stop here.” He slapped your pussy again. “So what are you gonna do?”

It took you a second to respond as your brain was a little fried from the sudden waves of pleasure that it had been assaulted with. 

“I’ll…behave…” 

“Good.” He shoved his fingers back in your cunt, immediately curling them and hitting that spot. “It ain’t that hard to being good.” 

You bit your lip, to keep yourself from potentially proving him wrong, but also because of how quickly he was working you. He had also pulled his cock free from the confines of his pants, so his fatass cock was leaking beads of pre-cum down your back.  

“Don’t bite your lip, baby.” He had leaned down to your ear. His voice was hot and heavy with want. “Lemme hear you. Say my name.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. 

“Lighter, Lighter, Lighter—!” The speed of his fingers has picked up.  “Lighter!” Your eyes rolled back as your body convulsed in his arms. You couldn’t feel anything but the electric pulses of pleasure. 

Once you had come down from your high, Lighter spoke. “Wow…I didn’t know you were a squirter.” 

You peeled your eyes opened to assess the damages of your climax. Your body flushed as you took in the sight. It not only made it on the coffee table in front of you, but on the floor on the other side of it. You had never done that before, and you told him as much. 

He chuckled. “So I made you do that. I like that.”

“I bet you do.” You grumbled. 

“Yeah.” His grip on you changed, and suddenly your back was pressed against the couch cushions. “Let’s see if I can do it again, but with my dick.” 

I've been wanting to write something like this for a while. Left my phone and computer for a moment and thought of that opening dialogue, damn near ran back to my phone to write it down lol.

I'm also becoming backlogged lol. I've had this in my head, then Sylus' Myth came out (still haven't read that because--) and then A Date with Death returned with the Beyond the Bet DLC, and I've got to write something for that soon because I'm literally rattling my cage with what was in there, but ANYWAY! Yeah, swamped and all I've got are ideas.

Masterlist

[annafayeink]

Canvas of Lies

summary: Cate’s life is a careful balance of paint-splattered sweaters, rejection emails, and dreams too big to fit in her tiny apartment. Lu’s life is all charm, designer sneakers, and family obligations that come with impossible expectations. They’re best friends, polar opposites—and suddenly fake dating to help Lu survive a high-stakes family dinner. What starts as an improvised act becomes a whirlwind of tangled stories, unspoken truths, and moments that blur the line between pretend and reality. In the chaos of lies they craft together, Cate and Lu might just uncover the truths they’ve been avoiding all along.

warnings & tags: best friends to lovers; fake dating; mutual pining; slow burn; emotional hurt/comfort; fluff, angst & humor; eventual romance & smut;

Chapter Five | Read on AO3

Chapter Six

The hairstylist and makeup artist Lu had hired for me had both left a little while ago. It was just me now, alone with my reflection. The guest room was familiar—but the reflection was not. I’d barely recognized myself at first, but I had to admit they’d done a damn good job.

The loose, haphazard waves of my hair that I usually let dry on their own had been styled into something smooth that cascaded over my shoulders. Dark liner traced my lashes, just enough to sharpen their shape without overwhelming them. A touch of shimmer at the inner corners made them catch the light—just like the intricate beading of the dress.

The woman who stared back at me in the mirror looked… polished. Elegant, even. It wasn’t a transformation—I still looked like me—but there was an undeniable difference. A refinement.

I pick up my clutch and take one last sweeping look around the room to make sure I’m not forgetting anything. My spare charger is still plugged to the wall beside the bed, but I always keep it here anyway. There’s a hair tie on the nightstand that I don’t even remember leaving there but I’m not gonna need it tonight. The shorts and shirt I always sleep in are already neatly folded on the top drawer of the dresser, so Lu can’t accuse me of being a slob this time.

I ran my hands down the front of my dress, smoothing out invisible wrinkles before turning to leave with a slow exhale.

Lu hadn’t seen me yet.

Stepping out of the guest room, I gathered the fabric of my dress slightly so I wouldn’t trip over the hem. My heels clicked softly against the floor as I moved toward the living room, where I knew he was waiting.

Lu was standing near the kitchen island, back towards me. His suit is a deep shade of charcoal, a midnight blue undertone catching the light just enough to complement my dress. The top buttons of his shirt were still undone, making him look like some kind of magazine spread.

He looked effortlessly good. Like he hadn’t even tried—as usual.

As I approached, I noticed he was messing with the cuffs of his suit jacket, brow slightly furrowed and lips pouting in concentration. But then he glanced up at me.

And froze.

For a second—just a breath of a moment—he didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. His hands stilled at his cuffs, his lips parting slightly as his gaze dragged over me. Slowly, like he was trying to take in every detail. Like he was seeing me for the first time.

I shifted under the weight of his stare, heat creeping up my neck. “You’re staring.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes darkening ever so slightly before he finally blinked, like he had to remember how. “Cate.” His voice came out quieter than usual, almost like he was saying my name on instinct rather than forming an actual sentence.

I arched a brow, biting back a smirk. “Yes, that is my name.” 

“Yeah.” His voice came out almost dazed, softer than usual. Then, clearing his throat, he repeated, “Yeah. I, uh—damn.”

A laugh bubbled in my throat. “That’s all you’ve got? ‘Damn’?”

He dragged a hand through his curls, still looking a little thrown. “Give me a second. I wasn’t ready.” He gestured vaguely in my direction, his eyes flicking up and down like he still couldn’t quite believe what he was looking at. “I mean, look at you.”

His voice was different now—lower, rougher, like the words weren’t quite enough for whatever was running through his mind.

I shifted my weight and shrugged, keeping things easy. “Not bad for someone who usually leaves the house in paint-stained jeans, huh?”

He huffed a laugh, still looking at me like he hadn’t entirely recovered. “Yeah, well… I think I’ve been criminally underestimating what’s under all those paint stains.”

Something flickered inside my chest—dangerous, warm, entirely unwelcome.

I ignored it and rolled my eyes, pretending like I wasn’t entirely affected by the way he was looking at me. “Don’t start getting weird on me now.”

“Too late,” he muttered, still staring.

I exhaled a quiet laugh. “Anyway, I left my sneakers here last time, right? I’m gonna need those when I escape these torture heels later.”

Lu finally blinked, like he was physically shaking himself out of whatever spell he’d been under. “Yeah, they’re in the rack by the door. You planning your exit strategy already?”

I grabbed my clutch off the counter and shot him a look. “Obviously. You think I’m making it through an entire night in these without casualties?” I lifted my foot slightly, the elegant navy fabric of my dress shifting to reveal the delicate strap of my heels. They were stunning, sure, but they were also a calculated risk. The kind of shoes designed more for aesthetics than comfort.

He leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed. “You should just bring a pair of flats to keep in my car.”

I snorted. “What, start keeping emergency backup shoes here? You trying to suggest I move in again?”

A smirk curled at his lips, effortless and a little too knowing. “You do leave stuff here all the time. Sneakers, makeup, sweaters… And somehow you always steal my hoodies.”

“—okay, the hoodie thing is totally normal. Friends borrow each other’s stuff,” I argued.

Lu tilted his head. “You’re not borrowing them. You just kinda… claim them.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That’s how it works, Lu. Finders keepers.”

His smirk deepened. “That’s why I keep finding your stuff in my closet?”

I scoffed. “Okay, that was one time. I left a sweater in the laundry and you hung it up—big deal.”

He shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. “Guess I’ll have to start keeping a Cate section in my wardrobe.”

Before I could retort, he straightened and pushed off the counter. “C’mon, we should go. Fashionably late isn’t a thing with my mother.” 

“Wait…” I walked over to him and grabbed the tie draped over the counter. “You're forgetting something. Come here.”

His tie was a slightly darker shade than the accents on his suit, matching the exact tone of my gown—a subtle coordination that I knew wasn't an accident.

He stepped closer without a word, the space between us shrinking until I could feel the warmth radiating off him. My fingers brushed lightly against his chest as I finished buttoning his shirt. I tried to ignore how solid he felt under the fabric, pretending I didn't notice how his breath hitched ever so slightly at the contact.

Then I looped the silk tie around his neck with a practiced motion. I focused on the knot, fingers moving automatically, but my thoughts drifted. I was halfway through an Eldredge knot when it hit me.

How normal this was. How natural. How close we always stood. How easily we existed in each other’s space without thinking twice. This wasn’t new. This was us. Whatever happened tonight, it wouldn’t change that. We’d still have this.

I tightened the knot gently, the silk gliding between my fingers as I looked up at him. ���You nervous?” I asked, my voice quieter now, like I didn’t want to break the moment.

He exhaled slowly, and I felt the warmth of it ghost over my cheek. “Not nervous, just… not looking forward to all the pretense and theatrics.”

I nodded, letting my hands linger for a second longer before stepping back to check my work.

He reached up to feel the knot, smiling. “Seriously? You learned this one?”

I shrugged, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Well, someone had to. You can never get it right.”

There was something about seeing him in a tailored suit that hit differently. It fit perfectly. The crisp lines emphasized the broadness of his shoulders, the slim cut accentuated his frame, and the dark fabric contrasted against his skin. 

Suddenly, I had the unsettling realization that I was also staring a little.

I snapped my gaze up. Lu caught me looking, and his smirk immediately turned smug. “Don’t start getting weird on me now,” he echoed.

I huffed a laugh, following him out the door. “Too late.”

The estate was everything I expected and more. Grand, imposing, something that’s not just meant to be a home but a statement—the kind that screams old money and control. I remember Lu once joking it looked like a hotel for emotionally repressed aristocrats and now I could finally understand why. Everything was elegant and sharp lines, from the perfectly trimmed hedges to the windows that probably cost more than my entire apartment.

There was already a line of luxury vehicles ahead of us, each one greeted by gloved valets and ushered into some underground car dimension I would never be rich enough to comprehend.

We pulled up to the circular driveway and Lu put the car in park, turning to me with a crooked smile. “Last chance to run away.”

“Yeah, like I would ever leave you alone with the wolves,” I replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t make it too far in these heels.”

He snorted, then glanced at me with that calm, grounding look he always seemed to have in moments like this—steady, unwavering. I hadn’t even realized how tightly I was clutching my purse until my fingers loosened, the tension slipping away like the receding tide.

Lu got out first and circled around the car to open my door himself, offering me a hand as I stepped out. We walked up the steps with my hand looped around his arm, steadying each other.

The inside of the house was just as extravagant. The reception area was a cathedral of chandeliers, polished floors and gold accents. The air was filled with the soft hum of soft jazz, and the gentle clink of champagne flutes. 

Everywhere I looked, people were either subtly scanning the room or leaning in close to exchange pleasantries laced with intent. Every smile looked just a little too sharp around the edges.

Lu guided me through the crowd with effortless familiarity, greeting a few guests by name, offering nods here and there. 

I had just enough time to take a breath before I spotted her—his mother, Marina, standing near the marble staircase with a glass of white wine and that same unreadable expression she wore the night before. Regal. Composed. Frostbitten.

“Come on,” Lu said under his breath. “Might as well get this over with.”

We made our way over, and I pasted on the kind of polite smile that felt just shy of a mask.

“Mother,” Lu greeted smoothly. “You remember Cate.”

Her eyes flicked to me with that same slow scan she’d given me in his apartment—only now it was framed by a crowd and decades of social training. She smiled, technically, though nothing about it touched her eyes.

“Cate, how lovely to see you again,” she said, with a tone that made it sound like she hoped it would be the last time she saw me. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to make it. You look… very polished.”

“Thank you, that’s so much kinder than I expected” I said, keeping my tone pleasant while already simmering on the inside. “And happy anniversary.”

Her gaze lingered just long enough to make me want to squirm, then she turned to signal someone behind her. “Oscar. Come say hello.”

A man in his mid-sixties approached from a nearby conversation. He looked like an older version of Lu, with the same sharp jawline, same hazel eyes, same dark curls—even though his were already turning a little grey here and there. 

“Papà, this is Cate,” Lu said, after a brief hug.

“Cate,” Oscar greeted, offering a handshake. “Glad you could join us.”

He didn’t smile, but his tone was smoother than Marina’s. More neutral. He looked me up and down subtly, assessing. And then I saw it—the faint wrinkle of disapproval behind his otherwise calm expression. He was better at hiding it than Marina, but I could tell he agreed with her. About me. About my “relationship” with Lu.

They really were invested in making him miserable because of his love life choices.

Before the silence could stretch any further, two voices cut clean through the hum of the room.

“There you are!”

I turned just in time to see two women making their way over—beautiful, magnetic, and moving with the effortless confidence of people who knew exactly how to own a room. Their energy was a welcome rush of air, slicing through the heaviness like an open window in a stifling corridor.

They swept Lu into a flurry of hugs and cheek kisses, talking over each other, already laughing. Watching them, it didn’t take long to realize who they were.

His sisters.

And for a second, all I could think about was how ridiculously unfair this gene pool was.

Lu introduced the taller one—almost his height—as Francesca. She had Marina’s icy blue eyes but none of her chill, sharp cheekbones that belonged in an old painting. There was warmth in her, immediate and disarming, like she chose to look at you with kindness.

“Cate, we’ve heard so much about you!” she said, turning her attention to me with a smile.

“You have?” I smirked, glancing sideways at Lu, who was now doing a spectacular job of pretending he wasn’t suddenly interested in the pattern on the floor.

“He never shuts up about you, you know,” Francesca added cheerfully.

“Could you not?” Lu muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.

The other woman—shorter than Francesca but curvier, with honey-blonde hair and soft hazel eyes—wrapped me in a hug before Lu could even finish introducing her.

“I’m Giovanna,” she said, hugging me like we’d known each other for years. Something in my spine eased just a little.

“We were starting to think you didn’t actually exist,” she teased, shooting a look at her brother.

Lu rolled his eyes and stepped back to my side, fingers grazing the small of my back in a touch so familiar it made me want to lean into it. The tension that had knotted itself under my ribs since we walked in loosened considerably.

There was something undeniably human about the two of them—their warmth, their humor, the way they nudged and needled Lu like only siblings could. It was like a pin had popped the formality balloon, and suddenly I wasn’t floating alone in some cold, glittering vacuum.

“We’re so glad you came,” Giovanna said, looping her arm through mine with casual familiarity. “Seriously. Our brother’s been smiling more lately, and it’s honestly suspicious.”

Something about the way she said it—so light, so offhanded—landed somewhere soft in my chest.

I didn’t think Lu had changed. Not really. He still teased me when I overwatered my plants, still rolled his eyes at my awful coffee, still talked too fast when he got excited about some new AI project he was building. He’d always been like that with me.

But maybe that version of him—unguarded, warm, a little chaotic—was starting to seep into the rest of his life. The parts of him his family didn’t usually get to see.

And maybe they were finally noticing.

Maybe this night wouldn't be all barbed looks and quiet judgment. Maybe some corners of his world were warm enough to breathe in.

And somehow, the thought that I might’ve brought that warmth with me—that maybe I was part of what made him lighter—made something flutter low and deep in my stomach.

But then Marina’s voice floated back in, smooth as silk and twice as cutting.

“Shall we move into the dining room? I believe we’re ready to begin.”

Lu’s hand grazed mine—brief, grounding—and I followed the crowd, reminding myself not to let the mask slip. 

The mahogany table stretched almost the length of the dining room—long, rectangular, and intimidating. Every place setting gleamed with gold-rimmed plates, polished silver, crystal glasses that chimed if you even thought about touching them.

Lu slowed beside me, scanning the place cards. His jaw tensed the moment he spotted his name—followed by Anastasia Ricci, two seats to the right of his father.

I followed his gaze down the table. My name sat halfway down the table like an afterthought—like punishment. Far enough that even conversation would be out of reach. I was seated beside Giovanna.

Lu turned to his mother with a smile so tight it might as well have been drawn on with wire. “Interesting seating choices, Mother.”

Marina didn’t even blink. “It’s just a table, Luigi.”

“Funny. Looks more like strategy.”

She lifted her glass and smiled towards a group of arriving guests, effectively ending the conversation.

Giovanna showed up beside us, her tone breezy but loaded. “Don’t worry, little brother,” she murmured, linking her arm with mine. “I’ll take care of your girl.”

Lu’s gaze flicked to mine. We didn’t need words. I nodded, subtly, and he sighed, reluctantly peeling away towards his seat beside Anastasia.

I slid into my chair next to Giovanna, trying not to wince at the visual across the table. Anastasia was already leaning in, her hand grazing Lu’s arm under the guise of laughter. She was animated, smiling too hard, her body angled entirely towards him.

Lu didn’t touch her back. Didn’t encourage her. But he didn’t exactly shut it down either.

I hated it.

And it wasn’t just because she’s grating. It was because Anastasia got to sit beside him, acting like she belonged there even though he couldn’t give two shits about her. It was the way she clearly thought she already owned him, no matter what. 

I forced myself to look away, grabbing my wine glass instead.

“She’s laying it on thick tonight,” Giovanna said dryly, swirling her wine. “Mother must’ve promised her something.”

I snorted softly. “Like a prize horse?”

“Exactly.” She lifted her glass in mock salute. “Win over the prodigal son, get a villa.”

I glanced towards the head of the table and caught Oscar pressing his lips together. It was barely noticeable, but Giovanna saw too.

“That’s his ‘I don’t approve but I won’t start a war about it’ face,” she said. “Trust me, I know it well.”

“You think that’s about Anastasia?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. He absolutely wants Luigi to marry Anastasia,” she said with a shrug. “He just thinks Mother’s playing it too aggressively. And the more she pushes…”

“…the more he pulls away,” I finished.

Giovanna gave me a look. “See? You get him.”

I glanced back across the table—Lu was angled slightly away from Anastasia, keeping a polite distance while she spoke animatedly beside him. He wasn’t laughing at anything she was saying.

Then—his eyes found mine. Just a glance. Just a second. But it was enough to stop everything else.

In that moment, we didn’t need words. The noise and glitter of the room fell away, and it was just us again. The way it always was.

He was telling me he hated everything. That he didn’t ask for any of it. That I’m the only one he wanted to be sitting beside.

I gave him a knowing look and smile. It’s okay, I tried to say with just that. We’ve got this.

He blinked slowly, the corner of his mouth tugging up just slightly. Then he looked away, back to the performance he was stuck playing with Anastasia.

“God, you two are disgusting,” Giovanna said beside me, amused. “You just had an entire conversation without saying a single word.”

I blinked, barely holding back a grin.

“We do that a lot,” I said, and the words came out a little too easily—like a truth I didn’t have to think about. Like it had always been that way.

Giovanna tilted her head, studying me with something softer in her expression now. Less teasing, more observant.

“Yeah,” she said after a pause, “I can see why Luigi’s so in love with you.”

I froze. The words hit me harder than I expected.

I didn’t flinch, didn’t react outwardly—but something inside me jolted. A small, sharp twitch that made my breath catch for just a second too long.

My first instinct was to laugh it off. But I couldn’t even do that, could I? I couldn’t say ‘he’s not’, or ‘give that man an Oscar’ because wasn’t this the whole point of our arrangement?

We were supposed to pretend we were in love. That was the deal. That was the line. There were rules and a script and carefully fabricated lies. 

I couldn’t deny it. Not without throwing the whole charade into question, not without making it obvious that something wasn’t adding up.

But this didn’t feel like a part of the rehearsed story. It wasn’t a line we’d practiced or a move we’d planned. 

This was someone else saying it out loud—so casually, like it was obvious, like it was real. 

It shook something loose in my chest that I hadn’t realized was even there. I reached for my wine glass again, needing the distraction. The bitter warmth steadied me more than I wanted to admit.

I’d prepared for the judgment. For the scrutiny. For his mother’s cold glares and Anastasia’s smug little smiles.

But this?

I hadn’t prepared for this.

After a stretch of silence, Giovanna spoke again, her tone light and decisive.

“I’ve decided we’re going to be friends,” Giovanna said, pulling me back with the kind of certainty only middle children and therapists usually have. “Mother sat me all the way down here for a reason, you know.”

I tilted my head. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely her least favorite kid.” She grinned, lifting her glass in a casual toast. “Middle child, family disappointment, emotional liability. I check all the boxes for the title of ‘black sheep.’”

I laughed—quietly, but genuinely. It felt good. Unexpected, but good.

You get why she didn’t seat you with Luigi, right?” Giovanna said, her voice dipping softer now, like she wasn’t just making conversation anymore. “She wants you to feel like a plus-one. Temporary. Decorative.”

She tilted her head, eyes scanning the room.

“And if he hadn’t gotten up this morning and decided to color-coordinate with you—very hot, by the way—you might’ve just faded into the curtains.”

I glanced down at my gown, the deep navy silk catching the light like rippling water.

“I’m… trying to take that as a compliment.”

Giovanna’s smile warmed, softer now, more sincere.

“It is one. You’re making waves, Cate—even when you don’t mean to.”

My gaze drifted back across the table. Anastasia was laughing at something Lu didn’t say, leaning in too close, her smile practiced and bright. Lu, meanwhile, looked like he was mentally calculating how many exits were in the room.

“I hate this,” I murmured, before I could stop myself.

Giovanna followed my gaze, then leaned in, her voice low and steady.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re the one he looks at like he can breathe again.”

My stomach did a small, traitorous flip.

I should’ve laughed. Rolled my eyes. I really just wanted to say something breezy like “He’s just a good actor,” or “We’ve rehearsed this a lot.” But the words caught somewhere in my throat.

Because I couldn’t say any of that. And worse—part of me wasn’t even sure if I’d be lying or telling the truth anymore.

So I said nothing.

I just smiled tightly, like I’d accepted a compliment I wasn’t sure how to take, and reached for my wine again—like maybe the glass could anchor me better than words.

This was supposed to be pretend. A favor. A façade. 

But here was Giovanna, someone smart and sharp and way too perceptive, looking at me like this was the most obvious thing in the room.

How the hell is she seeing all of this?

I kept my gaze steady, kept my breathing calm, but beneath the surface, something was shifting. Cracking.

Across the table, Lu glances my way again. Our eyes meet, and I swear for a moment we’re not surrounded by crystal and judgment and strategic seating.

We’re just us.

And suddenly, I can breathe again too.

As dessert plates were cleared and the servers began their subtle ballet of resetting the space, Giovanna leaned toward me again.

“After dinner, a bunch of people from the art scene are showing up,” she said casually. “Some of them are old gallery contacts. I’ll introduce you.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “You… know people from the art world?”

She gave me a flat look that was all mock offense. “Cate. I’m a disaster, not uncultured.”

That pulled a laugh from me—real, sudden, and a little brighter than I expected. “Thank you.”

And I meant it more than I could explain. For the support. For treating me like I belonged. For seeing me.

A soft chime from the far end of the room drew everyone’s attention.

Marina was already rising from her seat—graceful, composed, as if she’d spent the entire evening rehearsing for a portrait no one asked her to pose for. Oscar stood a beat later, pushing his chair back with quiet precision, the kind of quiet that spoke of lifelong conditioning.

And just like that, the spell broke.

Chairs scraped back from the table in a polite chorus, conversations rose in volume like a tide returning, and guests began their elegant migration toward the lounge. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter rebooted, and dessert plates were promptly forgotten.

Across the room, Lu stood—not slowly and politely.

Immediately.

Anastasia was mid-sentence, one hand gesturing delicately in his direction, but he didn’t so much as glance at her. He didn’t wait.

He was already moving.

His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the chaos of the room faded into background noise. His steps were steady, unhurried, but unyielding—like he’d been holding back all night and now that the barrier had lifted, he couldn’t get to me fast enough.

I barely registered her disappointment as he made a direct beeline towards me, like gravity has suddenly decided it worked differently just for us.

Giovanna let out a quiet, amused chuckle at my side. “Dramatic,” she murmured into her wine glass. “I approve.”

I stood just as Lu reached me, heart thudding a little too loud for comfort. And when he got to me, he didn’t just stop and speak—he reached for me.

Without a word, Lu pulled me into a hug.

Not showy. Not performative. Just… real.

One arm curved around my waist, the other up between my shoulder blades, anchoring me like I was the only real thing he had left to hold onto. His forehead brushed my temple for just a beat—long enough to breathe me in.

And just like that, the noise of the room faded.

It was solid and grounding, like he needed the contact just as much as I did. Maybe more.

His cheek brushed the side of my head before he drew back just enough to see my face. I didn’t even realize how much I needed it until I felt him wrap around me like that. Not for the crowd. Just for me.

For a second, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at me—searching, checking, like he was making sure I was still here, still me, still okay.

Like the whole night had been leading to this exact moment.

Then, low enough for only me to hear:

“I’m going to kill her.”

I huffed a soft laugh, the tension cracking just a little at the edges. “She’s trying really hard, huh.”

“To get me to elope.” He rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching. “With an audience.”

His fingers brushed against my waist again, warm through the silk. The dress didn’t feel like someone else’s now. His voice dipped.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Giovanna kept me sane.” I glanced to the side and smiled. “She’s surprisingly awesome.”

“She’s the best one,” he said without hesitation, and Giovanna—still pretending not to eavesdrop—flashed us a smug smile over the rim of her glass.

Lu’s knuckles grazed gently along my cheek, and I leaned into it before I could stop myself.

“Thank you for surviving that,” he murmured.

“Thank you for making it obvious who you’d rather be sitting with,” I replied, just as quietly.

His smile came slow and quiet—lopsided and entirely his, the kind that only ever belonged to me.

“Always.”

And just like that, the tension of the evening began to unravel—one look, one touch at a time.

--

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[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): The Path We Tread [25]

Sal's freshly folded Breaking Benjamin hoodie is soft in my hands. I haven't washed it, but I figured I'd return it after accidentally stuffing it into my bag the other night.

I set it on top of the cat carrier that's prepped and housing a cheerful Gizmo who purrs like a fully powered motorboat. And he's too cute, too happy to see me, so I grin down at the orange feline and brace one hand on Sal's car door and lean down to give the little guy some scratches.

He purrs against my hand, big green eyes closed as he shoves his head into my palm and basically pets himself. I can't help but huff out a laugh, smile widening because of the little fur ball.

Yesterday, The Faces and I spent the day visiting with Henry and Lisa. Since they aren't moving to LA with us, considering they have their music store here, we wanted to spend as much time with them as possible. Especially Larry and Sal.

"Are you done coddling my cat?" Sal gripes behind me. I sigh a bit disappointedly, rubbing under Gizmo's chin before zipping the carrier closed.

Turning to the cat dad, I back away from the black Camaro. Sal gives me a not-so-serious glare before placing himself in my previous spot, snatching the hoodie I'd just laid down and unfolding it. So particular.

"He likes my coddling," I murmur, tipping my head to the side as I peer at Sal both out of curiosity and admiration. The sun beating down on him, illuminating all the shades of blue in his hair. It's still chilly here, Nockfell's norm. 

Which explains why Sal starts pulling the hoodie over his head, but I still have to try my best not to gape. What happened to him being terrified of my cooties?

"No one likes your coddling," he responds, deadpan.

I regard him nonchalantly, pursing my lips. "Your mom does."

Sal's eyes go wide, the action setting off a warpath of alarm bells in my head. I watch him warily, but then the corners of his eyes crinkle and he whips his head away from me to choke on a... giggle.

My mouth twitches in a smile that I desperately attempt to stomp down. His laughter is so symphonic, so heavenly, so rare. Worst of all, it's infectious. And, most concerning, the joke wasn't that funny. So I hesitantly inquire, "What?"

Sal takes a breath, tucking a strand of cobalt hair behind his ear. Like he's purposefully trying to display that damned dagger that haunts my every sleeping and waking moment. "There's a punchline to that joke," he croons, eyes alight with such mischief that I brace myself, hold my breath.

"My mother is dead."

The breath I held punches past my lips, expelled in a gag-cough tag team on my lungs, my throat, my fucking brain. My cheeks flush scarlet, the warmth of my embarrassment rippling through my body. Sweat beads at my forehead as utter dread courses through me.

His mom is dead?

"I— I'm sorry, I didn't—" I sputter, rushing to get the apology out as soon as possible. Because, while I wouldn't bat an eye if my own mother left this plane of existence for eternity, I certainly would if my father did.

Sal shakes his head, eyes shutting and head tilting forward as if to say he accepts my apology. "You didn't know," he says nonchalantly. "Besides, it's nice not to have to talk about her so seriously. I wish people didn't tiptoe around the topic."

"They tiptoe for a reason," I hiss, although halfheartedly. I'm just relieved he isn't suddenly snapping at my heels with rage again. "Because it is serious."

Sal shrugs, a calm and relaxed glow to his cerulean gaze. For once. I almost forget that he's public enemy number one for a moment. "Yea, well," he sighs dramatically, hands stuffed into his pockets. "Gave me a reason to scare the shit out of you again. Seeing you ready to kiss my feet and beg for forgiveness is just such a lovely sight."

He does all of this on purpose. And screw him for using me as his comedic act constantly. "Suck it, Fisher," I sneer, feeling the terror in my veins finally transform into muted contempt. The anger isn't so bad, not like it used to be.

His gaze snaps to me, and just like every other time we look at each other, I can't tell what he's feeling as he murmurs, "So long as you consent."

I gulp, ditching what wrathful thoughts had gathered in my fortress of a mind. It's all quickly replaced with a throbbing in my very bones, another tinge of color to my cheeks, and a wild replay of all the times he had his head buried between my legs recently.

Hands clamp down on my shoulders and I flinch with the agility of a cat who just lost it's second to last life-- since Sal has taken all my other damn lives.

"Hey, angel," Ash coos from behind. I peek over my shoulder to see her grinning down at me. But her happy expression doesn't quite meet her eyes. "Sal's going to drop us off at the airport. As much as you two live to hate and loathe each other, we need to talk."

Oh, no. Oh, fuck. We need to talk? That statement never, ever ends well. Does she know about us? Is she about to kick me out of the group— or Sal? Or is there going to be this brutally mortifying conversation about how she knows but she'd never tell anyone and she absolutely requires an invite to the wedding?

I suppress a shudder.

Instead, I purse my lips, tongue cemented to the roof of my mouth as every one of my four limbs goes completely rigid. "I'd rather hotbox in a car full of Larry's farts," I declare, more than ready to do just that. He ate about half his body weight in tamales last night.

Ash's eyes go wide, her brows furrowing as a guilty smirk quirks her lips. "You would rather—" she cuts herself off, shaking her head and looking up at the sky to avoid the giggles she would no doubt conjure up if she looked at me for too much longer. "Just get in the car, y/n," she commands, voice wavering with hidden laughter.

I look back to Sal and take note of the lack of color in his eyes. Seconds ago, they were bright and full of mirth. Now... they're empty. Grave. Numb.

It snaps a little bit of clarity into me, so I do as Ash said and climb into his back seat, right beside Gizmo who chirps a greeting to me. I give the orange cat a smile as Ash shuts my door, but I'm roiling with too much anxiety to do more than that.

Ash is about to have a meeting with me and Sal. The three of us. She's either going to ball us out for fighting so much, or she knows that we're fucking. And if it's neither of those, then I don't know what else it could be. I think the unknown scares me more than the other options.

Ash plops herself into the passenger seat, using the 'oh-shit' handle to adjust herself before shutting her door and buckling. She throws her head over her shoulder, grinning at me. "So," she says giddily as Sal climbs into the driver's seat. "Hot rod, old ass, family heirloom. How are we feeling?"

I raise an eyebrow that she can't see. "It's a car."

"And a treasure," she finishes thoughts I did not have, watching me with eyes that say I should cherish this gift of a ride. "How are you not tweaking with excitement? This thing is older than you!"

"Because it's a car," I repeat, narrowing my eyes at her. I don't want to kill her short-lived joy, but I'm too paranoid.

The car suddenly roars to life and maybe— for a split second— I understand Ash's elation. It might be older than my grandpa (bless his heart) but it purrs like a newborn kitten. I'll give it that much.

Sal mumbles something I can't hear then situates his hand on the back of Ash's headrest, head peering over his shoulder to back out of the driveway. His eyes meet mine for a short moment before they avert to the window, making sure Henry's car is down the road before beginning to back up.

Oh, if I was Ash with his hand behind my head like that, I'd be feeling a lot of things. Horny being the most prevalent. I definitely wouldn't admit that though. 

"Hey," Ash mutters, eyes on Sal who switches gears and begins driving behind his dad. "Are you... are you sure?"

So it's something they both know about? A spear of unease slashes through my gut, a clear reminder of this conversation we're about to have. The acknowledgement of it makes the inside of Sal's car grow thick with tension. It's almost unbearable— even Gizmo's purring has halted.

"Just get it over with," Sal grumbles, eyes on the road and fingers wrapped around the steering wheel.

I swallow thickly, watching the way Sal completely checks out of reality. Something about his position, his unblinking gaze tells me he's drifted somewhere foreign. He isn't here right now— he's simply driving.

"Okay," Ash whispers before turning to me. Her glossy lips are stretched into a tight line, a shadow of grief darkening her angelic features. "Listen," she starts, normally light and airy tone morphed into something a bit apprehensive, sad. "I'm not going to get into the details of this because it's not my story to tell. But Sal, Larry, Todd, and I agreed that it would be in everyone's best interest to give you a heads up... and somewhat of an explanation."

I swipe my tongue along the seam of my lips, my mouth suddenly dry with the worry that skitters along my spine. I say nothing, simply wait for her to continue.

"We are moving to LA to be closer to opportunities, and since it's more fitting for our streaming careers," She tells me, viridian gaze zeroed in on mine. "But there's another, more pressing reason as to why we're moving."

I nod along, waiting, biting my tongue in nervous anticipation. This is where I crumble to ruins, right? When every bad decision I've made comes crashing down around me. I mentally brace myself, fingers closing around the door handle a bit tighter.

"There's a... woman." Sal's hands tighten around the steering wheel, unknowingly mimicking my own actions. "She really hurt Sal. She was put in prison for two years, but... she's being released next week. We don't want Sal to be near her, nor do we want to be near her."

Every bit of air leaves my lungs upon hearing Ash's words. Two years? What the hell did she do to him? I glance at Sal through his rearview mirror, noting how he stares disinterestedly through the windshield.

A kind of emotion I can't quite explain rushes through me. It's understanding, shared grief, fury, sorrow. None of it is aimed at him. It's for him. And part of me aches to avenge him, to find this girl and make her hurt the way she made him hurt.

The truth of it is painful, like some part of me is slowly being ripped apart from my body. It's all so unfamiliar. I can't understand why I feel so strongly about it, especially since I don't even know what this unknown woman has done. The sudden influx of emotions and undeciphered realization that's suddenly hit me overpowers every one of my brain neurons, but I make quick work to try and break everything down.

Now, I understand why he was willing to give me anything so long as I agreed to sex the other night. It was as much of an escape for him as it was for me. I wasn't the only one who needed a distraction.

I feel everything so deeply right now, and assessing the depth of all this emotion makes me realize that I must care for Sal a lot more than I originally thought I did.

Ash lets me mull over the information before speaking again. I feel my heart rumbling, echoing through the hollowness in my chest as she spills more to me.

"The reason we're telling you this at all is specifically because there are people shipping you and Sal together online. Of course, the focus on whatever the hell is going on with you and North has taken some of the heat away from you and Sal— but there's still enough going around that it's worth warning you." I suck in a shaky breath. "This woman has been known to target other women who have a close relationship to Sal. It's all via stalking online and harassment, but it's something I don't want you to have to go through. Something none of us want you to go through."

I'd take it all if it meant I'd get to enact revenge. For myself. For Sal. For both of us. I don't know.

Ash must see it on my face; the tidal wave of emotions that keep crashing into me relentlessly. She gives me a knowing look, a sad smile as if to say she understands. "So, keep us in the know, okay?" She says sweetly, reaching back with her hand, opening it for me. I blink, clutching her warm palm in mine. "If anyone messages you and it's really shitty, or if Sal is mentioned or something, tell us. We'll figure it out." She squeezes my hand, thumb running over my skin. "You aren't alone."

My eyes flit over to Sal again, trying to catch his gaze in the mirror. It almost seems as if he's avoiding me. I try to tell myself it's because he's driving, obviously, but it doesn't feel that way. He doesn't even bother to check if there are any cars behind us, just robotically stares ahead with the air condition gently ruffling his hair. Sleeping with Sirens softly playing on his radio.

My gaze drifts to him throughout the rest of our thirty minute drive to the airport right outside of Nockfell. I can't help myself. Can't help the weight that burdens me.

Eventually, Sal looks down from the windshield to shift his car to park once we get into the parking lot. Then he looks to Ash, gestures for her to get out of the car. And Ash, ever the goddess, snorts before opening her door.

I turn to Gizmo, stick my finger through a slit in his carrier, and scratch under his chin before parting ways, preparing to leave through the door that Ash has opened for me.

"Okay," Ash sighs, a cheery lilt in her voice. "Enough of the bad, more of the rad. It's moving time."

Sal throws open his door before it can even fully unlatch, a man desperate to escape the horrors of his past. The sight causes a twinge of pain in my chest, but I ignore it. I can contemplate this conversation when I'm safe on our plane and have nothing better to do.

I warily walk into the parking lot, surfacing beside Larry who has a blanket bunched in his arms and a pair of headphones around his neck. Something tells me his flight is going to be nice.

Larry takes note of me and throws an arm over my shoulder, offering me a sleepy grin that I try my best to fully return The comfort of his somewhat embrace is needed though. I'm still feeling the whiplash of the conversation I sat in on for the ride here.

I gently grab Larry's wrist and hold on, his thumb comfortingly rubbing over the inside of my palm.

"I think I've got everyone's bags ready to go," Henry says with a little sigh, hands on his hips and cheeks colored pink from handling everyone's luggage. I spot the backpack I came with and watch as Neil scoops it up, throwing a strap over his shoulder.

"I can't believe we're leaving," Ash mutters from beside me, frowning at Henry and Lisa. Her parents didn't come along to tell her goodbye. I hadn't asked her about it because the stress of moving is already enough on her shoulders, but I can't begin to imagine how painful the situation must be for her. I remember how tough it was for me to realize my mom didn't want to be a part of my life anymore-- at least, she 'wanted' to be a minuscule part of my life but not for the right reasons.

Henry smiles warmly at her, walking over to ruffle her hair. "You've said that about fifty times in the last 24 hours, squirrel." His dad chuckle follows and I find myself subconsciously smiling at their interaction. Henry became a stand-in dad for Ash the same way Lisa became a stand-in mom for me. Realizing this brings me some solace. It's a little sliver of light in the darkness of my overwhelmed mind. 

Ash smacks her lips then purses them, trying and failing to hide her affectionate smile. "I know, I know," she fusses, running lithe fingers through her chestnut hair. "It just... doesn't feel real. I've lived in Nockfell for so long."

"And I would be failing all of you if I let you stay here any longer," Henry says gently, helping Ash with her hair by tucking a strand behind her ear. "You're all blowing up. Your options and resources are astronomically limited here. We, as parents, don't raise you to walk in our footsteps. We raise you to walk beyond the path we tread. You're all doing that." Henry's gaze passes over all of us, his eyes watery with a mixture of torment and pride. "So I want you to thrive somewhere that you have a chance to exploit your gifts--" Another sweet smile and I'm getting emotional alongside him. I didn't think I'd wake up this morning with a constant lump in my throat. "Just come visit every once in a while, 'kay?'

Larry's arm flexes around my shoulders and I blink past my tears, squeezing his wrist in my hold. I watch as Sal walks up beside Ash, a hand grasping her shoulder as her bottom lip begins quivering.

I didn't expect this to be so... hard. I knew it'd kill me to leave Nockfell a second time, but taking my old friends with me and having to part with people who have slowly become family is deeply gut-wrenching.

I've learned a lot on this trip. I saw so many things that make it hard to leave because I'm afraid of never seeing them again. I found out that Sal Fisher has a heart, and it's a pretty good one. He has issues, some of which have no doubt influenced his personality, but he's not soulless. He can be kind, he can be funny, he can be a friend. And Henry has clearly been a large influence on the good parts of Sal-- his father is the most selfless person I've ever met, gentler than a mother with her newborn. He has a heart of gold with morals and values that defy modern humanity. The moment Sal took my face into his hands and averted my attention during a panic reflected all the things his father has taught him-- all the warmth he has that he's hidden for so long. Hidden from me.

Looking at Sal now, noting his hand that tenderly runs over the back of Ash's head in nearly the same way Henry did, just reinforces the difference I've observed.

Ash wraps Henry up in a crushing hug, squeezing the man close to her. And he doesn't seem to mind-- in fact, he holds her just as tight. The man presses a kiss to her hair before moving over to hug his son.

We all hug Henry and Lisa, our parting about as heart-wrenching as an ASPCA commercial. But the bright side is that we know we'll see each other again. With our jobs in the streaming industry, we'll have enough money to make frequent trips.

Lisa holds me for a long time, her head rested atop mine and her fingers threading through my hair. Giving me the mother-like comfort that I crave every now and again. And Henry, he presses a kiss to my head the same way he did for everyone else. It's a soothing relief to know that I matter as much to him as the rest of The Faces do.

As I break away from my embrace with Henry, I watch Sal pull Ash to him, his hand cupping the back of her head and holding her close. I can't quite describe the kind of emotion that zaps me when he pulls his dad's signature move and presses his prosthetic lips to Ash's forehead. It's such a precious moment to witness. Ash's response makes it even sweeter; she playfully swats at his arm before leaning down a tad to kiss the cheek of his mask.

I can't help but smile fondly at their sibling-like affection, even if it echoes a bit in the hollowness inside me. I want to be cherished so badly in this moment, to be loved the way this family loves each other.

Sal moves around, hugging Larry, Todd, and Neil before taking a step back as everyone prepares to say their final goodbye's.

The disheartened smile doesn't leave my face as everyone mutters saddened parting words. But I spare a glance at Sal to find him watching everyone the same way I am. His eyes are squinted, the sole indication of his smile beneath that prosthetic.

My breath catches when his eyes, a crystal clear image of the overcast sky today, meet mine. He simply looks at me for a moment, then holds up a hand, middle finger on display.

I blanch, oxygen rushing back into my lungs, filling the void I've refused to acknowledge. Compared to his refusal to even come to the airport in Vegas, I'd say this is a step up.

I bite down on my bottom lip in an attempt to disguise the smile that pulls at my lips and the fluttering in my chest as I flick him off in return.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Dragging my backpack onto this rickety airplane takes a lot of guts. It's so run down and beat up that I can't help but wonder if Amelia Earhart was the last person to sit in the pilot's seat. But hey, if I go missing, I'd be solving a lot of problems. Win-win?

I walk down the skinny aisle, pausing to find my seat-- only to realize that Todd and I are riding together for this trip.

I smile warmly at my dear friend, scooting past him and toward the window seat.

Sighing, I plop into my seat and fasten my seatbelt. "Hey, Todd. It's a shame you and Neil got separated."

Todd tips his head in a silent greeting, a little smile on his freckled face. "Not a shame at all. This is his punishment," he replies nonchalantly. I simply blink at him while fighting off an onslaught of giggles. They seem like the type to have random arguments and disagreements every once in a while. They're totally the couple that fully believes their hiccups make their relationship fun, too.

"I stand corrected then," I chuckle as I pull my phone from my pocket. "Just so you know," I continue, leaning toward him to whisper, "I'm on your side."

Todd laughs, the sound much like bells tolling on a lovely spring morning. He pats my wrist, gives it a little squeeze. "As you should be."

I give him another quick smile before looking at my phone.

I probably shouldn't message Sal. I should just leave it be. I'm not obligated in any way, shape, or form, but... the whole situation is weighing on me. I won't be able to stop thinking about our conversation until I extend my hand-- in whatever weird way that I can given this situation Sal and I have found ourselves in.

And, yes. Of course my messaging him is a split second decision that I'm bound to regret. I feel... closer to him. Like we've bonded somehow. 

Famous last words.

This is a true fool's rose-tinted glasses because Sal is complicated. All of this is complicated and I'm probably mistaking my relation and guilt for his traumas as us forming a connection. 

I swallow over the nerves that ravage me whole and pull up discord, clicking on Sal's and my private messages. His last text to me altered our entire situation. It started all of this:

SALLYFʌCɜ: i wouldn't have made the promise if i didn't intend on keeping it. watch what you say and give ash five minutes to remember that you're in the room. actually, give her brain a boost. SALLYFʌCɜ: come here.

I chew on my bottom lip, contemplating his last message to me before typing up a quick message. I want it to be simple, easy, done. Without considering the past too much.

But I end up typing, deleting, and retyping up until our pilot announces that all passengers are boarded.

My fingers quake as I type up my last attempt and use every bit of willpower to refrain from deleting it all over again. My thumb hovers over the 'send' button and I force myself to look away, quickly smashing the button and pursing my lips as embarrassment rips me to shreds.

I spare a glance down.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: i'm good for more than just fucking if you need a reminder

Why the fuck did I say that? Why couldn't I be normal and just tell him I'd listen to his problems?

He starts typing.

I slap my phone face down onto my thighs and refuse to breathe for a full minute and a half. I take the time to build up the confidence to look, give myself a pep talk. I don't really care how stupid it was. It's done-- I can't change it. It doesn't matter and I don't care.

So with my heart knocking on my ribcage, I hesitantly lift my phone and look down.

SALLYFʌCɛ: i know. SALLYFʌCɛ: thank you

The guiltiest grin blooms on my face. I try my absolute hardest to smash the expression down, to tell myself that his appreciation isn't that serious. That this is just basic human decency. But, damn, something about the way he bothered to say 'thank you' instead of just 'thanks' or even nothing at all...

I put my phone on airplane mode then shut it off, look out the window as our plane begins to power up.

"Hey," Todd suddenly says, his voice inquisitive and a little concerned. "So, sorry if this is prying too much but it's kind of fucking killing me."

I turn my head to look at him, brow raised at his tone. "Don't worry about it," I murmur. "What's up?"

His dark eyes stare into mine-- deeply, investigating my soul like some kind of spiritual detective. I can't help but squirm beneath his heavy gaze, waiting for him to share his thoughts.

He starts slowly shaking his head. "I can't tell which one you're fucking."

Mentally, my eye is twitching.

I catch the shocked cough that almost escapes my mouth. Fear claws its way up my spine as I search through filing cabinets full of words in my head. "Uh," I intellectually start with. "Who says I'm fucking someone?"

Todd blinks, something like clarity morphing his features-- like he just got his answer. "Because you have North bricked up in the supply room of Henry's music store and Sal tracking your every movement like a dog salivating over a steak."

My mouth opens and closes silently up until my mental filing cabinet of words flies open and forces unintelligible sounds and words to fly through my mouth. I choke over my panic and slap a hand over my mouth, watching him with wide eyes.

Part of it is absolute amusement and disbelief over Todd's claims, but the other half of me is petrified by the fact that he sniffed me out immediately. Well, he's trying to, at least.

"I'm sorry?" I snort, my words muffled due to the hand that stays clutched to my mouth.

Todd gives me a no-bullshit look. "I won't say anything," he promises with a shrug. "I know I outted you in Vegas, but that's why I'm discussing the situation with you first this time."

"I'm not--" I pause, dropping my hand from my mouth to properly speak to him. I'm trying to school this and keep the terror out of my gaze, but I think he already knows. "I'm not fucking anyone," I declare, tilting my head down to accentuate my claim.

Maybe he'll buy it. I need him to buy it, actually.

It's not that I don't trust Todd, it's just that I know what he's going to say. It's the same thing anyone in The Faces would tell me-- the same thing Sal has insinuated repeatedly. That I shouldn't be fucking him. I want to avoid that because I already know. I don't want anyone else burying themselves in whatever the hell is going on because I don't even fully understand it myself.

This group is tight-knit. They care. They care so much that they would immediately tell me and Sal to end things and forget it ever happened because fuck buddies are 'toxic' and we 'hate' each other. But with Sal and me, it transcends all of that. We don't have half the issues we started out with, not to mention, our arrangement is working fine. And I'll admit that Sal is the farthest thing from shallow. There are so many twists and turns in his maze of a mind that I'm urged to navigate through it.  

Maybe we're nothing remotely close to normal, it's the complete opposite of what constitutes as tradition. But everything before this pales in comparison. God forbid he hear my thoughts, but Sal is becoming a friend. I had to quickly accept that notion the moment I got defensive over his trauma. 

Todd smacks his lips, a clear sign that he doesn't believe a word I've said. "Fine," he sighs. He seems a bit disappointed... but understanding. Todd loves drama, but he's thoughtful as well. He won't push me to talk if I don't want to. And let's face it, I'm sure he's already set on his opinion of the topic. The only thing he doesn't have is my confirmation. 

"Just be careful, okay?" Todd's brows furrow a bit, a small frown pulling at his lips. "I know it isn't my business, but some secrets are a lot worse than you'd imagine. Fuck who you want, just don't get close enough to get wrapped up in feelings you'd regret."

Apprehension wraps its bony, ashen fingers around my heart and chokes the life out of it. I stare at Todd with wide eyes that have reacted of their own accord. I clench my teeth and think hard about how to organize my thoughts into something comprehensible. 

"Is there something I should... know? About either or both of them?" I decide to ask, clearing my throat when my words come out whispered and hoarse, tangled with anxiety.

Todd presses his lips together, showing off his short temper. "I literally just told you they have secrets and to watch yourself. Read between the lines, y/n. Shakespeare should have taught you as much."

The pounding of my heart dies down a bit at Todd's rushed, frustrated sarcasm. The tension and fear are slowly dissipating, so I'll take Todd's claim to mean that he's just worried for me. North's and Sal's secrets can't be so bad-- everyone has baggage. And I mean, Sal's quite literally been through the wringer. An accident so bad it marred his face, a shitty woman who hurt him, and a dead mother. It can't get that much worse, can it?

I scoff playfully. "I hate Shakespeare. He was the worst person to choose for a comparison, Todd," I say gently, giving him a hesitant smile.

That sets Todd off. For the rest of our two hour flight, he argues with me about Shakespeare's genius. He made some pretty legit claims, saying that Shakespeare knew just how to throw backhanded comments to petty royals who didn't have smarts to decipher the true meaning. That Shakespeare was damn lucky he didn't get killed-- unless he was! 

Yep, a whole debacle on his death came from that. It kept me entertained though. More importantly, it distracted me from Sal who, now that we've landed and are heading to our new apartments, I can't help but worry about.

Ash is sitting beside me watching the buildings of LA pass us by. She squeezes my hand here and again, smile widening when we come across landmarks she spent her own time searching up. It's so sweet-- all the places Ash couldn't visit on her first trip here are all available to her now.

Meanwhile, Larry's animatedly chatting with our Uber driver-- somehow he happened upon the topic of Speedos. Interestingly enough, our driver seems more than happy to let our friend talk. Neil chimes in here and again to add to Larry's outlandish remarks, making the driver nod in agreement or chuckle.

I watch the streets, slowly beginning to recall all the times I've walked these sidewalks within the past year. All my surroundings are starting to become familiar. 

It's comforting knowing I won't be walking these streets alone anymore.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

I set my backpack on the floor, taking in the wide expanse of Sal and Larry's brand new living room. It's enormous; tall ceilings to accompany the loft to one side of the room, then a wall of windows with balcony doors across from me. As modern as it is, it has a nice, darker touch to it. The floors are grey oak, the walls a charcoal color, and the ceiling is bright white— a perfect contrast to the shade crawling upward.

I lick my lips, trying my best not to gape at the only room I've seen so far.

Larry whistles his adoration for the place, standing in the center of the room with his hands on his hips, inspecting every nook and cranny of his new home. He's but a speck of dust in a fancy cave. "This shit's pretty hardcore," he murmurs.

Neil places his bag on the floor beside mine, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Didn't you check the place out already, Lar?" he asks, a cheery edge to his voice.

Larry, in response, snorts and waves Neil's comment off. "Duh," he sarcastically answers. "This place has too much pizazz for me to not admire it like a middle aged man admires his new lawnmower. This is ejaculation material, bro."

Todd sighs obnoxiously, but Neil nods his head beside me, handsome smile on his face as he says, "Fair enough."

I seem to have found myself quite the group.

Ash glides her way through the entrance, giving the big room a once over and an approving nod that says she likes the apartment. She glances over at me, gestures with her elbow. "Looks pretty similar to ours, Vee," she chirps, viridian gaze glittering in the lovely sunshine that filters through the big windows. Sal and Larry didn't get an apartment, these dudes bought a house. In the sky. This thing is too extravagant to be undermined with the term of 'apartment.'

And then Ash's claim spins around my head, hitting all sides of my cranium to solidify the fact that we have a near identical home.

My eyebrows bunch together and I blink at Ash. "Wait, what?"

Ash simply shrugs, little grin plastered on her lips as she scrolls through her phone and plops herself onto the floor. She sits criss-cross applesauce and drags my backpack over to her, tucking it into her lap like a pillow. "I'm calling Sal to let him know we made it," she mutters, clicking on her phone a couple times before putting it on the ground in front of her.

I see a pig-tailed, really tiny Sal on her phone. His contact picture. He and Ash are standing side by side, both of them holding up bunny ears behind each other's heads. Ash looks exactly the way I remember her as a teenager. Sal looks the total opposite of what I thought though.

Part of me expected him to be this super lanky, scene kid. I mean, the hair said enough. But he just looks awkward and childlike here. His eyes are big and bright, happy. He's on his tiptoes to try and add some height to his small stature, so he doesn't look quite as short next to Ash. It's refreshing— clearly, he hasn't always been so... closed off, mean, and unhappy.

The call suddenly accepts and I'm forced back to reality, especially when someone who absolutely cannot be Sal Fisher answers the phone.

"Hey, sweetheart," he starts warmly, tone cosplaying as a literal cinnamon roll. Gooey, sweet, and cozy. "Did you guys make it safe?"

What brain slurping alien has taken over his body? There's no way that's him.

I think back to our night in Nockfell-- he called me sweetheart. He's calling Ash the same. Is this the true Sal? Laid back, caring, and gentle? Is that what he was trying to portray to me when we acted as distractions to one another?

"Sure did, mi corazón," Ash replies in a sing-song voice, rocking back and forth. "How are you and Gizzy? Staying safe? What's the ETA?"

I hear a low, content chuckle from the phone and swear I've been thrust into an alternate reality. "I'm fine, Giz is great. He's napping on my lap while I drive. Staying as safe as an eyeless guy can. And we should be there around midnight tonight."

Ash frowns. "Midnight? Why don't you guys stay the night at a hotel? Kinda risky to drive for so long."

Sal hums in contemplation. "My chances of finding a pet-friendly hotel are scarce. It's more trouble than it's worth. I don't usually go to bed 'til early in the morning anyway— you know that. I'll just get our bags down when we get there and save the unpacking for tomorrow."

"Let us know when you get here then," Ash murmurs worriedly. I grab my phone and check the time. It's six in the evening. Is he really going to drive for another six hours? "And please, drive safe. Don't forget to eat and stay hydrated. You literally take, like, two weeks off all our lives the longer you aren't around," she adds, tone much like a grandma fussing.

Sal laughs heartily on the line and my lips quirk up at the sound. "I will, I will," he replies to her, voice lovingly tender. "I'm about to stop to pick up dinner and feed Gizmo. I'll update you later, 'kay?"

"Okay," Ash chirps, satisfied with Sal's promise. "Ik houd van jou!" She kicks her feet after speaking, pinching her lips together and staring at the ceiling excitedly, waiting. Ash and her languages... I have no idea which one she just spoke, but usually if it's not in English, she's saying 'I love you.'

"You too, darling." Sal knows her as well as I do. This interaction is too precious-- I should not have been present for it.

Ash ends the call then looks over at us. "He's in such a good mood," she whisper yells, exhilaration scrawled across her face. She looks like she just did a line of coke. "He never says he loves me too!?" She whips her head to Larry, eyes narrowing as she inspects him. And Larry, he balks; holds his hands up in surrender to accompany his saucer-sized gaze. 

"Is he on drugs? Did you give him something?" Ash asks, raising an eyebrow but never letting up that little glare she has going. 

"No!" Larry exclaims, voice cracking. His surrendering hands turn upward in an exasperated shrug. "Why the hell would I send him on a road trip with drugs? We're talking about Sal."

"Exactly. We are talking about Sal. Sal who likes to party with you. See where I'm going?" Ash counters, tilting her head to accentuate her point.

Larry opens his mouth to argue, but then his brows furrow and he snaps his mouth shut, looking off to the side contemplatively. I'm still reeling over this news about Sal supposedly liking parties. "Okay, I see," Larry grumbles. "But seriously, I didn't give him anything. Hell, I don't even have anything."

"I wonder what the hell has him so cheery then," Ash mumbles to herself.

"It's trauma, dude, I swear," Larry declares passionately, pointing at Ash with one hand while the other buries itself into his hair. He's just had an 'aha!' moment. "He's fucking coping. Let the man cope."

Ash stuffs her face into her hands. "Larry," she says darkly, voice muffled. My hair stands on end at her tone and I note Larry grimacing beside me. "That is not funny."

Larry purses his lips and takes two steps back. I watch him struggle, cheeks going red as his mouth works. Like he's trying so desperately hard to not say something. But when can he ever keep his mouth shut, right? This is King Cockblock. Emo Buff Daddy.

"Sal would've laughed," he says softly, wincing when Ash's head snaps up and she sends him a cold glare. 

I giggle when Ash launches into a full frontal attack, heading straight for Larry who squeals like a piglet. Todd simply sighs, pinching Neil's arm who laughs at our friends.

As unclear as everything is, I know that I can rely on the people here with me. The excitement on their faces just from knowing they have a new start, surrounded by one another. This is solid, this is good.

Ash and I eventually find our way three stories above Sal and Larry's apartment to our own apartment. It's at this exact moment that reality sets in. Not only will I be beside Ash every single day from here on out, but the rest of our friends are in the same exact building. For as long as I've felt alone, I feel stuffed with company and I love every bit of it.

She wasn't wrong either. Our apartment is essentially the lighter, more feminine version of Sal and Larry's. The floor is a dark, mahogany color but the walls are eggshell white, creating a lovely contrast in the room. Our ceilings are still stunningly tall, but unlike Sal and Larry, we don't have a loft. Just a lot of fan room, as Ash joked. 

We spent time having our 'ooh' and 'ahh' moment, exploring our spacious three bedroom apartment and its bathrooms. And not long afterward, we set up the one blanket I brought with us in the middle of our living room. We ordered ramen and had a picnic beneath the moonlight fluttering in through our balcony windows. 

It's a girl's night that I've been craving since the moment I first left Nockfell all those years ago.

Ash ends up dragging me and our little blanket out onto our balcony so we can stargaze. In fact, we're in the middle of discussing Twenty One Pilots's new album when pale hands suddenly drop onto Ash's shoulders. 

She and I both yelp, Ash's arms flailing and her eyes squeezed shut in absolute terror as she flings herself off our blanket. I flinch, spinning in my sitting position to see Sal who's absolutely grinning beneath his prosthetic.

I look past him, noting Larry and Neil hovering in our living room with bags and suitcases surrounding them.

Oh, an important note, all three men are completely shirtless. Even better, they're a little sweaty too.

"What the fuck, Sally!?" Ash yells, sighing exasperatedly as she lifts herself from the ground and walks over to Sal, wrapping him up in a tight hug. "You're lucky I'm relieved about you being here because I would so twist your dick if this were any other situation."

"Thanks for sparing me then," he chuckles, hand splaying across Ash's lower back as they break their embrace.

I've found myself wordless all day. I feel like a spectator-- like I'm not even here with them on this balcony.

Ash ignores his remark. "Why are your nipples out? Why do you smell like a wet dog?" she asks instead, wrinkling her nose and leaning away from him.

Sal rolls his eyes and moves his arm away from her. "Because I've been unloading. Why else?" He steps aside, ushering Ash back into the apartment with a gesturing hand.

She follows his unspoken command, walking through the balcony doors and beholding the sheer amount of smelly men in our new home. "You should have called us for help," Ash murmurs, hands on her hips as she comes to a stop before Larry and Neil.

Sal doesn't answer her immediately. Instead, he looks over at me with his bright eyes that have been phenomenally captured by the moonlight above. He tilts his head toward the door, silently telling me to follow Ash's lead.

Gulping, I lean down and quickly gather my blanket in my arms, trying my absolute best not to express the nerves ravaging me whole. Sal's here. I don't really hate him like I thought I did. And he hasn't spewed insults at me yet. It's awkward and I feel... shy?

I start walking to the door, making absolute sure not to look at him. 

As I pass through the threshold, I can feel the very tips of Sal's fingers brush along my side. Even in LA's smoldering weather, chills suddenly erupt along my skin. I don't know what kind of touch it was-- a greeting or a reminder of his presence-- but it was certainly something. 

I suck in a quick breath, counting my steps so as not to trip over my feet as I walk further into the room. 

Sal follows, shutting our balcony doors behind him and moving to point at all the luggage on the floor. And, oh, thank God, someone was either smart enough or kind enough to bring an air mattress. "This is all your shit, Ash," Sal sighs sarcastically, though there's some amusement beneath his facade.

"How did you manage to fit all of this into Sal's trunk?" Larry asks, gathering his hair into his hands, a ponytail between his teeth. "Everyone else had, like, three bags. Here you are, bringing your entire closet and then some."

"Uh, yea." Ash's attitude comes out full force, a glint in her forest eyes that says she's ready for this argument. "I brought my entire house, dude. I just moved states away, if you didn't know."

Neil cackles, grabbing onto Larry's shoulder for support. "I'm so glad we all moved together. I never get tired of you guys."

Someone get this man out of the room. Neil's a really handsome mouse surrounded by vultures, especially shirtless like this. Sal blinks at him then turns away and-- honestly-- I'm not far from having to do the same.

Ash smirks at Neil, shifting her weight to one leg to accentuate her little sassy pose. "You're going to get tired of us when we finish unpacking our stuff. After that, we're going pack up all of y/n's stuff to haul it here."

Neil tries to mask the way his face suddenly falls at the reminder that we're moving me here too, but he miserably fails. His quivering lips say enough and the group of us can't help but burst into laughter.

"It shouldn't be too bad." I send Neil a reassuring smile. "I'll rope Nate into helping us somehow--"

"Your hot LA bestie?" Ash squeaks excitedly. She turns to me with her hands fisted beneath her chin, her previous attitude mist in the wind now.

My brows furrow. "You think Nate is hot? You? Ms. Scissoring Expert herself?" I can't help but pick on her a bit.

Ash's excitement morphs into flattery at the name I came up with for her. "Oh, come on. It's not that shocking is it? I indulge in men sometimes."

"Yea, every three blue moons," Sal chimes in, watching us with a tilted head and narrowed eyes.

Ash sticks her tongue out, mocking him before she focuses back on me. "Definitely invite the hottie," she tells me with raised brows.

Whatever Ash wants, Ash gets.

I grab my phone without another word and start typing out a message to Nate. Ash watches over my shoulder, her coconut and poppy scented hair brushing along my chin.

Me: hey, i'm moving. help pack???? pls???? :DDD

Nate: I swear I wasn't serious about revoking your brownie rights. You don't have to leave.

Me: LMAO i promise that's not the reason the faces just moved to la & ash invited me to live with her soooo

Nate: So you hate me is what I'm hearing.

Me: --_--

Nate: Lol. Kidding. You know I'm happy to  help with whatever you need.

Me: this is why ur my favorite ex <33

Ash gasps. "You dated the hottie?" I fling my head around to look at her, forgetting she was in on this entire conversation.

"Woah," Larry adds, hands waving like he's washing windows. "You dated the guy who tried to kill you before our stream?"

I shake my head disappointedly, glancing down at my phone to see if Nate fixed my fuck up. And he has, so I show everyone the message.

Nate: We've never dated. I'm not your ex.

Me: but you're clingy like one so you  might as well be... plus you literally drop everything to help me

Nate: Have fun packing on your own.

Me: I'M SORRY I WAS JOKING

Larry's cackling by this point, watching the conversation over my other shoulder. "I'm so proud of you for inheriting my good humor," he squeezes my shoulder in his big palm, causing a grin to split across my face.

The boy's start talking about something that I don't care to listen to. I just spare Sal a couple glances, noting his unfazed and easygoing persona right now. All day, I went against all that my DNA has decided about him. I've worried and sympathized, battled myself constantly at the expense of my own sanity just because he showed some of his truth to me once. 

Nockfell changed things. 

I left LA lustful and I've returned with a friend.

-----

A/N::::: WHO'S READY FOR THE GANG TO MEET NATE OMGGGGGG

so sorry it's been fucking FOREVER guys >~< this was kind of a hard chapter to write. i had a general layout with certain scenes and whatnot but i've had to do SO many transitions, as you can see. I kinda hate that cuz i'd much rather stick with one theme and gently lead into side pieces in one chapter rather than bouncing ALL over the place. but, as you can tell, this chapter was needed to address some of sal's issues, y/n's thoughts and feelings as of current, as well as the way their relationship has changed a bit :3

ofc the other reason i've been gone is cuz of that stupid accident i had o_O for those who don't know, the summary is that i hit my foot so hard it made me faint and i literally shmacked my head on the floor HAHAAAAA here's the update: it's been two weeks and my foot hurts even more than it did when the accident happened. the day of, i got x-ray's and my doc said that i just had a bruise but i'm going to another doctor for a second opinion. i'm literally not even bruised anymore, but still swollen asf and can hardly walk sooooo that's tomorrow's agenda. i'll update you guys again when i find out more!!! (psa, if my foot is broken/fractured before my beach trip in two weeks, the hospital i went to better start counting its MONEY not its DAYS because guess who'll be going to fucking COURT with my DISCHARGE PAPERS AND WORK EXCUSE STATING THAT I AM HEALTHY AND OKAY TO WALK AROUND??????????)

tell me how i can improve! how could i make my transition smoother? what are some thoughts and/or actions i could add in to make things more entertaining and personal? also give me some fun words!! i need to expand my vocabulary >.<

anyway, as always, i love you guys with all three of my working limbs, even my janky foot. smooches and squishes my loves <333

(p.s. sorry for the long ass note)

(p.s.s. sorry for the shorter chap </3)

[byuntrash101]

being sandwiched between minseok & baekhyun after they’ve just got done finishing a show 😖 lord have mercy

oh my g- sdklsldkslkmdskmdklds

this checks all of the boxes!!!! the original muscle daddy + the orignal slut (baekhyun is a whore i just know it) is THE combo.

god damn i almost passed out writing this... im 🥵🥵🥵

tags: double penetration (vaginal and anal), sweat kink (typical me because im nasty like that), squirting, unprotected sex, creampie, getting caught kink, dirty talk

You have no choice but to claw at Baekhyun's back as Minseok slips his thick member inside you by the only hole still available. The two men holding you up in the air, you wrap your legs around Baekhyun's waist as the two men hover you above their hard and dripping cocks. You don't know if you'll be able to keep quiet for long given how good and full you feel from front to back.

But it seems like the boys notice your struggle and Baekhyun wraps his pretty hand around your mouth the muffle your little whimpers of pleasure.

"Be quiet baby" he whispers in your ear as you feel him slowly pull out of you, making your wet cunt gush out and produce lewd squelshing noises. "We don't want the manager to find out you're letting us use your body like this right baby girl?"

"You could definetely lose your job over this you know" Minseok adds. And you shook your head in horror to the idea. Being a makeup artist was your calling but what you were most afraid of right now was to lose the opportunity to be squeezed between the two men like you have been countless times.

After a show they always needed a way to relieve tension and what better way than to fuck their favourite little cock sleeve stupid until you can't think straight or walk for days?

"Fuckkkk" you whisper as Baekhyun lets his hand slip from your mouth to your throat. Pushing his dick back into your throbbing cunt. Just as Minseok pushed himself inside your little rim.

"You're clenching so hard baby" Minseok moans in your ear as his sweaty chest is pressed on your bare back. "You want my cum that bad?" he chuckles picking up the pace.

"Yes!" you gasp. "Yes please cum inside me" you beg.

"What a little cum hungry whore you are" Baekhyun says as you catch a bead of sweat running down his long neck. You wrap your lips around his collarbone licking the sweat all the way up his ear. The bitter taste fills your head making you forget about everyhting that is not them their two cocks rubbing against each other inside you right now.

Baekhyun smashes his hips inside you, setting the pace and Minseok follows also adopting the unfirgiving pace.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum" you squeak trying to make as little noise as possible, immediatly biting Baekhyun's neck to keep yourself from screaming.

"Cum on both our dicks, baby" Baekhyun urges as his hips start to stutter.

Your worn out little pussy and shapeless asshole start to pulse around their cocks as you reach your climax. And it's the last straw for them. Your orgasming holes milk them dry, draining their balls to the last drop of precious cum that is over flowing your holes and dripping down the dark changing room's floor as you uncontrollably shake in their arms, eyes rolled back, breath short and toes curled. The pleasure is so overwhelming that you spray your cum in a powerful stream completely soaking the two men before your body goes limp.

"I'm so glad we get to do this all over again tomorrow" Baekhyun says, zipping his soaked pants up.

"I'm taking her pussy tomorrow!" Minseok concludes

a/n: almost did not survive this.

[garymerlow]

Get To Know Your Mutuals

Pretending I was tagged by @starrybouquet cause I need the distraction and I love answering questions about myself in a non-therapy setting, LOL

What’s the origin of your blog title?

It’s a line from Mark Owen’s song “Come Back”, which has been speaking to me lately. (Actually, I think if I’d heard it in any of the time since it came out, it would’ve spoken to me the whole time, but that’s neither here nor there)

OTP(s) + Shipnames

Too damn many to name, seriously! I’m a bit of an equal opportunity shipper, it’d be easier to get a list of pairings I don’t ship. Sorry if that’s a bit of a cop out.

Favorite Color

Yellow 💛 , though I love red/black/white/gold together in any combo. Light blue also really speaks to me as well. I just love colors…

Song Stuck In Your Head

Hard to have a song stuck when I’m listening to music right now. What’s playing is U2’s “Crumbs From Your Table”.

Weirdest Habit/Trait

Can’t talk too much about eyeball stuff or even really look into someone’s eyes in person without my eyes watering aggressively. It’s fucking embarrassing as hell and has lead to a fair few awkward moments.

Hobbies?

Not even sure I’ve got a lot of what constitutes as ‘hobbies’ right now? I guess my occasional photo editing and rare bead bracelet making would suffice, though the bracelets especially have been solely for myself.

If you work, what’s your profession?

I sort clothes at a thrift store, pretty much. It’s a lot more physical labor than you’d expect, but I get to listen to music or podcasts or fic all day long, and I rarely have to face customers, so I’m pretty happy there even if it feels like I don’t exist in the eyes of my coworkers 95% of the time.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

The dream jobs that always cycle back regardless of impossibility are: special education teacher, music journalist, drummer/bassist/singer in a band though not all at once, and fashion designer…what lofty dreams I have, huh?

Something you’re good at?

I pride myself at being a good listening ear, if nothing else. I’m also pretty good at identifying 80s hits, but that’s not helpful unless it’s trivia night.

Something you hate?

The complexity of romance/friendship/sex.

Something you collect?

What don’t I collect LOL? I’ll just say pins/buttons.

Something you forget?

I apparently forget people’s birthdays…so sorry about that!

What’s your love language?

Shared experiences, always. Call it a side effect of my lifelong loneliness, but I cherish experiences with people I hold dear.

Favorite Movie/Show?

Favorite movie is Ocean’s 11, favorite show is 21 Jump Street :^)

Favorite Food?

Red beans and rice first and foremost…but beyond that I’m pretty basic and just love peel and eat shrimp.

Favorite Animal?

River otters! Or platypi!

What were you like as a child?

I’m probably not the one to ask about this if I’m honest haha…I was dealing with not properly diagnosed autism and social issues stemming from not talking until I was 4.5 yrs old. I used to chase boys on the playground and threaten to kiss them if I caught them (I never did but once) because I thought being boy crazy was something everyone did but I went too far with it. I was obsessed with dogs and cats, obsessed over cartoons and animation history, listened to oldies music from the 60s-80s while my peers were obsessed with Disney Channel music and hip-hop…I was a bit of a bookworm but not in the way other neurodivergent kids were to my knowledge. I had noise sensitivity issues that made social situations in large crowds REALLY tough. I’ve been told I was caring towards classmates who didn’t have a voice when I was able to lend that support. I wanted to be friends with everyone even if I wasn’t good at keeping them. Besides the constant company of my older sister, my childhood was pretty lonely on the whole.

Favorite subject at school?

Anything with computers, then history/social studies, then English. Could take or leave everything else.

Least favorite subject?

Math, but turns out it’s probably because I have the math form of dyslexia (along with ACTUAL dyslexia lol)

What’s your best character trait?

I…I don’t know. You should REALLY be asking my mutuals about that, I can’t come up with anything besides my kindness, I guess?

What’s your worst character trait?

I’m self introspective to the point of obsession, and it kinda leaks out into other factions of my life, especially my self esteem/image.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

I wish I had a more solid support system, but that’s something I should’ve been working on for years. But I think that would change my life/outlook on it more than anything short of systemic social change right now.

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

There’s living people I’d like to meet right now (Robbie Williams and Michael Stipe spring to mind first), but if we’re speaking people who have passed, I’d say I’d either like to meet Michael Hutchence, or I’d like to have one more day with my late grandfather.

Leaving this as an open tag for whomever wishes to do this, I’d love to read your responses!

[thealmightysimpren]

Since K Project is part of your requests list: do you think you can do Mikoto and Totsuka and something like where they realize/start to realize they're in love with the other? 👀👀

OFFCCCC! Thank u for being the first person to respond to my post, and I’ll try my best!!!😁😁😁.

okay so I need the ppl who read this to give me as much fed back as possible. Piz and thxxx u.

✨It was a normal day for the HOMAR gang Totsuka was sleeping on the couch of the bar misaki and kamamato were fighting as usual with Mr. Kusanagi in the background looking pissed off and we can't forget the beautiful Anna who was looking at her red beads. ���*YAWN* (guess who decided to wake up) rubbing his eyes lazily Totsuka stretches and stands up “man~ that was a good nap!” “Well well well look who decided to get up, want a drink?” Says kusanagi while cleaning a glass cup. “No thank you, but I do want to go to the convenient store, anyone wanna come with?” Totsuka asks with a silly smile looking around the room. After a few moments Totsuka sighs in defeat “guess I’ll go all by my lonesome..” “wait a damn minute I need some more cigarettes while ur there” says the beautiful mikoto!!! “Yay I now have a shopping buddy!” Tosuka yells gleefully. At Totsuka s word mikotos face contorts into a scowl “that’s now what I meant idiot” “huh? Then what did u mean?” Makato stays silent for a few seconds before speaking “ya know what never mind I need a few other things from the store” mikoto says while looking to the side.

✨✨✨✨✨✨Time Skip✨✨✨✨✨✨

✨it’s been several days since then and the HOMAR gang has noticed that mikoto and Totsuka have slowly been spending more time together. Totsuka has noticed this as well and he thinks he knows why…it’s because…..mikoto is LONELY! (jk jk Totsuka isn’t that dumb ….I think?) he has a feeling that mikoto likes he and he can say he doesn’t feel the same way I mean what is there to not like about him he’s caring in his own way, sexy, and is a big tsundere basically a big ol’ bear. But these feelings aren’t really knew or surprising he has always had a small gut feeling that he likes mikoto. ✨mikoto on the other hand isn’t quite sure of what he’s feeling and doesn’t really understand why he wants to hang out with Totsuka so much lately but he isn’t TOTALLY oblivious he knows he thinks Totsuka is cute and the way he acts like a idiot on purpose is annoying but also adorable. so he decides to confirm his feeling but just as he was thinking of a way to do this Totsuka bursts into his room and shows a posted to mikoto “ Hey King let’s go to this festival together!” Mikoto agrees without a second thought knowing this is his chance. “Yay time to go shopping with the king!!!” Totsuka says grabbing mikotos hand starts to drag him around catching mikoto off guard but he still lets himself get dragged away. ✨as the two are shopping they get more close to each other and their feelings grow.

✨a few days later it’s time for the festival and Totsuka and mikoto are walking side by side in their new kimonos that they just bought, and you better believe it was a pain in the ass to get mikoto into that kimono it was like going through all 7 rings of hell back and forth but in the end the gang finally got him to wear it somehow. As the night went on they stopped at many food stalls and game stalls one in particular was a little fishing stall, once Totsuka saw this stall he was in love and dragged mikoto to the stall while holding hands. It was finally the end of the night and both were now certain they had feelings for each other but did know if they should make a move so they continued this relationship for a while.

bro I need help with tags lol

[marlowethelibrarian]

Writeblr Interview!

tagged by @saturnine-saturneight [here] !! Thanks for the tag!!

Short stories, novels, or poems?

I've written short stories and I'm working on a novel!! I think my short stories have all been pretty ass tbh. I think most of the ones I wrote were trying to be novels actually. I think I should read more short stories before I write them.

I'm not a super poetry person though lol

What genre do you prefer reading?

I read a lot of fucking fantasy. Other fiction too, but fantasy is pretty much where I sit in the readersphere.

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

I think I'm a bit more of a write as I go kind of a person in that my best ideas tend to pop up in the process of writing though I usually have a larger structure I'm vaguely following.

I've done enough reading that I think I've internalized some things about pacing and story beats that it just flows out.

What music do you listen to while writing?

Villain playlists on youtube. I don't really think about the songs too much in general tbh, I just want a catchy beat.

Favorite books/movies?

Stuff that makes me think!!! I love a good grip on character and an examination of why people Do That. The locked tomb book series is such a vibe for me rn, and I really liked Everything Everywhere All at Once. That shit laid me right out.

1000x Resist is also a video game that has it's fucking grip on my soul rn.

Any current WIPs?

I've got Project Cannibalism and the summer leagues OCT right now! I'm playing with some other ideas rn but that's just play atm.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you what would your standard outfit be?

Wizard outfit.

I do, in fact have a wizard outfit I made myself, because I'm a huge nerd and a LARPer. It's why my little sphere self has a wizard hat. It's because I'm a wizard.

The wizard hat is a brown wool with a gold hat band and gold bead and chain dangles from the brim. The hat is a long maroon red duster with gold embroidery on the cuffs.

Create a character description of yourself:

Marlowe's round, expressive face grins wide and laughs a touch too boisterously, the short floppy crop of black hair bouncing over the brow framed lenses.

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Not on purpose! I often feel like I am exploring a type of person as I write a character and trying to portray someone I know already from the outside in feels counter productive to that.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

There's more interesting ways to make characters suffer than killing them.

Coffee or Tea while writing?

I just forget to drink, honestly.

Slow or fast writer?

As it turns out, I write pretty damn quickly.

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

I think I draw a lot of inspiration from going like wouldn't be fucked up if a guy hit another guy with a rock?

Also tbh from rps I've had with my partner, books I read, questions I have about life, or people. I like looking at the natural world and being like wow how about that thing no fantasy author would have made up in a million years that actually exists in our actual factual world?

But sometimes it really is just

wouldn't it be fucked up?

And to explore the implications out from there.

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

Wizard!! We've covered this, I'm a little wizard guy. I'm a library wizard. Wizard is my gender, I'm a wizard.

Most fav book cliche:

Idk, usually i prefer execution over cliches. I do enjoy a good enemies to lovers though.

Least favorite cliche:

Right now I'm pretty tired of reading about revolutions ngl. I think it's overused, especially by people who don't actually understand what it means to do a revolution. Especially YA revolutions where it's like some kind of metaphor for finding yourself and the evil government is like wantonly murdering their own subjects because they "failed at their jobs" or whatever.

1000x Resist managed to do a revolution I wasn't immediately rolling my eyes at though, possibly because it was a story about a revolution and not necessarily a revolution about other things. It was rooted in real life politics and it didn't pull its punches, didn't romanticize the idea of revolution.

1000x resist is honestly so good everyone go play it.

Favorite scene to write?

I really like writing scenes that make me cry and will hopefully hurt any reader's feelings ngl. I also quite enjoy a fight scene!

Reason for writing?

Idk I just do. I like to write and I've been writing since I was 10, typing my first self insert naruto fanfiction out on word and being excited that I was the one who was making the characters do things. I'd been a voracious reader since even before I could read myself, bothering my parents to read me books constantly. Trying the magic myself seems kind of inevitable.

I'd like to be published some day though! I'm hoping to shop Project Cannibalism around to publishers though I'm not opposed to self publishing either.

tagging: +open!!!

[toshidou]

hea r me out ,,, sub ghost ,,,,

oh anon, how i love you

word count // 1.3k

tags // 18+ only, sub!ghost, dom!reader, rope, handcuffs, vibrator wand, ghost calls reader mommy and it nearly kills him and his pride but he did it (proud of him), face sitting, cunnilingus, hair pulling, multiple orgasms (from simon, lucky boy)

Simon Riley is not a man who gets the opportunity to let go very often, if in fact at all. He knows what’s expected of him, whether it be the stern, serious lieutenant, or the Ghost, a mere myth to military personnel all over the globe. He knows the role he’s been assigned, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t go above and beyond the expectations set for him. 

He once foolishly thought that he was a man who could cheat his own biology, somehow convincing himself that he could outrun the stress and near debilitating exhaustion. That was until you offered him a rather different solution. An arrangement that worked well for both of you, he remembers you saying. You weren’t wrong. Which is how he finds himself handcuffed to the metal bars of your bed frame; Hitachi wand tied against the entire length of his cock. 

“I wonder what your enemies would think if they saw you like this, hm?” Your voice cuts through the fog in his head, forcing his blurred sight to clear just so he could drink in the vision before him. You sit on the end of the bed, maddeningly far from where his body lays prone on the sheets, watching him with wicked eyes as he jolts when the tip of the vibrating wand presses firmly against his frenulum. 

“Going to cum on your pretty stomach for me again, baby?” He doesn’t miss the taunt in your voice, trying to hide the way his cock twitches pathetically at your condescending tone, unable to do anything but part his lips and moan. Being vulnerable was not something he ever thought could come this naturally to him, but something about you made it so easy for Simon to just forget about his place in the world, about the near back breaking burden he carries on his broad shoulders on a daily basis. You help him feel free, by taking away that burden and replacing it with blinding pleasure; all he had to do in return was give you his submission. It was the easiest choice he’s made in a long time. 

“Use your words big boy, I know it’s a lot, but I need you to be a good boy for me, okay?”

“Yeah, fuck, ‘m sorry,” he doesn’t miss the fond gleam to your eye, nor the hand that slides from his knee down to his upper thigh, hissing through his teeth when your touch causes his leg to twitch, jolting the vibrator against his cock, “‘s too much, gonna go fuckin’ insane.”

You hum in response, lidded eyes molten with lust come to rest on the flushed red tip of his cock, pearlescent beads of precum dripping in rivulets down his veined shaft, straining against the rope that secures it to the wand. 

“You mean to tell me that my big strong soldier can’t handle a little vibration?” Any response he has dies in his throat the moment you flick the tip of his cock, shame seeping through his veins when he realises that he just fucking came. Again. He doesn’t know if he wants your mercy, or more, but his dick apparently makes that decision for him, still painfully hard where it lays twitching like a heartbeat against his abdomen. 

“Please,” He grits out, eyes shining with tears formed through over-stimulation, “Please turn it off,” but glassy eyes only serve to widen the grin that stretches so prettily across your face. 

“Please who, Simon?” Oh god. His head droops, chin meeting his chest as he debates whether taking the near torturous, incessant pleasure would be easier than dropping the last of his pride, the last barrier to full submission you haven’t quite been able to squeeze from his stubborn brain. The debate, however, is short lived, cut off by the click of a button and strangled shout as the vibrations kick up a notch, doubling his previous torment. 

“Please mommy, please fuckin’ turn it off, God,” The momentary humiliation dissipates the moment he locks eyes with you, chest heaving with relief as the wand is finally switched off. You look near predatory, pupils dilated so heavily not a shred of colour remains, sharp nails digging so deliciously into the meat of his thigh as you use him as leverage to kneel over his wrecked body. 

“There we go, was that so hard sweetheart?” He nearly preens under your pleased gaze, going near dizzy with how quickly he finds himself sinking under your dominance. It’s nothing like the authority he’s used to wielding, harsh and unforgiving; you control him as easily as one does a puppet, with precision and grace. And he’s fucking obsessed with it, obsessed with you. 

“Want mommy to sit on your face, darling?” You must instantly catch the way he’s eyes widen, how his arms strain against the metal bonds above his head.

“Yes fucking please,” he rasps, saliva quick to settle heavily on his tongue at the mere thought of you seated so prettily on top of his mouth, unable to think of anything other than making you cum on his tongue. He’s practically panting by the time you come to straddle your legs either side of his head, unfocused eyes darting between your face, and glistening folds, so desperately eager to have the taste of you coat his tongue, his lips, his chin, marked so clearly as yours. 

“What’s the magic word again, baby boy?” 

The reply comes so much easier this time. 

“Let me eat you out, mommy, please, I’ll beg if I fuckin’ ‘ave to, just-” Clearly you weren’t interested in hearing anything else he had to say, cutting him off by lowering the rest of your body to met his mouth and rewarding him with the sweet taste of your cunt. He’s sinking deeper, he’s just barely aware of the feeling of pure emptiness and bliss that rolls over his consciousness, no thoughts in his brain other than pleasing you. His tongue laps in strong, desperate strokes against your pussy, collecting every drop of your arousal and swallowing it down like he’s a man starved, as if you were an oasis amidst a barren desert. 

He’s rewarded with your hands forming a tight grip in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp in a way that has his hips lifting off the mattress, groaning as he feels the way his biceps flex against solid restraints, desperate to sink his fingers into the soft warm plush of your skin. 

“Doing so fucking well, making me feel so good Simon,” Saccharine words sooth his addled mind, forcing himself to stay afloat just so he can watch the way you begin to fall apart atop him, hips canting against his mouth as you start to ride his tongue with earnest. You barely cast a glance down at him, as if the only thing you care about is chasing the pleasure that lies beneath you. And it really shouldn’t turn him on, the idea that he’s nothing but a vessel for your pleasure, but it really fucking does. 

It only takes a mere minute or two until you’re falling apart above him, your walls spasming around his tongue, thoroughly drenching his face and throat with your cum. He doesn’t stop fucking his tongue into your twitching pussy until you’re dragging your hips from his face, revelling in the frustrated and disappointed whine that slips from his arousal slicked lips. 

“No need to sound so sad, baby, I’ve got a lot more planned for us tonight. So be a good fucking boy and let mommy ride your cock until she’s had her fill.” 

Letting go may not have come easily to Simon, but with you, it’s as natural as breathing.

[shittybundaskenyer]

now it really is a wip i guess

Soooo my writer’s muse has been submerged in depression on vacation for a very long time now, but I started a little something-something maybe a week ago when the weather here turned really nice and I had some time to sit outside and soak up the sunlight. This thing is 100% self-indulgent romance (and a bit spicy👀) because I can’t be helped. Also Read Dead still has me in a chokehold after like 3 years so yeah. Thank you Isabell (@wintersongstress​​) for making me post something, now I have to finish this or I’ll go insane. I don’t know who to tag so anyone who’s reading this and has a wip, feel free to share it! 🌼💗🌼

It's spring and you're a flower, and you bloom too, unfolding your body like petals, legs and arms slowly sliding away to reveal soft flesh. There's no shame when Arthur looks up at you like you're the goddamn sun and the stars and the wind caressing his face. Maybe you are when you reach down and slide a thumb over his brow, the downwards arch of his eyelid when he closes his eyes. Two gorgeous pools of blue-green look up at you when your finger slides lower, over his lips, to dig in and make them part, wet tongue darting out around a small kiss. 

You watch him. His eyes, his mouth. 

His long, golden lashes lower, a dark kind of fire ignited in his gaze, doin’ the only sin he does not regret committing—wanting you. 

He grabs onto your side, the flesh on your hip and stomach, leaves heat in his wake there, large palm-shaped sunspots that ooze light into your bloodstream. Christ, you want him to touch you more. To make you burn, to make you into a flame that needs his tending.

"You're so damn pretty, little dove" he murmurs in that low voice, watching how a single flower of forget-me-not falls from your hair and lands on the top of your breast, trapped in a bead of sweat like a fly in amber honey.

The back of his head hits the ground, like it's a pillow woven from freshly sprouted grass and wild flowers and wet earth, and he moves you in his lap, lower, where you can feel him, hard and oh so ready but still waiting for your move. 

The spark is ignited. Your sun burns inside your ribcage for this man, a heart shaped from light, and you reach between the two of you to get him rid of his pants. Arthur doesn't move, but he lets you pull up his shirt, over a strong stomach and golden brown hair, over old scars that faded into silvery lines, to a ribcage housing a kind heart. 

"Will ya have me, Arthur?" you lean close to him, your bellies touching, your hand still restless at the buckle of his gun-belt, and he sighs into your hair, hips twitching at your eager request as he leans in to lay a gentle kiss on your temple, then the arch of your eyebrow. 

"'Course, sweetheart," he reaches up, cradles your nape as he curls his other arm around your waist, turning you until the soft earth cradles you like another lover.

[quiltedgold]

study buddies - leorio p.

pairing: leorio paladiknight x f!reader

wc: 1.9k

genre: smut. 18+ pretty please

contains: smut, unprotected sex, switch!leorio, switch!reader, college-age, handjob, yada yada

notes: this has not been proofread so forgive any mistakes. my friend saw a tiktok art this concept and inspired me to write this. also the empty leorio smut tag made me sad, so. enjoy :p

As you approached the door of your apartment, you dug in your bag for your keys, and… Nothing. No metal against your fingertips or jangling sounds from the depths of the backpack.

Damn it. No way you forgot them in Leorio’s apartment. You two had been studying for so long, and you were positive you had gathered up all your things from the table before heading out…

After one last sweep of your backpack, you were positive. No keys.

Sighing, you turned to make the trek back across campus to Leorio’s place. It wasn’t too far, a fifteen minute walk, ten if you hurried. Hopefully he was still up.

Before long, you were back at the entrance to his apartment complex. Grabbing your phone, you dialed him up and waited as it rang, then went to voicemail. Ah, maybe he was in the shower? No matter, you had a spare key to his place in case of emergencies, and he for yours. He wouldn’t mind if you used it to grab what you needed and got out of there. Fishing it out of your bag, you unlocked the door and headed up to his floor.

Rapping twice on the door, you called out- “Hey, Leorio? It’s me, I forgot something…”

No reply.

Frowning, you slotted the key into the lock and eased the door open, hoping he wasn’t asleep.

Before you saw him, you heard him. Quick, ragged breaths, and the wet, unmistakable sound of… Oh, god.

He was splayed on the couch, his legs spread and his sweatpants loose around his thighs. His head was thrown back against the cushions, facing towards the door, and you. His face was twisted in pleasure, his teeth digging into his lower lip. His sunglasses were nowhere to be seen.

The sounds you heard were coming from his hand wrapped around his dick, rapidly fisting it into his palm. As you watched, his hips stuttered upwards once, and he threw his head back even further, letting out a whine, adam’s apple bobbing up his throat. He looked absolutely debauched.

Your brain battled with your desires, respect for your friend warring with the thoughts raging through your head.

Just when you thought you could work up the courage to leave, Leorio moaned your name in the most breathless, needy tone you’d ever heard from him, followed by a whiny, “Fuck, y/n, please-”

Your feet were immediately frozen to the floor, heart leaping into your throat. Your common sense told you to scram, to shut the door quietly and let him have his privacy and forget this ever happened, for both of your sakes’.

But the other part of you was louder. The part who knew that you’d been lusting after your friend for months, the part who’s encouraged the urge to crawl into his lap and kiss him breathless and more each time you hung out to study, but always been stifled… until now. That part of you made your brain kick into gear again.

You stepped quietly inside, shutting the door behind you, kicking off your shoes and placing your bag on the ground.

You padded over to the couch, face heating up with anticipation as you got closer.

“Leorio…” you whispered, and his eyes flew open, letting out a choked gasp. The hand around his dick halted its ministrations, and he scrambled to pull his sweatpants back up.

“Oh my god, y/n, I’m so sorry, I, I thought you had left-”

“If you were so pent up, you could have asked for my help,” you hummed, gently pushing his hand away from his sweatpants. “What else is a study buddy for?”

Leorio gulped, desperately searching your eyes for confirmation that his actions weren’t wrong, that you meant what you were saying. His pupils were still blown with pleasure, sweat beaded across his forehead.

You trailed your fingers up his thigh, ghosting the base of his dick.

“Need some help?” you asked, holding his gaze for affirmation.

“Yes, please, god, yes. I- I need you so bad, please,” he moaned, bucking his hips up into your featherlight touch.

Smiling, you retracted your hand and fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt instead. “I want you to show me how you were doing it,” you requested.

Gasping, he grabbed his cock again and began pumping it, screwing his eyes shut with pleasure and perhaps shame.

“Tell me what you think about when you do it,” you said, sliding a hand beneath his shirt.

“You, always you,” he moaned without hesitation. “Kissing you, eating you out, f-fucking you, nngh-” He cut himself off as your fingers circled his nipple.

“Keep going,” you teased.

“Oh, god. You, sucking my- my cock, under the table or in the shower, or- fuck!” He jolted as you gave his nipple a pinch. “Please, I want you to… I want-”

“Want me to jerk you off?” You offered.

“Yes,” he answered, gasping.

With a devilish grin, you slid onto the couch next to him and tucked yourself into his side, placing your hand atop his on his cock, entangling your fingers and leading the pace, purposefully slowing it down. You moved with long, slow strokes, squeezing lightly at the base and tracing your thumb against the tip. He was painfully hard, beads of precum oozing from the angry red tip, and his hips bucked up with every especially hard squeeze.

“Fuck,” he garbled. “Fuck, y/n, it’s so good, please, I need to… I need to c-come, please-”

“Go ahead, Leorio,” you purred. “Come for me.”

With a strangled moan, his hips jutted upwards one last time and cum spurted from his tip, painting both of your knuckles’ white. Each pulse of liquid sent a jolt up his cock, and you squeezed it lightly as he rode out the bulk of his orgasm.

As he wound down, panting, you lifted your hand from his dick and brought it to your mouth, making sure he watched as you lapped up his salty substance from each finger. His eyes, already lidded, darkened with desire.

Flitting your gaze down again to his length, you saw that, unbelievably, it was still hard.

“Y/n,” he rasped. “Let me fuck you. Please.”

It was all you could do to nod before he flipped you over, back pressed into the cushions and head against the arm of the couch. In the blink of an eye, he had your shirt and skirt off, leaving you in simply the matching set of lingerie you’d worn in the event that this was an outcome of tonight’s study session.

Leaning back on his heels, he raked his eyes across your figure, admiring each inch, squeezing the base of his cock again with the sight of you.

Struck with a wave of self-consciousness, you pressed your thighs together and turned your head into the armrest, face burning.

Leorio tsked, “Don’t get shy now, not after you just jerked me off on my own couch,” he growled, slotting his knee in between your thighs to force them apart. Running a finger along your covered slit, he stopped when he reached your heat, pressing lightly then bringing his finger up to examine.

“Oh, my god, you’re soaking,” he groaned, sucking his finger into his mouth to lap your juices clean. He leaned down to capture you in a kiss, hungrily sucking at your lower lip and dipping his tongue into your mouth. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and something that normally would have disgusted you only served to turn you on further as your tongues pressed against each other. You kissed hungrily for several moments, until the heat burning down below became too much to bear.

“Please, fuck me,” you moaned into his ear, looping your arms around his neck. “I can’t wait any longer, please.”

Nodding, Leorio wasted no time, shoving your panties to the side and lining his cock up with your entrance. Even the touch of his tip against your hole had both of you groaning, and he met your gaze and held it as he pushed his length all the way in. You wailed, wrapping your legs around his trim waist and trying everything to pull him closer, deeper.

His cock stretched your walls deliciously, filling you perfectly and making you wonder how you could have ever lived without this.

After his pelvis pressed flush against yours, his length as deep as humanly possible, he paused to give you time to adjust. Time held still, your breathing synched, his head dropped against your shoulder and pressing openmouthed kisses against your collarbone, light sideburns scratching gently against your jawline.

Then the moment was over, and he pulled out entirely, just the tip remaining. You almost cried at the loss, but he thrusted back into your heat before you could procure the sound.

The pace he set was breakneck, cock slamming into your tight hole, his moans echoing in your ear. What should have been too much only fanned the flames of your lust, throwing your head back with each thrust and crying his name and an assortment of obscenities.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Leorio groaned, breathless. “Ever since you came to my place in that short-ass skirt and kept uncrossing your legs in front of me, god-”

His hands gripped your waist for dear life as he fucked into you, the size of them deliciously large compared to your frame, his thumbs practically touching. Leorio’s fingers pressed shadows into the soft of your stomach, undoubtedly leaving marks by the end of the night; which you couldn’t find it in yourself to be unhappy about.

“Remember that?” He asked, rolling his hips in a way that made you squeal. “I was convinced you were doing it to- nngh- to tease me. By the end of the night I was this close to bending you over the table and taking you right there, shit.”

Catching his breath, he leaned down to hiss in your ear. “But I guess that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Little slut.”

Fuck. You wailed at that, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Your fingers scrabbled for purchase against his back, likely leaving scratches against its tan expanse.

He groaned, speeding up the pace of his thrusts, cock insatiably hot and thick inside you. “Y/n, I’m close- want you to come with me, c’mon-”

Thankfully, the incessant slapping of his balls against your ass, pelvis rubbing against your clit, and his length reaching impossible centers within your cunt was sending you dangerously close to the edge.

“Please, Leorio, I need it, I need you, please-”

“Fuck, baby, I’m c-coming, where d’you- where do you want it-”

“Inside, inside-” you gasped without thinking, and he buried his cock inside you one last time, groaning as thick spurts of white painted your walls. The feeling of his cum inside you sent you over the edge, arching your back and sending your eyes rolling back into your skull as your orgasm racked your body, fireworks of pleasure radiating through each appendage. You gripped his damp hair for purchase as you rode out your climax, and he huffed against your throat, arm muscles rippling as their strength faded.

Both of you panted as you came down from your respective highs. Rolling off you, Leorio collapsed at your side, hands trailing over your heaving chest.

With a puff of laughter, you turned your head to meet his eyes, now droopy and satisfied as they gazed into yours.

You grinned softly. “I should forget my keys over here more often.”

[rebuke-me]

I posted 296 times in 2022

That's 279 more posts than 2021!

132 posts created (45%)

164 posts reblogged (55%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ineffable-grimm-pitch

@aqueous-aerolite

@rebuke-me

@theabyssgazesalsointoyou

@deprivedmusicaljunkie

I tagged 247 of my posts in 2022

Only 17% of my posts had no tags

#be more chill - 49 posts

#jupiter's fics - 45 posts

#deere bmc - 34 posts

#bmc - 32 posts

#jeremy heere - 32 posts

#jake dillinger - 31 posts

#bmc deere - 30 posts

#lamlih - 29 posts

#live a movie (life is hard) - 29 posts

#jupes' nano tag - 19 posts

Longest Tag: 114 characters

#he’d be too busy thinking about his own self and insecurities and how others saw him that he’d forget how to live.

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

more obnoxiously specific bmc headcanons

- jeremy heere hates mint. he hated it before the squip, sure, but he really hates it after. he thinks its a horrible flavour and will never get it. he used charcoal toothpaste for a while but it fucked with his meds so now he just uses kids toothpaste. not that he’d ever admit that, because thats cringe of him, but hey. mans likes bubblefruit. 

- michael mell is a headphones only bitch. he hates earbuds with a passion and has gotten into so many arguments with jeremy over this. it is their one big debate and it’s incredibly funny. michael will only wear headphones and hasn’t let anyone wear his headphones in at least 6 years.

- christine canigula makes her friends jewelry. actually, she just does it for fun, but she ends up giving it to her friends. brooke has like 20 pairs of beaded earrings from christine just dropping them in her hands. michael has friendship bracelets clogging up his drawers and his arms from her. she likes giving gifts to them. 

- jenna rolan once ran a vaguely popular 5 seconds of summer fan blog when she was 12. she never told anyone about it but every so often it reappears in her memory and he gets embarrassed. she still knows how to edit photos and gifs because of it. not that she’ll ever admit it. 

- rich goranski wanted to be a band kid so bad. he started taking saxophone lessons when he was 10 and he managed to get pretty good at it but kind of lost confidence to actually be a band kid (especially with the whole popularity thing)

- jake dillinger is colourblind. not to an extent that’s dramatic, but he genuinely just. can’t tell some colours apart. he got frustrated as a little kid because people would tell him that something was one colour and he’d insist it was a different one. eventually he just made it his brand to not match anything so people don’t judge him as much. he doesn’t always mismatch on purpose, though. 

- brooke lohst goes through phases of starting to make crafts and learning how to do things like knitting, crocheting, and cross-stitching before completely abandoning them. she’s made a total of two scarves, one stuffed animal, and a sign for her moms kitchen. all the rest are works in progress she will never finish. 

- chloe valentine hates valentine’s day with a passion. because of her last name, she thinks its stupid and she’s heard every joke about it in the book. she wants to stab anyone that makes a joke about valentine’s day to her.

118 notes - Posted July 13, 2022

#4

i am the righteous hand of god.

150 notes - Posted May 24, 2022

#3

the entire rampion crew can be described as either “dumb geniuses” and “smart idiots” 

163 notes - Posted February 28, 2022

#2

my obnoxiously specific bmc headcanons

- jeremy heere writes apocalypse of the damned fanfiction. he's surprisingly popular in his little niche of people and he's kind of proud of it, but he'd never admit it out loud because he thinks its cringey.

- michael mell is like... super good with a sewing machine. mans was raised by two moms and sews his own patches on his jacket, and he could probably make a good chunk of clothing if asked, but he wastes his talents on absolutely hideous pairs of pajama pants in horrible garish fabrics.

- christine canigula listens to emo music. sure, her main genre is showtunes and broadway soundtracks, but she's a huge fan of any music that has a shit ton of emotion behind it that she can scream sing in her car. (also, her car is definitely a yellow bug. or some other bright colour of bug. i'm correct and i won't take criticism.)

- jenna rolan can quote entire episodes of old kids cartoons. kim possible, phineas and ferb, winx club, total drama, you name it. she's scarily good at it, but it's kind of a nerdy party trick so she doesn't say it all that much. you know that video of prozd with peter pan? that's her with w.i.t.c.h.

- rich goranski absolutely loves painting. not exactly pretty stuff, but he likes painting walls and canvases and sometimes his clothing, too. his clothes usually have specks of paint on them he can't get off, and once a piece gets too bad, he makes them into the clothes he uses to splatter paint his garage again.

- jake dillinger is a huge marvel fan. he doesn't understand anything about the comics, or anything like that, but he's always one of the first people to show up to the marvel movies in theaters. when they're having reruns of the movies in theaters he sometimes goes just by himself, sits in the back, and enjoys it all over again.

- brooke lohst can NEVER find her pens. she has a bunch of them, and some of them are all glittery and bright, some have those little puffballs on the end, some of them are just normal pens. she loses them so frequently that a good gift for her is just... a pack of pens. she has cute bags for them and everything, but nine times out of ten they end up floating somewhere at the bottom of her backpack.

- chloe valentine is notorious at killing plants. she tries so hard to keep them alive, but no matter what, they always end up dead. even cacti. and succulents. if a plant is alive in her house, its probably fake.

212 notes - Posted January 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

the next person i see saying “he’s perfect i just hope they dye his hair!!” is getting nerfed. he’s a kid. the hair colour has nothing to actually do with the character. wanting to change the appearance of a child is weird actually. 

511 notes - Posted April 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[band--psycho]

Chibs Telford Smut-Illicit Affairs (Music Writing Challenge 2021)

Music Challenge Masterlist

A huge thank you to @miss-nori85 who helped inspire this fic, I hope you like it!

Warnings: Smut, cheating

‘Meet me at the usual spot in ten minutes,’ I couldn’t deny the way my heart skipped a beat, nor could I deny the arousal that flooded directly to my core as I read those words. It was like my body was autopilot, quickly changing into the closest items of clothing I could get hold of. For a while now Chibs Telford and I had had this arrangement; originally it started with long (and somewhat romantic) nights spent in hotel rooms, fucking until we fell asleep. That’s all it was, it wasn’t making love, it was a lot more primal in that, like an animalistic hunger that we both craved. The guy I was seeing now, he was one of the sweetest people I’d met in a long time, he was practically perfect in every aspect except one. He wasn’t Chibs. I knew what I was doing was so many levels of wrong, I always said I’d neve cheat on anyone….but when it came to Chibs, I just couldn’t say no. He could ask me anything and I’d do it in a heartbeat and he damn well knew it. He had a hold over me, one that I couldn’t seem to shake no matter how hard I tried. I’d be his in heartbeat and that again was part of the problem because that’s not what he wanted. He didn’t want a relationship like that. I tried so hard to fight the feelings I had for him, the urge to feel his lips against mine, I tried to forget him and move on. That’s how I met Reece, we’d been on a couple of dates and we weren’t officially official but he spent most nights at mine. The relationship I had with Reece was so different to the one I had with Chibs, Reece and I went out on cute little dates to the movies, the park, all of those things a normal couple should do and for a while I did manage to forget about Chibs, a small part of me even began to imagine a future with Reece, a future that was filled with security but slowly, the echo of Chibs’ touch found me again and I couldn’t help but crave every aspect of him again and I couldn’t resist it when I was alone with him and neither could he, that’s how our affair started and that’s how it carried on, today was just another day of being torn between my heart and my head.

Quickly I made my way over to the abandoned parking lot that was a few blocks away from my house and there he was standing next to his car.Just the mere sight of him was enough to get me soaked; his hair was slicked back, dressed from head to toe in black. As soon as he looked up, I averted my gaze to the floor as I walked closer to him. I felt his eyes burning into me as I approached him, like a rabbit approaching a fox. In one swift motion I felt his cold grip on my chin tightly forcing me to look up at him, the anger burning behind his already darkened eyes. I knew I was in trouble, before I even got a chance to defend myself, he placed a finger over my lips. 

“Ye’re late,” he growled in my ear, lowering both of his hands to my waist and lifting me up onto the bonnet of the car, quickly pulling my trousers down so they were hanging off of my ankles. Those actions were enough to have me dripping for him as my arousal continued to build 

“Chibs-” I began, my voice barely a whisper but was cut off when his lips crashed down onto mine in a bruising kiss, one of his hands gripping my thigh tightly while the other hand traced along the damp line of my panties. He was the only one that could turn me on this quickly and in such a dominant way. He wasted no time in removing my hoodie and sports bra, disregarding them onto the floor, he trail of hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck before moving further down your chest. His mouth sucking on one of the curves of my chest, his tongue rolling over my nipple while one hand squeezed my breast, occasionally pinching the nipple causing jolts of pleasure to course through me. I was barely keeping it together as he switched actions between my breasts. 

“Need you-” I moaned out, gripping onto his shoulders, desperately trying to catch my breath as he continued his relentless attack on my breasts. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he halted in his actions, his lustful eyes locking on to mine. 

“Need what?” He asked, his hand moving slowly moving my panties to the side, allowing him access to the place I craved him most. All the words seemed to melt away in my mind as he lightly tapped his finger against my clit, the pleasure taking over all of my thoughts and all I could do was moan in response, bucking my hips slightly. 

“I need an answer, love,” he whispered, gently biting the lobe of my ear as he began to tap my clit faster. 

“You, I-I need you,” I moaned out, feeling his erection pressing against my thigh. 

“Does your guy get you this wet?” he taunted, his hot breath making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge as he ran a finger along my dripping slit. I let out a shaky breath as he whispered “answer the question, or I stop right now.” 

Just as he was about to pull his hand away from my pussy I whispered a “no” in response, a small smirk came across his face at my admission. 

“Say it louder,” he demanded, as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of me. 

“NO,” I moaned in response, gripping onto him for dear life. 

“No what, love?” he taunted, his thumb circling my clit as his finger drew me closer and closer towards the edge. 

“He-he doesn’t make me this wet,” I admitted, desperate for my release and just as I was about to fall over the edge he stopped. My moans turned into a whimper at the loss of him, but he just smirked, raising the finger that was covered in my juices to his lips.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he stated with a triumphant smirk on his face. He waited a few seconds before doing anything else, reveling in how desperate I was for him. Those few seconds felt like an eternity to me, I needed him inside me. I needed him to fuck me, now...I was so lost in the ecstacy of pleasure that I didn’t even hear him unzip his trousers before he entered me. I screamed slightly at the sudden feeling of his member inside me. I knew it wasn’t going to take long to push me over the edge, but by the look on Chibs’ eyes it was going to take him long either. Relentlessly he thrusted into me hitting my g-spot. Every.Single.Time. It was like I was on cloud nine; there was nothing that compared to this, no one that could bring me so much pleasure. I could feel myself about to fall over the edge again this time Chibs didn’t stop, he just kept on pounding into me. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, wrapping one of his hands around my throat, only adding to the sheer pleasure I was feeling. 

“Does he fuck you like this?” He asked against my lips, applying slightly more pressure to my throat with each thrust.

“No...he... doesn’t fuck me... like this,” I  choked out in between moans, sweat beaded both of our foreheads as his speed increased.  

“Who owns this pussy?” He asked, slowing his thrusts down, to look at me directly in the eyes, awaiting for my answer. 

“You do…” I answered,knowing that it was the truth. He clearly saw the truth in my eyes because his thrusts began to get faster and faster,  after a few more rapid thrusts my loud moans and his guttural groans were echoing around the  parking lot as both of us came undone, finally reaching the release we both craved.  Once we both caught our breath he released his grip on my throat and pulled out of me and I hopped down from the bonnet of the car, both of us quickly sorting ourselves out and just like that, it was all over, nothing else was said by either of us, although I could feel his eyes lingering on me for a split second as I got changed. But that was it. And just like that he got in the car and I made my own way out of the parking lot. By the time I got back home, I was already craving him inside me again. 

“Hey baby,” Reece called out, as I entered the front room. I mentally cursed myself, completely forgetting that I’d given him my spare key. 

“Hey,” I called back, guilt washing over me. 

“You okay? You look a bit flustered,” he said, worry lacing his voice as he walked over to me, his hands moving to my face, caressing my cheeks lightly. 

“I’m fine, I just went for a run,” I lied, with a fake smile painted on my face but it was enough to persuade him. 

“Aw babe, don’t burn yourself out okay? I’ll go so you can get some rest,” he said, pressing a light kiss to forehead. I couldn’t help but remember how foreign his lips were on my skin compared to Chibs. 

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” I said, with another fake smile on my face. Breathing a sigh of relief as he left. Part of me hated Chibs...hated how his touch, his kiss had created some type of secret language that I couldn’t speak with anyone else because no one else was him.

Tagging: 

@little-diable​ @rosieposie0624​ @xbreezymeadowsx​ @ideclareflananigans​ @sharpiewashere​  @leah-halliwell92​  @chibsisadream​ @tommyflanagans​ @screesflanagan​ @rebelwrites​​ @come-join-themurder​​ @kyber--wolf​

Join my taglist here

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Into The Thick of It (1)

Loki x Female Reader

Chapter 1: The Cult

Series Summary: Her work as an agriculturist nearly takes the readers life is not for a stranger (and his weird looking dog) who later turns out to be the God of Mischief. Thrown into a completely different realm, you want to figure out a way home while trying to stay out of the way of this literal God. But fate has its own plans for the two of you.

Written for @tarithenurse and her #Taris1Kchallenge

Warnings: torture, sacrifice, undertones of rape

Word Count: I am on a break. It feels good to just breathe without dreading the rest of the day. Why is work so punishing?

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

One single machine whirrs in this dull laundromat. The light above you flickers at intervals so regular you have already made a beat out of it. The only other sound distracting enough is some old music playing on the radio at the front desk where no one sits at this hour. And that fan that seems to be breathing its last over your head. "Yeah, it's unbelievably quiet here," you mentioned in a soft tone before looking around the empty space. "I guess I'm glad I only had to stop for three days here." "What? Are you not going to explore this place?" your friend, Zaira's voice crackles through the phone. You shrug despite knowing she cannot see you. "I don't know, Zai, this place gives me the creeps for some reason. I am only hanging around here because Prashant wants to revise the reports I sent him of the soil composition before he gives me a green light to leave this place." "Damn! That bad?" "Oh! You have no idea!" You look around once again. The front desk guy has just come back in his old Chevrolet and the clock has struck nine. "Zai," you whisper in the lowest tone possible, watching the man whistle as he gets out of his car without closing the door, "there are no kids in this village-slash-town." He walks to the back to open the trunk of his car, whistling a somewhat familiar tune. "That's...not haunting at all!" Zaira's sarcasm can be heard in her surprised tone. "Well, what's more haunting is the fact that the youngest person here is an eighteen-year-old boy who keeps showing up anywhere I go and keeps staring at me funny." The man shuts the hood with a loud thump and you can see a fresh bundle of store-bought rope, a baseball bat, a bottle of some chemical-probably for cleaning- and a pair of rubber gloves as he starts walking to the entrance. "Allah-" Zaira takes the Lord's name in surprise- "no wonder they have The Sacrifice playing somewhere there." The man sets everything on the front desk, still whistling the same tune, which you now come to realise is the song that is currently playing on the radio. "The...the what?"

"The thing playing in your background," Zaira comments, "it's playing on a two strong instrument with a looping chorus. It's a pagan ritual song that is sung by some orthodox communities that still present a sacrifice to their pagan gods. We learned this in the summer session for cult studies, boo. Oh, wait. You were back home that time. The chorus basically says 'here's your sacrifice, now pay my dues'." Not a word of what Zaira said is heard after the pagan ritual song because suddenly all the materials resting on the front desk are making sense. So is the creak of the back door that opens to let the only teenager of the town in. Your body is frozen in place, your mind has gone blank. One moment you are running for the exit. And the next, you are lying on the floor with the two men hovering over you while the song calling for your sacrifice slowly fades away. . It is the discomfort from the heat that wakes you up. The sweat and stickiness all over your body slowly registers in your brain that alerts of a throbbing ache at the back of your head with a bang. Everything is a blur for a few moments; till the lights morph into fire beacons and the sun transforms into a bonfire, the figures moving around you become humans with faces smeared in blood. Your clammy skin shines in the light of the bonfire, your hair sticking to any part of you. Tears are rolling down the edge of your eyes while your brain is registering this new pain altogether from the gag in your mouth. You try to move your hand to touch your skull where it hurts, but are unable to do so. My hands...I can't move them. Your dizzy brain gives your body the command again but in vain. "She's awake!" a raspy voice pierces through the air.  And within a speck of a second, all the memories start rushing in. Y/N? Hello? Babe, can you hear me? Adrenaline shoots up in your system and your senses are heightened. The smell of kerosene is heavy in the air along with the crippling stench of burning flesh. You have been bound to a pole with your hands behind you, the bonfire in front of you, the forest surrounding you from every corner and the moonless sky on top of you. The faces in the fire are all familiar. The residents of this town, all staring at you while you struggle to get out of the ropes cutting through your skin, stop their movement to pick up the bowls kept in front of them and drink its contents. Your cries are muffled; partly because of the gag and partly because of the sobs that want to escape your throat just like your tears. Your already broken body jumps when the oldest woman in the group starts shouting phrases in a language unknown to you. And just as she begins, everyone around her takes out a dagger and starts moving in your direction. Your heartbeat seems to drop for a moment. They can see the horror in your eyes. But that does not stop their moments. The woman's chants grow heavier as her hand moments grow more vigorous. The youngest of them all skips a step or two to straight away jump on the platform where you are kept on display. He looks around once and turns to you to move your sweat laden hair strands away from your face. His pale fingers are cold, almost icy to the touch. "Don't worry, I'll get you out of here," he whispers close to your ears. Your sobs turn to sniffs to hear his words and look into his eyes. Those grey irises are trying to dig straight into your soul. "Trust me." Your instinct- which has never been wrong in your life- is already moving your leg to bend the knee and get his balls. And you do. Watching him writhe in pain for one long satisfying moment as he curses you from heaven to hell. But he gets back up, with the eyes of a madman ready to kill. You are crying out still, for anyone who will listen, in heaven or hell, as he takes you by your throat. The venom in his hold is enough to take your life. "The only way out-" he says close to your face- "is through, you cunt." One last prayer comes out of you as a whimper before you wait for his dagger to meet you.  In the next heartbeat, everything turns white. . Everything is blinded by a white light. It does seem to be the end. Why did I have to die like this dammit?! A Buzzfeed Unsolved episode?! But something does not sit right.  The white light should be the end, right? Then why can feel something wet under my h- Before you realise you are tumbling down the steepness of the forest. Your body can feel every rock and every pebble on the way down the seemingly endless slope. It seems like a long while when your limbs finally skid on flat rocky terrain, bringing the ringing pain to a halt before it can bounce all over your body a bit louder in the deafening silence. The first thing your senses do is look for any sign of danger around you. The forest is dark. And apparently different than the one you were in before. The trees are taller and with trunks that would not fit in your hugs. You cannot see their ends in the sky from where you lay. Not weird at all. The silence too sends your wounded heart into an anxious stir. Not even the cicadas speak here. Am I...dead? Now that definitely stirs something out there. A twig breaks in the distance. You pause your breath and shush your racing heart. A soft rustle of leaves can be heard somewhere that lets your sweat run cold all over the body. It is hard to breathe through the gag as it is, and you are standing nowhere near a hiding spot, making your basic instincts run wild with any shadow you see in this treacherous night. So all you do is stand as still as a trembling mouse and wait. And that wait isn't long. Call it nature's mysterious ways or just a random event happening at the right time, a cool breeze stirs the air for the first time in this place. From where you stand, the breeze hits your back, tickling those sweat beads on the nape of your neck before letting you smell the odour of blood it carries with it. All the neurons inside you make you turn around and face a familiar figure emerging from the shadows with a dagger in his hand. The basic instincts inside you are already making your body break into a run in the opposite direction. The rush of the flight instinct is overpowering all the injuries and you forget for a second that your hands are still tied behind you as you speed straight ahead. But that devil of a man is fast. He has already closed the distance and his hands are grabbing your hair, pushing you both to the ground. He presses you down with his body, not giving you any room to get up or free your limbs. But he does untie your gag before turning you around and holding your neck in a choke-hold. "Please, please, please..." Nothing else is coming out of you at this point; except for hot tears streaming down the side of your face.  "Well," the bastard sighs, pressing down his pelvis on your abdomen while having the audacity to smirk when looking down at you, "we had to sacrifice a virgin. But surely it's going to work the same if I put that mouth to work." The dread of his words does not set in till his free hand reaches for the button on his pants to undo it. The more you try to push away from him, the tighter he grips your throat. Oh, Gods! Just let me die instead. He is halfway undoing his zipper when a sound cracks through the air. It almost sounds like a very quiet motor either just starting or just stopping. And the closer it gets, it starts taking the shape of a growl coming from the throat of an animal. The man is distracted now; looking for the source of the sound. Loosening his grip a bit, he turns around to let his vision get as far in the dark as it could to look for anything out of the ordinary. And while he is busy, it is you who notices its presence and choose not to make a sound. The man turns around to look right into red eyes gleaming at him from a distance of three inches, sending him jumping up and crawling back on the ground as far away from you as possible. Huge white canines visible even in this darkness are on display as this four-legged creature growls in your captor's direction. A twisted horn rests majestically on each side of its head. Paws as huge as a lion's, but claws twice as big and dark as the night are resting on either side of your shoulder. The fur seems dark and dense except for where pointed bones are protruding out on its back. The growl revving in this creature's throat is enough for the predator to crawl back further with his heart stuck in his throat. And before he can figure out what demonic hell this creature had walked out from, he comes to discover another wave of fear when he sees a shadow behind it in between two trees. That shadow seems human. Human enough at the very least until he thought he was hallucinating that figure with gleaming green eyes. "Wh-who's there?!" the man's voice starts in a scream ends up in a squeak. "Get that ugly dog away from here!" The 'ugly dog' shifts from your side to take a few steps towards the bastard, metaphorically pinning him in between the roots of the trees he was sweating in. "Hey!" he shouted again at the shadow, "can't you hear me?!" You sit up, watching the creature slowly ready itself for attack mode. Turning around, you too are able to see a figure. It looks tall and is evidently clad in something heavy. Is that a sword in his hand? But that sword is not as concerning as those illuminated green pupils. "You son of a bitch! Get the fuck out of here before I stab you and your filthy farm ani-" "Rífa hann í sundur," is all you hear in a low hum from that figure's end one second. The next, there are growls and blood-curdling screams emerging from behind you; haunting enough to make you jump and curl up where you sit but never move your eyes away from that shadow that still stands as still as a rock. Tears still fall from your eyes; your legs pulled as close to your chest as possible. The screams continue to come out for a long time...long enough for you to notice a snowflake fall on your knee. More snowflakes come after the first one. And once the screams die down, you feel something brush your hands, almost making your heart fall out, only to realise that creature standing right behind you nudging at your ropes to gnaw your hands out of them. The adrenaline rush has diluted now. The pain and exhaustion that comes with it now lie heavy in your bones. Your eyes cannot take it anymore. But they still want to see that figure which now takes the liberty to walk out of the shadows underneath the clear light of the nearest moon. Your body is ready to fall but the creature provides some support to your lifeless limbs. Its fur feels so good on your cheeks. And that pale face coming to a stop in front of you feels almost angelic. Those green eyes are looking at you with both concern and judgment but what your brain registers first is the moonlight falling on those otherworldly cheekbones framed with clean braids. You want to keep looking at that face for a few more minutes. But there is only so much your wounded body can take before everything is a blur. . You have already hit deep slumber when the God comes to stand before you. He gets down on his knees to get a close look at your face buried in the hound's face.  "What do you think she's doing here, Agni?" Agni huffs and shifts enough to let the God have a better look at the face marred with wounds and bruises. A face that still looks so serene after putting up such a fight. The long pale fingers move those few strands of hair away that are blocking your features under the light of the moons. Calculations have already been done in that mind. What's left is to figure out whether to leave you here in the depth of the endless garden or... "Agni-" that voice commands with zero emotions, still studying your features- "call out for help. We are taking this one back to the camp."